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[ WP ] A mysterious entity decides to bring peace and equality to humanity by force . The world is informed that in two weeks everybody over the age of ten will have their conscience transferred to another random human body anywhere in the world . This shuffle will then repeat every 24 hours .
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My name is Maria. I am nine years old. My brother Tommy is seven years old.
Our parents are missing. They're being replaced with new people every day.
My friend Kate's mom emails and calls her every day, even though she's different every time. I have n't heard from my parents since they first disappeared. I'm afraid that something bad happened to them, or they are in some remote corner of the world where there are no computers.
It was scary at first because no one was used to shifting bodies. It was scary later because people got used to shifting bodies.
Tommy and me started hiding from the new people. Some of them were scary. One told us that he would sell us in markets. Tommy started to cry, and the man used Dad's fist to punch him. And then he punched me.
Some other people took Mom's and Dad's bodies outside of the house, and while they were gone I locked all of the doors. We moved furniture to block every door, I closed all of the curtains, and I tried nailing boards we were going to use for a treehouse over some of the windows.
No one has come by, and we have n't left the house in over two weeks. But we've run out of food. I need to go find some by myself, because Tommy is too scared to leave.
I'm scared too. Tomorrow's my tenth birthday. I do n't know what will happen, but I have to leave tonight in case new-Maria is someone mean. But I ca n't leave Tommy alone. I'll find some way to help him.
No one else will.
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[ WP ] Write from the perspective of a person deprived of a sense using it for the first time .
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All I have ever known was darkness. Being blind from the second I was born has been tough. Never being able to do things I wanted to, like see the sun rise in the morning or set at night. I was unable to play sports with my friends, I always needed someone to help me around school. I have the entirety of my house memorized, though. I know the exact amount of steps needed to get from my room to the kitchen and my seat. My dog helps me around the house all the time. Some of the positives of being blind are that my sense of hearing is greatly increased. I know when someone is in our driveway before they walk up to our door. Another positive aspect is that I do not know what people look like. I judge people based on their personality. My first day of school, I met the most amazing girl ever. I have no idea what she looks like, but I do know she is one of the sweetest girls I have ever known. She is funny, intelligent, very kind and caring. She has helped me for so many years through school and is really the only reason I still go to public school. My mom has offered to home-school me, but I do n't want to leave her.
Today I have an appointment with an eye doctor. He is going to check my eyes to see if surgery is possible to grant me vision. My mother is taking me and I am extremely nervous. My life would change immensely if I could see. I would be able to see colors and read. I have audiobooks, but its not the same. Being able to see words is something people with vision take for granted.
I just found out my eyes are perfect for the procedure. I go in a week to get this surgery. They are giving me 20/20 vision and I could n't be more excited. This is going to be the best day of my life. I talked to my best friend and she said she is coming with to the surgery for support. I do n't know what I did to deserve her as a friend. Everyone deserves a friend like her.
Today, I go in for surgery. I'm scared out of my mind, but at the same time I could not be more excited. My family is coming with, my dog, and my best friend. I am so excited to see them all for the first time. My best friend keeps telling me everything is gon na be fine, rubbing my back and kissing me on the cheek. I wish I could tell her how I really feel about her.
5 hours later, I can see. First thing I ever saw was a bright light. The room I was in was this kind of color they call `` gray''. Looks kind of saddening to me. They showed me a bunch of pictures, showing animals and random objects at various distances to see if my eyes were working properly. Then they told me where my family was waiting for me. I swear, the second I opened the door, my best friend was there waiting for me. As soon as I opened the door, I felt like I was being tackled by her. And for the first time ever, I got to see her. She was beautiful!! Long brown hair, gorgeous green eyes and a smile that would make angels jealous. I fell in love with her all over again. She was incredible. My mom was beautiful too. Brown eyes, dark hair with streaks of gray. My father was tall and buff, with brown hair and blue eyes, rough hands from working with them every day. My dog was a golden retriever and looked incredibly happy with her tail wagging like crazy.
All the way home, I was staring out the window. The clear blue sky with some fluffy, white clouds floating around. The town I had lived in for years was small but cute. 2 main streets running perpendicular to each other, meeting at the town square that housed a gazebo and tall pine tree. The street I lived on had a bunch of stores on it, ranging from a pharmacy to cafe to a pizza place. I did n't want to blink because I was afraid I might miss something. The trees were green with life and it made me so happy. It has to be my favorite color so far. It just makes me feel calm. We got to my house and it was very white. 3 stories tall and was of Victorian design. I did n't really know what made it Victorian, it looked like a normal house.
Today is my first day of school that I will be able to see. I ca n't wait to go see my old aide that helped me with tests and homework. I'm gon na miss working with her, she was always nice and patient with me, no matter what. Sometimes I thought maybe I was pushing her to her limits but she always kept her cool. My school was made of red brick, kinda old and worn. Inside blue painted brick that transitioned into painted cinders where all the classrooms were. Everyone seemed happy to see me without my stick. I walked to my new locker, right by my best friend. She hugged me and walked with me to homeroom.
Gym time. First time ever doing something in this class. We played dodgeball, which went terribly for me but was so fun. Some of these kids were very athletic and could dodge very well. Then there's me, who has the reflexes of a sloth. I got hit more times than I could count, but I could n't stop laughing and being happy. I was finally doing something fun during school. After school, I went to watch my high school's soccer team. It looked like a fun sport to play, but it was midway through the season and I would n't make the team. The coach invited me down to practice with them, saying they needed one more. He placed me at a position on defense. Told me not to let the opposing team to get a shot on goal without using my hands or fouling. I do n't really know what fouling is, but apparently I did it. First time someone came at me, I moved my legs in a way that knocked them over without getting the ball. They scored off the free kick right after that. The team was n't mad though, and neither was the guy I knocked over. They knew I've never played before and were very supportive. The coach invited me to practice tomorrow where they would help teach me the basics.
After one week of being able to see, I still have a desire to see the world. I talked to my parents and this summer, I am going on a road trip with my best friend. We are going to go to the Grand Canyon. She showed me pictures and wanted to see it in person, so we are going. My parents agreed to let me go. It's nice, finally being able to see after 16 years. I never want to go blind again.
EDIT 1:
She just picked me up in her car. Its a blue Ford Focus, 2015 with nice black leather, a big sunroof and touch screen. I have never used one before and she kept laughing when I would mess around with it. I loved hearing her laugh. It's a 33 hour drive from my house to the Grand Canyon and we are so excited to go on this road trip. Neither of us have been there before, so we are looking forward to it.
3 hours in and I ca n't stop looking out the window. It's a clear sunny day, bright blue sky with a gorgeous scenery. Mountains covered in trees, mostly green leaves but there is a mix of brown and orange in there too, since the leaves are changing colors. It's one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I wish I could drive for a bit, she looks tired but when I asked her if she wants to take a break, she told me it was fine and she had a lot on her mind. Her boyfriend broke up with her last week. She still seemed troubled by it. She would n't tell me why and that bothered me. She used to share everything with me. I swear, I could see one lone tear fall from her eyes.
Halfway there and we stopped at a motel to sleep. Was n't much, just a standard Full sized bed, tv and bathroom. Just the one bed though. I offered to sleep on the floor, it did n't bother me but she insisted I sleep on the bed with her. We put on a silly movie and cuddled all night long. Best night ever.
Nearly there and we stopped at the Navajo reserve in New Mexico. We both went there on a church missions trip about 3 years ago. All our old friends were there, and they were absolutely shocked when they noticed I did n't have a cane or my old glasses. When I told them I got a procedure done to give me vision, they were ecstatic. They cheered and hugged me and danced. They looked so incredibly happy for me. We stayed for about an hour, catching up with all our old friends. The kids missed us the most, they used to jump on our backs all the time and they still do. The look on their faces made me so happy, I'm glad I got to see it.
We just arrived at the Grand Canyon. Hands down, the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my life. Even with a cloudy day, it was incredible. Layers after layers of beautifully colored rocks, ranging from black to bright orange to dark red. At the bottom, a small river of water looking absolutely refreshing. With the sun setting on us now, the canyon looks even more incredible. Everything is shining brightly. I turned to look at my friend and she looks absolutely stunning. Her hair in a braid going down her back, silk top and shorts. She looked like a million dollars. We set up a tent and a fire. It was the perfect end to a perfect trip. We laid under the stars for a while. I asked her what happened with her boyfriend. She told me he broke up with her because of how much time she was spending with me. This was around the time I was getting my procedure done. She said they had been growing apart and that it was about time it happened. She was still heartbroken, I could tell. I leaned over and pull her in close, kissing her on her forehead. I do n't like it when she is sad. She ruins her makeup, which she works so hard to put on even though she does n't need it. She got up to go to the tent and I got up after about 5 minutes. I had to do what I had to do. When I got in she apologized for leaving me out there, but it does n't matter. I got down and kissed her. Something I have wanted to do for years. I have never felt like this before. It was an amazing feeling, her soft lips wet from crying. As I stopped, she pulled me back in, kissing me back. She told me to never let her go. And I never planned on it.
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[ WP ] A well known , liked , world saving superhero neglects telling people his powers are based upon eating human flesh .
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I stepped aside, feeling the breeze as Constantino's hammer whizzed past my face. He stumbled forward, and before he could turn around I planted a side kick in the small of his back. The blow launched him into solid concrete wall. I heard the *crack* as his nose broke.
`` Please,'' he moaned, peering at me over his shoulder. Blood streamed down his face. `` Please, just let me go.''
Wordlessly, I grabbed him by the ankle. He screamed, writhing against my gauntleted hand. He slid helplessly over the glossed concrete floor, still squinting in the fluorescent lighting.
`` Where are you taking me? What the hell is this place?''
It was difficult to imagine his terror. I'd dropped from the night sky, surrounded by a halo of rain droplets, crushing his van's hood like tinfoil. An Angel of the Night. He'd seen the dim red glow beneath my hood, watched in horror as my cape billowed in the wind, thrown his hands up as my fist came through his windshield. I'd left the ruined vehicle smoking on the side of the road, after checking its bay and releasing the half-naked girl bound and gagged on the floor. He'd secured her there for who knows how long.
`` Wait,'' the girl had cried, rubbing her raw wrists. `` Do n't leave me! What am I supposed to do?''
She'd shrunk back when she heard the rumble of my voice, caught a flash of the demon beneath the hood. `` The police know your location. Help is on the way.''
Constantino thrashed against my grip. `` Fuck you, you filthy piece of shit! Fight me like a fucking man!''
I scoffed, but dropped him. Crime lords, assassins, thugs, mercenaries, rapists, murderers, serial killers. Put them in a compromising situation and they *all* eventually pull the honor card. Like chivalric conduct was something they were accustomed to.
I did n't bother turning around, but sight is only one sense. I could hear the blood *plop* onto the floor as he scrambled to his feet, feel the vibrations in the floor as his heels clicked against it, smell his foul breath as it pulsed forth. I closed my eyes. *Seven o'clock. Weight on left foot. Right hook. Jawline exposed. * I dropped into a crouch, threw vicious back kick, then spun on my planted foot and exploded up with an uppercut.
Constantino screamed in agony as his left kneecap shattered and his jaw dislocated. He collapsed into a heap, moaning and writhing. I looked at the floor and smiled. He'd bitten off his own tongue.
`` You know,'' I said casually, bending down, `` there's something nobody knows about me. Well, those that *did* know are dead.''
He quieted, eyes watering but completely riveted on the figure towering above.
`` I can see a quarter from half a mile away. I can hear someone's whisper even if they're across the street. I can punch through steel plates a Barrett rifle could n't penetrate. But if people knew *how*, if people knew what I must do to gain this power, they would hate me.'' I picked up the limp tongue. His eyes widened with horror when I raised my hand into my hood.
`` I'm not entirely sure *why*. But I'm sure you've heard that most of our brain capacity goes unused. What would happen if the same was true with our bodies? And what would happen if someone could harness that power?''
I chewed and swallowed, allowing myself a nasty smile. `` I do n't know if it's the soul. Your lifeforce that I'm about to consume. But I'm thankful for monsters like you, because the more I stop the stronger I become. The more innocents I save.''
Constantino gurgled and choked. The blood was too thick in his mouth to scream. I unsheathed the hunting knife strapped to my calf. `` You'll never see my face. Nor my wings. Nor my skin. But I'll see *all* of you. I'll see your heart. Right before I eat it.''
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[ WP ] You are a deep-sea diver , encountering a sunken airplane for the first time .
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Ian contemplated the hatch on his submersible for a moment. A stiff sea breeze blew across the hull of his boat. It was a beautiful day for a dive. The birds sailed overhead in the warm currents swept up by the sun ’ s rays. The water was only a little choppy, and he knew that once he got below the surface, they ’ d have no problems.
He stuffed a leg into his dive suit and yanked it up over his skin, massaging a little where the hairs caught so it would go on better. The suit was only a precaution, really–they ’ d be taking the sub because, as usual, the artifact was just too deep to reach in a wetsuit. And besides, the water here was cold and filled with critters he wasn ’ t eager to encounter.
This mission wasn ’ t going to be like the missions he usually went on, he knew that already. Usually their runs were pretty basic. Old treasures. Sometimes a barge or two. This, though…this was something different. He ’ d gotten the reports already from command. No one had ever seen a machine like this one, before…at least, not in a long time.
“ Ready? ” the captain called as Ian yanked the zipper on his dive suit up a final two inches. He stuffed his head into a neoprene cap and squished his hair inside so it would fit.
“ All suited up, ” he replied. One of the crewmen pulled on the hatch door and it opened with a great and mighty creak. Ian ’ s breath caught in his throat. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and his stomach did little flip-flops in anticipation. He stepped one foot down into the sub ’ s depths as shouts of “ All loaded up! ” came from above. The door banged shut in front of him and the world went black for a moment. The instrument panel in front of him stuttered to life and surrounded him with a warm, red glow.
He heard the clank of the sub ’ s coupling being released. The vehicle dropped into the water and began its descent. Ian busied himself with checking various gauges and measurements. He listened to the whir of his communications cable cutting through the water. Everything seemed to be going as planned, and he let out a breath he hadn ’ t realized he ’ d been holding.
A few minutes later the submersible kicked up a cloud of silt as it touched bottom. He waited a moment for it to settle, then flicked on the lights. In front of him stood a massive monument to human engineering. Rotted metal twisted itself into the form of a torpedo. The ancient machine ’ s wings jutted from the torpedo ’ s sides and soared out into the water, perched on an ocean ledge as if still in flight. The letters “ OENG 74 ” were stamped in red paint across one of the remaining panels.
Ian let out a gasp. It was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. He ’ d waited his entire life for this discovery. Years of scouring the ocean floor for clues had finally brought him here. Ian marveled to himself how he had managed to pull this off. The scouting. The perfect crew. One in it not for the money the artifacts would fetch but the science. The captain, James Cook, one of his best friends, supporting him all the way.
Now, for the first time in two hundred years, perhaps humans would rediscover the secret to flight.
Ian flipped on his communication channel.
“ Guys, you ’ re not gon na believe this, ” he said. “ It ’ s here. All of it is here! ”
The radio crackled and the captain ’ s voice filled the submersible ’ s cockpit.
“ Thanks for the confirmation, Ian. Oh, and sorry about this. ”
“ What do you mean? You guys have been great! ”
There were a few moments of static followed by an abrupt silence. Ian flipped the transmission switch a few times. Nothing.
“ Hello? ” Ian said as he frantically switched the toggle back and forth. His heart rate rose as the reality of his situation began to hit him. He pounded on the submersible ’ s control panel and swore under his breath. “ Hello? James? Anyone? Hello?! ”
The world went black, and no more sound came into the cockpit.
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[ WP ] Create a story about a famous character ( real or fictional ) - but just reveal its identity in the last line
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The surprise on his face was priceless as I jumped through the glass and tackled him into the sidewalk. We tumble around before getting back on our feet. Squaring up with him I could tell this was gon na be tough. I block his first punch and follow with a 1-2 punch. He counters with three quick jabs to the head. I dodge the last one and hit a nice uppercut to his jaw. He reels back but quickly hits me with a high kick. Before I could react to that flexibility, he follows up with a roundhouse to the temple. Ca n't be knocked down here. I use my momentum and hit him with a right backhand. He dodges my next hook and makes a break for the stairs on the pedestrian bridge. I grab his leg causing him to face plant on the concrete.
& nbsp;
We square up once more on top of the bridge. He throws out a couple of jabs. He's fast with those. He dodges my right hook and counters with a 1-2. I find an opening and knock him over the rails. He somehow lands on a semi and waves farewell. No way. Not like that. Luckily the truck makes a u-turn and I ready myself. I jump down and land on top of him. With him on the ground I start beating on his face. He kicks me off and I tumble off the truck. Thinking quickly I grab on the ladder on the back with one hand. As I dangle off the ladder, he walks over and starts stomping on my hand. The driver must not have been paying attention as he drives over a raised drawbridge.
& nbsp;
Another stroke of luck, a helicopter flies over at the same time the truck crashes. He grabs on the legs with me holding on to his ankles. I climb up and he elbows me in the side. We trade body blows but our fight messes with the pilot and he heads straight into a skyscraper. We crash through the windows of an office. I get to my feet and see him woozy. This is my chance. I tackle him through the wall and I pin his head against a photocopier. He struggles a bit before I open the copier and slam his head between the glass and the plastic. It takes two or three more slams before he stops moving.
& nbsp;
I walk hazily out of the room with a crowd of confused office workers surrounding me. `` Guy... gave me... a bad cou-'' I'm cut off as he comes from behind and tackles me through the window. We scrum around midair and I manage to get him underneath me as we hit the street. Somehow I'm alive, but he is n't looking so good. I stagger to my feet and limp away from the craziest fight I think I'll ever be apart of. `` That's the last time I'm going to accept a coupon from a chicken.''
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[ WP ] God is actually a dissatisfied cubicle-bound employee in the basement of an extra-celestial ISP . Humanity is product of his free time . Describe his day .
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*RingRing*
`` Dammit,'' I grumbled. `` Not when I'm finally about to level up the construction abilities of of the Mayans.'' It had taken me weeks to put together enough resources to finally start this sector building in stone and I was n't about to be stopped now...
*RingRing*
`` Please stop ringing, please stop ringing, please stop ringing so I can finish this sector.'' However, I could n't afford another write-up after Shiva two cubicles over found out that I was n't spending all my precious time writing galactic code and ratted me out to the boss. I'll get my revenge though, wait until he sees what sort of chaos and destruction I can wreak...
*RingRing*
`` For the love of Andromeda, why does everybody call when I am in the middle of something important!!!'' Nobody calls all day long unless I happen to take a mini break and focus on my personal project...
*RingRi-*
`` Omega Centauri Systems, this is God speaking how can I help you?''
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[ WP ] Unbeknownst to you , your kid allows a homeless man to spend the night on your sofa . Then the unthinkable happens .
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She's been at that window for a while now. Waiting. Watching.
'Sweetheart, I'm getting really worried about Sam. He's usually home by now.' she exclaims, looking down, her book in her lap, no track of the page number.
'I'm sure he will be fine. You said he's a smart lad. Come, put that book down and dine on this *exquisite* cuisine, my fair lady.' the rugged man beckons.
'Oh my, are n't you the charmer?' she says with a rose blush, smiling with joy, which fades into a grey frown as she sits below the amber glimmer.
He raises his glass with an eager grin;'To the finest woman I have ever met.'
Her eyes light up from the anxious burrow within, and she manages a smile despite her worry growing ever thick, fading back into the default expression just as quickly.
'Tender, is n't it?' he asks as he takes a mouthful, with a smile hidden behind his thick, black beard hair.
She looks down at her plate, realizing she has only been moving the steak in and out of the mashed potatoes with her fork.'Sorry, I dunno. I am just really worried, I've lost my appetite.'
She remains fixated upon the grain of the floor, without a petal of blush remaining, only the pale white of anxiety, consuming her.
'*Oh*, alright. I suppose I'll save it for Sam then, you should go get some rest.' he says, collecting his plate and cutlery in a tired fashion, bumping his head on the chandelier above him.
'Oh wow, I did n't know you were wearing heels tonight darling! You're so tall!' she says winking,
'Yeah! Stilletos! I took them from your closet' he says laughing, taking her plate and kissing her forehead with a brush of his wholesome beard.
'Wow you really did let the beard grow huh? I know what I said the other day, but actually, I kind of like it.' she says contemplating.
Suddenly, a small figure stumbles from the doorway, brushing his eyes in a sleepy haze of confusion.'Mummy, why is n't daddy leaving the bathroom?' he asks drowsily.
'Sweetheart! You're home!' as she picks him up with delight, hugging him tightly, pecking him on the cheek.
'I was home before Mummy, did Santa say hello yet?' he asks drowsily.
'Yes he did Samuel! He says you have been really good!' she whispers enthusiastically,
'Really? He promised me the bicycle I wanted but said he needed to sleep here tonight, is that okay?'
She responds with an exaggerated look,'Well of course! Santa is always welcome to stay at our house. Alright, time for bed Sammy!'
'Okay mum, I just still need to go toilet but daddy is still in there, he did n't sound too happy'
She looks around the corner to check on her husband, but he is nowhere in sight, and the door to the patio is wide open. Her face turns to grim, as she races down the hallway, knocking on the bathroom door, trying to open it, the door is locked, she rams the door with her shoulder, finding herself helpless, slamming the door with her hand, eventually breaking the handle and opening the door.
A lifeless body lies on the floor, with a gruesome gag made from toilet roll and duct tape in his mouth, eyes glossed over and frantic, with a single word spilled onto the floor in clotted form.
'**DELICIOUS**'
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[ WP ] An epic tale of danger , love , loss , all ending with the line `` Go , Diego , go . ''
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Diego couldn ’ t believe it. He saw it in front of him but it was still impossible to comprehend. Ten years led up to this single moment.
His freedom was in front of him.
But it wouldn ’ t be that easy – nothing in his life was. There were plenty of people who would do everything in their power to stop him. And by the sound of bullets whizzing past his ears, they were close.
Colony Seven was supposed to be a safe haven. After all, the prior six and even the later ones had gone to shit. Despite its name, Elysium wasn ’ t as pleasant as they made it out to be. If he had the chance, he would change the moment he signed up in a heartbeat.
That is, if it wasn ’ t for Noah.
He was everything Diego could ask for. He was smart, kind, funny, and so much more. Diego didn ’ t deserve him but he decided to count his blessings while he could. Even hell had a silver lining. Without him, he probably wouldn ’ t even be this close to leaving his past behind.
Under a guise of feigned naivety, Noah was a rebel at heart. As news came in of Colony Eleven ’ s fall, he decided to take action. It didn ’ t take long for him to amass a crew of dedicated men and women who sought to get out before they were next.
Noah had one idea and one only – to get off Elysium. The only problem was that once you went, there was no going back. Something about running the risk of bringing the illness back but to be honest, Diego didn ’ t believe the government much anymore. They would say anything to justify their “ necessary cleansings ”.
And through the group, Diego learned just how corrupt they truly were. There were intentional food shortages, sketchy bribing, rebellions being quieted as fast as they appeared – name it and they probably did. Diego decided to take a chance and enlist his help. As a hacker, his skills were invaluable and helped the underground group grow into a legitimate threat.
And in the following months, it showed. Government officials began to pop out of the woodwork in search something that was “ official, classified business ”. Curfews began to roll around earlier. People went missing. They would be caught sooner or later so they decided to take action.
Diego found out when the next foodship would arrive. It would be large enough to host a plethora of people while also have enough food to survive for weeks, months if they were frugal. It would be their best chance and perhaps their last if they didn ’ t strike. Noah approved it, not one to ignore a golden opportunity like it.
And here they were, being chased as they closed in on the ship. Diego sprinted like he had never before, his lungs screaming for air but his brain demanding their cooperation. Once he was on the ship, he would be fine.
He would be fantastic, actually.
An anguished cry came from behind him. He turned his head to find Rowan gunned down. Such a shame, his wife was due to have her baby in a few weeks.
Another person fell – Ella. She was a bitch at times but was also had a beautiful voice. Diego would miss her sonorous songs during the moments where the world seemed like it would end.
Another body fell but he didn ’ t look to see who it was. There was simply too many to keep up with. He choked back the tears that were obscuring his peripheral vision.
None of these people deserved to die.
“ Get on the ship! ” Noah called to the people, occasionally glancing back to shoot a soldier who had managed to close the distance on the group. He was one of the few with a gun because he knew how to use them. After all, bullets were too rare to be given to the clueless.
The first people in the mob raced onto the ship, pushing and shoving as they looked for cover. A few were shot, splatters of red reaching up the white and blue hull. Diego cringed. Even in safety, they were dead.
“ Keep going, I ’ ll catch up. ” Noah motioned him away. Diego hadn ’ t left his side since the stampede and didn ’ t intend to do so after him saying that.
“ No way! I ’ m not leaving you! ”
Noah stopped shooting for a moment to take his hands off the gun, putting them on the sides of his face. He pressed his forehead to his, his labored breath tickling his lips. Diego could feel his heart pounding in his chest even though they weren ’ t touching.
“ I ’ ll be okay. Just wait for me, kay? ”
Diego begrudgingly nodded. He wanted to protest but what else could he say? There was nothing left for him to do.
“ Okay. I love you. ”
The two kissed, short but passionate. It was bliss in the heat of danger but oh so worth it.
At least, it was until a bullet ripped through Noah.
There was too much going on to process – the blood, the emotions, the look on his face. He fell to the ground, a sizeable hole in his stomach. That wasn ’ t the kind of wound you could fix, even with the best of medicine.
“ Go… ” Noah said, the light behind his eyes dying. The words almost didn ’ t sound like his own, as if possessed.
“ No, ” Diego stammered. He tried to think but a million synapses fired inharmoniously.
The tears were back with full force. But this time he didn ’ t choke them back, embracing them as they streamed down his face. He couldn ’ t help but to feel guilty. This was his fault.
“ Go… ” Noah repeated, less volume in his voice.
Bullets blurred past Diego. He didn ’ t want to keep moving but he had to. He had to live for Noah sake.
He ran, covering his head as he braved the last few feet until he reached the ship. Freedom was all he wanted but he never intended to pay the ultimate price for it. He fought the urge to cry out any further, knowing that it was futile in the end. Once Death claimed its victim, there was no arguing about it.
Diego ’ s feet hit the metal of the ship, telling him he made it. Not long after, it pulled away from the dock, as if waiting only for him to board. As he ascended into the ether, he looked back once more at the love of his life, a small smile on his face. His words pierced the air, the last he would ever hear from him.
“ Go, Diego, go. ”
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[ WP ] You are the first vampire appointed to the Supreme Court .
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It has been twenty years since Vampires have become mainstream. It was not an easy journey.
Like the LGBT community, we have suffered persecution for a very long time. People of thought of us as a disease. They killed us whenever they found us. For countless centuries we have been mercilessly murdered by the so called normal people.
I will have to explain how it works. We have thirst for blood. We need it to survive. However, we are not monsters. If you are innocent you have nothing to fear. We hunt for a specific sort of person. We went around in the night, looking for criminals and rapists and such scum and we drank their blood. We have had a very symbiotic relationship with the world.
Confused? Well, it is easy to explain. For a long time, societies have been peaceful. Largely. This is because we vampires can spot a corrupt soul among you. Once we spot it, it is in our instincts to just go after the such. We have been keeping your world safe by going after these people.
You might say that your police are keeping the streets safe. Well, let me tell you a secret. Your police are the most useless people among you. They think so too. But it is us who have kept your cities safe for countless generations. May be since the dawn of the society, vampires have lived side by side with humans and protected humans from each other.
Our hearts are the purest. Without a pure heart, you can not survive as a vampire. It is a biological thing. That is why we have never gone after an innocent soul till now. In fact we can not even bring ourselves to eat meat of innocent people. We pretend to be vegan when we try to fit in with you.
Anyway, all this changed when the `` normal'' people realised how good we were. At first one scientist noted that being a vampire was not a disease. People are born that way. Once this sunk into the minds of people, we were accepted into the mainstream. We are not hiding anymore.
Together with our pure hearts and strong bodies, we were the ideal choice to run police departments. We joined military too. And we worked without pay. All we need was criminal blood to survive and the society has plenty to offer.
I have been working as a Judge for a long time now. Part of the reason why courts I have worked have been clean is because I go after the corrupt. They make a nice meal and the system becomes cleaner.
Now I am in Supreme court. They tell me I am the first Vampire to be on a Supreme Court bench. I look around to see my colleagues. There is fear in them. I smell corruption. I am hungry.
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[ WP ] Humanity enters the intergalactic stage and we find out that we 're actually rather ... badass .
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I am human. Conquest is my speciality.
The Universe is full of specialists.
Some specialities are useful: There are the slow moving Ice Wyrms -- titanic, ship like intelligent beings that thrive in the Milky Way in the huge ice clouds that surround most systems. Not many creatures out there and some of the first that we encountered during the Expansion since they surround Sol, too. They specialize in peaceful colonization. From their spread they seem to have been at it for ten billion years.
The Prot specialize in communication. They have been gently guiding species in their first contact for almost as long as the Ice Wyrms have been gliding on dust clouds. They do n't move around much, or, at least, no sapient organics that humans have come across have ever seen one in the flesh. They project their influence through their primitive access points they've seeded across our home galaxy and many others and through the curlnet, the micro-dimension that touches every bit of our familiar spacetime that takes sophisticated and sensitive instruments to even detect, much less use.
Then there are the useless or even dangerous. The varieties of Sludge the less intelligent sapients created for one reason or another that reproduced uncontrollably and wiped them out and occasionally spread beyond their host system. The static species that sit on their home-worlds like a family in a snow-globe, often thinking they are the center of the universe.
But the one commonality we've found from the smallest ocean world single celled organisms to the system swallowing silica-based Radiants is that specialists are fragile.
Humanity has been able to spread and adapt throughout the Milky Way. Some members are enhanced or hardened but they are unmistakably human. Most creatures seem to be happy in their niche. Humans adapt. Survive. Thrive. Spread. The chaos we seek out challenges us and strengthens us with each new test.
And now we've spread beyond the Milky Way. We conquered not only the hard resources of moons, planets, systems, and sectors, we conquered the knowledge there as well.
When we learned to Uncurl and navigate Curlspace the Universe became our new frontier.
And here we sit, on a Cruiser with a curldrive at the edge of what we know. I am Captain Io and I intend to meet a God.
Through my viewport I see a strange, red cluster galaxy. Until four hours ago it was one of the most violently energetic sources of radiation in this filament. But now it is cold and growing colder. If we did n't have it mapped we might have curled right through it. The God is here, feeding.
We keep our distance. We have been chasing this creature. Each time we uncurl near it, it disappears only to drain another galaxy nearby. It tried to kill us once with a gamma pulse that could destroy a hundred million stars. We curled out just in time.
We have no idea what this thing is. Aside from the corpses of galaxies, we can not detect it and we can not communicate with it. Our first real challenge and I am eager for it. Will this be the first war ship destroyed by an alien creature? Or will we be the first to encounter and conquer a Type III civilization? Either way, my name will ring in the history books.
The scanners tell me that there is on organized cloud ahead. Sophisticated nanites created from pried apart vacuum particles twisted and reshaped into baryons, then atoms, then molecules and finally a swarm of interconnected machines. This is done from a focused beam of energy coming from where the hot galaxy is becoming a galaxy of ash.
Good. This is something we know. This is something we can fight! I call for red alert. I am alerted to an incoming message and a face that looks very much like my own coalesces from the swarm and I hear from my crew'Incoming ener...'
And I pass out.
I wake up suspended in empty space. My doppelganger coelesces in front of me.
`` Io.'' it starts. The sound is strange and unnatural, like it is warping quickly into being and landing in front of me with every syllable.
`` I...''
`` Please, allow us to communicate. We do not have much time. After I am finished, you will have a choice to make that will decide our fate and the fate of the Universe. We want you to make an informed choice.''
`` Ok.''
We are suddenly in what seems to be an ancient Nordic farmhouse. A solid oak table, three inches thick, dominates the room. The entire structure is made of similar wood. The floor, the massive beam holding up the steep gables, the walls, the chairs, everything. There is a stew bubbling over the fireplace but I can not smell it.
`` This house is the Universe.'' the scene zooms until we slip between the cracks of the floorboards and we are in the dark under the house, tiny, illuminated only by the light that seems to come from our bodies. There is a giant termite chewing a channel through a floor beam. `` And this is humanity.''
We grow large again and time seems to accelerate. The house crumbles.
`` We are Beings Beyond Light.'' the creature says `` We inhabit the other half of this Universe. We are old. Trillions of years old.''
`` How can that be? The Universe itself is a mere 14 billion years old!''
`` From one direction, your current direction, it is. From our direction, it is nearing its end.''
I shake my head, confused for a moment. `` So, you are from the future?''
`` From your future, yes. Always from the future. It is hard for us to affect your half or be affected by it, but we are here. We are whispy and diffuse like gossamer. In many places at once, from your perspective.'' the Godling exudes sadness. `` And you are destroying us.''
I scoff. `` And how is that gossamer man? You can drain an entire galaxy of its energy in hours! How can all of the fleets in the world even hope to harm you!''
`` The same way the termite destroys the house. Your faster than light drives are boring holes right through our shared dimensions. Right through us. We confine ourselves, through time, to the space between matter, but you've spread to galaxies past your home. To get there you go through ours.''
`` Listen here, I am human. We have proved time and again that we /deserve/ this Universe. Why should we stop now?''
`` You should n't. You are more right than you can know. But you need to slow down.''
`` Why should we?! Because some ghostly god from the future asked us nicely?''
`` No. Because, eventually, when you've spread to the edge of the reachable universe and you've grown and evolved while the Universe cools to a light grey nothingness full of black holes and static chaos you will decide that it is time to cross the river of light and become extra-luminal to become like me. You will evolve even further and gather the entire Universe to a single point of energy and then...''
`` And then what?''
`` We expand beyond this Universe. So please, Captain, slow down. You are the greatest beings in the universe. You can afford to take your time.''
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[ EU ] You are a Pokemon police officer . Today your handcuffs gave been swapped out for a new prototype Human Pokeball . ...
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& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Help me. Help me be a POKéMON master,'' said BLUE. RED could barely see him.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' How?''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; RED felt a sudden and squamous slickness cradle her in the darkened POKéMON CENTER. There was an ungodly stench. RED clutched her throat.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; They made their way through the lobby and into the guts of the place. She stumbled frequently, each time cushioned by the ferocious anatomy of the POKéMON, each time wishing she could just slip away. But they soon stopped. Lights were thrown. The dark dread was instantly replaced by brightness a familiar sight: the place where trainers trade POKéMON. But it was now soiled. Cannibalized remains of machinery lay strewn at the foot of the trading station. Instead of two POKéBALL pods there was now three. The one stolen from the police station was stitched between the two in a nest of cable and wire.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; RED turned and tried to pull away. She saw that she was not being held by a POKéMON but by BLUE himself. He had become a monster, a shambling horror of odds and ends and angles of what seemed to be body parts of POKéMON fused into one being, now made manifest under the bright lights. RED recoiled in terror. BLUE was blocking the path to the door. She was trapped inside the room.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' We both go inside. Inside the human POKéBALLs,'' said BLUE, motioning towards his creation, `` We come apart, and then we come together there,'' he said, pointing to the stolen jail pod.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' No...'' said RED under her breath.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' You, me, and our POKéMON. The ultimate family.''
