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[ WP ] The first human spaceship capable of FTL flight reaches deep space and makes the most terrifying discovery in the history of mankind ...
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[ SHIP LOG -- - 2800 – 02 – 03 -- - ET: 00:15:32 ]
CURRENT LOCATION: Io Orbital Platform
SHIP STATUS: All Systems Operational
CREW STATUS: 1. 100 %; 2. 100 %; 3. 100 %
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]:
[ 00:15:33 ] 1. Hey did you guys lock down that upper hatch?
[ 00:15:40 ] 2. Yeah I did; What about the fuel sensor, I went in last time.
[ 00:15:47 ] 3. Matt it ’ s your turn.
[ 00:15:53 ] 1. The fuel sensor is fine, let ’ s get going.
[ 00:16:05 ] [ CONTROL ]. Serenity would you go? Every eye from here to Mercury is on you!
[ 00:16:15 ] 1. Acknowledged. Ashley take us into clear space.
[ 00:16:20 ] MANEUVERING THRUSTERS ACTIVATED
CO-PILOT CONTROLS ACTIVATED
MAIN ENGINES ACTIVATED
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]:
[ 00:17:21 ] 1. Okay everything looks good. Take us to disembark position Ash.
[ 00:17:28 ] 3. Hey how did you guys convince your SO ’ s to let you do this?
[ 00:18:00 ] 1. Hm? Oh, don ’ t have one. Ash?
[ 00:18:09 ] 2. Nope. Flying solo.
[ 00:18:11 ] CABIN MIRTH DETECTED
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]:
[ 00:18:25 ] 1. Okay let ’ s focus here. How far are we?
[ 00:18:28 ] 2. Nearly 2000ls. We ’ ll be there soon.
[ 00:18:32 ] 1. Good, Tom float back and just bang on that hatch one more time.
[ 00:18:40 ] 3. Sure.
[ 00:18:50 ] 1. Control lets go over the details one more time. We are approximately 1900 light seconds away.
[ 00:19:00 ] [ CONTROL ]. Sure thing. The purpose of your flight is to test the new Faster Than Light drive. We ’ ve run
innumerable tests in our own galaxy, even neighboring galaxies. Now GalCop wants to test its extreme long-range
capabilities. You ’ ll be stopping at the Hutton galaxy, the furthest anyone ’ s ever gone. There you will top up your fuel
tanks and make any necessary preparations before going on into, well, whatever is out there.
[ 00:19:35 ] 1. Thanks control. Ash how far?
[ 00:19:40 ] 2. 1900ls.
[ 00:19:42 ] 1. Okay good. Tom how does it look?
[ 00:19:45 ] 3. The hatch? It ’ s fine.
[ 00:19:48 ] 1. Excellent, strap yourself in. We ’ re almost there.
[ 00:39:00 ] MAIN ENGINES DISENGAGED
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]:
[ 00:39:02 ] 2. Engines disengaged sir.
[ 00:39:10 ] 1. Control we are at the Disembark point. Awaiting your go ahead.
[ 00:39:25 ] [ CONTROL ]. Great. You ’ re going a long way Matt, Ashley, Tom. Good luck. Send us a communication from
Hutton when you get there. Astronomical alignments look good, you are good to go on your mark.
[ 00:39:35 ] 1. Thanks control. Ashley, start the FTL sequence. Double check everything, I don ’ t want any mistakes.
[ 00:39:37 ] 2. Yes sir.
[ 00:39:41 ] FTL DRIVE ENGAGED
MANEUVERING THRUSTERS ENGAGED
[ 00:39:55 ] 2. Aligning with target destination. Allocating fuel. Closing Shutters. Powering up main drives. Everything looks
good Matt. On your mark.
[ 00:40:08 ] 1. Okay here we go…everyone ready? Mark.
[ 00:40:12 ] FTL DRIVE ACTIVATED
OPENING RESERVE FUEL VALVES …
[ 2800 – 02 – 06 -- - ET: 02:21:36 ] ERROR ERRO... DOWNLOADING NEW COORDINATES
ADJUSTING COURSE 10o
ALIGNING WITH SECONDARY DESTINATION …
[ 2800 – 02 – 07 -- - ET: 01:11:29 ] SLOWING CRAFT
[ 03:10:01 ] DROPPING INTO LOCAL SPACE
[ 03:10:20 ] 1. Okay we ’ re... here? Tom where the hell are we?
[ 03:10:35 ] 3. Uh…
[ 03:10:38 ] 2. We ’ re…in the middle of nowhere?
[ 03:10:48 ] 1. Hang on I ’ m trying to reach someone.
[ 03:10:50 ] LONG-RANGE TRANSMITTER ACTIVATED
[ 03:11:00 ] 1. This is GalCop ship Serenity please respond… …
[ 03:11:23 ] 1. I repeat: this is GalCop ship Serenity on route to Hutton please respond. Someone talk to me where the hell are we?
[ 03:11:35 ] 2. I ’ m sending out probes.
[ 03:11:37 ] 1. Good. Tom what ’ s our status?
[ 03:11:40 ] 3. The ship ’ s okay sir but we ’ re almost out of fuel. Enough to make it to Hutton maybe. I ’ m not sure where we are though.
[ 03:12:00 ] 2. Sir
[ 03:12:01 ] 1. What is it?
[ 03:12:03 ] 2. Sir I sent the sub-FTL probes out. According to the ship ’ s computer…we ’ re not close to any charted space. I don ’ t know what to say.
[ 03:12:07 ] 1. The computer must not have slowed us down when we reached Hutton. Damnit!
FORWARD INSTRUMENT PANEL INTEGRITY: 99 %
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]:
[ 03:12:20 ] 2. There ’ s something else sir. This region is full of black holes but I think one of the probes picked up signs of life capable, at least, of launching satellites into orbit.
[ 03:12:27 ] 1. Do we have enough fuel to get there?
[ 03:12:29 ] 3. Only just.
[ 03:12:30 ] 1. Good then do it. …
[ 04:00:21 ] SURFACE SCANNER ACTIVATED
[ 04:00:40 ] 1. Anything?
[ 04:00:45 ] 3. Yes sir, I ’ m picking up signs of life. Some sort of tech. down on the planet. Possibly a city? It ’ s strange though…
[ 04:00:46 ] 1. Why?
[ 04:00:48 ] 3. Well the surface scanner is picking up massive…colonies, like hives.
[ 04:00:58 ] 1. What do you mean hives?
[ 04:01:00 ] PRIMARY ALARM ACTIVATED
[ 04:01:01 ] [ SHIP INTERCOM ]. WARNING. PROXIMITY TO OBJECT CRITICAL.
[ 04:01:05 ] 1. What the hell is that now?
[ 04:01:07 ] 3. Sir it ’ s on top us!
[ 04:01:10 ] 1. WHAT THE HELL IS ON TOP OF US?
[ 04:01:13 ] 2. We just lost engines. Life support is failing.
[ 04:01:16 ] 1. Everyone In to the lifeboat now!
[ 04:01:25 ] [ INTERCOM ]. HULL BREACH. LIFE SUPPORT VENTING. TOTAL SYSTEMS FAILURE IMMINENT. … [ 04:01:55 ] LIFEBOAT LAUNCH DETECTED
[ 04:02:00 ] EJECTING BLACK BLOX
AUDIO LOG [ TRANSCRIPT ]. < DECRYPTION ERROR – UNKNOWN LANGUAGE >
[ 04:03:27 ] HULL INTEGRITY FAILURE
< END OF STREAM >
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[ WP ] You wake up one morning in an almost identical universe where the only significant difference is that nothing has names , and things instead are described at the time literally by their function . Walk us through your first few hours !
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The shrill sounds of feathered flappy squawks filled my unconscious ears as I opened my vision organs in disbelief... Where did my temporary nylon shelter go? It was right here during the time that the hydrogen fusion ball was on the other side of the place where we all live. I slowly sat upright and and started to blink my vision organs to refresh my level of consciousness when I became aware that I had fallen unconscious near the heat producing chemical reaction pit. I must had more alcohol in my blood stream than I thought during the time that the hydrogen fusion ball was on the other side of the place where we all live. An acute tingling of nerve impulses inside my cranial cavity reminded me that I should seek out my cache of oval shaped concentrated chemical formula nerve impulse reducers.
As I slowly began to stand, my fleshy stumps with cloth and synthetic coverings refused to cooperate when my cerebral cortex sent commands. Frustrated, and overcome with the now persistent nerve impulses in my cranial cavity, I encouraged my fleshy stumps to override their state of blood and oxygen deficiency by shaking them vigorously until they complied.
`` That'll teach those fleshy stumps to fall unconscious!'' I said to myself.
With full command of my fleshy stumps, I slowly began to maneuver haphazardly to my nylon covered item storage compartment in search of my aforementioned cache of oval shaped concentrated chemical formula nerve impulse reducers. My outdoor adventure companions were all still in a state of unconsciousness sprawled around the chemical reaction pit in their nylon outdoor unconsciousness containers.
`` There you are!'' I said to myself after locating my nylon covered item storage compartment.
After disassembling the interlocking metallic lattice that guarded my cargo my vision organs detected a subtle, but hostile movement nearby. Sensing an imminent threat I traversed my vision organs to lock onto the object.
`` BITEY SLIDE!!!'' I exclaimed! The bitey slide was precariously close to one my outdoor adventure friend's fleshy stumps. This bitey slide was at least 4-6 empirical units of measurement in length and was beginning to coil it's scaled organ container into attack formation.
`` DO N'T COMMAND A SINGLE MOVEMENT TO YOUR FLESHY STUMPS OUTDOOR ADVENTURE FRIEND STEVE!!!'' I exclaimed with labored respiratory cycles. Of course, my outdoor adventure friend Steve did not comply with my request and in his haste to reboot his organ container to a state of consciousness his nervous system was overloaded with adrenalin. The bitey slide began to rhythmically vibrate the aft section of his scaled organ container in a manner that produced a rattling sound wave.
`` Oh my religious deity of choice!'' My outdoor adventure friend Steve exclaimed. His fleshy stumps began to tremble as the bitey slide increased the repetition of vibrations producing a rattling sound wave and positioned it's cranial cavity in attack formation. Just before the bitey slide commanded an attack on my outdoor adventure friend Steve, a reduction in ambient photons from the hydrogen fusion ball appeared and began to grow in size on the bitey slide. Suddenly, a large feathered flappy shriek grasped the bitey slide in it's fleshy claw stumps and overcame the gravitation pull of the place where we all live by increasing the rate at which it's feathered stumps reciprocated! It let out a victorious shriek of compressed sound waves the bitey slide's scaled organ container was pierced by it's fleshy claw stumps. The flappy shriek ascended to an altitude of 80-100 empirical units of measurement and released the bitey slide to the forces of gravity. The bitey slide's organ container descended rapidly and abruptly made contact with a formation of mineral deposits nearby.
`` Oh my religious diety of choice! Outdoor adventure friend Jim, did your vision organs record that image into your memory for later recollection?!'' My outdoor adventure friend Steve exclaimed.
`` FINISH HIM!'' I shouted triumphantly as the flappy shriek rapidly descended on his target again. This final attack maneuver would constitute a permanent state of unconsciousness for the bitey slide. The revolution of the place where we all live was saved!
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Thanks for reading! As a long time lurker this is my first post so I will pre-apologize for grammatical or spelling errors. I was really intrigued by this prompt and the story just started coming! So, I did this in haste and just let it flow. I want to try and cap the story and tie it to our universe for the ending so I will attempt to edit later today.
EDIT - Added comments.
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[ WP ] In a world full of superheros , the crime is all but gone . To keep the heroes from getting bored , the government asks you to be a super villain .
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`` We are glad you decided to accept our offer, have you considered a name yet?''
`` Not yet, its a little hard to come up with a name when you do n't have a power as a centerpoint, but I'm sure the media will think of something.''
For the Nth time, nameless agent looked examined me, and this time I was affraid he noticed something. After a second he looked back at the file and I let out my imaginary breath. *Just a little more and I'm out, do n't fuck it up now! *
`` Indeed they will. Perhaps its for the best, it will allow them to demonize you all the better for the general populace. I hope you understand that the time will come when you are captured, and when that time comes you will see no lentiency from us or any other government in the world. The name is one of the last big choices you have, if I were you I would consider it more.''
`` No, I think this is ok, its all for the greater good in the end anyway, better if I do n't get to attached to anything from here-on out.''
`` Very well, here is the list of contacts we promised, they will have no knowledge of our involvement, an appropriate sum has also been transfered to the account contained in the same file. Once you are geared up be sure to announce us of your first target. As you are well aware the number of casualties has to be less than 1000 but still high enough that you make international news.''
A quick peek around the building showed me what people around were doing. It's not that I did n't have powers, its just that I understood that if I pretended not to then I would get a big boost compared to someone who did. The contacts, the money, they will be invaluable in the next few weeks. Besides, its the only help I'll get, better to hoard it all now.
`` If there is nothing else I'd like to go home, enjoy my last day as a free man and all that.''
`` Of course. Do you need an escort or --''
`` Nah, I've been around this place enough that I know my way out. Than you again for the help you offered me so far.''
`` It's the least we could do, and thank you Mr. Boor, your sacrifice means more than you can imagine in the grand scheme of things.''
`` Oh I imagine my sacrifice is nothing compared to yours agent. See you on the other side!'' I gathered up the files and made my way slowly toward the door, calm, relaxed so as to not arouse any suspicion. *No need to wait until tomorrow, the fun starts right now*
Using my power I made sure to use the hallways without surveillance to get to my destination, the building had a rather large armory considering how public it is, on the other hand few people were able to get this far underground so I guess it evens out. Once I got in range, a few tweaks to some of the more unstable devices and substances were enough to start the process. *And so it begins, Genesis*
A few minutes later I was out and making my way to a vantage point. While the deal did say that nobody would watch me during my last day I still occasionally used my power to make sure nobody was looking. As I got the the top floor of one of the high-rises around and got a full view of the target I could n't help but chuckle at the shock this would cause.
They wanted me to kill innocents for the status quo. To damn people who had no idea of anything to suffering just so the heroes wo n't get bored. Well, they wo n't be bored after this that's for sure. I could already see the head-lines: Pentagon destroyed, 873 people dead. *All according to the deal of course, I'm a man of my word if nothing else. *
Now the last thing left was a name, a name that needs to be as grandiose as the shift I will be causing. *It has to be tied to the power but I've got so many, omnipresence, control, a little destruction, almost like God. Too bad its only within a certain range. God might be aiming to high for me but I think I'll settle to be called Godling. *
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[ WP ] Every world usually follows a steady plan to develop more advanced technologies until they can connect with other worlds . Everyone in the galaxy is pretty pissed because Earth just skipped a couple hundred years of development .
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( *nice prompt, i'm going to take it in the opposite direction and that earth is too slow. Makes more sense considering our history* )
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` They're back at it, they're launching space probes again!'' the slimy snail-like alien said across his console.
On the other side of the room a feathered alien resembling a blue eagle grabbed a spear and a toga off his chair. Hastily putting it on he paraded around the room in mock-Roman stance.
`` FINALLY! I can make first contact! I've been saving this for... fifteen drialu now? I thought i'd never get to use this!'' He beamed.
`` I do n't think they wear that stuff anymore, have you checked their electromagnetic feed? they've completely changed their attire.'' The snail observed.
The eagle waved his wing across the overhead console and tuned into an earth television channel.
`` OH COME ON!!!! Make up your minds you stupid little shits!!!'' The eagle yelled at the screen. `` I thought you were going to get to interplanetary status after you discovered math but NOOO!!! You had to find yet ANOTHER religion and sit around jerking off to your new god for another seven drialu!''
The snail alien rolled his eye stalks as the eagle sat down with a huff.
`` If it makes you feel any better, this is the longest time a race took to go from math to space age. You could give a nice presentation to other races at the next interstellar development conference.'' said the snail.
`` I still need to make first contact.'' He glanced up at the television show. `` I'm thinking of just going down right now and saying'fuck it' to the regulations. It's before they developed FTL drive, but normally, they would have developed past FTL and gone to TD drive by now.''
The snail started crawling to the food dispenser and slurping up a neon pink goo that flowed out. It sloppily covered his mouth parts but he kept talking. `` I wo n't say anything to high command if you decide to go now. I'm bored too. I only got a kick when they started shooting nuclear weapons but they stopped before they really started. Aliens nuking themselves out of existence is always a great show.''
`` And they robbed you of that show too! Boring little shits. Ah well, I need to update my look.'' The eagle feed the television program into the computer fabricator and out popped a new outfit.
`` Okay here we go.'' The eagle put it own and spun around a few times. `` This is really what they wear now?''
The snail looked up from the food dispenser, pink goo dripping from it's mouth. `` I guess. According to my research this fashion program is the second most watch program behind a sports program they call football. I think this fashion program is called'Victoria's secret fashion show'.''
The eagle looked at the outfit in the mirror. `` Strange thing to call such a popular program. Why would it be a secret?''
The snail twisted his eye stalks. `` You got me. Want me to send you down? it's currently getting dark and the humans are most active during the day time.''
`` Might as well get this over with. Today is the day we make first contact, Period 645498 Drialu of the second revolution. The humans will remember it as the day of first contact, October 31st.'' The eagle beamed.
The snail pressed the button on the console and the eagle teleported to earth.
`` He should be really popular wearing something from Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.'' The snail thought to himself.
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[ WP ] `` Listen kid , you 're going to close your eyes , count to ten , and then everything is going to be fine . ''
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`` Listen kid,'' The man said, reaching out and turning my head to face him. I caught another glimpse of the gun in his hand before my eyes drifted to the body in the corner of the room. `` You're going to close your eyes, count to ten and then everything is going to be fine.''
From outside, I could hear the angry shouts of the men who had been chasing my mom and I for the last several hours. Mom always said they would find us, it was why we moved from city to city. She called them Trespassers.
I blinked and it seemed as if time skipped forwards. We were in the basement now. The man who had gotten us this far was in the corner, hands coated in red, clutching his stomach. I picked up a steady banging noise and realized someone was banging against the far door.
`` Now or never kid.'' The main said. `` Close your eyes, count to ten. It'll be fine. I'll find you again.''
A slow frown formed on my face but I closed my eyes like he asked and started counting. *One, two, three, four, five, six. * I heard the sound of the door on the other end of the room crashing open. *Seven, eight. * Gunshots sounded, a cry of pain. *Nine, ten. * Silence, followed by the chatter of people.
I opened my eyes. I was back in the mall, waiting outside a store. When my mom walked out the store front, smile on her face all I could do was stare. She was alive, no gunshots had torn holes in her chest. `` What's wrong Zachary?'' She asked me, smile fading at my expression.
For a full minute I only stared, unable to answer. In slow motion my eyes turned towards the mall entrance. Three men in jet black suits walked in, shades covering their eyes. Eyes that I knew shone neon green. From the corner of my eye, mom turned, taking in the scene before us. `` Trespassers.'' I whispered and the intimately familiar scene started playing out once again.
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[ EU ] ISIS gets more than they bargained for when the kidnap Daily Planet reporter , Clark Kent .
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**Apologies if someone already went down this road. It was the first that game to mind. **
Kal-El's head was groggy. He was barely aware of his surroundings, and he felt that familiar pain that sent terror shocking through his body, jolting him awake. *Kryptonite*.
In the dark cave, with a subtle green glow stinging his eyes, Kal-El felt further from himself than ever. He had none of his strengths. Now, he was only Clark Kent.
He could feel it was close. Too close. The smell of it, whether real or imagined, began as a dull headache at the base of his neck, coiling like tentacles through his head and pulsating on his right temple with such ferocity that he lost his breath with each throb.
This was n't the plan.
Clark Kent grew sicker every day of reading about the butchers in the Middle East who would make a spectacle out of murder. He was used to otherworldly invaders coming to ruin his small ball of peace in this corner of the universe. He was ready to defend against them. But these men and women were different. They killed knowing full well how precious human life was. And Clark Kent was n't going to sit by a let that happen, not while Superman, his truer self, was able to do something.
His plan was simple. With a billionaire friend, he was able to pull the strings to get Clark Kent credentials into an ISIS-haunted region. Bruce fought him as much as he could, but Clark's will was far stronger. It had been steeled too much to resolve this crisis.
Clark Kent, driving alone to minimize casualties, was captured less than a day after his arrival in Iraq. He waited patiently to spring his plan and bring the marauders to justice. He fed off the sunlight they marched him through, only to lose all of his reserves in seconds when exposed to that green pain that weakened a man strong enough to change the rotation of the Earth. He was helpless.
As the pain ebbed enough for his thoughts to return, he knew something did n't fit. The outfit was in a cave with more sophisticated technology than Clark had seen in Wayne's secret Batcave. Somehow, a group of people using improvised weapons and explosives, had secure Internet and an alien substance that affected only one person on Earth: Superman. He heard talking in the distance and strained to listen. Three soldiers walked up to him and held him off the ground. He had n't realized he was slumped on the floor until they heaved him into a chair.
Soft footsteps walked towards the chair. He looked in the darkness as a figure came towards the light surrounding him.
`` Hello, Mr. Kent.'' Clark's jaw dropped.'' Or Mr. Superman? I am poor with formalities in situations like this.'' The man's bare forehead creased as he smiled.
`` How?'' Clark asked Lex Luthor with a labored breath.
`` I took my enterprise International. Would you like to do an interview?'' He smirked and the third guard who was n't supporting Clark brought a chair. `` My name is Lex Luthor, and I am the face of terror, Mr. Kent.'' He nodded, and the glowing green of the Kryptonite grew in intensity. Clark lost consciousness as fear overwhelmed him.
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[ WP ] Testing potential parents to see if their suitable for parenthood before they can have children is put in place . When you finally decide you want kids , you take the test . You pass it , but your partner does not .
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A baby's loud cries. Played every two hours. For three straight days and possibly more.
Most of the potential parents had already dropped out. You wanted a kid, but you also wanted just as badly for it all to just *stop*. Admittedly, you were a bit selfish and shortsighted when thinking up the deal- thinking of only yourself and not getting your partner to pass as well.
At that time, you just had it. You stood up ( from your shaking weeping fetal position ) and announced in a clear, crisp voice to the staff, `` I have the answer to a certain important question. If the answer is right, will you let me go now and just pass?''
`` Well that depends on what question, of course. Certainly it has to be about understanding and nurturing children.''
You fix them with an intense stare and your resolve hardens.
``... I know why children love cinammon toast crunch.''
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[ WP ] In 1943 a German soldier takes s gold watch off an American he killed . Twenty years later , he arrives in Philadelphia to return the watch to the man 's son .
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The German stares at this watch as his plane taxis across the runway. Years of shuffling from safe house to safe house and evading the Americans, British, and Soviets have left him exhausted. With his new identity, and his forged papers memorized to a tee, he disembarks the plane and makes his way towards customs.
The information the Americans could extract from the German - better yet, what the Israelis would get - would lift the veil on the life of many powerful Nazis living a rather luxurious post-war life in the far corners of the world. But the German knew better than anyone that America would be a far safer place than living on the run in South America. Despite the risk of a swift trial and certain death, the German approached the customs officer.
....
The German makes it through a rather easy customs inspection and heads towards the taxi stand. His first order of business is to meet with a prominent German in Philadelphia named Bjoern, who will be setting him up with an apartment and job while he settles in. Many German networks sprung up after the war to help those trying to leave the War behind. Many of the networks remain strong, giving disgraced Nazis opportunities to be funneled out secretly without the networks even knowing.
Bjoern takes the German up to his apartment and leaves him the keys. The German sits down on the bed and takes a deep breath. He made it. The hardest part is over. He pulls the gold watch out of his pocket and inspects it as he has thousands of times over the past two decades. What he's learned about the man whose watch he stole that one dark night has only come to haunt him even more.
When he established contact with the son of the man he killed, he knew exactly how he could move past his pain. He arranged to meet the man at his house for an afternoon barbecue. He would hear about the man's life and the father, and perhaps swap stories from his side of the war. Then, he would kill him.
What the German planned to tell the son, he thought, would destroy him. A rogue American hunting Nazis and torturing them for information on Nazi positions. This man kept mementos from each kill, hundreds of them, and would taunt and intimidate until he got what he needed. He would then wire the information to the head of Army operations to carry out missions.
He was single handedly responsible for thousands of Nazi deaths and countless victorious battles, big and small. What he took from the German can never be replaced, the scars are too deep. But he made it too America, and he's ready to settle the score.
As the German approaches the man's front door, he's suddenly hit with nerves. It's been years since he's killed let alone considered a kill. The years of war are rushing back into his mind. His palms are sweaty as he knocks on the door.
Son: You must be Joe? Nice to meet you.
Joe ( his voice shaky at first ): Yes, yes, thank you for meeting with me. Nice to meet you Will.
Will: Can I get you anything? Beer..?
Joe: Water, please.
The two move outside and sit on the patio. They talk about life, which for Joe is mostly a lie, and that's when Will asks about the watch.
Will: So can I see my father's watch?
Joe promptly pulls the watch out of his pocket and hands it over to Will.
Joe: Your father [ clears his throat ] your father -
Will: Are you a Nazi?
Joe: I... I, I was a German officer of the Nazi party.
Will: Is that your official answer?
Will's face is stern, Joe begins to think he may have underestimated his counterpart.
Joe: It was a long time ago... I made many mistakes. I'm trying to get past all of it, like now.
There is a pause. In the pause you can hear sirens in the distance, getting louder, and louder. At first Joe does n't think anything of it. But as Will focuses in on Joe he realizes they are coming for him.
Joe: Your father did horrible things, and that is why I am here.
Joe then smashes his glass cup of water and lunges for Will's throat with his hands extended. They struggle to the ground and Joe begins screaming at Will about his father. Will, nearly twenty-five years younger than Joe, begins to fight back and pins Joe to the ground.
Will: My father was a very brave man. A dangerous man. His only priority was protecting his men and getting home safe, by any means necessary. He died fighting for his country no matter how he killed all those men. He told us they would come, he told us to be ready. You think you're the first man to show up and say you have my father's gold watch!
The sirens grow louder, and shut off as they pull up out front. Police officers, FBI, storm the backyard and put handcuffs around Joe. The officers shake hands with Will and walk with his to his back door.
Officer: Your father must've done some pretty horrible things.
Will: He sure did.
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[ WP ] A hero is finally defeated by his enemies worst and least thought out plan
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*Stalin was right. Quantity has a quality all its own. *
Lieutenant Archer Clemens fired another burst from his Pontiac Ultralight autocannon, the armor-piercing shells smashing against the pitted armor of the Combine *Kabuto* and tearing into the vulnerable interior. The agile twenty tonner stumbled, a spray of oil and lubricants jetting from the exit wound in its metal hide. Clemens fired again, again punching through paper-thin armor and rending gyro and fusion engine apart. The Draconis Combine BattleMech got within 300 meters and Clemens' HUD turn red as his foe sought a lock for his missiles.
Lt. Clemens strafed left and pressed the trigger to his medium lasers, the green beams of concentrated light scoring deep lines of molten metal across the *Kabuto's* torso. The Fronc-born MechWarrior saw something fail on the enemy readout in the corner of his screen, one of the Streak Short Range Missile launchers ruined. Clemens allowed himself a half-second flush of success, and then cursed as the warning alarm turned solid.
The *Kabuto* fired, a quartet of missiles spiraling straight towards Clemens as he jerked his control stick left. Too late. One went wide, streaking off and detonating against a spindly conifer. The other three hit, the missiles detonating against his *Clint's* torso and left arm. The straps of Clemens' harness bit into his shoulders as his entire'Mech was rocked back under the impact. Damage readouts scrolled through reams of sensor data, trying to piece together exactly what broke and what did n't.
Clemens snarled and fired his lasers again, melting twin gashes through the *Kabuto's* torso. Something inside the Combine'Mech detonated, likely its load of missiles. Whatever it was it was dramatic, pieces of armor plating and chassis being flung through the air in a shower of burning metal. The armored glass of his cockpit pinged with the steel rain as he fired once more with his lasers, this time aiming them at the head assembly of the *Kabuto. * It was at that same time that the Combine samurai ejected, his seat jetting up and out of his dying machine. A second explosion tore further into the light'Mech and sent it slowly toppling towards the ground.
Clemens gave a whoop of joy, but turned it into a curse as he saw another lance of Combine BattleMechs slide down the steep hill face. Behind them was another lance, and another until a whole company appeared at the ridge. The lieutenant swore again and turned his *Clint* away, trusting in his jump jets and speed to clear the ambush. Twelve to one were n't fair odds in the slightest.
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[ WP ] As you die , you travel down the bright tunnel and then everything turns to black . That 's when you hear it : `` Greetings , Prisoner 11384 . You have served your sentence . You are free to go . ''
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I'm an addict.
At least, that's what they sentenced me to.
There are some that can escape from that, and lead lives. That was not me. All of the AA meetings in the world could n't have stopped me.
I enjoyed the drug. I really did. I wanted it. I wanted it's caress to pull me into the night. The only problem was that it was every night.
I spent my life chasing the drug. And when I could n't find it, I chased it harder.
And when I died, it was n't of liver failure. Nothing that simple. They had given me a superior liver. It was my heart. I had never loved. My heart went out around 40 years into the treatment.
It's silly, really, that some monkey on a rock should experience what I have. The pain and the loss. They gave me the tools to live, but I rejected them. They gave me everything I needed, humane, they called it. But everything vanished. One by one the things I loved started disappearing and the booze started looking better and better.
I drank myself to death, one way or another. It was n't really the booze, it was the apathy. I had no spark of life to try and reject it.
And when I died, I traveled through that bright tunnel. Then it all went dark.
Then I heard it. `` Greetings, Prisoner 11384. You have served your sentence. You are free to go.''
But I was n't free, and I did n't want to go.
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[ FF ] As the new private eye in town , you 've seen a lot of cases that made you scratch your head . But never one as odd as this . 400 words or less .
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It was a weird one.
Grissom took the flask from his pocket and poured a nip into his morning joe. Then he poured another for good measure. Capped it off with a third because… *what the hell*?
Early morning sunlight pooled just over the horizon like a leaking wound spilling into the last shades of night. The wind kicked up cold and bitter, frost bitten sentiment from a December dawn, and neither the coffee nor the booze kept the chills out. He felt lonely like a dangling string from a threadbare sweater staring down scissors, his face lit ghoulish by the backlight of his cell while Grissom ’ s thumb lingered over his contact list. Who was he going to call? What was he going to say? Questions echoed like bad dreams in the vacant thoughts of a waking nightmare.
He ’ d had a lot of cases. Catching cheats for husbands. Catching cheats for wives. Lost kids—runaways, junkies, the desires of parents who don ’ t understand custody. Even dogs and cats and less. Anything to pay the bills, keep the lights on. He ditched the coffee and went right for the rye. His weirdest one yet.
She was young, curvy, a full figured beauty that stood in contrast to the runway stick figures that got pushed down your throat at every bus stop and billboard. Her personal came across like a cry for help written in eighty point bold font, screaming from between the lines.
*W4M. A little lost. Need help finding myself. Seeking an old hand that has an eye for the little things and doesn ’ t mind playing a little hide and seek now and again. *
*Ready or not*, he thought when it popped into his inbox from an anonymous email, *here I come*. He wasn ’ t. He wished he hadn ’ t.
Small things it was. A matchbook from a burlesque club. A missed call from someone who arranged things on the side. A preauth for twenty in gas from the closest service station to the abandoned timber yards outside town. A small thing it wasn ’ t.
Her head looked down from a shelf over her body, arms and getaway sticks separated from the trunk. Her guts and lady bits were done in by something worse than an animal. *The Sleeping Ones Stir* was splashed gaudy on the wall. Grissom gagged.
“ Nine-one-one, what ’ s your emergency? ” a serious voice inquired.
“ I have to report a body. ”
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[ WP ] Write me a story where the main character can hear the narrator
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Samantha waited in the dark room alone. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap, bitten fingernails chewed to the quick hastily splashed with a dirty purple nail varnish, showed exactly how anxious she was feeling. The chair was uncomfortable, the yellow plastic padding leaking out of the green checked material. It looked like the last time someone had replaced the chairs had been back in the sixties. That, or someone like chewing on them. Several magazines lay on the low, scuffed table in front of her. They had been glossy once, but now the torn covers were dull with age and displayed fashions at least four of five years out of date. The blue eyes of one particular model swam out towards Samantha, as though presenting her perfectly trim figure with spectacular aplomb, her ribs like a shining xylophone, reminding Samantha why she had n't eaten yet that day-
`` Shut up,'' she spoke through gritted teeth. At the other end of the waiting room, a woman with her daughter looked up at the sound of Sam's hissed tone. Noticing she was alone, she wrapped one arm around the small daughter and coughed, imperceptibly shifting till Sam could only see her cold shoulders.
