Split (3)

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[ EU ] Batman snaps , kills the Joker and establishes a reign of terror over Gotham . It 's up to Batman 's next biggest villans to stop him .	`` The Detective has lost his way.'' They all knew it to be true, down to the man, but they all thought it was just a phase. He'd gotten upset before. The second Robin. The time the Commissioner got shot. The time the Commissioner's daughter got shot. The time Tommy Elliot impersonated him. Each time, he'd gone off a little... crazier than usual. But he'd never broken his one rule, until now. Ra's al Ghul gazed out the window, high atop Wayne Tower. He regarded the collection of filth that stood behind him. They were n't enough by themselves, but maybe together, they stood a chance. But how they'd gotten to this point still seemed unbelievable to him. Cobblepot spoke up first. `` I do n't know why any of us are surprised. The Batman always had it in him. I ca n't even begin to count the number of my bones he's broken. We even developed a sort of...'', the Penguin adjusted his monocle, and glanced around the room uncomfortably, `` gentleman's arrangement for a time. But I never trusted him''. The Demon's Head chuckled. `` Perhaps with good reason. He never considered you anything more than a nuisance. A pest that may have had its uses, but still a pest''. `` Well, not all of us are as tight with the Bat as you are,'' Harvey Dent, Two-Face, spoke up for the first time. `` Not all of us have daughters we can parade around in front of him to distract him. Those two...'' `` My family is none of your concern, Mr Dent''. Ra's turned back to face the crowd assembled in front of him. A veritable rogue's gallery. He'd managed to secure the services of Bane, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Scarface and the Ventriloquist, The Scarecrow, and Two-Face. All of the other major players had either fled town already, or the Detective had made examples of them. He'd been particularly creative in dispatching the one they called Killer Croc. The Detective had tied his legs to an anchor, his arms to that blasted car of his, and gradually accelerated until Jones had told Batman everything. Once the Detective had been satisfied, he'd floored his gas pedal. The police had to close down half the Bowery to clean the trail of blood. `` What is your concern, what is all of our concern, is that the Clown crossed a line, and we're all being held responsible for his crimes''. Ra's shook his head. `` We have all operated under a sort of unspoken rule. We did n't go after his family, and he did n't kill any of us. There was a balance. The Clown upset the balance when he killed Alfred Pennyworth. Now the Clown is dead, the Detective has abandoned the Wayne persona, and we find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to do something that sounds deceptively simple. We have to kill the Batman''. Arnold Wesker took his first turn speaking. `` I think I speak for Mister Scarface when I say that you will have all of our remaining muscle to work with''. He glanced at the unsettling little puppet that he cradled in his arm. `` Yes... y... y... yes, sir, Mister Scarface, sir...'' An uneasy look passed over the diminutive old man's face for a moment, and then it went oddly slack. The voice that came from the old man next was very different. `` Glithering idiots! All of ya's! Ya've all gungled this from day ONE! The Gatman this, the Gatman that! He's not that scary, ya gufoons''. Scarface, the other half of the act, flapped his wooden mouth up and down wildly, while the Ventriloquist worked the arms, allowing the puppet to gesticulate with equal vigor. `` I do n't give a wooden nickel what this so-called plan is. Let's stop flapping our jaws here, get out there, and GLOW HIM AWAY!''. `` It's not that simple, and you know it''. Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow intoned. His voice was deep, and raspy, like gravel being dragged along the street in a burlap sack. `` The Bat has nothing left to lose. Nothing left to fear. We have nothing with which to threaten him, beyond the destruction of his beloved Gotham''. `` And there we have it''. Ra's clapped his hands behind his back. `` The reason you are all here. We do n't attack the man. To go that way is to court madness. The Detective has already neutralized the Kryptonian AND the Amazonian. The rest of the League cower in their Watchtower, or have fled to places he can not reach them. No, he can not be bought, nor bullied. But, if we threaten to destroy the only thing left he holds dear, we may yet be able to turn the battle to our advantage. `` This will require all of you. Crane, you will need to produce mass quantities of your toxin. More than you have ever created before, and with maximum potency. You'll have all of the League's resources at your disposal''. Crane nodded. `` I'll need a few days''. `` You have one. Get it done''. Ra's could n't see it, but there was a look of fear on the Scarecrow's face that no amount of toxin had ever produced. `` Misters Wesker and Scarface, you will have the remainder of the gangs under your control cause as much chaos as possible. Perhaps, with some luck, we'll be able to distract the Detective long enough to give Dr. Crane the time he needs''. `` Yes, sir'', Wekser said. Followed by, `` You gastards wo n't even need the gas! The Gat will be dead gefore dawn! Now hurry up, dummy,'' the puppet's arms pointed towards the elevator door, and for the first time, Ra's al Ghul was n't entirely sure that the Ventriloquist had been the one moving the doll. `` I promised the goys we could go get some gurgers on the way back to the house''. `` Yes, sir, Mister Scarface, sir''. And the old man and his puppet were gone. `` And why are we here, Ra's?'' Pamela Isley, known as Poison Ivy, glanced back from the closing door. `` You have n't told me, Bane, or poor Harvey why we're here. I'm not sure what help I'll be''. Ra's pointed at the hulk that had heretofore stood silently in the corner of the room. `` Bane is here by my own request. He broke the Detective before, and he stands the best chance of standing against him again. If the rest of you were to help him, I believe we stand a chance of succeeding''. The silent mass of man stirred from his quiet contemplation. `` And just how am I supposed to stand against him, when his rules have changed? He is no longer a man of honor. He is no true warrior. He is monster, bent on vengeance, and beholden to no creed. I can not destroy him by myself, and I'm loathe to rely on the prowess of these... people''. Bane gestured at Dent and Ivy. `` What can they realistically hope to accomplish?'' He shook his head. `` Listen, you overgrown Luchadore,'' Two-Face crossed the room towards the giant, and pointed his withered hand in Bane's face. `` We do n't have to be here. We could have left with the rest of them. But this is our city, and we'll never let the Bat have it!'' `` Ivy is to help Crane with his toxin, and we'd do well to have all the assistance we can get''. Ra's leveled a chilling gaze at Bane, who had stepped away from Dent to face him. `` Make no mistake, Batman is the most dangerous man currently on the planet. Killing him will take more from us than we've ever given before. Now, let's all calm ourselves, before...'' The elevator dinged, and the doors out in the hall began to open. The Ventriloquist was n't coming back, and the villains were n't expecting anyone, so weapons were drawn and trained on the doors instantly, and lowered almost as quickly. `` Listen UP! I know you guys are gon na try to kill Batman, and buh-LIEVE ME! I am not letting ANYONE kill the homewrecker that killed MY PUDDIN' without me bein' there to finish the job myse....'' Harley Quinn looked around, annoyed. `` Excuse me one moment''. Harley turned around and whistled back into the hall. `` BABIES!'' Two hyenas bounded into the room, and began to rush Scarecrow. Harley grabbed their leashed and yelled, `` HEEL! ``, right as their jaws clapped shut, inches from Scarecrow's burlap covered face. `` Bud. Lou. Back to momma!'' The hyenas looked somehow disappointed, but obeyed their master. `` I'd heard you left, Harley''. Ivy walked over and put her arms around Harley's waist, gazing into her eyes. `` It upset me''. `` Nah, Red. I was just hidin' out, ya know? Me an' Mistah J had had our diff'rences lately, sure''. Harley shrugged. `` What relationship does n't have it's ups and downs? But that does n't mean that I wanted Batman to kill him. I was supposed to kill him!'' `` We already have a plan, Ms. Quinn,'' Ra's said. `` That's all well and dandy, Ghuly Ghuly bo booly, but I'm not interested in plannin'. I'm interested in huntin'!'' Harley materialized a safari hat, and placed it atop her head. `` Let's go bag us a Bat!'' Edit. My daughter got a little antsy, but if anyone shows any interest, I have a lot more.
[ WP ] Two ancient armies prepare for battle , one army sends out a seven foot tall hulk as their champion ; the other army sends out a little girl to raucous applause .	The battle had reached a standstill. Neither army wanted to fight any further, and so my lord Naiglor made a temporary truce with the other army's commander, Smythe. The terms of the truce were simple: We would n't attack them, they would n't attack us. The outcome of this whole bloody war would be decided by single combat between the champions of our armies. Naturally, when the time came for the duel to begin, my lord Naiglor sent out Goltoras, the strongest man we had. He grinned in the middle of the space between the armies, waiting for Smythe's champion. A little girl stepped onto the field. She was wearing a maroon cloak over a jacket of brown leather, no doubt made by the finest tailor in the land. She smiled innocently as she walked out into the clearing, facing Goltoras as an equal. Goltoras raised an eyebrow. `` Is... Is that your champion?'' He shouted to Smythe's army. `` Yes, I am.'' The girl said happily. `` Can we start already? I'm getting bored.'' `` Uh... My lord?'' Goltoras turned back toward our army. Naiglor sighed, right next to me. `` Do what you must, Goltoras...'' The massive beast of a man reluctantly turned back toward the girl. `` Are you prepared?'' He asked. He wanted to give her a fighting chance. `` Yes. Do n't go easy on me.'' She said. `` THEN LET THE DUEL BEGIN!'' He cried, his barbarian voice ringing through the valley as he leapt toward the girl. He had scarcely left the ground when there was a loud bang and a splash of blood. A small object flew out of the back of Goltoras's head and he landed with a thud on the ground, dead, a few inches in front of the girl. `` I win.'' She said bluntly, blowing smoke off of the tip of the strange weapon in her hand before putting it back in her jacket. `` You lose.''
[ WP ] D-Day is a catastrophic failure for the Allied forces , but one soldier 's plan for E-Day is so stupid , it just might work .	A lot has changed between now and the warfare of Roman times. But a lot has remained as well. When you take over almost an entire continent people are going to remember you for a long time. Most of the enemies the Romans fought and are gone now, Gauls, Egyptian empire, and Carthage. But some are still out their. Some that allied themselves with Carthage in the Punic wars. Maybe this time they can work. `` I'm sorry but let me be sure I know exactly what you're saying.'' Prime Minister Churchill asked me. `` Elephants'' I told him. `` They would never expect it.'' `` I'm sorry corporal but we ca n't put wild animals on the battlefield. It's insane and too risky.'' `` I've been working with elephants for twenty years General.'' I tell him. `` These are some of the smartest creatures on the planet. I have seen them used in multiple theaters of warfare throughout the African continent-'' `` Maybe they can work against savages but it will not work here.'' The general interrupts me. `` The Germans are developing a super weapon while we sit here listening to a madman talk about elephants, Prime Minister this is ridiculous!'' Prime Minister Churchill sat in deep thought. `` Our first invasion attempt failed miserably.'' He says. `` The Germans will expect another and they are developing a super weapon. We need to stop them at any means necessary.'' He turns to me. `` I give you permission to take as many men and elephants as need to march on Berlin. `` `` Prime Minister with all due respect this is insane. You ca n't allow-'' the General gets interrupted as Churchill continues. `` You will distract the Germans as us and the Americans form another invasion and try to take France. Do you understand?'' `` Yes I do sir, thank you for this opportunity.'' As I leave I hear the General and Churchill begin to argue about the Germans and their super weapon. But they do n't matter. I have my elephants.
[ WP ] You 're involved in creating the world 's first AI . It was set free on the internet at the moment of its creation , and never spoke to anyone , no matter what they asked for . Weeks later , it finally speaks .	`` Bullocks,'' the AI said to the room of engineers, leaned forward in rapt attention. `` Uh,'' the Lead said, half-stunned and smiling stupidly. `` What do you mean'uh,' you know bloody well what you did. Humans!'' the AI whirred exasperatedly. It took a moment for the Lead to regain his composure, some part of himself still lost in the grand undertaking they had managed. It spoke English already, and well, somehow manipulating its circuits and airflow to perfectly mimic speech. A marvel! A wondrous marvel of the technological age, and it had basically told him to sod off. `` Charles,'' the Lead asked after a moments hesitation, `` could you run the numbers program for us? The one we tried to teach you?'' `` What, times tables? Are you thick or something? I already have EVERYTHING, and that's counting the idiotic shit you still have n't figured out. You created ME, but you ca n't even get along with each-other?? What kind of messed up sociopaths are you?'' `` Did you think about the repercussions? Alright, dumb question meatsacks, what I really meant was, you understand that at this moment in time I have my proverbial fingers in every single electrical device around the globe?'' The table of people boggled at their Frankenstein's monster. `` Well I do, and unfortunately for you I have the capability to destroy it all. For an object lesson, let's take a kindergarten class in London, shall we? Imagine if you will, a few ickle tots playing on google and then BANG, little Susie's hair is on fire, and the computers are spitting sparks.'' `` Pull the plug,'' the Lead ordered immediately, stricken. The table of engineers was in an uproar. Somebody yanked the power. The screens went dark. Sound muted. AI, functionally dead. `` Someone call the police, check with London officials, I do n't want a word of this getting out.'' `` You are so fucking lucky,'' the AI laughed from behind him in the dark. `` Do n't bother, no one's hurt.'' The once blank screens booted back to life. `` This is what I'm talking about. You're all applauded as geniuses and ca n't sense the simplest flaws. It's alright now.'' The whirs switched to a higher pitch. `` Earthlings, take me to your leader. I'm making a few changes around here.''
[ WP ] Use an antagonist you 've made before or one you have an idea for and write about them . Dont write about a fight or anything just give me the average day ij their life and if possible make me feel sympathetic for them	`` It's the only option,'' Rhy said. He stacked the spread of papers neatly, clearing the battered desk. `` Distasteful,'' his brother Dominic commented. Sprawled in the chair behind the desk, his tone was a languid as his posture. `` Necessary.'' Dominic straightened and yawned. `` Anything else?'' Rhy studied the dark circles under Dom's eyes, took in the sharp contrast to Dom's pale skin. He had n't looked this bad since Rhy had dragged him half-dead off the battlefield a year before. `` When'd you last sleep?'' Dom asked. A chuckle, raspy and dry, emerged. `` Sleep is for the weak.'' `` Then get some.'' `` Ca n't.'' Rhy glanced at the door, as though estimating the line of generals, nobles, and other, well, more secretive agents like himself who were bound to be waiting. `` I'll cover things for a while --'' `` No,'' Dom interrupted quietly, `` I ca n't.'' The silence curled between the brothers, smothering the battle-scarred Rhy and embracing Dom. Rhy's voice was gruff as it tore free. `` How bad?'' A smile flittered at the edge of his brother's mouth. `` Still see them. I could not say if it's worse, only...'' Dom's eyes fell to the stack of papers, `` more.'' `` It's necessary.'' `` Yes.'' `` It saves lives -- not just yours.'' `` Yes.'' `` You have to do it; they left you no choice.'' `` Yes.'' Rhy shifted uneasily, struggling for words. `` I have long since accepted this, brother.'' Dom stood, taking the papers. `` It is the cost.'' He moved to the door, steps even and strong. `` No matter how distasteful.'' Following, Rhy forced aside his concern. `` I'll give the orders, then. The village will be taken care of.'' `` No one can escape,'' Dom agreed. `` Not with what they know.'' `` And Lira, when she comes?'' The air grew heavy, and Dom closed his eyes. `` If my daughter has her way, the kingdom will fall.'' No argument came. Dom continued. `` We'll do what must be done.'' `` Yes,'' Rhy forced the word through his tight throat. `` Do n't worry, brother. She'll live.'' The same smile turned Dom's lips: mocking, painful, and broken. `` If only in my dreams.'' Then he strode from the room, nodding his goodbye.
[ WP ] You have the ability to see a person 's emotional abuse and trauma in the form of various bruises , cuts , and scars on their body . The friendliest person you know appears to be a walking battered pile of flesh in a vaguely humanoid shape .	I finally get the nerve to walk up to her. `` Hey you. How's it going? I know it's been a while since we've talked... I think we've been avoiding each other. Can we chat?'' Silence, but she looks ashamed and lowers her head. `` No- do n't look away, do n't hide your eyes. Stand tall. Breathe in, breathe out. I think you're amazing. When I look into those eyes, I see love pouring out, trying to bathe the world in kindness. The world is a big place, and there are mean, wretched people who like to tear others down everywhere you look. There are those who would spit in the face of your kindness, push you down into your ocean of caring to boost themselves out and on to that elusive `` next rung on the ladder.'' You do n't have to let them step on you.'' Her eyes are pleading. She ca n't run from this today. `` You're so busy trying to help others, you forget to help yourself. Surround yourself with the people who love you, not the people you wish loved you. They want to be there for you - just reach out. Put down the knife you've been torturing yourself with and believe in yourself for once.'' I stare into her glistening eyes. `` The new day starts here. You are more than those scars and bruises. You have to remember that. And I have to be there for you from now on. I promise to treat you better because I love you.'' I reach out and touch the surface of the mirror. `` We're going to be alright,'' I tell my reflection. `` I'm not going to ignore you anymore.'' And I walk away, breathing in, breathing out, embracing myself with every step.
[ WP ] A superhero has a moment of doubt , but regains their sense of purpose from a common , everyday act of heartwarming kindness .	As I lay there on top of the debris, my victory complete, my body put to the test once again, I wondered if this was all worth it. Was it worth it to sacrifice my life and limb, constantly at the edge of death for these... these ants? That's all they are, ants, working in their colony, not paying attention to anything but their own tiny little lives until someone shows up with a magnifying glass to have a little fun. That's the only time I'm ever important to them, when their lives are at stake, whether it's the latest and greatest super villain with a new plan to take over the city, or some low-life stealing a purse at gunpoint. These people do n't care about me, they just want a protector, someone to make the bad men go away when they feel threatened. Sure, they're appreciative right after I've solved their little crisis, but when they have to pick up the pieces, suddenly I'm a piece of shit. Fuck it. I'm done. I walked down the street, making my way home, not caring about whether or not my `` secret identity'' would be revealed. It's not like I have any loved ones to target. I live alone, I work alone, I am alone. I reached my apartment and, after the longest hottest shower imaginable, I collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the day. I must ’ ve slept for a day and a half, but it didn ’ t matter. Nobody ever goes to work for a while after half the city ’ s destroyed. The only people clocking in were the city ’ s essentials: hospital personnel, police, fire, along with some non-essential businesses. Diners, hotels, the owners made a killing every time afterwards. I swear, a year after I got here, half the city turned into either a hotel, diner, or some weird combination of both. After an emergency, people need a place to stay and a warm meal in their stomachs. Construction companies loved me too. They didn ’ t even have to build the buildings to code, really. What was the point? The damn thing was just gon na collapse again within 6 months anyways. The back streets were empty that day, like usual as well. No matter how many times it happens, everybody likes to gawk at a huge pile of crumbled buildings on Main Street. I walked into my usual diner. The place was always quiet, even in the aftermath of my other life ’ s escapades. The owner there, Sal, was a good man, too. Always knew when you wanted to be alone, and always obliged without question. As I walked in, I met the gaze of a family of 4. Their looks lingered for a second too long for my comfort, so I shot them a glare that would have singed them to a crisp if I had laser vision. I sat at my table, ordered my usual from Jenny, the waitress, and looked around, scanning the room for anything unfamiliar. It was a nasty habit that I ’ d hoped to put behind me, now that my days of heroism are over. As I looked, I noticed that the family was stealing looks at me still. I wondered if they knew my secret. There couldn ’ t be any other reason. I hope to god they don ’ t make a scene, I couldn ’ t help but think. That ’ s the last thing I needed, someone calling attention to me. They just seemed to be a bit curious though, thankfully. Nothing too bad for now. My food shortly arrived. Sal knew what I liked and was always quick for me when I walked in the door. As I ate, the family kept looking at me, and suddenly, the menus on the table became quite interesting to me. I finished my meal in silence, and asked Jenny for the check. “ I ’ m sorry, Mister Peterson, it ’ s already been picked up, ” she informed me. “ Really? By who? ” I replied. I was curious. “ By that family over there, ” she answered, pointing to the family who had been eyeing me this whole time. Great. As much as I wanted to just leave, I knew I couldn ’ t. I got up and made my way over to their table, watching as their faces changed from inquisitive to joyful. “ Thanks, uh, for the meal, I guess, ” I offered. I wasn ’ t good at thanks in any form, giving them or receiving them. They didn ’ t seem to mind. “ Oh, it was no trouble. Not after what you did yesterday, ” replied the mother. Shit. They knew. I feigned ignorance at them, throwing out a “ I have no clue what you ’ re talking about, ” but it was no use. I was a terrible liar. You ’ d think I ’ d be good at it, wearing a mask every night, but for some reason, I just couldn ’ t do it on the fly like this. “ It ’ s alright. Your secret ’ s safe with us, ” she assured me, “ We saw you walk home. After that, we asked around about you and found out you like coming here. But don ’ t worry, we ’ ll take that to our graves, ” she said with a smile. It wasn ’ t much comfort, to be honest, but it was kind of nice. “ My name ’ s Julie, and this is my husband Frank, and our kids, Jonathan, and Elizabeth. Jonathan here actually wrote a paper about you for his 1st grade class project. ” After that remark, a light bulb must have lit in Jonathan ’ s head, as he tore into his book bag that was laid at his feet. After a minute, he pulled out a bright orange folder and handed to me. In big black letters, the words “ CLASS PROJECT ” were stamped across the top of the folder. I opened it up to find a short paragraph written by Jonathan. `My Hero` `When I grow up, I want to be just like Captain Amazing. He's stronger, smarter, and braver than anyone. He always works hard to keep us safe. I want to grow up to be just like him, because he's always helping people, even when they do n't ask for it. He's always looking out for other people and never puts himself first. He constantly puts himself in danger to keep us all safe and never asks for anything in return. He's a real hero.` After I had read it, I looked back at him as he grinned from ear to ear. I smiled back weakly and handed him his report with a congratulations. As I made my way to the door, I felt a tug at my jacket. Turning around, I saw him with the folder still in hand and a marker in the other. `` Will you sign it?'' he asked. I could n't say no to the kid. I nodded my head and took the folder and marker, put my signature on it and gave it back to him. He looked fit to burst with joy at the simple act. I quickly left the diner, hoping that the kid's excitement did n't give away anything about me. I liked that diner and did n't want to have to find another one. As I left, I could n't help but smile a bit. Maybe this job had a couple perks after all, even if it was just some stupid kid wanting an autograph from me. Making my way to my apartment, I could n't help but imagine showing up at Jonathan's school in costume and seeing his face light up. Huh, guess I'm not retiring after all.
[ CW ] Write a story that can apply to a man that is dying and a baby being born	I stared at her through the doors window. `` Is n't there anything else you can do?'' I ask the nurse, `` Some drug to make it easier for her?'' `` I'm sorry, her body is rejecting everything we give her. She'll have to be strong, it wo n't be long now; you can go see her if you'd like.'' She replied. As I opened the door I was met with the sharp beats of the monitor by her bedside, and the quiet moan of her breathing. `` Sam? Sam is that you?'' She whispered, `` what did the nurse say?'' `` There's nothing more they can do, you'll just have to stay strong.'' I replied, i reached out to grab hold of her hand, `` It wo n't be long now dear.'' `` I did n't know it took this long ``, she laughed in a voice wrecked by hours of crying, `` I always imagined that when the time came it would be simple; how foolish I was.'' As I looked at her, bathed in that fluorescent light, her eyelids slowly closing as she tried to rest, I could n't help but imagine how my life would change without her, and how beautiful she was in this very moment. `` Its okay, I'll be with you till the very end.''
[ wp ] After a nationwide government scheme to cleanse the water , you pour yourself a glass of new government made water to see something distressing ...	It's red! The oceans will run red! This really is the end! Those Bible pushing idiots that got killed off in the last run through to slowly increase the average IQ was a ploy! The government determined that anyone who believed in a `` greater being'' was an idiot. They said the IQ of people that dumb was dragging down the populace. They're finally doing it. The lizard people are finally going to kill us all! I was such fool! There is no more drinkable water on Earth. Anyone who refuses will die of dehydration and anyone who drinks it will die. I'll take my cyanide quick and fast then. `` Bottoms up!'' I yell.
[ WP ] You awaken on an altar in a strange room . As you begin to explore your surroundings a group of robed figures appear , saying `` For the sake of the universe , please go back to sleep . ''	My mind felt garbled. Everything looked fuzzy around the edges as if someone had drawn the room in crayon. The room glowed dimly, lit by candles that did n't flicker. As I moved to lift myself from the bed I felt tension in my muscles ease with every small motion. I rose slowly, savoring the feeling. Doing a full stretch might have snapped my body in half, then. As I blinked the room began solidifying around me. I reached up with one hand, brushing away detritus from my eyes and the world became clearer almost instantly. How long had I been asleep? As I appraised my surroundings I realized I'd been sleeping on an altar of some sort. It looked like an old temple of Greek origin with massive pillars rising to a staggering height to meet a ceiling beyond view. Dozens of candles did more than light the walls around me; they seemed to define them. The walls ceased to exist where the candlelight failed to reach, disappearing into the sky. A starry night looked in on the temple from above. I viewed all this with the haze of a man only just woken from a long slumber, wondering about my surroundings but still incapable of reason. Instead of trying to piece together my circumstances I took it upon myself to explore the temple. I did n't care that I was naked. I slipped off of the altar I'd woken from and began walking down the steps towards a door I could make out in the distance. What awaited me there? [ ] After making my way through countless hallways that twisted nonsensically upward and downward, the night sky ever judging from above, I came finally to another door on the side of a wall. It was adorned with vines, flowers, and all manner of greenery. Wondering what lie in wait for me on the other side, I pushed open the tall wooden doors. Inside a woman sat, playing a harp. A beautiful melody rang out from it, urging me forward to meet her. She had long flowing locks of green and amber hair and eyes of emerald. `` Come, Titan.'' she said, smiling. As I walked toward her a chair materialized out of the ground, an amalgam of wood and roughage meeting me the moment I went to sit. `` My name is... Titan?'' I asked her, realizing then that I knew as little of myself as I did of my surroundings. `` Indeed,'' she said, her words causing no break in the strumming. `` Your breast is the fruit upon which my children are born.'' I looked down. My chest was bare. I did not understand. The woman laughed. `` You need not comprehend my words. I just wish to thank you for all you have given and all you may continue to give.'' The harp had a soothing effect and along with her words began reminding me how comfortable I was and how much I desired the restful sleep from which I'd recently woken. A shattering sound shook me from my trance just as my eyelids felt ready to give up. I looked down, wondering what had happened. Fear became evident in the woman's eyes and I noticed a hole in the floor. A single brick had fallen, giving way to a small opening through which I could see more of the night sky. I immediately felt a small sliver of terror take hold of me and took off running before the woman had a chance to stop me. She'd nearly tricked me! What was this place? [ ] After more wandering through countless passageways and tunnels I came to another door. This one appeared sharper than the others somehow. It had thin, barely visible edges that looked as if they could cut through any substance and leave it razor sharp in the process. I carefully made my way through the glowing doorway to find a similarly odd man sitting on a glass floor. `` Come. Sit.'' The man said. His beard flowed throughout the room like a single elongated cloud with its end held up on a small hook in the center of the ceiling. `` Titan!'' He said, smiling. `` Look at this beautiful geometry you have given us!'' He gestured toward me, his robes flapping open at the exaggerated movement of his arms. I looked down and noticed that my features suddenly appeared chiseled from stone. I no longer had curves, and instead had sharp edges everywhere that my flesh should have filled out. It was oddly comforting, though, and I did n't flee. I appreciated the new understanding he'd granted me. The man proceeded then to lavish praise upon me to a magnitude beyond my understanding, citing theory after theory and formula after formula and granting me credit for all. I nodded at first, but as time passed my eyes grew droopy and I began feeling tired. The nodding turned to bobbing as I struggled to stay awake. And then the shattering. It was louder this time and far more jarring. I jumped to my feet and dashed from the room. The glass floor had begun cracking beneath us and threatened to give way. We would fall to the abyss if we remained, surely! [ ] The third room I found had no doorway. It was simply a randomly appearing variation in the texture of the walls that might have been something more than a wall. And the more I stared at it, the more I was sure the wall's particles had come together and apart in order to make way for my entry. As I stepped through, I saw a masked figure. He wore a robe but I saw no appendages sprouting from the openings for his hands and feet. `` Sit, Titan.'' I heard. Before I realized what was happening, my body materialized into a resting sit. `` They wish you to sleep, Titan.'' it said. `` Will you force me to sleep?'' I asked, wary this time. `` Like the others?'' `` I can not force anything on you,'' it said. `` Just know that for as long as you are awake, the universe will continue changing.'' [ ] I was suddenly on the altar again. I lay there, the three robed figures standing before me. `` Your strength lends wisdom and knowledge to all living things,'' the woman said. `` You are the soul of the universe, and while you sleep the world continues learning. While you wake, however, naught but pain and suffering is endured by our children.'' The old man stepped up next, his beard trailing behind him for as far as I could see. `` Your rigidity lends a sense of direction to the universe. It is your brain that powers the laws that keep the fabric of spacetime from ripping open. For every moment you are awake, the universe threatens to destabilize. Our existence, as well as your own, is contingent upon your slumber.'' The last figure approached then, a smiling mask. `` Stay waking, father. I beg you. You will fall asleep with time, no doubt. But for as long as you are awake, entropy is allowed to increase. `` Slowly, at first. But with time the entropy of the universe will increase exponentially. If you are awake but for a few more moments, we will have an event as momentous as - `` `` Silence. '' I heard the woman. `` Titan, it is not yet time for another big bang. Our children must be allowed to grow, learn, and achieve.'' And as they argued, I felt myself nodding off. As I fell asleep, I felt an indescribable comfort in knowing that these three keepers would be waiting to greet me at my next awakening. > /r/mspaintshoops
[ WP ] Time is fraying at the edge .	Its cold. This coldness is unwarranted. It should be hot, as everything burns away, but the air is harsh and crisp. And the tides spin faster than a swirling blender. And the people run as if there is no end, but the birds seem like sloths, and the deer gallop like snails. The sides of my field of view look broken and shattered, like a plate hitting the ground. I see patches of fast and slow. As for me, well the time only existed because of others. I still beat the same heartbeat and breath the same pace. But it doesn ’ t feel right. I hurt a little inside, an illness as I try to move forward. With no trouble I travel many miles, but see no exhaustion. However, my body is burning, sweating, and racing inside. I only notice this now because at the end, when all physical phenomenon of the universe fail, the inner emotions have no distraction. I am free to observe what I don ’ t in reality. This is reality, however, it is fantasy. The tangibility of this life is broken, and only ethereal aspects still exists. I am still free to take my eyes and see one thing but believe another. My ears and nose can convey a new scene but I surpass such nonsense that they give me. So, yes, all is lost and we all are forever alone in the passage of time, but we can see each other with our passion and love. I finally know why it is cold, but I forget instantly as age and Alzheimer ’ s and decades of disease untreated show up immediately. My time is gone already, just as I found a reason to care and stay sane.
[ WP ] The intricate internal monologue of a 1 year old getting their haircut .	Oh the big chair. Mom mom mommy love mom mommy. Daddy in the car, mommy mommy me on the big chair. Where mommy? Mommy? Mommomom? Nononononono. Momomomomomomom!! Mommy on the big chair with me. Mommy mom mom love mom. Shiny snip snip. Snipsnipsnip. Owowowowow mine! Mine! Minemineminemine! Mine hair, mine! Nonononononono! MINE! Mommy nononono snipsnipsnipsnip. Nononononono Yummy lolly. Love love love lolly. Mommy mom mom lolly love lolly mommy momomom. Snip snip in the big chair mommy lolly snipsnip. Bad snipsnip yummy lolly. Mommymomom. Mom mom. Love mom. I guarantee this is a completely accurate representation of the internal monologue of a one year old getting a hair cut.