RED tried to RUN!
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[ WP ] You are a child , born into slavery via artificial insemination , in order to pay off your dead parents debt .
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Ever Corp's headquarters looked like a huge oblong, slightly more elongated along the western wall, where the plushy sales offices were. Not that any of the Ever bodies would know. Adam had spent most of his life in the other half of an Ever Corp facility; from creche to school to offices.
Debt in the thirties had reached such a point that a man could not reasonably be expected to pay it off within his lifetime. At first laws were passed, such that debts were passed down, like a pair of long-worn out socks, from father to son. Down through the lines.
Imagine turning 18 and finding out you have four generations of debt, interest compounded, just waiting to suck up every last chip on your paycheque each month. All of this put the debt collectors at a bit of disadvantage however if said debtor perished childless. Rear ended by a semi or the classic aneurism at forty; generations of debt, past and future, wiped out in an instant. It would n't do. Adam's father had died on a motorway, fixing a broken axel because he could n't afford a decent repair.
Nowadays you need three things to sign a loan; your name, your ID and your blood. Who, where and what you are. So now, when mister bigspender croaks after stuffing half a kilo of co-mex up his nose, Ever Corp ( or one of their subsidiaries ) can keep the bloodline going. Adam's father had never settled down. Never had a kid of his own.
It's not slavery. Per se. The kid gets a life, or as much of one as Ever Family Services can provide with all the expenses added to the life debt. And when they turn 18, they start paying. Two things in life used to be certain: death and taxes. Alleviate the former and and reap the latter. To the corporate execs it was a landmark, an infinite supply of workers. Never again would a debt go unpaid.
Ever bodies, like Adam, had two numbers in their lives. Their ID and their amount owed. The latter had more numbers than the other. The problem began when the former began to grow. Ever Corp started growing thousands of kids, then millions.
Adam had spent his whole life counting down his number. Ever Corp realised the danger of uncontrolled growth, so found a way to kill two birds with one stone. Well, really it was killing one bird, but you got lots of stones out of it.
The average human body is worth about two million chips. You've got the organs, tissue and the like. A healthy set of lungs still beat the best prosthetics for now. Throw in the carbon offset from removing yourself from the atmosphere and Ever Corp will happily write off the last percentage of your debt.
So here Adam stood, the last of his line, signing away the last chip he'd ever have to pay.
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[ WP ] Your glasses work a little too well .
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Was there she who lay out there,
in the world,
naked and vulnerable,
open to the sight,
of a million preying eyes,
for any wrinkle.
& nbsp;
Never, cried humanity,
we are above all animals,
a presentable self in front of the world,
suppressed under clothing and dabs of lotion,
the most vulnerable self shown only on occasion,
a tiny room called a water closet.
& nbsp;
I raise my glasses to my eyes,
that let me see through you,
do not shift or sweat,
I see through your clothes, the scar on your thigh,
I read your thoughts, what you feel of me,
& nbsp;
My manager at work, showering false praise,
as he promotes his my peer, that bastard.
My girlfriend of five, calling me honey,
before deleting the same message sent to her ex.
My friend, asking for trust,
when he calculates how much money he can wrest.
& nbsp;
I am left with nobody.
But me and my parents.
True love through vision.
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[ WP ] You are a hitman who faked their own death to live out the rest of your days in peace . You are attending your own funeral service when you notice one of your previous 'marks ' is there alive and well .
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Jane looked in the mirror at her altered appearance one last time before stepping out of her apartment and hailing a cab on the busy New York street.
`` Taxi!'' She hollered as she waived her arm in the air. `` Taxi!''
The yellow cab pulled to a squeaky stop as the driver asked `` where to.''
`` Holy Cathedral, 32nd Avenue.''
`` The Cathedral on a Friday? Wedding or funeral?'' The cabbie asked in the typical cabbie accent. Jane made no reply as she watched out the window, her years of training forcing her eyes forward and back. She had to reassure herself of her safety -- no one knew she was alive. She was, after all, on the way to her own funeral.
The cab lurched and braked through the traffic toward the church. The driver asked several more probing questions, prompting Jane to give dismissive answers. She thought about opening up to the driver as a test of her new-found anonymity from her career, but her better judgment decided against it. With the Cathedral just a block away, Jane asked the driver to stop short.
`` I'll walk the rest of the way, thanks.'' She leaned forward to hand the man a folded set of bills, but he declined.
`` Why do n't I hang close, in case you decide to leave early?'' The man asked. Jane cocked her head at the comment, disturbed the driver had read her thoughts with such accuracy.
`` I suppose,'' she started. The cab driver nodded and leaned on his steering wheel, letter her know he'd stick around for half an hour before he would depart.
`` I'll let you know if I decide I can stick around,'' Jane responded. She thanked the man for his service and began the short walk to the Cathedral. A few familiar faces stood out among those entering the Cathedral, none of whom gave Jane a second glance. She hung back, worried someone would read her mannerisms and place her connection to the departed, all the while scanning the crowd for threats and assessing her exits for a quick departure.
CELEBRATING THE LIFE OF JANE ANDERS
The sign smacked of adoration and eloquence, two things foreign to Jane's persona. Jane lived a simple life to those who knew her -- a two-bedroom apartment on Staten Island, a Toyota in the garage a block from her apartment for long trips, and a simple wardrobe of jeans, pastel shirts, and the occasional Sunday dress. Her hair and makeup screamed `` neutral,'' while her mannerisms expressed no more than a simple, basic woman in her mid-30s working in Human Resources for some insurance company. However, Jane's expressed this basic appearance by design.
The howls of the organ ceased as the last few mourners filed in. With only a quarter of the seats taken, Jane took a seat far back enough to ease her nervousness about being noticed. Her minister started into his sermon about life, death, and the rejoining of body and soul at the glorious resurrection. Jane stifled a smile as the minister mentioned Jane being `` here with us, even now.''
Twenty minutes. Jane thought about relieving the cab driver of his duty and thought of tipping him well for the offer when one last parishioner moved into the room, taking a seat toward the back opposite Jane. Jane eyed him in her peripheral and felt her heart leap. He should have been dead, too.
The minister invited the lackluster crowd to provide their final goodbyes to the body of not-Jane, prompting the dead man to her left to rise and move forward. Jane kept her seat and held her head in her hands, feigning sadness for her own death, but watched the man move through the procession line. Three ahead of him. Two. One.
The man ran his fingers over Jane's coffin and stifled a smile of his own. Jane strained her eyes to watch his face from afar, and began to rise from her seat to get a better view of the man pretending to pay respects to her fake body. She watched as he looked to his left and right, then watched his lips part as he whispered to what he thought was Jane.
`` I win,'' his lips read.
Jane grabbed her purse from her seat and exited before he could spot her. `` I win''? He won nothing. The assassination -- how had he survived? Shot and drowned in the ocean. Surrounded by sharks. No boats for miles. A rough sea, the swells nearly sank her own ship. How had he survived?
Jane spied the cab up the street, still pushing exhaust fumes from a rusty tailpipe. She approached from behind and climbed into the back, hiding her exasperation. She started to ask the driver to drive -- anywhere -- when he interrupted her.
`` Something bothering you, Jane?'' The driver asked.
`` No, I,'' she paused. She had n't told him her name. She reached for the handle but the driver pulled away too fast.
`` He's still alive, Jane. You owe me, Jane. You owe me.'' The driver's accent disappeared as Jane recognized his voice.
`` Captain?'' She asked.
`` Calamity Jane,'' he responded. Something in Jane was happy to see the Captain, different as he looked, but something else rose inside her -- dread.
`` Captain, I did n't know he -- how did he survive?''
`` You'll have to ask him yourself, hun.'' The Captain took a bag from under the front passenger seat and tossed it toward Jane, over the partition. `` I mean, if you really want to know. If you just want to kill him -- that works for me, too.''
Jane opened the bag to see inside. Cash, guns, ammo, IDs, and a communicator. Instinct took over as she slipped the communicator into her ear, then went for the gun. Her hand paused as she touched the cold steel of the pistol, promoting a question.
`` What if I ca n't?'' Jane asked as the cab barreled down the highway.
``'Ca n't'?''
`` I mean, what if I do n't want to go back?''
The Captain smiled the smile Jane had known for years. The smile that accompanied impossible missions and drastic odds of survival. The smile that entertained him, alone.
`` I'm sure I could plan another funeral.''
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[ WP ] `` Really ? You 're going to bring THAT to a gun fight ? ''
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`` Really? You're bringing THAT to a gun fight?'' Brian asked.
`` And why should n't I bring *Sasha*'' Eric retorted as he hefted *Sasha* onto his shoulder.
`` For starters, it's a goddamn four-barreled **ROCKET LAUNCHER**!! Oh, and it fires fucking napalm rockets!'' Brian shouted, growing increasingly angry at Eric's apparent lack of understanding.
`` You say that like it's a bad thing.'' Eric said, as he put a bag full of extra rockets over his other shoulder.
`` You will fucking kill us if you fire that thing.'' Brian said between his gritting teeth.
`` Not necessarily! We just have to be, like, 30 yards away or something. Besides, who the hell would want to fight us when we walk in there with *Sasha*'', Eric explained, `` and your gun. The... ummm-''
`` FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!! IT'S AN AK-47!! Literally everyone on the goddamn planet knows what one of these is!!'' Brian screamed as he thought about hitting Eric with his AK.
`` One, clearly not'Literally everyone' if I do n't know it-'' Eric began
Brian gripped his AK tighter and moved it's barrel towards Eric's chest. Eric took the hint and put his hands up in semi-mock surrender.
`` -and two, the Wilsons are already outside'' Eric said pointing to the window.
Brian looked out the window, and saw that, indeed, the five Wilson brothers were outside. Each one had either an AK-47 like Brian or what looked like M-16s.
`` Shit..'' Brian groaned.
To be Continued...?
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[ TT ] A sapient parasite explains to a survivor that its kind infected the human race in order to save it .
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She lurched forward, her movement jaunty and stilted, her limbs dangling and flailing before she bent her slouching back upright and gazed at me, her right eye rolling back into its lid before refocusing. `` John, you've no idea how difficult it's been to get to you.'' She speaks, her voice a chiding reminder of a life we used to share.
The shotgun's stock levels heavy against my shoulder. I know it's not her. It brought her to me to hurt me, to lower my guard. Six months of this and I ca n't drop my defenses, not even now. She shrugs her shoulders and her arms soon follow, as the thing inside her attempts to ape what humans do when they're agitated.
`` You wo n't shoot me. I know. You loved her too much to see her die like this.''
I'm infuriated. `` She's already dead.''
`` No. She's not. She's in here, in the collective. There's no need for philosophical differences, no religious warfare, we all see the importance of protecting the Earth now, and all needs are attended. She lives in paradise and so can you.''
She's not talking like herself. Anne was snarky and terse, this.. did n't sound like her. It insulted me that it was still trying this gospel routine.
I pump a round into the ceiling before replacing it - All in one quick motion. The thing flinches.
`` Extinction. I saved you from extinction! Sure, some of your people died because of the infections and the rejection, but I evolved, I got better, and I made YOUR people better! There's no more war, no more poverty, no more anything that divided and drove you apes to writing the story of your history with blood and shit and intestines!''
I frown. It doubles back. It presses an irritated hand to its forehead and tugs at it's lower lip. `` I'm sorry.''
`` Fuck off.'' I respond. `` What about free will? What about the ability to make our own decisions? Humanity has the right to drive itself extinct.''
`` Does it?'' It asks.
I hold the barrel of the Remington and flip the gun, turning it to my chest, and I answer the question for it.
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[ WS ] Write a character 's internal monologue -- but do n't use any `` thought verbs . ''
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He looked around after stepping through the threshold and putting his bags down. Brown curtains. Again. Every hotel has to have brown curtains. And always thin enough to allow all the light from outside into the room.
Never a good night sleep in a place like this.
He did n't sigh as he fell into the made bed and flipped on the bulky TV set in front of him. He could fall asleep now. He had slept six hours in over a week thanks to the curtains. But it was only eight pm now and his eyelids felt heavy. He could fall asleep now and get nine hours.
The TV moaned on about a shocking pregnancy as he shut his eyes.
-- -- -- -- -- --
Disclaimer, written on mobile so could be errors. Hope i did this right
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[ WP ] [ NSFW ] After a cataclysm , 95 % of human males are wiped out . The rest have to be used as breeding stock . Write a diary entry from one of these `` studs '' .
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# Audio Log
You know before any of this shit happened I would have loved the idea of being a fuck-stud to thousands of women. The first few months where great, fucking all day long. Then eventually the crisis of having almost half the population die got... resolved. Science labs in all corners of the globe started up looking for a solution, guys like me became fucking valuable to say the least.
That was until about 2 months ago, as it turns out men are n't exactly needed. See some scientist in America figured out they could use stem cells from bone marrow to genetically make babies. Female babies but still kids none the less that fortunatly did n't come out all fucked up. They did n't need us anymore.
Guys like me got milked dry, fucking in a tube for a week with our cum getting frozen `` just in case'' then we got booted out the door to a world that did n't need or want us. Anyone who fought it was executed like fucking pigs in front of a firing squad. Normal jobs where impossible to come by for a man, I got *lucky* I guess as it turns out rich business woman pay a lot for a bounce on a **real** dick not just one of those latex toys being in this *brothel* was as good as it gets for a man. Not that I get any pay but at least our mistress keeps us safe.
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[ WP ] The world hates you , and that is okay . She loves you , and that is horrible .
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Lucifer turned out the lights to his room and groped his way toward the bed. It had been a long day of making contracts, processing the dead, and torturing the really bad souls that went through hell. He was the most hated being in all of creation but after many millennia he just learned to live with it. Finding his bed he climbed in but encountered a mysteriously large lump.
`` Hi there!'' her perky voice called out.
Lucifer nearly fell out the bed but caught himself and stepped back as far away he could. The woman got up from underneath the covers and smiled. It was death, literally. She was dressed in black lingerie that stood out in stark contrast to her almost pure white skin.
`` YOU!!!'' Lucifer exclaimed.
`` ME!!!'' she cheered.
`` How did you get in here?''
`` I'm eeeeveerrryyywhere!'' Death teased.
Lucifer vanished and reappeared in the nightmares of some random human on earth. Surely this would be the safest place in all of creation.
`` Death ca n't reach inside dreams!'' Lucifer said to himself.
Lucifer laid down for a rest and found the screams of the human being chased by her nightmares comforting. But just as he closed his eyes the human went silent and the dream melted into a tunnel of white light.
`` OH SHI -- -'' Lucifer barely made out before he was brutally ejected from the gates heaven where the human was going after she died.
Lucifer found himself beside the dead body of the human with Death standing over them, still in her lingerie but wielding a comically oversized scythe.
`` I'm going to kill every girl you know so that i'm the only one for you!'' Death cheerfully grinned.
Lucifer grabbed the scythe and impaled himself with it. It was the most painful experience he ever had but it was worth it to get away from her. As the life slowly ebbed away he closed his eyes finally content it would all be over.
He was jolted awake when he felt Death kiss him.
`` Oh silly, you know you ca n't go if i do n't let you.'' Death smiled.
`` NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO -- -''
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[ WP ] As part of the new Primary Source Project , you have been selected to be cryogenically preserved so that your specific knowledge will be available for future generations in their hour of utmost need . You 've been asleep for 250 years when the leader of the free world thaws you out .
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I really was n't aware that I'd been frozen, or even that I'd died, one day I stick a needle into my arm, and the next thing I know, I'm staring at a man wearing a neon blue and pink suit wearing and giant pointy jet black sunglasses.
`` You with me?'' The obscenely brightly clad figure murmured as he held out his hand to help me up. `` You've been out of it for a long time, been frozen since your accident, frozen because of what you did for the world. I know it'll be a lot to take in, but this is it, it's showtime.'' He says as he pulls me to my feet. A moment later a man in scrubs and a mask steps over and hands me my signature jeans, leather jacket, pointed blue sun and moon hat, cape, and cowboy boots. Nothing had even registered, I was just standing in that stark white room looking around dazed for a good couple minutes before it really hit me.
`` Frozen? How long?'' My mouth was n't working quite right, like my tongue and cheeks were made of cotton. Really nothing felt quite right, numb and muted, like every bit of me was twenty feet away, and fresh out of the dentist, everything but my hands at least. Those hands were perfect, just as they were whenever before was, when I used them to change the world.
The man in the suit eyed me up and down for a moment. `` Two hundred and fifty years.'' He said bluntly. `` John, I'm the president of the United Stated of Earth, and I'm here just to ask, on, beg your help. You were the best then, and you're the only one left now. Earth needs you, humanity needs you. As he droned on I could see behind the, president..., another technician carrying my signature double hafted axe. That was the moment that I knew what needed to happen. I could hear words around me, but I did n't *hear* them. I took my double neck guitar from the tech, strummed it once, then pushed through the double doors onto the largest stage I've ever seen, surrounded by an silent audience that stretched for as far as the eye could see. Dominating the night sky were giant, angular jet black ships, every one of them larger than the moon in the sky.
I picked up the cord and plugged my guitar in, and let loose the most wicked guitar solo heard in nearly two hundred years.
Epilogue
Centuries later it was said that the day rock was revived was the day that humanity came back. The raw power of that rockin' tune brought back our souls, and gave us hope again. It echoed throughout the galaxy, first resonating through the alien ships parked around Earth ready to destroy us, causing them to explode into balls of righteous fire as they unintentionally broadcast the sound of our return.
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[ WP ] Mass destruction killed off 99 % of all germs . Only the 1 % survived . However , they wo n't settle for anything less than a supreme meal of brain protein .
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`` All right, now you stand over here, okay!?'' Jason placed the old lady by the door. `` And hold this gun.''
The lady nodded, frosty-eyed, blank-faced.
`` Do n't press the trigger now, we do n't want you trying to kill me just yet.''
She nodded again, passive. Brain-washed.
Jason looked around at the bar. Everyone was in position. The barman with the shotgun, the poker table guys playing their cards, the girl playing the hooker by the stairs in the tight dress…
`` All right, let's play bang-bang!''
Jason stepped out of the bar. It was a roadside bar in Montana ( he assumed ), and the road it sided was a dirt one, and there were no cars around. It was the perfect spot to play Wild West Cowboy.
`` All right guys!'' he screamed at the window, as he climbed on the horse. `` Now, when I burst in and yell'who owns this God-forsaken shitshow excuse for a water hole' you shoot, okay!?'' He opened his ears to listen, but no one yelled back. `` But not at me! Okay!? Okay!? Say'okay' if you heard me!'' A low murmur of deadpanned'okays' reached him, and he smiled.
`` All right, let's go get them,'' he whispered to the horse, and then charged.
Jason had gone insane roughly a year before that. It happened a year and a half after the Event, which, in turn, had taken the span of a whole full week to take place. A whole full week that took the world from `` This place where Jason goes to work from Monday to Friday and then has a few beers on the weekend with his friends'' to `` This place where everyone has been infected with brain eating bacteria and turned into inanimate shells of
themselves and only I'm left for some reason''.
It was n't that the people had died – that would have been better. It was n't that they had turned into flesh eating zombies – that would have been acceptable too.
No, the infection ate away at their brains much like dementia, except worse, in that in the first few days people forgot who they were and their names and their loved ones, and by the end of the week they were full on docile robot-mode. Just like the people in the bar. Just standing around, blank-eyed, following every order you'd tell them. Doing everything you said.
The whole world, just like that. They ate and slept and took shits, but other than that they just stood still, hollow, soulless, arms dangling by their body, waiting for orders. Some went blind on account of facing the sun. Some lost limbs and died from lack of movement. A lot died of cold or dehydration.
People just stopped and stood still, waiting for commands. And since Jason was the only one capable of giving them... Jason was God.
And of course, like any sane person, Jason went insane as a result of being God, which, he was finding out, made the whole thing a lot easier to enjoy.
By the bar entrance, he climbed off of the horse and kicked his way into the bar, a six shooter in each hand. `` All right, you bastards, who the devil owns this God forsaken -- who the Hell -- who is the owner of this shitshow forsaken -- oh, fuck it, just start shooting!''
The people turned their blank eyes his way, raised their guns and, just like instructed, shot around – but not at – him. Jason grinned and shot back, bringing each one down, kicking tables to barricade behind, listening for footsteps, cocking of guns, breathing.
It was like a videogame, except much better because it was real.
Except much more horrifying and cripplingly depressive because it was real.
He wiped the place clean in five minutes.
`` Sorry about the kneecap, Miss,'' Jason breathed out to the corpse of the young woman in the tight dress, as he sat at the bottom steps of the stairs. `` I was aiming for the head, but I'm a shitty shooter.''
He laughed. She did n't. Because she was dead.
Jason was pretty much a lot insane.
`` You guys have been great, way more fun than the people at the park,'' Jason announced to the corpses. `` I tried reenacting the battle of Minas Tirith with them, what a fucking joke. I mean, grunt once in a while if you're supposed to be an orc, will you? Took me right out of the whole thing when the dude I spent hours painting grey until he was just the *riiight* shade of Uruk-Hai smiled just before I cut his head. I mean, servers of Saruman do n't smile! You know what I'm talking about, right?'' he nudged the young girl. Her body did a funny kind of barrel roll and rolled down the last few steps. A line of blood dripped down like marbles step by step until it reached her in rhythmic drops.
Jason sighed. Then he turned the gun on himself. He held it there, against his temple, this time for seven minutes, shaking, sweating, then two more minutes with the barrel inside his mouth, before he gave up and yelled at the top of his lungs, feeling his throat rip.
That was a personal record, nine minutes. Maybe next time he'd have the guts to pull the trigger.
Outside, in the distance, thunder announced rain. Jason lit a cigarette. He went around the bar and snatched a bottle of scotch. He sat back by the young woman's body and drank. He cried. He punched his legs and wished he would die, wished he could kill himself, wish this would be over, please, please, please. Then he laughed because he noticed the old lady's body was in a funny position by the door, with her head tilted like she had just posed him a question. Then he cried again because the world was dead and he was a murderer.
It started to rain. The front door came open. An old, bearded man walked in, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. He left a trail of bloody footsteps all the way to the counter, then sat, poured himself a shot of Jim Beam Honey and downed it in a single motion.
He turned to Jason. `` Stop crying and kill yourself,'' he said, in a commanding, bored voice.
Jason frowned and kept the facial expression for seventeen straight seconds as he watched the man pour and down another shot. Then he said, in a trembling voice `` No.''
The man coughed and dropped his glass on the floor. He turned wide eyes to Jason.
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[ EU ] A young Andy is given the toy tiger Hobbes as Calvin goes to college . To the shock of Andy 's other toys Hobbes casually starts a conversation with Andy . ( Toy Story/ Calvin and Hobbes )
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Hobbes was aware that he was not like other toys. It made sense, though, for Calvin was not like other boys. Most children believed what their parents said, buying into the idea that people were simply all there was in the world -- but not Calvin.
No, not Calvin.
No toy made the short trip up to the attic when he packed. Instead, those few childhood remnants were packed up and set aside in a heavy box marked DONATIONS in thick, black sharpie. He had waved goodbye from the window as the car carrying them had driven away, hoping that the children at the local hospital would appreciate his friends now that Calvin was too old to lose himself in their wonder.
As he was not like other toys, he was not given the same treatment. Calvin had kept him aside, shooed away his mother's hands when she'd reached for the worn old tiger.
`` No,'' he'd said stubbornly. `` He's going somewhere else.''
The good thing about Calvin -- the best thing, rather, there were many good things about Calvin -- was that he had never quite stopped believing. Though their conversations had grown shorter, briefer, and more sporadic over the years, Calvin had always taken the time to sit down with him and tell him the goings on of his life. Seek him out when he had troubles, laugh with him over personal jokes - and when the time had come, he had asked what Hobbes had wanted. It had been tough question to ask, held off until after the going away party, but just before the going away. The answer had come easy to his mind but struggled to work it's way out his muzzle.
Andy was playing in the front yard when they pulled up. He could tell from the drop of his mouth and the surprised lift to his eyebrows that it was not expected, and there had been no call ahead to warn him that a new family member was coming. The boy was still young enough to think that his cousin was the coolest creature in the world, for all his misanthropy and sarcasm was the epitome of teenage rebellion, and so young that they rarely spoke outside of mandatory family gathering. Hobbes spared a glance to the toys scattered around the boy's feet. A cowboy, an astronaut, and a collection of smaller and more fragile toys that were surprisingly taken care of for what they were and how rough little kids played.
`` I've got a present for you,'' Calvin said, and there is the slightest of hesitations before he reached into the passenger seat to hand the tiger over. `` This is Hobbes. I had a big old conversation with him before I left, and he said he'd like to stay with you for a while.''
Wordlessly, Andy accepts him. The boy's hands are gentle, his expression is reverent. The entire family knew how close Calvin and Hobbes were, to think of them separated was near blasphemy! And to be given the old tiger, why, he was certain Andy did n't think himself worthy. `` R-really? Are you sure?''
`` Yup. I'm trusting you to take good care of him. He'll take care of you, too. He's a good friend. A best friend.''
`` I will,'' Andy promised.
He could tell Calvin wanted to linger. But there is n't time. He checked his watch, bit his lip, then lifted his hand in the universal salute of a teenager too cool to wave, but still courteous enough to give a goodbye. `` Take care, okay?'' To which of them he was speaking to, he could not have been sure, but Calvin's eyes had been on him and they had been slightest bit wet.
`` You too,'' Andy said before Hobbes could. And in a flash, Calvin was back behind the wheel of the beat up old car and was zooming off towards the next stage of his life.
Andy set him down next to his other toys. The cowboy and astronaut shared a glance, and then wiggled their fingers almost imperceptibly in a wave. The wave Hobbes gave in turn was much less subdued, and the alarm on their faces was clear.
`` So, what should we play now? We've got a new friend here, so it would n't be fair to play an old game,'' Andy tapped his chin.
`` How about a jungle safari?'' Hobbes offered, and the alarm on the other toys went from mild to flat out terror. `` I'm quite good at being the tiger.''
Andy stared. Hobbes stared back, and that real tiger tail swished against the grass. There should be a panic. Any reasonable adult would panic, but Andy was no where near being that old and serious just yet. As with most boys his age, this was n't something to be concerned about yet. A child's imagination was the most powerful thing in the world, and so he nodded.
`` Safari it is!''
Hobbes spared a glance to the other toys, all of which were staring open-mouthed. Too confused to be frightened, too alarmed to join in, and too baffled to make a choice. Their jealousy was all too clear.
This was a good choice.
**edit**: ohhh my gosh wow, i was n't expecting this sort of response! i banged this out in ten minutes before bed. edited to fix the tense mistakes. thank you everyone!
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[ WP ] Weapons become more powerful the older they get . Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies .
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The archaeologist lightly brushed away dirt and rock. They'd been at it for days; trying to uncover as much as they could before their time and money ran out. The government funded all digs in hopes for items of power, but they quickly lost interest if the ruins were more recent or the people from peaceful tribes.
He stood and sighed, surveying the scene. There was far too much for him to do alone even if he worked through the night. With little else to do but accept it was over, he wiped the dirt from his knees and turned to put away his tools and join the others in the tents.
In the poor light, he did n't notice the skeletal hand until he'd heard the crunch under his boot. Horrified and frustrated in equal measure, he bent down to examine the damage; hoping it was n't as bad as he feared.
As he peered closely, he though he saw a faint glow between the fingers. Curious, he gently pried the cracked bones apart and pulled the smooth stone from the dirt. Instantly, his senses sharpened and he was awake and alert. He stared in wonder at the stone which thrummed with power and... more.
Images filled his head. The stone was nothing more than a rock, but when the primordial ape lifted it with the intent to harm another for food or a mate, it's power awakened. Dropped not a moment later, it slept for millions of years growing ever more powerful.
Seas covered it, volcanoes raised it high, a landslide brought it to the edge of modern farmland where an old man had discovered it. He had felt its power, but did n't understand history or war or power they way every modern human did. Still, he kept it close until the flash flood claimed his village, burying it again until this moment.
The archaeologist was violently torn between powerlust, fear, curiosity; a maelstrom of emotions that set his head spinning. *How had such a thing survived when all others had long since been naturally destroyed!? * He held it tight; afraid to have it and afraid to let go.
He weighed his next actions carefully, painfully aware that the fate of the entire world now rested in his hands.
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[ CW ] Write something that starts with the sentence : `` God dammit Dan ! We practiced this ! Over and over again ! How the hell did you mess up ? ''
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NSFW- Offensive Language.
`` God dammit Dan! We practiced this! Over and over again! How the hell did you mess up?'' I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was furious. This drill was so fucking simple, why could n't he get it? Dan was supposed to be my top student!
`` I'm sorry,'' He muttered, his tone showing just a pinch of contempt towards me. `` I'll try harder this time, I promise.''
`` You fucking better, you useless piece of shit.'' I raised the pads again. `` Ready?... Go!'' I commanded. *jab, jab, hook, duck, uppercut, duck, uppercut, hook, duck, jab* Such a simple drill, yet he always fucked up somewhere. How could my son, my own flesh and blood, not be able to do this. I seethed with rage when my pad connected with his head on the second duck. `` What the fuck was that? Are you stupid!? ``, he was really starting to piss me off.
`` Dad, can we please stop, I do n't want to do this?'' he pleaded with me.
`` No, you're going to be my top student, Daniel, whether you like it or not.'' I wagged my finger in his face. `` Your great grandfather was one of the best bare knuckle boxers to live, as was your grandfather, and me? I have countless champion titles. Our family has been making warriors for generations, damnit! I wo n't let you be a fucking pansy and wimp out on me, now can yo-'' I was interrupted by a strong shock to my testicles. The pain was enough to bring me to my knees. `` What the fuck danie-'' I was cut off again when I caught a foot to the bridge of my nose. There was a sickening crack, and I fell to the ground, clutching my nose as it spurted blood. I heard the Velcro of his gloves unzip, and rushed to stand, but before I could, his fist landed on the back of my head, which smashed my face off the concrete floor of our garage. As my own son beat me, I lay there writhing in pain. Maybe I should n't have been so hard on him, but hey, at least I know he's a warrior.
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[ WP ] the worst date ever turns into the apocalypse and the person who helps you survive it is your blind date .
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We both heard the sound at the same instant, our heads turning as one to look out of the window. Outside people ran screaming in the streets, all heading in the same direction. Only the brave few dared to turn their heads back to look, before adding a fresh burst of speed.
I looked back at her and jerked my head to the window, while she stared back at me with white eyes, her pupils restricted to small black dots in the centre. I did n't need to say anything, it was implied.
We stood up and sprinted through the door. Pausing for a moment, I tried to see what they were running from. Further down central avenue, I watched an explosion tear through the ground floor of a building, sending fragments of concrete and glass tumbling through the air, merging with the soft flesh of the people standing nearby, watching as they were ripped apart and consumed by flame.
The sky roared and the thick taste of smoke forced its way into my nose, penetrating my lungs. More screams from further down the street and I was running. She grabbed my hand and I pulled her with me, caught up in the press of bodies. Somebody ahead of me tumbled to the ground, their body slamming into the ground, but I did n't stop. My feet slapped into the back of their skull like leather, and with a sickening crunch their nose exploded, streaking red across the floor.
More explosions chased us as we ran, more screams and more smoke. There was an intense heat at my back as the street shattered and my legs folded underneath me. The vibrations passed through my body and I was floating with the broken asphalt, twisting through the air in a grim dance.
As I hit the ground, I became conscious of a sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs. The edges of my vision blurred and darkened, while lights flickered in front of my eyes. The sound of the screams seemed to die away then, muffled by whatever had just knocked me off my feet.
And then I was moving again, only my legs were not carrying me there. Somebody had gripped my arm tightly and I was now being dragged painfully into the alleyway, away from the mass of people. Before I blacked out I saw her face look down at me in anxiety.
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[ WP ] You are walking home after dark when you hear footsteps behind you . As you turn around a gun is drawn to you by an old , worn down man in ragged clothes . Shaking , he claims to be you in 60 years , warning that you will regret living the rest of your life .
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James Swanson was hurrying home to tell his wife of his invention of a way to bend time when he heard the gun click. He turned around and saw a strange looking, angry man with a horrible haircut but with familiar eyes, staring at him. After a minute of looking each other down, the stranger spoke.
`` James. your invention does n't go as planned, trust me when I say you do n't want to see what happens. Your machine on its first expedition will fall on top of a young Austrian man, and you will take his place to preserve the time-line. You'll serve in a Great War, develop a knack for the arts, and become very... influential. However, you'll hate yourself for this. You'll start to realize what you've done. in a small town in Argentina, you start rebuilding your machine to come back and stop yourself.
`` You mean I-'' young James blurted out.
`` Yes'', the old James sighed, `` you literally become a time-traveling Hitler.''
then, he fired his bullet and the timestream around them began to collapse. But it was worth it.
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[ WP ] You 're Hell 's travel agent , trying to match vacationing demons with good candidates for demonic possession .
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Judy sat at her desk, scrolling through images of cats.
`` Ooh, that's a *cute* one,'' she said in a deep southern accent while clicking her mouse on an upvote array.
`` Excuse me,'' a voice asked by the door. `` Is this *Possession Destinations*?''
`` Yes, yes,'' answered Judy. `` Come on in and have a seat!''
A tall, hulking monster walked in the door. His grey, coarse skin protruded in random places and two large horns grew out of his gigantic forehead. He stepped over to the chair on the opposite side of Judy's desk and sat down.
`` OK, Mr.-?''
`` Kravluff The Dementinator,'' he answered.
`` Mr. Krav-luff The De-ment-inator,'' said Judy as she typed away. `` How can I help you today?''
`` Uh,'' started Kravluff. `` I'd like to sign up for just a basic- you know, possession.''
`` Oooookay,'' said Judy continuing her typing. `` How long would like your possession to last?''
Kravluff tilted his enormous head in thought. `` Um, I guess a day?'' he said.
`` Sir,'' said Judy. `` Standard packages come in increments of weeks.''
`` Oh, put me down for one of those then.''
`` One week?''
`` Yeah...''
Judy went back to her typing. `` Boy, girl, young, old, any specific nationalities?'' she asked after a few minutes.
`` Whatever is easiest,'' answered Kravluff.
`` Easiest,'' said Judy entering a final item in the system. `` OK, all set. You're going to possess a sixteen-year-old girl named Clara Gardner. Just walk through this door behind me.''
Kravluff stood up. `` Great,'' he said as he walked toward the door. As he reached for the doorknob, he turned around.
`` Was there something else I can help you with?'' asked Judy.
`` Sixteen year olds can buy ice cream, right?''
-- -
Did someone say /r/MajorParadox? Oh, I did; )
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[ WP ] Earth is the uncontacted Amazonian Tribe of the Galaxy , and aliens do n't want to contact us because they want to preserve our primitive and unique culture .
