Split (3)

train · 273k rows

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[ WP ] An old god has gone ignored for centuries . Now , a child calls out them for help with a menial task .	Listing, tilting, falling. The goddess of old faith and forgotten power often felt this way. Once many believed in her, lending her their strength and conviction, and in return the now lonely goddess would watch over them and be a source of love and guidance. And now, not one follower remained. The goddess wandered the planes, an invisible, forgotten thing. Her sighs were the sorrowful wind, her tears the weak rains of late spring. She listed, tilted, and fell. She lay in a grassy field. Nearby lie a small cabin, one with a simple roof and three small windows. The celestial being stared at the sky, her eyes that once were bright blue, now were a dormant and dull gray. The goddess sensed a presence approaching that prompted her to sit up and turn those faded granite spheres towards the oncoming thing. It was the small girl who lived with her mother and father here. Always having been frail, the girl was bound to a chair sat upon wheels. Still, this did n't stop her from going outside. She had her mother for that, usually. A protective creature, much like she had once been. Would the woman become like her, if she lost her family? Such questions ran rampant through her mind. The small girl struggled up a small rise, and then was on the field itself, rolling slowly in the direction of the goddess. The goddess paid little attention, knowing the girl could not see her. She trundled right past towards a patch of flowers, and started reaching with her short arms towards them. However, if she reached too far, she would fall, and she knew it. But the poppies were so beautiful this time of year, and the girl wanted so badly to collect some for her mother and father. She reached. Listed, tilted, and fell. The thud was loud, and it caused the goddess to turn in curiosity. Upon hitting the ground, the girl became very frustrated and began to cry. With no one around, the goddess briskly walked over to the child, but knew she could not help. She stared, and horror overtook her as she relived those moments of having to watch so many suffer because she could not help. The goddess began to weep. She too, was so frustrated at the universe for making her so helpless. Her weeps became sobs, and then -- a voice. `` Can you help me?'' asked the girl. The goddess was broken out of her moment of sorrow by the request. She looked around, seeing no one else about. She looked down to see the girl staring right at her. Utter confusion overtook the deity, and she glanced around. She pointed a pale, gleaming finger at herself. `` Do you mean... me?'' came the lustrous, song-like reply. The small girl nodded. She was wiping tears from her eyes. The goddess wiped away her own tears, and an intense smile overtook her features. Her eyes brightened, sapphire orbs of pure delight, and she nodded greatly. `` Yes, yes,'' she said. She gently picked up the young girl, putting her back into her chair. She lifted a poppy to the girl's hands, and the two locked eyes for a moment. The goddess began to cry yet again, and hugged the little believer close to her chest. `` Thank you.''
[ EU ] Link dies from a flock of chickens before reaching the last dungeon to save Zelda . Who is chosen to take his place ? What happens next ?	The tunic lay in tatters on the dirt, its chain-mail smashed apart, its bandolier and belt both torn to ribbons. A pair of ancient hover boots rested on a ledge nearby, their gold trimmings chipped and sullied with a single drop of red. A bow, broken in half with cracks radiating outward from the grip, sat on a tuft of grass several feet away. The hookshot was nestled in the grass, its chain shattered into countless useless shards of metal. Several yards down the road, the Master Sword was embedded deep in the ground, and missing its wing-shaped crossguard. Despite all the wreckage, there was little trace of the unfortunate soul who had left all the equipment behind. No body. No entrails. Nothing but that lone drop of blood on the boots. A guardsman would have deemed this the work of some massive beast, if the town guard had n't been disbanded years ago. The stranger looking over the scene knew better. `` Killed by Cuccoos,'' she said, her whispery voice barely audible through the thick bandages that hid her face. `` Damn, what a way to go.'' She set about collecting the dropped items, and searching for any gear she may have missed. The hover boots seemed to be in good condition. She could improvise a new crossguard for the Master Sword. The hookshot's mechanisms could be repaired, and the chain could be replaced. In the wreckage of the bandolier, she found Din's Fire, Farore's Wind, and Nayru's Love -- all good artifacts to have. The bow was lost, but the quiver had to be somewhere nearby; Cuccoos are insidiously quick attackers, and they would've killed... the adventurer... before he had time to fire a single arrow. Behind a tree stump, nestled in the roots, she found shattered brown shards; they seemed familiar somehow, so she pocketed them without a second thought. Satisfied that she had collected everything she could use, Sheik headed off of the road and into the mountains. Two weeks ago, the Hero of Time had returned to the world, and for the first time in seven years, she had felt as though everything would turn out okay. She should've known it would n't last. -- -- The shards rested on a tattered and frayed bedroll, gleaming in the light of the campfire. What were you, before those birds smashed you up? Why do you look so familiar? Sheik held a fragment up, turning it over in her hand and examining it. Hold on. That curved edge -- that's just it. It's an edge. A clean cut. She began putting the shards together, matching them, guided by a distant memory that lay at the very edge of her mind. Before long, half of the pieces lay arranged, loosely resembling one side of an ocarina. Link had that ocarina with him when she first met him. Looking at the design and materials, she knew it must have been made in the forests. She had n't thought about it when she met him, but now, she wondered: did Link build it himself, or was it a gift from someone else? Was there someone out there who'd want it back? Would she live long enough to find out, or would the task at hand kill her first? A hundred questions began to compete for her attention, and a single, burning realization began to rise through them, bubbling up to the surface of her thoughts. ``'When waging guerrilla warfare, plans often have to change,''' she muttered to herself, bitterly reciting a line from an old textbook. `` Let's figure out a revised plan to take Hyrule back. Step one: find that usurper and ram the Master Sword through his gut. Repeatedly. Step two: mourn my friend. Step three: repair... well, everything. `` Okay. I think I can do that.''
[ WP ] `` You should 've killed me when you had the chance . ''	White peeked through the bushes he was hiding in and chuckled as he saw Black strolling down the sidewalk. Unfortunately for White, Black saw his scheming gaze, but kept it to himself and continued on his way. White grabbed his things and retreated to his hideout. Tree disguise? Check. Elaborate sword? Check. Camera for victory photo? Check. He was ready. The next day, Black strolled down the sidewalk at exactly the same time and place. The familiar tree by the sidewalk looked a bit odd. Suddenly, out jumped White, who quickly stabbed him with an elaborate sword! Something was wrong. The sword bounced off metal. White pulled back Black's coat to reveal... a metal chassis! Even worse there was a timer counting down in bright red letters three, two, one. BOOM! The explosion shook the ground violently. Black peeked from behind a bomb shelter nearby and laughed. As the remains of the metal chassis fell back to the ground, he could barely make out what he wrote on it earlier: You should've killed me when you had the chance. ( Inspired by Spy vs Spy )
[ WP ] Make me relate to the main character and then completely despise him/her just with the last sentence	He loved her. He told her every day that he would do anything for her. He promised that he would never hurt her. He thought he could keep her safe. The day they took her was the worst of his life. His eyes filled with tears as his door was broken down and she was taken away screaming. He was arrested and charged. In the bedroom, the police found pictures of the two having sex. He remembered the day he brought that camera home. She was so excited. She wanted to pose for pictures as soon as she unwrapped the package. It took little convincing to get her to pose provocatively. His family watched the trial in disbelief, unable to believe what was unfolding before their eyes. How could this be happening? Where did they go wrong? Was it even true? They had no idea what to believe, but they told their son they would always love him, no matter what happened. He felt helpless. What had he done wrong? He had often hoped that future generations would not have to deal with the stigma that his love carried, but he could not think of the future now. He was painfully stuck in the present, unable to come to terms with why his actions had resulted in his incarceration. He had no way to contact her. He was forbidden from writing or phoning her. He knew even if he was able to get a message out it would be intercepted by her parents. They hated him more than anyone. He dreampt about her every night and hoped that one day they would be back together. He was weak and could barely lift his head, but on her birthday he asked a guard if he knew how she was doing. The guard hesitated. He knew he should not give the man any information, but he had seen the way the other inmates treated the defeated prisoner and he had a moment of pity. `` She's doing fine,'' said the guard. `` Did she get a birthday cake? She loves cake.'' `` Yes,'' the guard said. `` Her family got her a cake. They said she was even able to blow out all five candles at once.''
[ WP ] There is something in the woods that terrifies you .	I can try to lay in bed all night, but I know I won ’ t be getting to sleep anytime soon. The silence permeates into the house, there are no crickets, no wind, no rustling of branches, dead silence. How fitting. Then begins the whispers, delicate and soft at force. Becoming needful and angry as I lie in bed wishing it would all just stop for once. But I know it won ’ t stop, not until I make a visit to the woods. Tossing off the covers I slip into my jeans I had careless thrown on the floor before climbing into bed. Stuff into the corner was my shirt and sweatshirt from earlier in the day. I slip on my sneakers and open the door to the crisp October air. The whispers have become less angry, yet more insistent as I start walking toward the woods. My heart is hammering and cold sweat runs down my back. It is so silent, it gives me a familiar feeling of claustrophobia. It feels as though I am walking into a deep, dark cave, though the occasional glimpse of the moon proves that feeling wrong. The whispers are louder the deeper I trek in the forest, calling to me, urging me on. My mouth has gone dry, but I know there is no turning back now. To do so would only be worse than what I am enduring now. Ahead lies a clearing, with a simple pile of stones. The whispers have increased in frequency now, taunting me, describing my worst fears, my mistakes, my failures. All of these things are related, and located under this pile of stones. And every year these stones called to me. I stopped at the foot of the stones. Nothing in the clearing has changed from this time last year. I start to remove some of the rocks from the pile. Going deeper and deeper until a human skull is uncovered in the light of the moon. The whispers stopped and I hear a clear voice inside my head, as the jaw of the skull began to move. “ Hello brother. ”
[ WP ] You 're a robot . You are sentient . You do n't care , at all , and just want to get to work , but have to deal with having human rights .	`` But do n't you care at all?'' Leela said, she leaned forward at the table, `` It's a big deal. Rights are everything!'' `` I already got ta deal with the three laws of robotics and that's bad enough. I got ta remember to not hurt you guys and I got ta listen to you.'' Bender puffed his cigar in her face, `` It's way easier just to do what I want.'' `` What about your children Bender!'' She pounded the table, and stood up. `` Your children, and other robots like you could vote or own land.'' Bender also stood up, `` I do n't need this. My kids will bend their way through life just like me,'' and as he walked out the door he tossed his cigar on the table. `` Put that out for me willya. I gots bending to do.''
[ WP ] In your dying moments , you see a `` Game Over '' screen with two options : Try Again or End Game	White, blinding light curved it ’ s way out of my vision. In the negative space there was a blackness. Without shape or form or apparent function, the edges of it ’ s features began to take shape. A little dash of contrast here, some clearly defined edges there, began to imprint their importance upon my third-eye hole. There was a slowed-sound feeling, the second half of the sound an ice cream truck makes when it drives right past you. There isn ’ t actually a sound. There is the memory of a hundred hundred sounds. Beeps, blips, beats and licks of various digital music and let ’ s not forget the vocal impressions. The “ SNAKE! ” scream at the death scene of MGS and Bill Pullman ’ s improved line from Alien. I remembered these sounds and yet did not actually hear them. I suppose it is the stark change the cursor makes as it blinks from the brightest white into this nothingness, this not white and not light, that lends the feeling of the world around you slowing down. The words hung there suspended and blocky. Sharp edges of cube like design outlined the words: Game Over Try again? or End Game? Followed, of course, by the ever vibrating and scintillating cursor, both there and not there. I can ’ t seem to remember how I died. In fact the first inclination that I had of my certain demise was the fact that I also couldn ’ t remember how I lived. There was this option before me and a knowledge of transition. Or was it a knowledge of cessation? I don ’ t think the word troubled is what I should use to describe my reaction to this hunch driven gut check that expressed that I had died. But it is pretty close. I had knowledge of the world I had recently left behind. There was a grey sluggishness to it ’ s use and function. For instance I recalled what and 8 bit game was and what it looked like and that there were many iteration of digital games created in this way. Each gaining in size and complexity from generation to generation but i had no recollection of actually playing one. At least not at first. There was a bit of a struggle to work backwards from the black and white to the various characters and logos and even as I recalled them I would some how disremember their colors or other identifying features. Some how a red-two-tailed-hedgehog-plumber-elf didn ’ t seem quite right. The images and sounds and mythos ’ getting all tangled and unidentifiable as they faded from my command. I died and I got this 8-bit Monochrome question tugging at my senses and gnawing at my core. and I can ’ t remember what my favorite video game was. Some how that seemed right. It felt correct to me that I can not recall what I have lived. I don ’ t have a particular type of mold to try to conform to. It ’ s just this place there with it ’ s white and it ’ s nothing and the slowed down feeling and me trying to manipulate it all into something like order. There is only fading and the increasing sense that this is as it should be. I have a choice to make and an interesting frame of context to view it upon. After all I was not actually in a video game screen. I like to think that I was in what was left of my mind. Husk that it was, it had an amount of time and energy left yet for me to see this game over screen and the question. And That seemed right, the chance to make a choice, to sound a call, or draw a line in the sand was mine to ponder.
[ WP ] You are the head of the IT department for the lair of a multi-billionaire super villain .	`` We want to take this whole wall and fill it with giant monsters. No projectors either. Also I want them to be touch screen. But that will be the only touch screen item in the room. I want my station to have six monsters, which can all swivel around me independently form each other. Also my chair needs to be able to swivel in a complete 360-degree rotation. I want four rows of six work stations between me and the giant monitors, NASA-style.'' `` That's, uh, quite a list...'' I said hesitantly, not wanting to upset the man with a relatively large network of assassins, thugs, lobbiests, and lawyers. Vil raised his eyebrow, his expression asking for a more descriptive reply. `` Indeed, it should n't be a problem for someone of your caliber?'' `` No of course not,'' I said, `` I'll put in the orders immediately. I'll get the part-timers and interns working on the measurements and power requirements. I'll also have to get in touch with one of my HVAC buddies. We're gon na need some serious cooling power. `` Vil adopted a thin smile. `` Very good. Let me know when the preparations are complete. I want this done as soon as possible.'' `` Of course, of course, just one minor detail...'' Vil's face grew serious. `` And what is that?'' `` Well, to install the power conduits and cooling systems, we will have to dig out several additional floors. The process alone could ta-'' `` Dig? Did you say'dig?' What about the shark tank? The one which I'm going to be filling with my specifically genetically modified sharks that enjoy eating people?'' `` Well, I... I'm afraid something like that simply is n't possible.'' I gulped. I knew what was coming. `` Intern!'' Vil yelled. An interned practically appeared in front of him, ready for his commands. `` I want you to build a giant computer system, and use the shark tank as a giant water cooling system. Can you do it?'' The interns eyes widened. This, this is what he expected to be doing working for an evil mastermind like Vil. Not getting him coffe, or scraping out the charred remains from The Pit of Doom. But building wonderfully evil things, now that was what he signed up for. `` Of course I can, and it's gon na be fucking awesome!'' he said, completely enthralled by this task. `` Excellent,'' Vil said, the thin smile creeping back onto his face. `` But first I want you to take mister'Head of IT for Vil's Evil Company' over to the breeding tanks and have him feed himself to the sharks one piece at a time.''
[ WP ] A serial killer that convinces people on the brink of suicide that life is worth living . Only to then kill them in the exact manner of their would be suicide .	Mac sat near the edge of the roof. His head buried in his hands, jet black hair hanging down, wrists red, trickling down to his forearm, tears. Tears that he'd been hiding, tears he'd been dreading. He did n't want this to happen. He did n't want to be in so much grief. He never asked for this. `` I knew it,'' he croaked, voice cracking and breaking, `` I've always known. I lived my life knowing I'd never amount to anything. She was always proud of me. She did n't know I thought that way.'' He took a deep breath, shuddered and sobbed quietly. Running his right hand through his hair, he leaned back and looked to his unknown companion. `` I just knew that I'd fail. On whatever course of life, I'd fail. I'd never be what she wanted me to be.'' He exclaimed, anger coursing through his voice. `` Now she's gone because I'm worthless'' The other figure sitting on the balcony looked at him with pitiful, understanding eyes. He sighed, and looked at the sky behind him. The cool morning breeze blowing against his skin. The city noises seemed to be muted down, as if there was something blocking them. The clouds, a mix of grey and flaming colors as the sun rises ever so slowly. `` Life's all about perspective.'' He muttered under his breath, not leaving his skyward gaze. `` Look through the wrong end of a scope, and you'll see things smaller. Undetermined. Look through the right end, and you'll see things closer. Bigger. Clearer. In a way you'll understand.'' He then exhaled slowly. Squinting his eyes towards the sun, as if it would do something to help. He turned toward the mentally tortured Mac, who'd looked at him with curious eyes, begging for a way. An escape. A retreat. Something. `` Who knows, maybe you've always looked through different sides. Maybe all she's ever done is see what you truly are,'' the man said, `` Do you really think she was wrong? Be honest. Are you capable of believing she was?'' Mac stayed silent. He looked at a silver bracelet on his wrist and fiddled with it. The other man kept staring at him for a second, and finally he stood up on the roof's edge and turned towards the view. He looked down, where the moderately crowded street 5 stories below was presumably filled with people too busy, too occupied to reflect, nor think about what they feel at the moment. `` I came up here to stand. Only to stand. And feel this morning breeze. Look over the city, the beautiful sky. Close my eyes, and be content. Be able to see clearly and be happy by taking a moment,'' the man said with a smile, and closed eyes, `` Unlike most people right now, who sadly do n't have the time to feel the happiness this simple... Ritual, if you may, brings.'' He opened his eyes and said, `` Yet I found you here, in my place. With the intent of doing something that will bring only the opposite of what I do.'' He soothed Mac's thoughts as he talked further. `` You keep saying you're bound to fail. To be dead weight to anyone you love who would carry you. It seems to me that you're not one to be lacking purpose in life. Only what it takes to fulfill that purpose.'' Mac stopped crying. He looked up at the unexpected company he'd gotten. What if he's right? , he thought. The man continued, `` I'm not of particular belief, Mac. But if there's any divine force, or any sort of thing similar to that, which dictates how life goes, I would assume the purpose it's given you now is to prove that you're exactly what you say you're not. You're not destined to fail, nor are you worthless. Your mother believed in you, and so do I. I believe that you will find your calling, in whatever it may be.'' The man, still dazed by the view, gestured for him to come closer. `` Come up here.'' Mac, slowly, reluctantly nodded, and followed suit. Walking over to the balcony, climbing and standing over the edge. He could feel the wind, the cool calming, soothing breeze. The hidden beauty in the chaos of the city. His hair blew against the wind. His hands softened, and felt free. `` Do you feel it now? Do you understand?'' the man asked Mac nodded in reply, fascinated and in delight of this wonderful feeling. `` Your mom was proud of you through your whole life. All you've ever wanted was live up to that, did you not?'' he chided, `` Then give her a reason to be proud. Keep living.'' The man turned around to leave, and Mac felt his words give meaning and purpose to his life. Without turning around, not wanting to take his eyes off the beautiful sight, he asked, `` What's your name?'' He then turned around, to see the man shove him off the edge, and as he fell, the man chuckled, `` It would n't matter. You're never going to need to call me again''
[ WP ] At age 15 you told the gf you were `` in love '' with that you 'd always be there when she was in need . Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality , whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side . Problem is , you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later	It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that could n't cover even that. I helped. I could n't not help. It did n't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this. I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The `` in need'' part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started. Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I was n't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I had n't said those things. As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her. Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler. ... It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or `` food.'' Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some `` Eeh-an-richmint,'' as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it. Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They do n't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive are n't worth two shits. So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job. Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why ca n't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning. So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it is n't Amelia Fowler. `` My God it's you!'' She exhaled. `` I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it.'' `` Amelia what is this shit? You think I ca n't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-'' I started, but she cut me off. `` Shut up, Frank. I do n't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I wo n't need you again.'' I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler.
[ WP ] In the near future , a company releases a widely accessible , cheap personal device that allows every user to travel back in time in his own body at any point of his life to modify the outcome of some events .	He stood, Timeporter attached to his hip, at the top of the altar. It had worked perfectly and it was the first and only place he would ever visit again. All it took was the push of a button and the whole world blinked. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was her. She was just as lovely as she had always been. The dress was frosty white and bare around the shoulders with small loops around the bodice. She was beaming and Sean became that he was controlling another body, even if it was his own body. He smiled quickly, so that everything would appear normal. They faced each other at the altar and he continued smiling. She was happily crying and staring deeply into his eyes. Her gaze broke and noticed the black box on his hip. `` What is that? A pager?'' she whispered. He shook his head and covered it with the end of his tuxedo. `` Do n't worry about it.'' he smiled. She laughed, `` What do you have planned?'' The preacher coughed, `` May I continue?'' Sarah looked away abashed and returned his gaze to her, staring intently while the preacher rambled on in the background. All he could think while the ceremony continued was, `` You promised me...'' They snuggled up together for photos with the family afterwards at the steps of the altar but he was n't interested in living this moment of his past. His Father was alive again, and kissed him on his cheek saying, `` Do n't you let this one get away. You're a man and you better treat her right.'' But he just smiled and shook his Dad's hand. It had meant so much to him when it happened the first time. There were no words left unsaid and his Father and his relationship had died with tranquility. All he could do was focus on her while the band played them in. The sweet sounds of brass and a middle aged crooner welcomed them with `` Islands in the Stream'' as they made their way toward the bridal party table. He made sure to hold her hand tightly. His best friend Kevin toasted for too long, even longer the second time around it seemed, but they hugged afterwards anyway. Her maid-of-honor was nervous but everyone was crying by the end. He could n't help but grow anxious. Dinner was his favorite meal, pot roast with chopped up carrots and peas. It was just as good the second time around, but he would have it many times in the future. There was nothing special about this meal. He almost blurted it out during the first dance, but held his breath. `` How could you do that to someone? You promised,'' He struggled to stop himself from saying. They hugged and kissed at the end and he was loathe to admit that he took a little longer to savor the kiss in light of what was to come in the future. They stood behind the cake and her hands were wrapped around his and his wrapped around the handle of the knife. They pressed deep into the bottom layer of the cake and together they used the flat of the blade to lift the first slice onto a plate. Then he noticed her, moving from the corner of his eye. Her hand moved forward slyly and his hand tensed around hers. He darted forward and grabbed a thick handful of cake. He moved it up slowly before she did and planted it roughly on her face, dragging a fondant trail across her cheek down to her chin. She stood dumbfounded, a handful of cake clenched in her left hand. Then, she paid him back in kind, plastering his cheek with icing and fluff. Together they laughed and he smiled. He leaned in a kissed her, pressing her body against him as hard as he could. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, relishing as much of the moment as he could. `` You promised me you would n't throw cake in my face.'' He whispered to her. `` I could n't resist'' she giggled. He kissed her again and with a sigh reached down beneath the edge of his tuxedo and pressed a small gray button and just like that the world blinked and he was himself again.
[ WP ] The devil really just wants to help people , but no one will take it ; he does n't understand why .	`` Just sign the damn form. Please.'' The Devil pushes the one page contract over to the man sitting across the coffee shop table. `` I do n't know, I just do n't think...'' The man pushes it back to the Devil, dressed in a plain blue oxford shirt and khakis. `` Look, you want to be successful. I want you to be successful. You have tremendous potential, you can make millions of people happy. You thought I'd trick you or some bullshit, so I even wrote out a simple, legally binding contract. Read it!'' `` I know, it's just, you know, no such thing as a free lunch.'' `` Oh for fucks sake! There are free lunches. School kids get them every day, do n't pay a dime. I was at a personal injury attorney convention, I got two free tuna sandwiches!'' `` But someone pays for those.'' The waitress brings over two cappuccinos and leaves them to their conversation. `` Yes, but they're free to the recipient.'' `` See you're tricky.'' `` Read the contract! What's tricky?'' `` Well, I'm not sure about this part. The payment. It says here I have to give you 10 % of all future earnings.'' `` Yes, standard language really. It's better than most agents take these days. And it really helps me out since I ca n't just conjurer money any more, not after all these damn anti-terrorism backing regulations.'' `` So if, like in a few years...'' `` Yes, spit it out.'' `` Okay, if like, I earn the love of a gorgeous woman? You like, take 10 % of her soul and we're never together in heaven?'' `` Jesus Christ!'' the devils tongue singes a bit at the mere mention of his name. `` See! I knew it... you'll take my wife and my kids and all their descendants.'' `` Fuck, you are dumb. You do n't even realize how much you need me. 10 % of *earnings, as in money. Do you report love on your taxes?'' `` No, but I do n't fill out the long form.'' `` Trust me. I'm giving you a good deal. I have lot of connection in show business.'' `` Trust you? Like Adam and Eve trusted you?'' `` Okay, listen. We got these two dopes out there naked, no idea of the dangers out there. Without that fruit of knowledge, the human race would be too dumb to even know how to reproduce. I saved the human race, but now you have to work for a living. That's on me, but I'm trying to make it up! Now! With you! `` Why me?'' `` Oh, I tried with his kid, you know. Try to get back in the good graces with the old man. His kid was stuck out in the desert on a bad trip and I told him to just jump off the cliff, his dad would take send some angels down to help and get him home. Like divine uber. But then he gets all huffy, like I'm tempting him. You humans are all the same. Would n't know a good deal if if bit you in the ass.'' `` I'm not doing it. I ca n't. You're the* Devil.'' `` You signed up for $ 150,000 of student loans and you did n't even read the terms! You have a credit card with a 19 % interest rate! You lease a car!?! But I'm the one who's going to trick you? Is it the cloven hooves? You know what? Forget it! Have it your way. THIS Deal is rescinded.'' The Devil rips up the contract then calmly stand up and walks away. The man smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. He saved his soul, he resisted the temptation of this life of fame and fortune. The Devil turns around, at the door and shuffles back to the table. `` Sorry about that, you're just not enlightened enough for such a good. At least let me pay, you know, for the coffee and stuff.'' The devil leaves a $ 20 bill on the table. The man nods, never noticing the small little markings on the otherwise perfect and crisp $ 20 bill, the little marking that was scrawled out in perfect penmanship. `` Stuff = Your eternal soul.'' `` Thanks,'' the man said. `` You're not as bad as everyone says.'' The Devil looks down and hangs his head as he walks away. `` I *try* not to be.''
[ WP ] You live in a society where at the end of each day , you can choose to relive it , but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously . A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day . Almost always that number is 0 . Today it is 7212 .	Once a day is lived it cant be changed. A day can be relived with only the knowledge of how many times its been repeated. I look at my timer and see 1912258518 days. Anyone who could remember that many days would have gone mad if it were even possible. Today is not a special day for me. Today is just a normal Tuesday afternoon. I go to work wondering if the world was about to end and I had no choice but to repeat the day in some kind of attempt to save it. With no memory of the last day It would be an impossible feat. There must be a way to send some kind of message to myself once the day has ended. I think of the numbers and wonder if they could be some kind of code. I leave work and go home to turn on the news. Nothing special today, no meteor or doomsday weapon. I frantically call everyone I know hoping everyone is okay. I think again about those numbers. Binary would not be possibly but maybe they each represent a letter of the alphabet. 1,112,258,518 = aaabbeheah. Does n't make any sense. I take some more time to think this through. 11=k 1=a 22=v 5=e 8=h 5=e 18=r.. Kave her? That was the best I could come up with over a few hours of organizing the letters. I got a call at 11:50 pm that my niece passed away in an accident a few hours earlier.If I had known I could have prevented it. I immediately realized what I had to do. It would take 800,000,000 more days but it must be done. So I sat there until 12 and then woke up again. I look at my timer and see 1,112,258,519.....
[ WP ] Suddenly , every person in the world can visibly see a thread that connects them with their significant other . On hearing this , you realize that you do n't have a thread connecting to anyone .	`` Ropes are dumb'' Bob said, and then he barfed. He had been doing both of those things often lately, and his face was coated by the thin amber dribble as a result. `` You all think ropes are pretty neato, don'cha?'' Bob addressed his audience. A sea of cold dead eyes and constantly twisting threads. It was enough to make him anyone sick. Bob then barfed again. `` Hey, I'm talking to you''. His audience had started to leave. But they could n't hide, not with the ropes. Scatter all they like, the line would show the way to one of them. Bob picked the smaller one. She had to know the truth about how dumb ropes were. Her thread quickly proved impossible to track though, as it was quickly enveloped by the sea of ropes that hung down from every branch and covered the ground in a writhing mass of stupid fucking ropes. He then took a quick swig of his next bottle. `` Ropes are dumb'' Bob told his reflection at the bottom.