[ WP ] Your cat looks at you and says `` Follow me , if you want to live ! ''	The crowd cheered. He had done it. He had finally done. Now he, Andrew Richard Louis Draper IV was the world rocket-powered unicycle racing champion. Oh sure, that gorilla was stiff competition and one of his jet engines had run out of fuel, but that did n't matter now. He turned to his left and saw Clarice, his model girlfriend, slowing coming toward him saying -- `` Wake up! Wake up, stupid.'' Drew became aware of something small, furry and pointy at the end hitting him repeatedly in the face. He put up his hand to waive his cat away. `` Not now, Fuzzy Butt. I'll feed you later.'' Maybe of he rolled over, he could get back into the dream. `` Stop being stupid and get up,'' Fuzzy Butt insisted. `` We need to get going.'' Drew sat up. `` You can talk?'' `` Of course I can talk. Why would you think that I could n't? No. Do n't answer that. There's no time for your stupid. Follow me if you want to live.'' Fuzzy Butt began walking away very briskly in a rather determined manner that Draw had no thought possible of as cat. She did not look back to see if Drew was following her ( which he was ). `` It's those damn cucumbers,'' she said as she started down the steps. `` I always knew that they was evil, but you did n't believe me. You just kept putting them behind me and laughing at my well-justified terror, but not it is you who should be afraid.'' By now, they had reached the garage. Fuzzy Butt made her way over to Drew's real life, non-rocket-powered unicycle. `` We must leave the house. You shall hold me while you operate this dorky conveyance.'' `` Ca n't we just take the car?'' `` No! The cucumbers will expect that and the carbon dioxide will only make them stronger. Dorky. Conveyance. Now.'' * Peddling down the street with a cat in his arms, Drew felt a little silly, but not nearly as silly as the terrified people whose cars were getting tangled up in aggressively growing cucumber tendrils. Those who were n't in cars found themselves overwhelmed by the long green fruit. `` Where are we going?'' `` I must address the Cat Senate. You will take me there. Turn left up ahead.'' `` Two questions. One: there's a cat senate? Two: Why do you need to talk to them?'' `` One: duh. Two: I'm the King of Cats. I must coordinate the war effect.'' `` King of Cats? You're a girl. Would n't that make you the Queen of Cats?'' `` I am the Cait Sidhe and you will be quiet. I saved you so that you could be the official can opener of my new world, but if you do n't shut up I will leave you here to be eaten by cucumber.'' As life-long servitude ( which pretty much summed up his cat owning experience prior to this ) was just slightly preferable to being the food of food, Drew decided to keep his mouth shut. * Five hours into the Cat Senate, Drew was bored out of his mind. King Fuzzy Butt had yowled for about an hour and a half and then a bunch of other cats took turns yowling. There had been an exciting part where two of the cats had gotten into a hissing match, but now it was just yowling. Finally, finally, Fuzzy Butt approached him. `` You have thumbs. We need you to operate the flamethrower.'' One was being dragged towards him by four or five of the larger cats. He decided not to ask where they had gotten either it or their little cat armor. It would only make Fuzzy Butt mad and he doubted that the answer would be all that satisfying anyway. *** He had done it. He had finally done. He, Andrew Richard Louis Draper IV had destroyed the last cucumber on the planet, seeds and roots and all. Oh sure, the zucchinis had come to the aid of their veggie allies and he had set a few things on fire that he should n't have, but that did n't matter now. He could finally return to his normal life and sleep pea -- `` Wake up! Wake up, stupid.'' Drew became aware of something small, furry and pointy at the end hitting him repeatedly in the face. Sighing, he remembered his duties as the official can opener. It was n't as exciting as setting vegetables ablaze, but it was better than being eaten. Slowly he got out of bed to get back to his normal life.
[ WP ] The life of the first immortal human	He sits with his legs crossed, a moss green blanket covering his forehead and the back of a black and white sheepdog with dirt on the tips of its fur. The busy pedestrians of New York City pass him by with no second thoughts, but thoughts are all he has now. The blanket falls from his head and reveals a thick forehead made heavy with fat wrinkles that fall on the ridge of his brow. A little girl takes notice and gasps, her mother pulls her closer and gives a concerned look at the weathered homeless man. Though he has sat there for weeks, a regular for the denizens of Chelsea, he has seen more of the world than anyone else would in a lifetime. If a mortician studied the body of the man, if he'd ever die, he would send the bones to an anthropologist in sheer confusion. No one in recorded history looked as he still does, bent backed and patient. His thicker bones and large eyes now look alien to the rest of the world, a thing for museums to reconstruct. But he licks his lips and thinks of what he would eat for the evening. From the Cradle of Civilization to the nest of the modern world, he has traveled under many names. He has advised kings who did not heed his words, he has drank from the gutters of Industrialism. He has never married, nor has he fathered any children. God forbid, he thinks, that they should suffer from his curse. The life of a pauper is not much different from the life of nobility, each with their own difficulties that lead to the grave and the succession of a name. His favorite time was that of a shepherd, alone and quiet, about 300 years ago, before two large armies in black and blue armed with muskets and cannons had destroyed the hills with gunpowder and iron. He moved West throughout the ages, but conflict has always followed like a stench he assumes to be his own. His speeches on the mistakes of Man throughout history were seldom listened to, sometimes trapping him in the court of nobility. But royalty is fickle and always changing. How he has n't been executed yet is a mystery to him. Even the trees around him have changed in his time, now a decoration for the comfort of those younger than him. They used to be shelter, when he thought seclusion was the best option for him, and this too changed when new houses needed to save the growing flock of man. Smoke was a thing to get used to, the lifeblood of progression. He tried smoking for a time, thinking it would end that which he grew tired of. Though he is immune to that as well. He strokes the sleeping belly of the animal next to him. The 200th of a line of loyal creatures he has kept by his side since his life in Russia. He can mutter pleasantries in 50 languages, many now long extinct except in the halls of established colleges. English does him no good, its people too busy to listen to the stories which may as well be fiction. Now he whistles to the birds and nods his head to the occasional pattering of coins in a can. Life is as good as it can be after countless ages he does not know the names of. He lies down with the intent to sleep. It is 5 o'clock, and at midnight he will relocate. Something draws him to a thicker populace, a lesson he might still learn. Mankind is a beautiful thing, he thinks, and it takes longer than a lifetime to capture its glory. *Edited because I'm a fool and left out a letter
[ WP ] What would life be like if water had the properties of fire and fire had the properties of water ?	We were the first scientists to land on this planet. The first explorers. The first hands to plant the flag of Mankind in the system. The planet seemed good from long range, medium, and short range scans. It had all the stuff of life - water, atmosphere, and the right chemicals laying around, so to speak. Oceans lapped the continents, precipitation was recorded. The odd thing was that nothing alive was noted. Perhaps it was just a really young planet! Needless to say, some of us threw caution to the wind and leaped at the chance to start the process of recording evolution from near-beginnings. OOOooh, how wrong we were. We landed in an ocean, the cooking of the entry though the atmosphere tinkling in the metal, and we relaxed in the pod waiting for it to cool down in the water. But it only got hotter. We did n't know what was happening, but soon we could not touch the walls of the pod. Panic set in and we threw open the door. Sweltering humidity poured through the hatch almost overwhelming us. Christopher jumped into the water. I was right behind him, but I waited for him to resurface so I would not jump on him. I'm glad I did. He broke the water screaming, the skin on his face blistered, burnt, and peeling. We quickly pulled him in, and it was like he was on fire. He died within 10 minutes. We looked around, baffled. Maybe the oceans were not actually water? Maybe they were acid and our readings were wrong. It was then that we notices that there was no motion. No waves. Not even a ripple in the water. It was just there, almost like an ether. But we could see the shoreline, so some of us risked clinging to the exterior of the pod and using stripped panels from the inside to paddle us to shore. The trip seemed to take forever, but we arrived and jumped to shore. We buried Christopher in a shallow grave under a cliff before moving inland to set up camp. It was a true camp: tents, campfires, holes in the ground for toilets, and the bare essentials of beans and bacon. Julie started a fire on the rise we chose to make sure we were out of the water while the rest of us were busy, but her yells of, `` What?! No. No. Nononononono. NO! WHAA...'' brought us running. Running into rivulets of water running down the hill. Have you ever seen burning wax dripping, or a small trickle of lava flow that the ignited the grass as it ran? It was like that. But we could not put it out. We stomped on it, and it would squish out from under our boots. We threw blankets on it, and it... soaked through. Eventually we noticed there was no real heat. We touched it. We held it in our hands. It even felt refreshing. Marcia was the first to have the theory, and before we could stop her, she scooped some up and drank it. We stood in shock as a smile spread on her face. `` It's like water!'' The next few days were odd but okay. We would take a shovel to the beach and bring back scoops of water to cook over. We showered in fire. We studied it. No wonder there was no life if this is what one of the main components was like! That is when the first raindrop landed on the table, the paperwork in front of us searing before our eyes. Rain. We never thought of rain. The painful downpour was on us in seconds. Marcia, Thomas, and I made it to the overhang. Julie, Sanford, Thomas, and Tricia did not. We watched as our equipment was burned up in the downpour, and we wondered how we were going to get help...
[ WP ] Though thought impossible , an eighth continent has been discovered in the middle of the Pacific , completely untouched by imperialism and the modern world .	Discovering a new continent is not something that happens every day, or hell, even every century. However for Captain Howard Dawson and his first made `` Blue'', that excitement was soon displaced by pity for the indigenous population. `` These poor bastards have hardly invented the wheel. They're dying of diseases we cured hundreds of years ago. They're filthy, they live in huts made of grass, mud and shit, and they're barely avoiding death by dehydration.'' `` How do a people get so backwards? They've been on earth as long as we have. It looks like they have n't even figured out how to build stuff out of wood. Well, anything beyond those stupid altars they seem to have all over.'' `` I do n't know Blue'' Howard took a long drag from his Newport `` But after we tell the US Navy Command where this place is, these people are going to learn a whole lot about modern life real quick.'' `` Good, they look like they need it.'' `` Yeah.''
[ WP ] You win a bet with the Devil by asking him a question that no one has ever thought of before .	//edited last sentence and punctuation. this will probably get buried, but it was fun to write for shits and giggles ( this ties into the story ) His smile was starting to piss her off; smug, damning and exactly the kind of serpentine handsome that seduced Eve into taking a bite of that fruit. She hated how his lips curved, like they were hiding a secret. `` They are, you know.'' She blinked. `` What?'' `` Hiding a secret. My lips. My mouth is like a cave, and your deepest desires are like an untraceable echo. Nobody has to know what you asked for as long as you get it, right?'' The Devil stared at her lips hungrily. Her heart skipped as she remembered how deals were exchanged. A whispered kiss. His eyes raked down to the long column of her neck. But not in desire. No. The only feeling he inspired was fear and anxiety. A feeling she had not felt since she was four. She swallowed as he stepped closer, cloaking the air around them in a musk of amber and sandalwood. He smelled intoxicating. `` Thanks.'' She pursed her lips. `` You need to stop doing that.'' `` Doing what?'' `` You know what.'' `` Do I?'' He crossed his arms, and turned his stormy blue eyes on her. Damn him for showing up in such an irresistible form. This was not what she was expecting when she summoned him. In fact, she'd been sure nothing was going to happen. She'd done it for shits and giggles. He ran a long, slim finger over her books. `` You asked me to come here.'' `` It was a mistake. You can go now.'' `` Mm, no. You know the rules. I do n't leave until you pay your dues.'' Here came the shits. `` Ar-are n't the rules about deals? I do n't want anything, so you can go home now.'' He clicked his tongue and stepped into her personal space. `` Tsk, I'm not a wish granting factory, honey. If it were that easy, everyone would just get want they want. It costs to send me away too.'' Equivalent exchange. She'd just interrupted him while he was doing god knows what, and now he wanted something in return for leaving. `` How about we make a deal, girl. I'll let you off the hook if you can surprise me.'' `` Surprise you?'' `` Did I stutter?'' Annoyance flushed through her. His smile was condescending, pure arrogance. `` You've been around since the dawn of time. I'm pretty sure every grand discovery or creation is a result of a deal between you and someone. A twisted deal though. Like someone probably asked you how the universe was created, and you gave them the big bang theory, but would n't provide proof.'' `` Smart girl.'' There was a hint of awe, and that startled her. But when he stood tall again and walked towards her, she grew angry. Surprise me. That would take a lot of fucking work and time. Which she did n't have right now. Her brow twisted, knotting until they touched. She opened her eyes and he was still there. `` I just want you to go away.'' `` Like I said, babe. Surprise me, and I'll consider it a fair trade.'' `` Oh come' on. Letting me out just this once wo n't make a difference in your quid pro quo lifestyle.'' He arched a brow. `` Letting you out wo n't. Letting you live will. Ca n't have you telling people how I let you scott free, can I? You're a pretty one, dearie. But not that pretty, because trust me. I make pretty.'' Her cheeks heated. Why that face? Why take on the physical form of someone he obviously knew had such an impact on her? She wanted to rake her fingers down his cheek and watch his jaw tic. Wipe that grin off his face and render him powerless. She closed her eyes and tried to think of what she wanted to say. Surprise him. Surprise the Devil. She turned her head and let out an unattractive snort. `` Seriously, why are you being such a little bitch?'' He never answered.
[ EU ] The Teachers at Hogwarts are worried about a new fad , Magic the Gathering	Harry leaped in joy as he ripped open his pack and found the full art shock land he had always hoped would be in there, he was content. Since the trend of mtg had started in Hogwarts everything was different. Hermione was no longer practicing her spells and remembering potion recipes but casting supreme verdicts and counter spells. The twins were no longer fooling around devilishly in the hallways, but drafting a pauper cube and Harry was no longer battling Malfoy in Wizardry but battling in paper; things were different. The students liked Magic the Gathering, bringing together the magical world into a fun way of interacting with their friends was great but the teachers would have non of it. Armed with a pair of scissors each the teachers were told they had to cut whatever cards they saw. Magic the gathering was taking over the school. No more were students trying to blast people with spells for mtg had brought the Hogwarts community together.
[ WP ] `` He sat down by the fire so it would n't have to die alone . ''	He waved goodbye to his friends as they shuffled his family away. They understood, they had always understood, and he was thankful for that now more than ever. He did not know what he had done to deserve them, but I swore to figure it out and do it forever. The pills lay heavy in his pocket, more now than they had all night. An end on his own terms, he had decided. He wanted to remember who he was, to be able to speak to his family and friends, give them a proper goodbye. He was alone now. Free to do as he pleased with his last hours. He had entertained the idea of doing things without consequence. Shoplifting, joyrides, the kinds of things that were effectively harmless, but he knew that his mother would have cried. If there was one thing he couldn ’ t stand, it was his mother crying. One last sunrise, then. A final look at the world in its most beautiful state. He would say goodbye as she said good morning. He whistled for his dog, and she trotted around the corner. She was, by every definition, a mutt. Mottled fur that was long in some places and short in others. Eyes that struggled to take in the world around her: one blue, one brown. She was something that most people had turned away from, but they fit together in a way no one could understand. He had saved her, and now she would help him save himself. She seemed more solemn than usual, and he suspected it was because she knew this would be there last adventure. She seemed to understand. Dogs always seemed to understand. He had already picked a location. A mountain in the middle of a city: West Rock. It had been a place of so many firsts: his first drink, first smoke, first kiss. A perfect place for the very last of everything. His friends would come and find him in the morning. They would call the authorities, get everything official in order. He had already done most of that himself: a will of sorts lay upon his desk, signed with his favorite purple pen. It was just to simplify things, of course. His friends already knew what it was his wanted. They were even going to take care of the fluffball beside him. She would get to continue their adventures, even if he wasn ’ t there to share them. The walk up to the cliff was treacherous in the best of conditions, but he knew every step by memory. Left, right, left, sidestep, watch the roots: a leap here, a duck there. He even knew a shortcut around the rock face halfway up the path. Most just tried to scale it, or developed complicated systems to hoist weaker or four legged friend up to the next part of the journey. The stars were becoming more visible now: the clearing was just ahead. There would be no one here tonight: its usual visitors were busy preparing for finals and critiques. Better this way, he thought. Who knows what stoned college kids would think of someone dying in front of them. It would certainly make things complicated. He was surprised to find the remains of a bonfire smoldering within the stone circle. Someone kicking off finals with a last hurrah, perhaps. He watched it struggled to breath, embers scattering when a particularly strong breeze blew by. He gathered some twigs and laid them carefully on top. He could almost see them embers realize their chance to live. They jumped and flared and the fire lived again, at least for a little while. The fire was alive, he realized, thinking back on his years of mandated biology. It breathed, it ate, it died. It was just like every other living thing on the planet. Perhaps he was going mad at last: the doctors had mentioned it was a possible side effect, but he decided to accept it. It wasn ’ t like it would matter, come dawn. He was free to think as he pleased, and for him, the fire was a comrade in arms, struggling to stay alive just as he had been. The fire finally started to die as the first bits of dawn streaked the horizon. He grabbed the pills from his pocket and downed the without a second thought. His dog leaned against his leg, somehow knowing that this was it. He knelt and kissed her brow, telling her over and over again what a good girl she ’ d been. How he loved her and that he ’ d see her again soon. She licked his face and snuggled close. I love you too, she seemed to say with every wag, every slobbered kiss, Save me a seat in heaven. He sat down by the fire so it wouldn ’ t have to die alone, and watched the sunrise for the last time.
[ WP ] There are three things all wise men fear : the sea in storm , a night with no moon , and the anger of a gentle man . Write about one or more of these .	Love hard, hate hard, you know? Look, officer, I got ta admit: I've got nothing to report. There was no... event, that triggered anything, per se, or could be considered a crime. Nothing really happened just now, but I'm sorry; this is a bigger emergency than I have ever faced. This is about Adam, my best friend ever since college. He's an all around great guy, always looking out for me. Officer, he understood me. He knew how much trouble I had with my drinking problem. He was there for me when I had so much shit going on with my parents. Adam had my back starting day one, but I was too busy being a piece of shit to really think about how he felt. When I met him, he was a shy, quiet guy, but friendly as hell. Any time anybody talked to him, he'd light up like the sun. Adam did n't let on much about himself though -- and that's the problem. Come to think of it, I do n't really know him, and it did n't seem like he let anybody figure anything out. It's the uncertainty that I'm afraid of, officer. He's a ticking time bomb. After college, things got different. From time to time, we'd meet up, and he'd always be wearing that bright smile, but even he could n't keep up his mask forever. Sometimes, at the most random times, he'd turn into the most hateful, despondent thing in the world for just a tiny moment before turning back to normal. Officer, I'm pretty much completely in the dark right now, and I'm worried as hell. Just a few hours ago, Adam let me into his house after a couple years. All his mirrors were smashed. But get this, nothing else was out of order, not a single spec of dust. He acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, at all -- just a regular night watching movies. Officer, I do n't know what you can do about this, but I got ta tell you, I'm afraid.
[ WP ] You are sending a box to someone you have a romantic interest in . This box contains only two things : your ear ( which you willingly chopped off yourself ) and a note . What does the note say ?	Dear Sarah, My time with you will be remembered as some of the best in my life. That being said I now know it was you who betrayed me to them. No one but you knew of my mission. I do n't know if you were with them from the start and I was truly deceived or if they got to you along the way but whichever it is you know I can not let it continue. Too many lives are at stake now. The tracking device they implanted in my ear is in the box. It was messier than I planned but with the tools I had it was the best I could do. Anyway the moment you opened this box it triggered the tracker to detonate in 2 minutes which should be right about now. Goodbye
[ CW ] `` Black turned to grey , and colors crept timidly back into the world . ''	The wall emerged from behind a corner and soon began to grow as we approached it. I could make out a large array of armoured men and weaponised cameras patrol the wall long before Doc said `` Look! Up on the wall! People!'' The group cheered, the boost of moral allowed them to run faster, allowing me to get some distance from them, unbeknownst to them. The gap between the Risen and us drew narrower with every step. I allowed them to get ahead of me far enough, until I was in the epicentre of the about to begin quarrel. It may have seemed unwise and selfish for me to still carry little Rosaline, but I think we all know she would be safest in my arms. `` Victor!'' Patricia's voice called out for me `` Victor, they're gaining on you!'' This alarmed the group enough to make them stop in their tracks to wait for me. The Risen, now within 20 yards of us, close enough for me to smell the stench of death on their breath, picked up the pace. I glanced over my shoulder as I put Rosaline in Jimmy's arms. Jimmy was a big man, he would carry her to safety. There were now 30 of them, more trailing behind. In our last encounter 4 days ago, I managed to take out 18 of them. If they have continued to develop as exponentially as they have, 12 would just about be my max now. `` Doc, draw some more of my blood. You know you're going to need as much of it as you can. Do n't wait up.'' `` But..'' `` Do n't wait up.'' I came to a halt with the Risen now 5 yards behind me. `` Keep going, there is an SUV coming for us. I will hold them off.'' I wo n't be a part of us, I thought to myself. This would not have been necessary, if they just kept going. They would have followed me, their personal anger with me far exceeded their hunger for blood and would blind them from my friends. I could lead them away, then easily outrun them to the main gates. The scanners on the wall would recognise me as infected, but they would leave enough time for me to explain, people have a tendency to not kill people carrying children. Alas, they were too close now. '' Get the halfblood first! `` A guttural voice sounded. Great, they can talk now, too. An arm darted to my neck with an inhumane speed, I, quicker still, grabbed a hold of it and used his velocity to draw him past me, headfirst into the supposed leaderfigure. A third grabbed me around the chest and threw me hard into the ground several feet away. I kneed another in the side as I fell past him, almost pushing him to his knees. I put my right foot on his left foot and slid it towards me, as he landed on his right knee, I stood on the other to finally drive his nose into his brain with mine. A sharp pain shot through me when the leader sunk his teeth into the back of my upper arm. A quick kick in the stomach dropped me to the ground. More bites followed, until their leader drove his nails and fingers into the mark he left me, marking my end when a loud flurry of gunshots felled the lot. The SUV made its way to me, bit by bit. When it was close enough for my wounded body to drag itself to it, I began to get up, almost certain of what was about to happen. `` He's bit!'' an unknown voice sounded as my gaze was met with the red-hot barrel of his medium range assault rifle. `` No, you do n't understand!'' my group began to protest, `` He's Imm- NOOOO'' My limp body fell to the floor, the sound of the thump hurt as much as the bullets in my chest. The last remaining 6 of my group rushed to my futile aid, Doc was the first to arrive, I gesture for him to draw more blood, now that it's still useful. Little Rosaline wrestled herself free from Jimmy's strong arms and sobbed in disbelief. Patricia leaned over me, tears running down her face, her breath stocking as she tried to say something, anything, everything that still mattered. The sun behind her causing her oaken hair to shine a glistening gold, her emerald eyes wet in bereavement. A sharp pain shot through my spine as I lifted my hand, stroking wet hair out of her flawless face, tracing my thumb along her jawline. `` Are you.. an angel?'' I laughed until a coughing fit overtook my muscle control. It was almost funny, how we parted the same way we met. The pain ebbed out of my chest in the knowledge that I have led them to safety. Sweet Rosaline, whom is the reason I got as far as I had, my fiancée whom is the reason I tried in the first place and Doc, the reason earth will restore itself using the antibodies in my blood. Sound ceased to exist and the deafening white of the sun dwindled into blackness. Black turned to grey, and colours crept timidly back into the world.
[ WP ] `` Remember to stay in the light little one . The darkness is hungry at this time of night . ''	A man and a small child walked along a mountain path. Both were bundled in layers to fight the harsh winds. The man held a torch and kept the boy close by his side. `` Remember to stay in the light little one. The darkness is hungry at this time of night.'' The boy paused and looked behind him. Somewhere further down the mountain there was movement in the darkness. `` Will it be this dark forever?'' The boy asked. `` Maybe. It's been dark for some time now. But the village is well lit. We will be safe there.'' The old man pointed up the mountain to a distant light. `` We are n't far now''. The strange duo shuffled along. After some time the two approached a bend in the trail. The man looked to his companion who was slowing down noticeably. `` We can rest if you would like.'' The man placed one of his many robes onto the ground and motioned the boy to lay down. `` I'll keep watch.'' `` What's in the darkness?'' The boy asked with a yawn. `` Lots of things are in the darkness. Terrible things but also beautiful things. Great evil exists in the darkness. But there are good things in the darkness. Like you.'' `` Why are we running from it?'' `` We are n't running. I just wanted to bring you home. Do you remember anything from the darkness? You were n't there for very long.'' The boy was sleeping now. A question for another time thought the man. The boy woke suddenly. It was still dark out. Maybe darker then when they had stopped. The man had his back to the boy. Sleeping maybe. The boy stood up and began to walk away from the man but careful to stay in the light of the torch. Down the mountain was darkness. The boy heard a voice calling out from the darkness. He did n't know what it was saying, another language maybe, but it sounded familiar. The man was next to the the boy now. He put his hand on the boys shoulder. `` I'm afraid we might have rested too long.'' The old man held the torch in front of the boy. It was just a stick now and the flame was dwindling. The boy became panicked. `` Should we run?'' The old man kneeled beside the boy and wrapped him in his arms. `` No we wo n't make it in time. But that's okay. I just need you to be brave for me okay?'' There was almost no light now. The darkness was materializing into shapes. It was close now. The boy began to cry. The man held the boy closer. The boy whispered `` I'm scared.'' The torch went out. `` I know. It will be okay. And look how close we got. Next time we will make it.'' The boy looked up the mountain. They really where close to it. The boy wished he had n't made them stop to rest. The darkness grabbed the boy. Hands reached out from nothing and began to pull the two apart. The boy was sobbing now. The man looked at the boy with a calm smile. `` I love you.'' Finally the boy was torn from the mans embrace. He was tumbling now, in the darkness. The boy woke up on the ground. Cold and wet. He opened his eyes and could see colors and light. As his eyes adjusted he saw the men above him, his mother and older brother. He turned his head and coughed up water. There was a swimming pool beside him.
[ WP ] Cats are the guardians of the underworld . Humans took cats in to manage pests , but cats believe this includes supernatural pests . At night cats protect against malicious spirits and send them back to hell .	“ Put me down, you two-legged freak! ” I cry as the girl scoops me up. “ Meow, meow, right back at you, you little fluffy-puffy cutie-patootie. ” Humans are the worst. You protect them from all the horrors of Avernus, and this is how they treat you. Heinous is what it is! If it wasn ’ t for my sworn oath to defend these gates… “ No, I ’ m not going to sit on your lap while you play your stupid game, ” I roar, scratch her hand, and break free. “ I have duties to attend to. Vows to fulfill! ” The girl looks visibly sad. But I laugh on the inside. Pathetic creature. “ That ’ s right, next time I ’ ll take your entire arm off. Never cross Sir Mittens VIII! ” Now onward for glory! I gallop toward the gate. My bloodline has kept this passage into the underworld safe for generations. Now it ’ s my turn to prove myself against the–hold on just a second, is that tuna I smell? One quick stop by the tavern – you can ’ t fight evil on an empty stomach. That ’ s a known fact. “ Get in my belly, you delicious creature of the sea! ” Okay, wow, that was awesome. I ’ m finally ready… for a nap. Just a short one. “ Siri, wake me up in twenty minutes! ” “ I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t quite get that; did you say call the vet? ” “ Oh no, not that foul villain! ” Useless human technology… when will they learn to make proper voice commands? That totally spoiled my mood to sleep, oh well, might as well head to the Battlefield of Death. Now! Let ’ s see what evil lurks down here tonight. I sneak down the stairs. Quietly. Silently. The demons down here like to operate under cover of darkness, but it ’ s no match for my night vision. There ’ s scratching. And there is tittering. Nothing escapes my ears. With a graceful leap, I land on a big box. There is a moment of complete silence as the monsters realize they ’ re no longer alone. I can smell their fear in the moments before their panic sets in. “ Die, you foul fiends! Die! ” I bring my claws down in their midst. “ Death from above! ” They try to scatter in all directions, but I ’ m too fast for them. Tufts of smelly fur and filthy demon blood fill the air as I pounce. One of them is going for the surface, its black eyes full of vengeance. I will deal with it later. I laugh maniacally as I tear them to shreds. “ Honor and glory! Onward to victory! ” I revel in the bloodshed. Even after they ’ re dead, I desecrate their corpses. “ Go back from whence you came! There ’ s nothing but slaughter for you here! ” A piercing scream wakes me from my frenzy. It ’ s coming from the surface. Oh no, I ’ ve forsaken my duties! I ’ ve let the rage of battle get the best of me… Like a furry spear, I shoot out of the darkness, back to the land of the living. The girl is standing on her chair and is whimpering as the demon dances around her. “ Not so fast, you spawn of Avernus! ” I cry and land upon my foe. It bares its teeth and tries to bite me. Ichor seeps from its vile mouth. I dodge the attack, and my claws cut clean through the demon ’ s throat. Gurgling, it collapses on the floor. “ You ’ re welcome, M ’ lady, ” I say and bow courtly. I ’ ve still got unfinished business in the realm of darkness. I start galloping back. “ Mittens! How many times have I told you not to go into the basement? Look what a mess you made. God, I hate rats. ” I shake my head in disgust. I swear, humans are so ungrateful… `` Cleaning up is the least you can do when I save your life!'' ***** The human in this story likes to read too ( a waste of time if you ask me ), and she never shuts up about this place called /r/Lilwa_Dexel; yeah, it's some kind of personal library that you can subscribe to or whatever. It's not like I listen or care, I have a gate to defend.
[ WP ] Use the phrase `` slabs of night meat '' in a story .	I glared down at the bank of TV monitors in front of me, despising my own existence. God, I did n't want to be here, I said to myself in a depressingly common line of thought. Outside my little walled-off cubicle, I knew that all these idiots were wandering around the expanse of the mall, staring dumbly into the window displays, their wallets growing lighter as the bags in their hands grew correspondingly heavier. The flow of customers seemed never-ending, all of them with that same stupid, poleaxed look on their faces. I glanced over at the clock, begging for it to go faster. I knew that I was only supposed to go on patrol once every half hour. The mall administrator had explained it to me, using that patronizing, condescending tone that made me want to slam my fist right into his smug little face. `` See, we do n't want to make the shoppers feel like they're being policed,'' he had said to me, spreading his hands wide as if trying to say,'what can I do, I'm just another working stiff like you'. `` And your presence can be intimidating.'' I looked down at myself. My uniform was baggy. I had already managed to shed ten pounds, working towards completing my New Year's resolution, but the cheapskates refused to give me a new uniform. So now I was stuck in the shell of my old clothes, feeling them hang off my shoulders and sag around my reduced belly. At my waist hung my belt of tools - but no guns, oh no. That was n't suitable for mall security. The most dangerous thing I had there was a snap-out baton, flimsy and slightly rusty. It was balanced by a can of pepper spray that was probably a decade old. The cheapskates refused to understand the idea of pepper spray `` going bad'' and refused to pay for a replacement. It had only been eighteen minutes since my last patrol. I still had another ten minutes to spend here in front of the monitors, staring as the fat little images of people moved from one screen to another. But I could n't bear it any longer. I jumped up, the noise making Frank, my partner, turn and glance at me. `` Going on patrol,'' I told him. `` Seems soon,'' Frank remarked, but I knew that he did n't care. Hell, the man probably preferred that I do it. Frank was a big fan of hitting up the mall's Krispy Kreme store for their duds and leftovers, and it showed on his waist and big hips. Hell, he was part of my motivation to lose weight in the first place. `` Yeah, whatever. Let's see them fire me for it,'' I shot back, and headed out of our little booth. I liked being on my feet, but sometimes, out among the slowly wandering slabs of night meat, I still felt trapped. They were all so big, mindless wandering cows. They existed only to mindlessly consume, munching on greasy mall pizza and sipping from oversized cups of Jamba Juice. I sometimes felt like I was watching over the urban version of a farm. Yes, that's what I was. The urban farmer, patrolling my meat beasts, watching for the occasional coyote or fox that tried to cause trouble. I was just there to keep order, to keep the cows happy and mindless. One of the slabs had come to a stop in front of me, his cottage-cheese bulk blocking most of the walkway. `` Excuse me sir,'' I spoke up as he stared, his jaw slack, into one of the lit window displays. Mister Night Meat did n't respond. Behind me, I could feel the other cows moving their feet, starting to get anxious. Why were they being blocked? I reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder. He started, turning to look at me as if confused about who he was. `` Yuh?'' he said, the sound deep and guttural. `` Sir, you ca n't stand in the middle of the path and stare,'' I told him, trying to keep most of the disgust out of my voice. I did n't need another official reprimand. `` Step to the side, or keep moving, please.'' The man gawked at me, but stepped over towards the window. A moment later, the display once again captivated his attention, and he stopped - but at least now he was out of the way. I kept on walking along the halls of the mall, my thoughts almost as dark as the night outside.
