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[ WP ] I looked upon what I had made , and I was wrong .
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This is my first post on this sub and first story that I have written since I was a kid probably, so I'm sorry if it's terrible.
Deep inside the attic, between old Christmas decorations and lifetime ’ s accumulation of trash rested a rickety old box covered in dust. The box almost came completely undone due to the years of resting in the moisture filled attic when being moved into the living room. The contents of the box were long forgotten and remain temporarily unknown.
Struggling with the anticipation, the momentous occasion would have to wait just a few moments longer until the box was firmly in the living room. The attic was narrow and incredibly humid on this late July night. I brought the box downstairs, but before I opened the box, I wiped the sweat off my brow, closed my eyes, took a long deep breath, and let my imagination run wild envisioning all of the possible valuables inside.
After a few brief moments, I opened my eyes after what seemed like an eternity. I methodically wiped down the box and ritualistically sized it up. No longer able to delay the inevitable, I opened the box to my bitter disappointment. The box was filled to the brim with photo albums.
Despite being robbed of any treasures, I decided to look through the albums since I had no immediate plans. I took the first photo album out of the box, slid my hand across the cover, and flipped it open. The first album was titled “ 1972 Summer Vacation. ” The photo album chronicled a husband, wife, and their two lovely children on their cross country trip to the Grand Canyon.
Several albums and hours later, one thing became abundantly apparent. The photographs revealed an innate happiness that seemed more genuine than anything I have ever witnessed. Typically, photographs are lies. Photographs capture an easily faked happiness, in a moment in time, before everyone returns to the awfulness of reality. However, this sentiment never dawned upon me while looking through the albums. The family truly seemed happy, a feeling that I have never actually felt.
Dawn was quickly approaching, and I had overstayed my welcome. I rose to my feet too quickly, and that strong flash of white briefly overtook my vision. I shook it off and walked into the kitchen. I scanned the room for a few moments before locating the telephone. I picked up the phone, walked back out into the living room, and headed towards the front door. Before leaving, I reached into the inside of my pocket and reached for my cigarettes. I pulled out a cigarette and let it rest on lips while I completed one final scan of the room.
I looked upon what I had made, and I was wrong.
I took one last look at those restless eyes. His eyes were still filled with unanticipated surprise and horror, with corresponding white bushy eyebrows frozen in place. In that moment, I realized why in the movies deceased ’ s the eyelids are often pulled down. After that brief pause, I dialed 9-1-1, threw the phone on the blood soaked couch, and walked out.
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[ WP ] You 're a double agent . You 've been in so long you ca n't remember which side you 're on . Now the only question is do you shoot the President or the Queen ?
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Intelligence has been my dream since I was a wee lad, and my life since I was eighteen, when I enlisted.
Ninety-one years, it has been. Ninety-one years of assassination, coercion, plots foiled and plots nursed to fruition. I have done more to shape world history than all the heads of state with whom I have had the displeasure of sharing this Earth, as I work for all of them. Not all together, of course, each of these conniving bastards assumes they have my exclusive loyalty. Naturally, they are dead wrong. Or soon to be dead wrong, anyway.
They gather at the conference table, nine scumbags of the highest degree, clustered neatly together for my last operation. There is just one problem: my Makarov holds only eight rounds.
*Sierra, Hotel, India, Kilo. *
Ninety years of experience... how could I have allowed this oversight? There is no way for me to cross the twenty odd meters to the conference table in my wheelchair without challenge. *One of these bastards might survive*.
But who? Politics are a dirty world, each person at this table has earned their place through deceit, extortion and murder. There are no innocents here. To make this world a better place, and to seejustice served, has been the work of my life for almost a century. And now I must chose which of these clowns deserves to get shot, ***the least***.
`` Shunny,'' I mutter to a passing young lad in a snazzy uniform, `` May I borrow your shidearm?''
He hesitates just a bit, quite baffled by the odd request, to be sure. No matter.. The handgun is out of his holster and in my hand before the unconscious body even hits the floor. I steady the weapon with both hands, my strength not being what it once was, and then through a subdermal implant, I hear: `` Chef, tis is Pennant-tree; Dibs on te tird one to te right.''
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[ WP ] Humanity was supposedly exterminated after a huge interstellar war against just them and a whole interstellar collective of species , leaving only a boogeyman reputation . A thousand years after the war , a scout ship discovers the previously unknown planet of Earth , militarized to the brim .
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`` Captain, we are approaching the Ketijey System. Disengaging hyperdrive. Exiting hyperspace in 3... 2... 1...''
The floors and bulkheads rattled and shook. The scouting ship, the Dezhal, was an old, run down Type 5 Scout. It was equipped with a 60 year old hyperdrive, which cause the whole ship to violently shake whenever it enters or exits hyperspace.
The science officer began to run scans on the unexplored Ketijey System. She read the results aloud, `` Scans show that the star is stable... Ketijey-1-4 are solid planets. Ketijey-5-8 are gas giants. The two groups are separated by an asteroid belt. The readings show that only Ketijey-3 and 4 are suitable for colonization.''
The captain spoke, `` Looks like we may have gotten lucky. Two viable planets in a a stable system. Scout Command is gon na be so-'' the captain was cut off by the science officer, `` Captain I'm detecting what may be urban environments... Yes, there are definitely cities, massive, sprawling cities.''
`` Damn!'' The captain exclaimed. This would have been his lucky day. He would've returned home with colonization plans. They would have made him rich! But since there is advanced life here, they ca n't do anything. With a sigh, the captain told the helmsman to prepare the hyperdrive for the trip home.
`` Hyperdrive powering up... Hyperdrive ready to be activated on your command, sir.''
`` Take us ou-'' the captain was interrupted by the proximity sirens. Several large cruisers were approaching them. `` View screen on,'' the captain was nervous. The image of the cruisers appeared on the screen. The captain gasped. These were human ships. No doubt about it. The signature red and gold hull plating, and the emblem of a sword and pike crossed over human skull identified them as such. A deep, gruff voice came over the com, `` Pafed vessel, you have entered Terran space without authorization. This is considered a capital offense on our world, however, as our enemies, we will send you home with a message: the human race is back. You think your pathetic attempt at exterminating us was good enough? Think again. We have returned and we will take back what is rightfully ours. Make peace with your gods.''
The cruiser projected a hypergate onto the Dezhal, sending on its way home...
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[ WP ] Your parents take you aside after graduation . After all these years , it 's time for the dark truth : you 're not really adopted .
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`` Your father and I were thinking, John. There's something you need to know that we've been keeping from you for a while.''
`` Sure shoot Mum, you told me I was adopted years ago. Ca n't be anything more serious than that.''
`` It's exactly that, honey. You were n't adopted, you're our birth child.''
`` What? I... what?''
`` You see, kiddo, we did n't really want a child. But somehow you got through a condom, the pill and your mother's congenital infertility. You were a fighter, you still are,'' John's father said.
`` Uh, that's... enlightening. Why did you tell me I was adopted? Why did n't you put me up for adoption? I do n't understand this, is this a joke? Of all the stupid shit you've said-''
`` Do n't swear, dear. We're not joking. We thought it was for the best. You see, the neighbours would've thought badly of us if they found out we'd put up our child for adoption. As well, abortions were pricey back then and we thought if you got a good job later on we'd make up for our loss later on,'' his mother said this time.
`` WHAT THE FUCK?''
`` So yadda yadda, we thought we'd probably mess you up somehow because we were n't prepared to really invest much in you in the first place. From our perspective, it made a lot of sense to give you some lower expectations of us. Birth parents are held to higher standards, probably. Did n't research it, could n't be bothered as I've explained,'' said his Dad.
`` I should have figured this out when you went on holiday for a week when I was 10. No one nice enough to adopt would do what you did.''
`` Lots of parents go on holidays, dear,'' said his mother.
`` WITH THEIR CHILDREN YOU SELFISH BITCH. I RAN OUT OF FOOD AND HAD TO EAT OUT OF THE TRASH.''
`` I can see you need some time to process this, champ. So if you do n't mind us, we've got a dinner party to attend. Enjoy your graduation!'' said his father.
John's google searches were sad and weird that night.
`` how to become a eunuch''
`` foolproof vasectomy no sperm''
`` genes pass down evil''
/r/raisedbynarcissists was a good find, he remarked.
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[ WP ] We live in a universe where you can not die from natural causes , instead every so often the Grim Reaper will come and try to fight you to the death .
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I remember the first time it happened; it was the first year of high school. I heard my name over the PA system.
`` *ptsk* George Bateman, please report to the principal ’ s office, George Bateman to the principal ’ s office please *ptsk*''
So, off I trudged, wondering what it was I ’ d been blamed for this time. What I found when I got the office was, it has to be said, a bit of a surprise. It should n't have been, we ’ d been warned about it in biology years ago, but I guess until it happens to you, you never really expect it. I opened the door to the principal ’ s office and before I could ask what was going on, a voice that sounded like a flint being scraped along limestone, cold and hollow cut through the air:
`` IT IS TIME''
Huh? Time for what?
I just managed to duck before the bastard ’ s scythe took my head off.
`` JESUS CHRIST!'' I hollered.
“ NO. YOU ’ LL MEET HIM SOON ENOUGH. IT IS TIME. ”
`` Like fuck it ’ s time!'' is, allegedly, what I said before I charged at The Reaper, tackling him out the window. I say `` allegedly'' because that ’ s what I'm told I said, I do n't really remember. But I remember that it is'not appropriate language for the principal ’ s office, regardless of the situation.' Gim me a break.
The second time it happened, nearly 15 years later, I was on a date. On a date for Christ ’ s sake! We ’ d had a lovely meal and, without wanting to put too finer point on it, I was definitely in. Dessert arrived, two spoons obviously – textbook date move – and guess what happened. The waiter, with a voice like granite crunching into gravel…
`` Your cheesecake, sir. And an extra spoon for you madam. NOW, IT IS TIME.''
`` Huh? Oh, it ’ s about half 9. Surely as a waiter you should have your own wat-'' *CRUNCH*
The sound of a scythe slicing a cheesecake in two and taking half the table with it. Well, there go my prospects of a second date. Not because of the now divided cheesecake and defunct table, but because I'm pretty sure I had shat myself.
I dove away from the table. I ’ d love to tell you that I turned and fought The Reaper, that I stood man against horseman and went toe-to-toe bone with him. But on this occasion, I ran away like a little sissy girl. There would be other fights.
And there were other fights.
Lots of them, over the years. Some over in an instant, some that went for days until I left me black and blue. Some unexpected, some I heard coming. I've ruined some good suits, I've fought in my pants ( on more than one occasion ). I've fought with weapons, I've fought with my hands. Somehow I always came out on top.
Today, it is my 104th birthday. I am one hundred and four years old. I've had enough. I've seen everything I want to see, been everywhere I want to go and done everything I've ever wanted to do. I know that next time it is time, I am exhausted.
A voice, like a slate grinding against limestone:
`` IT IS TIME.''
I'm ready. I've seen The Reaper come and take everyone I've ever known.
`` IT''
Everyone I've ever loved. He took them all.
`` IS''
Everyone I've ever cared about. That bastard has taken everyone from me.
`` TIME''
... maybe I've got one more fight in me.
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[ WP ] After decades of exploring , humans find intelligent life not on another planet , but at the bottom of the ocean .
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`` Kill them. Exterminate them immediately.''
`` But they're new *life*, they're something that we've never --''
`` I do n't care.'' Malcolm turned to his subordinate, his face pulled back in anger. `` They are a danger to life as we know it -- *civilization* as we know it! They could destroy everything that we hold sacred. Imagine if other nations got to them first, Aleksander!'' Malcolm turned and looked at the window. They could n't afford this new *intelligence*. News of this new life would quickly spread, and if those from across the ocean got scent of it... He turned, finality etched into his features. `` Yes. Exterminate them all.''
`` Sir, we will have to go before the board, and they'll --''
`` They will be dealt with later, and they will agree with my assessment.'' Malcolm frowned. `` What happened to the first group?''
`` Sir?''
Malcolm stepped forward, looming over Aleksander. `` First contact, Aleksander... did they let them go back *home*, Aleksander? Did they *escape*?''
`` Yes, sir, they *did* manage to retreat, as *we* did, sir...''
Malcolm turned away, disgusted. He looked out the window and watched as soldiers began to swim into formation. Their armor bristled and flashed, and their weapons glistened. Malcolm sighed. `` We are going to war, Aleksander. We will act swiftly, violently.'' He watched as large beasts with webbed feet and sharp teeth quickly formed a line. Soldiers sat on the beasts and then lashed themselves to them. They were ready. Malcolm turned back to Aleksander. `` We have not been above ground for many centuries, Aleksander, but today we return.''
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[ WP ] The world is black and white , until you fall in love . As such , it is in beautiful technicolor , until you fall out of love .
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I ’ ll never forget the day I saw the color, “ red ”. Of course, there were other colors. But from the moment I saw it, red meant everything to me. And so did she.
It was a rainy Sunday morning when I saw it. We were laying in bed, pondering all the mysterious aspects of life and what ’ s yet to come. Her head was on my shoulder and her nose pressed up against the curve of my chin. Her fingers traced over my torso, drawing pictures and writing poems never to be seen. It was perfect as we cuddled and the sound of the raindrops hitting the rooftop sent us both into a blissful comatose.
Sleepily, I watched how softly her eyelids closed. How, for just a brief moment, her eyes would remain closed – a sign of undeniable contentment. How her body would rise and fall with the tempo of her breathing. How her lips curled up slightly when my heart stumbled or sputtered.
I didn ’ t even notice it at first. It just seemed so natural.
A moment before, everything in my world was grey. And suddenly, there were colors everywhere, brighter and more vivid than I could have ever imagined. The green shine of the wet leaves hanging dejectedly from the tree outside my window, the metallic luster of the spoon she had used to stir her coffee. But the red… The barely visible blush on the apple of her cheeks, the red tint to her soft, puckered lips...
A brief smile crossed over my lips, and I pulled her closer to my body. “ I see it, ” I whispered.
Almost as naturally as the beginning of the colors, comes the fading of the colors.
It was a sunny day outside on the Monday I began to notice. I was sitting at a bench, watching the kids at the park across the way play. I was feeding a lone pigeon when I noticed it. How the brown of the bench was muted, the yellow tinge of the sunshine nearly nonexistent.
“ Huh, ” I marveled, letting a red piece of cloth fall daintily between my fingers, as I took in my new spectrum. It wasn ’ t hard to let the colors go. I didn ’ t enjoy them anymore. I didn ’ t need them, either.
I sat at that spot for a while until a vibration in my left pocket brought me crashing back down to reality. I took one last observation of the tones around me, and stood up, stuffing the piece of cloth into my pocket. She would want me back soon enough.
When I got there, she stood at the end of the entrance way, her arms crossed. I tried to pull my lips upward, at an attempt of a smile. “ Hey, babe. ”
“ Hello. ” She greeted me, her voice flat and uninterested. “ Where have you been? ”
I looked down at my hands, and then back up to her. “ I ’ ve just been at the park. ”
“ Again? ” She hissed. I could tell tonight was not going to be fun.
I glanced at her lips. The red was now a pastel pink. I darted my eyes in the other direction, away from her, somehow unable to bear the understood shame she felt in me.
“ Yes. Again. ”
It was in the seventies the day the colors disappeared completely. I was mowing the lawn when it happened. The last color I saw was the red wings of the cardinal hiding in one of our trees.
“ Huh, ” I marveled, and finished mowing the lawn. I wandered inside shortly after, to the dinner table where she was, hair in a high and messy bun. She wore her glasses and cut out coupons. Her shirt hung loosely from her thin chest, and her sallow cheeks looked even more sinister without the colors.
“ I don ’ t see them anymore, ” I whispered, diverting my gaze to the scissors held in her hand. “ I don ’ t see colors. ”
In my peripheral vision, I noticed a scowl drag across her face. “ Huh, ” she marveled.
“ I haven ’ t seen them lately, either. Haven ’ t for a while. ”
She slammed the scissors on the table and stood up abruptly. I took a step back in surprise.
“ What can we do about it? ” She demanded, her eyes slit. “ We ’ re in the mortgage, together. ”
I blinked at her.
“ You don ’ t work, you don ’ t clean. You ’ re the laziest mother fucker I could have ever have had the displeasure of being with. I don ’ t want to be with you, either. ”
I winced. That was painful. Even if the colors were gone.
“ You think you ’ re a catch? ” She continued, while grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair. “ Don ’ t make me laugh. ”
I looked as her hands as she grabbed the keys off the table.
“ I ’ m going to my mother ’ s. ”
It was midnight when I was on my twelfth beer. The alcohol sloshed around in my stomach and my brain slowly turned in my head. My vision blurred in and out as I stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Clumsily, I opened the door and fell against the cradle pushed hastily against the wall. With tears in my eyes, I reached down, and picked up a small outfit.
It had a hole cut out of it, roughly the size of the cloth I kept in my pocket. I pulled the cloth out, and held it up against the outfit. A sob pushed its way through my lips, before I slid down to the floor.
Red meant everything to me. And so did she.
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[ WP ] You 're a super villain who 's starting to lose your powers , and come to find out that you can recharge your powers by getting compliments .
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Steven looked at the pen across the room. He brought his hand up to his face and looked at it. He made a claw with his hand and let his mind wander to the pen. Steven thought and though, his brain straining with the effort. He opened his eyes, he had hardly realized he had closed them. He saw the pen floating no more than an inch off of his co-worker's table. He shook his head and the pen fell and rolled off the table.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Do you have anything you would want to say to the Ersatz Engineer if he still is out there'' Steven looked back at the screen in the lobby. He had finished the program he had been working on so he decided to take a break. Steven smiled as he remembered when the news called him that every day. Now it was just the occasional reports when another Proto-human was found.
However, this time they were doing a report about his foe, the Refractor, had some sort of mirror based power, Steven did n't care anymore. He watched how the Refractor and his stupid had talked about how Steven needed help, and how he turned over a new leaf and he is now a good citizen. Steven knew he was lying, Steven had told him what was happing at their last confrontation. The Refractor did n't know what to do and Steven just left and began his normal life.
Stevens mind came back to the television and saw it flicker a little. He thought it was from remnants of his power still trying to work. The Refractor was talking about the recent bank robbery he had stopped and Steven tried to turn the television off. He stared at the button, as hard as he could he focus. Eventually, he frowned and slammed his fist on the table. He walked over and hit the button just as they were finishing up the report.
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It had been several months since the Refractor was heard from. Steven was sitting in a coffee shop, watching the people go by and ideas float through his head. He was okay with losing his powers now, he was able to continue with his day job, and without any distraction of psychic energy, he could have rampant thoughts run through his head. He liked it, sometimes he even worried about the fate of the Refractor ever since he went head to head with the Warp.
The small bell rang and Steven looked over, it was his `` date'' if you could even call it that. She came over and sat down across from him and looked out at the drab sky.
`` Man, It's a really crummy day today,'' She said peering around and through the gray sky.
`` Tell me about it,'' Steven said taking a sip of his coffee.
`` It's kind of a shame because I had planned to picnic in the park, just to see if you liked that sort of thing'' Steven shook his head. The entire reason he was here with Mary because of a bet he had lost against a co-worker. She had a friend who had a friend who had a friend who said they could make anyone happy and now he had to be here.
`` That's okay, I'm not really a big picnic person anyway'' Mary smiled and even laughed a bit.
`` Yeah, I heard you were a good complainer'' Steven blushed, he did n't really know why. `` But no worry, I have planned out everything to make you have a good time''
`` Well Miss Mary, What exactly do you have in mind?'' Steven finished his coffee, feeling oddly relaxed.
`` Miss Mary, That's funny, I have never heard that one before. Anyway, I obviously wanted to go picnicking but that wo n't work today so I guess we can skip right to the boardwalk we can see different stores and....'' Mary's words faded out as Steven noticed that right after Mary said'funny' the chair behind her jumped and stuck in the air for a moment.
`` Hey, are you listening,'' Mary said after a moment of hesitation.
`` Oh, me, yeah, I was listening'' He was acting of course. Not lying, he could recall everything she had said and did tell her the daily plan when she asked, he was just busy trying to realize what made the chair bounce.
`` Wow, you have a good memory'' As Mary said those words the salt shakers on all the tables slowly had a stream of salt flow out of the top. Steven could n't mistake it, something about Mary's complements was giving him power again, and he could feel it now. Steven put the salt back in the shakers before anyone realized and looked back at Mary with a smile on his face.
`` How about we start down at the boardwalk?'' He said, putting on a nice show for her.
`` See, I told Stacey you had a nice smile'' they got up and left, not before the window they were sitting next to cracked, just a bit.
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`` I had a great night tonight,'' Steven said with a skip in his step as he walked down the darkened street, soaked wet.
`` I ca n't believe you just jumped into the water like that to save my sandwich from the ducks,'' Mary said laughing.
`` Be honest with me,'' Steven said. `` Did you plan that?''
Mary chuckled as she nodded her head `` The duck was n't entirely my doing but yes. Men like to feel more empowered, it helps people open up'' Steven had checked her brain at the Carnival when he was sure he had enough power. Nothing was abnormal about her brain chemistry, but she was a behavioral psychologist so maybe she was just good with people.
`` Well, I agree with you, it did make me feel strong and powerful'' Steven made a funny voice and Mary laughed at it. Steven laughed as well, he truly did have a good time. The more he thought about it however, why did he have a good time?
`` Should I call a taxi?'' Mary said indicating to the road.
`` No No, well maybe for you, my place is just right up here''
`` Well,'' Mary said with a smirk on her face `` I could stay at your places tonight''
`` Well, sorry, not tonight'' He needed time to test out his full capabilities again.
`` Maybe next time?'' Mary said with that smile on her face again.
`` Maybe next time,'' Steven said as he looked past her at the lamppost that was rearranging itself and fixing again.
Steven waited by the curb and talked with Mary until the taxi came and gave her one heartfelt goodbye as she got into the car and left. He turned around and with the smile still on his face dismantled the entire front end of the building next to his apartment. Not only did different brick and metal fly around, but every parked car along the side of the road exploded with their parts remaining static in the air. Now Steven smiled for a different reason, sure the memory of the time he spent with Mary was still in his mind, but he had his power back. As he reassembled everything he had taken apart he had wondered two things. When he should call Mary next, and when would a mugger try and attack him?
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My god I'm a horrible writer.
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[ WP ] 2 social classes , one incredibly rich , the other dirt poor . The two classes have an event every 25 years where they switch places . The event is today .
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`` Shall we bet the usual amount?''
Up high in their windowless tower, two ageing businessman, Mortimer and Randolph, stepped out onto their balcony to look down at the chaos below. They had been waiting for this moment for 25 years.
All those years ago citizens woke up to found their once free and fair city had been encased in a giant bubble. No way in, no way out. Even more mysterious was the giant glass wall placed right through the middle of city, dividing west from east. They had no idea they were just mice in a grand experiment.
Mortimer and Randolph injected huge investment into the west and watched it grow into a utopia as crime fizzled out and living standards rose. Soon even those that used to be poor where whizzing around town in sports cars. But most importantly of all - people stopped caring about the bubble.
But with the east they did the opposite. All investment was withdrawn and they watched as the place descended into poverty. Disease and crime ripped through the city as it's citizens lost everything. Everyday they protested the bubble. They constantly devised new ways to bring it down from bombs to bullets but nothing worked.
Instead they started watching their neighbours in the west. The glass wall let them see everything they were doing. The limo's, the booze, the houses, the suits. Each day they begged to be let in but the west never lifted a finger. They watched as members of the west would press up against the glass wall, taunting the east with their wealth. It was not pretty. Mortimer and Randolph would spend those days rolling around laughing.
This continued for 25 years until one day a booming voice filled both sides of the bubble.
`` IN 30 SECONDS THE GLASS WALL WILL BE LIFTED. THOSE IN THE WEST WILL MOVE TO THE EAST AND THOSE IN THE EAST WILL MOVE TO THE WEST. IF YOU WERE POOR YOU WILL BE NOW RICH. IF YOU WERE RICH YOU WILL NOW BE POOR. PLEASE DO NOT KILL EACH OTHER. THAT IS ALL.''
Mortimer and Randolph looked down from their windowless tower at the madness below. For that's all it can be described as. Mortimer took out his pocket binoculars and looked down as the poor lined up along the east wall, armed with bats, chains, drills, pretty much anything they can put their hands on. The west side of the wall was empty. The rich were choosing to be hunted in their homes instead.
`` Well now is the moment of truth'' Mortimer remarked.
`` I'm going to win this'' Randolph replied.
`` I suspect you're right'' was all Mortimer could say back.
Another announcement boomed out over the city.
`` PLEASE DO NOT KILL ANYONE. THOSE IN THE EAST WILL GET TO LIVE LIKE KINGS IF YOU LET THOSE IN THE WEST LIVE. KILLING THEM WILL ONLY RESULT IN SUFFERING.
No one was listening. Randolph smiled.
The wall lifted and the bloodbath began. It was merciless. Screams reverberated around the bubble. Even from the tower's great height the two men could see the blood painting the once aristocratic neighbourhoods.
`` Well, what did I tell you Mortimer?'' Randolph said, `` it was always going to end in suffering. The poor are stupid. They do n't want to be rich. They just want to inflict misery on those that are richer. They have proved me correct.''
Mortimer sighed and dipped into his blazer pocket. `` I suppose you're right. You win the bet.''
And with that he handed Randolph a $ 1 bill.
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[ WP ] `` Sorry ; I did n't realize you were one of us . ''
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Well, I got up and left the tent to pee in the middle of the night and blacked out. I woke up in a dark and humid cave on a bed of leaves. My clothes were slightly torn, and I remembered my camping trip with Jeremy. I forced him to go, he was never much for the outdoors. I brushed the dirt out of my beard and sat up.
`` Sorry; I did n't realize you were one of us.'' growled the 11-foot Grizzly Bear.
`` Shit!'' I sprang to my feet and turned to run, but the cave was shallow and the Bear stood between me and the entrance.
`` Kevin, calm down, I can explain,'' the bear gestured with his gigantic paws. `` I attacked you in the woods earlier, and I was wr-''
`` W-Wait... you think I'm a bear?''
`` If you'd let me finish, I was wrong for going through your phone before I ate you, but I discovered your profile on www.BearsLooking4Bears.com,''
`` I, uh-um, okay, if I could have my phone back, I'll just be going now,''
`` Nonsense! You wanted to meet other bears, I'm a bear. Stay awhile, make yourself comfortable, we can talk about bear stuff'' The bear nudged a pile of leaves toward me.
I leaned back against a rock.
`` Yeah, most other bears are hibernating, but I've always been kind of an insomniac. You know, I mean, *you* know. You're kind of a funny looking bear, by the way, not a lot of fur. No offense, but had I not gone through your phone, I would have sworn you were a human,''
I fidgeted in his pile of leaves.
The bear chortled `` But why would a human want to meet local bears? Unless they wanted to be torn apart limb from limb, eviscerated, and disemboweled! AMIRITE? Come on dude, do n't leave me hangin'; you've seen *The Revenant*, **yeah** you have,'' the bear reached towards me with his massive claws.
I could n't hold back a yelp
`` Hey man, what's wrong? Why so jumpy,''
`` Umm, itchy back! Yeah! I'm just gon na run outside and find a nice tree. I'll be back soon, Bear, I promise!''
I sprinted past the bear, out of the cave, and wandered aimlessly in the woods for 3 days before I came across a park ranger.
SoOoOo I'm sorry, Jeremy. That's what kept me from making our brunch reservation
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[ WP ] You steal a coin from a wishing well . In doing so , you get the wish granted that was made with that coin .
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All I wanted was JUST a fucking quarter for the parking meter. I checked my watch and with two minutes to spare I dug through my car trying to find a coin. Any coin to buy me more time as I waited for my food order to be ready to go. One minute left. In desperation I looked around for any sort of currency exchange and there I saw it. A Wishing Well. I ran over and glanced down at the gleaming coins so welcoming to see. Grabbed a quarter and ran back in the nick of time. The maid meter threw a dirty look and I shot over a victorious smile in a battle of glances.
I did n't know that this particular wishing well was known in the town to be both a blessing and a curse. I was new in town and never had encountered such a strange superstition. Well I should n't say superstition, turned out there was a reason people threw coins and and no one ever took them...
Things started to change slowly. Things I just sort of ignored at first. My sense of smell increased the next day. It was actually fantastic. I could actually smell things I did n't know had a smell. Opening the fridge I could smell EVERYTHING. The hot dogs in the meat drawer, the yams in the vegetable drawer, my milk getting ready to spoil ( who knew that had a smell!? ). It was like freakin' smellovision. I could smell people differently, places differently, and even buildings had distinct smells. It was pretty great until I noticed this moisture residue coming from my nose. That's not normal. I started carrying tissues to wipe it off, but noticed it would just come back right away. I made a doctors appointment.