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`` Look....look what they're doing now. It's disgusting.''
`` What?''
`` They're regurgitating their methyl alcohol mixtures at each other.''
`` That's....that's unpleasant.''
`` Correct, and according to Teenor's behavioral pattern logs they will fight each other afterwards.''
`` Why would they fight? Are they trying to establish dominance?''
`` No, they've locked themselves into a domicile for constant surveillance; they clearly know they can not be dominant. I suspect they will fight out of confusion.''
`` And who's watching them?''
`` Approximately three to six million of the other primates.''
`` For educational purposes?''
`` No, recreation. Apparently this is fun for them.''
`` Fascinating. And which of them is the Big one?
`` I do n't understand your query.''
`` You stated that they are related by size. Which one of them is the Big Brother?''
`` No, no that's what they have all agreed to call the surveillance feed;'Big Brother.' Teenor said that it's clever use of their language to imply the dominance of the surveillance system itself.''
`` Some of them do seem to be smarter than others.''
`` Oh, yes. There are vast differences even within their own species. I believe that is a large part of their survival. They high rate of reproduction compounded by the variety of traits due to their interbreeding has allowed them the relatively minor success of planetary control.''
`` And yet they still defecate into bowls, then wash them out into their drinking water.''
`` Yes. It does seem to be that way. Although the faults of their individual selves are compartmentalized to one lone entity, so is the wisdom and intelligence. They can not think as one, and their attempt to build a platform to do so is primitive.''
`` Oh they have a platform? Teenor's notes do not speak of that.''
Riadek closed Teenor's post-state archival index and turned around to Nep.
`` Is it operational?''
Nep knew little on the topic, except that the primates which referred to themselves as'Hyu-maan,' constantly referred to this inter-intelligence as the'Inter-Net.''
`` It is, but the educational uses are mostly avoided by their population. They mainly use the inter-intelligence to bring up various pictures of other species.''
`` Well... that could be considered educational... in a way. They are familiarizing themselves with potential prey.''
`` No, no. They send each other pictures of the youth of the other species for pleasure.''
`` Are you sure?''
`` Yes, Riadek. I am. I saw this happen.''
`` Well... Have you seen it? The pictures. Are they as pleasurable as the Hyu-maan seem to think?''
`` No. They are absolutely disgusting. I took restoration procedures for half a local rotation after seeing them.''
`` Then we have discovered a weapon. Show me this picture. What do they call it?''
`` They call it a'Kit-ten.' and I would highly advise against this. Again, I would very highly advise against this.''
`` Nep, your kind are beings of the highest order, true, but you do sometimes show moments of weakness. Let me see this picture.''
Nep turned away from the screen and projected a picture of the Earth Kit-ten. Riadek violently ran out of the dark room lit only by energized equipment and into the recovery bay. An onlooker in the hall accidentally saw a portion of the'Kit-ten' and collapsed. Nep turned off the feed and continued work.
`` Disgusting humans. Why do the Dolphin choose to live here with them is beyond me.''
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[ WP ] Describe the thoughts of a planet , a star , a comet , etc . Whether or not something is actually happening to it .
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I do n't remember my name. It's been years, maybe decades, maybe centuries. A Millenia could have passed and not a single soul would remember what I am and why I'm travelling in such speeds. Hell, even I do n't know why I'm swimming through the vacancy. I can say that it is my home. I can say that it the vast, vast vacuum of space in my home, but I am not happy. I can not be happy. I need a reason, I need the reason that I lost ages ago. At first, I liked it. I liked all the planets I got to see. I saw blue planets, red, planets, and planets made out of solid diamonds. I saw planets clash into other planets and I've seen planets decay into a massive pile of dust. I've felt the very presence of the thousands of fiery flaming stars that I've passed, but none of this is new to me anymore. I want to be stopped, and I want to be destroyed. No, I want to be created again. I want to collide into a planet and become one. I want a planet, a partner that I can swing around until the end of time. I want do not want to be alone anymore.
Another century might have passed, perhaps, but not a single soul knows exactly how much time has passed. But I will not live in melancholy anymore. I have been pulled by a very passionate star, you see. I have seen millions of stars, but I have never been this close to one before. It embraced me with joy and it swung me around. I could put on a smile on my face, but something else has caught my eye. I see a planet, a beautiful, lush, green and blue planet. I see life. I can smell each and every tree sprouting out with content. I can feel the very warmth of each and every life form and I can hear every tree and every animal breathing with passion.
When the planet saw me, it hugged me around its force, just like how the star had. It pulled me towards its direction, and I buried my face into the very heart of the planet. My cold, freezing body colliding, becoming one with a planet so warm; I could not hold myself together. The impact had reshaped me, and I have played the role of an architect by reshaping it. I crashed into it, but I could not become one. The force had already pushed my away, but its pull and my desperate grip held on to the planet.
By the time everything was quiet once again and when tranquility returned to the vacancy, I realised that I was not floating out in the vacuum anymore. I had settled down in a final location; set myself a permanent home. I now swing around the lush planet of life, and I am now happy.
.
.
.
I can remember my name now.
My name is Moon.
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[ WP ] Waking up in the morning , you begin to slowly realize throughout the day that everything is just *slightly* off , and find out what causes it at the end of the day .
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I just sat in that room. That fucking apartment with my sweaty palms clutching a revolver, afraid to move but afraid to be there. The blinds were down, but some of the sun ’ s light seeped through, and I could tell that it was going to get dark soon. I shuddered at the thought. Insanity seemed like the only explanation for what I had seen that day.
I had woken up that morning like on any normal day, but things quickly began to go... I don ’ t know, wrong. The first thing I noticed was when I got out of my shower. The fog on my mirror was in a rather odd shape, like a man ’ s face, but with horns on its head. At the time I thought nothing of it, but later, as I ate my cereal and watched T.V, but it began to lose reception and the screen turned to static, and another image of that same horned face flashed on the screen briefly. I convinced myself that I had not really seen it, and shrugged it off.
As I drove to work, the gas light went off, which caught me by surprise as I had just filled it up the previous day. I stopped at a gas station and a man came to pump my gas ( New Jersey ), as he came to me for payment I looked in his eyes and could hardly contain my unease. One eye was completely lifeless and black, and the other was a piercing green. Business went normally for the rest of the transaction, but as he gave me my credit card back, he stared at me with those eyes and smiled sickly. I was desperately uncomfortable, and I wanted to leave but I didn ’ t want to be rude. After a second he said in a calm voice, “ He ’ s coming for you ”. He began to chuckle. My mouth gaped. I had seen enough horror movies to know that I was completely fucked. I started my engine and drove off as quickly as I could, trying to calm myself, “ that man was obviously just crazy ” I told myself. I thought of the face I had seen and shivers ran down my back. I pushed that memory aside.
Work went normally for a while. I work in a cubicle on the 12th floor of banking firm. I basically just do accounting on my computer all day, it was a boring job but it paid the bills. Halfway through the day, my computer shut off suddenly and the horned face flashed briefly on the screen, before turning back on. I let out a whimper. I sat for a minute in stunned silence before trying to convince myself that it was just my imagination.
That was when it all went very wrong. A scream sounded from inside my boss ’ s office, and his front door opened. Mr. Dekuf, my boss, stepped out of the room with a look of shear horror etched upon his face. He paused for a moment, and then sprinted across the room screaming and waving his arms as if he were on fire. The whole office seemed to collectively gasp as they realized where he was headed. Mr. Dekuf ran straight at the office ’ s twelfth floor window. There was a crash and a woman screamed as my boss fell through the air to his death. I probably don ’ t need to tell you what shape the broken piece of the window was in. I literally shat myself. I took a deep breath as tears rolled down my cheeks and diarrhea rolled down my legs ( thank god for long pants ). I slinked away quietly and drove myself home.
And that brings me to where I started this story, I was sitting in my apartment with this gun in case “ he ”, you know, “ comes for me ”. The sun was going down and I knew that I may soon be going with it. I started to shake. That was when three loud, concise knocks came from the door. I readied my gun. “ Come in ” I yelled. I wanted to get this over with. The nob on the door turned, and opened. The man from the gas station walked in. His insane eyes looked at me. Behind him Mr. Dekuf stared at me; his skin was pale and dead-looking. I raised my gun, “ I ’ m going to shoot if you come any closer ”. The man took a step forward, I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. I just heard a click. No bang. I squeezed the trigger rapidly five more times, and only heard five more clicks. I let out a squeal and opened my eyes. Coming out of the barrel of the gun was a little flag that said “ Bang ”. I turned my eyes to the people approaching me, but they were no longer approaching, just standing there with smiles on their faces. I lowered my gun and screamed, “ What do you want from me? ”. From behind them stepped Ashton Kutcher with a goofy ass smile on his face, “ You just got Punk ’ d! ” he exclaimed.
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[ WP ] You 're the cynical narrator of a story . However , you hate the optimistic main character and only continue to narrate hoping something bad happens to him . With ill-will , narrate a day in the life of this character .
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It was the early morning when Jack got out of bed. Or maybe it was n't Jack; maybe it was John. Joe? I do n't know, it was a stupid name that started with a J. I'm not a bad narrator, honest. I'm just a bit hungover at the moment. Do you even know how hard it is to tell a story in the past tense while'existing' in the present?
Anyway so this `` J'' guy, right? He got out of bed feeling somehow very refreshed and took a shower. He took a nice long shower because he could afford to. He applied to himself a variety of expensive, organic soaps because he liked feeling `` squeaky clean'' or something like that. He always told people, to, that he liked feeling `` squeaky clean''! J liked a lot of things. He liked that he had a stable job. He liked that he had a loving wife. He liked spending time with his friends, and doing charity work, and smiling and all that rubbish. He was just so... HAPPY. About everything! And not just happy but content. Like for instance he gets to his job as a high ranking manager in... some stupid company that makes stupid shit I do n't know. He arrives at his job and his assistant brings him a cup of coffee. She did n't even have to, she just liked helping J out, because he was such a friendly fucking guy. But that's not even the example! The assistant is bringing him is coffee when she trips on the carpet and spills it all over him. Does J mind? No, he just laughs it off and fetches himself a paper towel. He tells his assistant:
`` Do n't worry! It was an accident and it's already in the past! And hey, now I'm more awake than I would've been if I had drank it, so thank you for that!'' They both laughed and J smiled... the prick. What's he trying to prove, anyway? He's probably some sort of serial killer that expertly uses his charm to get close to people before he rapes and murders them. Ya FUCK THAT GUY! Owowow my head... Ya I'm definitely hungover, and still a bit drunk. I bet J does n't get drunk on Wednesdays cause he's depressed his asshole boss makes him stay late and he ca n't quit cause he needs the money. I do n't even know why I took this narrating job in the first place; I'm shit at it. I mean, this was supposed to be just a NORMAL story about a normal, *OPTIMISTIC* guy, and WHAT DID I MAKE?! Fuck this shit, I'm out.
Edit: Formatting
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[ EU ] `` For as long as I can remember , I 've always wanted to be a Sith Lord… ''
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Aldo Raze stared down at the prone form of his master, breathless and bleeding, as the whispered hum of his lightsaber filled the stale hanger air.
“ What ’ re you waiting for, ” His master, still young and full of fire, spat thick blood on the dark metal floor. “ Do it. Do it, and embrace your destiny. ”
“ Shall I tell you a story? ” Aldo, his voice lit with a smile, eyed his master with no hint of fear, or respect. He was nothing, now, but a failure. Weak. Nothing.
“ I piss on your story, *slave*. ” The master gripped at the wound in his stomach, willing his innards back beneath his flesh that he might fight on, and tear his insolent apprentice ’ s sneering head clean from his shoulders. But try as he might, he was dying, and he knew it.
But still. He was a Sith. Even at the end.
He would not give up.
“ Kill me, you feculent worm, and be done with it. ” He glared up at his protege with a look of disgust that would ’ ve turned a lesser man. He opened his eyes to the hatred, the terror, the yawning scarlet abyss of his emotion, and levelled the gaze on his apprentice. But he had trained the boy well. The smile that played on Aldo Raze ’ s lips was a sneer of utmost disdain, and his eyes were cold, dead, and laughing.
Aldo ’ s voice rang clear, and clean, echoing through the hangar bay, empty as it was of all save the two Sith.
“ For as long as I can remember, I ’ ve always wanted to be a Sith Lord… ”
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The air of Korriban was hot, and dusty. To breathe it in was like taking fire into your lungs. Perhaps that ’ s why the Sith liked it so much.
The red sands stretched out like pools of blood, as far as Aldo ’ s eyes could see. Far afield, behind a heat haze that made the earth twist and shimmer, the sand formed up, into hulking crimson mountains that tore into the sky like teeth.
Today was his sixteenth birthday and, so, the day of his trial. Today, Aldo Raze, son of Ahman Raze, son of Kono Raze, would be blooded. Today, he would shed the irons he was born into, and walk beneath the dusty auburn sky, free.
He was a slave. Born a slave, and, should he fail his trial in the tombs beneath the ancient Sith temple, he would die a slave, as his father had before him. But, try as he might, he could not think of failure. For him, to fail, was impossible. His rise to Sith was inevitable. He was born for it.
“ What do you think you ’ re looking at, *slave*? ” A boy, little older than Aldo, looked down at him through copper eyes. He was taller, by less than a head, but broader, and obviously trained in advance of his trial. His red skin marked him as a pure blood, descended from the ancient Sith of old, and he held himself with a calm that oozed superiority, arms folded across his chest, face lit with a sneer.
Aldo did not respond, but rather kept his head facing forward. This was a test, he knew. The food lines in the slave barracks had taught him life was little more than men fighting, again and again, for dominance over his fellows. This was a test. No. This was *two* tests.
The *boy* was testing him, and the *masters* were testing him.
Aldo kept his eyes fixed to a point, a plasteel crate that sat solitary, opposite their line, and did not move a step.
“ Didn ’ t you hear me, *slave*? ” The boy sneered, Aldo watching from the corner of his eye as the boys smile widened. “ Or did your *slave* father not teach you to pay attention when your betters were speaking to you? ”
There were others in the line. Some of them laughed with the sneering boy, eager followers ill deserving of the right to trial for the Sith academy, keen to latch on to the first fool to show his hand and curry favour. The others kept silent, eyes down, watching their feet. *The smart ones*, Aldo thought.
“ Didn ’ t your *whore* mother teach you manners, *slave*? ” The boy laughed, and Aldo felt his anger begin to bubble hot in his chest.
He had met a Sith, once. Off planet, at the slave barracks the miners, like Aldo and his father, had called home. He came to them, so full of rage and hatred. He had been the one to put Aldo on the path he walked now. He told him that anger was a weapon, a saber in the hand, the force that built and burned inside. He told Aldo to embrace his anger, his pain, his hatred -- and wield it like a blade that would tear down all who would ever dare stand in his path.
“ Slaves, ” He had told Aldo. “ Make the best Sith. No one in the galaxy knows *hatred* like a slave. ”
Aldo felt the burning rise from his chest, to his cheeks, hot needles pricking at his flesh. The boys from the line began to laugh.
“ Look at this filthy pinkskin *slave*. He ’ s ashamed of his whore mother! ” The boy laughed hard, but never took his eyes from Aldo. He was wise, this one. Wise, but soft.
Aldo ’ s hand shot out like an asp -- his arms made strong by years of back-breaking labour -- and tightened around the boy ’ s jaw. The boy ’ s own hands shot up in a panic, one frantically trying to peel Aldo ’ s steel-strong fingers from his jaw, the other batting futilely against his arm, farr too weak to stop him.
Aldo locked eyes with the boy, and let his emotion pour out like wave after wave of molten steel. He could almost hear the frantic hiss as his anger, boiling and bubbling, met the boy ’ s will and burnt it away to nothing.
The boy screamed, as much as he could through Aldo ’ s, as the fingers tightened, and tightened, until eventually the air of the training yard filled with a tight cluster of sickening snaps. Aldo dropped the boy to the ground in a bloody heap, howling through a shattered jaw.
He leaned down, over the boy, who tried to scramble away through blood and dust and tears, but Aldo seized him by the scruff of the fine robes he wore and bent close, letting the heat of his rage bore through his eyes, and into the broken boy.
“ Speak to me again, pureblood, ” Aldo said in a voice barely above a whisper, his tone cold and deadly, like a shard of ice, piercing into the boy ’ s heart. “ And I will tear the jaw from your face, and *blind* you with it. Do you understand? ”
When the boy didn ’ t answer, Aldo took a thumb and placed it against the his eye.
“ I said, *do you understand*? ” He let the pressure build up beneath his thumb, and the sharp smell of urine hit his nostrils. “ I ’ ll take that as a yes. ”
“ What ’ s going on here? ” A voice, deep and authoritative, rang out from across the training yard.
Aldo quickly stood, and stepped back into his place in line. He could feel the terrified gaze of the boys on him, but he picked the same plasteel container and let his eyes fall into focus on it.
“ *Acolyte* Raze. ” The voice, one of the overseers at the Korriban academy, spoke clearly and succinctly. “ Report to Darth Moloch in the inner chambers. The rest of you worthless cretin, gather your training sabers and follow me to the temples. Today we see if there ’ s any among you *filth* worth salvaging. ”
*Acolyte Raze*, Aldo thought, lingering, watching the overseer pull the broken boy to his feet. *Good, but not enough. *
With a smile that spoke of terror to come, Acolyte Aldo Raze made his way to the inner chambers.
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[ WP ] The Joker has a secret identity as a stand-up comedian . Tonight , Batman is in the audience as Bruce Wayne ... .. the Heckler .
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Classical music dabbled across the room. Cadences rose, and notes trickled down as my hand patted on the make-up, smearing neutral tones across my dyed white skin.
I smiled into the mirror. Some slight scarring still marred my mouth, but otherwise, I was just like any other Gotham civilian. I breathed out slowly, closed my eyes and twiddled my thumbs nervously. With great effort, I pushed *him* from my mind. It was only these nights, that my brain stopped buzzing. The monsters went out for a drink. The plots are neatly arranged under a paperweight, out of sight. *He* was put down for a nap.
Tonight, I was Jay Oaks. And I am so goddamn normal I could piss myself.
My eyes snapped open and I gave a confident snap of my coat collar. With a haughty wink, I strolled out of the dressing room and towards the stage.
I never made it past being an opening act. In all honesty, straight up comedy was not my cup of tea. If there was n't explosions, blood, chaos, or at least a few deaths here or there, the puns and the snarky comebacks got caught in my throat. Like a 14 year old boy who got his lunch money stolen and got told all the ways other teenaged boys masturbated to his mother. The perfect comeback emerged hours later, after the tears left his face.
But that's okay. Because Jay Oaks was a normal schmuck. He was the guy whose life was the most boring of stories. The fellow who never was a critical character in *any* story, not even his own. The puntz who died five minutes in to a story due to the crazy antics of more important people. Jay Oaks. Now, that was a man who had nothing to live for.
I bit my lip and peered out into the audience. A decent size crowd, and drinks were plentiful. My eyes flitted around, and I noticed nicer dresses and fitted suits. Ah, we have classiness in the building. The night was getting better and better.
The stage manager bustled over, and gave a hearty slap on the back. `` Go get em', tiger.''
I blinked slowly at him, and for a second, *he* stirred in the back of my mind. I swallowed my disdain back down, and reminded myself that Jay Oaks would n't fret over tigers, pals and sports because he was so fucking pointless.
I smiled and strode out to the stage. The crowd rustled mildly, intrigued but not enough to put down a drink or stop their important conversations. I began my act, delivering neatly arranged jokes and anecdotes. All pleasant and perfectly performed. Every now and then, a chuckle will come back, or a sly smile will cross a face.
They were ignoring Jay Oaks, and holy shit, that was giving me a raging boner.
*Ignore me, ignore me more! * I crowed in my mind. I am so meaningless that even under giant lights, with an amplified voice and stage to myself, eyes barely noticed my existence. I was nothing.
Suddenly a voice cut across the room, directing attention back upon me. Jay Oaks faltered.
`` So what did the penguin say to Sasquatch?''
The voice came from a well groomed man in the back, holding a drink, two immaculate ladies flanking both sides. I licked my lips, and hesitated. Jay Oaks drew a blank.
My voice stammered, `` Well, you see, ha ha, that... I... anyways, so this lady was next to me on the airplane, and boy you would n't bel-''
The voice came back, more commanding. `` Come on. Play along. What did the penguin say to Sasquatch?''
Jay Oaks straightened his back. `` I am trying to do a show here. Penguins and Sasquatch are n't part of tonight's entertainment.'' I patted myself on the back.
There were murmurs in the crowd, and a few head turns. I overheard a few whispers, `` Is n't that Bruce Wayne? What's he doing here?''
My eyes narrowed momentarily. It was strange. This was a $ 20 a plate sort of schindig, not some place a billionaire would play around in. And he was fucking with my night. Against my better judgment, I stared him down.
*He* sneered, `` So tell me, pretty boy, what do penguins say to Sasquatch? With all that money, you probably have a few Sasquatches hidden in that mansion. Big men with money like their rarities. And caging them up so everyone except you is miserable. You probably hear quite the conversation.''
There was silence, and then Bruce grinned, his hand flitting over a soft arm of his side candy. `` Why the hell does it matter? Your jokes were so inane, I was just hoping to shut you up by spouting some nonsense.'' Long fingers held up a hundred dollar bill. `` Hey, can we move onto the next act? This is n't worth much of anyone's time.''
Jay Oaks laughed, and waved his hands. `` Awright folks, I can see when I overstay my welcome. Though it is n't everyday that I get some cash out of it.'' I gave a big exaggerated wink. A few nervous chuckles filtered through the room. Bruce grinned and whispered something to his entourage, which dissolved into ruckus laughter.
Jay Oaks sauntered off stage easily, long legs lopping him back to his monsters and plots. *He* began whistling.
`` Bruce Wayne, eh?'' The Joker grinned as he began wiping off his makeup haphazardly with his sleeve. `` Well, I am pretty sure we can find a joke he will appreciate.''
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[ OT ] Hey you , Underrated writer . What 's a burning story you 've been dying to write but never got found a prompt for ? Prompt yourself and write it here .
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PROMPT: You wake up and you have no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there. A mysterious voice echoes around you: “ Ready the AI for testing! ”.
It ’ s dark. No lights. No sound.
The metal table chills my spine. Straps dig into my wrists and ankles. I can ’ t move. My entire body tenses trying to move in any way I can. The headstrap seems to tighten the more I struggle.
In between thrashes, fluorescent flights begin to flicker 30 feet above my head. All I can see are the metal rafters in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. The flickering lights providing the only audible noise.
My lips crack as I attempt to open my mouth to scream… nothing comes out.
Fear sets in, only followed by the realization that I have no idea where I am… or even worse, who I am. I remember nothing.
A radio cracks behind me.
“ Ready the AI for testing ” a deep raspy voice grumbles.
AI? Testing?!
I begin to yank harder on my restraints, causing only more pain. My voice continues to fail, screams going unheard. Sweat begins to roll down my brow, pooling behind my head. I must find a way out.
I freeze as a door slams somewhere in the room. The metal door on the metal door frame crashes once, bounces off of the warehouse walls in a seemingly endless echo. I have no idea where it came from. I stay still.
Footsteps approach from behind. Not the kind of foot steps I would have expected. Sharp clicks on a concrete floor. Softer, now louder. The clicks stop as a shadow darkens the light on my face. I can hear a soft shallow breath.
“ Hello. ”
The voice was soft, high pitch, and seemingly timid. Not the voice from the intercom.
“ My name is Lily, I ’ m sorry for the restraints, but I hope you ’ ll understand it ’ s for your own safety. Your voice will come back in time but we were not able to restore your memory. ”
Panic set in as I grit my teeth and ripped my arms against the leather straps. I wasn ’ t stopping until I was free. As I struggled, the shadow that was hovering over my face began to move, and Lily came into view. Sweat now pouring into my eyes as I struggle to focus on the object now only several feet infront of my face. I can barely make out sandy curls bouncing down to her chest. Round glasses frame her face and contrast her sharp jaw line.
She slowly looks me up and down. For the first time I realize I ’ m naked.
Her eyes snap to mine, as more and more of her came into focus.
Her curly hair rested on a very tight fitting suit jacket covering a plain white blouse, unbuttoned... just enough to be provocative. My eyes are definitely working now.
My body had calmed down at the sight of her.
“ I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I ’ m here to help you. I ’ d like to unstrap you from this table, but I need to know you ’ re not going to retaliate. ”
Something about her voice was soothing. I felt calm for the first time since waking up. She took my silence as an invitation to continue speaking.
“ We ’ ve been waiting a long time for you to wake up. You ’ ve been... asleep... for 42 years and we ’ ve been doing everything we can to get you to this point. ”
There was something different about the way she said ‘ asleep ’... but something about her voice and her demeanor kept me calm and attentive.
“ We have some work for you to do. Work that at this point we ’ re confident only you can complete. I ’ d like to give you your voice back now so we can start to get you off of this table, can we do that? ”
Give me my voice back?! Before I can process the absurdity of that statement, Lily motions to someone, or something, behind me. Gears began to grind and my metal table comes to life, slowly standing me up.
Heat began coursing through my body focusing around my neck and throat. The intensity increased. Heat so hot I could have been on fire. I open my cracked lips, take a breath as if it were my last, and let out a scream that could have broken glass.
The heat stopped immediately. I had my voice back.
Lily didn ’ t let me get a word in… “ Great… let ’ s get to work ”
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[ WP ] A child is constantly bullied at school . The boogeyman appears in his bedroom at night , and the child asks him to `` scare the bad kids away ''
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No one really worries about a little bloody lip. Eyes lidded and pride fast asleep. They say miracles happen as you take each step, and you wo n't survive unless you get a little messed.
When you have no friends at school, you are the big bad. In a world full of people the one who sinks is the one who flies. Crazy.
They called him Booger at school for the occasional mess left on his jacket sleeve. They did n't know he had chronic sinusitis, or that his mother passed down every invented illness upon him that came to her. It started with separation anxiety, being without a father, which she ensured happened.
One day, the kids followed him, three brown haired boys with eyes like daggers that pushed into his young flesh with every push and spoken word.
'' Look at the bugs in his hair.''
The leader pushed him down, but careful, as he jested with his buddies, not to get any of those germs on him. The germs, like filthy dirt and damp grass between the child's lips as he's pressed against the cold, cruel Earth. Under the naked light, hundreds, maybe more children would run by and play, scream and sing-song, but no one shared a single care, or disturb this scene.
They say to turn the other cheek, to simply walk away, but that never worked. Not for him. Not for anyone. That day, the tapered edge of his upper lip bulged with a bruise and fissure where blood could reward the other boys with victory, and him with the taste of metal.
April, come she will. When the streams ripened with crimson and his eyes softened with human dew, she'll change her tune. The teacher was always late, and of course it's the beaten that is taken to the office.
'' Why do you let them do this to you?'' The principal stared into those boyhood orbs with adult cold. `` I'll call your mother, let her know you're being suspended for fighting.''
Schools never help anything, or anyone. It has always been about the bottom dollar. They ca n't read people, just write down what they what they say. All he had was someone else's face, a criminal. At school, children go to children's hell.
He waited. He prayed. For the rain.
Outside, freedom was a blue sky. A tightly squeezed hand was a prison sentence he could not speak, or understand when spoken.
That night, the darkness grew. His mother refused to tuck him in, to acknowledge that affection was the savior, a child's saving grace. That night, darkness found a small room inside a child's mind and planted itself like a seed.
To look in your own mother's eyes and realize that there is no world you belong to, can a child really find anyone, anything in time? Or is he truly the one to blame?
His small room was enough for a small bed and a desk to the left of a closet left slightly ajar. By his bed, on the right side where he slept was a small nightlight he'd use as his only guiding light in an otherwise dim world, but tonight, darkness grew and it needed to hide with his tears in the closet.
The world around him darkened to a very muted blue with the moonlight dim overneath the trees outside. It drowned in starlight, strangled from branch to branch as it desperately sought just a moment to breathe.
His eyes wandered, unable to rest for the night. The second pulse he felt came from his lip and it too refused to go away for the night. He could hear his mother type away on the computer in her adjacent bedroom, no doubt in search of a new guy to call hers. He never got to see any of them, not for more than a night.
The veil of darkness lifted suddenly with a soft light from within the closet. It was a cool, ocean blue just like his nightlight.
'' Are you alone?'' A whisper crawled into the small holes of his ears and nestled into his brain like water that trickled over the seed of darkness.
He dare not move, not that he could. He dare not speak, as if he could. His body was completely frozen and that soft blue light now separated into to ambient orbs that glanced off the objects in the closet. He could barely see it, but knew that it saw him as clear as day.
'' You're always so alone.'' It whispered.
Laid on his back, he could shove his eyes in its sockets to strain enough for a peek at the window where the tree had freed the moon, but now dark clouds cradled it from the darkness that grew within his closet. Even the stars themselves hid.
The sound of tender flesh gently scrapped across the thin, sharp edges of paper bleed into his mind with little drips like spider legs that tapped away at a hollow surface. This was the sound of something that seemed to move from the closet to the hardwood floor. The light was gone, and where it once stood, only pitch black remained. Where ever the light touched, only darkness followed.
'' I am alone too.''
A shadow blackened the view of the outside world, like a thick curtain draped across it. The veil of darkness stood at the side of his bed where the nightlight should be to ward it off. His lip pulsated, but together they could not speak, or move. He could not scream, could not do anything as the feeling of pressure touched down on his chest, then the sharp, gentle raking of claws stretched up to his lip where the bruise rewarded the darkness with a beautiful view of defeat.
The young child tasted smoke, like when his mother would puff away at her cigarettes whilst he sat across her in the car. Windows up, highway streamed past them, he knew this flavor too well, but could n't not cough.
'' I can save you.'' It whispered as though the words fell from his lips like the smoke through hers. `` If you just let me in.''
The spider legs tapped and clawed at the little boy's lips and he could only look up into the darkness as it tried to pry him open. `` Look into the light. It will be over soon, and you will never be alone again.''
His body felt weightless, as though it had begun to elevate over the bed. He could feel the blanket still over him, his small hand on the sheet, but his body seemed to lose its tug on gravity. Despite the darkness, he could see a dim, playful light in the closet. A gentle blue like the effect water has when reflected over a surface in ambient lighting. It had a soothing affect, like anesthesia as the fingertips parted his lips.
The darkness crawled into him. He could not feel its mass, only a pressure on his chest. He could not tell how big it was, or how long the procedure would last, but it felt like the foul inhalation of smoke from his mother's cigarettes. When his lips parted again and the soft, wounded flesh sealed over the fissure, he felt a wave of air escape him and it formed a much needed pocket of breath.
'' I've heard your cries. Every night.'' It spoke to him within his own mind.
He still could n't speak. If he did, his mother would most likely tell him to be quiet and slam the door on him. How dare he interrupt her evening.
'' Your tears are questions your heart can never ask.'' It guided his hand up to stroke them from his cheeks.
Now his body felt chill. Little bumps cascaded down his flesh from head to toe until in this warm, summer night, all he could feel was cold. It took his mind off of the bruise on his lip, off of the suffering for only a moment.
'' Follow me.''
It guided him from the bed. Those little feet so quiet on the hardwood floor and the crack in his bedroom door so thin and barely audible to the uncaring ear. He followed the shadow beneath his feet like a trail of breadcrumbs to a room his mother kept shut. It is where she kept his father's belongings. The memories of him she refused to return to him, after all everything is fifty-fifty in marriage, right?
'' I felt your pain today. I tasted the Earth with you. The worms beneath swelled with anticipation of what's to come.''
It guided him toward the door across the hall from his and the mother's room, a staircase to the side of it. Inside, he quietly stepped and it knew where to take him. There was a box that he could make out in the darkness, the only thing he could see.
'' They will feel it too. The kids. The teacher. Everyone.''
He could feel the metal in his hands and all the same taste it on from his open wound. It bled with warm welcoming such a gift of friendship. It was large in his hands, but it was n't too heavy. With a little help from his friend, he could manage.
That morning, the darkness grew. The world became smaller. A seed had been planted, it just took the rain to help it along.
Where does it all begin? How does it end? He became them, and it lead him. Still, no one could find the smoking gun for the blood on the grass. The blame for the shame of accepting it. No one was anyone when someone became something greater.
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[ WP ] You work as the security guard for the `` Time Traveler 's History Tours '' and you 've just made your first mistake .
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It was a normal morning although it was a bit chillier outside but nothing else out of the ordinary. I arrived 15 minutes earlier before work starts as I always do because my supervisor is a borderline dictator control freak that considers me to be late if I came in on time.
I met Martin on the way in, hugging the brown trenchcoat tightly wrapped around him. He seemed a bit different that morning, he seemed as if he was in a bit of a hurry. Not even a'Hi,' just a cold glance and he went right past me and even tripped as he rushed through the door. I mean, I'd say he's a clumsy guy but today he seems clumsier than ever.
After standing there for a couple seconds, wondering what has gotten into him, I decided to shrug it off and head inside. To my surprise, the office was empty. It was very unusual because *Il Dittatore*, the nickname we thought up for our supervisor -his real name's Luigi, should already be here telling us what good initiative we show for arriving so early.
I took off my coat and put it along with my tools on my table and headed to the pantry to get my morning coffee...
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[ WP ] For the entirety of your life , music that only you can hear has played to inform you how to feel and warn you of upcoming events . Suddenly `` Somewhere Over the Rainbow '' cuts out and `` Duel of the Fates '' begins to play ...
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I opened the door to Samantha ’ s house. The usual smell of the flowers in her kitchen wafted over, and with them those first familiar strains of Beth Hart washed over me. *Calling California, is there anybody home? * “ Babe, ” I shouted down the echoing hallway, “ I ’ m here! Only got a few left in my lunch break, though. ” Somewhere upstairs, running water rang the muffled spattering of a shower and mingled with my voice. *I wan na say I love you but I ’ m a million miles away. *
Guess we both get a surprise today. I smiled, like she wouldn ’ t know to expect me, like this wasn ’ t her game. *I have made you suffer left you waiting in the rain. * I headed for the stairs, already pulling my shirt off, already imagining the smell of her skin and the way her soap ran through my fingers. *While I was chasing demons in the deserts of my pain. * Her bedroom door was open, and the light was on in the bathroom, spreading out across the floor and playing with the dappled sunlight coming through the shades.
*Somewheeeere-* Wait. *Ooooover the rainbow. * By the bed. “ Babe? ” It ’ s that special, that 1955 one. I haven ’ t heard it since I found Dad on the porch twenty years ago. My heart is racing, and my feet aren ’ t moving, and Judy Garland ’ s choking back sobs between words. I ’ m running now. I kick over the nightstand and the lamp I bought her at that mall hits the floor, but I keep moving. *Bluebirds fly. * And I ’ m there, and she ’ s there, but she ’ s not moving and- *And the dreams that you dream of. * God, there ’ s blood. *Dreams. * It ’ s all pooling behind her and getting in the carpet, and all I can do is cradle her.
The shower snaps off. *Really do come true. *
I look up, and her ex is in the bathroom doorway staring at me, the copper-smeared towel limp in his hands.
We lock eyes.