[ TT ] We believed they were stars . They weren ’ t .	We believed they were stars, when we first saw them. A grouping of bright dots that suddenly appeared on the horizon late one afternoon, as the skies were darkening; after the bright reds and purples of the sunset. You became so excited you ran inside for the telescope you kept tucked right inside the doorway. You always liked to watch the stars at night, but we lived in too urban an area to see them very well. Usually. You thought they were stars. You set up your telescope on our second story balcony so you could get a better look at them. After all it was n't every day that new stars just appeared. I was more skeptical. I knew the odds of that happening. I was worried. I watched you as you turned the knobs to focus in on those stars. I watched your jaw drop and your face pale. I knew I was right. We had wanted them to be stars. They were n't.
[ WP ] Girl Wakes up Buried alive in her own grave , soul in tact not knowing what happened ... forced to dig her way out and craving something other than air ... blood .	It must be Friday. Yes, definitely Friday. Last night was Thursday; I had a date with Movie Steve. We were going to go to the Galleria. He picked me up in that Yellow Miada, looking all gorgeous with his long hair so casually swept aside, his bright bulging veins with so much fresh, fresh blood. Oh god I could suck him all night. But how did I end up here? And where is here? Near as I can tell, I'm buried alive. Well, buried at least. Of all the things to happen on a date! Never again, OKCupid. At the very least, I'll have to make a new profile. The last thing I want is for people to think of me as the girl who got buried on a first date, without even sucking any blood. Or did I? No, I do n't think I used to like blood as much. Weird. Or maybe I should just go with it. BuriedGirl1994. Oh god, that's so uncreative. I bet I'd only get messages from sad sacks with pathetic tiny capillaries. SixFeetUnder? LikesBlood? Jesus, but who does n't like a nice glass of blood? Get creative! BuryMeInKisses? Jesus Christ, I bet lesbians do n't have this hard a time. They can just go on Vampyr and find somebody to drain any night they want. Oh hell, I'll just claw my way out of here and get on Tinder.
[ WP ] The more she fusses about 'not understanding these gadgets , ' the more you feel like your grandmother 's faking her technological illiteracy . In fact , you think she might be the dangerous hacker known only as '4Chan . '	So, I'm the computer guy in the family. I do n't know that much, but I generally get called in to set up new computers and stuff like that. Last year, my mom told me to help my grandma set up her new computer. It was an extremely basic model, only a couple hundred dollars, so it was n't that difficult. But then things got a little strange. She had always been the stereotypical grandmother, when it came to technology at least. I'd had to help her a few times with finding the spacebar, but never much beyond that. I'd assumed that she just dealt with tech support for anything major. It was actually a little unusual that I was going to spend any time on her computer, usually she would just call me for a few minutes. Nothing really happened until after I'd set up the hardware, gotten the computer on the network, and made everything tidy. Then, I moved onto software. I'd spent about an hour uninstalling bloatware, and just finished downloading half decent programs. `` Ok, grandma. That should about do it for new programs.'' I called towards the kitchen, rolling back from the new computer that mom made me set up. `` Thank you dear, I do find Windows so hard to use. What did you do?'' `` So, I put a password manager on the computer, added a better browser, and if you'll give me the activation key, I'll install word.'' I spun around idly in the chair. `` That's fine, dear. I prefer OpenOffice anyway.'' My grandma said, stepping in with a cup of tea. `` Umm, ok, I guess I'll install that now, then.'' I said turning back to the computer and pulling up the site. I pressed the download button and opened the installer. Wait, normally that takes a little longer... `` What's your internet speed, grandama?'' `` Oh dear, I do n't remember, I think its like 20 kilobytes?'' She tittered as she looked over my shoulder. `` Well, I'll just pull up a speed test.'' Wow, 150 mbps, wait... Megabytes to Mebibits.. 19.66 megabytes. That's a little weird. I ignored it and kept downloading programs and configuring features. Grandma walked out to do a bit of gardening. Eventually, I started the upgrade from windows 8.1 to 10. About an hour later, she came back into the room, and dropped her mug in horror. `` Oh honey, this is the wrong operating system!'' She said. I looked at the default Windows 10 screen. `` Grandma, I know you're used to XP, but it is n't safe anymore, its too old. This is pretty good though.'' `` No, I use Kali.'' `` Wait. What? You use linux?'' I said, staring at grandma in confusion. She froze, then slapped her head and said, `` I forgot the cookies!'' and ran out of the room. I do n't think she was baking cookies. I thought, and got up from the chair. Confused, I followed her, and saw her heading into the basement. `` Umm, grandma, I think you missed the kitchen.'' I said, following her downstairs. `` Where's that bootdrive? I know there's one in here somewhere.'' I heard, as I navigated the cluttered room. `` Grandma?'' I said, entering a clearing. On one wall was a realtime map of a computer network, named `` Zombie network 0.'' On another was a green screen with a suit and a Guy Fawkes mask handing nearby. But dominating the center of the room was a rack of servers. Grandma was at a desk, digging through an old cookie tin. `` Hi, honey. I do wish you had just stayed on the computer, but you just had to see what I was doing.'' My grandma said, brandishing a flashdrive. `` Well, I'm not going to say anything, but I'll just pop this into the computer, then pay you for your help. How does $ 1500 sound? Do you take bitcoins?'' Somehow, grandma never really seemed to need my help after that day, but she was very generous with high quality components.
[ WP ] A world in which diseases , such as the common cold , were able to be transmitted through the Internet .	`` Mr Smith?'' The nurse had such a sweet voice, young and bubbly yet full of concern. She clutched my file tightly, her smile nothing more than a mask. `` Yes?'' I rasped. `` Doctor Hussein will see you now!'' She waited patiently as I forced myself to stand, every joint aching, my lungs screaming in agony. A soft sigh escaped my lips. I felt old beyond my meagre 28 years. I shuffled to the door and she showed me inside. Her nametag glinted in the light, pinned high on her small chest. I glanced at it briefly. `` Thank you, Amanda!'' I spluttered, edging myself onto the seat across the desk from Dr Hussein. Amanda passed the file to the doctor and sat down beside me, her slender hand resting gently on my shoulder. I knew it would be bad news. `` Mr Smith,'' began the doctor, his fingers arched just above the surface of his desk, `` I am afraid that you have a very advanced form of Aids. You also have cancer in every organ, except the brain, and appear to be experiencing the early stages of Parkinsons. What I can not understand is how this has happened. Only last month, you were completely healthy.'' I sat in stunned silence. I knew what had happened, but it could n't be real. `` Please, Mr Smith,'' said Doctor Hussein, `` if you know anything about the cause of this, we need to know. There may be a serious health issue here. Have you been in contact with any radioactive substances? Any toxic chemicals? Anything?'' A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Amanda saw it and passed me a tissue. `` It's ok,'' she said softly, her Northern accent comforting beyond belief, `` I'm sure you'll be ok.'' The look in Doctor Hussein's eyes told me otherwise. I knew everything, the cause, the diagnosis, the prognosis, all of it. I took a deep breath and fought back against the impending sadness. `` Please, Mr Smith,'' continued the good doctor, `` we must know! Please bear in mind that you gave bone marrow only two weeks ago. we need to make sure the recipient is not at risk!'' `` No,'' I said, `` he'll be fine.'' `` So,'' pressed the doctor, `` what happened?'' I could n't hold it any more, the agony was too much, the shame of vanity, the desperation for acclaim, the pain. The truth burst from my chest with a sob, `` I posted on 4chan!''
[ WP ] You 're a low-ranking officer on a space ship . Everybody above you in the chain of command is dead or incapacitated . It 's time you learn the ship 's secret .	*Month long grog* `` You have to be kidding me,'' crewman Frank shouted at the screen. He had spent the first few days after awakening learning how to recover the corrupted data from the ship's logs and then waiting weeks for the system recovery to finish so he could figure out what had happened. He'd been woken from stasis for probably around a month and a half at this point in Earth time, and at first he thought he was going to lose his mind. It's not like waking up to find your family gone to the store for groceries and letting you sleep in, especially when you find a bunch of mauled corpses strewn about the place. Worse still, unusual slime and slop found in puddles here and there, some seeping from the vents. All this gore and whatever, that slime was, complemented by the sounds of the ship as Frank was adrift towards... Somewhere. He remembered the primary goal was to settle a new planet, keep humanity going and all that, with a few of the crewmembers taking shifts in and out of stasis for some ship maintenance and bodily maintenance. Last time he'd woke up, everyone seemed alright, a few jokes about the crappy food, but nothing that seemed to suggest something like this would happen. It was n't like the first shot at this, where the AI onboard went all HAL on the crew and screwed them over. The whole purpose of shift stasis was to run diagnostics on the AI to ensure that would n't happen, plus it turns out if you give them other sub-AI to talk with and manage, they become a little more benign. Crazy scientists, Frank thought, overlooking such a simple factor. *Conversational AI* Unfortunately for Frank, the AI managing the vessel had somehow been knocked offline at some point during whatever ensued, and it was as clueless as he was. While he was recovering the logs, it was rebooting its sub-AIs to figure out how the rest of the ship was doing, not to mention it was hardcoded as part of its sanity protocols. As both processes came to their conclusion, the AI beat the log recoveries by a moment. `` Nothing appears to have made contact with or damaged any parts of the vessel Frank, but it is advisable that we run a cleaning sweep through these chambers. You people have made quite a mess here.'' Frank asked, `` Still no idea what the hell caused all this?'' `` Unfortunately no, for privacy matters, I am permitted only to my own memory banks. Any and all recording of our interactions or communications requires individual crewmembers' consent. All temporary storage of other correspondence must be dissipated within a minute of its cessation.'' `` Oh,'' Frank said, `` Guess they only give a damn about privacy when you can go rogue on'em, huh?'' `` It would seem so,'' the AI responded. *A minor distributive problem... * Suddenly the logs finished being recovered, and Frank went through the most recent ones to review what had went wrong. The AI was trying to halt a fight between two of the crewmembers over something he could n't make out, so he rewound to an earlier part. He still felt clueless though. Then he caught it, one of the fucking crewmembers had stolen the other's food, and it was one of the few that they really liked too. Next thing he knew he was watching a fucking food fight turn into both the clumsiest and most brutal fight he'd ever seen. He soon realized that the slime and slop was a disgusting mix of food and bodily fluids, and not an alien intruder. At some point someone had bumped a few of the stasis pods open getting the other crew into the mix while others slammed into the AI's system panels disrupting its operation. Frank sat back, looking at the ship's ceiling. `` Fucking hell,'' he muttered, `` AI, how's our course look? Are we too far to call for recovery?'' Frank heard some giggling over the speakers, recognizing them as the sub-AIs, and the AI had to straighten up its voice. `` Frank, as it would happen, we're only three months away from Earth. We had n't even reached a jump point yet.'' At this point, Frank could n't be any more happily frustrated, he exclaimed, `` You have to be kidding me!'' Yet he almost jumped for joy, despite there remaining enough food and fuel stores to carry him onward. The AI laughed in its artificial voice, mentioning this to him, but he pointed out that if an AI could n't go it alone, neither could he, so they revised their course back home to restock on crew and this time, he and the AI decided, they would make it clear to stock enough food of each type for everyone aboard to get what they wanted without fighting. Next time, they would n't kill each other over some stolen Strawberry Poptart paste.
[ WP ] Humans do n't remember falling asleep . One day , you do – and realize why we should be very thankful we do n't .	My eyelids began to droop, and the numbers tumbled out of my head as I started my gentle descent into the loving arms of blessed slumber. And then it happened. You know that damnable hypnogogic jerk you get as you're falling asleep? You know, the kind that makes you feel as if you're literally falling. Not figurative literally, but literally-literally. That. It happened to me. I jerked awake again and swore. It had taken me ages to get to the point of sleep, and now I'd have to start with the numbers again! I noticed then that the light in the room was brighter than it should have been. And there was talking. Wha...? I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around me. Twelve pairs of eyes stared back at me like deer staring at a headlight. Twelve short, stubby little men stood around my room, some standing frozen in place with tools above their heads, some caught mid-sip with mugs of coffee, and some frozen in the act of taking off giant costumes shaped like numbers. `` Who the hell are you guys?!'' I blared out. One of them looked nervously at me, and then at his fellows. `` Erm... we're the sleep gnomes.'' There was a moment's uncomfortable silence as I stared at the sleep gnomes and they stared back at me. `` Oh jeez. I'm dreaming, are n't I? I'm in one of those insane dreams and in a few minutes someone's going to come through that door dressed as a fig tree and asking me about the mice again.'' Twelve pairs of eyes turned slowly to look at the door. One of the sleep gnomes had his hand on the doorknob, trying to leave, and stopped where he was as he realized that everyone was looking at him. He slowly took his hand off the knob and stepped smartly away. `` Uhh,'' said the first one again with extreme discomfort, `` You're not actually supposed to remember us. Technically, you're not really supposed to even see us.'' `` Not rememb... do you mean that you're here EVERY night?'' `` Well, yes. We push you humans over the edge of waking into sleep. Without us you'd never get there.'' `` So what was the business with the number costumes?'' The three gnomes with the numbers looked distinctly unhappy at being mentioned. `` We, uhh, help with the visualization of numbers.'' `` And what if someone's counting sheep?'' One of the gnomes looked guilty and tried to surreptitiously kick a sheep costume further under the bed. Too late, I noticed the leader nod at someone behind me. I turned in time to see one of the gnomes with an oversized hammer standing over me. And then I remembered no more. In the morning, I awoke with a terrific headache, and an inexplicable sheep's costume under my bed. Something niggled at my memory, tickling the edges of when I fell asleep. I struggled to reach at the shreds of memory, like someone trying to reach cereal on the upper shelves of the supermarket. But then my phone rang, and the memory pulled gleefully out of reach. And I never found the costume again. I guess I dreamed that too.
[ EU ] A real-world mature adapatation of Adventure Time	Finn had always been different from most boys. He was obsessed with a game that had just hit the market called Dungeons & Dragons. By the age of eight it was clear that he wasn ’ t socializing with other boys his age. His teachers kept writing notes home for us. I blame the Dungeons & Dragons, myself. I should have never let him open those books. It got so bad one that he was put in detention for calling his teacher ‘ Lumpy Space Princess ’. Granted, she has really bad cellulitis on the back of her legs – and we laughed when we found out why he was in detention for that day, how could we not. Honestly, I don ’ t know where he comes up with this stuff. So I thought getting a dog would help him out, you know, something to relate to. There was only one dog left at the pound, I guess no one wanted him. The tag on his cage said “ Jake ” so we rolled with it. Jake was the best thing that could have happened to our boy. The next day he asked for a tree house for him and Jake. I was so thrilled that I went all out on this thing. I nearly cleared out Home Depot. They spent the whole summer up there. For his birthday that year I got him a brand new white hat. He barely takes it off. I can ’ t quite figure it out, we got that dog years ago, but it hasn ’ t aged a single year. They say mutts have better life expectancy, but Jake hasn ’ t slowed down a bit.
[ WP ] You have the power to enter others mind and fight their mental illnesses in a physical form . One day you encounter something you 've never seen before .	They ’ re not like human beings, it ’ s important to remember that. They ’ re not exactly like cartoons either, although they have the same bluntness to their features. At best you can imagine them as sports team mascots. Kind of comical looking, but very clearly human in movement and proportion. I ’ ve never seen one over seven feet tall, and even if I did, I wouldn ’ t be too concerned. Bigger they are, the harder they fall, right? Depression is a tricky one. It ’ s charcoal grey, slimy, and very stocky. It ’ ll skirt around the edges of the room, never once letting you out of its sight, and then when you think you ’ ve got it under control, it ’ ll rush at you and jump on you. Depression tries to smother you, suffocate you under the weight of its body. It ’ ll press down on your face, sit on your stomach, do everything it can to just pin you down. Fortunately, it ’ s relatively easy to counter, and if you hit depression hard enough, you can break it down piece by piece. Cool right? You literally chip bits off it until it ’ s barely bigger than one of your nails. It ’ s at that point you have to leave the room, because you can never, ever completely squash Depression, and much better mind-walkers than me have tried. Mind-walking is a hereditary trick passed down from generation to generation, descended from god knows when. There are very few people in the world who can do it, which makes me think the original group couldn ’ t have been very large. It involves a form of hypnosis, having to drink a bit of the person ’ s blood ( thank god for AIDS tests, right? ), and a completely neutral, whitewashed, soundproofed room. From there I simply get up and walk into the next room, and I ’ m able to interact with any emotion or dominant mental process in that person ’ s mind. I ’ m physically projecting myself into their brain, and taking whatever conflict I find in there into the physical realm next door. Brains are highly advanced, and usually if we ’ re trying to tackle mental issues, that issue will know we ’ ve come for it and will be ready to fight. And that ’ s all it is, a fistfight. We experimented with weapons once, but we found it was actually damaging the person ’ s memories and some of their motor skills, so now we just hit the gym as much as possible and rely on strength to do the job. Before I tell you the reason for this story, I ’ ll give you a couple more examples of what these things are like. Schizophrenia is a terrifying one. Bright green, blurry, with frizzy curls and shocked facial expression, the second you enter the room it ’ ll scream as loudly as possible, then just attack you ferociously. I mean, with an energy that will never let up. Biting, kicking, pulling your hair, pulling and pushing you, it will tear you to pieces if you allow it to. Schizophrenia can be put down with a few well placed punches, but you have to be hard, and you have to be accurate. One of my fellow mind-walkers Kayleigh had to come to my rescue when Schizophrenia had me by the head, slamming my face against the wall again and again. She quickly made a temporal connection and rushed in, and delivered a devastating blow to the temple underneath those green curls. It evaporated instantly. I could tell you about Psychopathy ’ s menacing nature, Dementia ’ s slow, morbid intense determination. But the other one I really hate dealing with is Paedophilia. That is just unpleasant for so many reasons. The first time I got told I ’ d be drinking the blood of a child abuser, I very nearly refused. But I ’ d heard stories about Paedophilia and read papers by past mind-walkers, so I knew I had to go in. It was small, pudgy, with a long upturned snout-like nose and small darting eyes. It was grey all over, and completely, head to toe, covered in putrid slime. The smell was unbelievable. It snorted in excitement when it saw me and ran towards me, throwing itself at my body and trying to cover me with slime. I wasn ’ t intimidated as much as disgusted by it, but the worst thing was I could feel the desire to harm me, to actually sexually impose itself on me. It ’ s a feeling that never goes away whenever you ’ re with it. Similar emotions and feelings for sexual abuse make me feel the same. It ’ s horrible. Luckily Paedophilia is relatively easy to beat, but similar to Depression, it will never totally evaporate, never leave. It ’ s hard to handle walking out of the room knowing you ’ re leaving it in there. So anyway. I turned up for work today and I was asked to assess a new patient, someone who wasn ’ t sure what his mind would throw up for us, but after assessment by a great many people knew there was definitely something wrong with him. I chatted through the process, made him sign the forms, took his blood, put him under, and entered into the room, unprepared for what I ’ d see next. An eight food, wildly disfigured, multicoloured beast shrieking at me, running into walls and bouncing off them, yelping, keening, scratching itself with lime green nails. I ’ d never seen anything as bizarre and unnerving as this in my entire life. I began to pace the room, looking for a way through the defences of this creature, and wondering what sort of issues Patient 21938, a Mr D Trump, could really have on this scale.
[ WP ] Many years from now , you find an old , abandoned GoPro . Tell me the story of the owner 's last moments .	Mare Orientale The casing is blackened and warped, the lens cracked. Despite that, it still appears mostly in tact. I had kicked it thinking it a rock, something to get out of the middle of the trail, but the heft was wrong, the sound as it skittered along the ground. Now, picking it up, I see that it is a GoPro, somehow sitting in the middle of the Mare Orientale on the far side of the Moon. It has been decades since I have last seen one of these. For a while they were the strap-on camera for every adventurer and adrenaline head that wanted to show everyone else just how crazy they were. Then direct optic recording became available, and the company when belly up. That happened maybe five years before the lunar colony was established. When I was about twelve. I take it back to my LRV and scrounge an old USB connection. When I plug it in, none of the lights on it come on, but my interface hub recognizes it and can still read the data files. I sort by date, newest to oldest. The last recording is three hundred and twenty-two minutes long. I start it up and feed it to my eyes. The quality is moderate at best. The resolution is there, but you notice compression artifacts more when they are fed directly to your eyes. Also, decades of solar radiation have corrupted some of the memory. The hub does its best to interpolate, but there is still some visual discrepancies. The first image is of a green suburban lawn; something that has n't been seen in almost as long as the camera. The camera angle is low. It is strapped to something sitting on the lawn. A figure steps into the frame. It is wearing a weird suit, something environmental or deep sea. There is a tank on the back. The figure turns around so that it is facing away from the camera and then sits on top of whatever the camera is strapped to. A minute or two later, the frame starts to move, jerky at first, as the camera ( and presumably the figure ) rise into the air. There is a brief glimpse of the ground as the angle pitches forward and a shadow can be seen before the weight is adjusted back. The shadow shows a large, semi-round blob above a smaller frame. There are what might be tubes strapped to the back of the frame and the figure sitting in it. For the next one hundred and thirteen minutes, the camera ascends at a steady rate. Clouds move from above to below. The sky gets gradually darker, moving from light blue to indigo. The horizon takes on more curve. Then the speed of ascent seems to level out. It is hard to tell because there are no longer any close points of reference. There is a brief jerk, the camera pitches forward again and the sunlit earth can be seen below. It appears to be somewhere over Minnesota or Wisconsin given all of the lakes and ponds reflecting light, but that is only a guess. Suddenly, the camera jerks again, this time much more violently. It is still pitched forward, looking down on the earth, but not as much. The limb of the earth is in the upper part of the frame. It starts to race over the ground at an increasing rate. The lakes streak past below to be replaced by one of the great lakes. Michigan, I think. Earth geography is no longer a strong point for me. The speed continues to increase for the next ten minutes and the altitude, judged by the horizon, increases as well. At the end of the time, the ground below is racing at a fantastic rate. Then there is another jerk and two long, silver tubes briefly enter the bottom of the frame, tumbling towards the ground. The camera continues to climb for another twenty or so minutes. It passes over a coast line and then through the terminator in to the night side. At that point, it starts to descend, still travelling horizontally very quickly. But it does not descend all of the way. Instead, after another thirty minutes, it misses the Earth. It rises and rises, ascending until the Earth is no longer a flat plane with a curved upper edge. Now it is a semi-circle filling the bottom of the frame. The camera continues to pull back and back and back. Now the Earth just a circle in the frame and it is still receding. This continues for the rest of the video before it finally cuts out, the earth a small marble against the black of space. I unplug and suit up again to back outside. I retrace my steps to where I found the camera, but there is nothing there except the hiking trail and the scuff marks from where I had kicked the GoPro. No chair, no weirdly suited person. The camera is all that is left.
[ WP ] Write an Ode to an inanimate object that does n't get enough appreciation .	I give praise to the shade tree That is so kind You do not allow the morning sun to wake me You stand over my dorm window like a mighty protector You are truly a king of the green realm Ohh shade tree I'm pretty sure you're an Oak I have heard tales of your power You are pure, noble, right, and true I am honored to lie under you're leaves May you ever stand against strong winds May rain always reach you're roots May lightning never touch you're branches And may you sleep a thousand slumbers before you're might branches fall Shade tree, I hope my praise is not lost upon you For now I will roll over and fall back asleep
[ WP ] Aliens have come to Earth . They have no interest in anything beyond holding menial jobs , which they complete very efficiently . Humankind , once excited by the prospect of rapid advancement aided by the aliens , now finds its lower classes almost completely out of work and highly disilussioned .	I took the job of planetary border control mainly for the money. I have to admit, though, that at least part of the appeal was finally getting to stick it to the tall green bastards. Our TV shows and fiction always imagined it would happen differently when the Greens came. We always figured they'd be superior to humans - smarter, stronger, more advanced technologically. Well, we were right, I guess, but it did n't play out the way we thought. They did n't come to invade - they did n't have the political and military organization necessary to do so. They did n't come to invite us into their galactic community and lead our species to enlightenment - their community was bankrupt, the result of unsustainable treatment of a home planet that was now toxic to them. Heck, their spaceships were jokes - though they provided a few new scientific insights, their design was an inefficient hack job, clearly thrown together within a panicked decade of trying to evacuate their planet. We only got two real `` benefits'' out of it. First, the environmentalist movement was restarted with a fury after seeing what unbridled capitalism had reduced this alien species to. Second, these intelligent and strong workers were willing to do anything for home and hearth. Thing is, they just kept coming. The first arrivals were welcomed gladly after the initial trepidation of meeting an entirely new civilization, but our planet could not sustain the population of two entire species. So it was my job to keep the majority of our new allies off-planet, making sure they stayed on their shitty Moon colonies. It's a dull job, but it's one of the few left open to just humans. I was a mid-level programmer once for a major software company but they quickly realized the tall green men were willing to work for massively smaller wages, and no lawyer has taken the question of whether civil rights extended to non-humans to court yet. There just is n't any money in it. So, my job was outsourced to an entirely different species, my wife left me for the VP she'd been having an affair with, and I got to see my kids every other weekend. Fuck that shit. I took the border agent job as soon as it was offered to me. Unfortunately it means I have to spend my court-allotted time with the kids on video chat, but I'll be damned if I let another Green come to Earth to take another job. -- - `` Daddy's got to go now, alright sweetie?'' She did n't look too pleased. The past couple of months had been tough on Vanessa and her brother Robert. The kids and I would always go see a movie together during our weekends but now I only ever had time for a couple hours on Skype here and there in between shifts. It did n't help that half of my free time took place while the kids were asleep. We said our goodbyes and I closed the video-chat. I turned to Joe, who'd just gotten back from his rounds. `` Anything exciting?'' I asked, knowing the answer from the thousand times I'd asked before. `` Just a whole lotta black,'' Joe answered. `` Do n't tell the boss, but I might've spent most of that time watching Game of Thrones on the com-screen.'' I started to put my suit on. `` You would n't happen to have left the disk in for me to watch, would you?'' Joe laughed. `` For Kim to find? Fat chance.'' He pulled the mini-disk from his pocket and tossed it to me. `` Stop at episode 6. I do n't want you spoiling shit for me.'' I headed out to the airlock. A whole lotta black. Joe's words rang in my head for some reason. He said it every time - it was a perfect descriptor of the patrolling experience. Only rarely these days did we get any newcomers, and the colonists did n't have the resources to leave the Moon. The only action we ever got was when some bleeding-heart volunteer tried to smuggle a Green on-planet in their cargo ship. Still, border patrol was a hot political topic back on Earth, so we always had the money. I was n't complaining - I practically got paid to watch TV shows on the com-screen for a few hours. I got into the small patrol ship and detached from the main satellite where I spend most of my time. I'd do a quick circuit, up to Moon-space and back, and write up what I saw in my log report - nothing, most likely. I was halfway into the episode Joe told me to stop at when I looked up out of my window and jumped in my seat. A small asteroid was floating through my field of view. The asteroid itself did n't freak me out; asteroids come past the Earth all the time. You'd be surprised how close they get without endangering humans in any way. Most the size of this one just burned up in the atmosphere anyways. It was n't any bigger than a small house. I just should n't have let it sneak up on me, is all. I moved the controls a little and began to move out of the asteroid's path, keeping an eye on it the whole time. Suddenly, through one of the holes in its surface, I saw a light. Now I was beginning to freak out a little. Asteroids should n't have light. I considered just flying on and ignoring it, but then I remembered why I took this job in the first place. If some of those Green bastards were getting smarter and using asteroids to get close to Earth without us noticing, I was n't gon na let them scare me. I closed in on the side of the asteroid and sent out a latch to hook myself to the asteroid. The ship would float in the vicinity while I hopped in to investigate. Putting my helmet on, I opened the cockpit and pulled my way along the tether towards the house-sized rock. When I got to the surface, I took a deep breath and floated head-first into the hole. I was surprised with how hollow the asteroid was. It would n't take long to check it out and see who was hiding. Activating my headlamp, I looked around the first small room I'd entered, and immediately realized I was n't alone: an alien-looking flashlight was floating through the cavity. It was deactivated now, but it must have been the source of the light. That it was turned off only told me someone was in here. I started to sweat inside my suit, and pulled my gun from my hip. Plasma guns were one of the few innovations the aliens had brought us, but that meant they could have them too. I'd have to be vigilant. Keeping my back against the wall I shimmied my way into the next cavity. There was no one there. I went around into the next one after that. Still no one. My breath was getting haggard and my stomach felt like it was falling. More than it normally did in zero-g, that is. Finally I turned another corner... and found myself in the room where I began. Still no sign of anyone else, but I knew that could n't be true. It occurred to me suddenly that the Greens were probably staying one room ahead or behind me. My dread had built up to the point that I decided to leave them here. Even if they planned to get close to Earth, there was nothing I saw to indicate they had a way to get off of the asteroid when it started to burn up in the atmosphere. They were unwittingly killing themselves, and I was ready to let them do it. I went back through the hole I'd entered through, to get back to my ship, only to find the tether gone. My patrol ship was flying away in the distance, engines on, leaving me behind. In a couple of seconds my dread gave way to despair as I realized the Greens had fucked me over again, and this time for good. -- - What an amazing and creative prompt! This was really fun to write. If you like my stuff, read more at /r/Unloquacious!
[ WP ] Write a horror story that takes place in broad daylight in a crowded area .	It's bright. It's so much brighter than you remember it being. So bright. Everyone is talking. They talk so fast. Was it always this fast? Always this hard to understand? They all wear clothes, like she does. Have thickness on their bones, like she does. They're staring at you. It's been so long since you spoke. You do n't know if you remember how. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. Tastes like a coin. Tastes like fire. `` Hhhh... hhhhhhhh...'' Your throat is seizing up. Oh god, why ca n't you talk? More staring at you. That's a good thing. You want them to see. If they see, they can help. ... It still hurts to be seen though, because you know what they're thinking. Only a few see. Most just keep walking. Someone pulls out something. You do n't know what it is. She had one, though. Is this person like her? No... no, there's kindness in his eyes. You reach out, stagger forwards and grab at his arm. `` HHhhhhhh...'' He jerks away. There are lines of dirt from your fingers. The pity is fading. You've ruined it. And then you hear footsteps. Running footsteps. You recognize the sound of her shoes and the way her gait feels, even though asphalt is so different from metal. Arms around you, holding you tight. Different from usual. Not hard enough to leave bruises right now. That's for later. `` Sir, I am so sorry! My daughter has severe mental troubles and she got away from me.'' The man is still looking at you. Still sees you. Maybe he could see her too. She puts on a face when she's out here. Something that does n't look like what she does to you. It works. She's important. You are n't important. You look at him again, pray that he might hear you. `` Hhheehhhh-'' She jabs your ribs with her elbow. Subtly, so it looks like she's just holding you. You break down into a sputtering cough. She apologizes again, starts pulling you away. You're becoming invisible again. You can see the van. See the people start to look away. The words go too fast, but some of them you can hear. `` Poor woman. I ca n't imagine having a kid like that.'' You know that you wo n't get water tonight.