[ WP ] You have the ability to rewind time at any moment . But only by 30 seconds .	Thirty seconds was n't nearly enough. There she was, on the other side of the pub, leaning over the bar in anticipation of the bartender handing her the drink she just ordered. Despite the ability to go back in time I've never had much luck with women, perhaps due to the fact that I never truly pick up on a girls' cues until I think back on our interactions hours later, or perhaps it's because I spend so much time at work that I've forgotten how to be fun and outgoing. But this, this was different. It had taken months but I finally summoned the courage to ask Amy out. I'd seen her in the break room a dozen times before we finally started chatting; it turns out both our companies were based in the same building but she liked the coffee maker on our floor a little better. I know you're not supposed to put women on pedistals but I cant help myself. She's funny, smart, gorgeous, and definitely out of my league. After months of torment I finally asked if she wanted to hangout at a local pub, fully execting her to mention a boyfriend of some sort. I still ca n't believe she agreed. I briskly walked over from the entrance to the bar, but managed to spill a large man's beer about halfway through my trek. No problem, just rewind. Try again. I start walking over, but slower this time. I saw her eyes light up the moment she saw me making my way over, and much to my surprise she gave me a big hug when I was finally close enough. We found a hightop table, sat down, started talking, and both lost track of time. She was amazing, I'd never met someone who could carry a conversation so well, I even managed to avoid saying something stupid - it was perhaps the first time I'd managed to not rewind when talking to a girl at a bar. As the hour grew late we walked over to the bar to settle our tabs. I offered to pay on the condition that she pay for our next outing, an offer to which she agreed. All was well but I still hade n't sealed the deal. The bartender was dealing with someone else and would n't come for a while. Amy sent off a text and looked me at me with that gorgeous smile, that was my chance. I went in for a kiss and it planted firmly on her cheek, she had turned. `` I'm sorry, but I just started seeing this guy a couple weeks ago. He's coming to pick me up now'' `` Oh, I did n't know'', my reply was meek. `` I did n't realize this was a date. I can cover my tab, you do n't need to. Now I feel bad'' `` No, I should have been more clear. And do n't be silly Amy, we had an agreement'', I faked a smile. If only I had asked her out sooner. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- My second submission ever, and I'm not a writer, so I'm always up for advice. When I first read the prompt I tried to think of a way that an average joe might try to use the ability, and the first thing I thought of was trying to pick up women. Much to my dismay I really could n't think of much that could be fixed by going back in time by thirty seconds. So that was my inspiration, there's no tricks to dating.
[ WP ] A person gets super/magic powers , but every time they use this power ...	Do you know what it ’ s like being in someone else ’ s head? I do. It ’ s the only way I can kill them. No matter where they are, no matter how many bodies stand in their way, I can worm my way inside their minds. All I need is a picture. Sometimes I need to know which country they ’ re in to find their soul ’ s pulse. After that it ’ s like plucking weeds—ripping their memories out one-by-one until their body is nothing more than an empty sack of meat. `` Are you okay?'' the General asks me. `` Fine.'' `` It ’ s been three months this time.'' `` I assure you I ’ m sane again.'' The fat bastard, no…the General simply shrugged and planted a folder in front of me. `` I think this one will be different, my friend.'' `` I am not your friend,'' I seethed, still fighting back the emotions that I felt with the last man I killed. When I tear out their souls, I feel every single memory. I feel their hatreds, their loves, their fears, and their joys. For a few hours, I become them. And then I kill them. The memories of the last man I killed still haunt me. I can hardly look at the General without feeling compelled to rip out his spine—that ’ s the man ’ s hatred still coiled within my own soul. A few months is usually all I need to cleanse those parasitic emotions, but this man had been someone greater than me. He truly loved his family and his friends. His life had been something amazing, it just wasn ’ t one the General cared to keep around. I collect myself. `` Who is it this time? The General remained silent. I slid the folder closer. `` You ’ re not usually this reserved, General.'' `` And you ’ re not usually one to ask questions. You know as well as I do whose face is in that folder.'' My heart sank, and now the hatred I feel for this man is my own. `` I won ’ t.'' `` Son, we need this.'' `` You promised me. We had an agreement.'' `` She ’ s killing high-priority members of our --'' `` I don ’ t give a damn.'' `` Then start! '' The table shook beneath the General ’ s fists. `` She ’ s a witch.'' `` We promised…my freedom for hers. I ’ m your weapon now, sir.'' `` And she ’ s your target. She ’ s unstable.'' Chains claw at my arms the second I try to assault the man. `` Shut up.'' The General rose, adjusting his tie. `` Consider this your final gift to her: putting her out of her misery. She ’ s hardly even human any more, just like the rest of your kind. You wouldn ’ t want her to live like this, would you? Be the better man and get the job done.'' `` Fuck you! '' `` One day. That ’ s how long you have before we resort to our back up plan.'' With that, the General was gone and I finally open the folder. Inside was an old picture of her. She had the warmest smile back then. It was the only thing that kept me sane when I used my power. And I kept her sane too. We were more than partners… And it ’ s because of the General we were split. It ’ s because of him that she ’ s been overusing her power without me keeping her tethered to reality. He murdered her. With that smile freshly in my mind, I found a strength I hadn ’ t known for years. `` I love you,'' I whisper. `` But I just can ’ t do this without you anymore.'' As resolutely as a beaten man puts a gun to his head, I find that familiar pulse that is the General ’ s soul. It ’ s a disgusting thing. I can ’ t imagine the things I ’ ll have to experience through him, the horrors he ’ s done and the thoughts he uses to justify them. That ’ s the first price of ripping out his soul. After that, his men will kill me. That ’ s the real price of buying my wife ’ s freedom. That ’ s the real price of finally finding the peace my own soul longs for. And it will be worth it.
[ EU ] A `` Death Note '' is a magic notebook able to kill any human who 's name is written in it via your chosen method , provided you know their real name and face . You have not found one of these . You have found a Brown Note , which can make anyone crap their pants on command via the same method .	I noticed him from the corner of my eye, he had a confident step to his walk. He loved doing this on the monday morning. The trait of early riser actually secured him his position as manager. Almost with a fetish for the insane amounts of paperwork and rules. `` Morning Jackson'' He greeted me. `` good morning mr. Williams'' I replied. `` Time for your performance appraisal, I expect you in my office within the hour''. I was stumped, he had never given us time to just swing by. Usually it would have been `` Follow me''. I felt something then, it was similar to regret. But it just did n't even come close to stacking up to his eternal attitude. Besides I had to find out just how legitimate this little notebook was anyway. I actually could n't wait. I wanted to make the first time special, I like symbolism. So at least 5 minutes of conversation had to be accounted for in my plan. Now that I theoretically had power over this man's bowel movements I felt empowered enough to go for a smoke break while thinking up my master plan. My cigarette was barely lit when Williams stepped outside, `` Who gave you permission to go outside?''. `` I-I- no one sir'' I managed to stutter. `` Well that's quite a start for today, follow me to my office.'' I wanted to be mad but it was true, I made that decision even though I was n't really in the position to do that. `` So, I'm reading you were late 5 times last month. Do you have any kind of explanation?'' He asked. `` No sir but I always showed up even if I was late.'' I could lie about having trouble sleeping because of a death in the family but I was n't worried about my job at this point. I managed to scribble his name and time of shitting in my shitnote while I followed him to his office, so all I had to do was not lose my temper. Which was n't all that hard, I had sat through this conversation at least 23 times already. At this point I could see the beginning of a grimace forming on his face, like he had an itch he could n't scratch. `` If our positions were switched how would you discipline me?''. I was stuck in a forcefield of continuous `` uhm''. Because political questions are n't to be taken lightly. Right when he wanted to interject it happened, an involuntary frown formed on his face. You could see he did n't want it because there was panic in the eyes, and that's a big no-no for those subscribing to the stoïc lifestyle. An audible rumble was heard in the room. We both knew what time it was now, but only one of us knew why exactly. I asked `` Are you alright sir?'' as sheepishly as possible. `` Get back to work, we'll finish this another time. Go!'' I stood up and as I walked out I could n't help myself, I had to at least take a look at the fruits of my handywork. Like looking at an explosion you caused in an action movie. Or a serial killer returning to a crime scene. Cradling his stomach with his arms he hobbled to his personal bathroom. I decided to listen for a couple seconds, I wanted to enjoy his agony. I heard him moan a couple times before I realized maybe I went too hard on him. Perhaps `` Violent diarrhea followed by an anal fissure'' was a little too much for a first time. Meh, I like high stakes experiments. Serves him right for being an ass. I sat back down at my desk and continued work, about the same amount of effort but less stressed over the manager acting out. Anxiously waiting for the next time he would approach me, I could barely contain myself.
[ WP ] A whodunnit detective 's final reveal goes horribly wrong .	`` After looking over these facts,'' the strapping detective said, `` I have to admonish anyone who could n't piece it together before.'' The room of police officers and family members had gathered in the hospital room after this detective claimed he `` solved the case'' of the mysterious disappearing bank robber. They awaited his answer eagerly. `` The bank robber who stole your family's money years ago... iMr. Smithers, the family friend!'' Everyone in the room gasped. `` But he has ALS,'' Mrs. Richbottom cried. `` All the better to delude us into thinking he could never rob a bank when he was young and healthy.'' The detective gave the bedridden man a smug grin. `` You dastardly criminal, you decrepit ne'er do well, Your days on the run are over!'' The middle-aged man reached out, rubbing his fingers down the pane of a nearby window. Outside, a bird sang its pleasant song, tapping at the places his hand had touched; wont you come and feed us like you used to? The sun shone on his trembling fingers as they fell into the sea of dust gathered on the sill. Mr. Smithers turned to the detective, a tear in his eye. `` That's what the doctor told me.'' Rumor is, that detective just sends in anonymous tips, now.
[ WP ] The super villain wept . `` Why did n't you stop me ? ''	It was over. The fight between the hero and the villain reached the end, leaving a body laying on the floor. She was, at last, victorious! She was the winner! She could gloat about her success in front of the hero before finally killing him. She kneeled next to him, a smile curving her lips. Slowly, she took off his mask, savouring the moment like it was the last -and, in certain ways, it was. Of course it wasn ’ t that easy. Of course, there had to be something wrong in the end, because villains never had it easy, and she was the worst of her generation according to every newspaper, to every single news channel. And finally she could she why he looked strangely familiar. And she almost felt guilty for not recognizing his jaw, or the colour of his eyes. She felt guilty for not knowing the shape of his lips or the tone of his voice. The super villain wept. `` Why did n't you stop me?'' He laughed softly, showing his teeth covered in blood. “ Well, you know I couldn ’ t hurt you, little sister ”
[ WP ] A man gains the amount of people in the world as money on his account . But when he spends that money , people die .	First try at a writing prompt. Critiques are appreciated. `` There's actually an account already in your name, Mr. Jendayi.'' The bank teller raised an eyebrow. `` Are you sure this is your first time here?'' `` I -- well, yes, of course it is. An account? How much?'' `` $ 7,184,415,339. Do you want to just add what you have to your current account?'' `` Wait, wait. Is this American? American currency? Where did it come from?'' Hondo Japeri leaned over the marble counter, a shred of hope kindling in his chest. The farm, his land -- maybe his business could still be salvaged -- The bank teller leaned back, a distasteful look on his face. `` Do n't be ridiculous, Mr. Japeri.'' The shred withered. `` It is the currency of our great nation, of course.'' Well, that was that. Hondo was going to lose his family's home, their land, everything. Shameful, he looked away from the teller. `` Just... just give me what's in there. I'll make a new account later.'' The teller shrugged and took a few moments to empty the account, handing him a bundle of wrapped notes. Hondo looked down at it for a moment, unsure. `` I, ah. What do I do now? I mean is there, ah, some other procedure --'' `` No.'' The teller was rapidly losing patience with him. `` Please, Mr. Jendayi, there are other customers.'' Hondo looked behind him and saw a sea of dark faces. Most were as haggard as his. Lean, thin, hungry. These were dark times. Hondo shuffled out of the bank into the bright Zimbabwean sunlight. Perhaps he'd buy a coffee, if he had enough on him.
[ WP ] You die and arrive at a queue for heaven 's gate . You decide to wander off .	Standing in the crowd, the pearly gates were barely visible from there. Plenty of people ahead, meandering as far as I could see. Some whimpers here, some whispers there were replacing the lacking breeze. The surroundings were still, it ’ s as I was queuing in a bank, not – well, wherever that was. My shirt felt light and smooth, reminding me of snuggling beneath the blankets in bed. I could even smell the familiar pillow-scent from my bed: sweet, yet refreshing, but not quite cold. The skies below were clear, and I never actually bothered to look above... Paper, how was the place I was in like? > It was sunny, certainly. Everything had a warm, slightly magenta tone to it – a faded Instagram feel. The people in the queue were the most beautiful people you had ever seen. There was a blonde girl, her skin was pale, and her eyes were piercing green, your favourite colour. I don ’ t know why I ’ m telling you this, but it is your fantasy after all. Never mind, what could I hear? > As you said, the occasional whimper or whisper. Despite the open looks, the space sounded cozy, almost muffled – like those blankets you were snuggling under. Is that it? > Well, about the sound, yes. It was rather silent. But I was expecting chirping birds, and angels playing the harp, and a subtle choir – > That ’ s how it is then. I ’ m the paper, you ’ re the writer. How do you want it to be? I don ’ t know, that ’ s why I ’ m asking you. How can you imagine the entrance to Heaven being silent? Silence feels tiring, it make me feel deaf and tense. My mind races too much if there isn ’ t any cue to perceive. > Maybe you ’ re tired because of the long queue? Are you sweaty? Is the shirt sticking to your back, all cold and itchy? No, my chair is quite comfortable. And in the story, my shirt is – well you know that, I told you. > I think you ’ re tired because you ’ re tired outside the story. I think so, too. Still, I must write on. > You must? I do. Don ’ t I? > Do you? You ’ re being awfully annoying for a piece of virtual paper. Yeah, you ’ re not even real paper. You ’ re not even the latest version of Microsoft Word. > It ’ s ok, take it out on me, that ’ s why I ’ m here. ... > What? Swallowed your tongue? I don ’ t need a tongue to type, dummy. > There we go, welcome back. So how ’ s Heaven gon na be? Well, I don ’ t know. It ’ s the gate to Heaven, anyway – not actual Heaven. I ’ m supposed to try these writing techniques that are worth reading, but I don ’ t seem to find the topic interesting enough. > What is it that you find interesting to write about, then? I don ’ t know. I ’ ve mostly been journaling the past years. I tried creative writing, but I want results quicker. > You ’ ve been saying ‘ I don ’ t know ’ and awful lot. Be more specific, use stronger, clearer words. ... > So you ’ ve been journaling a lot lately. What about? I don ’ t seem to recall that. Well, I ’ ve been journaling on real paper. And on my tablet. > Go on. I ’ ve been journaling about – not so much about daily life – more about how I feel and what I think. >... Is ts my turn to say something? I ’ m running out of lines, yeah. > Ok, why have you been journaling? At first, I don ’ t know why -- > Of course you don ’ t know. grunt At first, because I was passionate about small things that I wanted to share, but I felt they were only important to me: such as getting a watch for Christmas, or my extended endeavours in videogames. Boy, did I ramble about that. And about wanting stuff, and hating people. > Sound pretty straightforward to me. No dear diary? No, never. I didn ’ t want to feel like a teenage girl writing about her crush in her girly diary. I was journaling. > So, you were writing a diary. sigh Yes, so what? > Nothing. Go on. I don ’ t want to talk about it anymore. > Come on, why didn ’ t you feel those things you were sharing were enough to share with people? Maybe they were... I had a deskmate who shared my passion for that videogame. Other than that, I felt they were family-related things. I don ’ t want to be complaining about family issues to strangers. > So, there were family issues. No, but I was only 15. > Aha. What about that deskmate? Not important. > Ok. At first, you said videogames, but later you said videogame, in the singular. Yeah. That game – I played it from the winter of 2010 until – I mean that ’ s when I started playing it. And I ’ ve been playing it more or less frequently ever since. > Even now? Not now, but, yes – I played at least once in the last three or four months. > So, almost six years. More or less. I remember taking a long break, maybe in 2013, maybe in 2012. I thought I was done with it. But it came back. > Why did you think you were done with it? My friend didn ’ t play it anymore. And we started playing another videogame. See? There was more than one, after all. > I see, do you feel like talking about it? Not really. My friend stopped playing that one, too. And I started playing the old one again, either alone or with random people online. > Anything else that you have been writing in your diary? Journal? There were my teenager complaints of parents and money. > Do you feel like talking about them? So and so. I mean, I was complaining about minor things, so not really. > But... But, recently I ’ ve been finding myself wanting – like, materially wanting. And I ’ m feeling like I ’ m 15 again. > You ’ re in need? Not at all. That ’ s why I feel ashamed of myself. > Because you want stuff, despite not needing it? Yes. > What stuff do you want? ... > Don ’ t tell me you don ’ t know. I do know. Just, regular stuff. > Such as? I have small fantasies about having one of those epic gaming rigs. > So, videogames again. How condescending of you! > Am I wrong? Hey, the heart wants what the heart wants! > Is it the heart, though? Guess what, I DON ’ T KNOW! > Ok, so you want a gaming rig and you feel ashamed about it. Why do you feel ashamed? Because I want it bad enough to – and it ’ s not even a gaming rig that I want. It ’ s just a really powerful PC. It doesn ’ t have to be flashy or anything. > Keep going with what you wanted to say. So this PC – I want it bad enough to think about what parts it would have, and how I would be playing games with incredible graphics and screenshotting them and posting them on /r/gaming. > So you want to show off? Kind of, yeah. I mean, enjoying it myself would be primary, but I think that even if I don ’ t show off, I would still be enjoying it from a show off-ish standpoint. > What do you mean? As in, enjoying it thinking about how beautiful this game looks, because of how powerful the computer is. > I find myself lacking words. Welcome to my world. > How is this leading to the pearly gates? It's not, did n't you read the prompt?
[ WP ] You are Ladies ' Man , incredibly handsome and charming , with the power to charm any man or woman attracted to you into do your bidding . One catch : if you are also attracted to them , the power reverses and you are under his or her command .	`` Alright'' she said as she flipped her perfect hair and rested her hand on her forehead. `` What's with the Green suit.'' `` Well between college bills, a job I hated and the general stress of life the last thing I needed was an ethical problem. When I got sprayed with those chemicals I thought...'' `` Why do n't you give me the short version?'' she said with a sarcastic smile. `` I'm sorry its just I really like you and I tend to babel. I'm usually not like this I swear but I just ca n't stop talking with you, You're such a good listener. Anyway. I'm trying to look uglier.'' `` What?'' `` I do n't want to be able to do this, and as you pointed out it really is an eyesore.'' `` So you can have whatever you want?'' `` If the person I ask is attracted to me, yes.'' `` and you find me attractive?'' `` yes.'' `` Then why do n't you just like... Make me be with you? Like has n't this ever happened before.'' `` Yes It has but The two of us usually do n't stay together for very long. and as for your second point Well two reasons. One that would be a little Rapey and I'd rather not go there. And two I ca n't if I'm attracted to the person back.'' `` So it just does n't work?'' `` No it's reversed.'' `` So Anything I ask you to do you'll do?'' `` yes that is correct.'' `` but if someone else was attracted to you you could tell them what to do right?'' `` Fuck'' I said to myself, wishing she had phrased it in a way that I could get around. `` Yes that is right.'' `` You know what, I need a new car.'' She said as she stood up and put on a jacket. `` Come with me Ladies man, I have a serious shopping spree to go on.''
[ CW ] Write whatever you want , as long as a rubber duck plays a major role	“ DING DONG ” - I rung the bell to the Hastings residence. Old Mr. Hastings was a congenial old chap. Even in his debilitating youth he insisted he could live independently. Thing is, he also insisted he was too sprucy for his beta blockers, so they designated me to go check on him every day on the slavishly boring drive home from school, which also wasn ’ t going so well. Bullies? Nope, just the math problems. They told me I needed to write my variables on the left side of the equals sign. They followed such silly rules, and made ME follow them too. Confinement was the theme. All the rules, postulates, and theorems; everything they did confined me into a smaller and smaller box. Speaking of which, there was at odd brown box waiting at my feet. Funny, ‘ cause Mr. Hastings always made a point of sending his mail to his vacation home. Suddenly, the door opened. “ Hi, Mr. Hastin-, ” this wasn ’ t Mr. hastings. Towered in front of me was a strange diabolical amalgamation of Mr. Hastings and a ridiculously oversized rubber duck. “ What the fu- ” “ QUACK, ” it screamed. I ducked to avoid getting beheaded by it ’ s bill as it stepped onto the porch. As I looked down, I crammed my head into the box. Rubber, The feel of vulcanized rubber, like the rubber baseball my little sister played with. I yanked my tiny head out of the box, and got a headful of little rubber ducks with it. Not knowing quite what to make of this odd predicament, I booked it right towards the main road, but my sneaker caught water instead of asphalt. I splashed into a pond that submerged the stretch of land where the old road used to be.I looked to my left first, then my right. The cottage where the Lancasters used to live was instead replaced by horsetail and lily pads. I didn ’ t know how to swim, but I seemed to be content and somehow blissful as I drowned and sunk towards the pond bed. What a better way to die than in duckland. Everyone in my usual life was just a big duck at the end of the day, right?
[ WP ] Tell me a tale about a rock .	Once there was a boulder, big, heavy, and mean, it wanted to see things get crushed under its mass so generating as much energy as a boulder could muster, it tilted forward and rolled away from the mid-base of a mountain that it had once called home. The elation that this boulder got from sending trees crashing down and rolling over a few critters along the way was unmatched by its speed and weight; you can almost hear it scream `` weeee!''. Some trees did n't budge but instead gave it hand by braving it's size and banking it off their trunks to send into another direction, hopefully one without any wildlife. After a few short moments and with much suprise from the boulder, the trees had shot it around straight into a raging river; the boulder only knew water as rain and tiny streams so this natural formation perplexed the boulder just as all that energy generated plunged it straight in. Confused and disoriented, the boulder tumbles along the base of the mighty river wondering where it was going and what are these marvelous creatures; like darts, the fish that were startled by their new guest, had moved out of the boulders new and unknowable path, trying to make sense of it all, just like the boulder. As time moves on, and as the river rolls the boulder down its bed, it begins to notice a change. The wildlife around it has changed a little bit, still a lot of algae, kelp, and various fish to keep it company, but there was something different; it looks around and to its surprise, notices that his jagged and hard exterior was being smoothed out, roll by roll it starts to feel bits just rub off or break from the other rounder rocks sleeping on the river bed.'Is this a bad thing? Why is this happening?' Is all the boulder could muster as the current changed what it once thought it was. After a long while, the river comes to an opening and the boulder is deposited at the mouth where it just sits, watching birds fly by, waves crashing on the shore, and very unsure of why it's where it is, pretty big thinking for a pebble!
[ WP ] A special forces soldier recounts a mission gone weird .	I still remember the night it happened. I still find it hard to believe. There are just some things that you ca n't believe are possible until you experience them for yourself, and even then... Well I assure you it happened. But all I know is that there was no escape from this fate. And none from yours either. I was head of a special forces unit called O.A.R., or Occult Artifact Recovery, a black, hidden wing of the Canadian Special Forces. Captain Martin Red.I bet your thinkin' `` Yeah right! Canada has special Forces? HA!'' You'd probably be pretty surprised about what goes on up in the syrup loving north. Our unit's job was to recover objects deemed to have `` Super Natural'' connections, so by default we were use to seeing some weird shit. Nothing ever really came that seemed to pan out for the government, normally junky amulets from some old church or ancient rusty swords said to belong to some long forgotten hero. That kind of thing. To me, it was just fun being paid to be a ruin raider in a world where that kind of adventure is generally not found anymore. This final O.A.R. mission was deep in Germany. An old broken castle... nothing seemingly unusual for us. Our objective was some kind of helmet, not much of a description, but usually you can tell what it is your looking for when you find it. We HALO jumped into the castle, me and 3 others, when we landed we took off our oxygen masks and we all noticed something different. There is no other words to describe it other than some `` Aura'' lingering around the area. An almost suffocating miasma, almost at once all the others threw their masks back on, choking on the ethereal vapor. All except for me, the smell was intoxicating almost like I was just stepping back into my childhood home. The team made no comment, and we continued to the castle. As we breached the basement, we finally found what we were looking for in a side chamber. As we approached the small room, we saw what appeared to be 4 stone thrones, 2 on each side of the room parallel each other. As we crept into the room, we sighted our objective resting on the first throne on the left side. It was a beautiful silver crown, encrusted with blue gems that dazzled more than any sapphire could, and seemingly unblemished by the time that had crumbled its surroundings. The other thrones were empty lest for the one parallel the crown. The Robe seemed undamaged by time just as the crown was, and the figure stood their motionlessly watching us prepare to pilfer this ancient object. `` Grab it Jack, I got a bad feeling.'' blurted out one of my colleagues. Jack nodded and picked up the crown, taking a second to examine it before stuffing it in his pack. `` Guess it was a dud this time too Captain Red, eh?'' Quipped Jack. `` Guess so, but lets get the hell out of here, we're already late'' I responded `` Indeed you are'' came a whisper from the skeleton's throne. We all pointed our guns immediately at the Robed Remains. `` What the hell was that? Shits not cool Jack, do n't mess with us.'' Yelled one of my men. `` Shits not me.'' Grunted Jack `` But just to be safe...'' Jack whispered as he fired a burst from his M-4 into the skeleton. `` CEASE FIRE NUMBNUTZ, ITS CLEARLY DEAD'' I blurted out with vigor. As we stepped to turn around I still clearly remember watching the blade slipping through Jack's torso as effortlessly as a fish in water, and the fountain of blood spray on my face as I reached for my rifle. Almost at the same time, the Scythe beheaded my other two colleagues in one fluid motion right as I finally pointed my rifle at the figure's head. But it was too late, the blade was already against my neck, but hell if I was going out without one blaze of glory. I fired a whole magazine into the robe before I realized not only was it laughing at me, but my head was still attached. As I stood staring into the dark pits I suppose were its eyes, it slowly moved the edge from my neck. Only then did I realized how towering this figure was. Its jaw opened, and expecting some kind of shrill shriek or something of the kind it merely whispered `` Welcome back Brother, It has been too long. Your're finally back to Join me once more. You are probably confused, do not worry, all will be explained in time. Now we have only to wait for our 2 final brothers to arrive and we can finally fulfill our purpose. It should not be too long... we are all drawn here.'' While I remained frozen in place, the figure picked up the crown, placed it back on the seat it was taken from and pointed to the throne beside it. `` That is your seat, take it now and know your fate, Rider. Remember once more your purpose'' Whispered the Skeleton as it sat back down, scythe in hand. As if my body moved on its on volition, I slowly took the seat, and as I made contact everything became clear. My clothing burned off, being replaced with searing armour, that bonded to my flesh. My rifle, burned into a puddle of metal and plastic, being replaced with a sword larger than myself in the ground directly in front of me. I felt the rage, the hatred, the need for bloodshed build up inside me instantly. I thirsted for battle, and at that moment my fate was clear, and suddenly I believed, everything I had just seen. I am War, Rider of the Four, and destined to destroy all who stand in my path. I tell you this story as a warning. We shall ride soon, and none shall escape the wrath we will visit upon this world. Thanks for Reading! I am still pretty new at these so any advice is welcome, this is only my second prompt so far! EDIT!!! I am making a series out of these, and this other writing prompt is part of it! http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/27p1li/wp_you_always_get_monthly_hospital_visits_for/
[ WP ] A serial killer is dumping bodies in giant pumpkins . What are the reactions of the people who discover the bodies ?	Their eyes lit up, orange with the glow from the massive pumpkin cooking in front of them. Jimmy with the greasy black hair slapped leather jacket Mike on the back. “ Nice job, buddy, ” he said, smirking. The duo relished the moment. Jimmy inhaled deeply, and savored the sweet smell of burning flesh. Licking his lips, he sunk his teeth into the juicy, tender thigh. Drops of blood gushed from the meat and dripped out of the corners of his mouth. Human flesh was an acquired taste. Jimmy and Mike had mastered the art of preparing the delicacy by using one key ingredient: a pumpkin. Not only were the men in the autumn spirit, but using pumpkin provided that extra kick of flavor that blended harmoniously with the meat. It was a cannibalistic Thanksgiving for two. Flashes of red and blue lights and wailing sirens alerted the men. Mike rose, revealing a glossy dagger, almost as shiny as his radiating smile. Tonight was going to be a feast.