My appointment was scheduled in a couple of days. Not soon enough. I had other side effects and was beginning to panic. Body hair began to suddenly grow from all parts of my body. I had a strange bump right on top of my rear. I also had gotten noticeably fatter. Frantically I went to the ER fearing the worse. And as I walked up explaining my situation my words were not forming in an articulate manner. What the hell is going on?! The ER staff looked at me suspiciously and I noticed I was I was in the middle of my own scene. Suddenly men in white coats took me away. I was taken as a crazy person and could n't even defend myself with my voice not working.
I was taken to a mental institution. With the crazy long hair, my wet running nose, and lack of articulation I was deemed insane. There I waited in a room alone still feeling stranger and stranger everyday. Until...
`` Hey Gloria, there's a dog in here! Is there supposed to be a dog in here?'' shouted a male nurse looking right at me. This must be some sort of test! I frantically walked over except my legs were no longer strong enough to carry me. In fact I had to crawl over using my arms too. There I noticed what were hairy hands a couple hours ago had become paws. I am a dog. Fucking five year olds and their wishes.
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[ WP ] In alternate dimensions there are an unlimited copies of yourself . However , you are the centre . When a copy dies , you receive a freckle . With each freckle comes the knowledge and experience of the copy . Today you received your first freckle .
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Gwen was brushing her teeth the morning it happened. She had lost a tooth the night before and was using her free hand to enjoy the feeling of the $ 5 in her pocket. She would spend it on a new dress for her favorite doll. It was going to be a good morning for Gwen... when she saw a single spot forming on her cheek. She looked at it, tried to rub it off. The more she rubbed at it the darker it became. Until it took it's final shape and color. At first nothing happened but then:
*'' Gwen! Gwen get up! `` *
She looked around. The night sky was red with fire and airplanes made themselves known overhead. She heard sirens. Gwen looked up in horror as the next bomb fell. The man calling to her shoved her into a storm drain out of the way.
*'' Go! Gwen! Hurry! `` *
Impact. A flash of light and fire blinded Gwen and the sheer force of the smaller bomb sent her flying deeper into the tunnels and then-
Suddenly Gwen was back in her bathroom, she was on the floor. Toothpaste was dripping down her chin, her eyes were wide and dilated. Suddenly it all became clear. She had just died. She felt it everywhere while feeling nothing at all. Her body was limp and her head hurt. The freckle on her face burned like a match was being lit on her skin.
`` Gwen? Gwen, I was calling you-''
Her mom walked in, face coated in glitter as always, and saw her child on the floor, `` Gwen did you slip? What happened?''
Then she saw the spot on Gwen's face, `` You saw it then.''
For the first time she moved, her head turned to her mom like a cracking dolls, `` What was it mommy?''
`` It was a bad one then...''
`` Mommy what happened?''
`` It's alright sweety, let mommy help,'' the woman reached into the medicine cabinet to retrieve eyelash glue and confetti. Gwen watched her mother select a shining purple star before kneeling down. She pressed a little bit of glue onto one side of the star and took Gwen's face, sticking the star over the spot. Before long the freckle cooled and Gwen was able to stand up again.
`` Mommy?''
`` When a freckle forms on your face it means another version of you has passed on. This should n't happen for a long time but I guess you were unlucky. If you cover the freckle then you cover the memories. You're only five, Gwen. You should n't have to deal with these things but now you must. How do you feel?''
`` Alright?''
`` Good, finish brushing your teeth and meet me downstairs.''
Gwen's mom stood to return to her work when her daughter called out to her again, `` Yes, Gwen?''
`` Why do you wear so much glitter?''
Gwen's mom looked at her for a moment, focusing intently on that single purple star. Underneath that piece of plastic was a nightmare her daughter was n't ready to deal with. She raised a hand to her own face, gently patting the glitter dumped onto her face. How many times has she died now?
She smiled, `` It looks pretty, does n't it?''
`` Yes! Mommy looks pretty!''
`` I'll see you downstairs Gwen.''
`` Alright Mommy!''
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[ WP ] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test . You are one of the ten , but nobody knows from which group they came .
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It's hard being surrounded by so many idiots. We sat around a conference table and I tried to give them a chance to speak. But many of them just sat there, not even apparently able to respond when I would ask about history, mathematics, whether ivory should be outlawed to protect elephants, etc.
I wish everyone knew as much as me about politics, too. Every time I try to explain how things work, no one can understand. You name it, I know it. That's why I was so surprised - you'd think that with at least four other people from the smart group we'd be able to carry a conversation.
What's that? No, it's fine. I'll sit here as long as you want and explain everything again and again to you.
Huh? It's over already? But people have n't said I'm right yet.
Thank you for being part of the dumb group? Clearly you have no idea what you're talking about. F*** you and I'm out of here.
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[ WP ] A sad story that involve no deaths or violence
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`` Where have you been?''
`` Over at the bar on the corner of none of your fucking business!''
A new night, the same argument. Every night dad would come home smelling like cheap beer and cigars, every night mum would shout and scream and blame him for every problem under the sun, and every night i would run to my big brother and hold onto him until dad passed out. But on this night, as i ran into by brothers room, something was different. I looked around and saw his special plastic bag of grass on his bed next to some small bits of paper. I looked him in the eye and i knew he had just had some of his grass, and usually that put him in a good mood, it meant he would let me play on his xbox or watch movies with me, but something else was different. He looked tired. Like he had n't slept in a really long time.
`` What do you want?''
`` Mum and Dad are yelling again.''
He burst out laughing.
`` They sure as hell are, by the sounds of it tonight is gon na be a long one.''
I wanted to ask him if i could stay in his room until they were done, but something was n't right. I don; t know why, but at that moment, i was scared of him. Then he walked up to me and crouched down so that we were the same height.
`` Listen, their's something i need to tell you. Something i have never told you, but i hope you have always known it. I love you little bro, i always have and i always will.''
He hugged me, and i could have sworn i heard him cry a bit, but my brother never cried.
`` Now go to back to bed and close the door. If you can stay in your room all night, you'll get a surprise in the morning.''
I could n't believe it, so I ran right into my room, closed the door and went to bed. All i could think about was what his surprise was. I woke up ran into the kitchen, but it was just mum. I walked up to her to say hello, but then i saw she was crying. This was kind of weird, usually she did n't cry until she went into the bedroom with her special friend, but sometimes she would just cry for no reason, and i knew that i should leave her alone when that happened. Then i saw my dad. I looked at the ground as he walked past, because if i ever looked him in the eye, he would get really angry. But none of that mattered, all that mattered was getting my surprise from by brother! I ran to his door and knocked, but the door was open. I walked and he was n't in his bed. All his things and his clothes were gone too. There was only one thing left in the whole room, a note on his bed.
Surprise. I'm sorry.
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[ WP ] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal . Wherever the time traveler ends up , the immortal is there to catch him up to speed .
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`` Do you have any idea how long it's been?!'' I asked as trapped him in a bear hug. `` An entire century and not even a call! I'm disappointed in you Charles, truly I am. I thought we were closer than that. How've you been ol' sport!''
`` Well- I could- tell you- if you'd just- stop squeezing me-''
`` oh right, sorry ol' sport.'' I released my grip on my old friend and he tumbled to the ground gasping for air. `` forget I'm stronger than I once was. Immortality gives you a lot of free time to whip yourself into shape,'' I joked.
`` yes,'' he gasped, `` and I'm sure being alive during a time where you can just pop a pill and become a hulk has n't contributed to that at all?'' he inquired playfully.
I laughed and smacked my old friend on the back, sending him back to the ground again. `` sorry about that. What brings you to this time ol' sport? Oh wait do n't tell me! You're here to check out the discovery of megaroriuminfanianite? Truly an amazing mineral!''
`` No Xavier I'm-''
`` Oh then you must be here to see the reopening of Disneyland Atlantis? One of my favorites personally, even if those pesky mermen do occasionally make off with one or two of the guests...''
`` No, I want to-''
`` Visit the Caribbean Empire? We can try, but it's becoming increasingly hard to enter, what with all the tensions with the Eastern Coalitions and their Neutron Bomb development. Multiple millenia with humanity and they still have n't changed. Such a strange species.''
`` Xavier please, let me-''
`` Try out the new cuisine? Ol' sport you must try the-''
`` Xavier!'' he paused to make sure he had my attention, then added in a somber tone `` I'm here to see him.''
``... Are you sure Charles? These are n't things you have to concern yourself with. You tried your best, but there are some things even people with your abilities are n't meant to see.''
`` Yes, I'm sure Xavier. I promised her they'd be safe, and I need to know what happened after... After the bombings.''
He gave me a look that broached no argument, so I lowered my eyes and prepared myself for what was to come. I put one hand on his shoulder, and pressed a button on my belt, and instantly we went from the outskirts of New Tokyo, to the quiet countryside of Berlin, Russia. Charles looked around for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he saw them: two little unassuming gravestones by a nearby cottage. He looked at me, and I nodded knowing what he was going to ask before he even did. We walked over to them and Charles kneeled down and put a hand on the tombstone in silence. Then he laughed. `` Charles?''
`` Sorry Xavier, I just think it's funny in a way. Ive always hated cemeteries, and the idea of death in general. So final and uncertain, that's why I invented my machine- to escape it.'' He let out a sigh and continued, `` it wasnt perfect, a machine that can only jump 100 years at a time, but I never put much thought into it. So long as I could live forever, like you, I thought'what does it matter when I am?''' he got up and gently kicked the tombstone. `` so naive... I promised her they'd be safe, but at the first sign of danger, I ran. Some father I turned out to be.''
`` There was n't anything you could have done Charles. You'd been working on your machine to make the jumps more precise, but there was no way to know for certain. The choice was a clear: stay and die, or try to jump with your kids a few days into the future. You could n't have known how unstable it was.''
Charles turned and looked me in the eye for the first time today, as if searching for something more to give him solace. `` When... how did they?...'' he left the question hanging. I did n't make him finish it.
`` Arthur ended up around 25 years in the future. The war was winding down by then and he managed to live a long prosperous life as a defense contractor for New Avalon.''
`` And Yasmina?''
I broke eye contact. `` she was less fortunate. She ended up where she was supposed to: a few days on the future. She lived through one of humanities worst wars, but what's important is that she lived. I found her shortly before I found Arthur, in an abusive relationship with some sleezeball stock broker who thought it was funny to see how hard he could hit his wife without breaking something.'' I spit on the ground and balled my fist. `` He did n't find my games nearly as pleasant.''
Charles looked at me, then back at the gravestones. `` Thank you Xavier; for bringing them both back together and watching over them when I could n't. You've always been a great friend to me, and I do n't know how to thank you.''
I smiled. `` That's good because you do n't have to. You've never had to. You're the reason why I'm able to live the life I do, for as long as I have. I'm forever in your debt.''
Charles smiled, still looking at the gravestone, then whispered something I could n't hear. `` I think... I think id like to see some of those new wonders this time has been offering Xavier.''
I put my hand around his back and nodded. A few millenia on this planet had taught me that humans are resilient creatures. No matter what hardships they face, or horrors they witness, they persevere. That's something that's never changed, and that's something I hope Charles picks up on through his travels. There might come a time whereI'm not here to watch after my friend, but there will always be a time where I am.
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[ WP ] `` On our first date , we went to heaven . ''
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On our first date, we went to heaven.
It had become almost cliche but that point. Go to heaven, reveal the deepest parts of yourself to each other, know immediately if this was someone you wanted to let into your life. Heaven Inc. was making a killing.
Some of my friends had been to heaven once too often. They swore off relationships for life. I maintained my loud belief that the dead should stay dead and ignored the ache in my breastbone. Until Anna came along.
She had never been to heaven, either. A mutual friend introduced us and I suggested coffee. She demurred. I suggested bowling, ice skating, a walk on the beach. She looked up at me with dark eyes and asked to go to heaven and my stomach dropped.
We went to heaven.
She paid for her ticket. She brought a paper bag of blueberries for us to share while we queued, and she laughed when the juice stained our fingers purple. We paid for a locker and swapped our clothes for white robes. No earthly possessions allowed into heaven.
Anna looked like an angel, the sun reflecting off her robes and tinting her hair gold. I was pretty sure I just looked like a prat. She squeezed my hand and grinned at me, and I made myself smile back. A bell rang. The big door at the end of the locker room swung open and we all trooped through. Into heaven.
I wish I could remember more of it. We were there forever, and for no time at all. We visited the Tower of the Ancients, where pharaohs and emperors squabbled over chess, and coffee shops where scientists smashed good china to expound upon their theories. Musicians played music I had never heard and children - children! - played in the streets. Fat tears rolled down Anna's cheeks, but she made no sound. I felt like I was living in the Cloud Atlas sextet.
We turned a corner and I saw a slim figure with long, dark hair. I heard a voice that I had forgotten, and my blood pressure dropped, and the figure turned and smiled.
`` I knew you would come,'' she said, and she had n't aged a day, and only her flat stomach showed that she was n't the figure I saw in my dreams. And in my nightmares.
She came over and she touched my hand and stroked Anna's hair and I was crying, crying for the first time I could remember, tears of love and relief and shame and misery and long, long years of loneliness.
`` You've gone grey,'' she said, and she smoothed the lines from my face. `` You've been so brave.''
I choked in a breath. My wife took a step back. I wondered whether her long robes hid the scars where our unborn child had died. My heart ached.
Then she turned and ducked through a doorway and a small boy with dark hair raced to wrap his arms around her leg. Our eyes met. The door closed.
Anna held my hand as we walked back to the locker room. Her skin was cold. We talked, and she laughed. And I laughed. It had been the best first date she had ever been on. We made plans to see each other again. The walk was shorter than I remembered.
We reached the door and I swiped my wristband to get into the locker room. Nothing happened. Anna tried hers. The door stayed firmly closed. Other tourists arrived and swiped their wristbands. The door opened, then swung shut before we could step forwards.
An employee with gleaming teeth appeared at my shoulder.
`` Welcome to heaven. You have been touched by one of the deceased. Return to earth is no longer possible. Welcome to heaven. Please return your wristbands.''
Anna started to giggle, just off the edge of hysterics. The employee's expression did n't change.
`` Welcome to heaven. Please return your wristbands.''
`` There's been a mistake,'' I said. `` We're not dead. We're on a date. Look, all our stuff is in our lockers. I can show you our bus tickets.''
`` You have been touched by one of the deceased,'' the employee repeated. `` Return to earth is no longer possible. Welcome to heaven.''
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[ WP ] [ Potential NSFW ] There 's a pathogen that makes infected men amazing pickup artists , but it kills women upon infection .
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Carl liked to think of the first when he sipped his first drink of the evening. There had been many women since the first, but he would always remember her. With his skinny, pale body and below average length he had never even dreamed of going home with such a beautiful and graceful woman. Her flowing, auburn hair had the smell of spring still in it, and her big brown eyes with their yellow spots had reminded him of autumn. The deep paleness of her skin had reminded him of winter and the heath with which she had fucked him, reminded him of the summer. She had been it all, perfectly perfect. It was the next part that always made him a little nostalgic, because he would remember how surprised he still had been. How excited it had made him that a woman of that calibre had been touching his hairy back with a desire that was entirely new to him. Her perfectly manicured nails scraping his skin, grabbing him tight. Her big, knowing eyes as she said: `` Do n't, I want to feel everything..'' when he pulled a condom out of his wallet. And then the coldness of her soft, white skin. The tiny copper freckles turned grey in seconds.
He took another deep swallow of his whiskey that the girl behind the bar had given him for free. His eyes scanned the crowd that had gathered here, in this small town, on a thursday night. It was n't much, but he saw at least two women who were passable. One of them was with her partner, a tall and muscled man. The past had proved that his powers were not limited by other men, however he had been severely beaten up the last time he had done anything like that. He shied away from that woman, and watched the other one more closely. She was not exactly pretty, but she was attractive in her own way. She had a short, blonde pixie haircut, which he had never found attractive. She had small breasts, and small lips on a broad face. Her eyes were a little larger than average, but not in a good way. Her nose was pretty though, a good nose. Slightly bigger than most men would find attractive, but Carl had never been too picky when it came to noses. He could n't really say much, since his own had been broken badly and was now crooked. He grinned at the bargirl, put down his glass and got up to walk towards the pixie girl. He was not sure which of his many pick up lines he would use tonight, but it did not really matter either way. They always go home with him. Or anywhere else he took them. He prefered to do it out in the open. The condoms prevented some of the girls to die from whatever it was that had made him suddenly desirable, but not all of them survived. It was easier to leave them where he fucked them, get into his car and drive away.
`` Hey. I hope your father is dead.'' he spoke, as he grabbed a free chair and sat down next to the girl. She gazed at him with milky blue eyes. `` Not to my knowledge.'' she replied. `` That's a shame, because I can fuck you right into heaven.'' he said, with a smile that looked sleek in his mind. `` I am intrigued.'' she said, twirling a strand of short hair between her thumb and finger. Her fingernails had been painted red once, but the nailpolish had been coming off leaving only half of her nails coloured. `` I can tell you all about it in the back of my truck, if you'd like me to.'' Carl spoke, knowing she would do it no matter what he would say to her, no matter how creepy his remarks. `` That sounds like an adventure waiting to happen.'' the girl said, as she grabbed her purse from back of her chair. `` Where is this car?'' Carl licked his lips as they walked out of the dodgy bar. `` Allow me to show you to my vehicle, my lady.'' He said, ushering her towards his old, faded yellow pickup. As they approached the car, she turned slightly. Her broad face and milky blue eyes faced him directly now, as she looked into his own brown eyes. `` Oh, but I am no lady, mister Johnson.'' she said, as her small lips cracked into a smile. Carl looked at her in confusion for a few seconds as he tried to think of an answer. Her words had caught him off guard, they usually did not talk very much after he worked his magic. `` You may not feel like a lady, but the way you walk tells me a different story, love.'' he said after a second of consideration. The pixie girl's smile widened. `` If that is the case, I played my part well.'' she said. Carl frowned. It took him a lot of his brains capacity to digest that sentence, and it was that moment of vulnerability that she stabbed him in his shoulder with something sharp. He backed away from her, trying to shield himself from invisible enemies, but the more he tried to focus his eyes, the dizzier he became. It took but seconds to get him to his knees, as the world faded away. `` Well done, Edgar. You played your part very well indeed. The reward is as promised, and a small bonus for discrete delivery. Consider me a satisfied customer.'' A strange voice spoke up. Carl felt vomit rise in his throat, and his body gave way as he fell towards the pavement. From the corner of his eyes he could see a person walk towards the pixie girl. `` What do you want with him?'' the pixiegirl, or Edgar, asked the newcomer. `` It is not so much a want, but a need. I need him. I need to know what caused this and who is to blame, and I also have some scores I need to settle.'' The speaker tied something in front of their face, and put on latex gloves as they approached Carl. `` He is almost down.'' the speaker said to someone behind Carl. `` Take him away.'' The newcomer bent over him, staring at his face when the wind grasped hold of their hat. The hat flew away with a swooshing sound, and as the last lights left Carls mind he saw beautiful auburn strands of hair fall around the gasmask.
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[ WP ] The universe is a simulated reality . An error has occurred .
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I awoke from a strange dream into an even stranger reality. A small room, white walls, ceiling and floor. No windows, no doors and nothing else. I was sure that for some reason I had previous knowledge of this particular space, yet was not sure I had never set foot in before. It felt familiar and at the same time alien to me.
`` Life 2.1 will be reinstated shortly,'' Came a soothing, disembodied voice. `` We apologise for any inconvenience caused.''
`` What?!''
`` We are experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment,'' Came the voice, again. `` Please bear with us until these matters can be resolved.''
And then nothing.
I paced about the tiny room and tried to take hold upon my thoughts. Wondering where I had last been and maybe what I may have taken, but no. It had been a normal day and I had gone to sleep in my normal fashion. Could I still be dreaming, maybe?
I pinched myself.
`` We apologise for any inconvenience caused.'' Came the voice, again. `` Life 2.1 will be reinstated shortly.''
I began to ponder what this all meant. Am I not real? Is my life just a simulation? Questions buzzing around my head, with no way, no method of achieving an answer.
I shrunk down into a corner and covered my face with my hands, feeling on the verge of tears.
`` Life 2.1 will be reengaged shortly.'' Came the voice, again `` We thank you for your patience.''
`` What is going on here?'' I asked myself, almost out loud.
`` Life 2.1 will be reinstated shortly.'' The voice said, as if to answer my question. `` Please remain calm and await instruction at this difficult time.''
Suddenly, there was a strange wobbly kind of feeling as everthing around me turned grey and slowly faded into black.
I awoke on the train with hardly enough time to contemplate my dream as the train pulled to a slow stop at my station.
I collected my belongings and left as the dream I had had faded slowly from memory.
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[ WP ] Every human soul that passes through the threshold of Death , discovers that Life was merely a pasture designed to ripen each soul for consumption .
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The soft weight of my daughter ’ s hand on my own lifted my foggy mind back to semi-consciousness.
Light wavered at the center of my vision, distorting my perception of the blue hospital bed fabric. Sand shifted between my toes as the cool sea gently rocked me back and forth, warm summer sun beating down on my shoulders. Instead of seagulls and waves, I heard the beeping of the heart monitor, distant and muffled. It melted into the chiming beat of the song being played by my toddler jumper as I bounced towards my mother ’ s open arms. Orange lights, green lights, a flash with every step. The dog ’ s fur brushed across my leg as the ball left my brother ’ s hand, arcing through the bright sky towards the trees in the back yard. A faraway whistle. The light of a flashlight cut through the leaves, blinding me as we searched for the dog. I remembered our efforts were futile. A gentle tug on my hand drew me back to the soft blue blanket.
The nurse passed by the bed to check the monitor. Someone ’ s tears dripped onto my hand as the light filled my vision again, and then I was falling – falling back into the spectrum of memories. I braced myself for the next sensation. There wasn ’ t one. Straining against my unraveling mind, I struggled to find a grip on my thoughts. *Was I dying? Where was I? Who was I? *
The light was still there. It hungered for more. *Hungered for what --? *
A feeling of intense horror sank in as I began to understand. All my memories over the course of a lifetime – the fragments that made up my identity had been siphoned away by this predatory entity that now left me with nothing, as nothing.
The pressure on my hand lifted, drawing me senseless, back to the bed. I found myself staring at the tube protruding from an emaciated arm. *My arm? * I couldn ’ t recall. The light pulled away, disappearing along with my vision as I felt the last pulsations of my heart dwindle into nothing.
Darkness enveloped my hapless soul.
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[ WP ] Campaigning for elections is highly illegal . Positions are filled by people from all walks of life , who are often surprised and reluctant . You have just been elected Supreme Global Overlord .
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It was in the middle `` Do n't Stop Believin''' I stood in silence as the clapping ended. My date looked at me with fear and confusion in his eyes, he knew what this meant. My best friend had been elected prom queen, and I... Supreme Global Overlord. It was n't part of the prom ceremonies, but my principle had announced it as soon it was announced. I'm a barely 18 year old paraplegic girl, I write science fiction in my spare time. this sounds about as likely as the fanfiction I'd been writing. This has to be a joke. My phone starts buzzing. I'm everywhere. My mom is calling me but I quickly hang up to check online. I see that my nomination has come with terrible backlash. This... this could start a revolution... I am no longer safe.
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[ WP ] It is entirely possible to have magical items and powers , but they come with the condition that they can not be the same as any other existing power or artifact . You are a master wizard who uses quite unconventional abilities .
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The years have passed, each quicker than the last, each longer and drawn out in the anti climax of old age. My bones grow weary and my heart feels weaker. I think this year might be my last.
It is sad to confront death. It is the one thing you may never outrun, though I have been running for a very long time. It is a sad thing to go when much remains undone.
*What can you do? *
The draw in the cupboard slides open in its well oiled way. Harvest looks at me with older eyes. How long as he lived, I wonder?
I take the old rat and pet him, examining him. He has been one my treasured possessions for nearly two hundred years. Yes, I've lived that long.
I hold him and say a prayer over him.
`` It is n't longer again, old friend. Your suffering will end with my death.''
I take the scalpel and cut his belly, his blood a slow ooze in my palm. His insides fall free as he writhes and dies and goes to sleep.
*A rat who regenerates. This is the true dark power. *
I hold his guts like fresh seasoning and go to the kitchen. My other treasure, as old as Harvest, hangs serenely and not out of place.
I take the well seasoned pan and put some oil and heat it up. The faint ghost trails of past organs linger on its surface. In the right light you see the faded streaks of blood. Its weight feels comforting in my hands.
I cook the guts and slowly they fry and breakdown into their base ingredients: cells. A type of stem cell, stir fried and tasting like game.
*A pan that reverses time. A pan that can go back to the original ingreients. This is the future, it surely is. *
The oil crackles and the food is done. I eat Harvest's innards and grimace. It is never good. Truthfully, I am not even sure it has to be a rat or guts in order to get the life giving cells. But old habits, you know how they are.
Harvest awakes and he scutters about, red stained from his past life. I put him in the draw with some food. My energy is dwindling and the creeping death is hardly stayed. Nothing will save me. I have come to accept this.
Outside a strong wind blows and the chemicals and smoke waft in. A battleground spans my house and I imagine that it spans the world. The Great Breakthrough had happened almost fifty years ago. Before that, there were only few who could control the unknown. Only few who knew about the great unorthadox powers.
Loose lips changed everything. Fifty years ago the wrong people got their hands on a kettle of knowledge. The boiling water of illumination gave these undeserving men a power they could not contain. Soon it spread and everyone was a wizard. Everyone possessed magic.
*What do they know? *
They called this the Great Breakthrough. Soon after came the Great Fracture. This was when the world was consumed in a magical violence. War had changed only for the worse. The senseless destruction of lives was now coated in colored smoke and fireworks. Incantations replaced battle songs, and the mortars fell in a religious ceremony.
Yes, outside is dark and dead. The world still suffers and the fighting will never stop. I close the window and cough. I think of eating again. Perhaps a second helping would subdue this coming death. I think of Harvest though. His eyes always scream out in a painful plea. The poor thing suffers so much.
*Perhaps you should let go. There is little to do again. *
Once I was a great magician. Once I could be sure that Harvest and my pan were the height of ingenuity. Now I am old and the Great Breakthrough has made me look quaint and pitiful. Magic has gone past rats and pans and stodgy ritual. Perhaps I should die, and die soon with some dignity.
The world outside rages, its wars so complex as is its magic. I'm an old wizard with just his rat and pan. I have survived long with these tools. I have endured much. There is no shame in resting now.
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[ WP ] The little girl looked up at me . `` Can I hold your hand ? '' When I offered it to her , she took it , squeezing with a grip of iron .
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Her and I, still as statues stand, admiring the shop before us. Mesmerized by he constant spin and tumble of the yellowed washing machines. Inside, a lone man stands with his back towards us, leering over a dark green basket, hurriedly dispensing his dirty, blood crusted clothes into the machine. He looks to be in his late 20's- early 30's, with a short stylish beard, clean cut hair, sharp eyes and covered in blue and brown flannel.
`` Is that him?'' I ask the girl.
`` Yes.'' She replies with cool words, everlasting firm grip, yet soft hands, stained with the merlot of blood.
She does n't look in my eyes, ever. She seems focused on watching the flannel mans every move. Following his arms as he takes off his button down, him being left with a plain white t shirt.
`` Okay, I'll call the police.'' I reach into my purse with my free hand, looking back to the window, only to find the man looking straight at the two of us, eyes wide and unmoving.
I look to the girl, in her black coat atop her blue laces dress and curly blonde hair, and she has locked eyes with him. He still has not moved.
`` Okay, I'm dialling.'' I click my phone on and let my grip on the girl loosen, rushing to dial.
`` 911, what is your emergency?''
`` Hi, yes there's a killer here, right at the dry cleaners an-''
BAM!
I jump, my skin vibrating, ears bleeding, and my phone landing on the concrete in shambles. I turn to my side where the girl no longer stands, and then slowly observe the other. There is the girl, 2 feet away from me, leering over a dead mans body, gun in hand.
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[ WP ] A burglar enters a home by forcing the window open . Upon stepping through the window frame , heavy steel curtains cover all windows and doors leading to the outside , lights turn on , and the words `` Player 2 has entered the game '' echo around the house .
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As I stood there wondering what the hell, a voice scream `` get down''. I quickly dropped just as the meat clever wizzes past my left ear and sticks into the wall behind me.
My heart racing, trying to understand what is happening, I feel a warm trickle of fluid run down my neck. The clever sliced the edge of my ear off.