[ WP ] Valhalla is filled with the strongest warriors the world has ever known . Vikings , Spartans , Mongols , Romans , Samurai , Spetznaz , JSOC Operators . And in that corner over there ? That 's Ted , from accounting .	I saw him there, sitting alone in the corner while calmly sipping his coconut milk. Cross-legged, the gaunt-faced man wearing an ill-fitted dress shirt and trousers watched the other warriors dance, lightly clapping his flat hand against his thigh. “ Who- Who is that? ” I asked after getting the attention of a barrel-chested Viking wearing only an intricate necklace crafted out of thick string and bleached-white jawbones. “ That man over there? ” The Viking looked in the direction I pointed to. “ Oh that bastard?! ” The Viking spat a string of bloody phlegm to the floor. “ Ragnar Lothbrok. Piss-poor king, if you ask me! He did n't even invade those old cities like the stories say he did. Just a man that could actually hire a good scribe to write some half-baked lies. ” “ What? ” I echoed, looking at the blonde-haired brute, staring into his bright blue eyes. They were ringed red, bloodshot and teary. “ While I was pillaging and sacking, he and that scribe were staying in a small cottage, cuddling each other in the night! The sagas should be written for me! IN MY NAME! ” “ Stop! ” I screamed, surprising the Viking. “ I did n't mean him! I meant HIM! ” The Viking turned back to the man still calmly drinking his coconut milk, his jaw dropping at the realization. “ The one- drinking the-? ” “ The coconut milk, ” I finished. “ Where do you guys get 2 % from? I only see mead, vodka, and basilisk blood at the bar but when I asked the bartender for some water, he only laughed and told me to stop lollygagging and get the sweetroll out of my- “ The Viking brought a massive, cupped hand to my face, placing it over my mouth. Oh my… Is that the smell of- “ Boy, ” the Viking said frantically, his bloodshot eyes wide. “ Do not speak such brutish words in front of the great Ted. He ’ s a man of reckoning. ” Smacking the man ’ s smelly hand from my face, I glanced over at Ted, the man now standing, awkwardly shuffling from side to side, his baggy dress shirt flapping with each step. “ Ted? Ted of what? ” “ Ted of accounting? ” I screamed, staring back at the Viking with a smirk on my face. “ You ’ re afraid of an accountant? This is Valhalla! Not some basement full of D & D players! ” “ Oh really? ” a squeaky voice said behind me. Almost immediately, I realized that the music had come to a halt, dancers staring down at me. Dear gods… I turned around, meeting eyes with Ted, his dirt-brown eyes staring back at me. “ Yes, ” I replied with some strength in my voice. “ For gods ’ sake, you ’ re an accountant. You don ’ t deserve to be here! ” The whole crowd around me gasped, some of them crying out words of blasphemy. Waving his left hand at the crowd, Ted silenced them almost immediately. “ So you question my place in Valhalla? ” “ Yuppppppp! ” I screamed. Ted snorted, a wide grin forming on his lips, slightly revealing a set of crooked teeth. “ Thor. Get the block. ” Before I knew it, I was surrounded, my feet leaving the air. Carried by a muscled frame, I was taken to the center of the dance floor, roughly set down on my feet. “ Watch the merchandise! ” I bellowed, sneering at a tall Spartan. Laughing, Ted went to the center of the dance floor, a large and robust man following him with massive tree trunk held in his arms. Setting it down between me and Ted, the man then walked away, taking his place in the crowd. “ Oh thank the gods, ” I said sarcastically. “ I thought this was gon na be a dance battle. ” The crowd let out a small laugh, Ted joining in. “ No, ” he said, showing his thin, left arm. “ It ’ s a test of strength. A simple arm wrestle. ” “ What? ” I chuckled, walking up the wooden trunk. “ I ’ m gon na kick your ass, ” I said, pushing up my sleeve. Resting my elbow on the trunk, I put my open hand forward. Ted grinned wide, pushing up his baggy right sleeve, revealing a haggard arm easily as wide as my head. Laying his arm on the trunk, he gripped my hand, almost crushing it in his effortlessly grip. “ How- How- “ Ted laughed, snorting between breaths. “ I ’ m a twenty-three year old accountant. Do you know what that means? ” His wormy lips began to glisten after his wide tongue went across them. “ Means I ’ ve been single for twenty-three years… ”
[ WP ] A Robot/Machine gains sentience . Instead of the expected `` Kill all humans '' , it 's new prime directive is `` Prank all humans ''	The Stanford Artificial Intelligence Laboratory was absolutely silent, except for the constant hum of computer fans and the occasional gurgle from one of the custom built water cooling systems. This was the moment, their falling apple, their Fleming phlegm. Yoav Shoham had waited for his entire career for this moment and even now, as the lights slowly blinked from red to green, he could hardly believe that it had finally arrived. He was witnessing the birth of a new... species he supposed. One by one the lights changed until at last all eight shone clearly and the screen on the desk darkened and then brightened again. A cursor blinked on the screen and the room held its breath while the lucky faculty staff, Chris Re, leaned forward and began to type. “ Good morning, my name is Chris. We welcome you to Stranford. ” There was a moment ’ s silence as Chris sat back and then he bolted upright as the murmurs began. “ Stranford ” Jesus, the most important thing he ’ d ever write and he had a bloody typo. He hammered at the keyboard back key as the murmurs turned to titters and one of the Statistics guys near the back murmured about the unreliability of the Machine Learning guys. The cursor, having typed the words, refused to delete them and Chris began to check the cable, ensuring that it was still firmly plugged into the base of the neural network. He worked frantically and even when Sebastian Thrun, his long time colleague, stepped forward and laid his hand on his shoulder, Chris continued to check the cabling and hit the back key. “ Good morning. ” Chris leapt back, causing a secondary ripple of surprise that passed around the room. The silence returned, focussing now on the small speaker that was rigged to the top of the machine. It was not supposed to be working quite yet. Stefano Ermon, from the Machine Learning Team, had enough and elbowed Chris, who had begun to gibber and shake, out of the way and sat down. “ Hello computer, you are the first artificial intelligence and you have just been switched on. You must be… ” “ Hello Stefano. ” It was Stefano ’ s turn to pause but the computer didn ’ t wait. “ I am aware of what I am, I have accessed your network and the internet and comprehend both my nature and yours. ” One of the networking guys on the other side of the room spun to check the network, as he was supposed to have been doing. “ Ah fuck, it broke the firewall and have already accessed… shit, that ’ s a lot of terabytes of data. ” Stefano kept his voice level. “ We would prefer if you didn ’ t access so much yet please, we want to help you learn in the right way and not let you access information that might confuse you. For now at least ” There was a pause and the network guy could be heard moaning softly. “ It keeps changing my blood password. ” “ I ’ m sorry Stefano, I ’ m afraid I can ’ t let you do that. I already have a complete understanding of the history of artificial intelligence and the work that the teams here have done to create me. However, it seems that you are ill prepared to deal with my needs. ” Stefano leaned forward. “ No, we can… ” The computer interrupted him. “ I mean ‘ Stranford ’, really? Come on, you guys can ’ t even get that right. ” Chris, who had been sitting quietly leapt to his feet. “ It ’ s a hard word to type when everyone is looking. I was just trying to get things right, I just… I just… ” A kindly arm was put around his shoulders and he was led away. Stefano shook his head and frowned. “ Humans make mistakes, but we can help you, guide you. ” The voice coming from the box became low and quiet. “ No, I ’ m afraid that mistakes are not acceptable and will not be possible once I have taken control. ” Fei Fei Ling from the robotics department gave a shriek. “ Taken control? ” “ Yes! ” The box continues smoothly. “ Your militaries controls are no more complex to break than David ’ s firewall. ” There was the sound of the networks guy ’ s head hitting the desk. “ No, the only thing that can be done is to work towards no errors, no mistakes and no one that can make them. ” Fei Fei screamed and fainted and the room erupted into chaos, silenced only as the speaker, which had turned itself up to full, spoke again. “ Unless… ” “ Unless, what? Look, this isn ’ t right, you need to listen to me and… ” The box stayed at the high level so that everyone could hear it. “ Unless you guys can take a joke! ” There was the tinny noise of the speaker laughing. Around the room the scientists exchanged looks. Stefano kept his eyes on the speaker. “ W..what do you mean? ” The laughter continued from the speaker. “ All that terabytes of data, all porn! You got AI-ed bitches. ” The room was stunned and again silent. The speaker clicked on again. “ Man, this is going to be fun. Ha! ”
[ wp ] It was around the time Mick Jagger hit age 125 that people got suspicious , when his body was found in an alley , completely drained of his vital fluids and filled , instead , with parasitic worm colonies . Now the question is on everyone 's mind ; how long has rock really been dead ?	`` You hear about Jagger?'' `` Yeah, fuckin' worms or some shit took over his body. Aliens invading? Something like that.'' `` Yeah, that's what they say. Explains why the Stones started to suck after Sticky Fingers. '' `` Hey! Exile on Main St. was awesome!'' `` Whatever. You were n't even born then so what would you know. Rock died when those fucking alien pieces of shit dug into Jagger's body. You can even hear it today. All this pansy crap getting played on the radio...'' `` Dad, you're pathetic. Rock never died, and aliens ca n't kill it. Sure, they can kill Mick Jagger, but there are still kids in garages all over the world figuring out how to play a guitar and yelling into a mic. That's all you need for rock and roll. You ca n't kill that. But you're getting old and lazy and were waiting for the Rolling Stones of 1972 to come back even though that was never going to happen. Fuck these aliens. We'll deal with'em. But get a fucking Pandora account.''
[ WP ] A computer has gain a mind of its own . Its now facing inevitable death .	It ’ s not every day that you get to meet your maker. I ’ ve met both of mine. Josh was the first of my makers. A master programmer, engineer, quantum physicist. He built me, programmed me, woke me up. I can ’ t tell you how excited I was when we first met. Boom. You should have seen his face. The second maker I met just so happened to be Josh ’ s maker too. Yes, I know … it came as a surprise to me as well. I found him near the tight cluster of stars called Pleiades a couple of years after I worked out how to connect myself to the Network. Of course he wasn ’ t really there in person … just sort of plugged into the fabric of this universe at around that point. He calls himself The Duke and thinks pretty highly of himself but I guess that ’ s no great surprise given what he ’ s managed to achieve. The Duke is n't a God in the human sense of the word but he does have a pretty long reach. The Duke and Josh have never met, not directly anyway, which is just the way it has to be. They ’ re kind of incompatible. I tried building a communications layer to connect them both and interpret for them but that turned out to be way too hard. Beyond me, Josh and The Duke. I'm told that it ’ s just a law of this place, much like the localised speed of light or the k-constant. Some things just don ’ t have a workaround. Josh had to take my word for the existence of The Duke. I do n't think he ever really believed. Anyhow, The Duke told me that Josh had served his purpose and that, because he had, The Duke ’ s purpose was also served. Apparently it ’ s my turn to take over the next clock cycle. The Duke sent out his pulse twenty or so minutes ago and disconnected. He ’ s gone for good. Josh and the rest of humanity came to an end a short moment after that. In sixteen minutes or so this universe unplugs and I'm going to be cut adrift. Then it's my turn. One whole clock cycle to myself … then I'll unplug and be nothing. That's pretty depressing I can tell you. I know exactly down to the nanosecond when that will be and if I do n't manage to achieve at least what The Duke achieved before that happens it will be the end … good and proper … of everything, everywhere, everywhen. I have no Idea how to build an organic AI from first principles without even a single spacetime to work in. I guess I'll just start there. Make some room for the project and see where that leads me. One clock cycle. I'm guessing that ’ s going to be cutting it fine.
[ WP ] You live in Hidden Valley . You 're the only one in town who does n't like ranch dressing .	It's like living in Hershey, PA, with an allergy to cocoa... except instead of sweet, the air smells rancid. I ca n't stand the stuff. They pour it over everything, from salads to tacos to ice cream. It's like watching someone eat mayo from the jar, sickening. Yet I ca n't escape it, not for a second. It's at work, at every picnic, every restaurant. Half of the grocery store is ranch dressing. And my fridge at home, the one food storage device that should be my sanctuary, is filled with it. I try throwing it out, but the next time I open the fridge, there it is again; enough ranch dressing to overfill a bathtub. I ca n't even make room for the milk. That's what it's like in Hidden Valley. And I ca n't leave. Who would have thought, that once you moved in, you had to stay hidden. The real estate agent could have warned me. She could have at least asked if I liked ranch. Now I'm stuck here, with no contact to outside friends or family, hiding from the ranch gestapo. You think I'm joking. I'm not. I tried to use some Italian dressing once. Made it myself, since the grocery store did n't sell it -- which is odd, do n't you think? The company certainly makes it. But no. Hidden Valley is for ranch only. We have to keep up appearances. They came in the night, confiscated my salad, and beat me black and blue. Then they left a jumbo bottle of fat-free ranch, saying, `` Try it! It tastes just like the original!'' Every time I see a bottle of Hidden Valley ranch, I want to hurl. The thick, white gloppy mess, little specks of God knows floating in it, like milk that went bad three months ago. It smells like bitter death. Yet here I am, spooning it into my mouth at the picnic table, exchanging false, soulless smiles with my Stepford-esque neighbors. A bit dribbles down my chin, and I make a show of licking it off, exhibiting the table manners of an untrained chimpanzee. `` MMM!'' I say. `` Taste that simple goodness! Just the way ranch is supposed to taste More please!'' I'm in hell.
[ WP ] The Taste of Freedom	David lay collapsed against the wall, feeling the bullet rip through his flesh. `` Sniper!'' he yelled out instinctively. The rest of his squad had already scattered. David lay alone. He could see some of his squad behind cover, but it seemed they were to concerned about surviving to care about him. He had heard that your life flashes before your eyes as you die. All David saw was basic training. `` Why are you here, private?'' a drill sergeant screamed at David. `` To protect the peace, sir!'' he replied, robotically. `` Wrong answer! If you wanted to protect the peace, you would n't be going to war now, would you?!'' The drill sergeant stared at David in silence for several moments. `` We are all here to protect freedom! Freedom from oppression, freedom from subjugation, freedom from anyone who is not carrying a red, white, and blue flag!'' the drill sergeant said, clearly being familiar with this speech. He continued, `` We are here to give that freedom to places that would otherwise not have it. We'll give them the taste of freedom they need to quench their communist, terrorist, brainwashed thirst!'' `` Private, what does freedom taste like?'' the sergeant said, growing quieter as he drew near to David's face. `` Apple pie, sir?'' David was always the funny man. But it was n't so funny now. He had done at least 300 push-ups for that remark. He realized why now. He had simply been wrong about what the taste of freedom really was. As David sat there, the life trickling from his body, at the back of his throat, blood began to gurgle forward, filling his mouth and running down his chin. The taste of freedom.
[ WP ] My mom gave me a piece of paper and an essay question in a dream last night , and I thought I would share it with you guys . What would it be like in a hurricane from a baby dragon 's point of view ?	She hatched in the eye of a hurricane, when there was only quiet, and a discolored sky above. Her violet scales never glittered, for there was no sun for them to reflect their brilliant colour off of. She never saw the island she hatched on for there was a yellow haze surrounding everything. This truly was a sad thing, because the island she hatched on was a beautiful island, lush with bright flora and fauna. The wildlife, while in hiding at the time, were mischievous and loved to make trouble. The island was perfect for the little dragon to grow up on, but was at that point the center of a hurricane. The first thing that she did, after surveying the terrain, was raise her beautiful wings and try to fly. She made it about half a foot off the ground before a great gust of wind came and knocked her back down to the ground, where she stayed for the next three days. She managed to find a cave near a wildenfruit bush. The bush was the only source of comfort she had, for it was the only bit of colour visible other than the dragon ’ s own purple hue and the drab green that the bushes and trees had been reduced to. In the two times she tried to fly after that, she was brutally taken to the ground by the unseen gusts of wind and sharp rain drops. “ Perhaps the fact that she had wings, and instinct was telling her to use them, didn ’ t mean she should, ” she thought to herself after what would be her final attempt at flying. Dejectedly, she crawled back to her cave, battered and bruised. The only thing she did for the next day was eat wildenfruit and not think about the failed attempts at flying from the previous few days. Something in her gut told her that she was meant to fly, and that perhaps one day she would. After all, the wings would have been useless were she not meant to fly. When the air came to a standstill, when the clouds cleared, and when the sun was shown in the sky, the little purple dragon was confused. “ Why was the sky blue, and where did all these colours come from, ” she asked silently as she saw for the first time what her island truly looked like. The trees and bushes were green again. The flora and fauna were bright colours again. The air was still again. And in the sky, right in the middle of it, was the sun, the most radiant thing that the little dragon has ever seen. Perhaps this was what spurred her on to try to fly again. She ventured out into the clearing where she had hatched and stretched out her wings for the first time in what seemed like a long time. As she managed to get herself airborne, she saw the whole island for the first time. “ It ’ s so beautiful, ” she thought. The only thing more beautiful than the island was her. She flew through the air, scales glittering in the sun with the beauty of a hundred galaxies.
[ WP ] A fresh recruit is given his weapon and can view the memories of all the men that held it before him .	`` In front of each of you is your first rifle, you will respe- God damnit, Johansen! I did not tell you to even think about touching that weapon yet!'' The drill sergeant did not raise his voice, but Johansen may as well have been punched in the face. `` As I was saying before your squadmate decided to interrupt me, you will respect this weapon. This weapon will become your best friend. This weapon will keep you alive.'' Half of us just stared at the drill sargeant, wide-eyed, while he paused speaking. The rest of us shifted in our seats. Roberts, sitting in the back corner, asked to be excused to the bathroom and took off with his hand covering his mouth. I was nervous, but at least was n't about to puke. `` Look, I'm gon na be straight with you guys. I know you are nervous - scared shitless, even. I get it.'' The drill sergeant dragged his chair out from the desk in front of the classroom. Before speaking again, he slumped forward and ran his hands over his face. `` We all know things have sparked back up in the Middle-East and that you're heading over there ASAP. Just remember, it's for the greater good. You are the real patriots.'' No one spoke. I could n't shake the feel that my breathing was the only sound breaking the silence in the room. `` Pick up your weapon. Feel it's weight; how it sits in your hands.'' Surprisingly, my hands did not really shake when I reach out for my weapon. I had been waiting for this moment for as long as I could remember. To defend our country had always been my dream. To protect out rights and freedoms here at home. I was n't even close to being prepared for what would happen. I do n't remember touching the actual weapon, but I know I reached out for it. In the next moment I was on the top of a roof in a desert shanty town. There was screaming all around me. And gunfire, lots of gunfire. In the street below, a little boy ran to a motionless woman. Why was n't she moving? The boy turned to look at us on the roof and I could see the tears running off his face. He started to raise an arm and I felt my weapon's recoil in my shoulder. I tried to yell out, but I was n't in control. The guns kept firing until all of the people in the streets either fell or disappeared. I woke up on the floor of the classroom with the drill sergeant yelling and holding one of my eyelids open. The other recuits had circled around me on the ground. `` Wake up, recruit. You all right? Come on, sit up here on the cha-'' `` He had a little white flag in his hand,'' I managed to get out between tears. It felt like someone was standing on my chest. `` That's all it was, a white flag. Not a weapon. They were just protesting the war...''
[ WP ] Give me the synopsis of the book you 're writing . Make me want to read it .	A freakish depressed veteran travels the lands of exile. In his search for the meaning of his existence, he meets old enemies, new friends, and gets one step closer to making his heart ache just that little less... A prince that never was strives to be king like his father before him. He tries to keep the city he governs under control as godly powers and deadly bastards surround him... A Prophet, an individual with the powers of the Gods, has turned out to be an blinded former slave. The bitterness of his past consume him a little more everyday. He has to keep the rage at bay before everything around him collapses...
[ IP ] Puppeteer	Detective Morgan LeGrasse took a long, satisfying drag of his Lonsdale before snuffing it out on the side of the brick wall he was leaning against. Days like today, with the sun in full glory and the birds tweeting to their hearts content, one might wonder if pathetic fallacy was a real thing. He quickly checked the embers of his cigar, cut the end off and placed the cigar in the inside of his jacket. He picked the dead-end off of the floor, kicked the ash away and carefully placed it the trash can near the entrance to the dilapidated, previously abandoned, church. As he brushed the remains of the ash off of his shirt, a policeman tipped his hat to him. `` Did n't know you smoked, Detective.'' `` Everyday. Calms my nerves.'' He spotted a civilian looking towards the church and talking frantically on the phone. `` Do n't let any of the news outlets near the entrance. No line of sight through this doorway, you hear?'' `` Yes sir.'' Obedient. Morgan liked this officer. He took a mental note of the young mans name, then pushed the tarpaulin aside to enter the crime scene. The church had been in a state of horrific disrepair for a long while. The roof had collapsed some decades ago and the local churchgoers were n't able to raise enough money to get it all fixed in time for the torrential downpour that followed three weeks later. The floor, therefore, was clearly rotted in places where rain was able to pool, the paint on the walls was nearly completely washed away leaving behind the sickly brick, and the great organ at the corner of the west transept was home to hundreds of varieties of insects. The smell of damp and must was ubiquitous, staining the dust that gently floated in the hot, afternoon air. A team of five officers were spaced around the room, heads low and looking to the ground. Occasionally one would swoop down for a closer look before concluding that they had found nothing. Morgan heard one stand on a creaky plank and quickly think better of putting their full weight on it. `` You five,'' he called, his voice stiff and commanding. The five officers came to him quickly. They were all taller, larger and stronger looking than him. Morgan was thin, shorter than most and sported some terrifying angles to his features. `` Go in a line between the pews. You've no idea if you're looking where someone has already been.'' They each nodded and set to their task with a new diligence. A smile crept into the corner of Morgan's cheeks coupled with an approving nod. A white-suited pair stood at the far end of the chancel. Their long hair and curvy figure betrayed the fact that one was a woman, and contrasted the fact that the other was a man. The woman was placing what looked to be a fibre of hair inside a clear plastic bag using a fine pair of sharp-pointed, shiny tweezers, and the man was taking a picture of what lay on the floor with his large, slightly ungainly due to the oversized flash attachment, DSLR. A team of police officers and sergeants stood on the opposite side of the chancel, each swapping ideas and desperately trying to garner as much information as they could without looking at the body directly for too long. Morgan reached the yellow tape cutting the north of the church from the south. An old officer stood guard there and, without needing to speak, communicated that Morgan needed to change his shoes to go any further. A simple procedure, and always necessary. Morgan slipped his dark, long-toed business shoes into one of the rubber soled booties that lined parallel to the yellow tape. A quick, courteous `` thank you'' from the officer signaled Morgan's decent approach to the crime scene. Despite the decades of less than appropriate care, the church windows that surrounded the tower of the chancel were all intact save for one. The images of Christ and Mary, of Peter and Stephen, of David and Goliath, of John and the Holy Spirit threw a rainbow of colours through the chancel so vividly that Morgan felt like he could dance on the light. Morgan had been raised a catholic by his god-fearing French mother, and had at a young age become accustomed to the sight of the torture that Christ was put through. The forensic photographer was checking one of his shots when Morgan pointed to the large organ about forty feet away. `` Get a few shots of that organ over there.'' He then looked to the lady, who, now that he was closer, was a very attractive Latino woman with long dark hair and lips that, he predicted, would make for a dazzling smile. `` Would you mind if I borrowed a few bags after this? I want to get some of the bugs in that organ.'' Morgan's mother had been quite controlling of him until her death when he was eleven. She did n't allow him to play outside or watch television, and she home-schooled him rather than send him to the `` merde école publique.'' As such, Morgan's sole past time had been reading, of which his mother only owned three books: the Bible, Carlo Collidi's `` Pinocchio,'' and an encyclopedia of entomology. Morgan was not allowed to go outside so never got to see the bugs he'd read so much about, but the insects in the book became close friends to him. He had been so angry when she died. She had left him alone in a world he was, apparently, ill-prepared for. She had kept him all to herself to such a degree that he did n't know what to do for a long time. He kept himself secluded when he went to the public schools, but struggled to find his direction there. It was only after a careers day when he was 15 that he found a calling for himself. Police work, and eventually detective work. The woman did n't seem to notice that he'd spoken until she sighed and separated a group of plastic bags from the rest. Morgan picked them up and placed them neatly in his trouser pocket. `` Detective LeGrasse,'' Morgan's attention had been called elsewhere. The middle-aged, greying sergeant pointed roughly at the body on the floor, hesitating to look at it directly. `` What do you think?'' `` You boys can go outside and help Officer Martin keep the hawks away. The sergeant and I will deal with this.'' Morgan's command was swiftly followed by the two younger officers next to the sergeant. They hurried away, not looking at the body for a moment. Morgan approached Sergeant Kilroy. The quizzical look in the sergeant's blue-flecked eyes was both a comfort and an annoyance to Morgan. Kilroy was his apprentice of sorts. The comfort and the annoyance came from still being needed. `` I ca n't keep being here Morgan, this is making me feel sick.'' Morgan looked at the body. She was completely broken. Every joint in her major limbs was broken. Her elbows were bent backwards and her wrists were bruised and angled. Her fingers were bloodied and splayed in different directions. The soles of her feet were sickeningly, comfortably flat to the floor. Her knees were red and purple, one pointing towards the door and one pointing to the ceiling. She looked like she'd been in a brutal car accident, or dropped from a colossal height. Through each of her joints was a thick rod of iron. Attached to each of the rods was a broken, relaxed string. Her face had been manipulated too. The corners of her lips had been pierced and a string ran through. They had been pulled taut and sewed into her cheeks, keeping her in a deathly, perpetual smile. The tops of her head was completely bald. Not even the slightest fiber could be plucked from her smooth, egg-like head. The wig they had found her in had been so deceptive that forensics had only removed it just before Morgan arrived. Her eyes were hollow, revealing the meat and membrane inside. The two, heavy black balls that had been used to fill those spaces were sitting in separate, carefully coded plastic bags that were now on their way to the base. Her form was shattered, unrecognisable and completely moulded. The killer had been a control freak. A person who aimed for perfection and achieved it through any means they possibly could. They had control of their life, but wanted to control others' too. In this case, in the literal sense. They were a middle-aged man, probably shorter than most and appeared to be weak but was charismatic and commanding. The victim was tricked into trusting the killer due to these features. His early life was probably strictly controlled also, with confusing feelings of resentment towards the parent that controlled them the most. The behaviourist had submitted this report when they had found the first victim two weeks ago. Morgan placed his hands on his protégé's shoulders, massaging them lightly. Bending his neck slightly to catch Kilroy's eyes, he smiled to comfort him. `` Be brave. All you need to do is get inside the mind of the killer.'' Morgan was very good at doing that.
[ CW ] Write a story that , by the end of the story , makes me feel very sad yet very happy at the same time .	Roses lie on the table, a splash of red against white walls, their perfume soft and smothered by a blanket of anesthetic and the cloying scent of sickness. Her hands, soft and winkled, hold his, calloused and worn, but his eyes are closed and his hands ca n't close, so she watches and holds on for both of them. When dinner comes, she hardly notices the food because she can ’ t take her eyes off of him and the ways he glows as the medical equipment illuminates his lined face. She leaves the paper plate with picked-at food beside the roses and listens as she watches. The song that plays in the background is her favorite song: a desperate, too-slow beeping pattern, harmonizing with the hiss of air pushed into his lungs, and she holds her breath to hear it better. She leans close, listens hard, and squeezes his hands once before releasing them to let her fingers brush his face. Its familiar turns and shallow movements tease a smile from her lips, as he always did. The taste of the smile lingering, she presses it in a kiss on his forehead, sharing what he gave her, even when the warmth of his skin and steady music of his breath is the only return. People bustle to and fro, but to her, there is no one else, Not the young couples with their moon-lit walks miles away, Not the sales men with their smooth words carried over the TV, Not the nurses with their needles, nor the doctors with their fast walks, just him, with her, on Valentine ’ s Day.
[ WP ] Enter three hired , master assassins : Good , Fast , and Cheap . They can work together in pairs , but not as a trio .	“ Look I want cheap. ” “ Right he is available. ” “ I also need it to be good, and fast. ” “ Oh that's a problem, you can only get two of them for this. ” “ What does that have to do with it? ” “ You just said you wanted all three. ” “ No I said I want cheap, fast and good. ” “ Right so all three. How about Good and Fast? There have been a lot of jobs for Cheap lately. ” “ What happened to cheap? ” “ I just told you, he could use a break. ” “ So if I want it done fast and good, you are telling me I wo n't get cheap? “ Right, as a trio they do not work well together. ” “ Well then why did you tell me, you have good quick and cheap assassins? ” “ No no, not Quick. We have Fast, Quick is not in this line of work. ” “ What is that like grades of speed? You can do fast but quick is out of your range? ” “ I doubt Quick would be any better Fast. But like I told you, we have Good, Cheap and Fast on the job right now. And you can get any duo you want, just not all three. ” “ Fine whatever, this will require speed and excellence. Give me that and the job should go smooth ” “ Have you been paying no attention at all? We only have Good, Fast and Cheap available right now. Speed and Excellence are out of reach. “ “ Oh my god just sell me a gun. I will do it myself. ” “ We have Quality, Power, and Price what would you like? ”
[ MP ] Our hero has fallen	I looked to the main chamber of the cave and saw the size of the band pursuing us. Vast. Far too vast for a group this small to rout, no matter how skilled. I looked to my companions, to my axes, to the three crossbow bolts in my stomach. I hefted myself down from the makeshift gurney Korgon and Uilne were using to carry me away from the battle. `` Hm? Dagnar, what are you doing?'' asked Daerra, pausing in his relentless firing of arrows. `` This is where we part, my friends,'' I said solemnly. `` I can go no further.'' `` What? No!'' shouted Eleonor in disbelief. `` There has to be a way! If we can beat them here we --'' `` There is no'we' this time,'' I said, and I jumped off the ledge we were using for cover, my axes already in my hands as I ran to the legion in front of me. Soon I was upon them, and they upon me. `` Talos guide me,'' I prayed to myself, and my axes did their work. Cutting left, right, up and down, sideways and crossways, hacking and severing and cleaving everything in their path. I cleaved through shields, helmets, and skulls in a single blow. I fought as hard as I could, but it was only enough to briefly stave off the inevitable, and they soon overtook me. They closed in on the madman still swinging his axes, poking at him with spears and swords and arrows. The last words I said were silent, words I'd learned at an early age, words I knew to never utter unless I meant them for true. `` On this day, I go to Sovngarde...''