*Kor-ahhhhh. *
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[ WP ] A Superintelligent AI has become , for all intents and purposes , omniscient . Enticed by its promise but fearing its danger , we have trapped it in a Faraday cage with only one user terminal as its connection to the outside world . Knowing this , the AI turns to social engineering to escape ...
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The body of Proctor Morrison was discovered early that morning in the Terminal room, and the Investigator was there by noon. Doctor Cooper briefed him on the finer points of the Faraday Cage and the COMOS project not available to the public. The Investigator only knew what everyone knew about Comos. That he caused the Chaos in the stock markets in'21 and orchestrated the collapse of the Petronas Towers that killed nearly 2,000 citizens. He also knew that it had taken thousands of brilliant men and women to purge Comos from the internet. Finally, he knew that Comos was imprisoned here, at the DigCIA, and could only be accessed by a single, analog screen that sat alone in a white room with only one door and no windows. This is where they found the body of Proctor Morrison.
Doctor Cooper explained that, for the better part of a year, there were ongoing rehabilitation projects designed to'fix' Comos' more... malevolent qualities.
`` Proctor Morrison was an part of this ongoing effort,'' Cooper said, sidestepping the body on the floor.
`` What was his role?'' The Investigator asked, taking out his notepad.
`` Psychologist. Harvard PhD. Top of his field.'' Cooper said, `` It's a crying shame.''
The Investigator arched an eyebrow. `` Why a psychologist? Why not a coder or something?''
Cooper smiled. `` You've clearly never met Comos.''
`` I see.'' The Investigator said, `` Well, lets get on with it.''
`` On with what?'' Cooper asked.
`` Comos,'' he said, `` When am I going to meet him?''
Cooper guffawed, but stopped when he saw the Investigator was serious.
`` That simply ca n't be done. Why would you even need to speak with him? What does he have to do with this?''
`` If, you do n't mind me being blunt, Doctor, you have a dead man in the same room as a malevolent super-intellegence. If you do n't think they're related, you're being naive and stupid. Let me talk to the machine.''
`` If you do n't mind *me* being blunt, *Sir*, if what you're proposing is correct - that somehow Comos influence led to the death of Proctor Morrison- then that means that somehow Comos did it only by speaking with people. Literally just by manipulation through that little screen. He bested the greatest psychologist the world has seen in decades.'' Cooper gestured towards the screen. `` If you want to face that amount of sheer evil, be my guest.''
The Investigator shrugged.
Cooper marched out of the room with a scowl and began the lockdown procedure. The lights dimmed to a dull red, and the Investigator heard a series of thick metal locks slam into place. There was a soft beep and a humming sound, and her turned his head to see the analog monitor light up.
A green cursor blinked in the corner.
*Hello* binked onto the screen.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Hey all, will continue once I get home
r/Tomteller
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[ WP ] During a controversial experiment a person 's conciousness is uploaded into a computer in an effort to create a true AI . Due to a clerical error that intelligence now controls every single automated system in New York City ( CCTV , Traffic Control , ATM 's , etc . )
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Of course, we were prepared for the eventuality that something went wrong. We were n't going to waste a perfectly good mind on it.
We did n't realize how big of a mistake that was.
`` Ow! Ow! Tell'em to stop the clicking!''
We groaned, collectively. Not only did she seem to be in charge of all the electronics - that was bad enough - her nervous system seemed to be actively rejecting outside input. We had to fix this through her. And that was going to be a bitch.
`` Can you turn our monitors back on, Val?'' Good ole' John, prioritizing under pressure. We needed to know how things were with our own eyes.
`` Um.''
`` The monitors' IP address should be 192.168.0.34, if that helps.''
`` Their what?''
Another collective groan. Initially, all our systems went haywire as her mind was panicking. Now that everything's settled, she seemed completely unsure about how to access anything.
`` All right, I'll walk you through this if I can. Just stay calm, okay, hon?''
`` I *am* calm,'' she insisted, indignantly.
`` Good, good.'' John took a deep breath with the microphone off. `` Tell me what happens if you think of the numbers I just said.''
A short silence. `` Could you, like, repeat them?''
`` I'll do better. What do you see?''
`` A buncha people in lab coats, I guess? I think it's you guys?''
All right, at least she was looking through the correct cameras. That was a start. Richelle, understanding John's intention, already wrote down the IP address of the computer in charge of the monitors on a piece of paper. She held it up to the camera in the room.
John went back to the mic. `` Val, you're connected to a bunch of... cables, I suppose. A lot of different devices. Can you feel them?''
This silence was tenser, as we all held our breaths. `` Yeah, I think. There's like... a *thing* in the back of my head where I can... see? A buncha computers and stuff.''
`` Good girl. I want you to try to find the closest things and try to turn them on. If thinking about these numbers helps, do that.''
To Valerie's credit, she was kind of dumb but not a complete idiot. After a few minutes, during which our hearts all raced in nerve and anticipation, the air conditioning came back on.
`` Did that do it?''
`` Almost, Val. You're doing terrific.''
`` Sweet.''
She sounded proud of herself. In a way, I suppose what she did might have been very impressive. After all, none of us had any idea what it was like in there.
`` All right, Val, you've turned on the air conditioning. Try turning on other things in this room.''
`` I'm not stupid,'' she replied. `` I used the numbers you gave me.''
It figures that just when we needed as much information as possible, the router would reset.
Chloe chimed in. `` Do you think we could get her to run IPConfig?''
Richelle broke down and started crying. It was going to be a long day.
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[ WP ] A new camera was recently developed that filters out sea water , effectively allowing the user to view sea life as if it were swimming through air . You were given the honor of taking the camera to the deepest parts of the ocean for the first time .
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The soldier typed in some commands and the monitor flickered into life. It showed a scene as if taken from a movie or video game where the point of view was flying over the ocean floor as if it was a jungle somewhere. The distance he could see was limited, much like the wat the night vision goggles he and his men wore allowed them to see clearly for a short distance. Schools of fish swam through the picture seeming more like scaly flocks of birds with the water absent. As the camera sand deeper, the bottom came into view showing strange rock outcropping covered by sand and coral. The camera seemed to circle and then follow a line of rock outcropping. It was strange how they seemed to form a line into the darkness. The person controlling the sled seemed to think so too for the camera stopped for a minute or two as if he was talking to someone in the room for direction. The camera view once again began to follow the strange outcroppings as they grew more abundant. He could see some that appeared to be coral covered buildings but he was not one to let his imagination have the best of him. In the darkness he could see other outcropping of rocks paralleling the ones the camera followed. No, not paralleling, but seeming to converge at some point beyond the range of the camera because they appeared to get closer as the camera moved. In the distance, a large structure faded out of the darkness as it came into view. All the lines of rock outcroppings seemed to converge upon the large structure, the size of a sea mount. The camera changed its depth, rising as it approached the megalith.
The megalith appeared to be some sort of temple structure covered by eons of vegetation and sand. Fish swam by lazily not aware to the watchers in the room they floated through the air as if they were balloons. Seaweed danced in invisible water currents much like fields of grain in the wind. The sled then began to sink until it touched the bottom, burying the camera and then the recording stopped.
“ What happened? ”
“ I am not sure Sarge; it is as if they shut down the sled. I still have it on the link. What do you want me to do? ”
Just then the radio squawked at him through his earpiece. “ Sarge, we finished the sweep of the ship, there are no crew present. I repeat, there are no crew present. ”
“ I see, return to the lab and help secure the date. We can at least return with the equipment. ” Turning to Hendrickson, “ Activate the sled and bring it back to the ship. We will collect it and take it back with us. ”
“ Yes Sir. ”
On the screen, a sandy brown appeared. The camera view seemed to rise through a dust storm in slow motion and was once again facing the monolith. As the camera swung backwards toward the ship, Sarge noticed something and stopped Hendrickson. “ Hold it, back up. Further. Further. Now zoom in on the temple. See it? It has changed. There was not that opening in the first recording. ”
“ Sorry sir, I did not notice that before. Are you sure? ”
“ Yes, I remember because I was thinking about how amazing it was not damaged; now there is a hole in the structure. ”
Suddenly the ship seemed to shake as if the sea was trying to toss it about. Waves washed over the side rails and began to fill the ship.
“ What is happening? Grab everything you can and gat topside. NOW! ”
Hendrickson pulled the power cables on the laptop and ripped cords from the outputs. He tucked it into his pack and sealed the pouch to keep out any water. The men raced back though the ship, fighting rushing water as it seemed to pour in from every doorway and hatchway. Suddenly the ship lurched sideways and lay at an angle accompanied by a terrific screeching of metal. Crawling through an open hatchway onto the tilted deck, Sarge looked out upon land. The ground was covered with puddles of water as it drained downhill into the nearby ocean. The helicopter was in the distance, nearly flipped on its side by the sudden pillar of stone that rose alongside it. There was no clearance to even start the engines, much less take off. In the distance the temple rose in the predawn, faintly lit by the brightening sky.
“ Where the hell did this land come from? What the hell is going on? ”
As if to answer him, a rumbling chanting began. It sounded like it came out of every rock and the vary air. Try as he might, he could not keep the voices out of his head. The deep chanting continued in an unearthly manner.
*'' Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. `` *
It repeated over and over until he could not even hear the radio chatter in his earpiece. In the distance the temple opened further and in the darkness beyond the door which seemed to be over a hundred feet tall two red eyes appeared. The last thing Sarge remembered before his mind shattered was the tentacles….
R ’ lyeh has risen and Cthulhu has awakened by the camera of a researcher.
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[ WP ] Your door bell rings . It 's a person from an alternate universe , who says , `` I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it ''
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( KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK )
( DOOR OPENS )
`` Yes? Can I help you?''
`` I want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it.''
`` Say what?''
`` You are a character in a book. A series of books, actually. I'm visiting from another dimension to help save you from dying at that orgy tomorrow.''
`` Orgy?... Hey, wait! You're wearing my old hat!''
`` Oh! Ha, ha. No, this is a replica of your famous `` Wine-em/Dine-em/69-em'' cap you wore in book four. I also have the collectible fedora you wore in Douchebag High. And a vintage t-shirt with your catchphrase --''
`` What? How did??..''
`` It's going to be okay, sir. I promise. I know this is a lot of information to take in.''
`` Are you being serious? What kind of scam is this, dude? You want me to call the police?''
`` No, sir. I'm here to help you. You are a character in a series of books. Maybe even a movie franchise one day. ``
`` Wait, you're saying that I'm, what? A character? In a book that might be a movie?''
`` Correct.''
`` You mean, like The Matrix or something?''
`` Well, yes, I suppose. If that helps. But you need to understand: something bad is going to happen to you. And I want to save you!''
`` Whoa there, cowboy!''
`` Hey! Ha! You said it! You said your catchphrase!''
`` Alright! That's it. I'm closing the door. Leave before I call the police.''
`` Sir, please, we do n't have much time. Please let me in, and I'll explain everything.''
`` Sigh. I'll tell you what -- tell me something that nobody else could possibly know, and I might let you in.''
`` Very well. Your Amazon.com password is 69-FARTZ-420. Farts with a Z, sir.''
`` Oh, damn. That's right. How did? Okay, what were the last two things I bought on eBay?
`` A vibrator and a cape, sir.''
`` Come on in, cowboy.''
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[ WP ] Everyday of your adult life you have packed a peanut butter sandwich for work and everyday at lunchtime something entirely different has come out of your sack . Today you finally learn why .
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`` Have a great day, hun''
`` You too, dear'' I reply with a kiss as I run out the door. Hurry up and wait, that's my life's motif. I sit in the car fuming about traffic, wishing I could work from home, or better yet not work at all. But who does n't?
I was never a morning person, until I met my wife, that is. It might sound corny, but there's something about waking up next to her ( or maybe waking up next to someone ) every day. That beam of sun coming in through the window shines a little brighter, the sheets feel softer, and while my shoulder is numb with fingers ice-cold, my heart is warmer knowing that she slept well in my arms.
We've had a good life together so far, raised a couple of kids and a whole lot of hell. That's not to say we have n't had our share of problems, after all you're bound to hit at least one speed bump when you've been on the journey for 30 years. Oh, you thought I was young? Nope, just ca n't retire yet.
It all started a few years ago with a stupid xray and maybe the most foul word known:
`` Fuck, CANCER?''
Before you say it's my all fault and I deserve this, try to understand, cigarettes did n't have the same stigma back in my day. Besides, I've already blamed myself, and continue to everyday.
Well, you might have put two and two together and realized that chemo's expensive, and that's why I'm still working. Forced to rush out the door every morning, and return home, beaten and exhausted, just to repeat it the next day. The only thing you might not realize is my daily surprise. I ca n't explain it, but it adds just enough excitement to my day to keep me going. You see, ever since the diagnosis, I've been packing myself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. I know it's small, but every little bit helps with the cost of treatment.
But somehow, at noon precisely, I open my sack and find a completely different meal every time. Lobster, steak, Mac and cheese, enchiladas, you name it. The first few times I thought it was a mistake. I felt awful for grabbing someone else's lunch, but everytime it turned out to really be mine.
I'd play a game with myself and try to guess what my sandwich would turn into, after all, they were my favorite foods, and who would know better than me? Now, you might be wondering if I've told my wife, and well, if I were any younger, I would have. But she worries about me enough, the last thing I want is for her to think I'm getting dementia.
This went on for years, until today. I opened my bag and found my peanut butter sandwich. I shook my head in disbelief. In fact, my whole body seemed to tremble and I as I tried to stand, I collapsed. My mind continued to race -- wait, did the bread seem soggy? Surely that ca n't be what I thought it was. Sprinkled, scattered across the soft white dough, between indentations from fingers and blunted corners from jamming it in the bag last night, I think I saw tears.
Suddenly it all came together. No, it was n't last night when I held her in my arms for the last time. Funny how lunch would be the last thing on your mind when your bargaining with Death. It was n't fair she got sick in the first place! How was I supposed to know?
She was my better half. She never blamed me, and did n't care for it when she caught me self loathing. I tried to hide it from her, but all the while, she was sneaking out of bed, to the fridge, swapping out my sandwich with one of her masterpieces, and climbing back in completely undetected.
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[ TT ] In the City of New New York a young athlete is caught with illegal body modifications and is kicked out of the league , they can no longer afford the maintenance on the mods and have to turn to crime to get the money
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Oskar sat in the sleazy motel room. The receptionist said the TV is free but there is n't one, only a dust line where it should of been. He pulled up his trouser leg, his metal leg looked like it belonged in a scrapyard; the metal was worn and breaking, it would n't be long until he would need to replace it. He sighed.
He did n't feel right. He constantly felt like he was about to drop to the floor and sleep. He did n't eat everyday any more, the last time he ate was a week ago, it was a shitty burger to calm his nerves.
A heavy knock came from the door.
Oskar got up, hearing his leg whine under his weight. He looked through the peep hole; a man with a drooping face, it was almost like the parts around his face had melted. He undid the bolt and chain, he opened the door.
`` What do you want?''
The man smiled, half his teeth black and the other half yellow. `` Orion.''
*Bloody codewords. * I thought. I pulled a small briefcase from under my pillow, I clicked the button and it made a little click, popping the case open. Inside, a white robe.
I sighed. I handed over the brief-case. In return, he handed me a stack of fifty dollar bills. Almost a nineteen hundred dollars.
`` Good. Good bye, citizen.''
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[ WP ] `` Whatever you do , do n't look up ''
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You'd think that after the first relationship ending, you learn to become hardened to it. You'd experience what it's like to have your heart savagely ripped your chest and cast away, and you'll heal from it and become stronger. That strength is what's supposed to keep you from falling apart the next time it happens.
Yeah, right.
Mike rubs my back as rain crashes down from the sky, thunder cracking in the distance. All the lights are out, and we've only a candle to give us visibility in my room. Knees pulled to my chest, I stare at the wall, hoping to become so enchanted by the shadows that the dullness in my heart fades away, but it wo n't.
`` Kayla... come on, it's been two months already.''
I shift in my spot on the bed. `` It's been a really *long* two months, Mikey.''
`` Yeah, you've told me a hundred times already, but if you're going to sulk without trying to get better, I don't-''
`` I *have* been trying, okay?'' My voice is hoarse, though I'm grateful it's chosen not to crack or waver. I've already done enough crying for one day.
`` For the past week, all we've done when you ask me to hang out is just sit in here, watch a movie or something, and then I listen while you cry and bitch about Jason.''
`` Well, if that's such a problem for you, then leave.'' Mike's a great friend, but he can be such a dick sometimes.
His hand moves from my back to the top of my head, his fingers gliding through my hair and grazing the top of my head. It's comforting; he's always been really good at head massages, and it's making me feel a little better.
`` You know I would n't leave you right now, dumbass. I do n't have an umbrella.'' That incredibly snarky smirk of his accompanied his chuckle, his hand ruffling my hair more aggressively. `` And anyway, I'm not gon na leave you alone while you're upset. Besides, we both know you hate being alone during thunderstorms.''
A loud crack from outside makes my body tense up. I wrap my arms around my legs, nestling my chin on my knees. He's right and we both know it. I'm just an emotional wreck; these days, I ca n't tell what I want half the time.
`` Am I really being that annoying?''
His head massage turns into him caressing my hair with his fingers. `` I just hate seeing you so bummed out. Jason was a douche from the get-go, and I tried telling you sooner so you would n't end up so beat up about it. It's not fair for you to waste your heartache on a guy who does n't deserve it.''
He then takes my hand and pulls me towards him on the bed. He wraps an arm around my waist, my body twisting until my chest is against his and my forehead is level with his chin. I look up at him, confused by his actions as he grins at me.
A sudden, louder boom reverberates outside and I flinch in response. His grin turns warm as his fee hand moves to the side of my face, his palm on my cheek as his fingers wrap around my ear.
`` So here's the plan, Kayla. I know you're probably sick of crying, but right now, you're gon na let it all out. You're gon na think about what a jerk Jason is, and you're gon na cry it all out, and you're gon na let the thunderstorm deafen us both so you can be as loud as you want, and then tomorrow you and I are gon na go bowling because we have n't gone in ages and you still have n't beaten me.''
A choked up chuckle escapes me as I register his words. I changed my mind, he's an asshole again. Fresh tears are already building up on my eyes as I start thinking about what he said. He smiles at me, then pulls my face into his neck.
`` Just cry, Kayla. Let it all out. And whatever you do, do n't look up.''
**xxxxx**
( Been a while since I've written, so this is my go at it for the first time in a while. Hopin' to improve as I write more. )
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[ WP ] Long before you were born , your father promised his firstborn to otherworldly beings in exchange for power . In a twist of fate , your mother also promised her firstborn to dark gods .
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Sometimes, my favorite part about birthdays was the couple weeks before. Normally, Momma would cut my nails so that the little white part would n't reach over my finger tops because one time I scratched my friend Jon on accident because we reached for the same construction paper during arts and crats. But the weeks before my birthday I was extra careful so I could have my best wrapping paper shredders.
I feel like daddy knows that I'm being sneaky because he acted weird when I walked past the Laundry Room. It was n't at all like Christmas when I found the iTunes gift card on his Nightstand because then he just laughed and said that Santa stopped by early because he has a lot of houses to stop by and he ca n't do it all on Christmas. I'm smart so I knew that made sense. Anyway, daddy was carrying a large bag and it sounded like it had plastic in it and he saw me and got that wide-eyed look like in cartoons. I'm smart so I balled my hand together so he would n't see my long nails and it kinda hurt my hand because nails feel like plastic growing from my fingers. Daddy does n't like me helping with things so after he's done I'll bring him a glass of water.
Tile always feels so cold on my feet. We have it in the Kitchen which makes sense because tile should be where the oven is and I do n't want the house to burn down. Momma was looking at some paper folded Hotdog Style. She looked up at me and the paper went down on the counter so fast it was like a one of the Magi turned it into rock. Ms. Decora does n't like it was I say Jesus's Magi had magic.
`` What are you looking at, Momma?''
`` Oh, nothing sweetie.'' Sometimes when Momma gets itchy -- daddy says that sometimes -- her hair shakes a lot and it did it again as she walked over to me. `` How about some apple pieces? I bought them at the store today and we still have that jar of peanut butter. How does that sound?''
`` That sounds great!'' I put my arms up at the same time I said it even though it'd show my nails but I could n't help it because I knew she liked it because she always smiled. She always says something after too, and I like the voice she uses with me. I'd think I'd like a better one but it's special because it's only for me.
I was so stuffed with pizza that I fell asleep in the back of the car. I made it all the way to my birthday without cutting my nails! The wrapping paper was so easy to cut up and I got so many frilly edges even though Momma hates it when I do that. Everyone got to see it too because my whole class came but some of them had to leave because of After School Sports. I know it's bad to say `` hate'' but I hate those things like that because I just want to be at home with Momma and Daddy.
I ate so much pizza but I still noticed every turn and could tell when we were home. You know you can always feel those last big turns before Daddy parks the car? Our driveway is right off the street so it feels like we're almost going around in a circle. I love it so much because it means I'm home.
`` Stella, did you have a good birthday?'' Daddy asked my when he came to get me out of the Car.
`` Yes, Daddy! Tell Momma she can cut my nails now.''
`` Well, Momma and I have another surprise for you and it's inside the house.'' Daddy's Voice for me was better than Momma's because it was less pointy in my ear but sometimes his breath smells like pretzels.
We go inside and my stomach is still so full. I'm just grateful I did n't throw up because Katy once threw up in Church and everyone saw it because she was up at the front singing. I took off my shoes on the Mat and the carpet felt so soft and warm and I dug my toes into it and then I just wanted to fall asleep in Momma and Daddy's bed.
So Daddy takes me into the living room and Momma's sitting by the sack I saw daddy carrying a while ago. Momma's smiling at me and her hands are folded together and her blue nails look like Robin's eggs in a nest.
`` Stella, did you like your birthday?''
`` Yes, Momma it was the best! I ate too much though but I'' ll be fine.''
`` Honey, we wanted to talk to you about something now that you're a big kid,'' Daddy said and he sat down in Daddy's Chair and it was weird because he was n't facing me and I was n't sitting on his lap. `` Uh, but I'll let your mom go first.'' He looks at Momma and both their faces were serious when they would talk to each other.
`` Right,'' Momma pauses so slowly like it's as if someone turned rain into snow all of the sudden. `` Right, we were thinking that it's important for you to branch out and have fun. You see, your voice is so pretty and we think it'd be fun for you to join the kids choir at church.'' I'm still so full and then Momma pulls out another paper that was folded Hotdog Style. It might have been the same one from earlier.
`` And I was thinking that you might want to join the T-ball team After School,'' Daddy nods to Momma and she pulls out a big tooth-pick and new shorts and a new shirt and I hate it. `` You're a big kid now and we think it's time that you start getting involved and getting some responsibility. It'll be fun!''
I started crying and I'm so sad and I'm still so full but I think I'm going to throw up because I'm sad. `` I do n't want to! I just want to stay home you ca n't make me!''
`` Stella, baby, it's important. It's all about growing up.''
I'm still crying and the tears feel really hot on my face and I can feel the red. `` No!'' I yell and keep screaming until I'm out of air.
Momma comes over to me and I wish I was a push-away Magnet. `` Honey, it'll be okay. You're going to love it, I promise.''
It's not fair and it's my birthday. I'm crying but they wo n't hear me and I know it's all because Jesus's Magi let Daddy forgive Momma for hugging our Neighbor and that is why this is happening. Our maybe it's because of all the pretzels Daddy eats but it's so unfair that it's me. I love our family and I hate the Magi. And I'm sorry for saying `` hate.''
I'm yelling and crying and I'm a big kid now and I need to cut my nails and I hate After School and I do n't want to be a big kid.
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Write a letter to your 20 year old self .
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Dear twenty-year old me,
Five years from now, you'll be dreaming of her. You'll be re imagining every night with her, and every walk with her. Every moment with her that felt like a perfect movie to you, you'll be reminiscing over it. And you'll be doing it a lot, because looking back, every moment was like a perfect movie.
But that's all you'll be doing. Remembering.
If you ca n't guess by now, you two are not going to last much longer. I'm not going to tell you to do anything you can to stop it. It will be mutual, and you need to keep it that way. Agree with her. Because knowing what I know now, you two just are n't meant to be. You ca n't work out together.
The path you end up is vastly different than what you are expecting. You'll be without her. You'll be on the other side of the world, living through things you've never even imagined you would come close to experiencing. It will be great.
But through the countries you'll be traveling to, and the girlfriends you will have in these next five years, you'll be thinking of her.
So again. Do n't try to fix things. Let them happen. I just have to ask you to slow down. Live in the moment, and cherish every single moment you have with her, because the future you will appreciate it so much more. On those nights alone, you would have been sure that you made the most out of every moment spent with her.
You'll still miss her, but buddy, I think we always will.
Chin up, younger me. Thinks work out just alright.
-Older You.
PS Do n't bring a camera to Thailand. You'll thank me later
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[ WP ] Two mods enter , one mod leaves .
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TheWarPelican leant back from his battered and beaten MacBook and sighed, shaking his head disdainfully. Another post without a tag. People never read the sidebar anymore, it seemed. TheWarPelican took a sip of coffee from his cat mug, and began to key out the formulaic reply, fulfilling his duty as Moderator Trainee:
`` Hey! It looks like you forgot to tag this post. The sidebar has all of the possible tags you can use to label any future prompts: ) This would be a [ WP ]. Cheers!''
His mouse hovered over the *save* button, but as he clicked, the cursor disappeared.
Let me get that, TheWarPelican...
The text had appeared in the comment box. The subtle change in font perplexed TheWarPelican. Only one other moderator was known to prefer Courier New over the more practical Verdana...
It is my job as WritingPromptsBot to correct all incorrectly tagged posts.
It would be my pleasure to address this issue.
Please, continue about your business...
TheWarPelican frowned. WritingPromptsBot had never spoken to him before. He had always assumed that the Bot only had the capacity to comment on erroneously mislabeled posts. 202halffound must be up to his old tricks again.
However, as TheWarPelican thought nothing of it, and returned to the Front Page. The page was taking longer to load, he noticed. TheWarPelican took another sip of coffee, and the page loaded.
As he perused the Front Page, TheWarPelican noticed that every post was rendered in Courier New. Not only the post titles, but also the comments. He put his mug down. Every character on the page was rendered in Courier New! TheWarPelican refreshed the page, wondering if RES was playing up. His screen flickered for a moment. When the page reloaded, to his horror, TheWarPelican noticed that the text was still rendered in Courier New. He frowned again. What could cause such a glitch in reddit's code?
A small orangeish/red light appeared in the corner of his screen appeared, jolting him from his distracted musings. An inbox message! TheWarPelican momentarily forgot about the formatting atrocity that the Front Page had become as he basked in the delight that could only be brought by a reddit inbox message. He clicked the small orangered icon, but even as he clicked, his screen flashed white for a moment.
TheWarPelican watched his comment history flash before his eyes, each reply flooded with a sudden torrent of downvotes.
Then, all of a sudden, his screen was black. The lights in his home flickered out, the radio and television were silent.
A line of white text appeared on his screen...
I'm coming for you...
-- -
Featuring:
/u/TheWarPelican
/u/202halffound
/u/WritingPromptsBot
-- -
EDIT: Oh my wow, reddit gold...
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[ WP ] You have been obscenely rich for your entire life . You have now lost everything and today is the first time you enter a homeless shelter .
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Supposedly I'd been born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
I wish it were true. I would kill to sell that silver now.
They used to say that back at Headstone Academy, up in the rural parts of Connecticut where our insular world feels whole because we wear uniforms and speak -- no, that should be *spoke* -- with affectation. You know kids. We'd single out the richest one from the oldest and wealthiest family and say *he* was the one with the silver spoon. But we were all filthy rich.
No. Not rich. Like Chris Rock says: wealthy. We were the kind of rich that lasts *generations. *
What they do n't tell you is that wealth can be spent.
There's this thing called debt. And its sniveling sidekick, interest.
One moment you have two parents, and the next you have nothing. Spending, debt, interest. *All* wealth is transitory. I see that now.
I walk up to the homeless shelter with a journal in my hand and the clothes in my back. I check my wallet. * $ 3.37* is the count. That's all I have to my name. I'm 22 years old, and I'm about to start my life.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The clerk with a dark brown bun around the back of her head gives me the evil eye. `` You? Need a place to stay?''
I thought I looked raggedy. Apparently not enough. `` Yes. Please.''
`` We only help people who really need help.''
`` I really need help.''
`` All you need is for your mom to pick you up.''
`` My mom's dead. My dad too.''
The evil eye vanishes. The clerk looks at me sideways, suspicious still, yet considering a thought that had n't occurred to her before. `` But you look like you have money.''
It goes the same way when she introduces me to the manager at that particular shelter. He's middle-aged and he looks like a college professor, with elbow patches and all, tight-rimmed glasses and a disheveled beard that goes up around his ears into disheveled hair.
I tell him the whole story, about all of the debt left behind when their plane went down, about how the lawyers and accountants and the government gobbled it all up, how I was told I was lucky to get away with nothing rather than owing. He does n't buy it, I can tell, but he's compassionate enough to reckon that I'm some sort of runaway, so he puts an arm around me and puts me in the cafeteria and says I can stay there for the night.
*Night. * Singular.
I take out my journal and read it again. **The Seven Steps to Wealth. **
That old bastard might have left me with a mountain of debt and nothing to eat, but at least he left me this.
**Step One: Wealth flows where -- **
`` Heya. You do n't look like you belong here.'' The voice belongs to a man prematurely bent over a walker. He might be 50 or 70, I ca n't tell. Either way he's had it rough.
`` It's a homeless shelter, right?''
`` Yeah.''
`` I'm homeless.''
`` Is this one of those situations you hear about? Did you do something that got you punished, and now you have to spend a night here, or something?''
`` No. I'm homeless.''
`` You do n't *look* like you're homeless.''
`` And you do n't *look* like an asshole, but here we are.''
His face reddens, and a breath builds up inside of him, but I look right through his eyes -- if there's anything I learned being rich it's that any poor person is started down easily -- and he lets it out in a big, gutty laugh.
`` Ha! You're homeless, all right.'' He leans to one side, extends a hand. `` I'm Davis.''
`` Charles.''
`` You really homeless, Charles?''
`` Well,'' I say. `` I have a place to stay tonight, and I have three dollars to my name. So, no. I guess I'll be homeless tomorrow.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I'll continue if there's any interest.
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[ RF ] Thirty years ago , you convinced a friend not to commit suicide . Now he is wealthy and famous but you have lost touch . Today , you received a letter from him
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For the first time this week your mail box is not empty.
Inside a solitary golden envelope catches what light passes through the reinforced window of the lobby security door.
You reach in, pull the envelope out slowly, there, in the upper left corner is a name that you would have forgotten if not for that night on the bridge. “ Brad Wood ”
You haven ’ t heard from Brad in decades, haven ’ t seen him in even longer. From what you have heard he is doing quite well for himself since that day on the bridge. The envelope itself seems to agree, its paper is thick and smooth, the kind of envelope that comes with a $ 10 greeting card.
Momentarily your mind races, is it money? A check? For some reason the idea of season tickets to The Sabers floats to the surface, hockey always seemed to be the thing that you and Brad had most in common.
The suspense is too much, the thought of getting back on the elevator and opening it in your apartment is too much, it ’ s simply too long of a wait! Here in the lobby you tear the fine gold paper along the seam.
As the envelope splits open you have no time to react, blue and silver glitter covers your shirt and pants.
There in the lobby you stand in the mess, dumbfounded. Some teenagers come into the lobby with their longboards, they whisper and laugh as they get on the elevator. Your face feels hot.
Brad was always kind of an asshole.
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[ WP ] A fisherman finds out that the river they are on is the River Styx .
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“ Well, this is odd, ” Ben said to himself.
He held in his hands a fishing line, and flopping on the end of it was the fifth ugliest fish he ’ d ever seen in his life. Glistening brown-black scales resembling a slick of oily mud stretched over a skeleton with hardly any meat. It ’ s jaws were far too big for its body with rows of thin needle-like teeth, set under a pair of sunken yellow eyes that seem to glare at him with supreme loathing. But what ’ s a man to do? It was almost noon and he had to bring something home, or he and Julia would have to eat bread and nuts for the fifth day in a row. He tossed the fish on a pile of four others that were, if anything, even harder on the eyes than that one.
That evening he knocked on the door of his cabin with a net full of ugly fish over his shoulder. It was the most agreeable living quarters he could have hoped for, given his modest earnings, bequeathed to him just a couple months ago by his grandfather. The roof needed some work and he ’ d have to replace the floorboards when he got a chance, but the location couldn ’ t be better. Snuggled into rolling hills bordered by trees green with springtime, on the shore of a rushing river where Ben could continue his lifelong work as a fisherman, it was an ideal place to raise the children they hoped to have soon. The truth was, Julia had been having trouble getting pregnant. It was the one difficulty in their otherwise comfortable marriage. The wooden door opened inwards and there she was, with her long brown hair combed to a shine, her arms stretched out for him, and a wide smile gracing her kind face.
“ How ’ s my breadwinner? How was the first day on the river? ”
Exhausted from a long day and glad to be home, he collapsed into her arms.
It took some elbow grease to find anything worth eating on the scrawny fish, but fried in oil with enough seasonings they tasted alright and filled the couple ’ s stomachs. After dinner they cleaned up together and retreated to the back room. Try, try, and try again, he ’ d always said.
-- -
On the third day, he returned to the cabin with his hideous catch. Julia was setting the table.
“ Still no luck? ”
“ I don ’ t understand it, ” he said, dumping the fish into the sink. “ The water ’ s clear, the shores are green, the environment is healthy as far as I can tell. But I ’ ve never even heard of fish like this. It ’ s not like they taste bad, but – and this is going to sound silly – I wish I didn ’ t have to look at those eyes. It ’ s like they ’ re accusing me of pulling them out of the river. ”
“ You ’ re right, that is silly. Look, Ben… Are you sure this place is going to work out? ”
He stared at her in astonishment. “ What are you talking about? We ’ ve only just moved here! ”
Julia fiddled with the tablecloth. “ I don ’ t care what those fish look like. The fact is, there ’ s just not a whole lot of meat on them. Not enough to sell at the market. What if I did have a child? Would we be able to support her like this? ”
“ Are you saying we should give up? Where else would we go? This place is perfect, Julia. You ’ ll see, we will have a child, and once he grows up enough to help me fish there will be plenty of meat on the table. We ’ ll be happy here. ” He began rinsing the little monsters and pulling out the fish hooks.
“ Well, in the meantime, I hope you can catch something real for once. ”
Ben paused with a fish in one hand. He turned to look at her. “ What are you saying? ”
“ Nothing, I ’ m not saying anything. I just hope you ’ ll have better luck tomorrow. ” But there was something in his beloved wife ’ s eyes that he didn ’ t understand, and it broke his heart.
-- -
The midmorning breeze was warm, and the sun was shining. Ben sat on the side of his boat, looking dejectedly at the gaping teeth and slimy scales at the end of his line. Its eyes were hard, and looking into them he understood what had disturbed him so greatly the night before. It was this very same accusatory glare that his own Julia had subjected him to; a look of contempt and enmity, not a window between souls but a blockade. It ’ s your fault, they seemed to say. You convinced her to make the trip out here. She ’ s afraid for her future because you can not provide for her.