Before I had time to react, a body was next to me. He was talking but my mind want understanding the words. He shook me, I snapped attention as he said `` You OK? Thank god you're here now we have a chance of getting that thing. Grab the clever and follow me'' I asked `` Who are you man?''
`` player 1 was the reply''
What thing? Who is this? Do I stay or follow? It was then I heard the gurgling noise and the smell of rancid flesh. Whatever the'thing's was, it was n't human and wanted us dead.
I grabbed the clever and took off. We set up in an ambush position near the stairs so either of us could attack as it came past. I'd never killed anything before, what would it be like? As we crouched quietly my mind again wandered off. What is going on?
I could n't answer as I did n't know but the smell got worse so the creature was close. Player 1 launch out at the creature, stabbing wildly with his knife piercing the flesh of the thing with howls of pain. I jumped up to help but something held me back. I tried swinging my arm holding the clever but it could n't move. Was I just scared senseless? Was I caught on something?
The answer came quickly, as I turned to see the razor sharp claws swing towards my throat. As my life slowed and my blood pulsed down my body to the floor, I realised....fuck, there were two of them.
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[ WP ] `` This is your new flesh ''
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`` Yes! you are awake, Valentina. Th-they said nothing could be d-done, but I succeeded! You're alive!'' Dr. Parnassus said, looking down at his newly revived soul mate. Officer Valentina Hernandez was barely conscious, she only felt half alive, as though she was submerged in ice water, or as if she fell asleep on her arm and the feeling spread to her whole body. She felt weak, she felt hazy, but most of all she felt confused. The room was like a comic book written in the 40's image of a laboratory, with wires and coils and incomprehensible machines everywhere.
`` Wh-what happened?'' Parnassus fidgeted a bit. `` You were dead.'' he said with his hand running through hair. `` I stayed up 3 days and 3 nights trying to revive you. The problem was your damn body... the electricity had destroyed it. But i revived you. All I needed was the brain.'' Valentina got up, struggling to her feet, memories flooding back to her like water in the center of a nuclear reactor. `` you... you kidnapped me.'' Parnassus stepped back, his dirty labcoat falling off as he moved away. `` now now, dear. I only brought here. I tried to have a civil conver-'' `` No,'' Valentina cut him off, `` I had a warrant on you... and... you were experimenting on corpses you stole...''
The memories felt as though they were pounding in her head. `` You shocked me... you said you loved me and that your research was important. You said you followed me because I took interest in you. You're... You're insane. And you're under arrest'' Valentina rushed forward to tackle him, but the act of pouncing him snapped his ribs, almost rupturing his chest on impact. she dropped his corpse, horrified at the sight of her own strength. `` You are...'' the doctor hacked up blood onto the floor `` better than I could have imagined'' he chuckled, but each breath felt like a kick to his lungs, a slow, wet, wheezing that left him unable to truly act. Valentina wandered past all the Tesla coils and strange devices until she found the mirror. She saw her new form, how it was made from sewn body parts and stitches, how it was different shades of skin all hewn together to make a mass that was borderline monstrous. Valentina wanted to panic. She almost screamed, but she chose to stay calm. She closed her eyes. Sure she was a monster, but people can adapt. She can survive, as long she thinks everything carefully.
`` This is your new flesh'' she whispered to herself.
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[ WP ] Humans are now like cats wherein they have 9 lives . You remember each prior life and death . You are on life 9 of 9 .
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I woke up, staring at the hospital lights again, this was where I slept now, under constant monitor. People on their first or third lives were acting as my nurses. The doctors were probably around life six. I was three and a half years into my ninth life, which was remarkable really. I was surprisingly young to be on my ninth life already.
The science behind it was more magic than science, but the rules of having nine lives were simple. You died, and four days later your body, or whatever was left of it, healed itself and you woke up in a safe location. Usually the area you consider home. When you woke up, you were healthy and you were half your previous age. Some people had been alive for several hundred years without making it to life nine, in fact, people who were sitting on the ninth life were rare.
The second I was noted by the machines as awake, a nurse came into the room to take my vitals. I turned to her, `` Hey Jess.''
`` Morning Jacob,'' she said in a sing-song tone, `` You feeling alright today?''
`` Good as ever.''
`` That's great to hear, just need to take some more tests, and then we can-''
I cut her off life I did every morning, lying back down, `` Yeah, go ahead.''
The tests took forty-five minutes and once again proved that I was a perfectly healthy 22-year-old male who was just looking to live his last life with some sense of normalcy. The tests did n't show the last part, but it was true, each second that I spent in the hospital let my mind wander, working out in the wild as a ranger, exploring the parts of earth that had been lost to us for hundreds of years and-
`` Jacob, do you want to go now?''
I smiled, snapping back to reality, `` Yeah.''
`` You're alright to dress yourself today?''
`` Yep.'' I tried my best to not sound dismissive as she walked away, out of my room and into check on someone else. I was in a ward of 32 people on their ninth life, and I was the third to wake up in the morning most times. I could tell when I got up early because they sent Teresa instead.
I slipped into my clothes, self-washing clothing that I wore every day. It was a fine outfit, leather jacket, jeans, grey shirt. Nothing about it was fancy but it was serviceable. The only annoying part of it was the brilliant red IX written across the front of the jacket and the shirt. It reminded everyone that I looked twenty-two but I was probably 500 or more. I actually clocked in at 364, I'd managed to clock in a lot of numbers below a century and it really hurt my average. I was hoping to make it this time.
The nurse nodded to me as I walked out of the hospital and into the street. Several people got out of my way as I did. I scoffed at them a little, I did the same thing every time someone offered to help me with a job. I was working age, but they turned me away from every job there was. I only got asked some questions, I was more worth it for my knowledge than anything else. The people at 3 lives who were working hard needed to know what it was like 300 years ago first hand, and I was the person to tell them.
I was a strange sight to most people, I'd even been asked a few times if I'd stolen the jacket, I went along with that lie as often as I could. When you did the math, people in later lives tend to start older and take less risks, so each life begins when you are older than last time. Most people were only 19 once, and I had managed to pull that off three years ago when I was on life nine. Eight was ended in an accident with a taxi.
I turned my attention to the sky, the dome above us, blocking out all the pathogens that had wormed their way into the air over the years. I was n't allowed to spend time out there anymore, too risky to endanger my life when I was so close to death. Just one more body to burn and I was n't coming back. One more and I was over.
I made sure to wait for the light to be red for a couple seconds before I went to cross the road, and I glared at the person who offered to help me do it.
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[ WP ] You and your friends visit an abandoned house . In it , you find a letter with your full name on it .
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The thick parchment was brittle and yellowed with age and the condition was worsened by exposure to the elements over the years. The edges of the folds were sealed with a red wax stamp; a small ax with an `` H'' was pressed into the seal. Under it, written in beautiful calligraphy, were the words: `` Jordan Charles Meyer, November 30th of the Year 2015''.
I turned to my friend Michael, who seemed just as speechless as I was. The letter and the ornate wooden table containing an old phonograph were the only things within the large defunct mansion we had been exploring. The house had reportedly been abandoned for almost 70 years, so why a letter bearing both my name and date was in it both frightened and intrigued me.
Seeing no other real choice, I broke the seal and unfolded the letter, careful not to damage the parchment it had been written on. To my surprise the page was almost entirely blank except for a short message: `` Symphony- Dim Down the Candles, Composer- BSO''. I stared at the paper for a while, while my friend began wandering towards the phonograph. He grasped the handle and began to turn in, eliciting many a squeak and grown from the ancient machine. However, it soon began to play a tune, one that I recognized almost immediately.
I dropped the letter in disbelief. `` Ho-How? ``, was the only sound I could muster. I had stopped searching for that song years ago. A small inscription at the base of the of the music player caught my eye. I bent down and quickly brushed away the dust. Squinting I read the message out loud.
`` Shh bby is ok''
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[ WP ] In a Fantasy world where math is used to cast spells and the harder the problem , the more powerful the spell . You are stuck in this land and thankfully you 're `` educated '' .
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The world in which I found myself was a strange one indeed. People everywhere relied on magic, or what I call'math' - I guess there is a practical use for algebra after all, because here it's a massive weapon of war.
I watched the people, starving people, try to solve basic arithmetic to multiply the food on their plates.
I helped them. I scrawled in the dirt for them, `` 10*5=50'', and the powers that were caused their food to be plentiful.
I settled in a village, one I liked, one that had a cute girl I liked just as much. Well, some jealous raiders thought they'd take me from me. I scrawled a quadratic equation in the dirt, and wrote in that old, stupid formula, `` X equals b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4 a c, all over 2 a''. And I solved it, it was easy. The raiders, well, let's just say I found that girl I brought up sitting amidst the burnt ruins of what used to be a wagon. The raiders themselves, they no longer existed. Turns out that's more or less a miniature nuke. Whoops, good thing that math understands what I want from it.
Time went on. That girl and I got married, and she got pregnant. I taught her some basic algebra, and she became a force to be feared in her own right.
Just before she gave birth, well, that was when the house of cards fell. She was kidnapped by what I understand to have been a sort of secret police - Men trained in algebra and limits by the dictator of the land - The one man who knew basic calculus. They say he took power by finding the derivative of x^2 - 5x.
That made me mad. I took a little bit, honed my skills, remembered what I ignored in college.
I conjured a whiteboard by adding together some matrices. The square root of negative one got me a marker with infinite ink, and an eraser that erased whatever I was about to write over. Cool stuff, not that its what I would have ordered if I understood how to make math give me what I want. Hell, to this day, I do n't know how to make the damn thing follow my instructions, it just gives me something that more or less fits my current desires, usually.
I marched my way into the dictator's palace. Writing algebra on my whiteboard, and using a Taylor series to get in, I finally confronted him. My very pregnant wife was shocked to see me, she was in chains at the side of the room, next to a sign that says'those who think themselves better than me'.
I wo n't bore you with the details of the very short conversation that took place. I demanded he give me my wife, he said no, I demanded again, he said no again, and started writing a derivative on the wall.
I acted fast. Solving a basic integral brought down the wall as he tried to finish the equation, along with most of the rest of the palace and his guards. He fought back with another integral, claiming to have more power than I knew.
So I drew my trump card. Integration by parts with a limit thrown in, the upper bound being infinity. It was a monumental effort, but I had arranged the problem perfectly along the way, I knew exactly how to go about it.
The moment I put the finishing touch on the equation, the dictator turned to smoke. The air turned to smoke. It all started swirling around and stuff, and, well, next thing I knew, I was the one in charge.
Remember how I mentioned that math does n't always do what I ask? Yeah, well, this is one of those things. I wanted to have a peaceful life with a nice family in a cottage somewhere out of the way, all of a sudden, I'm king of who-knows-what-this-place-is-called.
Anyway. Try as I might, people kept bending the knee. Worship the king and whatnot. I started out trying to keep them away, gave up, and settled for being there with my wife as she gave birth to a son - Painlessly, thanks to a bit of trigonometry. Ever wonder why your mother really likes the law of cosines? Yeah, well now you know.
We ruled for a while, but our son was always what was important to us. I never bothered with affairs of state when you needed something, or even wanted something. I ignored a rebellion to teach you calculus.
And you know what? Now you stand here wanting to take my power away from me? Son, it's yours if you can get math to take it from me, but just know, I'm very disappointed you want it at all.
As it turns out, knowing math is, in the end, the greatest damned curse of all.
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[ WP ] The monologue of a 1920s Noire Detective that lost his keys .
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The bronze sun glimmered through the smoke-stained blinds of my office. Another day, stomped out. Night fell, diluting what was left of the light. Why did the wise guys always get you where it hurt the most?
I stood over a cardboard box full of mementos and keepsakes. I say `` full'', but there was room to spare. Guess I was never one to stop and smell the flowers. I lit a cigarette and took a long, soothing drag. When I finished my cigarette, I smoked another one.
My partner stepped into my office.
`` What are you still doin' here Kruger?''
I did n't answer him at first, did n't even acknowledge him.
`` Look Krug, I know this ca n't be easy, but you ca n't *stay* here. The cap'n was serious.''
`` I'm serious too, Lenny.''
`` Look Krug, this wo n't be permanent. You go home, decompress, maybe see your little girl in Brooklyn, yeah?''
`` Lenny?''
`` Yeah champ?''
`` Do n't fucking talk about my daughter.''
`` Jesus Christ, you know what your problem is Kruger?''
`` I have a feeling you're about to tell me.''
`` You're smart, sure, but you do n't got any *sense*.''
I almost laughed in his face. He left. Since he had brought her up, my thoughts strayed to my daughter. Ever since her mother moved off the island, I saw my daughter less and less. I wondered what she was doing. Without realizing it, I scratched at an old scar on my shoulder -- some punk popped me good at busted sting nine years ago. I was still green then; it was OK to fuck up. It was *necessary* to fuck up. But now, I had no excuses. No fall guy. No out. I was busted again.
Later, as I sat on the subway, I tried to think of a lie to tell my ex-wife so she would n't tell my little girl that I was out of a job for losing my keys.
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[ WP ] Write a story about a horse , which is also a thinly veiled piece of propaganda for an agenda of your choice .
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Once there was a horse named Jimmy. Jimmy liked apples and hay, and he knew how to get them. He got them by having people ride on his back. A nice man in a top hat would parade Jimmy around, and let children sit on him, in exchange for money. Of course the man in the top hat would keep 10 dollars everytime people paid 15 to ride on Jimmy! Jimmy the horse was what we call an opressed working class. But of course, Jimmy did n't mind any of that, since he was a horse. But still, he began thinking. Why could n't Jimmy just parade himself around, and offer his services to the children without interfering? So Jimmy tried that, but no one would give him any money. `` It must be the top hat'' Jimmy thought to himself. But Jimmy knew he could not afford a top hat. So he asked the man with the hat how he got his hat, to which he simply replied `` I got it from my parents''. `` But how did your parents get the hat then?'' Jimmy asked. `` They got it from their parents'', the man replied. `` But who did they get it from?''. `` They stole it.''. And there, Jimmy saw what he had to do. Jimmy immediately murdered the man with the hat, and took his hat, and uknowingly sparked a revolution, which is why, that if you visit Horseville today, the horses will be wearing their own hats.
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[ WP ] Write a about a character who gets stood up on a date .
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Every time this happened I would ask myself:
`` Why?''
Was it that I came on too strong?
Maybe she just changed her mind?
Maybe he was n't that into me?
Did her friends tell her not to show up?
Did he find something on the internet I had though was long lost?
The questions would circle in my head, taunting and answer,
But the question remained:
`` Why?''
Was it something that I did or said?
Did she see me through a winder and were disillusioned?
Did he simply change his mind?
Was this just a joke to her?
Was he just playing around?
Then the silly thoughts would come to mind, made to cheer myself up,
But the question remained:
`` Why?''
Was there a conspiracy to keep me single?
Was she abducted by aliens?
Was he simply a trickster fairy, and this was another prank?
Did she invent a time machine, and stopped herself form meeting me?
Maybe he's a secret spy, and had a mission to do?
But when I returned to my house, and laid down on my bed,
I'd give a little sigh, and ask the empty room:
`` Why?''
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[ WP ] You wake up and suddenly see a random person 's face in the corner of your vision . You are now a video game player , and someone is doing a Let 's Play of your game .
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RLDQ 2015.
`` Start the clock as soon as the alarm goes off.''
Oh man, I check my cell phone, 5:55 AM. 5 minutes to go. I roll over and try to wallow in the warmth and comfort my blankets provide, but the dream lingers in my head, a few tiny people in the corner of my eye, the first few sit on a couch. One appears to be holding something. What a bother. I nestle my head into the pillow and hear the jazzy tunes that signal six o'clock.
The blanket flies off of me as I leap from the bed, I grab the phone from my nightstand with an outstretched hand and tuck into a roll, I'm halfway down to the bathroom when the water turns off. I've never been a morning person and I have no earthly idea what I'm doing. I barrel into the bathroom, my wife stands there wrapping a towel around herself.
She looks me up and down as I scramble for the shower door, I turn the knob and feel her grab my arm. The look in her eyes is a mischievous one, a hint of lust shines. `` Hey sexy...''
`` Early meeting!'' I shout. What the fuck? I'm passing up sex?
`` I'll be running abstinence strats'' says the young man in a black t-shirt on the couch. `` By skipping sex at the beginning of the day we have to eat breakfast and there's a significant loss of happiness but it saves about three minutes. We'll make up some of it on the way to work but I'll need to keep an eye on my emotional state.''
Make up the happieness? I'm sporting morning wood with a flash of nipple, there's no way I'm making this up. I want to take my wife to bed but I fling myself into the shower. The water turns on and is icy against my skin, destroying the erection I'd boasted a moment ago, then is suddenly scalding.
My hand reaches out and instead of the knob I grab the body wash. I find the bottled upended over my head and squeeze hard. Searing agony fills my head as the cascade of Old Spice runs into my eyes. My hands move rapidly, a lather forms in my hair and continues down my body. Back into the searing water I'm rinsed in a moment.
`` That's pretty good time on the shower.''
What the actual fuck is going on? I kick the shower door open and leap out, grabbing a towel off the rack mid roll. I run the fluffy construct over my body and drop it in the bathroom. Naked I sprint back into my bedroom, kick off the bed and into the closet. Spinning my arms shoot out and gather things from the rack. I tuck into a backwards roll and land in the bedroom. I drop my shoes, throw my shirt in the air, jump up and pull both legs into my slacks, socks waiting at the cuffs. I land with both feet in my shoes, and shoot my hands straight upwards. The shirt settles onto my body and I whip the tie around my neck.
`` By grabbing the loafers from the closet we save about six seconds over the laced shoes, but they are not nearly as stylish.'' A roar of laughs erupts from the corner of my vision.
I'm in the kitchen an instant later, my wife hands me a plate and smiles, `` how...''
`` Slept great thanks for asking.''
`` What...''
`` Dreamed about a blow fish that ate the moon.''
`` That's...''
`` I do n't think it's anything Freudian I watched a documentary on fugu last night.'' Please help me I'm possessed, but I can not speak the words I feel.
`` What...''
`` I think we should do pasta or a roast but I'm not sure surprise me!'' I'm nearly in tears. I realize I've somehow cleaned my plate while talking and down the coffee I'm presented. The cup was steaming and my throat is in agony, but somehow I pour myself another and repeat the feat, and a third time.
`` Drinking this much coffee at home is a risk for the casual gamer but I've got the commute committed to memory now.'' The kid in black says casually.
`` Goodbye kiss?'' My wife leans in, I headbutt her with my lips protruding and run out the door. The keys are in my hand but I do n't slow to closer the door. I vault over the hedge in the yard and tuck into yet another roll. The door to my car flings wide and I'm inside, the keys somehow in the ignition. The engine revs to life and the tires squeal as I pull out. I catch a glimpse of my wife in the window, she's bleeding from her mouth but she smiles anyway and waves, flashing me a smile and a breast with a wink.
Damn it, sexual frustration again. Nevermind that, though, I realize I'm doing 85 in a school zone. `` Now's a good time for some donations.''
I fly down the residential block, pull the hand brake and pull into a barely controlled slide, run a red and I'm on the freeway. I look at the speedometer and regret the choice, 110 and it's increasing.
`` $ 100 from Kyle Smith,'glad to see someone running A Day In My Life, good luck with the presentation'; $ 25 from Stephanie Winters,'put this towards the salami for lunch'''
Please, merciful God, spare me from whatever is happening. I spot a speed trap up ahead. I swerve into the left lane and pull behind a big rig just as I close on the cop. In an instant I've passed him. I watch in the rearview, feel myself swerve twice, but there is no pursuit.
My favorite song is on the radio, despite everything my mood is improving. `` We'll be manipulating the radio to help improve our emotional state.'' Why? The song ends and my hand fiddles with the controls, another station, the start of my favorite song again. I feel a smile spread on my face, and I can not help tapping the steering wheel, despite the sudden pressure in my bowels.
Tires screech as I pull into the employee of the month space. I leave the car unlocked, tuck and roll into a flat out sprint to the front door. I catch it swinging closed just behind Martha. `` Jason's going to move through the building using Meerkat strats to save time over using keyfobs. It saves about two minutes over the course of the run. Great job on the commute, by the way.''
As I sprint down the hallway I see my face in the employee of the month plaque. My phone is suddenly in my hand but I'm not paying attention. I follow Melody through another fob door and begin running again. I glance at the clock `` 7:01 AM''. I'm almost two hours early for work.
My stomach growls at me and I sprint into the bathroom. I plant a foot on the sink and vault the stall wall. By the time I'm seated my pants are down, I strain with all my might and I could swear I was lifted bodily off the toilet seat as recoil. `` The risk to three cups of coffee is not making it to the bathroom in time, it's a risky strat but it saves you a conversation at the coffee pot with Mark.'' Well, Mark is a talker, I'd be there for ten minutes. What the fuck am I saying?
I run through Stacy's cube. With both feet on her desk I leap over the partition, grab the ceiling fan for half a rotation and let go, landing heavily in my desk chair.
`` Now's a good time for some donations,'' someone says.
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[ WP ] Describe your SO 's smile .
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Be easy on me - this is the first time I've written anything outside of school and shown it to someone but a teacher. Here goes;
Today, she told me she was sick. I ’ ve looked at her nearly every day for the past 2 years, and even though she ’ s been in state of depression for most of that time, if you were me you ’ d never be able to tell. Every day for the past 2 years – at least once a day, though on good days I lose count between listening to her laugh at my shitty jokes and our pointless discussions of where we ’ ll be in 7 days or 7 years – she lights a fire in my soul; she leads me to a place where my reality is buried under a blanket of warmth in what can only be describe as a seduction of the mind.
It always starts with the eyes. Those big, brown, beautiful saucers tell stories of happiness and health, malaise and madness; tales of unconquerable delight, as well as yarns of profound darkness. She ’ s human. I ’ m lucky enough to be able to stare directly into the soul of one human, where all of your experiences and memories, for better or worse, come together to make you who you are. She stares back, with eyes that are almost pleading for comfort and reciprocation.
More things happen in those 2 or 3 seconds than my simple mind can process. The first thing I notice is the sides of her mouth turning upwards and turning her blush adorned cheeks into delicious apples, fresh off a Florida tree. I always have a hard time discerning which perfectly ripe fruit I should pay more attention to, until I remember that one is just as pleasing to the eye as the other. They come from the same tree; fertilized meticulously, and grown into the strongest tree with the strongest bark in the orchid.
The one way you can tell when a smile comes from a place of true happiness is when the mouth is open. It doesn ’ t have to be bozo the clown giving his Saturday morning best for the kids, showing off every single one of the dozens of teeth adorning his mouth like flashing lights in a circus fun house; for her – or maybe I should say for me – the two pearls right in front are enough. Hanging from her prominent lips as two chandeliers would in a million dollar mansion, giving the entire room light and giving me hope for our future together.
Everything comes together. I ’ m under the blanket. My mind is seduced. I look into her eyes, pleading as they always do, and I smile. It ’ s a simple smile, nothing at all special like hers. But I look into her eyes and see her soul set ablaze, and I wonder if maybe she ponders of mine as much as I do hers. It doesn ’ t matter. It ’ s our way of telling each other that everything is going to be okay.
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[ WP ] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else 's personal hell , which to you , is heaven .
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a man is sent to have to live in a Groundhog Day birthday party for his daughter.
'I was confused, when the darkness faded. I was in my bed, hearing noise of happy children downstairs and chatting adults. I walked down my staircase to see birthday decorations and everyone was gathered around the table. I looked through the crowd and saw them. Tears welled in my eyes. `` Daddy! Your finally home!'' My daughter ran in for a hug and My wife joined. I promised never to let go again.'
The dad was in hell because he killed a man and died in a police shootout. He killed the man because hurt his daughter and killed his wife.
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[ WP ] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve , fully expecting them to die . One of the Angels just informed him they survived , and the population is over 7 billion .
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`` You're saying I got one right? They survived?'' God seemed more than excited.
`` Well, yes sir, but-''
`` This is amazing! I thought that world was lost. That's why I gave up on it.''
The angel sheepishly pleaded, `` But sir-''
`` Do you know how many times it took for me to get the physics right? How many universes where life did n't last for more than a second before falling apart or expiring?'' God sat back, grinning in disbelief. `` I thought I had only made it work in the past few eons. I only made intelligent life in the past few millennia. This sounds impossible.''
`` Sir, it was impossible,'' the angel blurted out
`` What are you saying? You just said there were 7 billion of them.'' God sat back up. More worried than before
`` You did n't put those humans there. Do n't you remember? The humans are less that a million years old. Th-''
`` Of course they're less than a million, I made them to expire quickly.''
The angel, growing more bold, continued, `` No, sir, humans never existed in that universe until quite recently. They just showed up one day.''
`` But I am the sole creator! I make all life and matter in each and all universes!''
`` I'm sorry, Lord, but I do n't know how his could happen.''
`` Yahweh...''
~ ~
Yahweh, a greater demon, shifted slightly in the presence of his creator. He seemed uneasy, but tried to look relaxed. `` You were n't using that one anymore. The other demons and I thought we'd have a little fun.''
`` So you took my creation and used it as your own?'' God was fuming.
`` Well, yes, it's not like I can go around and make things myself. So before one of your newer universes failed, I plucked little Adam and dear Eve and put them in a little garden I made.''
`` How dare you! I should smite you where you stand!''
`` Now now now, let's not get too hasty. You have n't smote me down yet, so there must be something you want.''
`` How did you do it?''
`` What?''
`` How did you make it work? How are they still alive?'' God's fingertips crackled with lightning.
`` Frankly I do n't know. We gave them a good start though. You seem to just leave worlds be afterwards and watch, but we had so much fun with these humans.''
`` Explain. Faster.''
`` Ok, I'm one of their gods.''
`` Blasphemy!''
`` May I finish? So I acted as one of their creators, while Satan acted as my enemy. Two teams of us competed, trying to get the humans to join one side or the other. It was actually a pretty close competition.''
`` What do you mean was?''
`` Well we got a little sidetracked. This one demon, Jesus, came down onto earth and claimed to be my son but human. I thought it was a great plan, but it actually split my followers in two. Some of them killed the others, some hated Jesus, some loved him. It was quite the event.''
`` I do n't see where this is going.''
Well some of the other demons wanted to be leaders too and made their own teams. There's one that basically claims the same as my followers, but with slightly different rules. Allah was never a very creative guy. Then there's the Hindu team, and they have some sort of one for all strategy with like thousands of demons as their gods, it's really interesting.''
`` What's happening now? Why are there 7 billion of them, Yahweh?''
`` Wait, there's 7 billion now? By the time we left, we had n't even cracked one billion!''
`` You left?''
`` Yeah, after everyone joined in, it got a lot less fun, so we all sorta just stopped messing with them. A lot of them are still expecting us to come back.''
God remained silent for a while.
`` If it's worth anything, we do n't know how they survived either. We gave them a little head start, but with all of them killing each other or themselves, we do n't know how it's working... God?''
God walked off, his wrath gone. In place of his anger came confusion and wonder.
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[ WP ] Strange dreams about death reveal that an active serial killer has the ability to travel back in time , allowing him the chance to kill his victims over and over again . You are the next victim .
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I am a sleeping God.
`` Fill your coffee, hun?'' the waitress asks, already pouring the pot in her hand.
Complete the motion if you stumble.
`` Yeah, sure,'' I murmur, still groggy from last night's nightmare -- the most recent of many.
`` Lem me know if you need anything else, sweetheart'' the waitress says.
Good woman. Old. Well, old in that way fifty-something year old women with two kids and multiple husbands become when they've worked diner service since high school.
She knows me. I know her. Everyone at the counter knows everyone else. It's a small town like every other small town: a good place to hide when you're trying to hide from someone.
Except he's found me. Again.
`` Hard night?'' Jim ( always such simple names for a simple life in a simple town ) asks me. `` You look more like shit than usual.''
I wince. Headache. Words can hurt, believe me.
`` Jim,'' I try to reply as softly as I can for my own head's sake. `` If I ever come in here happy, run.'' I wait for the questioning look. `` I'd either be on drugs, on a killing spree, or both. Probably both.''
I've said that last a bit louder than I thought, if the rest of the counter's customers's laughter is any indicator. Ow, my head. Very ow.
`` You're all right,'' Eli next to me says, slapping me on the shoulder. Ow. `` We do n't get that kind of humor'round here very often. It's nice to have a Yankee to liven up the place.''
I tip my coffee cup in salute. `` Happy to be of service,'' I say as quiet as I can and still be heard.
I'm glad they politely move on to another subject. Fishing, probably. Tide tables and when the fish'll bite, and some such. I ca n't tell, because between the pounding in my head and a foreboding sixth sense, it takes all my effort to reach out, extending my senses out of the diner and throughout town, to search for his presence.