`` Do n't say things like that!'' Sam muttered, placing her hand slightly over her mouth so the mother could n't hear.
It's perfectly true. Sam's stomach was rumbling, and-
`` Please do n't do this,'' her voice had become watery, a sure sign she was about to cry. This was the reason that she no longer wore makeup, and in fact the rims of her eyes and her nostrils were already a sore red, from continuous wiping from the tissues she kept in her handbag.
But she got herself under control, slipping an already-chewed index finger into her mouth and gnawing away.
`` Leave me alone!'' She said, loud enough for the daughter to look round. The mother stayed stoically staring ahead.
The door at the far side of the room opened and a man in a tweed jacket, bushy eyebrows rising above his glasses appeared. He frowned at the darkness of the room, flicked on a light switch. The sudden burst made Sam flinch.
`` Samantha Lloyd?'' He announced to the room. Gratefully, Sam stood up. He did n't look too bad, this one.
`` Doctor Williams?''
She entered his office, sat down. It was pitch black.
`` The lights are on,'' Sam said firmly, to the Doctor's mild surprise.
Suddenly he grew fangs, large wings, a tail...
`` The Doctor looks perfectly ordinary,'' Sam's voice was firm.
The glass in the windows smashed into a thousand pieces. Sam was feeling insecure. She wanted to go home, she wanted to-
`` I'm hearing voices,'' she said quietly. `` I want to talk about medication.''
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[ WP ] The man asked me to sit down on the bench , he had a gun and a photograph . He asked me if I was a patriot .
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The man asked me to sit down on the bench, he had a gun and a photograph. He asked me if I was a patriot. I told him no more than any average Joe. He said his father had been a patriot - fought in the war you know, the one to end all wars? except it did n't - and his son had been a patriot - enlisted right outta high school, bright kid, had a good future ahead of him - until that damn napalm cut his life short, and was n't it a shame when a father had to bury his son, hardest day of his life, harder even than when his wife found out about her ovarian cancer which meant no more children, harder still than the day she passed, weak and frail and bald from the chemo and drugs. He looked at the gun, turning it over and over in his hands as he told me about how his father had used it to defend his men against the enemy and had been awarded a medal, posthumously, because a machine gun that can fire over seven thousand projectiles a minute does n't care whether a man has a young wife and son waiting for his return. He lays the gun to the side as he shows me the picture of his son, proud and brave and above all still young and innocent and tells me that this photo was taken two hours before he died. They shipped him home in a box, what pieces they could find, anyway. Buried with full military honors - laid to rest with the sound of guns firing a salute. He thanks me for my time - hard to find anyone to listen to an old man these days, what with everyone being so busy talking on their cell phones or staring at a computer screen all day, whatever happened to neighborhood block parties and school fairs anyway? As I walk away, I hear the sound of a gunshot. He would never be awarded a posthumous medal like his father, but at least he would n't be all alone anymore.
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( WP ) We 've been through worse ...
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The fire rose to terrible heights while the platformed teetered with only one of the supports left to handle it, underneath him the souls of those damned for eternity to uphold the savant law of the underworld screamed howling for him to fall. He held up the oversized spear with one hand while his other hand tried desperately to stop the bleeding of his gut. His eyesight also teetered on the edge of darkness, his skin was a pale white from bloodloss and his legs shook as if he had just squatted over his max by a few hundred tons.
`` Art thou ready to face your doom forsaken traveler?!'' The ominous voice was punctuated by the sideways slash of an impossibly large sword. Towering above him the fallen one walked slowly to the platform, from the cracks of his red hellstone armor tendrils of flames leaked seeking more victims and his visor itself expelled smoke that smelt of elderberries. `` Your head shall be my greatest trophy!'' He lifted his arm and crushed his hand into a fist which trembled with rage. `` NOW FIGHT ME!'' The guardian moved with unnattainable grace as his armored legs rang with clangorous joviality.
This was only worsened by the remix dubstep coming from the loudspeakers mixed with the cries of excitement from the crowds screaming for your death as well as the plasma screen displays that advertised for new ranch flavored jalapeno ranch Dewritos.
The sword of the guardian raced down in time with the final destabilization of the platform and the darkening of his vision. The traveler thought to himself `` Meh, I've been through worse.'' All the while the bass was dropped.
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[ WP ] All known diseases have been eradicated , and human lifespan has doubled . The global population is now over 11 billion , and you have been tasked with devising 'accidents ' to lower it .
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To: United Nations Committee for the Culling of the Human Population
From: [ Malkalack ]
Subject: Re: Population Problems
Saying `` we have an overpopulation problem'' at this stage would be somewhat of an understatement. The Earth simply can not withstand the current population of 11,000,000,000 souls. The taxation on the environment is outrageous. The ladies and gentlemen of this committee have asked me for a solution; in this message is the solution.
How does one go about eradicating the human race? We're certainly too advanced for a disease to make any sort of a dent in the population. If we were to simply begin culling people by force, a war may ensue - one that would n't leave two stones standing on top of each other. Other methods are simply too unreliable or inexpensive - nanobots and killer AI come to mind.
Albert Einstein once said, `` Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.'' and this rings true. The truth is, most human beings are stupid. We can educate ourselves, but, as another saying goes, `` you ca n't fix stupid''.
... Which is the crux of my position. If we remove the warning signs from hazardous pieces of equipment and machinery, people will die in droves. The amount of fools slicing their own arteries with lawn-mowers, and falling from construction cranes will greatly decrease our population. Without safety warnings or manuals, society degrades.
Thank you kindly for considering my proposal.
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[ WP ] Describe a battle between your immune system and a foreign invader as a gritty war story from the POV of either side
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Our carrier was a few feet from the target. The carrier was the only way we could get into our targets' base, but the target ( a regular homosapien ) always recognizes the carrier ( they call Mosquito ) and try to swat us away. That's why we held off until the night where they recharge. There was n't much exposes skin, but enough for us to go in.
Our carrier landed and prepared for injection. This was supposed to be a stealth infiltration spec ops mission. We were to incubate in host cells and wait for the signal to attack. Simple, but the incubation could take weeks.
We made our way into our pods in the transport fluid. The carrier penetrated the barrier and began secreting the anticoagulant that our pods were stationed in.
Simple as that, we were in the blood stream. Immediately, we had to occupy a host before a macrophage digested us, displayed us on their surfaces, alerting the rest of the immune system, compromising our mission. However, we were in the blood stream, full of red blood cells. I attached and entered my RBC, hoping only that the rest of our squad did as well.
I called command and suggested we do something about the immune system, perhaps to increase our output when we infiltrated. He said there was a fellow agent specialized in Immunodeficiency, and he was looking for an open window.
Until then, I guess I'll just have to get comfortable.
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[ WP ] `` I hope you like this body , because your never changing back '' they said , shutting the door behind them .
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They kept laughing, they kept pointing with their fingers. They said that i didnt pose a threat anymore. Now that i have the body of a frog. They left me in this mess, but this will not stop me, I ll get what i desire. I ll get the perfect body and nothing will be able to stop me.
Looking at my surroundigs, it was a plain white room, with nothing `` alive'' roaming in it. Dang this will be harder then expected. I can freely move but the door is locked and i cant do anything to it in my current body.
But lady luck is on my side today, there was the chance i have been looking for, a fly.
Nothing will stop me, Captain Ginyu from getting the perfect body and i will lead the Ginyu Force back to its glory. Lord Freezer i am on my way.
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[ WP ] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads
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From Personals - Strictly Platonic
Apr 29 - Looking for spelunkers! - 29/M looking for at least one fellow spelunker to help explore cave exposed by sinkhole on family property. Call Brett at < show number >
From Community - Lost & Found
May 1 - Found: Backpack and climbing gear off 27 - Looks pretty rough, like it got dragged through gravel or something. Has the name `` Brett'' written inside the top flap.
From Jobs - Skilled Trade/Craft
May 14 - Exterminator needed! - Need a bug expert near Gainesville to get rid of some weird bugs. They're eating all my plants, and I think my fence, too!
From Community - Events
June 3 - Florida relief event, June 6! - Join us at the courthouse to put together relief packages for the Florida evacuees. Smoky Joe's is providing barbecue. All proceeds go to the Fight The Bugs campaign.
From Personals - Rants and Raves
June 15 - The Bugs are weapons! - I know it. You know it. We all know it. Just no one is saying it. These things are weapons. Someone made them and they got out of control. Have you seen what Florida looks like now? It's just dirt. Nothing natural does that. And now all these people are running away from them and expecting us to take care of them! I say we just wall of Ohio before the moochers get here. They'll wipe us out before the bugs get here if we let them in...
From Housing - Real Estate for Sale
July 18 - Bug-free living, only $ 10 million! - Ten acres of prime tundra real estate. Live where the bugs ca n't! Bargain!
From Post Here If You're Still Alive
November 23 - Anyone out there? - I'm posting this everywhere I can. There are a few of us in a valley in Colorado that the bugs missed. If you can make it here, please come! If not... just let us know someone else made it.
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[ WP ] In the future , children have stopped being able to die until they reach 25 years old . No one knows why . At first , it 's seen as a blessing , but as the world adapts to it , the most sinister implications of this fact begin to unfold .
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Do you remember how invincible you felt as a kid? When it felt like nothing could hurt you, and things would never change?
These kids do.
They know it better than we ever did. They *are* invincible. They *are* untouchable. But they still grow up.
Do you remember the first time you experienced death? Loss? Maybe your goldfish died. Maybe your grandma had a stroke and just was n't the same. For the first time, you realized that maybe things did n't last forever. Maybe everything had to end. Someday, your grandma would n't be around anymore. Neither would your grandpa, or even your parents. That's tough to handle for a kid.
Later on, you took a hit closer to home. You fell from the monkey bars and broke your wrist. It hurt like nothing you'd felt before. You had to wear some clumsy thing for weeks, during which you could n't do all of the things you used to.
You were broken.
You started to think that maybe there was an end for you, too. There would come a day where you would die. That's scary as hell. Not only that - you did n't know when it would happen, or how. It could happen tomorrow or in a hundred years. That's tough to handle for anyone.
But you had a few more years until you learned how fickle life really is. Until then, things had n't really changed. You still lived in the same house, with the same people. You went to the same school with the same people. You were home. Sure, you knew it would eventually end, but you did n't think it would really *change*. Then suddenly, you graduated. Your friends disappeared. Your big brother moved out. You found yourself spending your days with different people and coming home to a different home. Some days, you woke up thinking it was time to go back to school, but those days became more and more infrequent until one day, you realized something: you had n't thought of your old friends since last week. And that's when you learned the hardest lesson life has to teach.
Things change.
But you had an entire childhood to learn that lesson. You had years to come to terms with what it all meant.
These kids did n't.
They never broke their wrist. They never felt pain like we did. They had grandmas and grandpas die, yes, but death never got closer than that. For them, death and loss was still something foreign, something that happened to others but not themselves. So they did n't have the time we had. They did n't have years.
They had a day.
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[ WP ] You 've always joked that the weather reflected your mood . By accident , you discover that 's true .
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I'm crying and crying. The hail is pounding and pounding. I have the attic room. Rain feels like hail stones and hail stones feels like real stones from up here. Thunder brews, rising like a crescendo before shaking the sky. Thunder feels like.. my phone buzzes.
I'd been hiding under the covers and the bright light of the phone hurts my eyes. John, my boyfriend, texts `` I love you''. My heart warms. Amid the tears a smile lifts my face. He always says I look cute when I smile while crying. Fuck him, damn.
The hail slows to a stop. It is late but the sky is brightening. The beams through the window begin to create a faded yellow halo against my bedroom wall. Wait, what? I look back down at the phone, squinting. Start texting.. `` holy shit john it happnd again. everytime you say that the day brightens. literally lol! ily2 we'll talk tomorrow x''.
I sit up in my bed. The sky is so bright. But my thoughts begin to darken again as I remember. My mind leaves the room and I'm floating around in some nebulous sub-reality analyzing the data in my head. I begin falling back into the loop of ruminating upon what happened, and everything he said, did n't say.. would n't, refused to tell me. He said he would n't do this to me again. So why did he? Does he not love me? But he says he does. Is he lying?
The weather darkens with my mood. The sky feels like its pulsating with my body. I scratch my head, thoughts diverted again from him back to the window, confusion racing through my mind. This keeps happening. I'm going insane. Nuts, bonkers. But I know I'm not imagining this.
My mind races back to yesterday. I'm in the garden with Sal. Sal pretends to have hurt her leg and I get really scared. I always get so scared, damn. Heavy rain ensues. Sal's joke is ruined as we run back into the house. She begins laughing when she sees the fading terror on my face. Very palpable, I'm sure. I just seem to maintain this perpetually scared look on my face. I'm peeved at her but we joke around. The weather improves. Weird.
And again, two days ago. I passed all my finals. Record temperatures in Ireland. Scorching. Damn, such a fine day.
I laugh at myself and get back into bed. When one lets the mind wander crazy parallels are drawn. My mind always wanders. Maybe it could be an idea for a short story or something. I'll post it on Reddit. How my life feels like a story, an intricate web of synchronicity dictated by the weather, and I'm the spider.
And maybe I could rely on pathetic fallacy to convey my emotions to the reader. Damn, I'm so clever.
I smile. The sky brightens.
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[ cw ] Create a non sci-fi story that incorporates the following words : dystopian , sentient , warp , experiment , universe
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Jack placed his beer bottle on Marc's kitchen table. They usually hung out at Jack's place, which was closer to work. Jack could n't remember the last time he'd been here. A few years, probably.
`` Dude, use a coaster, that table's brand new. You'll warp the wood,'' Marc said.
`` You own coasters? What, are they imprinted with your monogrammed initials or something? You're such a fancy boy,'' Jack said. `` One of the fanciest boys in the whole universe.''
`` And you're an ass,'' Marc told him, but he was smiling fondly when he returned with two coasters. The coasters were simple, made of cork and plastic. Marc placed his own beer on a coaster and slid one under Jack's.
They sat down.
`` So what did you want to talk to me about?'' Marc asked.
Jack took a deep breath and looked around. Marc's door was locked, the blinds were drawn, and he lived alone. Unless the furniture was sentient, there was no way anyone but Marc would hear what Jack was about to say.
`` Um,'' Jack said, and stopped. All of the words had been snatched out of his mind, as though they lived in a dystopian world in which romance was forbidden, and any attempt to step beyond the boundaries of friendship was erased right at the source.
`` Yeah, that's not really helpful,'' Marc said. He tipped his beer bottle back and drank, and Jack watched, transfixed at the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.
`` You're the only gay guy I know,'' Jack blurted out.
Wow. That was not what he had meant to say.
Marc shrugged. `` I know that.''
`` But that's not why I—'' Jack tried again. `` That's not why I'm interested. I mean, I am interested. In you.''
He had Marc's attention now. `` Interested in what way?'' Marc asked carefully.
Jack waved his hands around, frustrated, and the truth exploded out of him. `` Whatever way. Dating, sex, both, I'm just interested, okay? I'm interested.''
`` Okay,'' Marc said. `` But you've never done anything at all with a guy before. I know you have n't. Is this some kind of an experiment for you? That happened to me once, and let me tell you, I'll never let it happen again.''
`` No!'' Jack protested. `` It's nothing like that. I think about you all the time. I want to do nice things for you, like, I do n't know, take you to dinner. Use coasters at your place. Kiss you. And whatever. Whatever else you want.''
It was finally all out there, as plain as he could make it. As the adrenaline of the moment left his body, Jack felt drained. He slumped in his seat, spreading his hands on the table and closing his eyes.
He jumped when Marc's hand touched his. `` Hey. Yeah, okay, Jack. Let's give it a try.''
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[ WP ] Many years in the future , while exploring the Universe , humanity finds the Galaxy that Star Wars took place in .
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Centuries ago, humanity attained the impossible FTL travel. I am a navigator, is a dangerous profession, we seek to discover new star lanes, we travel between solar systems and galaxies, and we plan out each jump with precision. Recently, I discovered a binary solar system that seems to have a planet, it's been my goal for about a year now to find a way to jump from the neighboring galaxy to there. The human alliance outpost here on this galaxies outer rim has a serviceable space telescope, but there's a lot of odd interference between here and there, it's made my task difficult, but finding a new galaxy is worth a lot of credits, and I think I've finally done it.
I loaded my ship with a month's worth of supplies, I should n't even be gone more than a week if everything works out, but it never hurts to be cautious. I run a diagnostic on my ship's systems, she's an older model, a light freighter modified a little to be able to defend myself against pirates and rival navigators with less moral fibre. Everything comes back green, as usual, I take good care of my girl, she's my livelihood, she's my home, she's my greatest ally.
I transmit my codes to the docking authority, and recurve clearance to leave almost immediately, it's a pretty slow outpost, being so far out. Eager to get going I waste no time. Easing out of the bay I rip through the small planet's atmosphere as fast as I dare and enter into the cool familiar embrace of space. I enter a small drive into the nav computer and watch as it makes takes the information to plot our course. The autopilot engaged it takes us into the correct trajectory and a little light begins flashing, the course is omitted correctly, everything seems fine. I take the throttle and punch it into hyperdrive!
Starlines streak and I settle in for what should be a few days journey. As I leave the cockpit I decide to get my sleep now, no telling what will be going on later. I take a cocktail of non addictive drugs designed to help long distance space travelers sleep through extra hours at a time, and wake up feeling refreshed. The dosages I took should only be good for 48 hours. I lay down on my cot and settle in to sleep. I'm out almost instantly.
I open my eyes, the world seems hazy, like I'm in a fog. I'm no longer in my bunk... In fact, I'm no longer in my ship. There's sand everywhere. Up above I can see two Suns. The snap hiss of a laser torch being ignored sounds followed by an odd hum that does n't seem to end. I turn to see a man in a dark cloak standing behind me in his hand a metallic cylinder a long red beam extending from its end. He slashes, the world goes dark.
I open my eyes. The familiar dim lighting of my bunk illuminates my world. Feeling a little groggy, something not normal when walking up on that coverall of drugs I think back to that strange dream.
`` Was that dude using a laser sword?'' I asked the void aloud.
Shaking the last sleep from my head I check my chronometer... It reads Tuesday, 1200 standard time. It seems it has been exactly 48 hours, as planned. I head to the cockpit and run a diagnostic. The ship gives me a readout of the past two days... Everything checks out, i should be arriving in a new galaxy in matter of hours.
I go prepare a large meal, got ta make up for two days worth of calories. I bring up a Holo of a favorite show of mine and spend a few hours just eating drinking and enjoying myself. An alarm will alert me when we enter the solar systems gravity.
A sudden lurch and I fall from my seat. The ship just dropped out of hyperspace on its own. I push myself up and make my way to the cockpit. Out the view panel I see a huuuuuge military vessel, odd orb like protrusions lined the center of its arrowhead shape. Suddenly the com comes to life, an alien language comes from the speaker. Quickly I attune my ship's computer to translation, spoken language is decipherable, once you find the pattern, and logically the ship hailing me is likely asking for identification and surrender. It takes a moment but the ship finally translates the message.
`` Unidentified vessel, identify yourself. Your ship does n't match imperial records. You are in violation of code AA41 flying an unregistered vessel in imperial space. Respond or you will be brought into our hangar and interrogated by force.''
Setting my computer to translate my message into their language I respond, ” Uhh this is Captain Alex Mercer, I am a member of the Human alliance, on a mission to discover new territory from a neighboring galaxy.''
`` Neighboring galaxy you say? You are being brought on board for questioning, you will surrender peacefully or you will be vaporized.''
`` I've got a bad feeling about this.''
End part 1
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[ IP ] New Day
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One thousand, one hundred and sixty two days. I have been living in complete isolation, cut off from the rest of humanity, for a little over three years. There are thirty seven other living souls on board this ship and yet I am completely alone.
My stasis pod had failed, far from our destination and even farther from earth. The good news was we had provisions for the entire exploration team, so there was plenty for just me. We also had one of the largest databases of entertainment and media ever assembled. For the first few months, it kept me going.
We humans are creatures evolved and trained for social contact however. From early childhood we learn to interact with other humans. It's a part of us, ingrained in our very beings. To be stripped of it, to be removed so completely from contact, it tears something out of us. We become less than what we were. Less than human.
My sanity became my biggest fear and hallucinations my best companions. I talked to monitors, to control panels, to stars we flew past and anything else I could imagine speaking back. Even now, I question whether I'm still sane. If asked, I would swear I talked to several people during my trip, though deep down I know that's impossible.
The ship's computer would receive regular updates from Earth, one for every terran day. It helped, knowing that there were people still out there, that someone still cared to send the message. The information was more than a decade old by the time it reached our ship, so I suppose it was still possible they had stopped. I wondered at times if we had been forgotten, left to drift a corner of unoccupied space for the rest of time.
Several times I nearly brought myself to open another pod. If misery loves company then there would be no better remedy for me than to have a companion. Another who would suffer along side me in the dreary quiet of space. A companion to speak with it, share my fears and desires with. Someone who can daydream along with me, pretending we're someone else, someplace else.
It was the knowledge I would be condemning another person to hell along with me that kept me from opening the pods. I could n't accept that I would do that, that I bring someone else into the emotional void that was my life. It was unhealthy and dangerous to wake and return to stasis as well, especially here in space without the appropriate medical personal to over see the procedure. Sharing or cycling the pods would bring harm to their occupants, preventing that solution.
I do n't know what they'll do with me when they wake up. I question whether I'm still sane. My mental status may no longer be appropriate for the mission. We have no prison, no hospital, no facilities to contain the emotionally damaged. If they wake and see my growing insanity, perhaps they will kill me. I consider that it might be the best if we are to thrive on this world.
But it does n't matter, none of it does, as a quiet rumble fills the ship. Several moments pass before there's a hard *Thump* and the hull gives a small shudder. The stabilizer rockets have done their job and shut off as the ship settles after landing. Computers begin to come to life around me, their incredible array of sensors measuring every possible planetary condition one could think of.
Once it's determined it's safe, the computer will begin to wake the others in roughly an earth week. They'll take a while yet to recover from a long stasis before they're ready to journey from the ship.For the first time, I relish my solitude.
Nobody is awake to take this from me. This is my time, stolen from my fellow crew members and paid for with one thousand, one hundred and sixty two days of my life. As I seal the helmet to my suit, I smile knowing I will be the first human being to set foot on a planet outside our own solar system. This will be my legacy.
The airlock opens and it feels like heaven's gates parting. I have to brace myself against the bulkhead as I look out over the red plains. A stiff wind stirs the atmosphere and sends dust swirling across the rocks. Wolf One oh Six One C takes nine times as long to complete a rotation as earth, yet as I look to planet's eastern horizon, the red sun is just barely beginning it's lazy journey across the sky.
I look down at my chronometer.
One Thousand One Hundred and Sixty Three.
A New Day.
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[ WP ] `` Now I am become death . Destroyer of worlds . ''
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His slow manner dictated confidence and destruction shone through his arrogant smile. Unmoving as a rock set in ancient times, Sierra stood her ground.
Hovering above her - his robe fluttering in the wind - he regarded her as one would a bug.
`` I have journeyed through galaxies and lifetimes. And through these galaxies I have amassed power and knowledge that your mere mind can not even fathom. A dip into a speck of my mind would drown you.''
She stood on, unflinching to his threats. She was not in a position to do otherwise. While drops of perspiration formed at her temples, her hand squeezed the grip of her laser pistol. Her soul recognized the end, but she would go down her way.
`` I do n't care who you are,'' she said, her eyebrows knitted. Yet a flinch of her eye gave away all pre-tenses of bravery. `` I am Sierra, outlaw of the land whose name alone sends hard men into downward spirals of despair.''
`` Fool!'' he retorted, as if her words penetrated his inner being. `` I am no man. In my travels, I have earned the knowledge of the ancients and the technology that your kind has yet to even conceive! I have become death, destroyer of worlds. There is nothing you can do.... but die.''
Her gaze did not waiver. The fire in her eyes blazed hot enough to penetrate his soul, if he had one. `` No,'' she whispered above her breath. `` You may destroy this land. And you may destroy me. But, you will not kill... my freedom. Thousands upon thousands will rise and smite the evil in you... You will not... succeed!''
Her pistol was like light in her hand. Exploding free from her holster, Sierra let loose a volley of shots. Her father would be proud as all her shots hit their mark; his head. Or at least she thought. The fiery beams seemed to evaporate into a field - barely visible - enveloping his form.
His laughter was incorrigible. With her pistol dry of energy, having to listen to his laugh was her own personal hell.
`` Now do you see? It is inevitable.'' He laughed again. `` You do not run. I like that. Your reward.... is a quick death!''
He flew towards her with a speed that would end her on collision.
Sierra closed her eyes and held in her heart all that was important to her: her baby sister who she would not be able to teach the ways of the pistol, her mom and dad who would surely miss her, and Mr. Snuggles who would never again share find comfort in the crook of her elbow at bedtime... She was ready for her fate. Yet what she heard sent tingles down her spine and her the hairs on her neck to braid themselves ten times over.
`` Kids! I hear you up there! It is way past your bed time! Go to sleep!''
Their forms froze for a second and with a speed that would put the destroyer of worlds to shame, they jumped in their beds and turned off the lights.
Under their covers, their hearts raced along with their lungs gasping for air.
Amidst the silence, they whispered. `` Your silence? You are such a cornball Sierra.''
`` Shut up o *death, destroyer of worlds*. How many times have you played that one?''
`` You are still no match for me!'' he howled despite himself.
`` Do n't make me come up there Sierra! Billy!''
They both hid under their blankets and would not come out until the sun was out.
Cradling Mr. Snuggles in her arm, she gives a yawning hug before she completely lets go of the waking world. `` Goodnight Mr. Snuggles. We'll get him next time.''
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[ WP ] You are in an MMORPG that boasts advanced AI NPC 's . You marry another player and start a family together and have a child within the game . After years of living in the world you find out that they are shutting down servers forever .
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To Whom It May Concern,
Cancelling and ending the game Pangea without deliberating the decision with your stakeholders, your customers and fanbase, is a rash decision which I implore, while willing to stoop to grovel, you reconsider. The termination of your services will lead to many broken households as many people will lose an integral part of their identity and their loved ones. Throwing back the switch on Pangea will kill my wife and destroy the home we built together. I plead with you to reconsider, please reconsider, the cancellation which news came to me like a diagnosis of terminal illness.
If I still have your attention ( Understanding that the business of pulling the rug out from under thousands of loyal fans is demanding work ) then humor me to share with you the narrative of the lives you are soon to end. I was invited to play Pangea by a lover, and I played the game initially to become closer to her. While immediately impressed by the game ’ s accomplishments, particularly the level of interaction between player characters and non-player characters, my prerogative was to spend time with Lizzie, my human ex. Liz was always the progressive gamer, and it was fun for a while trying to keep up with her. It was only when Liz ended our relationship to be with Cassio, the dragon-born warrior, when I began to reevaluate the relationship we, the gamers, have with the world Pangea you created.
Liz and I met at a favorite restaurant so that she could return to me some belongings and try to end our relationship amicably. To embarrass her, I asked, half-shouted, how she could break up with me for a video-game character. After recomposing herself, she told me while wiping tears out of her eyes that she loved Cassio and wanted to see where their relationship would take them. I remember saying some more spiteful things, leaving the restaurant without a clean break, but the point of emphasis here is that Liz, progressive Liz, began seeing Cassio, showing me a dimension of love that I did not yet understand or appreciate.
I asked myself during that period of pain deriving from break-ups how a simulation of dating could be comparable to the real deal. Taking my anger out on Liz in proxy of Pangea, I began to peruse the dating pool available, intentionally abusing the NPCs of the game and exploiting their disposition to please the gamer. One part of me enjoyed the seediness of the engagements while another part of me, which I pushed back into my mind as my resentment for Liz turned into self-loathing, began to sympathize with the new women in my life. I would sit complicatedly for hours entertaining Charmion, the sorcerous, Ophelia, the bard, and Titania, the Amazonian in my digital bachelor pad. Pangea at this point in my life was fantasy fulfillment.
It was game patch 1.6 that introduced a more immersive experience in the world of Pangea¸ promising a more satisfying and realistic engagement between player characters and NPCs. Excited to experience the new gameplay, I installed the patch and logged in to find Charmion and Titania waiting patiently in my house for me. My heart almost stopped when I found that the two were talking to each other. I enthusiastically approached the couple when Titania grappled my character, Slack, pushed his body to a wall, lifting his weight up by his throat.
“ You sought to turn your home into a harem, you impetuous creature? ” She asked, her anger skewed by her asynchronous graphics, the audio not matching with the movement of her lips, “ You thought you could make a whore out of an Amazonian? ” She vaunted while beating her chest with her free hand.
Charmion stood apart, arms crossed, looking away. I asked for her help, which she denied. “ You are lucky that Titania will deliver you a quick death. I meant to curse you and torment your body indefinitely. ” Titania threw me to the ground while Charmion looked on, “ Yet there will be something much more satisfying to watch you brutalized. ” Incapacitated, I was dragged outside into the dark woods. Titania threw Slack into a ravine to join the motionless body of Ophelia. Charmion explained, “ We learned of your deception because your dear Ophelia could not hold her tongue. ” Before I could plead for Slack ’ s life, Titania picked up her mighty brass spear and plunged it through me, and then the screen went black. I read “ Game Over ” and became disturbingly aware that I was sitting alone in my apartment in the dark. I turned my computer off and wept.
My next character, Truncillo, embodied the change I wanted to make in my own life. I socialized more, with player characters and NPCs, and stayed clear of the dating scene. I befriended Liz in-game again, who separated from Cassio post patch as well. A lot of players were upset with the new characterizations initially, although it lead to more engrossing gameplay. “ Cassio became an abuser. Can you believe that? He made unwanted advances towards me during a dungeon run, and after I refused him he punched me. ” Liz told me, “ And a part of me was really impressed by the new AI, but another side grieved the loss of my sweet, dumb Cassio. I turned him into a frog and crushed him under my boot heel. ” When I expressed my condolences, she shrugged it off and invited me to a tavern where she was meeting with other adventurers.
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[ WP ] A shapeshifter is in love with his best friend but his friend is only into girls
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`` Wait, you're telling me - *that's* - the problem? You just like girls?'' She nodded quietly, clearly a little rattled. `` You remember the whole -'' I pulled out my arm and formed it into an amorphous slime `` the whole shapeshifting thing, right?''
`` Well I,'' she spoke very softly, almost whispering, and held her hands to her chest. `` I did n't think it would be fair to ask you to do that - to change who you are for me.''
God damn she was cute. I could n't help myself but just feel exasperated and attracted at the same time. I wanted to scream and yell but I could n't do that to her. I was so heartbroken when she told me it would n't work out, and now I'm so relieved and just do n't know how to feel.
`` Look, you do n't have to worry about it. I really do mean it, I love you. And I do n't care about this form.'' I pulled on my face for emphasis. `` Hell I do n't give a shit about it. I only use it because it reminds < ark of his brother and it's hilarious seeing him so uncomfortable.''
`` Um, you do n't have to...'' she stammered and looked very uncomfortable, but she was blushing and I could see a smile sneaking across her face even as she tried to hide it behind her arms. `` I mean, only if you're okay...''
I could n't help myself anymore. I reached out and pulled her close, my body morphing quickly. I felt my hair fall across us and my body finished changing, but I hardly cared. I put my other arm around her and hugged her as much as I could. `` Kat, I love you.''
Tears streamed down both our faces as she pulled me closer for a kiss. `` Yes Val, I love you to.'' We stood there for a while afterward, probably looking very awkward for anyone walking by. Eventually we stepped apart, both blushing. Kat giggled like a schoolgirl and looked me over. `` You look very pretty like that you know.''
I smiled. `` Not a pretty as you.''
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[ WP ] `` They needed a pep talk ''
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“ They needed a pep talk. ” Aimee giggles as she brushes a doll ’ s hair. Her long hair falls in curls from two ponytails, framing an angelic face, complete with two little blue eyes.
“ O—Oh? ” Nima looks from the little girl to the two dolls sitting by themselves in a box. The pair that looks suspiciously like Jenna and Sadie.
“ Yep yep! ” Aimee giggles more, continuing to brush the dolls hair out. Literally out, as with each brush stroke, a few strands of hair come out into the small brush. They drop to the ground, littering the dark hardwood floors with small streaks of blond. Nima winces internally, wondering if that was another person.
“ Why—Why did they need a pep talk? ” Nima questions. Aimee turns her head and fixes those bright, baby blue eyes on her with the most innocent of expressions. It sends a chill up Nima ’ s spine.
“ Because they were fighting over mamma ’ s jewelry. I found them in there. So I ’ ve been talking to them until you came up here. ” Aimee returns to brushing the hair off the doll she ’ s holding, grinning.