[ WP ] Tell a story using only voicemail messages .	`` First missed message, > Hey babe, I know you're at work right now. Just call me when you get this okay? It's important. Press 7 to delete message, press 9 to sk -- 9. Second missed message, > Seriously, it's been almost an hour I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. Press 7 t -- 9. Third missed message, > Hey babe, me again. We might have to pull some of our emergency money today, something about my brother. Call me when you get this. Press -- 9. Fourth missed message, > Hey? Okay, I guess your phone must be dead or something, I got ta head to my parents house. I'm leaving now and should be there in a couple hours. Call me when you get out of work. Pre -- 9. Fifth missed message, > Still have n't heard from you, had to stop by the bank so I thought I'd call you. It's just there's a lot going on right now with my parents and my brother. He's not doing so well, and they need some money, so I'll probably be there for a couple hours. Call me when you get this and do n't worry, they'll pay us back in full once everything settles down. I'll call you when I get there and before you start driving over, do n't. It's probably nothing, my parents are n't being very specific or an -- > Everyone down on the ground now! > Oh no. Babe I love you. Okay? I'll see you in a couple hours, do n't worry about me, just stay where you are okay? -- > You! On the phone! Throw it here now! > I love you baby. I love yo -- - Press 7 to delete message. Press 9 to skip. 9. End of messages. Check erased messages, press 1. Personal options press 2. Check skipped messages, press 3.'' 3.
[ WP ] 9 out of 10 dentists reccommended this toothpaste . What is the one who did n't 's story ?	And now dear Listeners, a word from our sponsors. Your yellow, cracked teeth tremble in your smiling face. They try to escape from your parting lips like roaches pouring from a faucet. No, the roaches are parting your lips through sheer volume. Twitching, reaching, scuttling legs slip between the cracks in your browning, crumbling teeth. They begin to scream, in unison. You fall back from your mirror in complicated horror; you do not know who or what to call upon for help. Your slimy tooth brush clatters to the floor, now covered in a quivering gaggle of antennae and a dark and impenetrable void. You look up as if to plea to some scornful deity, and it seems that the flow of insects from your gaping mouth slows to an uncertain halt. You catch your breath heavily, as flecks of your disintegrating teeth fall into the back of your throat. You choke out a momentary thanksgiving and peer around you. A million pairs of eyes watch you struggle, gasping in a circle of unholy beasts for footing in a nightmare-scape. A single antennae twitches. The Whole responds to an order that All could understand. The fracture spines of root remaining in your ragged mouth quiver in fear as the Whole monstrosity shifts towards you. No. No! Oh how the sound of Your voice joins the chorus of the shattered, shrieking members of your mouth! The ungodly number of insects crawls up your legs irregardless of your frantic and palsied conniptions. They enter again from whence they came, dragging their moisture coated bodies across your tongue which twitches in unsanctified agony as they feast on the now bare roots of your missing, cracked, yellow teeth. You scream in terror once more for a salvation from the hell in which you persist. Your body seizes on the dirt strewn ground of your unclean bathroom. The morphing river of beasts halts its war parade march into your gaping mouth. Your teeth have returned. Through the curling haze of unconsciousness you can see a shifting image. A mirage of a smiling God holds a branded tooth brush over your head, and you are not certain if you are dead, or simply nonexistent. It smiles terribly at you. You feel your mouth part unwillingly and a single spider falls from your curling lips. You scream and It watches you suffer again. Oh how you begin to scream and shriek. What a time. What a horrid, unholy, grand time it most certainly is. Buy Oral-B. 9 out of 10 dentists would recommend that you do so. Buy it now, they say as nine, one dentist left writhing on the floor, frothing untended. Buy it. Now.
[ WP ] - `` I know how the machine works , Professor Hatred , my question is : How will you use it to take over the world ? ''	`` Well it's simple, my dear innocent assistant.'' Professor Hatred spoke in his grade-school teacher voice to the young woman. `` Since its purpose is to-'' `` I know that it makes things bigger, Professor. But how will it work?'' The woman interrupted him, hiding her smirk as he fumed in anger. Professor Hatred continued on. `` It does n't simply make things bigger, my beautiful sparrow, it giganticizes them!'' The Professor waited for his assistant's shock and awe, but got nothing. `` So,'' he continued, `` to take over the world with it, I simply giganticize some flies-'' `` Why flies?'' The assistant cut him off again, holding back her laughter as she saw his face turning red. `` Because, my sheltered puppy dog, we need to feed the giganticized spiders. Most villains do n't think it through as far as me.'' The Professor nodded to himself as he spoke. `` So the endgame is the spiders?'' The assistant asked him. `` Exactly! Now you understand!'' `` Yeah,'' The assistant barely kept back her giggles. `` Now I understand.'' Donna walked away from the elderly man, barely able to keep the grin off her face. Two months she'd been at Abbeville Nursing Home, listening to that dementia-ridden skin sack rant on. Her friends would love the idea he had just now. It might even have topped his pathetic world domination ideas. As soon as she rounded the corner, Donna fell on the floor, laughing.
[ WP ] Technology has been invented that allows people to edit their actual physical appearance through a Photoshop like interface . This has spawned a new industry of emergency `` rescue artists '' for when people do n't get it right . One such artist encounters something he has never seen before .	Outlaws. It all started with Dr. Jake Fredrik's unusual capability to think outside the box. He was a very unorthodox surgeon who believed that repair was coming to an end and that enhancement would be the all spark of the new age. In the lowest portion of the building was a dark, cool space reserved for the temporary corpses: the Operating Room. Dr. Fred would spend days without sleep just to be near his subjects, allowing their pain and regret to take over him. It fueled his passion to create, to give life, to change the world we knew for the better. That is the moment when it hit him, like a two-by-four to the forehead. Why had n't he thought of this before? This could change the way surgery is done for the rest of time. Corrective surgery without the need for incision! No more scars, no more blades, no more tools and clamps and tables, no more emergency rooms overwhelmingly cramped because of how long it takes to triage illness! But what would he call it. He groaned as he coddled the newborn; his most recent failed attempt at saving a life with his bare hands which he now saw inadequate in the light of his invention. Fast forward to current time: here I am just trying to help this moron who tried to do parkour like the more fortunate morons on YouTube who do n't fall off the building and break their collarbone. You see, when Dr. Fred decided to change the world, what he did n't realize is the cost of his monopolized company product that had revolutionized medicine as we know it, made it very difficult for the average Joe to go to the ER without leaving with a new subsidized loan. So here we are. The Rescue Artists. My extraordinarily intelligent brother Marcus created the first personal computer that can run Dr. Fred's software on the go. Being a business that we keep `` underground'' so to speak, we get all kinds of calls from people. From genetic mutations to car accidents, broken bones to lung cancer, and we can heal it! The problem is, it's illegal. We pirated Dr. Fred's software and practice on patients for just enough to keep the lights on in the apartment. Personally, I like to think we're a hybrid Robin Hood-Jesus. Healing the poor to starve the rich type deal. But we're hunted every day, and the pressure is getting worse. Will we ever convince the board of Medicine that health care should n't kill people with debt? Or will we be brought to justice for our vigilante healing shenanigans.
Write something that makes you tear up , or cry	I ca n't think about you. Every single goddamn time I do, I ca n't breathe for several seconds. I'm ensnared by a single thought. That weakness hurts me. It hurts to remember how far away you are. How I ca n't just call you and you'll be here. How I have to hear you, in my head, screaming and pleading for me to help you, but I ca n't. I ca n't reach you. How I can not hold you, be held by you. It hurts so much. And yet somehow, I still love you more than anything else in the whole world. See, that's the problem. I love thinking about you. Every inch of you. I like to imagine what it would be like to cuddle up to you, walk down the street hand in hand, even just be in the same room as you. I need these thought sometimes; they're the only thing that gets me up in the morning. Knowing that I'm one day closer to them becoming reality. But until that day, it hurts. And confusion, like the bastard it is, means it'll keep on hurting. I guess I'll have to live with it. Living without you would be worse.
[ WP ] Every once in awhile the deepest , most sincere thoughts that a person has are being displayed in a pop-up message above their head .	It's so strange to think of the way we used to be. Since the merging act of 2083, humankind has learned how to integrate technology with the brain. Language barriers are a thing of the past as thoughts intended for communication are written in the language of the listener just above the speaker's head. In fact, this advancement in human evolution has revolutionized the way we communicate. There are, however, side effects to this method of communication. Every once in awhile the deepest, most sincere thoughts that a person has are being displayed in a pop-up message above their head. This occurs when they want to convey a message that could be socially condemning, or illegal. This functionality has led to the reduction of prisons, and criminal activity worldwide.
[ WP ] Life and Death are siblings . They may not see eye to eye on everything but they 've always been close . Life decided to take a spontaneous vacation and Death has to do Life 's job while convincing them to get back to work .	'' Hey, so how long are you gon na be gone for? `` We've been working together literally - LITERALLY - forever and Life still could n't think to give me a heads up when it went to Tijuana for a holiday. I'm on the phone to it trying to figure out how the hell forceps work for not killing people. '' What do you mean you do n't know? Are you drunk? `` I deliver the baby safely into the hands of the nurse and give the kiss of life to it. It's something I can do when people's time has n't come yet, or if they fight real hard to hold on. But I'm not used to it, and you have to inhale before the kiss, and it's making me light headed. '' Listen I ca n't do this much longer...'' I move on to the next room in the maternity ward. As I leave, I feel dizzy and knock the baby out of the nurse's hands. Fuck. It survives because I step over it. See you in 76 years little guy! '' Yeah, I know we take turns, but I always let you know before I... no, no, it's not the same thing as when I leave! No one complains when I leave! `` Life knows how loved it is, but thinks people appreciate me just as much. Bless Life, the precious thing. It has no damn idea. '' Look, I ca n't keep going around to all these maternity wards and give newborns the kiss of life! What do you mean why?! I'm dizzy-'' I trip up in the corridor and rip an IV chord out of a patient walking past, making him tumble and crack his skull on a radiator. He was due next week. Ho hum. '' Yes, I'm dizzy, and I just... vaginas make me uncomfortable ok? I never deal with vaginas and now there's like one every minute and damn it the babies take forever to come out and like when do I go in for the kiss of life and-'' I enter the next room in the corridor and look at the clinical report. Triplets. Jesus. '' Yeah, ok, I'm hanging up now! I have triplets to deal with here! Look I do n't care how good the tequila is! Just do n't go all 1950's on me again and get back here when you sober up! ``
[ WP ] After Batman 's death Alfred finds a badly wounded Harley Quinn and takes her to Wayne Manor . Seeing a better way than Joker 's punching bag , Alfred and Oracle train her to become the heroine Gotham needs .	Harleen Quinzel was seated in an ample armchair, gazing at the cackling flames in the fireplace before her. This was Wayne Manor, supposedly the abode of a rich playboy, filled with rooms both expansive and ornate, yet somehow... empty. The man she loved had left her again. It was understandable at the time, after all, all relationships have their hiccups. But it was more than that. Since he survived that bullet to the face, they simply did n't have fun together any more. So it was that three months ago, she'd followed him on his way to some `` redecoration''. Finally, he saw her again. Really saw her. Smiled, even. Then triggered an explosion without forewarning. Left her, burned, bleeding and crushed by rubble. No set-up. No punchline. Just pain. But a Batman with a kind voice saved her, had her nursed to health by a solemn butler. `` A lot can happen in three months, Miss Harleen'' mused Alfred, a faint smile entering the corner of his lips. He entered with a steaming bowl of soup. `` Dr Leland really has done wonders for your mood. I daresay you look healthy. Do n't you forget to use your skin cream, young lady. Those grafts look awfully dry''. There he went again. A lovely man, if a bit overbearing. But he cared. And that's what counts. `` Will do, Mistah A. Say, have you seen Barb?''. `` I believe she's conversing with master Grayson in the courtyard''. `` Oh, thanks Alfie. I'll be back in a bit''. Harleen leapt grinning from her chair, her soup untouched. It was a frosty day outside, though it was only early in the afternoon. SMASH! Harleen turned to see Dick breaking concrete blocks by one of the larger trees. Alfred had taught her what martial arts and weapons knowledge he had, now it was Barbara instructing her. Psychiatry had certainly helped her get a new outlook on life, but it was n't a career she wanted to return to. Thrills were required, but without so much of the criminal element. So she was becoming a superhero, The Owl. She presented the strikes she'd practiced to Barbara, then they just chatted. It was so strange, being normal again. Barbara wasnt her type of person, but she too had faced tragedy by the Joker's hands, as had the recently resurrected former Robin, Jason Todd. Word was he was becoming increasingly unhinged. Weeks passed. After a lot of rigorous training, finally The Owl was ready, and patrolling the skies of Gotham with none other than Batman. The Red Hood was shooting up gang territories, and innocent lives were put at risk. Time to put a stop to it. The gunfire drew nearer, and the pair landed on a nearby rooftop. Using her Owl-goggles, Harleen assessed the situation. The gunfire stopped. `` Dick, d'you wan na go in?'' `` Yeah. Better make it quick. We could still pull someone alive out of there... And call me Batman goddammit''. Swooping down, they snuck to the house opposite. Dick gave the signal to wait, then pushed the open door. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Smashed glass. Weapons. Chemicals. A drug den. `` Gas masks on'', he whispered. `` Could be toxic''. She complied, fumbling with her - WHAM - Red Hood struck Dick hard on the head, warm liquid oozing from the wound beneath the cowl. Red hood laughed manically. `` Shit!'' came a muffled noise beneath the gas mask. `` Stay down, pretender'', Todd shouted. `` It's her I'm after. You! You do n't fool me for a second, Quinn. I knew you'd find me. Come to tag in from puddin', eh? ``, came spiteful words. Dick groaned. Harley raised her hands, ready to test her hand-to-hand skills. `` I've changed, really. I see Mistah J for the monster he is now''. Todd cocked his head. `` Too late''. A shot rang out, and Harleen looked down to see her costume beginning to soak with blood. Her legs collapsed beneath her. Dick gained his composure, struggling to his feet. `` Are you dense? Are you retarded or something?'' He yelled triumphantly. `` I'm the goddamn Batman!''. Jason struck him with the butt of the weapon. `` No you're not''. Jason stalked over to Harleen, rifling through her utility belt. `` Hmm. What's this? Cream?'' Dick was out cold. Jason seized the opportunity, ripping Harleen's blood-soaked pants off. Jason proceeded to rub his penis with the skin cream, then forcefully penetrate Harley's anus. `` You love a monster!'' He screamed. `` Do you have any idea what he did to me? To all of us?''. `` Of course'', Harley wept. `` I've changed. I'm good now''. `` That remains to be seen''. Jason repeatedly slammed into her... but something was wrong. He felt like... laughing... Jason broke down in a fit of laughter. `` Aw, shit, you broke my secret stash'' Harley moaned. From the shadows, Joker appeared. He looked down, amused, at the hysterical Jason. `` The old Joker toxin gag, eh?''. Harley knew it was time she came back. The burst plastic sac up her ass was beginning to affect her too. She smiled, and, her pain numbed, kissed her puddin'. She was going to be ok. `` Run along now, Harley. Things to see, people to do''. She skipped away half-naked down the moonlit streets, and Joker proceeded to anally violate both former Robins. `` Hoohoohahahahahaaaa''. The End. I do n't know why I wrote this.
[ WP ] For the last fifty years , someone with the near-limitless ability to alter human perception has been fooling us all . One day , you become immune to his influence .	My life changed the day the sky turned black as night. Well, it was black as the void of space. I posted my theory on /r/science first but it was removed by the mod for being considered nonsense. Like Cassandra, no one believed me when I said that Earth was destroyed and that we're all floating through space on a giant ship searching for a new home. No one, that is, but him. Hours after my first post, I was tracked down, which is easier to do on a huge craft than an even bigger planet. Tracked down, arrested, and then brought before him. You think being monitored by the CIA, FBI, NSA, and all the other agencies is an issue, you ai n't seen the big picture problem yet, then. `` Sally,'' the man said to me. `` I'm so sorry to inform you of this, but you have no choice.'' I figured that my life was over. Black hole, pit of doom, I was a goner for sure. `` Humanity must not know the truth,'' the man said. Every generation, there's born someone to maturity who can unmask the truth. That person replaces the last one in the perception engine keeping the illusion alive while hoping that we'll arrive at the habitable planet we can call home. That person will next be you.'' `` Why does it need to be a secret?'' `` Several generations ago, an experiment was conducted to determine the impact of telling the truth to humanity. The results were disastrous.'' `` What if I do n't want to sacrifice my life for humanity?'' I asked. I already had a gnawing suspicion what the answer would be. Would I rather sacrifice humanity for me instead? The look in his eyes revealed the truth. I could already feel the transformation taking place. `` How old were you when they came for you?'' I asked. `` Thirteen,'' he said, but age is not a factor in the transformation. It's been a week now since they ejected his corpse into the void. I've had time to study the history of our new habitat. I've reviewed the planets selected as potential home worlds. Two probes already returned with less than promising results. One planet, already inhabited, was immediately rejected. Another, not habitable after all. The signal from the third and fourth probe are getting stronger. They're almost close enough to begin transmitting data. I've resigned myself to my new life, my new role hooked up to the ship. How long will my tenure last? Fifty years? More? Less? What discoveries will be made during my lifespan? How much will I influence humanity?
[ WP ] Expand on this one sentence horror story my friend told me : `` Well , it looks like we are the last two people on earth m'lady	pulls out dorito bag `` mmm cool ranch for a cool cat like me'' winks at the lady `` GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM'' she yelled as he slowly walked towards her, scratching his neck beard. `` Just chill M'lady I mean no harm, I just wanted to tell you that you're the most beautiful 3d female I've ever set my eyes upon, though I'd rather be with my waifu.. you're second in command.'' `` Seriously back off you creep!'' She said in horror as he cornered her up against the wall. He whispers into her ear, his hot breath and rotten teeth after having not brushed for who knows how long burn away her last sense of smell. `` It's just u and me honey, and I'll do what I want.'' She clocks him in the face with her forehead. `` I KNEW IT, YOU WOMEN WOULD RATHER BE WITH AN ASSHOLE THAN A TRUE ALPHA MALE LIKE ME. YOU FILTHY SWINE, NARUTO WILL KILL YOU IN THE AFTERLIFE! and I'll be there to watch and laugh at your pathetic attempt to friend zone me.'' unsheathes katana teleports behind her `` heh nothin personnel m'lady'' he then throws a smoke bomb down and dissapears in a cloud of cheeto dust.
[ OT ] SatChat : Who are your favorite characters you 've written and why ?	I did n't write him per se, but he was my character for a DnD adventure. His name was Alaoin. He was 50-55 years old ( I forget the exact number ) and was a veteran of a war that had occurred some twenty years prior. He was cautious and paranoid, which was something none of my characters before him were. Usually, I'd be the big bulky tank who'd run in headfirst and deal with everything as it came. But with Alaoin, I decided to play more carefully. Instead of running in headfirst, I'd use my brain and play to my strengths. It opened my mind to how DnD combat was supposed to be. Instead of swinging wildly at anything and everything near me, I began to use my environment to my advantage. It was also fun to be an unremarkable old man kicking ass next to a bulky orc with severe learning disabilities, an elven mage with a serious case of pyromania, and a tiefling who thought that smashing his lute against the ground could be considered music.
[ WP ] Every ten years , you must go in front of a board of peers who will evaluate your life for you . If you do not `` Impress your peers '' you will be executed .	This story has a terrible message. It implies that your success and happiness can only be valued if measured by others. If you measure your happiness by someone else's worth, you'll never be happy or successful. Furthermore, comparing yourself to your 0-10 year old self is unfair. Those are the most active learning years of ones life, where you develop into a functional human benign capable of communication and independent thought. That level of progress can never be matched. We should be happy with ourselves and our achievements on their own merits. I enjoy leisure time and doing things that to others may seem like a waste of my time, but to me they are not, because doing such things bring me joy and that's worth the time I invest in those activities. Simple as that. Nobody can judge if you're a failure or not except yourself. If people call you a failure because you are n't living up to their standards, they are being unfair. If you are unhappy with yourself because YOU are n't living up to your own standards, then that's something different. Just make sure your own standards are n't based off of some fictitious level of accomplishment that is fake or does n't exist or is based off of someone else's life because then you'll never be happy.
[ WP ] At the age of 21 , everyone receives a weapon that embodies them perfectly .	The four of us knelt as one before the altar. I glanced down the row at Sefi, and found him pensively glancing at me in return. Boros glanced nowhere, but instead stared straight ahead determinedly, not a muscle moving. Fara did n't show it, but I knew she was just as nervous as the rest of us. Today was the day that the Saints would choose us, or not, and the final stage of our education would begin... or not. Acceptance of the Saint's patronage meant being ready to fight, and die, when called upon to represent our Saint in their squabbles, to prevent them fighting directly and destroying us all. Choosing not to, or even worse, not being chosen meant not becoming a citizen, nothing more than labor for your betters. Small wonder most of those chose to leave the Nation and wander the Wastes instead. A hush fell as the Arch-Priest called for silence from the gathered crowd. Each of us bowed our head, eyes closed, and offered our fighting arm to the under-priest in front of us. The Arch-Priest began a solemn chant, and a heart-beat later, the four under-priests began a counter-point. I felt the under-priest's hands settle around my upper arm as the chanting grew in power and volume. As he began drawing his hands down my arm, it felt like my very being, my core, was being pulled from me. As he reached my elbow, I felt a weight begin to settle into my open hand. I closed my fist around the weight as it grew heavier and the chant began to reach a crescendo. As the chant ended, I opened my eyes and wearily rose to my feet. My weariness fell away as I looked down at the sword in my hand. Nearly a yard of satiny steel, double-edged with a wicked point, met my gaze. A black leather-wrapped hilt was surrounded by an intricate basket of steel, with an oblong pommel of steel to cap it all off. And there, blazing at the base of the blade was the mark of the Saint that had chosen me, Saint Perric. The gathered community in the chapel cheered as it became evident that all four of us had been chosen, as no one wanted to see a young life wasted. The arch-priest smiled as he motioned for us to come forward, and lay our weapons on the altar for the traditional blessing. We stepped forward together, and laid our weapons across it. My basket-hilt, balanced and deadly, perfect for the flow of cut and thrust combat. Fara's dirk, as long as her forearm, with a cruel hook at the base of the back-side of the blade. A hook as cruel as we had found Fara to be, in the season that Sefi and I both fell for her at once. It bore the mark of Saint Neric at the wide base of the blade. Boros laid down a gleaming hand and a half sword, as versatile and powerful as we all knew Boros himself to be. It bore the mark of Saint Telric, different than ours, down the entire length of the fuller. And Sefi, my brother by choice if not blood, my best friend, my left hand to me being his right.... He laid down a basket-hilt sword that was nearly a perfect match to mine in length and width. The only difference was that his had a handle of blue leather, and a basket and pommel of brass... and the mark of Saint Detric. I looked at him in surprise as the arch-priest called down the blessing of the Creator on our new blades, and saw the same anguish I felt reflected in his eyes. We had known, EVERYONE had known, that Sefi and I would never be separated. No one had imagined that we would not be chosen by the same Saint, it had just never occurred to anyone. After the feasting and revelry that followed, we all made our good-byes, and began the trek to our respective Academies in the capital for our final year of education.
[ WP ] I was logged into the MMO when it happened . We still do n't know what trapped us in there , or why things started to feel like reality instead of a game , but there 's one thing I 'm 100 % certain about : things would 've gone a lot different if I had n't been logged into my alt-account .	I just had to be playing my Mage that Thursday. I could have played my Level 75 Gladiator, Garret, or my Level 67 Ranger, Archeil. Instead, I chose to be playing Fezrick, who is Level 3 and does n't have a single coin to his name. Of course, it was nice to have magic. When my mana was n't depleted, I could do all sorts of things that my real self could n't dream of doing. However, it did n't compare to my main account's stats. Garret was rich, he owned the largest estate money could buy. I was capable of defeating devs. Fezrick was my way of seeing how far I had come. Earlier that morning, I decided to level him up so I could trade his gold to Archeil. Now I was trapped in the middle of a dungeon with nothing but a glorified stick and some robes. And I could n't buy my way out of this one.
[ OT ] Self Promotion Saturday - Flaunt Your Talent	I recently wrote a small story in the fairly-new online cyberpunk magazine called Wire-Head. It's titled [ `` The girl who slept on the catwalks above the flea market'' ] ( https: //medium.com/wire-head/the-girl-who-slept-on-the-catwalks-above-the-flea-market-fe7b2bab9f1c ). While I was writing it, I also submitted a prompt earlier in here, because I think the idea should n't be restricted to one literary genre. The responses were very good as always, btw, and very different from what I had originally envisioned. Which is also good. The story is set in a fictional world of mine, which I'm also using to write a novel about AIs, androids and transhumanism. I also post some novel extracts in my subreddit, /r/cyberpunk_stories. You're invited to post your stories there, too! ( as long as they're cyberpunk, anything goes. Just remember to tag `` [ story ]'' before submitting )
[ WP ] The world is destroyed in seven days , similar to how the world is said to be created in seven days .	There was a peaceful day. A quiet day. Everyone abandoned their work, their weapons, their dreams and just rested. It was the calm, neutral. The sense lasted with every person for the rest of their time. Mankind was created as a steward of the world, but the next day they became simple, submissive beholders. They witnessed the deaths of the animals on land. Few humans died but many lived. They were somehow separate from the world, as if their creation had an entirely different story. Once the night fell and the dawn of the next day rose the birds fell from the sky, and vanished. The fish in the sea became water themselves. Only a few plants dared to survive in the oceans. In a flash the seasons reversed. The next day was a backwards year. The start of winter feed into the reattachment of the leaves. The leaves reverted to blossoms and the blossoms turned bare. The air stopped being warm, and it stopped being cold. The ground shook. The trees were pulled back down. The few plants left in the sea dissolved. The ground was gone. The humans all wading in the water were still peaceful. Quiet observers, they endured. Suddenly the heavens seemed to fall. Earth was no longer protected from the cascades of meteorites. The splashed into the human dense waves and sent them typhooning around each other. The sun came up on the last day. In the distance the light slowly faded, a dot getting smaller and smaller until there was no more. The last of humanity sunk to the bottom. Their bodies went back to the mud from which they were created.
[ WP ] Every time you teleport , your body is destroyed and instantly recreated at the destination . Heaven and Hell are struggling to cope with the billions of duplicated souls created every year , so a bipartisan emergency meeting has been called to sort out the problem .	The first rule of heaven, hell, and anything inbetween was this: Lucifer and his Dad do not meet. Thus, when they decided to put aside their differences for the first time and actually talk, the angel community was more than a little perturbed. `` The gates are opening in five, four, three, two, one!'' A rush of hot air swept through the dusty, cavernously echoing meeting hall, followed by the strong reek of brimstone. Lucifer sashayed into the hall, smiling wickedly, with a small entourage of demons following along behind him. God stood up, smiled, and hugged Lucifer awkwardly. You know that scene in Deathly Hallows? Yeah. That hug. They sat down, and the air crackled with tension as the negotiations started. At one point, Lucifer pulled out a fiddle, then God silenced the band that had struck up with a wave of his hand. The whispering went on. Finally, they stood up, shook hands awkwardly, and Lucifer swept out. `` Well, my Lord, what did you decide?'' A quick grin transformed the old man's face. `` Michael, do you remember Noah?''