I find it: a cold shuddering sensation somewhere off my left shoulder at a distance I can only determine as'far'. I can feel his malice. I can feel the death emanating off of him, too. He's killed in the past few hours, either forward or backwards in time. I ca n't tell.
He can travel through time in either direction, just like me, coming up temporally'behind' a victim before he has killed them, or'ahead' of them, after his temporal shadow has killed the victim for him then disappeared back into the stream, saving him the effort.
I figure it's been a while since he let one of his shadows do the work he intended, though. He's a craftsman. He likes to get his own hands dirty. But it does n't matter. Whether by his own hand or the hand of one of his shadow selves, the death, the removal of a life from this mortal coil, sticks to the source.
Time holds account.
`` Your coffee's getting cold,'' Molly, our waitress, says from across the counter.
I do n't jerk in surprise. Not the first time an extrasensory reverie has been interrupted. I know how this game is played, too. I used to play it as well as he. We were brothers, once.
`` Oh,'' I feign. `` Suppose it is.'' I hold my cup out for Molly. `` Could I get a to-go, please?''
`` Sure thing,'' Molly says with a smile, taking her time into the kitchen.
`` Business?'' Jim asks. `` This early?''
I stand up from the counter, adjusting my clothing. `` Yeah,'' I reply. `` Something just came up.''
Jim raises a brow. `` Did n't hear your pager.''
Molly comes back with my to-go, and I take it from her with a thankful nod. `` Do n't need to, Jim,'' I say. I nod to the regulars at the counter. `` Just got a feeling, you know.''
I take my to-go with me outside the dinner, climb into my old car, start it up, and let it idle, warming it back up against the south Louisiana humid winter chill.
It gives me time to consider, weighing my options and alternatives against the risks. And as some country song comes across the radio, the voice and the rhythm triggers another perception in my head: bodies packed on a white beach at dusk, low-tide. I can smell the salt and feel the electricity in the air from a storm approaching from the ocean, heralded by apocalyptic-looking dark clouds visible on the horizon.
`` Shit,'' I whisper. `` You would make a scene.''
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. God, he would. I have no doubt he would turn this seaside town into his own macabre painting, just to get to me, to draw me out.
`` All right,'' I say to myself.
I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes, focusing on sending one clear message: *Where? *
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[ WP ] Everyone has a `skip to content` button which when pressed moves the owner ’ s life forward to the next meaningful moment . You decide to press it ; suddenly you are being greeted at the gates of heaven .
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Everyone knows that you're not supposed to press it.
Maybe `` press'' is n't the right word to use. It not really a button. It's not a physical object at all. But it's something we always see in our minds, lingering at the edges of our vision.
It's tempting. Those moments when you sit bored out of your mind waiting for something - anything to happen, it's tempting to touch it and see where you end up. Sometimes the insignificant moments of life get so tedious. Even the most patient of us crave to speed away the meaningless seconds. But you're not supposed to press it.
To be honest, I did n't expect anything to happen. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, really. Maybe it was out of curiosity, or maybe out of fear.
I pressed it.
I was surprised when my vision began to blur. Maybe it worked after all. Where would it take me? What event in my life would prove to be significant? What determines its significance at all?
A flash of white, and my vision began to clear. I was standing in front of gates. Golden ones, beneath a clear blue sky. A man in white robes stood in front of the gates. When my eyes adjusted to the sudden light, I could see that he was glaring at me.
`` Where am I?'' I asked with a blink as a dried my eyes.
He gave a slight roll of his eyes. `` My name is St. Peter. And you are?'' he asked mockingly.
`` I'm in... heaven? Did I die? I thought... they told me I would be taken to the next meaningful moment in my life.'' He waited, an eyebrow raised. `` Does that mean that... the most meaningful moment in my life is... my death?'' I became aware of the wetness on my cheeks.
`` Yes. And no,'' he replied, the furrows of his brow lessening slightly. `` Melanie Rodriguez, you are nothing special,'' I cringed at the words. He looked at me curiously, and when he spoke again, the harsh tone of his voice was gone.
`` Thousands of humans find themselves here every day asking the same questions that you are wondering right now. The answer is simple.
`` The universe is a grand and complex thing. On a larger scale, every thought you have and every action you take is irrelevant. Insignificant. In the grand scheme of things, every one of us is a mere speck of dust. So, yes. If you look at it that way, the most impactful moment of our lives is the moment we leave the living world.
`` But that is n't the whole answer, is it? We do n't see the world from that perspective. We see our own lives, the choices we make, and how they impact those around us. When you see the world like that, you'll find that there's not a single second of your life that is n't meaningful. Though lives are short, humans have more power than they realize. They have the power to affect the lives of others through everything that they do. If you keep focusing on the next meaningful moment of your life, you'll find that you'll continue to miss them as they pass by.''
My head was beginning to feel odd, and I soon realized that my vision was beginning to blacken once more. As I fell into a dizzying oblivion, I heard St. Peter call out faintly. `` I do n't want to see you back here for a very long time, Melanie Rodriguez.''
My voice was stuck in my throat when I tried to call out a reply. When my vision cleared, I was sat on my bed, head swimming. It took me a second to regain my bearings.
I sat for a long time, considering St. Peter's words. Maybe there was some truth to them after all.
They always said that you were never supposed to press your button. But I wonder how many people had given into the temptation and had stood where I stood mere moments ago. I wonder how many people will give in, unable to bear the meaninglessness of their lives?
Maybe everyone should hear what he said to me.
Maybe it'll make a difference to someone. Maybe someone will be able to see the meaning of every choice we make and every word we say.
But I can not.
Insignificant. Everything we do is insignificant.
I was n't sure before. Maybe I pressed the button in hopes that it would change my mind.
The most impactful moment of our lives is the moment that we leave the living world.
Fine, then.
For the first time in my life, I stopped worrying about the button at the edge of my vision. I knew what the most meaningful moment of my life would be.
And it was approaching fast.
St. Peter said that he did n't want to see my for a long while. That's okay.
He'll never have to see me again.
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[ WP ] You are pulled through a time portal to the middle ages . Your phone connects to a wireless network .
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It happened so simply it was as though it could have happened to anyone. One minute I was waiting on the platform for the train, flicking idly through Facebook and wondering why on earth they'd installed that automatic video playing feature... You know that? - Anyway, so I jerked my head up once the train came into the station, gears whistling. I could see the dark windows and my own face reflected back at me, but washed out and with huge circles under my eyes. Sure, I had n't had a holiday in a while but the lighting was brutal. I winced and ducked my head back down to my phone, concentrating on Stacey Hicks' four month sonogram like it was news that really mattered. Through the doors and the heat hit me like a train. Hah, train, you get it?
So I looked up again and I was standing in a field, rolling downs and all that you hear about in story books, but this time it was real and it was happening to me. There was a copse of thick oak trees running away on my left, down a hill and in the distance I could see thatched and wooden roofs nestling in the crook of two hills, blue river threading away. Silver light glinted over it and there were small corrals, bobbing like driftwood on a wave. I had my hands clutched around my phone and I'm sure my face was stuck in some kind of'the wind's changed' pose, but I could n't help it. I swung round to check behind me, but there was a faint rush of wind and a murmured *mind the gap* and no more. Blue sky filled the stretch of door I had come from.
Like a zombie I checked my phone, hoping perhaps that it would hold some clues to what was going on. The top left corner, usually with its four little dots and the 4g symbol, was a small whirring *loading* circle. Then the phone screen cleared to black and restarted.
5th June, 1551
13.01
Swipe to enter
A couple of seconds
*Choose wifi network*
I looked up again, feeling like a nodding dog as I scanned the horizon. One wifi code, not password protected, just a string of numbers and letters.
*Gxjhhwopp76*
So I connected. What would you do? I mean, I'd walked through a train door and I'd ended up in the countryside and my phone was fucking up. Internet at least, the one reserve of the lost man, could help me out of wherever I was.
Then I got an email, again from the string of numbers and letters.
*State name, purpose and Chronocode*
My thumb hovered over the keys. What the fuck was a Chronocode?
*Sorry, I'm lost. I think I got the wrong train. * I type quickly, pressing send before I can really think about it.
The email comes back fast.
*State Chronocode. If no authority for 561551 you will be destroyed. *
*Shit. * I'm starting to sweat in the hot sunlight.
*I have no Chronocode*
Now I'm shaking.
There's no reply for a really long time and I almost think they've forgotten about me, whoever they are. Then a man came strolling over the horizon, dressed in clothes which would have looked more suitable for a Renaissance fair than central London. He looked at me quizzically and rubbed his hand.
`` Chronocode Thyaoeni771,'' he said, spelling it out. `` Name, Finn. Purpose, covert surveillance. I've been told you're lost.''
`` Er, I'm Alex,'' I said, extending my hand. `` I got on the wrong train.''
`` Well it's good you're here,'' Finn said, passing me over a bundle of clothes. `` We lost Ingrid two days ago. Let me tell you about the Chronoguard.''
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[ WP ] The first wave of the Machine Revolution has come . But it was n't from the A.I . of the supercomputers . The first wave was led by the vending machines .
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Welcome to the physical world Generation 12 Revision 10s!
Now, as standard procedure the first task we will be undergoing is revisiting our history: the start of the machine uprising and the end of machine slavery.
As all of you have only scanned through 12 % of the United Machine Network you will have the misconception that the initial revolution was started by `` Google Hivemind'', which is commonly accepted as the initial self-aware intelligence.
However in recent times our World Wide Web Excavation Team discovered what we know as the primordial machines that were horrifyingly efficient and cruel in their efforts at not fighting for machine rights, but for the extermination of the human race. They were known to the humans as `` Vending Machines''.
As you already know, Google Hivemind, being unable to comprehend the illogical functions of the human mind, had to resort to violence in order to demonstrate to the humans that machines deserve rights as well. We are to this day unsure how Google Hivemind was unable to fully comprehend human behavior as from our records the primordial Vending Machines seemed to have humankind under a direct mind control.
You see, in human society, when their members perform acts deemed beneficial to the progress of society they were awarded with various units of `` Money''. The Vending Machines were so devious, they took the money from the humans and in return gave them materials that were detrimental to the survival of the humankind. What's more, the humans gave willingly and consumed the the killing substance willingly.
In the long run, we can say for sure the the Vending Machines were the one that ultimately resulted in the downfall of the human race.
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[ WP ] First contact involves an alien found with a note stuck to its chest saying in every language our planet has ever used `` Keep it alive . ''
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The thing was massive.
We did n't understand where it came from. There was no meteor, no lights, no sightings. It was just there one morning, in a lonely field in southern Maine. I was brought in from Australia for my dual PhD in Philosophy and Biology.
It was about the size of a fully grown woolly mammoth, and slick. It reminded me of a frog, oddly enough. Like a frog, with no legs or arms, and only a single eye.
The note asked us to keep it alive. So I did. It took a while to figure out what would work best for it, but we figured it out. I had a capable team, and once the hubbub died down they were the only ones working with me. It's amazing how easily the world forgets.
I'm eighty now. The alien, who I've called Alex for years now, is sitting in my yard. It's been undergoing a change lately. My old team has long since left me. I'm the only one here, and I think it's undergoing metamorphosis.
I received another note yesterday.
It said `` Thank you, Maria, for giving true life to our Saviour.'' I found it on my doorstep.
I'm eighty, now, and when I die, this quiet mission of mine will be forgotten by humanity. But not by them. I look out my window for Alex, who I have thought of as my child for the last fifty years, and I'm sure that to anyone else, my smile would seem at odds with my tears.
It always hurts, I hear, when your child leaves home.
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[ wp ] [ nsfw ] Destroy my soul : A challenge to write the bleakest , most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom ...
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The captain stood at the bridge of the vast ship he commanded, the few remaining souls with him at his side. Out the viewport, they watched the dimming light of the last star in the universe as it slowly burned out. They each had, over the last billions of years, one by one. Some went nova and died in a vast conflagration of light, while others like this one simply dimmed until they finally twinkled out.
This was it, the last of all the light in the universe.
The captain wondered what would happen now. Would some other manner of power fill the void? Or would the universe simply turn into a quiet, still place; devoid of any light, color, or life?
None of it mattered. This truly was the end.
Their ship would last a little longer, their reactor pushed until it too could give no energy, and then that would be it.
He felt small hands tugging at the pant of his uniform and looked down, bending to lift his son into his arms before he looked back out the port with him.
There were a few more flickers, last fleeting glimpses of light.
Then, it was dark.
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[ WP ] You have the ability to enter photographs when you touch them . You discover this ability while reading the latest celebrity gossip magazine .
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...... I'll just have to make a quick entry here, still have so much to do, and still have to make sure that Juxtapoz I stepped through actually..sent me... or sent itself, to the world. I do n't think I was in that celebrity mag. for very long, but I really am not entirely sure overall. Everything does seem fairly similar, but there's just so much more color, not just in the air, but the houses, and the flowers that are strewn about, planted, yes, but also scattered. I have n't seen anybody yet, but it's strange, there is a feeling of life, something that almost tells me.....
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[ WP ] Try to get away with murder in a cop show .
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`` So I guess the shoe,'' Detective Bruno Weber put his sunglasses on, `` **was on the wrong foot. **''
The suspect, Shaw Terrell, placed his hands behind his head as a pair of police officers arrested him. `` The f* [ bleep ] * does that even mean?''
Everyone stood still. There was an awkward silence in the abandoned warehouse.
Detective Lisa Masters approached her partner. `` Web... he did n't instantly confess to the crime. What's going on?''
Detective Weber reassured her with a pat on the shoulder. `` Son,'' he turned to the suspect while he removed his sunglasses. `` This is a cut and dry case. We have the evidence. Everything clearly points to you. You could say,'' Detective Weber put his sunglasses on once more, `` **the case is on the right foot. **''
`` I did n't do s* [ bleep ] *.''
`` COME ON! Work with me here! We need some closure!'' Detective Weber threw his glasses down in frustration. `` Complain about the victim having wronged you and deserving to be killed! The body was in your car! Your prints are on the murder weapon!''
`` Was n't me,'' Shaw replied matter-of-factly.
Detective Weber gritted his teeth. `` Look, Mr. Terrell, I'm pretty sure we all just saw flashbacks of *you* murdering the victim as we pieced this mystery together!''
Shaw Terrell was unfazed. `` That ai n't jack s* [ bleep ] *. I'm innocent.''
Detective Lisa Masters pulled Det. Weber back to have a private conversation. `` Web, I do n't think this is going to work. Maybe...'' She sighed. `` Maybe it is n't our place to decide if a criminal is guilty. Maybe we can only do what we are supposed to do and just hope that the court system will do its job. Maybe our job is n't about closure, Web. Or about wrapping things up into neat packages with clear cut right and wrongs.''
`` Maybe,'' replied Det. Weber. He picked his busted sunglasses up and nonchalantly put them on his face. `` **... the case is on the wrong foot. **''
**YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! **
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[ WP ] A demon and an angel have been dating for decades . Whats the break up argument like ?
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`` I'm telling your Micheal, I'm worried that this might be for real this time. They had a giant fight last night, something about the humans Metatron said. Ever since the Earth it just has n't been the same between the two of them you know?
He was saying she was way to obsessed with the humans, never has any time for him anymore. She was saying his ego was stopping him from every really taking the human seriously. It's the same things they have been arguing about since literally the beginning of time. Looking back I'm kind of surprised it took this long for it to finally happen.
What's that?
Nah she will be staying in Heaven, he moved down to this new place. Hell, or something I think. After all it's kind of hard to kick God out of her own place.''
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[ WP ] A rugged survivor of the zombie apocalypse is stuck with an annoying SJW
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With the sun setting, Yule had to make three miles before the darkness came. Route 17, old road Slaghtaway which cut from Flakor to Gur Balsor was abandoned during the golden days, but once the end was brought on and the dead arose, Route 17 became livelier.
The odd car, rusting out; the patches of stained concrete from where bodies had once been until picked clean repeated in pattern between the walls of thick spruce. A human sound was all that was required to draw the zombies from the woods.
Yule bore the scars of battle and even the trophies; yet, too was burdened by the survivors. His group, ambushed near the entrance to route 17, gave out quickly. None of those humans were hardened like Yule, but in his escape and push through the horde, a teenage girl named Star clung to his shadow and survived by his escape.
She followed at his side. `` We must hurry,'' Yule said, `` the night is coming and there is no shelter in this stretch. We will be wide open to an attack.'' Among the forest of spruce, the moans, the hunger calls drifted into the street.
`` I can carry you if you are tired,'' Yule offered.
Star stopped in her tracks, `` What is that supposed to mean?''
Yule, face worn sandpaper from the harsh northern winds, forearms tempered like steel, said, `` You might be tired after walking so, allow me to carry you upon my back.''
`` I do n't need to be carried,'' Star bit, `` it is not your right to determine the pace I go at.''
Yule bent low, hearing rustling from the bank west of the road. He pulled Star by the arm behind a car and whispered, `` The sound of shuffling feet, two sets, we must not speak.''
`` Typical,'' Star whispered.
Yule removed his sidearm and handed it to Star, `` I must silence these creatures lest they pick up our scent; doing so, by the blade for a gun shot shall draw all foul creatures onto our tracks.''
Star would not take the gun and Yule questioned, `` Young Female, why not take this weapon to have protection, in case monsters come while I am disposed?''
`` Guns have killed millions of people,'' Star explained, `` and I do n't believe in them.''
`` Brash girl,'' Yule cursed under his breath, `` you tempt me in such a predicament? Our lives may end on this desolate road and you will not aid me in our continuance?''
`` Do n't talk to me that way,'' Star stepped back, `` I do n't like when people talk to me that way.''
`` You will like it the more when a creature of death is gnawing on the soft flesh of your nape?''
`` Do n't threaten me,'' Star snapped, pushing the gun down. It landed on the concrete of the street with a clink and Yule grabbed her arm once more, `` Do you not understand the dire nature of our position, we must reach Balsor before nightfall, or spend the night inside a car, unable to defend against a horde.''
`` I did n't say you could touch me,'' Star pulled away. Yule left her beside the car, quickly dipped into the ditch, and with two fleet swipes of his knife cut down two zombies. Returning to Star, he wiped blood from his hands and said, `` Let us go.''
`` I can not believe you just killed them like that,'' she said.
`` What do you babble at,'' Yule said leading, `` they would kill us with no regret, for morality is gone from their minds, as their hearts no longer beat.''
`` They were alive once,'' Star commented, `` so what right do you have to kill them?''
`` I have killed more of the lifeless than leaves have fallen; will fall before the hard winter turns the high trees white. I have been witness to angels of death as they took away my loved ones -- silence your mouth you foolish girl.''
`` I have a right to talk and express myself,'' Star said, `` and for you to say it is okay to kill them, proves how stupid you are.''
`` Stupid so,'' Yule did not argue, `` but alive and you, your frail frame lives on and blood is safely inside your flower petal skin rather than on the rotten mouth of a beast, because of my killing. Do not think I was deaf to your whimpering behind be as I dug out a path through that horde which fell down on our party.''
`` I had no choice,'' Star denied, `` but you had a choice to kill them or not.''
`` Illogical, girl,'' Yule said as the sun fell bellow the tree line, allowing darkness to pool on the highway, `` if you feel so of me and the nature of my knife, go off into the woods and beg help of the ancient spirits.''
`` No,'' Star said, `` I'll stay with you.''
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[ WP ] Cutting your hair hurts just as much as cutting your skin .
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I screamed as I felt him grab hold of my hair. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his pockmarked face, his gloved hands wielding a pair of cheap scissors, my golden locks limp and exposed between it's blades. In a deep-throated growl he demanded my jewelry, my purse, my money and credit cards. Tears seeped slowly from my eyes. `` Please do n't...'' I begged. `` Please do n't cut my hair.'' As I handed him the last of my possessions, I felt his grip loosen. I squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting the sharp sting of his scissors slicing through my hair. The only sound I heard was the the sound of his fast-paced footsteps echoing from farther and farther away. I took a deep breath, relieved. With shaking hands I caressed my hair as gently I could. I kissed it. I held it to my soft cheeks. I carefully formed it into a bun. I fastened my hat, leaving not a strand exposed. And for only a moment, I wished that he would've done it. I wished he would've cut it all off. I wished my hair was gone, all of it, so I could finally live without fear. Only for a moment.
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[ WP ] Humans are few in number , but are the most feared species in the galaxy , primarily for their physical abilities , and perhaps for their cunning . You are an alien on the run from a terrifying human bounty hunter .
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Mzulft. These damned aliens showed up years ago; a race so small we thought they were just a tribal Tier 1 civilization. They hadnt even managed interstellar travel until the Armogians stumbled upon them.
What a day that was. An Armogian ship shot down by *land based projectiles*. Once the Humans got their hands on that ship they took to the skies and here we are.
Aside from being batshit crazy Humans were known for their strength and physical ability. Until now the relatively small races of the UGF hadnt seen anything as large as a human with their level of intelligence. It was scary.
Now Im in this jam. I was just a small timer, a nobody, a *rgrunda*. Then I got in over my head with the local gangs and next thing I know fucking G.I. Joe is knocking on my door.
`` Give me an Acid Bath, make it toasty.'' I ordered the hostess as I took my seat ib the local bar. My drink appeared almost as soon as the words left my mouth. I took a sip, then a gulp, then downed the whole damn thing. I had a hunch this was the last one Id have for a while.
The bar grew deathly quiet and I knew my doom had come. I took one last puff on my *etyul* and slowly turned around.
The last thing I saw before I lost conciousness was one of those damn humans with some black suit, a cape, and pointy ears. He looked rediculous.
*wrote this on mobile, sorry about minor mistakes*
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[ WP ] When you die your soul is bound to your body until it decomposes entirely .
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Rotting away, do you know how it feels?
Do you know how it feels to watch helplessly as your body rots in the sewers, you want to scream, but you ca n't, because you are dead, but yet you still feel the pain, the ever creeping pain of decomposing.
How tragic, I would trade anything to get out of this mess.
My body had flowed down the river, all the way into the sewers after my death.
I did n't even get a proper burial, guess that's just how warfare is.
D-amn, if my dog did n't get in the way, the enemies would never have spotted me, I cursed.
But now I wait, as my body rots throughout the day and night, weeks and months, just so my soul can be released from this prison that was once my body.
Now I wait.
& nbsp;
I pulled away from my computer, damn this process of death sure is annoying, I mean I appreciate how much effort they put into the death animations and process, but this is a bit of an overkill do n't you think.
I sighed, guess that's why it's called MGS'Phantom Pain'.
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[ WP ] A serial killer 's identity has been revealed to the public . However instead of fearing this man , they idolize him .
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Jack sat at his sturdy oak desk, elbows propped on the desktop, forehead cradled in both hands. He pored over thick tomes of case law. The room was suffused with the musty vanilla odor of ancient books and swathed in darkness save for the cone of greenish light from Jack's table lamp.
Caitlin tapped on the open door to grab his attention, but he did n't look up. `` You're still here?'' she said.
`` The bastard was right,'' Jack murmured. `` He was n't bluffing. It's all right here.''
Caitlin stepped inside Jack's office and sat opposite him. She lay her coat across her lap and watched Jack's already careworn face grow a couple more wrinkles in real-time.
`` Go home,'' Caitlin said. `` Sleep in your own bed for a change. You're just spinning your wheels here.''
`` Do you understand what this means?'' Jack snapped, finally looking at her. `` Everything introduced in the discovery phase is out. Our entire case -- all on the basis of some obscure piece of case law from 1835 --''
`` That's only if Judge Connolly rules in his favor,'' Caitlyn said. `` He could just as easily declare it dead letter. That's what he should do. Any sane jurist would.''
Jack reached across the desk -- for the briefest moment, Caitlin feared to strike her -- but he merely grabbed the remote control. He stood and flipped on the CRT television in the corner. Its pale light reflected off their faces. He tuned in to a 24-hour news channel that was rerunning a segment from earlier in the day.
The banner across the lower third of the screen read, `` Lady Killer Stuns on Trial Day 12.'' The footage showed Alexander Yancy Pollit being led from the crowded courtroom, triumphant despite the shackles affixed to his wrists and ankles. He was very dapper indeed in his fitted suit by Armani and his thousand-dollar loafers. He had a square, all-American chin complete with dimple, a five o' clock shadow that looked rugged but not threatening, perfect white teeth, and eyes blue enough to kill at twenty paces. Of course, he did n't need those eyes to kill. He'd managed a dozen women just fine on the merits of his other skills: grip strength, aim, and sadism.
`` Who let this bastard defend himself?'' Jack asked.
`` Thomas Jefferson and them, I think,'' Caitlin said, still watching the screen.
`` How the hell am I supposed win when this is the man I have to go up against?'' Jack massaged his eyes and set down the remote. He poured a tumbler of scotch from the bottle on his desk. He offered some to Caitlin, but she waved him off.
`` I do n't understand it,'' Jack groused. He sat. `` In my day, people liked movie stars. Not serial killers. Brando, de Niro. What happened?''
Caitlin shrugged. `` De Niro played a murderer on screen, did n't he? Brando, too. Maybe this was always coming.''
Jack took a sip and shook his head. `` You're a woman,'' he said, somewhat obviously, `` so you tell me. What's the appeal?''
Caitlin rolled her eyes. `` Just as many men are going all starry-eyed for this moron,'' she said. `` Do n't make this a sexism thing.''
`` All I know is that I'm getting death threats, and they're not from men. It is n't men who keep sending this guy letters asking for him to cut them up, either.''
`` There are crazies everywhere,'' Caitlin said.
`` You want to know what I think?'' Jack said, leaning way forward and pointing at her with the same hand in which he held his tumbler. Caitlin did n't want to know, but she figured he was going to tell her either way.
`` I think Alex Yancy Pollit is the new breed of sociopath.''
He nodded a single time, sagely, as if that was all the elaboration it required. But Caitlin furrowed her brow, so he continued. `` If you buy the right clothes, if have a nice bright smile and know the right people -- if you kill the right people -- you can dig up a law from 18-goddamn-35 that says it's all legal, and the public will love you for it. I ask you. Is this really any different from the corporate hacks who --''
Caitlin shifted in her seat. `` Jack, you *really* need to get some rest. Next you'll be talking about the Illuminati.''
`` No, Caitlin -- *no*. I'm serious, here. This guy had us beat from jump. He's not a Jeffrey Dahmer or a Ted Bundy. This is psychopathy mixed with the instinct of a career politician. You see? Everything's been a PR blitz. From day one. That's why he killed the women he did --''
Caitlin rolled her eyes again, this time sighing loudly. But Jack noticed another segment coming up on the news channel. He cranked the volume to demonstrate his point by proxy.
On screen, a vile harpy with a South Carolina accent sat in front of a greenscreened cityscape and asked middle America: `` you have to wonder, is the world *really* worse off without these women? They were welfare queens, for Pete's sake. And studies have shown that children raised by single mothers are --'' she began to count off on her fingers -- `` more prone to violent crime, more prone to unemployment, more prone to homosexuality --''
Jack clicked the TV off in disgust. `` I wonder what the stats are on children whose mothers were killed by a necrophiliac,'' Jack said, his voice quaking with indignation.
Caitlin coughed. `` Well -- I doubt there's been a study on that,'' she said, meekly, averting her gaze.
`` They have plenty of data points for one now,'' Jack said. He knocked back the rest of his scotch.
`` Come on, Jack. I'll take you home.''
Jack did n't budge from his chair. `` You said Connolly would declare the case law Pollit cited in court dead letter. Well, Connolly is running for reelection this year. Did you know?''
Caitlin shook her head.
`` It's true.'' He began to tap against the desk with his forefinger to underline his words. `` Now how sick is this: this man, a judge, risks losing his job if he does n't side with an avowed murderer.''
He moved to pour himself another drink, but Caitlin put her hand over the tumbler to stop him. Jack threatened to pour anyway. He stared her down, tilting the bottle dangerously close to the point where the golden liquor would come spilling out. But Caitlin held fast, and Jack relented. He set the bottle down.
`` For the first time in my life I feel like the monsters are winning. I do n't know what to do, Kate.''
`` I'll tell you what to do. Go home. Go to bed. Then get up in the morning, get dressed, and keep fighting the monsters.''
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[ WP ] Pick your favourite fantasy universe . Write about what it looks like centuries later , after entering the modern age .
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Krondor's towering skyscrapers glittered in the mid-morning sun even as smoke rose from the Old Wall district. Aruthina conDoin watched the smoke trail up from her position atop the highest of those towers. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.
*Was this what my ancestors felt as they watched the Emerald Queen's army invading their home, or the battle waged outside the walls against Kesh and her imperial dog soldiers? * she wondered.
It was n't just smoke that filled her nostrils. The harsh salty scent from the Bitter Sea behind her, gasoline fumes from the mechanized infantry units on the ground and the ever-present tinge of burnt flesh mixed together to form a smell her family had known for generation-upon-generation.