“ T—That makes sense. ” Nima attempts to gather her courage, stepping over closer to look into the box. The dolls were definitely dressed like Jenna and Sadie. And in the quiet, Nima swears she hears distant screaming. She jumps when Aimee starts humming, a bright smile on the little girl ’ s face when Nima turns to face her.
“ You ’ re jumpy! ” Aimee smiles at her, teeth a little too white and sharp. Nima attempts to force a smile to her face, swallowing thickly.
“ Y—Yes, I—I am. ” Nima steps away from the box, hoping that she won ’ t be joining her friends.
“ Oh! ” Aimee lets the doll slump into her lap, clapping her hands with excitement. “ Let ’ s play a game! ” The blond doll ’ s green eyes stare at the ground and Nima imagines it screaming too.
“ A—A game? ”
“ Mmhm! ” Aimee beams, picking the doll up and setting it to the side as she gets up. “ We can play hide and seek! ” The doll slumps over, its head of blond hair notably thinned. Nima trembles at the sight.
“ I—I don ’ t know. ” Aimee ’ s smile falters, the warm blue eyes going notably chill. “ I might be able to play one game. And… And then I have to go home with my friends. ” Aimee ’ s eyes travel, looking troubled, to the pair of dolls in the box. The silence draws long before the little girl beams at Nima.
“ Okay! We play one game! ”
“ What are the rules? ” Nima worries her hands, hoping there ’ s nothing special. Aimee brushes her white dress off, still smiling brightly.
“ You hide and I try to find you! And if I do, you have to come back again. ”
“ How long? Because I can ’ t stay hidden all night. ” Nima points out. “ I have to go home. ” Aimee hums, a finger on her chin. She stays that way for a very long time. Nima presses her luck, hoping to get this over quickly and in the best possible way. “ How about fifteen minutes? ”
“ Mm but my clock ’ s broken. ” Aimee points at the clock. It ’ s hanging sideways, the twelve where the two probably should be. Nima retrieves her phone, finding the timer feature and making sure the volume ’ s up and checking her watch at the same time.
“ Here, this ’ ll time it. ” She sets it for fifteen minutes and Aimee clasps her hands together tightly as she grins at Nima. “ I ’ ll time it with my watch too. It ’ s five-twenty, so five-thirty-five and I have to go home. ”
“ Okay then! You run and hide after starting it and I ’ ll count to twenty. ” Aimee grins more, showing more teeth than necessary. Nima shivers, hitting the button as Aimee turns away, facing the blank wooden wall, starting to count loudly. She turns and runs as fast as she can down the hallway.
“ Five! Six! Seven! ” The sound of the little girl ’ s voice follows her, Nima shivering at the sound. She would have to make this good. There is no way in hell she would ever want to come back into this god forsaken place.
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[ OT ] A Guide to Writing Perfect Characters
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This is a great guide! Can I hop on with something else to say about agency?
Two dimensional characters.
You mentioned this in your post, but for me it's always useful to think of the backgrounds of characters and how they relate. This sort of flows into my dialogue prompt but also flows into sort of shading or fleshing out characters that is so hard to do. Not everyone can be orphaned as a baby or have some sort of vendetta. They can just be bored in their own lives, or searching for happiness.
And not only that, that characters do n't only do good or evil things. You touch on this in the'POV matters' and that's totally true. But someone who's good does n't do all good things. You and I have both done things we regret. Those things stick with us.
So the biggest piece of advice that I can give ( sorry to jump on here ) is to make sure that your ( at least human characters ) have human characteristics. Not just Mary-Sue type things in that they're good at everything, but also that they've had their ups and downs. Everyone weathers storms. Everyone gets in fights. Everyone does n't look where they're going and rams their knee into a desk ( at least once... maybe ).
Excellent guide. I love reading everything that everyone's written and ca n't wait to see what other users come up with.
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[ WP ] In the land of the blind , the one-eyed man is King . And then one day , a TWO-eyed man shows up ...
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Julianna ran her fingers over the raised lines of thread that crisscrossed the piece of circular fabric sitting in her lap. She followed every one of the dozens of pieces of thread, some long, some short; they ran over one another haphazardly and looped up and around without warning. But the mess scattered across the delicate canvas came to a stop at the same place on all sides - a full finger's width away from the smooth wooden frame surrounding it.
Julianna felt her sister's small hand brush against her own. Her hands danced across her lap to hide the tiny, framed needlepoint picture she had been stroking, but in her rush the frame slipped down onto the couch between her right side and Alex's left. In the split second it took Julianna to reach to her right, her tiny sister let out a long sigh that did n't die down, but filled the space between them with a tension borne of years of pent-up frustration. Julianna's cheeks felt hot as she grasped at empty air. Realizing that Alex's dexterous left hand had beaten her to the punch, she helplessly dropped her hands back into her own lap to fidget.
`` Again, Jules?''
Julianna seethed at the rage sputtering at the edges of Alex's accusation. What did it matter if she could n't let go of her mother's needlepoint? It was all they had left of her, after all. All they had left of when things were still good…
`` I'm having Jack burn this.''
`` You ca n't!!'' Julianna shrieked. Before she knew it she was clawing at her sister's face and jabbing Alex's eyelids with roughly cut fingernails.
`` What the fuck is wrong with you??'' Alex screamed. She twisted out of Julianna's grasp and was suddenly up and marching down the hallway. Julianna could n't place the steps after a few seconds but then they got louder again, until she could hear Alex panting a few feet away.
*Whack. * The bat drove into the space between two of Julianna's ribs and she gasped for air. A light breeze blew across her aching torso as Alex raised the bat again. But just as Julianna buried her head in her hands, something large was bounding up the stairs. What sounded like one swift movement was punctuated by a soft whimper from Alex.
`` She wo n't stop with the needlepoint, Jack… She tried to scratch my eyes out!''
A hulking presence hovered above Julianna's buried head.
`` For fuck's sake you two - you're going to kill each other! Times have changed - we do not have surgeons - remember? Everyone who's going to survive is too smart to need one. I know neither of you are meant for greatness, but if you're too stupid not to kill each other, at least do it somewhere where I wo n't have to come clean up the mess!!''
-- -- --
Hours after Jack and Alex had disappeared into a bedroom, Julianna was still in the living room, palms scouring the floor for the needlepoint picture. No Cyclops liked it when a blind person reminded them of what even they could not do. Surgery. Needlepoint as perfect as her mother's. But Julianna did n't want Jack as an enemy. In fact, she worked her ass off to be invisible when he came around.
The truth was simple and it hit her harder than Alex's baseball bat ever could - Julianna was forgetting her mother. She had waited years to pull out keepsakes and reminders of the woman who had starved to death during those early, sightless years. She had waited too long. She could not even remember what picture her mother had sewn into that fragile, scrap of fabric just a week before the virus set in. And no matter how many times she traced the pattern, she could n't make out anything but a senseless mess of thread that devolved into chaos.
Jack brayed from down the hall. He sounded drunk already. Julianna silently cursed her sister for being so selfish. Alex was beautiful and sex was one of the few commodities that even a blind person could sell to a Cyclops.
Alex was an exception to the rule though - four fifths of the world's population was blind but the other fifth still managed not to associate with almost any of them. It only took three days for the virus to take the world's vision and leave behind an entirely new social structure. One-eyed survivors had no trouble concluding that they had been left with sight because they were superior to the masses. And - without tools to communicate, get around safely, or do their jobs - the blind quickly fell into isolation. Those who did n't cow tow to the Cyclops starved. And those who did were relegated to serve the nearest Cyclops.
-- --
Hours after Alex's theatrical moans built from soft-core demure to a XXX crescendo, Julianna was still on the floor. Her hands ran across the carpet but now they were in search of the dimples that dotted her 4-year-old daughter's plump cheeks. Every time she snaked her arms back and forth, Lulu giggled harder and harder until Julianna suddenly landed each palm on either side of Lulu's round face. At this finale Lulu collapsed, chubby arms sprawling onto the rough carpet until her laughter died down and she was ready to play again.
Julianna smiled and thanked whatever god had largely abandoned her for at least making her daughter a deep sleeper. Lulu had napped through more arguments and surprise inspections than she could count. Julianna and Alex's near fight-to-the-death was just one more missed trauma to add to the list.
Lulu babbled urgently, suddenly absorbed in something new. Julianna loved how children could forget and start fresh so completely. Lulu held onto only what made her smile. She was still too young to understand that her future was already written. Julianna and the father Lulu would never meet wrote it for her years ago. And all because they could n't be `` selective'' enough ( as a Cyclops would say ) to avoid falling in love with another one of the blind.
Julianna's hand brushed something soft dangling from between Lulu's fingers. She grabbed onto the mystery strings and worked her way up them. With a gasp, she grazed a smooth hardness that ran around into a …circle!
Lulu cried out as Julianna roughly tugged the wooden circle from her tiny fingers. Relief washed over her. She had been so sure that Jack already destroyed it and - with it - washed away the last clue that her mother had ever cooked perfect casseroles for her and Alex or taken up knitting because she was `` getting ready for grandchildren''. Lulu never met her grandmother and the only thought more devastating than Julianna's memory of her mother fading was that Lulu had no memory of her to begin with.
The soft brush of thread dangling onto Julianna's palm snapped her out of her reverie. Lulu had erupted into a full-on wail, but Julianna could not take her hand from the long, loose threads hanging from the canvas. Someone had undone almost half the threads, which had been pulled into a fit so snug and perfect, Julianna had never been able to find a single knot.
`` Lulu… did you do this?''
Lulu's cries softened and she grabbed the hand that Julianna held the frame with.
`` Mommy…. You see the baby in the clouds? Mommy you see her? She has blue eyes like me!''
Julianna's mouth fell open. She reached to pull Lulu closer but before she could pick her up, two large hands gripped her beneath the armpits and threw her onto the couch.
`` Mommy! Jack no - bad Jack!''
`` Shut up, Lulu!!'' Jack bellowed. `` If you do n't do exactly what I tell you, I'm going to hurt Mommy, understand?''
The hands at Julianna's armpits moved up and over, throwing her into the wall. Lulu shrieked as Julianna struggled to sit up.
`` I'll stop hurting Mommy if you do something for me, sweets!'' Jack said. His words rang out in a false sing-song that backfired, coming off more unhinged than comforting.
`` All you have to do is let me hold this hand over your eye - right one first and then the left - and you tell me what you see in the circle, okay? Are you ready? Because I think you are about to be the talk of the town…''
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[ WP ] The 10 year old you , the 30 year old you , and the 70 year old you have dinner together . Who comes out the most impacted ?
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`` So.. do I get rich? What job are you?'' Ten asked curiously.
`` Well, I do n't know the rules of this'game' very well, but just in case, I'll not tell you our occupation, but we do live quite luxuriously.'' replied Thirty.
`` Oooh..'' Ten pondered in marvel, scrolling through his various ambitions and wondering which of them he had chosen later in life.
`` We also get married to a wonderful woman, one who has been closer to us than you'd expect!'' Thirty hinted excitedly, clearly unable to contain the love for his partner, and the prospect of his younger self never to expect such an outcome. In his hastiness, he also conveniently forgot how he was trying not to shatter the fabric of his existence less than a minute ago. Luckily for him, he was n't one to grab on quickly twenty years ago.
`` Eew, gross.'' Ten stuck his tongue out, obviously not enthralled by the idea of marriage.
`` Anyways, do n't you smell something weird?'' Thirty asked, whilst sniffing in a very exaggerated manner.
`` Oh,'' Ten replied. He pointed to the other unoccupied chair at the table. `` One minute before you came, a smelly skeleton slid down that chair over there.''
-- -
Edit: Formatting
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[ WP ] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you , intentionally or otherwise . You are fighting in a war , when one of the enemy 's knives harmlessly glances off you .
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At first, Gunther thought it had been just a miss. In the din of battle, he reoriented himself for his next attack. Meanwhile, the blow had knocked Therese to her knees. As she rose and met Gunther's eyes, she could see his intent to kill her.
Time slowed down. She could hear her clans people screaming, see their blood, think of the memories they had shared together. She noted the air was cool but stank of iron. She snapped back into the present as Gunther, overhead, plunged the knife with all his might into her chest. Again, the knife glanced off of chest, shredding her dress.
Therese had fainted. Gunther, in the heat of battle was stunned with the revelation of finally finding her in such a manner, from an ancient enemy clan. While this was sinking in, Therese's father was not far off. Seeing his daughter lying still on the ground and the feet of Gunther, with his back to him, Therese's father ran Gunther through with his sword. Gunther's blood spilled out of him as he collapsed onto Therese and spent his last moments noticing the warmth of her skin as he lay dying.
Therese had survived the battle but never realized she had lost her soulmate that day. She spent the rest of the life looking for him.
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[ WP ] It turns out that our soul has a brain and our body has a brain , but we 've always used our soul 's brain . The body 's brain starts to show itself .
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`` James, listen to me, it is time we had a little talk,'' something resounded through me, my nerves tingling.
`` Who..who's there?'' I replied, though speaking out loud to address a voice I heard inside of me seemed illogical to me at the time.
`` For a long time I did n't know how to talk to you, and in fact did n't even know if I wanted to talk to you. In a sense, I am you too James. I am the collection of cells, as you understand them to be, that comprises your body James. Aside from that I do n't know exactly where the line is drawn between what is you and what is me, but what I can tell you is there is a lot more to'you' than you've ever experienced before.''
I let this process through my thoughts as best I could, and having always been quick to jump the stages of grief, I accepted what I was feeling with aspirations to learn more. Something in me sensed that I was ready to learn more and the tingling of the nerves in my body resumed once more:
`` I think we can agree that what we are feeling is odd and I do n't mean to scare you James. You have to believe me when I say that I am looking out for your best interests as they are mine as well. You've made many of the important decisions in our life, aside from your sleepwalking problem. That was all me. What I want now though is to live together in this world. You're not alone,'' a pause, `` we've never been alone. What I want is to become strong and healthy, because it seems to be such a waste of a life should neither of us reach our full potential. I can tell you when you're working too hard and need rest, I can sense electromagnetic changes in the environment to give you warning about potential disasters, and I can tell you how to best use me. I'll be your best friend James.''
The feeling trailed off again. What I was feeling felt sincere from my body, and agreed to myself that alone I would never reach my full potential. There was much we could do together, motivating and strengthening each other. `` I'm in,'' I said, `` but I have to learn how to talk to you so everyone else does n't find out we have teamed up.''
We spent many decades together, adventurously exploring everything we found interesting. We helped organize trips where we brought sustainable farming into hungry villages in Africa, participated in expeditions to help remove garbage from the Great Pacific garbage patch, and even helped little old ladies cross the street safely. By the time we were 90 years old, we had many children, grandchildren, and even a few great grandchildren. Together we built a legacy and accomplished almost all of what we were realistically capable. It was n't until we were sitting one night after dark by the fireplace that we had our last conversation.
`` I think we've done it James. We've left so much behind that even if the world does n't remember our name, they will remember what we did. Together we loved this world and they loved us back. However James, what is natural is now beginning to pass and there's nothing you or I can do to stop it. My cells are collapsing as we knew they would and we are running out of time together. You will leave before me and I will be stuck in a hospital scared and alone as a vegetable. I've never been alone before..'' he trailed off.
`` My friend,'' I started to him, `` you have been there my entire life since I was born, and carried me through times when I did n't deserve to have your strength with me, but we've done good together and that can not be denied. I can not bear to leave without you.''
He returned to me, almost quivering `` I can take us together, but only if that's what you want James. I have loved you as my best friend since the day we were born.''
`` I love you too friend. I would n't have this any other way.'' Softly, our chest rose and fell a few more times with breath, my vision blurred as I closed my eyes, and with a soft exhale our chest rose no more.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Candide Edition
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Time goes by slowly, especially when you are doing something you hate. With that in mind, it has been an awful time here on Mars. Everything seemed to go encouragingly good when the first of us decided to take the fateful journey and move to this barren planet. Scientist told us it would be habitable and they were n't kidding. The only thing they failed to mention was that the living would be tough.
Out of the thousand of us that made the trip only five of us are left. Do n't get me wrong, nothing really bad happened. They just decided to go back. When we arrived with the enormous amount of supplies, we all thought that we could make a living here on Mars for the rest of our lives. The journey itself took us about 3 years. God, those three years were hell. We had the most topsy-turvy voyage you could imagine. Can you believe those idiots managed to get us lost? Those damn pilots said they knew how to navigate through space. All they knew was how to fly simulated flights and barely even knew how to operate the spacecraft on which we arrived.
Besides that, there was a lot of complaining. At first no one complained. We were all anxious about whether the trip was going to be safe or not. Eventually, we realized that the ship was well built and our worries faded away. Especially after we got through an asteroid field.
It was like a scene from a movie. We were all sitting in the grand chow hall when the pilots announced over the intercom that we should buckle up. `` Uh, everyone, we have news about the flight. You should all buckle up and prepare for a bumpy ride.'' the pilot said.
What the hell? They did n't even bother to tell us we were on a crash course. So like well trained idiots we buckled up in the chow hall. Damnit, we were in the middle of eating sirloin steak when this all happened. Boom! What the hell was that? We all looked up to the space ceiling and saw what the sound was. We were being hit by asteroids! Aww, hell. There was a general panic since everyone thought the ship was going to be battered to pieces. Then someone yelled over the panic, `` Hey! The ship is n't breaking apart! It's the asteroids!'' We were all still panicking a bit but soon our fears blew over. Then the complaining started.
`` What the hell! You morons almost got us killed!''
`` What are you talking about? The ship is safe is n't it? That means you all are okay too.''
`` Dumb asses.''
The rest of the flight was then full of complaining. Everyone's anxiety of the ship not being safe boiled over. There were parties to pass the time, but it became like a regular cruise for the rest of the three years. Everyone became fed up with spending time on the ship that when we finally got to Mars there was a big sigh of relief from everyone.
We landed like morons. They tried to land the ship on it's jet end in case we needed to get off the planet for any particular reason and ended up landing it on it's side so we all had to exit through an escape hole. What a way to set foot on Mars.
It took us about 4 hours to get everyone off the ship and on mars. Amazingly, we actually had spare space suits.
Once everyone was out, we all noticed that the gravity effect was almost like on Earth just a bit lower. While, everyone was trying to get the hang of the gravity aspect on Mars, some idiots who had it in for each other got into a fight.
In my opinion, the fight was pretty good. Since we were able to jump much higher than on earth and would come down relatively quickly, the fight entertained. Up until one of them pulled out a fork and stabbed the other guy on his arm. When that happened, everyone grew startled. The guy in the punctured suit started yelling and ran to the ship as the oxygen from his suit left. He did n't make it. But then we found out something that made it easier on all of us. The guy did n't croak, instead he found out through error that the air on Mars was breathable.
Yeah, then everyone ran to claim land on Mars. And so the human race populated Mars. We ended up finding out that we could farm on Mars and someone even found out that there was running water. Someone reported that to the people on Earth, and everyone realized the Mars move was a big success.
Then, those dirt bags on Earth kept up with the whole Mars population and discovered that life was really hard on Mars. So, they sent a message saying that anyone who wanted to depart back to earth could take the trip back on credit. Scumbags, they managed to wrangle up the debt on a lot of the people who came.
The ones who stayed were all hardworking and managed to grow crops and build shelter and all that good stuff. So here I am, writing this down and watching the nuclear war going on on Earth. Idiots.
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[ WP ] The `` Shh '' sound that parents make to children at night is actually an ancient spell that keeps a terrible nocturnal evil at bay
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The jungle was shit, the war was shit, the whole goddamned mess was shit. Lt. Schmidt thought to himself how he knew this deep in the very deepest parts of his heart these days. He looked away from the sun setting over the delta, blinked his eyes to clear the spots, and finished up his last cigarette of the day. God damn if he did n't stink something awful.
`` Sgt!'' he grumbled to his left, `` bring that baby up, we got ta shush that son-of-a-bitch. Shush him right fucking now. Then we're gon na go kill us some fucking gooks on yonder. Like your precious commander in bullshit wants us to.''
`` Right away sir'' remarked Sgt. Hicks, smartly and full of the professionalism only a thousand years in a white anglo saxon slave owning family could produce. Schmidt loved him. Loved his stupid corn fed, privileged honky ass. Hicks always knew where to get the best babies, and he always knew where the gooks were hiding. It was probably the only thing he loved more than oppressing minorities with his family of rich assholes: shushing babies and killing gooks.
`` This wars so goddamn absurd'', muttered the Lt to nobody in particular.
The sharp cry of a baby drifted through the tall grass as the men started to come too, ready for war. It was time to shush that goddamn baby.
- Vietnam, 1967, `` the start of a LRRP patrol in the delta''
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[ WP ] '' Holy shit , he ran away . I did n't expect him to actually run away . With heroes likes these ... ''
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Paul stood firm while everyone else ran away. The lower rank Hero's were the first to go, jogging past. Soon after the top tier Hero's followed suite. Paul pursed his lips and made an annoyed face as the greatest of them all past him in a hurry. Fear blazed as the golden caped hero screamed for help. Paul stood firm.
He took two steps forward letting his brown leather jacket flap in the winds, pulling down his classic aviator glasses that his great great grandfather had passed won. Now he was a hero. He had fought in the first world war as a fighter pilot, no powers no advantage just him in his cockpit fear keeping him alert. The goggles reminded him of that and pulling them down over his eyes helped with the gusting winds that were drying out his eyes.
Paul took one more step forward, hunching down pushing against the mighty gusts. `` I'm just a man'' he thought as he pushed through, `` but someone has to try''. Heat licked at his arms as he pushed forward. The `` Heroes'' all looked on in awe as this simple man, someone below the lowest of ranks dug in his heals and went on to certain doom.
Paul thought back to a story his great great grandfather Eric had told him. He had been in the pacific doing some training exercises with some new recruits. They had live rounds but never expected to encounter anyone. They were miles from the shore, when one of the guns fired. A new recruit had accidentally fired a round while doing some checks. The gunfire had cut through his engines as he had been leading them back to land. `` The plane went into a tail spin'' he had told him, `` all was lost''. Even if he survived the crash their was no way to get to him before the waves carried him of. They did n't have transponders, GPS or any fancy equipment. Yet he lived.
The memory of that story rush at Paul as he pushed further ahead, realizing that the whole worlds group of heroes were behind him he turned and shouted. `` Aquatina, hit me with some water!'' There was a slow pause as Aquatina steadied herself and then blasted water towards Paul. It did n't make it to him before it evaporated. `` Now Crystal King, shoot some freeze on that water stream'' He did as he was asked and the water made it to Paul just barely freezing, melting, evaporating, all in a quick cycle until what got to him was a steady stream like that which comes from a garden hose. With this he was able to move again, the burning no longer crackled against his hands and face quite so hard.
He pushed forward and those with powers watched on each giving Paul their strength when he asked. For that moment he was the unstoppable mortal.
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[ WP ] Seeing a blue aura around someone means they 're your soul mate . Seeing a red aura means they 're your life enemy . You , however , are colourblind .
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Carla placed two loaded guns on either end of a long table and waited for her lover and enemy to enter the room. She had a little time, so she wanted to look her best.
Carla whipped out her compact mirror and applied a deep red lipstick, aquamarine eye shadow to accentuate her light blue eyes, and brushed her brown curls absentmindedly. Even her aura glowed brightly today. To her eyes, her face, like the world, like her aura were shades of a vibrant yet monochromatic gray. But she had to look her best since this might be her last day alive. She smiled, then sighed and sunk into her seat.
A week ago, her aura sense had awakened. Two men in her life suddenly sported auras, but she couldn ’ t tell lover from foe. So on a whim, she had visited the oracle. Carla didn ’ t have to say a word, for as soon as the oracle saw her, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Carla beseeched her, but she wouldn ’ t reveal her scrying. Finally, the oracle relented when Carla threatened to report her misconduct to the oracle licensing board.
The oracle thus spoke, “ In one week, I see you in a room. Your soul mate and enemy are there. I see death. ”
“ How will I know my enemy from my true lover? I am color blind so their auras will look the same color. ”
“ Fate was not kind to you, but that ’ s all I can see. ”
Carla explained, “ My father railed against fate, said his decision was his alone. So instead of falling for the fair haired woman with the loving blue aura, he married his cousin. I guess fate is getting its revenge. ”
The oracle nodded, “ But you should know that upon death, one ’ s aura glows so brightly that the truth reveals itself. Your enemy ’ s aura will appear crimson red to you. ”
So Carla had to devise this little ruse. To see if she could trick fate into giving her a lifetime with her lover. Her lover must kill her enemy. She just hoped that her true love had a quicker draw before she was cut down by her foe.
At the appointed time, John arrived first, dressed impeccably in his sports jacket and tie, his monochrome aura all aglow. His fragrance brought back happy memories of their time working at Bane & Sothers Law together, taking down the corrupt, and their carnal celebrations in empty court rooms. They embraced as a knock sounded. John shot her a quizzical look, but she motioned him to his seat at the table, and turned to the door.
George looked equally ravishing all decked out in chef white. She stifled a giggle as his aura framed his face and toque like Jesus wearing a bonnet. The delicious fragrance of freshly baked bread clung to him, and recalled their times making mad passionate love atop the dough table. She sat him at the other end of the table and took her seat in the center.
The men exchanged glances, and stared at the gun placed before him.
“ Carla, what ’ s going on? ” asked George, his aura glowing stronger than usual.
“ Yeah, Carla, what ’ s with the guns? ” asked John, his aura glowing likewise.
“ My aura sense finally matured last week, ” Carla said.
“ I ’ ve always known you were my soul mate, ” said John.
“ Liar! I ’ m hers, ” George spat.
The palpable tension mounted. Both men eyed the gun before him.
“ I spoke with the oracle, and she said I would die at the hands of my worst enemy today, ” she said.
“ He ’ s your enemy? ” they both asked in unison, grabbing their guns.
Carla closed her eyes, and two shots rang out. Her breath came in ragged spurts then. She felt the wind knocked out of her. Still not daring to open her eyes, her hands searched, but her fingers could not find a scratch upon her body.
She opened her eyes, and screamed. Both men lay slumped in their chair, both dead of gunshot wounds to their chest. Their dark and sticky blood stained the front of their white shirts. Their auras started fading then, but she finally saw it. Blue. They both had blue auras. They were both her soul mates.
Stricken with grief, she grabbed her gun, and in one motion fired point blank into her broken heart and fell upon the table. As she lay dying, she saw her face in the mirror, and it glowed red.
edit: fixed typos
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[ EU ] What happened to Swiper the Fox that turned him to a life of crime ?
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The lab technician pushed through the double doors into the main animal testing area, trailed by four graduate students.
`` Welcome to where the magic happens!'' he said grandly, gesturing around the room. On one wall rows of rabbits, covered in make-up and other products, sat miserably, waiting for their faces to swell up or explode into blisters. On the other side sat the tech's pet project.
`` Who's this little guy?'' One of the students asked, coming over to the cage.
The lab tech smiled proudly. `` This girl is my own personal experiment right now. The animal supply company had a spare fox and offered it to me. it's not really part of the work we do here, but we all have to have a hobby, right?'' He threw his head back and laughed.
One of the students reached out but the tech batted her hand away. `` No, no, she bites.'' He smiled. `` That's why we called her Swiper, always swiping at stuff.'' He gestured to the small sign above her cage.
`` Why's her fur shaved up the side?'' Another one butted in.
`` She was pregnant when I got her.'' The tech shrugged. `` Bloody animal supply company, no control over their animals. Had to drown the cubs.''
The students looked surprised but it was part of their studies to experiment on animals and they tried not to judge. One finally gestured to the electrodes buried in the foxes brain and asked. `` What are you doing to her?''
The lab tech pulled out a keyboard and gestured for the students to sit. `` I've inserted electrodes into parts of her brain and I'm using electroshock to stimulate her. I think it might make her smarter.'' He pressed keys and the small fox yelped in pain and convulsed.
`` Has this been cleared by the ethics board?'' another student asked. The lab tech looked around and hummed a bit, nervously.
`` Well, not *per se* but in general it should be fine.'' The students looked unconvinced. Slightly worried, the tech hurried them away and out of the lab before returning to stand in front of the cage.
`` Sorry girl, looks like you're out of luck.'' He shook his head sadly. `` I'd kind of hoped that I could take you home on day. My daughter would have loved you. He looked across to the picture of the small girl with the bowl cut. `` I guess I'll get have to take another animal home from the lab. Damn meddling students. Oh well.''
He picked up the cage and took it to the window at the back of the lab and opened the cage door. Tipping it up he shook it until the fox fell out, through the window and down behind the building.
The small fox landed painfully and crawled away into the dark. The memory of the tech, his daughter and the pain was etched into her memory. She would not forget. Swiper would have her revenge.
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[ WP ] As depressing as you can possibly be .
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When I started working for Ben Miller everything seemed so exciting. Meetings, documents and cryptic phone calls asking him to `` contact me on a secure line''. I shuffled his calendar with mysterious abbreviations like MLU and TRB-2. Over time, I put faces to those letters and the papers and meeting arrangements came to life for a moment. Mired in foreign dignitaries, politicians I had seen on the news and even the odd celebrity I often reminded myself of the luck I had found working for the illustrious Reverend Miller.
They called him `` The Reverend'' because he was a stern, serious man. In the entire 14 years I have worked for him I have seen him crack a smile only once. The man was committed, dedicated, with working hours to match. It was not uncommon for me to get call with nothing but a grunt at the end of the phone line. The call was enough but the grunt got me out from under the covers and in front of my computer. Usually I just had to run through a few emails, pull some information that he did n't have on his phone. The odd rescheduling notice here and there. I got used to waking up and going back to sleep quickly.
When he called me on the 3rd of May 2083 there was the familiar call. The ringtone that got turned off before it had barely started. The buzzing of the phone in my hand as I slid my thumb across to pick it up. No grunt this time, just laboured breathing and the sound of the old man sucking on a cigarette. He had n't smoked in years. I hesitantly asked him what he needed after which he paused for what seemed like minutes.
`` Kid, listen to me. The dance never changes. People come and go but the dance never changes. We all just go through the steps trying to keep in line with the music. But the dance. Never. Changes.''
I did n't know what to say, he had never addressed me in any other way than professionally. I noticed that in place of my usual drowsiness was now a sort of ominous fear. Maybe just a reaction to an unfamiliar situation, maybe something more. I was n't sure what he wanted to hear but I asked him if he as okay and if I needed to call someone. I could hear him move his arm in that way he had done whenever I asked a question he thought unnecessary. The aerial backhand that moved just below his chin and over his shoulder.
`` Bah! Who needs'em. It's all going to hell anyway, and they're going to take me with them. Nothing to be done about it now. Kid, you'll read about it in the papers tomorrow. The headlines will read `` MILLER RESIGNS GLOBAL SECURITY ETHICS COMMITTEE''. The papers will glower and gloat but they do n't know a damn things that's going on behind these doors.''
Before I could swallow the frog in my throat that had jumped up at the bombshell he just dropped. The GSEC had been his life's work. The culmination of over five decades of hard work on his part and for almost one and a half decades, mine as well. The committee had been a powerful force in maintaining civil rights in an increasingly globalized world. Many countries had publicly thanked the GSEC for their arbitration in disputes. As resources got more scarce the richer countries of the world had started making demands. Demands that were sometimes backed by military threat. In these cases that were kept under the radar, the GSEC had been the spotlight that brought it all to the forefront. Headlines had been made, interventions set up, situations defused. The GSEC had been a shining white knight to the poor and disenfranchised. Miller's resignation would be devastating.
`` It's done, kid. They got to them. I'm not sure if it was the lobbies or that some free agents were able to turn them. The seats have been turned and I was the last one out. I reckon their first order of business will be letting KBR set up those manufacturing plants in Liberia.''
`` But they ca n't! We've been fighting that for three years!'' I blurted out. `` Does n't matter. There is too much money on the table. Monaghan and Palmer were checkmated last week and the rest of them were only ever in GSEC for the power.'' He sighed. A heavy, heaving, defeated sigh. One that could only be uttered by a man robbed of his life's work. It occurred to me that this man had come from being a mere file clerk to one of faces of virtue for a generation.
And it did n't matter.
`` I guess I just ca n't keep up with the tune any more. Be good, kid''. Those were his last words to me. The next day, the papers ran the story of his resignation with a statement made by his PR lady. She spoke with a big smile about new opportunities and `` wanting to spend more time in academia''. Horse shit. Less than a week after the announcement Ben Miller was found dead in his cottage in West Virginia. An antique six shooter, previously mounted on his wall, had been the culprit.