[ WP ] So , you humans just drew imaginary lines on your planet and fought real wars defending them ?	`` Imaginary lines? Well, yes. But being able to imagine lines and abstract concepts is exactly what makes humanity better than you.'' `` I do n't think I follow you, commander Abrax. Please illuminate.'' the alien creature thought to me. `` In your world there has never been a war. There was no need. You have always worked together for a mutual cause. You have no independent possessions. It meant your civilisation evolved in a much longer time period and with vastly different results. Our civilisation, humanity, developed through imaginary lines and ideas. Take money, for example. You have heard of how we use money? Well it is an imaginary concept. It exists only in our heads. Two rare round rocks could buy a night with a woman. Twenty round rocks could buy a house to live in. 100 round rocks could make you a God.'' `` God?'' `` Yes, God. God is another imaginary concept. Would be leaders pretended there was an all powerful creator watching us, and that they could communicate to it. The other people believed God was real and would do anything to appease it. Then those chosen communicators were easily able to command the other people. They only had to say'it is what God wants, he has told me.' Manipulating people is a basic principle of humanity. The point is, round rocks had no practical use, and God was fictional. But they still had immense power. We pretended the rocks had value, and in doing so they gained real value. Later we imagined stocks, shares, debt, and laws. The fabric of human culture is imagined.'' `` Because you pretend these things to be real, they are real?'' `` Yes, at least to us. And wanting more of these imaginary possessions is what caused us, in just 3000 years, to go from savages to space faring. We strove to be the best, to have the most. The lines we drew - those imaginary lines around our planet, dividing it up - we fought to protect and expand them, developed weapons and defences to help us do so. The people within the drawn up lines competed with the other line people. So you see, we grew rapidly and aggressively, always wanting more. That is why we are here, Xenoth. That is why we have divided up your planet with our lines.'' `` And what will happen to my race?'' Xenoth thought to me. `` You have a choice. There is a section of imaginary lines you are to be moved into. Otherwise we will...'' `` I understand'' his thoughts seemed sad `` but we can not live caged.'' -- -- - If you liked this please check out my other responses at /r/nickofnight
[ WP ] A captain of a colony ship sent from Earth awakens to learn Earth is dead . The planet dominating the screen is habitable and full of primitive life . It 's time to wake the crew .	Apparently I'm the last who woke up from the cold sleep. Not surprising. `` Are you okay now, Dan? Do you need more time?'' `` I'm okay Cap... What's wrong?'' as I realized that everyone was there. Like seriously, everyone. That's not the protocol. `` We have several news. Big news. But first, take a look at this'' as he pointed out to the screen. I thought that was earth. But the ocean is green. Way too green for earth, or was it? It's been so long since I remember what it's look like. `` For the record, It's been 51 years since we left home. This feed is taken from Vega 13. We found an habitable planet. There is no sign of animal, from the video analysis, I suspect that the planet...'' `` Have we contacted Earth, Cap?'' I miss my home. My family. In that moment of happiness, I forgot that most of my relative might be dead already. 51 years, feels like yesterday to me. `` I'm sorry Cap. I.. do n't know..'' `` It's okay, Dan. Actually, I woke you all up not because of this new planet. We still need few hundred years of cold sleep to get there. We need to give time for the system to analyze everything first. And that can take some time. But there is another news. And this is not easy for me. This is about Earth. There is no protocol for this, because we are not prepared for it. The system woke me up first, because we have lost all contact and communication with Earth. I guess, 4-EY system alerted me first because they could n't find what to do in this situation.'' Captain remain in silent for a while. Until Sal asks, `` What about the IASA sattelite feed? Can we contact them?'' `` Actually, they send something in their last communication package.'' And the big screen now showing a young astronaut named Donalt G Bach. `` This is my last days, and I really hope that it could reach you guys. You are all my inspirations, I became astronaut because of you. The team who travel the unknown, to find a new land for us. For humanity. That is awesome. Like a real life Star Trek movie. Hahahaha...'' He swept his sweats. He is sweating a lot. `` Alrite, I do n't have much time left. Right now, you are talking with the last human on earth. Well, not exactly on Earth because there is no one on Earth right now. They all dead. I have no idea what happening, the last thing I heard is nuke war. Some idiot shot first. Unbelievable. By the way, I really hope that you guys still alive. I mean, I know you guys still alive. Before I leave, the station still connected to you guys. But I'm beaming this to your direction as this sattelite is not connected to you, hopefully you guys understand why you have lost contact with Earth. Because the time when you watched this video, I might already dead. Unless I find a way to reach the Japanese repair station. I keep contacting them, but there is no... `` The video ended, just like that. 30 of us, stood there in silence, and like a sudden rain, the voices and the yelling, and the cries. I just could not take it anymore. I walked out of the control room, and get back to my capsule room. I step inside, and laying down alone in that darkness. A familiar darkness. A home. I wanted to push the cold sleep button, but I could n't. I feel like there is something that need to be done first. And the tears rush down. `` I'm sorry...''
[ WP ] You are a part of the middle generation on a colony ship . You never saw Earth and will not see your destination .	I'm still trying to figure out whether this revolution is really new, or whether it's all been done a thousand times before. `` Remember, folks, you're doing it for your children.'' Mr. Chipper, the smartly dressed, silver-haired motivational speaker spoke through the console on my wall. My fingers moved a little bit faster, as if the speaker had some kind of subliminal effect in spite of my absolute resentment for him on a conscious level. Mr. Chipper was one of the Originali. An original human being frozen for the long journey to mankind's next destination. They thawed him out because of the economic slump of 3008. You see, this ship's engines are powered by economy. The Adam Smith Drive, they call it, it's what made interstellar travel realistic in the first place. But it ai n't easy. Billions of men and women like myself are called for to slave away to keep the engine running. `` Hey Baloney, wan na grab a bite?'' It was Cheryl, my designated life partner. Now I know what you're thinking, and let me put a stop to that right off the bat. This was n't no pre-arranged marriage or anything like that. Cheryl was assigned to me, but I was n't assigned to her, at least not exclusively. That's all part of how they grease the wheels of this miserable economy. Three men assigned to every woman and we all had to fight over her. Cheryl was currently hooked up with Chad, who had clawed his way into a management position above me, may he freeze to death in a vacuum. If I wanted to dislodge her from him, I'd have increase my rank in the company, and fast. `` Man, fuck all this noise,'' I said, walking along the avenue with her. To emphasize my point I swung my cane at the window of a clothing shop, showering the mannequins with a rain of glass. Cheryl giggled. `` Come on Baloney,'' she said, `` it's not all that bad. You've got a nice office job, air conditioning and everything. You can look at pretty girls on the'chans while Chad's got me pinned down.'' Just then a fancy black car screeched to a stop beside us. `` Hey baby,'' it was Chad, with that obnoxious polo shirt of his. `` Baloney, get lost. Better yet, get to work on the deliverables, I'm moving the deadline up a week.'' Cheryl gave me this smile that was half longing, half pity, and waved goodbye as she climbed into the car, via the driver's side door, climbing over Chad's lap in the process. My fists trembled as I watched them tear away. Cell phone to my ear. `` Baloney??'' It was my buddy Hikki Komori, officially one of my competitors for Cheryl's hand but he was harmless, a social dropout, he lived on welfare and never left his room. `` Hey man, what's up, you thought about what I said?'' `` Yeah Hikki,'' I said, clenching and unclenching my fist. `` Fuck this gay ship. Let's do it.'' Hikki had come up with a scheme to knock out Chad and make a considerable deal of money in the process, but he needed my help, and it was highly illegal. If we were caught, they'd make the both of us spend the rest of our lives chipping ice at Siberia Module. `` This is it,'' Hikki pressed a 3.5'' floppy into my hand. His eyes looked bloodshot, his skin was pale, Hikki had really deteriorated since the last time I'd seen him. If this plan did n't go through, he might just turn into a ghost, haunting the'chans for all time, I loved Hikki, I did n't wan na see that happen to him. `` How does it work exactly,'' I slipped the disk into my coat's inner pocket. `` It disconnects you from the internet while it brute forces the bank password, that way they ca n't detect all the failed attempts,'' he said. `` Good luck Baloney, and remember. If it works, I get her on Tuesdays.'' Back at the office I let out a sigh. Chad had n't been kidding, the secretary had deposited a fresh stack of memos about the deliverable on my desk. `` Perk up, kiddo,'' said Mr. Chipper, `` Think about your grandchildren, kicking a pigskin around in genuine sunlight, beneath a statue of the great pilgrim Baloney!'' The last word, my name, was recorded in a different octave than the rest, God, I hate these new personalized motivationals. `` Hope you know what you're doing, Hicky,'' I said, putting the disk in my tower. An MS-DOS window popped on the screen but then closed too quick to tell what it did. Then, the internet connectivity indicator went red, and up on the wall, Mr. Chipper flickered out. `` Huh, if you'd told me about that side effect, I'd've signed on a long time ago, Hicky.'' A popup appeared, showing the different passwords that were being tried against the banking portal, passwords rushing by in a blur. If the activity were being reported, the cops would kick the door in in about two seconds. I glanced at the door. Tensed up as I heard some footsteps, but it was just an intern walking past. Hooooly, is this actually gon na work? And then I was in. Sweet mother of Jesus, I love you Hicky! Let's see, Chad Chadderton... Chad Chadderton... Hey, what's this folder? This looks interesting... Fast forward two hours. Neighbors looking at me nervously as I pound on Hikki's door. Finally he opens it, fumbling with his trousers. `` What's up man, did it work,'' as I'm pushing my way in. `` Hikki,'' I said, `` forget about Cheryl, this is more important.'' I shoved the printouts into his hands, then collapsed on his Sakura-chan beanbag chair, resigned. `` So...'' Hikki was flipping through the papers. `` It's true then. I never thought it could be true... Baloney, I hoped I'd never have to resort to these measures, but I did have a plan in case this was how it was.'' `` A plan!'' I said, rhetorically, fingernails gouging into the Sakura-chan's bikini. `` They're gon na snuff us out, man! Grandchildren, schmandchildren! You, me, Cheryl, Chad... All of us, wiped out just as soon as the decade's up, and replaced by clones to start all over. And when the ship does arrive at Centauri, if ever, then the Originali will be thawed out and all of you and I and everyone we know, will be burned with the ship.'' Among other things, it implied that the fight over Cheryl had all been done before, it was all predetermined. We were all just spinning our wheels for nothing. `` Hicky, I love you, man, but how in the name of Jobs are you supposed to'plan' for something like that?'' `` Baloney,'' he tossed a big heavy vest at me, turned around wearing one of his own, and some snappy shades. `` Now that we've got into the system, we can find where the clone-vats are kept. We can find where the Originali are frozen. I've got three hundred Breiviks of explosives here.'' He slipped on an old 20th century biker helmet and flipped down the visor. `` Let's go give this precious economy of theirs a little'bump'.''
[ WP ] The devil lost funding and must fire one of the seven deadly sins .	A large circular table hosted a plethora of unsuspecting servants. Lucifer sat in the grandest chair, with his cold hands pressed to his chin. The servants balanced precariously at the edge of their seats, in the presence of the devil there was no room for disinterested or offensive gestures. All but sloth that is, sitting at the far side of the table with an apathetic look upon his face. He slumped ungracefully in his chair and assumed the barest faint of interest in the discussion. “ You know, ” he began, a foreboding look upon his face, “ That I ’ ve had to make a difficult decision. ” Large chalices of deep crimson appeared on the table and a wisp of indecision flashed in his eyes. Greed snatched his chalice hungrily and drank from the cup while Pride scowled at his lack of manners. His chest poked haughtily from a loosely buttoned shirt and an air of arrogance exuded from his flesh. “ Today is the day that I will make the final cut, ” Lucifer began again, “ But first I ’ d like to hear a few of you speak for yourselves. ” All of his servants shifted uneasily in their seats and silently pleaded that they wouldn ’ t be called. “ Envy. Why should I keep you on? ” he asked. A squirrely character, with a defined widow ’ s peak and sparkling green eyes stood. “ I am the one who drives mad men to murder, thieves to plunder and honest men to ruthlessness, ” he responded, with surprising eloquence. Lucifer nodded slightly in a dismissive way and Envy sat back in his seat, staring at Greed irritably, as Greed had helped himself to Envy ’ s chalice too. “ Gluttony, ” he spoke from his serpentine lips. Gluttony, with bulbous jowls and sticky skin pushed the chair back as it squealed against the floor. “ Why – Lucifer you know, I am one of the most murderous men at your table. You could not control the Americas at the very least without my affinity for clogged arteries and ravenous desires for rich delights. ” Lucifer nodded. The chair whined in protest as Gluttony sat down once again. “ I ’ ve made my decision, ” Lucifer said, standing up. He paced around the circle and eyed each servant to solidify his decision. “ I am the devil and must live up to certain expectations, ” he stated, stopping in his tracks. A vivid woman, with red flowing locks and large bouncing breasts watched him seductively. “ Lust, ” he began, “ You add passion to humanity and make men and women yearn for skin. You produce life in your work, as children are born to the earth in droves. ” Then he added, “ I want to ravage the spirit and allow men to become greedy, envious, prideful, gluttonous and even apathetic to the essence of the world. I want them to feel an overwhelming need to explode but to never gain the satisfaction or splendors of a woman, ” and with a final nod he said, “ You ’ re cut. ” # 004
[ WP ] The year is 2043 and self-driving cars rule the road . After 25 years of defiance , your decision to drive your own vehicle finally pays off .	Hey everyone, Remember me, the'asshole who drives his own car'? Just sending a group email to see what's up, how's life, how are the kids, if you're enjoying those self driving murder bots you call cars? Personally I'm doing fine. Job's going well, kids are fine and I'm really enjoying how my car does n't just up and crash itself into walls or drive off bridges with me inside, while disabling all the airbags. Have to say that's my favourite feature and… Never mind I ca n't take this anymore, HOW DO YOU LIKE IT NOW DUMBASSES YOU WERE ALL LIKE, HE'S SUCH AN IDIOT FOR DRIVING HIS OWN CAR. WELL WHO'S LAUGHING NOW? ME, BECAUSE I CAN GET INTO MY CAR, DRIVE TO THE STORE AND DRIVE BACK ALL WITHOUT INCIDENCE AND YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS CA N'T EVEN GO INTO YOUR GARAGES WITHOUT GETTING SMEARED ALL OVER THOSE TOOLS YOU NEVER USE. AND YEAH SURE, MAYBE MY WIFE HAS REFUSED TO TALK TO ME EVER SINCE I STARTED GETTING'really self righteous about driving my own car' BUT STILL, FUCK YOU GUYS I STILL WIN. YOU'RE ALL GOING TO HAVE TO GET NEW CARS AND REMEMBER HOW TO DRIVE THEM YOU BIG DUMB STUPID IDIOTS, ME? I'M OUT IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW. BECAUSE I CAN BE AND ALSO…OH SHIT I JUST GOT PULLED OVER, I GUESS THE COPS HAVE STARTED DRIVING VEHICLES AGAIN, BUT STILL FUCK YOU. Sincerely, The guy who can actually drive
[ Wp ] You are left in charge of all existence for five minutes while God takes a smoke break .	`` I LEFT YOU IN CHARGE OF THE UNIVERSE FOR FIVE MINUTES! FIVE FUCKING MINUTES! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?'' Yelled god, threatening to leave me deaf, `` CA N'T YOU DO ANYTHING WITHOUT MESSING IT UP?'' `` Well you see sir,'' I began, with a slight stutter. It was n't easy to explain yourself to the grand ruler of the cosmos, and the last guy had been shipped back to the dorm in a human thimble. Not easy to stomach if you realize that us angels are about the size of a human skyscraper, `` I was looking at earth's history, and realized that all they do is have useless wars over pointless things and kill each other. So I replaced war with games. Now there wo n't be as much terrorism and death anymore.'' God sighed, and facepalmed, `` Okay, what game did you give them?'' `` Ummm.... Cardfight Vanguard?'' `` What. The fuck. Is Cardfight Vanguard?'' `` Well you see, it's this card game where you summon a vanguard...'' I started. Later I would discover that it's pretty lonely in a thimble. At least it's only supposed to last another millennium.
[ IP ] At World 's End	`` Again. Stop waving your arms so violently - they respond to big movements in kind. That can be useful sometimes, but not right now.'' The young teenager focused his face on the sky, tongue sticking out in concentration. He started slow, moving in wrists as if kneading dough; eventually, the movement spread up his arms until even his shoulders strained with effort. But his efforts did not equal success; the sky remained as bright blue as before. `` Let's take a rest,'' I suggested. Nate gratefully acquiesced, collapsing onto the ground. I sat down to him, watching the boy moodily pull at tufts of grass. `` No use moping, boy,'' he teased gently. `` What am I doing wrong, sir?'' Nate grumbled. He jabbed a finger at a thick, leatherbound book lying a few feet away. `` I followed the motion diagrams in Principii Nyebamagii and your instructions exactly, but I just ca n't do it.'' `` That might be your problem,'' I said thoughtfully. `` You follow directions too well.'' He squinted at me suspiciously. `` Nate, why do you think I moved here? On this island a 1000 miles from civilization?'' `` It's easier to do research out here because there's no distractions. Also, you hate people.'' I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. `` I do n't hate people. They get on my nerves sometimes, that much is true. Anyway,'' I quickly said before Nate could argue, `` you're right - magic is so much easier in an isolated system. It's like any of the sciences, really - bring variables down to a minimum, better controls, etc. But that's not the only reason.'' `` Oh?'' I stood up and stretched my arms out, as if trying to capture the whole vista. `` There's freedom here, boy. Break the rules, tweak the way you move your arms, shoot fireballs into the sky, for Merlin's sake. Figure out how you do magic.'' He furrowed his brow. `` How I do magic? But there's standardized procedures set for most every spell that make it work the best. Back at Oxford, we learned that --'' `` Codswallop and fiddle-faddle,'' I said sharply. Nate stopped talking. `` What they do n't tell you in these schools is that magic just can't be standardized. It works slightly different for everyone, depending on their disposition, temper, intelligence, diet, what have you.'' I could see that he had more things to say about that, but I held up a finger. Then I began to move my arms. First, those same kneading motions Nate had begun with. Eventually, my elbows begin to ebb in and out as my arms swept slowly, moving to the motions of a light wind blowing through the meadow. I watched as clouds began to appear as I coalesced water vapor, and they drifted with each twitch of my muscles. After a few minutes, one enormous cloud blocked out most of the sky. I flexed my fingers, and it drove serrations through middle of the fluff. The hole grew larger, and as sky peeked through, I steadily dropped my arms. I looked at Nate, who had been watching wide-mouthed the whole. He glanced back at me. `` Remember how I said your big motions become their big motions?'' `` Yes...?'' `` Well then... go on!'' He stared at me for a second. He then nodded decisively and begin a new spell, and windmilled his arms. The clouds responded in kind; they swirled like a maelstrom in the heavens. Every now and then, I punctuated the spell with a jab here and there, but it was mostly him. Soon, it looked as if we were in the eye of a hurricane. Nate stepped back and asked eagerly: `` How's that?'' `` Add a personal touch, m'boy,'' I urged. `` What do you mean?'' he asked, confused. When I did n't respond, he looked back at the sky, and then the ground. I could almost see the light-bulb flicker on in his mind. He bent down and scooped up crumbly dirt and let it blow away in his hand. As it did, he and I watched as the parts of clouds deepened in color to a magnificent golden tan. I grinned. `` Well done, Nate.'' He beamed back at me. `` Now that's how you do magic.''
[ WP ] You run a tattoo parlor . Every couple of weeks , the same customer comes in , always requesting the same tattoo : an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks .	``... but I do n't even know what they mean!'' I slam the shot of whisky in front of me and continue, `` It's like clockwork.. every two weeks, this guy come in. He's always in a very nice suit.. sometimes black, sometimes blue, sometimes grey.. but he's always sharp and crisp. He does n't talk much.. usually one word answers.. He just comes in, removes his suit jacket, shirt and tie, takes a seat in the chair and nods at me.. it's fucking creepy, man. Sergio! Another shot please?'' Sergio pours another Makers Mark and it's gone before he walks away. `` Another? ``, Sergio asks. `` Water for now, thanks''. He flashes a reluctant smile. I guess I'm drinking quicker than I normally do.. `` But what do I do, man? I ca n't just up and ask,'... so you ever killed anyone?' Frankie, what would you do?'' Frankie looks up from her phone.. I'm not sure she's even been listening. `` What? I'm sorry..'' She has n't been listening. `` The creepy guy with the hash marks, dude! What would you do? Would you ask him what they're for?'' She thinks for a moment, `` No, I do n't think I would.. Just let it go, dude. He comes in every two weeks and gives you $ 100 for a hash mark... why would you want to risk fucking that up?''... maybe she's been listening a little.. `` I dunno, man..'' I say with a sigh, `` my head hurts.. I got ta go get some sleep. Bye, Frankie.'' I spend the next day at the shop. Every line that I put into a tattoo reminds me of the hash marks that are slowly taking over this guys back. I ca n't get it off my brain. I'm stumbling over all my words, I'm just fucking out of it. About an hour before we close, the man comes in. My heart starts racing, but it's right in my throat. I feel like I'm choking on my own fucking heart! `` Hey, man! You're early! I just saw you yesterday!'' The man starts removing his suit jacket and shirt. He lays them on the couch and saunters over to my chair and sits down. `` What are we doing today? ``, like I have to ask.. He holds up two fingers and says, `` I need two this time.'' Fuck, fuck, fuck! What are these things for?! `` Okay, man. No problem. I wash my hands, glove up, and pick up the gun. My hands are fucking shaking.. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself, and get to work. I put a mark directly to the right of three pre-existing marks, the third one still fresh from yesterdays session. The second hash mark I make is diagonal from the top left down to the bottom right, striking through the four marks. I clean him up and tell him, `` Alright, were all done. The second mark is on me. We'll just go with the regular rate.'' The man gets up and goes to the couch and begins putting his clothes back on. When he's all put back together, he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out a stack of bills.. it's WAY more than $ 100. He puts the entire stack on my station and leaves. I flip through the stack real quick.. there's easily $ 500 here. I do n't know what came over me, but I quickly shut off all the lights, turned the open sign over to closed, went outside and locked the door. I see the man getting into a really nice black BMW. The windows are darker than any other tinted windows I've ever seen. I hop in my'94 Honda Civic... fucking piece of shit... and I decide to follow him. I hang back so he does n't suspect that I'm following him.. What do they say in the movies... I've got ta hang back two car lengths? I've been following him for about five minutes now. Frankie.. I've got ta call Frankie. I grab my phone and call. The phone seems like it rings longer than it should before kicking into voicemail. Finally, she answers, `` Hey, dude! What's up?'' I'm at a loss of words, I do n't even know how to start, ``.. umm.. I.. Hey! What are you up to?'' Where the fuck are my words? `` I'm drinking a beer and watching Veep. What's up?'' ``..umm.. you know the guy? The one that comes in every two weeks and pays me $ 100 for a hash mark?'' `` How could I not know him? He's all you've been talking about for the past month at least.'' `` I know.. I'm sorry. Anyway, he came in again tonight.. this time he asked for two hash marks and he paid me a shit ton more than he normally does!'' `` Awesome, maybe you can take me out to dinner now?'' `` Later.. maybe. I decided to follow the guy.'' `` What?'' `` Yeah.. I'm following him now.. I'm staying back a couple car lengths.'' `` You're fucking crazy. This guy might be murdering people and you decide to follow him?! Do you have a fucking death wish?'' `` No, I just have to know wh- Fuck! He's got a red light and there are n't any cars between us! I'm gon na be right behind him!'' `` Pull the fuck over!'' I quickly pull to the side of the road and turn my lights off. I wait a couple minutes until the light turns green again. `` Okay. The light is green.. I'm following him again.'' `` What's your plan. When he gets to wherever he's going, what are you going to do?'' `` I dunno.. I'm gon na wing it, I guess..'' `` Well, be careful, Doug.'' `` I will.. I'm going to text you when we stop so you know where I'm at... in case I go missing..'' `` Do n't talk like that. Do n't do anything stupid.'' `` I'll try not to. Bye, Frankie.'' I keep following this guy. We end up on the freeway. How far am I going to go with this guy? About 10 minutes later, we get off the freeway and head into the Midtown grid. Were going down G street through 28th, through 27th, through 26th, 25th, 24th, 23rd... finally we turn right onto 22nd. The man pulls into the driveway of a house bigger than I've ever seen. It's at least three stories tall.. It looks like it might have a basement too. It's old.. Everything is made out of beautifully carved wood. This house is amazing!... but at the same time, it's dark and very unnerving. I drive up the block and park on the corner of 22nd and E. I text Fankie.. `` I followed him all the way to Midtown. He parked at a huge house.. I think I saw two different addresses on it.. It's on the corner of 22nd and F. I'm parking my car at 22nd and E and checking it out.'' SEND I get out of my car and lock the doors. It's a chilly night. There's a fairly brisk breeze. I'm walking down the street in the dark.. there are no street lights.. My heart is pounding harder than it was when the man walked in earlier that night.. What the fuck am I doing? I'm standing in front of the gate that surrounds the property line of this monstrosity of a house. I unlatch the gate and open it. The gate starts to make a loud squeaking sound and I stop. I open it a little slower and the squeak is quieter. I make it through the gate and slowly close it behind me. There's a small set of three cracked marble steps that lead up to the wraparound patio, in front of me. Protecting the patio at the top of the steps lies a large stone statue of a lion as if it were laying in the sun. As I come up to the lion at the top of the stairs, the patio goes to the left and wraps around the corner of the house. If i were to continue straight ahead, I would come to another series of steps leading to the front door. To the right, there is more patio, and another door... I go straight ahead and try the handle of the front door. What the fuck am I doing? It's locked. I let out a sigh.. probably from relief. I go to the other door that I saw to the right. It's open.. I'm in the house. The room that I find is a weird standard sized room that is split into two floors.. Going through the door, I had to duck below the ceiling. There are stairs at the other end of the room that lead to the upper level as well as a door that leads to the rest of the house. I go through the door and end up in a pantry that leads to the kitchen. The ceiling here is very high, probably 15 feet. The floor is black and white checkered squares. There are two refrigerators against the wall and a large wooden, maybe oak?, table in the middle of the room. I leave the kitchen and enter what looks to be a formal dining room. What the fuck am I doing? There is nothing in this room other than a vintage bicycle that stands in the center of the room. I continue through to the next room, passing through a hallway that stems off of the front door that I had tried earlier. This next room has a beautiful fireplace with a couch sitting right in front of it. I sit on the couch to try to collect my thoughts before I continue through the house... What the fuck am I doing? Why am I in this mans house? What am I hoping to find? Fuck.... I feel a piercing pain in the back of my head, and then darkness.... . . . . . . I returned home after dark. It was always kind of weird walking into this large house after dark. I always had to hope that nobody had entered before me. The entire time I was driving home, I had a strange feeling. I felt like I was being watched. When I made it home, I made myself a drink and headed upstairs to change out of my work clothes. I finished my drink quick. Work had been stressful today. When I went downstairs to make another drink, I saw a man sitting on the couch. I grabbed the closest thing to me, a large stone candle holder. I smashed the back of his head in.. After turning on the lights, I walked over to the body. When I turned him over, I saw that he was the tattoo artist I had been going to for the duration of my stay in this city. What was he doing here? It's too late to ask questions now. I dragged the body to the garden and buried him. What else could I do?... I guess it's not too late to ask questions. It's time to move to a new city and find a new tattoo artist.. No matter.. I can find work wherever I go.
[ WP ] Write me a love story where the characters only meet once , likely to never meet again .	He blinked, looking down at the little swan in his lap. He'd never seen anything like it, before. `` That's amazing!'' The little boy said. The little girl sitting across from him smiled and blushed, tittering. `` It's not really that hard,'' she said. `` Here,'' she handed him a crumpled candy wrapper. `` You try!'' The little boy shook his head, motioning to the tight cast on his left arm: `` I ca n't, he said. `` I've got this on.'' `` Does n't mean you ca n't still do it,'' she teased. `` You just need help...'' she got up on the bench beside him and pressed her body against his; she had him take one piece of the wrapper in his free hand and then she held the other side with her own fingers. `` Here,'' she said, `` like this...'' She worked through all the little folds with him, their hands moving as one- his clumsily, but hers with grace. She gave him instructions as they worked; her breath smelled like peppermint. By the time they were done he ended up with a terribly misshapen mess. He thought she'd be upset with him, but she laughed instead. `` Sorry,'' he mumbled. `` It just takes practice,'' she said. He tried handing back her effort: that perfectly-made swan. But the girl shook her head: `` You can keep that,'' she said. She motioned to the boy's misshapen bird. `` Can I have that one?'' `` Why?'' He blinked. ``'Cause I like it,'' she said. `` And I think you did good.'' He handed the thing to her, and their fingers intertwined for a moment. When they locked eyes he felt something different from when she first came up to him- for some reason he did n't think he'd be needing a cootie shot, later on. The girl smiled at him warmly, and again she blushed. That's when he realized: she was beautiful. The girl's parents came into the day room; they were both whispering to each other: `` Uh, mom and dad are coming in on Friday,'' the father said. `` And I do n't know if the cousins will... make it on time...'' They came and took her away quickly, pushing her wheelchair out of the room. She looked back at him, still smiling. Morning rays from the windows bounced off her beautiful bald head. He returned the smile, and when she was gone he admired that little paper swan in his lap. God knows why she wanted his ugly, botched attempt. But she'd have all the time in the world to teach him how to do it right. He'd make sure that the next one he made for her looked really good.