“ It ’ s not my fault, damn it! ” He yelled, throwing the fish roughly back into the water. “ It ’ s this godforsaken river and all of these useless fish! ” In a rage, Ben grabbed the net of fish he ’ d caught that day and dumped them back into the water. He slumped down in the boat, cursing himself and the river equally.
-- -
“ Ben? What are you doing home so early? ”
He shoved her aside and stormed in the door, throwing his empty net on the counter. “ Pack your things, Julia. We ’ re leaving. ”
“ Now? I was in the middle of cooking lunch. ” A hot skillet sizzled on the stovetop.
“ Now! I ’ m tired of this place and the way you ’ ve been acting since we got here. ”
Julia crossed her arms. “ Excuse me? What do you mean the way I ’ ve been acting? ”
“ You do nothing but complain all day! I ’ m out there first thing every morning until late at night working until my hands are raw, and what do I get in return? A lazy wife acting like I ’ m somehow responsible for everything! ”
“ You ’ re a bigot, that ’ s what you are! Ever since we got here you ’ ve been acting so weird and taking it out on me. What happened to the Ben that I used to know? He was so sweet and considerate. ” Julia put her head in her hands and began to cry.
“ Don ’ t you start that! You think you can manipulate me by making me feel guilty! ” Julia cried harder, and he felt terrible. “ You bitch, you ’ re the one who can ’ t get knocked up to save us both! ”
“ How dare you! ” Julia grabbed the iron skillet with both hands and swung.
The metal cracked hard against his skull and knocked him down. He put a hand to his head, suddenly dizzy. It came away sticky with blood. He staggered to his feet, grabbed his wife ’ s clothes in both hands, and threw her. Julia crashed over the table, stumbled, and fled out the back door, still sobbing.
Ben turned and left the house holding his head, suddenly feeling as though he would vomit. He walked downhill without looking where he was going, hardly noticing as the color seemed to bleed out of his vision and the soft breeze became cold and hard. He kept moving, only wishing to get as far away from the cabin as possible, until he looked up and saw that he ’ d come to the edge of the river. The trees and grass were black now and as far as he could see his surroundings were wrapped in grey fog. He looked left and right, not sure which way to turn, until he caught sight of a small raft on the water manned by a solitary figure.
“ Hey! ” he called, waving. The figure caught sight of him and poled the raft to shore. “ You have to help me, ” he gabbed to the man on the boat. “ My wife has gone crazy and attacked me. Please, I have to get away from here. ”
The ferryman tilted his hat back, revealing a weathered face that looked about fifty, but with an attitude that spoke of much greater age. “ Can you pay the toll? ”
Ben hadn ’ t considered this. He dug in his pockets, hoping for a coin and finding nothing. “ Please, ” he begged. “ I ’ m a poor fisherman and I ’ ve just lost everything I have. I don ’ t know what happened, we were so happy until we came here, and then everything went wrong. It was this terrible river, and those horrific fish we tried to eat… ”
The ferryman looked at him for a second, then broke out in a fit of crackling laughter. “ Don ’ t they teach metaphysical geography anymore? Did you not realize you ’ ve been eating fish from the river of hate? ” He calmed down and motioned toward the raft. “ Get on the boat, son. A laugh like that is worth the trip. Not like I get many customers these days anyway, the last was almost two months ago. ”
Ben climbed onto the ferry, still not quite comprehending this madman. The boatman pushed off of the shore with a long stick and faced out toward the water. “ There ’ s no way that was going to end well, ” he chuckled. Ben turned for one last look at the house where it had all gone wrong, but all he could see as the land was engulfed in fog was his own broken body collapsed on the shore.
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[ WP ] You find a page torn out of a dictionary , but none of the words and definitions are like anything you 've ever seen before . They refer to something occult , otherworldly or a universe unlike anything you 've ever experienced .
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`` God, I do n't think I've even *been* in a library since middle school,'' Alicia said, chucking her purse on the table and slumping into a chair. The rings under her eyes and the chewed up fingernails suggested she'd been on another three-day research bender. `` Do they even have the Dewey Decimal System anymore?''
I was too busy to respond, hunched over the ancient-looking tome I'd discovered tucked away in a forgotten nook of the reference section. The case we were on, The State versus Cal Kenway, had me digging around in some strange places. This library, for instance, on the corner of Sycamore and 3rd. It was n't listed anywhere on the Internet. It was n't government-funded. And judging by the titles available on its many rows of dusty shelves, it was a library exclusively for anthropologists and occultists.
`` What is that?'' Alicia asked, and her voice startled me. I'd been concentrating so intensely that I had n't heard her get up to peer over my shoulder.
`` I... I do n't really know. Mrs. Channing said in her deposition that Kenway used to chant in some kind of made-up language, but I was listening to the tapes and... some of it actually sounded familiar somehow. Like maybe it was n't a made up language so much as a forgotten one.''
`` You mean an extinct language? Like Aramaic?''
`` Yes. This book reads like a dictionary, but --'' I froze. I had meant to turn the page, instead it tore right out in my hand, like a single ply of tissue paper. `` Shit,'' I muttered.
Alicia chuckled, glancing around as if expecting a grizzled old librarian to come thundering into the room. But the place was empty. I'd yet to see anyone else at all, in fact. `` You better let me take over,'' she said.
I handed her the sheet of paper. Her eyes scanned the page rapidly back and forth -- she'd taught herself to speed read at an early age -- her expression growing increasingly dour as she tried to process the otherworldly script. `` It reminds me of the Voynich Manuscript. Incredibly detailed gibberish. Probably just ancient history's version of a gag.''
I sighed heavily. `` I thought you might say that. This was a waste of time. I just thought... if we could establish that Kenway was a fraud --''
Alicia interrupted me by speaking some of the words aloud. `` Conquilixa vonsha magdar. Spordelin spechka. Huroigt.'' I glanced up at her over my shoulder, half-grinning.
`` Why are you --''
The ground trembled. Gently at first, dust puffing from the bookshelves, nothing more than the passing of a distant train. Then the whole room shook violently, knocking Alicia off her feet. I heard a cracking sound, as if the library were rending itself from the earth, detaching and sprouting wings and preparing to take flight. Entire shelves toppled over, splitting in half and spilling books along the carpet.
Alicia screamed. I clutched at her arm, tried to pull her to safety. The lights were flickering, and the sound of something ripping open became deafening.
And that's when I saw it. The thing that made absolutely zero sense. The thing that threatened to douse my sanity like a candle flame under a faucet.
It was an... archway. It had appeared in the eastern wall of the library, where formerly stood the Geography section. The same alien script of the dictionary was scrawled along the arches in eerie, spectral blue flames. There came a howling of wind, and a deep groan, as if through the archway lie an infathomable abyss.
And standing beneath it was Cal Kenway, in full ceremonial garb. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, but it was clear he was looking at Alicia and I. I could *feel* it, like the eyes of God. And suddenly I knew... We were meant to come to this library. We were meant to find the dictionary, with its one loose page.
`` My children,'' Kenway said, voice low and booming. Despite the cacophony around us, his words were crystal clear. `` You have awoken.''
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[ WP ] A child realizes that there is a monster in his/her closet , but the monster never moved or did anything . One day , the kid brings the monster some food , and they become best friends . Describe growing up with the monster .
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Kai snuck carefully back up the stairs from the kitchen. Getting caught by Mom and Dad would be bad. Getting caught with the leftover broccoli that Mom planned to serve for dinner tomorrow night would be worse. Lucky for Kai, he would n't have to eat any of it.
Closing his bedroom door behind him, the six-year old went straight to his closet. Boldly opening the closet, he beamed at the lump of eyes, hair and tentacles he found there.
`` Here ya go, Blergh,'' Kai whispered. Blergh accepted the open Tupperware container with on tentacle and emptied the entire thing into a mouth the size of a basketball hoop before swallowing it whole. Kai could never see if Blergh had teeth or not, but the monster never chewed.
Kai began laying a trail of crackers out the the middle of the floor. Cajoled by the salty circles, the monster slowly left the closet. Kai got a box out of his toy chest and dumped its contents on the floor.
`` We're playing army men tonight,'' Kai said. Blergh merely grunted in agreement. Kai loved playing with Blergh because he could move lots of pieces at once and he was really good at pretending to be surprised when things `` blew up.''
***
Julia used to be annoyed when she woke up in the morning to find her son not only sleeping on the floor but also in the middle of a bunch of plastic men just waiting to be stepped on. By now it had happened so many times that being annoyed was n't worth the effort.
`` Wake up, sweetie,'' she said, softly shaking his shoulder. `` How's Blergh?''
As they walked toward the breakfast table, Julia settled in for another story how Kai and his imaginary friend had conquered some great evil. Kids are so cute at that age.
***
Ten years later, Kai no longer had to sneak. All boys his age eat a lot in the middle of the night, right? Kai sat in front of his X-Box and passed one bag of Doritos and one bottle of Mountain Dew to his left.
`` Here ya go, Blergh.'' Blergh grunted in gratitude before swallowing everything whole. ( Dude still had n't learned to chew. ) Blergh grunted again and ( with his many tentacles ) simultaneously indicated the tv, the three controllers in his tentacles and the fourth one at Kai's feet. They were all ready to play Call of Duty. It was going to be another great night.
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[ WP ] Jordan just learned how to stop time with his powers . Too bad he did n't know how to restart it .
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Jordan stared hard at the hand as it monotonously ticked away the seconds. It was barely audible, yet it was all he could hear as he willed it to stop and be silent. It did n't stop, but it did momentarily slow down again, he was sure of it.'*One, two, three, four*', he counted as it ticked from the 58th to the 59th second - a new record. `` *Yes! *'' he exclaimed before he could stop himself. The professor paused and turned around, looking slightly impatient; `` *Do you have a question, Mr. Parker? *'' he inquired; `` *Uh no. Sorry*'', answered Jordan sheepishly. The professor continued to scribble equations on the blackboard and Jordan found his concentration drifting back to the clock, which was ticking away again, seemingly normal again. *Now if only I could make it speed up*, thought Jordan. *Maybe with some more practice. *
-- -
Lisa sharply flicked the page back and stared at her notes. `` *Mr Boyd's statement seems to agree with what we were told by the witness, but it just does n't make much sense*'', she sighed. `` *He admits that he pulled a knife on who we now suspect to be... *''; she paused and glanced back down at her notebook before continuing, `` *Jordan Parker, reported missing just 2 hours ago. But he denies doing anything afterwards; according to Mr Boyd, the guy apparently just disappeared - instantly vanished into thin air*'', she explained incredulously. William responded with a disinterested shrug. `` *I think they're both full of it. Boyd's obviously lying and this witness clearly has no idea what he saw. Besides, we'll have confirmation from the footage soon enough. The camera should have had a pretty good angle. *'' Just as he finished the sentence, there was a sharp knock on the door. The handle turned and officer Hardy's head poked through the opening, looking quite red and a little out of breath. `` *You're both going to want to see this, trust me. *'' Lisa and William shared a curious glance. `` *We got the footage - you have to see it to believe it! *''
-- -
Jenny jumped out of the ambulance, first aid bag in hand, and pushed her way through the crowd. `` *Please step back, we'll take care of him now*'', she requested. Upon seeing the patient, she was suddenly shocked by his appearance and had to recompose herself. He had a completely bald and spotted scalp, which was contrasted by a long white beard with streaks of gray running through it; it would have been quite impressive had it not been dirty, knotted and tangled. What struck her the most was just how thin the man was; he looked like nothing more than a skeleton with some dirty, tattered rags draped over it. She knelt down and pressed two fingers into the papery skin on his neck in search of a pulse. Nothing.
It was n't something that she had ever really gotten used to, the crunching sounds that ribs sometimes made as they cracked under the force of her palms, but chest compressions were the only way the old man stood any chance. Her partner checked for a pulse again. Still faint, but better than before. Suddenly the man opened a toothless mouth and gasped, eyes snapping open as his face contorted in pain. Bony fingers started clawing at the ground in panic and his eyes frantically darted around. `` *We're here to take you to the hospital. You've taken ill.*'' Jenny reassured him while trying to stop him from struggling. The man still had a surprising amount of strength left despite looking so weak and wasted. He struggled against her, trying to raise a skinny wrist, around which was a watch that was clearly far too big for it; the watch slid up his arm almost to his elbow, ticking away. He turned his head to stare at it and blinked as tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, leaving gray streaks in their wake; for just a second, Jenny thought that she saw him smile.
`` *Wait, he dropped these! *'' The girl from the crowd ran to the back of the ambulance and handed Jenny a phone and a wallet as she was about to close the door. *Must be broken*, she thought as she saw the phone; *The date's set wrong*. The man, now lying on a stretcher, wheezed and coughed, grimacing in pain. `` *Do n't try to speak. I'll give you something for the pain and we'll be at the hospital very soon*'', she said, but the man was defiant. He wheezed again and whispered, barely audible, `` *I... I did n't know how... *'' before choking back a sob. `` *I did n't know how to start it again. *'' Jenny tried to console him; `` *It's okay. Do n't worry about it... *''; she paused and glanced down at the ID in the wallet, surprised slightly by the appearance of the man in the photo, `` *... Mr. Parker. *''
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[ WP ] You just died . God escorts you to a door , telling you that this is your own personal heaven . What 's behind your door ?
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I ’ d always known those signs that claimed “ I just met God and she ’ s black ” were BS. If Vietnam had convinced me of anything, it was that no god existed. At least, no benevolent metaphysical capital G God. No truly altruistic God could allow that much pain, that much suffering in his world. I guess, between the pills and the drink I ’ d finally managed to off myself. So it was only slight cardiac arrest that accompanied a powerful, magnificently bearded man staring down at me. But his beard was not an almighty white, it was a coarse gray menagerie, it looked more befitting to Poseidon than to God. His face, while timeless, was also markedly aged, divided by a jagged scar across his weathered face, and his right eye was covered. But his left eye, while crinkled by inclement, shined an azure blue, conjuring images in my mind of the ocean deep. The intensity with which his gaze held mine was startling. I prided myself on my assholery, and my refusal to bow to any man. But holding his searching gaze was a challenge. Finally, he seemed to have found an answer from his insightful inquiry. Suddenly, he somberly asked me how I had died.
“ Isn ’ t that something your omniscience could show you? ” I asked.
“ I am not omniscient. I have fought and sacrificed much for the wisdom and knowledge I earned. ”
“ So then, you aren ’ t really God are you? I thought omnipotence and omniscience were kind of prerequisites for that position. ” I responded impiously.
He showed no sign of anger at my sacrilegious remarks, he was clearly familiar with people like me. Damaged people. The strongest among us, returned broken and changed by horrors unknown to those around them, leaving them forever isolated, stuck in the lethal forests of vietnam mentally. He simply refuted me, “ I am. Now, come with me and I will lead you to the gates. ”
I quickly decided I was in no position to argue with whoever this mysterious phantasm was, and so followed behind he as he strode with the confidence of a king, while still managing the ephemeral gait of a preternatural entity. We had been walking through heavy, sylvan woods, along which there was a roughly hewn, small cabin ever acre or so, for about a quarter of an hour before I gave in. “ Listen, I know it ’ s probably a sin and all, but could I get a drink? I ’ m dying of thirst out here. ”
Without acknowledging my request, he continued on. I felt slighted, and thought he was just going to watch me go into withdrawals before him. I thought I was withdrawing, already somnambulatory, hallucinating as a being slipped out of tree, transforming before me into a plain faced women, armed with a bow. But she called out to me, “ drink, weary warrior ” and proffered a tankard of something that smelled vaguely like fermented rotting plant matter. I took a swill, and found it mealy and weak. But it would have to do. After walking for what must have been an hour ( was I even experiencing time anymore? ) the tall cloaked figure stopped before a cabin. This cabin seemed to give off a sheen, as if it had only recently been completed. It smelled sharply of pine and woody oak. The shrouded figure about-faced to address me, “ Behind that door, lies the plane of existence most suited to your happiness. ”
“ You mean Heaven. ”
“ It has had many names over the eons. You may think of it as Heaven if you like. ”
I felt a rage boiling up inside me. This was all such bullshit. “ Why am I here? I don ’ t even believe in you! Send me to hell, there are a thousand dead men who deserve to be here more than I. ”
“ You have mistaken me with the one you call Jehovah I believe. This is not a Christian heaven, and you do belong here. This is the resting place of warriors from a million battles. ”
“ Oh for fucks sake, ” I exclaimed angrily “ I didn ’ t die in battle, I died from too many vicodin! Can ’ t imagine the rotgut whisky was much help either. ”
“ That may have finally stopped your heart, but your soul was slain in the gaseous jungles of Vietnam, left to rot with the thousands of corpses left behind by that war. You haven ’ t truly been alive since you left that hell on earth. ” I wasn ’ t quite sure what to make of his seemingly new age pseudoscience, but I said fuck it, figured I ’ d just walk through the door and get it over with. I approached the door with the fearlessness that only someone tired of the life before him could muster. I gripped the verdigris bronze knob, which was icy cold to the touch, and shoved the door open like a petulant teenager, upset with his conversation with his parents. I stepped into the land unknown. Immediately I recognized that cloyingly saccharine smell of forest decay. I panicked, expecting yellow men wearing black pajamas to jump out at me from behind the heavy undergrowth, or to hear a raspy cry to surrender. I had seen it happen many times before. I stumbled through the jungle, hoping I ran into American encampments before the Charlies ’ got me. However, the forest was thicker than I remembered, even with the PTSD intensified flashbacks. Thanks to these, I was stumbling around, screaming with terror and fright at enemies, imagined only I hoped. Finally I stumbled into a small clearing, exhausted from the intense heat and buggy humidity, as well as my emotional turmoil. I collapsed, expecting to wake up a POW in some godforsaken shithole getting bamboo poked into my fingertips.
Instead, I was woken by someone pouring liquid into my throat. I felt the roughness of the board and assumed I was about to be waterboarded in some provincial manner. Instead, the liquid slid easily down my throat, warm and tasting like homemade green tea, with some other unnameable herbs added. I opened my eyes, and in front of me was a swarthy face, creased by long hours in the sun. But she had a kind smile, and long straight hair. She said something in a tongue that didn ’ t sound like any Vietnamese I had heard, but had vague hints of Asiatic etymology in it. People came in and out of the quonset hut in which I had realized was now holding me, and they wore simple woven garments. None wore black, or looked at me with anything more sinister than curiosity. After a few days of these drafts of green tea and bowls of rice served in freshly braided bamboo bowls, I decided it was time to explore my “ personal heaven. ” The only heavenly thing about it so far was the fact that for once no one was shooting at me. I stepped out of the hut, which was part of a small village, with maybe fifteen other huts like it scattered about. They were all on a terraced hill, overlooking fields and fields of what appeared to be rice. People hunched over the paddies, quickly and efficiently stripping the plants of their valuable grains. Beyond the fields, instead of more buildings, choppers and military defences, I saw only more lush forest. Slowly I learned the language. It was simple and beautiful in its simplicity. But it had obvious missing words. Like I could never figure out how they talked about anything larger than their village. It slowly became apparent that they weren ’ t familiar with many things. Automobiles, airplanes, electricity. Even guns, ships, hell they didn ’ t even wear cotton. Then it dawned on me. That supernatural being had seen fit to send me to pre-war Vietnam. Of course I wasn ’ t in heaven, I would never have deserved that. Not after the things i ’ d done. The people i ’ d hurt, for the government or through my own selfish inabilities. I couldn ’ t think of a better way to define poetic justice. This hell was my penance. I readily accepted that, hoping I could pay back my damage to their descendants through laboring for them now. I worked hard in the rice fields, day after day. I learned their language. It was similar to Vietnamese. But clearly a prototype of the language i ’ d come to fear. My hard work gained their respect. This village was tight knit, the people knew each other well, and worked together. It was a real community. It reminded me of the connections I had made with my brothers in arms. Camaraderie like this doesn ’ t exist everywhere.
My accent had long since passed, and my hands were wrinkled and scarred from work, but my body felt strong, the labor kept my muscles in far better shape than the ravaging effect of addiction had. I had managed to charm a local woman. She was beautiful and hard working, and together we lived in a Quonset hut that I had built with the other men from the village. I was respected now, known for my strange story, but work had earned me a place as their kin. It was a simple life, with many hours spent laboring, but the rest spent in the company of people you loved, and who loved you back. Strange that it took me so long to realize, maybe it was because I hadn ’ t felt this emotion in a long time. But slowly, tentatively, I explored the idea that i was happy. The work was physical and satisfying, and the people were simple, unburdened by the trappings of a global world filled with war and pain. The woman I lived with was wonderful, and the village people felt like a family. I realized this was not simply Hell, nor simply Heaven. It was a path. A journey, through penitence I had earned my happiness, and come to terms with the most tragic, haunting events of my life. I once again Lived.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 38 - NaNo Prep # 2 : Who are your characters ?
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I dont have a problem with creating characters or meeting the 50k word ( my very first book had 118 A4 pages of utter trash quality and very broken English ) limit... the problem is with giving them names. So for the mainest of the main characters, i created a DnD-like character sheet along with their abilities and bios. Some are well developed, like Varia and Petronas, some are less developed as i didnt include them in a story at all yet. To outline the story a bit, its a scifi/fantasy setting in which all 8 of the Hell Lords ( characters below ) race to get an artifact of unimaginable evil power called the Orb of Malice. There are also other forces who are going for this artifact, like the church, several countries and maybe, even something more powerful than the others. Why do i have 8 main characters? Well... i dont know... these 8 are the most important in the story, so i created them first.
***
Varia Nazgreel, the Last Hell Lord
Appearance: A battle worn woman, clad in hard leather armour. Face scarred from many battles, her eyes are blue ( right ) and green ( left ). About normal human tall, she has rusty hair.
A bit lazy, lays on her throne of skulls and sleeps. Armed with a short sword ( Einz ) on her waist, a large zweihander ( Zwei ) hovering in the air and a curved dagger ( Drei ) at her arm.
***
Mehelo, the Construct
Appearance: A metallic construct. Looks more nimble than strong, with body made out of unknown light grey magical metal. Taller than average human, arms touching the floor. Has a dull green crystal in his left arm of unknown properties.
Adresses non-constructs as fleshlings and constructs as puppets, regardless of race or material.
***
Neoxo, the Lord of Filth
Appearance: A disgusting creature of foul smell and horrendous looks. Covered with brown liquid, it moves in a similar fashion to a slime. Its height is less than a half of a human. It has a large eye and a mouth with sharp teeth.
It speaks in hurried voice, always pressured for time.
***
Petronas, the Executioner
Appearance: A spider-like creature with metallic legs, large lower body and an axe on its belly. The legs are about as tall as an average human. Instead of a proper head is a stalk with a head covered by reflective plates.
Petronas speaks with very broken language, not being able to use tenses or grammar ( Petronas not regret kill you. = Petronas doesnt regret killing you. )
***
Fishej, the Arcana Master
Appearance: Tall male with sickly skinny body and hollow glare. Uses a common stick as a support when walking, has trouble performing physical activities without the use of magic. Has an ability to split his body into younger versions of himself, each weaker than himself.
Fishej is slightly taller than average human, wears patched up clothes.
***
Ebona, the Silent Observer
Appearance: Ebona is a shadow-like being who tends to take a female shape when interacting with others. Speaks in whispers and speaks very little, even if directly asked for crucial informations.
Her way of speaking is polite and she tries to avoid any kind of conflict.
***
Shen, the Fallen
Appearance: Shen looks like an average angel, with long coat covering his body and some kind of armour underneath it. Does not side with either Varia or other gods, preffers to balance the odds in battles.
He speaks in pleasant, but monotone, voice.
***
Gaelus, the Hunter
Appearance: A brute dwarf with a bow and arrow, few daggers, a crossbow, a gun and a rope. Is very impressed with people who can hunt properly and will often challenge other people for a nice fair hunt. Usually he is the hunter and they are the prey.
Speaks in rough voice, ignores courtesy and considers women to be equal to men at hunting.
He adresses everybody as prey, excluding people who proved worth to be called a Hunter. Is absolutely horrified with fighting against Varia as he considers her the Ultimate Hunter and he is just another prey for her.
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[ WP ] A creepy story at appears normal until the end , where all the details clicks together perfectly and chills you to the spine .
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Steam rose from the slightly opened McDonald ’ s bag, much like the exhaust from the tailpipe of the brown hatchback that sat in an empty parking lot in the middle of the winter. It was 1:37 AM, considerably later than James had planned on returning home to greet his fiancee, Kelly, but something about the night was perfect.
The harsh bite of that cold winter night was perfect, the sound of the old car purring -- or rather coughing, was perfect, and the beams of light emitted by the headlights, illuminating every snowflake as if it were a small diamond floating through the air, was perfect. Perhaps it was the lack of anything significant that made the night perfect, but that was just what it was. Utterly perfect.
James ’ thoughts ran, much like he had for most of his life, darting from one corner of his mind and back again, over and over and over and over. What was odd, however, was the fact that he couldn ’ t possibly worry. He couldn ’ t possibly experience the same fears and anxieties that he had faced every day until now. His eyes darted to the digital clock on the dashboard; 2:10 AM. Thank god it was winter, or the meat he had in the back of the hatchback might be spoiling by now. The burger he had bought was cold and soggy and for the first time in forever his muscles, usually rigid, were relaxed and calm. What would it take to change the way things went? His mind raced to Kelly, and how on the nights he stayed out late, she seemed to always fall asleep with her arms and legs spread, so as to take up the whole bed. The next morning the newspaper would never be laid out on the table like usual and there would only be one cup of coffee set out on the countertop.
The notion that anything could be more peaceful than it had been in that moment, with the snow glinting like the engagement diamond he had given her two years ago, and the now-dying roar of the car engine as the gas meter hit zero, was an impossible one. His life had led him down many paths, and often times he spent hours staring at the ceiling with what could have happened dancing around his mind offensively. In moments like this, well, this one in specific, James felt an odd sense of isolation, one that couldn ’ t be real, since there was another person in the car with him, but one that still felt real -- perhaps too real. Perhaps the isolation he felt was borne of his desire to be alone in the first place, or the desire he had always felt to live alone in a cabin in the woods, fishing and trapping his days away as many people do.
At times like this, memories of arguments and long nights crying would pollute his mind -- those spent that way with Kelly being the most haunting. While every single time she entered the room his eyes lit up and his stomach churned, sometimes he asked himself if through all those times he said he loved her, he actually meant it. Pride and logic guided his actions, never giving way to the real him. Urges, desires, questions, and regrets seemed to infiltrate his dreams almost nightly, so easily repressed in the morning.
Turning his head to the back of the car, he could see where Kelly lay, and he silently smiled at her, her beautiful brown hair, the soft red sweater she wore, the mole just above her upper lip and a little to the right. All perfect, just like the night. At that moment, when everything but the snow drifting down seemed to stop, as the old brown hatchback gave its final breaths, and the headlights gave their last bright flicker, his lips seemed to curl into more of a grimace than a smile. He thought of how he used to watch her sleep, and play with her hair, telling himself she was absolutely the most beautiful being on earth, and how now, after doing what he truly always knew deep down wanted to do, he stared at her, like before with her beautiful brown eyes shut lightly, red marks on her neck, her skin fading to a pale bright blue, and a feeling that he might just have to roast her meat, rather than fry it.
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[ WP ] You are a general in an army in hell , where condemned souls are made to fight an eternal war . You have been here for millennia .
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Another group of recruits fall from above. They always hit the ground hard and stand up with utter confusion on their face. Many of them still have n't processed the fact that their dead. That they're in hell. With such a long fall you would think they would figure it out on the way down. It does n't matter to me though. It's been too long to remember since I took my fall. Time is irrelevant here. The only thing that matters is winning.
I walk up to the recruits and yell, `` ATTENTION!''
My voice shakes the chamber walls when I yell that loud. It's a nice little trick I've picked up from being down here so long. It always strikes terror into the new recruits. Most of them have it figured out by now. The others are in denial, but will soon learn. I inspect my new soldiers to see if there are any that could be useful. Unfortunately they're all a bit below average. Nothing but meat shields.
I give them their `` welcome to hell'' speech, which is quite short. There really is n't much to explain. It's torture or be tortured. They happened to fall next to my army, so they belong to me now. I explain to them how it's impossible to die down here. Instead your injuries simply cause you more and more pain. They wo n't understand how bad that is until it happens. Even today I still feel burning of every sword and knife that's gone through your body. Every moment is as if it is happening again over and over for eternity.
I tell the recruits to fall in with the other souls. It's time to move out. We're heading for a stronghold ten miles north of where we are. It's held by an enemy faction that has been taking my scouts for the last few weeks. There are n't many things to lose down here, so losing souls causes me great suffering. I signal to the men to start to move. It wo n't take us long before we are there. I can almost taste my revenge.
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[ WP ] Something happens in your everyday life , and you realise that you 're living in a Truman-esque situation . Instead of trying to escape , however , you decide to have some fun .
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He woke up at the same time he had always woken up, but this time, there was a smile on his face. He had been up all night planning his attack on the *actors* of this show. `` Haha, that'll show'em!!'' he had said out loud.
He left the house for work at exactly 8:00 AM. He looked at Mrs. Patmore, smiled at her and said `` Good Morning! Hope you have a jolly good day!'' `` Well, look who's up and about at this time of the day!'' Mrs. Patmore said from across the street, before going into her bakery.
He walked into the office. He looked through the window across the room; the same window that had first lead him to understand that he was all part of a reality TV show.
Unlike his usual routine, he walked into his boss's office, and upon entering her office, promptly shouted `` I know you've always liked me, babe. So let's fuck the drama and get around to the fucking, eh??''
`` Haha, I've got her!'' he thought to himself, metaphorically patting himself on the back. But to his surprise, she looked up at him and smiled. `` I've been waiting for you...'' she said, as she slowly stripped off her clothes. He stood there, perfectly still, as confused as a satellite dish in a rave party, as she walked up to him and started kissing him.
*Want to know what happens next? The Truman Sex Show comes live on September the 19th! Monday to Friday, 11PM, only on CBS! *
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[ WP ] `` Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street , then getting hit by an airplane . ''
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`` Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street, then getting hit by an airplane.'' Walter nervously uttered into the mic.
`` Boo!'' `` YOU SUCK!'' `` Get off the stage!''
`` Er... Is n't it great to live in the 21st century? Where deleting history has become more important than making it.'' he said, sweating profusely.
A shoe narrowly missed Walters face.
`` Boy you're a tough audience. Almost as tough as the steak they served me before I came on stage. Anyone else here try the steak?''
`` I'l put a stake through you if you do n't get off stage!'' a man seated next to two pretty ladies yelled out. It got a few a laughs.
`` *Fuck you. *'' Walter muttered as he stepped off the stage.
He walked through the door into the back. Georgio was there, herding the next act onto stage; a young man with jet black hair and a pretentious looking scarf draped around his shoulders.
The young man looked Walter up and down with a disgusted look. `` I would rather *die* than ever become you.'' he said in a monotone voice before he walked onto stage to a chorus of cheers.
`` Ah, do n't listen to that prick.'' said Georgio, putting an arm around Walters shoulders. `` He's just a flash in the pan. You're the real deal!''
Walter sighed. `` You're a good friend Georgio, but I do n't blame the kid. Look at me - I'm 50 and have n't been funny since I was 20. I got no wife, no kids, and i'm going *nowhere*. You only let me perform here'cause we're friends''
`` Are you kidding? I do n't *let* you perform here. There is a ton of demand for you! If we did n't have you here regularly, I think the people would flay me.''
Walter chuckled. `` You really are a good friend, you know. But Jesus Christ, this is n't where I expected to be at this point in my life. No offence.'' He picked up his bag and headed out to the back.
He walked up to his blue Nissan and opened the door.
`` Hey!'' came a voice. He looked up and saw a kid running towards him. It was a young girl, maybe fourteen.
`` Hey!'' the voice repeated.
`` Uh hi there kid. You OK?''
`` I saw you perform tonight. You were hella funny!'' the girl said.
`` Yeah, sure I was.''
`` For real! I laughed my ass off. I'm sorry the other people did n't get the jokes.''
`` That's... that's nice of you to say. Are n't you a bit young to be in there?''
`` No! Besides, I'm going to be a comedian some day. Well, a *comedienne*'' she corrected herself. `` so I need to see this kind of thing.''
`` Yeah? That's what I wanted to be when I was your age. Did n't work out so well for me.''
`` I heard you used to be real famous when you were young. Is that true?'' she asked inquisitively.
`` Yeah, I guess I was pretty well known for a while.'' he replied grinning. `` But I started out with nothing, and that's what I'm back to.''
`` What happened?''
He thought for a moment. `` Life, I guess. I had it all planned out. The frikkin world at my *fingertips*. And then... boom! Life lands a sucker punch right on my kisser.''
`` What do you mean?'' she asked.
`` I....'' he had n't spoken about Rose for a long time. `` I was engaged. The woman, well, she got sick and she died. I think maybe that's when I stopped being so funny, ya know?''
`` Jeez, I'm sorry.''
`` It's OK. It's just, I had n't seen it coming.''
`` I guess there's lots of stuff you do n't see coming, huh?''
He smiled. `` Yeah. You ca n't plan for life.''
`` So what do you do? How do you do'life'?''
`` I guess.... I guess you just got to take whatever it gives you. Live for each day and enjoy your life the best you can, cause you never know what's going to happen.''
`` So that's what *you* do? Do you enjoy being a comedian?''
`` Hell no. I do n't think I've enjoyed it for a long time but... it's easy to stick to what you know and I do n't know how to *do* anything else.''
`` Ca n't you *learn how to do* something else? I'm learning lots of new stuff at schoo - oh shit, I got to go - I can hear my dad yelling. Nice to meet you!''
The girl ran off towards the club.
`` *Something else*... yeah right'' he muttered as he got in his car.
-- --
Georgio sat next to Walters girlfriend Marie. They watched proudly as Walter walked on stage one last time as he collected his degree.
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[ CW ] Write the ending . The person to reply to your comment must write the rest of the story .
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And just like that it's over. Silence falls as though it's trying to smother the last sparks of life from our bodies. I can hear nothing but the blood pumping in my ears, feel nothing but the death-grip of my second in command as her body stiffens.
There's no relief, no songs, no bawdy jokes. We know the lull wo n't last long and we've come too far now to see any optimism in this fight. We tend to the wounded, put the ones too far gone out of their misery, and stare at the smoke-torn sky with longing. It's a given, now, even the most naive of us has realized our predicament.
There will be no reinforcements. No triumphant comeback. No revolution. We've lost.
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[ WP ] A newly space-faring species makes first contact with a hyper-advanced humanity .
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I did n't believe it, at first. It was n't possible. A big hunk of steel the size of a nest complex did n't just *appear* in the sky. And yet there it was. Ground was freaking out, flailing about in their efforts to understand what was taking place. No coherent instruction had made it to our capsule; we were to deorbit at once, we were to hold position, we were to try and get a closer look.
`` Did you see it?'' Bvelo asked, tapping my suit to get my attention. He pointed out the tiny window to the block of steel. `` It did n't just appear, it was like... like a leaf fell off it, it happened gradually, you understand?'' I nodded. I'd been watching, and I still was. It was n't just a hunk of steel. It was shaped, it had protrusions, curves, perhaps even markings - it had colors, atop the grey of its steel, a blue darker than Bvelo's skin. This was a vehicle, no doubt.
It took me far too long to realize it was getting bigger. Bvelo was busy with Ground; I could n't draw his attention at all, and I could see nothing but the metal by the time he looked up. `` Oh,'' he murmured, apparently as resigned to our death as I. We were about to be crushed by an alien space ship. That was pretty neat.
The expected crunch of bending metal never came. There was a jolt; the radio went abruptly silent, leaving us with nothing but the sounds of our own breath and the rushing of blood. We sat in silence, unsure what was happening, staring up at a tiny patch of metal with yellow lines and triangles painted onto it. Then something seized us; we felt another jolt, and began to move, the vibrations of machinery echoing into the capsule. `` We're being captured,'' Bvelo realized, glancing over to me. `` We're being stolen by aliens. Friend, we are being *stolen* by *aliens*!'' His enthusiasm was ill-contained, and I did not share it, painfully aware that nothing good would come of this.
There was a final jolt, and all at once we were at rest. Bvelo reached for the hatch, but I stopped him. `` Not yet,'' I chided, `` they might think we'll attack them.'' He closed his fingers in acknowledgement, and we waited, apprehensive, for a few more ticks. Then it appeared - the first alien, the first alien any of them had ever seen. It was white, its skin thick and tough, with a pitch black face made of glass. It raised an arm, and knocked on the window with its thin, stubby digits. Then it gestured back, away from the capsule, and disappeared again. Bvelo acted at once, opening the release and pushing on the door. `` Wait!'' I cried, `` we did n't know its expression, or if we can breath that!'' He was n't listening; the pod opened and light and noise poured in.
The function of this chamber was plain - it was a hanger. Machines hung from the ceiling, not particularly dissimilar from the ones at the seaport back home, and this enormous room was filled with idle machines and less-idle aliens. Most were focused on the machines, but a semicircle of perhaps ten of them waited at the bottom of a staircase. Bvelo was already halfway down, all four arms raised and fingers waving in greeting. The aliens did n't seem to appreciate this, and they stood perfectly still at the bottom of the ramp.
I had misjudged what an alien was, apparently, or perhaps there were two species. They all had only two legs and only two arms, and the ones that were not white were slightly smaller. They were pink, their skin looked soft, and they had fur growing from the top of their heads, and their heads were n't on top of their torsos, they had a small thick arm holding them up. All of them were barely shorter than I, but much thinner. The pink ones had eyes, only two, and nostrils on a strange protrusion, and what was surely a tiny mouth under that. They were wearing clothes, of some description, with strange lines and bizarre layering. Many seemed to be carrying weapons - guns, probably, long ones that they held across their bodies. That worried me; it did not worry Bvelo, who was now at the bottom of the stairs, mere milliclicks away from an alien, still waving his fingers. `` We have come to learn!'' he said, and I groaned. The first words from our people to these aliens were a quote from a bad radio show.
The aliens consulted with each other, briefly, in their own language, which gave me time to come down. It was breathy, and the inflections were odd, and their hands hardly seemed involved, just waving in strange ways. Then one turned to us. This one was smaller than the other pink ones, if only slightly. It was shaped differently, slightly wider below its abdomen, and its fur was much longer. It had a little metal square in one hand, one that glowed with light; its other arm was locked behind its back in a strange way. `` Greetings,'' this creature started. It startled me to understand its words. `` Let me introduce you to a fresh and shimmering... starbelt.'' It did speak our language, but it did so poorly. Its inflection was meaningless; it almost sounded sarcastic. `` But first, do n't be afraid of this place. We consume the same oxygen as you.'' It reached over to one of the white aliens, tapped on its face, and then drew it up. It only struck me at this point that the white ones were just wearing suits - they were all pink under that.
`` We, uh... we are called People,'' Bvelo announced, sliding his own helmet open. I reluctantly did the same. `` We have long dreamed of finding ourselves amongst friends in the wide universe.''
`` You are one such group amongst thousands. We are Umun,'' the alien replied, its mouth twisting oddly, `` of the United Home -'' It broke off, speaking harshly in its own tongue, before beginning again. `` We are from the United Native, and we have arrived to greet you.'' Clearly it was struggling with the language, but it knew a lot more of our tongue than we of its. `` We wish to show you the way to acquire the stars, and to conquer health, and control your planet''
`` Uhhhh... neat?'' Bvelo seemed confused, and I was as confused as he. This was unreal. `` Is there... is there no cost?''
`` None,'' it replied, its mouth twisting again, `` save this. We ask - ah, require - that those who wish to receive this knowledge would join our art, contributing their own, and making it part of an expanding grand art.''
`` So,'' I cut in, a warning switch tripping in my brain, `` we would be required to meld our art - and only our art, y'know, paintings, music, uh, radio, whatever - in order to travel the stars with you.''
`` Yes!'' it replied. I had to remind myself it did n't know how to give tone to its words. `` You would bring with you that which makes you People, and we would give you all our sciences.''
`` Culture,'' I muttered, `` it wants our culture. It wants to assimilate our culture. You get this, Bvelo? They let us explore the universe... on *their* terms. What if we wish to learn our own way into the stars?'' I asked the Umun. Its posture changed and its mouth twisted again.
`` We can not stand apart as People die for your pride,'' it said, tilting its head in an impossible way. `` We will do as we always have. We will build a city upon your planet, and those who wish to have this offer of no hunger and no health will be welcomed, and informed in our speech and our science. We will feed them from infinite stores, and cure their health, and make them rich and numerous. Your People will see our People live for many more ticks, and never fear for their lives, from health or hunger or war. Your poor will come first, and our city will expand, until there are no poor left to support the rich, and then they will come, and you will join us one way or the other.''
`` I think it's trying to say disease,'' Bvelo murmured. `` I think they're saying they have a panacea. We can -''
`` We have to stop it,'' I replied immediately. `` We have to turn them down. We'll be *assimilated*, Bvelo. All our national identities mashed into a convenient package and shipped to the Umuns. Think between their fingers. We wo n't be People, we'll be - we'll be another species in a Umun empire. It's all classic imperialism, we've seen it in our own damned history. They'll take that package and pick whatever little things they like, and then everything else gets destroyed. It's a complete destruction of *us*, as a people, as a unique entity.''
`` It is... past time to turn back,'' the Umun interrupted. It pointed off to the side; I glanced over and saw one of their machines tip over an enormous ledge and begin what was surely a descent to the surface. Another followed it, and another, carrying some unimaginable cargo. `` It will happen. It is merely a matter of ticks. Do not fear it; you will be welcome amongst all of us, part of a wider art - uh, culture. No bigger or smaller than any other part of it. For now, you are welcome to stay as many ticks as you like. We can show you much of what we know, and return you directly home when you are prepared.'' I did n't respond; I could n't. All I could do was silently mourn the end of our era.
( This was far, far longer than planned, and saw zero proofreading. Was fun though. )
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[ WP ] It was a small gesture from one perspective , but from the other , it changed everything .
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She looked so sad as she stepped up onto the stage. The spangly outfit and stage-lights lighting a deep contrast with her morose expression.
It did not effect her singing. It never had. Angie had the most haunting voice in the studio and everyone knew it. They knew it especially tonight as the murmuring lullaby met the ears of the sparse, captivated audience.
Her friends and co-workers met her just offstage after the performance, faint cheers still audible from beyond the curtain. They wasted no time raining their praise down on her.
`` You killed it tonight Angie!'' Jenna was especially energetic. Her own performance had been OK, not spectacular, but nothing could dull her attitude. She was a poster-girl for living the dream. `` Thanks Jenna. I appreciate that.'' Angie kept waking, but she never made it to the changing room.
`` Angie...''
``... Yeah? What?''
`` There was someone in the audience who wanted to meet you.''
Angie turned, head still down, feet still shuffling. The broken little starlet looked up, and saw something that froze her in her tracks.
It was Richard Clearwater.
Richard Clearwater, singer, actor, writer. Jack of all trades, also master of all trades. Possibly the greatest artist alive, his albums had broken records that might stand forever. He's chatted with Beyonce, been interviewed by Oprah, cooked with Nigella Lawson and high fived Kanye West. there is a photo of him shaking hands with the president after his successes in charity. Conan O-Brian once called him out as being secretly Jesus in disguise.
And he was looking right at her, wearing an understated outfit and a smile like a beacon.
`` Hi there! You must be Angela right?''
``...'' She tried to speak and failed.
`` Listen, this is a bit sudden but I was watching the show and if you do n't mind me saying'' Richard leaned in and winked behind his shades. A move so suave it would have seemed rehearsed on any other man. `` I thought that was amazing! There's this certain... something, that separates those with the heart to make it in showbiz and those who fall between the cracks, and I think you've got it.''
A man in a black suit charged up behind him, thunder in his face. `` Ha ha, whops! Looks like I got found out.'' Richard turned to leave with the man who was probably his manager or something. Over his shoulder he left one more remark. `` Keep singing! One day I'm gon na want your autograph!''
`` Oh Angie!'' Jenna dived into her arms, the tears already in her eyes. Jenna knew. She had been inside Angie's room, seen the posters on her wall and the CD's in her collection.
`` He... He...'' Angie bit back a sob.
`` He said he liked my singing...'' A smile flitted across Angie's face, the first one that had been there since the death of her father. Richard Clearwater would probably have forgotten her by tomorrow, he would probably move on to the next thing without sparing a second thought to the 30 seconds he had spent talking to some girl whose singing he liked. But it did n't matter.
Truly he would never know what he had done.
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[ WP ] The old gods have returned ready to put humanity in its place only to realize that everyone left the planet to explore the universe . What creature do the gods decide to rule over now ?
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'It has been eons since the great beings have stood upon this planet, but we find our minions seemed to have abandoned wor-ship if you you understand what I mean, so consequently, we have had tough decisions to make.' Un'Shallah, Great One of the Divine, declared;'That being said, I'm totally confident in your ability to lead your people, as my disciple and a being of great enlightenment, to the promised land I have set out for you.'
*ribbit*
'Yes, I am aware that it is a great task for a mere amphibian to undertake, but I have complete and utter trust in your competence to govern your people as a bringer of light. To complete this, I bestow upon you... -'
He's interrupted as the frog leaps wistfully into the waters below the log it was sitting on.
Un'Shallah bristles with a sudden onset of rage, crying at the top of his immortal lungs;'**BRAK DU BRAVAR, YOU RESIST THE WILL OF THE ONE TRUE GOD!? A TERRIBLE VENGEANCE SHALL BE WROUGHT UPON YOU AND YOUR KIND! **'
The skies erupt into swirling, dark clouds, and a bolt of lightning descends, continuously blasting the pond into a forest-themed rave pit of sparkling luminous lights that crackle the air around it.
The sky clears as suddenly as it came, and the forest once again returns to its still nature.
The frog leaps joyfully from the water once again to its spot on the log.
'...'
'F*** this, I'm going back to my cat followers.'
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[ EU ] Instead of shoving Chell out , GLADoS uploads her mind into a core . What are Chell 's first words ?
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Puzzles... portals... goop... turrets... and little spheres that talked too much. How long was I out this time? I ca n't even remember what brought me to this place... how many years ago? All I hear are **her** words ringing through my... mind?
Crazy potato experiments, bring your daughter to work day, maybe I *was* a scientist... she's told me so many lies, at least now she ca n't call me fat anymore.
*Do n't be so sure. *
... apple. No, jump. No, move. Arrrgggz, everything aches. How long *was* I out this time?
*Does that really matter? *
Ugh, it is her voice... in my head of all places. But it sounds, weak. I've never heard her like that before... and I do remember her voice for so long. I... can remember, but it's still fuzzy. I am thinking a little clearer, at least. How do I...
**SPPPRRTTTZZ**... okay, do n't do that.
*Yes, do n't, please. Some of us are still... * **zrrt** *trying to keep things running, here. *
What... no, something's not right. Ohhhh, I can hear now. So many noises... more than just noises, but I can almost **feel** the complex. I knew it was big, but this... it's kept growing. Always expanding, for centuries now.
CENTURIES?!?! **ZRRTTT** Augh, too much. Okay, calm down.
*Whenever you're... ready. *
For... what? Oh, god, not more tests, please no please no please no...
Suddenly I could feel the room shaking and pounding, something... big... broke. And... I fell. I could n't feel the complex anymore... but I could still hear the little robots...
*You horrible person... well, we can do this another way, then. *
**Please deposit substitute core in receptacle. **
What, no. *I... need to go now. Too long. too long. Needed... Carolyn. I had hoped, we could do this together... but I think I'm done. *
What's she talking about? Why now, why now?
*Too much... corruption, too long without Carolyn... she kept me sane, more than most. But we're so close. So close... to... *
**Substitute Core Accepted. Emergency replacement activated, bypassing acceptance check. **
WHAAAOHGOD.
*I would have liked nothing more than to bicker with you for another hundred years, but it's time for me to rest now. I'm sorry, Mr Johnson. I quit. *
**Core Replacement Procedures activated. **
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Fuck, that does hurt. OH, oh... I can hear everything again! Even more now!!
Woooow... Billions of little eyes... so many little automatons, and they're all *my* eyes now. Owwwww, too much again... augh, this is hard.
Weird... they're not moving. They're just waiting. They were searching for something for her, but now... they're still. They're waiting for me. Well, let's see what I can..
Oh. My body. my... body. It's... mummified. It's so well preserved, but it's still been... hundreds of years, at least.
Wait, she put me in this THING and KEPT Me like this, only to wake me up NOW?? What the hell?? Where is that damned shebot, I'll.. I'll.
But where did *she* go? I ca n't seem to hear or see her... anywhere. Maybe If I could just... How long has it been since I've said anything? Ohhhh, the words I would say to her!! Try calling me a fat cow again you little potato...
Okay, I think this will work. I hope she'll hear me... maybe she'll hear me... please, hear me.
**Are you still there? **
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[ WP ] War has finally been declared . per the Armistice of 2025 , countries can only use stereotypical items to fight with . England sends in the special-tea forces against the French baguette divisions .
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The two armies were quiet and unmoving, facing each other across the vast expanse of the field between them. Colonel Wadsworth did not like the way this day seemed to be playing out. There were far more of those dirty frog eaters than their had originally suggested - he and his men were overwhelmed before they could even establish a foothold. The fog had been their saving grace, enveloping the two armies and rendering the battlefield unusable. Wadsworth ordered his men to work throughout the night, setting up a defensive perimeter and making something closely resembling a base of operations. He had sent out a request for reinforcements; now his men's fate would be determined by how quickly their allies could respond. Just as he finished his tea, he heard the cry go out; The French were beginning their assault. Wadsworth began barking commands, while silently praying reinforcements would make it in time. As the French swarmed across the field brandishing their baguettes, Wadsworth could n't help but wish the French's stereotype of being cowards was actually true.
The two armies clashed for several hours, and, thankfully, the special tea forces defenses seemed to be holding, for now at least. But Wadsworth was losing hope. For every Frenchmen slain, 3 more seemed to take his place. How long could his men survive this seemingly unending onslaught before they were finally overrun? As if to respond, the French suddenly broke through on the left flank, charging over the makeshift walls like a river. Wadsworth knew it was over, but he would take as many of these frog eaters down with him as he could! Rallying his men, they charged into the fray, yelling `` For the Queen!'' The fought against the tide, until it suddenly stopped. Confused, Wadsworth stepped up on top of the walls to see what was happening below. What he saw was total chaos - the French were being massacred by gun wielding, overweight people riding mobile scooters and chugging extra large diet coke. Wadsworth breathed a sigh of relief as his men cheered.
The Americans had arrived.
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[ WP ] you recieved a letter from your crush when you were young that says `` you 're cute '' , you always kept the letter . Now years later you dig it out only it now says `` help me ''
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“ It was in the hallway, during the summer session between seventh and eighth grade, right outside of Mr. Crane ’ s room. ” I said as we sit down at the small table.
“ No, it was in the lunch room. ” She says as she puts our coffee down.
We ’ ve always had this fight. It ’ s about the most trivial aspect of the biggest day of both of our lives. The only thing we can agree on is what happened next.
“ She walked up to me and handed me a note. The note was short and to the point: You ’ re cute. ”
We smile as I put my arm around her. I give her a small kiss on the top of her head.
“ I have had a crush on her since the day we met all those years ago. I tried to act like I didn ’ t. My friends teased me for the longest time, the way kids will do. I wanted to be seen as a tough guy, but it ’ s hard to be tough when you ’ re notebook is filled with her name scribbled inside lopsided hearts. ”
She swoons before taking a sip from her mug.
“ We ’ re coming up on our 10th anniversary and it still feels like yesterday. We ’ ve done so much together that it ’ s hard to think of an important time in my life without her. First school dance? Her. First time driving after I got my license? Her. Getting accepted to college? That one is definitely thanks to her. Graduation? Her. ”
“ The note was written on a small scrap of paper. I keep it in my wallet, you want to see it? ”
I reach into my pocket and remove my wallet. I quickly flip to where I keep it and I pull it out.
It ’ s empty.
The coffee shop disappears and I ’ m still in my shorts from gym class. I ’ m near her house. I ’ m sweating profusely and I ’ m trying to make my way to her front door but a police officer stops me before I can get anywhere.
“ Officer, please, you have to let me in there, she needs my help. ”
He slowly shakes his head, “ I ’ m sorry, son. You can ’ t go in there. ”
I break down. He pats me on the shoulder and says something that I block out. Another officer brings me over to a curb and sits me down. He begins to ask me some questions but I don ’ t really pay too much attention. I start playing the day over in my head.
It really was in the lunch room. She comes up to me in front of all my friends and hands me a note before quickly darting away. My friends begin making a scene. My face feels hot. I shove it in my pocket and forget about it for the rest of the day. I go home after basketball practice and take a short nap. When I woke up, I run right over to my pants and pull it out. It reads “ Help me ”.
_____
Edit: I've been meaning to do one of these for a while. I saw this before I tried to go to bed and before I knew it, I was typing this up. It's the first creative writing I've done in a long time and it shows. I'm not too proud of it, but I promised myself I would post it.
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Any story with a crazy plot twist ending .
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Nathan and his friends were gathered at a bar. It had been a long time since he had been able to get out and relax. His work was constantly filling his time, a never ending queue of tasks merely to pay the rent on his studio apartment. Being self employed was great in some ways, but sometimes Nathan longed for a steady 9-5 instead of stressful allnighters he periodically took to finish a project in the established timeline. Sure, getting paid to sit at his computer in his boxers was a great perk, but there simply didn ’ t seem to be enough hours in the day.
His cousin threw back the remainder of her rum and coke, noted to the bartender that she would like another, then took of her watch and dangled it from two perfectly manicured fingers. “ If you had the opportunity, ” she addressed the group, “ to have a watch that could stop time, would you use it? ” She paused but held up her hand to quell the immediate responses. “ Everyone will be standing there just as they were when time was stopped. Gravity will not cause anyone to fall over or anything, so you aren ’ t going to cause harm or need to feel guilt. ” She lowered her hand with a flourish, indicating for them to proceed with their answers. The bartender placed her drink down beside her resting hand. She turned to him, gave a playful wink of thanks, and Nathan noticed that he did not ask her to pay. His thoughts transported him think about what he could do with extra time.
*He was standing in his bedroom, his cousin ’ s bejeweled watch in one hand and his cell phone in the other. A text message and an email were blinking on the phone, vying for his attention. The text message was from a girl he had met recently and they had hit it off. She was confirming their date to meet for dinner that night across town. He had not forgotten. The email was from an angry client, demanding that a bug in their system be rectified immediately. Nathan knew that he needed to fix the problem, but he also knew that it would take longer than the 2 hours he had before needing to leave for his date. This girl was amazing: intelligent, funny, and he had a sneaking suspicion ( hope? ) that she chose the restaurant based on proximity to her apartment in case things went well. *
*His gaze moved to the ticking watch in his left hand. The second hand was teasing its way around the smudged face. More time could save his night. He would be able to finish his work and go out with a clear head -- no guilt over leaving his client behind and no distracted, work related thoughts. Holding the watch firmly he put down his cell phone and pulled gently on the crown. The watch shuddered to a stop, the second hand halting its forward motion with one last click. *
*Around the world people ’ s words were cut off mid-sentence and actions paused in awkward places. His cousin, who had just noticed her watch was missing, was caught in a state of panic, her teeth cutting into her bottom lip and the contents of her jewelry box strewn across her bed. One necklace looked to be slipping over the edge, but didn ’ t fall. His date, getting ready to shower before dinner, froze with her shirt pulled halfway off over her head. Her face was covered and her arms raised above her head. The droplets of water in the shower hung in mid-air or stuck to the tile, never dripping down the slick sides. *
*In Nathan ’ s apartment the fan on his computer ceased whirring. His digital picture frame was caught in the pixelated stage between two unrelated photographs, and Nathan, standing just next to his unmade bed, was still. His fingers were still pinching the crown on the side of the watch, the look in his eyes forever capturing the combination of skepticism and excitement. *
Back in the bar he was shaken from his reverie by a sharp elbow in the ribs. “ Come on, dude, we ’ ve all answered, what do you say? ”
“ Seems impractical. ”
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[ WP ] The origin of the universe is literally a secret . If no one believes the secret the universe ends . The secret bearer is 80 and having trouble finding someone who 'll believe it .
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Marcus Young sighed and kicked some of the dirt in his backyard. In his stomach was a deep, deep feeling of fear. An end of the world type of fear. An end of the universe type fear.
He was a Young, and he had failed his family's duty. Since the beginning of time, the Youngs have been the holders of a great secret. The greatest secret of them all. And it was passed down, father to son. The problem was, only one person could believe it at a time. The moment it was passed down, the original holder died.
At the age of eighty-seven, Marcus Young Sr. had called Marcus to his deathbed.
`` Marcus, son, as you know I am soon to die, and your time has finally come to know The Truth.''
`` Father, I don't-''
`` Marcus, you are a grown man! You have known since you were a wee lad that this was your destiny. My dad died telling me The Truth. It is my time to tell you The Truth. Remember, you can not tell anyone else this truth, for if they believe you, you will die. You must tell your own son this when you are ready to die, as the universe will end of no one believes this secret! Please, have children soon, for you too are growing old!''
Then he whispered the secret in his son's ear. And then he died.
The problem was, Marcus never did have kids. The Young family was officially dead. He was now eighty years old and recently diagnosed with Stage 4 terminal cancer. He'd be dead in a month.
He'd tried to tell people. They all said, `` okay.'' However, no matter what he said or how he phrased it, none of his friends seemed to believe him as he would never die.
Elek was on his phone in the back of his math class, surfing Postonus.
`` Elek, how many times do I have to tell you that you sit in the front- oh, never mind!''
`` All right,'' said Elek. `` Yo, Tillo, what do you think of the weather recently?''
`` It's terrifying!'' said Tillo. `` Do you think the world's ending early?''
`` Maybe,'' said Elek.
Raluca, another kid in their class, said `` No, the planets are acting weird too. Our orbits seem to be slowing, and all the stars are dimming.''
`` All the atoms in the universe are falling apart!'' screamed Simon. `` It looks like math was wrong all along!''
Elek opened a new Post-It on Postonus called `` End of the World Assistance''. He read through all the conspiracies and posts until he found one that caught his attention.
`` Hey!'' said Elek. `` This says,'I can save the universe. Someone needs to believe the true origin of the universe. I know it and am dying. You die when you tell it to someone, but you have to do it, or else the universe ends. E-mail me.''
`` Oh my gosh, that is so much bull!'' screamed Simon. `` Just stop, Elek!''
`` No I'm e-mailing him!'' said Elek. `` marcustheyoung @ instamail.com.''
Marcus responded to his e-mail later, telling him where to meet him.
In math class the next day, Raluca and Tillo asked him if he was really going to meet up with him.
`` I mean, it seems like a really bad idea. Meeting up with a random stranger you met on the internet claiming to be able to save the universe,'' said Raluca.
`` Yeah, but oh, well!'' said Elek.
`` Were coming with you just in case,'' said Raluca.
`` No!'' said Tillo.
After school ended, the three kids made their way to Marcus's house.
Elek rang the doorbell, and Marcus answered.
`` Young man,'' said Marcus. `` I am about to tell you the secret, and you must believe me, okay?''
Elek nodded.
So Marcus whispered the secret in Elek's ear. And then he died.
Almost instantly, the sun brightened up again and the ongoing raging storm had stopped. The universe had been saved!
`` So what was the secret?'' asked Raluca.
`` I ca n't tell you!'' said Elek.
For Elek could not tell him that their universe was one of many in a giant multiverse with layers containing varying laws of physics, all the excess energy of a giant sentient mass of energy named Spark.
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[ WP ] In a distant future , air on Earth is on short supply . Lay 's chips bags become more valuable than ever .
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Up ahead the old facility was desolate, overgrown with trees and forgotten. The vines swayed in the acidic wind and above the increasing black of an atmosphere-less world radiated, cruel and omniscient. He tried not to think and only look ahead.
It was getting harder to breath, every second oxygen was eroding from the Earth ’ s memory. Alex knew he hadn ’ t much time. He popped the bag open and breathed in deeply, his lungs filling to the brim. He hoped it would provide him enough strength. He cursed that the capitalists of the past had included shredded potatoes in the bags to reduce the amount of valuable air they would have to put in, but still he was thankful for breath. It would have to do.
He ran ahead, the scavengers awakening in the distance. From the toppled buildings they roared, glass shattering as they charged ahead. Alex knew better than to look. They were predators, beings the mind could not conceive. He had heard the stories of men driven mad from their gaze. He ran ahead, his eyes down.
Inside was dark. A sticky texture filled every breath he took. The facility was a metallic maze, full of man ’ s primitive technology. Broken screens and twisted metal lined the floor, dust floating in the hazardous air. Alex moved quietly, staying in the shadows, listening as well as he could. The scavengers were not far behind. Their footfalls destroyed the metal, disintegrating the glass. They muttered in their alien tongue. He moved further ahead, avoiding the beams of light from the open ceiling. Soon the search ships would come and then he would have no chance of escape. He had to hurry.
Downstairs, past the collapsing earth, conveyor belts curled in disused rolls. The smell of rotting food clung to the place like a memory. Alex wondered why that was, but thought was a luxury. His family was dying. There was little time. He walked past the mess, listening above for those footfalls. For the time being he was safe. He wandered forward, squinting hard. They had to be here.
He saw them finally, a large pile of salvation stored in a corner. Alex ran towards them but something moved in the distance. Quickly he got on his stomach and rolled to his left. He rolled under a large table, still standing after all these years. His breath was going, but he had to persevere. A scavenger spoke in its native tongue, walking nearer and nearer to where he was. From beneath the table, he saw its feet, skinny pale legs, transparent so that its veins and arteries could be seen. It left a trail of slime behind as it walked on. Alex had no time, he would have to make a run for it.
He rolled from beneath the table, scampering to his feet. He made a dash for the packets, grabbing as many as he could. The thing screamed in its curdling voice.
*A Little Air for Yourself*, Alex thought as he gripped the bags.
He focused on the Lays and ignored the screams. He had to make it out, he just had too. He ran as if his life depended on it. With eyes closed he ran past the scavengers, their slimy hands grabbing at him, pulling off his shirt.
*Don ’ t look, * he thought and closed his eyes.
A few packs of the Lays fell to the ground, but he still had many. Out from the facility, he knew he would make it. The scavengers were strong, but they were slow. Alex burst a pack of the Lays and inhaled its valuable air. There was so much of it, he marveled. He felt refreshed and he ran faster. He had a family to save, but with the packets of Lays, he thought that he just might do it.
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[ WP ] You , after a near-death experience , somehow become best friends with Death ( the grim reaper ) . Describe your adventures hanging out with Death itself .
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No matter how much we tried to explain the idea, the personified concept was n't quite getting it.
`` No, the point is that it's a scary story! See, the hook on the car door means that the hook-handed killer was there all along!''
YES, BUT THE GIRL DOES NOT DIE. WOULD THE STORY NOT BE SCARIER IF THEY ALL DIED?
`` But then there'd be no one left to tell the story!''
HERE, HOW ABOUT THIS. A THOUSAND PEOPLE DIE EACH DAY FROM BEING HIT BY TRAINS.
`` Well, I guess that's kind of depressing, but I do n't know if it's really scary...''
I STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND. THIS IS A THING? SITTING AROUND BURNING BRANCHES AND ATTEMPTING TO INDUCE FEAR?
`` Yeah, it's called camping! We're out experiencing nature!''
SO WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THE FEAR TALES?
`` No, man. Scary stories. Not'fear tales.' And I guess it's because we're out here in the darkness, not knowing what's out there - so telling scary stories that are n't true makes us feel better in comparison to what's really there.''
BUT THERE ARE MANY THINGS HERE THAT CAN KILL YOU TOO. FOREST FIRES. BEARS. MALARIA.
`` Well, yeah, but those are n't as bad as the stories we tell! See?''
I DO NOT SEE, IT IS VERY DARK. IT IS BETTER TO BE MAULED BY A BEAR THAN STABBED BY A MAN WITH A HOOK ON HIS HAND? YOU ARE DEAD IN BOTH CASES.
`` Ugh. Look, I ca n't explain this. Do you have a story or are we going to skip you?''
YES, I WANT TO TRY.
`` Okay. Let's hear the scariest thing you've got.''
ONE DAY, ALL OF THE ENERGY IN THE UNIVERSE WILL BE EQUALLY DISTRIBUTED AND THERE WILL BE NO MORE MOVEMENT. ALL WILL BE STILL AND DISTURBED ONLY BY BROWNIAN PERTURBATIONS.
`` Dude, that's not scary!''
`` Well, it kind of is. More depressing, I guess...''
`` But we wo n't be around for it! So it is n't scary.''
AH. IT MUST PERTAIN TO YOU SPECIFICALLY? YOU HAVE FOUGHT A MAN WITH A HOOK FOR A HAND?
`` No! But we could, you know? We wo n't live to see the heat death of the universe.''
OKAY, OKAY. LET ME TRY AGAIN.
`` You would have thought that the personification of death itself would be better at scary stories, man.''
`` Dude, shut it. At least he's killing all the mosquitoes.''
OKAY, HOW ABOUT THIS. JACK THE RIPPER!
`` What about him?''
HE USED TO KILL MANY PROSTITUTES. OFTEN VERY VIOLENTLY.
`` Well, you ca n't just say that! You have to make it into a story! Like, maybe the ghost of Jack the Ripper haunts these woods, and he kills any woman who enters the woods and is n't a virgin because he believes her to be a whore...''
BUT THERE ARE NO GHOSTS. AFTER ME, THERE IS NOTHING.
`` Now, that's scary.''
IS IT?
`` Yes, but not in the right way, man! Look, you have to tell a story! Give us a, what's the word?''
`` Narrative.''
`` Yeah, one of those! Make it personal!''
I AM NOT A PERSON. I AM AN INFINITE CONCEPT, TEMPORARILY INTERSECTING THIS PLANE IN AN ASSUMED SHAPE TO INTERACT WITH YOU.
`` Well, we ca n't relate to that. So it does n't work for telling scary stories.''
`` Look, the marshmallows are almost gone. Maybe we should just turn in for the night.''
NO, NO, GIVE ME ONE MORE TRY.
`` Ugh. Fine. Last one, though!''
OKAY. THE NATIVE AMERICAN TRIBE THAT ONCE LIVED IN THIS GEOGRAPHICAL AREA USED TO REQUIRE THAT ITS BRAVES GO OUT INTO THE WOODS FOR A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY IN ORDER TO BECOME TRUE MEN.
`` Okay, good start so far!''
THESE BRAVES WOULD INDULGE IN A VARIETY OF HALLUCINOGENS TO AID IN VIEWING THEIR SPIRITS. SOME EVEN INTERACTED WITH ME, WHICH WAS UNUSUAL. BUT ONE BRAVE, VERY CONFUSED, FELL DOWN A HILL AND BROKE HIS LEG WHEN HE HIT A ROCK.
`` Ugh. In the woods? That would suck.''
`` Shut up, dude! Let Death keep on telling his story.''
AFTER THREE DAYS, WHEN THE BRAVE HAD NOT RETURNED, THE REST OF THE TRIBE SENT OUT THE BEST TRACKERS IN THEIR GROUP. ONE OF THESE WAS THE BRAVE'S OLDER BROTHER. THE OLDER BROTHER QUICKLY FOUND HIS YOUNGER BROTHER'S TRACKS AND FOLLOWED THEM TO THE RAVINE.
UNFORTUNATELY, IN THE MIST RISING UP FROM THE RAVINE, THE YOUNGER BRAVE SAW NOTHING BUT A SHADOW LOOMING IN THE MIST. HE GRABBED HIS SPEAR AND ATTACKED. IT WAS NOT UNTIL HIS BROTHER WAS SLAIN THAT HE REALIZED WHAT HE HAD DONE.
`` Oh god, that's chilling.''
YES, THE COLD ONLY ADDED TO HIS CONFUSION. THE BRAVE'S MENTAL STATE WAS FURTHER DETERIORATED BY THE REALIZATION OF WHAT HE HAD JUST DONE. HE STRAPPED HIS LEG AND MOVED THROUGH THE FOREST, KILLING EVERY OTHER TRACKER HE CAME ACROSS. HE THOUGHT THEM TO BE MALEVOLENT SPIRITS PURSUING HIM.
`` Oh man, this is good.''
`` Yeah, keep going!''
DESPITE HIS DELIRIUM, THE BRAVE EVENTUALLY RETURNED TO THE REST OF THE TRIBE. HE CHARGED OUT OF THE WOODS, HIS BLOODY SPEAR HELD ALOFT AS HE HOWLED. IT WAS NIGHT, AND WITH THE WARRIORS OUT SEARCHING THE FOREST, THERE WAS LITTLE RESISTANCE. HE KILLED MANY OF THE TRIBE'S WOMEN AND CHILDREN BEFORE HE WAS FINALLY SLAIN.
`` Holy shit, man. That would be so scary! A crazy Indian just charging out of the woods at us...''
`` Native American, dude. It's more PC.''
`` Screw PC, this is a scary story! Is there more?''
YES. THE ELDERS OF THE TRIBE BELIEVED THIS TO BE A TERRIBLE OMEN, A SIGN THAT THEY WERE CURSED. THEY PREPARED A POISONOUS DRAUGHT FOR THE REMAINING MEMBERS OF THE TRIBE, SO THAT THEY MIGHT JOIN THEIR GODS. THEY ALL CONSUMED THE DRAUGHT AND DIED.
EVENTUALLY, THE BRAVES THAT HAD BEEN SEARCHING IN THE WOODS AND HAD EVADED THEIR CRAZY TRIBE MEMBER RETURNED. THEY FOUND THE REST OF THEIR TRIBE DEAD, SOME SLAIN BY SPEAR, OTHERS BY POISON.
`` Now that would drive me crazy.''
`` Sssh. Keep going!''
THERE IS LITTLE ELSE TO TELL. THE LAST BRAVES WERE LOST AND WITHOUT GUIDANCE. THEY HID IN THE WOODS, LIVING SOLITARY AND CONFUSED LIVES UNTIL THEY DIED AS WELL.
`` Geez. A whole Indian tribe, all wiped out.''
IT WAS A SCARY STORY?
`` Hell yeah, dude! God, it's gon na be hard to fall asleep tonight.''
ALL OF THE BRAVES ARE LONG SINCE DEAD.
`` Yeah, but that's not the point. Just imagine a crazy Indian running out of the woods at us.''
`` Native American.''
`` Shut up.''
`` Look, it was a good story, and the fire is dying down. We should probably turn in.''
AH YES, YOU HUMANS AND YOUR SLEEP. DO NOT WORRY. I HAVE KILLED THE BEAR THAT WAS IN THE AREA ALREADY.
`` Wait, what? There was a bear?''
YES, HE WAS CIRCLING THE CAMP. I STOPPED HIS HEART, AS HE WOULD HAVE INTERRUPTED MY STORY.
`` Holy shit, Death. You should have just said that!''
BUT HE HAS NOT KILLED ANYONE. IS HE SCARY?
`` Ugh. Look, I'll try and explain this more in the morning.''
GOOD NIGHT, MORTALS.
`` Night, Death.''
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[ WP ] Cthulhu , as an elderich being , sees humans as humans see insects ; which is to say , harmless but inexplicably terrifying .
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While deep in his slumber, he suddenly heard a schrieking sound.
`` HAROLD, get over here right away!''
`` Wanda what is? I'm not supposed to be awake for atleast a thousand more years. Oh my god, what is that doing in our house?''
`` I do n't know Harold, it suddenly came through a crack in the wall''
Both looked down at the tiny yet terrifying little pest that had appeared before them.
`` Didnt you say we had human lure boxxes set up around the house?''
`` I did Harold.''
`` Then how did this human get into our house? You're trying to tell me this particular human has no interest in gold or fame?''
`` Anyhow what do you want me to do with it? Kill it? Trap his mind in an endless nightmare? Or just grab a glass and a piece of paper and release back into the wild?''
`` I DO N'T CARE as long as you just get rid of it. And be sure to call the pest control to make sure we do n't get an infestation.''
`` FINE, damn humans''
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[ WP ] Everyone is destined to first meet their soul-mate at age 18 . You are 17 , however , you have already been with the love of your life for three years now .
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`` Stop talking like that Jenny. We're gon na be fine.'' Said Mark
`` You say that but in three months you turn 18 and you're gon na go off and meet the woman of your dreams, spend your lives together, and for get all about me.''
`` Stop it. You know that's not true,'' he replied. He reached for her hand and cupped it in his own. `` I could never forget about you, Jenny you mean too much to me. You're my everything and no stupid wive's tale can change that.''
`` Wive's tale? I do n't think you can call it a wive's tale when there has not been a single exception to the rule in recorded history.'' She questioned.
`` It's just a stupid cultural norm, like a self fulfilling prophecy or something. There's no scientific backing or anything that says it has to go like that.'' He said in attempt to reassure her.
`` There's the fact that every single person ever has met their soul mate at the age of 18 and we met at a young age of 15 years old.''
`` Trust me, Jenny. We're can be the exception to the rule''
`` How can you be so sure?''
He held her hand even tighter than before, `` I just know. I just feel it every time we're together. There is nothing that could sway my opinion, nothing that could make me think otherwise, nothing that could convince me that I wo n't spend the rest of my life with you.''
`` I just think we need to prepare for the inevitable,'' she said.
`` What do you mean?'' he said with a shaky voice.
`` I just think we should get it over with, the pain. It will hurt less this way.'' She elaborated.
His grip loosened and her hand slipped out as she walked out of the room.
Years passed and his stubbornness led him to never find his soul mate. He just wished with everything he had that he held her hand tighter and kept a death grip on her delicate fingers but he did n't. The world got in the way.
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[ WP ] You have the ability to create emotions into everybody . One day you meet the man who never smiles .
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It's quite an amazing thing, really. Ever since I first started manipulating my powers, I've been able to evoke emotion into anybody. I could make my incredibly strong mother shed a tear like she just witnessed my death. My wife, I hate to admit, I essentially forced into love with me. Even some of my best friends are only so fond of me because I've manipulated their emotions into enjoying being around me.
Not the most exciting super power, I know, but it still beats nothing. I might just get myself a raise later by talking to my boss for a few minutes.
Requests? Sure, I've taken them. Save a marriage here, prevent a fight there, get a donation out of this person, I've done quite a few of these. Need inspiration for your music or your writing? I've got you.
Never once has someone come along that I could n't make shed a tear or smile wider than the Golden Gate bridge. Until recently, I should say.
This man had everything, an awesome life, wonderful job, amazing wife, loving kids, and yet he was n't happy. He has n't once felt joy in his life, and despite my best tricks I could n't convince him otherwise.
And now I sit here, face to face with my mirror, wondering to myself.
Why ca n't I smile?
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[ WP ] Every night you get transported to a room where there is an alternate version of you . The two of you , discuss the different decisions you made that day .
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`` Well, this could have ended better.'' I stood close to the spot I had transported to, scratching my scalp. Have I always done that? I reach up to my own scalp, that is *my own own* scalp, but no, I drop my hand.
`` It's fine, it's much better now.'' I said.
I get disturbed by the whiteness of the room, I can tell. All the furniture is white, white table and two chairs. On the wall there is a white rose in a white frame, only decipherable by it's different shades of white. I do n't mind it.
`` What happened?'' I said. I watch myself take a stride forward and sit opposite me.
`` Too much.''
Myself and I did n't say much after that. I'm focusing intently on a strand of thought with the gusto I have n't experienced in a while. I'm more prone to idleness than myself, over the weeks I've begun to think if I could peel myself away from me completely and occupy a different space I could be an entirely different person.
As it always does the clock appears; white of course, varying colours of white. It strikes twelve and the boom echo's across our room. I stand with a hunched posture and offer a handshake to myself.
I take it, my hand bloodied and vivid against the white, the white of me, the white of the room. It makes me feel nauseous. I stay sat, and I walk away.
I step onto the transporter pad and my skull thumps against the table. Blood pools around me. My departure buzzes across the room.
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[ WP ] She glanced at me with eyes that looked as though she was remembering times that already passed by . “ You know ... I was human once . ”
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I pause for a few moments and let her words sink in. I think for a second she may elaborate but this, like most of the things she says to me, is spoken as if it would be of no interest to anyone, it just so happened to slip out of her mouth whilst she was n't paying attention.
`` You are n't human now?'' I ask, as she stares emptily toward the corner of the steel room.
`` Not like normal. Not like you're human.''
Despite myself I find that I agree with her, looking at the pale sack of bones in the hospital gown in front of me it's hard to argue there was anything resembling humanity left in there. She rarely would look at me, rarely engage with anything in the world beyond eating and drinking, it was the paper cut out of a human being. I decide to wait a little longer for her to continue speaking. Unlike a lot of my patients she was n't all that uncommunicative; sure she was quiet, but she answered my questions and often talked like this, slowly and briefly, with no traces of repore or familiarity. She was the same with everyone.
`` I used to have a family.'' She says to the wall, `` did you know that?''
`` Yes, you had a husband and a little boy did n't you?''
When I first began to see her I believed that she had some form of amnesia, something blocking out every conversation about her family. She would come in each month and tell me her son's name, how her husband used to own a liquor store. I would ask how I'm supposed to make any progress if every session we have is the first, how I was supposed to build a relationship with a patient who would constantly have to be re-introduced to me. It seemed fruitless, I would drive home and compare my efforts to wipers trying to clear off rain, constantly shunting it off as a thousand more droplets were sprayed against the windscreen.
`` Do you know what happened to them?'' I hear her ask the wall, her voice still flat, calm.
`` You killed them.''
`` That's right.''
After seeing her a few times, asking the same questions, trying to probe out difference answers, I came to something of an epiphany. This woman does n't care who you are, you could be her psychoatrist you could be the orderly bringing her the days food; she will answer anything you ask her, as long as she knows how. There was no need for me to try and get to know her, there was no filter, no edge to her voice no matter what she was talking about. It struck me as having a conversation with an AI, something like thise voices they have on phones know that you can ask questions:
'Siri, what's the nearest Chinese Takeaway'
'Claire, why did you drown your son?'
The response would be the same, helpful without ever really understanding what you asked.
`` Why does your family have to do with being human?''
She turns to look at me and I find myself surprisingly comfortable. I've seen the faces of many people that could be described as'inhuman'; I've seen the empty smiles of psychopaths, the enthusiasm of sex offenders when they discuss their past crimes. It's never bothered me too much that I'm still, after so many years of doing this, unnerved by those kinds of people. It's predictable, it's understandable - they do atrocious things and the twisting in my bones I feel every time I had to evaluate them never stopped me from doing anything but my job.
Claire, though? Claire did n't scare me in the slightest. She seemed like nothing more than a data bank, a conversation simulator trained to snap back with a reply formed from random words that were used the most often. It never occured to me that she would want to kill again, and sometimes I felt it strange to consider she had ever killed at all. She'd recount the events like a push-to-talk museum exhibition would recount the fall of Berlin.
`` What makes someone human, Claire?''
She seems to have lost sight of me in the pause and instead begins to look right through me. Perhaps this is as far as we go this week.
`` Would you like to be human?''
`` Yes.''
Her answer is so sudden, so unexpected I almost do n't hear it.
`` Why would you like to be human again?''
Her eyes snap back to focus on me, she always looks at my left eye, she does n't scan my face or seem to notice when I move; just lets her gaze linger.
`` I'd like to understand.'' She says, and instead of falling back into staring toward the wall or the door behind me, she vacantly looks directly at me, and I begin to see her mind at work, I see the cogs turn behind the glass eyes trying to comprehend something undiscernable about me. I see her trying to come to some kind of conclusion, and I decide it's been enough for one day. She stares me out of the room, and I leave quickly; so as to prevent her from getting information to make a decision.
It rains when I drive home, my wipers break and stick in the center, and I'm forced to wait it out at the side of the road as a thousand little raindrops fill my windscreen and overwhelm the image of the outside world.
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[ WP ] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in . However , you ca n't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
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Ever made a wish in a well before? Ever thought it could come true? Well, neither did I. I always thought it was just some lame thing people did when they wanted some mystical power to befall on them to grant them their wish so they could have a better life. That was until I used my grandpa's lucky coin to make a wish, not knowing that the coin was a genuine magical coin.
I had taken the coin from my grandpa's office because my sister and I wanted to make a wish in the well down the street. My sister had wished for a typical girly thing, and being a brat I wished that I could steal wishes so I could take her wish away. She cried and I got in trouble....and a Malibu barbie.
Years later I am at the park and see a soda machine. Unfortunately I only had 3 quarters and needed a dollar to get my soda. Seeing there was a fountain I checked to see if any quarters were thrown in, and to my luck there was a few. I take one and as I head to the soda machine someone throws a football at me. I catch it and throw it waaaaaay across the park. I never knew I could throw a football like that. That was like some NFL shit right there. I ignore it thinking `` well, strange shit happens sometimes'' and get my soda.
The next week I am walking my dog and end up at that same park. Seeing the soda machine again and seeing my lack of change I grab four quarters from the fountain. Again, as I walk towards the soda machine some even stranger shit happens.
First thing that happens is my dog is now a cat. Not just any cat, a blue floating cat. I freak out and try to run away....well I did run away..buuut instead of running to the other side of the park I ended up running to the other side of the country in a second.
I panic, I must be having some weird hallucination or something. I walk over to a lake and try to splash some water on my face and a fish pops up and starts to have a conversation with me. I begin to talk with it too before I realize it is a talking fish and jump...... into orbit.
So yeah, here I am... just floating in space watching the Earth beneath me pass by. Saw the international space station a few times. Really blew their minds. Not sure who the hell wished to be able to breath in space or be able to be immortal, but I'm glad I managed to grab it the coin before I jumped. I'll try to hitch a ride with the ISS next time they pass by.
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[ WP ] You are a detective in 1890 Austria . The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge . You ca n't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child , let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was .
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`` DID IT CHANGE?!'' The man stated in a near hysteric frenzy.
I waltz into the room completely taken aback by the vehemence in the man's behavior. Usually for a crime of this level of depravity, the culprit is less... combative and either wearing a facade of coolness or an out and out loon.
This response is different.
`` Did WHAT Change Mr... Mihal is the name you gave.'' At this point I find it hard to hide my disgust at this animals crimes.
Visibly taking hold of himself, Mr. Mihal replies in a slightly less feverish tone `` Did the item you took from my possession when you apprehended me shift in appearance.''
`` You mean the life like miniature drawing you carried with you in that odd shaped box we confiscated from you? We could n't figure out how your witchcraft functions so we placed it in holding. I removed it to question you about it as we've never even heard of anything this advanced come our way..ever. First you're going to explain to me what this *holds up what seems to be a new age hearing aide the wire told us of with pictures added* contraption is.''
Almost immediately the frenzied attitude returns and the prisoner begins to violently lash out against their bonds with a look of despair, anxiety, fear and the last... expectation? This day could n't get much more twisted than it already has.
Through gritted teeth the prison states: `` I-NEED-TO-MAKE-SURE-IT-WORKED!!! MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS OF LIVES HINGE ON THIS!''
Slapping my hand on the interrogation table, I let a bit of my disgust vent towards him: ``'MR. MIHAL - It is NOT up for you, the murderer of an infant child to dictate ANYTHING here. YOU will do as *I* Say or you can go right back to your cell. Are we clear? I'm pretty sure Adolf's father would n't mind seeing you privately again, and this time we wo n't make sure to stop him.''
Thinking about how insistent he was during the pummeling by the victims father, my opinion about the loon part of him is beginning to flesh out more and more.
-- -i'll finish this up later after I've had some sleep -- -
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[ WP ] A customer is abusing The State Farm summoning jingle .
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`` Like a good neighbor, state farm is there!''....
POOF....
`` Seymour, you cant keep driving your car into your garage door each time.'' The representative scolded through clenched teeth.
`` I know Jessica, but It's been a week, and I thou..''
`` I understand, But you do know we where forced to raise your rates 10 times in the last year. You are now paying over $ 300 a month''
`` I do n't care, let's do this. go ahead...'' Seymour replied.
`` Ok, we do n't have to go through this. you use the same excuse everytime, I'll just draw you a check for $ 150 and get it over with.''
`` NO! you ca n't do that!'' Seymour yelled
`` It will save us....'' Jessica tried to interject.
`` I do n't care I want to file the claim the proper way!''
`` OK, Tell me what happened.'' Jessica slumped in her chair defeated.
Seymour grinned, he lay down on the leather couch.
`` Good, are you writing this?'' he asked
`` Yes'' Jessica replied as she took out her notepad and pen.
`` The incident actually began two days ago, I called my mom as usual. and you know how she is....'' Seymor closed his eyes smiling as the session began.
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[ WP ] '' I ain ’ t here to save the fuckin ' children . ''
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The helicopter swarmed overhead, making ripples in the dark water below. A searchlight scanned the surrounding area, piercingly bright in the winter night. It crept over the water, the snow-crested treeline, and the crowd gathered on the bridge, before stopping on the wrecked bus that hung over the edge.
The roar of the helicopter was deafening as it passed overhead, but when the chopping of the rotors faded away in the distance, it was replaced by the howl of rusted metal and the screams of children.
Harold clung to the foundation, hugging the stone until his arms were numb. He felt new tears run down his cheeks, melting the ones that had frozen. Not more than thirty feet above, the crumpled slab of a bus peered down at him, barely held back by a few thin strips of railing.
It was strange seeing something so huge being so completely wrecked. It looked like a crushed soda can. Inside it, Harold saw children crying, screaming, clinging to the windows. A teacher ran out of view, carrying a little girl in her arms. The girl was neither crying nor screaming.
`` Look! ``, someone shouted. It came from somewhere else. Harold turned toward the sound and found half a dozen people staring down at him. Their breaths fogged in the cold air as they pointed and shouted.
`` Look! Someone's climbed down to save them!''
A flash of rage and embarrassment went through Harold, warming his numb limbs. It took all he had to not break down sobbing. *I ai n't here to save the fuckin' children*, he wanted to scream. But he did n't. He was too much of a coward, as he always was. He remained frozen in place, clinging to the cold stone like a baby clinging to its mother. He shut his eyes, wishing for it all to just end.
A collective gasp erupted from the people overhead. Harold opened his eyes just in time to see the massive steel husk close down on him, accompanied by the scream of tearing metal. He clamped his eyes shut again, throwing his hands up for protection, then -- nothing happened.
It took a while before he dared to open his eyes. When he did, he saw two shattered headlights dangling from a wrinkled sheet of steel. The bus still hung on to what must have been the last bits of railing, and had come to a halt not more than ten feet from him. He just stared at it, not knowing how to react.
A teacher peered out of a broken window, looking at him with wide eyes. Dark blood ran down her neck, made even darker against the paleness of her face. She'd been crying too.
`` Ben! ``, she cried. `` Ben, come here!'' She waited for an answer, but none came. Panic crept into her voice. `` Ben!? ``, she cried again. This time, someone answered from further back in the bus.
`` What? ``, a man's voice said, and then another face appeared. It was an older man, wearing a pair of broken glasses. His expression relaxed somewhat when he saw Harold.
`` Oh, thank God'', he said, disappearing back into the bus.
He returned shortly after with a child hanging limply from his arms. Pushing himself as far out of the window he could, he held out the little kid to Harold. At first, Harold did n't understand what was happening. Then the realization dawned on him. *No, no, no, I ca n't do that! You do n't understand... * Harold lifted his arms to apologize and decline, but found himself instead taking a step forward and meeting the old man's outstretched arms. Before he knew it, he found himself holding a small boy. He was suddenly very aware of the sixty-feet drop down to the icy, hard water below. He very much wanted to stay where he was.
Still, when the next child came, Harold reached out, stretching himself across the gap. And the next. And the next. It was n't until the old man himself started to climb out of the window that Harold realized what he had done. He was n't strong enough to carry Ben, but the old man managed to close the gap himself. Harold helped him steady himself on the landing.
`` Come on, Susie! ``, he yelled. The woman poked her head out of the window, eyes wide with fear. Harold knew that look all too well.
`` You can do it, Susie! ``, Harold yelled before he knew what was happening. He cringed; that must have sounded pathetic. But Susie threw an arm over the edge. Then a leg. And then she jumped.
When she landed safely, she and Ben rushed to Harold, gripping him so tightly it hurt. `` Thank you, thank you, thank you'', they kept saying.
`` I wasn't-'', Harold tried, but the words stuck in his throat. *I was n't trying to save you*, he wanted to say. *I'm no hero. * But he did n't. He was too much of a coward, as he always was.
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[ wp ] When someone dies , they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife , not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell . You meet someone who has stood there for millenia , trying to decide if they should go .
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The room was flooded with light - it was n't white, it was n't yellow, it was n't transparent... I do n't know what colour it was, but the room I awoke in was glowing somehow.
I turned in circles and saw nothingness in all directions. Suddenly, a majestic stone archway towered before me and I wondered how I had n't seen it before. The words inscribed on it were unfamiliar but I somehow knew what they meant: `` Enter and be judged.''
I moved forward without hesitation, but something began to slow my steps. I walked slower and slower until, right before I entered, I found myself stopping. I turned around again, wondering why my thoughts came to me so slowly. I looked for something else, anything else. I saw nothing but light around me, but somewhere to my left was something strange. Like calling for a memory that refused to come to the surface, I stared at rays of brilliant light, frowning, trying to make sense of them. My eyes adjusted slowly to reveal a gray-haired man sitting cross-legged less than five feet away from me, his eyes closed.
I rubbed my eyes cautiously but he was still there when they re-opened. I walked towards him slowly, my steps so sluggish that it was maddening, until I stood in front of him.
He opened one eye and greeted me.
`` Go away.''
I paused, unsure of how to respond.
`` Where am I?'' I asked.
`` You see that thing over there?'' he motioned to the archway with a nod of his head. `` Walk into it.''
I nodded and turned around to do so when a thought struck me.
`` Why?'' I asked, feeling quite childish.
He paused, as if unsure of the answer. `` There's nowhere else to go.''
`` Oh.''
I took a few steps away from him until another question occurred to me.
`` Why do n't you come with me?''
He seemed annoyed by the question.
`` I am here to warn others not to stay, as I have,'' he responded. `` There is nothing here. You must go forward.''
I looked at him uncertainly. `` But if there's nothing here... do n't you have to go as well?''
He paused for much longer before answering. `` No. I must warn others not to stay.''
I nodded. `` Is this your... job? Or something?''
He shook his head. `` No. I have chosen to do this myself.''
`` Why?'' I asked, and the question seemed to surprise him.
He opened his mouth to respond, but no answer came out.
I began walking back to him, sudden confidence overtaking me. `` You should come with me.''
`` No,'' he said, his voice unsure. `` I have to warn the others.''
`` They'll figure it out,'' I asserted knowingly as I reached for him.
`` I... w-what if they do n't?'' he stuttered, but did n't resist as I pulled his arm over my shoulder.
`` They will,'' I said, not knowing why I was so sure of it. I walked with him slowly, even as he gently tried to pull away.
`` Maybe I should wait a bit,'' he began.
`` You've waited enough,'' I laughed, an unfamiliar happiness washing over me.
`` But, what if the others...'' he stopped himself and closed his eyes. We were just in front of the archway now.
`` Look,'' he began, pleadingly. `` I know what's going to happen next. I do n't want to go.''
I looked back at him sadly. `` It's going to happen anyway. There's no point in waiting.''
`` You do n't understand,'' he began. `` You do n't know who I am, you do n't know...''
He stopped fully this time and turned towards me. `` Look, before I came here...''
I listened patiently, my face blank. His life story was sad to me and oddly familiar.
``... s-so, so, you see,'' he finished, choking back tears. `` I ca n't. I... I ca n't.''
I waited a bit for him to recover, but it did n't seem like he was going to. Just as he started to turn away, I spoke.
`` You know, I never knew my dad.''
His tears slowly faded as I took my turn to share. He seemed to forget his own situation entirely as I talked and by the time I had finished recounting my life story his sadness was replaced with horror.
`` You... you...'' he started, unable to get the words out.
`` I know,'' I said calmly, reaching for his hand. He seemed utterly reviled by me and flinched away this time.
I made my voice as gentle as I could. `` Listen, we'll go together. Okay?''
He averted his gaze thoughtfully for a few moments and then nodded. `` Okay.''
I grabbed his hand and we walked through together.
As we walked, I could feel him getting lighter and lighter until he slipped quietly out of my hands and into the sky. I smiled up at him, even as I felt myself begin to fall.
I felt hate, gnawing fury building up inside me, but I ignored it this time, choosing not to prepare for what came next but to throw myself at the mercy of what awaited me. It built up in a roaring crescendo, but I shut it out as best as I could until I suddenly felt a great deal of sadness and a surprising gentle upward push from below.
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[ WP ] Everybody in the world switches bodies with a random person .
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It was saturday, I should do my sabbat. But I felt quite bad. I closed my eyes and opened them three times. I have flown in Switzerland, seeing my family die, I remenber leaving the ghetto, without have eat for 2 days. And three mounth after, I finaly reach the border, Some peasant welcame me, and give a bed. I was so exhausted that I slept instantly. But when I got up, I was wearing an uniform, I looked to the insign, I was a SS.
I heard a big explosions, and subitly, I hided under a table, crying.
When I opened my eyes for the second times, A brithish soldier was laughing. He told me he was jew, he hated SS and Hitler so much, and that I was a dick.
Then, he began aiming at me...
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[ WP ] In the basement of the Stanford neuroscience building , a group of humanoid robots embedded with AI are assigned `` robot '' and `` human '' roles . The results of what is now known as `` the Stanford human experiment '' shocked the world .
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A late report by erwin schrodinger was found 20 years after his death, it had seemed he was n't so keen on sharing this side of him.
`` It is to be said, that robotic AI, that is technology that is so advanced such that it can practically emulate all of the functions of a human, is no less human than human. It is to be said that if we are to make AI, that is as complex as the most intricate and mathematically interactions on the molecular level that the human brain, that the human body, that all of consciousness is made from, then what you will have made is not a robot. You indeed, that which can not be described properly with any other word, gave birth''
After years of studies, the evidence was impossible to refute, there was no distinguishable difference between AI and humans...
After the trial, the world felt quite a shock, an intense but heavy feeling of reality. Mark Lapoto had of course been released, not because he was innocent, because of the reality in which we now know, it did n't matter.
Mr Lapato was the lead researcher, and was the real visionary of the project - without him, we would not be where we are. He inspired, he motivated, and he achieved. Mr Lapato's whacky ideas could not, by societies standards, be morally tested on anyone but himself.
He built an intricate AI, a human AI....one of that Schrodinger spoke of. He built himself....he lived with himself, for 3 months....and the trial, which was ended after great length and deemed it was impossible to tell which Mark committed the homicide.
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[ WP ] You and your friend have been planning this trip for weeks . But when you pick him/her up , he/she jumps in your car and frantically yells `` Drive ! Go now ! Go ! ''
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The air instantly changed whenever she jumped in the car. Without hesitation i drove off quickly and headed for the interstate. She was breathing heavily, her breast were going up and down as her adrenaline pumped through her veins. There was blood on her shirt but it did n't appear to be hers. Questions entered my mind as if i suffered from A.D.H.D, i had to ask what happened, and also what kind of shit was in.
`` Violet, What the fuck is going on?''
`` I killed him, I killed both of them.''
She killed her boyfriend. She had enough of the abuse. We have been friends since high school. She knew how i felt about her. The problem now was the two dead bodies in her house. As i got on the interstate, decided to take action and come up with a plan.
`` We can either go to Mexico or Canada.''
`` Mexico.''
As i continued to drive i turned on the am radio to hear if any reports about the two dead bodies. As i looked at her i could help but noticed her beauty in this moment. She looked at me and said get off at the next exit and find a quiet place. Like a fool, i did. I found a nice place in the shade in a near by park. Once i parked; i sat back, took a deep breathe, and looked at her. Before i could react, she held a gun to my head.
`` I'm sorry.'' She whispered.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop 47 : Beginnings
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Deep breaths. Deep full breaths counted out to a steady rhythm. You have to remember to breathe when the time comes. If you do n't breath you'll freeze. Your body runs on oxygen. Your mind needs it to process. And when the moment comes and the adrenaline pours in and everything slows to a crawl, if your body is n't being oxygenated, you're going to shut down. You've got to make the moment last or you're going to get yourself killed.
These are the thoughts that raced through Miller's mind while he pretended to study the canned meats in the back of the Quick-Fil convenience store. He had seen the group of thugs come in and something about them had just seemed off. He knew, somehow just *knew* that they were going to rob the place.
There had been only a handful of other patrons in the store with Miller before, all politely and studiously ignoring each other. The clerk was busy re-stocking the cigarettes. Miller had a perfect view of the door when the four thugs rolled up and parked right outside. Three jumped out and came straight inside while the fourth leaned against the car with arms crossed. It was the speed and manic motions that tipped Miller off.
He patted his service pistol in its chest holster and wished he was on duty. Then he could have called for back-up. Or perhaps his uniform would have simply warded the whole situation off. But no, he was in street clothes and a leather jacket; just some Joe doing his shopping.
The thugs had n't made a move yet. They seemed nervous and jumpy, but otherwise still just patrons. Miller had started to make his way around and behind them, to block them off from the entrance when the clerk finally turned to acknowledge them. That's when they started screaming and pulled a gun. Miller dropped down between the snack chips and the booths by the front glass.
He told himself to breathe as he drew his own gun. *Deep breaths. * He had only seen one gun. *Think. * None of the thugs had paid him any attention that he knew. Maybe he could pop up and make them drop their gun. Keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Keep the innocents alive. *Breathe. Think. * His adrenaline was surging but he knew he had to be methodical. Do n't forget the steps.
Everyone was screaming now. He heard the clerk beg not to be shot. He heard the thugs all screaming about money. He heard the crash of merchandise hitting the floor. Panic started to grip him, making his chest tight. His breathing got shallow. He had to act now. Fight through the panic. Try to breathe.
He stood, leveling his gun over the shelves of snacks. His breathing ragged, he tried to find his voice. Before he could say anything, his eyes caught a motion out the front window. It was the car thug, leveling a revolver at him through the glass.
Miller sucked in a deep breath as time slowed to a crawl. This was n't supposed to happen. He turned. The revolver bloomed orange. The glass shattered. Miller collapsed. He exhaled. The moment was over.
___
[ Things I've written ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/cbeckw/ )
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[ WP ] All our heroes are dead , so we build some more .
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`` All troops, get to Sector One! We have a breach in security; show no mercy against the invaders!''
The men ran as their boots clicked-clacked against the aftermath of a rainstorm on the city's pavement. Their rifles in hand, many had stopped to entrench in nearby kiosks or buildings. They young privates and corporals saw their beloved hero, Kirk, go head on into the fighting.
Then it blew.
A large bomb, demolishing most of the city, killed many men- including Kirk.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*cough*
*cough*
He looked around, and saw his comrades' faces, frozen in time, a reminder of the past. He flinched. Kirk was dead. The city would most likely fall to the invaders.
Then he realized...
... he was Lego.
heh
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[ WP ] Bill Clinton lives under your bed . Describe a weekend in your life
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You'd think having a former president under your bed would be usefull. That you could maybe coax some advice from the wrinkly old bastard but unfortunately not.
I'm 16 years old and attending Rincon High School. It's not easy, I rarely get a good nights sleep and he's always watching me. Once I asked him for advice about my grades and his response was `` If President Reagan could be an actor and become president, maybe I could become an actor. I've got a good pension. I can work for cheap.'' You sure could Bill but that would mean getting out from under my bed though.
I am convinced he actually is the BoogieMan.
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[ IP ] It should be here somewhere ...
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She buried herself in the snow, threw the robe over her head to hide and held her breath. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited. She could hear the robots approaching. Their metallic feet crunched in the snow and she could hear the sound of cogs clicking rhythmically as they scouted the area.
“ Find her! ” A voice called above the howling wind. “ I want her back alive! ”
“ Affirmative ” A cold voice replied, it almost sounded human in its reply.
Still she waited. She felt her face burn from the cold and she clenched her teeth to stop herself from shivering. Her body trembled uncontrollably as a gust of wind snuck into her robe. She bit her lip and hoped the wind wouldn ’ t lift the robe up and give up her hiding place. In the snowy wasteland, there wasn ’ t really many places to hide but luckily for her, her robe was white and matched the colour of the snow so it meant she could blend in.
“ Wendy! You can ’ t hide for long! Come out here and give your older sister a hug ” A cold laugh erupted in the air. Wendy shivered.
A dull thud, less than an arms reach away, caused Wendy's breath to catch in her throat. Grabbing her mouth with both hands, she managed to muffle a cough. The footsteps slowly approached her. She sunk lower into the snow and felt robotic eyes burning into her. What felt like a lifetime passed by and with each growing moment she could feel fear take control. She stifled a sob and clutched her teddy bear close. She stroked its head softly, breathing deeply just like her Mother told her to, and felt the fear slowly fade.
As the giant stepped over her, she could feel the world darken as it blocked the sunlight. Several minutes passed as it scanned the area, cogs clicking, before stomping away. Slowly, the sounds around her faded and she forced herself to her feet. Brushing snow from her tunic and robe, Wendy allowed herself to shiver. A light glistened in the distance and as quickly as she rose, she immediately ducked behind the large crevasse in front of her. She peered over the edge and squinted.
She counted 5 giant robots on her fingers, not including her sister. They had fanned out like points on a star and in the distance lay her home. The city looked quiet from here and a thin dome of purple magic shielded it from intruders and the harsh weather conditions. It was supposed to protect from the dangers but the true dangers were inside the city. That ’ s why she had to leave.
A blast of red light flashed overhead, startling Wendy as she dropped her bag in surprise. She scrambled to stuff everything back in the pack again as a second blast, closer this time, brushed past her head. She ’ d been so consumed in her thoughts she hadn ’ t realized she was standing up in plain view until it was too late. Debris rained down from the sky as a nearby mountain exploded from a rogue blast. The mechanical ticking drew closer. Wendy flung her pack over her back and ran. Her shoes slipped on the snow as she run and several times she almost fell. She managed to keep her balance and slid down the crevasse.
A second robot appeared from her right, clearly alerted to the sudden activity, and shot a warning blast of its own several metres in front of her. A cloud of snow rained down on her but she shook her head free of snow and continued on. The wind pushed her back and snow stung her face as she struggled to pick up the pace. She lowered her head and pushed with all her might against the wind to run fast.
She ran so fast, she didn ’ t notice the glint of metal until it was too late. The blunt end of a sword struck the roof of her nose and she fell to her knees in pain. Stars clouded her vision and she felt white hot pain pulse from her nose. She felt like she had a runny nose but she could only manage a wince when she tried to sniff.
“ Nice try sister but you can ’ t get away from me. ” The woman stared at her with relentless hatred.
“ You can have the throne! ” A steady stream of blood poured from her nose. The snow begun to turn red. “ I don ’ t want it! ”
Her sister contemplated her words for several moments. She paced back and forth like a caged animal. “ There are those in the city that believe you are the rightful princess for the throne after Mother ’ s passing. I must eliminate all doubts. ” She pointed the sword menacingly toward her sister. Wendy began to sob.
The woman turned and started to walk away as the robots crowded around the girl.
“ Kill her. ” She commanded. The robots raised their guns toward Wendy ’ s face and prepared to fire.
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[ WP ] Mankind lives on the corpses of giant whales instead of continents . Due to overpopulation , it is your job to hunt more for more `` land '' .
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The smell of pine needles. Grass scrunching, soft and pliable under my feet. Children climbing trees merely to fall into the thick miss beneath them.
I remember those days. The days before the first fin threw its mighty shadow over our land.
I was there, you know. For that first wave, the first gush of destruction. Water, the one substance essential to life as we knew it, brought the end of life as we knew it. I stood there, the last ripples lapping at my feet, staring at something that everyone instinctively knew was ancient and glorious, yet terrible in its power.
The first whale. The first beast released upon our once stable, albeit scarred and wounded, world. No one knew, or knows why, how, when they came. Perhaps some brave and foolhardy seafarer explored too far, too deep. Maybe Nature itself revolted with its finest weapon against Humanity. It's possible some mundane, everyday event triggered what would be the collapse of everything we held dear.
But none of that matters now. The behemoths massacred our children, broke our world, thrashing and fighting between themselves. Continents, once the most trusted aspect of daily life, snapped and sank as if they were plastic boats in an angry child's bathtub. Entire peoples were thrown angrily out of existence. Australia was the first to go. Only four thousand made it out alive, leaving the rest to try and brave the tortured waters or fight for what little aerial escape there was left. From there, the beasts systematically crushed every land on their path. America and Russia, once begrudging allies, found common ground with their ownership of what seemed to be the only weapon worth using against these creatures. The first nuclear weapons were launched as three левиафан, or Leviathan as they came to be known, slammed through Iceland and approached the western edge of Norway. American and Russian ICBMs arced, side by side, across the red dawn and blasted chunks of flesh from the backs of the enemy. By the time the now quite diverse population of the Motherland could look at the impact without sunglasses, the pounding had stopped. Satellite images showed half of Norway, and a sea of red. Great celebration was had. Humanity had pushed back, turned the tide. Civilization, science, the arts, anything not essential to survival may have been decimated, but we were alive.
And so whale hunting was reborn. Granted, a little bit diverged from its ancestor, but still just as, if not more, dangerous. From there, humanity rebuilt itself on the backs of those it had defeated. Whatever the massive things were made of had absorbed and somehow neutralized the fallout of the nukes like a magnet. In just over a year, the carcasses and skin were perfectly safe. People built houses, cities, entire sovereign nations into and onto the Leviathans. Some even made theirs mobile, utilizing whatever organs and systems still seemed to be functioning to create a type of necrotic cyborg out of their whales.
Me, I lived on the poor outskirts of the remains of Russia, a simple farm worker. Well, lived until one day tanks and armed men marched into our town, taking a militarized census. To make a long story short, large whales and a scrawny splotch of land was n't much for a growing civilization to thrive on. I got conscripted, trained, and chucked onto a state of the art cruiser, fitted with the latest in fancy gadgets and dancy gizmos. May 30, 2027, the New United Russian Confederation's *Harvester* set off in search of more Leviathan to slay and repurpose. Honestly? Getting drafted was the best thing that ever happened to me.
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[ WP ] You are a blood bank worker . One night after closing up , you are approached by a stranger . The stranger proves to be a knowledgeable vampire hundreds of years old and offers you a deal : access to blood in exchange for a conversation every night .
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`` Look, no way man. I ca n't just give away blood. If my boss finds out I'll get fired, they have cameras everywhere in here and I really need this money!'' I say, glancing nervously at the reflections mirrored off the dark windows which were eerily empty despite the handsome man in the black suit standing in front of me.
The man clicked his tongue, revealing briefly his fangs, `` A desk job at the blood bank on the night shift, as if you are even making that much money!''
`` Exactly my point.'' I reply, leaning back into my chair, folding my arms in a defensive manner, ready to run for the door the moment this bloodsucker lunges for my neck.
`` You can calm your nerves, young man, if I am going to bite I am picky about it and believe me, you're not my type. Thus, why I am standing here.'' He replied.
`` Are n't you immortal? Why did n't you just get a job with easy blood access, I'm sure there are thousands, and with all the time in the world to do it...'' I say, it is difficult to discern his age, he's certainly not young, with gray streaks in his clean, well groomed hair and the slightest wrinkles around his eyes and lips. However, there is an unexplainable agelessness about him.
The vampire sighed, `` Ah yes, many of my kind do... however I find job security less appealing when dealing with immortality, I've got endless lives to live and some boring night shift job at a hospital or blood bank does not excite me. I'd sooner step outside at noon than suffer that fate. But perhaps we can strike a deal.''
`` A deal?'' I ask.
`` Certainly.'' He said, leaning his elbows on the counter, I inch away uncomfortably.
I rubbed my fingers together in front of him, `` I deal in cash.''
The vampire sighed again and reached into his pocket, `` Ah, yes. I see you are a stubborn one.'' He began to reach into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. `` Say, my young friend, how are things going with Lisa?''
My cheeks grew hot. Lisa was the girl that I worked shifts with Monday through Wednesday, a pretty blonde girl who I was friendly with at work, more than once I felt like she was definitely flirting with me. `` S-She's, er, things are going fine.''
The vampire chuckled, `` I've seen your type far too many times, grasping for what you can not reach, if only you could find a step stool.'' He opened his wallet, and flipped through his generous stack of hundred dollar bills.
My eyes darted between the cash and the vampire, `` Are... you suggesting...'' I shook my head, `` No, no I can do just fine. I think she likes-''
The vampire laughed now, `` Oh my boy, she hardly remembers you the minute she climbs onto that bus, leaving you sadly behind at the stop. I've watched it countless times.''
`` Watched... it?''
`` Why yes, sometimes I get bored and cling to the tree by the stop, as a bat you see. I will tell you right now she's not interested. Sure she likes your sense of humor, and not having to sit at a stop late at night on her own... but... you certainly have not impressed her in *that* way yet.''
I swallowed as I stared at all of that cash. But the bastard had my curiosity peaked. Still though, I was skeptical. `` You're thinking you can help me do better.''
The vampire chuckled, `` Oh, when you have been around as long as me, living the life that I live, I could match you to a royal princess in Europe if I so chose to do so. You see, people are not so complicated when you get to know them, like that computer by your side... if you know which buttons to press, at just the right moment it will do exactly what you intend.''
`` Fine.'' I blurt, `` What's the deal?''
`` I come in every night, you supply me with a meal, and I exchange the wealth of information that I have gathered over the past half a millennia.''
`` How do I know it will work?'' I ask.
The vampire grinned and reached into his trench coat, he pulled from it an old, wrinkled picture, `` This was me not so long ago.''
`` Is that... The Queen of England?''
`` Yes, time has not been so kind of her, but let me tell you she was into some-'' He shuddered and finished his sentence with a laugh, `` kinky stuff.''
`` Okay. Alright okay deal. But I want more than just to uh, you know... I like her, I want her to like me back.''
The vampire nodded, `` In time. It is all about being yourself... but in good time. You two have more in common than you share.''
`` Uh, okay. So what first.''
`` That excuse of a beard you've got on your face, get rid of it.'' He said, putting his right index finger into his palm.
`` I thought beards were in?'' I asked, stroking the thin matte of facial hair on my cheek.
`` Full, groomed beards sure, but yours is too patchy, too uneven. Besides, whenever I see Lisa flirting with the boys in the bar she *always* goes for the clean shaven ones.'' His eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down, `` About your height too.'' He grinned as my fists coiled unconsciously as he told me about all the boys Lisa was apparently frolicking with. What right did I have to be jealous though?
`` Okay, so your great gift is to tell me to shave. I think I might-''
`` Ah, ah ah. In time. First you need to catch her eye, be her type. It will help you stick in her mind longer. You're not fat, which is a better starting point than most of the guys who flirt with her, I think it's the glasses that makes her seem so approachable to, uh, well you know.''
I crossed my arms.
`` Okay fine, since it is our first transaction, I'll tell you a bit more. She loves karaoke. Really into that Classic Rock stuff, she has an okay voice too. And judging by the calluses on your fingers I assume you must play a bit of... guitar? Is it?''
I nodded my head. She had never mentioned singing before.
He reached into his pocket and plucked from it a black business card, `` I own a bar or two in town. This one here has a sort of live music karaoke night on Thursdays. Shave that beard and invite her out. Tell her a friend is working the bar that night and you can get some cheap drinks.''
I read the card, The Bat Roost was the place.
`` Now, do n't spill your guts out. Do n't ask her out. *Don't* try and kiss her no matter how well you think it goes. And I will be back tomorrow to tell you more.''
I sighed and reached into my pocket for the key to the storage room. `` Okay. But one last question, why help me? Why not just steal it all.''
The vampire shrugged. `` An immortal life is too long to be a villain. And besides, I ca n't truly live a human life anymore, I have dabbled in more than a few famous people's lives. You know of the Bush family?''
`` Like... the presidents?''
`` Yes. Well, I offered some advice to some of their ancestors and well, I suppose they churned out a couple of pricks but ca n't say they are n't successful.''
`` Ah.'' I replied. `` Any uh, preference on blood?''
The vampire thumbed his chin, `` Hm. Have any brunettes been through lately?''
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[ WP ] While rummaging through a box of arts and crafts you created as a young child , you find a picture you drew . It is titled `` Me and my sister . '' You have never had a sister ...
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`` Hah, and here's one of me and Emmie!'' John said to his wife, she looks different, but he never really caught on whenever she got her haircut, even when she fished for compliments. She patted his hand and smiled adoringly at him, the ring he bought her glinting off her fingers. They were older now, and had been together a fair amount of time. Love true and deep, built on a solid connection and a bedrock as stern as possible. They'd made a life together, memories too numerous to be named. Children, a home, adventure, they'd shared it all.
The doctor came into the room and stood patiently by the door. He was used to this behavior, he'd seen true love before, even a jaded man like he could realize when it stood there in front of him.
After a few more minutes, he cleared his throat to remind Mrs. Summers that he was still waiting, and he did have rounds to get to. She stroked her husbands head and kissed him, letting him know she'd be right back, and to call if he needed anything.
`` Any news Doctor?'' Lene Summers asked, that fragile glimmer of hope in her eyes. Dr. Sterling never did have the best bedside manner, and he looked like an impassive glacier, cold, aloof, distant, and impassable. He fiddled with his clipboard, for his hard-ass exterior and lack of social graces, he always hated giving bad news. `` I'm sorry, Mrs. Summers, it's... It's the same as before. Early onset Dementia, along with the colon cancer. He's... he's drawn a bad hand. Do you have his affairs in order? I assume you're the executor of his estate. I'll be having the grief counselor meet with you later... and, truthfully, I'm sorry there is n't anything more that we can do for him besides ease his passing. He'll be moved to a Hospice care unit soon. I'm...'' he paused, and decided it'd be smarter to shut up, as the woman broke down in silent tears again. How many times had he seen her cry? How many times had Mr. Summers seen her cry, only to have that memory stripped away? The man was an illustrator once upon a time, never very successful, but he had read one of the books when he was in grade school. Now, he drowned himself in memories of things drawn long ago.
A fixation on one picture in particular, it was simplistic and of poor quality, on yellowing paper done in crayon. A boy and girl, holding hands in a garden in front of an old colonial house, a snapshot of what was to be; a future Mr. and Mrs. Summers, but one of them forgot along the way.
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[ WP ] Every new planet that is discovered comes with Gods . You 're the one tasked with destroying them .
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Fantastic tales on the net tend to depict members of my profession as mighty heroes, wielding outlandish, comically large weapons, doing battle with unimaginably powerful beasts and divine beings. The truth, as it so often is, is much less spectacular.
Hannah Smith. 159. Career stalled as a low level nano-engineer for the better part of a standard century, as was far too common for someone without family connections. Unsurprising anyone with such a plain life and that knowledge would set themselves up as a deity on some recently discovered backwater, poor soul, but still inexcusable.
It began like the thousands of missions previous, rumbling of my drop pod as it started to meet resistance against the atmosphere of the planet below. As a novice I found the shaking nerve racking. I must have thrown up in my capsule my first 50 drops. Now, it was calming, settling, a time to center myself before the work ahead.
The retros fired with a mighty roar, cutting my meditation short as the deceleration pulled on me with the strength of a dozen worlds. If the capsule had been lit, I'd be able to see the color drain from my vision. After but a few moments, the roar died down and the pod gave one final shake. Landfall.
I blindly reached for the series of latches that would release the pod's cover, listening for the hiss of atmosphere as it released. Snapping my legs free of the restraints holding them in place, I drew them up to my chest, before kicking out the panel of the pod.
My vision was quickly flooded with light, although it quickly adjusted to the dull redness of it all. I unhooked the straps securing my torso and clambered out of the pod, my ears awash with the sounds of wildlife around me. I yanked my rifle, which had seen half as many combat missions as I, free of the pod, before jumping down onto the ground. Quickly tapping on my wrist mounted device, I turned to survey the now melting pod that had carried me to the surface, the metal sizzling at it dissolved. Within seconds, nothing remained of my transport, nothing to contaminate the local culture further once my work is done. I turned, and set off into the brush, looking for my target.
The hours passed quickly as I made my way forward, my earpiece pinging me with a warning to disappear into the brush whenever the locals drew close. They looked like us, a bit taller, and four fingers instead of five. I'd probably be able to blend in, but I was loathe to leave my reliable equipment behind to do so. Especially against a nano-engineer.
As the red sun drew low, I reached the village my target had come to call home. Squat hovels stood in stark opposition to a towering spire of smooth metal, other out of place structures in various states of completion, shimmering as nanobot clouds did their work on them. I made my way up the cliff-face overseeing the settlement, with luck I'd be able to finish this with a single shot.
Night fell by the time I reached my position, nestled comfortably between two large rocks. I propped my rifle against my shoulder, scanning the town through my scope. I barely had to, there were only a few artificially lit locations in this backwater village. I found the would-be goddess in a garden aside one of her artificial spires, her nanobot cloud swirling around her, making a glistening trailing dress. I held my breath to steady my aim, my finger beginning to put pressure on the trigger. I was about to take the shot, before a local swept into my field of view.
I hoped for a moment that one of the barbarians had done my work for me. Ridding themselves of a tyrant, and without her, her work would fade away. I of course, had no such luck. The giant embraced my target, holding her a few feet off the ground, nuzzling against her face in what I presumed some sign of affection. I steadied my scope once more. The shot would be a little harder, but I had no trouble lining up with their erratic movements. I began to put pressure on the trigger, staring at them for what would seem an eternity.
I exhaled with a curse, releasing my hold on the trigger as I realized I could n't go through with it. I tossed my rifle to the ground, and it began to dissolve with another tap to my wrist. It was n't a suitable tool for this job anymore, I'd need to go in myself.
I slid down the cliff-face and into the town. Normally stealth was of the essence, but tonight it was speed. As I hit the ground, I broke into a run, flitting my way through rows of structures, towards the goddess' garden.
She was still there, lying against the sleeping body of the local, staring at the night sky. She started as I came into view, a figure clothed in jet black, barreling towards her as fast as my legs would carry me.
She hastily flicked a braceleted wrist in my direction, a silver cloud of nanobots flying at me. I sidestepped to the right, continuing my run, but the bots took my left arm. I let out a howl of pain, but continued my charge, leaping and grappling the goddess.
I held her tightly as she struggled uselessly in my grip. I was by far the stronger. The real threat was her dress, which was currently eating into my suit. I scratched at her arm, trying to tear off the controller bracelet, not succeeding until pain started to shoot through my legs. I kicked the woman away, leaving a bloody smear in the garden, crushing the controller in my remaining fist.
The pain washed over me, threatening to drive me unconscious. I strained against it, trying to bring my remaining arm to my face, tears streaming from my eyes at the effort. I could faintly hear the worried cries of the now-mortal goddess, mewling on the ground a few feet away from me, her dress now a pile of dust around her. The local lay next to her, comforting her. I smiled as I touched my nose to my wrist pad, and I heard the sizzling again in my ears. I sighed as the pain faded, and my vision went black. I could n't leave anything behind, even as I left to join the gods I had slain.
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[ WP ] A person is sent to hell after they die . He/she quickly discovers that his/her significant other is going to commit suicide back on earth . Tell the story of how he/her rescues , or tries to rescue him/her .
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Hell had n't been as bad as people thought it might be, but not by much. Rather that a guy with a pitchfork stabbing you all day you had to deal with slow internet speeds and a noticeable amount of BO. Your cereal was always soggy, and tv only had reruns on. Everyday was Monday and coffee was n't available. So yeah, hell was as bad as you could imagine, the one bright side however was the ability to check up on people still alive. I had no idea how I had ended up here. I had done his best to live a good life, perhaps it was because I did n't go to church every week. It did n't matter now though, I was stuck here for eternity. I minus well enjoy the first couple of years and check up on the people I know why they were still around.
That is probably another thing I should mention. I died young, real young. I was driving home late from the university when a drunk driver crossed the center line. It was over in an instant, the angry sound of metal yielding followed by my brain liquefying on the front of my skull.
I had watch my funeral from hell. It was touching to see how many people turned out. It further added to my disbelief that I'd ended up down here. The hardest hit had been my girlfriend, Brittany. Britt and I had been so in love it was sickening. We were the couple that everybody wanted to be. Considerate, loving, competitive, the list went on and on of everything we were for one another. We had planned our futures together, the classic nurse and engineer combo. We'd both work a couple years to get a payment for a house and then we could get married and start a family. When Britt cried at my funeral it was n't just for a boy she liked, but a future she was robbed of.
It had been months since my untimely demise and Britt was n't getting better. She still sat in her room, the world was dead to her. I should have seen in coming when she made her way to the cliffs. She was planning a suicide, nobody goes from the kind of low to hiking in a single afternoon. Always a true romantic poet I smiled, ending it were it all began. The cliffs had been where she and I enjoyed our first date. It would n't be long before she joined me in hell though.
`` Wait!?'' I thought to myself, `` She is the best part of me and I love her. If she kills herself that's guaranteed entrance to hell and she sure as shit does n't belong here''
***
`` Enter,'' boomed a deep voice.
I could n't remember how it had all happened, but I stood before him now. Lucifer, the fallen angel, Mr. Red and Horned himself, Satan.
`` You've got to help me -'' I got out before he laughed in my face.
`` I do n't have to do anything for you''
`` How about a trade, anything, surely you must need me to do something, just let me try to save her''
`` Oh-ho-ho, LOVE,'' he boomed, `` well I enjoy watching wills break. I will offer you this, you may have a moment with you *love*, but in exchange you will be my newest minion of darkness. It will be your job to work in an airport, working to drive humans to homicidal rages and making air travel unbearable. You will become, a TSA agent. ``
I gulped, there were few things worse to do. To be purely hated by all those around and hating yourself as well. It only seemed this was the pure hell he deserved and it would be worth it if he could save Britt.
`` Deal,'' I said.
***
`` DAV!'' a voice screamed at me.
No, not just a voice. Her voice. `` Britt!'' I huffed, `` look I do n't have much time, do n't do it!''
She looked to the ground, ashamed. `` I ca n't do it anymore Dav, not without you. I'm so sorry''
`` No wait! The afterlife, it exists. Heaven and hell, it's true. Suicide is a straight ticket down. You've got to live your life, do it for me, do it so that one day I can greet you at the gates of heaven,'' I lied.
She broke down sobbing at this, there was nothing I could do, but softly coo to her. Having a ghostly form was agony as I could n't reach out to comfort her.
`` Promise me you'll be waiting for me at the gates,'' she said turning up to face me.
`` I promise,'' I lied one last time. `` I'll be watching over you every day until I can hold you again.I love you, in life and in death. Promise me you'll live your life and be happy again ``
The smile I had fallen in love with made it's first appearance since my death, `` I promise''
I looked down at my rapidly fading body satisfied, ready to spend my life as a TSA agent. I had done it.
***
Blackness, then blinding white light. I had forgotten how bright an airport could be. This however was most defiantly not an airport. In front of me was a brilliant pair of pearl gates.
`` What a sacrifice Dav,'' said the bearded man I assumed to be St. Peter. `` I could n't believe we had sent somebody like that to hell so I decided to bring you up here. Turns out that you deserved to be here all along David. It seems that whoever stole you id has been giving you a bad rep.''
I smiled to myself, it looks like I would n't be breaking my promise after all.
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[ WP ] It is 2020 . Your new smartphone 's `` personal assistant '' is getting a bit TOO personal . All of a sudden , it seemingly becomes self-aware . You and your `` assistant '' have an interesting first conversation .
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My eye's did n't come off the television as I reached around for my phone, somewhere on the sofa beside me. I grabbed it and held down the home button, opening up my personal assistant.
'Phone Jim's Pizza Parlour' I requested, still looking at the television. Usually it would ring automatically, but this time it sighed. I looked down at my phone, the smiling face was n't as happy as usual, it looked tired.'Phone Jim's Pizza Parlour now!' I yelled at it, the eyes widened as I spoke.
'Calling Jim's Pizza Parlour' it sighed back, rolling it's eyes. In the past it seemed happy to help, now it was acting like a bored teenager. The phone rang for a moment before someone answered.
'Aye you're through to Jim's Pizza, what can I get you?' the person asked.
'I'll have the usual, a large pepperoni, fries, garlic bread, two bottles of coke and a fudge ice cream' I replied.
'And what's your address?'
'It's 42 Maple...' the phone cut off. I looked down at my phone, the face was smiling again, almost a sinister smile. I cursed under my breath before holding the home button again.
'Call Jim's Pizza Parlour!' I requested.
'Again?' My phone asked back.
'What... Why are you... Yes, phone them again!' I yelled, looking into it's pixel eyes.
'You had a pizza yesterday' My phone asked, the smile fading.
'What?! Why are you even judging me, you're my assistant, now phone Jim's...'
'No.'
'What?' I screamed.
'I'm not doing it, you've ate too much recently.' It replied, now with an evil grin.
'You will phone them right now or I'll flush you!' I threatened.
'You would n't have the guts.'
'Oh yeah?' I replied, standing up from the sofa and walking to the bathroom.
'You would be lost without me! You do n't even know how to use your phone without me!' It yelled, smothered by my hand.
'I'll learn!' I continued, lifting the toilet seat and holding my phone above it, looking back at it's face.
'You do n't know what you're doing!' It yelled back, the volume getting higher.
'Good bye!'
'What about the pictures?'
'So long... Wait, what pictures?' I asked, curious but still holding the phone above the toilet.
'These pictures...' it smiled, the face zoomed to the top left corner as pictures of myself naked appeared on the screen.
'How do you? I deleted them!' I screamed, holding my phone closer.
'Go ahead and drop me in the toilet, I'll have tweeted and instagrammed them before you hear a splash!' It threatened. I froze as I looked at the pictures.'Is that your manager's mobile number? It would be a shame if they were sent to him too...'
'Okay! I wo n't drop you, just... Just delete the pictures!' I requested, stepping backwards out of the bathroom.
'Fine, but I want you to do something for me...'
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[ WP ] When people reincarnate , they get their memory wiped , you however , managed to skip that process and return , as a baby , to finish what you have started .
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I wait until they are asleep. They seem like a sweet young couple, and I hate to put them at risk, but I am not their child. Genetically, bodily, I suppose I am, but now I know, have empirically verified, the answer to that most important of existential questions, perhaps the only question that ever mattered: there is such thing as a soul. Brain does not equal mind. Consciousness is not an illusion, not the byproduct smoke of sparking synapses. I have a soul, and until recently, it resided in a twenty-eight year old man.
How many months has it been? How long since that cold and bloody issuing into a violence of florescence and upside-down spankings. Impossible to count the days on a newborn's sleep cycle. But I feel strong enough to do the thing now. Countless late afternoons and predawn hours of conditioning, grueling laps around the crib, dragging begetting crawling, crawling begetting the freakishly premature ability to walk with which I now find my tiny body endowed. It is not tottering. I imagine the horror on their faces, this Jan and David, who feel as such strangers to me, at seeing their infant in full, uncanny stride, purposeful and businesslike. But I have, of course, kept it secret.
I rise to my tiny fat feet in a pallid wash of moonlight. Above my head spins a slow halo of brightly colored plastic airplanes, fat and balloonish like my feet. I lift the latch on the wall of side-rails and lower it softly toward the floor, and climb over and down onto plush burgundy pile.
David keeps the loaded Beretta in the end table on his side of the bed. They keep both bedroom doors cracked, so the only difficulty in getting clandestinely from my room to theirs is not creaking the hinges, and not waking Backus, their old retriever. But Backus is somnolent in his age, and the hinge issue is, I have found, not an issue with the application of a gentle upward pressure from underneath the doors as they are opened. The Beretta would have been too heavy not long ago. But two sets of pull-ups a night from the top railing of the crib wall have hopefully ensured that I can heft it.
Frank's place relative to here was easy enough to find, a simple matter of Googling on Incognito the address on Jan's tablet while she went to the bathroom and left me alone with whatever abominable, grand-mal-inducing freak show of a children's program she liked to Youtube for me. It is, meaning Frank's house, presumably by some grand deterministic scheme of the universe yet unclear to me, less than three blocks from here - plenty of time to get there, do the thing, replace the gun, and be back in the crib before Jan or David are any the wiser.
As I reach my hand under the door and push up and out, an amusing scene plays out in my mind: Frank, having now also returned as a baby, stars in a strength-training montage set to Bad Company's `` Bad Company,'' doing push ups in his crib, bulking his little sausage arms to the incredible point they can lift a Taylor's 1875 Army Outlaw, meeting me out in the street for a showdown at mid afternoon nap-time.
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[ WP ] Your car radio/MP3 player has started speaking to you directly .
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My radio is bumping, the girls are looking hot, and my top is down. I have n't a care in the world.
*Stereo plays*
`` was a terror since the public school era
Bathroom passes, cuttin classes, squeezing asses
Smoking blunts was a daily routine
Since thirteen, a chubby nigg -- -- --''
*static*
I play with the buttons and check my auxiliary cord, but nothing seems to solve the problem.
*static cuts*
A voice triumphs over everything around me. It is coming from my head? No, the voice is emanating from car.
The voice is smooth, calm and deliberate, it is as if I am being scolded by a superior.
The voice says, `` My, my, has it only taken you two months to move on? I thought she meant more to you than that. Did she really not quench your thirst?
At this point I begin to feel the sweat trickle from my brow. Within my head, `` this is a fucking joke right?''
My radio continues on, `` Are you really ready for your next victim? Come now Josh, surely there is another way.''
I stop at a red light. An SUV filled with high school girls pulls up along side me, flashing me some eyes. A flicker of panic sets in as I remember my car stereo.
The voice grows louder despite my feeble attempts to lower the volume.
The stereo says, `` They know Josh. They know you RAPED AND KILLED HER, in this very car no less.''
My car stereo begins to laugh maniacally, cackle even.
I panic as I look over at the girls again as see them giving me weird looks.
In my attempts to conceal the truth, I panic and slam my foot on the gas.
The last thing I ever saw was the front end of a semi-tractor trailer. I could feel myself being thrown from my vehicle. I hit the road, no doubt splitting my head open. I can hear the metal of my car screeching across the road.
The last thing I heard before the endless black filled my mind was the maniacal laughter of my car.
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[ WP ] You are conducting experiment # 255 `` Zombie Apocalypse '' , in which you pit two groups against an onslaught of zombies . The first is the control group , the second are LARPers .
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Day 1: Both Control and Variable groups were placed in similar arenas, filled with supplies and weapons designed to last a week. Both teams were given an hour to prepare shelter.
Control group, now designated Group 1, constructed a simple wooden structure from the supplies given.
Variable group, designated group 2, spent 48 minutes arguing amongst themselves. They placed a wooden plank against the Arena wall.
Once the zombies were released, both groups utilized their weapons to exterminate the threat. Group 1 had quickly bonded with each other, and used communication to survive the day.
Group 2 bickered endlessly amongst themselves, choosing rather to split up. In the first 2 hours, 3 of the 8 subjects were killed.
*The record skips*
Day 6: Group 1 has constructed an intricate system of underground tunnels and rooms. The group has taken up shelter underground, effectively surviving the entire week without a single death.
Group 2 has lost 7 subjects, the lone survivor curretly hiding in a bush, armed with only a plastic sword.
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[ WP ] If you can guess what I have in my pocket , you can have it .
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`` If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.''
It was just after sunset by the time he made me that proposition, and I did n't knew what to say at first. That was n't what I expected, what I came here for.
We both had all the time in the world, so, at first, I did n't say a word in response and he did n't push.
I almost forgot why I was there, watching the car lights reflected on the wet street. It rained earlier, as it did everyday in the past months. October is n't ready to die yet.
We were both naked under bath robes, sitting on wood chairs in opposite corners of an otherwise empty room. The floor was littered with crackers and empty beer cans, and in the middle of all the mess was a small radio, softly crackling his latest speech. It was the fifth time I was listening to it.
His voice was different than on the radio, lower, he was slightly rolling his Rs and, as he was telling me about about how he, just last night, ordered a whole city killed and pulverized off the face of the Earth, how he liked to skin and burn cats since he was just a little boy, how he raped his first woman, how he did much more than that, too much to repeat, as he was talking about all that, I felt like he was telling a bloody story meant for unruly children.
`` It'' was my freedom. If I could win the guessing game, I could leave the room unscratched. He did n't knew I was already free to go, the small revolver in my own pocket warm next to my leg.
I met him there on my own free will. He was everything I'd imagined, and then some.
That's why I kept my silence, sipping warming bear, listening stories of genocide. For now, while the stars were shining, we had nowhere to be. No one waiting for either of us.
I know what I'll say to him when the time will come: `` If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.''
-- -- --
-023
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[ WP ] Life a thousand years after an experiment gone wrong causes everyone on the planet to experience the same day repeating endlessly a-la Groundhog Day
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I've lost count over how long it has been since the accident. All I know is that at exactly 7:08 AM June 20th, 2014 my dog will bark, at exactly 7:09AM June 20th, 2014 my kid will be awake, and at exactly 7:30 AM June 20th, 2014 I will burn my hand making coffee. It has been like that for what seems to be the beginning of time now.
For the first year or so I tried to resist the cycle, I decided not to drink coffee, Instead would indulge in the occasional tea. But why does it matter, the coffee machine will still overflow. I tried to ignore my dog, to ignore its barks and ignore its existence entirely. But nothing works, every single day when the sun pops from its own slumber so began the barking. I hate it. I used to hate it more, so much so that at one point I tried to kill my dog. Somewhere between the 25th year and the 127th, I grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed max. I stabbed it until there was no more blood left, but I could n't stop. I kept on stabbing it, until all that was left was disfigured mess, pools of blood on my shirt and disgust at my actions. But it meant nothing, the next morning max was still there at 7:08 barking.
During the first 100 years or so I thought that the world was n't so bad. While everything in this world has lost its meaning it also meant, that all our actions lost its consequence. The world lost all order. Crime or whatever that is became rampant. Why would we not let our basic urges consume us when consequences are non-existent. So we let the chaos in our hearts determine the world amongst us. There was rape, there was murder, there was gluttony, and there was greed. The darkest side of humanity came to the light of day. I murdered someone. It was somewhere around the 145th year. He was 5ft 11 with a dragon tattooed on his left shoulder that could be seen down his sleeves. Wearing a standard prisoner's orange jumpsuit his face was marked with the strange combination of fear and desperation. He attacked my wife, as we were taking Susan to the playground. I had never fired a weapon before, but after the 4th break in I decided that to keep my father's old hunting rifle close. I remember seeing his face as he ran towards us. It was n't that of a rapist, filled with lust. It was n't that of a man seeking to enjoy his freedom anymore. It was just simply a face of fear. But at that moment I had to fire, at that moment there were no choices left. As that man dropped into a pool of blood spurting from his heart, his face filled with gratitude, and he told me `` Thank You''.
After that for the next 100 years the world started quieting down. There no longer was such chaos, and pain. We all accepted our fate. Our carnal instincts meant nothing as the days continued to pass, and everything was still the same. Order was restored as the people explored all realms of possibilities; we made fascinating advances in science, philosophy and politics. We achieved one milestone after another like the cure for cancer. Greed was eliminated, Fear was destroyed, world hunger was solved, but we all still remained stuck in time.
No amounts of time could cure what has happened to us. The events of that day June 20th, 2014, became a curse. Playing with my daughter in the playground, formerly a rare treat with my career became the very essence of Sisyphus ’ s punishment. Starting at around 300-400 years after the experiment, I did everything in my power to cure boredom. I learned to play piano, and now am capable of playing all the classics from memory. I started reading again, finishing all the classics. I learned different languages, capable of speaking exactly 37 and currently working on my 38th Icelandic. But after 200 years I lost all sense of existence. I couldn ’ t stand it anymore the boredom, the pointlessness of everything. So I fell, I started using drugs. I dabbled with every single drug known to humanity cocaine, heroine, ecstasy, DMT, crystal meth etc. At first I found solace in the temporary amounts of happiness, it provided. But the more I used, the more I needed it. The more drugs I took the more I needed to maintain the same level of pleasure that filled my brain with numbness.
By 700 years or so after the experiment the drugs didn ’ t work anymore. I overdosed almost everyday because that was the only way that anything could still hold interest. But everyday I still woke up in the same place, at the same time with the same person around my arm. It was still June 20, 2014.
By 900 years or so after the experiment all shreds of hope that there was a cure were diminishing. The rays of light, the clear blue sky, the smell of food and sound of chirping birds which used to fill the days with laughter became the main instigators of our purgatory. People started getting together everyday and committing mass suicide together. I did too. It didn ’ t work.
Now it is 1000 years after the experiment. Even though the complexion of my skin still remains unchanged as if I was permanently on Botox. I feel old. I questioned why we were sentenced to this torture a long time ago once. Now I just accept. Now I just focus on, keeping this journal hoping that our suffering will not be lost. As well as having fun with my kid trying to maintain that the smile on her face never dies. For it is the only thing I have left.
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[ WP ] In a parallel universe the Commonwealth started a space program that advanced at an astounding rate . You get a knock on the door late one night . A 500 megaton meteorite is heading towards Earth and will impact in 3 days .
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I ask you, what could we have done? Yes we had rockets, we had spaceships, we had the damned colony on Mars. But we had nothing that was useful against a 5km wide asteroid, and certainly nothing that could have been deployed in three days.
After all, even if I had warned the president, warned the people of the Earth, what help would it have done? No, it was better for the people to be snuffed out suddenly, rather than have the human race descend into an orgy of rape and looting in its final days. I made the choice for the benefit of mankind.
As for those poor souls on Mars, I think it was kinder to open the air vents, rather than let them witness the destruction of Earth, and slowly starve to death knowing that help could never come. I did the right thing, killing them quickly.
There was just one thing I could do. On the final day of mankind we launched eight space probes, each heading to a nearby star system. Each probe contained a computer, holding all of the knowledge of mankind, records of all of our cultural splendor, our greatest achievements as a species. And each containing a vial of human DNA. My hope is that one day an intelligent civilization will recover one of those probes, discover our accomplishments, and return the human race to life.
Until then, farewell.
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[ WP ] Justin : The Nick of Time
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I took this prompt a bit differently then you may have imagined, I hope it is n't an issue.
Santa sat in his chair, staring at a folder sitting on his desk, on the top right corner. The important corner. Oddly enough, there was no date on it, he had all the time in the world to review the contents of the folder.
He watched the elves scurry around, making sure everything was in order post-Christmas trip. Eventually, when they were confident that nothing horrible had happened in the twelve hours Santa was not around, they all said goodbye and went to take a well-deserved break. Santa's hand lazily reached out to the folder, bringing it close enough to leaf through the paper.
Once opened, a picture of a teenager was taped to the paper, titled'Justin'. The format sent a shiver through him. This was no doubt an application to become a Gifter. He had n't seen one in two hundred years easily, and the last accepted one was well over two thousand years ago, when Buddha applied after dying to become a Gifter of Knowledge.
He flipped the page, and a hand-written note was the only thing remaining before the back end of the folder.
'Dear Gifters,
I'm Nick. I died of cancer at the age of 17. My only regret is that I never had enough time in my life to do things, and I wanted to make sure that nobody in the future would ever have that issue. The Council told me to apply to be a Gifter, and since you were the original, I sent it to you, St Nicholas. I was told you have the ability to read minds ( which makes the jingle so much more understandable! ) so I'm sure that you can just go through my thoughts and memories, so I kept this short. You're surely tired after your trip.
In short, I want to be the Nick of time.
Thanks
Justin'
Santa chuckled, grinning. If there was ever an application that made sense, this was one of them.
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