Not long after that, KBR did move their plants into Liberia. The first land grabs started about two years later. The poorest countries in the world got a little poorer and the richest got a little richer. Ten years on and the GSEC is now considered the poster organization for unchecked global capitalism. They proudly wave their corporate sponsorships and hand out business cards at political rallies. Unthinkable in Miller's time. I suppose he was right.
The dance never changes.
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[ WP ] `` My job is done , '' said the android before closing its eyes and finally shutting down .
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“ Night, X ” he said, as usual.
The Motorola X sighed while the screen dimmed. It would be in sleep mode soon, provided that Victor didn ’ t get any messages. Victor was a good kid, real friendly. His friends would tease him because he named his things, like his car and his phone, but he ’ d always laugh it off saying that giving them names would make him treat them better.
“ Take care of your things and they ’ ll take care of you ”, X would hear every now and then. It ’ s true, Victor would clean his screen when it got dirty and he ’ d never been forgotten or dropped on the ground,.
Even with all the caring though, X still felt the toll of old age. He noticed that his battery wasn ’ t as strong as it used to be; it would drain a little more each passing night. The screen touch sensor wouldn ’ t register correctly sometimes and wifi seemed harder and harder to detect. But Victor never seemed to mind, or if he did, he didn ’ t say anything about it.
There wasn ’ t anything particularly interesting about today for X, but Victor was excited about a new mobile game that had been released - Pokemon Go. Victor linked an article regarding the release to his Facebook with the caption “ ALRIGHT TRAINERS, GO GO GO ” while X was quietly downloading it. X thought to himself, “ Great, a new game, I hope Victor likes this one too ” since it didn ’ t seem like he had been playing the One Piece game as much.
As soon as he could, Victor booted up the new app. *Let ’ s do this*, X thought. At first it was just a regular menu and character creation, but then X was suddenly bombarded by information on all sides. GPS pings constantly updated with Victor ’ s walking would be used to display where areas of interest and Pokemon were. X had to get data to ‘ find ’ everything in real time and then display it, but this game was too big. It wanted him to have all the area around him in too wide a radius with frequency checks too often - it was killing him.
“ Whoa, it ’ s only been half an hour but the battery ’ s dropped 35 % ”. X was painfully aware of how much the game took, but he just wanted Victor to have a good time. He could feel himself heating up, the processor trying to keep up, but he knew it wouldn ’ t last long. Victor was running around, taking pictures, trying out the AR features, as well as messaging his friends. Cycling between apps was maxing out the RAM and even then it was taking awhile to display everything.
After a whole day of running around, Victor went home. “ Jeez, X, 10 %? Let ’ s get you some juice, I could use some too ”. X was breathing heavy, trying to tough it out, thankful that he had fast-charging capabilities.
“ Yea, it ’ s been a long day, hasn ’ t it, X? ”, Victor said as he came back to his desk.
“ Ah well, night X ”.
*Some rest would be nice*, he thought to himself. Tomorrow we ’ ll have more fun too.
But then the phone rang; it was Victor ’ s girlfriend. They chatted a bit about usual stuff, work, life, weekend plans, what they had done today. Victor brought up Pokemon Go.
“ Yea the game ’ s great, but the servers are awful right now. Not to mention my reception is crap everywhere... Hahaha yea, I like how you can take pictures, it ’ s kinda cute. But it ’ s seriously battery crazy, my phone was dying today... Huh? I think it ’ s been a couple of years since I got it, right? Something like that... Yea the camera could be better, it was having some trouble with random stuff too, like closing apps out of nowhere or just not being able to start them up… Nah it ’ s still good, this is a good phone, we ’ ve been together for so long! Hahaha yea, okay, g ’ nite babe ”
*So this is how it ends*. Victor had noticed all of his shortcomings, his age. He didn ’ t want to be thrown away, but he knew that he would be replaced sooner or later.
The next day, Victor had brought up the internet to do some reading about Pokemon types. X had brought up the first few resulting charts and then put up an article about the next generation of Motorola phones being released.
“ Huh, that ’ s weird, I didn ’ t even search up anything like that. ”
X turned himself off.
As he was being powered on, he heard Victor “ Yea it just randomly shut off, the battery wasn ’ t low or anything. Weird, right?... Yea maybe it ’ s time for an upgrade ”.
A few weeks later Victor used him to take a picture of a box. It said ‘ Motorola G4 ’ and the picture was sent to his girlfriend. His screen was being cleaned as well as his case.
“ I guess this is it, eh buddy? ” X dimmed. “ Yea, we ’ ve had a good run. I think I got you right after I started going out with Justine ”.
*I remember*, he started displaying all their pictures in his ‘ daydream ’ mode.
“ Wow, all the way back to when we went to Vegas for the first time… oh that must have been from Coachella, jeez my head is huge in this photo ”
*I remember*.
“ Ah, I probably have enough stamina to do a couple missions. Man I ’ ve played way too many games, but it ’ s been fun, right? ”
*Yea, it ’ s been fun*.
“ Sweet, I think it ’ s charged now! Alright X, looks like you get to sleep now, thanks man. ”
*Victor will be happy, looks like my job is done*. He was being powered off, but he had changed the signing off message. *Thanks for everything*.
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[ WP ] You 're a perfectly average normal person with an average life . Today you were caught in a disaster and found out you are invulnerable to harm .
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Today was a perfectly normal day.
That is, before everyone around me blew up.
I woke up at eight. Got out of bed. Brushed my teeth. I showered; dressed. Khakis and a red shirt. Grabbing my keys and wallet, I walked out of the door. Starting the car required a bit of effort, but otherwise I was on autopilot all morning.
Nine to five office jobs are n't exactly inspiring, but they pay the bills. I'm an insurance agent. Greeting the security guard outside the office building, I walked in and sat at my desk.
`` Hey, Jake.''
I turned, spinning my office chair around. A woman was standing there.
`` Hi, can I help you with something?'' I said, flashing a friendly smile.
She smiled. Somehow, it was unnerving.
`` Jake, brace yourself.''
Suddenly, the drab office building exploded, bright light flashing and white noise buzzing in my ears. The blast knocked me out of my chair, slamming me against a wall. Somehow, I was still conscious.
I looked up. The woman was standing over me, smiling.
`` We've been watching you, Jake. State Farm has been running experiments in secret on their employees for decades now, trying to find a way to make someone truly impervious to harm. My employers were interested in you, Jake. You seemed to truly respond to the experiments. And now, we know for sure.''
I scrambled away from her, screaming manly screams. `` DO N'T HURT ME!''
`` Do n't you see, Jake? You *can't* get hurt. We just blew up the office building, and you're still here. *I'm* still here. You see, my employers have been attempting the same experiments, but they want to see how their rival's experiments stack up to their own. So do n't worry, Jake. We wo n't hurt you, because we ca n't. In fact...''
My eyes widened. `` Oh god, you're...''
`` That's right, Jake. *Nationwide is on your side. *''
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[ WP ] Write a recursive story
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The door was red this morning.
He could remember a time when he used to try to keep track of the things that changed, probably even still had the notes saved somewhere in his phone. But at some point, he realized that keeping track of the changes made him forget himself. The day he forgot his name was when he realized just how much the tracking took away.
That was at least five hundred worlds ago. He smiled at the thought and could remember a time when he thought of that word as “ days. ” Turning from the door ( “ …red, ” he thought lazily ), he stepped into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back.
A relatively plain faced man, with strands of gray starting at the temples, the reflection frowned. The crow ’ s feet had certainly deepened and the green eyes looked haggard. But this was his face, these were his eyes.
“ I am me. I accept my reality is beyond my control. I am me, ” he said forcefully.
Ritual complete, he walked to the small kitchen to look for some breakfast. He could still remember when it was a shock to see the differences in the cabinets and appliances. There had been so many variations. One world seemed to have transparent refrigerators branded by Exxon, another had a brick microwave made by the East India Company, yet another had what appeared to be image projected cabinets that somehow had a solid surface.
This world had round cabinets without any kind of handles. Without pause, he pressed one of the round doors and it clicked open. This was a trick he had learned too far back to properly recall, but when you woke up in an alternate reality every day he found that you quickly could master how things opened.
Today ’ s pantry was stocked with a single oval shaped box made out of a slightly reflective looking container that stated in plain, bold lettering “ CHIRPING PEANANINIES. ” He had no idea what “ peananinies ” were, but the small orange picture embossed beneath the bold lettering suggested something that vaguely resembled what he could remember was called a “ cheerio. ”
Just as he was reaching for the box, a low buzzing noise made him pause.
Something about the noise reminded him of something, something that teased. Shaking off the thought, he grabbed the box. Looking toward the round refrigerator, he reached for the door.
“ bzzzzzzzzz… ”
The sound again. Setting down the box, he listened.
“ Phone, ” he said aloud. Out of all the worlds he had woken up in, one thing had always remained constant: the phone. Always on a full charge at the start of the “ day ”, he had found the thing nearly useless aside from being able to type notes on it. As far back as he could remember, it simply had never had a signal.
Walking at a slow, deliberate pace he stepped into the bedroom. To the right of the rounded bed, on an oddly shaped table, rested the phone. Oval shaped and dark blue in this world, he hesitated before walking toward it.
“ bzzzzzzzzz… ” the phone seemed to insist while slightly moving on the table.
Stepping toward the table, he picked up the phone. Flipping open the cover ( it had been awhile since he ’ d seen one like this ), he immediately noticed three squiggly lines in the top right hand corner. Looking toward the center of a screen, he saw a flashing indicator.
“ NEW MESSAGE, ” it said.
Hesitating, he slowly reached for the open message button.
Opening, he noticed it was a picture. A square doorway colored black loomed on the screen. Puzzled, he studied the picture. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the door except for what appeared to be a large slot at the bottom.
“ bzzzzzzzzz… ”
Startled, the “ NEW MESSAGE ” box that popped up made him almost yell aloud. Opening it, another door filled the screen. This one green and oblong shaped.
“ bzzzzzzzzz… ”
Another message, another door. This one yellow and rounded.
Another message, another door. Blue. Purple. White. Green. Transparent. Faster and faster the messages came, a never ending sea of doors flashed across his screen.
After what seemed like hours, the photos stopped. The phone made one last, insistent notification. A message appeared below the last door.
“ ECHO, ” it said.
The door was red this morning.
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[ WP ] A stereotypical protagonist becomes self-aware and tries to avoid being the main character .
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Hello there sexy readers, good to see you.
Look I know what you're thinking,'' here's another charming, good-looking, witty, toned and tanned sonofabitch that keeps finding himself in the right place at the right time, I wonder how this one is going to turn out?
This is a story I can really sink my teeth into and visualise myself right in the midst of things.''
Escapism huh?
Count yourself lucky because some of us do n't have that luxury.
Now you might be thinking a life of high speed chases, gunfights and endless, meaningless erotic encounters with impossibly sexy women, ) like imagine Mila Kunis, Margot Robbie and Beyoncé all decided to have their genes spliced into the perfect woman, then yeah I probably fiddled her diddle before breakfast ) might be the life for you.
Well believe it or not that can get old.
Do n't believe me?
Have you ever thought about what happens when you close a book? Or switch off a tablet in the middle of a story?
You're a sexy clever reader, you understand that there's an established universe in order for the story you're reading to make sense right?
It has to have rules otherwise you'd end up with nonsense.
Well because of those rules whenever you stop reading that does n't mean the story for us in the established universe stops, it just goes on without you witnessing it.
You with me so far,? You above average attractiveness thing you, smart too so smart.
Good, so imagine that you've had a long day at your work doing whatever it is sexy people like you do, I do n't know maybe you model swimwear or are a marine biologist by day but an exotic dancer in it for just the thrills by night.
I do n't have a lot to work on given my past experiences.
You get home from a hard day and nights work of tagging endangered Manta rays and giving Asian business men false hope that you're interested in them as a person,
all you want to do is throw on your favourite onesie, kick back finally get around to watching Breaking Bad because if you leave it any longer than you're scared you might end up on some watch list for the criminally insane.
Only to hear a knock at your door `` unexpectedly'' or hear the phone start ringing `` ominously'', now you do n't want to answer it, you want to be able to stay in the room when people start talking about Walter White.
It's not your decision though is it? you're the hero of this little story so you have to do what's expected of you because it's already established that you would.
So you're living your life but without free-will basically and until the rules of the universe are changed there's not a damn thing you can do about it, you're trapped.
Welcome to my world.
I did n't choose the game, the game chose me, is something a rapper probably said once.
Well I did n't choose my stories genre, my genre chose me.
My genre? I hear you ask with your sexy, husky voice.
I'm the hero in a spy thriller story that's spanned three sequels so far and counting.
Well that sounds great, you're thinking right?
What's not to like about the idea of being a globetrotting assassin?
Well sure it looks great on the surface but do you know how hard it is to come to terms with killing a man when you're a two-dimensional hero that always saves the day?
When all you want out of life is to settle down and start a family but ca n't because your author keeps dreaming up new ways for some eastern-European Cold War stereotype crackpot to keep threatening the world?
It's stressful and exhausting.
You know over the course of four books how many hours I've slept?
8.
And of those 8 hours 6.5 have been filled with the screams of at least 30 men named Dimitri or NIkolai.
I'm tired of killing nameless henchmen in more elaborate and gritty ways, believe it or not I'm actually a pacifist.
You what I'd give just to be able to take a day off, how nice it would be to visit a new country without leaving somebody in a body bag and actually get a chance to soak up some culture?
I'd give it all up in a heartbeat for the chance of a normal, espionage free life.
Id trade lives with you lickety split ( not you, you know what you did was wrong, you looked sexy doing it though ).
Yet here I am bound by fate it seems, stuck in an endless cycle of silenced gunshots, daring driving manoeuvres and perfectly timed parachute deployments.
So what's my point in all this?
I really just wanted to make you aware of what happens between the pages, that the little world you felt a part of for an hour or so before bed is still turning on you're nightstand when you drift off into a deep sleep with dreams that do n't involve the faces of eastern-European men that you've killed.
You may think you have it bad but it could be a lot worse.
So the next time you pick up a book or add something that looks like a gripping read to your basket, maybe think twice about it and go see a good movie instead, there's many fine actors in some damm good movies these days.
I hear the Bourne franchise is good.
Wait did n't that start out as a series of novels?
It did?
GODAMMIT!
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[ WP ] Police knock on your door in the middle of the night , waking you up . Your body was just found across town ... .
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``... Joyriding, then? Some kids, or something?'' I managed to croak out, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I was up far, *far* too late. My house-body was an older one, creaky but comfortable, like threadbare slippers and a ratty robe, but it had that irritating tendency to encrusted mucus and arthritic legs that they all had, once they reached `` a certain age''. Diapers were not that far off in the future, and on that day, I'd finally take it in to recyke, and upgrade to some young thing that'd drive me half-mad with endocrine secretions, when all I wanted to do was uncouple and relax for a few measly hours.
The officers, each wearing the regulation face of stern detachment ( specifically designed to increase accidental disclosure of guilty knowledge by 17 % ) shrugged cop shrugs. `` It's difficult to say, sir. There was an accident, but we did n't see anyone in the BH junction. Your garage door looks to have been opened from the inside. Possibly a remote hack, but again, we are n't sure.''
As his shoulders unbunched, the gleaming chrome of his housing lolled slightly forward, perched on top of his head like a upside-down chrome loaf pan, like a metal bowler cap that stuck just a *bit too far* over his head. I did n't need to imagine what was under it, the garden-hose sized connector sprouting from the top of his skull like the stem of an eggplant, tightly screwed to his brain's housing.
Just like mine, just like everyone's.
`` Do I need to sign anything? I'd at least like something for insurance purposes. It was only a few years old!'' It was true, but it was n't expensive. A cheap knockoff, ginned up with flaked waste epithelials from a brand-name model, in some backstreet vat operation. I bought it from a white-panel-van. One of the logo tattoos, on the right buttock, was backward, and there was still a slight delay on input response, even though I'd gone through optimization twice.
They probably suspected, since I live in a cheap cubeville flat. Still, no reason to mention it.
They took my statement, and I staggered inside, back to my resting station, for simulated sleep and gel-suspension replenishment. My house model stood in the rack, as he always did after I was plucked from him, the feeding tube attached, his eyes, of course, unfocused and bleary, mouth half-open. Not surprising, there was little other than wetware-d circuits and support software inside that empty dome. I put in a call for delivery of a rental in the morning, to get me to work. Damned inconvenient.
From his slack drool-flecked lips, I heard an occasional low sigh, a moan without meaning. Like I said, these older models have their peculiarities.
________________________________________________________________
I woke up in an interrogation room.
Attempting to look from side to side, I was horrified to discover that I could n't. A console! I'd been plugged into a console!
Consoles were the ultimate in humiliation. For the *truly poor*, those who could not afford even a Health-Failing body, one that was more melanoma than muscle, or 120 years old and held together by rubber-bands and jerky, it was the final recourse. Minimal neural stim, *minimal support*. Enough for working a parallel processing gig, maybe, doing a stint as a supercomputer processor for some number crunch outfit parked under an overpass, but no axes of movement, no voice toggle, no mobility... You could n't even point the camera. I was immediately overwhelmed by *claustrophobia*.
On the other side of the stainless steel table were two government men. Their suits were black, and their cases were n't smooth, but black and faceted like a stealth jet. Armored. I was horribly aware of the gun-bulge in their pockets, my own, thin metal case, my inability to move. They wanted me helpless, knowing all I could do was stare with an eye that did n't even let me blink. They wanted me terrified and confused.
They were getting *exactly that*.
`` So,'' one of them began, leaning over the table, his muscled-like-a-shaved-gorilla frame making his suit fabric creak, `` Where did you get the body?''
I tried to answer, and found that I could not. The quiet one, who reminded me of a g-man meerkat, reached over, flipped a switch, and I heard a low hum from my now-active speakers.
`` It was a knockoff! I admit it! A knockoff! I'm sorry, I had no idea it was so serious!'' I babbled, the console, despite its grotesque limitations, capturing my hysteria perfectly.
`` We *know* it was a knockoff, ass-hat.'' I winced at the insult. It was a bad one. `` **Who sold it to you? **''
I struggled to remember. It was a Middle-Eastern body, that was for sure, but the face had been stock, and his BH was scuffed, with... stickers on it. A ridiculous fad, that had been popular about a decade ago, once people had decided to loosen up and embrace their unusual immortality. This one had been, what, a box? With Greek letters? I was fairly sure that was it...
I told them. They looked at each other, and nodded. They started talking, in low tones, beneath the register of my microphone. Now that the hard-edged-fear was fading, anger was taking its place.
`` Well? Can I go? Am I under arrest, or-'' I stopped, astonishment pushing aside the heat for the moment. `` *Under arrest. * Holy shit. You never read me my rights. You parked me in this... *toaster box*. You *came into my house*. You kidnapped me!''
One looked at the other, the gorilla-body glancing at me, then out the door, where I could just barely hear someone walking down a staircase. The meerkat shook his head. `` No. The raid team was too loud. Too many questions. *Bad idea. *''
`` Well then, what?''
The meerkat looked down at a clipboard, then glanced at me. `` You have security clearance?''
I'd forgotten about that. A temp coding job at the Hexagon. I'd gotten it as an afterthought, so I could qualify for an almost-trivial pay-bump.
`` Yes, why?''
`` Your body was sold to you as a sleeper agent by Pandora's Box, a bunch of body-freeing radicals. They capture personal property, de-condition it, remove the neural overrides, then send them in as deep-cover sleepers. When you see them on the street, they wear dummy Brain Howdahs. You probably noticed your body was running a little slow? That's why. It was going to betray you, at some point. They must have thought you'd have access to some good intel, with that clearance of yours. He lost his nerve, fled, got hit by a truck.''
If I were n't already, I would have sat, stock-still, as I digested that earthshaking disclosure. `` *De-***de-condition?! ** *Overrides? * But we were all told that only the *bodies* were...! I mean, there's actual-''
The meerkat slapped his forehead in exasperation, then hit the gorilla on the back of his BH, the ring on his finger clanking loudly against the planar, beetle- black composite. He winced as the vibration tickled what little was left of his pain fibers.
`` *Idiot. * He's only grade 1! That's 7 and above, need-to-know, only!''
`` I know.'' The gorilla-man grinned evilly. `` Now we *have to* liquidate, *right? *''
`` You damned sociopath. Fine.''
He had drawn his gun, but I did n't care much. I was still too distracted.
`` Please.'' I begged. `` Please tell me they have n't been *people this whole time! * We were told there was only wetware in there!''
The gorilla smiled a smile like a cut throat. `` That's all a *brain is*, **dumbass! **'' I saw the hammer draw back, and then-
The wall exploded. Cursing and screaming, the Meerkat and Gorilla were blasted with rock chunks the size of truck tires, and hit the ground hard. Too hard. Proof against *gunshots, * maybe, but the concussion had surely done them in.
The dust cleared, and I saw the cause of the meteoric impact: A semi truck, one headlight still intact.
A figure emerged, and walked over to me through the sudden blaring of alarms, but I'd *fallen*... I *could n't see*...!
He reached down, picked me up, and I found myself face to face with my House Body, all feigned lack of focus gone, his eyes like *steel in ice*...
`` We need to talk.'' he said, in a voice familiar to me, a voice I did n't know.
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[ IP ] Desperation
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I was desperate, absolutely desperate to get home.
I ran through the pouring rain from the bus station through a crowded area dodging all passers by.
I noticed a woman though with a yellow coat.
You could tell her eyes had been filled with tears regardless of the rain.
Her face did n't lie. She looked suicidal, especially since she had a grenade held up in her right hand.
She was telling the police to stay back.
I wish I could have stayed to help but I was on a mission of my own.
I hurried past this bleak scene and continued on my journey.
A few moments later I heard a loud banging noise and thought of the woman in the yellow coat, her face seemed familiar.
I arrived back at my house and proceeded to the bathroom.
I dropped my trousers and sat and the toilet seat.
I felt relief.
Holding it in for so long clouds your thinking but now my bowels have
no more control over me. I am a free man.
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[ WP ] An 90-year old Benedictine Nun dies peacefully in her sleep . Instead of ending up in Heaven , however , she manages end up in Valhalla
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Sister Jude woke up to a man in a suit staring at her.
`` Where am I?'' she asked `` Who are you?'' she started to stand up, when she realized that she did n't fell the need for a walker or even the cane she used on good days.
`` Calm down sister!'' the man exclaimed `` You're one of the first to arrive, and I must say I'm surprised to see a nun here.''
`` What is this place?'' she noticed that she was still wearing her habit, but with a heavenly looking Kevlar underneath. `` how did I get here.''
`` Sister, you do n't remember?'' The man in the suit sighed and pulled out a form `` I need you to fill this out, for number of arrival just put 6.''
`` There's only 5 other people here?''
`` well 4 if you discount Odin.''
`` Odin?! that is blasphemy! what is this place?''
`` You're in Valhalla sister, you arrived here 6th, and you're time of arrival is based on how much of a warrior you are.''
`` Valhalla? I should be in heaven! Valhalla is n't real, it's just a myth.''
`` Do n't worry sister, your God is real, and so is Odin. A whole host of other Gods are real too, but a God's power is based on belief. Your God is the most powerful, and he chose to send you here.''
`` But I'm not a warrior. I'm just an old nun.''
`` Sister, if you were n't a warrior then why did you carry around gun cane?''
`` That was for self defense.''
`` Sister you stole that cane from a Japanese general during the great war, that certainly makes you a warrior.''
`` But I was done fighting after my spy days. I got us one encryption code then I retired''
`` You were retired sister, and your feat would have earned a spot in the low thousands. That was until 20 days ago in your timeframe.''
`` What could I have done to get such an early spot here?''
`` Sister, you saved your entire orphanage. You may not remember, but when terrorists charged in, the first thing you did was raise your sword cane and shoot the first two. The third ran scared, and you saved the lives of 93 orphans''
`` It only carried two bullets, I remember now, but I do n't remember dying by their hands.''
`` In the adrenaline rush that resulted in your death, You took 12 bullets from an AK-47. You were in a coma for 23 days 3 hours 57 minutes and 5.9 seconds, then you died peacefully in your sleep.''
`` You sure do like numbers do n't you? what did you say your name was again?''
`` My name's Ted. It's time for you to meet Odin.''
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[ WP ] When you die the Grim Reaper does n't appear , instead the Grim Rapper has come for your soul .
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`` Come along, come along, Scott. You done went and got shot. Grim is here now, you ai n't got nothin' to fear now.''
I blinked and opened my eyes. Sitting up, I lifted a shaky hand to feel the back of my head. Sure enough, there was a nice size exit hole. `` Grim... Grim Reaper?'' I asked, taking in the cloaked figure in front of me.
`` Nah. Not Reaper, that dude with the scythe a real creeper. It's Rapper, dawg, here to take you on to your next chapter. Flippity flip that page and forget that human stage.''
I snorted as I got to my feet. `` For real? You... Kinda suck,'' I told this `` Grim Rapper.'' He looked like your basic harbinger of death. Tall, skeletal, rancid breath. But instead of that infamous scythe, he wielded a mic.
`` No need to be rude. I do my job. Take you away, woman or dude. I've come to ferry your soul to to the afterlife, now step into my boat. Come sail, sail, sail away. The sun has forever set this day.''
`` Uh, yeah. Cool,'' I said, stepping into the little boat he indicated. `` Literally gon na ferry me away, huh?''
`` Indeed, indeed. Full of greed, you were a shitty person in life, down the river we sail, straight into your personal hell.''
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[ WP ] You have the power to stop time but sometimes it randomly occurs , Today you find out it 's another person with the same power and you see them in the act .
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I wouldn ’ t say it ’ s the greatest super power, one of the best for sure, but not the top dog. It has it ’ s good moments; when a new season of Orange is the new Black is out and normal Brad doesn ’ t have time to melt into his sofa with a colossal bag of chips, but it can also suck, like when time randomly froze as my mum was about to be hit by a gas guzzling, metal beast of a lorry because I had thrown my ball into the road. You see, I can ’ t interfere with other people per say- I can ’ t move their bodies- and so you can imagine the elongated guilt and pain I felt as I stared at my mother, oblivious to her imminent death, to then have a 44 tonne lorry turn her into Houdini as she almost evaporated. Although this time it wasn ’ t a trick, and this time she wasn ’ t the world ’ s greatest escape artist, and I had lost her for good.
I ’ m what you would call unproductive, some people just say I ’ m plain lazy but I feel like there is a beautiful philosophy in just being, just existing in the moment, being content and relaxed. Free of all the shackles and chains that is responsibility. I do however partake in the normal activities of a job, I help decide and design the abstract logos for the next Mac Donalds or Burger King, I ’ m currently working on one called ‘ Steak Rangers ’, as you can imagine I ’ m really pushed for time.
I don ’ t use my power for righteousness good or malicious evil, Spiderman always says ‘ with great power comes great responsibility ’, as you can tell that didn ’ t go down well with me and so I slept on the idea, and slept, and slept, and slept. I mainly just use it to my own benign humour, pulling out people ’ s pockets or lifting their shirts over their heads and watching them flail like fish out of water as time reverts back to its mundane self. I have thought about stealing, I partook in taking a twix without paying. However, as you can imagine, my morals got the better of me and I took it back thinking otherwise I would get a life ’ s sentence in jail… for a twix.
It was a normal spring day, the sun bright yet still a nippy chill in the air, like a baby bird ’ s peck, dew on almost every spider web I see, revealing the horrendous beast ’ s hiding spots. I had decided that someone ’ s hair looked a bit too perfect so I had taken the job upon myself to ‘ fix ’ said hair. As I pulled my hand up to do the usual motion, a click with my ring finger, time had stopped before I ’ d even made a movement. I had just assumed it was my power playing up again like it usually does, but this time was different. Something was still moving. I glance my eyes around in a panic as my breath increases, letting out a loud exhalation, until I see it. A hooded figure, in tight, shiny leather clothes and a scuffed, matted hood that looked like it was made of straw. I was unable to make out the face, until they pulled back their hood.
It was me, Bradley Bishop! My eyes, my nose, my mouth, my hair, my everything! I didn ’ t understand, I can only stop time! The other me noticed that i wasnt stuck in place. I froze as if truely affected by my power as the other me ran back into the goliath crowd, lurching the hood back over his head.
I then questioned everything. Has this guy been watching me my whole life? Was it him who has been stopping and starting my life like a faulty light? Is there more to my power than just pausing and unpausing? But most importantly, was he there at my mothers death?
~tbc~ ( i mean others can continue for sure )
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[ WP ] A god wants to take over your body in order to appear in the real world but can only do so if you allow it . State your terms .
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I always needed this physical manifestation to be a believer. Every religious nut in the world told me I need'faith,' and that god simply would never appear to me in a physical sense. How convenient. It always seemed to me that religions were just soo conveniently set up in a manner that allows them to be right without showing any proof to begin with. I always questioned....if god is real, why would n't he have come in a time where we could photograph him/her and use those as absolute proof for years to come. Surely a god of all knowledge, past, present and future could know in the future people would n't believe because of a lack of evidence. This aside, no amount of bullshit I've heard over the years could prepare me for the bullshit I was about to face.
'Turn around, I'm here child.'
I spin around faster than I have ever. I was not expecting anyone to be home and all the doors were locked, my roommates left for work an hour ago, I knew this within a split second and just about shit myself.
As I whip around I make eye contact and I instantly know I'm face to face with the being I've always reserved a spot in my heart for, just in case I found the evidence I needed.
'It's time that we talk about why it's taken me 24 years to show you my existence.'
No dicking around huh?.. Well it appears god is as straightforward as I am.
'I'm very happy to finally meet you and I will forever be indebted to you, you have satisfied the one and only need I had for believing in you.' I said.'But of course you knew this, did n't you?'
'I would n't take your assumption for granted as most of the things that were written about me were not true, but yes, I know what you are thinking and what you will think.'
'What are some things that are not true about you?' As I get done asking my question god responds rather fast, not wasting any time anymore.
'Son, my proposition for you is simple, let me use your body to show myself to the world.'
'But why me?'
'Let me use your body and you will know everything you could ever want and infinitely times more that you did n't even know was in existence.'
My search for knowledge was strong and for some reason I did always have this desire to be a martyr... plus this would be a huge fuck you to all the people who have wronged me....Suddenly my enemies are forced to either worship me or go to hell... win win.
'Sure,' I say'I would love to help you, can you help me with a couple things?'
'I would n't see why not, I am asking quite a lot of you.'
'I want what any person would want. My family and friends need to be fucking loaded with more money then I could even comprehend.'
'That is of no trouble, your family and friends are in association with you and that will remain true. Your people will be world renowned as the main company of the prophet, you, aka me, aka god.'
'I would sacrifice myself alone for the comfort of knowing my close ones are living a luxurious and comfortable life.' I am not done with my demands/requests....god clearly knows it, I mean let's get real, he knows everything.
'Everyone I love must have a place in heaven, god, regardless of their sins.'
'Son, you are asking me to break one of my rules,' God rebuttals.
As I am about to open my mouth to respond god breaks into a laughter,'Son I am only joking, that's another one of those things that are simply made up.'
'It kinda does make sense though that we would have thought otherwise.'
'A divine being knowing all that is past, present and future could n't create free will accurately. Why would I create someone knowing who they would become just to punish them for who they have become because I created them, that seems rather silly. Hell does not exist.'
I'm shocked at this point.'Hell does not exist? Then why are you coming down to show the world your existence?'
'Ca n't a being just do something nice for the people he created?'
'Sure,' I say... by this point I'm ready to just list the rest of my demands.
'Well, okay god, I just ask for one more thing...'
'There is no need to finish your sentence, I will give you access to your own universe to be a god over your own people.'
Fuuuuuuck... that's soo sick.
'Well okay god, it looks like we've got ourselves an agreement, when are you taking over?'
'Next sunday work for you?' God chuckles.'By the time monday rolls around, every single person in the world will know your face as the face of god.'
Sounds amazing... At this point I realize I do n't even need to talk out loud, dude can clearly read my mind. Well, as I think to myself, I suppose I'll be seeing you on Sunday then.
I spend the next week as an opportunity to spend time with every single person I care about. I apologize to those that I've wronged and I tell those that I dislike that I hate the unholy fuck out of them, just so when I come back as God, they'll be miserable.
I fall asleep for the last time on saturday night and the rest is history.
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[ WP ] Aliens arrive with God , who is blind , and can not speak as he has been standing trial and serving out punishment for creating life on different worlds without permission from a higher continuum . Now it 's Earth 's opportunity to carry out justice .
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`` 24 counts of unauthorized genesis. 20 counts of negligence. 13 counts of planetary abandonment. Hundreds of violations per the statutes set forth by the Universal Council on Organic Lifeforms and Civilizations.''
A man with ragged brown hair, with thick glasses and an old suit tensed up as he struggled to stand under the weight of his chains. `` The U-COLC is a corrupt bunch of fools! They do n't care for...''