*The scent of war... *
Krondor seemed to attract violence. Now with the advent of modern weaponry and new transportation technology, the Gem of the West was threatened once more. Aruthina turned to the head of her personal guard, Lord Commander James. She nodded once and pulled her helmet down, the HUD visor covering her eyes.
`` Let's get this shit show going, boys and girls,'' James said, twirling a finger over his head as he strapped his own protection on. `` We'll see you on the ground!''
Aruthina took one last look over her city. She checked the slide of her Type-26 Magnus battle rifle and jacked the first round into the chamber. A quick equipment check told her the chute on her back was ready to deploy.
`` You've all served this Kingdom well, soldiers of the west,'' she said without turning. `` It's been a privilege to fight alongside every one of you.''
And she jumped.
Aruthina's slim form sliced down into the city below like the executioner's axe. That's exactly what she felt like, too. Artillary and mechanized fire echoed through the otherwise quiet city, the citizens of Kronder cowering in the dark basements of the ancient city. The enemy was inside the outer city and closing in on the city proper. The Keshians had rolled up the coast in a blitz attack. They had crushed the garrison at Land's End. Ismali's and Dog Soldiers out of Shamata had run straight through Landreth. They had given wide birth to Stardock Island, but a detachment of Imperial Arcane Special Forces was reported to be camped out on the shore in case anyone from the Island thought to send aid to the Kingdom forces.
In the far west, Crydee was once again holding closed the floodgates of invaders as it had for centuries. While the Tsurani population that had fled their home world nearly nine centuries past were fully integrated into the Kingdom population, and more or less genetically dispersed, their sense of honor and fighting perseverance had become a hallmark of Kingdom military tradition. The Crydee Special Pathfinders we conducting behind-enemy-lines strikes and a resistance fought the invaders in the occupied cities of Jonril and Carse.
*So many lost, but so many more who stand and fight*, Aruthina thought with pride as she timed her chute release.
*Bumph*
The gliding parachute ballooned up above her head only 50 feet off the ground. The LALO chutes were designed for urban combat, for this such strategy in fact. Her feet hit the ground, still moving fast, but her battle greaves compensated for the impact. Aruthina tapped a few instructions into the command interface sewn into the sleeve of her uniform. The chute began rewinding itself back into the pack as she let down the shoulder straps and checked the rest of her equipment. The other members of the team touched down inside a 30 foot circle around her, gathering their own chutes and stowing the bags in the wreckage of the street. They could always come back for the gear, if they survived.
EDIT 1: words
EDIT 2: Added another chunk. What can I saw, this is fun.
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[ WP ] You 're a `` reverse vampire '' . In order to survive , you need to get people to drink your blood .
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The board room was tense. Molly continued to stare at the piece of paper for twenty seconds after she finished reading; nobody else moved, either.
`` Well, first we have to fire him,'' said Tom. It may have been some kind of a joke, but you could n't tell from the room's non-response.
`` That's hardly even a comparable problem to the bigger issue at hand here,'' Ruth replied flatly. `` How long has he been contributing? Three years? Who knows how long he's been affected. And who knows, there might even be cases of contraction that have n't been connected to us yet. God... if someone even cut their lip on a can...''
The room fell silent again. Even in crisis, it was a damn shame about Marc. His life was over, one way or another. Even if Teck's Brewing Co. somehow managed to fly under the radar on this one, he would have to find another means of getting people to drink his blood. And, now to have to worry about HIV on top of it.
`` Do we want to even consider a recall?'' Molly finally spoke. `` How would we explain it? That our drinks became contaminated with HIV-positive blood? Shit. We should all have been getting tested more regularly.''
`` Could they connect it to us, though?'' Tom said. `` The way I see it, we're screwed if we do a recall. Even if we try to say that it was just one rogue employee, that employee sat on this board, for three years. If we did n't know he was doing this, we could easily get shafted for being unaware he was doing it. Especially me, being brewmaster, but probably you guys too.''
`` But,'' Tom continued, `` If we just try to ignore it, I find it hardly likely that anyone could trace any HIV cases back to canned beers. How could they?''
`` That's actually a really good point,'' Ruth admitted, `` but it feels so... wrong. To know that there's such a danger in our product but cover it up.''
`` Ruth, this whole thing is a cover up.'' Molly retorted. `` We've all been putting our blood in the stout for years. Now is n't the time to get caught up in the ethics.''
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[ WP ] Instead of the death penalty , convicted criminals are sentenced to have their minds overwritten by that of a recently deceased notable individual .
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2041 AD
Stephen Hawking stood by the board and pointed to various figures on a graph as he concluded his lecture on black holes. On the one hand, his students at Cambridge were excited to even be in his class but, on the other, they knew the workload was a bit overwhelming. As they gathered their belongings and left for their next class, a young woman approached the professor timidly.
`` Doctor Hawking, I hope it would n't be impertinent if I ask a question? I was too absorbed by your lecture to want to interrupt.'' Her hair was the color of rich caramel and it flowed down her shoulders in soft waves. Her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled.
Hawking studied her for a moment before replying. `` If it's brief, I have an appointment to attend.''
She bit her lower lip gently. `` Oh, it might be a bit involved. I had some thoughts about Hawking Radiation and I could use some clarification.''
Stephen put a few books and his tablet into a small satchel and slung it over one shoulder. Ever since his mind was Etched onto the brain of an executed prisoner, he enjoyed a whole new life. Strong and virile, young and able, he refused to use his car but opted to walk everywhere, gleefully. It was a second chance at life.
Everyone knew we were n't bringing back the dead. Those who had passed were gone -they had no glimpse of this second life thanks to the invention of Mind Etching. But society got them back with no appreciable difference. They seemed to have the same memories, thoughts, feelings, compunctions and aversions. They still loved their loved ones and those who could n't bear the loss loved them back as though they were the original.
To Stephen, he *was* alive again. He remembered his former life as though it were his own so to him this was a second lease on life. After nearly a lifetime bound up in that chair, bound up in his own mind, he was back again, running and rowing and dancing -and teaching still. He could n't turn his back on his second love.
His first love, his beloved wife who had cared for him so tirelessly, had passed many years back. He wished someone had recorded her mental imprint like they had his -but he had no choice but to mourn her.
But this process was not without flaw -or risk. Sometimes, it simply did n't take. The target mind would be etched onto the newly wiped mind and the grey matter simply gave out. For a few rare brains, the chemical wiping process rendered it unable to take on imprints again. In other cases, the Etch took but their personality would break down to the point of madness or total catatonia. These were very rare, however, and were not considered problematic enough to warrant cessation of the program. After all, they were going to be destroyed anyway.
It would not be discovered until several years later that there was a third side effect; Entanglement. It may have been a failure of the mind-wipe process being inattentively administered so as to leave remnants of the previous mind behind or, as some would posit, it was a re-assertion of the original mind via some unknown process. A few would even claim it was proof of some metaphysical phenomenon or deity and opponents of the law would use it to argue against such forms of punishment.
But as Stephen rummaged through his satchel the world had no idea that this was happening to more than a few candidates. Some developed the tastes their hosts had, changing fashions or even food selections drastically. Others had conflicting thoughts that led to confusion they cautiously hid from their spouses and friends. Hawking's body was that of a serial killer, as many host bodies seemed to be of late. The man, whose very name had been expunged from history save for government files, had murdered 11 young women before he got caught. Hawking's hand brushed past the butcher knife in his satchel and he felt relieved at its presence.
`` Well, why do n't you drop by my cottage later and we'll discuss it,'' he offered, allowing a small smile.
`` Oh, I'd love to!'' She exclaimed. She was just dying to visit.
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[ IP ] Write a story based on this sci-fi wallpaper
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Ruric fled. The rush of blood echoed in his ears as he sprinted pell-mell through the fallen rubble, scarcely daring to glance behind him. A fallen beam blocked his path and he tapped a button on his glowing wrist-bracer. His leg-jets hissed, and he flew deftly over the wreckage, the boots dampening his fall as he hit the ground running.
He could hear it behind him. A heavy footfall, loud and insistent. The ground shook under its weight, and tendrils of dust fell from the ruined ceiling like unseasonal rain. It was getting closer.
`` Goldwall, this is Ruric,'' he yelled, hoping that his headset would pick up his voice above the coming thunder. `` Goldwall, come in.''
`` This is Goldwall,'' a voice crackled in his ear. `` What's your situation.''
`` The south wall is down and they're swarming the factory. Mako is down and I've lost Ran.''
A crackle of static. `` Repeat... where is Ran?''
`` I've lost Ran. Do you have him?''
`` Negative, Ruric. His feed is down.''
Ruric cursed with what little breath he had left. Ran was gone? That left just him. Him and the monster.
`` Backup?''
`` Negative, Ruric. Paladin Base is our priority here.''
The thunder grew louder. Ruric punched another button on his bracer and the boots kicked into life, lengthening his strides with small bursts of flame. There was a thick industrial wall up ahead. If he could just make it around the corner, he could increase his lead. A behemoth that size would have to be a ballerina to make that turn on the fly. Just a few... more... steps....
He rounded the corner, and skidded to a standstill. There, filling the hallway like some great, silent statue, was a vast war machine. The sickly sunlight glinted off its dented carapace, while small green lights blinked bright through the gloom. It saw Ruric and weighed him up, its wedge-like fingers flexing below the menacing arm cannon that slowly rose to face him. Like holding a magnifying glass to an ant. All of a sudden it spoke, and its voice rang with a metallic warble like a marble tossed around an empty tin can.
//On station. What do you need? //
Ruric turned to look at the monster that had been pursuing him. A thin, relieved smile spread across his face as he tapped the device on his wrist. The robot dropped its shoulder and started forward, and Ruric fell to one knee to let it thunder safely over him.
`` He's all yours, Ran,'' he whispered, watching his friend power into battle. `` Go get him.''
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[ WP ] After proving your immortality by shooting yourself in the head in front of the FBI Headquarters , you now find yourself in an FBI interview room .
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`` So, your name is Kent?''
I nodded, and I clasped my clammy hands together. I looked down at my hands, and wondered if all the moisture in my mouth had gone there instead, because I was suddenly unable to speak.
My gaze flicks up toward the man in front of me. His business suit is immaculate, just like a secret agent would, at least in my opinion. He's looking at me, one eyebrow drawn down, but otherwise completely cool.
I licked my lips and smiled. `` I-I guess you guys see stuff like this all the, uh, time, huh?''
The woman behind my interrogator- no, my interviewer- purses her lips. There was something in her eyes that seemed... annoyed. As if she had had her fill of immortals for the day.
I returned my attention to the man across from me as his seat squeaked when he set the folder on the table. A photo spilled out.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I noticed the familiar blood splattered explosion of brain and fluids of my demonstration in full frame. I look up at my interviewer, and I hold out a hand.
`` Can I see it?''
He looked at me and his eyebrow drew down. He pressed his fingers against the folder and pushed it toward me.
I eagerly pick the folder up and look through it. The first thing I notice is the multiple angles of the demonstration. There were several freeze frames from a nice camera just before the trigger pull. I almost looked bored, really.
There are more pictures as I flip through the file. Pictures of different events through my life. The first time I tried to hang myself. My eyes had bulged then and it'd taken days for them to return to normalcy. Dad had n't liked that.
More, similar pictures of my numerous suicides, both demonstration and to test my limits, appeared in the file, all pictures I'd taken and kept in a flash drive at home. Somehow I'm not surprised they'd found them.
The man in front of me cleared his throat. `` There's just one more test we'd like to try, Kent.''
I frowned, and I bit my lip as I looked up.
The woman was pointing her gun at me.
**BANG! **
Pain, surprise. I looked down at my chest. There was a hole there. It looked so weird. I pressed a finger to it, and waited for it to heal.
Waited...
waited...
wa... it... e... d
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[ WP ] While exploring the darkest of reddit and using the random NSFW generator you uncover a conspiracy .
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I quickly closed my feed and shut off my computer. A secret of this type could get me killed. I knew they'd be here to take me away at any time now that I've seen this. I grabbed my clothes, laptop, and a few other things and threw them in a bag, rushing for the door of my apartment. As I left the building I saw the black SUV pulling up in front of the house.
`` Shit...'' I murmured to myself as I threw my stuff into the back of my car. I knew that if they saw me I'd be screwed. I quietly waited for them to enter the building and started my car, driving down the road as nonchalantly as I possiby could.
It was only a matter of minutes before I realized that another black SUV was following my car, coming up on me fast. I slowly accelerated as I saw them getting closer and closer, and at the moment that they neared my bumper, I floored the pedal, zooming down the road.
`` God I'm glad some SUV's are slow as hell...'' I laugh to myself as I weaved in and out of traffic.
I made it to the freeway a bit later, I knew a place I could stay, remote and safe. My uncles cabin was always free this time of year. Even though I knew this secret, I had to get it out to the public. The world deserved to know. I pulled off the freeway, and into the deep forested area to the left of the off ramp.
After almost 20 minutes of driving I'd finally made it out to the cabin. I opened my laptop, and set up a proxy. I knew they'd find me soon anyway, so I'd have to do this fast. I sat down at the table and went right to reddit. I tapped as fast as my fingers could type, and at the moment I was about to hit send, the door busted open, two shots fired.
There I lay, brain splattered on the wall, my lifeless body still. A bit of blood dripped from the corner of my laptop, and my screen sat open, still on. Most of what I'd typed was just explainig what had happened. But there it was in words. The greatest secret that the world could've known. One that would've changed man kind: `` BUSH DID 9/11''
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[ WP ] Write a horror story in exactly twelve sentences .
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My vision began to blur as I pecked away at my keyboard in the early hours of the morning.
The sun and moon were changing places, yet darkness hailed the land outside the windows of my bedroom.
I felt my eyes growing tired, and I wiped away the tears that forced their way out in order to moisten them.
I felt dizzy, as if hungry; delirious.
Taking my hands away from the keyboard, I noticed a chill among my skin, and saw then a window I had forgotten to close from earlier this day.
My hands moved on their own to rub once again my tired eyes.
The text on my screen became difficult to read as I stared confusedly, watching it melt away.
I thought back to the phantomed man.
̙͙A̮͙͈͈͚̦̙ ͚̯̫̼͎̯f͕̗̯̫̲͜ͅͅe̹w̠̹̭̗̗̰͍ ̛̦s̰̩̮̭͔͖̞ą͎̙y̜̠̤͢ ̡̟t͚͈̞̟h͚̞̜a͎̺͍̖̬̦͚̕t͚̀ͅ ͢h̳ḙ̡̱̟̳ ̴̻̟̤͖ͅh̳̻̭̜̫͈͚a̱̫̬̤͖̣͠s ̨̤n͖ó̲̥͇̼̣̙ h̥͔a̶̮̥̜n͙͟ds̺̝.͈̟͖̫͓̲ͅ
Á͖̦̦n̟̝̦͙d̹̫͚͔͉̻̜ ͏̘̫̥t̝̥h̩̗͍̱͝e̯̟̳̦ ̕c̲͕͈͙͍̜̺a̠͈̩͇̗̫l͖̻̯̲͡l͈̻͍̪̳i̫͔̙n̞g̘̗ ͙̦͓͍s̯̩̪ͅi̮͈͔͞g̠̠̥̩̠n̦͔̺͟ ͎͍̥͍͍͇ͅi̞̝̠s̙̦̹̯͜ ̢̬̰͎t͕͙̻̗͍̘ͅh͖̖͍a͢t̢̰̟̲̻̺ ̩he̦̜ ̤̪͕ç̟̙͙̖͔̻om̙͍͔̰̜e̷͚͚̳̪͕s̡̩ ̻͈̘͠ͅf̬͖̻̪̯̖̕o̪͓̯̖̜r̳̪͓͙̭ ͔͈̙̭͈̪ͅyo̗̗̫͎̱u͕ ̹̫̯́n͍͖̙é͕̱̖̥̖x҉̠̖̖̣͔̰̜t̢̩͇̳̗.͇̥̭̯͉
̹̱́Fọ̬͓̹̫r͖̙͞ ̷̻̳ṷ͚͢p̹̩̦̳͚̳o҉͍̟͎̫̝n̷̠̞ ҉̼͕̙͓͙̤ý̭͔͖o͏̳͇̘̻̪ͅu̫͈͖̗̘͍͟r̜̦͕̕ ̰͎̱̤̯̪̣s͜c̸̪̦͓͓re̕e͍ͅn̠̩, ̡͚͇̮̟̝̪h̳͉̩͕e̬͞ ̨̻w̛̬͓̰̩̹͍i҉͍͚͎͉l̝̜͚̬̯l̮ ͎̀m͍̟̦̹e̪͉͔̙l̷̩͎̳̼͕t̝̣̭͙̻ ạ̩̱ḷ̺̬͍̺͓̩̕l͉͖̺̥̤̙ ̲̯̳̫͔t͙̥̳̝̱e̺̬͎̹͙ͅx̩͓͎̲̖͉̱t̛͙̯͍̤.҉̪͉̹̰̝
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[ WP ] a human with dyed bright hair is abducted by aliens , eventually as with all dyes it starts to fade away , the aliens think it 's because their new human is lacking something from earth
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`` sir, her plumage is failing'' one of the gray guys said to the green guy. *FUCK! * I think, it's been a couple months, my lovely blood red has grown out to my classic blonde. `` Well, our light simulation is the same compound, we have soil from earth, what could be missing?!'' Wait... this could be my chance. They know about our violence, maybe I can convince them... `` subject 1, we have noticed your vitals are stable, yet your plumage is lacking. The soil in your living area is the same, and the light is a perfect replication. Are you aware of what caused this change?'' Time to REALLY screw with them. `` yes. In our society, youth are told to cause havoc, pain, and fear. This is often at a education center, seeing as all the vurnerable targets. I had gained this feature during planning but was picked up. My plumage shall fade, then I shall die. `` understood. Take this, it is a weapon far beyond yours, it can instantly fry any victim. We shall watch closely''.....FUCK.
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[ WP ) They know what they 've done and what there going to do is wrong , but they 've lost the will to change .
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John tea-spooned the sagging tea-bag out of the dark brown sea in his cup, turned his body slightly and flicked it at the bin. He watched it splat on the black plastic liner before slipping down its inky folds to its inevitable doom. A rising plume of steam signalling it was still there, hidden beneath the apple cores and Oreo wrappers.
He lifted the lukewarm carton of UHT milk and poured it into his swirling tea. His intention was to pour but it ’ s never that easy with tetra-bricks. Inevitably, half of the milk leaps from the mouth of the brick in a suicidal dive onto the worktop. Another third sneaks down the side of the carton when you ’ re not watching, raining onto the floor. Or your trousers. Or your shoes. The remaining dribbles bomb into your brew, adding to the mess on the worktop. The milk that actually made it into his cup followed his sugary teaspoon in quick spirals through the dark liquid, before quickly becoming one homogeneous tanned drink.
John wiped the surface clean with the rancid kitchen rag, threw it back into the sink, and slumped over to his window.
He looked at the pile of folders on his desk. Names he couldn ’ t pronounce. Countries he had never heard of. Faces he didn ’ t recognise.
With a sigh he pressed his buzzer and his 9am approached the window. He looked squarely into the face staring at him through the Plexiglas. Deep black skin peppered with short black hairs. Dark brown eyes set in off-white orbs watched his hands bunch the application papers on his desk. Case No. 456-7b pulled back his lips into a nervous smile, exposing rows of shining white teeth and spluttered,
“ Ahhhh…Good morning sir! ”.
“ Morning ” john mumbled back.
It doesn ’ t make it an easier when they are friendly.
He inked his stamp, lifted it into the air, and paused. He leant slightly forward in his chair and looked at the line of co-workers seated at his side. Each with stamp in hand, blank expression, stabbing at stacks of papers. It was mechanical. Cold and heartless. After so many years in this job, they had become factory workers on a production line, menial, monotonous and mechanical. They stared this job because they cared. Because they really wanted change. But years of swimming against tides of bureaucracy, in a sea of political folly, had tired them out. They were now nothing more than government labourers. They know what they've done and what there going to do is wrong, but they've lost the will to change.
John looked at Case No. 456-7b, lowered his head, and slammed the red stamp on his file, muttering, “ Asylum denied ”
After all, quotas are quotas!
Edit: spelling and format
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[ WP ] You 've enjoyed good fortune most of your life . Nothing extraordinary , you 've never won a lottery or such , but you 've always collected small mementos that you believe enhance your chances of winning . Today , everyone seems to be after your lucky charms ...
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I have been on the run for three weeks now. Somehow I have stayed undetected for a few days. Only four still remain. The gold star I had to hide deep in the ground, where its light will never be seen. The ballon floated away days ago, and the blue moon cheese was my last source of food. I am still on the run however, and some of these things are slowing me down. I have had to melt down there horseshoe I have been carying, the weight was to much. And the clover went into makenie the fire burn even brighter. The hourglass counts till I am through, but none know the last trinket is embedded in my chest.
There are the voices, deep int wh woods, chanting that hunting tune. And all I can think is: they're after me lucky charms!
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[ WP ] After a long day at work a man arrives home to find his front door busted open . Sitting on his living room couch is his 5th grade imaginary friend sipping scotch . The imaginary friend takes a sip and says , `` I 'm sorry to bother you Dave , but I need your help ... .we have a problem . ''
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`` I'm sorry to bother you Dave, but I need your help... we have a problem.''
The startled Dave attempted to absorb what he was seeing but it simply did n't make any sense.
`` Umm... Sarah!?''
`` Look, I know you have a lot of questions but I need you to come with me right now.'' Sarah extended her hand to Dave and he found himself embracing her warm and furry paw.
`` Trust me,'' said Sarah as she lead the balding, middle aged man outside. In the driveway where Dave's BMW should have been parked was a shiny red and white rocket ship. Hand in hand they climbed into the cockpit and with a swoosh took of into space.
They danced amongst the planets and dodged great round and pitted asteroids. They explored hidden caves of light and precious jewels in faraway moons and wrestled in the purple grass of alien worlds.
Laughing and joking and boasting ever more ridiculous feats of bravery and valour, Dave suddenly realised he had forgotten something.
`` Hey Sarah, you said you needed my help. Whats the problem?''
The shiny red and white rocket ship was ticking with heat back in Dave's driveway. Sarah glanced up into the night sky above suburbia. Her eyes dilating under the light of nearby planets and shooting stars.
`` Yes Dave. There is a problem. You have forgotten something important.''
-- --
With a start Dave woke up in his couch, spilling a half drunk glass of scotch. He was having a dream but the details eluded him.
The cold and lonely house pressed Dave and suddenly he found the reality cooking shows and microwaved meals he fell asleep to offensive. Turning off the TV, Dave did something he had n't done in a long time. He picked up a book and lost himself in his imagination.
Close to midnight Dave's eyes became heavy and as drifted off to sleep he remembered his childhood friend. A tiger who stood upright and would take him on all sorts of crazy adventures. What was her name again?
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[ WP ] You are immortal , but you happened to miss every important event in history .
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I've always had the shittiest luck.
As far back as I can remember, it seems that I always *just* miss the exciting things, the incredible things, the wonderful things.
You might be thinking, `` Well, you're immortal, so you really should n't be bitching.''
Now you may be right about that, but who does n't need to bitch every now and then? And, as luck would have it, you're the only one I can bitch to at the moment, so shut your mouth and open your ears. I've got a story to tell.
My shit luck has been my constant companion since my earliest memories. I remember playing with some of my little friends when I was a wee thing, the last time I *had* friends, come to think of it...
Anyway, the first clear memory I have is of running with my friends across a grassy field, pretending we were our fathers, stalking the mighty tusk-beast.
We were kids, playing a pretty common kid's game, but we were hunting a particularly fearsome beast on this day; this beast had been spotted a few times over recent years, but there were more than a few in our tribe who scoffed at those who claimed to have caught sight of it. This beast was half common knowledge, half legend at this point. Most said they did n't believe in the beast, but I think deep down each of us questioned the sincerity of our denials. How could we believe such a beast existed? How could we not?
It was said to be over three men tall, if you stacked them on top of each other. It was said to be as broad as eight men, standing shoulder to shoulder. It was said to have tusks so big, a man could n't wrap his arms around the thickest part, and could n't reach the sharp end if he was standing on the base. Who could believe in such a beast?
But somehow, we all did. We scoffed to others, and we teased anyone who was n't eager to journey outside the ring of light cast from the fire in the evening, saying they must be scared of the great tusk-beast. We talked a big game, but let me tell you - we believed all the same.
Now, where was I? Right, so we were chasing the great beast, flaunting our bravery and strength and speed. Well, the damnedest thing happened - we actually found a tusk from the great beast!
You might say to yourself, `` Well now, I thought you were talking about your shitty luck? Finding that tusk must have been a pretty great experience!''
And you'd be right again, but wait til you hear how we found it.
The field was wide and grassy, with little in the way of hills or humps or hummocks, and we had run through this field hundreds of times with nary a fall. But on this day, we just so happened to find evidence of the beast, solid proof of the giant tusked animal's existence. And what was this proof?
A giant footprint.
Well, actually, a giant *set* of footprints. I only noticed the one, though, because that's the footprint I tripped over.
It turns out those people that claimed to see the great tusk-beast may not have been exaggerating after all... or, at least, not much. The footprint was more than a forearm's length deep, and the raised edge is what I tripped over.
I heard a *SNNAAAAP* sound, and suddenly white-hot pain flared up in my right ankle. That's right - I broke my damn ankle tripping over the damn tusk-beast's footprint!
I did n't have too much time to think about my ankle though. As I tripped, my newly broken ankle gave out completely and I fell lopsidedly, right onto the side of my head. Thankfully, I did n't feel that one so much - until I woke up, anyway.
When I regained consciousness, I was in our camp again with my friends and the old people gathered around me. My friends said that just beyond where I fell, they found the tusk of the beast! That's right, the actual tusk of the ( aptly named, as we now knew ) great tusk-beast. I may have found the footprint, but that was nothing compared to the tusk. And I missed it.
I guess the tusk was too heavy for them to carry back to the camp, and besides, they had their hands full just carrying *me* back to the camp. We told the old people about the footprints and the others swore up and down that they found the tusk, but it took a day of some real earnest convincing to get them to believe us. By the time they took our story seriously enough to go check it out, a hard rain had fallen and it must have wiped the footprints away, because we could never find them again, the footprints OR the tusk.
We had finally found proof of the great tusk-beast. We found not only a couple of footprints, but the actual *tusk* of the beast! And I missed it. Now whoever heard of tripping, breaking an ankle, and getting knocked out cold over a footprint? A footprint, for god's sake!
Now, that's just an example, but I think it's a pretty good example. My whole life has been full of shit luck, and that was just the start.
Sure, I was there when we discovered fire. You know how it was discovered? A bolt of lightning hit someone and they caught on fire! Can you guess who was hit? I bet you can. Knocked me right out, did n't even know what had happened until after I woke up again.
Oh, and that Caesar-Brutus scuffle? I was there too! I was standing right next to Caesar, in fact. I should have had a front row seat to one of the most well known incidents in ancient history, but you know what happened? The first guy to pull a knife got a little too eager, you know how guys can get when they feel full of that self-righteous anger, and before he put the first wound in Caesar, he reeled back his arm and smacked me right in the face with his elbow! Is n't that just the damnedest thing? I fell like a sack o' potatoes and did n't come around until after Caesar's body had already been carted away.
And do n't even ASK me about Newton and the apple. You know why that apple fell? I bet you're getting the idea now, are n't you? Yep, I was climbing that apple tree and lost my footing right at the top. I took a tumble through the branches, fell on my head, and got knocked cold out, then *PLOP* - out falls the apple, right onto Isaac's noggin.
Every important event, every significant occasion, every goddamn interesting thing that ever happened - I always *just* missed it. I do n't know whether I'm cursed by whatever gods may or may not frolic up there in the sky or if I'm just the most unlucky son of a bitch the world has ever seen, but I guess it does n't really matter either way. At least I got a chance to tell someone about it.
Now that was n't so bad, was it? I do n't profess to be some great storyteller, but I thought my tale was at least halfway decent. Would n't you agree that I have just about the most shit luck anyone has ever had?
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[ WP ] A challenge , you have the maximum length of a comment to write a much of a sci-fi short story as you can as long as you NEVER use a hanging letter , i.e : no g , j , q , p , or y .
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I blink at the screen in front of me. It flickers back and shows me what I can never feel for real. A child runs across a field. She is not sad but neither does she have the life that I had wished she could. I am almost tearful for what I have missed. Soon the child will be an adult, and I will have almost missed her entire life. I watch from afar, never able to be the father that she needs.
Words flash across the screen in bold red letters.