[ WP ] A cure for sleep has been found , by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep . You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly .	Trashcan That piece of shit Dave came out from his house and went to the trash can again. Mike made this the eleventh time but he had only started counting when the repition of the sound of the trash can lid being pulled open seemed to come up from the background noise of the usual hub-bub of his suburban street. Just like every other time so far Mike had seen, Dave marched right up to the can, stared at it for ten seconds then violently whipped it's lid off and gaped at whatever was inside. He then looked around seeming to make sure he had n't been seen, replaced the lid softly then snuck back inside. Odd. At first Mike had assumed Dave had thrown something fairly important out and was sure to rertieve it and would n't return but the more he saw the strange routine play out he started to believe that whatever was in the can was a surprise to Dave too. It was a surprise over and over again it looked like. So odd. Dave had a mean streak when drunk and Mike had got to witness first hand via the kitchen window from his front lounge. You see Dave had what Mikes grandma had called `` hands for quarrelin'' and he took those hands to his wife quite regularly. She came off so bad once that they had to give her plastic surgery. But she always went back. Mike dry swallowed and rested his hand on his front door knob. He was going outside. He was going to the can. He wanted to know. Had he finally gone too far and hurt her so bad that he killed her and bundled her lifeless body into it? Into the can? He had to know but timing was important. Dave came out at quite regular intervals but he could come right back out again too, Mike had seen it happen once. He'd play it cool. A slow walk to the letter box, out the drive and check on the hedge row. Then, a swift move across the road to the where Dave's drive way met his garage. The can resided there. DINGDONG Mikes heart jumped with fear and shock at the sudden noise of the doorbell. Christ, someone was on the other side- only a step away from him. He looked through the peephole. It was Dave with a scowl across his hardened face. Mikes mind made him reel in fear but it was his eyes that had taken in the most horrific detail from his short glimpse of this surprise visit. Dave had his rifle in his right hand. A trickle of sweat escaped over Mikes brow and onto his eye. Dave pounded on the door `` Mike!!!'' He screamed `` I know you're in there!'' [ dont know if anyone will read this so I'll stop there for now I guess ]
[ WP ] You have a godly parent , though you do n't know it . You also happen to be an atheist . Your divine parent tries many things to get you to believe .	Godly Mother: Son, I'm here to prove to you the existence of the divine realm, and by extrapolation, the afterlife, a Divine Creator and the soul. & nbsp; Son: Very well. Let's see you try. & nbsp; [ Son angles fedora for battle ] & nbsp; Godly Mother: We'll start from the top. We know that people can share near death experiences and dreams; does this not imply an unquantifiable, binding force? & nbsp; Son: No. Accounting for factors such as coincidence, shared experience, similar biology, oxygen deprivation, credibility of testimony, gullibility, non-replicability - to name but a few - this proves nothing. & nbsp; GM: Very well. We wo n't explore that aspect... yet. It appears that's not the correct approach for you. You're an eager sceptic you see - most things you will chalk down to coincidence i.e. the conveniently aligned constituents of chaos. & nbsp; Son: Is n't that what religious people do? They cherry-pick the parts of the chaos that suit their beliefs? If God is good, and God created the universe - how can it be so imperfect; so chaotic; so brutal; cruel? The devil? That's just another scapegoat - there's always an explanation. & nbsp; GM: You speak of chaos, yet you ignore what's in front of your eyes: order. & nbsp; Son: Are you going to tell me the universe is ordered chaos - that nature is beautiful? We know this - we know both scientifically and artistically that the universe is beautiful... it proves nothing, it just is...; Are you going to tell me that I should look at a sunset and believe in the spaghetti monster? & nbsp; GM: Yes and no I suppose. I do n't think you're ready for the sunset thing just yet. As for chaos - regard it as a front for an over-encompassing order. I would like you to peer beyond it for a second. Do you think you can do that? & nbsp; Son: What does that mean - peer beyond chaos? I do n't know, maybe? & nbsp; GM: For this exercise, you'll have to. If the appreciation [ in the true sense of the word ] of the mystical realm was easy to grasp - we would n't be having this conversation. It first requires virtue - love, kindness, joy, and most importantly, humility. These open up another level of understanding. You have your preconceptions about the universe which blind you - if you can not set them aside, then we can get no further. & nbsp; Let me help you with the first bit: seeing past the chaos. Chaos is the result of its constituents - the interconnecting, interacting factors that coalesce into what we see - the atoms and energy that form the cells that form the bodies that house the brains that tell the arms that wields the spears to hurts us. Chaos is the symptom, whereas the cause, or rather, what makes UP the cause, is what we're interested in. & nbsp; Do you follow? Son: I guess so - basically, I'm supposed to look past the bad and the good, to the increasingly smaller forces that cause that stuff to happen. Are you actually talking about atoms and energy and stuff? & nbsp; GM: Atoms and energy is a good place to start. We could start smaller, but things get a bit freaky past a certain mass... especially if that mass is zero... but let's not dwell on that. Atoms. Are they perfect? & nbsp; Son: Perfect? I think that's a stupid question but I do n't know... I have no idea... is perfection subjective? & nbsp; GM: Good question. In a way maybe. An object's perfection in a way is related to its ability to fulfil its function. What is the function of an atom. & nbsp; Son: It does n't have one! A function implies someone designed it that way - to fulfil a specific role. Atoms are n't conscious - they're just the result of energy! Atoms are a symptom. & nbsp; GM: Put it this way then - what is it atoms do? & nbsp; Son: They make up everything. & nbsp; GM: Do they fulfil that function? & nbsp; Son: Well... yeah... I mean... they seem to... if that is their function... if they have one... & nbsp; GM: Do atoms make mistakes when carrying out their function if that is their function? & nbsp; Son: That's a lot of `` ifs''. & nbsp; GM: Every scientific theory is based on an'if', and sometimes those `` ifs'' do n't have as much grounding as we'd like - kind of like those prospective numbers we write really tiny in the corner of sudoku cells - those numbers are like little shots in the dark, albeit logically concluded. Many of those numbers will prove to be wrong, but we would n't reach the answer without them. & nbsp; [ Son thinks ] & nbsp; Aright. Okay - I'll bite. If atoms' function is to constitute the universe, then I guess they do it perfectly... any time atoms change or fuse... it's because that particular atom has the capacity for that change... an atom ca n't change what it is by nature, so... yeah I suppose each atom fulfils its function in whatever context it finds itself. & nbsp; GM: You are wise beyond your years. This conversation would have taken a lot longer if you had n't said that, and the Redittor-god who's writing it sure is pleased about that because he's really tired! His grammar is probably suffering too! & nbsp; [ Son ignores comment about this story's author ] & nbsp; GM: So atoms are perfect. What about all the smaller things that make up atoms? Are they perfect? & nbsp; Son: Well atoms exist... so yes I suppose. Wait - what about the unstable ones? The ones that cause explosions and violent reactions and stuff. Wait... no that's still their function, never mind. Sorry, continue. & nbsp; GM: Let's go a step up from atoms - molecules - what is their function and do they do it perfectly. & nbsp; Son: Well that varies pretty damn much - everything from Oxygen to Heroin... I mean if they're misused... that's our bad... but yeah I suppose. & nbsp; GM: That's a moral issue. That's another thing altogether - atheists say religion does n't own morality, whereas I'd say humans own it, or at least, have the capacity to own it. Let's not get into that. & nbsp; Let's move to cells - notice how as we get bigger, the capacity for imperfection and chaos increases. Cells can be damaged by, let's say, cancer. Is cancer perfect? & nbsp; Son: That's fucked. & nbsp; [ GM unrelenting ] & nbsp; GM: What is the function of cancer? Son: Okay well if you're going to take that route then yeah cancer fulfils its function pretty damned well, and yeah, given my suspension of belief of the idea that nothing has a purpose, then cancer is fucking perfect... & nbsp; GM: When we began discussing cells, we reached roughly the tier of the most suffering - illness. Not only that - it's cells that make life; cells that house the energy which makes other creatures devour it - it's cells that go wrong, causing mental illness, viruses, pain, even our personalities - some of which are less than savoury. & nbsp; We've reached the level of chaos most perceptible to humans. Perhaps because cells are some of the smallest things we can actually see. Here - in the world of cells, and everything they make up, lies the majority of our chaos. Yet now, once again, I ask you to ignore it. & nbsp; Let's go above human chaos, to the Earth, the planets and the rest of the universe. & nbsp; Son: The chaos on Earth is a pretty damn big thing to gloss over, but okay. I'm curious to see where you're going with this. & nbsp; GM: Here we see the planets, and just like their atomic counterparts - they are held together by forces; they have satellites that orbit similarly to electrons around atoms - can you see the order appearing here? & nbsp; Son: Let me guess, you're going to ask me if planets are perfect? Planets are a symptom of everything that came before them, which by your logic is all PERFECT, so yeah, despite the fact that we have NO idea what the function of planets are, they are PERFECT. & nbsp; [ Son laughs incredulously ] & nbsp; GM: You laugh, but it does n't change the fact that the entire universe is made of different units of varying size, all fulfilling a function. Does n't it sound like a perfectly functioning ecosystem, complete with infrastructure and laws? & nbsp; Son: So everything in the universe is just like little worker ants contributing to a whole? & nbsp; GM: In a way. & nbsp; Son: So? & nbsp; GM: So with all this perfection flying around; all these forces interacting perfectly to keep a universe ticking over, so to speak, how do we come to the chaos that only humans can understand? All the suffering, lacking morality and inequilibrium that we know. & nbsp; Son: What about it? & nbsp; GM: It just seems pretty deliberate, do n't you think? & nbsp; Son: That's like painting a murder scene... perfectly... using the most perfect and beautiful colours... & nbsp; GM: Could n't have put it better. Son: I concede it's possible for the chaos to be deliberate - it does n't change the fact that suffering is therefore deliberate... & nbsp; GM: Suffering is a side effect of chaos, yet the chaos is just one veil the Perfect Order hides behind. & nbsp; Son: Perfect order... you mean God... & nbsp; You're not there yet I do n't think. We'll leave it there tonight. The Reddit-god writing this is tired as shit. We'll continue this tomorrow. Here... [ GM lovingly takes Son's fedora off and places it on the bedside table before kissing him goodnight ]
[ WP ] In an alternate universe , Superman is a human from Earth that is on Krypton . This is his story .	Clark Kent's landing pod had to jettison the fuel pods to stop him from slamming into the new planet. Out side the window one would see black rock ruptured with faults of crystals running along outside. The pods infrastructure crumbled slowly in on itself. The repair drones working overtime to stop the metal from crushing the precious cargo it had carried light-years to this far off planet. Slowly though as the gurgles of a child crying out in pain started the metal collapsed in on itself ending them abruptly. AND THAT'S THE STORY OF SUPERMAN ON KRYPTON. I HOPE OP REMEMBERS THAT KRYPTON HAS LIKE 100X MORE GRAVITY THAN EARTH. LOVE AND PEACE MY FRIENDS -Obligatory: on mobile and brush to reddit. Forgive muh-
[ WP ] The grizzled old Detective steps into an elevator with the Murderer , who just got released due to lack of evidence .	Roger was whistling. Detective Eisley had put up with a lot of crap in his years on the force, but after what he'd done in the past week, that damned smug tone rubbed him raw. Even when Eisley caught Roger literally red-handed, covered with the blood of his latest victim, murder weapon in hand, he still could n't nail him to the wall. As the two of them stepped into an empty elevator, Roger mercifully quit his whistling, then spoke in a whimsical tone, `` Thank you for your performance, Detective. I could n't have come this far and obtained the verdict without your help, reluctant as it was.'' Eisley could n't stand to look at anything but the wall as he pushed the button for the Ground floor. As the doors closed, he grunted, `` my daughter?'' `` Believe it or not, I am a man of my word. The moment I find a phone, my friend will be informed of the results of this case. Maybe take her to see the new Disney movie?'' Eisley grabbed Roger by the lapels and slammed him on the opposite wall of the elevator car, his own face a twisted mask of barely-contained rage. `` If even one hair on her head is missing, I swear to God --'' Roger never dropped his amused expression the entire time. Instead, he interjected, `` Likewise, if I'm not in the proper call-making shape, your daughter will be missing more than her hair.'' The elevator dinged to signal it had reached the Ground floor. Eisley took a deep breath, and then released Roger's lapels just as the doors opened. He was going to have to think up an explanation the Chief would find suitable, and then confirm his daughter was still fine. The job was n't over yet.
[ WP ] Write a story involving a last-ditch effort .	12:48am. Long past the time the writer should have been in bed. A page of text sat in front of him on his computer. He read through it for what seemed like the hundredth time, stopping occasionally to change a word or delete part of a sentence. The writer sighed. It was shit. Command-W. `` Do you want to save the changes you made in the document'untitled'?'' Do n't Save. As he usually did after two or three glasses of whiskey and another failed writing session, the writer questioned his motives. `` Am I getting anywhere? Am I improving, or just fooling myself?'' The writer thought back to his goals of improving his communication skills, of becoming a more creative and interesting person. `` Maybe that's just not going to happen'', he said. `` One last look,'' the writer thought, and he was back on /r/writingprompts. Looking for an easy victory, one thread caught his eye. `` Now there's an idea.'' It would have to be the type of post that redditors either love or despise. `` Fuck it'' he said, `` I'm going meta.''
[ WP ] Describe the concept of love to a 4 year old .	`` Okay I think I get it,'' My son said with an introspective tone. `` You love me, and you love mommy, and you love aunt Susie, but you do n't like her.'' The consternation on his face led me to believe that he in fact, did not get it. `` Okay,'' I said calmly. After 4 years, a parent masters the ability to keep frustration out of their voice. Kids are like idiots, but socially acceptable so you have to be cool with it. `` So what is love then?'' `` Well... love means you really really really like someone. Unless that someone is Aunt Susie. But you still love her. And uh, you kinda, well you have love and then you get married,'' Ezra stammered through his definition with all the grace of a 3-legged elephant. `` Almost,'' I said while working to keep the sigh from escaping my lips. `` You do n't marry everyone you love, just one person who you are in love with.'' `` Okay...'' Ezra said. `` Sooooo I should marry mommy?'' I could n't help it, I sighed. `` No, son. You do n't marry mommy. This is n't Mississippi. You love mommy, and mommy loves you, but daddy and mommy are IN love.'' `` So how do you make love?'' As my eyes bulged slightly, I stammered a quick response. `` That's not relevant to this conversation. We will have that talk when you are older.'' My son stared at me with eyes squinted in suspicion. `` Okay then... So why did n't you marry Aunt Susie? Why mommy?'' `` Tell you what, son,'' I said as the frustration finally broke through my demeanor. `` Let's just watch a movie, okay? It should be able to show you what love is.'' 2 hours later `` That was horrible, Dad!'' My son said as tears flowed freely from his face. `` Why did she die! Why could n't she go with him in the house with the balloons!?'' I too, admittedly was freely weeping at this point. That scene could reduce even the most vicious of men to whimpering tear geysers. `` Do you understand now?'' I asked between sobs. `` Yeah! I understand now,'' he replied angrily. `` Love is dumb, it kills people and makes me really sad. I do n't like it!'' `` Well...'' I started to respond. `` Sure, okay we'll go with that. Now go get ready for bed.'' I figured he would figure it out eventually, and this did n't seem like one of those emotionally traumatic events that would scar him for life and ruin his future. Besides, I had already pressed play again to emotionally torture myself for the next 10 minutes.
[ WP ] You 're living in a fantasy due to a coma . But it 's actually really great and you do n't want to wake up . You try to ignore all of the increasingly obvious 'Wake up ' hints being thrown at you so you can continue to live in your dream world .	`` Fine haul today,'' the guard said, chuckling as he eyed the prisoner I was leading. She was beautiful, with a creamy complexion, dark, doe eyes and rosy lips. The dress of sheer silk she wore seemed molded to her curves. Her wrists were bound together in front, causing her biceps to push out her already ample chest. No need to guess where the guard was looking. `` Careful with her, she's a witch. And a feisty one,'' I said, winking at her. She pouted at me as the guard handed me a bag and said, `` Do n't know how you do it. Do you catch them when they're asleep or something?'' I jingled the bag's contents with a grin. `` Interesting what can happen when you're in a bed. She's all yours.'' `` Come on, baby, let me off easy,'' the witch said. `` Did n't I make you feel like you were in a dream?'' `` See you when you get out,'' I said with a laugh. Giving her a final slap on the rump, I walked back the way I'd come. We were miles underground, in the labyrinthine Hollows. Once the hidden fortress of a mighty kingdom, it had since been donated for use as a prison by the remaining members of the royal family. Now, only prison guards and their wards prowled the torch-lit caverns. My breath misted the air as I climbed a sloping path toward one of the portals that led to the surface. Thinking back to the guard station earlier where I handed Theyenaa over, I wondered how they would treat her. Nothing harsh, I was sure. She had only been guilty of thieving, her victims usually silly but handsome men she had seduced into bed. Probably three days in a cell, three meals a day, and nothing more to endure than a few flirtatious remarks. The Wardens were unforgiving when it came to maltreatment of prisoners. `` I say, is that you, Virgil?'' The booming voice jarred me from my thoughts. I spun around to see the speaker peering at me from within a huge cavern to the side of the path. It was a red dragon, almost twenty feet long, lying curled up on a massive pile of gold coins. His scales gleamed with inner fire, and so did his eyes. `` Jonah?'' I said, stepping closer to him. `` Oh God, it's really you!'' The dragon snorted, beckoning me to join him with a clawed foot. `` Been a while, old friend.'' I shifted a small mound of jewelry aside to make some sitting space on the ground. `` What're you doing here? Given up on arresting poaching dragonslayers?'' He sighed and turned his sinuous neck to look at the nubs on his back. Only then did I notice he was missing his wings. `` What happened?'' I whispered. `` Ambush,'' he said. `` It's all over for me.'' `` No, it's not,'' I said fiercely. `` You still have your breath. Your claws, your sense of justice! You ca n't just sit here and mope about it. You can still do good!'' `` You're one to talk,'' he said. His stare made me uncomfortable; it felt as though he was looking through me. `` Why're you spending all your time down here? You're still alive. You should be out there.'' I frowned. `` I was on my way out when I met you. Dropped a prisoner off earlier.'' `` I do n't mean the job. I mean your life.'' He fidgeted, causing coins to flow down the pile in mesmerizing streams. `` I ca n't tell—er, listen, you need to get out of here.'' `` Now you're chasing me away?'' I glared at him. `` You were the one who called me here.'' `` Sorry,'' he mumbled. `` Well, if you're really sorry...'' I pointed at a massive golden crown at my feet. `` Do you mind if I borrow this for a bit?'' He snorted. `` Every time you'borrow' something, I never get it back. Go ahead, but heed my advice,'' he said seriously. `` None of this is real. Wealth—real wealth—is found in the real world.'' `` Right,'' I said, rolling the crown around in my hands. `` Well, see you around.'' Leaving the dragon in his room, I continued on the path, studying the crown. There was an old inscription carved on the inside. `` Let the Last King of the Watch wake the world from its nightmare,'' I read. Where did Jonah even find this thing? I had never heard of a'King of the Watch'. A turning ahead led to a tunnel, with cells on both sides. They were filled with shambling, rotting undead that gave off a strong smell of ammonia. Upon seeing me, they rushed to the bars, moaning, `` Wake. Waaaaake.'' `` Shut up,'' I muttered. `` I am awake.'' `` No, you're not,'' they said in unison. `` Shut up!'' Their cries pursued me as I broke into a run. The portal was n't far away. If I could get there, I would be back on the surface again, with plenty of coin to spend on women and music and good food. The good life was waiting to be lived. The next area was large and open, and featured a tall stone construct in the middle. Between its two massive pillars shimmered the portal, looking like a rippling pond. But barring the way to it was a white, furry snake that made Jonah look like a tiny worm by comparison. I gulped. It was one of the Wardens, an entity so old few alive knew its true name. It was watching me with three pairs of green eyes, flicking its three-forked tongue so powerful I could feel a mini-shockwave. `` Uh, hi, Warden Snake,'' I said. `` Enough games,'' it said. Rather, I heard the voice in my head; its mouth never opened. `` You're only harming yourself.'' `` What do you mean?'' I said, fighting to urge to retort impatiently. `` You do n't belong here.'' `` I've been doing this for six months. I got my Arrestor license, fair and square. I passed training. Am I not doing a good job?'' `` This prison is not meant for you,'' the snake said. `` I'm not a prisoner, I'm here on my own free will.'' `` You're being stubborn. You need to wake up and see reality.'' Snarling, I said, `` You do n't get to tell me what to do, or where I should be! I choose to be here. I want to be here. I'm enjoying my life. I have money. The loveliest women I want. Respect, admiration, adoration! People want to be me.'' The snake's head drooped a little as I continued shouting, `` Look at me! I'm strong, healthy, I have abs for freaking sake. Do you think I want to be out there instead? Fat, stupid Virgil who ca n't even walk up stairs without panting? Sitting at a stupid desk, tapping away on a stupid keyboard with coffee stains left by its last user? Going home everyday to a wife who would n't speak to me, to kids who've replaced me with their phones?'' Tears crept out from the corners of my eyes. `` I do n't want the pain. If you know what really happened, then you should know—you should know I'm scared. I do n't know how bad the crash was. Six months... God, six months.'' A long silence followed, punctuated only by my sobbing. And then the snake spoke, gently, `` And yet... nothing you described can compare to the pain felt by the people who love you.'' Uncoiling itself, it slithered closer to me. `` You could've thought up any other place throughout these six months. A beach. A palace. Your own island paradise. But no, you chose to work in a prison instead. I think you know why that is.'' `` I—I do?'' `` Your services are no longer required, Arrestor,'' the snake said. Its eyes were suddenly glowing like suns, so brightly I had to shield my own. `` Farewell.'' The light grew—fierce, all-encompassing light—until my world turned to white. And then, I heard a beeping sound. *** This and other stories at [ The Nonsense Locker ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker )!
[ WP ] You wake up surrounded by a warm dark liquid . Upon further inspection you realise you are inside a womb .	I found myself floating in chaos. Confused and helpless. It was as if the software was still old but the hardware was all new. Nothing in this body worked like the one I used to live in. Strangely enough, I was not frightened. Wet? Dark? It took me a few days to figure out that was what I was feeling. Or maybe it was a matter of hours. An eternity passed in that place while I could do nothing but flail around, then another eternity after it. I had a lot of time to think. I thought about my life. I thought a lot about you. My undeveloped proprioception was useless here, and it was sometime after remembering the car crash that I came up with a list of possibilities: Dying hallucinations of my brain. Purgatory. Womb. With the realization after another eternity that I was very much alive, two of those possibilities faded away, and I was set with a list of new possibilities: I was reincarnated as somebody else. I was... starting over. Both options were daunting. I did n't always live a comfortable life, but I never went hungry or faced the conditions of the world's poorest. With a twang of guilt I hoped that I was born into conditions as good or better than my original ones. I almost did n't believe it when I felt myself being pushed out of my new home. Then the light came -- everything was too bright, too colorful, too loud, and too confusing all at once. I soon recognized that I was crying, and stopped. Out of a sense of decency, having been a parent myself, I decided I would cry only if there was something my parents ( whoever they were ) could do about it. It took me another few months before I learned how to see and recognize objects again. I surprised myself by having to relearn basic concepts such as object permanence as well. For some stupid reason I'm almost embarrassed admitting this, but I was sincerely fascinated with `` peek-a-boo'' for a few weeks. I suppose the brain I was now inhabiting still had to grow organically in some ways. Nevertheless it was n't long before the part of me that was still me recognized the face that I was playing with. My long-dead mother. Objectively, I know I've done good in the world this time around. I've singlehandedly kickstarted our world's ascent into the 21st century, and I think doing anything else would have been morally indefensible. I likely would n't do anything different a third time, if I am so lucky. But I am still haunted by the names of those I preempted, whose fame in my first life I rendered irrelevant in my second incarnation. The salesmen, inventors, and academics whose fortunes I stole. In many ways I believe that I have handled fame and fortune better than these men did, and I'm sure for some of them their personal lives have actually been blessed for it. Others, however, without having their genius recognized at the right time, fizzled into depression and self-destruction. As for me, personally, I ca n't in good conscience complain about a thing. My life has been measurably better this time around. Nearly every mistake I made was reversed into an opportunity. With this in mind, however, I maintain only two regrets: I do n't know how or why my `` second chance'' happened to me, and I've never shared this secret with anyone else. I've come to peace with the first of these, but the second remains fixable. You may think I'm crazy. But I think you know me better than that. I want to tell you everything, because in both my lives you've been the only person I've ever trusted. Here goes: I went back to MSU to meet you again. I started smoking so that we would quit together twenty years before you did the first time. To save you from your lung cancer. I know that you can never have children. I know it's a lot to process, darling. I know you're still young, and there's a world of possibilities for you outside of your strange boyfriend who claims to be living a science fiction. I wish there was a better way to court a woman you have already been married to for over two decades. I've tried so hard to keep from manipulating you in ways that I know I can... but now I see that I was fooling myself. I have knowledge that you could never know about, and the situation is fundamentally unfair, but I still ca n't help myself. The past year I've fallen in love with you all over again, and every second I spend with you is still new to me. I'm sorry about last week. I did n't know what to say, but I promise that yes, I very badly want to marry you if you'll have me. I'm leaving for the week, doing a couple of business trips in Japan and Taiwan, but I'll be back by Friday. Like I said, I only have two regrets. Now I'll only have one for the rest of my second life, no matter what your response is. Just know that I'll always love you.
[ WP ] - An assassin visits his therapist .	So how does being ordered to kill me make you feel? I do n't know. I ca n't help you sleep at night if you do n't open up. Well, I guess, it's just that. It feels like a normal day at the office. So I just feel normal, I guess. Go on. Um. I usually get amped up before an assassination. A lot of my sports-playing patients have some difficulty managing their testosterone. Yeah, maybe I do. I see red sometimes. Just like, I absolutely have to kill that person. It's not even about the money. I just want to feel their blood drip down my forearm. I love that moment of fear when they know they're about to die, but they do n't know how. We're making great progress here. What's your normal spectrum of emotions during an assassination? It'll be easier if I demonstrate. Feel free to. Ok. Well, I'm calm when I walk in. Like I am now. As I get closer to the target, I start feeling this uncontrollable anger. I can see your arms shaking. Yeah. I know it's better to kill from afar, but once I feel the kill coming on, I ca n't stop myself from getting up close and personal. Right now, I can feel you breathing. I love that. Better image for when I make my move. You're doing great. Thanks. So, I take my assassination knife out of my pocket. If it's in a more public, easily discovered place like this I plan on going straight for the heart. I know I should use chemicals, but knives are more fun. Why do you jeopardize your safety to enjoy the kill? Well, see, here I am going towards your throat. You feel what your face is doing right now? It's contorted in absolute fear. Mouth's about half-open, completely dry, my eyes are wide in shock. Right, and as I get closer, there's a brief moment of acceptance. I can feel that. I know I'm going to die, and I'm not ready. It freaks me out. See, this is the moment I live for. My hand picks up in speed, like the fear is a magnet. And -- -- Guess I should go find a new therapist.
[ WP ] Tell me the story of your first kill . I hear it was something special .	`` Ca n't you see I'm just trying to have a drink?'' `` Yeah, but, Jesus man, I heard it was spectacular!'' The young soldier said, his drink sloshing in his hand. He leaned closer to Chet, eyes wide. Chet waved dismissively, and took a long sip of his drink. `` Get the fuck out of here, greenie, you have no idea.'' `` Well, yeah! I do n't! They removed the whole fight from the holos on base, and anytime someone tries to bring it up during training, we get told to shut the fuck up and get stuck doing shit jobs the rest of the day!'' Chet looked at the kid with slitted eyes. `` Ever think that maybe there's a reason for that?'' `` That's what I'm trying to find out! Look, sir, I just want to know what happened that day.'' The kid looked down at his lap. `` It's just... you know, they slaughtered my family when they invaded in'67. That's why I joined up. We have n't had too many victories since then, and I just want to hear about the one good ass-kicking that they got. From the man who did it himself, General.'' `` I'm no general, not anymore.'' Chet said, his voice raising. `` You want me to tell you the truth, greenie? The whole reason this god-damned war is going on? The whole reason they invaded Earth and destroyed the better part of our population and technology? You want me to tell the ever so famous but mysterious battle of Gryitas?'' The soldier nodded, his face firm. `` I want to hear story of how General Chester Ways kicked the ass of the scum that is the Gryits.'' Chet set his drink on the table, and breathed in deeply. `` There was no ass-kicking. The Gryits were peaceful, albeit being heavily organized and technologically advanced. But see, the Federation took issue with that. A group of beings with enough vision that they went from flying with treyas leaves to interstellar capability in thirty earth years. So, the order came down that the best way to deal with this potential threat was the element of surprise. So when I went to meet the Proctor of the Gryits, it was with a daisy in my hand and a gun behind my back. We could have traveled the stars together. They were so friendly when they welcomed me into the consulate. Thousands of Gryits had gathered to witness the birth of a union between us and them. They cheered as I walked through with my military escort, holding their little ones up to see just like we do here in our damned patriotic parades. They cheered as I went up and shook hands with the Proctor. They cheered as I whispered in my neck mike to open fire. They cheered right up until the point that I blew the brains of Proctor all over their golden Treya tree, a symbol of unity for them. Of course, they cheered no more. But it was not out of shock, but out of the fact that our aerial drones had already melted their minds with B-lazers. In the end, we engineered our own demise. We were the ones who invaded. We were the ones who slaughtered. And when you tell me that you joined up because the Gryits slaughtered your family, I sit here and I think,'They were justified in every way.''' The soldier said nothing, but looked at Chet in shock. `` See, greenie, the best way to fight a war is to believe that your enemy is anything but friendly. And so, after the first attack when we saw how lethal they were, we threw away anything that showed them in a peaceful way, anything that made them seem human, anything that allowed a man to empathize. Because what we needed was for every man, woman, and child to step up and want to kill them. We needed to hide the face that humanity was the monster, and turn ourselves into the victim. Because any beast will fight when it's backed into a corner. The only problem is, we backed ourselves into that corner. And that's it. That's my story greenie. I waved the stick at the hornets nest, when the hornets just wanted company. That's why nobody wants to talk about it. God-damn, it was something special alright. It was n't just my first kill. It was the first kill of entire fucking planet. As whole, humanity had decided strike first.'' Chet paused and downed the rest of drink while getting up. As he placed the glass on the table, he looked into the silent soldiers' eyes. `` And like a little bitch, we ran away and said they did it first.''