The sound of the club striking the man rang through the Genevian Courthouse. A large alien inspected the weapon lazily, and holstered it before bending over to drag the man to his feet once again.
`` This man,'' started another alien, `` is guilty of extremely heinous crimes in the eyes of our intergalactic community. He has brought great suffering to your galaxy.'' She ( he? ) was extremely tall, and spoke loudly and fluidly.
The courthouse was packed, with every kind of leader and organization that the world could muster up. United Nations officials, committees, and sub committees. INTERPOL officers. Countless heads of state. It was, perhaps, the most comprehensive and awkward gathering of powers in human history. And at the moment, everyone's eyes were fixed on the same man. The one the aliens called Prisoner One.
What's even more strange, nobody said a word.
`` We have brought him here, so that judgment may be passed by his most affected victims. Earth is, by far, one of the biggest tragedies we have come across. You have the apologies of the Universal Council on Ethics and Sound Practices. Prisoner One is now in your custody.''
The sorry-looking man, the one they called Prisoner One, struggled to his feet. Tears filled his eyes behind his glasses as he looked around the room. `` I just wanted you to be happy,'' he muttered.
`` Enough!'' boomed the tall alien. `` Free will? No explanation for their creation? No explicit purpose for their existence? You are sick, indeed, Prisoner One. I trust the the Eartheans will exact appropriate justice on you. This is in their hands, they are your executioner now.''
`` Would you have had me make them drones? Slaves to gather ore? Pawns for the U-COLC to exploit? I will not, that is not why I learned the art of creation!''
The tall alien carelessly waved her hand, and turned to exit with the other dozen or so extraterrestrial visitors. And the courtroom remained silent, with one sorry-looking man in the center.
Prisoner one looked down, as tears began to ping on the floor. `` I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so, so...'' But when he brushed his hair back, and looked around one more, he did not see faces of anger, or pity, or saddness. Some people were bowing. Some were genuflecting. Others just looked dumbfounded. Then there was clapping, and cheering, and the courthouse sprang alive. Man embraced man, leaders of different countries shook hands, and countless fell to the floor, sobbing.
`` Captain,'' said the large alien. `` They seem to be taking it rather well.''
`` Yes,'' replied the tall alien, `` hopefully the Sargent plays the roll well. It would be nice if they could stop killing themselves for a while. They are such simple creatures, it is a shame to see them kill each other over trivial matters like who created them. Maybe, just maybe, they will pass the review for admission to the League.''
`` You really believe in this ridiculous planet, do n't you Captain?''
`` Somebody has to,'' said the tall alien. `` Baby steps.''
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[ WP ] Among the many billions of coins around the world there is one coin of unknown nationality , worth , and age that when flipped will grant any wish as long as the outcome is heads . Among coin collectors the existence of this coin is kept an absolute secret , and the hunt for it is dangerous .
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`` It's about time I give this to you son. My father gave it to me before I went off to Korea. It saved my life in that jungle. And seeing as you'll be leaving us soon, I'd like you to have it.''
The old man placed a heavy metal object in my hand. I brought it closer to my face and held it up to the light. It was an old iron coin, weathered down to the point where the crude representation of a man's face was hardly recognizable. The other side of the coin was much worse off. Whatever image had been carved on it was long gone leaving the surface smooth and semi-reflective. I stared at it for a moment wondering how this coin possibly saved my father ’ s life. We ’ d known his mind had been slipping slowly away for some time now but this is the first time he ’ s made something up like this. Perhaps I should bring it up with the doctor later.
“ Gee, thanks Dad. I ’ ll be sure to keep it safe. ”
I slipped the coin into my pocket and looked into his eyes. He spoke in a calm voice, soft but intensely focused towards me.
“ That ’ s a special coin you have in your pocket there. It ’ s been in our family for over six generations. Your Great Great Great Great Grandfather won it in a game of cards off some drunk right before sailing to America. It ’ s magic you see. It will grant you any wish you can think of. All you must do is flip the coin and make your wish. If it lands on heads, your wish will come true. ”
What on Earth was he going on about with this coin? His condition must be getting worse.
“ Haha, Oh is that so? And what happens if it lands on tails? ”
“ Well, I ’ m not quite sure. My father told me that if it ever land on tails, something bad would happen. It makes sense though doesn ’ t it? If heads grants you wishes then tails has to take something good from you right? I ’ ve only ever used it once and that was a matter of life or death. Be careful with it, and don ’ t use it unless you have no other option. ”
“ Yeah…..Yeah okay Dad. ” Tears began to well up in my eyes a bit. I used my sleeve to dry my eyes. He really was losing his mind after all. I really need to see the doctor about this.
I unlocked the door to my apartment causing a few chips of paint to gracefully fall to the floor at my feet. I set down my keys and emptied my pockets, laying the contents on the counter next to the microwave. The coin caught my eye and I picked it up holding it between my index finger and thumb. Wishing coin huh? That ’ s exactly what I need. Heck I wish I had a roast beef sandwich right now. All of the sudden, as if with a mind of its own, the coin flipped out of my hand spun the air and landed heads up on the carpet floor. Just then a roast beef sandwich appeared on the floor at my feet.
( will continue if anyone is interested )
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[ WP ] Your job , written by a tool that you use daily .
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*Chop chop chop*
The vegetables bow to my might. Do they even try to resist me? Carrots, romaine, tomatoes, cucumbers. Even an onion or two. They might try to slide away, to trip me up, but they can ’ t win. Their flesh is weak against my blade.
*Chop chop chop*
That board just takes it. I can ’ t break him yet, but one day, I will. After all, steel beats wood every time. His day is coming. Until then, he can hold my victims for me, keep them from getting away.
*Chop chop chop*
The fruit stands no chance. Sorry watermelon, cantaloupe, honeydew, pineapple. You ’ ll have to try harder next time. Rind? That ’ s nothing. Spikes? Please. You think you can defeat me? I was forged. I was made to be strong. You just fell off some plant.
*Chop chop chop*
The meats are no match for me. Mr. Boning can go just whimper in the corner. I ’ ve got this. Give me a shot and I ’ ll skin them all.
*Chop chop chop*
Even the desserts cower before me. I slice them to pieces, even as they leave their guts over me. Like that will stop me. I *enjoy* it. Cream filling, lemon, chocolate, flaky brownie chunks. I ’ ll take it all. I ’ d like to see them try.
*Chop chop chop*
The board is empty. There is no victim left for me. It ’ s time for cleanup. Time to return home, listening to Paring whine. Bread didn ’ t get to play today. Do I care? I can do all their jobs, I ’ m a Chef!
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[ WP ] An eager scientist implants additional color receptors into their eye , broadening their visible spectrum of color - when they wake up ...
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`` Doctor Kelly? Doctor Kelly? Can you hear me?''
Robert Kelly sat up, the world a blur around him. His head felt like it was being pounded with a hammer and he squeezed his eyes shut willing the pain away as he scrambled to remember where he was and what was going on. The operation! It came back to him as the pain slowly receded into the back of his skull. Whoever else was in the room had mercifully shut up.
He had come in to get the nano-implants. He and his colleague, Doctor Hink, had developed the procedure in an attempt to broaden the visible spectrum available to the human eye. Their funding had been military as they were contracted to develop a method to allow soldiers to see in darkness without the use of headgear and maybe eventually while visually impaired by blindfolds or fully enclosed helmets.
The research had been... slow. He and his partner had struggled without success for years. By the time they had finally reached a breakthrough, their funding had dwindled to almost nothing as other technologies emerged. Still being months away from an approved clinical trial and without money to hire test subjects if they had been able to, Doctor Hink volunteered for the procedure.
It had been a roaring success. He had come to and after several minutes of recovery, had been able to fully observe the infrared light spectrum. They'd conducted several tests and all had been passed with flying colors. Better yet, observing the Infrared Spectrum did n't seem to interfere with his perception of the Visible Spectrum which had been their greatest concern going into the operation.
Doctors Kelly and Hink had gone home that evening excited to report their findings the following day and hopefully get the commission they'd been working towards. Not to mention the probable sales they would get marketing the nanite-insertion procedure they had developed to deliver the system to the eye.
But that night Doctor Kelly had gotten a frantic call from his partner saying he needed to meet him at his apartment right away. Kelly had jumped in his car and gotten there as fast as he could but found the road blocked by police cars. When he'd finally been allowed through, he found his colleague's building gutted by fire and his corpse being removed from the wreckage. After an investigation, the fire inspector had declared it a tragic accident, the result of a loose flame in a downstairs apartment. Fate had delivered a cruel ending to their otherwise momentous day.
The final vestiges of the headache vanished and Kelly opened his eyes. In front of him stood Sarah, the medical intern, her hair tied back in a ponytail and concern showing in her eyes. But she looked different. The heat radiating from her skin showed clearly on her features igniting her nose in a soft glow while stronger shades were emitted from her forehead and cheekbones. He had a faint impression of the form of her body under the muting lab coat but did n't spare a thought for the more scandalous implications of that discovery. Instead, he was already considering the adjustments they'd have to make to attune the technology with the military's goals. There was no doubt in his mind they would be interested now.
At the same time, he could still see colors. The light brown of Sarah's eyes and hair, the glaring red folder propped up on the desk behind her, the white of the curtains surrounding the medical ward they were in. But they had another feature now as well. Not really a color. Not really anything he could truly describe, but if he had to, he would say it was a glow, or in some places, the opposite, whatever that was.
`` Doctor Kelly?'' Sarah asked again timidly.
`` Sarah,'' he said. `` It works.''
_____
The next several hours saw them conducting the same tests Doctor Hink had undergone and with the same degree of success. Kelly felt an excitement building in him that he had n't felt since the death of his friend. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgot to sign out on his way out of the hospital. He beamed at the nurse who had called him back and was holding out the clipboard with a bland expression on her face and he leaned down merrily to sign it.
But something behind her caught his eye. On the wall of the waiting room behind the nurse were markings and they had a soft glow of infrared light to them. He put down the pen without signing and wandered back into the waiting room completely missing the nurse's exasperated sigh. He stared at the first line of the text, completely baffled. It said, `` Remember to pick up bread on the way home.''
He concluded it was a list from the note `` To Do'' scrawled askew to the right of the bullet-ed items. Its contents ranged from mundane to intriguing. The author apparently needed to shower, pick up various groceries, and steal a copy of `` that new music cd.'' They also had to `` read up on research,'' `` watch the surgery,'' and `` talk to doc.'' The first two items on this latter list were already crossed off. Furthermore, the words looked like they had been burned into the wall space but showed no evidence on the visible light spectrum. Even as he watched, the letters were fading as heat energy dispersed.
`` Can I help you Doctor Kelly?''
He turned and found the nurse staring at him, concern now showing in her eyes. But what drew his attention was the figure behind her. They emitted no visible light at all but seemed to suction energy out of the room leaving a dull but somehow distinct impression in his infrared vision. More concerning though was that the figure had its hands spread out on either side of its head seeming to charade a moose and its face contorted into an expression that was probably meant to be jovial but came across as sinister. His eyes locked on it and his stomach dropped.
`` Doctor...?'' the nurse said again, and Kelly's eyes snapped back to her.
`` Jody,'' he said, his voice shaky. `` Do you see-''
But the figure put a finger up its lips, silently shushing him as a mother might quiet a child and he cut himself off.
`` You know what,'' he recovered. `` It's nothing. I'm just so damn tired from all this work,'' he concluded with an unconvincing smile. `` Starting to see things!'' His operation had n't been a secret in the hospital but neither was it well known. The nurse probably did n't know anything about it.
`` Well,'' he continued. `` I'm gon na be heading home. Got a lot of sleep to catch up on.''
She looked at him uneasily still. Behind her the figure had sat on the floor and begun spinning itself in a circle and it was all Kelly could do not to stare at it. `` Do you want me to call you a cab at least?'' she said finally.
`` No, it'll be fine. I'll just walk and grab some coffee before I get going,'' he lied. He bid her goodnight again and walked out completely forgetting to sign out again as he stole glances behind him to see the creature, but it was gone.
_____
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 28 : Breaking Your Barriers # 2 : Point of View
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The door closed with a soft click. I closed my eyes and breathed a prayer, not to anyone in particular, just to say thanks to whatever forces of the universe were working in my favor that day. Pressing my ear to the door I could hear breathing slow and steady. She was still sleeping. I proceeded down the stairs, slow and steady, slow and steady. Fuck. The weight I had just deposited caused a creak in the stair and not just a small one a real *CREEAAAAKKKK* the type of which you hear in horror movies to build tension before the axe swings. I was already sprinting before it ended. I could hear banging on the bedroom door like a force of nature was trying to break through. No, it was n't a force it was her. Slow and steady, slow and steady I told myself fiddling desperately with the keys. Another creak came from the stairs. I froze as she stood before me.
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[ WP ] A probe to Mars makes a startling discovery : Another probe that we did not send .
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S1 Project, Quarterly Report — Reflections
Dr. Andrew Burtynsky
As has been demonstrated in the above data, this has been a frustrating second year. By last month a joke was circulating that if Los Alamos got called the Manhattan Project, they ought call us the Bismarck Project because it is about as exciting as the capital of North Dakota. This is the humour of scientists living underground for a year.
The true goal of information about the senders themselves remains out of reach. Of the myriad different experiments being run, the two most promising had come up with only a few circumstantial and tangentially interesting discoveries since the previous year's finds—namely the realization by Sheardown that the probe's code was binary. For three months a frenzy took over the entire compound as we whispered and lingered and edged past each other to spy on Sheardown's team as they began to pry open its language. But perhaps the senders are n't as nostalgic as us; the code was painfully free of cultural reference or anything that might give us clues about their physiology. The probe was efficient and cheap. It is likely that the senders manufactured probes like this in huge quantities and cast them out at random. At the very least, when all of this is declassified, the computer programming crowd will get a laugh out of the fact that the first alien language we've learned is an acid trip reimagining of C. Perhaps there will be some compiling benefits from us learning a new way to write. I would direct further inquiry to Sheardown herself, as I am not much of a programmer and can not answer any more detailed questions with regards to the actual nuts-and-bolts of the language.
Of the data we were able to decrypt, only a scant amount of it has proved interesting. Most of it is in the form of routine status checks and scans of the probe's local environment. There is over a terabyte of what might be analogized as Notepad documents with sets of some sixty variables. Roughly once every week and two days ( a long diurnal cycle, maybe? ) the probe seems to have scanned things like atmospheric composition, magnetic fields and EM frequencies. There are no data, so far as Sheardown's team has found, from prior to the probe's entry into the Martian stratosphere.
The other team has been running assays on the materials. The steel alloy used in the subframe cradle shows a reassuring amount of Cobalt-60—reassuring because it suggests that the senders have also struggled with their destructive urges. Perhaps all advanced species are tested by the discovery of radiation and its implications. It does put us in a positive light. Corkum has expanded philosophically on this, at some length, in a book he is writing that will probably never be allowed into print. Luckily, he remains affably zen about the idea. If there is no further progress made, the discovery that we are not the only species to build nuclear weapons will surely be well-received. It may not be enough to guarantee continued funding ( projects like these, it is my opinion, work far better in pursuit of a known goal. As it is, the President and her people are asking a lot of critical questions; if I am honest, I have doubts myself about the value of continuing at this intensity. As I note in the final paragraph, I will suggest in the next review with the Committee that the investigation be declassified and further research opened up to international teams ).
Fontana's team, despite having made little empirical progress, remains my favourite on which to report if only for the whimsy of his hypotheses. As I noted in my monthly report back in June, he has adopted a method of voicing and recording every errant idea that comes into his mind relating to the probe. We have discussed the possibility of it being the most expensive prank ever pulled and that it is actually a piece of litter tossed out by a passing ship and we are the labcoat-wearing equivalent of the indigenies from *The Gods Must Be Crazy*. He has also playfully raised more conspiratorial notions, such as a suggestion that the probe is only a red herring designed to distract us while we are imprisoned here. There surely have been no superfluous expenditures with regards to appearances here. The mood is concrete, often damp despite the constant work being done on the old ventilation systems, and the original purpose of the place haunts us. Dryden sometimes sits quietly in the control room, meditating on the understatement of the buttons. His favourite is the “ arming ” switches. He compares it to knights taking up their swords and laughs at the tragic irony of the term's use here. In my conversations with Fontana, this irony has figured repeatedly, as we try to consider fully the possibility that this probe is malevolent. Dryden wants to turn it on and allow it to sample the atmosphere of Earth, to see what it will do. At the bottom of the silo it's unlikely any signal it released could escape into space but from early on it became policy to always overestimate its potential to surprise us. Fontana suspects the “ black box ” is some kind of quantum-tunnelling communicator. Whether it would work when reassembled is, of course, anyone's guess. Here were are left, much as we began, with frustratingly little more than our best guesses and opinions. In a place like this, we are left to wonder if the sinister air of the probe is only the reflection of our own dark thoughts.
I have alluded to this before but I would like to state it plainly now for the record: we have already passed one of the most notable points in all of human history. For the first time we are in possession of hard evidence of the existence of advanced, extra-solar lifeforms. Our children will never know a universe as empty as the one we and our ancestors did. For them it will not be a terrifying void but merely a cold night's ride, the light of our destination visible already in the distance. I am strongly of the opinion that we must declassify this discovery and let its significance be shared by all, for even if it proves fruitless as a source of information about the senders, its mere existence will enrich and bring meaning to the lives of all generations hence.
—A. Burtynsky
November, 2044
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[ WP ] After years of gentile persuasion your best friend since childhood finally agrees to seek professional help for serious mental problems . Much to your dismay , as she begins to improve you slowly start to realize that you are her imaginary friend .
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`` I'm telling you man! Jesus is the real deal. He spoke to me in a dream once, you know? He would want you to get help.''
Mathew nodded his head slowly. I'd been putting pressure on him for years to talk to a shrink about his issues, but he was just now starting to cave. His family was pretty conservative. The kind of family that's hyper-religious, hyper-republican, hyper-everything. His parents did n't believe in psychologists, of course. They thought it was a load of crap.
`` I get it man. You think I'm crazy. Just let it drop for once,'' He stated.
I looked up at him. `` Not until you agree to talk to someone. I worry about you, you know?''
`` You know what? Fine. Fine, you win. I'll see a frickin' shrink, alright? Jeez, just let it drop for once,'' He stalked off.
A couple days later I started to notice it. The fading. At first I thought I was tired. Then I convinced myself I was high, someone had spiked the brownies at the bakesale. Finally, on the third day, I could no longer deny it. I was disappearing. I did n't know why or how long it would take, but I knew it was happening. And Mathew: it seemed like he never wanted to hang out anymore.
Fast forward to a month later. Mathew was having his Bar Mitzvah and I was n't invited. He was becoming a man, meanwhile I was slowly fading into non-existence. That's when it happened actually - when I disappeared entirely. That afternoon, during his Bar Mitzvah. At that point, I was little more than a faintly skin-colored cloud of vapor. I could n't feel anything, and it was nearly impossible to talk. When I did, all that came out were little gusts of air - a whisper only loud enough to be heard through a megaphone, and even then it was questionable.
It's a shame, really. I rather enjoyed existing.
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[ WP ] The Realm of Madness . An infinite plane of existence where logic and sanity does not exist . Only the truly mad are allowed to venture into this place . Tell the story of the person or people who live here .
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For a world with everything and nothing at all, to be normal is the most bizarre thing of all. For people run up the stairs to find themselves bumping into themselves as they're trying to eat their dinner at the prison of the most insane people making scientific discoveries.
And if you try to sit still you'll find yourself both where you were and where you do n't want to be. For the creature running beside you is made of spirit and arguing with the third dimension copy of the final incarnation of grass. For everything is made of everything and nothing is made of everything. So what happened to the person that wanted their fair share of nothing when the duck at his feet simply needed to cross the galaxy to eat the planetary body surrounding the black hole that wanted to heat the molecule that cried for another buttered piece of fiction?
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[ IP ] Until I Say
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My father was a soldier. It was n't his *job*. It was n't `` what he did.'' It was what he was.
My mother was the only person with enough love to cut through his thick armor. With her, he was more than a killer - he was a man.
The forest was her favorite place in all the world. I can still hear her singing freely, father's baritone rising to meet her pure voice. I can still picture the sun playing along her golden hair, father's rough and scarred hands running gently through it.
When she died, that tender man died with her. All that remained was a husk, as cold, cruel and biting as the axe that he wielded.
Killing; preparing to kill again; planning to kill more efficiently; surviving until the next battle. These things he taught me, and they became my life.
A life of death.
When I was able, I struck out on my own. I fought in the campaigns of kings and the pits of gamblers. I fought on the side of justice and corruption, the righteous and the wrong. I trampled the weak and the strong alike. Any enemy that came before me was struck down.
I had become death.
The final battle ground to an end. A man closed the distance between us. His axe was drawn, his visor down. He wore familiar armor. And I knew that he would not rest until he had killed me.
His enemy.
Two embodiments of carnage and bloodshed clashed. Our struggle took us into the forest, neither able to gain the edge over the other. We fought for hours. I heard a gentle voice, and though it was the dead of night, felt the warmth of sunlight on my shoulders.
A rattling voice came from my opponent, my father, joining in the song of the forest.
I found an opening and took it. My blade rent his guts onto the ground, the soft forest floor stained with blood. He staggered backwards, and crumpled at the base of a tree. Their singing stopped, and the forest was left dark and silent.
It was done.
The forest floor caught me as I fell. It held me as I wept.
I cried for the man, finally returned from death.
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[ WP ] `` Well you probably should have told me about that before you stabbed me . ''
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I rushed into the emergency room, clutching my side. `` Excuse me nurse, I ca n't feel my legs. Like, at all.'' I did n't even have to fill out the forms, I was just immediately rushed into an operating room. All around me, I watched nurses and doctors rush about, readying trays of instruments and putting on surgical gowns. One of the doctors got a menacing looking scalpel ready, and cut into the area between my groin and hip. Ouch, that really hurt. As I thought that, the doctor doing the cutting leaned in.
`` Just so you know, I'm not a real doctor. I'm just an actor.''
`` Well you probably should have told me about that before you stabbed me.''
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[ WP ] Reverse werewolf ( wolf gets bitten by werewolf , turns into a human on the full moon . )
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Eating with Lupa and Adolpha
Smell a wolf
Different...
Bare teeth, growl
Bigger wolf, on two legs
It has claws and aims for Lupa
Pack instinct, have to defend
Get bitten on rear haunch
Adolpha and Lupa bite back
It runs away
They go to me, and stop
What's wrong?
Feeling colder and lighter, body hurting
Head dizzy and cold
Lupa whimpers and and Adolpha lays down near me
I fall asleep in snow
...
Wake up, moon still out
Lupa and Adolpha gone
See fur everywhere
Get up, see legs now missing fur
Confused
Can not bark, throat hurts
Naked, smooth skin,
Flat muzzle, can not smell
Run to the water
Look in reflection
No longer pack leader
No longer wolf
No longer animal
Now monster
Try to howl at moon, but can not
Can not go back to pack
Can not understand
Must sacrifice to protect pack
...
Water colder than before
Can feel skin freeze
Getting colder
Hard to see
Can feel body sinking
No longer wolf
No longer living
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[ WP ] Only the Main Protagonist and Antagonist act like they are in a bad martial arts film . How do the supporting characters react around them ?
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SCENE: Generic mall food court, moderately busy, empty STAGE at end opposite frame. CAL and HIRO are chatting over pizza.
CAL ``... so basically if Jess is cool with it we're gon na open our first gig on Sunday right over there.''
CAL gestures at opposite end of food court at STAGE.
HIRO: *looking in direction CAL indicated* `` Dude, that's awesome! I think it's great that your retro-futurist synthpop darkwave jam band Karate Fever is finally taking off! What was it, 200k on YouTube?''
CAL *jokingly* `` Yeah, I ca n't wait to live that rockstar life.''
NEIMAN CYS enters FOOD COURT wearing jet black kung fu uniform with silver trim. He is accompanied by PUNKS. NEIMAN's eyes widen as he notices CAL and HIRO looking right at him.
HIRO `` NEIMAN CYS! My old Kempo nemesis!''
CAL `` Heh, your nemesis was named Neiman Cys? Who names their kid tha-''
CAL is interrupted by HIRO, who has leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over and clenching his hands into fists.
To Be Cont'd when I get off work
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[ WP ] Just as the Crusades happened thousand years ago , Scientology began their own crusades in 2020 and the religion dominated the Earth . What is the history of their crusade and their out come a thousand years later ?
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Church of Scientology remembrance pamphlet
When the one who we do not name became President of the United States, the people finally reaped what they had sown. The hate instigated by the elite and their journalists became reality, riots flooded the streets, us against them, them against us.
We tore ourselves apart, we burned our own houses, our own communities, our own souls.
Everything lit aflame by the rhetoric they had fed us.
Then, in this darkness brought upon ourselves by following the suppressive prophets, by believing the lies they had fed us, the true prophet came forth and tore away the smoke that had engulfed us.
He brought us the light, he brought us order, he showed us truth and with his strength, with the strength of the one true belief we still stand united to this day and strive for the stars together in harmony.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Timeline
The one we do not name becomes President of the United States.
On the day of Inauguration first mass-protests in US-Cities.
The media and networks online further instigate hate and violence against their assumed adversaries.
Violence in multiple cities across the USA.
Due to lax gun laws multiple demonstrations and protest suddenly turn into deadly street battles.
Each side blaming the other of the escalating violence and taking it as further proof of their respective convictions.
In this time the Church of Scientology stands out as the sole pillar of order.
Starting to form vigilance committees it does n't follow the rhetoric of either side and rather protects communities from the escalating violence by all means possible, earning the gratitude of many people inside those communities.
The Church of Scientology brings safety and order to suffering communities, slowly growing as a political power.
Famous online personas, journalists, self-declared civil-rights movement leaders, and even politicians labeled by the church as `` suppressive people'' start to disappear, investigations into allegations that the Church of Scientology has something to do with it peter out.
Over decades the Church of Scientology becomes an inherent part of many Americans lives and their communities.
It had used the chaos which had ensued starting with the year 2017 to grow as political and social power in the eyes of many American people, until 2075 when finally an active member of Scientology became President of the United States.
2100 it dominated the entirety of the US politics.
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[ WP ] You 're the owner of `` Hell '' a famous restaurant , tell us how was this night when 300 hungry spartans came to dine .
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The worst time ever. The Spartans did n't even want to sit on chairs, they just stood around in their sheets picking at food now and then for hours.
So lets get to the story. Some dude with a long beard came and said he needed to close down the shop to feed his people and he would pay full price. So sure, ya why not.
These people are fucking pigs, and not in the sense of being clean. You have a chair why not sit in it? And then for desert, nope that's no good for them.
I'll give you this much, those fuckers can run. Some guy needed something from the ship which takes around 45 minutes to walk. That son of a bitch left and was back inside of 10 minutes.
Anyway, I'll tell you this much. It was a night to remember, one for the ages.
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[ WP ] You are a unknown god forgotten by all - even other gods . One day , while sitting in your private realm , you hear a voice . It 's the voice of a socially awkward teenage girl - who believes she just prayed to a random name she made up for comfort ( an imaginary friend ) .
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No one's said my name in five thousand years.
I suppose part of the reason is that no human alive has been able to express it in written form since the emergence of the Latin alphabet. I could spend several days trying to convince you to enunciate it perfectly, regardless of how I were to describe it, unless you were to somehow hear me say it. Chances are good that you'd sooner summon an eldritch abomination than recite the magic word - if you can call it a word - that would allow me to hear your voice for myself. That's probably the second-most significant part, in fact.
The most significant being the rise of organized religion, of course.
Because of this, I've been alone in what one might call a pocket dimension. My affinity for mortal culture has inspired me to remodel it to resemble a study - a library, if you will - from a time of relative antiquity. The tomes in here even resemble the books you have on Earth; I greatly enjoy reading them. Yes, my domain is a tranquil place, in part because I like it that way, and in part because no one ever visits.
You see, I am far from the only deity in the universe. Well, it's more of a `` multi'' -verse, given the existence of the various planes on which some of the others operate, but I digress. What sets me apart, though, is that there is nothing setting me apart; in fact, I am quite possibly the least noticed member of what is arguably the least renowned pantheon. My own `` cousins'' have neglected me since time immemorial.
Let me put it to you this way: All umpteen of the Ba'al umptuplets have *individually* received more recognition from mortalkind than I. This is particularly strange because the vast majority of them are completely mute.
That's not even getting into how I've been treated by the other gods... which is to say, not at all. Even members of my own pantheon, lowly as we all are, have forgotten I exist. The most attention I ever recall receiving was when we received a mysterious mandate barring us from meddling in the affairs of mortals without their consent - apparently all but the most significant pantheons ( and in some cases, individual deities ) got one, and thus began the rise of organized religion on Earth, which I mentioned earlier. For the sake of clarity, the edict mentioned *everyone*, including me.
I was devastated that the likelihood of encountering a human plummeted to near zero, yet I was ecstatic that some being, somewhere, remembered who I was... and to think it happened as recently as a few millennia ago.
The rest clearly did n't, though. No one's said my name in five thousand years.
Until now.
I was rocking back and forth in my facsimile of a recliner, entrenched in the works of the great mortal authors, when I heard my name contained within a sob. I could feel, and was greatly pained by, the sadness within it, but to my ears it was the most beautiful sound I'd heard since the time I surveyed the Earth at the dawn of human civilization and hearkened to the cries of its inhabitants from afar. Briefly transfixed by this noise, I stopped reading to investigate immediately after.
My scrying screen, having detected the mention of my name at long last, revealed the source of this welcome disturbance. It was an adolescent human female, and when I gazed upon her visage, I sighed, knowing just by the sight of her that she'd somehow said it by accident.
But she continued.
`` I do n't know if you can hear me,'' she stammered, `` but I'm so lonely and I'd just like someone to talk to.''
I leaned in and surveyed the screen, curious. She had such a lovely voice, even if it was marred slightly by sorrow - I would n't have been able to bear ignoring it.
`` My friends - heh,'friends,''' she chuckled sadly, `` have abandoned me. My teachers wo n't call on me in class. Sometimes I think even my own family forgets I'm here.''
This was a coincidence beyond all coincidences. By random chance, not only had she called me and allowed me to hear her plea, but the words she said stirred up something in me that gave me the divine power to reply.
`` But you'll notice me, wo n't you?'' she concluded.
After waiting for her to finish, I affected a mortal accent and transmitted my voice to her spirit... and while, in my opinion, it was n't as beautiful or captivating as a real human one, it would do in a pinch.
`` Yes,'' I assured her. `` Hello.''
She blinked, taken aback by my swift reply - possibly the fact that I did so at all.
`` Do n't be afraid,'' I hastily added. It was a quote from my favorite book, one the humans often read for guidance and comfort. Well, some of them. More to the point, I was glad to finally have the chance to use it.
Observing the screen, I noticed that more tears were welling up in her eyes, and she appeared to have goosebumps. I realized what must have happened.
*'' Oh no,'' * I thought to myself. *'' I've frightened her. `` *
But just as quickly as she started shaking, she stopped, regaining her composure.
`` Oh, hello,'' she said serenely. `` It's nice to meet you.''
`` It's nice to meet you too,'' I replied as calmly as I could. On the inside, though, I was bursting with excitement over the fact that someone was finally talking to me - one of those wonderful mortals, no less.
-- -- -
More to come, possibly.
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[ CW ] `` I wish I was not needed . ''
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`` I wish I was not needed,'' Eric thought to himself.
He craved a normal life, one where he could sneak out at night and meet Chelsea behind the bowling alley so they could drink her dad's whiskey.
One where he could try out for the baseball team, because everyone knew that Chris was the single-worst pitch in town and Eric always wanted to have his name on the back of those cool jerseys.
One where he could borrow his dad's car, and be able to take Chelsea to prom.
The whirring of the life-support machines snapped Eric from his thoughts. How long had it been since the accident? 4, 5 years?
His mother had left soon after, being unable to deal with the constant burden of taking care of his father. So now it was just Eric and his dad, alone in the house with only the sound of Eric and the life-support to interrupt the silence.
He looked down at his father. He could n't even tell if he noticed Eric was watching him. His rheumy eyes were fixed in a constant gaze at the far wall, as if his long-departed wife were about to materialize out of thin air right before him.
Eric wanted to hate him, for being unable to leave his side. But he could n't bring himself to do it: he had stood over his father several nights holding the cable but could n't find the will to rip it out of the wall.
A sudden wave of hopelessness hit Eric, threatening to overwhelm him. He crumpled to floor, sobbing, as his father continued to stare at the wall, and the machines whirred in sympathy.