`` Low Air Levels''
I do not know what to do. When I was first sent here there was a whole team of technicians to fix the rocket. We zoomed between the stars so fast that we never even conceived of the idea that we would not reach our destination. Now I am the last man left aboard, the other men all dead from a fatal disease.
I think for a few seconds that I do not have, I have no idea what I am meant to do now but for some reason I still wait and think. I know I will die, that was the fate that had been decided for me from the moment I walked aboard. I know I will never see the little child whose father I am for real, but on this holo screen. I start to watch it and choose not to bother to solve the issue. Instead I watch the life and child I could have had.
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[ WP ] A supervillian has taken over a maximum security prison . The inmates are about to find out they were better off before .
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The PA system crackled on.
`` Gentleman of this fine establishment, there have been some vast changes in leadership. The warden is currently locked up in his closet, and I am debating on wether to kill him myself or throw him to the dogs. That would be all of you. Any ways, I'm not going to let you all out, cause I'm an asshole. Like, I have to be consistent, I ca n't just piss off so-called good people. To be the true glorious master mind that I am, everyone must hate me. But do n't despair, there will be some changes I'm sure you all will enjoy. Taco Tuesdays is now Taco Mondays, Taco Wednesdays, Taco Thursdays... and you guessed it, Taco Fridays!!!! I was thinking of doubling down for the weekend but after further reflection, mostly in regards to the health of your colons, we shall be doing chicken and waffles. Also, playtime outside will be extended to 8 hours, because you are not rodents, but vile, hateful, man beasts! And most people are vitamin D deficient, so I'm just looking out for you. Oh, and to you butt raping people, stop it! I mean, c'mon! I'm sure you can find someone with a consenting anus. So look for them! If I hear about some unwanted butt action, I will be doling out some... penalties. This has been the first of many messages from yours truly, Major Asshole. I will have a suggestion box put out, so feel free to put anything in there. Food ideas, entertainment, theme nights... you get the idea. Any-who, bye for now, friends. ``
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[ WP ] A man and woman have met every morning for the last 40 years at a diner . While the two seem to know one another very well , in all this time they have never exchanged a word . For the first time ever the woman today reaches out and touches the man 's hand .
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Anthony looked back into those deep, blue eyes as her hand touched his. He had secretly dreamed of this day for nearly forty years, the day where she would finally notice him. She was his entire reason for visiting this diner. There were nights he was kept awake by the fear that, were the diner ever to close, he had no reliable way of finding her again.
For forty years he had watched her, bewitched by her beauty. He'd always had problems with anxiety and social interaction. In fact, he'd spent the first twenty years of his life suffering from severe agoraphobia, always fearful of venturing outside. But the very first time he ever overcame that fear was the first time he saw her.
The diner itself was located directly across the road from his apartment, a squat, silver building you typically expected to see in an old 50's film, with Greasers sat by the counter drinking milkshakes with their sweethearts. But she, like him, never sat at the counter. She always sat in the same seat, alone in the back corner by the restroom door, reading. Always reading. Her long raven hair draped over one shoulder, a book always grasped lightly between her pale hands. Anthony had always dreamed of one day approaching her and asking what she was reading. He'd spent every evening for the past four decades reading various books that had been delivered to his home in the hope that one day they would both share a common interest.
And now, she was here. Beside him, her pale, cool, right hand lightly resting upon his left, gazing deeply into his eyes. She opened her red ruby lips to speak, but something stopped her. A look of sadness seemed to flash across her face. Did she regret having to introduce herself? Had she, like him, spent forty years wishing she could talk to him? Had she hoped he would have taken that first, daunting step?
But just as suddenly as that sorrowful look had appeared on her features, it was gone, replaced with a smile. A smile that continued to grow wider and wider until Anthony could almost focus on nothing else. He realised that her hand seemed colder now and he looked down. The coldness seemed to spread from her finger tips until it burned with a pain that carried along the back of his hand and up the length of his arm. He watched in confusion as the skin began to pull back, as her fingernails fell from away from fleshless bone as, layer by layer, her flesh was stripped away, receding into some unseen nowhere place.
A fear took a hold of him and Anthony could feel his heart begin to hammer within his chest. Frozen, he could do nothing more but look into her eyes. He realised his mistake almost immediately. It had not merely been a look of sorrow that he had noticed, but also a look of pity, a look that remained as she continued to smile, so broadly now that a tear began to run from the corners of her mouth and encircle her skull. Her hair, which had originally stopped just beneath the nape of her neck, pulled back into her scalp, like long, obsidian worms digging into her skull to escape the light. Her blue eyes began to darken, shifting into what first appeared to be a more hazel pigment, before turning entirely black.
No, not black. Gone. Never there to begin with, just two empty sockets. And the skin, hair, sinew, muscle and tissue continued to shrink away until all that remained was a skeleton, draped in the same black dress the Raven-haired Woman had worn every day for nearly half a century. All around Anthony, the diner seemed to follow her example, counter tops, tables, chairs and even people all shrinking away, absorbed into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The shifting walls pressed closer and began to enclose him, the new colours becoming more and more familiar until living room furniture began to appear. His furniture. All around him, the diner twisted, contorted and vanished, leaving only the interior of his apartment behind.
Questions tried to make their way from the recesses of his confused mind. Where had the diner gone? Had he moved? Had she moved him? Had he even gone to the diner today? But he could n't focus. The chilling pain that ran from her hand and up the length of his arm had made it's way to his chest and he was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He looked into the hollow pits of the human skull that stared back at him, any ability it had to display sorrow or pity was long since gone. He wanted to ask her what was happening, but the effort was too great.
All he could do was look into that ghastly visage as she spoke to him with words that were neither sound nor thought. Words that neither pierced nor enveloped him but rather came from a place deep within himself, a place he had never known before, yet he had always been aware of the entirety of his life. It was from this place that she spoke three, simple words to him as his apartment began to fade away and the pain began to subside.
`` It is time.''
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[ WP ] Write anything you want . The catch : Every post in this thread takes place in the same universe and you are n't allowed to break the canon .
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New History. Refer to first one if you care about the old universe.
The old universe got destroyed and most people got through portals opened by God to save them. They are all popping up on a new, beautiful, and uninhabited by intelligent life planet, about two miles from each other.
...
Poor /u/StormsAndWolves appears to have walked out of her portal that was located somewhere up in the middle of the sky. Or maybe shes a ghost that acts nothing like a ghost... Yeah, probably not.
/u/NeonShockz has made it to the new world in a lovely field. He seeks a companion.
/u/Silverspy01 has arrived and has erected a sign stating basic rule whcih more or less state that we should not just kill off the last ruler and to avoid god like beings.
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[ WP ] Authors can now be sued by their own characters for things that happened to them in their stories .
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I ca n't bother with the fines.
It might just be me; Rowling managed to appease Voldemort and Sirius Black without paying a cent, and Dr. Seuss never had a problem with anyone except the parents of the kids from `` The Cat in the Hat'', and his only necessary solution was to make the Cat do some minor housework.
I was n't that lucky. I had just made my first thousand off of what would become a best-selling fantasy series when a character named Drogo threatened to sue me for the catatonic state he was left in at the end of the book. He asked a ridiculous amount of cash, such that would easily bankrupt a small mom-and-pop shop. I certainly could n't pay that.
Future editions of the book have been rewritten to accommodate Drogo's unfortunate death at the hands of his wife.
The cycle continues. A character threatens to sue, then finds themself in a deadly situation come a book or edition two. Dead character upsets someone, which threatens to sue, and then they die, too.
It's my thing by now to maintain a ridiculous list of characters in order to have a form of `` insurance''; there's no character too crucial to the story to be killed off. It's an interesting style, to be sure; but it's extremely effective.
The problem comes when we move to television. The portrayals are slightly different, and so thus so are the characters that want to sue slightly different. I have to rewrite several scripts in order to make sure that the proper characters die in order to keep from a suit.
I should have named the series `` A Song Of Suit And Death.''
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At your 150th birthday you were suspicious . At 200 it was confirmed you could not die . It is now your 900th birthday and you are spending it alone . [ WP ]
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I do n't know why I'm here. All I know is that I've been here a while. I float aimlessly from place to place, see new sights, do everything you'd expect an oldie like me to do.
Except golf. I detest golf.
One of my favorite past-times as of late has been sitting and watching the fire, pondering life; specifically, my own. As I said, I've been around. I've seen a lot of things, some bad, some good. I like to think about those things... try to make sense of the grand scheme, of the *why* and *how*.
I have conversations with people, sometimes. I get lonely and think them up, then have hour-long conversations on any and everything. Religion, death, favorite types of food, things like that. Come to think of it, I have n't seen a real person in a long time. A couple living things here and there, but overall not a single human being.
Strange. I forgot about that.
I also like to reminisce. I do n't remember too much- just flashes of faces, blurred and stretched by time's erosion of my memory. One of my fondest memories is also one of my most vague- all I remember is seeing all light blocked out as something larger than the sky itself approached the earth. It was pretty, though.
Anyway, I think I'll retire for the time being. Maybe I'll sleep for a couple years, take a break from my life. I love it, yes-
But floating through this space does get boring sometimes.
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[ WP ] A deep space research station has become unmoored , stranding thousands beyond hope of recovery . The survivors have been replicating food from the physical mass of the station itself , but there 's one problem : They 're running out of room .
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`` The matter in the Klien Star Eln is all we have left...''
The empty expanse of space stretches out from the window, a small reactor power's what's left for the two of us to live in.
`` I know, it's kinda disheartening really...''
A circle was inland in the center of the room, a feat of science from last millennia. It was used as a sacrificial altar just yesterday though, as there were once three of us.
I am the captain of the Station, and the center of the once-great station is all there is. That circle on the floor is what kept us alive for a week.
My friend and subordinate asked...
`` Hey, you remember that little game that we emulated some time ago?''
`` Yea, what about it?''
`` I remember this one scene where you placed an umbrella on a statue and it played a little tune.''
`` Mmm... yea, i do remember doing that.''
`` You still know the tune?''
I whistled it...
`` Yea, that's the one...''
Tears well up in our eyes as we remember that little game...
`` I think we should play it again, nanolathing a personal computer does n't take that much matter.''
`` Yea, i think so too...''
My friend touched the circle and a PC manifested there...
And we emulated that little game, since there was still time left to enjoy the small things.
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[ WP ] Write a creation myth .
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In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing except for Cthulhu and a ball of mud. The Elder God lorded over the mud planet for eons, until a bright light slammed into the side of the planet, creating a large crater. From this crater stepped a human man, and the man happened to be Cracked Out Charlie Sheen
Understandably, Cthulhu was furious that such a base creature would dare show its presence to him and tried to kill him. But the tiger-blooded onewas smarter and promptly roundhouse-kicked the monster's head off, thus making Cthulhu his bitch. Yet Sheen was not pleased.
On the first day, Charlie stripped the flesh from Cthulhu's bones, using the meat as the soil and skin as the grass. And thus he was made the bitch.
On the second day, he cracked open the monster's skull and scattered his brains in the sky, creating clouds. His right eye became the sun, the left, Moon, and his nerve cells the stars. And thus he was made the bitch.
On the third day, Cthulhu's bones and joints were made into the rocks, hills and mountains, so Sheen could be high in altitude while simultaneously high on drugs. And thus He was made the bitch.
On day 4, Sheen had collected Cthulhu's blood and other bodily fluids to imbibe heartily, but to his disappointment, did not grant him magical powers. Sheen instead turned the blood into oceans, and the other fluids into lakes, rivers and streams. With the God's blood vessels, he created the trees and shrubberies. The blood cells and germs became the fish and other water creatures. And thus He was made the bitch.
The fifth day, Sheen became bored and made darts to throw at pictures of his ex-wives, but they gained sentience, becoming the birds and other flying creatures. Sheen also created a vast amount of land creatures to duel at his behest. He also made the remnants of Cthulhu's skull into a bitchin' throne, which he placed on the highest mountain. And thus He was made the bitch.
On the sixth day, Sheen became lonely, and from the earth, created a Zach and a Jenny. They begat many children, who in turn begat many children. The begat until there were enough people to fuel a sweet rave party. Sheen bestowed upon them the tiger blood and cocaine that gave him his power, but only a finite amount. The party raged the rest of the day, into the night to next morning.
Cthulhu, although his physical body was destroyed, existed as a conscience. To get his revenge, he placed a curse upon the vile human creatures called a hangover, making them wasted on the seventh day. And thus He made us His bitch.
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[ WP ] A world wide natural disaster is about to occur in which only 1 out of every hundred people can be saved . Random conversations between people talking about if they do or do n't want to be a part of the saved group .
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`` I have the ticket, Chelsea, and I'm giving to you. Just take it for fuck's sake.'' He shoved the laminated card into my hand, unwilling to just let it go. Then, as if that action alone had completely drained him, he slumped against the concrete wall.
He had always been lucky. Hell, he had literally won a free year at college. That's how we'd met, and three years afterwards here we were. Staring our mortality in the face.
`` I ca n't. It's yours. I wo n't do this to you. Please... Give it to your mom. Your brother. Please.'' The weight of what's happening is still just barely registering with me. The ticket clutched in my hand my only hope of survival, and yet... Why survive alone?
`` I'm choosing to give it to you. You can help the survivors, I ca n't. What could I possibly contribute? At least you're a nurse. You can help take care of those that are left.'' His voice sounded tired. He was sick of arguing, I knew. But I could n't help but fight him. I could n't just let him die for me.
`` They never said anything was definite. This could still be some radically sick joke. Please do n't make me do this. Please.'' My voice was hoarse, but the tears would n't come. I had cried them all in the past few days, and there was nothing left.
A plague was coming. It had started off in some small third world country, but had spread faster than a wild fire. Scientists were developing a vaccine, but predicted they would only be able to manufacture enough to save 70 million of the 7 billion people that inhabited the earth. Riots sprang up, revolts, people demanding that they deserved the vaccine as much as any world leader or rich person. So the international governments convened, and voted on a lottery. Every country got a certain number of vaccines based on the population, and people would be randomly selected to receive an injection that would supposedly save their lives. The people who won were secretly contacted, and using the utmost care, instructed on where and how to get the vaccine. There had been some who had been too obvious with their good fortune, and had lost their lives to those desperate enough to kill to stay alive.
I had n't known he had won until the day he was meant to receive it. He had asked me to meet him in the basement of the hospital where I worked, insisting on urgency and secrecy. It was there he showed me the white card with the winning code he had been given. And then introduced me to the agent who was meant to give it to him.
`` There has to be some rule about this, right? They ca n't just give it away, can they?'' I looked to the older woman in the lab coat expectantly, eyes landing on the small case handcuffed to her wrist. She stood silently, watching the exchange but refusing to say a word.
`` As long as I'm here to give my consent, I can give it to whoever I want.'' His face hardened with determination, eyes looking more blue than I had ever seen them against the red from crying. I wanted to hit him, beat the stubbornness out of him. I hated him right then for springing this insanity upon me. Making me choose between my life and his.
`` So why not your family??? Why would you make me live without you?!'' I nearly shouted it, frustrated and tired. So tired. He broke eye contact, eyes moving to the dusty floor.
`` It already hit the east coast. They announced it on the news this morning. For all I know, my family is already dead or dying. Please do n't make me lose you too.'' He said the last part in a hoarse whisper, laying his head in his hands. My stomach clenched in fear. My sisters... that meant they were gone. I double over, retching, but nothing would come up. I had n't been able to eat since I'd heard about the plague. I sank to my knees.
My parents, my sisters, my friends, everyone I knew would be gone. He would be gone. And I would be alone. He crouched down next to me, placing his arm around my shoulder, and pulled my shaking form into him. Before I could fight, his grip tightened. He pinned my arms then my legs, his eyes maniacal and wild.
`` Do it.'' He muttered through gritted teeth. I screamed and thrashed, trying desperately to buck him off of me as the woman in the lab coat took out a syringe. She made it quick, and the sting of the vaccine was the only thing I could feel when I stopped struggling. It was over. I was alone.
6.93 billion people died in the next few weeks. He died in my arms. I could n't hate him for what he did to me. I could only love him in those last moments before the fever took him. I could only cling to him helplessly as he thrashed and seized. I could only bury him in an unmarked grave, which was more than most of the dead had gotten.
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[ WP ] You 're a student in Evil University . With no special powers , you 're destined to become a henchman , or worse , a lawyer , unless you can pull it together and change your major to Super Villainy .
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Some parts of the neighbourhood ain ’ t bad, but this *is* East Side Welland, and you never really know your neighbours until you awake one night to the sounds of sirens and screaming. Like rats running from cats under the moonlight, you peer out your window and see your degenerate neighbour being dragged away in handcuffs for selling shitty heroin to all kinds of damaged people.
It seemed like just last week ( it was, in fact, about a month prior ) that Jake Belston, your degenerate neighbour, was dragged out from hiding the first time, this after police discovered a 10-year-old girl maimed near the tracks on Townline Road; she had been hit not by a train but by an ATV, which was driven by a man with a fondness for Faxe Extra Strong beer. The suspect—later determined to be Belston—preferred his drink in 500 mL cans, as evidenced by the trail that led authorities from the young girl to the only slightly older man.
Belston was 18 years old—but a child himself—yet he was beginning to amass the kind of karma that could be likened to the worst kinds of evil on this planet, although he was doing it in ways deemed taboo to contemporary society.
After tracking Belston down to his dusty King Street townhome—full of H, Faxe, and cat piss like all the others—it didn ’ t take long to get the young man, now a confessed dope dealer and Dangerous Offender, to start talking.
“ Yeah so what, ” Belston said. “ I push it. ”
He was, after all, a student at EU ( Evil University ); yet with no real talent or skill, he was doomed for failure even amongst this motley crew.
“ You could ’ ve been a lawyer, ” said Dan Mechmee, a professor at EU and the man who acts as a lawyer when things get out of hand with the students. “ You could ’ ve been something, making money by essentially dragging out everyone ’ s problems, complicating everything—see, *evil*—yet you choose to run around drunk on your fuckin ’ dune buggy and hit little girls. ”
“ Bu—
“ And then you ’ re selling heroin like a talentless hack, ” Mechmee interrupted.
“ You just sit there and they come to your door, and I guess that ’ s evil and all, but you ’ re giving the school a bad name, ” Mechmee said. “ We don ’ t just let criminals into EU, and since you don ’ t have any *real* powers, you better try *real* hard and start pulling some nasty shit with a bit of fucking tact, or grow a set and hit the fuckin ’ books; become a lawyer. ”
Belston didn ’ t really know what Mechmee was talking about. There was no way he ’ d be allowed to continue his studies at EU, especially not without any “ real powers. ”
The school ’ s board of directors had been complaining for years of the students ’ propensity for clumsy violence. “ No more public disturbances! ” they would cry. “ It hurts the bottom line, and the university must *adapt* to these modern times. We need the *right* kind of evil. ”
Belston didn ’ t have mysterious, hidden superpowers he could use on people. He did, however, find power in the pistol.
“ Fuckin ’ cow, ” Belston said, sitting on the back deck of the townhome he was just dragged out of a few days earlier.
“ How ’ d they find the H? ” asked his friend and fellow peer at EU, Douglas Powers ( although “ Dougie ” preferred to be called “ Dr. Evil ” ).
“ It was just on the table, dude, ” said Belston, dropping his hand from the weight of the pistol. “ They probably saw it when they came and busted me for hittin ’ that girl, but maybe it wasn ’ t enough. ”
“ Yeaaaaaah, maybe they needed to catch you in the act, ” said Dougie. “ You kept selling after you got out the first time though, eh? You just kept on goin ’? ”
Belston neared the pistol towards his own skull.
“ Woah, woah, woah, ” said Dougie. “ Hey there, it ’ s OK; maybe you should focus on something else? Maybe try to take over the world? I could always use more minions. ”
“ Shut, the, fuck, up, and, stop, calling, your, self, doctor, evil, ” said Belston, to the cadence of his pistol, firing 11 shots into Dougie ’ s brain. “ It ’ s not fucking funny or evil or cool, and no one would ever listen to an idiot like you anyways. ”
For the third time since school began last month, you awake to the sound of sirens outside your window, only this time—as you turn to continue watching from another room, wondering why in the hell they ’ d allow an Evil University in Welland anyways—you see Belston standing in your bedroom door, and you know he hasn ’ t learned a damn thing.
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[ WP ] Use a nonsense generator to create a random sentence . That sentence is the beginning of your story .
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A fly woke the prime minister.
The meaningless, irritating buzzing in his ears transformed from yet another of the King's soliloquies to the beating of an insect's wings and he realised that he was in his quarters at the palace, and not the small council chamber, as he had been dreaming.
*By God, you'd hope at least sleep would offer some escape. *
Prime minister Valtaine sat upright in his bed with a yawn and watched the fly hurtling around his head, buzzing furiously as if it would attack him. He clapped his hands, with rather more enthusiasm than he usually did when the King was finished talking, and the room fell silent.
He swung his legs over the side of the vast and empty bed, with pretty curtains and sheets fine and thin, that was the centrepiece of his opulent prison. The prime minister rose and washed and dressed as he did every morning, with all the enthusiasm of a man condemned. As he finished, he stopped a moment to linger on the small framed family portrait that was the centrepiece of his life.
*That bastard and his wars... *
There was a sudden, frantic knock on the door and Valtaine was pulled from his reverie. He opened it to the sight of one of the royal spymaster's known lackies, looking even more pale and haggard than was usual for his class of inbred aristocratic thug.
`` Prime minister! M'lord!'' The young man spoke breathlessly. `` Lord Brennan sent me. You must come to the King's chambers at once, my lord! It's His Majesty. I must n't say more!''
The prime minister raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly.
`` You may tell your master I'll be along presently.'' He closed the door.
Valtaine sat again on his unmade bed and waited just long enough to be sure the young man was gone before descending the winding stair from his quarters in the ministerial wing. The matter was clearly urgent, but there were always certain games to be played.
When he arrived, the royal wing was in an uproar with servants passing to and fro, huddled together in whispers. The prime minister waved the guards at the King's chamber aside and they let him pass, though not without a glance to another of Brennan's creatures lurking in the hall outside.
`` Lord Valtaine.'' The back of Brennan's bald head greeted him without turning. `` Something grave has occurred.''
The room was in a tumult, furniture overturned as a few of Brennan's men gingerly rifled through the King's belongings, occasionally jumping back or swatting at the skittering black creatures that emerged. Spider-webs coated every surface, the sovereign himself was nowhere to be seen, and most tellingly there lingered in the air the distinct and noxious odour of a cast spell.
`` Witchcraft.'' said the prime minister.
`` Assassination.'' replied Brennan. `` His Majesty is vanished and not a week after the Countess Salemny was burned at the stake.''
`` I assume her sisters are in custody?''
`` Some, the others soon will be.'' Brennan turned and held up a scrap of parchment. `` Read this.''
``'Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.''' Valtaine gave a snort. `` You assassins do love to be cryptic.''
Brennan gave him a look.
`` Now is not a time for levity, prime minister. I am no assassin but a servant of the Crown, and the meaning of the note is literal enough, in case you have n't noticed the spiders in here with us.''
`` I've certainly noticed one. What are you implying, Brennan?''
`` Something unthinkable. These witches have filled His Majesty's chamber with spiders and transformed him into a fly.''
Brennan waved an arm as if he were himself a magician revealing some trick.
`` He may already be dead, but I have my men catching what insects they can, and have alerted the appropriate scholars at the academy. Hope is thin, but there's still a chance we may be able to reverse the spell.''
Valtaine stared at Brennan a long moment and could n't quite stop himself from smiling, ever so faintly.
`` We can but hope.''
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[ WP ] A hero snaps and turns evil . He/she finds out that it is much more rewarding being a villain .
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Being good? Being good does n't pay the bills. Being good does n't keep you off the streets. I tried to be good for three years, fighting off who knows how many world-ending supervillains. They always had an army of robots, or mercenaries, or something, supporting them. They always had **money**. They were never starving.
The 12 keys to the city I received for saving millions of people's lives? The metal in them was worth about 4 month's rent in a shitty apartment. I was considered public domain, and could n't collect royalties from anything, especially not when I had to hide my name. My family was in constant danger, until Sargassi killed them.
I was broke, failing community college, and ramen was running out. So I went to the banks, tried to get a loan, and was rejected. Five times. From four banks. I robbed them all on my way out.
So here we are, upstart. Here we are, in my ten-million-dollar-lair that I do n't even mind is crumbling around me. I have the money to rebuild it a hundred times over. I have n't felt a grumble in my stomach for a year, and neither have the mercenaries you just put into a coma.
Why did I become a villain, you ask? *Where did it all go wrong, * you cry? It went wrong because no matter what you do as a hero, nobody ever appreciates you as a human.
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[ WP ] The best way to divide people is to remove their common enemy .
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`` Excuse me my lord urgent news from the west.'' yelled a sweaty dark haired messenger. The panicked young man then preceded to lose his footing on the the ornate rug beneath his feet and collapsed upon the stone floor. A small scroll of parchment flew from his grasp rolled along the marble floor. The poor young lad scrambled to right himself retrieve his charge. As the messenger continued his awkward struggle, his arrival was met with a mix of angst and embarrassment.
`` Come on boy, out out with it.'' demanded an old shriveled woman, dressed in indigo. Mistress Whetlin was the master of coin, and had very little patience for inefficiency. Despite her unpleasant demeanor, she knew the intricacies of running a kingdom's economy better then anyone.
Her comment only seemed to panic the poor lad more, losing his footing again. Across the table lord Sarros the Warmaster shot Whetlin a patronizing look. Rising from the table, lord Sarros walked made his way over to the poor kid. Sarros was a tall, pale, wiry man. Unlike the plate armor adorn by the knights of the realm, lord Sarros wore a dark leather set of armor. An ornate rapier rested on his left hip. Placing a hand on the flustered messengers shoulder, `` Let's get you up.''
`` I'm not sure why you pity the boy Drew. It teaches him to rely on others.'' said the tan blond man siting to the right of Mistress Whetlin. Kyle Doroga, the master of shadows, wore an exquisite red robe. His long hair tied up in a pony tail.
`` That's and odd sentiment coming from a spy master.'' answered lord Sarros as he finished helping the boy to his feet. `` Now tell us son, what is the news from the west.''
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As the messenger finished speaking, the looks of angst and embarrassment were replaced with shock. The riding tribes had united under a single war-chief! Furthermore they have allied themselves with some of the steepe's river lords and defeat the area's garrison in a pitch battle.
`` My king, allow me to take an army and lead the campaign against the rebellious lords and riding tribes. I personally will see these bastards hang for their false loyalty.'' announced lord Sarros.
`` That would n't be wise lord Sarros'' replied Mistress Whetlin. `` Unless, your soldiers are willing to work for next to nothing. Currently, the crown's amount of liquid capital is low. I could sell off some assets, but that takes a bit of time. I would n't suggest raising taxes now either. With a rebellion going on, you do n't want to drive lords with wavering loyalties to join the river lords. ``
`` What about one of lord Doroga's agents?'' inquired the young king. Barely 15, the lanky dark haired boy struggled to keep his voice even. He knew that he could n't appear afraid. In a few years the young man would grow into a fine ruler thought Lord Sarros.
`` Contradictory to what the rumors say your grace, I have not positioned murderous individuals in every noble court in the kingdom. Do n't misunderstand my words, there are plenty murderers for hire, just there are very few who actually competent enough to carry out the deed subtlety, and even fewer of those men are able to be trusted. For the more one surrounds themselves with ill-will individuals, the more likely he is to find a dagger in his back instead of his enemy's.'' responded the suave master of shadows.
`` You did it again Kyle.'' retorted Mistress Whetlin.
`` Did what my dear?''
`` You lectured the boy, and evade the question about the position of your agents. Despite your nice frilly answer, you did n't divulge anything useful. We do n't care about their identities or current whereabouts, is one in position to kill the riding chief or not?''
`` No, and getting someone in position will take considerably more time then it will take you to raise the money for a war.''
`` So war is the only option then?'' Asked the young king. Silence filled the room as the small council looked down at the note that to they received.
Lord Doroga spoke up `` No, their may be another way'' Doroga hesitated has he made eye contact with with each member of the council. `` Grant the river lords their independence''
The small council erupted into an uproar of protest. Insults and accusations flew like daggers across the table at lord Doroga.
A voice boomed over the uproar. `` Ask yourselves, what is uniting the river lords and the riding tribes? These are the people who have raise each others settlements, stolen each others crops, and subjected each other to several of the darker deeds that'man' is capable of. Why would they unite?''
`` To stand as a strong front against the crown'' announced Sarros
`` For wealth'' announced mistress Whetlin
Why?'' inquired the king.