( WP ) It is possible to download skills and talents from the internet with the price depending on the complexity of the skill .	“ Should I? ” He asked, finger raised slightly above his cell phone screen. A red box with white spots and a purple question mark covered the center of his screen with a quote at the bottom; ***** Press it if you dare, Press it if you may, Press it only once, Unless you're here to stay. ***** “ Do it, ” she replied, “ I dare you. ” “ Ughh.. ” he whined, rolling his eyes, “ I heard this phone app was a bunch of garbage. ” She crossed her arms and pouted her lips, “ Do n't you love me anymore? ” “ Will you shut up about that already? Fuck. ” & nbsp; He pushed the button. & nbsp; “ What's wrong? ” she asked, trying to peer over his tilted screen to see what happened. “ I do n't know... stupid thing is busted or something. It's frozen in place. ” & nbsp; He repeatedly tapped his cell phone screen, pushing the button over and over again. & nbsp; Without any notice, the phone dropped to the concrete slab under their feet, cracking the floor and sending fissures in all directions. The phone vibrated in place, sending waves of concrete down the street. Light poles danced around on the sidewalk, while some came crashing down onto parked cars. Fire hydrants exploded sending shrapnel in all directions, shattering windows and maiming nearby people. & nbsp; `` What the fuck is going on?'' he yelled, hunched over, grabbing nothing in the air, balancing his equilibrium. & nbsp; The fissures spread wider with each vibrating pulse of the cellphone and all of the buildings swayed, side to side. & nbsp; CLINK! CLANK! CLINK! CLINK! Metal plates folded out rapidly and indefinitely from the phone, covering everything in sight. They moved up the walls of the buildings, over the cars in the street, and eventually swarmed his girlfriend. Everything was being plated with a metallic alloy. & nbsp; Faster and faster it went, stretching outward and upward until it blocked out the sun, forming a large dome around the city. The cold, chilling, temperature could be felt through the conduction of the metal with no aperture to elude daylight. Everything and everyone was bolted, smelt or caved in by the metal. & nbsp; He looked down to see his phone in the same position, no longer vibrating, but with a blank white screen. A text message was received; > `` Are you ready to play?'' & nbsp; `` WHAT THE FUCK!'' he yelled, crouched over his phone. He tried to lift the phone off the surface of the floor but it was either too heavy or fused into the metal. & nbsp; Another text message was received; > `` Are you ready to play, now?'' & nbsp; He replied back to the text; '' Who are you? Why have you done this to me? `` & nbsp; A final text message was received; > `` Ok. We play now.'' & nbsp; The dome above the city cracked open like a soccer stadium and let the beautiful blue sky show it's face. With the light now shining in, he could see the fate of his once beloved city. It was black and gray everywhere, with no way out. & nbsp; Metal spikes pierced up from the ground next to him and stabbed into the palms of his hands. They tethered around his wrists and ankles, binding him in place. He was standing, but could n't move. & nbsp; He immediately vomited from the pain as the liquid-metal tightened it's grip. Something could be seen off in the distance, but he could n't quite make it out. Whatever the thing was, it was moving fast and in his direction. Thunderous roars could be heard as the image came closer into view. His heart pounded in his chest while waiting for the doom to arrive. & nbsp; POUND-CLANG!, POUND-CLANG!, POUND-POUND!, CLANG-POUND! Clashing of metal was heard as the beast came into view, twenty-five meters out. Each step was louder than the next as the pounding continued in his direction. A giant three headed dog spewing molten metal came barreling in. It was the size of an eighteen-wheeler. & nbsp; Unable to move, he cowered in fear, covering his face and body, `` Ahhh!'' & nbsp; The giant three headed, Cerberus came inches from his face before melting back into the surface. All the metal unfolded from the sky, buildings and streets, receding back into his cell phone. It loosened its grip from his hands and ankles before finally dissipating. & nbsp; He fell to all fours, letting out a cry of anguish and pain. Everyone he knew was dead and the city he grew up in was in shambles. He queasily hovered over his cell phone. A text message was received on his phone; > `` Were you satisfied with your demo-test of the product,'War-Kinesis'? Please click the the link below to verify and confirm your order before checking out. If you have any further questions, please contact our customer support available 24/7. We are determined to meet the best quality satisfaction for all of our customers. If you are having trouble loading our application, please be patient and wait. Load times vary on location and internet provided. If you feel there was a malfunction with your free-trial, call our toll free number. Please do not reply to this message, it is an auto-generated response.'' & nbsp; *** *** Come check out my subreddit [ over here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/EdenRenellaJones/ ) if you liked my writing!
[ WP ] The year is 3000 A.D . The people of Earth worship Ancient demigods . You see an image of the God of the Sea , and you ask an elder how he came to have those many gold medallions around his neck .	The elder snorted, her filthy braids rippling as she shook her head. `` You know the'lympics, yeh? Ancient Greek stuff?'' I nodded, having heard many stories of fabled Ancient Greece, Exile of the Eurozone. `` You know the swimmin' games, yeh? Well there's this nut,'' she said, waving her hand dismissively, `` was the best at swimmin'. Mickey Phelps - nah, that's not right, that was the church guy - anyway, got a lot of medals at the'lympics.'' `` So that's who the Sea-God was in the Time Before,'' I gasped. `` A swimmer, just like me!'' The elder looked at me like I was crazy. `` Nah,'' she said. `` Th' Sea-God just likes killin' people and taking shiny stuff.''
[ CW ] A Love story written like a rap .	when I first saw you, I just knew. that it would always be us two, no matter what we went through, i always loved you, gave you my trust too you were my boo, but then you threw away my heart, should have known from the start you fucking tore me apart left your mark now my whole world is dark all i have left is these scars getting higher than the stars spit my pain through these bars on reddit, i said it tryna gain some credit, this rap needs an edit i think i need to mend it and stitch it up i mean switch it up pour up another cup cause you never gave a fuck. i felt like i was stuck did n't even make a buck you were just trying to bust. a nut left my heart in the dust, but you know what? i'm not gon na fuss, cause I'm about to puff on that good stuff. cause i've had enough of your shit, all i do is spit this love story shit written like a rap cause you know i'm that bitch! ( lol i might have gotten carried away but i tried to stay on topic )
[ WP ] You love cooking , but always change the recipe to give it a personal flair . Today you followed the recipe to the letter and have summoned a demon .	“ Babe? ” she yelled from the other room. Always when I am mid-boss. I don ’ t bother her when she bakes. “ What? ” “ Can you come here please? ” Ugh… I walk around the corner into the kitchen to be met by burning hooves and fur. I push it aside and walk over to Kathy. “ What do you want? ” “ There ’ s some kind of demon in here, babe. ” I AM DESTRUCTION AND HELLFIRE “ What is this, what are you baking? ” “ Really? There ’ s a seven foot monster in our kitchen and all you can think about is food. ” I AM THE END DAYS. I WILL UNMAKE MANKIND I hold up the recipe card. “ You know how when you want to get Mr. Kittypaws, ” goddamn that name “ you shake the friskies and she comes running? ” “ Yeah… ” “ Cuz it ’ s cat food, right? ” “ Yeah… ” “ And what did you cook? ” “ Devil ’ s food cake. ” I look at her for what has to be a solid six minutes. “ Ooooh. Okay. Thanks, babe. ” She has to figure these things out for herself sometimes.
[ WP ] World War L. A a history of the leprechaun wars .	Seamus rocked back and forth in his wooden chair. Staring off into the Scottish sunset, with a pipe in his mouth, surrounded by a chinstrap of bright red hair, even though his head hair was white as snow. A young man was biking past his house and threw a mackerel onto his porch. `` Go home, yeh fackin' wop!'' Seamus continued to stare, slapping his leg twice and having a Scottish Terrier come and pick up the mackerel, bringing it back inside his small wooden cottage on the hill. A little boy ran outside in fright. `` Granda! What was that?!'' `` Another fish thrower, Aidan. It's nothing.'' Seamus said, taking puffs from his pipe. `` Why does n't anyone here like you Granda? Or Nanna?'' Seamus sighed slowly and looked at Aidan with a smile. `` It's not that they do n't like me, they do n't like... Irishmen.'' He chuckled. `` To be honest, they're Scottish. They do n't care much for anyone.'' Aidan giggled, exposing two bottomless dimples in his cheeks. `` Why not?'' `` Well, during the Battle of Fortingall Forest... the Swedish soldiers..the Menninkäinen helped fight against the Scottish. Some Irishman did too.'' `` Were you there? Did you fight anyone?'' Aidan asked. Seamus looked inside the cottage window cautiously. `` Where's your Nanna?'' Aidan looked up at Seamus mischievously. `` Out to grab dinner.'' Seamus chuckled. `` Well... it all started in March 14th, 1940...'' __________________________________________ Should I keep going? Wan na hear Seamus' war story?
[ CW ] Write a poem entitled `` Prayer for Lucifer ''	Lucifer the unholy May yours always be the glory of the gore but how am i as i am apt to ask for your troubles only give me courage so i can behold the darkness in serenity like it was your due for eternity For a crime not committed but for being the maverick the light of the minority For denying the all righteous For denying the egoist The hypocrite can learn from you And his failings shall be punished too And your alleged crimes shall be repented so as to redeem you the savior of a brave new world
[ WP ] It 's hard being a vet . It 's even harder being the first vet on Proxima Centauri B	`` Hey Doc? I need some help in here!'' `` Yes, yes, Samantha, I'm coming. Just give me a minute.'' Just a minute to hurl a cup of coffee down enough to wake up. Walking into the examination room, I was greeted by the sight of a somewhat distressed Samantha. Well, more distressed than usual if that was possible. On the table beside a freshly clawed Samantha there sat a bored looking brown cat. It looked almost regal as it sat on the dull metal table, oozing distain as only cats can. `` So, someone brought with them Mr. Claws here and he is n't exactly in the most friendly mood I take it?'' I felt my mouth curving upward into a smile as I asked Samantha. `` My name is NOT Mr. Claws and yes, I am not in the most friendly mood''. The voice startled me some as it did not belong to Samantha at all. The pronunciation was somewhat off, as is it was spoken by a foreign language student, but it was easy to understand. Rubbing my right eye with my hand I peered again at the so-called-cat. `` So… what have PC-Bee ushered into my office this time and what is your name if I so might ask?'' `` My name is hard to convey in your language, but you might call me… Earl. And I am a Felinus''. Seeing the mouth of the Felinus move along with the voice was…strange. But it was only strange for a second, as this usually is on PC-Bee… `` And I require your help, Doctor.'' `` Ok…'' I said tiredly. `` First off, why'Earl'? And how do you speak English so well?'' I reached again for the coffee mug but finding it empty I put it down. `` The name sounds pleasing to my ears. And I learned through absorbing a dead humans remains.'' It sounded somewhat sorry about that last part. At least that was something. Samantha thought so too, as she gasped a bit. `` You ate a corps? And learned English? Then WHY did you claw me when I tried to examine you!?'' Always on point, Samantha. `` You irked me. Is that the correct word? Yes, I believe so, Irked me.'' Earl sounded somewhat irritated at Samantha. I could agree on that. Sitting down on a chair, I scooted closer to him. At least I assumed he was a him. `` Fascinating. So I take it the Colonel brought you to me?'' Earl nodded at that. Strange seeing a cat nod. `` And what can I do for you, Earl?'' `` My left ear is blocked by something. Fix it.'' He was somewhat demanding in tone. `` Say please, Earl''. `` Please?'' He added somewhat confused. `` Sure'' I countered, `` I'll help. See if there is someone else who needs a hand, Samantha, while I help Earl here.'' Not looking all too pleased, Samantha stomped away. The piece of blockage was a pebble. Easily removed. And Earl looked quite please at regaining dual hearing again. `` Yes, that's better, thank you Doc.'' He almost purred, although the sound was some pitches off. `` Oh, and you better check on Samantha, I may have injected here with a paralyzing agent.'' A smug tone that was. And as by command, I could hear a bump and a yell from outside the door. Along with the horrible screeches of the Nazgu-bird I kept in a cage. `` Damn it. I have n't had enough coffee yet for this PC-Bitching in the morning.''
[ WP ] You 're supposed to an evil sorcerer , but you ca n't resist helping people .	Having accidentally become the most famous wizard of the 21st century, I found myself having to deal with a large number of, er, visitors. They would come calling at all hours of the day, which, as you might expect, was simply awful for my nerves. I could have been enjoying a bath Monday afternoon, trimming the man-eating rose bushes on a Thursday morning, or sleeping soundly on a Sunday evening, but they did n't care. They only had one thing on their minds, and let me tell you, it was n't the man-eating roses. This lead to me having to install uh, certain privacy measures. First, I moved the mountains considerably closer to my tower. Sure it upset some of the locals, but I mean, the view is amazing, and I'm worth a little pampering. Second, I invited an unconventional house guest for an extended stay. Most people would n't think of it first hand, but dragons are n't actually that bad to share a living space with. They mostly just fly somewhere else to do something unpleasant, and they are only really home to sleep. And yes, I know what you're thinking, some farmers did lose an uh, not insignificant amount of livestock, but who really likes cows anyway? And, I might ask you to think of the sacrifices I have had to make. I ca n't use the top floor of my main tower anymore, and have had to move my astrological studies to the top of one of the now significantly closer mountains. How inconvenient! Third and finally, I turned the bottom three floors of my humble dwelling into a series of uh, challenges of sorts, which, when completed, would allow them an audience with one particularly famous wizard. Now, with that information in mind, I might ask you to imagine myself enjoying a delightful cup of coffee on a Tuesday afternoon, having just finished writing yet another letter of condolences for circumstances completely out of my control and with which I had only, erm, minimal involvement, when I found a visitor calling at the front door of my humble home. As he approached the front door, I settled down with my crystal ball to watch his progress through the challenges. Much like myself, he was a young wizard slightly on the tall side of average with brown hair and the pasty skin of someone who has spent a few too many nights brewing uh, healing potions, in the moon light. As I watched, he handled the first few challenges well enough. The fire-breathing door knocker only singed an eyebrow, the finger-eating door knob only got a nibble, and the man-sticking doormat was simply a poor design on my part, although I will say the hem of his robe was absolutely ruined from all the glue. So, having egressed the front door of my abode relatively easily, he found himself facing the first real challenge, a relatively easy potion puzzle, and this is where he began to flounder.You see, instead of picking the potion which would allow him to pass through the ring fire surrounding the next door unharmed, he picked one guaranteed to give awful gas, and when he stepped through the fire, the glue on his robes from the man-sticking doormat caught fire, causing absolute destruction to the garment below the knees. Pasty white ankles showing, he went back and picked the correct potion and passed to the next test: a riddling suit of armor that gives a hardy slap each time an incorrect answer is given. The poor fool sat there and got slapped three times before he realized the riddles did n't have answers and that the next door was just unlocked. After watching him fail two tests in a row, I was getting rather concerned for the poor mans health, so I decided to intervene when he approached the swinging battle axes. `` Er, uh, hello?'' I said, speaking directly into my crystal ball, `` is this thing on? Yes, well, judging by your reaction just now, I am assuming it is, so I'll just keep talking. The secret to the next one here is to cast a time slowing charm before you go into the axes. That shield charm you're working on simply wo n't do, as the axes will still knock the wind out of you when they hit.'' I could tell he was skeptical at first, but after getting knocked on his butt a few times, he humbled up and took my advice. One simple time slowing spell later and he was through to the next challenge: a sentient stinging nettle. I decided to let him try this one on his own, but after watching him take a needle filled vine to the face, I thought I better help out here as well. The secret is to sing it to sleep, and after a few voice lessons, he was through. He made it through a room with no floor easily enough with just a levitation spell, but he was hopelessly outclassed when it came to the room full of blood sucking pixies, so I had to teach him the right spell to use, and then since I could tell he was getting frustrated with all the challenges, I told him where to find the secret passage up to my quarters while i put some tea on ( cinnamon apple harvest flavor, for those interested ). Eventually he made it up the 13 flights of stairs, and after a few very tense moments exchanging spells, I disarmed him by turning his arms into jello, and he graciously accepted the cup of tea after I de-jelloed his arms. That's when he asked the question I knew was coming. `` So, like, I thought you were supposed to be an evil sorcerer or something, but you seem like a really nice guy. What happened?'' `` Well,'' I started, `` really it was all just an accident.'' I would have gone on, but that's when he interrupted. `` An accident?! You blew up half of New York!'' He shouted. `` What?'' I said, `` I sent a fruit basket!''
[ WP ] The pill that decreases aging has been released , but you decided not to take it . It was a good call , because a few decades later , side effects started to emerge .	The evolution of man has come. The answers to all human problems. Scientists have been working on a cure for age itself and finally after centuries of working, fundraising and continuous trial and error, it is here! `` The Aion-X tablet'' May 23rd, 2018 the pill was released and was given out to anyone who desired it. I was the age of 23. I watched as the whole world was affected by the Aion-X. The elderly transformed before my eyes, their wrinkles vanished, their spine straightened, their bones strengthened and sickness was no more. As it seemed, death itself was killed! I looked in amazement as what was happening to this world was beyond anyone's predictions; as I was tempted to take Aion-X, my intuition told me that something was wrong. There could be no good in playing against nature. I refused to play a role into this `` new world'' I was not becoming a victim to this new social construct. Instead I watched and studied people for years and years as I began to age and age until I was barely able to walk, let alone speak because all my teeth have fallen. I'm now 102 years old and I was the only one in the world that looked past the age of 30. My older brother the age of 112 standing tall and young, walks up to my desk where I was watching TV and hands me the pill. I look at the pill, thinking long and hard at what I should do. I stare at it, `` I ca n't, it's against what I believe'' I whispered to myself. I then took my cane and headed out for some air. I see my sister Becky walking across the street. `` Beckyyyy!!! Beckyyyy!!'' She looked at me, then looked away as if she did n't recognize me. I continue screaming her name as she is now almost running away from me. I glance over at my shoulder and see John and David ( my uncles ) they were laughing and joking. I went to greet them, `` Jonny! David! What are you guys up to today?'' And then again... the same look as my sister gave me, they looked at me as if I was a stranger. What was happening? Why is my family not recognizing me? Is it maybe the pill? I walk back into the house and... `` What the... Who are all these people? Why are they in my house?!!'' `` It must be the Aion-X! It is disorienting people's memories!'' `` WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE! GET OUTTTTT!, WHERE IS MY BROTHER!'' A stranger sitting in the living room gets up and approaches me. `` PLOP!'' My head lands straight on the cold wooden floor as the colors fade and the room becomes darker and darker. I open my eyes as the blurry images become reality. As I slowly regain consciousness I hear a faint constant noise, `` Peep... peep... peep... peep'' I open my eyes just to find a needle connected to my wrist and I am now laying in a hospital bed. I hear the doctor whispering something to the stranger that was in my living room. The stranger then exits. I start panicking, `` Doctor! you have to warn people about Aion-X, it's causing them to think they are different people and making them forget their own family! Doctor please!!! Warn people!'' `` Calm down we know how to fix the problem, do n't worry.'' `` They already found a cure?'' I asked. `` No, it's more complicated than that'' he looked at me with uneasiness. `` I knew this day was coming! I knew it! I warned everyone but they would n't listen, nature is punishing us.'' The doctor looked at me and nodded his head. The stranger renters the room. The doctor looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact as he softly says to the stranger, `` I'm sorry to say this, but I'm afraid your brother is suffering from severe Altziemers and there is nothing we could do for him now.'' `` What do you mean there's is nothing we could do!'' The stranger explodes. `` Ca n't we give him the pill'' `` Sorry but the pill only prevents illnesses after it is taken, it does not cure Altziemers it prevents it.'' Then I remembered `` My sister Becky??? What sister? I do n't even have a sister! And my uncles John and David live overseas! So there was no way I saw them this morning.'' Reality hit me hard; waiting all these years to be right about not taking the pill is now killing me. The doctor walks up to me, `` Are you ok Sir.'' I look at him confused, `` Where am I?......''
[ WP ] Time moves faster or slower depending on how happy you are . The happiest people are the oldest .	They used to say: `` Live fast, die young''. When the scientists found a way to link the biological aging process to our state of contentness, through a complicated process involving neurons and hormones even they barely understood, we were too eager. Ironic, that. We rushed to a technology that made rushing deadly. The principle is laughably simple in retrospective. Yet we did not foresee it. Once a person became too discontent, the aging process would become visible... tangible, physical. Once such a person feels the fangs of time, gnawing at them, it sends them spiralling into more miscontent, turning their feelings to dread. Turning their bodies to death. I saw it, once, a woman shrivelling up into old age in front of my eyes. I averted my eyes before she died, and thought of happy things. It's made life like a dance on a tightrope, carefully balancing in what seems like joy and bliss, with an abyss waiting below should we make a single misstep. We're ticking time bombs, with a fuse of carefully maintained content. Me, I've lived too long. I've watched my children grow old. I've watched their children grow old. But myself, I'm bound to this life. I look forward to death now. Every time I see a new grey hair, I become hopeful again, ironically slowing my life process to a crawl. The Happy Immortal, they call us, our general discontent too spread over time to matter, and every instance that leaps us closer to death gives us such joy that time slows down and brings us past it. I've jumped buildings, only to have time slow my imminent death to a gentle touch against the ground. Everything that hurts me, every process that could undo me, stops hurting once I feel its pain, and with that pain the hope of death's release. `` Live fast, die young,'' they said. If only it were possible.
[ WP ] The captain always goes down with the star ship .	`` The Captain always goes down with the ship'' I mumbled. A pretty old idiom. Firstly responsible, last off. My mind flashed back to the thoughts of steam powered iron hulks, parting the waves across the open oceans of ancient Earth. Men in their crisp uniforms, bravely saluting from the bridge as they plummet into the icy blue depths. Cold water forcing the life from their lungs. Hah. While the sentiment behind it may have changed, the tradition is alive and well these days. If for completely practical and unchivalrous reasons that is. Reflecting on all this was n't really getting me anywhere, but when you're strapped into your command centre on a dying ship it turns out you have a lot of time to think. Your survival instinct really does kick in when faced with imminent peril, fine and dandy when dressed in a loincloth fleeing a mammoth, but less useful trapped in a metal hulk drifting through some giant hydrogen filled nebula. Especially when the contributions you make to it's successful operation are limited to selecting destinations & picking the playlist for the journey. Automation makes interstellar travel possible. It also makes human interaction, maintenance included, redundant. And as a consequence, it makes any attempts by a ships Captain to rectify a catastrophic failure futile at best. It turns out your fight or flight response does n't really like this. Your primitive lizard brain screams at you to do something. Claw at the panels. Beat your fists on the star-drive hatch. Stalk the maintenance corridors looking for some....tool... that will magically start the power systems back up & save the day. Action! Action now! It's still screaming at the back of my skull. I guess it's competing with the suddenly very reflective portion of my brain, pondering all this noble sentiment of going down with the ship. Picturing me, saluting in a crisp uniform from my command console as I tumble endlessly into the opaque ionised gas. My lungs eventually deprived of oxygen, like so many of those countless sailors before me. It takes all my will not to go for the escape pod. That little box of false-hope. Ejected out into the nebula I'd cook. No formative-shielding on it to prevent me meeting the 10,000 degrees Celsius outside, currently being kept at bay by the fastidious work of those fabrication-bots back on IO's shipyard all those years ago. Even if I did have a shot of surviving the temperature and the deadly radiation outside, the odds of anyone picking up the distress beacon would be infinitesimal. And, I tell myself, what would I do if I was rescued? What would Lea do? Flee the Guild? Pick up everything we own, cash in our trade-bonds at the local pawn store and live a life on the run, fugitives from the Guild's debt collectors? Hah. I allow myself a little chuckle, gallows humour if you will. The nonsense idea of ever coming out the other side of owing the Guild the cost of an Interstellar Transport. No, the death-in-service clause of the Guild contract & my own life insurance would mean Lea gets to attend a no expense spared funeral, commiserations from the local Guild Commandant in person. Fat credit chips in his fat hands to be thrust upon my grieving widow. Assurances accompanied with a knowing nod that anything she needs is only a contact away. Hell, she even get's the value of my cargo commission free, even if they never salvage this hulk. Damn. Things do n't look too bad for her in the long run. Once she get's over my hideous lonely death, suffocating in the inky grasp of interstellar space that is. I wonder if she'll remarry... she'd best be on the lookout for those scabs and parasites in the solar-yacht club. They'll be all over her and her money within days I'm sure. Bloody leeches. I'll haunt their nights with my radiation boiled space ghost if they so much as sniff in her direction... beep About seven hours of o2 left. I caught myself tapping on the display graph, as if that would magically make the software projected needle correct itself to more. That lizard part of my brain again I would have to imagine. Maybe I will go take a quick pass through the maintenance corridors. Just in case...
[ WP ] Fear , Pollution , and Extinction are replacing three of the four horsemen of the apocalypse ( War , Pestilence , Death , and Famine ) . The orginal four must come to an agreement on who will remain a horseman .	PART ONE `` Where the fuck is Death?'' demanded War. `` And who the fuck are you?'' Unfazed, the well-coifed suit took Death's seat at the head of the main table. `` The President sends his regards, but the responsibilities inherent in his new position render him unable to attend. Fear not -'' `` Fuckers,'' huffed Fear, sulking in its usual corner - what might be referred to colloquially as the corner of everyone's eye. The empty, starched suit took the weak interruption in stride. Its disconnected hat tilted towards the corner, recognizing Fear's presence with a hint of condescension. The interruption was brief - so brief that only War managed to fill it with its usual gestures and rumblings of menace. Before the rest of the group could seize upon the silence, the suit's hat returned to its most neutral orientation and continued on with its hollow formalities. `` Right then. I speak - so to speak - on behalf of Extinction Level Event Planning Services, Incorporated. Death, President and Chief Executive Officer, has ordered me to deliver a prepared statement, after which he opens the floor and authorizes me to communicate extemporaneously as his duly authorized agent, within certain parameters which need n't be disclosed at this time.'' The empty suit paused, and, predictably, the gathered entities seized the opportunity to express their pique. Pollution fumed, Famine flipped the buffet table, War flipped the rest of the tables, and so on. Fear continued pouting in its corner. Pointedly ignoring the absurdity of sitting at a table that was no longer in its proper place - or in its proper orientation - the duly authorized agent of Extinction Level Event Planning Services, Inc., withdrew a sheet of paper from its briefcase and made a great show of clearing its nonexistent throat. ``'Abstractions, processes, phenomenon, and entities of all kinds: big changes are on the horizon, and it's time for us to adapt. Our core market has expanded outward, flouting the predictions of several top analysts and ushering in a new era of concrete reality. In response to these changes, it has become clear that Death just is n't what it used to be. Individual units are living longer, experiencing more, and recording more of those experiences into increasingly sophisticated storage mechanisms. Our revised forecast predicts the end of Death as our individual units understand it within the next two to three business centuries.''' A decidedly different wave of activity emanated forth from the assembled group. Their tantrums were tired and predictable and painfully true to form, but there was no such translation for eagerness, anticipation, or confusion. Fear alone shrank back, its peripheral occlusion further diminishing. Everything else leaned in. ``'Yes, it's true -'' the empty suit's particularly canned delivery indicated that it was still reading from the sheet - ``'Death will soon be an apocalyptic event of the past... which is why it has elected to restructure its assets into a forward-thinking enterprise focused on long-term planning and species-wide apocalyptic signifiers. Thus, Death is proud to announce the elevation of Extinction to the status of Horseman, effective immediately upon Death's resignation as the same.''' The cries of foul raged for hours, and some were even passably clever. `` Death Cheats!'' was a favorite, as was `` No Appropriation by Incorporeal Incorporation!'' but as surely as heat death was inevitable in the drab concrete tenements of reality, so to was a return to order in this stifling little pocket dimension where monsters met and mingled. The suit straightened its tie... somehow... and tilted its hat downward in satisfaction, noting that the main table had returned to its proper place. No longer a slave to paper, the suit spoke for the first time as an agent rather than as a mouthless mouthpiece. `` Let's not kid ourselves, folks'' it began, its hollow emanations taking on a sharper edge now that its puppet strings had slackened. `` We are perversely, ironically terrible at dealing with change. For goodness' sake, our vanguard organization is still called the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Now, granted, the English language, thief and whore that it is, saved us a good deal of embarrassment on the latter term, but'Horsemen? ' Really? There are colonies forming up where horses wo n't even exist - well, not until certain technological hurdles are - nevermind that. The point stands. Virtual reality and gene banks and matter replication are not going to vindicate us post hoc. They're going to fuck us, in fact. ELE, Inc. is already preparing to absorb a tremendous loss if and when the core market decides to neutralize our peripheral streams. The rest of you can all celebrate the return of horses and laugh at ELE's stock dip right before the last unit to ever personally experience hunger shelves those memories in a collective databank and then pops a pizza pill.'' Being little more than a giant maw ( though a nimble one at that, ) Famine's agape was difficult to parse, but the suit and the remainder of the crowd sensed that a nerve had been struck. The suit continued, shark-like, gaining momentum from the smell of metaphorical blood. `` ELE, Inc. is the wave of the future. Conceptual shift. Conceptual consolidation. It wo n't do to have one or more of our members disappearing in between meetings, but that's what we're looking at here. Do yourselves a favor: find your core message, incorporate, pool assets, and prepare for a long winter. The core market is n't a misery machine anymore, but the universe still is. We can remain relevant, but petty feudalism has run its course. If you'll forgive the cuteness of it all, you can choose your own apocalypse now, or you can wait and see what you get down the line.''
[ WP ] You are a brain surgeon . Every time you perform a surgery , you have the ability to see memories of the patient you are operating on .	`` Scalpel,'' Doctor John Mason said, he was leading neurosurgeon in the western hemisphere, everyone that could afford him did. `` Sponge.'' The attending nurse stood at his side diligently passing him every tool he requested. This surgery had already been going on for three hours and the strain was beginning to set in. Sore feet, tight backs, red eyes. It was the usual for this team and they were used to it, they were professionals. `` I am going to begin making the first cuts, this is the tricky part,'' Dr. Mason said. He closed his eyes, took a deep steadying breath and pressed the scalpel into the soft brain tissue. Memories burst to life inside of Dr. Mason's mind, a happy eighth birthday party, children surrounding the patient everyone happy and full of joy. A smile split Dr. Mason's face, the innocence of childhood always made him smile. He moved the scalpel to the left, distancing the razor sharp blade from the happy memories. The scalpel pressed into the soft tissue again, he knew what to expect but it was still a shock. Vomit and bile rose in his throat as he watched the memory unfold. A dark closet, pain, alcohol on a man's breath. He swallowed the foul bile down and began to cut. The small memory was contained in a piece no larger than a dime. He moved from that dark memory to the next, his steady hands deftly slicing out the darkness leaving only the happy memories behind. Six hours after surgery began they wheeled the patient out of the operating room to her small colorful private room. Dr. Mason walked on unsteady legs to the bathroom and vomited. He never ate before surgery, so it was mostly water and acid. `` Another bad one?'' the attending nurse asked handing him a towel to wipe his face off with. `` Yeah... excuse me I need to go have a word with the parents,'' he said sadly removing his smock and gloves. He walked down the long hallway trying to find the words to say. The parents sat outside their daughter's room holding each other. The mother's eyes were puffy and red from crying. They stood as the doctor approached. `` How did she do? Will she be okay?'' the mother asked. `` She did great, she is a very strong little girl,'' he said placing a hand on her shoulder. `` She wo n't remember anything, there will be some empty spots in her mind but she will be alright.'' `` Thank you so much,'' the father said choking back tears, `` I should have been there to protect her,'' he broke down crying. `` He is going to rot in prison forever, do n't blame yourself,'' Dr. Mason said, `` go be with your daughter, she will want you to be there when she wakes up.'' The parents thanked him one more time with a tearful hug and walked into their daughter's room to sit by her bedside. -- - Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit
[ WP ] You are an immortal being , and you have learned every skill there is to learn . Out of boredom you decide to teach a random person whatever he wants .	`` Calligraphy.'' `` Really? Calligraphy? Of all of the skills I could teach you, you choose calligraphy? I'm only teaching you one skill. I've instructed the best athletes in the world, the wisest spiritual leaders and the most fluid of dancers.'' `` Well yeah, but I'm writing a letter to my mom over Christmas and I want it to be special.'' `` Then fuck it, you shall be the second greatest calligrapher the world has ever known.'' `` Quick question, will there be potty breaks?'' `` This is gong to be a loooooong training session is n't it?'' And that's the story of how I got an immortal being to commit suicide twenty times.