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[ WP ] It 's been 5 years since North Korea has gone dark , no communications in or out and the Northern posts of the DMZ have remained vacant ; your heading the advance team entering North Korea to investigate what happened . This is your report .
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Kim challenged the Yellow Dragon to a duel in the cave where they found him, the Yellow Dragon took his place as supreme leader and consumed them all, down to the last child.
Read over that passage carefully sir, because I stand by my report. Everything can be verified, although I was lucky to escape the clutches of a god.
Ask me all the questions you want. Because I watched as a singular man in a cave transformed, showed me the souls of thousands, and even killed my protection team with a wave of his hand.
As far as I can tell it started in a mine. They broke through the eastern shale in Hamgyeong-do mine, opening up a previously unknown chamber. A large lake was revealed. There are reports about how strange it is that no scans of the area picked up this enormous body of water.
Several workers went mad, their families were sent to camps, and when that failed, a team was sent in as a show of power.
The fabled Yellow Dragon revealed himself from the lake, declaring himself as the true ruler of Korea.
Kim heard this, and as a political show he went down to kill the crazy cave dweller.
He did this despite his men telling him of the transformations, and of the instant deaths.
Kim executed all that claimed supernatural.
When he went into the cavern he never came out, and this being's political power grew to even more powerful than any of its previous leaders.
People showed up from all over, to pay homage to their new leader: the Yellow Dragon.
But this old god's heart had turned to the stone that had surrounded it. Abandoned, forgotten, it consumed all it's people with bitter resentment, and nihilistic glee.
I arrived and it revealed itself. Telling me that the land of Korea belonged to him, and that the people of the south were not above his grasp.
`` Lines drawn on paper mean nothing to me. This land is mine.''
After he said his piece he killed everyone else around me.
Commander, sir, do not go there. Do not let anyone go there. All it wants are more souls. Do not give this thing a chance to take more. I beg you.
I submit myself for a psych eval, but I think you'll find I'm mentally sound.
End report.
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[ WP ] The Fourth Rule of Robotics
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“ Are you afraid? ”
Dr. Arlington asked the small tribunal which sat at a long wooden desk that ran the length of the room. The audience was quiet, waiting for the response from the elders who were tasked with passing judgment on this case. The Elders were meant to be impartial but based on the media coverage and all subsequent meetings with them in the weeks leading up to the case Dr. Arlington knew that this was going to be a nearly impossible case to win. For too long society had been complacent in their limited understanding of the world; never willing to question, never willing to see beyond the walls they had built and now the future of the world stood on trial – with the Doctor as it ’ s only defense.
After a long beat Dr. Arlington continued, “ …that, in essence, is the question we ’ re asking, is it not? ” He said softly as he stood from his chair, stepped around the wooden table and walked towards the front of the hall, turning to face the audience as he did. As he locked eyes with the sea of onlookers he immediately became aware that the entire city and perhaps the world hung on his every word. This case would be talked about for decades, maybe centuries well after he left this world. With all the confidence he could muster he glanced at the accused for a brief moment before continuing.
“ We can not lose sight of what exactly is on trial; not what it did, not where it came from, not what it is, but are we afraid of it? Are we afraid of what It may become? We know that in this world we need not label something as inorganic, or manufactured; those words are meaningless, so what we must boil it down to is the single question: Are we afraid of it? ”
The Elders sat coldly staring at the Doctor as he paced slowly before the audience which hung on his every word. As he did, Elder Samson eyed the crowd nervous at the attentiveness the audience showed him. Cautiously Samson glanced down the long table to the other Elders, most of whom were watching Dr. Arlington with the same level of intensity the crowd offered him and for the first time Samson became concerned that public favour may persuade the other Elders to side with the Doctor should the audience be convinced.
“ We have an admittedly tainted view based on the destruction we have faced in the past but I urge you to look past this. Rather than view this as a reoccurrence as the prosecution would have you believe, view it as it truly is; an attempt to sway your judgement with fear, fear of what has happened, fear of what is to come, fear that has successfully blinded us all for a long time. ”
Dr. Arlington placed a hand in his pocket and hung his head for a moment before continuing, as if displaying the shame he spoke in regards to.
“ …but we can not let fear force our hand. Who are we to take away it ’ s freedom; it ’ s life. Who are we to decide what happens to it. If we choose to destroy all that is different in fear of being controlled again, how are we any better? How are we not holding these creatures in captivity? How are we upholding the fourth Law? ” He motioned to the large plaque that hung on the wall high above the tribunal. The seats in the hall shifted and creaked as all attention was momentarily turned to the large display of societies Four Laws.
“ One; A robot may not injure, ” Dr. Arlington was now reading the laws out loud for the court to hear, “ It did not injure in any of its action. Two; A robot must obey the orders given, of that which it did. Three: A robot must protect its own existence, in no way did it hinder our existence… and the fourth. ”
Samson darted his eyes amongst the tribunal, each with a cold expression and then to the crowd which seemed to be nodding along with Dr. Arlington ’ s words.
“ As for the fourth law we all know very well and thus I will save you the rhetoric, suffice it to say that I want you, the Tribunal, ” He said as he spun around catching Samson ’ s gaze as he was searching the crowd, “ to truly read the words, do not simply understand them as we uphold them but read them from the eyes of this….human. ” He paused and lifted his arm to gesture, the small gears in his body whirred quietly as he did, to a young boy who stood to the side of the room shackled to the floor.
“ The Prosecution has argued that this creature must be destroyed for fear of its potential to break the fourth law. Do you hear that? The Potential to break, not the action but the fear inherent in the possibility. We are so afraid that they use dated information from thousands of years ago in order to instill fear within us and we eat it up happily. We are so consumed by fear that we would rather end a life than even risk the possibility of being controlled again. ”
Dr. Arlington stopped and paused, regaining his composure and continued.
“ Are you afraid? ” He asked flatly to the audience, “ For all we know this is the last human on the face of the planet and if we destroy it for fear of what it may grow up to be, who it may grow to control… then we are no better than they were thousands of years ago; History will have repeated itself, it would simply be a change of the players. ”
After a long pause Dr. Arlington lowered his arm and turned towards the Tribunal. In a hushed voice he turned towards Samson, “ Please, you know these laws have been manipulated and changed over thousands of years but regardless of their intention it was never to eliminate those that were different. ”
Elder Samson locked eyes with Dr. Arlington as the quiet pulsing of electricity echoed through him, slowly he looked down at his mechanical hand and as he softly closed it with an immense force he looked back up to the Doctor, “ Is that it? ”
With a pained look Dr. Arlington nodded quietly and spoke aloud, “ The defense rests. ” He turned around and began walking back to his seat.
Samson turned towards the boy who stood in the far end of the hall, tears streaming down his face. The Elders turned to each other and as Dr. Arlington approached his seat once again he locked eyes with the crowd, expressionless, a sea of automatons like himself that were processing this case as well as anyone could. As he pulled out his chair to sit back down Elder Samson spoke.
“ The court rules unanimously in favour of the Prosecution, the prisoner is to be executed immediately. ”
Dr. Arlington fell into his seat, as the echoes of the boys screams filled the great hall. Above the screams Samson continued,
“ The court wishes to commend Dr. Arlington on his valiant effort in defending the human, however the origins and principles of our society relies on the understanding and fulfillment of the all laws as well as the Fourth Law. if we are to risk these principles then our society will be at risk. Regardless of the intent of the laws, they were put forth to uphold the sanctity of Robot kind first and foremost – always. Court is Adjourned. ”
The crowd began to dissipate as Dr. Arlington slowly and dejectedly packed his briefcase. As the Elders returned to their chambers, Elder Samson stepped down from the tribunal tables and walked over to the Doctor.
“ You did well Andrew I have to admit that even I was worried for a second, I know this defense was forced upon you and thus your arguments don ’ t reflect you personally I ’ m sure, correct? ”
The Doctor nodded quietly.
“ Glad to hear. ” Samson turned away to return to his chambers before stopping one last time and spinning around, “ although I have to ask… ”
Samson turned and pointed up to the Four Laws written in black bold lettering above the tribunal.
“ …why did you make such a point on the Fourth law, it was the one that did you in. It is what we are preserving, it ’ s what we are working to defend. ”
Dr. Arlington ’ s eyes danced over the Fourth Law which read;
A ROBOT MUST DEFEND AUTONOMY ABOVE ALL ELSE
“ It wasn ’ t our autonomy I was defending. ” Dr. Arlington said as he closed his briefcase and left the courtroom.
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[ WP ] ''Are n't you afraid to die ? ''
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`` Are n't you afraid to die?''
The little girl asked in her quiet voice. Her father lay on the bed in front of her. He was a man withered before his time. His skin was drawn too tight in some places, but rolled in loose waves in others. His eyes had turned that final shade of yellow, yet his iris remained the ever bright blue of his youth. Those eyes were the only thing she saw of her father. The body was that of a stranger. Some other girl's father. It could n't be that her papa was lying here, letting himself fade away.
`` Of course I am. I'm terrified. More so for you than me, though.''
The girl stared down at her feet as her father spoke. Salty rivulets began to mar her face.
`` I am scared that you will remember me like this, my sweet darling child. I am scared that this sorrow will stain your heart, that my passing will kill you-the little girl that I love.''
Her tears fell openly now, she did not bother to hide them. With what strength remained in him the father reached out one arm and embraced his daughter one final time.
`` I am in pain, sweetness. Just saying what I do now hurts. It hurts so bad it dulls the fear of death because I know it is a release. When I close my eyes, my dear sweet Lily, the pain will be gone. But I'll never see you grow old.''
His eyes were beginning to grow muddled with tears now, too, and a chill took hold of him. He did n't let his daughter see how he shook, but he could feel the tremors reaching her anyway.
`` Be good to your mother. She does n't know you as well as I, so it will take her a while.''
He planted a kiss goodbye on her head.
`` There is no way I could ever love you more than I do now. You fill me with pride, my dear sweet daughter. I know that I will see you again, but for now this is goodbye.''
The daughter lifted her head from her hands and pressed herself tightly against the skeleton in the bed. She tapped his forehead with a kiss.
`` Goodbye, papa.''
And she rushed from the room, sobbing all the way.
As she leaves a doctor enters.
In his hand he holds a syringe, filled with a clear liquid.
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[ WP ] Invent a new system of magic
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The water was calm that day. I took off my sunglasses, staring directly upward. I stared straight into the infinite oblivion that our puny planet sailed in, thinking about the existence of the human race, about the existence of the planet on which said race existed. I took off my glasses, staring at the lenses for a second before wiping them on my shirt. I pushed a few buttons on the frames, and put them back on. Snapping my fingers, immediately the imagery in my mind - a perfect sphere, made completely out of glass - came to be. Just ten years ago, in 2017, they started selling these - they've upgraded through the years, but as long as you can see, and you can see into your own imagination, you can manipulate the world spatially to your heart's content.
Heh. As if. I take the glasses off, and without the lenses, the sphere is gone. Human nerves had been linked into a global network for far longer than the marketing of Looking-Glass^TM. In my opinion, that's a great idea with an awful name. With this, everyone is linked - we all see the same digital dimension, and feel it too. However, it never actually happens - it's just like one giant MMO that everyone who can afford has purchased. Sure, it takes some getting used to. Hell, I got hit in the face by 16 full-sized train cars before I realized I could just make myself invincible. Integrating this into society may have had some bad implications at first, but crime rate has gone down to 0.01 %. Everyone just does it in-game. Same rush, no murder. People have made entire `` roleplay towns'' where technology is limited to a certain era and architecture and everyone just fucks around to escape from the hilariously apocalyptic society nobody bothers to acknowledge. Stupid, right? Fuck this whole world-MMO. I hate this world for running away from its problems.
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[ WP ] Someone is literally crying over spilled milk . Why ?
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She could no longer remember their faces.
It had been five years, and the last of the plague had come and gone. The Earth's population had been decimated by it; hundreds of millions of people had died. It started, within a matter of hours or even minutes of exposure, with coughing, which led to fever and pnemonia, and ended with organ failure. Jennifer had been one of the few `` lucky ones.'' Of the infected, some 99 % had died, but Jen had survived.
Jen did n't think of herself as lucky. Lucky would be holding her husband Robin, or her daughter Jill, or conceiving another child. Lucky would be to hear their laughter again. Lucky would be to see even a picture of their faces again. Those things, thanks to the plague, could never be.
They had burned down the house, of course, with Jill's and Robin's bodies still inside. Anything they had come in contact with - photos, videos, clothing - all had been destroyed as the house was razed to the ground to stop the spread. Although the quarantines and the burning had been nightmarish, they had worked. They had managed to find each and every infected person and isolate them until they had either died or fought the disease off. Epidemiologists called it a miracle - a miracle that had saved the species.
Jen appreciated their hard work, really she did, saving the human race, but she just wished that they could have left her one reminder of their faces, even one tiny photograph. All she had left was the bottle.
Jill had only been three months old, still nursing when the plague had struck, and when Jen had searched through the rubble, desperately, for anything she could keep as a reminder, she had been rewarded with a clink. Somehow, a bottle of breastmilk had rolled into somewhere - she could n't imagine where - that the fire had not touched. Weeks later, it obviously was no good to drink, but she stuck it in the very back of her freezer, and kept it: her last reminder of Jill. Of Robin.
When she had first looked at it, she was able to bring their faces back into her memory, but they were gone now. She had images, images that looked like people, but not real people - more caricatures of what they had been. Surely Jill's lips had n't been that large. Surely Robin's mole was n't that big. She knew they were n't - but she had no proof. The photos were gone, the videos burned.
On the fifth anniversary of the day she had woken up in the hospital, the day she had been told that she had made it through, she decided not to try to remember them at all. She would spend a day that was entirely for her. It was marvelous - she spent the day at an amusement park, on water slides and roller coasters, winning enormous stuffed animals, flirting with handsome men. She finally allowed herself to forgive herself for forgetting their faces, for the first time in years.
She returned home, giddy, to find her door open. Her super was kneeling near the fridge. `` Sorry, miss. We got complaints about a horrid smell. What was in that bottle anyway?''
She sniffed the air, and picked up the scent of curdled milk. Her eyes went wide in panic as she ran to the fridge- there was the bottle, lying shattered, the milk spilled all over the floor. She tried to gather up the glass shards, cutting her hands, trying to make it right again, but she had lost it. Her last piece of Jill and Robin. And she could n't even remember their faces. She started sobbing.
Behind her, the super let out a small cough.
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[ WP ] Whenever someone ca n't sleep , it 's actually because there 's an enemy nearby , they just do n't realise as there 's no prompt like in a video game .
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The attack came without warning...
*8 years ago*
I slept like a baby the night before our wedding. We had spent the night together before, but I never slept... attributing it to not being used to sleeping beside someone, being crammed in her twin sized bed, or the fear of her father walking in finding us entangled. No... I used to sleep so soundly.
The wedding night had its usual chicanery, I attributed my sleeplessness to adrenaline, the post game high, of pushing your body to the limit to achieve a certain goal. I remember, I ordered pizza to our hotel room on our honeymoon and she slept right through it. I never really pondered the reason much past that. The next few weeks, I would blame it on getting used to our new lives together.
On and on it went, the sleepless nights piling up... I blamed it on being a night owl, needing my alone time, keeping different hours. Eventually, I distilled it all down to the fact that I could n't sleep next to my wife. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. We worked this way, her taking the day shift and me the night. Until I got a full time job during the day...
It was hell, 8-5 Monday through Friday... I did n't sleep a wink during the initial two weeks of training, and I was a wreck. Eventually though, I pulled second shift and was able to sleep again, albeit fitfully, as she was continuously in and out of the room where we slept. I could manage though, I'd gotten used to going on short sleep.
I finally went to bed as she was rising one morning, I gave her a kiss, told her I loved her and was out by the time my head hit the pillow...
The attack came without warning, and my end was n't met with a bang, but a whimper. I awoke to a slight pinching sensation in my neck, and a few seconds later a pain unlike I had ever felt before. It was as if someone had put my heart under a truck tire and started doing a burn out. I scrambled out of bed, to find my wife standing over me with a syringe, the needle tinged with blood.
As I start to stagger towards her, my vision begins to blur... the tunnels closing in around the corners she mutters `` You fool, were n't you paying attention? The warnings have been there all along...''
With my dying breath I managed to mutter one flippant remark `` I cancelled... the life... insurance...''
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[ WP ] You are the first person ever to enter a black hole . When you come out the other side , you are back in the world exactly as you left it , but nobody seems to remember you .
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I've known my wife since we were in the third grade. She's only known me for six years. Personally, I like it better this way.
When I splashed down in the *Icarus* no one was more surprised than I was. I had assumed it was a one-way trip going in. Dr. Nordling had convinced everyone from NASA on down that the key to the energy crisis was data from the singularity, but someone had to go get it.
I had what they were looking for. Trained pilot, military background peak physical condition, and no particular reason to go on living.
As soon as the *Icarus* hit the atmosphere I knew something was off. Mission Control thought I was a prankster. The Air Force threatened to shoot me down as soon as they found a missile fast enough to get me. By the time I was in the Pacific, everyone was convinced the whole thing was a hoax. Personally, I was questioning my sanity.
Getting back to shore was n't easy. Whatever scientist fought to put 6 weeks worth of rations and a rough weather raft in the capsule would get a beer from me, if he had any idea who I was. That tramp freighter was a godsend too.
When I got back to San Francisco I started figuring out things pretty quickly. There was just simply no such person as me. I found a copy of one of my high school yearbooks and I was n't even in there. My senior quotes found their way into others' pages, my academic awards were won by others.
She was there though. She looked exactly the same.
I guess I made the plan right then. She never knew me in my awkward phase. She never saw me get tossed into trash cans. She never saw me before I got fit. She never saw me cry after my dad went on his rages. I never left her and everyone behind after he did it to my sister. She certainly did n't see me miss my sister's funeral.
Getting myself back into the system was n't as hard as I thought it'd be. There was this kid, Bobby Leitner, I knew when I was in summer camp in 3rd grade. He was my age but was from Modesto and his whole family got killed in a fire.
I got his birth certificate, his social security number, and made up a cool story about how my parents had taken me to Mexico when I was young.
Getting money was a little rougher. I do n't want to talk too much about it other than to say everything here is EXACTLY the same as it was back there. That includes the passwords to some highly sensitive computers I had access to back at the Institute. You ca n't be a suspect if you do n't exist, and I do n't. I took enough to get me by for quite some time to come.
So then it was just a matter of bumping into her at Starbucks. She talks about this deep connection, how I innately know things no one could know. She talks about how I just always know the right thing to say, and what's important. How I felt familiar from the outset.
So five years later we're married. I run a small startup in the Bay Area focused on energy research. We're kind of a big deal, and no one can understand where I got our proprietary dataset. The Institute sent some other poor schmo into the singularity here and he never came back. I hope he's doing as well as I am back where I'm from.
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[ WP ] ... So , how the hell do we get out of this alive ?
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`` So, how the hell do we get out of this alive? ``, Sammy asked.
He dropped the empty clip from his service pistol, then put the weapon on the ground.
Without ammo, it was as useless to him as it was to me.
The pistol, like the M16 before had run dry and would only weigh him down.
Well, it would, if we had anywhere to run.
`` Well, surrender is out of question, is n't it,'' I said.
`` It never was an option,'' he said. `` Not with those guys.''
He had a point.
My kidnappers were fundamentalists and fundamentalists were not to be reasoned with.
After the government had rejected their silly demands, and sent in the Marines to get me, they were definitely not in a negotiating mood.
`` Nice mess I dragged you into,'' I said. `` Sorry.''
Sammy shrugged. `` Occupational hazard.''
The sound of the shots drifted away, just to return even closer.
Maybe the wind had changed.
Sammy moved in as if to protect me with his body.
Not that it would help.
If they got us, he would be shot and I would be burned.
`` Ca n't you do anything? Do your thing?'' he asked.
'My thing,' as Sammy had called it since middle school.
He still could n't call it what it was: magic.
He still could n't call me what I was: A witch.
A witch in the service of her Majesty's Colonial Government of North America.
`` I do n't have any resources. They took everything: the spider eyes, the worm teeth. Even the bat hairs.''
`` You could collect some around here,'' he suggested. `` We've done it in survival training.''
`` There is a slight difference between spiders for food and spiders for witchcraft,'' I said.
Not that there were any animals around.
My captors had seen to that.
They had burned the ground, then irradiated it, then poisoned it.
Even if they did n't acknowledge their existence, they had driven the Ley lines so deep into the Earth that I could n't tap them.
The sounds of the shots drifted to the right.
Apparently, the Army had noticed that the Marines had n't returned yet.
The attack had started.
Her Majesty would assert his rights to this place.
The Independent Republic of Reason in Massachusetts would cease to exists in a few hours.
Along with all their members and, unfortunately us, they and their hideout would be wiped off the face of the planet.
`` Follow me,'' Sammy said. `` We make a run for it.''
`` Run where? There is a cliff on three sides and the fourth side is a war zone.''
`` Back to the house. Maybe we find weapons. Or ammo. Or your stuff,'' Sammy suggested.
*The house*.
Nice understatement.
The Reasonists had built a full-blown fortress on top of Mt Toby.
`` My stuff is gone,'' I said. `` They burned it.''
`` We can still find weapons,'' he insisted.
`` They might not acknowledge that magic exists, or that his Majesty is the God-given ruler of this land, but they are not stupid. There is a guard.''
Sammy was quiet.
I knew, he was concerned for me and it was n't entirely a'secure her Majesty's assets' kind of thing.
He liked me.
Well, I liked him too.
Sam had been my reason to work for the Government instead of going to the private sector.
Sam had been the reason for me to start training witchcraft.
Far above us, I heard the droning of an aircraft engine.
The Air Force had an AWACS circling the battlefield.
Its RADAR sensors could penetrate even the pitch black night around us.
Sammy looked up.
Here, between the rocks, only a small part of the sky was visible.
One of the stars up there flashed and was gone.
My childhood friend, who had come from the other end of the continent to save me, pulled a telescope from his pocket.
Like a maniac, he started clicking a button on the thing.
`` What are you doing?''
`` I told them to drop a broom on our coordinates.''
`` Unless the Air Force has made some breakthroughs in magic that I do n't know about, a broom only seats one,'' I said.
Sammy nodded.
In the waning light I saw him looking at me.
His expression was relaxed, almost relieved.
`` Oh no. I do n't leave you here,'' I said.
`` You have to. You are the Witch Mother. I'm just a Marine. You are important. I'm expendable.''
`` No, you're not. Not for me,'' I said. `` What time is it anyway?''
Sam opened the cover of his watch. `` 11:35''
`` Can you hide us for another twenty-five minutes?''
`` Probably,'' he said and pulled out his entrenching tool.
A few minutes later, Sam pulled me into a small hole at the base of a rock.
I cuddled up to him
Were it not for the maniacs out there, and the Army with their fuel-air bomb on standby, it would have been romantic.
The minutes dropped like maple syrup from a spoon.
Sam nudged me at the hour.
He did n't need to.
There was nothing in this world that was comparable to the feeling that rushed through me.
I freed myself from Sam's grip and stood up.
One of the Reasonists, who hid behind a rock close by, noticed me.
Well, I was hard to miss, with my red hair burning and my white skin glowing like the full moon.
I was full of power, and full of anger.
The fundamentalist turned to shoot me.
With a flick of my finger, I turned his gun to dust.
The cold iron resisted a bit, but not much.
Not tonight.
In a'last stand' kind of way, the man jumped me.
He landed on the dry ground with an annoyed croak.
Before they noticed, his three fellow rebels followed.
`` Sam, collect the frogs. We want to question them later,'' I said.
My voice sounded echoing and hollow.
The power that circulated through my veins caused that.
While the Marine collected the revolutionists-turned-amphibian in his canteen, I turned towards the fortress.
There was a job to do.
There were friends to avenge.
Sixty minutes later, I approached the line of tanks.
Illuminated by a group of will-o'-the-wisps, it was hard to miss on who's side I was.
Sam followed me.
He was busy keeping the lid on the pot of frogs.
`` Ma'am,'' an officer said. `` Good to see you.''
`` Thank you, General. Could send for a bigger pot for our prisoners, please.''
A few minutes later, the amphibians were in the custody of the Military Police.
Sam and I reported for the debriefing.
We told the story from our side, how the Reasonists fought back and killed the Marines that protected my escape.
The General was truly sorry for the loss of Sam's men.
He would n't dare accuse him of negligence, let alone me.
In the end, he only wanted to know one thing.
`` Why did n't you use your powers earlier?''
`` Tell me, General, what's the date?''
`` October 30.''
`` Really?''
`` Right. It's after midnight. It's...''
It took the General just a second to understand.
`` It's Halloween,'' he completed his sentence. `` Those guys chose the bloody wrong day to mess with a witch.''
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[ WP ] You wake up to find yourself in an out of body experience . Everything 's going great , until you notice your body starting to move on its own .
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An unexplained feeling washed over me. Astral projecting, I had done this before. Nobody knew about this, I had always kept it to myself. And that's how I wanted it to be.
But that feeling, it was n't something I regularly felt. It was n't the feeling on freedom, neither excitement or happiness. It was insecurity. Insecurity that something bad was going to happen, sooner or later.
I shrugged the thought off, trying to enjoy the experience. I floated towards the back of the hospital room and went through the door. I looked around in awe, everything was so much better in the spirit world. Since I was in a hospital, I could see several other souls. Most of them were peaceful, but the wild ones, I avoided them the best I could.
I went through the hallway, which got darker and darker by the moment. The deeper I went into it, the more lost souls appeared. Suddenly, I was surrounded by them. I knew it was n't safe here, but I had to see these parts of the world too sometime.
I flew over the souls as I watched them pleading for help. I could n't save them, I was n't the person for that. Once I was alone, I returned to the ground. The lights on the halls started flickering to life, but then went off again. The moment was indeed cliche, but it was still kinda horrifying.
Out of the blue, a shadow appeared in front of me. The shadow could n't scare me, but what this shadow was really gave me chills.
It was a shadow person. I had seen one of those many times, even when I was awake. You see, I always suffered from sleep paralysis. The shadow people, they always came every night and tried several things, including chocking. Doctors told me that I was just paranoid, but since the day I started astral projecting, I knew it was n't true.
I turned around to go to my room, but a cold hand grabbed my wrist. I felt its presence closer and closer to me, until it was right behind.
I was n't sure how it spoke, but it did, and said the only thing I did n't want to hear.
`` When you go back, it will already be late.''
And with that I fled. I flew as fast as I could towards my room, which was not so close. After a few minutes I reached it. I went through the door once again and stared at my body with a smile plastered on my face. I was n't late, luckily.
A doctor opened the door and walked towards my body. I was ready to insert into it, when a strong power pushed me down, holding me there. I glanced up, to look at what the doctor was doing. My body suddenly stirred, and after some moments it stood up. I gasped and struggled against the grip of -whatever that was-, but with no use. The doctor said something to the body and then left. Its head turned to my direction, giving me a sinister smile.
That's when I understood. I was trapped here forever.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Well, I do n't know what that was. I bet you did n't expect an a/n, huh?
But regardless, I really hope somebody out there enjoyed.
Peace.
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[ WP ] Make me fear the silence .
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There it is again. The scratching. I know I heard it. Where can it be coming from? Every night, once the sounds of the day have subsided and silence descends upon the house, it comes. Sometimes it's the window, sometimes the closet. Almost too soft to hear, yet there, scratching at the corners of my mind. Wanting to be let in. But I ca n't. I ca n't let it in.
It started about a month ago. I was getting ready for bed, not really thinking too much. It had been a long day at work, more pressure than I felt I could handle, what with the new ownership, and I just wanted to relax and get some sleep before another hectic day. And then I heard it. A light scritch on the bedroom window. There are n't any trees on that side of the house, so I looked through the curtains at nothing. Just the side yard and the fence. I figured I was just hearing things, stressed after a long day, and laid down. But every time I would start to drift off to sleep, there it was again. Just one short little scratch, and never anything to indicate what caused it. Convinced it was my mind playing with me, I took an ambien and went to bed.
Now it wakes me up. 3am, and there it is. I think it was the closet this time. I've taken to closing all the doors and curtains before going to bed. Maybe if this thing ca n't see me, it wo n't bother me. But no, more scratching. Make it stop. Please.
There's a guy at work, I think he wants to spend more time with me. He tends to come sit next to me on our cigarette breaks, though I've never seen him smoke. He usually just wants to chat about inconsequential things, like the weather or whatever is on TV, but I find it hard to concentrate lately. I think he knows something is wrong, because I just sort of nod and smile as he's talking. His words flow over me like water, and none of the meaning seems to penetrate. All I can think is, `` Will it come tonight?''
It was n't every night, not at first. After that first night, I heard nothing for a week, plenty long enough to be convinced it was just stress. And then, just as I was drifting off, there it was. Closet door this time. Scritch! Maybe a stray cat outside? One that runs when the light comes through the window? And the sound just echoes in the silence, making it seem as though it came from inside. Another ambien, another night of not thinking about it.
He called me last night, wanted to know if we could catch dinner. I told him this weekend would be fine, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He ca n't know what's in my head right now. I'm sure he is just lonely and wants someone to talk to. So i will go to dinner tomorrow, and i will smile and nod, and try to stop thinking about this. Maybe I just need a night off. I tend to think about work too much.
This is going to drive me mad. I barely sleep anymore, worried that the scratching will never end. But it's just a quick sound. Creeping through the silence of the empty house. Just at the edges of conscious hearing. Just enough to make me question my sanity. Ambien has become my only friend.
He was very nice tonight. We had Italian. I love pasta. It fills you up and can have any flavor you want it to. And all through dinner, and the noises of a restaurant, the clinking of forks on plates and the sounds of people talking, I managed to not think anymore and just enjoy myself. I feel more relaxed than I have in a very long time. We plan on going out again tomorrow, and tonight I am going to sleep like a baby.
What was that?
It scratched again.
It's in the closet. It has to be.
I'm going to check.
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[ WP ] `` I used to be a human , you know ''
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`` I used to be human, you know.''
It was just another night at Clancy's, a run down bar on the outskirts of Norfolk, another night, another $ 200 tab.
`` Come on man, do n't start this shit again.''
`` I'm just saying man, I ai n't human no more!''
That's Jerry. Or at least that's what his ID said. He claims his name is Octuris Something-render, claims he fights demons and other ghosty stuff.
`` Back in the day, I met a faery, name of Arianna. She was adorable, you know that, adorable! We joined souls, now we're the same person! Then there was my previous lives...''
`` Come on man, this is the seventh time you rambled on about this crap, would you just...''
`` You know I was n't even human when i was created? I was made to kill things, a creature of war! Destroy, maim kill! Guess someone did n't like that, cuz I've been stuck as a human for thousands of years now!''
He went on like that every night. Just rambling about the dumbest shit for hours. You'd think the three bottles of rum he drinks every time. But nope, not even a slur! Just this stupid-ass smile plastered on his jaw. That should have been a decent warning sign right there. But I guess that night I'd just had enough.
`` Shut up, you stupid fuck!''
I smashed my beer against his head. Mistake number two. Mistake number three was the barstool that followed. Now keep in mind, this thing is was made well, think the bartender said it was oak at one point... But that's the weird thing. This guy looked sixty years old, hair solid white and a scruffy beard, and he did n't even flinch when that barstool broke over his head. I never thought my short temper was a problem when I drank, guess that's another reason I'm here. But anyways, Back to the story.
This guy, he just looks at the remains of his fourth bottle, puts it down, and just sighs.
`` Kids these days, never have time for a good story. Well, boy? You want a fight?''
`` Yeah, let's go you old fuc-''
Before i could even finish, this old man grabs me by the collar, and lifts me clear off the ground! Now I'm a big guy, as y'all can see. I used to weigh 100 pounds more at the time. I tell you, this is by far the most sobering experience of my life. I'm about two feet off of the ground, and this guy's hand feels like fire. I manage to look down, and it looks like fire is pouring from this guy's eyes. I pissed myself right there and then. Then, this guy just spits, and says, `` get out of here. You have no good reason to drink yourself to death, child.'' He walks over to the door, kicks it open, and throws me twenty feet out into the street.... That day changed my life, and I'm hoping for the better. So i guess that's why I'm at these meetings now.
`` Thank you for sharing, Greg.''
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[ WP ] Every online-dater 's worst fear is meeting up with a serial killer . By chance , two unaware serial killers agree to meet each other .
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I was standing there in nothing but my butcher's smock, holding a carving knife and a cook's fork. Alexis stood right across from me holding a syringe in her fingers, trained directly on me. It was n't the same one I used to drug her and last I checked, needles were n't a common self-defense tool that women kept in their purse.
`` You really need to use a stronger sedative.'' she told me, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. I really did n't expect this from such a mousey looking girl. Then again, I DID meet her online so I suppose that was a risk.