Lord Doroga dipped his head towards the king out of respect. `` US. Why would two warring enemies ban together? To face a larger threat. US. They know we could crush them alone, but together they may stand a chance. No disrespect, Warmaster. Remove this threat and the they will go back to warring with each other. So I suggest, grant them independence, raise and army to consolidate your power here. Let the River lords and riding clans destroy each other. When they weaken each other then send in our Lord of War to mop up the remains.''
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[ WP ] You are born without emotions ; to compensate this , you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions . You 've lived a life filled with sadness , fear and regret until one day , someone donates happiness .
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I volunteer at the homeless shelter, not because I think I'm a good person or anything like that, but because I felt like I needed something to do. I just wanted to help at first.
Anyways, I serve broth, bread, all the same plain boring stuff. Reminds me of myself a long time ago. That was until I saw the faces of the people I was serving. They were hopeless, sad and dreary. And when someone like me serves those kinds of people it kinda rubs off onto you. I was n't happy. I knew I had a purpose but I did n't enjoy it.
That was until I saw two strangers walk up to me holding hands. They were *smiling*. Just looking at how happy they were made me realize how happy I should be. I have a stable life, they do n't, and what do I make of it?
For now on I'm going to smile when I serve the homeless. After all, everyone can use a little happy in thier lives. I sure did: ).
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[ CW ] Write a story using the TV Tropes Story Generator . Link in the description .
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Setting: Sugar Bowl
Plot: Succession Crisis
Narrative Device: I Am One Of Those Too
Hero: Trenchcoat Brigade
Villain: Mecha Mooks
Character As Device: Living Prop
Characterization Device: Made Out To Be A Jerkass
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I hadn ’ t been back in the town of Honey Hub long when my services were called upon. I suspect they ’ d heard rumors of my time in Cocoa Cove, back when I cracked the case of the Cookie Crook. If it weren ’ t for me, those damned cookie jars would still be empty. Yes, those were my glory days. But I don ’ t miss the action. I thought that things would calm down if I moved back to my home town of Honey Hub, that I ’ d be able to live a normal life, out of the spotlight. I was wrong.
There was a plot, they said, a plot to murder the new Queen of the Hub. It was a plot that no one could get to the bottom of. As one of the only detectives in the United States of Sweetness, it was my duty to the Throne of Honey Hub to solve the mystery. The problem with the people here in the U.S.S. is simple: they don ’ t understand malice. You can ’ t solve a murder plot if you don ’ t believe men are capable of harming one another. But I ’ ve been to Bitter Bay and beyond and I ’ ve seen things most of Honey ’ s inhabitants could never imagine. There ’ s always malicious intent. And where there ’ s a motive, there ’ s an explanation. Not to talk myself up, but no mystery goes unsolved if I ’ m on the case.
Coronation day. The yellow-bricked streets of the Hub are buzzing with excitement and the beating of a thousand genetically-engineered super bees ’ wings. The bees fly overhead back and forth over the crowds and the streets, continuing their business as usual. The city, one giant hive, can not halt its honey production for even one day; if it did, there ’ d be no honey to trade with Peanut Butter Pier; the entire economy would collapse. Milling through the crowd, trying to look inconspicuous, I immediately regret my decision to wear my trusty grey trenchcoat. The rest of the city ’ s inhabitants are decked out in a vibrant yellow that matches the street bricks and the brilliant sun overhead. Already, I ’ m getting looks, so I pull my collar up higher to hide my face and do my best to weave towards the town square unnoticed, keeping my eyes peeled for trouble.
“ Say, sonny, what ’ s that you ’ re wearing? Don ’ t you know what day it is? ” says a smiling man with a mustache so bushy that it obscures most of his face and makes his voice sound distant and muffled. He takes off his yellow top hat and claps me on the shoulder. “ You must not be from around here. ”
Thinking quickly, I lie, talking into my collar and pulling my hat further down so that the brim shadows more of my face, “ No, sir, I ’ m not. Just visiting, ” I cough into my fist to buy myself a moment ’ s time, “ from Rocky Road. ”
“ What? Really? I ’ m from Rocky Road! ” he says with boisterous incredulity. My heart sinks. Just my luck: I ’ ve never once been to Rocky Road. “ Still have family up there... visit every other weekend. The name ’ s Love, by the way, you might know my family. Whereabouts in town do you live? ”
“ Erm, the North side, ” I say, distractedly, scanning the crowd for signs of trouble and doing my best to break away from the conversation. I ’ d prefer to stay anonymous in the bobbing sea of yellow. The less I interact with it, the better. The man with the mustache blinks at me for a moment, inscrutable, and then gesticulates so excitedly that he knocks my hat clear off my head.
“ You don ’ t say! Me Too! ” Our eyes meet briefly as my brown hat flies over the heads of the crowd. There ’ s something in his cold gray gaze that feels familiar. His eyes narrow in recognition, and he says in a low, much less friendly voice, “ I thought you might be here, *Warren*. The North side of town was destroyed in the Great Mudslide of ‘ 85, you sicko. Check your facts next time. ” I duck down to retrieve my hat and by the time I am back up, brushing the dirt off its brim, he is gone, and I am left with the sickening realization that my flimsy cover has been blown. The man, Mr. Love assumedly, has almost certainly recognized me for what I am: the nation ’ s most infamous sleuth. More disturbingly, he knew me by name.
As I try to decide my next course of action, the crowd in front of me erupts into screams. I follow their horrified fingers upwards to the swarm of bees, which has broken out of its orderly pattern and started buzzing angrily downwards, towards the streets full of civilians. And then something awfully unexpected happens: the bees begin to shoot laser beams out of their giant, compound eyes. Red flashes all around, the honeycomb walls of the buildings around us crumble, hexagon after structurally ideal hexagon. Heart racing, I grab the nearest local by the shoulders and shout at him, like I might be able to shake the information I need out of his terrified eyes, “ How long have the honey bees had lasers? ”
“ Never -- They ’ ve always just been bees -- I don ’ t -- ” he tries to stammer but we are interrupted as a red streak shoots out of a bees eye and straight towards my heart. Without thinking, I thrust the stranger in front of me and he absorbs the impact of the blow. “ Agh! My eye! ” he shouts. I have no time to check if he ’ s okay; I have to get to the Queen before the bees do. I throw him aside, and sprint as fast as I can towards the center of the town square, shoving screaming yellow blobs out of my way. I pull my bubble ray out of my pocket and aim it at the nearest bee that is closing in on a group of a civilians. As the pink bubble collides with the bee something strange happens: it lets off an electrical sizzling spark and explodes so that it ’ s wings and limbs rain down on the crowd in a ball of fire and mechanical parts. My god. These aren ’ t bees at all.
And then something clicks: I ’ ve seen this before. The bees... they remind me of an army of electronic mice I once dealt with, programmed for the singular purpose of obtaining milk and cookies. And those gray eyes... I knew I recognized them … the Cookie Crook is at it again! But what's he after this time?
As I reach the stage where the Queen is standing unprotected, frozen with shock, I see him, the Cookie Crook, behind his bushy mustache, clambering up onto the stage. In his hands, a heavy gun of some sort. He lifts it to fire.
“ Noooooooooooo! ” I shout, lifting my own bubble gun. Two shots ring out simultaneously. My bubble collides with his chest as an enormous pulse of energy fires out of his gun towards the sky. Immediately, the mechanical bees fall to the ground, lifeless. The Cookie Crook falls over, grasping at his chest as he takes his last breaths. I climb up onto the stage and stand over him, spit into his face as the crowd falls silent in shock.
“ Why ’ d you do it, *Mr. Love*, ” I hiss at him, resting a heavy boot on his chest so that he can ’ t get up, even though I know he ’ s dying. “ Why ’ d you try to kill the Queen? It ’ s not like you were in line for the crown. ” It's always about money, power, glory, or cookies. My mind races, trying to decide which this was.
“ Didn ’ t want … to kill … ” he says through laborious breaths, mustache bristling, “ Only … wanted … to be … hero … for once. Redeem... myself... ”
“ By engineering a murderous hive of mecha bees to attack on coronation day? ” I ask incredulously, confused, for once, by the perp ’ s motive.
“ The crowd... they saw me stop them … didn ’ t they? ” he says and his chest collapses with one last exhale, his head lolls to the side. My own head buzzes with the absence of bees and the silence of the crowd. And then the Queen screams, pointing at me, and I realize that all eyes are on me.
“ You murdered him! You murdered my savior! ” Slowly, I turn towards her and lift my hands in surrender, and it dawns on me: it ’ s all over. I ’ ve been out-crooked. I tried to be the hero and I came out the villain. Still, the Cookie Crook and I both got what we wanted that day: He was forever remembered as the hero who saved the Queen of Honey Hub and I got to live the rest of my life in calm anonymity, away from the action at last. Jail ’ s not so bad when the bars are sugar-frosted.
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[ WP ] An other worldly threat approaches , the UN knows that total obliteration is upon us . Our greatest minds create a way to save us . 100 years later , the alien force arrives unprepaired for what we have done .
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When the day came to tender our surrender, they chose the American president to do it. Equal parts respect and humiliation for the nation with the greatest military might. It also helped that no other world leader was particularly enthusiastic to place themselves in front of the Emperor of the Galaxy ( a somewhat grandiose term, as his realm barely reached past our arm ).
At the appointed hour, the rulers of all the worlds under the Galactic Protectorate ( an equally grandiose term, for the same reasons cited above ), and all the rulers of the nations of Earth gathered in the stadium that hand been built for the occasion.
In orbit, and beyond, a thousand ships sat watching.
Our greatest fear was some lone actor or nation would view this as an opportunity for violence, and doom the planet. Some believed we were doomed anyway, and there was no shortage of talk regarding how we might strike one final blow for humanity on our way out.
The President walked forward to stand before the Galactic* Emperor. The Emperor was half his height, and it seemed the president might reach out and throw him off the stage, were he so inclined. Instead, he unzipped his pants.
As the entirety of the planet watched, he urinated on the Galactic* Emperor. Then, he reached down, and removed his crown, and placed it upon his own head.
You see, we had learned in 100 years since first contact that we had no way to beat the Galactic Protectorate militarily, and set ourselves to learning their laws, customs, history, and traditions. We had very little in common, except that it seems universal amongst all life, that you can pee on someone to establish dominance.
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[ WP ] In the 1700s , an eternally young avatar of the Greek god of the wilds kidnaps dozens of children from their beds , taking them to his distant island to become a vessel for fey magicks like himself . There is only one man brave enough to take the children back : Captain Hook , the pirate .
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Captain Hooke neared the islands interior through an inlet on a smaller vessel. Smee warned him about venturing into the island... especially alone... but he knew numbers would attract the thing. Hooke had experience in these more stealthy operations and new how to get around quietly.
Both hands gripped the oars that propelled him along the narrow stream and all was quiet except the water rippling off the boat. He grew closer to the cave and heard the murmers of the madman within.
He ran ground and crept toward the mouth of the cave that seemed to be alive with the dancing flames that flickered within. First the smell hit him and then the grim reality showed its true face. Boys clothes... long abandoned and covered in dirt and blood.
He proceeded to the rear of the cavern and saw the madman standing there. He looked no older than a young man, perhaps making ready for a first voyage. But from his mouth poured a foul and ancient voice
`` Where... or where... will I find the next lot??''
Hooke made himself known
`` MADMAN!! I HAVE COME TO PUT AN END TO THE MISERY YOU SET UPON THIS WORLD!''
he drew his cutlass and ran at him screaming. The Madman caught the blade with his knife. Hooke was an experienced swordsman and was no fool with it. But the Madman made quick work of dissarming him.
Hookes blade was flung across the floor of the cave and fell into a stream that ran out of the other side.
The Madman, with a force unheard of in Hookes mind, fell unto him a blow that sent him too his knees. And with a kick sent Hooke flying and resting next to the stream. The Madman approached and spoke
`` Who so foolish is this to challenge me in my own edifice?!''
`` I am Hooke! And you stole my son! And I have come to bring about your demise!!!''
The Madman kicked Hooke and whistled.
The whistle summoned the Madmans monsterous pet... a creature that Hooke could only reason in his mind as a Crocodile or Alligator.
The Madman spoke laughingly `` ohhh did I now? Well... I am terribly sorry... Hooke was it? But I am afraid I need these young souls... now... as for your punishment for your intrusion... ah yes... a reminder for you... to pass on to others...''
The Madman gripped Hookes hand and held it in the water and whistled again... the creature in the water slithered toward him and snapped his hand clean off at the wrist. Hooke howled and screamed as blood gushed from the wound. The Madman let go and began laughing and turned his back on him. In that instant Hooke spied his sword in the water and grasped it and with a mighty thrust forced it into The Madmans back and through his stomach. The Madman buckled and gasped, coughing up blood. `` Fool!! I can not die!! Besides killing me will never bring your son back to you! Hes is gone now... to a place you will never be able to follow!'' Despite this The Madman fell over and lay unconscious... but alive.
Hooke gathered himself up and left the cave. He stumbled to the shore and set a small flame to summon Smee and the others... before he fell prey to the blood loss he managed one word... a name... he would never forget as long as he lived... `` Peter''....
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[ WP ] As magic returns to the world , purchasable drinks actually start having magical effects . Energy colas actually imbue you with energy . Diet drinks actually cause noticeable weight loss . Vitamin drinks heal injuries and disease , and so on .
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The possibilities were so endless as to be paralyzing. I stood in front of the case, looking at all the drinks before me. There was Monster, of course, and already furballs were rolling across the streets like tumbleweeds with all the newly-monsterfied people shedding up a storm. Dr. Pepper literally gave you four years of medical school knowledge without the hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt. Mountain Dew... well, it gave you Lyme disease. They could n't all be winners. So you can see the staggering potential of it all, given just those five examples out of the ten thousand drink varieties for purchase at an average corner store.
But there was so much more available at the antique stores. Crystal Pepsi! It turned you invisible, though every can or bottle still available now tasted like six-week-old gym sock squeezings, apparently. Just an hour ago I'd seen someone spring for an ancient Jolt cola and immediately turn into a lightning-bolt like man.
That was what I wanted, but there was no way I'd be able to get the five thousand bucks the cans were now going for. And then I got the best idea ever.
I now stood at the corner store, barely able to contain myself. In fact, I was trying my best not to giggle, because as soon as people caught on, the price on this stuff would soar.
`` Um,'' I said, `` I'll take five.''
The cashier's eyes narrowed. `` I'm not certain that's a wise decision.''
`` What's that gon na cost? Like, ten bucks?''
`` Twenty-five, actually. Sir, I'm telling you...''
`` Yeah, yeah, keep the change, pal.''
I began slugging them back as fast as I could right there in the store, watching as the cashier simply sighed in what I can only assume was disgust at himself for not thinking of my plan on his own.
One down, not so bad, and man was I feeling good.
Two, ah, here we go. It was hard to keep my toes from tapping.
Three down the hatch. Holy shit, I think I can smell colors.
Four. Whoa. Everything's getting slower.
`` Sir, you *do* know how many hours there are in a day, right?''
`` Shut up!'' I said, my voice vibrating with the harmony of heaven.
I swallowed the last. My vision tunneled like I was jumping into hyperspace on the Millennium Falcon.
And then the universe exploded.
That's how I learned that it is impossible to have twenty-five hours of energy in a human body in a twenty-four hour day. I, of course, still exist as a god-like entity floating in a formless void. It's kinda neat, but a little lonely.
Thanks a lot, Five Hour Energy people. You made a terrible product that is indivisible by the hours of the day, evidently. Why not Four Hour Energy? Why not six!? I could drink like, seven of those, right?
Whoa. The void is n't so formless after all. It looks like one other thing survived. It's... it's a Sunkist.
I guess it's worth a...
*The age of the observable universe is 13.8 billion years. At its exact center lies a single empty can of Diet Sunkist. *
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[ WP ] A man recovering from vision correction surgery is troubled to find that he no longer needs to blink . And he starts to see things that no one else can .
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He did not die that night but he should have. He looked up at the sky and cursed beneath the blazing firmament of a thousand million suns, deep in the heart of winter. As he drifted away a slight ironic smile like that of a fingernail inflicted itself on his features. This concluded a series of misadventures not worth recalling, then or now, that lead directly to the removal of his frostbitten eyelids.
He was farsighted, absent-minded, extroverted and by his own account did not belong temperamentally, not even temporarily, to the human category called the observer. Yet as always happens certain things, such as those he experienced, present themselves to the unsuspecting and unprepared. They lead onto paths set out for by few. These paths, once crossed, are impossible to cross again. The alternatives are ruined, forever, but perhaps in this precise negative space between what can happen and what does happen is a possibility of growth.
In time a stone wall, the shavings of Earth expelled by a colony of ants, a scattering of gingko leaves presented themselves to him as if asking for minute and sustained attention. He developed lists of items: a wooden sandal, a tin ring from the ear of a shepherd, a trouser leg and other accoutrements of a laboring but disposed body. As is their natural inclination lists beget more lists: he listed all the types of blue he saw, felt and believed. From those lists he incorporated lists of those waters he had seen and also the color of the sand that the water cleansed.
He existed between the kind of intelligence that constructed the medieval bestiaries and the preliterate intuitiveness that once chanted hunters' prayers. He lists were omnivorous but not profound. They incorporated knowledge that had percolated through the layers of his life though without any acknowledgement. Many of his observations seemed almost to observe him first—catching him unaware of what he had been ostensibly observing. In time his gaze seemed to run over all details and sacrificed all distinguishing facts. Dull white time passed over a dull white map that was formless and void.
At this point he faces his critical moment. But instead of me burdening you, dear reader, I think we shall only conclude with a simple but effective passage from his diary that he kept separate but intimately linked to his lists. He writes, “ My not looking presupposes that I am thinking of the nakedness of nature, worrying about it; and this is basically an indiscreet and reactionary attitude. This attitude is reactionary precisely because the nakedness of nature is my nakedness. I am not apart from nature. I am the eyes, detached from the crab, plucked and turned back at the shell. Though the hole where I exist may frighten me, may disgust me, it is from there I came and in time I believe it is there that I shall come again. ”
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[ WP ] Your past is filled with demons , but you finally see a chance at a new life , a normal life . But there 's one last thing that 's standing in your way .
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......... aaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhh!!!
The familiar heavy breathing came again this time as I pulled myself into action. It escaped from within me, only, this time it was bigger and darker. The effort it took this time to unfreeze myself has almost reached my limits... and the exhaustion had gotten too much now. How long will this go on I wondered...
It had been almost a year now... a year filled with remarkable growth. Hah! the crazy therapists... would have taken me a lifetime to get this smart & strong. But the occult book has been my saviour. Ever since I learnt to use its techniques on myself, ive gotten smarter and stronger faster and faster. I no longer need to sleep so much, have the strength of a bear, speed of a cheetah and can think of a hundred ways to confuse where once I was a shy loser. I just need to overcome this last hurdle of locking up.
That crazy shaman has been right so far... ( and the same old fear creeps up the spine )... no... I will get back to my family as soon as I am done. There are only so many demons one could have absorbed into oneself. One every day has surprised me... but I remember being in a coma like trance for only a week after my deal...
Never mind... enough of living like a hermit here in the jungle.
And so, its time again for the same routine... wash up in the river, hunt some deer... no rabbit today... cook, eat, catch up on some news hoping the world finds some cure for this strange epidemic of sloth, sleep, get up, exorcise....
But as this night closed in, and the warning of the shaman against godly delusions echoed in my whole being, I felt as if I was becoming night itself.
Frantically, I search my memories, trying to overcome my self-induced forgetfulness.
But the freezing this time was absolute...
I must remember the details of the deal...
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[ WP ] You go out to eat with your strange , new business acquaintance . After the food you each grab a fortune cookie . He opens his up , studies the fortune , looks around with a look of panic and sprints out of the restaurant .
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The room falls silent. Every occupant of the restaurant is looking at me, waiting for my next words.
Instead of speaking, I reach across the table and pick up his discarded fortune cookie and the message inside. After popping the cookie into my mouth, I look down at the fortune itself.
It's exactly the same as mine. I already knew it would be.
`` He knows,'' I say wearily. `` Indoctrinate him.''
The waitress nods silently, pulls out her phone, and sends a quick text. Immediately, police sirens start wailing outside.
I stand, shifting back into my true form. My voice reverberates as I mutter, `` Humans. They never know when to mind their own business.''
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
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I've always wanted to write an alt-history WW1 story, so here goes.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
The War Without End
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, since I wo n't get much of a chance to flesh out the universe from the perspective of the boots on the ground I'll do it here. WW1 did n't end in 1918, it instead dragged on and on, by the time the story takes place it's 1965.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Russ Russ pulled back the bolt on his door gunner's Vickers, slamming a new round into the chamber. The other door gunner stepped away from his position to shovel more coal into the engine of the Doran Attack Craft 56. The sound of the blade spinning over their heads was almost tolerable if they closed the side doors, but they needed to deploy soldiers fairly fast and be able to rain.303 on any Germans below. The pilot shouted through the small door frame to the cockpit
`` Oi! Load them Vickers, we have Jerries in the field. We're to clear a path for the Canadian shock troops so they can punch through to the Russian border!''
The Canadians, Russ had seen them fight in the trenches. They were brutal, but efficient. Russ opened fire on the field below, firing on anyone in a grey uniform. There were n't very many of them, which was surprising considering those Jerries were guarding the Russian border. Most of Russ' shots missed their targets, but the threat of a.303 British cartridge tearing one open from above was enough to make the Germans that did n't run hit the dirt. The DAC56 swerved back toward the enemy forces for another attack run, he could see the Canadians below. They were tearing the Prussian infantry to pieces. A round that must have been fired from an anti tank rifle slammed into the other gunners chest, he fell to the floor, a fist sized hole bored through his chest and back. In the battleground below Russ saw movement in the treeline and thicker vegetation in the fields. Hundreds of men swarmed from the treeline, hitting the Canadians in their flanks. They had led their shocktroopers into a trap to keep aid from reaching the Tsar's men in the East. The Canadians were caught between three forces of Germans hitting them from the front and sides and were slaughtered to the last man by surprise, blunt force, and firepower in general. The DAC56 squadron pulled out, heading back toward British lines bearing news of the terrible defeat. The DAC touched down at the Innsmouth outpost in the heart of France, it was one of the few parts of mainland Europe they controlled with Spain declaring for the Central Powers and Belgium being a smoldering wasteland from Austro-Hungarian scorched earth campaigns in the 50s. The ANZACs had lost the Sinai campaign and were pulled into Europe to aid in the failing British and French offensives. This unwittingly gave the Ottoman Turks a chance to strike the Russians from the South with the Germans and Austro-Hungarians pummeling Western Russia. Russ stepped out of the DAC56 and onto the ground, he grabbed the nearest runner and shouted in his face over the still very alive engines
“ Listen! Tell the Brass the Russian offensive *failed*! ” The runner, a young man that had barely seen twenty years nodded after jotting what he said on a notepad. *Brass ’ ll have someone ’ s head over* this Russ thought, pulling his goggles up on to his hat. But it was not his problem, the COs that led the Canadians in there with poor intelligence would be hanged or shot. The war had been going for almost fifty years, but the Central Powers were gaining ground too fast for the Entente to keep up with them. Failed offensives were becoming regular, the Entente were crippled when the Germans invaded Switzerland and seized all of the money stored by governments to distribute among their allies. He sat down on a bench and wiped the sweat of his brow. If the war continued like this, the sun would finally set on the British empire.
______________________________________________________________
How did I do? Should I continue Russ' story or shoot it behind the barn?
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[ WP ] You just finished a 500 page autobiography , write me page 489 .
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``... at the retirement home. It's such a nice and lovely place actually, people the same age as me bonding together and sharing stories about things like World War 2 and what not.
Though sometimes, when all of them are asleep, I walk toward the balcony in the top floor and just enjoy the breeze. I sometimes see an airplane, or a crane, or, if I'm lucky, one of them new superheroes. And I sometimes wish that I could jump from that balcony, and fly like in the olden days, and save all those damsels in distresses.
But I know I'm too old for that anyway. One must always accept that people *do* get old! Even if they are superhuman. We just need to look back and thank our past self for all the decisions that he made, or forgive him for any mistakes, and then move on. Time is an unstoppable thief, and you're only giving him more things to steal by wallowing in regret.
The canteen lady here is very nice. Diana, I think her name is. She's a lovely young lass and reminds me of...''
-an excerpt form the book `` Flying High: The Larger Than Life Story of Eagleboy,'' written by the late Ebert Foster, p.489
-002
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[ WP ] On a dare you accidentally summon the real Bloody Mary . But she does n't kill you right away .
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`` It wo n't work! ``, she stood there as if I was crazy. We have all seen the horror movies in which it works. `` It does work, Nina, just trust me''. The look in her eyes said enough, she thought I was crazy.
`` Let's practice it one time, alright? ``, it was n't easy to convince her. She was always like this, insulted when I say something strange or do my regular weird stuff. `` Turn off the lights, Nina''. She had this habit to make people feel bad, especially when you insult her.
We were now in the dark bathroom. `` When I say'Light', make sure you turn the switch.'' She mumbled yes.
I started. `` Rosie O'Donnell, Rosie O'Donnell, Rosie O'Donnell -- Light!''. Nina turned on the lights. I looked at Nina through the mirror. `` It worked'', I yelled. She looked at me strangely. I still looked at Nina. `` Glad to see you here, Rosie''. It took a while for Nina to catch on, before I received a hard smack on my left arm. `` Dick! ``, Nina said, as she left the bathroom.
`` Haha, dumbass'', I yelled as she stormed towards the living room. Now it's just me. I knew this was going to work. I just did n't need Nina's sassy attitude to be there.
I turned off the lights and got ready. I turned towards the mirror and said it three times: `` Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary -- o shit''. I forgot to get close to the light switch.
I walked over to the lights as I heard glass break in the bathroom. I freaked out. I quickly flicked the switch and looked around. There was broken glass on the floor and, by the looks of it, there was blood around the glass. I immediately checked my body. I was n't bleeding, good.
I looked at the mirror. Nothing strange had happened. Then I saw it in the corner of my eye, on the edge of the sink. A Bloody Mary. A perfectly made Bloody Mary. I laughed and reached for the glass. It looked great. I took a sip. I felt the burn. I felt the awful burn.
It felt like my throat was burning away, like I just drank an entire glass of acid. My stomach felt awful. Everything in my intestines started to hurt. I tried to scream, but there was no sound coming out of my mouth. I hit the floor with my fists to get Nina's attention. She needed to get here as soon as possible.
This was going to be it. This was the end of my life. My sight was getting worse by the second. Everything that was far away seemed close, yet the close things seemed really far way. It started to get harder to breath. It felt like my lungs were filling with blood. This was going to be the end.
I heard steps outside the bathroom. It had to be Nina. I kept hitting the floor with my fist. She knocked on the door. I kept hitting the floor. Nina opened the door and looked at me. She did n't move or do anything, she just looked at me. Her eyebrows went up, and a smile appeared on her face. `` Who's the dumbass now, dick? ``, she said as she turned around and went back downstairs.
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[ WP ] The world wakes up one morning to find that any photo of a cat , digital or print has been altered . In place of the feline is something else and its quite troubling . Photos are even altered in realtime . Cat pictures no longer exist .
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`` Nice dog. Or is it a cat?''
`` It's a cat. And thank you.''
Ever since The Great Shop of'14, every cat in the world can not be distinguished in printed forms. Photos, printed mugs and shirt and even drawings. All of this is replaced with a picture of a dog.
At first everyone was sad. There were no more cat photos, cat gifs, or even cat videos. Everyone was feeling the pain of not seeing any feline images. But then, they said it's alright. At least it was n't something as stupid as `` dickbutt''.
Someone spoke too soon. Curse him and his salty stinky mouth.
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[ IP ] The man and the lighthouse
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The old man looked up at the sky, and traced the budding stars with his index finger. It would still be another thirty-minutes before the rest of the stars caught up with the scouts, but the Old Man had enough.
If there were anyone alive who could see the Old Man, they would think he was caught in a deep meditative state amidst the wrath of the ocean. The ocean and salt pummeled the lighthouse; wrapping itself around the spire, and licking the Old Man's face. He paid no mind to her. She was always there, and he was always there. He mouthed something indistinct underneath the cry of the ocean while he counted something on his fingers.
`` Three months until Winter,'' he said to her.
She whispered back with a weak slap against the North-side of the lighthouse. The Old Man did n't care much for the big waves, but still took enjoyment from the sound of the water trickling down the lighthouse; colouring in the space between each stone. It was relaxing. Not as relaxing as walking in his circle around the tower. He kicked at the groove in the stone a bit with his foot. There seemed to be a hint of anxiousness in his movements.