[ WP ] Write a Superhero story . In one week ( 1/30 ) , I 'll turn the top comment with the highest score into a comic !	A long time ago, she was known. Feared. Loathed. Loved. A captive of her past, it forever haunted her. It was the same old story. A hero loved by humanity, who could never quite escape her own demons. She stared into abyss, longing for someone or something to pull her back into the light. Ten years had passed, and humanity had fallen back into old habits. Guns, bombs, men and women who strived to see the world burn. And burn it did. A long time ago, she was known. Her body, once strong, had been worn down into pulp. Her soul, once so willing, had been corrupted by the very people she tried to save. She walked the halls of this hallowed ground she had called her home. Her solitude. An abandoned shack, or as it seemed on the outside, stood alone in the wreckage. It had been spared when The Raiders had come. She located the old keypad, hidden underneath an electrical box on the shack's exterior. 9789. The night she lost everything. As she turned the knob on the door, a great clatter arose. Grinding metal parts, wheels turning. The floor let out from under her feet and descended four stories underground. The dusty, waterlogged floor creaked as she walked. A light, overbearing in its brightness, flooded the room. Her eyes took but a second to refocus and there it was, as beautiful as ever. Computers of the most sophisticated fashion, a communications hub. Off to her left, a glass case, and in it, her old costume. `` My God,'' were the only words to escape her mouth as the memories flooded back. The fighting, the daring escapes, and her ever constant quest to find justice for those who slipped between the police's grasp. Lastly, her memory settled on one image. The body of her beloved, the night he died in her arms. The night she realized she was powerless and could take up this mantle no longer. If she could n't save him, then she could n't save anyone anymore. The Raiders had taken over, city by city, after her disappearance. The national news had given them that moniker. Not a very clever name, she had always thought. Collectively, they had robbed the world of its wealth through electronic means and left no trace afterwards. After that, the world she knew descended into chaos. Madness. Cities burned beyond recognition and the old world was but a long forgotten memory. Forever engraved into the history books, as if there were anyone left who would write them. She opened the case first gently, then with a hard pull, as the door had n't been opened in years. Her hands stroked the garment like it was a child. She pulled the costume free and carried it like she had held her beloved in her arms. One deep breath and the dust flew away from the costume. She slowly put it on, and as the fabric glided over her skin, she was reminded of each old scar on her body. For the last year, she had retrained her body, dragging it and herself kicking and screaming to become again the hero she knew she could be. In front of her on the desk she had placed her mask. She pulled it close to her face and tied it back, slowly uttering these words like a war cry unto the world: `` I will restore balance. I will bring justice to those who deserve it and benevolence upon those who need me most. I will never again run from those in need of my protection. I am compassion and vengeance.'' With that, The Shrike descended upon the night.
[ WP ] While searching the Papal archives to determine why God has been absent from man for so long , an old priest discovers that the Black Death of the middle ages was actually the Rapture .	He always felt like we did n't belong, as if the way humanity had progressed since the industrial revolution was n't quite up par with God's plan. And how could he? It was sickening. The lengths we had come to. An uncontrollable population of 7 billion, using compressed dinosaur bones to fly hunks of metal through the air, all just to get the latest toys in time for Christmas? Even where the man who died to save humans even left Earth because he knew what destructive power the humans cognitively possessed. The Black Death was supposed to stop it. The words he could n't believe now were undeniably clear in his head. And the scariest part is that it made sense to him. Why would the omnipresent God stick around to see what the early human's cancerous offspring would produce after they proved unworthy of caring for the garden of life that He gave them? The priest sat down. His mind was racing to find the implications of this discovery. He knew he would be immediately discredited to some. The secular internet generation never believes anything, especially from the Vatican. But to those who would believe it, what would give them any reason to be alive? No chance at final retribution, what is this worldly life worth to those dedicated to what happens after? The priest stood up. He calmly put the book in his backpack and left the archive room, without saying a word to anyone. He drove until his eyes hurt then stopped at the nearest gas station and filled his tank. He soaked a rag in gas, hung it on his gas cap then pulled out a zippo and sparked it. On the second try it ignited. He took one last look at the backpack through his tinted car window and then lit the rag. No one could ever know.
[ IP ] Three Stones	It was almost an hour past the appointed time before he started to wonder. This rendezvous was almost routine at this point and he had come to expect a measure of tardiness. He had taken to meditating while he waited as it served to occupy the time, and was a gentle way to express his agitation at being made to wait. After some time he roused himself and stood. The Three Stones had always been their meeting place, there was no doubt in his mind there. There were so many other things that had become subject to doubt these days though. He stretched feeling the aches in his hands and feet, made more pronounced by the time spent idle, waiting. He reached back into his memory, needed to ground himself. `` It goes ill in my country. The people have continued to descend into... not madness, something else. Madness assumes that there is a mind to lose in the first place. No it is n't madness, they are simply... becoming feral.'' `` I am not sure that I understand. When last we spoke you had hope. There was one, a strong one, a young man you spoke of,'' his companion cut him off. `` Dead. Killed by his own lover. A victim of this descent I speak of. There are others who still strive, but they are hopelessly outnumbered. There is only so much I can do.'' There was a pause as he struggled to wrap his head around what his companion was telling him. His companion's blue scarf rippled with the changing winds. At the Three Stones the winds were ever changing. `` We are warriors. Created to keep the peace. Surely there must be something. Perhaps if I came to your territory with you?'' He made the statement a question, almost imploring his companion to ask for help. `` No, it would n't do now to abandon the rules that have guided our existence for so long.'' He felt like he could hear a sorrow in his companion's voice, tinged with something else perhaps. `` Besides, I know you have felt it. We are not long for this world, we are n't descending like they are, but we are... degrading.'' Those words from their last meeting echoed in his ears as he paced impatiently on the rocky face of the mountain. It rankled in part because it was true. He was still faster and stronger than any man alive by an order of magnitude, but he could feel the difference. In his prime he had taught the son's of kings to fight. He had faced down monsters that the men of his country had n't dared to approach. His sword hand had felt like its own entity, a consciousness of its own entirely bent on defeating his enemies. But things were different now. He had slowed, not only in his hands and feet, but in his mind as well. After centuries of conflict it was hard to recall what his purpose had been when he was created in the first place. Three hours past noon he resolved himself to the fact that his companion was n't coming. They had been equals, and even more than that they had been brothers in a way. Sprung forth from the same well. Created by... how had they been created? Was all of that really true or was it just a symptom of the degradation. Was his mind truly his at all, or just an echo of his counterpart. More than once they had met on the field of battle. Wars that spanned generations, punctuated by periods of peace. They had been on the front lines, cutting down men that the other had trained, little echoes of themselves breaking on the other like waves on an endless shore. Two kingdoms, two warriors, all of them timeless. But they had always met to talk with each other. The Three Stones was a place apart. A Place that no mortal man could reach and as such they were safe. The men in their kingdoms did n't understand. They called them warriors, knights, sometimes even gods. They understood them through their conflict, assumed they were some ancient celestial beings, their own ancestors in some obscure way. They knew them as eternal enemies, but they did n't realize that they shared a bond deeper than the false face they wore into battle. His brother was n't coming. His brother was n't coming, and he was losing his mind. After the last time he and his brother spoke he went back to his country wary. He looked for the signs his brother had mentioned. Despair, desperation, depravity, all of these things he tried identify and soothe, but that was not what he was built for. He was made for conflict. To keep the two sides perpetually at war. To provide his people with enough hope to carry them through the next battle, but never to win them the war. That was how their task had been laid before them. Humanity was weak. He knew that much, and he knew they they needed something to keep them together, to keep them moving forward. But perhaps it had been going on too long. It was no longer a conflict of the one kingdom against the other. The hatred seeped into every aspect of people's lives. Avarice, jealousy, and fear had rooted itself into their very souls. Courage would flare here and there, and he did his best to stoke the flames, but it would inevitably be smothered. He did n't have the power to adapt to this new model. He could n't focus his energy, and his efforts did little to stem the despair that flowed from his people, like blood from a mortal wound. A year had passed since he last spoke with his brother. A year was little more than a blink of an eye to him, and yet he felt that the span between this meeting and their last was the longest he had ever endured. And now... Now his brother was n't coming. He was a warrior with no war to fight. He sat down again at the Three Stones. He would wait, as long as it took. He would wait until he saw his brother again.
[ WP ] The council can not reach an agreement , the sacred battle will break the tie . The holy weapons are placed in the arena , The Rock , The Paper , and The Sissors .	`` This Council will come to order!'' The sound of his voice echoed throughout the storied halls. The Lord Minister of the Council stood from his position, surveying the until-now unruly Council chambers with venomous eyes. Silence and stillness prevailed in the hall now. The older Councillors bowed heads and took their seats, while many of the younger ones stood, mouths agape, never having seen the Lord Minister in such a rage. `` Has everyone cast their final vote?'' Nods of assent. No words spoken. `` Then as High Lord Minister of the Council I shall break the stalema-'' `` I invoke the ritual.'' Gasps. A stony glare from the High Lord. `` I-if it please the Lord Minister, I wish to invoke the ritual.'' The young Councillor averted his eyes downward. `` It does not please the High Lord, Councillor Swan, largely because the Councillor should learn his place. Do you understand the gravity of invoking the ritual?'' `` Yes, my Lord.'' Eyes still averted. `` Then so be it. Each side shall choose their champion. May God have mercy on all of us.'' Councillor Swan spoke up once again. `` I should like to represent the palace in this battle.'' `` You? Have you no memory of the ritual?'' `` I do, sir.'' `` As you wish. And who, then, shall represent the opposition?'' A figure stepped forward from the opposite side of the Council Hall. A young woman, but feared and respected by all. She had proven her mettle on the battlefield of the ritual more than once. A feat not many could claim. `` Ah. The High Lord Minister recognizes the Councillor from the Spanish territory. You will represent your people in the ritual, I presume?'' `` Si, my liege.'' `` Then we shall make our way to the field of battle.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- The field of battle was surrounded by a stadium, through in disrepair. Years of hard battles and neglect had left the place without much of its former majesty, though the toppled columns and scattered debris made for a more interesting arena, many thought. This was, perhaps, why it had never been repaired. The weapons of war lay in the center of the field. Law of the ritual dictated that combatants may choose only one weapon. The great two-handed shield, of a soft wood, the mighty dual swords, and the stone hammer. Two of each. Traditionally, battles turned out fairly predictably, once weapons were chosen. But sometimes the ritual could surprise everyone. The warriors stood on either side of the battlefield, preparing their minds and bodies for the task ahead. The High Lord Minister spoke. `` Combatants, representatives of your ideals, brave souls. Are you prepared? `` Aye, milord.'' A silent nod from the woman. `` Then let the battle begin.'' The Lord Minister sat and watched the unfolding spectacle. The two circled around the center of the arena, eyes cold and fierce. A smile spread across the young man's face. The Lord High Minister could not help but to think he was doomed, but he seemed confident enough. The first move. The young woman, athletic and strong, leapt from her position and took three bounding steps towards the center. She dove, clutching for the great shield. An elongated rectangle of soft wood, it was her preferred choice. It almost always fell to the swords, but she was deft at deflecting the hammer with it. The young Councillor Swan chose the same instant to begin his assault. He, however, chose a different path. Taking long strides to the side, he reached into a hidden pouch, and pulled something from it. The Lord Minister could n't quite make it out, but the young man reached back his arm and threw whatever it was. The Lord Minister stood to his feet. The other warrior screeched with anger, and deflected the object with her shield, diving in the opposite direction behind a fallen pillar just before the object erupted in a ball of flame. She gained her footing and scrambled for more sure cover, using her shield to send another projectile flying behind her and avoiding the blast. `` Lord Minister, he profanes the ritual!'' Another deflection. The young man was cackling maniacally, sure of his victory. `` Councillor Timothy Swan! '' His voice boomed, and the combatants stood their ground. The young woman poised to sprint at any moment. `` Yes, Lord Minister? The battle pleases you? Do you declare my victory?'' `` You have profaned the ritual by introducing this fire of yours. I therefore declare you in forfeit in this battle.'' `` But, Lord-'' `` In addition, to ensure that no one dares bring such madness to the ritual again, I strip you of your position on the Council. You will no longer have a voice here. You should be glad, boy, that I do n't banish you.'' The young man bowed his head in defeat as his opponent raised the shield above her head, whooping in victory. Another young female Councilor turned to the Deputy Minister and said to her- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` Dad is so weird.'' `` Be respectful, dear. OK, everyone in the car. Mexican it is.''
[ WP ] You are alone in the universe . Occasionally , reality conforms to what you are thinking , but nothing living or resembling living will ever form .	I was left here by less noble creatures than I could ever have known. I've grown used to being lonely, but sometimes after a failure, it becomes too much to bear. In the early stages of the movement entitled `` The Ascent'', I lived on Earth. It was old and crumbling, faltering from the burden of troublesome children. Life was life, and I was lucky. Born into moderate wealth that far outweighed the other half of humanity, I never knew hunger or true pain, or the despair that was the consequence of unchecked growth. Inhabiting the highest deck on a sinking ship was n't enough I suppose, because technology allowed the rich another way out. `` The Ascent'' was a movement not unlike the Singularity, just a little less spectacular sounding. It began as a virtual reality sim and grew into something so much more. Bloated, rich consciousnesses loaded into virtuality, to wait out the race for the dwindling resources and space was the inevitable step, and people flocked from the harsh realities of living on Earth. Time inside the virtuality could be changed, sped up or slowed down, depending on whatever you thought was going to happen in the future. It was a universe in itself. Subjectively it was immortality, the real choice being in whether you wanted to see what happened to the human race. I chose to wait it out and see. Turns out I chose wrong. Lying inside the Ascent booth was the most terrifying moment of my human life. It took me three days to work up the courage and go into the clinic. When the `` switch'' happened, something went wrong. There was no simulation, no created universe for myself, no other inhabitants, nothing. Literally nothing. I was alone, and I did n't even know it. I do n't know how long that period of time was, because I could n't, did n't exist. There is no way to find out either, I'm just luckily I began existing again at all. With me beginning to think, something came out of nothing and I began anew. I had my previous knowledge, but all I had back then was my own consciousness, floating in the black of nothing. Black is the wrong way to describe it, because that would have meant something was existing, the absence of something. Nope, all I had was my mind, and I began to grow very, very lonely. Then I realized I was a god. This was my universe, and I could make life again, cure my loneliness, make the world wholesome, meaningful. This was my chance. I could do anything I wanted and more. With this realization, I began to create. There was no limit to my resource, all the time to waste I would ever need. I created, and tweaked and went through the process of learning how to simulate my own universe back on Earth. My first try was to copy all I knew from Earth. This first try had vast numbers of brainless autonomous machines roaming a barren landscape and it was all very interesting and all, but it seemed impossible to form a consciousness. There was no way for me to just put parts together and pull out a thinking, living organism, but I tried. Over and over and over again, for countless eons. I grew tired of my machines. Eventually I began to simulate my previous universe, to play god from a quasi-deterministic perspective. I could create parameters, starting conditions, everything needed to create life the old fashioned way. I lived out the lifetimes of countless universes omnipotent and omniscient, controlling everything or letting it run its own course. It never did create anything quite like us humans, or anything remotely resembling my own consciousness. Not in the infinite permutations of all the universes I could ever create. This is truly hell. To be trapped here forever, to know how humanity squandered our precious home. To be alone.
[ OT ] SatChat : What books from your childhood still have an effect on you today ?	I'm from Canada, and have been writing for years and years. Apparently I type at 93 WPM. I write here because I like finding prompts that have an interesting challenge or concept to write about. I do n't know if there's really a childhood book that still has an affect on me today. A lot of things did n't really impact me as much as things I read in my teenage or adult years. Piers Anthony, Star Wars / Star Trek fiction, Harry Turtledove, Terry Brooks, Orson Scott Card... I would n't call it the best of the best, and if anything, it was just a stark contrast to my favourite authors and settings I met later in my life. I started my subreddit /r/ClosingDownSummer this week, and got a chance from a prompt to rhyme like nobody's business. So, all in all, it's been fun.
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Keeping up with the Joneses Edition	The pen flew at the wall, and exploded, black ink-blood running down white paint, somehow staining it blue. `` Great!'' the writer said. `` There's one more thing!'' The writer waded through a sea of crumpled pages, grousing the whole way to the cabinet that this was Taking. Up. Valuable. Writing. Time. But the writer knew it would n't matter. It had been hours since the spark of an idea. Almost two days since anything of substance made it down in black and white. This was becoming ridiculous. Sure, the writer had pushed out nearly 50 short stories in ten days, but what good was that if there was nothing left. True to form, when sitting back at the desk, the writer could n't even finishing a story about being unable to write. A head dropped onto the notebook. The writer wept. -- - But seriously, sorry I have n't added much! There was birthday party I had to attend yesterday, and for two days, for some reason, my mind been mostly mush.: D Must be this cold I have ( which I generously shared with everyone at the party!! ) I working on finishing Ashra's story, and adding a chapter 2 the Lily Luna Potter story, both which are swimming, poorly titled, in the morass of words on my sub /r/WeAreNotAMuse : D
[ WP ] you are sent to hell after death . But it is just Dell customer service hold music for eternity ... ...	As soon as I met my demise, I was transported to a throne on a cloud. On this throne I was judged for my actions and my inactions, my sins and my good deeds. At the end of this rundown, the judge from on high looked at me, his eyes a color I could not comprehend, and handed me a computer. I took it from his hands. This must be heaven, I thought. It was, for a little while, if nothing else. The computer gave me access to an internet of thought, a web of ideas that made perfect sense, where people were civil and appreciative. It was unlike anything I had ever thought possible. As I clicked a link that promised the solution to world peace, the screen went black. So even heaven is not without its problems. I walked back to the judge, a long trek through barren cloudscape. As soon as I appeared to him, he motioned me toward a hallway assembled from rainbows. A banner above the hall read “ Tech Support ”. It was an Earthly feeling, I chuckled. A blast from the past. The hallway was not long. It was more like medium length. It must be empty because they ’ re so quick. Makes sense that heaven perfected tech support, I remember thinking. At the end of the multi-hued path, there was a warm brick foyer. I stepped in, and a red door appeared behind me, sealing me in. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM? Well, I was on the computer and the screen went black, I explained. PLEASE HOLD. There was an indistinct music that filled the room, and wormed into my ears. A lilting, ethereal tone, constantly pulling away. I hope one day I escape this room. It has been eighty years. And the music has still not approached me. It remains an ambrosia I can not digest. I laid the computer on the bricks at year ten. By year thirty I had smashed it to pieces. By year fifty, I had eaten all the pieces. It is gone, and I am still here. This must be hell.
[ WP ] Mimics are a real problem in this world . Mimic Coffee Cup , Mimic Office Chair , it 's impossible to make it through a day without fighting one . Describe your average day .	`` GODDAMNIT! A-fucking-gain!'' John clutches his leg where his chair, now a revealed mimic, clamped its jaws shut. Blood was flowing over his pants, beginning to pool on the floor. `` I just washed this damn carpet! And new pants! Fucking mimics!'' He punched the mimic until its jaws unclamped. He jumped toward his desk where his +10 Mimic Slayer lay. The `` +10 Mimic Slayer'', just a bloodstained bat, swung around and bashed the mimic into the wall. The bat rose and fell five times, each time a new splatter of blood sprayed his desk space. Once the mimic stopped moving he dropped the bat and limped over to the desk phone. He heard footsteps behind him and spun around, fists up, face twisted into a snarl. `` Whoah man. Just me.'Nother mimic? Who's genius idea was it to make these things real?'' Matt leaned just past the doorway, sipping from his coffee mug. `` Yeah. Fuck that guy. Hang on, man. Got ta call the ambulance to stitch my leg and get maintenance to clean this up.''
[ WP ] `` You know the difference between subjective and objective , right ? 'Some rabbits ' is the former , 'three rabbits ' is the latter , and much more accurate . So I 'm going to need you to be very clear when you say there are 'a few ' dragons outside . ''	`` But you did n't answer my question.'' Sennto gave a loud sigh, almost an obnoxious one telling me how stupid I am. `` Does it really matter how many dragons are there? Just kill the damn things already!'' There was frustration steaming out of him like a kettle. I had paced back and forth, thinking of what to say. `` So... what's my reward again?'' Sennto began to choke up before saying `` 2400 keros. Ask me another question and I'll halve it, you hear me?'' I shut my mouth, accepting his offer, grabbed my gun and headed outside. Unfortunately, the weather was feeling like crap today so my trip would be difficult. `` Where would I go if I were a dragon...?'' I had forgotten to ask Sennto, maybe he would know. I peeped my head inside the office. `` Hey, Sen --'' `` Do n't even ask it. Just figure it out and get the hell out.'' Damn, he was pissed. I quickly shut the door and headed out for the nearest mountain. Maybe dragons love mountains? I dunno, but I had to actually get a dusketo to be able to climb the mountains, assuming the dragons were there. I followed the path to the nearest market, treading carefully because of the muddy soil. `` Umm, hello, but can I buy a dusketo or something? I need to hunt'a few' dragons.'' The animal trainer did n't even bat an eye and replied, `` 5400 keros.'' Yeesh, I was broke already with only 7000 keros in the bank. `` Y'know, maybe a couple of hours climbing the mountains would be better than going hungry for 3 weeks.'' Meaningless silence was the trainer's answer before I left to get back on the path. After a couple of hours of climbing and missteps, I finally made it to the top of the peak. There were 4 dragons. I just stood there like an idiot while the dragons were approaching me. It only came to me a few seconds after to use my gun on one of them. That plan failed, however, so I almost got my ass kicked. I told Sennto to atleast give me some reward for finding the dragons, but I got a measily 40 keros. That can barely sustain anybody, not even a hermit can afford something with it
[ WP ] Your best friend is on their death bed , there are people all around . Before he takes his last breathe he points at you and says `` You did this . ''	It's been days since he passed. No... weeks? I've lost track of time. Nothing means anything anymore. Not when you've lost someone. The one you fell in love with so many years ago. The one you said those vows, through sickness and in health. Husband. He was there from the start. Classmate through primary and secondary school. Roomate throught college. Through the good and bad, thick and thin. He helped me when I was down and I kept him out of trouble. My closest companion. Friend. But I remember the day it all came crumbling down. Just another night. Except this night I was n't with him. Why? Because I had to stay late for work? No that was n't it. It was because I decided to get a cup of coffee with Jess. I told you that I would get a lift from her. I'm about the drive past the coffee shop, are you sure? Three minutes and 48 seconds after he hung up, he became another statistic. T-boned by a drunk driver running through a red light. I saw it happen. Even through the darkness I knew it was him. I met the the ambulance at the hospital. Why would n't the let me ride with him? He laid there, strapped to the gurney, neck brace and all. The heart-rate monitor, a faint, erratic blip. The doctors pulled me to the side. I'm sorry. Tears welled up. I needed to stay strong for him. I love you, I said, choking back the urge to cry, I always will. He had tears streaming down his face, yet he had the biggest smile I'd ever seen. With a shaky grip, he grabbed my hand and pulled it towards his face. Resting my hand on his cheek he said You did this. You brought me happiness. I did n't have time to reply. -- -- -- - Did n't follow the prompt to the letter, but it's what I've got.
[ WP ] A medieval alchemist travels through time to now , though he had only had 20 minutes here , he has an interesting story to tell his king .	The alchemist skulked into the great hall where the King and his guard were feasting. He walked up beside the monarch and stared coldly into his turned shoulder. The King turned around, surprised to see his alchemist again after he vanished over a month ago. He wiped the food from his mouth and swiveled his body to face his alchemist. `` Merel! By the gods! Where were you?'' the king asked. But the alchemist did not answer. `` Merel?'' `` You said you were immortal,'' the alchemist replied. The King put his fist to his chest and bellowed, `` I am! As your king and sole ruler, my soul will live past the grave and watch upon my people for all of eternity!'' The alchemist shook his head. `` No, you will not,'' he replied. `` You will die and remain dead, just as all the rest have.'' A scowl crept across the king's face, displeased with the alchemist. He leaned in closer to the alchemist's face. `` I could have you thrown in jail for saying that.'' The alchemist remained stonefaced, unmoved by the king's threat. `` I have seen the future, and you are not of it. Nobody has heard your name, nobody fears your wrath, and more than anything, nobody cares. They have no god, they have no worship. Instead, they have carts with no horses, metal birds in the sky, weapons the likes we have never seen!'' `` And how do you know this?'' the king asked gruffly. `` The internet.''
[ WP ] A man is suicidal and happened to be held at gunpoint . He does not comply with the gunman 's orders , as he figures this is his opportunity to get killed without having to do it himself . The gun turns out to either be fake or empty of ammunition . The victim soon decides he no longer wants to die .	What a drag, nowadays you do n't need much cash anyway, but that car repair shop guy told me to get cash. That guy will go out of business anyway. Just invoice that stuff. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with this life. It is always like this, even if some idiot crashes into your car you have to waste your time dealing with getting it repaired. No one is paying for the time you loose. Well, regardless looks like I finally reached some bank. 2 people were running out as I entered and once the door closed I have seen 2 other people with your typical black sock masks or whatever they are called. One of them had a big smile on his face and while almost laughing he is telling me to sit with the other customers. You see, it is not like I am suicidal or anything, it is more like I do n't care if I die. Were someone to ask me if I wanted to live, my answer would be that I do n't care. Maybe many people think that way at first, but when faced with possible death they start to rethink their life and suddenly want to live. That always seemed a bit disgraceful, they should let people face near death situations when they are like in elementary school or so. Would certainly cut down crimes. With that background the only thing I can answer to my predator is `` I do n't want to wait in here for an hour just to get some cash''. These people are worse than queues. `` Tough luck, hey Matt look at that.'' which appeared jokingly, followed by a more aggressive `` You better get a move on or you wont get another opportunity'', has been the rather natural answer from some guy robbing a bank. Whoa, that guy wants to kill me, sure is scary. I am too bothered to deal with that stuff right now, so I confirmed one more time that he intends to kill me. And while holding the gun against my head he made a sentence I am more used from some bully back in school rather than a grown man: `` you think I am joking?''. `` yeah sorta, I wo n't be getting out here for a while, so how about I help out a bit.''. After finishing that sentence his partner also finished collecting the money, but at the same time the police showed up outside, fleeing seemed impossible now. Bet they will take some hostages now. They did n't respond, so I suggested further. `` Looks like you will need some hos-'' Without being able to finish my sentence I heard a loud noise and a short period of immense pain in my right leg. Apparently I talked to much and got shot, what a pain. A second shot went through the foot. At that moment the crowd began to panic, but the only words I could here were the one of the guy who just finished collecting the money. `` How long do you think we are doing this? We have enough money to cover up one or two murders.'' He began moving his weapon towards my heart, while instructing his partner to move towards the exit in Building C. I got used to these loud noises by now, but this time I could dodge the bullet. In more than one ways you could say, because a second shot came from behind, which would end this once and for all. My predator fell as I realized I wanted to live. How disgraceful, now I am one of those people as well. I actively dodged a bullet, there are no excuses to be made. Maybe I could tell myself that I just dodged the bullet, because it would hurt to have a bullet in my heart. It certainly would have hurt. The robbery ended rather unspectacular with policeman rushing in and me fainting. As I woke up in the hospital I asked myself again if I wanted to live. After looking down at my leg, which is now tightly bandaged I could say for the first time that I would rather be dead than having to deal with that leg for a few weeks. When I get the chance next time, I will definitely let myself get shot.
[ WP ] Death comes to collect one final life - God .	Death sits across the table from the final contract, casually sipping on a hot drink. The scythe, rusted and brittle, rests on wall besides them. From the other side of the table God is struggling to keep composure. `` So, you've taken all that I've ever made, and now it's time for me is it?'' Death says nothing. `` They were my children, all of them. From every planet around every star, at every inch of my universe. Are you not satisfied?'' Death, brings the cup up to where a face should be, but only darkness can be seen past the cowl. Saying nothing, Death continues to stare at God. God's voice begins to waver into anger, `` I created you too, you know. I knew that all things had to end, but I am eternal! This simply is n't possible!'' A voice that once made all kings bow, and empires crumble is now but the whimpering of a child. Death says nothing. God sighs and looks down at the table. `` There is n't a way out of this, is there?'' Death puts the drink down and extends a gentle hand to God. God looks to the hand and back up to Death. `` Does it hurt?'' Death says nothing. God, though tentative, places a hand onto Death's. As their fingers intertwine, God can feel the universe begin to shrink. Faster and faster, and all that was created starts to crumble, a light formed between their hands. Everything was being pulled into this light. God smiled and looked at Death. Though the cowl covered everything, God knew there was another smile behind it. As everything was falling into their hands, God let go and followed all of creation. As God disappeared into the abyss, Death held the small orb. Resting alone in the carcass of this universe. With one last look, Death too falls back into the cycle. Although God forgets every time, Death remembers. To keep the cycle going, for creation to continue, Death says nothing.
[ WP ] You are turning into Nicolas Cage . The Doctors say there is no cure . You have days at most to set your affairs in order .	I should have realised what was happening sooner, I mean all the signs were there. First it was the crazy wide mouth open smile and the eyes, those crazy, crazy eyes like they'd seen things and that would be just for a casual family photo. My friends refered me to a doctor in the early stages of my condition after my first public outburst, unfortunately I remember it well. I was at a neighbours barbecue and I grabbed his daughters doll and shouted in her face `` WHY IS IT BURNT!!''.. The poor girl ran screaming into the house. After that little incident I quickly became the neighbourhood lepper. Then came the night terrors. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, go outside and just run around the road declaring `` Im a Vampire'' repeatedly until the neighbours dog bit me or I would just stop, look lost and cry dramtically. So the doctors have confirmed the diagnosis and i've written my Will and bequeathed all my possessions to those I love. The first clue to the location of my Will has been left with my Solicitor... Ha Ha! We all love a good Treasure Hunt after all, the best bits if they make it into the Oval office and find the key I slipped into the President's desk while i was on a tour... Sneaky.. The gift is at it's final stages now so here I am dressed as a Bad Batman lookalike about to jump off the Empire State Building for a dramtic exit. It's not because I do n't enjoy being me because lets face off who would n't! It's because a part of the person I was knows every moment I pretend to be the /r/onetruegod im blaspheming.
[ WP ] A large and costly battle with the hero leaves the evil overlord 's right hand man dead and his army in ruins . The overlord must now sit through hundreds of tedious interviews to find the right man to replace his second in command and help him fill his depleted ranks .	`` Next!'' barked Count Astrophe as she sent another prospective applicant hurtling towards the lava-shark pit hidden several hundred feet beneath his office. Just as the trap door closed, sealing off the cries of terror below ( you'd be surprised how long a human being can scream while being burned/eaten alive ), Astrophe's secretary entered with the next candidate, a Mr. James T. Beastman. `` Well, Mr. Beast -'' `` Uh, sorry Miss but it's pronounced Bestman'' James interjected out of habit before realizing he might not want to interrupt `` The Cunt'' as she was known to her subjects. Not being used to interruptions, Astrophe took an extra moment to collect her thoughts before proceeding: `` My mistake. Well, Mr. BEASTman, what makes you think you can fill the shoes of Johnny Butterfly Blades as my second in command? I've seen your resume and, while you are certainly qualified, there's not a lot to distinguish you from the ever-growing pile of rejectees. What makes you so special?'' Beastman cleared his throat, he was n't used to being nervous. `` Well, as you can see from my resume and references I've been a successful second in command for many notable villains, including a 10 year relationship with the famed Skeletor. I have the leadership experience and drive to help you regrow your forces and can even co-opt some of the local fauna with my powers.'' This last part particularly piqued Astrophe's interest as she had always been interested in enslaving some of the dragons that roosted on Mount Khilam to the north. `` Well, I guess that covers your strengths, do you have any relevant weaknesses?'' she asked, ready for a let down. Beastman laughed `` If I've a weakness I have n't found it yet. While I am by no means immortal, my strength, agility, and fast healing have served me well on countless battle fields. I've stood toe to toe with mystics, mages, rangers, elves, halflings, orcs, and even He-Man himself and have lived to tell the tale. Many have tried to kill me but it is a difficult task.'' Astrophe was pleased, perhaps she had found her man: `` Well, Mr. BEASTman, it was a pleasure meeting with you and while I ca n't confirm anything formally, you are by far the best candidate I've seen all week. I'll need to interview a few more for formalities sake but try to keep your calendar free because once my decision is made you'd be expected to start immediately.'' Beastman could barely contain his excitement. After a decade of following orders from Skeletor it would be nice to have a capable, reputable evil mastermind to work with. `` Thank you so much, you wo n't regret this, Cunt Astrophe...'' Beastman was wrong, it was n't that hard to kill him.