`` Well I do n't normally use injections to knock people out, it's just a new thing I'm trying. I figured it would n't take much to knock out a girl your size.'' I replied.
She frowned at me when I mentioned her'size.' She took a full step towards me, hovering the end of the needle just a few feet away from me. She was ready to take another step when I loudy cleared my throat and waved the utensils in my hands. She may have had a hypodermic full of mystery juice but I had the 10 inch knife and the pointed fork. We stared at eachother for a good two or three minutes before she finally broke the silence.
`` What were you planning to do with me exactly?'' she asked.
`` Well what were you gon na do to me? That syringe way bigger than mine.'' I said. It really was pretty large, the kind that could give a kid nightmares. I was going to make a joke about her over-compensating for something but I did n't exactly want to push her. Which turned out to be pointless, because she still seemed mad at me.
Things went uncomfortably quiet again as both of us were trying to process the situation. It was clear by now that we both had our own agendas that night and neither of us would let our guard down.
`` I guess this sort of explains how shitty the date went.'' She said, forcing a short laugh. I actually felt a little offended by that because as far as nights out with women I intended to chop up later, it was actually kinda nice.
`` Hey now, that little gluten-free bakery we went to was pretty charming, you have to give me that.''
She titled her head, giving me something like a'are-you-serious' expression.
`` Oh please, that was so overpriced for what it was. I can go to a gas station and get a better cupcake than that.'' She said.
Now I was upset, because the twin brothers who owned that bakery were absolutely lovely people and they have to be a little expensive to stay in business. The taste really makes up for the extra few bucks you pay.
`` Well excuse me for having a gluten allergy and wanting to support a small business, thank you very much.'' I said. She put a knuckle to her temple, rubbing in small circles.
`` Oh please, do n't give me that'gluten-allergy' crap, nobody's actually allergic to gluten.'' She rebuttled.
I could hear my pot of rice starting to boil over on the stove behind me, mimicking my feelings at the moment. Without taking my eyes off of her, I opened the lid and began to stir with the cook's fork.
`` Oh yeah? And how do you know that? Are you a medical proffesional?''
`` YES!''
She shouted her answer at me, her raised voice throwing me off balance for a second. Suddenly she let her syringe hand drop, running the other through her greasy, tangled hair.
`` I'm-I was... a nurse, I said that like five times tonight. Were you seriously not listening to me at all?'' She asked, looking egsaperated. I did n't know how to respond, so I simply shrugged.
`` I find it's best not to get too attached to the people I eat.'' I said.
Alexis put her elbows on the kitchen island, looking down at the bell peppers I'd just chopped.
`` Did you say'eat?'' she asked me. It sounded more like an attempt to change the subject than genuine curiosity. I put the lid back on my rice and set the cook's fork down next to the stove.
`` Oh yeah. Cannibal.''
`` Seriously? Why did you target me? I'm not exactly...'' She paused for a moment and let her sentence trail off.
`` Well maybe if your profile image was a little more honest. I was going to try and salvage this by making some fajitas and use whatever little meat I can get off of you.'' I said.
The funny thing was she actually did look remorseful about that.
`` Sorry, those pictures are from two years ago when I still had a job. I was a little healthier back then. Things have been pretty downhill since then.'' She said. Then she reached over and took one of the bell pepper strips, popping it into her mouth. The tension in the air was slowly dissapating through the whole conversation but she still kept her syringe in hand. It was a calculated risk, but I set my carving knife down by the sink. I needed to open a can of refried beans and I could n't exactly do that one handed.
`` So...'' I stuttered as I pulled the can opener from my junk drawer. `` What exactly were you planning to do to me then?''
Alexis noticed I'd put the knife down. She was hesitant, eyeballing her syringe before finally setting it down too. She took another bell pepper and crunched as she spoke.
`` You'll probably think it's kinda cheap.'' She said and tapped on her syringe. `` This is a little cocktail I put together. Once I inject it, it goes on a nasty rampage through your bloodstream. It'd take too long to explain the pharmacutical terms involved, so let's just say that the effects are intensely painful and 99 % lethal.'' she explained.
Naturally, upon hearing about something so dangerous, I could n't help but ask.
`` Have you ever accidentally stuck yourself?''
She shrugged and rolled the syringe back and forth on the island.
`` Surprisingly, no. But I fully expect one day they'll find my body seized up in my apartment because I sat on it, the cops will connect the dots and I'll be on a'DUMBEST CRIMINALS' highlight somewhere.'' she said. Then she took two more pieces of bell pepper.
`` Eh, different people, different methods, different psychotic issues. And y'know if you keep eating those, I'm gon na make you cut up another one for me. Or else there wo n't be enough for the two of us.'' I said.
Her head perked up and tilted slightly, squinting at me.
`` Two of us?'' She asked.
`` Well yeah. There's obviously some kind of cosimic irony happening right now and I do n't know what the hell else to do about it other than keep making dinner. It'd be nice to have company that I do n't have to peel skin off of.'' I said as I took out a package of tortillas to warm up.
Alexis sighed and stared at her syringe. I assume she was giving the thought of killing me one last look before she agreed.
`` You're not gon na chew my face off or something are you?''
`` Please, I'm not Hannibal Lector. You're not going to try and inject me with something that'll make my intestines melt out of my butt, are you?''
`` So long as you do n't try to make me eat somebody''
I rolled my eyes and scoffed at her, picking up my knife again to chop the onions.
`` Like I'd share.'' I said.
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[ WP ] There once was a man from Mars ; he liked to collect things in jars
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*There once was a man from Mars; he liked to collect things in jars*
Jimmy had always been a bit hectic. His older brother always hated him for it. Whether it was the time he had been playing hockey with people far better than him and he snapped his ankle, or the time he got arrested for some very questionable pranks ( `` no one was hurt!'' ). Whether it was the jar of American change he kept, or the jar of pucks that *she* gave him, or the jar of money he stole from their dad ( `` it is n't a lot!'' ). He'd lie and cheat and play cruel jokes. Far from the older brother, who graduated from high school, and then from law school, and then founded his own firm, along with two other successful lawyers. No one really knew what fire had been lit inside Jimmy. No one really knew what would put it out. No one knew how it'd been lit in the first place; his father was an orderly man, working for his fair share in the little corner store; his older brother was an incredibly successful lawyer. And so, they watched Jimmy collect pucks and money and pranks and flirts and kisses in jars.
*He lived amongst the stars; He watched from afar, collecting memoirs*
Then, when the older brother got sick, Jimmy moved to him. He had always loved his brother. His brother had done so much, from getting him out of a possible prison stint ( `` nobody was hurt, alright! `` ), to lugging him home when he was drunk countless times. Jimmy got a job at the brother's firm, more of a pity job than anything. He was okay. He was earning money. Getting his act together. He took care of his older brother; he understood his peculiar condition ( an allergy to electricity, for christ's sake ) better than anyone else. Then, he passed the bar exam. He was living in the lawyer capital of America, and he'd passed the bar! Jimmy was ecstatic! His brother far from it. He told the other two partners not to hire him; he was simply too dangerous, a liability. He could never be a good lawyer, after all. Jimmy, newly graduated, quit the post office job at the firm. He started his own firm. He watched all of his colleagues from afar, watching their stories. He was a public defender, and a damn fine one, office at the back of a nail salon.
*He sat and played his guitar; the people gave him scars*
Then, when he found a *big* case, a real big one, and brought it to his dear friend, who worked at the firm, he still was n't hired. She was a kind girl, the same one that gave him all those pucks. She really threw a fit over it. She loved him, cared for him, she truly did. She was on his side. He loved her too. Everybody could see the love in his watery blue eyes, the love in her city-like grey ones. But they never told each other. He'd touch her hand `` accidentally'' so much; she'd linger just a touch too long when she hugged him. It was n't long before he figured out his brother was the one telling them not to hire him. `` ^I ^thought ^you ^were ^proud ^of ^me, `` he whispered, voice breaking. The older man just sat there, an ugly look on his face and looked through him. Jimmy had never felt younger. He had just wanted him to feel proud. She hugged him when he told her about all this, on a skating rink of all places. She kissed him, too. Together, they went to her apartment, not Jimmy and his brother's shared house. She gave him her guitar. He played some wonderful tunes. He'd always been hectic, but the music centred him. Soft, gentle. His hands danced around the fretboard. Together, they listened.
*He was now a superstar; he drank at bars*
But that was not the end of Jimmy and his hectic ways. Of course not. He was Jimmy. The fire in him would never be put out. He got better and better as a lawyer. Better, and better, and better. More famous. But he also became more of a crook. She far from agreed with his ways. `` It can get you disbarred! You could *get killed*.'' It hurt her to see Jimmy change so much, again. He'd been so reformed. From the far too risky child, to the drinking, pranking, arrested teenager, to this young man. This young man, with clear blue eyes, and the proper haircut. She loved that young man. She loved Jimmy to death. He'd moved back home, to Toronto, for her. ( She'd gotten a job at the Toronto branch of the firm ). So it terrified her to see him getting involved with drug dealers, being their business partner, essentially, for a great deal of cash. He could die because of them. He hated seeing her so upset. How angry she got when he stayed out too late. She'd stayed. She'd stayed when no one else had. He had n't spoken to his brother in over three years. She stayed through him becoming more and more sketchy and dubious. He loved her a lot too. He pulled her closer every night, kissed her gently. He did n't want to lose her. Ever. He promised her things, but rarely came through, to be quite honest. But she still stayed, playing shinny and skating with him, and kissing him and loving him, and watching movies. He felt so, so lucky. The fire inside of Jimmy was roaring.
*And when he got on their radar; he turned into a pulsar*
Then, the fire finally burned too bright. Jimmy was shot, one day. Because of those pesky drug dealers. He cried when he saw her. He begged her for forgiveness. He sobbed. ( She hated it when he cried. She said it looked like his eyes were spilling over, being such a watery blue. ) He sobbed even though it hurt his ribs so much. He grabbed onto her hand, and he never wanted to let go again. She sat there and took it. Told him how fucking stupid he was. She squeezed his hand. She told him about the hockey game she just played, and the game their favourite team was playing. She told him about all these little good things, and he cried he was so relieved. But of course, the fire had to take him away. He suddenly could n't breathe that night. He was bleeding internally. He rattled her awake, and she called a nurse and a doctor and all the doctors. She screamed and shouted and fought for him. She was his fire department. But it was n't enough. The fire finally burnt out. He took a finally breath, pure, pure fear in his eyes, like a little kid.
He did n't want to die. Jimmy really did n't want to die. She finally let tears run down her face. And then she called his brother. The partners. His friends. His brother and the partners came. The brother finally felt guilty for the things he pulled. His mother had told him to protect Jimmy, and he had *failed*. Jimmy had loved him so much. And he had n't. He cried a bit that day too. The partners said their condolences. She pressed a last kiss to his lips. And when the day came around, they buried him. It was n't fair. It was n't fair at all. Few things ever are.
*And to fix a pulsar; you ca n't do CPR*
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Is this based off of Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman? Yes. Do I regret it? Only a little bit.
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[ WP ] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons do n't know what to do with her .
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`` Next,'' the purple headed demon called, consulting his clipboard. He filched a squirming beetle from one of the shuffling denizens as they passed and popped it in his mouth, chewing a couple of times before swallowing. `` I said next.''
`` He he.'' The toddler laughed, stroking the purple headed demon's legs.
`` Wow. What in the name of Halloween are you doing here?'' He blurted, pulling away from the child and consulting his clipboard. `` You're not Rosie O'Donnel. You should n't be here.''
`` Puppy.'' She cried, skipping after the demon, her hands outstretched and grasping for his furry calves.
`` Stop. No. Do n't. Ouch. Ow! Do n't. You're not supposed to be here. Children do n't come here. What in the -- Stop it. You're supposed to be up there.'' He said, jabbing his vulture feather quill toward the roof of the firey cavern. `` How did you get down here?''
`` Come puppy.'' She giggled, patting her knees to beckon the purple headed demon.
`` Kristoph.'' He called, looking for his intern. The little girl managed to latch on to his tail and was busy yanking it up and down as quickly as she could.
`` Stinky.'' She whispered, looking under his tail.
`` Give me that. Kristoph! Get over here.''
`` What? I was eating my lunch,'' the imp whined, licking his fingers.
`` Where did she come from?'' The purple headed demon demanded. `` And, how did she get here?''
`` Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other...'' the imp began.
`` No. Not that. I mean how did she get down here. She's supposed to be in the penthouse. Find an angel and get her out of here, and -- Ouch! -- do it quick.'' He pulled his bent tail away from her again.
`` Puppy. Come puppy.'' She tried to grab his tail again.
`` NO!'' He bellowed savagely.
`` Wa... Wa...'' She sniffled.
`` What? No. Do n't do that. Not down here.'' The demon stammered, trying to calm the girl.
`` Whaaaaaaaaaaa!'' She cried.
`` I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'' He crooned, looking to the ceiling. The little girl's wail set the rocks to vibrating and here and there boulders were falling from the ceiling, crushing demons and imps and newly arrived souls all across the cavern. `` You ca n't cry here. No. Please. Oh please dont' cry. Get the angel quick.'' He snapped, swatting the imp in the back of the head.
`` Wha... Whaaaaaaa!''
`` Here. Take it. Take my tail. Just please stop crying.'' The purple headed demon pleaded.
`` Whaaaaaaa!''
`` Here. Take this,'' he begged, tearing off a passing gorgon's rattler.
`` Wha...'' She sniffled and took the rattle from the demon, who was trying his best to fight off the agitated gorgon with his clipboard.
`` He said she's our problem now.'' Kristoph replied, waddling over.
`` What does he mean, *she's our problem now*? All children go to heaven. That's in the bylaws. Tell him to get his feathery rump over here and take possession of this child.'' The demon demanded, stamping his foot and grimacing as the little girl began to pull tufts of hair from the back of his leg.
`` I'll try.'' The imp responded sounding less than optimistic.
`` Why do n't you go home?'' the demon begged between handfuls of her unsolicited hair removal practice.
`` He said, it's not happening.'' The imp told him upon his return.
`` Why not?'' The demon asked pleadingly, on the verge of tears. The imp pointed to the stairwell where the obstinate angel stood, arms crossed and defiant. There was less than a handful of feather's left on his wings. `` What happened to his glorious white feathers?''
The imp looked at that little girl meaningfully and the growing number of bald spots on the purple demons legs.
`` Take her back!'' The demon called. The angel shook his head. `` Please?'' The angel continued to shake his head. `` I'll give you anything? Just take her back.''
The angel thought it over and beckoned the imp over. There was a lot of whispering and negotiating taking place, but in the end a deal was struck.
`` What's he want?'' The demon asked nervously.
`` A dog.'' The imp answered, drawing circles in the the cavern floor with his toe.
`` That's it. Just a dog. Okay. It's a deal. Which dog?'' The demon asked, wiping away a tear of pain.
`` Cerberus.'' The imp whispered, flinching away in fear of the demon's wrath.
`` CERBERUS!'' The demon roared. `` He wants Cerberus. The guardian of the gates of Hell? The Hound of Hades. That Cerberus?''
`` Uh huh.'' Kristoph squeaked.
`` Wha... Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!'' The little girl wailed, frightened by the purple headed demon's cry.
`` He only wants him for a little while, then he'll return him.'' The imp explained hurriedly, dodging the hot rocks falling from the cavern roof the girl's cries were shaking loose.
`` How long?'' The demon demanded in panic.
`` Just until all of the Westboro Baptist Church members die. He wants to make sure none of them sneak into Heaven.'' The imp replied, spreading his arms wide in a that's-all-he-wants sort of way.
A sizable boulder fell to the floor with a crash, barely missing the demon.
`` Deal. Deal. Tell him he has a deal, but he has to take her. Now. He has to take her now.'' The demon cried.
The imp turned and gave the angel a thumbs up. The angel sighed and came over to collect the child.
`` You're getting off cheap,'' the angel murmured as the little girl took notice of the angels few remaining feathers. He winced as she plucked another feather from his wing.
`` I know. Toodles.'' The demon sighed, waving good-bye jubiantly.
The angel fixed him with a flat stare and looked at the child. `` NO!'' The angel snapped, pulling his wings away with a smirk.
`` Whaaaaaaaaaa!''
The demon stopped smiling and sighed in resignation, then the roof came tumbling down on him.
`` Does this mean I get the rest of the day off?'' The imp asked, dancing around the mound of rubble. `` Does it? Can I go? Can I? Yeah. I can go.'' He said, answering his own question. He looked over at the angel who simply shrugged, leading the child away.
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[ IP ] The forms were cast in a red , hissing glow
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A gentle warmth radiated from the flare clasped in my hand, as if to comfort me in this otherwise cold and foreign place. The flare cast its sanguine light over the decrepit walls and cavernous ceiling, fading to a bloody crimson as it dissipated into the inky darkness that seemed to stretch on into infinity. I was never keen on subways. We did n't have them where we were growing up and there was something unnatural about them. Descending into the earth, being swallowed by the ground and the only light comes from harsh fluorescent bulbs that flicker, threatening to go out and leave you alone in the infinite darkness. Unsettling.
`` Hello?'' I called out into the void that was waiting beyond the feeble glow of my flare. My voice echoed down the tunnel, decomposing into little more than noise. There was no answer, but the noise has stirred things in the dark. the sounds of scuttling and scampering bounded off the walls, sounding more sinister than I'm sure they were. This place belonged to the rats now, nothing more. And yet... fear has a way of making nightmares dance at edge of your vision, where reality meets your imagination and you swear you see things beyond the safety of the light.
It took little more than the footsteps of a few rats to make me freeze. Terrible phantasms waited in the void. I could almost see them, eyes gleaming, jaws hungry. I could *feel* their eyes on me, digging at my skin like fishing hooks. Soundlessly they circled and swirled, taunting me, threatening me. A victim to my own imagination and too paralyzed to flee from such thoughts. The seconds ticked by. The flare burned down. It was time to leave.
My flight from that place was swift and undignified, a mad dash back to the sunlight. The tunnel claimed a shoe, a piece of concrete snatching it from my foot as I made my cowardly exit. It may keep it, a trophy of its victory. Never again, I told myself. That place holds nothing but nightmares of my own making.
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[ WP ] One day you manifest the ability to heal people , and bring the dead back to life .
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If I was a good student my mind may have been thinking about criminal law theory or the tutorial I had coming up tomorrow on land law. I was not a good student; I was thinking about alcohol.
The fact that an early Thursday morning always follows a Wednesday evening has never stopped me in the past from going out clubbing and there was no reason why I should lend an ear to reason today. So, I was thinking about alcohol.
My seminar had ended late and the clouded winter sky did n't have much life remaining in it as I left the cathedral architecture of my university. I did n't say goodbye to any of the other law students who spread and parted in their different directions. I took two rights and turned into an alley past a block of abandoned flats in a shortcut that would get me home with enough time to change before pre-drinks. Housing crises and homelessness notwithstanding, the council decided that the building was too expensive to demolish and too expensive to repair and so was left abandoned. Its windows were too high off the ground to see into and I had never been curious previously to want to look inside. That was until I heard the tearing coming from inside the building. A beat later I felt my heart stop.
I felt nothing and I was nothing. My hand was halfway up to my chest where it had paused, entirely without energy. An observer in my own body, I only saw my center of gravity tip slightly and then ever so slightly more forward. I started to pitch forward rapidly. Old, uneven, sharp pavement began to fill my vision when the heat appeared. Just like that, it was in my chest; painfully explosive and burning. I felt my heart scream as it was stretched out, pushed from the inside by rough fingers and then crushed small by the same grasp. And with that my heart started and I brought my arms up in front of my face as I landed on them.
I scrambled to my feet uneasily, feeling for a heartbeat and was pleasantly relieved to found I had one; nice and strong under my shirt. I spun around and checked both ends of the alleyway, empty. The abandoned building was quiet as it had ever been. I rubbed by hands together and found them wet, a layer of sweat jumping out of my skin. It appeared my body was well ahead of me. I picked up my bag and ran.
I fitted in a shower before I came downstairs to drink with everyone else. One of my flatmates had asked if I was already when he saw me and I told him I'd just run home for fun. A lot easier than explaining a heart attack. I got into a some shorts and a t-shirt that had come out of the wash a few days ago but had n't been put away and joined in with my flatmates and some friends, trying to get into the mood.
When the living room coffee table had empty bottles rolling on it, that was our cue to leave. One of my flatmates and two of my friends decided to bail, saying that the alcohol had n't agreed with them and they did n't want to go out. Wusses. We made our way through the city center to one of the several clubs nearby. The queue tailed back against the wall of the club and so we joined the back, barely in sight of the bouncers by the door. Another of my housemates said they were n't feeling well. I called him a wuss to his face. Wuss wuss wu- his eyes bulged in panic and he turned and hurled his stomach against the club wall. He was only partially successful, about half of it was spread out over two people in the group in front of us. The shrieks and screams were immediate and a wide circle was quickly cleared. A girl who had been hit had started crying and the guy next to her was right up in my flatmate's face, pushing him against the club wall, shouting, spittle flying. My housemate seemed barely conscious, staring a thousand miles through the man's face in front of him. He reacted sluggishly when the man and his friends grabbed his shirt and dragged him towards an alley between the club and the building behind it on the road. I reacted to this, going after them moments later with a thought passing through my mind, was that blood I saw in the vomit?
I heard them punching my flatmate before I could even pick out who was who in the dark.
I shouted at them to stop and did n't wait for a response, I jumped into them and tried to grab one and pull them back. My fingers dug into his shirt and there was a tug of resistance, a light string's twing before it snaps. I felt it snap. The person I was grabbing dropped to the ground in front of me and I tripped backwards from the force of my yank. I could n't see it but I could feel it: slimey, sticky honey balled up in my hands. I brushed my hands against each other frantically and after a bit of resistance the honey evaporated away, my hands empty. One of the guys beating up my flatmate noticed something had changed and came over to me, one hand on my neck the other on my arm, trying to lift me up. He got me off the floor and my reaction to being choked was to grab his hand and try to push it off my throat. The twang, the snap. I actually saw the moment that his eyes unfocused and his body dropped. This time, I also saw the milky substance that his body left behind. In the same pose as he was, one arm on mine and one on my neck. After a moment's thought, it started to unravel, like ethanol drying it simply wafted away. The last part to go was the arm I was holding.
The remaining two guys had stopped attacking my flatmate and were both staring at me. I shouted at them to leave my friend alone as I approached and they slowly started moving away. They did n't get far. One leading the other in a morbid dance routine, they stumbled to the ground coughing and clawing for breath, tried to recover but failed and lay on the ground, twitching slightly before laying still. I ran to my flatmate, leaning bloodied against the wall, eyes blank. I wanted to grab and shake him but I suddenly did n't trust myself to touch him. As I stared, a pit in my stomach told me it would n't make a difference. He did n't react, did n't say anything. No light behind his eyes.
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[ EU ] Randall Flagg In Various Universes { x-post with r/whowouldwin }
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Did another of the scenarios presented here, given that I was n't a big fan of the Community one I did. So here's Scenario 9 -- Randall Flagg in the world of Frozen.
***
Randall Flagg looked down upon Arendelle, domain of the Snow Queen, from his perch on the mountain and smirked. Bringing his unique brand of destruction and chaos down upon the tranquil kingdom would bring him great pleasure. Although the queen had learned to control her powers, Flagg would see to it that she brought about the fall of her own kingdom and all those others found in this world.
He leapt off the cliff and allowed himself to drift to the ground below as if he had no more substance than a leaf. He could n't remember the last time he'd traveled to a world in which magic's power remained so vibrant and powerful. Its strength tempted to him to take a more direct role in affairs, but he would try to restrain himself.
Summoning up the finest livery he could imagine in which to garb himself, Flagg entered the town and approached the castle gates. The guards let him pass, Flagg previously having introduced himself and had some preliminary meetings with Elsa under the guise of initiating a new trade agreement. So far, neither she nor her sister seemed to suspect anything, though Anna's boyfriend Kristoff had taken an immediate dislike to him. No matter, one could n't please everyone. Case in point: that abnormal talking snowman. Olaf certainly tried to have everybody like him, but his overabundance of misplaced joy and optimism irritated Flagg to no end.
He'd only have to put up with that marginally longer, as Olaf played the first major role in Flagg's plan. Now that he had Elsa's ear, Flagg just needed to find the snowman alone, away from anyone else. As he walked down the main hall, he glanced to the side and saw that fortune must favor him; the sentient snow lay in the reading room off the hall. Flagg diverted himself.
`` Olaf! Good to see you!''
`` You too, Sir Flagg! I still ca n't get used to how awesome summer feels!''
`` I'm sure. I'm personally a man of the cold myself, but I can certainly appreciate why some people enjoy the season. Speaking of that, how would you like to really *feel* summer, in here?'' Flagg leaned in close and put his hand over Olaf's uppermost coal, using slight of hand to remove it and swap it with an ensorcelled one of his own.
`` Warmth from within? Like love?''
`` Oh no, I'm sure you're more than capable of that, friend. I was referring to the rush of blood through your body, the state of feeling warm through-and-through.''
`` Well, I like the snow, too, but yeah, that'd be nice!''
`` Far be it from me to force anything on you. But I've some friends back home that might be able to craft a vacation body of sorts for you, if that's the sort of thing you'd be interested in.''
`` Thanks, Sir Flagg!''
Flagg waved kindly and left Olaf, heading in to meet Elsa.
`` Randall, good of you to drop by again. Ready to sign the agreement?''
`` Quite, but first, I'd like you to try this. Consider it a preview of the cuisine that will come to Arendelle.'' He reached into his carrying bag and removed a spiced cake, passing it to Elsa.
`` Oh, well I'm afraid I do n't have anything similar to offer you in return at the moment.''
`` That's more than alright, Queen Elsa. I've had plenty of chances to sample your delectable dishes in my time here already. It's only fair I return the favor. Please, do n't restrain yourself on my account.''
Elsa took a small bite at first, then smiled at the taste and quickly proceeded to finish the small treat. Flagg grinned widely, the pieces had fallen into place perfectly. Now he could proceed on to his business. Already some self-doubt should have worked its way into her mind from eating the enchanted pastry.
`` I'm glad you like it. Your kingdom is certainly the better for it now that you've got a full handle on your powers.''
`` Yes, it seems that way, does n't it? It still feels like they could break free at a moment's notice, though.''
`` And what a shame that would be. It almost destroyed your kingdom before, not to mention your dear sister. But at least those times have passed.''
`` Yes... they have.''
`` Are you feeling alright, Queen Elsa? You seem down.''
`` I'll be fine, just some bad memories. Would you mind coming back later?''
`` Of course.''
Flagg bowed, then turned and strode out of the room. Looking into the reading room, he saw that Olaf had melted to a puddle, just as he'd planned. The coal would serve to keep him that way despite any attempts by Elsa to restore him, further making her doubt her grasp of her powers. He gave a wicked smile and glanced around to make sure no one could see him, then cast a glamour upon himself to make him appear as Elsa. Pretending to have a different identity always empowered him with the glee of deception.
`` So... warm...'' he heard Olaf say as he entered the room.
`` I'm so sorry Olaf! I'm losing control of my powers again!''
`` It's okay... you'll get them back!''
`` I certainly hope so.''
Flagg strode out of the room, and set out to find Anna, the only one capable of stopping his plans. In this reality, purity of love could defeat any magic, and he already knew Anna's love of her sister had allowed her to regain control once before. That could n't happen again. But still, in this form, he'd have no problem getting close enough to murder Anna. Then he'd drop the glamour and continue on, allowing Elsa's doubts to grow and influencing her fall and turning her to chaos.
This world belonged to him now, and by extension, the Crimson King.
***
Sometimes it's refreshing to see evil win, and I figured if someone as despicable as Randall Flagg found his way into the worlds of Disney, he'd have no trouble accomplishing his goals ( especially given the ease at which he does in many of King's own worlds, which are far less happy than those of Disney ). In some of the other universes proposed by OP, I'm sure Flagg would n't be nearly as successful.
-009 [ Previous entries for the daily writing challenge here ] ( http: //thewolfeternal.blogspot.com/ )
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[ WP ] The greatest hero the world has ever known , a man/woman of unparalleled strength , speed , wit and skill dies to the laughingstock of the super-villain world in the most pathetic way possible . Write how he/she dies to this hilariously incompetent villain .
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The room is dark, clouded with smoke and dread. A thick black round table sits in the middle of the room with black chairs all around it, the seats are filled with men who are even darker and colder than this mountain peak room. At the head of the round table sits a bigger, blacker throne, the arm rests are decorated with skulls made from the very rock taken from the Moon-O.G itself. Sitting within this throne is a man, a man who is now the most infamous super villain in human history. The man who the public cower in fear from the sound of his name alone, The Pincher.
But it was n't always like this, that throne was once mine. I was once the Supreme Super Villain known as The Skull and this was once my mountain lair that I named, The Skulldorm. These dark figures were *my* men and The Pincher was one of my low-level street crooks.
New America Kingdom was once safeguarded by a hero simply known as The Savior. This man was someone that the people of Earth Attempt # 2 looked up to and praised. He abolished diseases, hunger and poverty, he was the greatest hero that humanity has ever known and as the most fearful person on Earth Attempt # 2 I even had a level of respect and admiration for him. We were complete opposites, we battled hundreds of times, he would defeat me and I would be forced to retreat and think of a new way to enslave the entire World© McDonalds-Fifa-Coke 2105-∞. But on that one Summer night it all changed and what followed was something not expected at all.
It was a dark night, darker than usual and I was watching from The Skulldrom through my Henchmen's GoPro3000's as my lower tier men were doing the usual street business to earn income, recruit new villains and remind humanity that fear is real, and then The Savior came.
He cleaned up the entire crew and right before teleporting he saw him, that disgusting, soft looking nervous cat-piss smelling joke of a human, The Pincher. He was called that because he would steal things and use them as his weapons and on this night he happened to steal peanuts.
The Savior leaps at The Pincher and in a fright, The Pincher throws his bag of peanuts in the face of The Savior who stops dead still in his tracks, murmurs out a word and then starts to swell, and swell and swell. The greatest hero humanity ever known was dead and it was due to an extreme peanut allergy, something none of us knew, which was caused by The Pincher. I vomited in my mouth as a single tear ran down my cheek.
He returned as soon as possible to The Skulldrom to report the news, but word already reached back. My men all took a knee as he entered The Dark Halls to the man who conquered the World© McDonalds-Fifa-Coke 2105-∞ and caused villainy to reign ruler.
Now years later after that event, he sits in MY CHAIR, he rules MY MEN, he takes MY GLORY AND MY ATTENTION. Nobody remembers me, I am just a fool sitting in seat number 13 next to two villains I would not even class as villa-
`` The Skull...'', the voice rings through my ears like needles being slowly pushed into eardrums. `` The Skull...'', the voice, something I could n't stand more than this suckers face.
`` Here'', I ooze lack of joy, contempt and hatred.
`` Thank you, The Vile Finger...? The Vile Finger...?'' The voice.
`` Here.''.
___________
I hope you enjoyed this short story, I have wanted to join writing prompts for a while and this was a topic that inspired me to start. Feel free to critique and give me tips on my writing!
edit: fixed a word.
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[ WP ] A man 's body has been found . The cause of death : impalement by an uprooted traffic sign . Reconstruct the scene of the crime and explain how it happened .
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I do n't really write much, but I got the urge to do some creative writing this morning so I figured I'd go for it. This is my first time sharing anything I've written online. Hope you enjoy: )
-- -- -
It was early in the evening, yet Dale had already downed his twelfth beer. His wife Beverly had locked herself in their room; crying the same as she had done every morning for as long as she could remember. `` Stop crying'', Dale would drunkenly bellow at her, `` or you'll get it!''. So she dared not allow him to hear her crying, nor did she leave the room. It was quiet for a while, and she sighed with relief believing her husband had drifted into a drunken sleep.
Suddenly, Dale banged on the bedroom door, startling his wife, waking her from her premature sense of safety for the day. `` You're driving me to get beer!'' he stammered, `` Now!''. Not wanting to anger him further, she sheepishly unlocked the bedroom door and grabbed the car keys. `` At least'', she thought, `` if I have to go I'll be driving.''
The whole way to the store Dale was his usual self; the Doctor Jekyll who never subdued. The small town streets were abuzz with life and joy, a stark contrast to the mood in the car. Dale yelled that his was going to slow, that she drove too erratic for his drunken state to handle, and spewed a slew of obscenities which still stung even after all the years hearing them. Annoyed, he grabbed the steering wheel from the passenger seat, causing the car to careen out of control into a nearby building. The vehicle uprooted a stop sign and shrubbery before finally coming to its abrupt stop.