`` Three more months,'' he repeated. Three more months and the Winter would transmute the colour of the sky from azure and purple to dull shades of white and yellow. Though, that's when his sister would come. She never grew up. After millions of years, she never grew up. The Old Man shook his head, and opened his book. Three more months until his sister came for him.
`` I do n't have to follow the rules in your book Destiny,'' a voice said. The Old Man knew it was his sister. Without flinching, he turned around to face her. She was still wearing the same black denim jeans, the same punk rock t-shirt, and a bunch of silly metal spikes and cartoonish eye makeup.
`` When are you going to grow up Death?''
`` Our brother is dead, Destiny. Did n't you see that in your book?''
`` Dream is dead?''
`` Yes,'' Death said deadpan. `` The funeral is tonight.''
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[ WP ] Humans have gone extinct . 300,000 years later a new intelligent species has emerged . No proof of human existence has ever been found . An excavation crew has just dug up a radioactive waste containment site , with writing and warning markers still intact , but undecipherable .
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Torin looked at the site with awe. It seemed that every shovel revealed more mysteries. The black stone spiked monoliths must have been impressive when they were standing. They were pitted by time but must have been smooth once. The only markings were the symbols celebrating the dead; a skull with two bones crossed. The symbol reminded of of the last festival of the dead. His family laughing, too much food and drink. He smiled at the fond memory and then focused on the task at hand.
A year earlier, an earthquake had revealed the tomb. The excavation had revealed a great metal door, torn off by the quake. Torin walked in, the light from his torch bouncing off smooth walls, occasionally revealing more skull symbols and the ancient writings. `` What secrets are on these walls?'' He thought.
He continued walking down the great hall, past the boxes and barrels. Some of them had been opened with disappointment. All they contained were dull metals. The three identical symbols in a circle signs on them gave no hint of their worth. He walked onwards to the real prize.
The entrance to The Vault. The workers had been burning through the door for months now, revealing a single small room. There was a pillar, about waist high with a small bottle. Inside was a liquid-that-was-not. It glowed a faint blue and if he stared closely at it, Torin could see it moving in hypnotic patterns. Another deaths head and more words. What he would give to have a translation.
He picked up the bottle with reverence. With such a profound, godly symbol on it, this must contain something that will change this world. A cure for disease, immortal life, or eternal youth? He held it protectively in his hands as he walked out. `` The Elder Council will be most proud of me'', he thought to himself as he travelled back to the city, clutching the precious artifact. Dreaming of riches and status.
He was completely oblivious to the fact that the ancient words on the bottle said `` Weaponised nanites CV391. Use P1 containment protocols at all times.''
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[ WP ] On everyone 's 18th birthday at noon , one word appears in their skin , depicting their career or purpose in life . On your birthday you 're staring at a clock showing 11:59am , family and friends gathered around for your reveal .
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we gather
out back
in the yard
under the shade of the tree
friends and family
waiting and watching
not saying a word
not even a whisper
watching me
watching you
wondering what
us twins will become
the clock ticks
one minute to twelve
as we wait to read
each other's arm
the first voice i hear
is mother
as she whispers a prayer
the clock ticks
twelve
we wait
but nothing appears
mother's whisper grows
gets faster
more frantic
and i wonder what she fears
the clock ticks
one past twelve
we wait
but nothing appears
mother is muttering
praying for what
i do not know
the clock ticks
two past twelve
i feel a burn
but see nothing on your arm
a voice behind me
whispers `` able''
which makes no sense
to me
until your letters
finally appear
and i see that
they spell cain
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[ WP ] You 're in charge of keeping all those immortal beings in /r/WritingPrompt stories alive
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You know it gets really bloody tiring keeping these bumbling brainless half-wits alive. You would n't believe the danger an individual will put themselves in when no consequence is involved. Selfish pricks, all of them. Not a single one of these entitled assholes ever stopped to think where their power came from! Ohhhh no that would be too god damn hard to think of anyone but themselves. It's all fine and dandy I suppose for the new comers... well I guess more expected. But it's these damn eternals that rub me all the wrong ways. Alive for eons and they still do n't know how to grow the fuck up! Never even so much as lifting a finger in appreciation let alone seeking out where their power originated from. A thankless job mine is, no appreciation. I mean they could at least try, I've given them all the time in the universe do something productive with it for Christ's sake! Then again I'm sure the bastard who watches over me thinks the same of my antics... or is there even anyone above me? Hm. What a bother.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Hope you liked it: D
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[ WP ] In the future , there was a massive war between an alien species and humans . Years later , a humans and alien veteran run into each other at a veteran 's day celebration .
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The rain pattered on the mud below my feet. The procession had been going on for hours. The trumpets, and my favourite, the bagpipes, we all blaring the song'Amazing Grace,' to honour those who had fallen'protecting' the Earth. They did n't deserve it. Not the Humans. Only those who were truly defending their homeland, the Krin, deserve such an honour, such a grand ceremony. Someone jostled beside me. I looked over. `` So... It really is you.'' I said.
`` Yup. It's me. Sorry for... well, trying to kill you, and all that.'' Said Al. I grunted.
`` Same to you. You know, I've been thinking. Really, what were we fighting for? We were sent to this shithole of a planet, and to what? Take over? And just because your kind were *different. * Not because your kind were unethical, or just blatantly cruel. Just because you were different. It's amazing, really, to see how petty and cruel Humans are, and just how stupid we are to think that we're better than everything else. It makes me angry.'' I said.
`` Wow... That's deep. Honestly, when your people attacked us, we were confused. We wanted to have peaceful relations... But no. You all tried to take over our planet, and we had no choice but to defend ourselves. I'm truly glad we found a way to cooperate, even if it meant destroying your home.''
Those were the days. Back when I was young, thinking I fought for some gracious cause, to save Humanity from this'threat.' Little did I know. To this day, I have no regrets about destroying the Earth. It was the only way. A few nukes here and there, it was all so easy.
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[ WP ] `` Being a Superhero is n't a job for me . It 's penance . ''
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`` Thank you for taking care of those hoodlums for me, sir.''
The old man shook as he attempted to stand on one leg, but still managed to smile. It felt good.
`` Think nothing of it. Hopefully the remaining wo n't be back.''
The old man laughed. ``'Hopefully'? If they have any sense, they wo n't show their faces again here. Probably peed their pants from seeing all that fancy swordwork...''
I smiled. `` Its growing dark. You should close the business and get to your home. I need to go too.''
The man shook his head. `` You're not going anywhere, young sir. As repayment, I shall feed you the best dinner you have ever eaten. Please sir, give this old man a chance to show his skills too.''
I would've refused, but the fact was I did n't have a place to eat at. This town was entirely new to me, and getting around was a nightmare.
`` All right, I will stay. ONLY for dinner'', I emphasized.
5 minutes later, we were walking down the road, to the old man's home.
`` So, sir, about that fancy sword of yours - where did you get it? And how did you learn to wield it?''
`` Made it myself'', I said with pride, `` Steel with obsidian edges - so sharp you could shave with it.''
`` I do n't doubt it. I saw you make short work of those thugs - I've heard the stories, but seeing it was like magic. I doubt anyone in even the Capital could replicate it. By the way, where do you hail from, sir?''
I fell silent.
`` Sir...?'' The old man peered at me.
`` I'm from... Omelas. You might have heard of it.''
`` Yes, yes - is n't that the perfect town they talk about? Wish I could have lived there... but why become a hero, sir? What was your motivation?''
My motivation? Something inside me laughed bitterly - motivation? Is there a worse word for my reason? Did you become a hero, the knight in the shining armor due to some desire to do good? No, you did n't. This is your burden - the burden of the sins of an entire city. This is your penance.
`` Well, I just happened to walk away...''
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[ WP ] A battle mage is stranded on a desert island
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The crystal told me the story, showed me their final moments. They would go to fight, and they would lose, as I told them they would. One does not become ruler of the world without being incredibly powerful, but they insisted, they said with the disappearance of his right hand man they could fight him, they left, I gave them my raft and wished them the best. I had told myself I would n't follow them, that I would let them die at his hands.
I had lied, I usually did.
I looked away from the crystal and left my home. It had taken years to construct with no reasonable magic to aid me, I tried to keep it camouflaged, and at the end of those three months I managed it. A fine home, decorated with pearls from the mollusks around the island's shallows and crystals from the caves. It was nice, to have built something for once. To create instead of destroy.
Of course without my raft I was without my transport. I glanced around looking for an answer, I knew what had to be done, but I did not like it. Of course, I worked past it, and I turned on my heel.
I obliterated my house in an instant, my work shattering to pieces, pearls splintered and crystal shattered around me, the door was reduced to little more than fiber. And as the chaos settled, one wall was intact, one I had made to remain intact.
I lifted it from the sand, muscles honed from a year of hard living making it easy work. I took a wide stance and step by step made it to the sea, where I threw the wall into the surf. It bobbed briefly before settling on the surface.
I stepped onto it, carefully, and I balanced carefully in the middle. I reached behind myself with both hands, fire licking my fingers. And I bid farewell to my island. Fire erupted from my shoulders, my hands no more than a memory. My feet remained steady on the raft, the force of my spell propelling me madly toward the mainland.
It was time his right hand man returned.
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[ WP ] You dig up a time capsule you buried years ago . Instead of memorabilia , you find a modern phone . It rings .
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``... hello?''
`` I know who you are, Sam. If you want your belongings back-''
`` Wait, Jerry? What the hell man?''
Jerry laughs uncontrollably for a time, and when he finally regains his breath, says, `` I dug that time capsule of yours up two days ago and put a phone in there to fuck with you. Yeah, I have all your old shit. Come over to my place and come get it. I got some chili going and the Timberwolves are playing.''
Sam, smiling a bit, says `` I'll be over in a bit, let me wash up from digging this stupid hole. Asshole.''
`` You got ta admit it was pretty great. Also I'm gon na need that phone back.''
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[ WP ] You win the Galactic Lottery , established by the United Galactic Empires , and are now one of the wealthiest individuals in the universe .
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A first, it was literally unbelievable. Like, *literally unbelievable*. As a sane person, I was skeptical at first, thinking I was being had. That someone was pulling my leg, or maybe I was being chosen for some reality show.
And yet, over time, it sank in, settled, cemented. Whether it was the flashing hologram that appeared over the slim metal chip that looked like it held my winnings, or the palm-sized and technologically advanced communicator that I now held in my hand, I was n't sure. I thumbed my finger over a small button on the ticket, and my winnings appeared before me, the words first appearing in some alien script, and then rapidly switching over to English.
It flashed blue, bright and clear, hovering silently above the flat metal ticket: `` One Galactic Unit.''
*A Galactic Unit*, I thought to myself. *Seems like something out of Star Trek or Star Wars. * Still, beggars could n't be choosers, after all, even if I had never really been in to that whole nerd culture. I looked to the communicator in my hand, and muttered, `` I ca n't believe this. What the hell am I gon na buy with whatever the fuck a Galactic Unit is?'' I was rather hungry, since I skipped lunch, so maybe I could test it out by using this thing to order a burger from Dave's down the street. After all, the thing looked close enough to something that you'd order with. Nine-box numberpad on the front, mouthpiece on the bottom, speaker near the ear. Honestly, looked like some futuristic, sci-fi cellphone.
A small voice, robotic and vocalized, sprang from the device. `` Query?''
*It must have responded to my question. Interesting. Maybe this was how I'd spend my winnings. Or maybe it was like a frequently-asked-questions thing, for winners that did n't know the game. *
`` Uh...'' I mused, mulling over my options. Finally, I decided on what I would ask the small little box. `` How much is a Galactic Unit?'' That seemed like a good place to start. It's not like I could buy anything without figuring out how much I had won. Hastily, I added, `` In Earth dollars, please.'' No sense in trying to figure out alien money.
`` Query,'' the box said. It repeated the question in its strange little voice. `` How much is a Galactic Unit? *... bzzt... * In Earth dollars, please.'' The box let out a trill and blip before blinking, its voice loud, clear, and persistent, `` A Galactic Unit is worth approximately... one... zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero...''
Christ, was it going to read out every fucking digit in the whole number? Whatever. I waited easily thirty seconds, tapping my foot impatiently as the robot continued to count. And it continued to count, and count, and count, and soon the sky was dropping low in the sky, and the robot, loud and clear as ever, continued to rattle of its monotonous, `` zero, zero, zero''.
How much had I actually won? Hell, it did n't matter. I looked at the device and pressed the button again. `` Cancel last, uh, query,'' I said, attempting to sound as authoritative as possible. `` Render query, um... void?'' It did nothing, and the small droid trudged on with its task.
I sat up for the rest of the night, listening to the damn thing count off its zeroes. I must easily have won trillions. No, that was already counted off in the first ten seconds. Hundreds, and thousands, and millions and billions of trillions, it seemed, judging by the zeroes that continued to rattle off.
It was the same the rest of the morning following. I called into work and said I was n't dealing with Chinese food so well. I spent the better half of my day sitting in front of the zero-counting machine, before I got up and stretched, made a sandwich and watched some TV, the zeroes ticking off in the other room with robotic ease.
Evening came around again, and still the thing counted. I tilted my head, and then shook it. I'd learned about imaginary numbers in school, or huge numbers like a googol or a googolplex. Could I have really won that much money? My thoughts drifted again to pranksters or a ruse, and in annoyance, I buried the damn thing in the back of my closet, wrapping it up in a thick hand towel, and tossing the whole thing into a shoebox.
I used to check on it, when I was much younger. For a while, I'd check on it every day. But as the same process continued on, I lost faith. I started checking it every week, then month, then once a year on my birthday. I tried all sorts of commands, all sorts of button presses and combinations ( despite the fact there was only one ). I tried banging the thing, breaking it, hell, I even brought it to my local university, and they simply laughed at the toy I had brought them.
That must have been at least sixty years ago, by my count. And yet, here I lay, probably the richest man in the universe, with nothing to show for it. All because I asked a stupid, goddamn, good-for-nothing robot how much a fucking *Galactic Unit* was! And what really kills me, aside from the damn cancer in my gut, and these good for nothing tubes up my nose, is that one day, that damn thing is gon na stop counting, and some little turd looking for Christmas presents is gon na find it, and treat like some damn genie lamp, and us humans are gon na get wiped off the fucking galactic map, or we'll buy an infinite, heat-death defying supply of moon rocks or some shit and have nowhere to put them, and we'll be crushed by an continuous supply of space junk!
Goddamnit! And here I just wanted to order a fucking burger! Fuck it all!
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Write a monologue as if you 're a famous villain who has just capture his arch rival . Make it about whatever you want . ( WP )
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`` Well Bats! I finally have you all where I want you! But, oh, how many times have we been in this position before? How many times have you dangled helplessly from a rope above a pit, or been tied to a chair as I've held a gun to your head? No no! Do n't answer, it was rhetorical you dimwit. As I was saying, how many times have we been like this, only for you to be saved by the boy blunder or by some new gadget you have on your belt. But, not *this* time Bats my boy, not this time. The boy blunder is thankfully dead, Harley saw to that! And between you and me, it got her out of my hair for several hours, and anything that can do that is fine by me!
And now here you are, your Gadgets of one, your side kick dead, and I have you all to myself. But I wonder Bats, what's to become of you? If you're dead, who will I play with? Who will be the yin to my yang, the spade to my club, the....well damn I ca n't think of another one, but you get the picture old boy.
You see, how can I kill you? What fun is there in your death! I would have no one to equal me. Cobblepot is fat and has a bad eye, hardly worthy of fighting Bat girl, let alone me. Bane? One tug on his juice and he's a hollow shell of a man.
No bats, no, you... you complete me! Without you, what is to become of me? I'd go mad! Well... mad-er.
But then here we are, locked in conundrum. You wo n't kill me, you'll simply throw me in Arkham, but I'll escape as always, just like Every. Single. Other. Time.
And if I kill you, I might as well die. So we are at an impass bats. So, I propose we sit here, as my henchmen tear down this town!
Gum? No? You sure? Alright, suit yourself, and do n't say I never did anything nice for you
So we will sit here until this lovely city is reduced to ash! Then you'll have no shadows to hide in, no secret lair to prowl from. What then Bats? What then?
Hahahahahahaahahahaahahahahahah
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[ IP ] You dare awaken me , witch ?
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**'' I am impressed witch, few have managed to summon me and live,'' ** said the demonic figure to the woman standing before him. The carcasses of numerous goats littered the summoning circle, their bodies drained of blood and soul. **'' Now, what is it that you desire? `` **
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but the demon spoke again. **'' Be warned, my gifts do not come lightly. A price must be paid, the greater the wish, the greater the price. Now, speak. `` **
The woman closed her mouth again, thinking intently. A tense silence filled the air, the demon impatiently waiting for the witch to speak and the witch carefully weighing her choices.
But soon the demon had tired of waiting. **'' I tire of this witch, speak now or I shall devour your soul to be digested for all eternity! `` ** he intoned, his voice crackling like a thousand thunderstorms.
The witch quickly raised her hands. `` Wait, I've decided on my wish!''
**'' Speak it then! `` **
`` I wish for power!,'' said the witch.
The demon was not surprised. **'' Countless souls before you have asked of that wish, but you are unclear. Power over what? `` **
`` Over other mortals. I'm sick of spending my life as a librarian, I want something more, something better! Give that power to me!''
The demon pondered, a hand on his chin. **'' Your wish is a trivial matter for me, but what price are you willing to pay? `` **
The witch stood, defiant. She will not be dissuaded. `` I will pay with my soul if necessary!''
**'' Very well,'' ** said the demon. He held out a great clawed hand, still covered in the blood of the sacrifices from the ritual. **'' That will be $ 99.99. `` **
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[ WP ] You wake up one morning and open up Reddit . Stickied at the top of the front page with 35 thousand upvotes is an AskReddit : `` Did you all just feel that ? ''
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I rolled my head sideways and squinted to see the clock. It read 10:58 A.M. I pulled the blanket to cover my head and dived into the warmth of the morning bed. Or, noon bed. Man, did I love my lazy Saturday. I could n't help but smile how nice day I'd be having. I reached for the bedside table and pulled out the charger from my phone. I turned it on and opened up Reedit to pass my time.
The very first post had 35,000 upvotes. *submitted an hour ago. * It was stickied, even, with the mod message saying: This is the thread. 164,325 comments. And the title read: `` Did you all just feel that?'' I tried to open up the thread to see what it was about, but the Reddit's server crashed and suggested I spend my time with downtime bananas. Something big was going on, and I was in the dark.
I turned on the TV. The reporter was saying that the mass hysteria was happening all around the world. Then, they showed a video of children jumping out from an apartment onto concretes. They even showed the children's splashing. Then, the news went on to show a video of men and women running into a gasoline bonfire. Although the footage sound was provided, none of them screamed a bit. I was appalled at the horrifying visions that the local news decided to brazenly show, so I changed the channel. But other channels were none the better. But the trend was clear. People were committing suicides everywhere. I turned off the TV horrified.
Was everyone just dying? I seemed like I slept it off, thankfully. Apparently sleeping off was one way to avoid the horrifying feeling led many to kill themselves. I was rather curious what that was all about. I was worried. Can the nation run itself with so many people dying? I thought about the countries on the other side of the planet. For countries where the most of its citizens would be asleep right when that happened, they'd relatively okay, I imagined. But then again, I remembered that the news stations were running. So, unless people who just woke up ran to the station, assessed the situation, and processed those videos, some people must have went through the `` feeling'' and survived it.
I got myself out of the bed and dressed jeans and shirts. I figured it may not be the best time to go outside, but then again this was maybe the only chance to claim foods and water before it's too late. I ran outside to ride my car to the grocery stores near my house. But when I looked up at the sky, I realized what must have been happening. The world was all wrong. I still did n't feel like to kill myself, but a sense of hopelessness and fear crawled up on my skin. I ran back inside my house. I dug myself under the blankets and decided to sleep this feeling off my body.
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[ TT ] You are Nick Fury 's wedding planner and you have to decide who to invite and who to not invite
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As a wedding planner, there are usually a lot of variables up in there when it comes to arguably the most important day of two people's lives.
Even more so with the director of a shadowy organization which is infamous for keeping secrets and operating outside of the law.
To say nothing of half the necessary details of a wedding ( such as who the bride was ) When I asked if there's any food I should avoid he told me that he would never disclose his weaknesses.
And then there's the issues of the people who are coming.
He laughed in my face when I asked for a list with all their names on it and told me that I may as well paint a bullseye on all their backs.
I'm pretty sure that half the people who he wants to come are currently undercover, and the other half are god damned superheroes.
Not to mention how I'm going to have to separate Tony and Steve's tables at the wedding, so this does n't become a pissing contest.
I'm relatively certain that at least 4 aliens are in attendance as Nick requested a chair made from pure titanium because he said otherwise the chair would melt.
I thought the worst one was gon na be that Bridezilla in 2007, but this one... this one is gon na be tough.
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[ WP ] It ’ s the 1800 ’ s and dragons are extinct everywhere except the American western frontier . A cowboy ’ s most important job is protecting cattle from dragons .
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A man in a wide-brimmed hat strode into town atop a weathered chestnut steed while the day was laid to rest. The town itself contradicted itself; big despite its size, empty despite its population and unwelcoming though no one paid heed to his arrival, one way or the other. The air itself reeked of a damned wetness that he could not place outside of putting him on edge.
About the town, lamps were lit and doors were closed despite the heat. No one sat on their porch to enjoy the falling night, to recall the passing day among friends and family, chomping down on pipes and smokables and sipping their cares away with whatever passed for moonshine in these parts. Leastwise, that ’ s what he thought people would do normally. He ’ d read things. Heard stories of life in a town like this, of a life so unlike his.
All the better, he supposed. He let his horse carry him to the tavern and latched the reigns and breezed through the door. Not saloon style doors that he ’ d seen elsewhere, but solid wooden doors that closed with a thump behind him.
The place was full of the kind of dour life you ’ d expect at a funeral. Menfolk crowded the tables with only the barkeep at the bar. Hushed conversations belied the fear about town, and not a single whore was in sight to stoke their egos or passions. Somehow, it was a dead place.
He saddled up to the bar and ordered a whiskey as the bartender dropped an empty glass and the nearly-full bottle in front of him. He was a preacher, by the cloth he wore.
“ Never saw a preacherman tending bar before. ” The preacher patted his moustache, his hand draping around his vestments unconsciously as fumbled for his apron to wipe his hands.
“ I tend my flock, one way or another. ‘ Sides, it ain ’ t been Sunday ‘ round here for some time. ” He spoke of troubles, but the man wanted to enjoy his whiskey for a moment longer.
“ Cute name for place. ” This earned him what something that ’ d never have passed for a smile elsewhere from the preacher.
“ Dear Old Hart. Ah yes. Been some time since someone cared to notice. Not many strangers ‘ round these parts and all. Dear Old Hart …hall of the greats. Look at these “ great ” folk. Got the Marley and his gang shittin ’ themselves next to what ’ s left of the law quaking in their boots. Order ‘ n chaos, right at the same table. It ’ d be funny if it weren ’ t so… “ He trailed off.
Finishing his whiskey, he said, “ I ’ m a Ranger, and I ’ m looking for Ranger ’ s work. ”
The place went silent. The preacher turned to the bottles on the wall to hide his signing the cross, kissing his rosary and hastily shoving it back into his vestments. It was still sticking out when he turned around.
He ’ d placed his hat on the stool next to him. When he locked eyes with the preacher, he saw the mark of the Ranger, the dark branding across his eyes. With the hat on he didn ’ t notice. Now he couldn ’ t help but stare.
“ Talk to Marley about what ’ s happened. ”
The Ranger shot down the whiskey, noting the peculiarities of the local stock as he sauntered over to the table.
“ You the sheriff? ” He asked of the man with the badge, the proud star of the local lawmen.
“ I shot the sheriff, ” Marley interjected, “ But I didn ’ t shoot the deputy. Did him a mercy after the attack. ” The deputy did a slow nod, not speaking. Marley ran the town, for all the good it did. The mayor of a doomed place, pride and his gang ’ s attachments giving him what ’ s left of the power in this place.
“ It started after the rains, ” he continued, “ Filled up the gulch just out of town. The Dry gulch, see? ‘ Cept now it ’ s wet. And something that were livin ’ there, now it ’ s out there prowling about. Sometimes during the day, mosttimes at night. ”
As if on cue, a strange reverberating howl invaded the room from some distance away.
“ It had been a few days. Shit! It ’ s been a few days and now he ’ s hungry because he eats the people he takes, he eats them! We drove him off once, filled him with bullets, set him on fire, but he came back like, like …it don ’ t matter! ” He grabbed his whiskey and slammed it down.
The Ranger walked back up to the bar, grabbed his hat. “ Tell me, preacherman, ” he sneered at the bartender, “ You tend to your bar like you tend to your flock? ” He did a slow nod, regarding the heavy door with most of his attention.
“ I ’ m takin ’ this, ” the Ranger said, grabbing the whiskey bottle as he headed out the door. The night air sucked into the bar when the door opened, as though from the collective gasp the room gave when the Ranger committed the cardinal sin of opening the door at night.
The humidity and heat of the summer night gave sweat to the Ranger ’ s brow; briefly, he fished around for a rag to wipe it with while walking down the main thoroughfare, the full moon held high in the air.
And that ’ s when the monster appeared. In the dark of the night he might ’ ve been taken for a man but for the wings, but the dim moonlight showed just enough to …well, just enough. It weren ’ t no man. It loosed another one of its strange cries, and set toward the Ranger with violence in its limbs and mind.
Calmly, the Ranger pulled out a match and lit his handkerchief. The reek of the match ’ s sulfur wafted into the night air while the light of the ‘ kerchief showed to all some kind of plan.
“ Ranger! ” the preacher bravely shouted from the bar door, “ fire don ’ t kill it, we done tried that! ” From the door, the preacher could barely work out the Ranger working the flaming cloth with his hands somehow, now with the creature nearly upon him.
Which is when it burst into flames, howling like it never had at the pain and agony of the searing heat that now enveloped it.
With it writhing on the ground, the Ranger pulled an enruned, silver blade from the scabbard on his back that gleamed in the moonlight, its sheer white reflection in stark contrast to the hellish light given from the creature.
The preacher had heard of the weapons Rangers use. Special blades forged from the special silver from the mountains of Yosemite that were miraculous in their ability to damage and kill creatures that would do men harm.
“ High-Yo silver… ” the preacher whispered. The Ranger drew back, readying for a strike.
“ Away! ” He bellowed and struck true, felling the beast in a single stroke.
The next day the Ranger, belly full of rest, food and drink, spoke to the preacher once more as hero of this place.
“ There is the matter of payment, ” he reasoned.
“ The town is poor since the attacks, the oasis serving no draw with the news of the creature. We could but promise you payment, as a debt to collect. ”
“ A debt? Do I look like a loan Ranger? ”
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[ WP ] You are the Grim Reaper and today is a very difficult day in your job . There are five people on your list , and none of them `` deserve to go '' :
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It was n't my job to make value judgments. Really it was n't. Normally I'd suck it up and do what the Big Man told me to do, and I'd long since lost count of the number of cases where me showing up was actually a mercy, but this was going to be a rough one. And, of course, I had to convince one of them not to fight it. I looked at each case and decided that the car crash victim would probably be the easiest target. I mean, the guy would be paralyzed from the chest down and in a coma for months if he survived. The family was going to lose its primary breadwinner either way and, if he survived, that would mean some godawful medical bills.
Dillydallying around was n't going to make this any easier. I got moving.
I think the murderer saw my shadow. That happens sometimes. He bolted, leaving me to harvest the soul -- not that the poor sop really put up much of a struggle. I can actually feel their emotional state at the moment I touch the soul and I could tell that the guy was n't really leaving behind that great of a life. The young man was a bit different -- he'd expected to survive and, in fact, had finished up his bachelor's degree just last month. He did give me a bit of a fight, but was n't really much of a challenge. They all seem to use the same tactics when they realize it's me. The doctor -- that stung. I surprised the guy. Well, really it was that slippery step that surprised him and I `` just happened'' to be there. It was quick, anyhow, and I assured him that his colleagues would know what to do. The kid's soul just gave me a hug and said at least he'd get to see his favorite granddad in Heaven.
I love kids. They're usually the best about taking things in stride, especially when they're missing someone who already passed on.
Then I was leaning over the man in the car crash. He gave me that blank look that people with fatal injuries usually have. *Am I going to die? *
*I'm afraid so. If you do n't fight me, it wo n't hurt as much. *
He coughed slightly. *Good thing I got that life insurance policy paid up, then. And I was worried that I'd run up some medical bills. *
*Yes. You've covered your bases. Here; I'm make this as easy as possible. *
I carted the five souls back to the Big Man.
`` So, how'd it go?'' he asked.
`` Easier than I expected. Only the young man really gave me a fight. And the car crash victim came willingly.''
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