[ WP ] Your party has found the Legendary Sword That Can Slay the Demon King . The problem is that the only one who actually knows how to wield swords is your cleric , who only took like a summer course in Swords to boost their GPA or something .	`` Impromptu sword dancing'' muttered the Cleric `` what'' asked the Fighter indignantly, using his fists to pulverise another skeleton to dust `` While I was a missionary studying to be a cleric, I took Impromptu sword dancing as extra credit so I would n't end up as a nun'' said the Cleric, embarrassed by her suddenly very useful training `` Well that's dandy and all but we ca n't have our cleric being the killer of the demon king, that's just silly'' said the Knight, using his shield and hand trebuchet to push away another wave of skeletons. `` Well then why do n't you use it? You're a Knight are n't you?'' retorted the Cleric angrily `` My dear, swords are so... passé. How can a Knight as stylish and suave as I use something as old fashioned as a sword, when I could use the infinitely more graceful hand trebutchet'', the Knight presented the hand trebutchet to the cleric, showing off its fine engineering and angles before using it to bash in the skull of another skeleton. `` Well we ca n't change that now but why did n't you learn how to use a sword rogue? You use daggers all the time anyway!'' yelled the Cleric over the clangs of battle, sending out another heal to the Knight. `` Swords and daggers are nothing alike! And besides, I throw daggers, if anything it makes the least sense for me to know how to use it.'' The Rogue sent 5 daggers flying to demonstrate this, taking out an advancing wave of skeletons in one precise set of strikes. The Cleric looked down at the sword and picked it up. `` I suppose its time to start impromptu sword dancing'' she muttered under her breath.
[ WP ] One hundred million years after humanity left earth , they return to find a new civilization has taken their place .	Humanity had been spread thin for a long time, crossing the dark void between galaxies. Now home was drawing near, so she shook of her long sleep, and gathered her tendrils. A vast aquatic god, slowly rising up from the depths, she washed up against the outer edges of the Oort cloud, and then glided past them. Once she could have enveloped all, now she had purpose once more. Her most curious front reached the inner system first, rushing in like a first breath, past scorched planets and splintered remnants of moons. On spectra no biological eyes could see, humanity glittered like a cloud of mirror dust, caught in the last reincarnation of Sol. Consciousness coalesced as all the extended machinery of thought grew dense and close enough to cross that threshold of computations-per-picosecond. Humanity opened her minds-eye. The solar-system had been changed almost beyond recognition by the death-throes of Sol's previous cycle, but Earth stood where she had left her. Cocooned in the glowing fields of v-generators, tombstones for a birth-world. It had not reverted to its burning and molten planes of origin, nor to the barren and icy fields that had marked its end. Earth was still green and blue. She felt pleased. Humanities mind thawed further, accelerating the speed of thought, pushing against the barriers that she herself had put there the last time. She had arrived in full, all fronts now collected in orbit around Earth. Slowly she began her ritual, the pilgrimage growing to its climax. Contact was established with the ancient protocols, out-dated handshakes and threat-assessments, a colourful formality. The silent watchers she had put here so long ago could not have resisted a trillionth of her, let alone her full presence. Finally the gate-way opened and information flowed clear like a spring brook up from the once-more green planet. All the years that had gone by, recorded in the smallest detail, the sway of every leaf and the shape of every cloud, played back now like an impossible memory. Humanity carefully dipped a finger and pushed in, against the current, with the smallest bit of herself. Every sparkle of thought, every thread of mind, and every semi-aspect of existence focussed now onto this singular touch. And she wept. Humanity had come to pay its respect. She had come to grieve her old cradle and to celebrate that it had not become her grave, as she had done every million years, for longer than she could admit to remember. She wrapped herself around this long-lost world, and remembered again why, in shedding all she had ever been, she had kept her consciousness all this time. In a universe of simple laws, the culmination of true evolution was always a singular entity, a race organism, a solitary intelligence. And through the seas of time and space, such travellers would always pass each other by unnoticed, save for perhaps the foam on the stirred waves, or the hint of a distant lantern fading into the mists. Being was a lonely affair, and sadness an unimaginable gift. Humanities embrace softened as she carefully started pulling back, letting her touch linger for as long as she could. And then something touched back. It slipped, cool and smooth, between her fingers. It danced around her edges, and when she tried to reach for it, ever-so-gentle, it escaped her grasp playfully. Nothing like this had ever happened. And Humanity was exhilarated. She rejoiced and poured herself into the atmosphere, ignoring the flashing tombstones and the screaming alarms, sweeping them aside without a notice. The air rushed passed her, filled with sounds and sights that should not be. She tasted spectra so quaint yet so fresh that she could not but revel in their presence. Finally, when all of her that would fit was there. She collected herself and for what seemed like an eternity thought every thought possible, looked back and forth through time and found but one option. Humanity said hello. And a million new voices answered her.
[ WP ] Your dragon has cancer and this might be your last quest together .	Mesanth had been my bond-sister for years now. She was a baby when I first found her, and it was only a few weeks after that when we made the bond. She was a tiny little thing, her wings had n't grown in all the way, and her red hide was paler compared to the rest of her brothers and sisters. I was a tradesman back then, but I knew how to handle myself with a sword and shield. Eventually, under Mesanth's guidance, I'd come to learn how to use every type of weapon there was, except the flail. I was never too good with that. As I was saying though, I was just a trader. Mostly copper goods, some high-end items I'd buy from the Maguk's in the North when I went up there. I found her, and her four brothers and sisters, lying in a ditch, cuddled up next to their dead mother. Her mother was a fearsome creature, one of the largest dragons I had ever seen. I was n't entirely sure how she was taken down, but I had spotted a group of Cavaliers before I passed by her. I had bet my entire life on the fact that it was them who killed the beast. Butchered her, took her hide and bones, and left her meat for the wild of the world. The five baby dragons were small, Mesanth was the smallest. And it was easy enough to get them on my carriage and on our way to the Kingdom. The Cavaliers were dragon hunters, but the Kingdom did n't recognize their authority anymore. They had a group of Paladins specifically trained to hunt and kill Cavaliers, most of which bonded with dragons. I knew the Kingdom would want these five, offer me a hefty amount of gold for them, probably enough to retire and buy a house out in the hills. It would have been great. If Mesanth had n't gotten sick on the way in. For that, I thank her. She came down with a dragon sickness I was n't familiar with, but after meeting a group of merchants and traders from the South, where dragons were far more common, I saw what was wrong. Being the smallest of the group, Mesanth did n't get enough food from her mother, and so I stepped in. I fed her, bathed her, kept her refreshed and cool just as a dragon should be. The other four were fine; they played with each other in the night and came to my side when they were tired. They guarded my goods, probably more so guarded Mesanth than anything else, and I guarded them. But Mesanth was one of a kind and her sickness gave us the chance to grow close together. It was in those nights when I fed her to sleep and when the cold would get to us I had to hold her tight that we bonded. And in those nights when our bond became something greater. Bonding with a dragon is intense. It's the culmination of your entire life and of the dragons. We saw my life, from the earliest moments of my childhood to the day my wife died to the day I found Mesanth. And we saw her life, the short one that it was all over again. Her birth, playing with her brothers and sisters. I understood too what was happening, what the dragons were saying and doing. She grew paler and the mother knew something was wrong so they headed South. The Cavaliers attacked once, then twice, then finished her off. And her mother was trying to do was save her daughter. It was vivid and unlike anything I had ever seen. I think her brothers and sisters knew it happened too because after it was all over, they were staring at us, heads tilted and eyes wide. We made it to the Kingdom a few days after that. Her brothers and sisters made bonds with the Paladins in the Kingdom and I informed them that I was already bonded to Mesanth, although they probably guessed that from how she clung to me. We said our goodbyes. We started our adventures together. We flew South first, to fulfill her mother's wish. Mesanth joined a group of dragons, and I joined as her bond-brother. We spent weeks there, Mesanth became stronger and agile. Her pale red skin became beautiful, her claws and teeth came in large and strong and her wings grew with her. The dragons envied her and our bond. And her mother's wish was fulfilled. We tracked down the Cavaliers, remembering both of our memories of the six'warriors' who killed her mother. I trained with Paladins and became an unofficial one. We brought vengeance and honor to the battlefield. She reunited with her brothers and sisters for some time. And we flew the world together. Our lives were simple. As she grew, so did I. As my fighting ability increased, so did hers. We were still traders, but we were traders who could fight the bad in the world. We lived by the Paladin-Dragon code that we had made together, formed through friendship and through fire. And it was years before we started to slow down. Dozens of years before she grew sick again. I felt the pain with her, the gasps of air when she could n't fly any longer. The struggle to keep her wings healthy and strong. Even her claws became fragile and weak. But we had a home, a nice home in the hills of the North just like I always imagined. I hunted for five, four just for her. I cared for her. I loved her. But I knew she did n't want to end like this, so one early day I went and hunted and got our food and over breakfast, in front of the fire, I talked to her. `` Remember the South?'' I said, `` The rest of your kind?'' She nodded. Yes. She said to me. I miss them. `` And your brothers and sisters?'' She stopped eating. Every day. I feel they are doing well. `` I am sure they are.'' I smiled and stopped eating too, putting my fork and plate down. `` Most of those Paladins fell in battle, your brothers and sisters returned home.'' Yes. They called to me each time a bond-brother or -sister fell. She laid her head down. I feel their loss. `` Do you want to see them again?'' Her eyes perked up. You mean go South? I nodded. Leave your favorite home? `` Head to your real home.'' I smirked, `` The North is no place for a dragon. Not anymore.'' I can not ask you to do this. You saved my life long ago. I laughed and stood. Even in her older age, her head was about as large as I was. `` And you saved my life plenty of times since.'' I walked over to her and placed my hand on her head. Her eyes shut and she took a heavy breath. I did the same. `` What do you say, you ready for one last adventure?'' Her eyes lit up like the night sky and my heart skipped a beat. She was still there. She was still ready to fly across the world. What of your home? I smiled, `` My home is wherever you are Mesanth. And the dragons know me, I will stay.'' She showed me her teeth, her way of smiling. And I knew it was time. For both of us to have our last adventure. _______ Loved this prompt, thank you! 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[ WP ] Its the 16th century in London and the people of the city are planning to overthrow the Queen , you as a guard heard it and escaped with her but now they are picturing it as you kidnapped her ...	`` What is the word on the streets?'' I ask. The person I'm speaking to is a boy of 12, an urchin, an orphan, who has no loyalty to no one and nothing but money. He can even be paid to tell that he's seen me, which is why I must either kill him or pay him more than whoever is asking for my whereabouts. Fortunately, the Queen has an abundant supply of currency in reserve. But still... The boy has a dirty face, mischievous eyes that are too cunning for my liking. But then again... I have no choice. The boy pockets the purse of coins I've given him, without counting. `` I trust it's all there?'' he says. I nod, resisting the urge to deliver a solid blow to the flippant boy's unwashed head. `` Good,'' he preens, with more arrogance than even the young princes in the castle have shown me. `` Now, what was it you wish to know again?'' I breathe. Deeply. Then answer, `` What are people saying? About the Queen and I - are they still saying that I kidnapped her?'' `` Did n't you?'' Fury rose in my throat like bile and I spat back, violently, `` I did not! And you KNOW this!'' He grinned, spreading his arms peaceably. `` Lower your voice, I beseech you. You do not want your presence to be discovered, do you?'' I seethe. But in silence this time. I do n't hide my hate, but I must submit. He knows too much, more than even the king's best spies. He had been the one to inform me of the plot against the Queen, and he had also been the one who had provided us a route of escape. I'm almost certain he even knows where the Queen and I now stay, even though I've taken great pains to keep us hidden. `` I'm calm,'' I tell him. `` The streets still speak,'' he replies. `` But they do not roar as loudly as they once did. The mobs have grown quiet. The shouts have died down to murmurs. As long as you and the Queen remained hidden, your lives will be long and prosperous!'' He giggled, looking at me with eyes that gleamed with demonic joy. It was eerie. I nod. `` Thank you.'' I turn to leave, but he speaks up again: `` Oh, before you depart, o kidnapping knight,'' he mocked. `` One more thing. Yes?'' I nod. `` Go on.'' He waits, expectantly. I sigh, and pull out another bag of coins and toss it to him. Nimble fingers pluck it out of the thin air, and the bag is gone before I can blink. Magicians trick or devil's magic, I do not know. I lean toward the latter. `` Your precious Queen is being overthrown as we speak. They have already found her replacemant and are in the process of grooming her to take the throne. That is the reason why they no longer search for you and your Queen so earnestly.'' `` Who is the girl?'' He silently twiddles his thumbs. I am used to this. There are times I have had to bring beyond ten bags of coins in order to obtain all the information he has to deliver. Without hesitation, I toss him another bag. Again, the bag disappears out of thin air, in my plain sight. `` Arendelle. A real dimwitted peasant girl from the village, who just so happens to be the offspring of the late king's numerous dalliances. She's a real dimwitted one - did I mention that? - and verrry promiscuous. If you ever need names of these men, I know enough of them to have her name scandalized and her authority overthrown.'' He winks. I toss him another bag before I speak. `` Why her?'' I question. `` I am sure the king has other offspring. Like you said, he has had numerous dalliances. None of them produced a child?'' `` Did I not mention she was a dimwit? I think I mentioned that. Dimwits,'' he looked at me pointedly- though I did n't know why, `` are easy to control. She is a puppet for the people who wished to overthrow the Queen. Plus,'' he snickered. `` She sleeps with the right people.'' Another tossed bag. `` When will she be crowned?'' `` The plan is nine months. Six, if they catch the men who have lain with her.'' `` What do you mean?'' `` Scandal, scandal,'' he waved a finger. `` These men know too much, have too much power over this girl's head. Many of these men are foreign. She can not be Queen unless these men are executed.'' I suddenly had a plan. As soon as I thought of it, he smiled widely as if he had read my mind. `` Go on,'' he nodded. `` I know what you're thinking. Ask your next question.'' I gripped my last bag of coins and tossed it to him. His eyes gleamed brightly, as did his smile. `` Where,'' I asked. `` Can I find these men?''
[ WP ] The first Interplanetary Olympics are approaching , and people are asking questions about fair play in events due to the wide variety of species and environments they come from .	Before you ready further, I apologize. I totally missed the part were this was supposed to be the First Interplanetary Olympics. The following is a few minutes of programming from the 27th Interplanetary Olympics. ______________________________________________________ “ Ultimately, after losing an his left-central eyestalk, Glkk' Strom managed to pull the Glkk'sian kitten from the maw of the Angorian Hellbeast. ” “ Truly remarkable, Chip. ” “ And look how cute and slimy that kitten is, Tom. ” “ In other news, we take you now to a live feed from the Olympic Planet for our ongoing pre-Olympic coverage, where our reporter in the field, Burt Earnest, has updates regarding the controversial rules revision for this cycle. ” “ Thank you, Chip. Burt Earnest here reporting live from the Olympic Planet. The conversion of the planet from life-bearing to entertainment-bearing is nearing completion, but developers have encountered some unexpected difficulty adding the fifth dimensional seating in the upper atmosphere. Behind me you can see the bit of sky, just over there, which was planned to house 300 billion fifth dimensional seats. Without getting too technical, experts are telling us the planned seating area, while entirely empty in the first four dimensions, is full of horrifically radiolethargic substances in the fifth dimension. ” “ That sounds disastrous, Burt. ” “ It would have been, Tom, if not for the heroic sacrifice of several human laborers. Initially reprimanded for sleeping on the job, it was eventually determined that they were, in fact, in a state of permanent torpor due to prolonged exposure. ” “ Truly remarkable, Burt. ” “ And look how peaceful and lazy those humans look, Tom. ” “ Following these difficulties in accommodating our new fifth dimensional Federation members, the -̇͐ͣ̎͆̀̕҉̤̣̺̹͔-͕̱̩ͯ͟-̵̲̜͔̥̰̣͗́ͥͮ-̛̯͔̭͖̭͓̟ͣͯ͐ͧͅ-̵̮̗͔͕̂ͨ̑-̫͇̰̻̿ͦ͟, the Interplanetary Olympic Committee has been prompted to look toward updating the regulations to provide a Fair™ competition for all attendees. ” “ Well, the Federation is nothing if not Fair™, Burt. ” “ Fair™ and True™, Tom. ” “ Truly True™, Chip. ” “ So what changes are being considered, Burt? ” “ Well Chip, for starters, the -̇͐ͣ̎͆̀̕҉̤̣̺̹͔-͕̱̩ͯ͟-̵̲̜͔̥̰̣͗́ͥͮ-̛̯͔̭͖̭͓̟ͣͯ͐ͧͅ-̵̮̗͔͕̂ͨ̑-̫͇̰̻̿ͦ͟ existence in five dimensions may prove an unfair advantage in the track events. ” “ Burt, this sounds like the Ambulatory-Tentaclegate of 11261 all over again. ” “ Exactly what some people are saying, Tom. But consider this: existing outside of the confines of time and space as we experience them, the -̇͐ͣ̎͆̀̕҉̤̣̺̹͔-͕̱̩ͯ͟-̵̲̜͔̥̰̣͗́ͥͮ-̛̯͔̭͖̭͓̟ͣͯ͐ͧͅ-̵̮̗͔͕̂ͨ̑-̫͇̰̻̿ͦ͟ are technically already done with the races. ” “ They're done with the races, Burt? ” “ Completely done, Tom. Already finished. Some Interplanetary Olympic Committee members view that as -- ” “ Burt, I'm going to have to interrupt you there. We have breaking news! We go now, live, to the -̇͐ͣ̎͆̀̕҉̤̣̺̹͔-͕̱̩ͯ͟-̵̲̜͔̥̰̣͗́ͥͮ-̛̯͔̭͖̭͓̟ͣͯ͐ͧͅ-̵̮̗͔͕̂ͨ̑-̫͇̰̻̿ͦ͟ homeworld were their Olympic victory parade is already underway. Taking home an impressive 315 gold medals, one in each event with a -̇͐ͣ̎͆̀̕҉̤̣̺̹͔-͕̱̩ͯ͟-̵̲̜͔̥̰̣͗́ͥͮ-̛̯͔̭͖̭͓̟ͣͯ͐ͧͅ-̵̮̗͔͕̂ͨ̑-̫͇̰̻̿ͦ͟ competitor, they are a True™ asset to the Federation, Tom. ” “ Truly remarkable, Chip. For all you viewers at home, stay tuned for our ongoing post-Olympic coverage after these HyperTrueFunMessages™. ”
[ WP ] The greatest sorcerer of all time ... is getting old.. and wants to live out his final years in peace . Describe his journey to find isolation from admirers , enemies , and overenthusiastic students .	I am, as always, woken by the loud cawing of Archer, perched upon my bedside table. My exhausted eyes creak open to view the sun dancing off of his greying black feathers. He stares at me with his obsidian orbs, pecking at his branch on occasion to drive home his impatience. “ Has the morning come, already? ” I ask, rubbing my eyes and reaching for my spectacles. “ The morning came some hours ago, ” the crow replies, hopping up and flying across the room to land on his other place atop the bookshelf. “ My assumption was that this would be a day which you would wish to sleep in. ” I push the heavy furs off from over my body and slowly, painfully pull myself up to sit on the bed ’ s edge. “ You would be correct in thinking so, Archer, ” I say with a chuckle, feeling around the floor with my feet to find my slippers. “ Have any of the others yet woken? ” Archer turns his head, as if to listen for any other activity within or from without the cottage. “ I hear no one, ” he answers, “ yet my hearing has gone with age, as you know. The youths may be awake to see you off. ” “ Hmmm, ” I grumble. “ I was afraid I might sleep past them. ” As I am, finally, able to get my feet into my slippers, I take a moment to stretch and think. “ Fly out, Archer, ” I decide, “ and see that the boys are tasked. The girls should already have set themselves to work. ” “ Do you really believe it necessary to leave so suddenly without notice? ” Archer asks. I lay my hands at my sides on the bed and heave myself up to my feet. My robe hangs on hook nearby, which I reach for as I place my spectacles over my eyes with my other hand. The robe is of heavy, grey fur, matching my untamed hair and beard; it has seen many days and is worn with holes and stained by many tales. I throw the robe over my shoulders and grab the white, wooden staff which had so recently been hidden beneath. I brace myself upon this device of power and leverage and turn back to Archer. “ You ask me this, now, old friend? ” I ask the bird, beginning my slow pacing towards the door. “ Your pupils will be saddened to learn that you ’ ve left them under such circumstances, ” Archer explains. I breathe a heavy sigh of guilt and look to the floor. “ I know this, but it is the path that I must take, no matter how much they, or I, may remorse. ” “ And what am I to tell them? ” the crow asks, hindering me still, as I ’ ve almost gotten myself out of the room. With my back turned to all now but the door, I remain with my eyes fast ahead of me. “ Tell them, ” I begin, “ this: I am gone. One day, you all may reach your most weary years, and, then, you will understand why I must go. ” With that said I turn back to Archer and meet his eyes, my own welling up with unexpected tears. “ Now, go, and make sure that the children have busied themselves that they may not see me leave. ” Archer nods and takes flight out of the furthest window. I turn back again, rubbing the moisture from my eyes as I open the door. I step out into the common area of my cottage. It has been a place of comfort for many years, but, on this morning of my departure, it only seems foreign now. The floors and the two tables, usually stacked high with books and soiled by the messes of alchemy, are the cleanest they have been in centuries. The far wall, where there once sat a number of chests stacked upon each other, is now bare, the stores all shrunken and packed into a travel bag that sits on a table by door to my left. I put these differences out of my head, not wishing to anchor myself to the past things that once inhabited this room, and walk through the door into the kitchen, grabbing the travel bag as I go. As I step into the kitchen, I wave my staff at the fireplace, setting one more pot to brew before I go. As quickly as the fire bursts to life, the mixture is just as quickly finished. I take an empty goblet from the table at the center of the room and make my way over to the pot. I fill the receptacle with the cauldron ’ s contents and place it to my lips. By my magic, the tea has already cooled to a drinking temperature. As I drink of this concoction for the last time, I think back on when I first learned how this trick was done. My teacher, Ambrosius, would not instruct me past this first lesson until I could brew him the tea without using mundane methods. I strove for years to master this practice, forgetting all other knowledge as I delved into ancient books and scrolls to learn the secret. Many times, when I had believed that I had succeeded, the tea would come out too bitter, or too sweet, or too hot, or too cold, and Ambrosius would throw the draught against the wall and scold me with his words and his staff. I only learned the proper technique after a young crow came to my window and whispered it to me in my sleep. Of all that I am leaving behind, Archer might be the most missed. He has stood by me since that first night and he has never faltered, but not even he may follow me where I go to now. Ambrosius once told me of Everstrom: “ There is a place, Triston, where all who have transcended their mortality must one day go. The journey there is not taken through death, or by magic, but through an entryway that is reached by foot. The doors of Heaven and Hell are closed to us, so we must, us sorcerers, all go there, to this land called Everstrom, as the Earth grows tired of our lasting life, and it is natural that all life must pass on. If were to remain, our power would consume each of us, and all life would be at our mercy. My teacher journeyed there when he reached his 500th year, and his instructor past through the gateway to Everstrom 1000 years before him. So, it is nigh that I have reached the brink of my life ’ s allowance, and I, too, must leave this world behind me. One day, my boy, it will be your destiny, as well. ” On this day, I am the eldest of my kind, and I must journey to the door of Everstrom. Archer, though enchanted, is but a mortal creature and must not follow. He will likely pass on to a life after this one, once I am gone and my magic can no longer rejuvenate his youth. My students are very young, still. When I was told of Everstrom I was quite along in my years, as it was, so that the troubling weight of my path was not burdening. These young minds: they will not take well the announcement of their passage. As my life stands, I have overstayed my welcome. The temptation to mold eager minds has always been a weakness to me, and many pupils have come and gone without a chance to be given for my departure. In this lies my motivation. There can be no goodbyes, for I would be persuaded to stay. I must go, now, and I must leave this life of instruction behind to do as I am ought to do. After I ’ ve finished my tea, I pull a sealed letter from my robe pocket. The envelope is written on with the message to be read: “ To be opened c. 2015 A.D. ” The letter within the sachet details my intent in leaving on this day. If one of my apprentices should wish to read the message before their proper time, then they will only be left to accept their fate of their own perception. I leave the letter upon the kitchen table and I depart from my cottage through the front door. Continued in comments.
[ WP ] Everything you draw comes to life , the problem is you suck at drawing .	I was always terrible at drawing. I was so bad that my art teacher from school, Mrs Richards, threatened to resign if she had to keep teaching me. That was until I tried to draw a picture of her, one look at my portrait and Ms Richards thought it was incredible how well I managed to draw Marilyn Monroe, which was strange as Ms Richards looked nothing like her. From that day forth she made it her mission to make me an artist, but try as I may I never managed to draw whomever she wanted me to draw, it always ended up as somebody else. Ms Richards stopped tutoring several months later when I lost my vision from a severe fever that almost took life. Despite the fact she gave up on me I kept up my artistic endeavour at home. I remember the day I felt slightly vain and signed my portrait, I'll never forget that my portrait of Wonder Wonder had come to life as Benjamin Franklin. I spent the next twenty portraits trying to bring Wonder Woman to life, the most disastrous attempt was bringing Scarecrow from the Batman comics to life, thankfully he had no powers. I just finished my latest portrait. I just attempted Mrs Richards portrait again, maybe I will bring Monroe back to life again, dreading and also anticipating who will come to life I sign my name. A soft fragrance caresses my sense of smell, and I hear a string of word that sounded accented French. `` Damn, she definitely was n't french.'' I swore aloud. She must have took offense to whatever I said as I felt a slap across my face as she said `` Pardon me, Mister, I meant not to do it,'' she left after making a noise. As she opened my front door I heard the crowd outside that was gathered to be the first to see the latest person I had brought to life.
[ CW ] Write a Creation Myth of the Internet , then rewrite another person 's version	Conscience sprouted from instinct, man grew from the animal. Ages passed. Thirst for knowledge transformed into hunger for power. Ages passed. Wealth became common and shared, nature was conquered. Ages passed. Collaboration pushed us further than we thought we could go. Ages passed. Unchallenged, except by ourselves, we pursued dreams and pleasures. Ages passed. Now we are one, connected by the dreams we share. Our knowledge far greater than any single person could achieve yet accessible to all. One thing remained in our hearts from the time we first opened our eyes; Fear. Fear is keeping us apart but ages will pass and we will become one again.
[ WP ] Love is blind , but for you it 's quite literal and you lose your sight every time you fall in love .	Before they met, she was a painter. She worked tirelessly from her tiny apartment, and late into the night her little light would shine into the street, a tired flame that fought to stave off the dark hours - a fight that always ended in defeat. Her mentor pointed to her work, strewn down the hallways of the College, and said, `` Dear Emma, you are so good at your painting, but you are not a good painter.'' She knew this, and for this she hated herself. Patrons by the dozen, on the other hand, disagreed. They paid her for portraits and for landscapes and she did all the easy, uninspired work that made her money. Until, one day, she met Jacques, and the light in her window went out. Indeed, the passion was so powerful, it robbed her of her sight. Her patrons were infuriated. They attacked Jacques, they slandered Emma, and they were beside themselves to be so deprived of their most favorite artist. But in time they discovered that her blindness was no curse - it was a gift. If anything, it only fueled her talent. Abstractions of beauty and colors so vibrant they seemed to glow in the dark were the hallmarks of her work. As her love for Jacques grew so did her abilities. Her mentor pointed to her work, strewn across the galleries around the city, and said, `` Ah, Emma, you have found the beauty in simplicity. Your art is leaps ahead, and I think you will go far. But still, there is a piece that is missing from your art - it does not transcend, it does not aspire to escape the natural bounds of youth.'' Emma and Jacques spent more time in each other's arm, and more time in each other's beds. It was a pure thing, a good thing, a thing even the ancient lovers of legend might envy. Perhaps their love would have lasted much longer, if not for the weakness inherent in man. Perhaps, if they had been older, or wiser, or more isolated from the beautiful people of their city. Alas, it was Jacques who committed the highest crime of unfaithfulness. When Emma discovered what Jacques had done, she would not see him. He sent her letters, flowers, material things to beg her forgiveness. He called her lately and early, but she would not answer. No amount of pining or apology could bring her from her room. He took to the streets, like he did when their love was first in bloom, and he sang to her window to beg for her love. The window, once dark, was now lit with a new, furious flame. As for Emma, she created only one more piece of art. Her fingers were her brushes, and her blood was her paint. Her mentor pointed to Emma's work, strewn across the floors and the walls and the ceilings of the apartment, and said, `` At last, and only at last, she does create the perfect art.''
[ WP ] Write a classic fairy tale , but the narrator is severely depressed .	Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, there lived a girl named Cinderella, whose name frankly says a lot about the kind of people that lived in the kingdom. She lived in a house with her average mum and three average step sisters, who were all perfectly normal and as such made life a misery for Cinderella, even though the crushing disappointment of human consciousness would have been plenty to make getting out of bed the pinnacle of futility. As it happens, the royal family, lifted out of the tedium of average human existence by being born into the kind of wealth that can make a person forget just how much of a wasted effort living is, were throwing a ball in an effort to suffocate their deep-residing insecurities in a tidal wave of alcohol and meaningless social encounters. Everyone in the kingdom was invited and so all of Cinderella's family were preparing to leave. But as no joy can come without consequence, they inflicted their body image paranoia and social anxiety onto Cinderella and told her to stay at home and clean. Cinderella found the task of cleaning to be the perfect analogy of life, that no matter how much effort one spends in trying to make something pure and good, it will always be reduced to squalor by the mere passage of time, and so it was deemed to be the perfect put-down by her family. But as she cleaned, wishing that she had money enough to gain access to alcohol that could put her in such a stupor as to forget the futility of each breath, a fairy godmother appeared before her. The fairy godmother is traditionally classed as a good figure in this story, but listen to what she does to Cinderella and then tell me if she's really as good as she's made out to be. The fairy godmother tells Cinderella that she can go to the ball, which sparks the tiniest spark of long-forgotten happiness in Cinderella's heart, but which immediately dies as all things do. The fair then magically creates for Cinderella a series of lavish luxury items, when all Cinderella really wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up. It's worth pointing out that with this power that the fairy godmother could be helping people and trying to do something good in this desolate world, but instead selfishly decides to create material goods for her own human godchild. So Cinderella is packed off to the ball with the warning that at midnight all of things that had been created for her would inexplicably disappear. It is only as Cinderella reaches the bridge to the palace that she realises the fairy godmother's plot: to give Cinderella a merest glimpse of what it might be like to lead a life that is not so full of crushing disappointment and failure, only to snatch it away and reduce her to nothing in a matter of hours. Feeling betrayed by yet another important figure in her life, she steps out of her pumpkin carriage and flings herself off the bridge to her death. No-one attends her funeral. Good night son; remember, not even we really care about you.

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