[ WP ] Exactly a year from now nobody will know who you are .	I'm proud of Sarah. She was hard to find, but worth the effort. Form and function in one sleek package. I try not stare, but I just ca n't help myself. We're going to have a lot of fun together. I tremble, and turn to Mary-Anne. She may not be able to do everything Sarah can, but what she can do, she can do right; Let her get close to you, and she'll pierce your heart. I am a lucky, lucky woman. It will be a long wait, but I can be patient. I polish and load Sarah. I sharpen Mary-Anne. In three hundred and sixty four days, a lot of people will meet us. And the next day, when they ask who did it, nobody will know who I am.
[ WP ] A happy story where every thing seems to be fine , the last few sentences should reveal the gruesome truth .	Every month on the second Monday, my wife and I have a tradition. Since Mondays are so gruesome, and by the middle of the month everything always seems to be dragging, we have a date night to spruce things up. It's my favorite day of every month, and I always try to make it special. Tonight seems a little different though. I usually go to Bell's Flowers on 5th and pick up some Camellia's, her favorite flower, and then go get some chocolates in one of those heart-shaped box and Jodie's Sweet Delectable Candy Store, then I go pick her up from her work and we go get dinner. The problem is, she's not at her usual work today, so Bell's Flowers would about a little but further out of the way, and by the time I get to her it may be around 5:45 already. Hopefully she wo n't mind too much if I skip the chocolate, I'll buy dessert at dinner to make up for it. After dinner, we usually go to a movie or something. We have n't planned yet what we're going to do tonight, she usually makes that decision. Whatever it is, though, I'm certain it will be a lot of fun. As it always is. She's so lively and spontaneous, my wife. I do n't know how I got so lucky. Tonight is a little different though. There may not be any activity after dinner. That's okay though, I'll understand if she has n't planned anything. Like I said, things are a little different now. She's not at her normal work, life has been a little hectic. After dinner at her favorite restaurant though, things should be better. It's almost time for me to leave work, and since I've finished everything I'm sure Mr. Willis, my boss, wo n't mind if I take off a few minutes early. He knows the tradition and is very supportive and encouraging. I got lucky to have a great boss, too. I got to Bell's in record time. I may even have time to go get chocolates, but since I wo n't have time to go home before dinner they would probably just stay in the car during dinner. She wo n't mind, I'm sure she'll understand. It's a shame she's no longer at her usual work, it's much more convenient to go from Bell's to Roosevelt Elementary where she worked, to Bellissimo, her favorite restaurant. I ca n't blame her though, it's my fault she does n't work there anymore. I probably should've paid more attention to her. It was n't that she did n't like working there or anything like that, I think she just was unhappy with the way her life was going in general and felt she could n't move on. I should've tried to make things better for her, but she just could n't take it any longer. Even though I have to drive a little further, I still want to keep up with our traditions.Now I drive past the elementary school for about 8 minutes, into the country. They did n't want the graveyard to be in the town, they thought it might be a little depressing. At least this way it's a scenic place for my beautiful wife to stay, even if it is a little bit of the way. She always did like it in the country.
[ WP ] A Man , a Broom , and the End of the World	These are quieter days. The world has seemed to slow down immensely since the fallout started to spread. All the major cities in the States and Europe were destroyed and there are few places to escape to. I don ’ t want to leave here, though. Priorsville has been my home for my entire life - 76 years a true Canadian. “ Excuse me, sir, ” a man said. I jumped a bit. Having been reminiscing these past few minutes, I must have not heard the bells chime as the man walked in. “ Yes sir, what can I do for you? ” “ Not much, my friend. I just need some rope and any flour you may have left, ” he said. “ I ’ ve got your rope, but no more flour. Been cleaned out these past few days. Whole town - hell, whole country ’ s been headed farther and farther north. ” “ Well, I don ’ t blame ‘ em. On my way out of the city myself. The fallout is slow and the mountains are far, far north. My family and I can probably make it another two years before it hits us. ” The man was young, maybe 30 or 31, but not old enough to have lived a full life with his family, his community, or himself - hasn ’ t had time to really figure himself out. “ No more flour, but I can give you the rest of my corn meal stock if you need some. ” “ I could certainly use it. How much you got? ” the young man inquired. “ About 30 pounds, it ’ s out back behind the shop if you want it. ” “ How much for it all? ” “ No charge, young man. No point in you paying me. I ’ m not going to be able to use it. Whole town ’ ll be covered in a couple weeks. ” “ I appreciate your generosity. My family does too. Aren ’ t you going to leave this town? ” “ No. I won ’ t be leaving. ” “ Why not? ” he asked me incredulously. “ Been here my whole life, son. I ’ ve lived plenty and I don ’ t intend to live on the run or in fear of anything, ” I told him. “ Ok, then, ” he said, “ well, be safe. ” “ You do the same. ” The young man walked out of the shop with his rope. This time I hear the bells ringing. Their sounds clear and beautiful over the extreme silence of the deserted town. I grabbed my broom and stepped outside to sweep off the storefront. Each stroke painful in my joints, but rewarding knowing that I had the cleanest shop in town. All others were vacant, gathering dust. I walked down the street aways, cleaning off the adjacent stores ’ sidewalks. Each store an empty mausoleum, save one.
[ WP ] Three people are after you : one wants to take you to bed , one wants to take you to the altar , one wants to take you to your grave . The three of them just walked through the door .	It was a hot summer night, uncomfortably muggy, and the ceiling fan in my office was the only thing keeping me sane. I was working late, nose buried in old court records, head swimming in scotch, cigarettes passing by like train cars. I can ’ t remember the case, I think it had something to do with the Avery gang out of Poulsbo, but that ’ s not important. I liked working late, it was better than hanging my hat in that brick coffin I call an apartment. And in this heat? I ’ d rather drown the night away at my desk. I was about to call it a night, fold up the case and try and catch a few hours ’ sleep on the couch, when there was a knock at my door. Why did they even bother knocking? The door swung open, and in a cloud of inky blue smoke and cheap perfume they strode in like they owned the joint. Krissy, Prissy, and Missy. Sisters. Damn my luck. My god they were beautiful, all legs and lips and lace. Triplets, they said, and damn if I could ever tell the difference by looking at them. We'd crossed paths before, with mixed results to say the least. Krissy, the one I knew from her sultry, breathy drawl and the fire in her eyes, whispered sweet nothings that would make a pastor blush. And damn if she didn ’ t know her way around a… well, I ’ ll let you sort out where I ’ m going. She sure as spit could. Prissy, she was the one with the sweet-as-honey, sing-song voice and the skip in her step. She was a flowers and romance, wine and candles sort of gal, could cook a mean steak, and truly had quite a thing for yours truly. And I ’ m not gon na lie to you, I had a bit of a sweet spot for her too. She was the type of girl you take home to mother, if you catch my drift. Problem was, she didn ’ t take to kindly to me and her sister Krissy hitting the town. But then there was Missy. By god, that woman was a terror. Dark eyes, sharp voice, nails like knives, she hated my damn guts. When she learned about me and Prissy romping around, and what she called ‘ leading poor young Prissy along ’, well, she had me figured for a straight hoodlum. And she was probably right. That witch gave one hell of a scar one night when I brought Krissy home a bit late and grass-stained, nearly took my eye out in the process, and she ’ s been thirsty for my blood ever since. Makes it a bit hard to see the other two when their sister ’ s always hunting me down. Anyways, those three came blustering into my office like a hurricane, whipping my whole night into a flurry. They strolled right up to my desk, sat down, and gave me the stare, you know the one, when girls are, well, hungry? I ’ m keeping this clean for you, but I ’ m sure you follow me. They said nothing, just sat there, so I did what I thought best; I slid them bottle. Krissy drinks like a fish, and she tore into that scotch like a man in the desert. Prissy didn ’ t drink much, on account of something she read in the papers about liquor and the devil. And Missy? She ’ d sooner bash my head in with the bottle than up-end the thing. Thankfully she didn ’ t take control. It was Krissy that spoke first, that vixen. Asked me to join her for drinks down at the jazz club under the bakery. It sounded like my kind of night, and that was before she flashed me a look so sultry it could curdle milk and left no doubt of her motive. Then Prissy, the little angel, asked me to dinner at the café after. How can a man resist the temptations of a warm slice of pie and a sweet girl by his side? Missy threw the bottle at me. Thankfully, I knew it was coming and got out of the way, but now I had to clean scotch off my wall. Damn bitch. But hey, two for three wasn ’ t bad, and my night was looking a bit more open now that the scotch was gone. So I grabbed my hat, took that poor, confused woman by the arm, and the two of us strode out into the night, her other two personalities fading into the miasma. Sometimes all it takes to feel a little less broken inside is to find someone just as damaged as you are.
[ WP ] A UN meeting in a world where every country conforms exactly to it 's stereotypes .	Obama ( USA ) ( arrives on a hoverboard while eating a hotdog and wearing a Lakers jersey ): What's the situation? Putin ( Russia ) ( drinking vodka ): Turkey just stabbed us in ze back! Zhey are gon na pay for it! Modi ( India ) ( sweating a lot and whispering prayers ): We must define terrorism properly. There is no good terrorism and bad terrorism. Terrorism is terrorism. Also, we must join hands to tackle global warming. Merkel ( Germany ) ( holding a bottle of beer yet standing at attention ): ORDNUNGSAMT!!!! I am moderately pleased to be the first woman Chancellor of Germany. KUGELSCHRIEBER!!! Thank you. Cameron ( England ) ( Drinking tea ): Appo-Apologies but frankly, I am terrified of speaking to a bunch of strangers. The weather's been mental lately, has n't it? Turnbull ( Australia ) ( Wearing a bathing suit and sunglasses, visibly drunk and sitting on a kangaroo ): Oh, do n't be like that mate! Look at Trudeau over here. He just became the Canadian prime minister, danced to a bollywood number at an afterparty and is having the time of his life here! What say Kim? Kim Jong Un ( Korea ) ( squinting his already thin eyes and petting his dog ): Oppa Gangnam Style! -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
[ WP ] A mage , on a whirlwind trip through space and time arrives in the old west . He decides to prove that his spell-slinging is the equal of any gunslinger , alive or dead .	They would all agree, later, after Eagle Eyes death, that this traveler was up to no good. Those who didn ’ t leave town that is. She just didn ’ t feel right. Something was off they would all say. Yet none stopped her from drinking the taverns dry the night before the duel. It seemed twenty men in town caught something nasty from her, or so they said. Could ’ ve just been the brothels. Surely no woman would fuck twenty men in one night? The stories couldn ’ t be real? Of course, if you peaked into the the outhouses, wive ’ s beds, and dusty attics when the devils work was done, not a man complained. Later, when they felt safe with their thoughts they would think back to her power, her pull. That feeling. They would all wish they could be with her again in one way or another. Except Eagle Eyes, he wasn ’ t thinking nothing. It was quite the show just to get the duel in order. Eagle Eyes wouldn ’ t even duel her until she offered him a sack of gold dust large enough to buy the town, and then some, that he agreed to duel her. I remember it perfectly, I remember her perfectly. She stood six inches shorter than Eagle Eyes. Back to back they faced before the duel. He stood tall and arrogant. A cigarette hung lazily from his mouth as they set ready to take their paces. His right hand reached back for a quick squeeze of her ass behind him. Height she was not blessed with but in all other manners of womanhood, including ass, she was quite gifted as I ’ m sure many men already knew by that point. I know her nature, and better yet, I know her tricks, her needs. He sauntered forty paces forward. She worked like a surgeon, each step a new cut into the flesh of the greens summer fields. Bear Mountain loomed in the background. It was not long before those fields would cover in snow and die. She says we ’ ll go back to see Silverton and see them, my home. I don ’ t know if I believe her. Or if I care. Forty paces each they stood from each other. Him with a pistol upon his left hip ready to fire. Her with naught a weapon in sight. It was a good thing Eagle Eyes enjoined the fun of killing and gold. Mostly the gold, else I don ’ t think he would ’ ve dueled a woman, much less one unarmed. The Sheriff rung his cowbell and both turned. He made a wide powerful arch with his right led as he spun, cigarette spill ash and his cocky smile spilling arrogance for all to see. He sure was quick. His four-shooter was out fast as lighting. She turned with rim-rod posture half as quick as he did. Her hands to her side, no weapon to be seen. I thought she was crazy. I didn ’ t even know the half of it. “ Ye red-haired cunt! Really that anxious to die? ” Her face showed no expression. “ Get it over with and shoot. ” She spoke with no inflection, no pace, no intonation. He face stared, red hair, brown eyes, brown skin all cold as the limonite I used to dig from the ground. “ This really is my least favorite part. ” “ Ah fuck you, and thanks for the gold. Tell the devil I ’ m on my way! ” His smile faded quick as he pulled the trigger. One. Two, three, four times. Chest, chest, leg, miss. She fell back onto the grass. As blood shot forward. He put his pistol back in its holster still smoking. He walked towards her body. We all did. Her body had to be disposed off and she likely had valuables. Someone willing to throw that much gold away must ’ ve been rich, even if crazy. He got to her first, we were still three yards away. “ Real sorry I shot her through the tit, what a fuckin ’ waste. Am a right or am I right? Course I ’ m right. Bitch is dead as day fellas. ” I noticed how quite it was then. No birds. No squirrels. No geese in the pond, and it was that time of year. Not even wind. Her right hand twitched. “ Dead man ’ s twitch Eagle. That means she ’ ll be a ghost. ” The Sheriff stated. Sheriff and pastor I should state. Not a quacker like the ones back east where I came from. He still whored and drank like the rest of us. Even took a shift in the mine when work was low, though those days were coming to end end when I left. There ’ d be enough men to work and die for that mine for a hundred years. “ Eh, if she's a ghost, chance I ’ ll see her tits a again and that ’ ll be worth it! ” Eagle laughed his hearty laugh as he let his head back to the sky, looking even taller than he normally was. I saw it first, then the sheriff. Her eyes turned from brown to red. Then her dead body, or so we thought, took a deep breath. “ Christ Almighty! ” The sheriff, ah fuck it, the pastor now I guess, yelled. He reached for his pistol on his right hip, his hands shaking so bad he never even got it out. She, wheezing and red-eyed, slowly pushed herself up. Eagle Eyes jumped back with his long legs flailing as he slipped and went ass first into the grass. The Sheriff, still shaking for his gun vomited, mostly on himself, some on me. The way her hair rose up half a second before she did I think I started to love her then? Its hard to tell. All I know is out of myself, the sheriff, two other workers, John and Wilhem, if you care, and Eagle Eyes, I was the only one who didn ’ t piss himself. That has to mean something. She, standing now, still bleeding out of those, I have to admit, great tits, smiling, limped to Eagle Eyes. He was fumbling in his leather coat fingering for the bullets that he ’ d never load. All of her veins shone amber and crimson under her skin. The blood-pact now forged she half leaned half fell onto of him and bit into his neck and drank. If I wasn ’ t in love with her, or at least her power, before that moment, I was then. And I am now. I ’ ve watched her kill three accursed now and each time I love her more. It may be an acolyte ’ s fantasy with the arcane, yet to be mastered, but it keeps me going. We travel, finding them each, no matter when in time they hide. Watching her drink is what keeps me going. I guess thats how I know I ’ m made for this. Or its one of her many tricks. Either way. I don ’ t care. Sure as hell better than blasting limonite from the mines by day and drinking horse piss by night.
[ WP ] There is a pool party at a swanky rooftop penthouse . In attendance are a llama , several dwarfs and Burt Reynolds . How did these party goers end up here ?	He arrived in a black Pontiac Trans Am. Of course. Burt Reynolds never drove in anything but. He led the llama up to the rooftop on a diamond-encrusted leash. Anything these days to get some attention. Angelina tried to wave him over, but he blanked her. Skinny, too skinny, he thought, heading straight for the corner where he knew the host would be lazing about in his little leather thong. The crowd separated as he approached. They knew the score. “ Hey, Burt, nice to see you, glad you could make it! ” Mark Wahlberg rose and minced over, giving the ageing star a little hug and kisses on both cheeks. Spying the llama, he squealed, clapping his hands. “ Oh, he ’ s just adorable! ” “ She. It ’ s a girl. Present for you, mate. ” Mark made more little gushing sounds and went to his new pet. Burt turned and looked around, walking forward a few paces so he didn ’ t have to have an eyeful of Wahlberg arse. There was the bimbo corner, as usual, not enough fabric, too much plastic, and a helluva lot of cocktail glasses. The jocks in the other corner, perving on the nude swimmers. Burt sighed. It was just like high school, really. Just more drugs and less morals. He went to the bar, grabbed a scotch on the rocks and leant on his elbows to survey the party. “ Burt, how ’ s life treating you? ” He took a swig and shrugged. “ Not bad, Colin, not bad. How about you? ” Farrell followed his lead and shrugged. “ You know how it is, ” he muttered in his brogue. His own dark eyes were watchful, darting around the rooftop, scanning the faces with detachment. “ Not the greatest party, this one, ” he went on, sniffing and draining his glass. “ I ’ ll call some friends of mine, how ’ s about it? ” Burt laughed and Colin pulled out his cell phone. Half an hour later, a band of dwarves walked in and Burt and Colin laughed, nudging each other in the ribs. The dwarves set up their instruments in the corner and began to play.
[ PI ] A knight going to fight a war he knows he 'll lose .	I bit back my tears as we rode into the distance. My forced words of loyalty felt trapped in my throat as though I had swallowed them rather than exclaimed them with might. Because I, unlike the King, have only felt the love of one woman. I was not ready to die. But had I spoken against the King in that moment, my death would have been a shameful one rather than a noble death in battle. However, I was ready to fight my own battle for the love of my wife - with my life ahead of me. My throat contracted around `` Long live the King!'' as I wished him to die. My hands on the reigns loosen as I chose my fate.
[ CW ] I 'm heading the wrong way ...	“ I ’ m heading the wrong way, I just know it. ” I remark to the rest of my group. We ’ ve become a little family ever since - you know, it. Me and my wife Carol have just been picking up survivors since day one. It ’ s been hell, but we figured we ’ d be a part of the solution instead of the problem. At first, we were just wandering around aimlessly. To someone who didn ’ t know about it, it almost would have looked like we were on a little family road trip. Of course once the whisperings of the colony down south started picking up we headed right there; but since GPS doesn ’ t work anymore, as well as the fact that the roads don ’ t even close to resemble any maps we have, it ’ s been hard going. “ Well how th ’ hell do ye know that, instinct? ” The Irishman, Jeffery, seemed irritated as usual. “ Remember th ’ last time you went ‘ n your instinct? Yeh got- “ I wasn ’ t about to let him finish that sentence “ Fuck you man! You agreed with us, it was the only thing we could have done. We all miss him. ” I sighed deeply. “ A lot. But that ’ s the past, and going on that isn ’ t going to help us. ” That seemed to shut him up, for once. I saw one out the corner of the RV. A little one, almost reminded me of... No. I can ’ t think about that. I squinted my eyes and focused on the road. It was a hot day. Memaw would have loved it. I called back to Jennifer, “ Hey, have I ever told you the time me and Memaw went out to Middle Bass Island? ” The snotty-but-well-meaning teenager managed to roll her eyes with her tone of voice “ Only twice a week. Give it a rest already; it was funny the first 5 times. ” She ’ d always been a bit... Entitled. But she ’ s been a valuable asset. Good at scavenging. Plus, she ’ s been with us the whole time. Was the first survivor we picked up. Damn was that a good time. The little cabin we stayed in was right next to this bar, and all the kids sang along with the drunk people all night. How the bartenders didn ’ t go crazy after the 10,000th iteration of margaritavile, I ’ ll never know, but I guess that ’ s a job where you have to take a lot of shit like that. “ W-well… Did I tell you about the beach there? About all the little crabs that ” Jennifer interrupted again “ That scuttled along the ground, yeah, I got it. ” I frowned “ Well I like to think about the good times, dammit! I like to think about life before those things showed up. It ’ s a good distraction, you know good and well it is. If we think about this situation too much we ’ ll drive ourselves crazy. ” Unfortunately for us, if you think about it too little, you won ’ t notice the bridge is out up ahead. Funny that after all that, the thing that got us- ( Sorry, been playing a lot of walking dead recently )
[ WP ] Write a story about superheroes set in the medieval era .	`` Horatio? What is it? The hole?'' spoke a feminine voice, `` Is it safe to come down now?'' `` No, no! I've found some strange liquid down here,'' said Horatio as he descended further into the crash site of a meteor, `` Alyssa, draw a bath for me; I'll be back to the estate in four hours' time.'' Alyssa was hesitant, but she complied, she knew that it was best not to upset Horatio, even if she did n't think it was safe to be exploring some crash site. `` Hello Alyssa, is Horatio returning from that firey hole yet?'' said Mrs. Adams as she put down her book and quill, `` I have n't seen him since that damn thing crashed.'' `` No madam, he did tell me to draw a bath, though.'' replied Alyssa. `` Excuse me while I do that.'' Horatio returned some seven hours later, by the time he returned everyone had thought he either died or got trapped in that hole. Alyssa was most worried, for she was the only one to notice a slight green hue attached to Horatio's figure. `` Oh you would n't believe it honey!'' cried Horatio as he stripped his dirty clothes, `` I found an absolutely beautiful gem down in that hole. Looks like it's the only thing to survive the crash site.'' `` Oh my, it is quite, er, large. But yes, it is beautiful.'' said Mrs. Adams, who honestly did not want anything to do with that gem, for she saw it as a sign from the devil himself. `` Honey, Alyssa drew you a bath some time ago, go wash off and retire to bed with me, please. It has been a long day.'' Alyssa was tucked away in the bath house behind some garments, she needed to confirm that she had saw the green hue around her employer. Horatio entered the bath house and sunk right into the now cold tub filled with water from the nearby stream. But, as he started scrubbing himself, the water began boiling and turning into a familiar shade of green. Unable to control herself, Alyssa leapt forward and attempted to assist Horatio out of the tub. `` Horatio, sir, come out of the tub please!'' Alyssa whispered to the tub, but she got no answer, for Horatio was submerged entirely in the tub. `` Sir!'' `` My goodness, what is all this noise!'' said the voice of Mrs. Adams as she opened the door to the bath house, `` Goodness girl, what are you doing in here! Where is Horatio? Why is that water green!'' `` Madam, the sir is under the water!'' explained Alyssa, `` He was glowing green when he returned and I think he is having some type of reaction to the gem he found or something, please help!'' `` There, lay him on the floor!'' said Mrs. Adams as she and Alyssa fished Horatio body out of the tub, `` Oh my, his skin is more red than an apple!'' Alyssa shot up forward and ran to grab some milk. She remembered reading in one of the sir's books that milk can help cure temporary hotness in the mouth. To Alyssa, this was close enough. When Alyssa reentered the bath house, Horatio was on his feet and in the tub, no, he was on the tub. `` Oh my goodness!'' cried Mrs. Adams as the close dink of a milk bucket hitting the floor came from behind her, `` He is walking on water! '' `` Impossible, only the lord can do that, and he has yet to return!'' whispered Alyssa as she fell to her knees in shock. `` Alyssa, do n't you see?'' said Mrs. Adams as she scattered next to Alyssa on the ground, `` That stone was the lord, and Horatio is now the lord's humble servant. He is the lord now!'' `` What in the king's name?'' said Horatio as he turned around, still floating on the water, `` What are you two doing?'' `` S-sir, you're walking on the water!'' whispered Alyssa who was now bowing down, following Mrs. Adam's example, `` You are the lord!'' `` I am the Lord?'' thought Horatio, as he extended his hand and sent out a small spark, `` Hmm, I am the lord. Loyal subjects, spread the word, I have returned, stronger than ever, and with new abilities to purge the world of Satan's spawn. I am here to save you all!''
[ WP ] NASA finds a Voyager-type space probe from an Alien civilization approaching Pluto	`` Ladies and Gentlemen I can confirm tracer signals from Voyager indicate she's still sailing into interstellar space, these are new signals approaching. Now there have been some rumours of what we do and do not know, I will lay it out plainly for you. We know nothing beyond the fact that something is sending out garbled data at 30 bits per second, the signals being received appear to be approaching the centre of the Solar system according to a doppler effect in the signals beyond that we have no idea what is generating the signal. Telemetry estimates the object to pass halfway between Earth and Mars in twenty to thirty years. Now these are estimates, we have no knowledge of the object's mass so predicting changes in acceleration is impossible. There are currently no plans to redirect probes to attempt to photograph the object, however that is not to face there never will be. I will now take questions'' The first press conference of 2018 left the world waiting with anticipation for twenty long years. The final press conference broke hearts, the object whatever it was stopped sending data when it was dragged into the gravity well of Phobos and crashed. A manned mission to Mars to attempt to collect the object was already underway when the news came to light.
[ WP ] Wars are no longer fought with weapons , but with dance battles .	Today, was the day my adopted country ( and all of democracy ) fell. Really, we should have saw it coming. The day the Dark Gods of Mischief gained control of heaven and earth, and brought forth their lunatic commandments, it was the end of the free world as we knew it. Commandment 1: All questions must come in the form of a chorus from an existing song sung by an artist who's name begins with a vowel. Otherwise, face complete oblivion. Commandment 2: The word `` man'' is to be permanently replaced with `` jackanapes'' and woman to be permanently replaced with `` kumquat.'' Otherwise, face complete destruction. Commandment 3: Before every swallow of food or drink, one must swish the contents in their mouths exactly thirty-three times -- no more, no less -- or face complete annihilation. Commandment 4: Prayers must be done at night and directed to the Dark Gods of Mischief in front of the place where you last deposited your excrement. Otherwise, face complete obliteration. Commandment 5: Only the strong may survive. Strength is dictated in one's ability to dance. ( Twerking is not a form of dance ). The weak shall face extermination. In one instant, the balance of power shifted all across the globe. Countries with no sense of rhythm fell to the wayside, swallowed up by terrible monsters from the sea. For the most part, America was confident. After all, we bred the best dancers, did n't we? Michael Jackson ( God rest his bleached soul ), Justin Timberlake, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Usher... how can any nation compete with us? We created `` So You Think You Can Dance'' for Dark Gods' sake. And then the unthinkable happened. North Korea challenged us to a battle of strength: a dance off. Hips Vs Hips, twirly hands vs twirly hands, bobbly heads vs bobbly heads. We believed they did n't stand a chance. That was until they revealed their champion: PSY, creator of the overplayed Gangnam Style video. He had defected from the South to the North, bringing along his insane brand of horse-riding hip movements and sexual predator-like face. We sent our best out there at the time, Janet Jackson, sister of the king of dance, Michael. Surely we'd win! The dance off lasted for two moons, with both combatants pulling out all spots. When the song finally ended and the last bead of sweat dripped to the floor, we thought we had it. We were confident that the Queen of Dance had saved us all. However, we misjudged our judges. Little did we know that the Dark Gods rated performances not on physical skills and rhythmic prowess alone, but on absurdity also. They were the Dark Gods of Mischief after all. And now, as I sit at the edge of oblivion, waiting for the steely jaws of the monsters to engulf me, the only thing I can think of was: I should have never migrated from Columbia. At least we had Shakira. End.
[ WP ] You are an archaeologist working on a dig , when you find a thick pane of glass . You dust the dirt away , and see the inside of a massive bio-dome , hidden for too long . Only one organism is inside , and it was meant to be forgotten ...	Another day on the job. Being an archaeologist has its perks yes, but its definitely not all Indiana Jones all the time. For example, for the last 3 weeks my small team and I have been in the middle of the Arabian desert digging for fossils of unknown animals from the past. This project was funded with the hope that we could identify and archive not previously known animals from this area but also to better understand how they were able to bear the heat in this nearly unbearable desert. In the first 3 weeks we had only been able to identify one new scorpion, to add to the list of nearly 2,000 other species. Neat find, but not exactly what we flew across the country to dig in 120+ degree weather for.. My team was hot and exhausted and we all had the feeling that was not audibly spoken, of `` why and the hell are we here, this is not worth it.'' It did n't need to be spoken, we all wore the feeling on our barley exposed face. It is hard to find motivation in such discouraging times.. But every now and then motivation finds you just at the time you feeling like turning back and calling it quits. That is exactly what happened to me and my team 3 and a half weeks into or dig. It was the final hour of the day and we were digging hard because we wanted to get the last dig of the day over with but we were all also extremely tired and my shovel felt like it was made of solid iron. On my next plunge into the sand I heard a'TINK'. Suddenly a feeling rushed over me. A warm exciting feeling that felt like my first kiss mixed with Christmas morning as a kid. I knew the time and work had just paid off. That's what I felt on the inside, on the outside I just looked confused, surprised and intrigued and my team all looked at me as soon as they heard the'TINK' with the same expression. They rushed over and we all began carefully digging and brushing the sand away from what looked like a giant piece of translucent greenish glass. None of us had any idea what we had just found and that is precisely why we all love this job and the uncertainty and curiosity is a feeling we all thrive on. We dug like it was day 1 and day 2 did n't exist. Sadly before we made enough progress to find out what in the hell we had just found, the sun had set and the night sky was coming fast. We had to retreat to camp to get rest and uncover this mystery in the morning. Although I was exhausted, rest was the last thing I did that night. Thoughts were rushing through my head and my curiosity was at an all time high. I stared with impenetrable focus at our scorpion fossil wondering if this little guy knew what the green translucent glass was and if it saw it before it was buried. I felt as though we were onto something important and before I knew it, the sun was rising as was my team. Earlier than usual, unplanned, we all got up and gathered our supplies and headed to the site. After hours of carefully removing the sand from the glass, we began to realize that this piece of glass was actually a sphere. I was n't even aware that past civilizations were able to construct such a thing, I mean this thing was massive, it was going to take us weeks to uncover completely and it makes the Epcot ball look like a kids toy. Evening came upon us and the glare of the sun started to fade from the glass, I cupped my hands around my eyes and pressed my face to the glass. What I saw when I looked inside changed my life forever. I saw, two eyes right looking back at me. Human eyes. I felt everything at once like I was on some kind of DMT trip or something. I was looking right into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen by far. She was flawless, she wore earth toned old looking linens and the smile of an old friend you are seeing for the first time in years. She sat cross-legged on a rock in the middle of her own little ecosystem/sanctuary. Surrounding her was some of the most beautiful plants and flowers I had ever seen, none of which I recognized. None of this made any sense but suddenly I felt as though my life had meaning. She waved at me to come down to her but that would involve several more weeks even months of digging. I got up and looked at my team who had just seen the same thing I saw. We all looked both confused and amazed. I said to them, `` We must find out who this is, why she is here, how she has managed to survive all these years down there. Judging by how deep this was buried and the type of glass the dome was constructed out of this thing has to be at least hundreds if not thousands of years old. I'm not sure what we've just discovered but it feels important and I feel we need to keep this discovery private and out of the hands of the government and military. I am going to call everyone I know to help us dig this woman out and uncover this mystery.'' And thats exactly what I did. My team and I contacted all of our most trustworthy, friends and colleges and asked for their help. Not many were willing to fly to the desert to help dig up `` a mystery too important to talk about over the phone'' but the few brave spontaneous souls that did come out became just as intrigued and our team tripled in size. In one month we had dug up about 2/3rd of the glass sphere and we found a very securely locked hatch. We wondered, was this woman dangerous? The glass was way too thick for vocal communication so after a month of staring at this woman, we still knew nothing about her. A bigger part of us were too curious to care if she was dangerous, she looked way too innocent and pure. It could be all deception, but we were too deep into this whole thing to turn back now. We opened the hatch which opened up to a short hallway that led to another door. This one twice as secure as the last, but with a small window. No longer were we separated by thick glass. She spoke first, in perfect English saying `` hello, I've been waiting for you'' in a voice as beautiful as the rest of her. Completely shocked and amazed I asked, `` who are you''? She replied, `` I, am Mother Nature.'' My heart felt like it skipped a beat and my eyes grew wide with confusion, shock and soft disbelief. I could n't even speak but thankfully I did n't need too. She cut the silence saying, `` Thats exactly what I imagined the face of my finders would look like'' and laughed hysterically. `` I come from a land far from you planet and I was assigned earth to protect and keep balance between nature and technology. I was told by my people that humans ego's would grow as time went on and I would be held captive so that I would n't be able to interfere with their infrastructure and technological advancements. They told me when this inevitably happens, someday when the time is right, I would be rescued. I suppose that time is now.'' I had no freaking idea what to say or feel at this point. I turned to my team and I could tell once again, they felt exactly the same as I did. I would need to make the next move. Speechless I opened the door. She smiled and said, you've just changed the world forever Sam. I had n't told her my name so that added to the already thick layer of confusion and amazement that already laid over me. She slowly walked past each and every one of us, as we parted to the side to get out of her way. She walked about 25 feet outside the dome and took a deep breath like it was the first breath of fresh air she had tasted in 10 thousand years. Then she looked at all of us with a genuine, absolutely beautiful smile and said, thank you. And a beaming light radiated from where she stood as if it was exploding out of her. the light grew in size and luminosity until we were all completely blinded by it. After about 5 seconds of this completely blinding light it suddenly dissipated and when we could see again, she was gone. No trace left at all behind. None of our questions were really answered and we all had no idea what in the hell we just witnessed or what to do next. After a few minutes of silence, we began exploring her ecosystem. I was drawn to the beautiful circular rock where she had sat the entire time we dug. As I approached it, I noticed an extremely detailed carving that took up the entire surface of the top of the rock. The carving, was a pentagram.
[ WP ] Ever since you can remember , whenever you have a nightmare , you must find a way to kill yourself in order to wake up . Tonight you 've accidentally killed the nightmare .	The trap was perfectly set up. Just as it was every night. I'd give chase to Henrick. He'd run around the corner straight into the chicken wire where I maim and capture him. Eventually he'd die in some way or another. Usually he'd die to my torture. On the rare occasion, I'd torture him so badly he'd have to off himself. Those were the nights I live for. Of course, whenever he died, he'd wake up and escape from me - his nightmare. But last night, something went wrong. I chased Henrick again. Just like every night, he ran past all the horrors his subconscious could muster up. Running because I was always on his tail. But as he ran round the corner this time, something gave him pause. The image of his newborn daughter. Sammie was her name. '' Fun,'' I'd thought, `` A new torture tool.'' But Henrick's pause caused him to trip and fall shortly before the chicken wire. And, lost in my own thoughts, I did n't even notice. I tripped over Henrick's body, falling face first into the chicken wire. I woke up. That's not how it's supposed to happen. I'm supposed to torture Henrick, and he's supposed to die and wake up. I should n't be the one to die. This world is n't mine. It's Henrick's. I closed my eyes, trying to get back home. Nothing. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. I rolled out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Funny, I'd never been in this world, but I knew exactly where everything would be. `` Morning, Henrick.'' Sarah was there, nursing baby Sammie. Sarah yawned and forced an exhausted smile towards me. I smiled back at her and at Sammie. Sweet, innocent Sammie. Poor Henrick. Even though I died last night in his dream, he was n't going to be getting away from my torture. I'd just have to find other means.
[ WP ] Turn a normal everyday event into one of the most watched event in the world	“ Okay Steve! We are set to the races again today! Who do you think will be today ’ s champions? ” On T.V, Steve looked at the floor and took in a deep breath. Finally, he looked back up at the camera. “ You know what? I think that Miss Foster has a good chance today, considering that Stevie Ray and Freddie Booker are in the hospital recovering from some injuries. ” The other announcer nodded his head in agreement. “ I feel you have a point. Both of those guys were a real threat to her and the others on her street but with them being taken out by Captain Jay, she might have a chance. ” On screen, a video was brought up showing two cars speeding down a road. The one trailing behind was red and the other was blue. On the top of the red car was a gigantic mast, like on a ship. As the blue car slowed down to take a turn, the red car plowed into its side, making it roll over a couple times before settling on it ’ s roof. Then, the red car zoomed away. The camera went back to the announcers. Steve smiled and shook his head. “ Man, I wish that Chev would bring back that model. That car didn ’ t even have a dent in it! Don ’ t you think Roy? ” Roy nodded and at the top right of the screen, a video of another chase came up. This one had the red car in the front and a black car trailing behind it. “ As we can see here, Captain Jay went on to complete his drive but was pursued by Freddie Booker towards the end of the route. As we know, Freddie and Jay have the same route towards the end. ” The video paused as Ray talked. “ Also, we know that Miss Foster ’ s route does not even intersect with Jay ’ s! ” Steve added excitedly. The video resumed, showing the red car about to make a turn. “ Watch here, ” Ray told the audience. “ Watch as Jay is about to make the turn, he spins his tires and does a sharp right turn— ” “ —Which Freddie Booker was not expecting! ” Steve told them. The black car, unable to slow down fast enough, plowed into a building a the end of the road, causing sever damage to its roof. “ Now, we all have the same question today, ” Ray began. “ Since Jay and Miss Foster ’ s routes do not intersect, will we see one of them hunt the other down? ” Steve asked, raising his shoulders as if he didn ’ t know. Ray smiled and pointed to the camera, flashing white, perfect teeth. “ Find out in an hour, when Captain Jay, Miss Foster and many more take the roads as we watch and take bets— ” “ Only on this show, ” Steve took over for Ray, flashing another perfect smile. “ The Race to get to work! ”
[ WP ] 95 % of the first world are now embedded with a microchip to improve IQ , memory , and efficiency . After this being in place for 85 years , someone manages to make a virus . Describe the chaos that ensues .	We designed it as a proof of concept, it was never meant to leave the lab. The human mind is capable of computations machines would take decades to process. Can you imagine, having 3 billion minds operating in parallel? We could solve some of the most pressing questions man has ever asked. The lab tests had shown so much promise. We would only need such a small percentage of the overall capacity when scaled across billions of mind, we'd shown that we could compute across an array without individuals even being aware or our neurological intrusions. The project was shelved as unethical and never taken past the initial investigation stages. At least that's what we thought. Two years ago our network was compromised all research was copied. No one was really to blame, this kinda shit happens you know. My god we never even thought of what kind of fucking Pandora's box we'd opened. We do n't know patient zero for sure but we know it started in London. People just stopping. Syncing up we call it now. Jesus the traffic, 20 % of subjects died from the first day's chaos. No one knew, it took officials weeks to identify the point of origin was related to the chip, our chip. We started investigating it, you know, internally hush hush and all. Even as our lawyers disavowed all responsibility, we did n't really understand what was happening. It was Jesse that noticed the initial firmware alterations, but I was the one that identified the code. Holy fuck, that initial epiphany, the realization. I've never felt so sick. We started to reverse engineer the software that was running, trying to identify anything that would lead us to who did this. It was some sort of system running on an emulator, the old x86_64 architecture we used sometime at the beginning of the century and for a few decades after. We tracked down some archival machines from the Smithsonian that were still in working condition we had to contract out work to build a drive though, magnetic platter disks were 5 generations behind our current storage systems they have n't been made in 70 years. It took us a month to get this shitty old box running again just so we could install the OS that the hive mind was running, some old operating system. We extracted the software carefully from the subjects that we had available and pieced it back together. Some sort of rendering engine was our initial conclusion. We brought in a specialist a forensic anthropologist with a specialization in ancient software. He spent months extracting the software and importing it onto the machine. Afterwards he showed us his conslusions. It was some sort of simulated environment, he called it a video game. He said that most people often joke that it was a game that was hard to meet the requirements for always joking when they assembled a new computer `` But can it run Crysis?'' Turns out... we ca n't.
[ WP ] You are at a funeral , however you seem to be the only one who can hear the scratching inside the coffin .	Harold was my grandfather, and he recently just died. You might be thinking that this is n't an interesting story. People die all the time, and old people die all the time as well. But the most interesting thing was the sound of scratching inside the coffin. Let me put some of this into perspective. Harold died of a gunshot to the forehead. No one really knows why he did it, but its generally assumed among our family that he could n't keep on going after grandma died. He was a WWII veteran, a Russian emigrant, and above all else, he was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. When ever some non-white neighbors would come into his neighborhood, he would always talk about how the they were `` Niggers and spinks'' or some shit like that. He almost died of a heart attack when I told him I was marrying an Asian woman. When I invited to her to my house, Harold called her a `` spink'' right in front of her face. They had to restrain me just so I would n't beat the living shit out of him. I would rarely talk to him after my wife and I got married. And when we had children, we never went over to his house, afraid that he would insult the children, calling them racial slurs. My father just said that living under Communism made him that way, but I call bullshit. When I heard that he died, I was sad, but also kind of relieved. At least I would n't have to worry about him whenever we have to go over for a family reunion. We went to the funeral, including the children. I went over to the coffin, which was suppose to be closed. I heard something weird in the coffin: Scratching. When me and my wife went over to the coffin, I asked her whether or not she could hear it. She said she did n't. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but over the course of the service I could hear the scratching get louder, and louder, and louder. The scratching finally ended when we buried him underground. It grew fainter, and fainter, and fainter. I do n't know why I heard scratching, but if by some fucking miracle he survived, I hope he suffered down there for putting so much pain on my wife and family. I hope he burns in hell.
[ WP ] You accidentally call the FBI in place for a pizza shop and attempt to order your favourite pizza with toppings . Coincidentally , the FBI uses pizza language as a means of code .	Me: `` Hey, I'd like to order a large pizza with a stuffed BBQ crust.'' Agent/Pizza guy ``... BBQ Stuffed crust you say? Are you certain of this?'' Me: `` Yeah. I'd like to get some pepperoni, mushrooms, ham, aaaand black olives on top.'' Agent/Pizza guy: `` We read you loud and clear. Now son, answer me this very carefully, is there any additional information I should know about?'' Me: `` Can you draw a smiley face on the box? My girlfriend likes that.'' Agent/Pizza guy: `` You're damn right I can!'' Me: `` What will the cost be?'' Agent/Pizza guy: `` Immeasurable son, immeasurable. But it'll be worth it for Uncle Sam. God's speed.'' hangs up Me: `` Huh...''
[ WP ] The death sentence is an actual sentence that when spoken will instantly kill someone .	The Death Sentence is the most powerful weapon in the world. So powerful that it renders every other weapon null and void. So powerful that only one man is allowed to know it. His name is George. He is the man with the most power in the entire world, but chooses not to use it. When the Death Sentence was first discovered, there was chaos. A war of sound broke out. Each side was in a rush to develop the most penetrating amplifiers and the most soundproof earplugs as possible. It was the Third World War, the War of Sound and Silence. The war was truly the human races' darkest hour. There were so many casualties that humanity practically had to start over. Once the beginnings of society were returning, only one man was left who knew the Death Sentence. When his death came, it came slowly. On his deathbed, he made the decision to write the Death Sentence down and give it to his son, just in case the human race needed an end-all weapon. His son made the same decision after him, and his son after him, and his son after him. And so came the Deathbearer family. The last in the Deathbearer family is George. He made a monumental decision recently to not pass on the Death Sentence. He has decided that the Death Sentence is too powerful, and that the human race has advanced beyond the point of such cruelty. And, with his death will die the bringer of death itself. Will it bring an era of peace, or will its absence egg on increased war? We do n't know, but perhaps without the cloud of such a looming threat overhead we will be able to see the skies of tomorrow more clearly. Perhaps we truly will be able to ensure peace. But if we want to, we will have to keep pushing, and leave death behind us. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 025
[ OT ] SatChat : What is the biggest obstacle you 've overcome in your writing ?	Hey, I'm a Working Joe and college student from Houston, TX. I started writing music at around 18 for three different bands I was in. Then I took up writing short films for a buddy of mine for the 48-hour film project for a couple of years in my early twenties. Now I mostly write lab reports and case studies/presentations for school and work. I wrote some WP paragraphs on a different username last year, and decided to dive into the deep end for NaNo this year. I think my biggest obstacle so far has been just getting started. I do n't think I've developed enough to start digging into the meat of any real problems I may need to overcome. Once the noobness wears off though, I'm sure I'll find plenty. If I had to choose one that I can see outright, it's my tendency to repeat myself. Then there's the horrid problem I have of being redundant. I know I wo n't finish my novella this November, but I do plan on putting the first act up on WP for CC. The first chapter is an entry in the contest. I've been sitting on the outline for a while, and just got the itch. Plus it helps me procrastinate from my schoolwork. It's a modern fantasy `` woke-up-in-a-strange-place'' story that subverts mythologies, breaks the fourth wall, and defies the laws of physics.
[ WP ] Write a story about the personification of Death , where Death is someone no one would ever guess .	`` Daddy! Daddy! Are you watching?'' `` I am- go for it.'' My four year old smoothed out her dress, then sat and slid down the slide just like the big kids at the park. She'd been scared of climbing up the ladder to the slide but today she finally wanted to try it all by herself. Screaming, she ran towards me and I scooped her up in a big hug. `` See? That was n't so bad.'' `` Nope. I'm gunna go again. Bye Dad.'' She pushed away and ran back to the slide. That's when I noticed another little kid sitting at the edge of the park, where the fence ended and blurred into the tree line. There were no adults in sight other than the group I was with. `` Hey, Dave- would you make sure Jamie does n't kill herself? I'm going to go see what's going on with this kid.'' `` If you're not back in five I'm selling her.'' `` Fair deal.'' She sat near the base of a small oak, poking at the dirt with a stick. `` Hey, what's your name?'' I asked as I squatted down near the little girl. Her eyes were the deepest, saddest blue I'd ever seen. `` You know, you can come play with my daughter and her friends if you want. There's plenty of room on the playground. We're having a BBQ.'' I scanned the area again... still no parents that I could see. She just stared back at the ground, and poked the dirt with a stick again. `` I ca n't, mister. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.'' `` Ok, well, where are your parents? Maybe we could ask them if it's ok?'' `` i do n't know,'' she squeaked out as her eyes welled up with tears. `` I've been trying to find them but....I... just ca n't....'' She started sobbing. I reached out and touched her shoulder. `` It's OK. We'll find them, I promise. Why do n't you come over to our party and then we'll all help you look, OK?'' `` Mister... everyone says they'll help but they never do. They just leave me alone again. I do n't want to be alone.'' She sobbed again, snot now running freely down her delicate little face. I sat down cross legged across from her. `` You're not alone. I'm right here with you.'' `` But....sob....you're going to leave.'' `` DADDY!!!'' I turned to see my little girl running towards me, then Dave and his wife, Mary, both jumped up too. `` Hey- Will! Are you OK?'' He was sprinting towards me too, and Mary scooped up my little girl. `` Mary call 911.'' Something felt different. I felt lighter. Why was my little girl crying and trying to get away from Mary? Why were the other kids all standing on the playground and staring my way now? Wait... I was sitting. How did I end up laying flat with my arm trapped under me? Why wo n't my head turn? I tried to talk but nothing happened. Dave turned me to my back and was checking my pulse. I was vaguely aware of a dull crunch as he started chest compressions. The little girl sat next to me, petting my hair. `` I knew you'd leave me alone. Everybody does. But it's ok. I'm used to it.''
[ WP ] An older wealthy woman takes the city bus for the first time .	She clutched her purse as she stepped on the bus. She made sure the card she fingered nervously in her hands was pointed down, facing her, like the video she and her son had studied beforehand. The bus driver sensed her discomfort and gave her a forced smile. She tilted her head up as the swipe went through on the first try. She scoured among the passengers and found a seat. She sat down, securing her worn, designer scarf across her neckline, where a diamond hung from a sparkling chain. She reached into her purse and pulled out a flask, poorly disguised as an oversized pocketbook. `` BUUSTTER!!!''
[ WP ] Today is your special day . You are walking down the aisle and just as the Priest if 'you do ' , you get a prophetic vision that the marriage will end in a horrible breakup . The priest asks again , `` Do you take ... ''	As I walk down the aisle I smile at all my friends and family. In my head are the panicked thoughts of a soon-to-be bride. Am I doing the right thing? Am I sure that this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with? I'm struck with a vision of my wife-to-be in bed with another woman, and the ensuing chaos of a heart-breaking divorce. I shake my head to rid myself of the image, and step up to meet my beautiful fiancée on the alter. The ceremony is a blur. I give my vows, and say `` I do''. Cold feet forgotten, we kiss, and turn to face our new life together.
[ WP ] You buy your son a teddy bear . Unknown to you , the bear pledged his life to your son . Every night , it protects your son from the monsters in the dark .	I'm not that good at writing but this prompt really inspired me. Any critique is welcomed. ‘ It ’ s done ’ Rupert sighed, his breath visible hanging on the moonlit air, as he unclenched the paws around the throat of the gremlin, its neck falling slack as the bones were no longer attached to the base of the skull. He brushed off the dust he was covered in from battle and redacted his claws. The monsters of the night don ’ t bleed per se as they only exist in the darkest reach of our fears, manifesting themselves when we feel helpless. After a minute to collect himself with deep breaths, he sat down on the edge of the Damien ’ s bed and started sewing his left eye back on. Damien was still asleep, his eyes no longer squinting shut and hands not covering his ears to avoid the screams of war. ‘ Close your eyes ’ Rupert whispered to Damien as he had done many times before ‘ and cover your ears like we practiced. This will be finished before you know ’ Damien looked at Rupert with bright eyes that screamed with fear but also in the recess against the moonlight glimmered with hope that the morning will come and that his fuzzy little friend will prevail against the hordes. ‘ You ’ ll be there in the morning right Rupert? ’ Damien asked ‘ As I always have ’ he reassured. ‘ As I always have ’ With that Damien gave Rupert a tight hug and whispered ‘..Be careful ’ The outside city noises came to an abrupt end. The light from beneath the crack of the bedroom door went out. Damien ’ s parents have gone to bed. This was it. Without sight or sound, Rupert felt the presence around him come to life. Swirling and slithering around in menace, eager to feed on Damien ’ s dreams. Damien had covered his ears and closed fast his eyes. His lips were moving but Rupert couldn ’ t hear him. Probably singing himself a lullaby, thought Rupert. The presence had now morphed into the physical realm. Eyes glowing cherry red, teeth bared, slick with saliva dripping from their jaws hungrily, snarling and screeching and just causing a general nuisance. Rupert turned to them, drew a deep breath and with an unblinking button eye, bared his claws. Once more unto the breach.
[ FF ] > 200 words , someone drinks pulpy orange juice by mistake and it caps off a truly shitty morning .	I roll over to look at at my phone after a being in a forced half conscious sleep so I would n't miss my alarm again. It would n't be the first time my phone let me down. It's 7:43. Thirty one minutes past my usual time. I leap to the floor almost falling and throw on my work cloths from yesterday. One minute down. Counting minutes again. On my way out I do the usual pocket search. Phone, wallet, keys. Fuck. My wallet is not in it's spot and frantic ca n't describe my pace right now. After searching the spots I often lose it I find it in the couch. Out of bed to out the door in three minutes flat. Thirteen minutes to make it by eight. If do n't catch any red lights that's how long it would take. There are eight lights between here and there. Impossible even on my best day. After barreling through several yellows and a few greens I'm on the home stretch. Four minutes left and a mile of open road. Maybe this day wo n't be so shitty after all. It's donut day and I arrive to find none left. It's to be expected, I guess. I open the fridge and amidst old sandwiches and lunch boxes I find a bottle of orange juice with my friends name on it. I yell across `` Hey, you mind if I have this orange juice?'' He responds with `` I do n't fucking care. Go for it.'' I shake it, and open it up for that satisfying chug. Fucking pulp! Edit: Always wanted to do one of these but I'm not good at this stuff. This is basically a true story.
[ WP ] `` Is that real coffee ? ''	Adim sat cross-legged on the carpet laid out for him, an awkward position given his many months spent on horse-back. The Baron had made his home in an old chapel, standing strong in the east of the City of the North, and it wore its years in the stone. It was only the colourful shreds of luxury, such as the part he sat on, or the drape of embroidered linens over sagging pews, that afforded the place a title other than'ruin'. He watched the snow fall outside through the vibrant glass that remained free of wooden boards, hastily tacked over gaps where the cold and wind conspired to enter. The sound of footfall echoed unhindered from the chancel as the Baron emerged, a rattling tray balanced carefully in his hands. Yet, it was the peculiar smell which roused Adim, and he fixed his gaze on the steam twisting above a silver bowl which shined like a polished blade. 'Now, good man, you must try this. Served from my rapidly dwindling supply, only for our most important of guests,' he said, his eyes twinkling, setting the tray down before him. 'Is that real coffee?' Adim asked. He knew it was, but it felt courteous to ask with a pinch of surprise. He knew from the smell, which he had read about, and from the look of the liquid, as black as a cloud-covered night. 'That it is. Possibly the little of it left in these lands. But never mind that, you are from the deep North, where resources have sunk into the mud since the war. Enjoy, as my gift to you, before we discuss more important matters'. Adim took a sip, and the rankness of it forced him to disguise a gag. In the coldest months at the foot of the mountains, his kin had been known to draw the blood from the veins of their horses and ferment it until it could be drank with a kind of warmth that stung your throat like fire. Even that tasted better than this. It is said that once, when men sat amongst soft things, when the world was dry and not stained by an endless winter, you could be greeted with a beer or with wine as a house-guest, and drink it for pleasure and not because the water ran thick and brown. It is said that coffee was abundant, running from pipes in the ground, and was drank ritualistically each morning. As he sipped at the warm liquid, he mused upon men's vices, and how for some exclusivity and rarity seemed to sweeten even the most bitter of potions, and for others only seemed to show the bitterness of the man.
[ WP ] You are the guy that has to clean up the map at the end of a multiplayer match . Describe a average day .	The bell rung at approximately 3:28 pm. I got up from my bed and went to change my clothes. I put my standard issue sanitation suit and grabbed my toolbox. With that, I opened the door and headed out for another round of cleaning up. It's not easy being the guy who cleans up the map after a multiplayer match. But hey, someone's got to do it. First thing I do is pick up the dead bodies and take them to the incinerator hidden in site B. They're are n't too many to deal with, but those bastards are pretty heavy. With the bodies out the way I start cleaning up the blood that's spilled on the ground and walls. There's some fresh blood that I clean up with a clean cloth, but for the most part I have to scrape it off with a scraper. The blood is pretty hard to scrape today. I really should ask for a new scraper. Next up to fill in all the bullet holes that were left behind. There's a lot of those today. From what I can tell they were having some fun with the P90 and the PP-Bizon. I really hate it when they use those guns. It leaves so much for me to fill in. For whatever reason some of the holes were in areas where no player could have been. What's the point of shooting somewhere when no one is going to be there? Well anyways after approximately 7 hours of work I finally managed to fill in the holes. Lastly is to pick up and clean the weapons left behind. Usually in between rounds a few bots come out and take the weapons left behind to a place the players wo n't reach them, but they still need to be cleaned, reloaded and returned. Of course I have to start off with the pistols. To my surprise there were a few of them laying around, mostly Tec-9's and Five-SeveN's. Once the pistols were out of the way I had the SMG's to deal with. Surprisingly there were only two: a P90 and a PP-Bizon. From what I could tell they had been used the whole game. I guess they guys using them were just being dicks. Well once I polished the two I set them aside for the part that would take me the longest: the rifles. There were tons of them. Five AK-47's, two M4A1-S', three M4A4,'s, an AWP, an SSG-08, a Galil AR and a FAMAS. Took me two hours to fully clean the damn things, but it was nice to see the skins people had for them. Surprisingly the AWP was a Minimal Wear Dragon Lore. Must have been damn lucky to open one of those bastards the SSG was a different story. It had this hideous Battle-Scarred skin that I could n't identify. God was that thing ugly. The AK's were pretty standard, except for an Elite Build StatTrak. Factory New as well, not too shabby. Well the rest were all standard issue so not much excitment there. Finally after all that everything was like new again. The map was spotless, the weapons clean and free of blood, it's like this place had never been used. But I know when I come back tommorow it'll be a different story. Everyday I leave this place spotless and beautiful, ane everyday I come back it's destroyed and hidious. But that's just my destiny, my story. Maybe the cleaner of Dust 1 is willing to trade places. I hear he's jealous of how popular my map is compared to his. _________________________ Criticism please? Still not the best writer.
[ WP ] A villain who becomes conflicted after learning that the person fighting them is just a teenager	The clank of the gates still makes me jump. As always, my weapons are waiting before me. The hilts are polished, the blades sharpened. The blood is gone too. I draw one of the hunting knives out of its holder, noting the red stain on the underside of the hilt. Almost. I hear the crowd roaring above me and shoot them a glinting smile, teeth bared in a challenge. Some men behind me hoot and I turn to face them, drawing my tongue over the red metal and smirking as they whistle in appreciation. `` Odyne!'' Odyne That was my name now. The Goddess of Pain. Of suffering. If I had another name before, it had long since been bled out of me. I turn my back on my admirers, aware of their gazes raking over me as I examine the gate. Movement... And then... A boy. The scream of the crowd has reached a frenzy now. They want to see me put him down. But not yet. Like a cat, I am expected to play with my food. I snarl at him and he scrambles backwards, running for the gate. A well thrown rock sends him crumbling to the ground, a welt rising on the back of his head. I stalk over to him, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. The first cut was always the most important. It had to hurt, not kill. I press the knife into the side of his head, just under the ear. `` Nothing worth hearing here.'' I hiss. He was... Gods... He was crying. Dammit kid, do n't make this harder than it has to be. The crowd is getting quieter now. They are waiting for the blood, for the torment. He does n't struggle. There's no sport in this, for me or them. I groan, letting him go and prowling past him. Spinning on the spot, I toss a knife. He winces as it skitters to a stop near his feet. `` Defend yourself.'' I growl, `` Fight me dammit.'' He gets to his feet, knees knocking together. He could n't be more than thirteen or fourteen, just like... Gods above Suddenly, the boy was n't another foe. He was... Him. My solider, my one fighter. My hero. Before I lost him to a scarred mercenary with a penchant for pain. The boy screams, swinging at me and I dodge easily, still frozen in shock. The crowd shrieks in anger. A rock catches me on the cheek, the stickiness of my own blood both startling and comforting me. They'll be throwing worse than rocks soon. The boy attacks from behind. Not very sporting of him, but given the circumstances... I sidestep again, this time grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around, forcing him to his knees before me. Either he dies, or we both do. I can see the Overseer above me, a grin stretching his terrible face. I know what that smile means. I'm to make him suffer. The boy is looking at me with shining eyes. I think of the other fighter, of my boy and how much he suffered at the hands of one without decency. I place my blade against his throat and wrap my free hand around his shoulders- a hug, not a chokehold. `` I'm sorry.'' He dies instantly and without agony. He dies as everyone else should have. I hear the vitriol being screamed at me. I see the fury on the Overseer's face. I look him in the eyes and spread my arms outwards, tossing the weapons to the ground. I drop to my knees in the blood of my angel and as the first rock strikes I bite back a smile. Let his agony be mine to bear.
[ WP ] Every time the Messiah returns , we kill him . It is now the Thirty-seventh Coming , and Jesus is getting sick of our sh*t	`` Thirty-six times now!'' Jesus yelled, flipping the large dining table over. `` I've been down to Earth thirty-six times and every single time I get shot or stabbed or crucified or whatever else they've done to me! If I was n't so righteous I'd take a nail gun down there and see how they all like to be crucified! I'm not going down again!'' God the Father looked at him grimly. Though he did not like to see Jesus suffer, these people on Earth had to be saved. `` Just once more,'' he told him. `` They will not harm you this time.'' `` That's what you said the last fifteen times!'' Jesus replied angrily. But God the Father's kindly face had softened him. `` Fine,'' he muttered. `` I'm going down one more time and I swear to you that if they do anything to me they're going to regret it.'' Grumbling, he stepped out of Heaven and descended onto the Earth, beginning what felt like a salesman's spiel. `` I am Jesus, the messiah. I have come to save you and absolve you of your sins.'' It was barely thirty seconds before someone put a bullet through his head. Jesus promptly returned to Heaven and gave God a withering glare. `` I'm taking it into my hands now,'' he said angrily. He returned to Earth, but not unarmed this time. He came not from the sky, but from the ground, the earth around him cracking, trembling, and shaking. `` I HAVE BEEN KEPT AWAY LONG ENOUGH! '' he yelled. His godly voice rippled across the whole planet. `` I HAVE ATTEMPTED TO SAVE YOU THIRTY-SEVEN TIMES, AND IT IS ENOUGH! '' Fire raged from cracks in the ground and the sky became dark. The sun was blotted out and every human screamed in torment. The final words spoken, before the Earth was cracked in half, were as follows: `` Do not deny your God.''
[ WP ] Human colonists realize their main food source is sapient .	`` Wow, really? You ca n't be serious,'' Rainy said, almost absentmindedly. Most of her attention was focused on the metal box in front of her. Its `` head'' was wrenched open, spilling out a snarl of wires like some sort of technicolor brain. Will ran a hand through his hair worriedly. `` I'm very serious. This is wrong, so wrong. We ca n't keep eating the Cuties.'' The very word left a bad taste in his mouth. They had all agreed on the name because it felt so perversely out of place - the little, wrinkled gremlins were the very opposite of cute. It was funny at first, in a way; now, it just felt classless to keep calling them that. `` Yeah, you're right,'' Rainy agreed. She poked one mass of the wires and flipped a switch. Lights screamed up at her for a few, frantic seconds before dying down again. `` You're not even listening!'' Will all but shouted. He started gesticulating bizarrely. `` These creatures are n't just ugly-cute little bunny-gargoyles - they're sapient. Eating them is like eating people!'' Rainy shot up from her seat so suddenly that Will stepped back, a little startled. Her eyes flashed dangerously and her mouth was set in a hard, straight line. `` Will,'' she said in a deliberately slow voice. `` Can I ask you a few questions? After all, you're the team biologist; you'll know better than me.'' `` Uh, sure.'' He's heard her use this voice only a few times, and those times never ended well. `` How long have we been stranded on this god-forsaken planet?'' `` Three months, give or take.'' `` How much of our rations do we have left?'' `` Aboard the ship? Uh... not very much. Not enough to sustain all of us for more than a day or two.'' `` Right. and why are n't we eating any of the plant-life on this planet? I can see the green and purple leaves right from the bay window.'' `` Oh, well, most of them use enzymes that keep cadmium or arsenic at their cores.'' `` How very interesting. And about the various fauna? Other than the Cuties, I mean.'' `` Um. They eat the plants. So they tend to accumulate the heavy metals and are even worse for us.'' Will could see where this was going and he tried to interject here; one withering glare made him shut his mouth. `` So what about the Cuties? How come we can eat them without dying?'' `` They... have specialized metabolic processes to remove those metals.'' `` Ah! How. very. Intriguing. And so they are pretty much the only viable food source for us?'' `` Well, yes, but --'' `` And we'll starve if we do n't keep eating them, right?'' `` That is correct. However --'' `` THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD I GIVE A SHIT IF THEY'RE SENTIENT?'' she finally exploded. Will automatically raised his arms to shield his face, but she did n't try striking him. When he peeked, she was just standing there, glaring daggers at him. So he decided to try again. `` They... are n't sentient. I mean, not just sentient. They're sapient. In other words,'' he hastily added, `` not only are they self-aware, they can also reason.'' Rainy did a half sigh, half scream of frustration. `` Will, that does n't sound any fucking different to me. But I'll accept your word as fact. Now let me tell you some facts I know,'' she said, eyes gleaming. Rainy pointed a shaking finger at the wires behind her. `` I've been working on the Alcubi-drive generator non-stop for the past 3 months, give or take, and it's been proving very difficult to fix by myself. I am frustrated, angry and frankly scared that we'll be stuck on this shithole planet with its fucking chlorine atmosphere forever.'' She paused to take a breath. `` And now you tell me that we're eating what we thought were animals but are actually intelligent, thinking beings.'' Will nodded meekly. Rainy tried glaring at him some more, but the fight had left her as suddenly as it had come. She would need to pop another antidepressant or risk screwing up her work. Instead of yelling some more, she flatly intoned: `` Will, it sucks that they're not just dumb animals, but we have no other choice. Unless you can think of a way to feed seven people without using them as food, do n't bother bringing that up with me again. I have bigger things to worry about.'' And with that, she turned back to the bench and picked up a smoking soldering iron. Will hung his head and left the workshop space, feeling dejected and ashamed. He knew that Rainy was under a lot of stress - maybe the most out of all of them. After all, her work would get them off the planet - or not. That was a hell of a lot of pressure, and she did not need his moral crisis right now. That night, he dreamt of his last hunting expedition, where he had encountered a Cutie. He was with Riley, and she had just shot one over a ridge. Will had sprinted ahead ( as best as the bulky spacesuit would allow ) and found that it was n't quite dead yet. The bluish ichor seeped out in little bursts from its midsection, and it waved its arms pathetically at Will. Normally, this was just a little sad, but not much more than having to kill a chicken or lamb, he reasoned. But something was different this time. Will watched, astonished, as the Cutie reached into a little pack it wore ( Will had thought that that was just extra fur hanging off of its side ), and offered him a few shiny stones. It was trying to trade for its life. Will's hunting knife clattered to the ground below as the horror of realization began to flood him. But the moment was short-lived, as Riley finally caught up and, without a second thought, drove her own blade into the head of the Cutie. The shining rocks fell uselessly from its outstretched paw. Riley joked with him about dropping his knife, but the words never reached his brain. Will bolted upright in his bed, covered in a cold sweat and gasping. Throwing his head into his hands, he moaned softly. Now that he knew the truth, he knew he had to do something about it. But he had no idea what. [ Part II! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3eum3e/wp_human_colonists_realize_their_main_food_source/ctjecfk )
[ WP ] There were no friends at the funeral ; only enemies .	Lewis was, at least for the most part, a normal man. He held a regular job, had a wife ( no kids ), and always seemed to make it home in time to make supper before being called off again. His wife, Lisa, was constantly worried about him. She knew that when she married him that Lewis's job was a dangerous one and she knew what she was getting in to. But what no one could have predicted was the way in which Lewis died. Cancer. That was what brought down Lewis. What was even more unpredictable was Lewis's final request. The request that no one attend his funeral. He did n't want anyone to mourn over his passing. He believed that life was too short for that and that everyone should be focused on more important things and everyone had important things. But there was one group who, despite Lewis's last wishes, would attend. His enemies. Though, it may have initially appeared that his enemies have done so out of spite or to verify that Lewis was actually dead. But it was n't that. It was something different. It was a compulsion to at least pay some respect to Lewis even if he had made their lives difficult at times. They would have had it no other way. It meant there was a reason to get up in the morning. Even Leslie had come out to say a few words about Lewis and the important work he had done even if she as in the receiving end of it most of the time. Bradley was next as he recounted the first time Lewis had caught him for armed robbery. Chase was the last person to say anything. He had only just arrived in what many would say was a matter of seconds. He always put things off until the last second. But that was expected. They all hated Lewis in the way that a group of unmasked super villains could. But they'd all miss him anyways. The last person who said anything that day was Doctor Darkmaster. A man of few words, he kept it simple. `` Good bye, Captain Oblivious. Rest in piece.''
[ EU ] Consider the Sith Code and let 's see a story of a good adherent to it .	Alright, everyone. This is my first time, so go easy on me. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Again he struck me. I could already taste the blood in my mouth, though he had yet to hit me above the shoulders. I had felt the crunching of ribs long ago. 60 lashes. 70? Yes, 70 was today's punishment. But how many so far? 30? 40? Another blow. I crumpled under the crushing force and felt a sickening crunch in my shoulder. I gasped for breath as I realized he was no longer using the cane; he'd switched to something much more sturdy. 70 was already far beyond the usual punishment. He intended to kill me. Another strike caved what were probably the only remaining unbroken ribs. I cried out in agony. Damn. He'd add a few for that. I'd long since learned that keeping my peace was important. Not that it mattered now. I was clearly not intended to survive this encounter. I held it in as the next few blows rained down on my legs. What drew such a harsh punishment this time? I had finished my work for the time, and as cruel as Master Shas'sa could be even he allowed me a reprieve from work when the work was actually complete. Was it the reading? I'd never been forbidden from reading, though I'd also never been seen doing it. Perhaps that was it. Another blow left a sickening pain in my knee. He followed it with another to my upper back. Tears welled up in my eyes as my vision started to fade. I did the one thing I knew would usually make my master even more angry. He had no mercy. I think it was a foreign concept to him. But I cried out passionately for it anyway. Perhaps this time, just this once, he would relent. Even through my fading consciousness I could hear his labored breathing. The beating was wearing him out. `` Master, please'', I gasped. `` Have mercy on me.'' thump My fear started to turn to anger as I used my last breath. `` Have I not suffered enough?! '' One last sickening crunch and my world went black. -- -- -- -- - Grey light started to filter into my world. `` I'm cold.'' A soothing male voice spoke, `` He's awake.'' A pause, then `` Here, a warm blanket.'' `` No. You leave him. He get nothing.'' This voice was rough, and spoke Basic with a telling accent and grammar. Gammorrean. Damn it all. Delivered from death's door, but wherever I was now was sure to not have good things in store for me. `` Get the tall one, he decide what now.'' I tried getting up, but felt the strong hold of bindings at my extremities. `` We had to restrain you. You were thrashing about quite violently and causing the doctors to have rather a difficult time with bringing you back to consciousness.'' `` Where am I?'' `` You are in a medical facility, near your home. You were suspended in a Bacta tank for 4 standard days. You suffered quite a beating it seems. Following the treatment we attempted to wake you, but found chemical and physical restraints necessary for the protection of the staff. It is pleasant to see you awake and calm.'' `` I see. And who are you?'' `` Do you remember the events of two weeks ago?'' `` I... Vaguely. I was reading, and my master saw. He was beating me. He never said why, I think because I was reading.'' `` Your master informed us that it was what you were reading that caused...'' `` My master, is he here?'' I tried to get up and see but my vision was still mostly a grey blur. Bits of colors were breaking through. `` As I was saying: You master told us it was what you were reading that caused the punishment. Though he never got around to telling us what exactly it was...'' `` But is he here?'' Surely the fear in my voice was evident. I made no attempts to hide it at this point. ``... before he died.'' `` Dead?'' `` Indeed. Do you recall what happened now?'' `` Only pieces. I remember the beating. It was so much worse than normal.'' The heart rate monitor began to speed up. I could make out the outlines of my visitors. From the direction of the soothing voice from earlier I saw a gentle motion. The other occupant held out an arm and he stopped. I could n't see the Gammorrean. Or smell him. `` He picked up something heavier than the cane and hit me with it. I knew he was trying to kill me. I... I begged for mercy but he only hit me again. I do n't remember anything after that. I blacked out.'' `` It would seem that you flew into a fit of rage and beat your master. You left him for dead and we found you under a tree on the estate, unconscious.'' `` No, that's not right. I could n't even move. How could I have hurt him? He was trying to kill me! How could I possibly have-'' `` Nevertheless! You master was found in his home after calling for one of the house droids to fetch the authorities. You'd broken nearly every bone in his body, and he died shortly after we arrived.'' `` But I could n't have! What about the security vids? Did they show anyone else in the house? Could it have been a droid? He does n't wipe their memory like he should.'' `` The security vids were strangely blank. Tell me, who had access to those systems?'' `` Well, the master. I suppose the droids could have-'' `` You. You had access to those systems. Put him under.'' The doctor, a Sullustan I could see now, moved closer as I tried to free myself. He hit a series of buttons on the control panel and I felt a warm sensation flooding my veins as I tried to protest. `` It could n't have been me! He broke me! I did n't have the strength. How could... How I... him?'' Blackness again.
[ WP ] Mirrors are passages to fantastic worlds , guarded by Jinn-like creatures called The Ferrymen .	I glanced back behind me even as I slowed my pace. I'd lost them - for now. I could hear their footsteps, however, not stopping. They'd keep on searching for me until they found me. I needed to disappear. The inside of the clothing shop felt strange with the lights turned off. Mannequins loomed suddenly out of the darkness, their hands stretched out as though reaching for me. I dodged around them, forcing my mouth shut and trying not to let any sound escape my lips. There, in the back! I hurried towards the doorway leading into the rear of the shop, below the sign that read CHANGING ROOMS. As I ran past the counter, however, a corner of my jacket caught at a hook, extending out from the edge. I felt the tug, turned to try and catch the falling item - but my fingers were too slow. With a crash, a pile of hangers hit the floor, bouncing and scattering across the linoleum. The sound echoed in the dark shop, and I froze, my heart beating wildly. They must have heard it. Distant footsteps paused, then picked up again as they changed direction. They headed towards me. No time to waste. I abandoned my pretense of stealth, ran back into the changing rooms. My eyes searched wildly in the dimness, searching for the surface- I saw it. A full length mirror, extending all the way to the floor. I shoved my hand into my pocket, fumbling, searching. I could n't afford to stop, to take the time to dig through my pockets and locate what I needed. Stepping up to the mirror, I raised my hand, pushing out against the glass surface. When I had first passed through, so many years ago, the glass had resisted, fought back, tried to push me back out. I did n't belong in that other world on the far side, it told me. No human belonged there. But I fought back, managed to slip inside. And it grew easier with each successive trip. Now, the glass barely resisted at all, parting like smoke. I dove in, through the glass, closing my eyes instinctively like always. I'd kept my eyes open - once. The visions I saw made me determined to never make that mistake again. My other hand still scrambled in my pocket as I stepped through the mirror, still searching. For just an instant, I felt what I sought, but it slipped deeper into the jumble of items in my pocket. `` A long time, Mistress Delmora.'' `` But no time at all, as it may be.'' They closed in on me, appearing out of the misty glass. I knew they were there, of course, knew they'd come, but they always startled me. Creatures of smoke, they appeared and vanished in seconds, dissolving away into the mist between the realms. Finally, my fingers closed on the objects I sought. `` I have payment for my passage,'' I quickly spat out, pulling the coins from my pocket. The silver circles winked in the dim light as I tossed them to the creatures of shadow. No hand moved to catch the coins, but they vanished, never hitting the ground. I waited. I knew the rituals. `` She has paid the price to cross,'' one of the Ferrymen finally intoned, sounding almost regretful. `` We bid her safe passage, in honor of the accord,'' echoed the other. Their eyes, however, lingered on me. `` Until next time, Mistress Delmora,'' whispered the first, as it melted away. `` In no time at all.'' `` We will be waiting,'' its partner finished, as they dissolved into mist. For a moment longer, I stood still, gazing back through the floating glass of the mirror. My pursuers would n't be fooled forever, I knew. They'd find their own way through, would n't stop chasing me. But I'd bought myself time. Coat swirling around me as I pulled it tight, I turned away from the mirror, striding into the mist of the new world.
[ WP ] You 're chewing bubble gum . You blow a bubble . It keeps growing . It wo n't pop .	What can I say? I was angry. She was late coming home from work again; she promised it would n't happen again, definitely not tonight. Dinner was getting cold; I cooked her favourite, grilled salmon and a chopped salad. I hate salmon. She was forty minutes late. No calls, no texts. I'd be damned if I called her. Every minute that passed made me angrier. Eventually, I was grinding my teeth in rage. Maybe I should end it. She obviously does n't care about this relationship as much as I do. I do n't want to be disappointed every September 3rd. I grabbed a piece of gum from the new pack I had just bought that day. It was from the goofy voodoo store she fancies. The place where I bought her over-priced dream-catcher necklace. I do n't get it, but she pointed it out to me one time when she dragged me there. I'm too good for her, remembering that. She probably just got me another Star Wars T-shirt. I do n't even like Star Wars, she just assumed I did and I never corrected her. She's so lucky to have me. I popped a chunk of strange dusty purple gum into my mouth. I chewed. I stopped grinding my teeth and began to feel better. Gum used to help me calm my nerves when my parents used to fight. I would hide under the bed in my room and chew away until it was over. Then I would stick the gum to the bottom of my bed. One fight lasted so long that I chewed a whole stick of bubbalicious before the yelling stopped. She's lucky I do n't yell like my dad used to. I do n't ever want to be like my dad. I kept chewing, faster now. I recalled speaking to my therapist. She would try to reassure me by saying, `` At least you still have your dad. At least he has n't left''. I always wished he would. I never want to be like my dad. Why is this woman capable of making me so angry? Why do I let her do this to me? It's like she does n't care at all. I just want to grab her by the arm and slap her across her indifferent face! I remembered how my mother would scream. My face turned red and I blew one big bubble like I used to. I used to hope that if I blew one big enough, I could float away. But then I'd always feel guilty leaving my mother and pop it before it got too big. This time was different. Mom was n't with us anymore. I did n't have to worry about saving anyone. I kept blowing and hoping that this bubble would take me to the moon. And it did.
[ WP ] A man/woman realizes that they were the bad guy all along .	`` So my friend, here we are. You are finally at my mercy. You ca n't stop me. You have put up a struggle, but your villainous efforts are all for naught.'' I chuckled softly to myself. ``... what? Villainous? Me?'' the bound man looked up perplexed, despite the blindfold and steel grips binding his neck to the chair. `` Yes. Of course. You do n't think you're the good guy, do you? The world is n't that black and white.'' `` Okay. I've done some pretty bad things to get here. But, you know, you are planning on launching a missile on a major population centre.'' I chuckled again, although my carefully calculated you're-in-my-grasp laugh was beginning to seep with cackle like qualities. I quickly suppressed it, and continued, `` Oh, agent, you really think I would do that? It'' s a bluff! I just want the cancellation of the world's nuclear weapon programs!'' `` You still terrorised a whole nation. And you want the warheads to be handed to you.'' `` I'm the only one responsible enough to handle them! I wo n't have them in the potential hands of some power mad man-child!'' I was getting a little sweaty around the collar. He was getting to me. `` And you have goons,'' he taunted. `` You have henchman. Who hench. I bet you practice your laugh in front of the mirror. It sounds like it.'' `` Shut up!'' I screamed. `` You have no understanding! You do n't know what you talk about! And it's none of your business if I want to be presentable!'' `` I bet you have an elaborate death lined up for me,'' the agent mocked gleefully. `` I bet you have something really complex, that you'll watch from a high up window, and at the moment of death you'll turn away in satisfaction. And you flaunt that scar. You always turn the right side of your head when you talk.'' `` Shut up! Shut up shut up shut UP!'' I howled. He grinned. He had won. I glanced out the corridor, settling myself, to the array of solar panels and complex mirrors, with the rubber seat in the middle. I subtly motioned for my hen-colleagues to close the door. `` I had planned a dignified death for you,'' I muttered primly, `` but I wo n't give you the pleasure.'' I signaled to one of my employees. He handed me his gun, and I aimed down at him, the laser sight pointed squarely on the bridge of his nose. I carefully adjusted the barrel and adjusted the stock to fit my shoulder. He continued grinning, and said `` I bet you loooved the Bond films when you were young. But I bet you never got the fuss over the bond actor. I bet you tried to find out the villain and his role, and talked for days on end ab-'' CRACK. He fell limp over the chair. I sighed. `` We'd better get rid of him. clean him up. Send him home. No need to be crude.'' `` Boss?'' one of the soldiers said hesitantly. `` Yes?'' I hesistated. `` George?'' `` Edward, sir. But, sir, are we really going to take the warheads. I mean, you did say you were going to, but I assumed you wanted to dispose of them.'' `` Of course we'll dispose of them. Tell me, where did agent Horn live?'' `` Seattle, I think.'' `` Good. Good. We'll dispose of the warheads. We'll dispose of them without delay.'' I glanced at him. `` Tell me, do you mind what we're doing here?'' `` I do n't really. I get food and board and spending money, and two weeks off a year with a weekend off a month. I ca n't complain.'' `` I mean... you know... ethically.'' `` You do n't believe what he said, do you?'' the... henchman grinned. `` Do n't mind him. He's just brain washed by the government. He did n't know any better.'' `` Of course. Of course. Yes, of course. But... would it really be so bad?'' `` Well, my mum always said, do what you love and if someone gets in your way, tell them you do n't give a damn, sir.'' `` Yes... do n't give a damn...'' I let it out, a good, long cackle. It felt good.
[ IP ] Cave Town	And so the days and nights become one as we seek to dig deeper, forever falling. We descend into the earth as we descend into our spirits; forever searching for our inner flame that the surface world so desperately sought to quell. Not to mention we have these totally kick ass pet moles, seriously, they are so fricken' tight! Sometimes they joke about turning our efforts around, so we eventually would return to the surface, and then they mumble something about enslaving the conformists, but uhh, yeah they are just kidding we think. Uhh okay, now back to the poetic stuff: D: D: D!! And so we descend into the earth and our souls as our minds ascend to glory. While it may be true that our galaxy revolves around a black hole, our planet spins about an axis of flame. May we now begin to Juxtapose what was with what is; noticing progress can be a greater motivator than any. Yes, even with our steadfast society, there are whispers of the futility of our efforts, that it is simply vexation of spirit... Blasphemers..... Oh, and by the way, when we dig deeper into the earth sometimes i find these cool little rocks that i'm making a necklace out of that i will eventually give to somebody that i really care about maybe my grandma but i have n't decided yet she's probably going to die soon anyway so maybe i should give it to somebody who would cherish it longer but maybe oh nevermind i'm just rambling now hahahaha back to the good stuff. The end.
[ WP ] After your death you are granted the chance to talk with God ; he has no clue humans exist	All my life, I was never certain what would await me in the afterlife. I was always told that God put us on this Earth and that when we would die that He would have prepared a spot for us in heaven. Ever since I was a boy, I always imagined God to be this giant, muscular, ominous being so you could imagine my level of excitement getting to meet the big man. I had the privilege of being escorted by the bright and pure angel that pulled my soul from my body and brought me above the clouds. However, upon reaching the pearly gates of heaven, there was a tall table, much like one where a judge would sit in a courtroom. There was no man sitting at the table, however, but a very tall monkey who was sleeping on the table. “ Uhm, are you serious? That can ’ t be Him can it? ” I said, scratching my head. “ Silence! You stand before your Creator, Himself, ” said the angel. Getting down on both knees and tucking his head between his legs, “ Oh Lord, I bring you another mortal that has passed and requires judgment. ” The monkey, without opening his eyes, waved his hand toward the pearly gates. “ Yes, yes, let him pass. ” Taking a step forward, “ God, aren ’ t you going to see who I am first? Do I mean nothing to you? ” Peering one eye open, He let out a loud screech and jumped maniacally on top of the table, pointing at me. “ What in my name is that thing you ’ ve brought me? It looks absolutely disgusting. Why is there only fur on top of your ugly head? ” “ I beg your pardon, Lord? You ’ re the all-powerful creator. How could you possibly not recognize your own creation? ” Taking a deep breath, God peered over at the angel, still on his knees, whimpering. “ Imperious, have you always known they looked like this? ” “ Yes, Lord. Forgive me, but have you ever noticed the resemblance between angels and humans? They look just like us but without wings. ” “ Humans? Is that what you call them? Disgusting name. It is inferior to the name ape. ” I threw my hands in the air. “ Oh come on, God. You are so lazy. How could you not have noticed that you have created humans and have allowed humans to enter your Heaven without even noticing. ” God sat back in his chair and sighed. “ What?! They ’ re in Heaven too? Nope! I have to remake everything. ” With a snap of his finger, I was turned into a monkey and a sudden urge to scratch my behind.
[ WP ] Your best friend is an alien , your love interest is a wizard , your other friend is an android , and the crazy hobo next door is an immortal . None of them but you are aware of each others true nature . And you , you are a ...	`` God it sucks being an accountant'', thought Scott van Helsing, as he poured over the returns of his friend, Gingerbread. Gingerbread was an android, and her returns were the only ones that reflected the person behind them. Scott loved doing her taxes, as they were the sole ones that mirrored the body behind them. `` Hers'', `` Person'', he suddenly mumbled out loud. This is why he hated knowing the people behind the numbers. `` Christ's sake, she ai n't a her. She's an android'', he stuttered out as he corrected his last two entries. Somewhere between action and imagination, Scott finished inputing Gingerbread's numbers. In the same motion, he clicked submit, stood, and turned off his computer screen. Taking off his reading glasses, he quickly blinked his eyes until the overhead lighting settled in and alleviated his CVS. As his daily vision returned, he settled his reading glasses on his desk, atop his keyboard and then stretched his calves by quickly rising to his tippy toes, holding, and then settling his heal to the ground. He did this three times, seemed satisfied, and then cast about for the scattered items of life needed for his egress. Gathering them up, he first graps his smart phone and turns the ringer back on. Noticing he had missed a call from Tim, he quickly checked his messages. Luckily there was only the one, so Scott did n't have to wait for Tim's voice to echo out. `` Scott baby, can you call me before you leave today. It has been crazy around here. Hoob came over. He has a train to catch tomorrow. I said we would get him a few things. Thanks Baby. Love'' Scott subconsciously pressed the number to delete before prompted by the phone, and was thanked by the phone for his thoughtfulness in a feminine voice that was more digital than earthy. His mind was on Hoob. His elderly neighbor, who boards foreign trains, and makes claims of genealogical relation with equal compulsion, would be there with Tim, waiting for him. He could hear Hoob's grinding voice calling him cousin, before sweeping in for a sticky hug at the site of seeing Scott arriving with gifts ensconsed in plastic bags labeled in a commercial grade blue ink. Scott shuddered, and then dutifully hit the speed dial number for Tim. His anxiety grew as two rings became four. He looked about his office nervously for something he might've missed. The phone continued to ring indiscriminately, but the distraction allowed him to ignore the occurrence until he heard sharp crack of Tim's answer. `` Wizard's Against Reticence, tell us about your W.A.R.?'' he heard in a familiar staccato. `` I just got your message.'' said Scott rotely. `` Hey sweets'' followed in a lot higher tone. `` How was your day?'' `` I just finished Gingerbread's taxes, and saw you had texted.'' `` Did you get that Hoob was here?'' Of course he did, thought Scott. He was n't employed to drop numbers after all. But he was tired, and deflected, `` Yeah, are ya'll having a good time?'' [ He knew they were. A little over ten years ago, Scott had first done Hoob's returns, and a couple times since then, but never consecutively. Unlike Tim, he knew Hoob was more than he appeared. After the first time, his interest was piqued when he accounted for numbers that showed absolute zero immediacy. A little research, and he learned his neignbor's name was a synonym for the Romani word for caravan. Another return. He saw residual payments from which according to Lougle, predated an entire people. Of course Tim had no clue. The magic of wizards is their defiance of math. ] `` We are talking, and having a couple of drinks'', said Tim in a flittery voice that screamed immediate happiness. Which quickly downshifted as he added, `` But you know, he's about to leave again.'' `` No way!'' said Scott in feigned surprise. `` So I need you to grab a couple things coming home. AND!. I have a special dinner in mind for us.'' `` Sure baby, just text me this list and I'll get. Anything special?'' Tim was always motivated towards excitement. `` Just a naughty spell I was working on before Hoob came over. Maybe after dinner, when Hoob leaves. You can put on the bunny ears and let me try it out?'' `` OH? ``, said Scott with suddenly more interest. ``'OH?' That's not very lapine.'' Tim responded teasingly. `` OH'' Scott echoed, but now with a taunting familiarity. `` Oh you're so mean'' Tim quickly responded. The whole exchange moved with the alacrity of two familiar dancers. `` When will you be home?'' Scott's mind was pacing between earlier commitments and Tim's magic. Hesitantly he said, `` Well Roger and I were supposed to meet at Alluminati's. I have his returns ready for his signature, and then we where gon na browse their sheet metal...''. Scott let his voice trail off, so he could measure Tim's expectancy. `` Is n't that over by EVERY_MART?'' `` Same quadrant.'' `` Sweet, I'll hang up and send you my list. Hurry home.'' Tim hung up. Immediately a text of a list, that obviously had nothing to do with Tim, followed. Reading it, Scott noticed he had missed an earlier text. Probably while him and Tim were talking. He shuffled through the phone until he discovered it was from Roger. It read, `` Fuck your world's tax system. I have propulsion fixed, and after tonight we will have the thermal problems fixed. IOW, TIME TO BLAST OFF BITCH!'' Scott smiled inwardly. Since Roger first crashed, and found Scott, he had talked about nothing but Nebulaes. How the Ghost of Jupiter made vegas seem like a Quaker compound. Smiling at the thought, Scott cast about for his keys. seeing them less than a step away, and in one motion, swept them up and weighed them in his hand. He looked around again, more slowly now, nothing seemed out of place. It was an unfamiliar hesitation, and he relished the pause. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he again balanced his keys by giving them a couple of light tosses in his hand. Then he turned, walked out, and set the lock on the door.
[ WP ] The Coming of Christ has just happened . Yet nobody , especially religious leaders , believe him .	The Man sat in front of me, his scarred hands patiently resting on his knees. I sat down at the desk, and placed a folder in front of me. I grabbed a pen, and pulled out a small pad of paper from my top drawer. `` Good Morning, sir.'' `` Indeed it is.'' The robed man replied. `` Can I get your name?'' `` I am Jesus of Nazareth.'' I smiled, and made a small note on my pad. `` Of coarse. How are you feeling today?'' `` I am fine. I just desire to fulfill my duties to my Father. How long will you keep me here?'' `` We are merely assessing your condition, Jesus. We feel that you might not be adjusting well to your life.'' `` I am in perfect health, thank you, Doctor. I expect to be released today.'' `` I will do everything in my power to assist you.'' `` I know you will,'' Jesus replied, `` But there may be difficulties ahead. You need to trust me.'' I made another note on my pad. `` I do trust you, Jesus. Its time for a couple of questions, though, if that is all right.'' `` Go ahead.'' `` Can you tell me how you got here?'' `` I descended from Heaven.'' `` Yes, but can you tell me exactly how?'' `` I rode a chariot of fire.'' Subject still does not remember the crash of Pan-Am Flight 342 `` Can you tell me how you received those scars on your hands?'' `` I was nailed to a cross, where I died. I rose again, and eventually returned to my Father.'' Subject does not recall injuries incurred in the crash `` Is there anyone that you know that we could get in contact with?'' `` I have contacts all across the globe. Everyone knows me. Have you contacted Pope Gregory VII?'' `` Of coarse they do, but the Pope has not returned the calls.'' `` He always has been obstinate.'' The phone chirped, and my secretary's voice came through. `` Sir, I know you asked to not be disturbed, but there is a man here with release paperwork for your patient.'' `` I told you I was expecting to be released today, Doctor.'' `` Send him in.'' I stood as the door opened. It was a large man, long blonde hair and an immaculate charcoal suit. His piercing blue eyes seemed to stare into my soul. `` Michael! Good to see you again! How is Father faring?'' `` Dammit, Jesus. Father is pissed. WHY do you feel the need to keep coming back down here?'' `` It's fun!'' `` I'm sure I do n't understand what is going on here.'' The Doctor mumbled. `` Of coarse. Here is the paperwork for you, signed by the Pope himself. Flew it in personally.'' I studied the paper, the seal of the Vatican embossed on the bottom of the letter. `` I have to verify...'' `` Then you will do it after we leave.'' Michael commanded. `` Jesus. You are to come with me!'' `` I will do no such thing, and you do not have the authority to speak to the Son of Man like that!'' `` Father said you would do this. Jesus, just come with me. I do n't want to have to drag you back kicking and screaming. Again.'' `` It's a blast down here! You just came to spoil my fun!'' `` Jesus, Father said you could have ONE life down here. YOU decided to come rise from the dead! Father sent me to deal with you then, just as now, so COME WITH ME.'' `` No. I want to stay on Earth!'' `` You leave me no choice, Jesus.'' Michael pulled a vial from his interior jacket pocket. `` You would n't dare use that on ME! I am the son of God!'' `` The errant Son of God.'' He pulled the stopper. Nothing seemed to happen, but I felt a distinct pull, although it was n't physical. My soul lurched forward, towards the vial's opening. Jesus tried to run, but he was stopped as his soul erupted from his mouth and was sucked into the vial. Michael quickly placed the stopper back on the vial, then came and sat me down in my chair. `` Forgive my methods. It is n't always easy dealing with him. Imagine a preacher's kid, then raise it to the umpteenth power.'' `` What happened?'' `` Vials of the Lost. We use them to collect wayward souls, or in some cases, reluctant ones.'' We heard a groan from the floor. `` He should be back to himself, now Doctor. Looks like the Stigmata have faded already. I'll leave you to your business.'' Michael walked out the door. I watched from my window as he climbed into the driver's seat of a black sedan, and drove away. `` What happened?'' `` What's your name?'' `` Gregory Jones.'' `` What's the last thing you remember?'' `` I was in a plane flying to New York.'' `` Good. Sounds like you are yourself. Now get out.''
[ WP ] A man slowly becomes more and more convinced that his girlfriend 's cat is possessed by Satan .	`` We need to talk.'' I grasped my girlfriend's hand firmly yet gently and led her to the couch, trying to not let on how nervous I was. She looked confused, her brow furrowing in the adorable way it does when she tries to pretend she's not worried. `` Oh, okay. Cool. Totally down for a talk, tot-al-ly. What's up?'' `` It -- it's about Jake.'' I whispered. She glanced slowly toward the hallway where the chubby grey cat was napping. It seemed like an eternity before she brought her gaze to meet mine again. `` Okay, what about J --'' I brought my finger up to her lips, and shushed her. I did n't want him to wake up. `` He... does things.'' `` Uhm. We all do things. Do you not do things? Are you okay?'' She brought her hand to my face and stroked my cheek gently with her thumb, `` You look like you have n't been sleeping well.'' I sighed. How do you tell your girlfriend her beloved pet is the unholy incarnation of Lucifer? My hands felt clammy. `` Jake is the unholy incarnation of Lucifer.'' My gaze was steely. I had goosebumps as I hissed the words, trying to maintain a low and even tone. `` He does things.'' Her silence told me this was n't going well. Her face told me she was losing confidence in my sanity. `` Maybe you should take a nap.'' I shushed her again. `` He spoke to me, Anna! He spoke to me in tongues! Spouting unholy gibberish!'' ``... That gibberish is how cats talk, Ben. They meow. They ca n't use people words. Go lay down right now, I'll get you a glass of water. I'm worried about you.'' She pulled me up and made it clear there was no more to this conversation when I tried to protest. When she cleared the room I looked to where Jake was laying. Curled up in a ball his eyes were open, looking deep into my eyes and purred words that sent chills down my spine: `` Tu stultus es. ''
[ WP ] Everyday , you daydream of a world unlike your own . One where things are not so different , but not quite the same either . Every night you dream of this world , you live inside of it . One day , you wake up to find this world is your new reality .	Riley got up of her bed. She turned to find that her mother was not sleeping in the chair in the corner lf her room, like always. She felt specially good this day, she noticed. With extra energy and strenght. So with her pajamas she went to have breakfast with her family. She noticed the living room had a new TV set, a bigger one ( and was that a PS4? ). She was surprised by this and planned quering her family on the table about it. She entered the kitchen to find his brother eating his breakfast really quickly ( probably getting late to school ). When her mother saw her she looked at her puzzled and annoyed. `` What are you doing in your pajamas? Why have n't you changed?'' She asked her. `` You are going to be late to school. And in the mean time you are going to make your brother be late.'' Rile cocked her head in confusion. `` What?'' She looked at the table. `` Mom... I do n't go to school anymore... Remember?'' Her mother set down her plate and began shushing her back upstairs to her room. `` What are you talking about? Now go change!'' She said giving her a final push. Riley hesitantly took a step up the stairs. `` You need to take your brother too, so hurry up!'' ( What about my pills? ) Riley shook her head and thought her mother had gone mental. She went to the bathroom and screamed in surprise when ahe looked at the mirror. The girl looking back at her now had ahort brown hair, and not the bald that defined her health status.
[ WP ] A dying man in a world of immortals .	Nursing 101 Chapter 17: Vaccinations In his prime he lead one of the most talked about movements of its time. Parents consulted him and scientists scorned him. He had a devout following but as time passed he was eventually proven wrong. He continued his ways on principal even after his own children moved on from his `` trend''. The human race had progressed so far in so little time in the medical field that they had began to believe they were now immortal, there was nothing to prove otherwise. But throughout his life he would not change that set in mind view. The last of the Anti-Vaxxers passed from a disease called cancer that was eradicated in 2045. In this chapter we will be going over what vaccinations have done in history, which ones still need to be administered, and which ones require boosters.
[ WP ] You live in a world where everybody is born blind , and the world is built for the blind . One day , you wake up and you see .	I have never liked doctors ’ offices and normally, I avoided them at all costs. But something was very wrong with me. I ’ d been having these sensory hallucinations for weeks. I had tried to ignore it for weeks, but rather than getting better, it kept getting worse. It was impacting my ability to work, I had taken so many sick days that my boss insisted I go to the doctor or he was going to fire me. That was how I found myself sitting in Dr. Zawilinski ’ s office on a warm summer afternoon partaking in the joy of a icy metal doctor ’ s table on my bare rear and the overwhelming odor of antiseptic and rubber mixed with the peppermint the doctor had eaten sometime shortly before my appointment. Dr. Z had run every test he could think of, and despite his best efforts, nothing looked out of the ordinary. I was apparently a healthy guy. “ Jack, all your test results are coming back fine. The scan is good, your blood work seems fine, your heartrate is a little bit elevated, but my gut is telling me that has more to do with the panic you have yourself in than anything else, ” he commented, taking hold of my hand and finding my pulse. His fingers were cold and hard. “ Dr. Z, there ’ s something wrong. Something serious, ” I insisted, my voice cracking slightly. He let go of my wrist and tapped his fingers together thoughtfully, “ You ’ re going to have to give me more information about what you ’ re experiencing. ” He walked back over to the computer and started typing. I could hear his fingers striking the keys, and the dull whir and swish as the tactile screen ’ s pegs shifted and presented the data from the tests he ’ d been running. He made a thoughtful clucking with his tongue as he ran his fingers across the words displayed there. I could hear the grinding of the scroll wheel on the side of the screen as he moved the words up and down, reading. Once he found the information he was looking for, he pressed his fingers into the spot he was focusing on the screen and started to the new information in. The screen ’ s whirring and swishing resumed as he typed. He stopped a few times to run his fingers across the text he was typing to make sure he hadn ’ t made mistakes. I let out a small groan of frustration and ran my hands through my hair, “ I don ’ t know how to describe it. It ’ s just so weird. It like, I can sense things that don ’ t even make a sound. I ’ m really losing it. How am I supposed to work like this, ” I demanded, my voice rising in pitch. “ You have to give me something, ” he urged, “ I can ’ t diagnose ‘ It ’ s weird. ’ ” “ It ’ s almost like a headache, but not really, or like... I don ’ t know, it ’ s just like a hallucination, I don ’ t know what else to call it, ” I stammered, trying to describe something that I simply didn ’ t have the words for. With a sigh, he rose to his feet, heels clicking as he came over and stood in front of me. “ Are you in pain? ” he asked, pressing his fingertips into the sides of my head, carefully feeling his way to the top of my head, searching for bumps or anything to indicate some kind of head injury. “ No, nothing hurts, ” I replied, “ But it ’ s better when I close my eyes. ” “ Better when you close your eyes? What do you mean? ” He asked, dropping his hands. “ It almost goes away. It ’ s still there, a little bit, but mostly it goes away, ” I did my best to elaborate, but I didn ’ t have the words to effectively describe what I was experiencing. “ I ’ m just tired of having to remember to keep them shut all the time. This can ’ t be normal, can it? ” “ Interesting, ” the doctor remarked, his voice taking on a slightly excited tone. “ I mean, I have a theory. I feel a little foolish even suggesting it, but I suppose anything is possible, modern science has taught us that. ” “ Okay... “ “ Please open your eyes, ” he demanded. I did as he asked and immediately regretted it. The hallucinations started in full force, a swirling confusion of sensation assaulted me. “ How long am I supposed to do this? ” He waved his hand back in forth in front of my face. Instinctively, I followed the movement with my eyes, and closed my eyes. It was unsettling to say the least, “ Why are you doing that? ” Dr. Z chuckled and moved back across the room. The chair by the computer squeaked as he eased into it. “ Do you know what a vestigial organ is? ” I swallowed, “ I ’ m not sure. I think I remember hearing it back in high school, but I never really paid attention in science, not really my thing. ” He typed into his computer some more, “ Well, it ’ s an organ that no longer has any use. Probably the one people immediately think of is the appendix. We think that once, a long time ago, it helped with our digestion by keeping a storehouse of essential bacteria, but we don ’ t eat rotten food anymore so it ’ s not an issue. The tailbone, isn ’ t really an organ of course, but it ’ s all that ’ s left from the tail our primate ancestors used to have. The most recent organ that we consider to be vestigial are the eyes. Several hundred years ago, we used to have a fifth sense. It was beyond hearing, smell, taste, or even touch. People used to be able use their eyes to perceive the world around them and didn ’ t need to rely on machines to guide us like we do now. Perhaps you ’ ve heard of ‘ seeing ’ or ‘ sight ’ before? Occasionally the words pop up in reference to historical figures, ” he added cheerfully. “ It rings a bell, ” I commented. It was a very distant bell, to be honest. It wasn ’ t just science that had failed to pique my interest as a teenager. School in general had been something that I barely tolerated. “ Vaguely, ” I added sheepishly. “ I think, for some strange reason, you ’ ve developed this sense. Your eyes appear to have reverted to a state similar to what our ancestors would have had, ” he said with a small chuckle. “ If I ’ m right, it ’ s really quite amazing. I don ’ t recall hearing of this ever happening my entire medical career. ” I shuddered, “ Is there a way to make it stop? ” “ Stop? ” the doctor repeated, surprised. “ How do I make it go away? ” I demanded, gripping tightly on the edge of the table. Dr. Z ’ s voice was horrified, “ Why would you want to make it go away? This is an amazing scientific discovery. Do you realize the possibilities of such a thing? What if we could learn what caused this to happen to you and could give the same sense to others, ” he asked. “ No, ” I snapped, “ I don ’ t care. If you know how it works, you know how to make it stop. Can we make it stop? ” The doctor let out a sigh, “ I mean, theoretically it would be as simple as using a laser to pierce the eye and sever the optic nerve, but- “ “ Can you do it here? Can we do it now? ” I demanded, my heart was pounding with excitement. The doctor ’ s chair squeaked and his footsteps moved to be in front of me, “ It ’ s possible, but I think it would be a terrible mistake. You may live to regret this decision. You should take some time to think about it, ” he said, the dismay in his voice was clear. “ No, ” I insisted, “ There ’ s no reason to wait. I ’ m not going to change my mind. If you ’ re wrong, and this isn ’ t the problem, is there any danger to having the optic nerve severed? Could it cause any side effects? ” The doctor let out an unhappy groan, “ Not really. As I said before, we don ’ t actually use our eyes anymore- “ “ Do it. Now, ” I insisted. “ Wait, now I ’ m not sure I ’ m comfortable with destroying the possibility- “ I grabbed his arm, “ Doctor, I know that you don ’ t have the right to deny medical treatment to a patient just because you want to see what might happen. There are laws against allowing medical suffering to continue to satisfy scientific curiosity. ” He let out a reluctant sigh, “ If you ’ re certain you want to take this route... ” “ I ’ m completely certain, ” I insisted. “ Alright, ” he said, the disappointment clear in his voice. “ I ’ ll get the paperwork. You ’ ll have authorize the procedure. ” He went over to his computer and began typing, preparing the medical forms, all the while muttering and objecting under his breath. After several minutes, I heard a small wheeled cart across the floor. “ Place your hand on the authentification pad, ” he ordered. The machine rumbled and the pad heated up slightly as my had was scanned and my handprint was used to verify my identity. “ I want you to know that I included my comments that I objected to this procedure in your medical file. If you have regrets, this office will not be liable. ” He hesitated, “ We can ’ t undo this, you understand? ” “ That ’ s fine. I won ’ t regret it, ” I assured him, almost giddy with the anticipation of ailment being fixed. He wheeled the cart away and I heard the distant creak as one of the arms of the surgical machine in the center of the room was pulled down. “ Hold still, ” he commanded and secured my head in the brace. There was a series of beeps and the arm locked into place. I couldn ’ t have moved if I ’ d wanted to. The machine was humming, gradually becoming higher until it sounded like a faint whistle. “ Alright, as soon as you ’ re ready, open your eyes. The machine will automatically perform the procedure as soon as it perceives your eyes are in the right position. ” I drew in a deep breath and opened my eyes. For a moment, I was dazed by the brilliance that invaded my senses. I ’ d never experienced anything as dazzling. Light. The word rose from somewhere deep in my memory and I again wished I had the words to describe what I was experiencing. The light grew more intense, shifting and dancing. The machine ’ s hum suddenly dropped, followed by a low beep and an explosion of light. As quickly as it had appeared, the brilliance faded as was gone. I found myself once again submerged into familiar, blank nothingness and I blinked my eyes rapidly, not feeling nearly as relieved as I had expected.
[ IP ] In the footsteps	My grandfather was notorious for sleeping with the help, I had overheard. Bitter over my grandmother's untameable independence, he easily succumbed to the flatteries and affections of lower-income women who saw the opportunity of a better life in his deep, generous pockets. Far from possessing the cold, callous heart of a brutal slavemaster, he sired seven children from five extramarital affairs, and supported them all in all that they did good, from birth through to - if they chose - their Ph.D. My grandmother did n't seem to mind this; and true, somewhere through these swirl of events, she completely disappeared out of the pages of the family's retelling of our history, leaving behind only one daughter ( my mother ) and no sons. But what is the point of all this, you ask? Simply to provide a back story to why I could have fallen in love with the dark-skinned coloured girl who lived multiple bus - stops along the way. I did n't understand why she could n't just have someone chaffeur her from place to place to place. I wanted to know where her limo was and why her mother opened the door and made us food instead of the butler, nanny, nursemaid or servants. As I grew older, I expected my love to wane, but it only grew - not only in height like I did, but also in depth. By then, I had figured out this girl of my heart was poor, but still, it did n't matter as love trespassed over financial classes and bound us to one another. My family being one of the wealthiest and prestigious, I was accustomed to offers of companionship from other girls in my school, whose families had money long enough and history deep enough to rival or surpass my own. But I took this poor, dark-skinned, beautiful girl to prom. And as my mother took pictures of us in the doorway, her eyes glazed with tears, and she sniffled and smiled at me: `` You're following in the footsteps of your grandfather. ''
[ WP ] At the end of a rather harsh and brutal life , you breathe your last . Death drowns you like warm orgasmic water ... Then you wake up in an examination chair in a high-tech prison cell . The attendant says , `` Your final consecutive life sentence has now been served in full . You are free to go . ''	Light. Bright, penetrating light filled my eyes as I peeled them open. It felt like they had been glued shut, as if they had been closed for an eternity. Slowly, shapes began to form. A voice broke the silence. `` Your final consecutive life sentence has now been served in full. You are free to go.'' Confusion filled my mind. I had just been walking to the store a moment ago... I remember a conversation, and then a sharp pain. I tried to pull the memories forward, but as the seconds passed I felt the memories fade, like waking from a dream. `` W-where... am I?'' I stammered. My voice sounded hoarse, and much deeper than I remembered. `` Do not be frightened, amnesia is common, it should subside momentarily. You are in the Brinkwood correctional center. You were sentenced to 50 consecutive life sentences for crimes against the Galactic Federation.'' Suddenly, a memory pierced my mind, almost jarring me from my seat. I see myself looking at a large button, screams of protest ring out from behind me as I place my fingers on it. I hear a laugh, I think it belongs to me. `` Please, you ca n't do this!'' A woman's voice tears through the room. It is familiar, I feel myself hesitate, this woman must have meant something to me. Suddenly, with renewed vigor, I slam my hand down on the button. A monitor above my head flashes. 30 SECONDS TO LAUNCH. I hear the laughter again, maniacal, inhuman. Suddenly I am pulled from the memory as a voice is heard over an intercom. `` Please escort prisoner 377 to the rehabilitation bay.'' A man approaches, unstrapping the binds around my wrists. `` Please follow me.'' I attempt to stand, my legs are shaky and I feel weak. I manage to stand, and finally get a chance to examine my surroundings. The room was dark, the only light was a bright fluorescent screen that had been positioned above my head. I looked up at the monitor, and I could see a young girl walking down a street as a rather unsavory looking man approached her. I recognized this scene as the moment of my death. I began to feel panicked. `` Who am I?'' I ask the guard. He looks at me with disgust. `` You are the man who destroyed the earth.'' And with that sentence, I remembered myself, my crime, and why I had chosen to do so, and I smiled.
[ WP ] An elderly group called `` Last Act '' are given poison , weapons and bombs to help better society , these are their last acts .	`` If you are watching this, I have performed my Last Act. Undoubtedly, I have been branded a maniac, a terrorist, or some other moniker that vilifies me.'' The man on the screen stopped for a second. `` All of you are wondering why I would do this. Why I would perform such a heinous act, and I will tell you.'' `` My life, apart from raising my children, and supporting my wife, has been pointless, and without meaning. I was a man that had done nothing to better the society that I was a part of, despite my wife's insistance that I had, probably even now.'' The older woman wiped her tears as she shook her head. `` I was diagnosed with terminal liver and pancreatic cancers three months ago. The doctors told me that I had approximately four months left. Four months to get my affairs in order, four months to live, in a life of sixty seven years of mearly existing.'' The old man sighed. `` I had always said that I wanted to do this, or that, or something else. But time was up. There was only one thing left to do. My night cap.'' He paused again. `` My life was meaningless, but my death could change the world.'' `` I will never know the results of my actions. I have done these things in an effort to make this a better place for you, and for my grandchildren. I hope that one day my actions will be seen as something other than, well, what it was.'' `` I have to say farewell now.'' He said, tears welling up in his eyes. `` I hope that I leave this world a better place, once the dust settles.''
[ WP ] Two `` teenage '' aliens playing a long game of inspiring the creation of religions to see which of them can cause the most absurd reaction from humans .	`` Alright, alright, I'll try one'' `` Great! It's a lot of fun. Me and L13920 have been up here for years. She started this great one with a bull on that tiny island there...'' `` Oh that's nothing, K149 here wo n't admit it, but he got a few of them to eat each other'' `` Did you?'' `` Yes. I did n't even have to push them too much. Just gave them a few years of famine, a few divine mushroom inspired fantasies, and suddenly they have this whole system. Next I'm gon na try to mix cannibalism and fellatio'' `` Man you sick!'' `` I know'' `` Wait, down here they got something going down, L13920, did you fuck around with that little strip of people between those continents?'' `` No, did you?'' `` No.'' `` What're they doing?'' `` They started worshipping someone named Yahweh.'' `` Yahweh? What kind of name is that?'' `` Who knows. Man I wan na stop for a bite to eat, how about you?'' `` Whatever, you got a few bucks do n't you?'' `` Sure. Just hope they do n't get too out of hand while you're gone'' `` You're sure that was n't you?'' `` No, but is it too much of a stretch? They're an oppressed people, these Is-ree-leetes or whatever we called them... Of course they're gon na make their own God, and claim he's the superior one. Just basic sociology, right?'' `` Oh, that'd be a lot of fun'' `` what?'' `` When we come back, we're starting a religion based around sociology. I'm think Marxism would be a great name.'' `` Sure man, sure.''
[ WP ] You have a personality disorder . One personality is the head detective investigating the most notorious serial killer the city has ever seen , and the second is that very same serial killer .	Doctor: Hi Cyrus. I'm glad you could make it for our session today. I hear your people found another victim today Cyrus: We did, Doctor Bloor. Eighth one. The Doctor nods sympathetically, waiting for him to go on Cyrus: You know, it's funny how people love to talk about how the Canton Belladonna was never caught. In the past tense, like she's already a legend Doctor: Yes, I've noticed the papers doing that. Cyrus: And I'm sure, Doctor, that you can understand the Belladonna's appeal. I was drawn to her from the start; the simplicity of her poison and the romance of her displays. I ca n't tell you what it meant to me, being assigned to this case. Doctor: Yes, that was... five years ago now? Cyrus: Yeah, just about. For those first few years, I studied the Belladonna's patterns. After a while I felt like I understood what she was trying to say with it; the pale yellow petals weaving through protruding ribcages. She did it lovingly, I think. Made her victims beautiful, in her mind Doctor: You could empathize with her. Cyrus: Well no, I could... detach myself from my own disgust, I guess. I could settle into her skin and see her next move every time I closed my eyes. I felt so close to finding her. Doctor: Does it affect your pride, still searching for her today? Cyrus: That's the thing, Doctor Bloor. I did find her. Two years ago. Doctor Bloor puts down her pen, slowly Cyrus: I shot her in her own greenhouse, three years into my investigation and seconds before she could kill her next victim. It was neat and quick. Between the eyes. mimes the action Cyrus: Getting frustrated, But it did n't make sense, you know? The Belladonna I knew, the one who had taken up permanent residence in my mind, that thing could n't be her. The thing in front of me was like a... like a paperweight. Earthbound. I could feel the real Belladonna tugging at the back of my mind, begging to finish the job. And so I sat back, and I let her. For a moment, the doctor lets the silence hang Doctor: Did you watch? Cyrus: Yes. Well, not the first time. But we trust each other now. She knows it's my mind, originally, so she lets me watch now Doctor: nodding, regaining composure, That's interesting. It's a common misconception that amnesia goes hand in hand with dissociative identity disorder. Cyrus: laughs with amusement. Is that what this is? My roommate situation? Should n't I be forgetting where I am or fighting for dominance or something? Doctor: Well, DID is n't my specialization, but personalities can work together. I'd say that's what you're experiencing Cyrus: smiling, seemingly unfazed by the diagnosis, Yeah, it's not your specialization, that's true. I know all about your specialization. I've read your work on criminal psychopathology. You had a different diagnosis for the Canton Belladonna, did n't you? Does it affect your pride, knowing that you missed something this big? Doctor: What did you do with her body, Cyrus? Cyrus: Under his breath, Thing like this would n't be good for your book sales Doctor: Cyrus Cyrus: I did n't touch it. Bella took care of it. She does n't want me getting my hands dirty, even though we're on the same team now. Doctor: * calming herself once more, Well, Cyrus, we are on the same team as well. You want to keep Bella safe - Cyrus: And you want people to buy your books. Doctor: I'm sure we can all come to an agreement Cyrus: Shrugs*, you'll find I have a pretty accommodating personality. We'll get back to you.

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