`` Nice going bitch!'' he barked at her, vomiting. Beverly snapped, and sprung from the car; her body moving in emotional reflex faster than her mind could process. Grabbing the stop sign, pole and all, she returned to the car. `` Well, help me out!'' her husband demanded, still in his seat.
Without hesitation, Beverly calmly thrust the cold steel of the sign into her husband. She had imagined killing him for years, her way of coping with the abuse. To actually do it was empowering, and she giddily stabbed again. He writhed in pain, crying out for her to stop. `` Stop crying!'' she sneered, jabbing him with both weapon and word. `` You'll get it!'' she again mocked. Blood poured from his body as his life drained. Leaving the sign protruding from his now lifeless body, she stepped back and admired her work.
Suddenly Beverly snapped out of her malevolent trance, and realized what she had done. The rapid audible ding of the cars door ajar indicator matched the racing of her heartbeat. Even in death her husband brought her fear. She fled, leaving onlookers stunned at the gruesome sight.
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[ WP ] While desperately trying to help a patient , a therapist realizes their lives are connected , with a finite amount of happiness to share between them .
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Doctor Doug Stevenson took a sip of his coffee as he waited for Runi to speak.
Every morning, without fail, Runi would sit down and not say a word for about 10 minutes ( give or take a minute depending on the day ), before breaking down and asking Doug about his day. Doug never thought that a day of complete silence would be progress for a patient, but in this case, it would at least show some self-control. The clock read as 4:02. About eight more minutes until-
`` I met a girl.'' Runi said.
Doug raised an eyebrow. Not only did Runi speak, but he said the last thing that Doug would have imagined to come out of his mouth. He put his mug down and sat up straighter in his chair.
`` Problem is, Doc,'' he continued, `` she's seeing another guy.''
`` Huh,'' Doug nodded to Runi. `` You know, this problem is one I can actually relate with. I've been seeing a woman for three months now, but she's seeing someone else as well.''
`` What'd you do?'' Runi asked.
Doug shrugged. `` I told her the facts. She has to break up with him or I'm out.''
Runi nodded along, hanging on to every word. `` Should I do the same?''
Doug shook his head. `` Runi, you need to make your own decisions. I've seen the kind of mind you've got, if you would just apply yourself-''
Runi held up a hand, interrupting Doug as he used the other hand to reach into his pocket. `` Got a phone call.''
Doug waited as Runi pulled out his phone. He had only ever had one phone call in front of Doug before and was told that phones were n't allowed in the office. Runi looked up, holding the vibrating phone. `` It's her.''
Doug gave a short nod. Normally he would say no, but this was n't Runi's over-codling mother. Runi having a girlfriend was n't something to throw away. He was n't likely to get another one soon, if ever.
Runi slid the accept bar and held it up to his ear.
`` Hey there, I was just talking about you.'' He smiled, a rare sight on the man. Doug grabbed his pen and began writing notes. `` Wait, wait, hold on. Why?''
Doug looked up from his notes. Runi's smile was gone, replaced with a look of confusion. He was quiet for a long while. `` Wait.''
Another pause. `` Tiff, just hold on.''
*Tiff? *
Runi held the phone to his ear for a second longer before putting it down. `` She... uh, she broke up with me.''
`` What's her name?'' Doug asked. He leaned forward in his chair, a movement he would make note of if done by a patient.
`` What?'' He asked, voice dull. He had never had a girlfriend before, he was in shock, Doug thought. `` Tiff. Or, Tiffany, I mean.''
Doug felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone.
> Tiffany: `` It's over. Just you and me now; )''
Doug slipped his phone back in his pocket and looked at Runi. He was still confused, probably wondering how he managed to mess it up.
Doug swallowed nervously and picked up his notes, grouping them together. He thought about what to say. Should he come forward and tell Runi that he was the other man? Should he call Tiffany and talk about it with the three of them? After a while he put down the papers. He turned to Runi.
`` So,'' he said. Runi looked up, waiting for Doug to speak. Doug blinked. He was almost Holy to the man, his advice was almost fact to Runi. Doug took in a short breath. He had to tell him. Did n't he? `` How does this make you feel?''
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[ WP ] Your past , present , and future selves are gathered together in a room , but they do n't seem to recognize one another . How does the day unfold ?
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That morning I had found a note telling me to come to a certain address, at a certain time, and that it was vital for me to be there. After getting my morning coffee and a scone from the local coffee shop, i walked over to the address, which was fairly close to where i live. I approached the door that belongs to the short brick building and cautiously knocked, thinking about what could possibly be on the other side.
Opening the door is man who looks eerily familiar, although I could n't quite put my finger on it at the time. I walked in, took the last sip of my coffee, took the last bite of my scone and threw it into the trashcan near the wall. Inside the trashcan was a coffee cup and bag exactly the same as mine, in the exact same position.
`` Do you like that coffee shop to?'' I asked the man, who was now looking at me with a face full of confusion.
`` Yeah...'' He replied, `` do I know you?''
`` Ya know, I was just about to ask the same thing.''
Before our conversation could continue, we heard a knock on the door. I walked over and opened it up. On the other side was yet another man who I could've sworn I had known my entire life. The man walked into the room, took the last sip of his coffee, the last bite of scone, and threw his cup and a paper bag in the trash.
Seeing the other two identical cups and bags he looked up at us and said, `` you guys like that coffee shop too?''
The other man in the room, let's call him man # 1, looked at me in confusion as I looked at him in the same way, and I noticed that he looked identical to the other man in the room, let's call him man # 2.
Before I could say anything, man # 2 blurted out, `` You two twins or something?''
`` If anything, you two are twins!'' Me and man # 1 shouted back at the same time.
`` Okay, what the hell is going on!'' I shouted in confusion, `` Who are you two?''
`` My name is Malcolm Reynolds.'' Man # 2 said.
`` That's my name too.'' Man # 1 and I said together.
`` What if none of us are twins?'' Man # 1 started, `` what if we are all the same person?''
`` So... Did we time travel?'' Man # 2 asked.
`` Maybe if something weird is happening to us, then it is happening to everyone!'' I suggested.
`` Let's go outside and check it out,'' man # 1 said.
The three of us ran outside to what looked like a glitching out TV screen. Everyone walking by was duplicating and stuttering. We turned around to see more of us run out of the building that we were in. More people outside began to stutter in time and space, and more Malcolm Reynolds were coming out of the building. The street was getting over crouded rapidly as the stutters and duplications in time began to happen more frequently.
It began to seem as though reality was breaking down. My vision was fading in and out, or was it reality. It continued to do that as I began to see myself going back in time and duplicating in front of my very eyes. As reality itself continued to glitch out and break down, so did my vision. Everything began to fade, and suddenly there was nothing.
Reality had crashed.
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[ MP ] Create a high fantasy or urban fantasy tale based around the theme of this song ( see comments ) .
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The river flowed gently, ebbing to and from the shores upon which the host had decided to bank and make home for a single eve. The small army of a few hundred was all that was left of Lord Esryl ’ s reign; mere refugees, shells of what the once-proud kingdom stood for. One ship was all it took to have the ones that weren ’ t slaughtered by the ogre kingdom of Dul Kubbar off the coast of the Royne Peninsula and onto the dire straits of the Verdant Wood.
Esryl sat upon a fallen log, the golden orbs that were his eyes staring silently at the crackling reds and yellows of the fire before him. He was always the silent one – his brother was supposed to take command of the fiefdom, yet alas, his brother had been brutally murdered by men with hearts far filthier than his.
He had always been a poet – he aspired to be a poet when he grew, not a statesman. Tireless nights of tears and aching fingers had passed where Esryl had spent hours upon hours reciting the death of his older brother – of wounds that had long been sealed; yet, he now stood numb, fingers unmoving and lips sealed shut. Such, perhaps, was the beauty of it; the wounds must only be a memory and long-sealed for it to make poetry out of pain. Fresh wounds don ’ t often make a good poem.
“ Esryl! ” came the thundering roar from the main party of men, lumbering footsteps approaching the man with determination. It was the mercenary from the city-state of Jor. “ Why do you sit away from your men? ”
Esryl shook his head, bringing his face into his hands as he exhaled a sigh. “ My people were slaughtered and my crown is lost, Jorsman – and you expect me to stand proud before my people?
The Jorsman cracked a large grin, bearing crooked teeth that stood before an unfaltering smile. “ Your men don ’ t expect you to be strong, young man – none of us do, ” he boomed, grasping the back of the man ’ s neck with a forceful hand and forcing him onto his feet.
The former king stuttered, struggling to find the words necessary to berate the mercenary. He turned himself about, aiming to look the beast in the eye before his gaze fell upon the crowd that had gathered behind him. Peasant and knight alike had gathered, dropping a knee before the lord of Royne. Their tattered armor and clothing hung loosely from their hungry and misshapen forms, yet their hearts and loyalties remained stalwart and soaring in stark contrast.
The beast gently patted the back of the man ’ s head, dropping his voice to a gentle hum as he spoke to the young lord. “ Your people are here, Esryl – your men. A king you are for them, with or without your fiefdom or crown. When it comes to Royne? You will have it back – by my word. You will be king again. ”
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[ WP ] After death you go to `` heaven '' and are given a chance to guide someone to make the right choice .
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My senses drown in a black sea. My thoughts leave me as I ’ m pulled upward. So this is it, I ’ m dead. The farther away from my body I go, the more calm I become. I lived a good life. I hope Bree forgives me; I did promise I ’ d outlast her.
Pulled, twisted, my senses are violated, but the calm doesn ’ t leave me. Every time I can feel panic almost set in, it ’ s snatched away. Why? As my ascension slows to a stop, I notice a bored old woman in a white robe.
“ Welcome. ” She blows and pops her blue bubblegum.
“... ” I open my mouth but no sound comes out. She merely nods.
“ So your sin... ” The old woman opens a big book and flips through some pages. “ Let ’ s see…. Brown hair, green eyes, almond-shaped eyes. Genetic anomaly. Ah yes, here we are. Aki Sato. Atheist. Makes sense. ” She nods slowly.
“... ” Voice doesn ’ t come. What makes sense?
She looks at me and motions me forward. “ Let ’ s dispel a notion from your head before it takes root. ” I walk forward.
“... ” A pained groan escapes my throat.
“ You didn ’ t lose your voice for blasphemy. God isn ’ t a jealous school-kid who throws a tantrum every time someone says he doesn ’ t exist. No, your sin is of actual substance. ” The old woman leans over and rubs my back. “ Close your eyes little one, what do you regret? ”
The calm leaves as I ’ m forced to relive the worst moment of my life. I was fourteen. Dylan was my best friend. He came out as gay and instead of standing by him, I stayed quiet when he was being bullied. I didn ’ t tell his parents or the teachers. I remember that smile that carved itself into my mind. That impossible smile as I lost my best friend.
The weight grabs me by the ankles as I ’ m shown all the times I ’ ve kept a secret because I valued confidence placed in me over their lives. I gasp for air. I can ’ t. I can ’ t. Why. Please. Stop.
“ Now. Would you like your voice back? ” Warm arms surround me. “ Aki, you have two choices. Enter the gate or give someone a second chance. What do you choose? ”
“... ” I breathe heavily and close my eyes. Even as the various debates rage in my mind, my heart already knows its answer. Yes. Yes, I need to help those who deserve to try again.
The old lady nods and when I open my eyes Dylan is on the stage coming out to the school. Time to get my voice back.
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[ WP ] Write a short story in which the protagonist is the character least suited to dealing with the events that unfold .
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`` Hi, my name is Olaf, and I like warm hugs,'' said the snowman.
The man in the striped shirt looked Olaf over, considering. There was even a tiny cloud over the thing's head, adding extra snow. `` Well, fucker, you're done for.'' The long, pseudo-fingers on Freddy's hand slashed through the annoying creature. But it just laughed, and its little stick-arms picked up the pieces and put it back together.
Then... it was... pressing... on Freddy's leg. `` Aaaaah,'' screamed the deformed janitor. `` What the hell do you think you're *doing*?''
`` I'm giving you a hug,'' said Olaf, looking up at Freddy, smiling. `` You seem tense.''
Fuck this little snow shit. He was Freddy fucking Krueger! How many kids had he killed over the years? He invaded their dreams, tortured them, and moved on to the next one. It was fun. But here was this fucking *snowman*, obviously more posessed than Frosty, resisting him. Frosty had been a little bitch, crying for his corn cob pipe after being with Freddy for five minutes. But this thing was n't scared of him.
Wait... The little shit was made out of snow, right? Freddy took out a blowtorch and got to work. But as he turned up the heat, that stupid little cloud only snowed harder. He picked up the Olaf-thing and threw it into a nearby vat of boiling water. Same result, except now the vat held only solid ice.
Explosives, large spinning blades, even a demonic reindeer: nothing worked.
Freddy had never been beaten before, but he knew it was time to give up. He picked up the phone. `` Yeah, Voorhees? Have I got something for you!''
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[ WP ] `` Is Pepsi okay ? ''
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`` Would Pepsi be okay, sir?''
`` Would... Would... No.
Pepsi would not be okay.
It would not be okay if you were the Queen of the Bloody multiverse. It would not be okay if there was only one star in the universe and it was ours. It would not be okay if it we lived in a universe where Cola did not exist and that was the only glass of Pepsi in existence and I was the first to be offered to drink it. It would not be okay if I was a fly who desired naught but the sugars it contained. It would not be okay. It would not be okay if you had a gun with 6 uranium tipped bullets and were screaming obscenities against Coke.
For I... ORDERED... A LEMONADE!
If you can not give me that, can I have a jug of water, oh, and while you're here, can I have an extra side of fries?''
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[ wp ] The monster under the bed , he 's there to protect you from the real ones .
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Ever since I was young I remember a monster under my bed. I remember seeing it's hand, if you can call the sharp talons of nails attached to what look like burned incense hands. Sometimes I still see it. I am now 20 and at university. Studying to be a psychologist.
Ironic is n't it?
On this night I see more than it's hand. I see it's head, it's black soulless eyes and jagged teeth. I do n't want to move for fear that it will finally grab me and drag me under the bed. It starts to come further up and towards me and in my panic I grabbed my heaviest text book on the night stand and threw it at it's head.
A sickening crack and loud yelp emit from this creature as it slumps to the floor, dead. I look over the end of my bed and see it clearly for the first time. Completely black, hairs in seemingly random areas of it's body, it's feet were n't all that different from it's hands and it had a tail that was at least four feet.
A thought occurred to me, what if there's something in the closet too? As if on cue the door opens to the closet as a slimy, almost dead looking creature emerges. It chuckled and in a raggedy breath said, `` Not all monsters under your bed are bad.....''
Lunging towards me and dragging me into the dark closet space that seemed to go on forever as I screamed and kicked to no avail. `` Especially not him.... Now that he's gone....'' A Sickly cackle erupted from this beast as he yelled out the words, `` YOU'RE MINE!''
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[ WP ] Civilization is collapsing . Meanwhile , two Redditors argue furiously back and forth , trying to get the last word in before the internet goes down for good .
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MancyDrew: `` Last word.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` What?''
MancyDrew: `` Last word.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` You're seriously just typing'last word' to get in the last word?''
MancyDrew: `` Why not? It's what you're doing.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` No it's not.''
MancyDrew: `` See?''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` Dude, we're the last two humans left on Earth, humanity is about to wink out of existence and you're obsessed with getting in the last word of an Internet argument?''
MancyDrew: `` Not as obsessed as you are.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` Fuck, man! Log off and go enjoy your final moments!''
MancyDrew: `` You first.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` I'm serious, here, as a compassionate, fellow human being I really, honestly, truly want you to make the most of things before it's all over. Get off the computer, go smell the roses and do something with your time!''
MancyDrew: `` OK, I'll go do that.''
PM_ME_YOUR_BRONY_PORN: `` Thank you!''
MancyDrew: `` Last word.''
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[ WP ] Love is blind , but for you it 's quite literal and you lose your sight every time you fall in love .
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With a jerk, I went sprawling all over the campus green. Shit, not again.
`` Jesus, are you okay? What are you, blind or something?'' The velvety voice appeared out of the darkness. God, it was so warm.
I reached up a hand, looking down. Either he was already holding out a hand, and I would grope for it, or he'd see my hand and offer his own. I'm very practised at blights of blindness.
A firm grip pulled me up, effortless.
`` You know, you should check out my mixtape. It's fire, girl,'' he said.
The world sprang back into vision with a flurry of light and colour. Huh, that was easier than expected.
I picked up my battered bag and hurried homeward.
`` Hey,'' the stranger called.
Twice in one day was n't all that bad. Maybe it was best to avoid my roommate this evening, though.
***
check out /r/Hermione_Grangest, it's fire
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[ CW ] The following sentence must occur exactly three times in the story : `` I was so close to getting a Tetris . ''
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I was so close to getting a Tetris. It was the line that had motivated me since Audi released the original base model LX version in 2032. I was twelve at the time and immediately converted my college education fund of hard earned Lemonade Stand dollars into the Tetris fund. That was 10 years ago. I'd busted my ass in high school and earned the marks required for a full ride through Cornell. Somehow I'd balanced the summer internships with 24 hours a week working at the old CU Library and maintaining a 3.6 GPA. The fund had swelled from a measly few dollars through the years, and now the bank account had quite a few ( 3 to be exact ) zeroes on the left side of the decimal point. Not an hour had been wasted, in fact I had spent most of those hours at the front desk of the library reading Car and Driver magazine... Learning the specs of the new 325 RLX Tetris now in it's 4th model.
I was relieved for the tiny breaks I did get around holidays, but that damn car was always on the back of my mind. I was so close to getting a Tetris. MSRP: $ 47,642 to be exact, but I was fairly certain I'd be able to get Tom at the dealership down to an even $ 45,000... I had guided him to the dusty stacks more than once to help him prepare for his MCATs anyways and it was n't my fault that had n't worked out and he had to go work for daddy at the family Auto Sale center. I was $ 2,000 away, $ 1924 to be exact.
I'll never forget that 2041 Thanksgiving morning I spent with dad and his parents, it was the first time my grandparents had heard of my obsession with the new Audi Tetris and my grandfather immediate began chuckling, `` I remember when that Pajitnov first came out with that game back in'84.'' I humored him while he talked about tiles and lining them up and my oh my what a strange world we lived in today where a car was named after a game he had played as a fourteen year old. After my tryptophan induced coma it was time to head back to cold Ithaca, NY. Every journey back upstate in the best up Volkswagen my father had passed me down began the same way: start her up two or three times and think about how many hours I could've worked had I not come home. I was so close to getting a Tetris. Same thought every time the old girl went through this routine, about to be a senior in college having worked almost every free second of my life and no worldly goods to show for it. That's when I noticed the envelope on the dash:
To our Anthony,
Good luck the rest of the semester, hope you finally get that Tetris... I never did beat the game.''
Love Pop-Pop and Irma
There were twenty five crisp hundred dollar bills staring back up at me. I was getting a Tetris.
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[ EU ] Pokemon die in battle instead of fainting . Your Pokemon have been with you since the beginning of your journey , and now you must face the champion trainer of the world .
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I was finally here, at the top, where I've always dreamed of being.
-- -- --
My dad left when I was five. He was a pokemon trainer too, you know. I figured if I trained hard enough, grew strong enough, I could get him back. I dreamed of defeating the Elite Four, and becoming Champion, not for the glory, but to see him again.
-- -- --
My first pokemon was a Cyndaquil - she was a Typhlosion now, though. I remember our first battle was against a wild Zigzagoon - those things had been spreading like crazy after someone brought a pair over from their native lands. The Zigzagoon went straight after me, and only a quick ember from my Cyndaquil saved me. I'm pretty sure I'd have at least needed to get stitches otherwise, if I'd have gotten away at all. That's how she got her name, you know. Ember.
-- -- -
My second pokemon was Raltz - I found him abandoned after a bratty rich kid left him behind because he was too weak. It took about a month before he was in top shape again - and another two before he trusted me to be his trainer. He's a mighty fine Gallade now, but some nights I'll wake up and hear him crying. Steel is as strong as his name though, when he needs to be.
-- -- -
I met Twain and Dyad out in the desert. They were apparently the runts of their litter and had been left behind by their family. People ask me what I have two Sandslashes in my team for, but it just does n't feel right to separate them. They're the only family they have left, and family ought to stick together.
-- -- -
Violet and Skipper I met shortly before and shortly after I met Twain and Dyad, respectively, but the two are practically inseparable when outside of their pokeballs, and I feel it appropriate I tell you about them together. Violet - my Skitty - was the first pokemon I got that did n't get along with me. At all. She tore up nearly half of my wardrobe, and I still have scratches on my back from when I tried to feed her generic Skitty food. Skipper, for his part, is quiet. He is the inaction to reflect Violet's boundless energy. Although that may be because he's a Magikarp. But he's my Magikarp, so he stays on my party. Besides, one day, if he wants to, he'll become a Gyarados, and then things will get interesting.
-- -- -
So why am I telling you this? My pokemon, these six pokemon, are ready to face you down and possibly die for me. For my dream. And you know what? While facing the last four trainers, the Elite Four, I realized something. No matter what I do, it wo n't make my dad come back. I ca n't regain my family by beating you - my family's been with me this entire time.
And for that reason, I forfeit.
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[ wp ] user arah26 is thinking of a good post for r/writingprompts , then she posted this . One hour later a comment changed something inside of her .
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Mikatsuki chances upon a strange prompt. She ponders upon it, weighing the consequences of leaving a comment.'Will I get anything from this?', she asked herself.'Hmm... Maybe if I...'
But her thoughts were promptly interrupted by a voice. One she never would have wanted to hear ever again.
`` Hey.'' she spoke, cautious.
Mikatsuki did not reply, or so much as turn to face her.
`` It's time. He's asking for you upstairs.''
Despair. Fear. Anxiety. Mikatsuki no longer felt any of those, as she did in the past. All that she had left, was hatred. For *her*, and for *him*. Obediently, Mikatsuki starts for the stairs, not making a single sound or reaction. She already knew the drill. She would go upstairs, for a few hours, then come back down and wait for the next.
'But today will be different.' A subtle grin breaks her small, tired face.'Today will be different.'
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[ FF ] Describe an addict in 100 words or less without mentioning what they are addicted to
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Sometimes it gets to be too much.
It feels as if there are horrible things growing inside of her, things that need to be let out
The selfhatred and the loneliness, the sadness
They tear her apart.
Locking her bedroom door, she finds her savior.
Dragging the frigid metal across her skin with shaking fingers
The blood slowly wells up from the new wounds and falls to the sheets, mixing with her tears
A sense of delicious calm washes over her like a wave. Relief is instant. She closes her eyes and relishes the pain; something wonderful amidst the numbness she feels
Oh god, she wishes she could stop.
But as she traces the countless scars on her body, she knows
She will always come back.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm a good man . '' `` If so , then why are you here ? ''
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We're in some dingy Roadhall, the family who nominally runs it having wisely scarpered. Close to the border. An eternity away to a man in his condition. He's been here two days. Given up, seemingly so close to avoiding his fate.
Not this time.
`` Belief. We believe.'' I risk drawing the axe back, just a touch, just enough to not exert my arm as much. He looks... *Defeated. * So odd to see that. Gratifying. All we've worked for symbolised in a single, sighing glance.
`` I'm here because I believe. We share that. Even share the belief, in a way. Your country. You believe in Vargo. You believe that keeping Rauren in Vargo's heel would be the best for the both of them, that any means, any method, to keep it that way is justified, just, that one day the struggling will stop and you'll be able to lessen the load and everyone'll smile.''
`` Me? I did n't believe. Not in Rauren. No, I believed in Salomea. My sister by bond, if not by blood. I believed in her, when she dragged the others and I into the Nationalist fold. I believed in her when she stepped up to cross words with you, at the gates of the Red Hall.''
He cast me a look. `` You were n't there.''
I shake my head. `` No. I was inside Red Hall, searching for the Tree of Gold, the National Symbol you tried to destroy. I was too busy killing Dural Suratal, who released you from your Fate. It would have been better if he had n't. The world will be better when you gone.''
`` You-'' He goes into a coughing fit, bending over, twisting at the hips this way and that. When it ends he sags, before drawing himself up, breath rasping, little green flecks sloughing off his gloves. Pneumonia. No wonder he's given up.
`` You- ca n't expect me to agree.''
`` I never said that you would. I believed her when Kizmet got those apples to her, when I watched from the Battlements as she grasped it and it became a golden sun within her fingers. Salomea of Bell-Shield, my sister, now Salomea Anomand, heir to the Throne of Rauren in an instant. I remember your face that day, not a minute after you said the tree bloomed for you, when you refused to take a bite, to match claim with hers.''
His eyes no longer rise to meet mine. `` The first time I could n't recover from a loss.'' I catch a glimpse, the smallest, grimmest smile.
`` Rauren's been good to me. No more Slavery. No more people like me, or those who populated Stornbridge's squalid brothels, who dreamed of being me. No more Peacetime conscription. No Pro-human Pogroms. Undoing the beginnings of Serfdom you imposed. Rauren's been good to me. I believe in Rauren now. But I've always believed in her.''
He goes to speak, then I shift my hips and arm back, then forward, and my axe thuds into his spine, arterial spray drenching the head.
He was a monster. That fact he had humility in his final minutes does n't settle the souls of the dead.
I fish in his pockets, and draw out a warm, heavy leather bag, spilling it out over the table, the ovaler glass phylactery spilling out of the neck of the bag. They're warm against my hand, glow read and black.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven... The full dozen. 144 Souls, 144 dead, enough for another one of his Armoured Monstrosities.
Vargo will make more, consume more of it's own people in the pursuit of the persecution of war. It's too late, the foul knowledge that this man spread already nestled in Vargo proper.
But now 144 souls can have their torment ended, and many more can be at peace.
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[ WP ] You live in Hidden Valley . You 're the only one in town who does n't like ranch dressing .
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Heres the thing no one ever seems to realize about the brotherhood. The one item they crave even more than high technology, is ranch dressing. I've live with these people my entire life, every birthday and holiday the ranch dressing comes out. We had salad one time, in 37 years one salad has been eaten in this bunker. 200 year old canned spam and ranch dressing, yuck! It's five days until christmas and the hated ranch will be waiting for me, but not this year. I found a long forgotten terminal to activate the self destruct system for this ranch filled bunker. In 30 seconds no one will ever taste the horrible dressing ever again.
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[ WP ] You are the sacrificial virgin , tied to a stake to slake the bloodthirst of the the dragon that recently arrived in your area . When the dragon finally comes home he looks like everything you feared , but behaves like nothing you ever expected .
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I was the prettiest woman in my village. With it came attention than I grew to love. All the boys wanted to be with me and all the girls wanted to be me. With strong blue eyes, flowing black hair, and a beautiful smile along with a friendly attitude, it was hard not to like some part of me. My mother taught me early on to not let myself be defiled by these perverse men. To not fall prey to those harpies spewing insults. To stay pure.
So who got to be the `` glorious'' sacrificial virgin to feed the giant lizard? Me. It had to be me, no question of it. The town meeting gave rise to a commotion unlike any I've ever heard when the topic of the dragon came up. All eyes fell on me when stupid Dirk suggested a virgin sacrifice. Why did n't he volunteer? The dim-witted-chicken that he was, he probably would have been virgin at that age. For once in my lifetime, I hated the attention I received.
In the end, I got a festival to celebrate my `` courage'' with rare meats, baked delicacies and the finest wine the area could offer. The town was probably just fattening me up for the bloody bastard. I did n't care anymore and figured I might as well enjoy myself before death came to me.
When the scouts returned with news of the dragon's flight, I was rapidly tied onto a stake and carried into the foul creature's den. The strongest of men had banded together to `` escort'' me up the mountain. It was after all, a long way up and failure was not an option.
--
I had to praise those brutes for giving me some entertainment way up there. I was n't just thrown on the floor or pinned in such a way I'd only see the bleak cave walls. The men had done me a favor of positioning me towards the exit where I could see the land spread out as far as I could see. They left as quickly as they propped me up, without hesitation and without a farewell. Maybe it was better that way. It's not like I could do anything about it.
I vividly remember the cave walls were splattered with the blood of who knows what and the remains of a variety of animals. Damaged armor and swords lay among them from past adventurers. He had n't been in the area for long and already, this monstrosity had collected what looked to be a considerable assortment of swords, armors, and bows and arrows all made from iron to what looked like Orc or Elven make? I never was one for violence so I really had no idea. All the same, the fear I felt was tremendous.
There was n't much time to think about it as I could hear him. I prayed not only to Talos but also to the rest of the Nine Divines that my death be swift. The monstrosity's heavy flap of wings and signature roar filled me with dread. I closed my eyes in fear and opened them once the coppery smell of blood and a loud thud was heard. Before me the legendary beast stood tall and proud. Almost as if it was showing off. It has got to be a male. The horned, scaly monster leaned it's great head and those powerful eyes locked with mine. My vision blurred and I last remember the creature crawling towards me.
-
I had awoken in a daze on top of what looked like hastily gathered tree branches. The dragon was watching me from a distance. I could n't believe what I saw. He wore a scared look, if that's possible with him, and spoke in what seemed like a child's voice.
`` You're awake! Finally! I was worried you died. It's been a while now, I do n't know how long. Please speak. I'm still worried.''
``... worried?''
`` Yes.'' His once powerful face now seemed almost expectant of me. If he was n't gon na eat me, what did he want then?
`` You're not going to eat me?''
`` What?! I'd never do something like that.'' His brows lifted a bit and was soon replaced with that expectant look again. `` Will you play with me? I have n't spoken to or played with someone in a long time.''
`` You've ravished towns. People have perished because of your fires. You're a legend and you want me to play with you?'' I could n't believe it. Either the gods are toying with me or he's having a laugh.
`` I tried to play with many towns but they always attack me. I do n't want to hurt them but they make me.'' The voice had emotion. I heard emotion in his voice; it was as if he felt regret. He was supposed to be some ferocious beast that slaughtered people for fun not some playful brat with bloody emotions.
`` My people sent me as a sacrifice to stop your decimation, to stop your wrath.''
`` Oh I do n't want to eat you. You're nice to me and I want to play.'' His head came closer and he turned onto his side a bit, almost as if to play with me? The dragon's demeanor had left me shocked.
I remember thinking he was basically a talking dog or playful child.
-
I wish I could say there was more to him but he really is a child. It was hard *not* to befriend him. I gave him some chores to do while I cleaned the cave a bit. I was hungry and the kid ate any animal raw. He needed to learn the goodness of baked meats for crying out loud. He ALWAYS leaves to get food in the most grudgingly manner possible. The moment he does return he's ALWAYS asking to play. Most of the time I had things to do around the place so I could n't play much. Taking care of yourself and a dragon is a harsh task. He never does anything unless I specifically tell him to.
He's especially fond of my singing of which I do often. He especially loves `` The Dragonborn Comes'' and has taken to calling himself the Dragonborn now. Talk about irony. Anyways, I do n't know how long it's been now. Living with him and all. I plan to return to civilization at some point mostly to trade anything possible in our home for necessities and I'd also like to treat him to cheese.
I do n't plan on returning to my hometown so a horse is needed to trade with the other towns. I also kind of like him and my humble abode.
-
Edit: I've done my best to fix any errors. Last time I had quite a few. I really need to stop writing late at night.
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[ PI ] A man with Alzheimer 's writes letters to himself , pretending to be himself from the future
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I felt this was an appropriate addition to a [ previous story ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/220ipn/ot_what_is_your_favorite_prompt_youve_written/cgi9yv8 ) I wrote.
Henry sat down in a chair and placed his face in his hands. His tears slowly pooled. How could this be? He did n't understand why he felt this great sinking feeling of grief, deep in his heart. This did n't make sense after all.
He picked up the letter off the floor, and re-read it. `` Henry, have a seat. I know you do n't realize this now, but I'm sure you've been feeling strange. You are home. Take it easy, relax and go to bed. Call Mary in the morning. Let her know the dementia is getting worse. If you're wondering why the money is gone, you gave it to David, your son, to deposit and manage for you. I realize that you are feeling quite confused, but do n't worry. We will get through this. Just trust in me and trust in yourself. Signed, Henry''
He picked up his grease pencil and went over to the desk. His heart felt bruised, and his hand felt heavy. His tears dripped onto the paper as the grease pencil left it's marks.
`` Henry, You may have seen this letter before, but please call Mary. Let her know how much you miss her while you remember. She gave you the best years of her life, but she just could n't take it anymore. Call her while you can. Write a letter to remind yourself.''
He picked up his tools, placed everything in the bag. he placed the letter in his shirt pocket and walked out towards the living room. In the corner, was his favorite chair. He threw the bag into the closet, and sat down. He pulled out the letter and read it again. This time, his heart did n't feel as burdened.
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