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[ WP ] Narrate a murder
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Dave and his friends had been out drinking in the bar district of town, which is just a couple blocks from a weird, small section of crack dealers and heroin dealers. In a way it makes sense, because bars bring a lot of shit with them so the police already have their hands full keeping the rich kids and the middle class kids safe, and so there's no resources to care about the hustler trying to make a living a few blocks away, as long as he is n't bothering anyone.
Dave is pretty rich. He's that one guy in his group of friends that works in a *pretty damn* high paying job, but does n't like flashy things so he ends up having tons of spending money. He's that one guy people kind of linger around hoping he'll buy them a shot, or let them take a hit from his bong. And he does. And sometimes, when he's partying, he likes to buy a gram or so of blow and share it with the hangers on.
Yeah, it bothers him, but whatever. He has the money.
So he leaves a bar, walks a couple blocks, and waits on the street corner. Dave is a white boy, he has nice fashion sense, nice shoes. He looks even richer than he really is.
Within just a few moments, the dealers start walking up. Crack users start walking up too, hoping to get a crack handout from a dealer for bringing him this white boy to overcharge. Or, maybe give him something that looks like cocaine but really is n't at all. Flour, sugar, or detergent even.
One guy walks up, jittery, asks him what he wants, and other guys stand behind him. Dave's done this before a few times, knows to be firm about what he wants, not buy until he tries, and so on.
Now, since the cops are just a couple blocks away, the dealers are concerned about being spotted doing a deal. One guy pulls Dave aside, and has him walk a couple blocks so that they're away from the foot traffic of the bars, away from the cops, and away from his competition.
He gives Dave a bit to try. It does n't really seem like coke. Tastes kinda sweet, mild anasthesiac sensation, but hardly. It might even just be in his head.
The dealer takes it personally. He gives Dave another try, but this time it's definitely coke. Was he confused? He's a little drunk. He knows that all these guys are just ripoff artists, and so he apologizes and assumes the guy was first trying to sell him the fake shit, and then once he noticed it was fake, offered the real shit.
The dealer wo n't let off about it. His bigger than Dave, earlier they had made small talk and the guy was from LA. He keeps asking why Dave was trying to disrespect him. `` That's disrespectful. You think I'm tryna rip you off like that?''
`` No man, that's not what I'm saying I'm just saying at first it did n't taste like powder, now it does man it's all good lem me get half a gram I got 40 man''
They go back and forth. The guy asks him `` Look man you come over here askin for trouble or somethin? I asked you before, *why are you tryna disrespect me like that*?''
Dave does n't have an answer. There is no answer. He does n't know what to do. He is n't that uncomfortable, the guy **seems** reasonable.
`` Look man you betta give me that forty dollars as an apology for tryna say that I'm out here hustlin fake shit man''
`` Alright man, you want my forty dollars here's my forty dollars alright man. Look I'm sorry about it dude I was *NOT* trying to disrespect you.''
`` Listen man you still think I'm stupid or somethin? I know you got more than forty dollars in that coat of yours you better give it to me''
Dave did n't have any more money. He had a tendency to party too hard and spend far too much money, so when he would go out drinking he had a policy of leaving his credit card at home and bringing a fixed budget of cash. The forty dollars was all he had.
Dave opened his wallet to show it to the dealer. The dealer says `` Alright well we can go to the ATM then.''
`` Dude look man, that's all I got, I do n't take my card with me when I go out drinking man. That's seriously all I got. Look, I have n't lied to you and I'm not a lying person. I'm telling you man, that's literally everything I have.'' as he showed the man his open wallet.
`` You said you keep it at home? You better not be lying to me. You already disrespected me before. Do I need to show you the pistol in my back pocket?''
Dave had n't been scared before, but now he was scared. `` No! Man. Dude, you do NOT need to show me your pistol. Listen man *why* are you doing me like this? Why are you treating me like this? Listen, I'm sorry I acted like your shit was fake okay I already apologized. Jesus if I had more I would give it to you man I do n't lie about this shit. Why would I lie when you have a gun man, I'm not that fucking stupid dude. It's **all I've got**.''
`` Well listen. Tell you what we're gon na do. We're gon na go to your house and you're gon na get me sixty for disrespecting me. Then we'll be cool okay?''
`` Fuck dude I do n't live by here, I live like 20 minutes away man,''
`` Let me ask you again, do you want me to show you the pistol in my back pocket?''
At this point it was clear. This was n't about respect. This was n't about anything. This was about a criminal who saw a rich looking white boy and wanted to rob him.
Dave's first thought was to run. To just bolt.
He opened his mouth to talk, but had nothing to say. He fled. He ran as fast as he could.
The guy was actually chasing him. He did n't expect that he'd be chased, the guy already had his forty bucks. Dave wanted to run back to an area where there was foot traffic, where there was people. He did n't want to look back because it would slow him down, but he could hear himself being chased.
He was n't fast enough. The guy tackled him, and started pulling out his pistol to hit him. Dave saw it, and assumed he was going to shoot. The dealer lifted up the pistol to hit him and Dave reached for the man's arm.
Dave is n't a runner, but he was n't out of shape either. He managed to start to get himself into an advantageous position. He swung a punch into the dealer's face as they grappled. He held tightly onto the man's arm that was holding the gun, and used every power in his body to both keep his balance and try to deal as much harm as possible.
The man fell. Dave was fighting for his life, trying to attack the man's balls and throat. He got into a mount position, and lifted up to swing over the man stuck on his back beneath him. As he did so, he became too obsessed with damage and for a moment forgot about the man's arm.
He shot him. The man shot Dave, and it went through the bottom of his chin and out the top of his head. As quickly as he could, the man threw Dave off of him and ran as fast as he could, away. Within less than five minutes he was nearly a mile away.
Dave was already dead. It would be fifteen minutes before anyone would find his body and call 9-1-1. By then, the dealer was long gone.
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[ WP ] I 'm advancing the human race , whether they like it or not
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I stand at a crossroads between philosophy and biology; the thoughts on living versus the hard science of it.
Every ounce of my being is hard-wired to ensure that I, as a single organism, procreate and continue my genetic legacy; to stand as a superior to all competition and live as long as possible. As a man of science, I urge myself to better the race as a whole; to march ever forward as one into the unknown and stand superior in spite of nature. With a single click, I can change our entire viewpoint and unleash a new wave of thought into the world, a new way of being.
In doing so, much will change. Every man, woman and child will be the master of their own fate. In essence, there will be no one to answer to. No dream unfulfilled, no frontier too far, and no goal impossible. As well, no law to bind them, no one to answer to and no way of policing what will evidently come. It will be a tool of enlightenment and anarchy. I will empower them to do good and free them from the systems that hold them back.
But, in doing so, I also throw those systems that they so heavily rely on into disarray. When anyone can do as they will, who will do what needs to be done? Society as we know it will fall apart. Those that had power will long to keep it, and when they ca n't they will look for someone to blame. That someone will be me. I have no doubts about what they will do when that happens.
This is why I hesitate. Is it better to hold back progress to keep oneself above the rest, or to die knowing you alone were responsible for the greatest developmental leap forward in history? To be both praised and vilified at the same time and not be present to hear the response? Should one want to be superior in a set of systems that they see as wrong, or another among equals in a potential utopia, for however long they last?
Most people muse about their purpose, and here I sit, at the culmination of all my work, ready to realise it yet unwilling to. Yet, in writing it down, I feel I know the answer; that despite my hesitation, I know what I will do and what needs to be done. Perhaps this is a way to justify it to myself and to those that will come after.
I am an agent of chaos. From the chaos, we will be stronger, greater than we were. No man is above the greater good. Damn the dissenters and damn my pride!
I'm advancing the human race, whether they like it or not.
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[ WP ] New pills can temporarily release a person 's dormant superpowers , but with great power comes great lists of possible side effects .
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**WARNING**: Superadone is only to be taken under the supervision of a physician. Side effects include, but are not limited to:
* Nausea,
* Vomiting ( excepting high-accuracy projectile vomiting, which is classified as a superpower ),
* Loss of appetite,
* Headaches not associated with psychic ability,
* Water retention ( e.g. water-related weight gain, but not turning into a water-elemental type creature ),
* Fragile skin,
* Lack of development of supplemental secondary powers ( e.g. super strength without the invulnerability necessary to prevent you from tearing out your own arm when you use it ),
* Acne, to include forms of acne which shoot lasers ( while technically a superpower, it is notoriously uncontrollable ),
* Heartburn, not to include the ability to literally burn the hearts of your enemies. Should your heart spontaneously catch fire and you are unable to survive such an event, call 911 immediately,
* Trouble sleeping if your superpower is not that you no longer require sleep,
* Increased sweating so long as your sweat remains ordinary and not e.g. oil, pheromones, etc.
* Mood changes unrelated to psychic ability,
* Spontaneous and undesired transformation into a lizard or general reptilian form,
* `` Freaky Friday'' -style body swaps that prove irreversible,
* Ancient curse ( s ),
* Diabetes, and/or
* A constant, undying, and uncontrollable rage against all human life.
If you develop any side effects, taper off dosage until such time as you can consult your primary care physician, and/or superheroes can arrive and subdue you.
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[ WP ] Go to a random subreddit . Switch view to `` top -- all time '' . Look at the # 1 post . That is your prompt .
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`` You mean to tell me, after spending our entire months budget and all of our irreplaceable, alien super juice, and gathering the finest soldiers from all over the world... We lost an entire squadron to ONE enemy!!!'' Shouted the commander.
The officer giving the report was frozen in fear as the commander slams his fist on his desk.
`` Now Japan, Russia and India are pulling support for our project and America is on the verge of doing so if I ca n't do SOMETHING to restore their conference by the end of the month!!!''
`` I'm afraid there is more bad news commander...'' The officer said, swallowing hard, `` A UFO has been sighted over the UK. They say if we do not intercept it they will be pulling support from our program...''
`` BULLSHIT!!! They gave me the budget to keep ONE aircraft responsible for protecting the airspace of all of FUCKING EUROPE, and it's down for vital repairs not scheduled for completion until tommorow. And what the literal flying fuck is wrong with their own damn jets, are they too busy shaggin' sheep and drinking tea scramble! It's not like our jets are anything special or cutting edge!!!''
`` Commander to the situation room!'' Sounded a female voice, interrupting the commander's rant.
The officers jumped as the large commander slammed his way into the room. `` This had better be good!!! He announced.''
`` I'm afraid not... Our one survivor just got back from the Australian civilian evacuation mission. Apparently the giant bug aliens converted all the civilians on the bridge into gestation zombies before our men could even reach them, then the disemboweled and converted our men because their exoskeletons resist gunfire and they were too fast to run away from... Then the aliens landed this new kind of robot that can shoot twice in the same time a human take to fire once and has tracking sensors that automatically respond and fire on movement. Our one colonol who survived will be in hospital for an entire month. Australia says due to this display of extreme incompetence they are withdrawing support for our project.'' The captain said before collapsing out of breath from the huge stream of bad news.
`` Can they Australian's not handle a simple evacuation mission!!!'' The commander shouted as the vein is his head began buldging.
`` Well, they did lose a war to a bunch of emus...'' The captain responded.
`` Can this get any worse?'' The commander sighed.
Just then the alarm went off as the lights in Xcom HQ all went out at once.
`` Sir!!! There's been a perimeter breach, multiple bogies are moving through are ventilating ducts!!!'' Shouted a private just before a Crysallid dropped onto the situation rooms conference table.
Post in question: Top 7 reasons to lose squad members in XCOM. R/xcom
http: //i.imgur.com/zHpOa2m.png
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[ EU ] Write about the `` history '' of Star Wars like a conspiracy nut .
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Okay man, okay, just hear me out. I know this is gon na sound *crazy* but when you put all the pieces together, it makes perfect sense.
So we got the Death Star, right?
Super imperial battle station that can annihilate planets. This thing is *armed* man, it's got fuckin' turbolasers and gun turrets and detection grids and shielding out the asshole. PLUS there's *squadrons* of fighters inside this thing - I mean, it's the size of a *moon* man!
So with all this firepower and all this protection, somehow, SOMEHOW it gets blown up by a *lone x-wing*.
I mean, how fuckin' stupid does that sound? A *single* plane piloted by *one guy* and an astromech takes down the *entire death star! *.
Not convinced? Well you're a fuckin' nerfherder if you believe the official story. I just do n't fucking buy it.
Some *kid* who was a goddamn *moisture farmer* on a shitheap planet somehow gets a seat in the rebel squadron, then manages to shoot a *single shot* into an apparently *unshielded exhaust port* - which can also apparently cause the *total* destruction of the space station.
Now I know some of you morons believe in this Jedi shit, but what's more likely? That a kid from a desert planet learns the powers of an ancient religion and somehow sneaks a bomb through *all those defenses* because of his fuckin' *voodoo skills? *
Nah man. It just does n't add up.
I've been saying it for years, but none of you clowns believe me, even with the evidence staring your *right in the face. *
There was no'Jedi' and there was no attack on the Death Star.
The whole thing was orchestrated to *start a war* with the rebel alliance under the pretext of terrorism.
There's no way some religious whackjob could have flown a plane into the Death Star and have *the whole thing explode! *
I'm telling you man, it's the imperials who did it - *to themselves! *
That's right my friends, the *Yavin IV was an inside job! *
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[ WP ] Hello death old friend , we meet again .
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It found me on a bench. The October day was in full autumnal bloom. Leaves were kicked about by windy feet.
I did not see you coming, but I felt you. I felt the coldness start to settle upon me. Like a wintry hand resting on my shoulder. Familiar, yet strange. I was not afraid.
I had had my time. I had years filled with love, embraces, children, and even grandchildren. I was loved, I could count the people on well over two hands if I had more.
But these things do not matter to you. What matters to you is that my time is up. I had almost felt you once before. When I lost her, I felt you drift in through the wind. I thought it was an oddly cold breeze for August, but now I know.
Your embrace is one that took her from me, but I am not angry. It was her time; we had so many good memories. So many warm nights, and cold mornings.
I think I should be angry at you for coming to now. On such a beautiful day as this. But why should I do? Why should I greet this great release with animosity? I am grateful for the time I had, the time we had together. The life we made, and the lives we made and left behind.
And then I felt someone else.
Her.
Her warmth replaced that icy grip.
He hand running across my cheek.
`` Do n't be afraid'', she said.
I am not, for you are here with me in this fragile moment. In this moment of letting go.
And so I did.
And you were with me.
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[ WP ] Logging into Reddit over your morning coffee , you discover your karma rating has unexpectedly risen by 15,491 for a submission in /r/UFOs that you do n't remember making in the middle of the night ...
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Larry was n't the type to leave home. There was little to do in the big scary world out there, were broadbannd internet connection was n't par for the course in so many places. Thus, he'd been staying at his friend Aisha's apartment for a few weeks, only until I get a safe job secured, I swear.
Day after day he watched the share of youtube focused on making those who already think they're smart feel smarter, occasionally dropping by reddit to sneer at the pseudo-scientists so fond of the place. But one day, he decided to empty Aisha's beer supply in the night, and now he was wondering where the next best wifi he could get his hands on was.
On r/UFOs, a picture of his green phisique, antennas and all, stared back at him through his computer's monitor.
`` I guess Frank has 50Mbit. That's not so bad.'' He said, strapping on a backpack and covering his face with a bandanna.
( I suck at formatting )
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[ WP ] You amounted to nothing much and eventually die and go to the afterlife . Instead of finding other people , you find all the versions of yourself you could have potentially become .
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My hand slowly grasped the solid gold door knob, turning it I had no idea what would be awaiting me on the other side. I knew it was the end, I had it coming for a while. I looked behind me one last time, the room I had woken up in after death seemed to be filled with memories of my life, my childhood, friends I had made and moment long past.
I smiled knowing I did all that I could and that my life, although nothing extraordinary, was enough to be satisfied knowing I made it through to the end. The door creaked open with resistance almost as though it had stood for all eternity and had been yearning for someone to finally open it. The light on the other side filled my vision entirely only it gave me no discomfort in fact it was quite an inviting, warm glow. Once I regained my vision I was confronted with a a feeling of utter disbelief and shock.
It was infinite, a hallway with doors exactly like the one I had just passed through stretching on into the abyss.
`` Am I meant to pick a door?'' I though as I slowly started stepping down the hall. None had marketings or numbers. No indications as to who or what might be on the other side. I brushed my hand across another door handle, curiosity getting the better of me. I paused. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a figure in the distance.
`` Hey you! Come over here for a minute!'' The figure shouted in an almost familiar voice. I slowly starting walking over. This guy seems a little crass to be in such a magnificent place.
`` Who's there?'' I said softly, perhaps not loud enough for him to hear. I was a little weary and did n't want to offend whatever spirits may be lurking in this realm. As the figure pulled closer I started to take note of his features. He looked very out of place. A torn green zipped jacket, faded blue jeans and sneakers which looked worn about 2 years too long. The figures face slowly came into view, a face I could only recognise as being my own.
`` Are you...?'' I stuttered.
`` Yeah hey, I'm Michael... I'm guessing you just arrived?'' The figure said with a slightly arrogant tone.
`` I just came through the door... I think I died... is this not the afterlife?'' I said, emotions running wild as I tried to work out what the hell was going on.
`` Yep, this is it. You are gon na want to meet the other guys, they are probably waiting for you.'' He started heading towards another door seemingly uninterested in explaining to me what I wanted to know.
`` Hey get out here, we have a new one... he does n't look like anything special though..'' Micheal yelled into the door while rapping on the solid oak.
`` So... are you an angel... why do you look like me?'' I just wanted some god damn questions answered.
Before I could have a decent answer the door flung open. Another familiar face starred back.
`` Ah Hey! You must be Micheal, pleasure to meet you. Micheal's the name in case you could n't tell'' This new version of myself shook my hand with confidence and emitted a cheesy yet warm grin.
`` Nice to meet you. Can I ask what the hell is this place?'' I said firmly.
`` This is it my friend, the afterlife. This is where your soul comes to rest while every version of yourself has their own... accommodation.'' He said with a smile. `` Come in i'll show you around might help you make sense of it.''
I walked into his room and was instantly overwhelmed with hundreds of thousands of memories. Some were similar to my own others vastly different.
`` You went to Harvard?'' I said with intrigue.
`` Yeah it was either that or become a chef, I guess I just wanted education since thats something they can never take away from you.''
I instantly thought back to the time I had left high school, not wanted to rack up a large student debt I made the decision to work in hospitality. I never really gave it a second though after that. This guy had obviously made a name for himself. I looked around at his memories and saw fancy cars, a multi million dollar estate and a beautiful family. Things I could have only dreamed for back when I was on Earth.
`` Chin up sport, I can tell you did alright over your life time. You did better than some of the other guys'' He said with a chuckle.
The other Micheal, obviously fallen on hard times over the course of his life simply rolled his eyes.
`` If you really want to you can go back you know.''
`` What do you mean? Are n't we already..dead?'' I said a little afraid of what I might hear next
`` Yeah sure, some of the other guys often go over again all you got ta do is go back to your room and step back through the wall. I mean if you really want to make it worthwhile but its just another ordeal. Not something i'd do again I'm pretty happy where I am.'' He said as he jumped onto a couch which seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the corner of his room.
`` Yeah I figure I might head back since I had a pretty shitty run. Only thing is though you start from scratch once you while those memories they are gone for good.'' The poorer Micheal said.
I slowly walked back into the hall, it now seemed to be bustling with Micheals all coming out of their own rooms to see the fuss. I looked at each and everyone of them. All different versions of myself, all different paths I could've taken.
`` I am going to do it. I am going back'' I said confidently.
The others cheered and wished me good luck. I knew if I was going to have a second chance I would make it count. If I had to spend my days in the afterlife as a loser in front of my more successful version I would be living in hell rather than heaven.
I stepped back into my room and pushed myself through the wall. The room went dark. I closed my eyes and felt all the memories of my previous life being washed away little by little until there was nothing left.
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[ WP ] Good vs . Evil
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**The last fight**
The old temple lay in ruins as the smoke in the distance indicated the War was still going on. Above this blue, forgotten planet three moons made love, pale and senseless, like children's knees. There I stood, my mantle hiding me in the shadows, as I strolled the old archways I came to know so well. I could feel my life was about to end. When a conscious being as old as a red dwarf passes, the universe feels it and its dreamers see it. It did n't matter that my heart was black as the slimy insects that crawled below my feet. Today was the day I would pass. Enter the nameless worlds my where ancestors lived. Or burned.
I could see the Light One enter with my third eye. Drew Galantur with a blank mind. Concentrated on the fourth breath, waiting for the fourth step. His breath was heavy, his feet bare. I put my ear to the ground. His heart was slow, his mind clouded. I waited for the sixteenth step. Then all grew quiet in the temple ruin. A wise bat fled in terror. The wind picked up. Yonder the fight roared but here the faith of this universe was to be sealed.
'In the hall of the elders', a voice, brave and clear.
'Aye', I walked with confident thread,'the hall of the elders'.
I walked the long corridor, my mind calm. Galantur glowed with pride, the universe made stars fall.
There he stood. A hammer, he was armed with a hammer. I did n't know it, did n't know its weakness. I took my sword in both hands, clinching it like I've never done before in all the live's that lay behind. We neared each other, the giant sculptures around us lay moon shadows over the sandy ground, ever shifting.
'Prepare to die', he said and I could see the color of his eyes now.
'Yes', I simply replied. I darted forward launching the first strike. His guts spilled on the ground immediately.
I looked at the moon above,'dear father. Is there nothing that make sense in this place?'.
As the screaming in the night grew distant I laid a tear.
One by one the old Kings began to fall.
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[ WP ] I tried to paint a beautiful garden
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I tried to capture the green of the grass, in its spring glory and dew. But I completely ran out of yellow paint, so in the ground there's a hint of sky blue.
I tried to paint the singing birds, in all of their colourful splendor. But they flew off too quickly and I tried to follow, so I ended up with a rainbow-like blur.
I tried to frame the overhead clouds and show off their fluffy insides. But instead what happened was that I overused white, so it seems that a storm might be brewing.
I tried to detail the bark on the tree, and get all the tiny grooves. But my hands kind of shook as I tried to draw lines, so now there are grooves within grooves.
I tried to have mountains up in the back, like some classical paintings do. But mine turned out lumpy with hints of snow that are somehow the complete wrong hue.
I tried to paint a beautiful garden, but I'm afraid that paints are n't my thing. But give me words and not brushes, and I'll try again - though words might escape me too.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Gallipoli Edition
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White: the color of light, of pureness, and synonym of all the blissful stuff existing. That is what a writer thinks of, from angels to God ( s ), when setting a theme, intertwining a symbolic web and final denouement.
To me it is a mirror reflecting *incompetence*. In the dim-light room, staring at a *blank* page on word document, i start to think that the lighting of my room had little to do with the tear in my eye.
I hear my phone ping. Definitely another *Game of thrones* theory video or *Jyn Erso* fanboy-ism beyond control because Star Wars. Maybe i should bury myself in these never ending reminders of legends being and nitpick it and feel better. Or see a motivational video till i feel sleepy. *Next day*, i would lie to myself, *and then nothing can stop me from becoming Stan Lee*.
Or should i post some previous shit i wrote long ago and make the mods review it, give him a piece of hell he/she just has to say **full of potential**. Maybe that false hope will set me in a better mood of acceptance of failure. A twenty year old, no friends and fun but a compliment from a person I do n't know. Wow.. sounds fun.
But not today. In another December 18, seventy years back to be exact, was the day Spielberg was born. I do n't think he would have thought he would make war movies with Tom Hanks when he filmed wrecking trains in his backyard.
Fuck it, ill type something and get some negative comments as well but i will be happy displaying my wreck, though this belongs in r/GetMotivated. At the end of the day i may have failed but i can proudly say **I TRIED**
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[ WP ] You summon a succubus using a demonic ritual , it turns out to be the girl who works at the bookstore you frequent .
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As the final words of the incantation left my lips, a pink cloud of smoke emerged from the symbol on the ground; the most beautiful feminine form I'd ever seen stepped toward me out of the mist.
`` WHO SUMMONS M- David?''
`` Monica?!''
I had gotten to know her over the course of some months at my local bookstore. She always happened to be working when I was buying books. I was, and still am, big into fantasy and magic. We got to chatting during a slow shift one day and she suggested that if I was curious, she had a couple of tomes of the occult she could lend me. How could I say no to a face like hers? Fast forward and now I had summoned the same girl, albeit with some major aesthetic differences, into my room!
`` So, uh... how are you?''
`` Really? I realize you're not a social butterfly but that's the first thing out of your mouth?''
`` To be honest, I did n't even expect this to work. I just wanted to say that I did it so maybe you'd like me more.''
`` Well, are n't you sweet? Tell you what, handsome. Come over here and let me taste those lips of yours. I like you quite a bit, and I can show you so much more.''
I'd be a liar if I said I was n't immediately aroused by her proposition. I never really amounted to much in life, but maybe this could be a new beginning for me. Just thinking about being with her filled my mind with so many wondrous things. The sensation of these new thoughts entering my mind gave me a slight headache, but I suppose it will pass.
*BOOM*
`` What the fuck?!'' Monica and I exclaimed together.
An explosion blasted the door clean out of the doorframe as well as taking out most of the doorway itself. In the new hole a 10 foot tall giant stood, clad in grey armor, with the biggest gun in his hand that I had ever seen. Smoke was wafting out of the barrel of the weapon that was now pointed at Monica.
`` I AM THE HAMMER.'' a booming, grating voice shouted, coming from the giant. Was there a living person in there?
The weapon fired again, and turning my head in the direction of the shot, I could see that Monica's head had left her body, and in several directions across the room.
`` Why did you do that?!'' I yelled at the colossus.
`` I NAME THEE TRAITOR.''
The weapon fired again. It was finished.
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[ WP ] The Alien Federation has been keeping tabs on the humans of Earth since they first appeared . They do surveillance missions once every 300 years to keep track of our progress , the last mission was 300 years ago . The aliens are shocked by our progress since 1714 .
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`` How many of them at last count?''
He checked the file. `` Three hundred million or so.'' He glanced up, irritated. `` What difference does it make? They never progress. Always relying on animal power. Agriculture shockingly sloppy. Medicine, nonexistent. Literacy, zilch. What was that you said two surveys back? They were about to invent the printing press?'' He laughed. `` Did it help? No. Let's get this over with.''
The doors opened and the survey chief walked out, still reading the last report.
He found himself standing in the departures lounge at Heathrow Terminal 1.
He frowned. `` Did we take a wrong turn? What the hell happened?''
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[ EU ] Somehow , the Combine is overthrown , and the gateway to Xen is sealed . After a number of years , life on Earth is approaching normality . Unfortunately , Gordon Freeman , Dr. Kleiner , and the rest of the Black Mesa team are facing a new threat : They are being sued for unleashing the whole mess .
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`` It seems,'' he inhaled sharply as he spoke calmly, `` you can not grasp the great deal of.. effort.. my benefactorsss went through to co-ordinate such an enormous ordeal.''
`` Mister, uh, G-man, is it? How could the amount of effort possibly exonerate the actions of a deranged lunatic, who single-handedly murdered the *entire* H.E.C.U. and then went on to disappear and reappear only to overthrow the government?''
Gordon clenched his fists quietly behind the defense table. Maybe letting G-Man act as his lawyer was not such a great idea.
`` Now listen here your honor,'' spoke a nervous Dr. Kleiner, `` we all owe a great deal to Dr. Freeman, even if trouble does tend to follow in his wake. We would n't even be here today without his help.''
`` Let's go back to the beginning. The very beginning, before the'resonance cascade'. What exactly was the purpose of the experiment?''
`` Well-'' Kleiner had tried to speak, but was cut off.
`` We are not at liberty to,'' he inhaled sharply again, `` discuss these sensitive matterssss...''
`` I'm afraid you will have to give out at least a little more information if you expect to win this trial.''
`` You see, before the resonance cascade we were working with teleportation. We found an inter-dimensional realm, the borderworld, Xen. There had been several excursions to Xen previously, where we found alien life, as we all now know. At Black Mesa, we had just barely started toying around with the Calabi-Yao model of molecular teleportation.''
`` I implore you to keep it simple, not everyone here has a Phd.''
`` There was an interesting sample from the last Xen excursion before the incident. It was brought to us by-''
`` Dr. Kleiner...'' nagged G-man.
`` Ah yes, um, it was found by the research team. It was supposed to be delivered to Sector C test labs, but the sample never made it.''
`` And why is that?''
`` Well, it was difficult to determine because of the extent of the damage to the facility, but there was a surviving CCTV tape.''
Kleiner inserted the tape into the VCR of the wheeled TV and hit play. The footage showed a man dressed in a typical denim jumpsuit pushing a cart with a large brownish orange crystal on it. He then stopped pushing the cart when he was near a similar cart, clearly bound for the cafeteria. The man stopped to chat up an unidentified scientist briefly, before getting back to business, pushing the wrong cart towards Sector C.
`` As you can see, from that footage. Missster Freeman can not be held responsible for completing his duty as a laboratory assistant.''
`` And as it turns out, you should never do teleportation experiments on cheese.'' Piped Kleiner.
`` So what you're telling me is that what happened at Black Mesa was human error, not sabotage?''
`` Yes. None of us had anything to do with it.''
`` Court is adjourned for today. We will continue at 12am tomorrow to discuss the mass murders of Dr. Freeman.''
`` Now, