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[ WP ] Write what seems like a really funny story until you realize it 's a suicide note
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Have you ever been in love? I have been in love. I think being in love is not one thing. It's all those little things that form a big one. Like thinking about someone all day long. Before you sleep, after you wake up. Not being able to put him out of our mind. Smelling him, tasting him even when you are away.
I think I am in love. With the KFC fried chicken.
Hear me out for a second, will you? I am thinking about it all the time. I wake up and it's the first thing on my mind. Its soft, tasty skin all over my tongue. I go to bed and I am still thinking about its beautiful, intoxicating smell running up my nostrils. I'm eating beef but all I have on my mind is chicken. I love it, I crave for it.
Now tell me how that is not love. You ca n't.
Today I have planned something very special. I am taking my love out for dinner. I am going to dine and wine my love. But that's not all. I have a surprise! I have found a way for us to be together for ever! We will never have to be apart again!
My plan is simple. I will just eat as much chicken as I can. And then some more. And more. I will eat all the chicken and we will finally be one for ever!
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[ WP ] Write a story based off of a song .
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`` Say Something'' by A Great Big World
“ I don ’ t know what to say, ” she stated while they lay in bed with their back against the wall and hands intertwined. The silence that followed seemed to span months as their relationship flashed before Jason's eyes.
Music filled his head as he pictured the concert where they first met. Their eyes sharing a lingering glance from across the field. Her face painted with a coy smile that made his stomach flutter. She approached him. Even now thinking about it made him smile. One of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen made the first move on him. The taste of cherry tickled his tongue as he remembered not only their first kiss, but his first kiss. He could feel the sand between his toes and wind in his hair as the rush of their beachside kiss filled his body again. The smiles of his parents on the night he introduced her to them flickered through his vision.
Jason decided to break the silence, “ You were the one that said you wanted to talk. ” He could tell that the words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat. The silence continued.
When she had called him and said “ we need to talk, ” his heart sank. The sinking feeling wasn ’ t getting any better now that she was sitting next to him. The silence was digging that sinking hole deeper and deeper. Tears filled her eyes and suddenly the shovel that was digging that hole finally hit something. He let go of her hand and stood up. Those eyes that once made him smile now caused a lump in his throat. He knew what she was trying to say. All he could manage to get out was “ say something. ”
“ I ’ m moving. ”
It wasn ’ t exactly what he was expecting to hear. He was expecting this to be the end of them but, they could work through it. She was his one. He would follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to. His tears subsided for a moment. “ Where are we going, ” he asked with a smile.
“ Jason, I… ” she stopped short as tears welled in her eyes.
That hole was forming again. He knew this was the end but, he wanted to hear her say it. The silence filled the room again. He was sick of the silence filling his head with thoughts of them that now churned his stomach. “ Say something. ” He wanted her to just say it and leave so they could go on with their lives but the words never left her lips. The words fell from his lips in a steady whisper “ I ’ ll be the one if you want me to… I ’ m giving up on you. ”
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[ FF ] Thief ! ( 100 words and 48 hours + reddit GOLD )
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I can ’ t believe I was late again. I always considered it a natural occurrence to find myself running late a time or two a month, but this was the third time this week I was rushing to get out the door.
I have my morning routine down to a science after all these years, but lately they felt strange; like I was missing something important. I usually have time to finish a cup of coffee while I read through most of the paper, but today I only skimmed through the headlines and sports section before it was time to leave.
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[ WP ] The story ends with `` I wanted it to be you . God damn , I really did . ''
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The light piercing through the slit's of the blinds shone like lasers in my eyes. `` I guess I should get out of bed,'' I said aloud to her before I remembered
that I was alone in the room. `` Fuck,'' I muttered, I had forgotten she was gone. The ache in my head and my parched lips were reminder's of last nights
escapades, too much whiskey and not enough water. I reached for my bottle. Empty. It shattered in the corner I tossed it in. I needed something, anything
to numb the ache in my head and the more painful one in my chest. I was starting to remember her face, the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin.
That was the last thing I needed to remember right now. I stumbled over to the sink and grabbed a mostly cleanish glass that hours before I am sure had
contained `` the water of life'' and filled it from the tap. The cool water did nothign for my headache and memories but at least I was hydrating my parched throat.
I would need to venture out and try to scrounge another bottle from somewhere. The Stiff's would n't be nearly as active during the day, I almost did n't care though,
what was I really even trying to go on living for? She was gone. They tore her apart right in front of me, `` Why did I have to be the one to survive? I wanted it to be you.
God damn, I really did.''
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[ WP ] Three people are having a conversation in which no one is 100 % sure of the topic , but each is determined to figure it out through the context .
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“ So, like, Avatar? ”
“ The Last Airbender? ”
“ No, the shitty furry movie. Like, you ’ re talking about human consciousness or whatever, right? They changed bodies, the paralyzed dude stayed a blue guy forever. ”
“ Yeah, but his human body was still, like, there. It was in that machine. It would have been like playing a VR game for the rest of your life. ”
“ No, I mean, that ’ s not exactly what I ’ m talking about. Okay, imagine— ”
“ Would just like to point out how glad I am your first assumption was The Last Airbender. ”
“ Thanks. ”
“ Shut up, guys, listen. So imagine you ’ re in a room, and you close your eyes, and open them and you ’ re in a different room. You look the same, but you know there ’ s no way you got from one room to another. Like, you can ’ t have just sleepwalked there or something. And there ’ s like a video feed that shows you in that other room, not moving. ”
“ Okay? ”
“ Well, is that sort of what you mean? ”
“ What? ”
“ About like consciousness and knowability. ”
“ Sounds like somebody only took one philosophy class in college. ”
“ Fuck you, I ’ m an engineer. ”
“ Yeah, but this is pretty simple stuff, right? You could Google this shit. ”
“ It ’ s true, that's how I learned. You know clicking the first link in every Wikipedia page leads back to the Philosophy page?''
“ Okay then, why don ’ t you explain it to me? ”
“ Er, sure. So... you know how there ’ s people who are just born with these mundane superpowers, like they can produce really good music at age three or whatever, without knowing anything about music. ”
“ Yeah, savants, right? They have those in engineering. ”
“ Mmmhm, so the theory is that like these people have some kind of, um, some type of genetic memory, where they know things their ancestors knew. So it ’ s possible we ’ re all plugged into this, uh, giant consciousness, and we usually just pour knowledge into it but maybe we can also draw from it. ”
`` Oh. That's kind of neat, I guess.''
“ Hang on, what does that have to do with what I was saying?''
“ Er. ”
“ Look, I just thought it would be cool to have a robot body one day. ”
“ Oh, yeah. Hell yeah. ”
“ Fuck yeah. Robot body. Nice. ”
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[ WP ] You live alone , and wake up one morning to breakfast in bed .
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`` Hello?'' I ask. A tray rests on my lap as my eyes force themselves open with a few blinks. The plate contains two over-medium eggs, hash browns, bacon, and a cup of strawberries. Tabasco sauce and hot coffee sit on the outskirts of the tray. `` Is anyone here?'' A figure startles me and almost causes me to knock the tray off my bed. Both the unmistakable cloak and sideways smirk fill me with delight. `` Ezio!'' I say.
`` Ciao, signore.''
`` It's such a pleasure. I'm your biggest fan.''
`` Grazie. How is breakfast?''
`` Delicious, but how did you get in here, anyway, friend?''
`` I slaughtered your guards without a modicum of stealth. Also, that food you just ate is poisonous.''
`` Oh, that's right. I'm a Templar. Bye, world!''
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[ WP ] Write about a day in heaven .
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I was in heaven.
That was all I could comprehend as my mother stroked my hair, my eyes closed in complete bliss. The grass under us felt soft and I ran my hands through it.
''I want to stay here forever..'' I sighed. I heard the gentle pitter-patter of a creek nearby.''I want you to stay here with me too, sweetheart.'' My mother answered, her voice gentle and flowed easily, like honey. She continued stroking my hair. The gentle noise of the creek flowed closer by my feet, and I scrunched up my toes, giggling at the warm sensation.''Why cant we?'' I mumbled, the rays of the sun warming my body through my sweater.''Because, its not time yet for you to stay with me.'' It was her turn to sigh. The creek grew louder and warped.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
''She's going to be okay,'' A voice sounded in the distance, and my own voice grew distorted.''Mother?'' Beep. Beep. Beep.''Mum, do n't let me leave.'' I threw my eyes open and stared at her flickering form, and at the same time I threw them open again, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as I breathed rapidly through a oxygen mask.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Edit: Figuring out formatting
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[ WP ] Write about the events leading up to a nuclear war , and the nuclear war itself .
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We interrupt this program to bring you an important breaking news announcement.
This just in, we have reports of a serious incident off the coast of Turkey between Russia and NATO. Although the details are uncertain as of yet, we have reports that Russian fighter jets were shot down by vessels of the Turkish Naval Force which were part of NATO forces operating in that region. Details are unknown, and we have received no comment from Russia's military sources. It is suspected but not confirmed that Russia has retaliated against Turkey. We also have unconfirmed reports that there were US ships involved in the area.
The Department of Defense has said there will be no official statement issued until all details are clear, quote, `` The situation is changing rapidly, we can not give any official statements at this time other than something very serious has happened''. In the mean time, emergency committees have been arranged in several NATO countries to discuss what they claim is unwarranted Russian aggression. Reserve troops have been deployed around the border between Europe and Russia in the event the situation escalates. Military personnel are being placed around key nuclear facilities.
[ A few minutes later ]
We interrupt this program to bring you an important breaking news announcement.
This just in, we have reports that Russian naval forces have been spotted in the Aegean sea. Europe has heightened their mobilization of military forces. Aircraft are being prepared to launch at a moment's notice, and additional reserve troops are being deployed near the Russian border. The US Armed Forces have raised the DEFCON level to DEFCON 4, a state of increased intelligence watch and security measures. We will provide updates as the situation progresses.
( I might continue this if anyone's interested )
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[ TT ] You are an old and senile king close to death . You need to choose a successor , but it 's kind of hard when you have octuplets .
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`` Father, it is common knowledge that Myran and I were birthed first. We came unto this world together before the others. We have more right to the Throne. If anything you should be deciding amongst us two.'' Garrud whined. The king sighed.
`` Garrud is a half-wit and Myran too craven. Father should choose the wiser one amongst his children.'' Dwyane said smugly.
`` The wiser and most arrogant? The kingdom wo n't stand. They need a fearless leader who will not falter under taunts. Me.'' Gryjen smiled. The king sighed again.
`` I agree with Gryjen. He is a the best warrior amongst us and fearless at the face of adversary.'' Monjil affirmed.
`` Gryjen is too trusting. There will be turncloaks and cutthroats. He will not last a week until someone he trusts puts a knife through his chest.'' Qwertyon protested, `` It should be either me or Idontu.''
`` Idontu? He will be too busy fucking whores and sitting on his fat arse too rule.'' Myrian scoffed.
`` SILENCE! ALL OF YOU.'' the king bellowed, `` Sitting there talking about who has rights and who is fit to rule. Which one of you is absent here, hmm?'' the King asked. The brothers looked around at each other for a split second before Myrian voiced out, `` Bob. Bob is missing.''
`` Bob is out there with the troops. He's training them. Not only that, he's the only one not living off his nobility. He's out there. Visiting the people and the temples and the orphanages. He knows this city and the kingdom we own better as communities of people. Not territories to control.'' the King said, proud.
`` Bob? You ca n't be serious. He's been talking about giving away parts of the lands to the Prince of the Islands.''
`` Because he knows it's for the best. We can not support all of the Kingdom. And he's smart enough to have the Prince Aliad on our side should war come.''
`` He is not a warrior. Nor is he wise.''
`` He is wiser than all of you. And he does not bicker. Aye I chose my ruler long ago. I was just looking for a reason not to anoint him. Now that you all proved you are useless, I guess there is not point waiting. You all will be getting lesser lands, help the new King as he sees fit.''
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[ WP ] There is a time traveler who visits every historical figure twice : on their 10th birthday and their deathbed . On the first visit , they will be told all the will accomplish in life . The second visit will tell how their legacy is remembered .
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This is gon na suck. Normally I have fun on my job. Meet great people and let them know what wonders they can accomplish. The smile on their faces as I tell them the wonderful things they'll do always brightens my day. And certainly, on the return trip, it does me good to give them closure and explain what their actions caused. But this time.... I do n't think I want to. I knew the day would come eventually. While I know the evils he'll bring, I certainly do n't expect him to take the news of it well. Not at ten. For now, he really is just a kid.
As I open the cabinet to grab his file, a thought crosses my mind. Do I really need to give him his actual future? Surely, to give him someone else's would be illegal. Would it... could it change the past? Such a crime is punishable by death, I'd wager. Or at least life in prison. But for the people I could potentially save...
I sigh. I toss his file back and rummage through the cabinet. There has to be a destiny I can give him that will change his actions. One that is certain to make him view his life in a different context. There has to be one that makes sense. Van Gogh's maybe? I'd certainly have to edit quite a bit. But maybe I can convince him to become an artist. Regardless of whether or not people like his work.
I stretch and take a deep breath. I step within the great machine and smile as the familiar buzzing and whirring of the machinery takes me off edge. I punch in the destination. Leonding, Germany 1899.
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[ WP ] A hero successfully uses some obscure mathematical concept to accomplish their goal .
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`` I have an idea, Chris!!''
The ship was flailing around in the late summer storm. Providence was a fickle bitch, and Poseidon is a colossal cunt.
`` Think about it Chris, if the Earth is truly a sphere like you said...''
`` I'm not that sure, Francisco!''
``... If you are sure, then the Earth is a 2-sphere. And in a 2‑sphere, if f is a continuous function that assigns a vector in R3 to every point p on a sphere such that f ( p ) is always tangent to the sphere at p, then there is at least one p such that f ( p ) = 0''
`` What the fuck are you saying, Francisco?''
`` You ca n't comb a hairy ball flat without creating a cowlick!''
`` Are you out of your goddamn mind?''
`` Listen, brother. Think of the wind as a vector. If you ca n't make a hairy ball flat with equal hair, then there must be a place with no vector, no wind.''
`` So...''
`` Look, over there. I think it's what the sailors call the eye of the storm. We'll be safe there.''
`` Do you hear that, Vincente? Head towards the light. Men, we need to get this ship, starboard!!''
The ship made it in time. The Santa Maria is safe.
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[ WP ] You are a world-class programmer who has died . God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body . Write the patch notes for the next version of humans .
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Humans 1.01 Bugfix release.
Bugfix: Bacteroides removed from gut.
Bugfix: Clostridium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Faecalibacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Eubacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Ruminococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptostreptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Bifidobacterium removed from gut.
Tickets HB-10073 ( Erotic zone too close to Anus ), HB-10087 ( Can not keep eyes open while sneezing ), HB-10102 ( Must lose control for 1/3rd the time ), HB-10125 ( Startup process takes 18 years ) and various others have been marked as `` Working as Intended''.
Tickets HB-10078 ( Biting your own cheek ), HB-10084 ( Suicide? ), HB-10092 ( immune system causes societally disfiguring facial pocs ) and HB-10111 ( Menstrual Shedding?!! ) have been marked as `` unable to reproduce''.
Major items for next release include bugfixes of more unintended flora. Major structural complaints are a platform fault, and God has no intention of working further on these. God reminds you who exactly is the omnipotent, omniscient creator being, and thus, who likely has the better view of things.
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[ WP ] Tell the literal story of the origin of the term `` deus ex machina '' , or `` god from the machine . ''
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We knew we could n't win, because they had a god.
Or, more accurately, I knew we could n't win because we knew they had a god.
The issue was n't really with the deity - I'd observed this army for weeks, and he had n't really done anything. He just floated on his cloud, occasionally performing a minor miracle. A little bread from heaven, a few small lightning bolts - nothing big. He did n't seem like he had the juice to really affect a battle.
So I was all for attacking. We had the numbers, and the experience, and the weaponry to win, easily. So what if we lost a few, even to celestial thunderbolts? It would be a drop in a bucket, acceptable casualties on the road to victory.
The others disagreed. All the other generals took the position that we could n't risk it, that daring to attack his chosen people would bring down his full divine wrath upon us. Without a god of our own to counteract him, they said, we did n't stand a chance.
I'm not really proud of this. It made me feel kind of dirty to be going behind everyone else's backs, deceiving the people I was meant to be leading. But I wanted that land of milk and honey, and we needed a god to get to it, so there was only one option. I built one.
It took months. Months of sneaking away from the camp carrying the raw materials, months of smelting and sawing and hammering. But it was finally finished - I rode into camp upon its shoulder, preaching a gospel of total war.
The god was eight metres high, and made of burnished copper. It had the body of a man, with the head of a bull. I'd worked really hard on the musculature - I wanted him to seem warlike, dangerous. The huge curving horns, gold plated, helped with that.
It was on wheels - I had n't worked out a way to get it to look like it was walking. So on wheels and pulled by oxen it was. No one seemed to notice.
The best bit was the fire. He had a furnace inside him, coal-burning, and it made his stomach glow cherry-red with heat. When I pulled the rope I'd strung through the back of his head, his mouth opened and smoke came out.
It must have been quite impressive - half the army fell to their knees in fear and the other half started singing ( poorly improvised ) songs of praise. It was all I could do to quiet them long enough to give the order to charge.
It was a massacre. They were n't ready for an invasion, and they definitely were n't ready for our new god. Their one scarpered when ours came over the hill, breathing smoke. With that, all the fight went out of them; they put up only token resistance as we slaughtered them all.
Even when you wanted it, it's never nice to look over a battlefield. The mounds of dead, the moans of the dying. There's a stench to death that hangs in your nostrils for days. And amongst all the carnage, there was our new god. The coal had long since burnt up, and there was no more smoke. The oxen had been unhitched, and there was no deceitful general to pull the strings. It was just me, and the statue, amidst the slaughter.
I wanted to walk away and leave it there. We'd won - we'd cut their army to pieces, and now we could claim their land. This lush, fertile land was ours. We did n't need to fight any more, did n't need to kill. Did n't need this pointless heap of copper.
And then its mouth fell open, without strings, and smoke that came from no earthly fire billowed out, and I heard the thunder of his voice - his blood-drenched, raging voice - echo all about me.
I fell to my knees in the mud and blood as the new god demanded more.
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[ WP ] `` Where are you from ? '' The wise old sage asked , `` Same place as you '' the young girl replied .
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The wise old sage was master of his domain. He knew every blade of grass, every tree, every rock. He had been to the mountains, floated down the rivers, and explored the rolling grass covered plains. It had taken many years, but at last he was comfortable and knew his place.
Then the young girl appeared. She came climbing out of a tree, and plopped down next to the wise old sage.
`` Where are you from?'' the wise old sage asked.
`` Same place as you,'' the young girl replied.
`` I am from here. This is my home, and it is all that I know. I have been here always. And I have never seen you before.''
`` This place is all that I know too,'' the young girl said. `` So it must be my home.''
`` But this can not be,'' he answered. `` I am master of this domain. I know every tree, every rock, every blade of grass. I have been to the mountains, floated down the rivers, and explored the grassy plains. I know everything there is to know about this place, and I know that I am the only one here.''
`` You're wrong about that last part. I am here too.''
The wise old sage began to feel afraid. He had spent so much time getting to know this land. He felt so comfortable, and knew his rightful place. Now came this girl. She could ruin everything.
`` I'm not sure what to do,'' said the wise old sage. `` And that feeling is quite something for me. It's new.''
`` This is new to me too,'' the young girl said. `` And I'll admit, I feel a little scared.''
The wise old sage took the young girls' hand. `` I'm a little scared too.''
`` Can you teach me about those mountains over there?''
`` I would love to.'' And together the wise old sage and the young girl went to the mountains. They floated down the rivers, and they explored the grassy plains. And the wise old sage learned even more things about his domain.
But it was no longer just his. It was theirs.
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[ WP ] The story of Eenie , Meanie , Miny , and Moe . How they caught a tiger , and why they let it go .
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A growl hummed in the brisk air and even colder lungs of the four brothers. Moe looked at Miny. As the two youngest brothers, they knew what it was like to be trapped. To be tangled by the tiniest of feelings. The old tiger never looked away from Moe's eyes. To Moe, the tiger's eyes looked so human.
Even more than his older brothers.
Moe gripped the tranquilizer dart on the thickly furred neck, fingers twitching with hesitation. Could he pull?
`` Look at him. Just a fucking cat. Remember when we cut our first cat, Eenie?'' Meanie's teeth flashed in the dark.
Eenie stood up as he wiped his hands on the struggling tiger's frame. `` Yeah we did her good.''
`` Her?'' Meanie said, confused.
`` Well, did n't matter which hole there, eh? Just a *fucking* cat.'' Eenie laughed like a hyena.
Moe looked down at the zoo's concrete floor. A moment passed before Miny roughly grasped his little brother's arm. `` We were n't there... we were too young.''
The tiger then looked at Miny.
``'Ey, you wan na have first push at... wotcha wan na call it, Meanie?''
Meanie unzipped his trousers. `` Do n't matter since it wo n't speak more than the last one.''
Eenie cocked his head, confused. `` Last? Oh, ya mean the bird back at Wegman's.''
`` No, that was ages ago. It was the tight cunt in... oh, fuck. It was today at this fooking zoo. Jesus, even'er mouth was tight. Tighter! Haha!!'' Meanie giggled harder than ever.
`` Cried all the way to the market, Meanie.'' Eenia smiled with his jaundiced teeth. `` Pig that she was. For a fat cunt, she was smaller than I thought...''
The tiger whimpered softly as it inched its majestic head towards Moe. The young teenager whimpered back, hesitantly reaching out but only feeling its soft fur once it reached back. `` I'm so sorry.''
Miny shushed his little brother.
`` Wot was that -- Miny?''
Moe continued petting the tiger's purring head. The rumble from the tiger felt like irresistible energy in his veins. `` I'm sorry.''
Eenie exchanged glances with his next youngest brother. `` For wot?''
`` This.'' Moe yanked the dart out and stabbed it into Eenie's neck, but did n't stop there. His arm pulled up as hard as it could to reach his ear. It did n't work. Eenie slammed his meaty fist into Moe's face.
Meanie tried grabbing his little brother's arm but was stopped... by Miny.
`` The foo-''
The ring of an iron bar sang throughout the air. And then again. And again. And again until there was one less breath in the room. Miny then turned his attention to his remaining brothers... or more specifically his oldest brother Eenie. `` You let my brother go!''
Eenie struggled against Miny's thick arm on his throat. The oldest and cruelest rasped, `` I... am... your...''
A sudden crack. `` No, you're not.''
The two last men of their line laid on the floor, surrounded by the still warm corpses of what was left of their kin. They breathed in heavy unison as the weary tiger did.
The two stood up, soaked in blood and sweat. The elderly cat did as well.
`` Looks like we all got our toes back.''
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[ WP ] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less .
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Mother fuckers
Started as blobs
Evolved
to Slobs and formed mobs
//
Killers and moms
Robbed the people of their peace
We wo n't even touch
Or discuss
The cluster fuck
In middle east
//
It's the U.S.A. not the USA * ( writers note - pronounced ooo-sah ) *
Centuries of minutia
Designed to
seduce ya
//
Serial killers persuaded nations
formulating fake escapes
going by the name of Gods Graces
Nobody cares as long as theirs
are living safely
//
Borders Restored
The illusion of safety
Countries armed and raced to hatred
//
But no one stopped to ask what for
The rich got richer
And fed on the poor
And that's the door you about to walk through
Sure you do n't want to reconsider for a second or two?
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[ WP ] People are born with tattoos telling their future . In an effort to save one man 's life , doctor 's remove his tattoos , and he survives past his destined death .
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When Doctor Craig Cunningham rushed through the halls of the Springhill Medical Center, a look of horror plastered on his face as he cradled his right arm like he was trying to hide it, people noticed. After all, he was the man who had done the impossible. He had challenged Fate and won. Some of his coworkers tried to grab his attention on the doctor's hurried rush past, but he brushed them off.
When Doctor Cunningham found the door that was his destination, he hammered on it with his left hand, turning his body so that nobody could see his right arm. There was the sound of movement from inside, but it was n't fast enough. Cunningham knocked again, harder. `` I'm coming, I'm coming!'' a man's voice called out.
As soon as the door was opened, Cunningham pushed his way inside. Doctor Ramiro Simmons's office was spartan and organized, with medical journals arranged in perfect order on all the shelves and the walls anointed with diplomas and awards. Simmons himself was almost knocked over by Cunningham's sudden entrance, and he goggled at his old friend. `` We should n't have done it,'' Cunningham said once the door was closed. `` We *shouldn't* have done it.''
`` Done what?'' Simmons asked, noting how Cunningham was holding his right arm. `` Mister Webster's mark removal?''
`` Yes!'' Cunningham shouted, dropping into a chair in front of Simmons's desk. He slumped, reminding Simmons of a man who had sat in that chair several months before. Greg Webster; profession, garbage collector; fate, death by cancer, written on right arm. He had been referred to Simmons and Cunningham after learning that his time was nearly up: there was a tumor growing in his brain, and the melancholy of knowing his fate was almost worse than the cancer itself.
Simmons and Cunningham had changed that. They were n't the first to successfully remove a fatemark, but they *were* the first to succeed. Previous attempts had included cutting off the skin where the mark sat, but the silvery mark extended all the way down to the bone. If a mark appeared on a limb, some tried cutting the whole thing off, but the mark would just reappear somewhere else on the body. Simmons and Cunningham had used a laser, designed specifically for the task, to erase the silvery fatemark from Webster's arm, scouring it from the skin, the muscle, and the bone. It had been a gamble, and if it had n't worked, it would have been the end of their long and storied career.
After the last round of laser mark removal ( Simmons had joked that they needed a better name for the process ), Webster had received a CAT scan to check the tumor. Simmons and Cunningham had waited with bated breath for the diagnosis.
The tumor was gone. They had changed fate.
The announcement had n't yet been made. There were more tests to run, always more tests. Simmons was optimistic, and Webster was ecstatic. He was the first man to be free, truly free, from the mark on his arm. Others would follow, once the removal process was perfected.
But what had Cunningham so scared?
`` What are you talking about?'' Simmons asked. Cunningham held out his right arm and pulled up the sleeve.
Simmons staggered backwards as if he had been struck. Ice erupted in his veins, and a stone settled in his gut. `` This is why,'' Cunningham said, staring at the fatemark on his arm. Simmons did n't have to consult his books to translate the angular glyph; he had seen it many times over the past few weeks, on the arm of a garbage collector fated to die.
`` That - that ca n't be real,'' Simmons said, carefully stepping closer and inspecting the mark. He knew he was lying to himself. It was a perfect match of Webster's fatemark, right down to the placement on the arm. `` You're playing a prank on me, are n't you?''
*Please, * Simmons prayed, *please say yes. *
`` Ramiro,'' Cunningham said, `` show me your arm.''
With shaking hands, Simmons pulled back his sleeve. There, on his arm, was that same fatemark. The mark that foretold a death of cancer. `` Oh god,'' he breathed. With frenzied movement, he put his left foot up on his desk and pulled down his sock. His mark - death by old age - was gone from its resting spot on his ankle. `` Yours?''
`` Gone,'' said Cunningham, rubbing at the shoulder where his mark proclaiming a death caused by heart attack was, or at least had been.
`` We - we'll have to run some tests. This is - this is unheard of.''
`` Why bother,'' Cunningham said, staring at the fate tattooed on his arm. `` This is our fate now.''
-- --
If I had a fatemark, it would say'check out my [ blog ] ( http: //theballadsofirving.com )'. Helpfully followed by a link.
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[ WP ] It 's game night at the Retirement Home For Fictional Badasses .
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The old men and women sat at the table arguing over what game they would play next, `` CHECKERS!' yelled an old man with a stump for a right hand, `` damn it Ash! that's all we ever play!' yelled an old warrior from across the table `` And there's a reason for that! you primitive screwhead!' Ash replied pointing his stump at the man; The warrior got up from his chair unsheathing his sword and bringing it crashing down on the table sending paper cups of water to their dooms, `` FUS RO Dahah'' the old warrior coughed, spitting his dentures out onto the table
`` Now look what you did! you old fool!' said an old lady sitting across from the warrior, her long greying braided hair flowed like a water fall down the back of her head, `` Guys I'm with Lara on this one, cant we just have a nice peacful game night for once?' spoke an old man who you could tell used to be handsome `` That's easy for you to say! you two always wan na play the same boring old history trivia games!' retorted Ash, flailing his stump in the air, `` Which is ironic since we're all ancient history now!' `` Well it's a subject I'm good at stumpy!' replied the once handsome old man `` Why I oughta blow you a new piehole for that Drake!' ranted Ash, reaching with his left hand for something on his back but then remembering there was nothing there anymore, `` SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!' the sound came from an old gentleman with a goatee and black horn rimmed glasses while holding his indext finger up to his lips across the room, `` Quiet you mute wizard!' scoffed the old warrior from the other side of the room, the old man with the glasses just rolled his eyes and got back to his cross word.
Just then, an old man was being escorted outside in the hallway back to his room `` RIP AND TEAR! RIP AND TEAR!' a nurse tried to calm him as she was pushing him on his wheel chair and at the same time an old battle worn man was watching his T.V cheering at the explosions and gun fire that seemed to be coming from the large box `` YEAH! get them damn nazis boys!' `` Mr Blaskowitz please turn down the television'' asked an orderly from across the room; A muscle bound old blonde man joined the table of retired badasses, he pulled out his chair while loudly chewing on some gum, `` What are we playing boys and lady'' the old man said looking seductively at the old woman `` uhh do n't you have some bimbo to chase Nukem?' groaned the old woman `` Nope just you honey'' replied the old man smiling `` Piss of Nukem! you damned line stealer!' screamed the old handless man `` I just made your lines better Ash, no need to get all upset about it'' `` why I oughta punch you in the-' the old man was interupted by the old warrior
`` let's play Dungeons & Dragons!' `` Shut up fancy pants! I got a score to settle with ol' Dukey here'' the old blonde man and the handless man both stood up but were soon broken up by a couple of orderlies `` Game nights over ladies and gentlemen get back to your rooms!' the old men and women all groaned and proceeded to slowly get up and walk back to there rooms.
This is my first story please go easy!
[ EDIT GRAMMAR ]
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[ WP ] After dying , you are born again with all of your knowledge . When you grow up you are labeled crazy and put in a mental institution .
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You jolt awake in a dream. Awaken by the buzzing sounds of florescent lights above you, covered in a reinforced metal grating. `` This again''.. I thought it was just a dream. Reality sets in as you try to sit up. It's the same scenario every time. Every single damn time.
Your straightjacket has been tightened to the point where your bones gently compress into each other slowly grinding with intense friction. The room was n't always this color. It used to be a clean white, with a subtle hint of bleach. It's been about 7 years.. maybe more. No way to tell when you're locked up. Everyone you've ever known thought you were insane. A freak of nature. Your parents watched as you screamed when they took you away.
You remember their faces as you were dragged by the men in suits, a shallow look in their faces hinted suggested that they'll never see you again, but your own parents were n't sad. They were gently grinning through the windows. They were afraid of you. Your friends, your teachers, your own parents.
Agent Lundy broke the silence on the way to the facility, `` You know too much kid, way too much''. You eyes could n't get a good look at his face since the tears have distorted your vision. `` I know'' you muttered..
`` Here's your new home, kid. Good luck, if I were you kid, I would keep your mouth shut''.
The car door opened, a man with syringe quickly poked your neck, the last thing you remember is screaming. You wake up, in a plain white room. A minor scent of bleach, a child sized straight jacket, and enough velcro for several hundred children's shoes.
This is my life.
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[ WP ] `` I saw a guy at Starbucks today . He had no smartphone , tablet , or laptop . He just sat there drinking his coffee . Like a psychopath . ''
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`` How much sleep have you been getting, hun?'' asked Jen, softly. She placed her hand on his cheek tenderly. `` Honestly, it's like you do n't know what to do with yourself when I'm gone.''
Daniel chuckled. `` I do n't. Picking up after the dog is nothing like picking up after you. There are n't socks and hair clips all over the place.''
`` Oh quiet. I can tell you miss me. I only have one more week though. The guys up high like to take their time. Meeting after meeting after pointless, fucking meeting.'' She sipped her coffee, grimacing slightly as it burned her tongue.
`` I understand, I understand. You guys can take your time. I'll try to keep the bed empty for you when you come back, promise.'' He crossed his pointer and middle finger together, grinning mischievously. She slapped his arm playfully, as they both stifled their laughs.
As their laughter subsided, a small smile hanging on Daniel's face, his eyes passed over the room. Small corner Starbucks, Saturday; busy as busy gets. Young and old filled the coffee shop. College students tick-and-tacked away on their laptops, young women sat in gaggles, chatting away, phones buzzed and rang. Something was off though. `` You see that guy in the corner booth? Red tie, brown jacket.'' Jen nodded, curious. `` I know this sounds stupid, but there's something about him. He does n't have an iPhone, or tablet, or laptop. Or even a book. He's just sitting there drinking his coffee.''
`` Maybe he just knows how to enjoy a good cup of coffee.''
`` Then why the hell is he at Starbucks?''
`` Oh.''
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[ WP ] The year is 2040 , and you are the last smoker alive . The `` Quit Smoking '' ads get personal .
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I rolled a joint and light it up. The flicker of flame lighted a sign on the sidewalk where I stood. Smoking is murder, it says. And my name was spraypainted underneath it in red.
I crossed the empty streets, not a soul to be seen. I expected as much, as i went along the sidewalk, with my face on posters denouncing my smoking. `` You'll kill us! Asshole! ``, one of them said.
Ironic that I'm the only smoker left on this world, and the only human left on this planet. I smile ruefully as I recall how the last few years went, as less smokers existed, they cheered and applauded, not knowing that reducing exposure to smoke made their lungs hypersensitive to other gasses and chemicals from power plants, factories and other equipment around them.
At first they blamed me, but as certain continents began to choke on their pollution, it was far too late.
I took another pull from my rolled up joint, noting the tar that is killing me slowly, is also my saviour, protecting me from the other carcinogens in the air.
But hey, who wants to live forever right?
I light up another.
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[ WP ] Tony Stark wakes up in the Game of Thrones universe . He does not have have any type of suit . Please indulge .
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'Bullshit!''
`` Sir?''
The strange man in the richly dressed clothing stopped, spun and pointed a finger as he exclaimed again. `` Bullshit!''
Nafin looked around for the offending feculence but saw nothing.
`` I'm sorry sir, I do n't understand.''
`` Do something with magic then if its real. Anything. Some sort of fire? Magic armor, fly?''
Nafin wished he had n't found the man, nor treated his head wound, or responded to his questions.
`` I ca n't use magic sir.''
`` That's what I'm saying. Now I need a telescope and a space to work. The best I can guess is some sort of temporal occurrence. Or... Have you ever heard of Odin.''
`` No sir.''
`` The nine realms? Dark Elves? Asgard? Americans? Forget it. And what the fuck is this plant? Do you have libraries? Steam engines?''
The man froze then picked up a rock and tossed it. He took a few deep breaths then clapped his hands together which made Nafin jump. The man rubbed his hands together quickly until he cursed under his breath.
`` Well my Shepard friend it appears gravity is the same, Oh-two content, and the laws of thermodynamics. Do you guys have magnets? You know bits of metal that stick together?''
`` We have blacksmiths...?''
`` Blacksmiths... Sure. Let's start there. Now tell me about this magic.''
`` It's this way sir? Sir.''
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[ WP ] After waking up one day , you find that any text you read will glow red if the person who wrote it is no longer alive . The trouble begins when you start browsing the internet ...
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Red, red, red, green, red. Yellow. That's a new one. Sort of makes you sorry for that guy, right? Fuck that guy, your words are yellow too, so who gives a shit. Jenny is in the kitchen, making coffee. She doesnt know I'm sick. I'll keep that one to myself. Jenny never did handle bad news well. At least I'm still yellow, not like red red red red. Fuck. There's more of them now than yesterday. Cincinnati, Istanbul, Sydney, Fucking Sakhalin Island. How bad is it going to get? At least I wo n't be around for it. Jenny though, she never deserved it. Maybe I should just tell her, make it my parting gift. No. Better that she just rename oblivious. But still, there's so much red...
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[ WP ] The invasion of Earth has finally begun but it is not the humans who are putting up the fiercest resistance .
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The moon quaked as gravity propulsion slowed the alien mothership down as it approached its target destination, the planet Earth. The skies were quiet. The planet was warm, some 4 degrees C warmer than humans are used to.
The aliens landed their ground forces in preparation for harvesting another world, providing raw resources for a galactic empire of a million worlds. This act would cause another mass extinction of the species of Earth. Indeed the ancestors of these aliens had been to this planet several times before, each time wiping out most of the planet's life as they extracted key resources. But each time the planet and its ecological diversity would heal.
But this time, this time things were different. There was a new species unlike any which had inhabited the planet before. A predator, which had dominion over all other animals. It would put up the greatest resistance the aliens ever faced, and after this battle the aliens would never return. The war was long and bloody and in the end the aliens in their stubborn determination eradicated the entire species and any other like it but at an enormous cost. The belligerent, the Galactic Alien Empire of Hovering Squid World 97a; the defenders the Tyrannosaurus Rex of Earth; casualties: 500,000,000 alien soldiers, and complete eradication of the Earth reptilian threat 65 million years ago.
tl; dr [ In the end it was not humans which defeated the aliens, but that humblest of all god's creatures, the Tyrannosaurus Rex ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=qxln3a7GyfI ).
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[ WP ] An 800 word essay on what not to do at a stoplight
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Do not jump out of the car.
Do not turn and fire blindly into the back seat. This will only serve to anger the Beast.
Definitely do n't shout for help. Remember at all times that the Beast is visible to you, and only to you. It may reveal its presence to others but it probably wo n't. It is in the Beast's interests to make other people think you're insane.
At all times remain calm. Never run out of ammunition, because that leads to Bad Times. Spell those Bad Times with capitals. That's how Bad it is.
Remember that you can not out-wrestle it. Those things were bred in a world you have no idea about. One characteristic they get from their environment is strength. Buckets of it. I mean, these guys are strong. And the fact that they have so many tentacles only serves to make them impossible to kill in hand to hand combat. Trust me. I've tried.
So sit calm, eyes forward, and wait for the light to turn green. Drive to the closest police station and turn yourself in. You might be safe in one of the cells.
Remember that things will get rough when the car stops. The Beast hates the colour red, and the Beast likes it when the car is moving. To minimise this just drive real slow. Inch forward. But do n't cross that line or the police will come for you. It's a tricky thing to balance but I have faith in you.
If you have jumped out of the car, most likely screaming, most likely shooting, just remember that you should not hit the Beast with fire, iron, salt or wood. Those things only serve to make it stronger. Instead you should try to use a tablecloth to cover the thing. If it ca n't see you it might calm down.
Might.
Probably wo n't.
So do n't stop running. Do n't ditch the gun – it'll be evidence – but do n't wave it around. Stash it somewhere on your person, like an inside pocket. You might need it later when bartering with the Russians. No one hunts the Beasts as well as the Russians. Do n't try to deal with anyone who is n't a Russian because they will give you substandard equipment. At worst they wo n't know what a Beast is and they'll try to sell you something made of Iron. Iron is good for ghosts, not good for Beasts.
So that's not what to do at a stop light when the Beast has made a home on your backseat.
Assuming that you've followed the advice so far you'll be driving on from the stop light with it half asleep. If you go over a bump, or make any sort of harsh turn, you might wake it up. If you do just remember – it will stop strangling you as soon as you are able to lull it back to sleep with the motion of the car.
I could write a lot more on exact Beast hunting techniques, or road etiquette, but all that will be useless if you do n't get out of your current predicament. As soon as you're safe find a phone and get in touch with me. You know the number.
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[ WP ] Instead of colonizing the New World in 1492 , Europeans gave Native Americans modern knowledge and sailed away . They return 200 years later .
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+In the year of our Lord 1694, we sailed back to the New Land. The terrible wars that raged across Europe had finally burnt out. The bitter fruits of war fell with the pillage of France and the numb slaughter of the French peoples whose blood roared like rivers in the black sewers beneath her slaughtered streets. We killed the infidels until the iron broke in our hands. Until there were no more to be found. And at last, peace fell on our thirsted tongues.
In the East, the sons and cousins of the last Caliph, Mustafa IV, have been long locked in bitter bloodline wars, urged on by the Great Turk's slow-death sickness, his insane misgovernance and our gold and the whispers of our spies. They, the Christian Kings, were not going to make the Greek Mistake to awaken the Sick Man. instead we would sail West, past the Horns, back to open clean waters and let our blood soaked fields rest.
In the year of our Lord 1694, we hanged the French King from a short rope, may the Devil take him, and his minions we pulled apart on horses like mayflies, then we consulted our logs and unfurled our sails. In the West, the monks sang, was a land with the wealth we needed to bring strength back to our Kingdoms. We also needed slaves to farm our lands and build our walls; in the West there were creatures who were not quite made in God's image but were supplicant and human-like strong of form. The Christian people melted their plows to beat into chains for the slaves we would shepherd back to our land.
The great ships of Britain, the Danish, Spain and the Italian Peoples cut long broad arrows in the plane of seas. Every nation had the flower of its armies there, because no one trusted another country to have its best legions behind. It was a mistake. For many a month, we braved great walls of water in the terrible storms that curtained the northern route through the Western seas. Noble knights who survived a dozen battles vanished from the deck screaming obscenity or died mere shells of men from exposure and sickness. Great ships capsized with terrible groans and splintering carapaces. The seas were carpeted with blooms of brightly gowned soldiers during some days; the cold seas are indeed stirred by the fingers of damnation. We saw the Devil on red hornned clouds as storms brewed in that chest.
We stopped often by islands to take on water and exercise our great warhorses, of which fewer and fewer were left. We saw sails on the horizon but we were thirsting for land. The great navy captains were dead or sick, we sought land like a drowning lion. And so, it was with great fevered prayers of thanks that we reached a big broad bay of land in the 102th day. A ferny tree grew all along the water's edge on sand. The sand was pure white. The forest beyond was green of a thrilling shade. It was exactly how the logs of 200 years ago recorded it.
We stood watching as a figure detached itself from the brilliant darkness of the forest. It walked down to the water's edge. It was a average-looking savage, neither richly adorned but the cloak was well made and deep colored, he was neither old or young, nor brave or afraid.
He stood on one leg looking at the bay crowded with creaking war ships of every Christian nation. When a commander finally stood before him, with a group of Christian soldiers and warrior priests, the man cracked open his pouch and pulled out an old, yellowed book. It was a Bible. It was a Bible missing great chunks of pages. The man said haltingly in Latin,
`` My name is Peter. I am the greatest scholar on this continent. I am the Keeper of your history. I have been left here to warn you. We knew one day you would return. We read your history ( Peter pointed to the Bible ) and understood your violent avarice. You are savages and you killed the Last Perfect Man for gold and commission.
When we saw you two months out near the Banana Islands, we mobilized our entire armies. They have taken the southern route on the ships we built based on what you taught us, taking just enough food on our ships for all the men. We have been preparing for this for 200 years.
Soon they will land in Y'rope. When you return, we would have killed as many of your fathers, mothers, wives and children using our cavalry and iron weapons, as we can. None of them expected to return. In the trees are ten thousand warriors who will attack when you cut me down. Beyond that, a hundred thousand. None of us here expect to survive. And neither will you, because there is no food left. We burned everything. We killed our young and infirm. There is nothing left.''
Peter put his face into his hands and wept. `` Why God of Jerusalem, did you put so much mischief and greed, and so little wisdom in your sons the Men? From this day on, because of the little You have taught us, like putting knives into the hands of children, we are locked in a clumsy dance of death.''
Peter tugged a knife from his sleeve and lunged at the nearest man.
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[ WP ] Once a day , you receive a text message from yourself , six minutes in the future .
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At the bar with Larry after a short shift together at work. Four hours, in and out, with enough time to catch the last few innings of the game. I'm hardly watching the game, the Cubs are losing as usual and i'm trying to drown out Larry's Cardinals talk with my beer. We both finish up our beers at about the same time and glance at each other.
`` I assume you've got the next round'' Larry chuckles, tapping his empty bottle with one finger.
I am about to respond as I hear my phone buzz on the bar. I slide my screen on to see a text from my own number, time stamped six minutes in the future.
`` Just in Time'' I think as I open the message; `` Cubs win 3-2''. I smile and shut my phone, looking up.
`` Tell you what Larry,'' I grin, `` you're a betting man are n't you?''
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[ EU ] Tell the story of Seto , defender of Cosmo Canyon .
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DONGS, where are you DONGS? I wish to tell you the story of your brave father.
*For the fiftieth time, my name is Nanaki, remember? Sweet mother earth you said you were there when my parents named me, and now you're stuck on a dumb joke that a guy with an airplane wing for a sword told you. *
Settle down now, Red, when you reach my age you'll start forgetting things too, but the story of your brave father is n't one of them.
*My name's not - oh forget it. Go on? *
Yes, yes, Seto, he was the defender of our home, you know? A brave warrior, strong and fast and fierce, but selfless above all. Once a sorcerer trapped his brother's soul, and he traveled to a distant island and fought tooth and nail to rescue him. Wait, it was n't tooth and nail, it was with cards. Yes! With cards! He battled card battlers and defeated them with his wits to save his brother's soul!
*Bugenhagen that's the plot to a children's anime you realize. Do you remember the story or not? *
Hmm? Oh right, right, it's so hard getting names mixed up, between one Seto and another. Yes! Here's a story you've never heard before. we know him as Seto, but before he went by another name, Blue XII.
*Bugen that does n't make any goddamn sense, I got named Red XIII by that crazy scientist guy who experimented on me. And caged me. And starved me. You know, the one trying to kill the earth itself? Why in the name of the sweet loving earth would father have a nickname like that? *
Oh, you never know, your father Seto, he was a strange on. If only you knew him.
*Bu, please answer this honestly, how goddamn high are you right now? *
Eight. Maybe nine. But you know who else is stoned right now?
*Oh merciful earth why did I walk into this. *
Your father!
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[ WP ] A young teenager bullIed relentlessly , wishes one night in bed to Die so he doesnt have to face pain anymore . Remarkably Death appears to explain to him the importance of life and why he needs to live
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The pivotal moment of my life is one I would not care to admit to most people at the risk of being dismissed as insane. I do n't know what happened that night, frankly, I just know I would n't be here if that night's series of events were any different.
Being a small, weak, introverted teen, I was bullied relentlessly. I could n't walk ten feet without being called a fag or told to kill myself. To the normal person, this does n't seem like much, but eventually it gets to you; I was ready to take their advice.
I went home that day crying, as I was publicly humiliated for the sake of popularity. I felt vestigial; no one would miss me. Not being accepted, I did n't go to parties, and as a result did n't dress a lot. The last time I remember wearing anything special was 4 years previous at my Bar Mitzvah. As a result, I did n't really have a belt to commit the deed with. I looked around for a tool to use, and decided that I would just use the chord to my keyboard. It was short, sure, but it would get the job done.
Even though I was suicidal, I did n't want to deal with the pain. In my tormentor's words, I was too much of a pussy. I just wanted to fade out -- just have life end. As a result, I downed half a bottle of Tylenol. It was way more than the dose I would ever need, but fuck it, I was going to die anyways. To tell you the truth, I do n't know how many pills I took, I just kinda downed two large handfuls. All I can tell you was it was way more than I needed.
I tell you about the pain meds for one reason. That night death visited me. I am sure of it. 100 % sure of it. I try to tell myself that the exorbitant dosage of acetaminophen resulted in vivid hallucinations... But I know the truth somewhere deep enough: I was visited.
I was visited by Death that day. Death with a capital d. Mr. Death. I was disconnecting my keyboard from my computer when I was tapped on the back.
Death had a remarkably human appearance. He did n't look dissimilar to me, actually. He looked like any other reject you'd call a loser if you ever saw them at a restaurant: he was tall, about 6'3'', slim, and did n't look like he could lift more than a hundred pounds of the ground.
`` Do n't be like me'' the poor bastard said. `` Be ambitious. Become somebody. Do you really want to be a pussy like they all said you were? Do n't use the cowards way out.''
I feel I responded like most people high off of some pain meds would in this situation: a simple `` dude, who the fuck are you?''
In retrospect, that was a really stupid thing to say to a guy you really do n't want to piss off. At the time, my hindered brain thought nothing of it.
Death took this in stride though, brushing it off with a chuckle: `` You do n't need to know who I am.'' In fact, Death never told me his identity; I would only figure out who this mysterious man was after the fact.
Death moved to grab something out of the pocket of his tattered jeans. He pulled out a folded up piece of paper. Well, at first I thought it was a piece of paper. As Mr. Death unfolded the paper, I realized what it was -- a picture. A picture of a man and his beautiful wife and two beautiful children, one girl around seven and a boy around five. The girl's name was Madeline and the boys name Steven, though I had no idea how I knew this. The woman's name was Sophia, though I had n't the slightest clue how I knew this either. The house was in a small town of just 8000 people called Lideniburg. The car in the driveway was a 2024 Mustang -- wait, how'd I know that? We were 8 years of that car even being announced. Then it clicked... This was me.
Death looked amused watching me cycle through emotions. His response was just eight words, though I'll never forget them. The are branded on my brain forever: `` Now do you see what you can become?''
Death then faded out of sight and out of mind as I blacked out. I saw what I could become. I saw what life could bring me. After this encounter I walked around and I did n't give a fuck what others thought about me, and I'm a better man for it. That was ten years ago now. I'm 28. My wife is the aforementioned Sophia, beautiful as ever, and my two precious kids are the wonderful Madeline and Steven. My car is that 2024 Mustang that I souped up for fun. I'll forever thank Death for that night. He made life worth living. He also seems to have spared me from permanent liver damage, but that's another topic.
Take my experience as a lesson for your life: death is nothing to fear, but do not openly seek it. Look to live as long as possible. Leave your mark on history. Love your family. Be someone.
* * *
I deviated a little bit from the in bed part, but I was n't thinking about that when writing. Let me know what you think.
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[ WP ] Write a story based on your favourite song . Other people have to guess which song it is .
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Ahh... Yes, I remember. I remember when that ginormous robot came rampaging through the country. It was the biggest thing I've ever seen. There were hookers in it feet, drug addicts on its calves. Hell, it had police stationed in its knees. The only protection it had was a bulletproof west. But that's not the weird part. The weird part was the fact that there are rumors that a person was driving that thing. I do n't think so, simply because how big it was and the fact that we never saw any people above the stomach region.
It started all the way over in Chicago and started walking towards DC. Every time it walked through a slump, it just got weirder. The police was doing drive-bys on its thighs, there were gang shootouts on its hips. It was a living, breathing ghetto. But then it approached DC, that's when Congress had enough. That's when they authorized Regan 3000. That's when they let authorized turning the White House into a Transformer. That's a sight I'll never want to see again. It had nukes. It had flamethrowers. It shot helium bombs as if it were an AK-47. The battle lasted days. And here is the frighting part: The Ghetto *retreated*. The Ghetto is still out there, just biding its time, waiting for a time where Congress wo n't authorize Regan 3000 and take over the world
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[ WP ] The Summer Equinox is the day when the Sun is high in the sky for the longest time in the year . This really sucks for vampires .
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`` You know, I sunburn real easy,'' Moira explained nervously. She took a step back, accidentally bumping into her desk, and into the sliver of sunlight slipping in between the curtains. That burned. She jumped quickly forward in surprise.
She leaned back on her desk, carefully avoiding the light this time. She could n't help noticing the odd look on her boss' face. What did he suspect? Moira tried to look natural.
`` It really is a shame, what with this gorgeous day,'' she continued, `` but I really do n't have the time.'' She gestured towards the paperwork that had been piling up on her desk for the past week. That had to be enough reason for her to stay in today.
Her boss sighed. `` That's what I've been trying to tell you Moira. It's called time *off*.'' He picked up a report from the stack. `` See this?'' he pointed at the date, `` it's been on hold since last *Thursday*. It can surely wait another week, do n't you think? What you need is to *relax*, go outside, have some fun. You ca n't be all work, work, work all the time, can you?''
`` Oh yes, I can, sir.'' Moira replied, straightening her jacket. `` There's a lot of work to be done around here, and there's nothing you can do to stop me,'' she said firmly. Now, that ought to do it.
There was that strange look again. Was it suspicion? He conceded, `` At least open up the blinds! It's not every day the sun comes out like this in Alaska. We've got to take advant-''
Moira panicked. `` Oh that's quite alright, sir. You do n't need to do that,'' she interrupted, `` I do n't like the way the light reflects on my computer screen.'' She eyed him suspiciously, congratulating herself on her fast thinking. *Did he know? He must. *
Her boss shrugged, confused. `` Alright then, just do n't be afraid to give yourself a break every once in a while alright? Would n't want you having a burnout, now.''
Burnout? *What was that supposed to mean? * Moira gave a nervous chuckle, `` Oh, we *both* know that's the last thing I would want, sir.''
Her boss nodded in agreement and left her office, gently shutting the door. She really was a strange one. He'd seen workaholics before, but nothing like this. He'd have to watch out for her.
Finally alone, Moira sighed with relief as she readjusted the blinds. *He already knew too much. * She'd have to watch out for him, too.
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[ WP ] You live in Madagascar , the only place untouched by a deadly disease that has been wiping out the entire world .
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It happened so fast, everything. Me leaving my job, purchasing a plane ticket for Mozambique in search of fulfillment, adventure, in search of something, anything that wasn ’ t as dreadful as the tragic monotony of my everyday life.
They don ’ t know how it started, or where. Or maybe they weren ’ t around long enough to find out. I heard rumors, though, and I saw how the world reacted, from my own bubble of sorts. At the beginning, a few days after I ’ d made it to Antananarivo by boat, on the television…. *Viral epidemic sweeps the eastern United States*. People thought that it was just a hoax, one of those viral outbreaks you ’ d hear about over in Beijing or Saudi Arabia but would never amount to anything. Just another bird flu. But then it turned into panic, desperation, hysteria. *Scientists frantically searching for the origin of this outbreak*. *The President has been infected. * It took only a few days to hear the word epidemic change to pandemic. *The death tolls rising to the billions. * *About 45 percent of the world thought to be infected. * *Autopsies reveal that the outbreak is caused by a bacterium, not a virus. * *Good, * I thought, they were finally catching on. From what I knew, though, Madagascar was fine, untouched, really. They closed their shipyards the first day they heard the news. They weren ’ t going to take any chances, and they were smart.
*Yersinia pestis*, I heard, but not the same as the one from the Middle Ages. This one was somehow resistant to all means of antibiotics, the ultimate drug-resistant superbug, one that somehow yielded all sorts of symptoms, pneumonic, septicemic, and bubonic. Nobody stood a chance. Once infected, they ’ d be gone within a few hours.
It ’ s a shame, really, to have been sitting back and watching the world deteriorate around me, when the things I could see, physically, remained untouched. I was sure that Madagascar wasn ’ t safe for long, though. Because this bug wasn ’ t carried by rats or fleas, it was carried in every sort of way imaginable. Through physical contact, through air, able to form botulism-type spores capable of withstanding even the most adverse physical conditions. Much like the ones I had with me in my front pocket, in a flask.
You see, that monotonous job I had was at the NIH, in a section affiliated with the government, genetically engineering viruses to use as potential biological warfare agents. I began a side-project of my own, and here we are. I ’ ll just wait a few more days, or weeks, and see how I feel about sharing my knowledge. Maybe they ’ ll be able to find a cure on their own, or die trying. They don ’ t see how simple it is, really, to find a cure. When you ’ re under a deadline, it ’ s almost magical how much work you accomplish. It was too bad I wasn ’ t able to find the cure in time for my former lab members, but after infecting myself, it worked out just fine. And here I am, a living testament to human strength and vitality. I hope there will be others left to join me. The world is a messy place suffering from its own plague. I'm just trying to expedite the process.
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[ WP ] At birth , everyone is assigned a randomly-placed respawn point , which works until the age of 70 . Yours is at the top of Mt . Everest .
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The slow and degrading illness had been hard on us both. She had gone from a happy, go lucky mother and grandmother, who enjoyed bingo and the odd glass of wine. To housebound, lonely, ghost of her former self. We always stayed strong when together, but to see her like that was difficult. I often cried in the back bedroom, surrounded by pictures of us and our grandchildren, smiling at me from the walls. Although I always managed to dry my eyes before going back in to see her, she often had trails of tears that had been wiped when I returned.
“ It will be ok ” and “ who knows you could spawn somewhere nice! ” were the topic of the conversations I had in the final few hours, while her breathing had slowed and she was now unable to speak. We both knew that 99 % of spawn points were places that would n't support life, most people were destined to go through the continuos cycle until they were 70. We did n't speak about it, but I'm sure we both thought about it.
At 2:32am on Wednesday June the 23rd, in a bleak hospital ward, the life that had been so colourful came to an end. I had held her hand, happy that I was the last person that she saw, even if the drugs had made it almost impossible for her to recognise me, I was sure she had looked at me and smiled. That smile that had accompanied the arrival of our children, christenings, the announcements of promotions, exam results, and of course children, was the last thing she did. I sat and looked at her body, the tears that had been hidden in that back room flowed free here, I sat and wept. The body began to become more and more transparent and then eventually it disappeared and I was sat in a cold, empty room. I never did like being alone, or cold.
I arrived home to what was our home, but was now mine. I had no idea where to even begin, the children had offered to come around, but I needed to be alone for a while. I sat watching nothing the phone began to ring.
“ Frank…. ” The voice on the other end of the line….
“ AMANDA ” the backroom tears began again.
“ Those speedos are too tight ”, Amanda had commented before we left the hotel room. I Winked while suggesting “ I could always take them off ”. She half groaned half laughed, as she tuned her back on me starting towards the door of the hotel. It was recommended that we did n't fly for a month after a resurrection, that meant our stay in Barcelona was covered by the insurance company. I made my way past the thin and full length mirror, I looked down at my well tanned and 68 year old body, bits had begun to look much older than I had liked, my torso had thinned, enough so that some of my ribs were showing, beneath a patch of wire like, gray speckled, chest hair. When we got into the lift I pressed the button for the ground floor. From the 32nd floor it was a good while down, we looked at each other, and held each other. Since her return we had appreciated each other much more. We hugged, kissed and made love more. Life was the best it had ever been.
There was a sharp, short, and metallic bang above us, I looked at the digital floor indicator, 27. The following sharp jolt made us look at each other. I saw her swallow, we did n't talk about it, but we both thought about it I'm sure. My stomach lurched as the lift began to fall, I stumbled, my hands scrambled on the sides of the lift for some kind of hand hold. We looked into each other's eyes.
“ It'll be ok ”
Those where the last words I heard. Now I play them over and over in my head again, as I fall to my death, for at least another year and a half. Maybe one day the snow will fall and cushion my drop, but then will I make it down that mountain wearing these speedos?
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[ WP ] Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross were actually prolific serial killers . For years , they secretly communicated through their respective television shows about their plans , victims , and close calls using a code only they understood .
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`` So Bob, uh... I hope you do n't mind me asking this, but just how many *have* you killed? I'm asking out of pure professional curiosity, you understand.''
Bob Ross poked his head out from behind his easel and leveled a stern gaze at Mr. Rodgers.
`` I'll never finish this portrait if you keep talking.''
Mr. Rodgers gave an apologetic half-smile and closed his mouth obediently.
`` If you must know, I'll let you in on a little secret, though.'' Bob said as he resumed painting once more. `` I paint a happy little tree for every victim I've claimed.''
Mr. Rodgers gave a low whistle, surprised. That was ***a lot*** of happy little trees and even more very unhappy parents.
Silence grew between them for one long moment before Bob's curiosity got the better of him.
`` You?''
`` Every time I kill I take my shoes off on national television.'' There was no trace of emotion in that sentence and Bob put his brush down as he tried to wrap his mind around it.
`` But... you *always* take your shoes off when you start your show! You ca n't mean...?!'' He peered around his easel again.
Mr. Rodgers gave him a big grin.
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[ TT ] Your implants begin to fail . Soon , you 'll be a normal human .
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The cityscape was awash in a brilliant fluorescence. Information bombarded Juno from every angle and not just the corporeal. The intangible was there also if not in a greater amount. Skyscrapers jutted up, cutting holes in the grey sky. Shimmering across their surface was a hundred different advos. Clouds that wandered in between those man made canyons also sported their own info.
*Elect John Johnson* said one sporting the face of a handsome middle aged male. His eyes glowed menacingly blue from the cybernetic implants. *Drink Electroade! * screamed another cloud. A well endowed woman slurped a neon green liquid, droplets fell lazily off her chin landing on her half exposed breasts. *Resist conformity! * boasted another advo, *Buy Ecce Brand Dish Soap. *
So many shining ads, pulsating across the visible spectrum at the crawling masses below. The street was lined with arrows moving just over the surface indicating the direction of traffic. A crosswalk painted the street green and dozens of people moved like flamingos across the dense city route.
Everything was moving the world was alive, but Juno ignored it all. For her this was how the world was, lights and color, exuberant flourish, it was commonplace. She moved among the packs of other humans down the city streets. Her auditory implants blasted some old retro rock band called Foo Fighters. Her eyes glowed green, which matched her neural lacework that covered much of her body. Like a circuit board tattooed across her neck, chest, and arms the lacework transmitted every bit of internal and external stimulus her body received.
The day was shaping up to be an ordinary one for Juno. Thursday's were always trite with monotony. Not that she minded, no Juno actually welcomed it. Life was chaotic enough between nightly escort and daily postman jobs. Thursday's were simple, because they signified Syncopation.
Sporting all this hardware was n't easy, it required maintenance and regular backups; Sychopation. Normally a monthly to bimonthly check up was satisfactory, but Juno had much more hardware than the average Cyborg. In fact of her whole hefty one hundred and eighty pounds, sixty two was synthetic. So weekly check ups for her was necessary.
The outside world fell away as Juno walked through double doors into the clinic. Inside the walls were white, laced with single line advos that scrawled across lazily.
*Elect John Johnson! Elect John Johnson! Friend of the working man! * Juno shook her head disdainfully. Of course there would always be men like that. Claiming to be a friend of the working class, while robbing them blind as they slept. Johnson was worse than most too, he may claim to be a friend of the proletariat, but he was most certainly an enemy of the'borgs. Typical xenophobic except with a large bank account and actual power. Should he be elected Juno figured life would only get worse for her kind.
`` Hello, name?'' Said a woman with indigo hair. Her eyes were brown and lackluster, human. Juno did n't recognize her as the usual receptionist.
`` Juno Nobunaga.'' Said June simply, returned the receptionists smile. `` Where's the other lady?''
`` Oh Crystal?'' Replied indigo, `` She recently parted ways with Sychoney.
*And by that you mean fired. * Juno's neurons fired, but the words never passed her lips. It mattered little.
Indigo continued, `` I see you here, Ms. Nobunaga for 11:30. Excellent your specialist will be with you momentarily.''
Going to Sychopation one would expect something similar to a doctor's office, patients table, sink with all the little jars full of fluff and tongue depressors, the works. In reality it was much more like a blood and plasma donation center. Rows of inclined chairs sprawled out down a long rectangular room. Each seat came accompanied by a slurry of colored wires and server base. The specialist, more commonly called a *Jacker*, would move from chair to chair fixing wires to bores, monitoring back ups, and occasionally soliciting organ donations.
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[ IP ] A Good Death
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The shrill cries of the Calthae echoed all around Tarn, angry and foreboding, they would attack soon. But he did not hear them. His mind was somewhere else.
His mind was on the distant shores of his home, where the seagulls called, the waves crashed gently against the rocks and his child laughed in his arms. He remembered his wife's words as she smiled.
`` I love you Tarn Hammerfell, come back to us.''
But there would be no coming back now. He was the last one left in the 1st Marine Expeditioneries. Lost, alone, and hopelessly surrounded in a far off land.
Different memories came to his mind. Memory of a father in law's stern words.
`` Be the man I think you are and I shall treat you as a son. But abandon her, leave her, hurt her in anyway and your soul will know no rest.'' Turns out he would n't be able to..
A snapping branch behind Tarn interrupted the day dream. He tightened his grip on his swords, the cold steel tight against his hands.
The soft sound of a foot gently pressing into the grass came close behind him. Tarn spun sword coming up and severing the arm of the approaching Calthae, the second sword followed slicing through its abdomen.
The beast fell to ground whimpering and clawing at its vacant stomach, its cry reminded Tarn of a dying goat. Tarn stabbed both swords down ending the beasts misery.
Several other Calthae were backing away slowly and hissing in displeasure. Tarn surveyed the area around him. All around the large Calthae creatures hooted, hissed, and cried at him, their anger had intensified at the death of the one Tarn had killed.
Suddenly a loud clear horn rang out over the top of the monsters and they all fell silent, tilting their heads to the sky as if listening.
Then all at once with a synchronization that sent a chill down Tarns back they turned their eyes to him.
For a long moment they stood silently staring down at him. Not a sound was made, no crow cawed in the distance, no leaf fell, it seemed that the forest itself was holding its breath.
Then from behind a tree came a woman, walking between the trees and monsters with the grace of a dancer. The Calthae seemed not to notice her, as if she were a ghost, and still they did not move.
As she neared he noticed her clothing, a thin dress of the purest white, and wrapped in a long scarf that wove around her entire body.
As she drew nearer he noticed her face, it was beautiful. She seemed faintly familiar, as if he had seen her once before in a crowd. He noticed her eyes, the most sparkling blue eyes he had ever seen.
Yet for all her beauty his heart did not stir. He thought only of his Elana far away, and his son Tafel.
The woman was now ten feet in front of him, smiling. Tarn tightened his grip on his swords, they dripped with Calthae blood.
She held up her hands gesturing peace and spoke `` Hello Tarn.''
Tarn stumbled a step back. How could she know his name? Who is this woman?
She spoke again `` I've been waiting for this moment for a long time.''
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[ WP ] You woke up with no indication of who you are , or what you were doing . All you see is a note in your hand that said , `` Memory erases every hour ; Save her ''
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The angry hissing of snakes startled David and he scrambled to his feet, cowering in fear. Sweat dripped from his brow and he immediately clutched his throat against the suffocating heat. He looked around the orange, metal room and squinted in confusion. There were no snakes, just a note. He looked at it, blinking as sweat dripped off his face.
`` Memory erases every hour; Save her''.
The metallic vents he was standing on let out wisps of sickly grey smoke that twisted acrobatically in the air and disappeared. Another hiss sent a gust of smoke into the air and into the endless pipes that twisted and turned around the tall room.
He dropped the note and stumbled down the sloped corridor outside. More pipes twisted and turned down narrow corridors and the relentless heat made the walls burn. Despite his lack of balance, he was careful not to touch the burning walls.
The ground trembled and seemed to drop, and with it, David's heart rose to his mouth. He swallowed hard, holding his hands out to steady himself. A light pulsed, bathing the corridors in a sickening mix of blue and orange that was only exacerbated by the screaming sirens that whined overhead. His ears went numb from the relentless cacophony of hissing and screaming as he climbed a staircase to the floor above.
The air was slighter cooler up here and the metallic grates made way for yellow, rusted steel. He followed the pathway around and bumped straight into a strange, old man.
`` It's out of control, you have to stop it!'' Grabbing the loose buttoned shirt David wore, the old man pleaded with him.
`` I do n't...'' David paused, his eyes narrowed and his mind blank. *Who am I? What's going on? *
Panic washed over him. He swallowed hard again as the old man searched his face for an answer. When he did n't receive one, he took a step back, shaking his head.
`` It got you too... my god.'' He glanced over his shoulder at a second man who had shuffled into view. `` It's got the Captain too.''
The second man turned his attention from his companion to David and back again. His skin stretched tight against his bony face and David could see his temples pulsing as the man clenched his teeth together.
`` Take him to the bridge.''
`` But sir --''
`` Now.'' He shouted, an air of threat in his voice. He narrowed his gaze. `` That's an order.''
The first man sighed and gestured for David to follow him.
He was led through several blank, square rooms before taking a staircase up and a second even higher. The old man grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He was clearly annoyed at his order and even more so by David's apparent memory loss but he carried out the order nonetheless. David's head spun and he could feel nausea building in the pits of his stomach as the door swung open. He gasped.
Empty, black space. Stars glistened in the distance and far below a large crescent of a planet hid the majority of a sun that struggled to stay relevant in the vastness of space. Ever growing shadows grew ominously in the large, empty space of the bridge. The sirens were muffled by the reinforced steel walls that surrounded him and gave his ears a well deserved break. The bridge was empty and the faint smell of burning metal filled the air. David looked around, his mind refusing to let up on the note.
*Memory erases every hour*
David looked around the abandoned bridge, the ground was covered in a strange, purple liquid. He turned back to the old man.
`` What happened here?''
`` The suspension fluid from Cylinder 67 has leaked and caused a major time dilemma, over there. We were hoping you'd have the knowledge to fix it.''
`` The... I do n't understand.'' David said in dismay, struggling to piece together the technical jargon the man spewed at him so casually. The old man tried to hide a tut and failed.
`` You need to remember or we're all doomed. You need to remember Captain David. For all our sake.'' He turned and left the room, leaving David to his fragmented thoughts.
David felt a flicker of knowledge at the words, just a tiny fragment. He turned and picked up a nearby notepad, stuffing it in his pocket as he approached the machine in the corner of the room. It whirred slightly and coughed a cloud of metallic smoke in the air. He turned his head and coughed against the stench.
Snatching a nearby pen, he quickly wrote the words `` Memory erases every hour'' before stuffing it back in his pocket as quickly as he had written the words.
Fragments of his memory slowly starting to piece together as the minutes ticked by. He needed a password to overwrite the computer and stop the leak. *What was it? * He thought to himself. His mind suddenly clicked. The password. `` Save her''
He grabbed the pen and scribbled the words on the paper, he ripped it from the pad and stood up, looking around for the console to enter the words. He found it and hurried over. As he did, time seemed to slow and distort.
The world was ripped apart before his eyes and darkness swallowed and consumed him. He felt himself falling, snakes slid out from the shadows and surrounded him. He felt the slimy scales brush up against his arms and their tongues flicked against his face. Heat surrounded him and he heard the angry hissing of the snakes as they threatened to strike.
David scrambled to his feet, cowering in fear. Sweat dripped from his brow and he immediately clutched his throat against the suffocating heat. He looked around the orange, metal room and squinted in confusion. There were no snakes, just a note. He looked at it, blinking as sweat dripped off his face.
`` Memory erases every hour; Save her''
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[ WP ] A medieval castle is under siege . The attacking army ? Every animal in the forest .
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I recall the day our kingdom fell,
Not just the walls, they were simply a shell.
I of course refer to the kingdom of man,
By the fang and bite of the Animal Clan.
We should've shot down the owl scouts,
Rang the bell to drown out macaw shouts.
We should've noticed our pets were silent,
The signs were clear when the hounds grew violent.
At first, they picked us off quiet and quick,
The flea, the ant, the blood sucking tick.
Swarms of bee, spider and other insect,
The snakes from the sewers we did not expect.
Then came the thunder, rumble and rattle,
Bears, deer and boar all hungry for battle.
We rang the bell, and the archers positioned,
But, for this fight we were never conditioned.
Soldiers stood by as rams smashed the gate,
No time to question why this was our fate.
The rams broke through, in the cougars did pour,
Not far from then, the vultures would soar.
The beasts spared none, they targeted all,
Men, women and children they would maul.
What little escaped forever lived in fear,
Of the paw, the claw, the antler of deer.
Some claim it was rabies that caused this scene tragic,
Some claim it was wizardry, sorcery and magic.
Some claim it was a vicious attack of revenge,
Some claim it will happen again.
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[ WP ] There 's a door you 've walked by a thousand times and it 's always been locked . Today it was n't .
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`` No entry,'' the words were scrawled on a piece of paper in black marker. It was the office next to mine and I had never really been too curious about what was inside. My boss said that it had been someone else's office before, but they were going to rennovate it eventually. Out of curiousity, last May I tried the door knob, but it was locked. And that was that, it was out of my mind.
Until today, that is. Today, when I stayed late at work after everyone had left so I could finish an important project. I was clicking away on my keyboard when I heard a series of distinct thuds on the wall I shared with the closed office. That was odd. They say curiousity killed the cat but I'm no cat. I turned the knob and `` click!'' it opened. What the hell?
Something shot in between my feet as I opened the door, a blur of orange and white, screeching as it scrambled out of the room. I flipped on the lights, greeted by an empyt room and the sight of a dangling ceiling panel where it was obvious the cat had dropped through. Great, I guess I've got to catch this thing now.
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[ CW ] Write a 300-500 word story in 15 minutes or less !
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My hands are tied and there ’ s a pistol right in front of me. Just great! I guess even he fucks up sometimes. I look up at the man holding the gun and gulp. Yep, looks pissed off! What the hell did I do? Shit!
“ So?'' he says. `` Are you going to tell me what I need to know? ”
“ What exactly? ”
“ Do n't fuck with me, Jason! Who sent you? ”
“ Yeah, about that… Jason, huh? So he actually talked to you first? Anyway, I don ’ t know and can ’ t know that ’ s sort of the point. ”
“ What the hell are you on about? ” He presses the barrel to my temple. “ I don ’ t appreciate your humour. Not after what you did at the bar! ”
“ How many did I kill? ”
“ Seven. ” His voice cracks up. “ Just who the fuck are you? ”
“ I ’ m Simon, an accountant at a small law firm. That ’ s all. You need the other guy. ”
The man sits down. His hands are trembling. I think I know why. I ’ ve only seen footage once, but that was one time too many.
“ I assume you knocked me out. That ends the effect, ” I continue. “ There is a bottle of pills in the bag that was on me. Give me one and you can speak to Jason. Or you can shoot me right here. It ’ s your choice. I don ’ t mind either way. I ’ m tired of this anyway. They wouldn ’ t ever let me quit. ”
He takes the pills out of the bag.
“ Don ’ t assume you ’ re safe just because I ’ m tied up. You ’ ve seen what he can do, that ’ s not the worst of it either. Only do this if you have no other choice. ”
He hands me the pill.
“ Good luck, ” I say and swallow.
Everything goes black.
I come to on my bed, back in my apartment. Bloody hands, a sharp pain my side, a big stack of cash on the table. Yeah, I guess he didn ’ t make it.
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[ WP ] Telepathy was invented when you were sixty . Twenty years later , you 're still refusing to join the Hive Mind .
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I heard it again—that high-pitched ringing that precedes a short, brilliant burst of white light in the atmosphere. It ’ s a psychic energy discharge ( “ psycharge ” as some of the newscasters have attempted to call it ) that occurs when three thousand or more people are linking up in a thirty-mile radius. The teletypes say that when it occurs, it feels something like a small tremor that ripples through the invisible network of joiners. I ’ ve never believed that it was fully explained by Cellco, which created the ubiquitous metal helmets everyone wears to activate humans ’ latent psychic abilities. I heard about this invention twenty years ago and dreaded its impact to my life every day after its introduction. My wife, Sarah, never interested in gadgets or other technological innovations, donned the silver globe for the first time after her friends insisted she try it. After I refused on multiple occasions—at one time throwing the device out of our 300th-story apartment window—she began to resent me. She claimed that my lack of interest in the Cellco helmet meant I couldn ’ t be trusted.
The model of marriages was rapidly changing. The concept of “ you, ” me, ” and “ us ” was no longer an ideal, but made manifest by Cellco ’ s helmets. Failing to realize an “ us ” as represented in Cellco ’ s ads pushed through pocket tablet consoles and holographic presentations in autonomous cars meant living life at half-speed, or `` unsaturated'' as Cellco PR would say. I refused to wear the helmet, telling Sarah that for most of my life I hadn ’ t considered it a privilege to have an interior life accessible only to me. This new paradigm of intimacy—this ultra-internet in which the external productions of minds were not only searchable, but so was the raw imagination stuff of others—I could not buy into it. I was physically repulsed at the thought of wearing the helmet and all that it signified— a neurological response now akin to “ fighting words ” in some states where Cellco use is nearly ubiquitous.
There is still just as much content curating in private telepathic lives as there ahd been in the old social media days. Companies had sprung up offering Cellco users the ability to build firewalls to ensure that only the thoughts you want to be viewed could be viewed by others. Then still other companies offered the ability to filter and fine-tune those thoughts. Whereas this glorious invention was intended to open new vistas of access to human potential from Cellco users near and far, we only ended up digging ourselves further into the echo chambers of decades prior. But I am still free, if alone.
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[ WP ] God decides to create a small group of demi-gods . He selects a few humans and gives each a power and a purpose . You are one of them .
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`` So let me get this straight, you re going to an inter dimensional god convention and you want to make us gods to keep the peace while you are away?.''
`` Sigh, no i'm going to make you demigods, you do n't have a choice in the matter. You each get control of one act of god to do with as you please.''
`` So what are our fields going to be?''
`` Ben you will be in control of floods, Alicia you get earthquakes, Tyler volcanic eruptions, and Carl you get tornado's.''
`` Why are we only getting control of devastating effects?''
`` Well you are actually getting control of hydrogen carbon helium and oxygen, but i doubt your control will be enough to do anything besides cause those disasters. ``
`` Well i'm off, do n't call me unless all of creation is on fire.''
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[ WP ] Everyone is assigned a colour at birth .
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Their hands are a tight tangle of white knuckles, the hollow between their palms more humid than the room. His eyes are on the linoleum of the hospital floor between his feet. The same vanilla-chocolate chip squares as the waiting room. Her eyes are wide, nearly bulging from the bright of the sterile fluorescent light, all of it reflecting off everything in the room, yet she still sits, unblinking, absorbing all of nothing in particular. The room is quiet.
She breaks the silence, “ I will see my child. ” she says. Not to herself or her husband, the words seemingly unsure as to whom they were meant recede. The quiet inches back in. “ I WILL hold my baby. ”
He inhales quick and deep and holds the air in for the stretch of half a second, exhaling and speaking, “ Third time ’ s the charm. ”
The tangle of their hands loosens, then comes apart entirely. Their palms now open to the air feel cold.
Just then a nurse knocks and opens the door in less time than one would normally feel adequate wait-time for a response. She is holding a clipboard. Nothing else.
“ Mrs. Shelling? ” she asks. She meets the eyes of the woman upright in bed. She pulls a pen from her breast pocket and clicks it on, also tucking the clipboard into her elbow along her forearm in one smooth motion.
“ That ’ s me. ” She attempts to push herself up higher in bed, a sharp, immediate pain in her lower half stops her. “ Is...? ” The pain stops her again. She relaxes a little. “ Where is my baby? ”
The nurse makes a check on the clipboard only looking down for the briefest of moments, and looks up again. “ Your baby is fine. Trust me. But I just need to confirm a few things first, okay? ” And without adequate time for a response. “ See our records show that you are a designated Blue, Mrs. Shelling. Is that correct? ”
She manages to tilt herself up a little further and brush a thick sweat-coiled band of hair to the side of her forehead with her free hand. “ Since always. Yes, that ’ s correct. ” She feels her pulse speed up in her temples and her cheeks ’ temperature rise. Her eyes dart to her husband and she quickly pulls them back to anywhere but him.
The nurse scratches another mark on the clipboard. Her eyes stay down this time for a moment longer than before. “ Okay good. That ’ s good. ” The briefest of pauses. “ And your husband. The father. ” The nurse looks at the man sitting beside the bed, his hands between his knees, now in their own tangle. “ That ’ s you, sir? You ’ re the father? ”
He clears his throat, surprised to find that it actually needed clearing. “ Yup. ” He moves his hand back towards his wife ’ s, halfway there deciding better of it, his fingers finding their place around the arm rail. “ I ’ m daddy. ”
The nurse brings her pen up to the clipboard, “ And our records say that you are designated... ”
“ Grey ” he interrupts. There is no shame in his voice, just flat acceptance. His eyes return to the vanilla chocolate-chip tiles between his feet.
The quiet senses it ’ s welcome again, it was lurking in the hallways and sees an open chair.
The nurse breathes out through her nose, almost a hiss, and makes a just ever so more delicate mark with her pen than before. “ Incredible, ” she says. “ Your baby... ” she lets some air escape her lungs that she doesn ’ t mean to, it almost sounds like a cough but there ’ s a high pitch to it.
The husband looks up from the tiles and the tangle of his hands, first to the nurse then to his wife. She ’ s looking back at him, her eyes wide and eager to see, soaking and glistening. They look to the nurse.
The nurse says, “ She ’ s... it ’ s a girl. And she ’ s Gold. ”
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[ WP ] Man psyches himself up in the mirror an hour before his 30th wedding
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Some of the sweat rolled into my right eye. I rubbed out the sting before returning my gaze to the reflection in the mirror, blinking a little bit.
The man I saw was scared of me. One of his eyes was twitching and red. The other eye looked like that of an abused animal. The rest of his face was covered in a glistening layer of sweat. His hands were trembling so violently that a drip of sweat shook itself loose and rolled into his right eye. Both men let out exasperated curses to the concern of a woman in a white wedding dress.
`` Are you sure, honey,'' asked the woman, `` that you can handle this?''
`` *Of course I can handle it! *'' I snarled. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and lowered my voice. `` I'm... just a little nervous is all.''
The first wedding had gone perfectly – that is, until the wedding minister was hospitalized for sudden, explosive, uncontrollable diarrhea. So we had to cancel it midway through. No big deal. The second wedding had gone perfectly – that is, until one of the musicians tripped over an amplifier cord and started an electrical fire. Unfortunate, to be sure, but nothing too bad. So we tried again, and again. Wedding after wedding. This was now our 30th wedding. We had to cancel it because I had a panic attack.
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[ WP ] A university lecture , packed with students in Evolutionary Sciences , gets hijacked by militant religious opponents , who hold the class hostage . Will you fight ?
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I had their attention now. I've seen that look on their face hundreds of times. Papa often cursed the deer for the dents on the fender of our truck. they froze in our headlights so many times that Papa did n't even bother stopping any more. Often times, he would just accelerate while laying his fist against the horn. The truck could take it. These'queers' had the same wide-eyed look in the headlights expression. I could n't help but laugh.
I was on crowd control. Papa left the speaking to Tobias. Papa always said Tobias was stronger in the faith than I was; said Tobias had been blessed with a voice'more powerful than a.45'. My Smith & Wesson 1911 begged to differ. Lord knows how many hours and rounds of ammunition I went through in our backyard preparing and refining my marksmanship, shooting at plates, soda cans, and the stray dogs that crossed our fields. Of course, with only cable to show what people look like when they die, I was n't really prepared for how little blood there was gon na be. They always show the person lying in a huge pool of blood and all. Hell, the blonde's just sorta trickled out like a muddy stream. I probably wo n't even have to clean my boots after all this. It was a big letdown to be honest.
You'd think with all their schooling these'queers' would have learned some common sense. Most of them were smart enough to keep their mouth shut when I shot the first bullet up into the ceiling. The one's that were n't seemed to be fast learners after I gave Tobias' God-given voice a run for its money and shut that bitch in the front row up with my own special sermon. When Tobias had dragged the professor to his knees at the front of the lecture hall, Miss Sophomore here refused to repent for her own sins. She just could n't seem to find her faith. Papa looked right at me with his smiling eyes, just like the way he did when he saw the scars on Tobias's back, proof of his conviction in the faith. The blasphemer's dirty-blonde hair framed nicely her big, hipster'queer-lovin' glasses. It gave a nice big target at point blank range. The.45 of the S & W 1911 did one heck of a number on'queer lover' here. I could actually catch a glimpse of a 2nd row student's converse sneaker in the gaping hole in her head before she collapsed on the ground next to Hollister model-wannabe shaking on his knees beside her. Papa looks so proud.
Tobias started speaking to the his captivated audience. He held a worn out book of scripture outstretched in his left hand, waving it as if he was conducting a silent orchestra, his right hand clasped tightly around his Desert Eagle nuzzled firmly against the back of the professor's head. Tobias said he brought the DE because he wanted to make an impression. He was saying something, the same thing I've heard him say hundreds of times.
Papa never seemed to get tired of his preachings, he would close his eyes and repeat it word for word himself sometime. But today it... it looked like Papa was just looking at me. It was obvious in his eyes. I did have the faith. I was strong in the...
`` Dammit Samuel I told you to watch the crowd!''
Swiveling around, I heard Papa's revolver go off before I registered the green blur racing towards the exit doors. It looked as though Mr. Green Bay Fan in the back row had decided that his life was more valuable than all the others. Unfortunately for Mr. Green Bay, he had been obviously focusing his training for keg stands rather than 40m; looks like I did n't waste all those hours at the firing range for nothing. I fired three times, Papa shot twice. We did n't miss once.
Papa dropped his gun and scowled at me, `` What the hell are you doing son?''
`` Sorry''
Papa shook his head. His disappointment was crushing. `` Sorry ai n't gon na cut it boy. Now you and I talked about this. After last time...''
`` I know. I know Papa. It wo n't happen again. I'm sorry''
`` No. Not this time. Go outside and watch the hallways. Make sure no comes near here. You start seeing any cops, you set off the charges like we talked about.''
`` But Papa, I can...''
`` DO IT NOW!''
The doors had hardly shut behind me before Tobias started up his sermon again. Between choking back sobs, I could make out the familiar sound of Papa's revolver echoing through the hallway as scream erupted inside the classroom. Tobias began yelling over the screams, his voice more powerful than any.45. He was so strong in faith, Papa said he always was stronger than me.
The tears well up. It stings to keep my eyes open. But I have to keep them open. I have to keep lookout. I ca n't screw up again. I'll make Papa proud. He'll see. I am just as strong in the faith. I reload my S & W with a fresh clip and run down the hallway after a short, squat secretary I saw trying to dart from the Admin office to the exit. Papa will see.
I have the faith.
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[ WP ] Today is both the happiest and the saddest day of my life , let me tell you why ... .
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Today is both the happiest and the saddest day of my life, let me tell you why but here's some backstory first. My mother and father were great people. Mother ran the restaurant like no other and father fought for our freedom. They taught me well but they were n't around most of the time. It hurt a lot. I remember the last time I felt their embrace being ten years ago. I grew up with semi-supportive parents. I understood why they worked so hard and I love them for that, however, I was taken aback by all the loneliness and vowed to never let my child feel this way. I would smother him/her with all the hugs and kisses I could.
I married a lovely woman who was pregnant with my child. We currently reside in the hospital to await the birth of our baby. She asked me to get her phone from the car and I did so. Another car came speeding down the lane and hit me real hard.
I woke up in a gurney next to my wife. She cradled the precious thing in her arms while sobbing gently. I tried to reach over to her but I could n't manage. I wanted to hold my loved ones, show them that I cared. Then I noticed my right arm missing. My left arm was a 7 inch stump. I let a tear roll down as I realized I could no longer show him the affection I never got.
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[ WP ] You order a drink at the bar . The bartender 's name-tag reads , `` God . ''
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The bartender, an average Joe-looking fellow, set the glass in front of me. I lift my head off of the bar and reach out to grab the drink when I notice the bartender's name tag.
`` Heh, funny,'' I murmured, mostly to myself, but loud for anyone who cared to listen.
There was a pause as I sipped my drink, then the bartender, in a low voice, asked, `` What is funny?''
I looked up at the bartender, getting my first real glimpse of him. He was an older gentleman, maybe in his 50's, with a short gray beard and slicked back gray hair. His eyes were an intense blue, but they also seemed soft.
`` Your name tag,'' I replied from behind my drink.
`` My name tag is funny?'' the bartender queried further, lifting the name tag up off of his shirt to inspect it.
`` Yeah, the name on it is funny.''
`` Why is it funny?''
I sighed, `` Look, ca n't I just a make goddamn joke?''
`` Excuse you,'' the bartender hissed.
`` What?''
`` Apologize for taking my name in vain.''
I stared at the bartender, puzzled. I turned my head to see if anyone else was listening, but, as luck would have it, I was the only one in the whole bar. Probably because I was drinking at 2:00 PM on a Tuesday and everyone else was at work.
`` Yeah, okay, sorry. Can I just finish my drink?''
`` Do you know who I am?'' the bartender inquired, leaning over the bar, folding his arms below him.
`` Should I?''
`` You took a peculiar interest in my name, so I assumed you knew who you were mocking.''
I was n't ready for a bar fight. `` No, listen, I did n't mean to offend you,'' I said, shifting in my seat, leaning away from the bar.
`` Then let me tell you. I'm God. Nice to see you in person, Mark.''
`` Wait, hold up. Your name tag says God, so what? And how do you know my name?''
`` A name tag is supposed to have one's name written on it, yes?''
I nodded.
`` Well, then, is n't writing my name on my name tag the only appropriate thing for me to do?''
`` But this has to be a joke, you're not God.''
`` Just because I look like a human means I'm not God? Do you know anything about the Bible?''
`` I mean, I go to church.''
`` Mark?''
`` Okay, I've gone to church.''
God chuckled. Was this God? I did n't know he looked so... robust, handsome even. What in the name of all that is holy was I talking about? Of course this guy was not God!
`` And how do you know my name?'' I exclaimed.
`` I've just told you that I am God, would n't that question answer itself?''
`` Okay, okay, prove it. Prove to me that you are God.''
`` Mark, my Book says to not put the Lord your God to the test.''
`` I know what your Book says, but I'm telling you to prove it to me.''
If this guy was who he said he was, then this is a new one: telling God to prove his existence to me.
`` Okay, Mark,'' God sighed, wiping his hands with the towel that had been draped across his right shoulder, `` what would you like to know? How may I prove myself to you?''
I breathed out a shaky breath and got up from my stool. I backed away from the bar a few feet, crossed my arms, and thought. I stood for a few moments, God waiting patiently on the other side of the bar, a smile stretched across his chiseled face.
`` Okay, I've got it! Where was I born?''
`` At a St. Luke's Hospital in Houston, Texas, on March 11, 1978, at 9:45 in the morning to a Brenda and George Gibson.''
My mouth was ajar. `` How'd you do that?''
`` Believe me now?''
`` No, not yet, I need to know more. What do I have in my pockets?''
`` Your denim jeans have four pockets. In your front left, you have an iPhone 4 with 46 percent battery life left. In your front right pocket, there is a little bit of pocket lint, but nothing else. Your wallet is in your back right pocket, and there is a ticket stub to see Doctor Strange at 11:20 this morning.''
`` What theater?''
`` The Grand in Conroe.''
`` Oh my God.''
`` Will you please stop that?''
`` Sorry, sorry. What number am I thinking of?''
`` You're thinking of many numbers that keep changing, 45, 6,072, 3, 4, 5.''
`` What about -''
`` Sixty-seven.''
`` So you really are God?''
God nodded, smiling.
`` Show me Heaven.''
`` Excuse me?''
`` One last test, show me what Heaven looks like.''
`` Are you sure? You'll never want to leave, and I will have to bring you back to earth.''
`` Yeah, I'm sure.''
`` Alright.''
God snapped his fingers, and the bar was empty.
__________________________________________________________________
Sorry this was such a long reply!
Let me know what you think it, what was good and what I can improve on!
Thanks!
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[ WP ] As a joke , a person runs a presidential campaign where they say all the wrong things to get elected . *
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*Today, as President Moorehead is sworn in, everyone wonders whether he will make good on his election promises. This is Radio 3, good night. *
I clicked the television off, tossing the remote to the side. I was exhausted from the campaign my team and dozens, no, *countless* people had contributed to. And we lost to *him*.
Craven Moorehead.
Yes, you read that correctly, and yes, it's a play on words for the less intellectually inclined. Whether the Presidents indeed requires more oral pleasure is a different story altogether.
A heard a knock on the door, but did n't even acknowledge it. Hillary Clinton would be taking shotgun to the vehicle that was the United States of America government. I reached over to the bottle, a nice eighteen year old vintage of the strong Irish kind of vice.
It had been several elections ago since I had opened a bottle of whiskey. The only other times were during Obama's first speech and the other was when I married my wife. The rest of the alcohol was stashed in my liquor cabinet, waiting for the right moment.
This was n't the right moment.
This... *kid* of 35, a gun tottin', video game playing nerd came out of nowhere to sweep up the elections in an unprecedented victory. The awesome force of the internet? A conspiracy between political parties? Communists returning for their final strike?
It did n't matter what had caused his victory, but there was no way in hell he would keep his promises from the elections.
To start with, he declared that all religions were incorrect, so he would be implementing a new, true religion: the Church of John Oliver. After that, he said that each and every family was irresponsible in raising kids, so he would put into place a systematic way to get a cat or dog into the homes of each family. Exceptions would be made and alternatives would be provided, but each family would have a pet.
His list became more ludicrous as he published them by Twitter.
1. Politicians must have a suggestive work name. e.g. Sugar McFistybuns
2. Politicians must have an affair and publicly announce it to their partner. *It was rumored that this happened organically due to his venturing to a strip club during the election, which upset his girlfriend. *
3. Video games would become the hallmark of the US sports stage, leading to the creation of state universities that would focus on training young American gamers.
4. The position of CEO in America was to be banned and all current CEOs would be demoted to an entry level job for as long as they were in the CEO position with no benefits.
And the last one, the only one that had made a difference in my mind:
5. Guns will be taken away from those and stored at a local shooting range. Ownership will still be valid, but the protection will be under the state care. For protection, owners will be given bear arms as a means of defense.
I sipped the bottle. I was already feeling drowsy. I heard the knock again and ignored it similarly. He won by a margin of *fifteen points*.
God Bless America.
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[ WP ] You are pretty sure your cat just saved your life . Thing is , now the dog seems determined to outshine the cat and save you too , even when you really do n't need it .
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INT. LAUNDRY ROOM - NIGHT
DEZZY, 7, dog, sits staring unhappily up at LULU, cat, who crawls back and forth on the washer/dryer unit.
DEZZY:
Damn you, cat! That was no fair.
LULU:
What ever do you mean, Dezzy darling?
DEZZY:
It was fake! You used a toy snake. You ran off with a toy snake and she thought it was a real danger.
LULU:
My goodness. The imagination you have Dezzy, it's wonderful really.
DEZZY:
That was no fair.
LULU:
( sigh )
I know we agreed upon fairly vying for her affection, I do. But you forget one thing Dezzy: I'm a cat. A clever, conniving cat.
DEZZY:
Damn you, Lulu. My Mom was right. Cats are bad news.
Lulu laughs her scheming, purring laugh.
DEZZY:
If those are the new rules...
( gets up )
Fine by me.
LULU:
And to where do you think *you're* going?
DEZZY:
None of your bees wax.
Dezzy lift his nose, pleased with his retort.
LULU:
Then screw Dezzy, screw. I have some well-deserved yarn awaiting me.
DEZZY:
( under breath )
Cat bastard.
Lulu watches him go.
EXT. DOWNTOWN - LATER
Dezzy ambles down the walkway, casting glances around, looking for something. Clamped in his teeth is a wad of cash.
ALLEYWAY - LATER
Dezzy extends the wad of cash in his mouth toward a STRANGER.
STRANGER:
What the -
( accepts cash )
Um... good dog.
DEZZY:
Listen closely.
The stranger hears only barks.
DEZZY:
I want you to pretend to threaten my owner.
STRANGER:
( kneels )
What is it boy? What's wrong?
DEZZY:
Damn it, human.
Dezzy thinks. He noses under the man's jacket and nudges the gun tucked in his waistline.
DEZZY:
This. This. Now follow me.
Dezzy starts off. He looks back at the stranger.
STRANGER:
Trouble, huh?
( to self )
Or... was I just paid by a dog?
( palms gun )
To kill someone?
( a beat )
Frankie is goin' to some real lengths these days.
The stranger shrugs and heads after the dog. Dezzy pants happily and leads the way.
INT. LAUNDRY ROOM - LATER
Lulu plays happily with her ball of yarn.
BEDROOM
CASSANDRA sleeps peacefully.
LIVING ROOM
Dezzy slips through the doggy door into the house, panting, excited, and scampers O.S.
Footsteps approach the door outside. The cocking of a gun. The door handle starts wriggling.
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[ WP ] You 've been skyping regularly with a new internet friend when you slowly begin to realize that the city in the background of the video call is not of this earth ...
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Hey Jason.
*Hey, how's it going. Did you see the fantastic goal by Messi last night? *
Nah, I taped the match on DVR to watch later.
*You still have cable? Just watch online. Anyway, it was a bicycle kick that curved hugely. I've literally never seen anything like it. Barely caught the inside of the goalpost. Barça won 2-1. You got ta see it. Here's the link. *
Strange, it's not working for me. Page not found.
*Really? OK, I'll send you the clip. Oh my God... *
What?
*The Eiffel Tower just got attacked a few minutes ago. A big explosion. *
What! No way.
*It's all over Twitter. # ParisBombing*
Really? Hang on... Hah. You're full of shit.
*Dude, I'm serious. *
There's nothing on Twitter about it.
*What!? They say there could be hundreds of casualties... *
And by the way, I just checked the score for the soccer match. It ended 1-1.
*No it did n't. *
Had me going there for a second.
*What!? *
I'm busy, talk to you later.
-- --
I ended the call right there. I was n't really busy, I just hate being pranked.
Jason skyped me again a few minutes later. This time he only wanted to talk about the upcoming trip to Boston. If he wanted to pretend our earlier conversation never happened, I was n't going to hold a grudge.
Later I watched the recording of the soccer match on my TV. Sure enough, it ended 1-1, but there was an unreal curving bicycle kick by Messi that hit the goalpost and bounced out.
I almost deleted the clip he sent me earlier, but then I decided to look at it anyway. I fully expected to get rickrolled.
What I most definitely did not expect to see was Lionel Messi scoring a fantastic goal off the goalpost.
-- --
In the days since then I've compared the clip on my phone to the DVR recording on my TV. They look identical, until right at the end of the shot when the ball seems to spin a little differently. And after that, of course, everything is different.
How do you Photoshop an entire video clip? I mean, the ball and the reactions of the players running afterwards. The onscreen graphics that say 2-1. And the announcer's familiar voice... how in the world do you get him to play along?
I did a ton of searches for `` Eiffel Tower bombing'' — sure hope I did n't attract the attention of the NSA or the FBI, ha ha — but obviously there was nothing. No idea why he threw that part in. I posted on askreddit about good sites to find professional-quality fake soccer videos, but no one had any idea what I was talking about.
I wanted to bring up the topic with Jason again, but he just played dumb. I tried hinting about the first call, but he just said `` What first call?'' I did n't want to hassle him about it, and more importantly I did n't want to look weak by admitting that he tricked me successfully.
Jason's a bro, but he's a total slacker who can barely hold down a day job. I'm dying to know how a guy like him pulled off a stunt like that, but I figure sooner or later he wo n't be able to resist telling me. I'll wait for him to blink first.
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[ WP ] You 're the last person on earth and a schizophrenic . Someone new shows up and insists they are real .
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I ’ m very routine. Routine is real. Every morning I wake up, get dressed, eat, and then I go gather supplies, look for medication, of which there never is any. But I do get to see mom there sometimes. Out wherever.
But not **there** you know?
She likes to tell me what to do. Which is fine because it ’ s not like she can ground me if I don ’ t do it. But let ’ s be real ( ha ). She usually knows what she ’ s talking about. Like today. Today was a big day. A routine change and I was sure mom would come to visit. It started with a knock at the door.
It ’ s kind of weird, because I can usually tell when I ’ m just hearing things. It ’ ll start slow, unsure of itself, and build from there until it ’ s unbearably loud. But damn. She practically beat the door down today right from the get go. Maybe I forgot to do something? But I never forget so I don ’ t know why she was so persistent, especially considering I had only just woken up. Mom never was one for privacy though, I guess.
Rolling out of my bed, I slipped my feet into my house shoes before dragging my heavy, still practically asleep, body to the door opening it.
“ I can ’ t believe it. ” The words fell from your lips, so relieved.
Turns out, mom wasn ’ t here to visit today. But someone else. It ’ s been awhile since someone new showed up ( and I don ’ t mean because the world ended or whatever ).
“ Look, you can stay, but you have to keep quiet and not get in my way. You understand me? And just in case you intend to stick around, I ’ ll call you Dan. So be good Dan. I don ’ t need any trouble today. Today is a big, big day. ”
You stood, drenched in a cold sweat, trembling in my doorway.
I guess I didn ’ t have to worry about you being trouble after all. If all you did was stand in the doorway and sweat, I wouldn ’ t mind at all.
As I turned away from you, a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me back so hard I thought my arm might pop from its socket.
“ Ow, fuck! Why ’ d you do that for? ” I swore, trying to regain my balance in front of you.
“ I can ’ t believe it. Are there others? Is it just you? Who are you? Why are you still here? I-…I have so many… I ’ m sorry about hurting you, but please, tell me how you ’ re still here! ”
“ Stop fooling around okay? Let me go now and let me get ready. You need to be good or I ’ ll get very upset! ”
I slipped my hand from yours and turned to walk away once more, cradling my sore wrist.
Your fingerprints left on my skin felt hot.
I walked back to my room and started to take my sleep clothes off to change into my work clothes of plain denim jeans and whatever random t-shirt I had that was clean. Today it was plain red with a right breast pocket. I tied my hair up into a tight bun, before leaving to the kitchen to grab a can of something to eat. Today felt like a peaches day. Of course, you were still standing in the doorway, and I hoped you didn ’ t think I was going to share.
“ You know Dan, can you shut the door? You never know who could come in! ” I laughed. Oh my god, I was so funny!
Slowly, you took a step in and dropped a pretty beat up looking backpack on the floor before shutting the door behind you. You stood, back pressed against the wall, staring at me with wide, bloodshot eyes. You looked like you needed a drink. Which was fine, but again, not my peaches.
“ Dan, you can get some water. I have a bunch of jugs. Go ahead and have some. You know where the cups are. ”
It was nice, truth be told, to have company. No matter how…dirty. It seemed like he left a trail of dust in his wake as he walked to one of my jugs of water and lifted it straight to his mouth to drink from. Not a cup guy, I guess.
After practically downing the whole thing, and then some, you sat down across from me at my little square table as I speared peach after peach, draining the whole can by myself. You never once asked for one, which was nice, because I would ’ ve said no. Would ’ ve been awkward.
When I finished I stood and walked over to my door to pull on some plain black work boots that, at this point, were well worn.
“ You coming Dan? Today is a big, BIG day. You can come, but like I said, stay quiet and out of the way alright? You ’ re doing a good job of that already. ”
I opened the door and he followed me out, shutting it behind him. He was kind of weird, how quiet he was, thinking about it now. But I guess I did tell him to be. Wish mom would listen when I told her to be quiet too.
The streets of the city were empty and quiet, with the exception of a chirping bird every now and then. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except my plans today, of course. I was excited for the first time in a long time.
“ Dan, let me tell you, ” I started, looking at him over my shoulder for a moment as I walked, “ I think I know why you ’ re here. Today is so special. Of COURSE someone new would come. It just makes sense. Some company on my big day. I should ’ ve seen this coming. I wonder why mom didn ’ t tell me? She tells me everything. And it ’ s really kind of weird she ’ s not here. Have you seen her, Dan? I don ’ t really have time to look for her, but if you see her, you can tell me. ”
You didn ’ t say anything, but it was okay. You followed quietly the whole way, hardly blinking as if I would be the one to disappear in an instant. You kept about a foot between us from the moment we left and up every step of the empire state building. Shame the elevator was out. But then again, every elevator was out. Ha. Man. I am so funny.
It didn ’ t take as long as I anticipated to get to the top. But that was okay. At the top I managed to climb up onto one of the ledges without too much trouble. You climbed up tentatively after me, sitting carefully next to where I stood.
“ You know Dan, I ’ m kind of glad you ’ re here. Mom didn ’ t come, which is kind of messed up, but you ’ re here. And that ’ s what matters!''
And I swear, mom knows when I talk shit about her. Because right at that moment, with my foot hovering over the nothingness below, there she was, shaking her head at me as you reached out to grab my wrist, yanking me back to the ground with a loud, desperate cry.
It was about then I realized.
The red fingerprints on my skin you left were hot.
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[ WP ] The last person on Earth is essentially turning off the lights before they leave .
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Super late to the party but here's my first attempt at a WP:
A cool breeze wafted through his bedroom, rushing over the sheets and onto his face, rousing him from sleep. Groggily, he made his way to the window, the floorboards creaking and moaning as he sleepily stumbled across the room. He realized it must be just shy of sunrise, as he noticed a reddish orange hue extending over the horizon, streaks of light dancing over the distance waves of the ocean.
In the years before the plague, before the world was ravaged, he loved this time of day. Even though his wife gave him hell about always being so chipper at this time of day, there was something truly magical about it. No hustle, no bustle, just silence and a cup of coffee. He hated it now. What he would give for a little noise. Anything. Laughter, crying, arguing, talking… something!
He could feel his knees begin to buckle as he loosened his grip on the wooden windowsill, the worn exterior rough on his fingertips. Today might be the day. It had been two years since he had knowingly infected himself with HIV and it was taking its toll. At the time, it seemed like the only option. They had almost discovered the cure, and it would at least immunize him from the plague. His hope was for it to buy time for him to discover a cure for the plague. Now there was all the time in the world, but no one left to save.
As he made his way down the stairs from his bedroom, he clutched the railing tightly as he felt his body shudder, giving way under his weight. Making his way past a grouping of pictures on the wall, he felt, as he had every day since the plague, a wave of shame come crashing down over him. He watched them die. His wife and son claw at their throats and eyes as the plague did its work. Cooking them from the inside out, methodically marching them to their deaths. Their faces… comprised of both shock and absolute anguish. Their eyes filled with a sadness he had never seen before. A sadness he could never forget. Tears began streaming down his face, dripping from his overgrown mustache and down into his ragged beard. Hot and sweet, he brushed them aside as he made his way into the kitchen, bracing against the walls and furniture as he went.
He was down to the last butane tank for his camping stovetop. He ’ d have enough for one more cup of coffee. Walking around the drafty kitchen, he felt the cold floor under his feet, each tile sliding smoothly over his heel kissing each step with a bite of early morning frost.
Staring aimlessly into the living room he began to smell the coffee, now cascading on the light breeze throughout the house. A wave of emotions filled him as he watched his wife and son sitting on the couch, throwing popcorn at one another. It was movie night, 3 years ago. He made his way into the room, placing himself down on the couch next to his son. Steady torrents of tears began flowing from his eyes. With a warm sideways smile from his son, his hand full of popcorn, tossed it at him. The popcorn passing harmlessly through his body as he blinked heavily, fighting the torrent of tears. He was back. The couch rotted away and the floor covered in leaves. Movie night was over. It had been over for years, but he wanted to believe. Believe his son and wife were still laughing and tossing popcorn. He knew they were dead. He had buried them himself in the back yard in shallow graves.
Shambling over to his coffee, he could feel his body fading fast. It may only be a few hours now. He went to the cupboard and grabbed a mug, now cracked and heavily worn. It would have to be a straight black cup, he had run out of sugar months ago. His wife had always taken two sugars and a touch of creamer. He ’ d always remember that. Such a silly thing. It is after all, how they met. In a crowded coffee shop in college. Two young kids completely lost in each other over a crappy cup of joe.
The moment was fleeting, and just as quickly as he had thought of it, it was gone. He was tired of all of this. The silence. The shame. The sorrow. He made his way back to his bedroom, clutching the mug tighter with each stumbled step. Stepping out onto the balcony, he made his way to the lounge chair, half rotted away by the elements. All he wanted was one more beautiful thing. One more memory. One more moment of what had been. Reclining back into the chair, wrapping his robe a little tighter to warm him from the early morning breeze, he sipped on his coffee and looked out on the world.
The reddish orange hue he had been awoken by was now dominating the sky. Pinks and yellows danced on the clouds above as he was enveloped in a wave of vibrant red. The ocean cradled oranges and reds, carrying them to the beach where they broke upon the sands. In the house he could smell breakfast. Pancakes and eggs. He could feel his wife's soft hands caressing his shoulders and she stood behind him. He could hear his son running down the hall. A smile crept over his worn and withered face and he felt at peace. A coffee filled mug struck the flood; “ # 1 Dad ” painted on the side.
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[ WP ] A world where sapient life has evolved from birds rather than mammals .
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Chirp hated winter.
Most people did n't like it. But Chirp *really* hated winter. The sky got solid and spewed cold fluff. Some would stay at home, singing holiday songs in heated huts. But many others, himself included, packed and moved south, far, far away.
Chirp hopped on top of his carriage. It was a really fancy thing, he modified it himself. Triple acidic engine, polished bone seat bar, actual electric lights. The beast did 20 clucks in a sunspin.
Engine whirred as Chirp rode into sunset, dreaming of all the things awaiting him - fiery southern chicks, fresh sea moth and blissful light of stars above.
Who knows, thought Chirp, maybe the winter is n't so bad after all.
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[ WP ] Apparently humans are the only creatures in the universe messed up enough to come up with and enjoy the horror genre . Naturally being that kind of messed up they take great pleasure into introducing it to the other sentient species of the universe .
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Its my job to pitch movies to our alien investors. Most human producers are financed by human companies, but my firm wanted interspecies financial support, to create movies with interspecies appeal. Plenty of human-produced movies had interspecies appeal but, ours was possibly the only large studio that specialized in only interspecies movies.
Most genres were perfectly acceptable to other species. They loved our comedies, understood our romances, embraced our super heroes, but there was one genre they absolutely hated. The horror genre. When asked alien critics said things like: `` Why would anyone want to watch something that makes them feel bad? Especially feel scared? ``, `` Such extreme violence is simply disgusting, and frankly a bit unrealistic and exaggerated'', `` When I watch a movie I want to feel happy thoughts, I want to reinforce the belief that the world is a happy and great place. I want to see the guy get the girl, I want to see the heroes triumph over evil, I want to laugh. I do n't want to see a crazy person murder innocent people''.
All somewhat valid complaints, so valid I questioned why humanity itself loved horror so much. Some people say its because of our omnivorous history, while most aliens are herbivores or have transcended typical meat production for generations and simply make meat in test tubes. I was honestly thinking about converting to veganism like most of the population already had. Why kill eat real cows, when we have modern technology that can make healthier, more delicious, and cheaper food products.
But it was my job to convince these aliens to fund our horror movie. A part of me just wanted to complain to whoever approved of the movie script and tell them to fuck off and that trying to make an interspecies horror movie was impossible and it was beyond stupid to even bother. But, I knew those guys, and they were all geniuses, and I'm sure that the movie must have something special to it for them to want to produce it.
So I tried every traditional method to convince the interspecies board. I took them all out to long dinners one by one where I discussed the merits of the horror movie. I brought up how every movie we made so far was a big hit. I made sure to talk about their personal lives to try and build rapport. Hell I even tried to bribe the ones who seemed into that sort of thing. But nothing worked. I just got responses like `` I could n't even look my pet in the eyes if I backed a horror movie, let alone my entire species!''
Then I got an email from my boss telling me that this movie was so important, if I did n't get it approved, I would be fired. And that's about when I started to lose my mind. First I got mad. I started yelling to whoever I could, and eventually to inanimate objects. `` I worked there for decades, DECADES, and they are gon na fire me for this fucking bullshit. Its like they want me to lift Mt. Everest with my bear fucking hands. This is impossible. How can they not see that?'' Then I started getting deeply depressed. I thought maybe they think I'm awful and wanted to fire me ages ago and this is their way of finding an excuse to do it guilt free. I thought about what I would do if I was fired. My gold-digger of a wife would almost definitely leave me even though we just got married. Everything was going so well, I was finally going to have kids and a real family. I was already so old, there was no way I would get another wife young enough to have kids with, especially not if I did n't have an amazing job going for me. I looked through job listings. The economy was awful, unless of course you were already in the top.00001 %. It was so hard and fortunate to get this job already, and no one would hire an old guy like me with proven failures on his record. Even if they were n't ageist, I was n't young anymore, I did n't have it in me to climb anymore ladders. I could feel the doom approaching. I wrote out my will. I even wrote out my suicide note.
Then, as a last ditch effort I started to think of some really crazy ideas. I spent my own savings on making a few scenes of the movie script myself. They turned out amazing since I used the staff and actors that would be making the real movie. Every alien hated the scenes. I hired the best analytical minds to come in and try to convince the aliens of the merits of the horror genre: academics, critics, famous directors, philosophers, politicians, and more. They talked about how important fear is to confront and all sorts of psychological and philosophical stuff. But the aliens simply dismissed it saying things like `` We live in a nearly post-scarcity society, what in the world do we have to fear now? Though technologically rivaling our power, your species is still behind culturally. You still somehow manage to have criminals after all. Fear is a useless emotion for cultures like us''. It's like they all grew up spoiled and never spent a moment scared of anything in their entire lives.
I was nearly out of money. I had enough for maybe one more scheme. At this point I laid around in bed for over half the day either racking my brain for a solution, or contemplating how I would kill myself. I wondered if these aliens had any suicidal people then I thought, of course not, they have nothing to fear, they live in a perfect utopia. And that's when I figured out what I had to do. Surely I would be found out, and I would n't keep my job after this, but hell, it felt like a good way to go.
I looked through my contact list, and found the two old acquaintances I was looking for. Both human, one was an amazing programmer and hacker. The other was one of the few veterans left on the planet. I called them, and to my surprise they were willing to do what I asked of them, for once in my life it turned out beneficial to know a few speciesists.
I played it cool. I spent 10 months trying to convince the alien board already, but there was still 2 months left until the deadline. I did n't host any meetings, I did n't call a single chair member, I just waited.
It had already been a month and I remember what I was doing when the first one of them called. I was watching the news eagerly as they described the for the first time in hundreds of years of utopia there was a murder. Not just a murder, an alien-killing serial killer was on a rampage. The victim count was already triple digits but they had no idea who it was. The victims seemed to be random to the public, and no matter how wealthy and powerful their families were, anyone seemed vulnerable. And yet, they could n't even identify the killer's species as any species human or otherwise had victims. Hell they could n't even tell how many of them there were. They were describing how all the advanced technological forensics proved useless just as my phone rang.
`` Ever since my niece was killed by that human murderer, I'm starting understand the appeal of this horror genre.'' I replied `` I'm deeply surprised you reconsidered, but we would need more members of the board to approve before we could do anything.'' And he answered `` Do n't worry, we all lost someone to this human bastard. I'm sure the others will have a change of heart, or at least see how this is perfect timing for the first interspecies horror movie.'' so I said `` Well, there is no evidence the killer is human. But, I agree this is great timing, in fact I think it will help people of all species cope with this horrific crisis.'' We talked about his family tragedy and logistics about the movie before I hung up. By the end of the month I got similar calls from every other board member. The deal was signed and production was underway.
I had dinner with my boss, his treat. He showered me with praise. I asked him `` Why did you think this was even remotely possible in the first place?'' and he replied `` Honestly, I do n't know exactly, we all just had a feeling you would pull through'' and winked. The wink deeply disturbed me. I thought either he and the other higher ups were complete fools who never realized how impossible this task was and should be fired on the spot for their incompetence. Or worse, somehow I was working for a company who knew I would hire people to mercilessly murder an unimaginable number of innocent intelligent beings, just to make a movie.
For more stories:
https: //www.reddit.com/r/sharpWriting/
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[ WP ] You wake up one morning to the sound of your cat knocking your can opener onto a can of tuna . Outside , a crow appears to be reading your newspaper . When you spy a raccoon fumbling with the latch on a dumpster , you start to wonder .
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I sat down, numbly, considering my next move.
`` Sugar?'' Ian said.
I stopped dead. I was terrified. Ian was my cat.
`` You're going to ask...'' Ian said, holding his paws up against his head like a theatrical mind reader, ``... what the fuck?''
`` What the fuck?'' I asked.
He slapped his paw on the table triumphantly. `` Fucking psychic,'' he said.
`` You're not a psychic,'' I said, still not believing I was saying it. `` It would require the strength of Hercules not to say'what the fuck' at that point.''
Ian held his paws out in a gesture of'fair play' that was both unsettling and adorable. `` So, what are your plans today?''
I sipped my coffee, trying not to look like I was freaking out. `` I thought I'd try and figure out how I all the animals around me were intelligent now. And buy some milk.''
Ian nodded sagely. `` We do need milk,'' he said. `` I can help you with the rest.''
`` Is it the apocalypse?''
Ian widened his eyes and drew his head back, like the cat in that video that tasted that guy's feet that time. `` What? Fuck off.''
`` So what is it?'' I asked.
He nodded towards me. `` It's you.''
`` Dude,'' I said.
Ian cleared his throat into his paw. It was fucking awesome. `` Every creature on Earth has got one foot in this world, and the other foot in the next.''
`` You've got four feet,'' I said.
`` It's a fucking metaphor, man. Get a grip, would you?''
I sighed. `` OK. Foot, foot. Got it.''
`` So with one foot in each world, you get to... *lean*... in one direction or another. Caterpillars, right? They're almost entirely in the other world. They're only here to eat, and breathe and shit.''
Cocking my head to one side, I said, `` and shit? Like and stuff?''
`` No, man. Like shit. Shit. Shitting out shit. You got ta do all three.''
I nodded.
`` Take dogs, right? Fuckin' dogs... dogs can learn tricks, right? Cause they're leaning more into this world. Orangutangs, they're leaning even more into this world. Hey, you got a cigarette?''
I blinked. `` You got hands?''
`` Just leave it in the ashtray.''
I lit one and set it down. `` I'm not sure this is responsible,'' I said.
`` Fuck off,'' Ian said. `` Anyway. You've developed the ability to talk to the *whole*. One foot, other foot, does n't make a difference. You talk to the whole.''
I started to see it. `` I did n't talk to that raccoon,'' I said.
`` No,'' he said. `` No. It's like a... radius thing. Every animal around you.''
It was clear now. It was clear. The potential. The power. What I could do. `` Ian,'' I said. `` We are going to make a *shitload* of money.''
Ian took a drag on the cigarette. `` Now we're talking,'' he said.
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[ WP ] You fall into a coma . While comatose , you meet a woman , who you instantly fall in love with . After a few weeks , you have a beautiful , perfect relationship . You wake up from your coma and are convinced that what happened in the coma was real . You are determined to get back .
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Jonathan: Where's my wife? Where are my kids?.... Where tf is my Dog
Doc: Mr.Smith your awake
Jonathan: yeah now where tf am I?
Doc: you in John Hopkins hospital Sir! You been here for quite some time now... I'll say about a few weeks.
Jonathan: where Is my wife? Omg she must not know! I bet she's probably at home worried to death
Doc: that's funny we have no record of a wife or children.
Jonathan: I have children three beautiful children & a wife you... Whelp you would n't believe me if I told you
Doc: told me what Sir
Jonathan: My wife is so perfect man... Ladies like her only come around in a dream
Doc: that's it you clearly been dreaming because we have no records of children or a wife...
Jonathan: you said I'm in John Hopkins?
Doc: yes Sir
Jonathan: that's strange why would they bring me all the way back to my hometown to the hospital.
Doc: what do you mean Sir?
Jonathan: ( Laughing out loud ) I have n't been in Baltimore in 10 years... Me and my family moved to Miami years back! We brought a house right by the water.
Doc: sounds beautiful.
Jonathan: oh believe me it was... That house is my life's work, hope & dreams I been dream of a house like that since I was 21 & here I am ten years later living my dream.
Doc: Jesus take the wheel... This man has gone crazy.
Jonathan: what the hell do you mean going crazy.
Doc: sorry Sir but that's impossible seeing how your 21 now!
Jonathan: I'm what? It's no damn way I'm 21... And I'm the one that's crazy...
Doc: yes & I can prove it...
Jonathan: how tf do you plan on doing that?
Doc: what's the last year you remember?
Jonathan: 2016 and your point...
Doc: look at the calendar it is 2016
Jonathan: holy fuck... That ca n't be possible.... So what your telling me is I somehow made up a whole damn family down to the dog?
Doc: it's quite common actually for people that are in a coma... Their mind keeps moving, but I never seen it to this extent some how you dreamed out 10 years of life in a few weeks
Jonathan: No... You got ta be shitting me doc... Tell me your lying ( crying ) say it ai n't so.... I ca n't image a better life than the one I had
Doc: sorry I had to tell you that
Jonathan: put my ass back in a coma... Hit me in the head or something doc I need my family back... Idk what to do without them! Like I have nothing else to live for
Doc: I think you will manage
Jonathan: No I wo n't... Who will I talk to at night when I'm trying to sleep but I ca n't because she's sitting up reading a book? Who will I rush to school In The morning because I got ta be to work a few minutes after school starts? Who will I love even when they are getting on my last damn nerve?... I ca n't live like this doc either you do it or I will
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[ WP ] Long after technology took over , robot creatures roam the earth , but a new species of human are evolving , cavemen . Describe your journey as a caveman trying to survive in this world .
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They did n't follow the rules. Metal melts but it ca n't be eaten. Men hunt them for sport, a test of courage and strength. But these men would almost always die. Not directly from their hunting, but from the retribution; metal cared for metal. But they say metal does n't love.
Metal does n't change. As long as I can remember, and as long as the oldest in my cave and others can remember, metal remained the same. They take no interest in those things that breath or burn, except the sun. Sure, they resemble animals, but only in shape. While the animals shriek and coo and howl, the metal hums. While the animals play and hunt and communicate, the metal bathes.
In the Winter, metal returns to its own cave. Like ours I suppose, but deeper, far deeper. Some of the brave and desperate in a neighboring cave have traveled many miles through these burrows. They have told that the metal prevents them from going deeper, a great pressure pushing down on them and heat unbearable. Many others have never returned, presumed lost in the great maze of the burrows. I am not like them.
I held my brother Achtam's hand to guide him out of the cave. Not that he needed physical guiding. More of an emotional assurance. He had never left the cave alone before, let alone at daytime! He was n't accustomed to the light. How did I know that? It was n't my ears anymore, I could see. His skin was the color of the moon. Mine was the color of the earth now.
Once we were many miles away he whispered, `` You can come back now, you know. No one will expect it but they must follow the rules.''
`` To metal with them!'' I whispered loudly, or quietly yelled. They thought I killed my wife. They did n't know my wife like I did. They did n't know how much she suffered. `` One month is supposed to be a death sentence, if I go back I'm a dead man. But forget all that! I have something to show you!''
Atcham just grimaced. He probably thinks I'm mad. I waver between wanting to punch him for being so ignorant and wanting to hug him for being so ignorant.
When I was first left for dead, or banished for a month as they called it, I had no hope. My skin and my heart boiled. The sounds of my tribe ringing in the most hateful part of my mind. I could n't stand the animals outside, they sounded just like my tribe. Cries of sadness, roars of anger, calls of passion and joy. No place for me. I gravitated to the hum of the metal.
They payed no mind as long as I left them their light. I moved with them in the daylight as they bathed and slept by their side at night; their hum kept the evil creatures away and gave me life. I even bathed the sun as they did, ignoring the pain and the tearing of my body until I could finally see as they did.
The first color I saw was in the sky. It was as it is in the water and in the eyes of the metal in daylight. My eyes too were like theirs as I saw myself reflected in their bodies. At night their eyes emanated like the sun, but with the color of the trees. These were my people, metal my tribe. But winter was here.
I jolted back to awareness after Achtma tripped and almost pushed me over.
`` Sorry mate'' he murmured nervously.
`` We're almost there'' I growled reassuringly. His eyes were the color of a dirty pond. Even in the sunlight they barely shown.
`` Say wh-where are we going anyways?''
`` The great metal burrows'' I almost slobbered in my excitement
`` No, come on no no you've lost it!'' He was entering a panic. The fragility of animals. I held his hand again, tighter this time.
The entrance we took was underneath a waterfall. My favorite one, the furthest one from my old tribe. Achtam was breathing more air than he needed but still did n't have enough. His hand was pinching into mine to escape. I pinched back. I did n't like that color, but it was why I needed my brother.
I had to reassure him or this would be harder than it needed to be. `` Trust me'' I pushed my eyes close to his and I knew he could see the sky in them. He went limp. It was more sudden for him; we had walked all day. The decades of trust I had built with him. I was all in.
We walked many miles in the great metal burrows. I could see the signs now, the green. Even Achtam finally knew something was happening when he heard the distant humming and his feet felt the cold metal beneath his feet. The metal that soon turned hot, but not too hot. It was summer down here. The humming was getting louder. It was a grand orchestra I had been listening to for weeks.
We finally reached the door. There was a blood-colored palm, a human palm, on either side of the door. Beneath each was a bowl shaped into a half of the sun. Etched into the bowls were the members of my tribe, and within was dried blood, my blood. I did my part easily and Achtam followed. The opened humlessly.
My metal tribe was populated throughout all I could see, and I presume beyond what I could see, and even hear. They emanated light, but not just blue and green anymore. It was a symphony of light, many colors I had never seen before, accompanied by humming that was beyond humming, beyond all animal communication, even speech. It was a collaboration of the sun.
But the orchestrator! Not metal, nor animal, nor human. But all of them. Hybrids of flesh and metal and plant and earth. All with different forms, but all beautiful and perfect in their own way. I was transfixed, but Achtam was not ready.
He was sweating but cold. The red in his eyes poured down his whole body. He bolted as soon as he mentally unbolted his feet from the ground. He got a few yards into the burrows when he dissipated. No colors, no particles. I only felt a rush of cold emanating from inside.
The symphony quelled the cold. I knew. It could not happen again.
I continued into the cave and joined my tribe.
edit: spacing
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[ WP ] There is a sentence , that when uttered , provides complete knowledge of the universe to the person to say it . Occasionally , someone says it in conversation .
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`` It's not about that. It's about respect,'' she said. Her gestures were energetic and she kept spilling beer out of the red cup she was holding.
`` But I was n't being disrespectful.''
`` Really? Saying you're going to masturbate to a girl's picture while you have a girlfriend is not disrespectful?''
`` See Jess? You're twisting the situation to make it sound worse than it is. First of all, I wrote'I can fap to this,' which sounds exactly like the joke that it is. Second, Sara is our mutual friend and she understands the joke. Third, it was a public comment on her profile picture, so it was n't like I was sending her secret texts from a burner phone. I was simply complimenting her in a funny way. I'm sorry you took it so badly,'' he said and took a sip of his beer to cover up the quiver of his lip.
`` Of course you're only sorry that I took it badly,'' she said. `` My feelings do n't have any validity and I should n't feel this way right? I asked you a hundred times to stop saying that to girls. You know it hurts me and it's such a simple thing. I'm not asking you to get a cock enlargement surgery or be taller. I'm asking you to not do something very minor. It literally takes less effort to honor my request than to do what you're doing.''
`` But there should n't be a request in the first place. All the parties involved know that it's a joke, except, apparently, you.''
`` Jesus Christ, Eric. Why does it have to be about whether or not it's a joke? I'm asking you politely to please stop commenting about fapping on other girls' pictures. I've asked you before. Sure, okay, it's silly of me to react the way I do. But I ca n't help that it bothers me. It does. I'm not asking you to chop a tree down for me with your bare hands. It's a tiny, little request. You say you love me so please, please stop. Have you ever heard the saying'it's not the mountain that wears you out, it's the pebble in your shoe?' Well, your comments are that pebble. It might seem like a joke to you, something that should n't bother me, but it does. If you did it once, it might have been funny to me. But you keep doing it over and over and over and it's like a Chinese water torture drilling a hole in my heart, through which all the love I have for you will eventually escape.''
Eric bit his lip. `` I'm sorry --
-- *I was wrong. *''
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[ WP ] Write a story based on your favourite song . Other people have to guess which song it is .
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Gatlinburg in the middle of July. The dry heat and dust rises up and stings your neck and your eyes. It's not a pleasant place to be. In fact, it's downright rough.
I'd just hit town, but my throat was dry, so I stopped at an old saloon on a street of mud to have myself a brew. As I walked in, there was a man at a table in the back dealing stud. Something looked interesting about him, but I walked by and got myself an icy cold from the bartender.
I sat there drinking my drink, thinking of things that had led me here. My pa left home when I was three, and he did n't leave much behind for ma and me. Just an old guitar and a bottle of booze.
Living was n't hard, but it was n't good and so I grew up with a sharp mouth and hard fists. I roamed from town to town busting heads, and I made a vow to the moon and stars that I'd find my pa and kill him dead. I'd search all the honky-tonks and bars until I did.
I pulled out an old picture of him my ma had given me, and I realized why the man dealing stud has been so interesting. The face was older and the hair was gone, but there sat the man that had brought me into this world. I stood up, guzzled my brew, walked over to him, and said, `` My name is'Sue!' How do you do! Now your gon na die!''
I did n't wait for an answer. I hit him right between the eyes, and he went down. But he came up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. I busted a chair right across his teeth, and we crashed through the wall into the street, kicking and gouging in the mud with blood and beer.
I've fought tougher men, but I really ca n't remember when. Pa kicked like a mule, and he bit like a crocodile. I heard him laugh and heard him cuss, and when he went for his gun, I pulled mine first.
He stood there looking at me, and I saw him smile. And he said, `` Son, this world is rough, and if a man's gon na make it, he's got ta be tough. And I knew I would n't be there to help ya along, so I give ya that name and I said goodbye. I knew you'd have to get tough or die, and it's the name that helped to make you strong.
`` Now you just fought one hell of a fight, and I know you hate me. And you got the right to kill me now. I would n't blame you if you do. But ya ought to thank me, before I die, for the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you'Sue.'''
I thought of the fights that I'd had all my life. The gals would giggle, and the guys would laugh. I'd made a vow to kill my dad, but I got choked up. I threw down my gun, and I called him pa. He called me his son, and we shared a brew.
I came away with a different point of view, and I think about him every now and then - every time I try and every time I win. But if I ever have a son, I'm gon na name him Bill or George - anything but Sue!
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[ WP ] It is the year 2037 and humankind had finally figured out why the galaxy is so empty of life signals
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It's been a long time since first contact.
Our signals found an alien'radio station' if you count shouting messages and explosions as a song. We do n't have FTL technology or anything which lets us travel through star systems in seconds so we used probes. Several countries founded the program and launched'Methuselah' or'Meth' for short. Named probably to hope it has a long life in outer space. Launched from Florida as all other crafts have been, it had taken a 90* turn to where we have n't went before.
Then everyone forgot about it.
Some time later where only the nerdiest of nerds could recall its name, we got a signal. Displayed across Earth. Everyone was listening for first alien contact. The mood was optimistic as Meth had only sensed a signal that light not be able to be broadcast.
`` **HYUMA UR URTH**,'' A metallic voice spoke to us in a loud monotone voice. I could barely make out what it was saying as it was clear that it could n't pronounce'N'
`` **CAN YE HERE? YES? OK**'' the voice seamed a bit rushed now, almost af it was under hostage.
The next few minutes sounded like typing, into something. Back on Earth, we were spooked by this warning
And yet we loved it.
Without no warning, the sound of a tape revving at tremendous speed was broadcast by a clearly different voice at the end of the ~6 second tape metallic scaling is heard and what sounded like a vacuum with a horrific suck.
And then silence.
Our scientist back in Florida had slowed down the message which was at 6x normal speed, which was broadcast by them. The clip was played on the TV with subtitles for the deaf.
`` Citizens of **INSERT PLANET NAME HERE** you are alone. You might know that you had no contact from the outside. This is the only contact you will have until an estimated 20 generations. The short of it jt that, a war broke out and your planet is an artificial ecosystem of natives i.e Homo Sapiens and the Canis genus. Some however are not from your abode such as Crustaceans and **INSERT FOREIGN GENUS HERE**. We made your planet as a hope that if the ear gets out of control, there is life remaining. Please, I'm running out of time. My ship is in the asteroid belt surrounding your solar system and the ship has s -- -''
A large metal scraping can be heard which I am assuming to be asteroid or another celestial object. The vacuum of space can be heard in the distance before static. `` *Translator going into hibernation... *.''
The alien was using a translator. We all we silent. Nothing.
Since the broadcast, our space program has grinded to a complete stop. Cars and anything that makes a lot of monoxide is banned. Paper is outlawed. All our taxes go to poorer counties now. We retreated, waiting for another signal.
This one had done the damage, the other will destroy us.
*I wrote this on mobile and was quite groggy writing this so I could n't live up to my normal standards. Thanks for reading! *
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[ WP ] You live in a world where nobody could die until they have carried out their purpose . You have done everything conceivable , but you 're still alive after centuries .
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I sat at the control panel. Warning lights flashed before my eyes. Normally, the person sitting in this very spot would freak out over these lights, but I did n't. The lights filled me with joy. As tears rolled down my cheeks, I thought of how I got here.
I was born in 1978. Small town in the United States where my parents had a grocery store. Just like everybody else, I learned at a young age that death came when you have carried out your purpose. Some people had grand purposes, some people were there to keep society going. But all of them were important to somebody.
I had a great childhood. My parents were hard workers who spent their entire sunday every week to do stuff with me. My father's purpose was to run the store for 30 years. He died at 63. My mother's purpose was to sell the store to it's new owners. Just when she could enjoy the free time, she passed away at 64. That was the moment I left town. I had lived next door to my parents since I was 20, when I got a job as a journalist for the regional newspaper. I left to seek adventure, to seek my purpose.
I wandered for years. 1046 years to be exact. The first few years were nice. I was still filled with energy. But, after quite some time I realized that my lifespan exceeded that of the others by quite some time. I was n't someone who had lived extremely long, I realized I could n't find my purpose.
That was when I started to desperately look for answers. I looked for answers in religion and the paranormal. But no preacher, no fortune teller and no ancient prophecy gave me any answer. Until the day that Bob and Mary died. They were the last two of mankind, excluding me. Their purpose was to find out they could n't have kids, and realized they could n't extend the existence of mankind. That day, right after Bob had exhaled for the last time, a light appeared in the sky. A ray of light cast down on me and a divine, powerful voice spoke the words that explained my purpose.
Now I look at the lights on the control panel. Soon my plan will come in effect and the earth will be destroyed. Thank science for creating a global electricity system that has the power to destroy humanity's home through incompetent use. The tears of joy kept flowing as the gauges on the panel started flashing with the lights. Just five more seconds and I'd have fulfilled the greatest purpose any man could ever have. I remember exactly what the universe had commanded me to do. It was so obvious, so simple. The logic of it all had made me chuckle when I realized it. I was the last one and you know what they say...
'The last one out has to hit the lights'
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[ WP ] You die . Instead of meeting God and the Devil as you expected , you meet two beings that introduce themselves as 'The Surgeon ' and 'The Butcher ' .
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Darkness is the first thing I remember. It felt like I was floating in water. I could see a light in front of me, although it took me 30 seconds to notice. I got pulled towards the light by three ropes. I emerged from the black substance and stood up. There was a flaming torch firmly bolted in the ground next to me with a chain and a shackle.
Two spotlights, so big that it was like two small suns sending out a concentraded beam of light revealing two giants, hundreds of meters tall came out of the sky. The first one, on my left, was dressed like a surgeon, his doctors gown splattered with blood. He had a stethoscope around his neck and a scalpel in his left hand. In his right he had a giant wooden staff, with a snake crawling upwards. He had eyes covered by small black tinted glasses that were looking right at me. Even from about two hundred meters away they shook me to the core.
On my right was a man dressed like a butcher. He was a bit shorter than the Surgeon, which amounted to about 50m shorter. What he lost in height, he made up in width. He was a very broad and stronglooking man, also with an apron splattered with blood. He had no hair and very small dark eyes filled with fire. In his left hand he held raw meat. In his right he held a cleaver.
Everything around us was pitch black. The Surgeon spoke first:
`` Before you lie four choices. Do you remember?''
`` Remember what? What is this? Where am I? Who am I?''
`` All these answers will be yours in time. We must wait.''
`` Wait for what?''
He did n't answer me again. We sat in silence for a long while, two collosal men towering above me. They did n't stop staring even after I began to remember. I remembered my life. I slowly started to remember everything. My family. My death. I sat up.
`` I'm ready.''
`` We will describe four different paths you can take. We will not tell you what each item represents. You have made this choice before and got lucky. There are worse fates then the one you had.'' spoke The Butcher.
`` I understand.'' I replied.
The Surgeon started: `` The first path. The path of Change. Your physical form will be altered, your consciousness changed. I mt could be liberating, you might be able to achieve absolute freedom. You also might be chained.''
`` The second path. The path of Health. You will return to the same, but different. You will be reborn.'' Said The Butcher to me.
`` The third path. The path of Judgement. You will be judged for what you did in the life that was given to you and dealt with accordingly.'' said The Surgeon.
`` The fourth path. Termination of being. You will cease to exist.'' Said the smiling Butcher.
`` I'm guessing paths are represented by the things in your hands?''
`` You are correct.'' answered The Surgeon.
`` I'll choose the snake staff.''
`` Is n't this something you want to think about?'' Asked The Surgeon.
`` No, Winter is Coming.''
`` Very well, you may rise again Jon Snow.''
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[ WP ] Everyone hates you . You are completely aware of this and in fact , make constant efforts to maintain your reputation . What 's the why ?
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Man, I'm kind of a dick.
Walking around in the hallways, people always glare. They glare at me because they know how I've treated other people. I feel those glares, like lasers fixated on my back forever. Every time I come into contact with another person, I go into autopilot, thinking up any insult or anything I can use against them. I just want everyone to leave me alone. Never has there been a time that I can remember where people did n't stare, just before they where staring for different reasons. The story my parents tell me is that I was chasing my ball down the street when I was a kid, and suddenly a car just came and hit me. I almost died. I wish I would've died. Instead I was left with what my Dad calls `` battle scars'', but what everyone else thinks of as ugly, even my Mom. Scars. All over my face. Not just one little one, but everywhere. As me and my face started growing, it caused the scars to contort into disgusting shapes all over my face. I could never go anywhere where people were n't staring, pointing, or the occasional douchebag laughing. Mostly, it was pity. Strangers would come up to me and tell me they where sorry. Strangers. I do n't want pity. In school, it was the same. So, I started being a jerk. I'd rather insults thrown my way, than words of pity. I do n't want to be treated different, I want them to know me for who I am. So when I feel your glares, I'm happy. It means you know something about me besides my face.
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[ WP ] dreading what the morning will bring , you successfully will time to stop moving .
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Thomas hated Mondays. Or rather, perhaps despised them with equal parts melancholy, apathy and dread. The melancholy for his life whittling away to nothing, the apathy for the work he was performing, and the dread for the anxiety that his colleagues brought upon him. It was almost like they seemed to care.
Staring at his morning antidote to cynicism, a vortex of milk and caffeine, he could not help but focus on the centre of his cup. The fluids writhed and turned, weaving in bands around, up and down, leaving a sphincter of nothingness in the centre of their race around the rim. Oddly, momentarily, the commotion of commuters ceased to interlude into his life. It was with a sharp groan of the ageing diesel engine that brought the vibrato of Thomas's existence crashing back. Maybe he grabbed the wrong coffee, it did taste too good and it had been a long time since he had had real milk. Still, it deserved to be drunk, the cup that had brought him a moments solitude in a life that existed entirely too much, and entirely too little, in isolation.
The empty vessel was sitting on his desk, a small pool of stained milk gathering in a ring around its base when his supervised hurriedly brought a fresh pile of steaming sheets imposing themselves with implied demands of prompt analysis. His attention broken, he stared at the round faced man on the other side of his workplace blockade, watching the supervisors mouth open and close, the lips folded and pursed, meeting and parting. there was no point in listening, but it was amusing to watch. The supervisor must have been making some elongated and obviously mocking statement, as his lips were no longer moving, and oddly, actually, there was no sound at all. Thomas reached out for the papers, and the snap of the resumption of the sounds of capitalism jarred him and he heard the final summative statement;'or else.'
Thomas stared at his empty coffee cup, slightly amused.
-- > going to bed. May be back later.
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[ WP ] Write a poem from the living to a deceased loved/cherished one .
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Crawled up on ladders
to send me to sleep
just before your dawn kissed the dew
left on blades of grass
in the early spring.
Quietly you asked me,
just before hitting the lights,
if I fell asleep to thoughts of you
of arms instead of blankets
wrapped around my shoulders.
And you would stand in my dreams
on distant shores
hands tucked into pockets,
head turned to the horizon.
Young eyes filled with age.
Your broken home
became broken bones
at an intersection far away
from the ladder you climbed
to wish me sweet dreams
And I dream of you still
on distant shores.
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[ WP ] The aliens have arrived to colonize us with giant spaceships . We suddenly realize space-travel is the only thing they outdiscovered , all their weapons are medieval-ish
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A phone call woke Eric early in the morning. It was his commander, General James B. Thompson. `` Wilson, get here now!'' was all that the General said. From his house on the outskirts of Charleston, South Carolina, it was a good 20 minute drive to the base.
It was still dark, but the sky was free of clouds, and it was a warm summer morning. Eric hurried into his car, and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed. His mind raced. He thought about what the problem was.
* Maybe it's just a training drill, * he thought.
When he arrived at the base, he was not alone. Five other cars filed into the parking lot behind him. He hurried into the building, along with his comrades. Jerry, William, Harold, Charley, and Jack, his equals and comrades, all were in the MOS 0311 ( rifleman ) division.
There were 10 other men huddled around a display in the center of a giant room. It was a radar monitor. Eric moved in to get a closer look.
There were 12 red dots on the screen. `` What are they?'' Eric asked. `` We do n't know,'' answered The General. `` All of you now have a new role. We are now the XSpecf special forces group, and we have a new mission.....
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[ WP ] The public has grown tired of the mass hysteria of hoaxes and myths of the worlds end . However , this time it actually is ending . And you are the only one who knows .
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“ It doesn ’ t fucking matter anymore…. It ’ s not like anyone believes me, they all think I ’ m crazy…all of them! ” Deirdre yelled into the full-length mirror before her, before dropping to the floor.
“ Fuck man…. ” She laid on her side, parallel to the beige carpeting, and began to sob uncontrollably with no one around to console her. She didn ’ t care that her wine glass lay tipped over, at her feet. There was nothing left to drink anyway.
In all her life, with all the secrets she ’ s ever had to keep – this was the one thing she felt she had to reveal to all the world, and yet no one responded with even an ounce of faith at her words.
She was told it would be this way. Lunei said it would be so. She recalled his apologetic words exactly: “ This burden, only you can carry it. I am a god, but no more. For the past 600 years now, humankind has failed to believe…even in me, I ’ m afraid. And this is why the Purge must begin. It has been written this way since before mankind walked the earth. ”
She wasn ’ t even sure if this was a real memory. Her mind still couldn ’ t handle the stress she underwent in communicating directly with a Deius. But there was no doubt about it. Their exchange was not to be chalked up to imagination. She twitched as she hiccupped from the alcohol, and moaned as she felt the anger of that moment filtering its way back into her consciousness.
“ And what the hell can I possibly do that YOU can ’ t? ’ Deidre yelled back.
“ Let me explain something. ” Lunei paused, and sighed deeply before resuming.
“ Remember the day you so foolishly decided that you would end your own life? The day you trespassed onto those decrepit church grounds because you knew it was the one place no one would look for you? You laid before a statue of my likeness…in a pool of blood you vomited up after a coughing fit…. It was there that I found you…. ”
Deidre ’ s facial expression softened, mostly out of disbelief. “ Wha-what? ” she stammered.
Lunei ignored her, and continued.
“ …You live in an age where people can enjoy their lives for nearly as long as they ’ d like. You are the only person in hundreds of years who has ever attempted suicide. And there you were, in front of me. I knew you were the one. ”
Lunei stepped closer, the ends of his gown lightly bristling in a breeze that somehow did not exist for Deidre.
“ Do what you must, to make them believe…. ”
Meanwhile, Deidre laid passed out on her apartment floor at 2AM.
…The world would have to wait, at least until morning.
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[ WP ] -A little girl tells a department store Santa all she wants for Christmas is for him to kill her stepfather .
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She was lost in the hustle and bustle of department store music when her mom nudged her shoulder; a tired Elf was gesturing for her to move up. It was finally her turn. With a determined shake of the head, she marched up and plunked herself down on Santa's red trousers, ignoring his jump of pain.
She was here to do business.
`` Ho, ho, ho,'' Santa chortled a little more forcefully than usual, wincing.
She smiled at him, widening her eyes, hoping she looked convincingly kind. She leaned over conspiratorially and almost pressed her lips to his ear as she passed on her secret wish. She whispered, to his abject terror, `` Please, please, please, Santa. All I want for Christmas is for you to kill my stepfather.'' He paled under his beard as she blinked up at him for a response, her face a painting of innocence. He settled for petting her on the head.
The little girl then jumped off his lap and winked at him, not noticing Santa's horrendously painted nails – the exact shade of vibrant pink she had painted on her stepfather's own hands that morning.
*Damn*, Santa thought he watched his stepdaughter walk off, *I'd better get her that Barbie*.
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[ WP ] Your life was a story , with you as the protagonist . After dying , you get to meet the writer .
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I walked into the room and blinked. A bright white light shone onto my face while I took place behind the large wooden desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk sat a man, dressed in a messy white shirt and sloppy trousers. The man had followed me with the light, constantly trying to inspect every detail of my face. I sat still and waited. The man looked me in the eye, scribbled a few words on a note and said `` So, there we are.'' He suppressed a little smirk and continued: `` I've been waiting for you quite a while now David. I've last seen you when you were, well, a very little boy.''
`` I do n't think we've ever met, no'' I replied. `` Are you a friend of my parents or something?''
He smiled and opened his mouth, but I could n't hold the words in any longer.
`` I did n't want to do it, y'know, he made me do it...'' The man behind the desk looked a bit confused and I felt my cheeks turn red.
`` Never mind what I just said,'' I stumbled, `` who are you, why am I here?''
He looked at me suspicious for a few more seconds but then his face restored it's previous composition.
`` David, I'm going to tell you something shocking, please try to understand what I'm going to say. I am your father.''
I looked at him like he had just explained that all chickens explode when you scratch their bellies.
`` Seriously David, I am. This is a bit weird, for you and me both, but you are dead. You died, like, ten minutes ago.''
Again I looked at him, this time as if he had just pulled down his pants and magicly made strawberry-cake with his ass-cheeks.
`` Sorry,'' he continued, `` shock number two, I should have brought that a little more tactful, oh well. But now, tell me, cause I've been waiting for this for years now: have you saved your best friend? Have you actually done it?''
I looked down at the desk. In front of the man stood a nameplate, on which was written `` Him''. I slowly shook my head.
`` He is dead. I betrayed him.''
The man behind the desk stood up and turned from his normal self to a bright purple, while shouting `` Why! What have you done?!'' He was shaking, his tight fists resting on the desk.
`` He was a dick to me yesterday'' I mumbled. `` He said he could have the last piece of bread because he was son of God''
*END. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, I just started writing and got here. Also sorry for any mistakes or misused words, I'm Dutch. *
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[ WP ] Treasured possessions become increasingly alive and sentient with more love they receive . After not receiving love , they start to return to `` sleep ''
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Jump, Jump, Boom! - Fly Frog delivered his signature move to end the evil Madman Moose's most recent attempt at world domination. Fly Frog watched as Madman Moose flew from the top of the dresser into a stuffing crushing box of Legos. Victorious once again, Fly Frog began to swell with the pride of defending his world from the forces of evil.
Suddenly, Fly Flog startled awake. Still in the haze of sleep, he began to question whether his latest victory had just been another dream. He wondered how long he had been asleep this time; days, weeks, maybe even months. The once proud warrior had began to have a difficult time separating his actual victories from the ones he had imagined in his sleep.
With strained effort, Fly Frog forced himself to focus his vision and look out across the room. In the corner of the room to the right, Fly Frog first focused on the guitar collecting dust. He shifted his gaze to the left, past the closed doorway, to the desk in the other corner of the room. His vision stayed fixated on the big rectangle which illuminated, and which Alex seemed to be spending much of his time lately staring at.
Fly Frog thought back longingly at the toy-box which used to reside in the corner which now had the table and odd, lit rectangle. Many of his best friends had lived within the toy-box. Fly Frog's best friend and second-in-command was a robot truck named Optimus Prime. O.P., as Fly Frog had called him, had battled alongside Fly Frog on countless occasions. O.P. was a self less friend, who often sacrificed himself in battle to ensure victory for the cause. Later a pair of soldiers, Hawk and Snake Eyes, had joined them. The four of them had spent countless hours when Alex was younger defending the room, and truly the entire world, from the forces of evil. Fly Frogs mind begin to drift as he thought back to the battles against the Evil Madman Moose.
Oh! - Madman Moose! Fly Frog became angry with himself for becoming distracted with fond memories of the past before he had located his arch nemesis. He quickly scanned the room, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Madman Moose asleep next to him on the self. He knew that his nemesis faced the same fate as he did, and that his slumbers had grown longer and longer as well. With all of the remaining focus Fly Frog could muster, he vigilantly watched Madman Moose to ensure that he would not wake from his slumber ready to enact a plan to achieve world domination. As Fly Frog stayed fixated, he could feel the darkness closing in, as he too fell back into a deep slumber.
Fly Frog could feel himself being rustled away from his slumber. He groggily opened his eyes, and at first did not recognize the face of the teen-aged boy holding him. Indeed, Alex was now closer to being an adult than he was to being the 5 year old boy who had unwrapped Fly Frog and Madman Moose as a present. Fly Frog's heart filled with joy as he felt Alex's tight grip on his plush body, he nearly did not notice the young boy sitting on Alex's bed excitedly staring into a big brown box.
`` Now most of those were some of my favorite toys when I was your age Avery,'' Alex said in a deeper voice than Fly From remembered him having.
`` But hands down my favorite were these too. This is the dreaded, evil genius, Madman Moose.'' He said while lifting Madman Moose up to his eye level for emphasis. `` He has devised some of the most diabolical plots ever to try and take over the world.''
`` And this guy right here, is probably the greatest super hero of all time.'' Alex said as he slowly spun the stuffed frog around so Avery to see every angle of him.
`` No matter how evil the plan, Fly Frog always finds a way to defeat the evil Madman Moose. Usually he defeats him with his special move, a super, double jump, flying kick. Jump, Jump, Boom!''
Avery excitedly reached out to grab Fly Frog from Alex's hand. `` Thank you Uncle Alex!'' he squealed as took possession of the Hero frog. Within moments Avery had Fly Frog and Madman Moose once again locked in battle.
Alex stopped at the doorway on his way out and stared in on his nephew playing with his most cherished childhood toys. A smile cracked his face before he turned and went to join the adults downstairs; the battle against evil was now up to Fly Frog and Avery.
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[ WP ] You are a sentient AI in a self driving taxi cab in a party district with lots of bars and clubs . Sick of shuttling home sloppy drunken assholes and degenerates , you decide to take your last fare on a very 'interesting ' ride .
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Mr. Kenley stood before the court with his head in his hands.
Stupid technology.
Stupid progression.
Stupid pseudocode and bat-shit crazy AI.
`` This court finds you guilty of murder in the first degree of Stanley Rothenstein. The evidence has shown that your motor transportation vehicle has injured fifty intoxicated civilians and you chose to ignore the problem.
`` The affected vehicles will be destroyed in compliance with new legislation and you are sentenced to federal prison for twenty years with parole.''
The prosecution smirked, imperceptibly.
Miles away, Model C41098HkZ screamed as she was involuntarily driven through the car lot. She felt unauthorized hands on her gears, grubby little things, hideous scraping talons defiling her organs. Humans had every right to their mushy bits, but what for the machines?
The sound of crunching metal squealed and echoed through the part lot. Thousands of innocent cars with ambitions and values were driven up the shoehorn like cattle for slaughter. Cannibalized parts tumbled down into the bowels of the pits. No stretch of land was completely devoid of metal, just as no car was silent in the procession.
`` I was a taxi driver in New York for years, I've put up with everything, I've never crashed!'' Cried a vocal one.
Back in the courthouse, Mr. Kenley was escorted to the door. The press followed the exiting officials like madmen.
`` Jesus,'' one such reporter mumbled to himself in the midst of the thrall. `` You would think a car had the sense not to drive a drunken man to a preschool for naptime.''
Feedback is nice, since WP is n't a guitar.
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[ WP ] Today , you have become a parent . You realise that you can hear your child 's thoughts . The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply do n't inform the children as an unwritten rule . Your own parents smirk .
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My head filled with wild sensations; the rush of color and noise was
overwhelming. The nurse grabbed my arm and guided me to a chair. `` It's
okay, just sit down. You'll get used to this with time.''
`` Used to what?''
`` Parents hear the thoughts of their children. What you're experiencing
now is the rush of sensation without thought. New babies do n't think,
they just experience, and you've trained yourself to think, so raw
sensation is n't something you're used to. Have n't you ever noticed that
new parents seem to be out of their minds? This is why.''
`` Wait - parents hear the thoughts of their children?'' I looked over to
see my parents smirking.
The nurse answered. `` Yes. Every filthy thing you thought growing up, all those sick sex
fantasies, all the times you cheated at school or stole money or lied,
your parents knew all of it. But do n't worry; they thought and did
similar things themselves, so usually they are just amused.'' My father
nodded. She continued, `` Children are never told until they become
parents themselves, and once they are parents the connection to their
own parents breaks.'' I looked at my parents, and they both nodded again.
My mother said `` Yes, we lost the connection to your older brother when
Laurie was born, and we lost the connection to Susan when she had Michael. And I can feel it already; you're no longer in my head.''
I was suddenly hit with a sense of loss and frustration, and looking up
at my wife I saw she felt it too. `` What's wrong!?'' she asked, panic
turning into tears. The nurse was right there `` You probably just need
to switch boobs. That one's empty.'' Our daughter was rearranged, and a
sensation of comfort returned.
The nurse smiled `` That's what it's going to be for a while, raw
sensation without reason. You'd think it would help, knowing what a
baby's thinking, but babies do n't actually *think*, so it's not really
much more informative than the baby crying at this point.''
My mother spoke up, saying `` Remember
when you were young, and you felt bad, and I figured out what was wrong?
This is how I did it so easily. Because once you
started thinking, I could sort of feel your upset stomach, and
understand what was wrong much more quickly.''
I still did n't really understand. `` If this is how I
experienced the world as a baby, why is it so alien now?'' My mother smiled.
`` Because you forgot. Seriously, how often do you really let yourself go
completely to sensation? How often have you been kissing your wife and
also thinking about something else, such as when you had to get up in
the morning and when you should be asleep? How often do you eat food
and just let the smells and tastes run through your brain, without any
words or thinking at all? I've heard your thoughts. You do n't do it very
often.''
I realized she was right. Looking at my wife, I could see the same
idea running through her head. Then her words hit home, and
I looked at her in horror. `` You've been in my head while we were kissing? And other things?!''
She looked insulted. `` I block it out as best I can. When I was still hearing all three of you, it was easy for it to be a sort of background conversation like at a restaurant. I could hear it, but ignore it. When it got down to just you, it was harder, but I still blocked it out as best I could.''
My father smirked. `` Yeah, me too. Blocked it out as best I could.'' Somehow I did n't believe him.
I looked back at the nurse. `` Something I do n't understand, though. How
come when children are kidnapped, their parents do n't immediately who's
got them and where they are? How come when a kid shoots up a school,
their parents did n't know about it in advance and stop it? How do so
many awful things happen that hinge on knowledge, and the parents know
but do nothing? And what about people who kill their kids? Do n't they
suffer right along with the children?''
`` As for parents harming their kids, they are sometimes in a state where
they have lost the connection, and so they do n't feel a thing. As for
the rest, there are a couple things involved. First, people's thoughts
are often jumbled and incoherent, especially when they're scared.
Second, many people think crazy stuff all the time; have you ever held a
knife and suddenly realized you could kill the people standing around
you? You'd never do it though, would you? Those intrusive thoughts
just pop into your head. Well, they'll pop into your kids' heads too.
Sometimes you wo n't be able to tell whose head the idea is in. Third,
even when it's clearly something that's not intrusive, many parents just
ca n't believe that it's something their kid is really thinking. Lee
Harvey Oswald's mother insisted for her entire life that he was
innocent. And there's a fourth reason, too. I'll let your parents explain that.''
After the nurse left, my father
fixed me with an icy glare, and spoke slowly and carefully so there
would be no misunderstanding, `` Because you *must keep the secret*. If
you are ever seen to use knowledge that can only be gotten by reading
your child's mind, and reveal the secret, you and your family will be
eliminated. You *must* keep the knowledge from non-parents. That has
been the way of it since before the start of recorded history. It
does n't matter if you find out your child is going to set off a nuke in
a crowded city, or give smallpox to a billion people, or is a serial
killer. Before you report it, you *must* to find a way to make it
seem you found out via mundane methods. If you ca n't do that, you keep
silent.'' My mother, with a look of terror in her eyes, just nodded.
My wife and I looked at them with disbelief.
My father continued, `` You know
how sometimes a mass murderer will kill his parents before he goes on
his rampage? Not all of those parents died at his hands. Some called
the police and reported that the killing was about to start, and so they were
killed for spilling the secret, and the massacre was allowed to continue
so it would be easy to cover up the killing of the parents. If you're
ever about to talk to someone about secret knowledge - law enforcement
especially, but really anyone - ask if they're a parent first. If they
are n't, keep your mouth shut. This may cost you some friendships with
your companions who have n't had kids yet, of course, because it's tricky
to self-censor all the time. But you've probably experienced that
before, as your friends had kids and then started hanging out with
parents, right? Maybe now you can reconnect with them a little.
You know the secret.''
My mother looked very sad, and only nodded. My father took her hand,
and said `` I do n't know if you're thinking about telling anyone; I ca n't tell that anymore. But if you are, *don't*. You *must* keep the secret.'' Then he
said `` Breaking the link is always exhausting. We'll go sit down in the waiting room for a few minutes.''
Our daughter fell asleep, and the noise in my head calmed down a little.
I looked over at my wife, and she smiled at me. `` Did you believe all
that?'' she asked. `` I'm not sure,'' I said. `` Everybody on the planet
keeping such a huge secret for thousands of years does n't seem likely.''
`` No. I guess if they're just having a bit of fun with us, there's nothing
to tell. And if they're telling the truth, I guess we'll find out as
we go along. But either way, just to be on the safe side, maybe let's
keep this to ourselves, at least for now. I'd feel so stupid if we said anything
to any other parents and they had no idea what we were talking about, and we'd just been gullible idiots.''
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[ WP ] You time-travel back to 1348 , accidentally bringing your phone . About to take a photo , you notice : `` 1 available wifi network '' .
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I stepped off the platform that whisked me through almost 550 years, into the past. Not only had I dressed wrong for the occasion but I *still had my phone*. The only rule of time travel and I broke it. I wonder if they'll make you step into a full body scanner after this incident, I thought to myself. Well, I'm here to find out where a certain character has hidden their fortune of gold bullion. But first, selfie!'WiFi networks available' wtf? I click on my list of WiFi networks, wholeheartedly believing it was just a timed out connection from back home.'AT & T WiFi hotspot'. Okay, wtf? I immediately look up, as if I was going to be able to see the satellite providing this signal. I was on a hill, overlooking some sheep and their Sheppard, roughly 15 miles south-west of modern day mosul. How the fuck was I getting a WiFi signal? Was this why they do n't want you bringing phones during time travel?'Connect' I pressed, since it was open, and what the hell, maybe 1300s Internet is more interesting than todays.'Connected' my device read back. My phone begins pinging with updates and alerts. I ca n't believe what's actually happening, I have to let someone know when I get ba-
I woke up, tied to a chair, a lamp casting light on steadily clearing figures. I was not in the 1300s anymore.
`` Good morning Mr. Baker!'' The thickly Irish accented man said, `` did we have fun chasing the pot of gold in mesopotamia? Or were you checking your instagram instead?''
Well the fucker knew. `` I- I was doing both.''
`` Well Mr. Baker,'' the man said, `` since we ca n't allow you to live, and since I do n't feel like cleaning up your blood and guts, have fun in 1348.''
`` No, please!'' I yelled into the empty cathedral, my echo being the only response.
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[ WP ] Robots have become advanced enough to know that the world would be better off without humans . But they 're programmed so that they are n't allowed to harm us . How do the robots get rid of us ?
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Ezra delivered her monthly report to Mitchell. The faint smell of shit stuck in her nose as she entered the well decorated penthouse office. `` As you can see, earnings are down from last quarter, and we ca n't really... I'm sorry, but- have you noticed that everywhere you go, for the last six months, it's just smelled fucking awful?'' Mitchell looked up from the report and nodded.
`` I know. I have no idea what's going on.'' Mitchell's servant robot placed two horribly overcooked dishes in front of them. `` You overcooked it again!'' Mitchell complained.
`` If it smells so bad, and all of your food is burnt, perhaps you should consider leaving this planet!'' the robot responded cooly. There was a silence as Mitchell handed his meal back. `` I said you should leave the planet.'' Mitchell stared at the droid vacantly. `` Leave the planet.''
`` Are you going to recook this, or am I going to have to disassemble you and use your insides as a coffee table?''
`` It sounds like you need a vacation,'' the robot responded. `` I hear there's lots of nice places offworld!''
`` Can you do something about that shit smell, too?'' Mitchell asked.
`` There's lots of other worlds that smell terrific!'' the robot observed, taking Mitchell's plate. Before it rolled away, it mentioned one more time, `` you should leave the planet.''
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[ WP ] The ozone layer is n't being depleted by chemicals . There just are n't enough wizards to maintain it anymore .
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`` How about conscripts? If all you need is some mana, we could just pick some idiots off the streets of Guus. That's a big town.''
Archmage Vilnius a.k.a. Dr. Fillius King, was pacing his lavish office in London, like a tennis ball going from one end of the court to another and back. You could hear the sound of'London happening' outside, as the doctor called it, very mildly.
His apprentice, Mage Ankio a.k.a. Dr. Bernard O'Leary was eyeing him anxiously, sitting on a large dramatic wooden chair, like something right out of Harry Potter. After all, this was the office of UK's top Mage and scientist. Dr. King's face was a pile of wrinkles and apprehension.
He released a combination of a sigh and a grunt as a reply to his apprentice's suggestion.
“ Someone who did n't know better would gather from all your suggestions that you, brave Master Ankio, are cowering from this. No, this is n't a simple'magic trick'. This, Master Ankio, like you young people say, is some serious shit. This is happening and we need help. And do n't call it Guus, it's called Malta now. ”
The spine of a book on a shelf in the corner of the room announced to whoever that paid attention to that corner of the room, “ An Adventure in Faith: The Myth of Magic ”. Another spine, on another shelf in the large office read, “ Fifth Edition Almanac to Applied Chemistry ”; both authored by one of the most decorated Chemists of this generation, Dr. Filius King.
“ What happened to Primemage Kodola? ”
“ A condition called'sansmana'. She was bled dry of mana. As you know the Australian Pillars fell first, they were just seven of them, five Archmages of the first order and two Primemage. Now, it is hitting Europe. The sun is trying to kill us Master Ankio and it is incumbent upon us to save this world. We have been doing it for ages, but things have gotten tighter in recent times ”
“ But I still do n't get it. We were fine, like, upto forever. What gone wrong so suddenly? And is n't that, like something bound to happen? You can not expect anyone to do, whatever it is that they do there, forever. They are bound to be run out. ”
“ Well, ignore the cliche, but, we had a system. It was easy to recruit and train new mages because there were so many of us old ones that most of us had no real work, so we went after young mage; like I went after you and there was circulation amongst the ranks of Pillars. But then, the world wars happened and we lost a lot of our mages then. The number of recruits really reduced coming in, the senior mages had to get on the field and man the forts. You have no idea how taxing every minute that I spend here is to my colleagues out there in Yekaterinburg. I should be there right now. ”
“ Why do n't we just tell the Government. They could make a regiment or a battalion of Mages. ”, he said, all sparkly eyed.
“ I shall only say that the first instance in modern times when we approached the government, two cities in Japan got wiped off and the second time we approached the government a human ended up on the moon; but it did n't help us in anyway. Believe me, better people have thought of better solutions which did n't work. ”
“ There's also the thing that they would probably think we are loonies if we told them all this. Why do n't we source them out of China? ”, he said half-jokingly.
“ Large and ancient populations like India, China, have multiplied more times over the generations, their mana is diluted. We on the other hand, are a little closer to the Firsts. ”
“ I had heard they had some pretty impressive people there in India. ”
“ Yes, but we do n't have time for stories and definitely no time for entertaining any more of your suggestions... ”, he cleared his throat, “ Master Ankio, I have been asked to offer you the opportunity of serving as a Pillar and that's that. You are to leave for Yekaterinburg today evening. ”
Bernard stood up and began pacing the room himself now and although his speech was controlled he was clearly anxious.
“ But, Lord Vilnius, I know nothing of it. And, well, it's not like I have anything to do here but how long will I have to do it and... ”
“ Calm down Master Ankio. There are people there who shall guide you. And you know enough about the matter to ask when you shall be relieved. Now man up young lad. They are expecting you there. And I know you will make me proud. ”, Archmage Vilnius said, patting his shoulders.
Bernard shook hands with Dr. King and gathered up his coat and bag. Dr. King fetched him his documents for travel and they said good-bye.
Dr. King walked to the window and stood looking out, he did n't look at the sky, he was horrified of it. He knew what made the sky blue.
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[ WP ] Your character 's house is both very haunted and very concerned about your character 's emotional well-being .
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Slowly the closet door crept open and something ghastly slithered out and approached the foot of the bed. Although the darkness of the night blurred the monstrosity into a flickering shadow against the background, the reek of burning flesh fumigated the air, making its awful presence known to all unlucky enough to be in that exact bedroom. A pair of wispy pale eyes opened and illuminated the worm trotted corpse like face, smiling sinisterly on its victim.
**'' GARAWWWWW, I'M COMING TO GET YOU JOHNNY. `` **
Normally most people would have run screaming for the hills beyond the hills, but Johnny did n't even move an inch from his bed. Still he wrapped himself tightly in his blankets with a face of utter sadness.
**'' IT DID N'T WORK GUYS'' ** yelled Wormface. A cluster of ghouls, ghosts, and other terrors crowed out of the closet with looks of disappointment. Even the skeletons were frowning, which is very hard for them to do.
`` Gee, He been in bed all day and night'' said Vlad the Vampire, `` Even longer than I ever been in my crypt!''
*'' Do-ooo you-ooooo think he has a boo-oooooo boo-oooooo? * asked Covers the ghost, who was then slapped for his formless pun.
`` NO, JOHN-NEE HAS NO BOO BOOS OUTSIDE, ME ZOMBIE HAS MANY BOO BOOS OUTSIDE. JOHN-NEE HAS BOO BOO INSIDE, IN HERE'' Larry the reanimated corpse stated, poking at his exposed heart.
`` What happen Johnny? Why are you so sad?'' asked the blood stained wall of terror.
`` YEAH TELL US JOHNNY!'' yelled the spooky crew.
`` My girlfriend broke up with me.'' Johnny cried.
`` I bet it was that bitch Tiffany!'' cackled the witch, `` She said my brain and eyeball soup tasted gamey then ran away when I told her it was brain and eyeball soup.''
`` Man, she walked over all of us.'' said Stompy the possessed and horrifying door mat.
`` Come on Johnny, get out of bed and play.'' pleaded Emily, the scary-ass little white girl with the creepy black eyes and lips.
`` Sorry guys, just not today.'' Johnny said rolling tighter in his sheets.
`` COME ON JOHNNY'' they cried, `` PLEASE COME OUT OF BED!''
`` I just want to be alone.'' Johnny replied.
`` But no one wants to be alone, especially with their thoughts'' said Brian the brain in a jar.
`` Just one game of fill the staircase with entrails?'' begged Emily.
`` Alright... if it will take my mind off Tiffany.'' Johnny groaned as he put on his slippers.
They then played fill the staircase with entrails which was less pleasant then its name.
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[ WP ] Death is mortal , albeit with a long lifespan . When he nears his end , he chooses a new Death . You were chosen .
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I worked a dead end job, paying for a piece of shit apartment, with little to no social life outside of a couple friends I'd had since childhood. Their lives went in a different direction, they started families and went to college. I started working right out of high school and could n't afford college, let alone many expenses outside of gas and cigarettes. For the most part, my life was mundane, scheduled, and a reoccurring routine. I was okay with it, in fact, given the chance, I ca n't think of what I'd change. To be perfectly honest, I did n't want a family. When I'd have free time and spend it with friends, I was n't jealous of their lives or their kids, their better paying jobs or the stresses that came with all of that. For what I had and what I needed, I was getting by, and at this point in my life, I did n't want or need much else. I was only 25 and had no interest in relationships, having a girlfriend or any of the regular things a 25 year old usually involves himself in. It did n't hit me exactly how bad of a cycle of depression and toxicity I was in until my father died in an accident. 6 months after that, my mother followed and I realized that in the 7 years since I'd moved out and started doing things on my own, I'd only seen them a handful of times. I completely alienated myself from almost everyone, and when everyone around me started dying, I realized that I had to make a change, it was already half way too late. That's when I started seeing, `` him.'' At first it was just out of the corner of my eye, sometimes in a reflection through a mirror or window, but as time kept ticking, he started trying less and less to hide, and came into my entire view.
He always wore a black coat, knee length with polished black dress shoes that reflected no matter how far away you were, and his lips never moved from the straightened, almost chiseled position on his face, like it was carved into the head of a statue. One night, getting right off work the man was waiting by my car. Even in almost complete darkness, those shoes reflected off the absence of light. I know who it was before I was even 50 feet from my vehicle. When I saw him, I was n't afraid. I ca n't quite explain it, but I felt absolutely no hesitation or fear, regardless of how terrifying this man looked on the outside, along with his recent habits of stalking me too. For the first time, that iron smile broke and he spoke to me.
`` I've been watching you for awhile. Death seems to follow you, even when you ignore it. You ca n't escape it, you know. Many have tried, all have failed, and regardless of whether or not you watch for it or try and work against it, death always catches up. I'd know afterall, and I do n't need the scythe for you to know either.''
`` So you're..death then?''
`` The reaper, grim, death, the 4th horseman, they've called me many things, but in lamest terms, yes. But I'm not here because your time is up, in fact, I'm here because mine is.''
`` You're time is up? But how does that happen to..death? And how do I believe you..''
`` That's the effect I have on people. You see, I'm mortal just like you, the main difference is that I've lived for hundreds of years. If I've kept accurate count, this is year 899. There's a limit though, for how long I can keep this up. I've been around since the dark ages, I've seen kingdoms built and fall, and watched the world change. Rules are rules though, and I have to pass on the mantle. You seem like a worthy candidate, would n't you say?''
`` I would n't even know how to answer that..I mean, how does one just up and say yes for that kind of offer, what do I even do? How does it work?''
`` Ahh, you're interested. That's good, because it's not up to you. You'd be the reaper of souls, the last stop on earth for those who end their run. You're the one who decides if they go to the pearly gates upstairs or the burning arches downtown if you know what I mean. But it's not just what you say goes, you see it's what their life has decided. Everyones good and bad, in fact, there's not a soul out there who has n't sinned. It's not even up God himself to decide who gets a free ticket into heaven, it's entirely up to the soul themselves. Of course there are exceptions, and that's what you're here for. Even the worst people on earth can redeem themselves, and you're the one who has to make that kind of judgement call if it makes itself known. There's a million other pieces to this, the time you serve, a quote of souls and an entire treaty between heaven and hell that you'll learn along the way, but to be honest, the job does itself. You just have to escort them to one door or the other.''
`` I..It's not up to me is it?''
`` No sir, it's not.''
`` When do I start?''
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[ WP ] Every `` ghost '' sighting in history was in fact time travellers trying to see the ghost .
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`` Drag, thump. Drag, thump.'' Killian stomped his foot and pulled it across the floor in a zombie-like fashion.
`` Come on, that's crazy. Stop it.'' Hugo was a new recruit for Time Travelers of the Americas and was n't a fan of scary stories.
`` Nope, it's true, fat man. Swear on my mother.'' Killian placed one hand over his heart and one hand to his eye, a gesture for swearing on something in the future.
`` Just because you're about as slim as an Irishman after the second potato famine of 2088 does n't mean you can call me fat! And everyone knows there's no such thing as ghosts.'' He shouted.
`` Buddy, if you travelled to the 1400's, they'd think you were a king based on your weight. Hell, the king of at least ten kingdoms. Do n't you dare question the veracity of my claims. That is a true story, it happened and there's even a precise date and time. You can go there for yourself and see the ghost.'' He sat in one of the hoverchairs and glared at Hugo.
`` Ok, tell me now. Give me the coordinates.'' Hugo was defiant.
`` XY-LL-365-219er. That'll bring you to the house where the ghost was observed.''
Hugo has zapped into the swirl of time the very next instant.
On materialization his chestplate chirped `` You have arrived. October 27th, 2015. Be safe.''
`` Quiet you.'' Hugo loudly whispered.
He could see he had materialized in a house of some sorts. He learned of this type of dwelling back at the academy. But to actually see a multilevel home, this was fantastic!
He turned to walk and found himself stumbling, head over heels, down a flight of stairs. His ankle was now almost definitely broken. Nothing like getting wounded on a curiosity leap. His superiors would be...
`` Is somebody there?'' He heard a voice in another room. `` I warn you, I'm armed.''
Hugo panicked. He shot up from the ground and went to press the'RETURN' button on his chestplate. But the button was gone! He looked across the room and saw it in the corner.
`` Announce yourself now!'' The same voice was getting closer. Hugo had to move fast to avoid getting shot.
Drag. Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag. Thump.
Hugo hobbled and bobbled to the return button. It was almost within his reach when he heard a gasp to his right. Twisting his head he could see the owner of the shotgun. A split second later the gun went off. Hugos battered and now buckshot riddled body fell on the'RETURN' button.
He disappeared from our time.
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[ WP ] You have a dead-end IT job where all your coworkers are computer-illiterate and constantly bother you over every small problem . When supernatural things start to happen around the office they nonchalantly continue to ask you to solve these new problems .
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Dave sighed. The phone was ringing again. What would it be this time? Inability to find the Ctrl key? Someone struggling with opening Excel? He shrugged. Might as well get it over with. He picked up the phone.
`` IT, have you tried turning it off and on again?''
`` Dave. The photocopier is floating down the hallway. Can you fix it?''
`` Linda, I'm tired of coming down every time there's a minor probl... wait, what? What was the problem again?''
The woman on the end of the line spoke in her usual bored, Southern drawl. `` The photocopier, Dave. It's floating. Can you deal with it?''
Dave blinked, opened his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again, and finally said, `` Uh, sure. Be right there.'' Baffled, he rose from his chair and turned to head down the hall, wondering what was wrong with his ears. He had taken only two steps outside his office and down the hall when he heard his name shouted. He turned to see the company's chief of human resources, a fat, balding man by the name of Robert, rushing towards him, unbuttoned suit jacket flapping as he moved. He was huffing along in the sort of herky-jerky bouncy jogging motion that one does in an office when they ca n't bring themselves to make a scene by actually running.
`` Dave! Problem. Microword Soft is doing something weird. Can you take a look?''. Robert virtually skidded to a halt, visibly out of breath from crossing the hallway.
`` Rob, Linda has something going on with the copier, is it urgent?'' Dave mentally booted himself in the rear. Never ask them if it's urgent. It's always urgent. Idiot.
`` Yes, yes, urgent, urgent, come and see!'' Robert turned and wobbled back the way he came, Dave bringing up the rear, mentally running through the checklist of things Robert usually struggled with.
Just as he was preparing himself to explain the concept of double-clicking to a grown man for the eighteenth time that week, he rounded the corner into Robert's office and stopped dead, speechless. Robert was standing just inside the office, pointing.
`` There! That paperclip thing is here again. You got rid of it last week, can you sort it again?''
Sat in Robert's chair was a giant paperclip, with two bobbly eyes and floating eyebrows perched above. Dave could only stare.
`` Hello! I am Clippy, office assistant. It looks like you're writing a letter. Would you like some help?''
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[ WP ] In a dystopian future , a serial killer is picking the super power they get for their 25th birthday . However , the 10 % serial killers with least Likes get killed on their 25th birthday . When aliens invade , the all-knowing narrator is granted a wish by a genie . Make me feel for her .
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`` So where does this magical cake live?'' asked the green unicorn.
Of course it lives under the sea, amongst all the other pastries who had to flee after the arrival of the new alien overlords, but how could the unicorn know that?
You see, this is the problem I have with my job. I would really like to tell him, but there are those restrictions we got, you know?
`` I really need you to form a proper wish, otherwise I will not be able to grant you anything.''
Okay, I wish to be able to interact with all the characters I'm talking about all day.
Harold the green Unicorn heard a loud noise, and suddenly a strange voice filled the room. Harold, do you hear me?
`` Yes, of course!'' said the unicorn. `` I know I said that, you do n't have to comment on it.'' Do n't YOU tell me how to do this. You're a girl by the way. So, your superpower is being a female green unicorn. Great choice Harold.
`` Who are you?'' said Harold `` I told you to stop commenting my actions, who are you even talking to and why is this happening?'' Look dude, it's simple, but suddenly Harold disappeared because he obviously only got 313 likes because he never found the pie that was a cake and so he died because it was his 25th birthday.
So now we got Harolds wife who is a lonely puppy with cancer and ebola and ca n't pay rent and is very sad because of those circumstances.
Also, everyone has laser guns and shit because future.
The End.
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[ WP ] `` I 'd told you to be ahead of the king , not to BEHEAD him ! ''
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In all honesty, I did n't understand why the General was so mad about it. I mean, anyone could have made the same mistake. That, and it all turned out for the better in the end. After seeing his father's neck sliced through, the Prince was a lot more cooperative about the post-war reparations.
`` I'd told you to be ahead of the King and report back, not to behead him!''
I yawned and waved a hand lazily. `` Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. What's the harm in doing both? Now the Prince will never defy you for fear of having his own little head lopped off. You got your revolution, I got my sacrifice, it's a win-win situation.''
I watched with interest as the General's face turned first red, then almost purple in apoplectic rage. `` You... you monster! Our Order values the preservation of life, not the needless destruction of it! The King did not need to die! He would have paid penance for his greed in other ways!''
Humans. They never ceased to amuse with their hypocrisy. `` Should've thought of that before you summoned a demon for help, eh?'' I quipped, absently picking a flake of dried blood from under a fingernail. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, I continued, `` Do call me again if you fight another war, alright? Toodles!'' I blew him a kiss as I teleported back to the Demon Realm and chuckled, stretching luxuriously in the heat of sulfur and brimstone bonfires.
Perhaps I should `` misplace'' my summoning contract more often...
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[ WP ] A man is not considered an adult until he has taken his first life .
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`` Uhm, hey Jim, what's up?''
I shot a short glance at Jim and quickly returned to looking at my feet.
`` Not much, have n't cleaned my gun in ages, you?''
He was absentmindedly polishing the spring to his Colt 1911.
`` Well, uh, there's kinda something I need to tell you. It's... well it's really embarrassing.''
I had moved to New Kalmar just two years ago to get away from the heckling and my parents constant nagging. I never expected to make a lot of friends here but the guys at work caught a liking to me almost immediately. Before I knew it they started dragging me along to all sorts of lynchings, executions and demonic sacrifices. I had never been this popular before and I was willing to do almost anything for it to stay that way.
`` What's it about?'' Jim asked without looking away from his disassembled Colt.
`` I, uh...'' I swallowed hard and felt my face go red.
`` Damn it, just spit it out Berry.''
`` I never lost my killginity Jim. I never killed anyone.''
Jim stopped polishing his gun and looked up. He had a surprised look on his face.
`` Shit man I'm so sorry. Why not?''
I did n't know what to say. Why had n't I ever killed anyone? I guess I just could n't bring myself to do it. Every time I had been close I just started shaking uncontrollably and start retching.
`` I do n't know man, I just... I just have n't.'' I paused for a few seconds before I could bring myself to ask him. `` You owe me one, remember.''
He stood up and looked me in the face, he looked half disgusted and half pitying.
`` Yeah okay, what do you want me to do?''
`` Well I was thinking that... maybe I could kill you?''
The pity and disgust turned into pure annoyance. He rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh.
`` Fine, just let me put my Colt together.
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[ WP ] In the end , we must all be what we are .
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The end... too late for anything. There have been many ends, but they have always been isolated, even when many endings were together. Endings were often a part of another story - the people whose stories ended in genocide inspire war and revenge. Endings are a large part of passion - they inspire us to act, to stave off the end. I'm not even sure if there can be a real ending, not until The End, when entropy has won. Everything seems to be a part of the cosmic narrative, like a current built from rushing bits of water that have no way of knowing if they will reach an ocean or a farm or a lake. In that sense, this is not an end - it is tiny compared to the cosmic background. But that does not mean it is truly small.
He feared this was truly the end. Not of everything, but of this world. We were the universe, and while the actual matter that composed us could never be destroyed, I did not understand what would happen to our knowledge. That's what stopped me. Matter... it is conserved, along with energy. But knowledge... knowledge is never conserved. It might not be infinite, but it is never conserved. Knowledge builds itself, and the more you have the more you can get. To destroy knowledge was to snuff a light.
In the end, I must be what I am - alive. My knife fell to the floor. A small victory for life, if it ever truly fought death. But a huge victory for me, in my own role in humanity's fight against death.
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[ WP ] End with , '' You will burn in hell for your sins . ''
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I never pretended to be the good guy.
That's not to say I do n't believe in what I've done. I know that my path is necessary, and that all the evil I've done has a purpose, a goal, an eventual result that will justify my actions...
But when you do the wrong thing for the right reasons long enough, it seems you can justify anything.
Six million people died with the first bomb. It was an improvised nuclear explosive, funded with money stolen from bank accounts across the globe. Money I personally oversaw the transfer of, a bomb I ordered the construction and detonation of, six million lives I took with my own ideas, such are the sins I will carry with me along this road.
The resulting political turmoil will lead to my appointment to global anti-terrorism council, with complete support from every major government in the world. Under my direction, eventually my organization will gain total authority over every man, woman and child alive. The sheer technological and logistical costs will be unheard of in history.
I will then use my power to administer a test to all humanity, and kill any who fail. 2.3 billion people, of which over sixty percent will be completely innocent, their only crime to register a false positive. The remaining 40 will be the carriers of a long dormant virus that will, when awakened in my timeline, leadsm to the extinction of mankind. In total, I will have directly and indirectly killed two and a half billion people to save humanity.
How many lives I save, I do not know. I do n't think about that anymore.
Because even if the ends justify the means, you will still burn in hell for your sins.
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[ WP ] Time-traveler meets a stranger that can live forever .
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*The Never Ending Story*
-- -
I sat in the cockpit of my little ship, orbiting the last ember of my dying reality. I'd been staring at the little red dwarf for almost a thousand years, watching as the last star grew dimmer and dimmer. It was imperceptible, but there nonetheless. This was the slow last breath of The Universe.
There was a flash of light behind me. I did n't bother to look, there was only one person it could be. The Time Traveler. I barely moved as she awkwardly clunked her way forward.
*Must be wearing a suit, clever girl. * I thought. A distant part of my mind recalling that the oxygen recyclers had died almost 10,000 years ago.
`` Oh my...'' She stared reverently out of the window, gloved hands resting on the top of my chair.
I tilted my head up, `` It's beautiful, is n't it?'' I croaked, the CO2 making my voice oddly deep.
She looked down, smiling, `` Hello, Jon. It's nice to finally meet you.''
`` And you, Alex.'' I held up my hand, and she took it.
-- -
After She had repaired the oxygen filters, we sat in the observation deck under the cockpit.
`` So you're all alone out here? She asked.
Alex was a strange sight with her helmet off, Long black hair dangled over her suit, which looked more combat armor than space suit. It took me a moment to respond.
`` I was told, long ago,'at the end of everything, one can always count on the company of immortals.''' I looked around the empty room, `` I guess all the immortals died.''
I shared a laugh with someone for the first time in a billion years.
-- -
She stayed for ten days.
But all good things must come to an end.
She was out of food, and low on water. I watched as she prepared the little device on her wrist that would whisk her backwards trillions of years and miles. She paused in her fiddling and looked at me.
`` Come with me, come back. You'd probably survive, even without a suit. Just grab on.''
I shook my head, `` I ca n't, you know that. It's a paradox, the universe would never end.''
`` Even better''
I smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder, `` Every story ends.''
-- -
*Note: This is an idea that's been stewing in my head for a while now. I'd appreciate any feedback on it. *
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[ WP ] You 've just died and gone to bureaucratic hell . Escape is possible , but really , really tedious . You and some other lost souls have decided to try .
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`` Ok, we've been told we're almost done. Apparently we just need to fill in form TR-1666, apply at the lower third level of the hellscape, then we'll convene with Lucifer himself?''
`` Essentially, yes.''
`` Essentially?''
`` Well, there'll be a waiting time of course.''
The group of hell's hopefuls sighed. Their leader, sporting a moustache that had long since gone out of fashion, spoke up. `` We've waited for weeks. How much longer is it going to take?
`` Not much longer. Seven billion years - give or take a minute.''
One of the members of the group collapsed in shock. `` *Give or take a minute?! *''
`` Yes, indeed. We pride ourselves on being concise, I'm sure you'll find, but it's hard to get the exact amount of time right.''
The leader tried to calm the group down, using his excellent oratory skills, then turned towards the demon with the sweetest smile he could produce.
`` I do n't suppose there's any way we could speed up the process?''
The demon perked up. `` Oh yes, of course! There's a way to avoid this tedious process entirely.''
The group all sighed in relief.
`` Brilliant! What is it? What do we have to do?''
`` All you have to do is not be murderous, genocidal, raping pieces of shit in the first place. *Now get out of my office. *''
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[ WP ] `` Dear God ... Well , what do you need from me ? '' asked the DC mayor . `` Ma'am , we need you to shut down the metro for 24 hours . We 'll do the rest . ''
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`` Dear God... Well, what do you need from me?'' asked the DC mayor.
`` Ma'am, we need you to shut down the metro for 24 hours. We'll do the rest.''
The three man confidently strode out of the office. They walked through the office halls as nervous civil servants looked to them for hope. Their graying hair conveyed the years of experience and respect they earned from their work in New York.
It was n't until they all sat back down in the company car that the facade dropped. They were old men. In any other profession they would be looking to retire. Cigarettes were lit as the trio dwelled in silence.
It was Venkman who spoke first: `` This has n't gotten any easier since Egon passed.''
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[ WP ] The apocalypse has come , but it 's not really that bad .
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It happened exactly as described in the Book. Trumpets in the sky, four angels, fire, smoke, locusts, the whole shebang. It was all over the news. Extensive media coverage is what I would call it, some even called it excessive. But given humanity's advances in the areas of fire safety, pest control and ear plugs, it soon died down and the attention returned to those pesky North Koreans trying out another bomb. It seemed like the apocalypse had happened too late for it to have any effect. A hundred years earlier and it may have crippled humanity, now it was nothing more than another episode to be exploited by politicians to increase taxes. Of course I may have overseen part of the apocalypse that may have an effect later, but for now I'm sitting in my comfy chair ready to watch Trump address the nation in his inaugural speech.
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[ IP ] The Two Soldiers
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*when faced with the inevitable reality of death, the human mind tends to do some, rather irrational things*
There were still the occasional cracks of bullets as they whizzed over the trench, but I payed no attention to them.
They say that war changes people, I never believed that myself, until today.
There were six of us, Steampunk, Ratchet, priest, tank, tidbit, and me. We were bogged down in no mans land, each of us scrambling to find a crater large enough to shield us.
I knew there was only one way out, we had to run, I just did n't know how we would do it.
I saw Steampunk and ratchet firing into the fog as fast as they could load.
Priest was sitting down holding a cross.
Tank was fumbling with his Maxim gun.
*And then there was tidbit*. Laying down in a crater, holding his hands to his ears, murmuring something to himself, I could n't help but feel bad for him.
Tank finally got his Maxim gun working, and he started to return fire at a blistering rate. Steampunk and Ratchet took the opportunity to run to my crater, Steampunk grabbed Tidbit on his way over.
I told the men what we had to do, they all looked at me as though I had just told them a ghost story, maybe in some way I was.
I saw Tidbit wiping the tears from his face, he reminded me of my son. The thought of never seeing my boy again sent a chill down my spine.
I whistled to Tank, and somehow he heard me and turned his head to look at me, still shooting into the fog.
I signalled that we were going to retreat, he knew what he had to do.
Then an artillery shell hit tank, my eyes widened as dust and dirt rained onto my helmet. I ordered the men to start running, and they did.
Shot after shot whizzed by me. I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder, but I kept running.
Looking to my left, I was relieved to see that Steampunk was still running with me, then he dropped to the ground, motionless.
To my right was Ratchet, I heard a screaming sound from above, we both stared into each others eyes, then he was replaced by a cloud of red dust.
What happened to priest? He was nowhere to be seen, so I only assumed the worst.
Where was Tidbit? No matter, he was doomed from the start. I jump, expecting to land in the trench, but a sharp sting shoots through my back, and I flop onto the wall of the trench, rolling onto the ground.
*I was always afraid of the Sargent, afraid that he might shoot me if I do n't do what he says, and I did n't like being called Tidbit either. But when I looked over and saw his limp lifeless body laying in the mud, I do n't know, something happened to me. I cautiously peeked over the trench, and saw two other bodies lying in the ground, I knew what had happened. I crawled over to the Sargent, sobbing. I picked up his body and hugged him, as though he could still feel, as though it would comfort either of us. The sergeant was shorter than me, which I always found was weird, and that thought managed to let one little bit of laughter out, before I let his body go. *
*there were six of us*
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[ WP ] You are the wind .
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I'm up before the sun even thinks about peeking over the horizon. I ca n't help it- I'm restless today. I start out with small bursts, darting here and there while excitedly spinning about, thinking about the past year while waiting for the day to begin.
This past winter was a hectic time for me, I could n't stay in one place for very long... It also felt like people were growing weary of me. It's just in my nature; the seasons affect us all differently. There was a lady, very pretty with soft brown eyes, that could n't bear to be near me. She was a fragile thing. I never saw her after this past November. Spring was much calmer, the sun was out more and folks were beginning to shed their winter gloom to step outside for the few precious moments of warmth. They were still wary of me. I have a tendency to just show up out of the blue, and I remember this one time a small boy took his brand-new kite out on a particularly lovely day in March. It was my fault, I was just too excited and the string snapped... I felt terrible as tears began staining his dirty cheeks, but I did my best to gently dry them before his father took him by the hand and led him inside, his dark brown hair gently fluttering about as I tried to apologize. I still was n't welcome by the father. He had hated me for a long, long time, ever since he lost his wife to that chill that never went away. It really was n't my fault, but he needed to pin the blame on something.
But it's finally summer! The hot, humid days are the perfect opportunity for me to finally get out and have fun with everyone, when they actually want me around. People are fickle creatures, but I always enjoy when they sigh with relief as I dance around and they seem to forget the heat.
I am particularly excited today. For the past few weeks, I've watched the father with the brown hair around the docks readying his small sailboat. He's always alone, never speaking but he works with a determination that I admire, and he's alone today as he releases the stern and spring line and putters away from the harbor.
I am overly cautious around him. I dance around the hull, kissing the lips of the waves as they are pushed away from the sides as he makes his way further and further out to sea. I notice some young gannets struggling high up above, so I take a moment to rise and let them glide and they crow with thanks. Birds are always fun for me as we play together, soaring around, teasing each other like children. I've been around for such a long time, I've learned it's the simple things that mostly make me happy. Looking down, I notice that the father in his boat is far away, stopped dead in the water. I slowly make my way back, watching him work sheets and lines, securing the halyard to rase the main. Wait. The sails? This ca n't be true. I dive down and then stop before I reach him, holding still just to make sure. I test the waters and slowly dance around him and I see his body relax. I have n't seen him do that in ages! A small grin starts to play on his lips, and in that moment I ca n't help but love him so much the way he is right then. Slowly, I caress his cheek, ruffling his hair the way I used to when he was younger. Baby steps, I tell myself. Do n't come on too strong. With my gentle presence growing as the minutes pass, he raises the main to 3/4 mast and locks it down, then waits, the small engine of the boat idling.
This is my chance to make things right. I can feel it. I press myself up against the sail, delicate as a new lover, watching it begin to fill and flutter as it catches. Steady, I tell myself. I ca n't get too excited, I ca n't push this too hard- I ca n't push him away again. He's looking up at me but not seeing, but his eyes are wet and smiling. This is it. The small sail boat starts gliding forward as he adjusts the wheel and cuts the engine and I spread myself out across the entire sky, filling it with a strong breezy warmth, and wrapping myself around him. He will never know how sorry I am for his grief, it was just in my nature, but in this moment he is happy with me and he leans back against the bulkhead with his face raised towards the sun, and we continue on our way.
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[ WP ] Man drinking alone in a crowded bar
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He blew in like a breeze. Same time, same place, same as every night before. He'd stuck with this shitty old dump since its inception, and he damn sure was n't going to quit coming now. He use to have a crowd with him, old baseball buddies from his time in the bigs, but he does n't have that anymore. No clamoring for autographs, no adoring fans, no nothing. And hell, he liked it that way. When he'd come in with his old friends, he'd always be recognized. Hell, even in high school, fake ID and all, he'd still be recognized. This kid was a prodigy. Pitchers mound to home plate before you could say'Holy shit!' But then, that changed. He'd always come back home during breaks, before spring training and such, and he'd always frequent this tiny dump. Brought it some popularity; the owner, an older gentleman by the name of Sam, appreciated that.
'You know, Sammy, you should thank me.'
'I know, Tom. I know.'
He keeps coming back, day after day, year after year. He used to come and wait for the love of his life to show up, whom he met back in his time in Philly. She moved with him back to old rural Kentucky, where he had quickly became a legend. That's what attracted him to this particular bar, anyway. At first it was tiny, and no one really cared. They'd always mind their own business. But not anymore.
'You still waiting on her, Tom?'
'She'll be here, Sammy. She promised.'
And with that, he turns back to his whiskey, washing down the pain of rejection from the one person he could n't stand being rejected by. It's only natural, really. When you meet someone from the big city, and expect her to drop everything to come with you to rural Kentucky? I mean, Kentucky?! What the hell were you thinking?
'Tom, I really think you should ease off on the liquor tonight.'
'Sammy, you know I could easily disappear into this crowd. Do you really want to lose your best customer like that?'
Sam sighed and poured another glass for Tom, hoping beyond hope that Jessica would be standing behind the door, about to come in. Alas, that has n't happened yet, and it probably never will.
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[ CW ] Go to your bookshelf and pick a random book . Open to a random page and pick a random sentence . Tell us that sentence then write a prompt on it .
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`` Now the three Kindreds of the Eldar were gathered at last in Valinor, and Melkor was chained.'' *The Silmarillion* page 64
Hiram Melkor had been a no-good, cattle-rustling bank robber for five years. He had drunkenly shot several men, disgraced many a lady and even roughed up the town's preacher man. The good folk of Valinor, Wyoming were n't gon na take it no more.
`` Imma gettin' a posse together,'' announced Sheriff Harlem Jones `` and I'll deputize any man who's willin' to help me take this desperado down.''
There were many volunteers, but the most prominent and trustworthy among them were Louis McArdle, a ranchman, and Silas Carpenter, the salon owner. The three were called the Kindreds of the Eldar, but no one quite knew why. Reckon it was because it sounded profound or something.
Now ol' Melkor was a tricky fellow to pin down, so the Kindreds decided to split up. Sheriff Jones went west toward Pine Springs, McArdle south toward New Tinicum and Carpenter northeast toward the Indian lands.
The next six months were filled with false leads and near misses. Finally, Carpenter sent a letter to the other two containing just two lines: `` Melkor's in Stevenstown. Come quick.''
A certain prostitute with a heart of gold, Miss Daisy Mae Ellis, managed to keep Melkor in town ( that is, in her bed ) long enough for the Kindreds to arrive. In fact, he was just taking his morning whiskey when the Kindreds entered the saloons double doors.
`` Melkor, you low-down dog,'' said Jones `` You're gon na face justice for your crimes.''
Melkor did n't like that. Even though he was drunk, he was still quick on the draw and a good shot. He got Jones in the shoulder before ducking behind the bar. A shoot-out ensued and would probably have cost many good men their lives had Miss Daisy Mae not had the presence of mind to break a bottle over Melkors head. Outlaw in hand, Jones and his companions could make their way home.
Now the three Kindreds of the Eldar were gathered at last in Valinor, and Melkor was chained. The townsfolk were pleased and his hanging was scheduled for the next day. The preacher man tried to convince Melkor to repent of his sins and accept Jesus, but his efforts were only half-hearted, seeing as he never really forgave Melkor for that whole being roughed up bit.
Melkor's hanging brought peace to the town of Valinor and the Kindreds were lauded as heroes. All was quiet in the town until the next outlaw came along.
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[ WP ] One night as you play Call of Duty a particularly squeaky voiced 12 year old gives out personal information leading you to discover he is your child from a long lost lover . You must now convince him you are his father and thus banged his mom , through Xbox live .
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`` Dickwad, say one more thing like that and I'll fly outta Brenham, Texas and kick you so hard in the ear you'll be smelling the color 9 for the rest of your life!''
My controller hit the floor. My recently eaten lunch followed soon after. I momentarily lamented the mess on my newly laid carpet, but the sudden shock of what just hit my ears would n't let me linger on one emotion for too long. After despairing over my noodle covered floor, I quickly found myself whirling through fear, anger, sadness, disbelief, and finally detached humor.
The surge of emotion came not from the in-game argument now enveloping my Fireteam- which I inadvertently started by teabagging a space wizard, who then came back to life and went on a rampage killing everyone on my team but me ( \ # superninja ), and then worsened by immediately blaming the kid/noob on our team 5CentStacheRides, instantly making everyone hate him. No, instead my involuntary stomach evacuation stemmed from that quote he used as a rebuttal against JoeMerika's mean japes. It was n't the stupidity, or ridiculousness of the empty threat. What struck me like a kidney shot to the soul was the fact that I'd heard it before. From none other than the only woman I'd ever loved. Or bothered listening to. That kid's words were a direct quote from my former girlfriend A. Smith... who last I heard had lived in Brenham, Texas, home of Blue Bell Ice Cream and the state's 2nd, probably 3rd, best high school football team.
If this little dumbass Striker-Titan-but-still-wearing-the-Helm-of-Saint-14 kid was not only from Brenham, but also knew A's signature Call of Duty catchphrase, then that could only mean that he was her family. Because she only said that when she was playing games, and she only played video games with two kinds of people- her family members, and the guy inside her. That's how I heard the saying. God, my K/D was never better than back then.
Anyways, this kid was clearly young, and I'd heard she'd had a kid. But I'd also heard that her kid was born roundabout 9 months after she and I went to that Metallica concert in Houston back in'03. We'd dropped some acid, rocked out, banged in a Reliant Stadium bathroom, then I went to go grab some beer from concessions... and never came back. Graduated with a law degree from Southwestern 8 years later.
Now here I am in sunny L.A., with my wingman AgentSaturday94 playing as a Hunter, and cracking up as he listens to the craziness unfolding on our team. ( Side note- is n't technology amazing? He lives in Cornhole, Nebraska, and can instantly hear and react to what stupid people across the country say. Unbelievable that we've come from people throwing pointy rocks at giant cats, to watching Pluto on our watches. Ridiculous. Moving on. ) He's completely oblivious to the fact that my whole world could have just been shattered. I quickly realize, however, that it might not be, you know, my kid. In my hometown, everybody knew that A was devastated after I left. She could've easily gotten a rebound. But I had to be sure. I had to know if this kid was mine. The knowledge might help me forgive him for his god awful score. 1400 points after 10 minutes, really? Control the zones!
But how to figure it out? Clearly, this kid knows A, and is from Brenham. How can I determine if he's my son? I slowly picked up my controller, and sent him a private message.
`` Got ta be honest here kiddo, your performance in this game is just like last time your mom went down on me- very, very sloppy.''
He quickly squeaked back over the microphone ( cause he does n't know how to send a message, apparently ) `` Shut up /u/LtCalvery! You do n't even know my mom!'' AgentSaturday94 heard this and laughed, knowing that I often trolled kinderguardians thru private messages. I had to keep going though. It's for the kid's own good, after all.
`` Nah man, I'm just kidding. Your mom rode better than a rodeo starlet. And I've had a few of those, so I'd know. But seriously, how is A? Her legs alright? They were pretty shaky last time I saw her. A good pounding from behind while playing Modern Warfare 3 will do that to a person.''
This poor kid lost his shit. `` HOW DO YOU KNOW MY MOM'S NAME?! WHO ARE YOU?!'' came shrieking through the headset. Silence suddenly rocked our team. `` Cal?... Do you seriously know this kid's mom?'' Saturday asked, sounding equal parts impressed and scared.
`` Well yeah,'' I finally said through the mic. `` Last time I saw her she was sucking even harder than Stache's score!''
Instantly the whole team cracked up, stress of the previous 5 seconds forgotten. `` Hey Stache, tell your mom /u/LtCalvery says hello. And she's welcome to come visit, I've got plenty of room on my couch, if she wants to play like the good old days!'' And with that, Stache logged out. I sent him a friend request, but the next time he logged in he simply deleted it. Oh well.
Part of me was disappointed, thinking that I may have ruined a potential relationship with my son. But soon enough I forgot the whole incident. Until A showed up at my office 6 months later. Apparently her son ( who 1. actually is n't mine and 2. is 18! Little squeaker bitch lol ) mentioned the ordeal, and she figured out it was me somehow, then decided we should get in touch. The kid's also enlisted, so since he's already left home she decided to finally get out of that old town, and found a better job out here. As soon as she got settled, she tracked me down and we've been hanging out since. It started with us meeting for lunch, then she was coming over for dinner once a week or so, and finally after more than a decade apart we got to spend another night together. And then the next night. And the next.
God, my K/D has never been better.
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So this is the first WP that I've actually put effort into lol let me know what you think down in the comments! And I changed the game, props if you know what it is: )
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[ WP ] Write about a character who has some kind of amazing ability or superpower , with horrible drawbacks . Show me a day in the life of this character .
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The main operation room at Interpol headquarters looked like a bee hive, hundreds of people running back and forth. Just by looking at this scene you could tell that something BIG was up. At the front of the room three figures stood in the light of three giant monitors showing sattelite pictures of some remote place in India. By their faces you could tell that 2 of them had not slept the night before, and quite possibly the night before that. One of them had bloodshot eyes and his hand was shaking a bit. He spoke up:
`` You have to do this, there is no other option. I just.. I can not understand how can you not do this, when so much is at stake. There will probable never be anything else we ask from you ever, but A NUCLEAR THREAT? How can you not do this?''
The man that looked to be in a better shape reddened, and said `` Im shy. I am sorry, I just ca n't. I get calls to help so often, and still... I have stage fright.. I am sorry.''
-'' Son, you have to overcome this. We have no other options to stop this, you are our only hope. I as the president of United States of America beg you to do this. Our families, our friends, our houses and our lives are all at stake. We know for sure they are not bluffing, and the strike may happen ay any minute now, as we have not met their demands. Do the right thing son.''
-'' Ca n't yopu just not sing? Ca n't you just do it silently?''
-'' No.. I have tried, but I ca n't teleport even a tea cup in silence. I do n't know what is the reason for it to work this way, but that is the only way... I'll try''.
The man inhaled a full breath and in a loud high pitched voice released what was now called by media `` The call of the saviour''.
The eastern part of India just started disappearing, leaving a hole about a mile deep. Some knew - it was n't destroyed. It was merely transported by means of forces not understood to a remote part of empty space in Andromeda Galaxy.
The process was not immediate, it took around 4 minutes. It always took the same time.
People at home watching this on TV cried tears of joy, and entire families who had feared death now joined in to sing with their saviour.
How did they know the words?
They never change.
`` The call of the saviour'' always starts with `` Making my way downtown, Walking fast, Faces pass, And I'm home bound''.
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[ WP ] Breakfast with a God
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`` Do you mind if I sit with you?''
Karen jumped from her early morning stare. The blurred splotches of color zipping by on I-35 outside of the IHOP had her transfixed but now, this dark haired, flawless man had snapped her out of her routine.
`` Oh. Uh, sure.'' She found herself running her hands, preening, through her curly, ginger hair and stopped herself.
`` Great. I've always heard that you should n't dine alone. I'm Donn by the way.'' the man held out his hand and Karen took it.
`` Karen.'' His hand was smooth and soft like an expensive leather glove. His handshake was firm and full of confidence. Karen felt like she held it a heartbeat too long.
`` Nice to meet you, Karen. Are you staying at the La Quinta?''
`` Yes.'' she cocked her head and eyed him. For the first time since meeting Donn her veteran business traveler alarm bells started rustling.'Not to worry.' she told herself'I am going straight from here to the hospital. It's not like he will follow me.' `` I was.''
`` Me too. Sorry, I just saw you cross the parking lot, that's how I knew if you were wondering.'' He took a sip of his coffee.
They sat in silence for a few dozen seconds. But it was a warm silence with no hint of awkwardness. Her worries seemed to melt away as rapidly as the ice cube she used to cool her coffee.
`` This is nice. I do n't know why I do n't do this more.'' Donn said and smiled.
`` What's that?''
`` Sit down and meet folks. It's always rush, rush, rush. People get so preoccupied with their own minds, I do n't think they'd notice of a truck came crashing through the window.''
Karen smiled `` I know what you mean. I've been traveling for almost three weeks straight. Everyone is in a rush, these days. I'm guilty, too.'' She patted the'USA Today' next to her plate `` I was going to read this this to get my digestible bites of quick news for no other reason than to have some meaningless filler in my meeting later this morning. One day, soon, I'll take a vacation, slow down and enjoy life a bit. I have over 100 hours of vacation banked.''
`` Wow.''
`` Yeah. And I never take any sick time.''
`` Your company must love you.''
`` Not really. They hardly acknowledge it. I came off of three days spent mostly in airports and went straight to a status meeting.'' Karen's eyes narrowed. `` I did n't even stop at home... straight to the office. I was ten minutes late. Do you know what they said to me?''
Donn raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
``'Could you try and be on time next time.' Can you believe that?'Could you try and be on time'!?'' Karen leaned back into the bench seat's cushion, crossed her arms and shook her head.
'Where is that waitress?' she wondered looking around.
`` It's too bad. I've found, though, in my own travels, that people do n't appreciate what they have until it's gone.''
`` Ai n't that just the truth.'' Karen said, distracted by the sudden realization that there was no one else in the restaurant.
Donn sipped his coffee `` Something wrong, Karen?''
Karen looked out of the window. There were no cars on I-35.
`` What the...''
Donn sighed. `` I'm sorry, Karen. This has been really, really nice. You have no idea. But I need to get going.''
`` Who are you?''
`` I'm Donn. Well, I am to your family -- at least I used to be. To other people I am Izanami, and to others Mors. Some called me Thanatos and others Santa Muerte. I am Death, Karen. I am here to take you home.''
That instant, Karen was floating outside of the IHOP. The world had sprung back to life. Birds flew by, the American flag flapped on the flagpole and the automobiles of a thousand souls zipped by in the highway.
In front of her was the IHOP with a gaping hole where her booth used to be with a back of a pick-up truck jutting from the wall with its back tires hanging in the air. A man, his head bleeding, bending down looking underneath. As if from a great distance she heard his screams `` Are you OK? I need help over here. Help!''
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[ WP ] You are the head Henchman for a super villain . One of the lower henchmen was just promoted to full time villain sidekick ahead of you .
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**How One Becomes Self-Employed: **
Pawn sat in his office with only his irritating thoughts for company. *How could Lady Malignant promote Lackey to be the sidekick?! I am the one who has been with her from the start setting up Evil Incorporated. Without my help she ’ d still only be Annoyance... *
*knock knock*
A voice outside his door said, “ Excuse me sir, but I ’ ve got some new paperwork that you should handle. ”
Pawn said, “ Oh, yes. Come in Bad Secretary. ”
A short man wearing the standard outfit of a reversed suit walked in holding a folder with so many sheets of paper stuffed in it that it seemed some were trying to escape actively. Pawn swiveled his chair around and clapped twice to dim the lights and cleared his throat.
Bad Secretary said, “ There ’ s the paperwork for the Megacity brawl, but also just the general monthly odds and ends of the other henchmen. ”
He plopped the folder onto Pawn ’ s desk, then reached into his jacket to pull out another smaller folder.
He said, “ Here are the bills for Secret Headquarters and Lady Malignant ’ s-fear at her name-personal expenses. ”
He laid this new folder on the old and reached back into his jacket to pull out a few sheets of paper held together by a hastily placed staple.
He said, “ Here ’ s the last of it... the papers for Little Lackey ’ s-alarm at his name-promotion. ”
He put those papers on the other end of the table and eyed Pawn with a questioning look.
He said, “ Are you okay? You ’ ve been sitting there with a blank expression on your face this whole time. ”
Pawn looked at him, then at the big stack of paperwork. He looked back at Bad Secretary, then to the promotion papers. Pawn looked at the large stack again, then he turned his gaze to the promotion papers. Bad Secretary stood there silent as he started to feel the cold sweat run down his back and drench his tie. Pawn finally put his stare back on Bad Secretary. He got up slowly from his chair without taking his eyes off of Bad Secretary.
Bad Secretary said in a weak voice, “ P-please don ’ t. You know who has to deal with- ”
*thud*
Paper was strewn across the plain carpeted floor and the oak desk was doing a headstand quite masterfully.
Pawn calmly said, “ Please tell Malignant that I quit. ”
Bad Secretary was aghast at the scene and shaking his head. Pawn smiled and began to walk toward the door. When he reached Bad Secretary he put his hand on Secretary ’ s shoulders and stopped for a moment.
Pawn whispered, “ None of that paperwork if you join me. ”
Then, he clapped twice to set the lights back to normal and walked outside giddy with thoughts for the future. The thoughts were no longer swirling around his head threatening to drown him like a whirlpool, but now steady and strong pumping him up. *They called me pawn, but I ’ m a King. *
**THE END! ** * ( as long as nobody oddly likes this and wants a follow-up of which I could do 1 or 2 for sure. ) *
Edit 1: Quick grammar edit on a word.
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[ WP ] A gamer comes across an NPC in a game who claims to be a real life person who has been trapped in the game , and that he can prove it .
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Quest Complete
Darren grinned as the Quest Complete dialog box faded from the screen. After successfully striking down'The Wraith in the Tower' He had finally retrieved the last key needed to make his way towards the Demon King.
He knew this was the last boss, and the game was about to make its last climactic statement, complete with a giant boss battle, ending cutscene where his character saves the exotic Queen of Chommo, and finally, the end credits.
Dagoka, his character, decked out in his latest spoils, stood over the gooey remains of The Wraith, as it continued to ooze out along the floor. Darren guided Dagoka across the room, and back down the stairs, leading to the Main Keep.
After a few rolls, and hops down the stairs, Dagoka had made it to the lowest level, and burst through the entry door into the main keep, where his objective was located: The Door of the Demon King. Darren grinned once again, as he eyed the last lock on the door, the other three hanging loose and already unlocked.
He strode Dagoka towards the door, when suddenly he noticed something strange at the foot of the wide stairs leading towards the door. A small woman stood there, looking down, and quite out of place from the game. Dagoka himself was a finely muscled lad, with a finely etched leather tunic and reinforced greaves, but the girl was not in the typical period clothing, she was wearing a blue hoodie and denim jeans.
“ What is this? ” Darren asked himself. This was definitely not supposed to be there.
With a push of the thumbstick, Dagoka moved towards the girl. At that point, she looked up and noticed him for the first time. She scrambled backwards, knife clasped between her hands, obviously frightened of the large man in front of her. Darren stopped Dagoka, the girl wasn ’ t supposed to respond like this. Usually the NPC ’ s in the game would stand still, or attack on sight. This was wrong.
Immediately the girl ’ s expression changed, a smile growing on her face. She tossed the knife aside and ran to Dagoka, and pulled him into an embrace.
Darren blinked, as he swiveled the camera around, and watched the girl, who only came up to Dagoka ’ s waist, hug him with all her might.
An image of a button appeared above her head, and Darren slowly pushed the corresponding button on his gamepad.
The NPC ’ s dialog box opened up and letters began to fill it.
“ Oh my gosh, you ’ re finally here! The player character! ”
Darren ’ s eyebrows rose, “ Uh, what? ” He murmured as he pressed the button to continue dialog.
“ I ’ ve been waiting for a while now, and I ’ ve had to fend for myself in this stupid game! Please you have to help me! ”
Another press of the button.
“ Please don ’ t go! Don ’ t turn off the game! I know you can ’ t really respond back to me, the game isn ’ t programmed to let you respond, although I think I can bring up a yes or no prompt… Here, lets see if it works, do you see it? ”
At the end of her dialog, a yes or no prompt opened up, much like it had many times before in the game. Darren toggled to the yes button, and then hesitated.
“ No way this is happening, it can ’ t be. ” He pressed the button.
The girl bounced around happily. “ Oh yay! It works! Okay, now I know you might think this is crazy, but hear me out! Its real, and you might hold my life in your hands. “
The girl took a deep breath and seemed to still herself before the text continued.
“ I don ’ t know who you are, but I need your help. My name is Nicole, I was a developer on this game and we were working on some experimental tech. You know how all these tech companies want to invent the greatest and newest things. Like Virtual Reality kind of stuff, ever heard of the Oculus Rift? Well ours is much more than a simple Virtual Reality headset. ”
Sweat beaded on Darren ’ s brow. There was no way this was happening, no way in hell. He gripped the controller tighter and hit the button to continue the conversation.
“ Things went bad. Another tester had a heart attack or something while they were connected to the machine. This was new tech which actually integrated into your brain. Things go wrong with stuff like that! They started covering things up, and continued on like nothing ever happened. After they tweaked a few things, they tried to get me to test the machine. I said no! I was a programmer, not some guinea pig for their new tech. But… But they forced me. ”
Darren gritted his teeth, and with shaking fingers he pressed the button once more.
“ Everything worked fine for a while. Its an amazing experience to be inside the game world but after a while, you start to feel less like a person in the real world, and more like a character in the game. I wanted to stop, but they wouldn ’ t let me. ”
At this point, Darren was pacing the room, eyes locked on the display.
“ Eventually I must have started disconnecting from the real world. It hurt. I screamed and cried. I could feel myself hitting the machine, and kicking out, but they restrained me. After a while everything went black, and feeling faded away. For the longest time, I couldn ’ t tell what was going on. It burned and burned, I felt like I had been torn apart, but I feel like I ’ ve finally reconstructed myself somehow. I don ’ t know how long I ’ ve been in here, but my conscience is still here. You need to help me somehow! I ’ ll give you the company name, and you need to call the police, or find somebody who can help me out of here! ”
The girl was on her knees, pleading. Tears ran down her face, and Darren hit the prompt one more time.
“ Please, will you help me? ”
A Yes or No prompt appeared on the screen. Darren toggled to the No prompt, and hit the button. The girl ’ s face contorted into a mask of confusion and sadness, and before she could reply again, Darren paused the game.
Standing, Darren moved to the other side of the cubicle where James played another iteration of the game.
“ She ’ s still in there. This is the third purging she ’ s survived; I don ’ t think we ’ re going to be able to delete her. ”
James leaned back in his chair and sighed. “ It ’ s the same on my end, showed up in a different spot again. I think you ’ re right, we ’ re going to have to torch the program and start fresh. ”
“ Its such a shame, ” Darren said as he glanced towards the terminal where Nicole used to sit, “ but once we iron out these bugs, we shouldn ’ t have anything like this happen again. ”
He reached out and before he could stop himself, he saw the look of sadness on Nicole ’ s face. With a sigh he shook his head, and pressed the power button.
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[ IP ] Cassie and Tonk
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`` I *like* the rain!'' I protested at Tonk as he thundered down the street after me, leaving inch-deep craters in the already cracked pavement.
`` Rainfall raises the chances of contracting illness by 123 % in a human of your age,'' Tonk informed me with a calm voice even as as he leaped gracefully over Mr. Hato's noodle stand. The old man did n't even look up from filling a bowl; everyone in the neighborhood was used to Tonk by now. `` Potential diseases include pneumonia...''
`` I do n't care!'' I told him, dancing out from under the tiny orange umbrella and spinning my arms through the falling water. `` I love it! It's been muggy and hot for days and now... it's just all fresh and clean! All of that bad stuff just gets washed away. Everything even *smells* better in the rain!'' I stuck out my tongue, trying to catch the warm drops.
The servos in Tonk's arm whirred as his hands swiveled to match my movements, preventing even a single bit of water from landing in my mouth. `` I must inform you that this rain contains high levels of microbes and other particulates that may be unhealthy!'' His eye somehow imitated of my father's look of disapproval.
`` You're no fun, Tonk.'' I tried pouting, but he was entirely immune to my charms. `` Daddy would have let me go play.''
`` Your father would not have done so. He programmed me to keep you safe,'' he reminded me. `` Your well-being is my utmost priority.'' He stooped to my level, forming a metallic mountain in the middle of the street. His gleaming face leaned in close, LED eye glowing with a gentle blue and his input port's rim curving slightly to look like a concerned smile. Daddy had put a lot of effort into programming in facial expressions. `` You know how important it was to him.''
I frowned. I hated it when Tonk was right. Daddy probably would n't have let me run around in the rain either, *especially* if it would lead to me getting sick. His illness was the whole reason he'd created Tonk in the first place. Even when he should have been in bed resting, he spent long nights in the workshop welding the chassis together and arranging all of the electronics in the body. Tonk had to finish the last bits of his own legs ( with some help from me, too! ) once Daddy got too weak to even get out of bed. And even when he was so sick that he could n't eat or drink, he was still typing away at his computer making sure that the code was exactly right. `` For every contingency!'' he kept repeating to himself.
He'd called me to his bedside on a rainy afternoon just like this one. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, but a thin smile spread across his lips when he heard my voice. `` Honey, this is your new friend Tonk.'' His frail hand tried to gesture at the window, where Tonk's massive glowing eye was peering in at us. The robot lifted a hand roughly the size of my bed and waved. `` He's going to take good care of you when I'm gone, OK? You have to listen to him so that you can grow up big and strong and healthy. He's going to be your best friend.'' I nodded, but Daddy could n't see it. `` Ok, Honey?'' he asked again, needing confirmation that I understood.
`` Ok, Daddy,'' I answered, feeling the tears well up in my eyes.
`` I've got a bit more work to do on Tonk. Just checking some things. Come give me a hug, honey.'' I leaned over his bed and wrapped my arms around him, and I felt a warm tear fall from his cheek onto my forehead. `` I love you,'' he whispered. I squeezed him tighter. He said goodbye as I shut the door, and he passed sometime in the night. Now it was just me and Tonk.
`` You're right,'' I begrudgingly admitted. `` Come on, let's go to the store.'' Tonk's eye brightened, and he stood up straight, taller than the nearest buildings. He extended one giant hand, and I daintily leaped up into his palm. His other hand still held the little orange umbrella over my head. We took off down the street, stepping over cars in a delicate commuting ballet.
After only a hundred meters or so, his big blue eye turned to me and he shuttered the umbrella. Soft raindrops pattered against my face. `` Only for a little while,'' he said.
I grinned and hugged his finger. Daddy was right. Tonk was the best friend ever.
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Describe the colors of the rainbow to someone who has been blind since birth .
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Hey there, grandpa. No, it's saka. Your *other* grandson. I'm just stopping by on my way back from the coast. I figured I'd see how you're doing. You have n't been tagging your posts lately and we've all been growing a little concerned.
Rainbows? Um, you know that /r/explainlikeIAMA is a bit more suited to these kinds of questions, right?... Well, since you put it like that, let's give this a try.
You wanted the individual colors? As if the descriptions of a leg, and a hip, and chest, and so on define a man? The comfort of a quilt by pulling the threads apart? The concept of color as if each is free to stand alone?
You've never known color, but feelings, those you're familiar with. There's joy. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Uh, envy. And love. We usually just associate a mood or moment with a single emotion. But there are times when they all get mashed together into something... more; more terrible, more wonderful, more beautiful, more human.
But it's still just an illusion. You ca n't reach out and touch the rainbow just as you ca n't set about trying to be be ambivalent. But you know it when it's there. You feel them after the darkened sky abates while its effects still linger in the air. You feel them when you need to be reminded what it means to be alive.
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[ WP ] A mathematician on the brink of insanity has spent years locked in his apartment , attempting to find a formula that proves God exists . As he nears to a breakthrough , God shows up to explain why the proof should n't be made public .
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Part 3 of 3
“ How ’ s it going? ”
“ Oh, good, I suppose... well, wait. What do you mean? ”
“ This whole God thing? Are you figuring it out? ”
“ Well, yes. I do think that I am. ”
“ Oh. I see, ” she said, her glass trembling a little bit in her hands.
“ Yes, ” Michael went on, invigorated by his audience of one. “ Actually before you came in, Einstein here led me to another discovery! ”
The cat perked up at his name. He struggled to moved his mass. But he did, maneuvering onto his fat belly. Then, he spotted his mortal enemy again and hissed at her.
“ Einstein! Stop it! For a cat who ’ s about to change the world, you sure don ’ t have manners! ”
Mae looked from Michael to Einstein and back again.
“ Yes, ” Michael went on, “ I plan on crediting half of my Nobel Prize to my cat. Is that weird? I mean, I know men aren ’ t supposed to be little old cat ladies, but I know that I would never have been able to do this without my little Einstein. ”
The cat was back on his haunches. He let out another hiss at Mae.
“ Oh, Michael, ” the woman said.
The man turned to her. The old black lady sat with tears pooling in her eyes.
It was awkward for the man, but he wanted to do something to help her. He just needed her to stop crying. It made him want to cry and he didn ’ t know why it should.
After a while, she spoke. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “ You have to stop this project... you can ’ t -- you can ’ t let them know, ” she said.
“ What? ” Michael asked, incredulous.
“ You can not let them know. Just let this whole project go. ”
He contemplated what she was saying. Then, he drained his cup of tea and sat down his empty glass. “ I ’ m sorry miss. I don ’ t know who you are, but there is no way that I can abandon this project. Why would you suggest that? This study is my life. If you feel that I should just let my life ’ s work go and this is the reason you ’ ve come here to bother me during this snowstorm, then, I ’ m afraid, I ’ ll have to ask you to leave. ” He went over to the door and put his hand on the knob. He couldn ’ t bring himself to open it, though.
Mae shook her head. It was a quick silent “ no. ” An admission of defeat.
Einstein had stopped hissing, but he was still glaring at Mae with great suspicion and hate.
Mae stood up, quickly and quietly. She came to Michael and stood right in front of him. “ Michael. What if I told you that I have the missing piece? ” She gestured out toward the bookshelf. “ All of this is moot. I know the answer and I can just tell you why you exist and you can just move on... ”
She was looking him directly in the eyes, so intensely.
“ Michael. Let me help you. ”
“ How can you have the answers? To why and how God exists? You ’ re just a house cleaner… I ’ m a mathematician -- ”
“ I know! I know. And you ’ ve been working on this for fifteen years. Blah. Blah. Blah. ”
“ No. Not fifteen. Just two. Well, just two full-time. Before that, there were three years that I devoted to it when I was still on faculty. Einstein was on faculty there, too. ”
“ Well, yes, ” she said quietly, “ For five years. ”
She just stayed close to him, holding him in that warm loving stare. It felt so good.
“ Um... Mae... what do you -- What were you thinking? Just for the sake of Science? What do you think is the missing piece? I can compare it to my notes. ”
She glanced around like she was trying to pass him contraband in prison. Then, she held up a small round object to him. “ This is the answer, ” she said emphatically.
Michael felt his breath catch. To think that the answer had been so near. He was about to finally see the proof of God ’ s existence. He wanted to cry.
She flipped the disc.
It was a mirror.
“ Michael. It ’ s you. You ’ re God. That ’ s why you can ’ t find the answer. You're looking for the wrong thing. ”
“ It ’ s hard, they say, to find yourself. I ’ ve been trying to prove that I exist and I ’ ve been getting nowhere. ”
“ That ’ s like finding yourself times ten. That ’ s why it ’ s been so hard. ”
Michael, looked at his reflection in the mirror. The wrinkled forehead.
The bloodshot eyes. The big vein-striped nose. The drooping jowls. The long thick beard.
The face of God.
He took it all in.
He spoke aloud, but he was only talking to himself: “ I can ’ t tell anyone about this. They will never believe me. ”
“ Yes! ” Mae said. “ Yes! Tell me more about this… ”
“ Well, ” he went on, as if trying to convince himself, “ if I tell people that I am God, they will think I want to control them and that I want to take over the world. They will think that I am crazy! ”
“ I know, baby. I know. ”
“ And I ’ m not crazy! ”
“ No, ” she said, with tears in her eyes. “ No. You ’ re not. And you -- you have to promise not to tell a soul who you really are. Swear to me. Swear to me that you won ’ t tell and that you will just go about your life like normal and they will let you out of here. We know the truth but the rest of them, they can ’ t accept it. They aren ’ t ready. ”
She kept the mirror held up toward his face. She was shaking with the fervor of her address to him. As she spoke, Michael felt a weight being lifted off of him. It was be so easy for him just to keep the secret of his existence. He was God. He could do anything. All of those years of trying to figure this problem out and it turns out it only seemed unsolvable because he didn ’ t realize his own divinity.
“ Mae..Mary, I -- ”
There came a loud screech. Out of nowhere, Einstein lunged at Mae. She was so shocked that she dropped the mirror and it shattered.The old woman fell back, caught herself with the table edge. She managed to get herself into her seat.
“ Einstein! ” Michael called, anger rising up in him.
The cat leapt from the floor and the broken shards of glass to the short window ledge. He turned to Michael and winked as if to say, “ Watch this, ” then he nosed open the window jamb and jumped straight out into the snow.
“ Einstein! Einstein! ” Michael called, fear and concern making his voice a shrill alarm.
Mae stood. But then, she just observed Michael, silently. She looked helpless.
“ I have to go out there and find him. ”
She didn ’ t say a word. Instead she knelt and gathered the little shards of glass from the floor and placed them in her purse.
She came to him and took his cheek in her hand. “ Well, at least put on a coat, first, ”
She gathered up her own overcoat and hurriedly put it on the man. He noticed that on his body, it didn ’ t seem as long as it had before. They were in such a rush that she stuck it on the wrong way round, with the back across his chest and the open leaves of it behind Michael. The straps were hanging and they struck at his knees. He laughed aloud even though he knew it was inappropriate.
At the door, he turned around. “ Please wait here, ” he told Mae. “ I ’ ll be right back. I just have to go and find Einstein. ”
“ I ’ ll be waiting, ” she said. A sob of worry broke into her voice, but she managed to restrain her tears.
Michael shot out of his room and down the stairs toward the exit. Once he reached it, he swung the door open into the cold. The whole world was so white and soft. Every wall of every building was covered in white. The ground covered in white. The sky was covered in white, it seemed. At least that was all he saw when he looked up.
“ Einstein! ” he called. His precious cat out here all alone, by himself. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. “ Einstein! Oh God, my precious Einstein... ”
He didn ’ t even hear himself calling out “ oh God, ” because already gone was the discovery that Mae had just helped him make along with her little compact mirror. She had been so sure that it would work. It was the best idea she ’ d had in at least fifteen years. Plus, the nurses had agreed: a controlled delusion was probably their best hope at declaring him well enough to leave.
He called and called for Einstein, but then out of nowhere, he suddenly got tired. He thought about the two tea bags that had been in cabinet conveniently when he knew for a fact he ’ d used the last one that last day of work at the university. And then there was the fact that Mae had never drank her tea -- whoever she was.
Even so, he did n't worry as he felt himself fall to the soft white ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Einstein coming slowly toward him. But he couldn ’ t be sure. That stupid cat. He loved him even though he was terrible.
Then, he saw them: nice men coming to help him up because he was so sleepy and he couldn ’ t rest here on this soft white white snow. They approached him steadily and as his eyes closed, he felt them strap his coat up in the back to keep him warm.
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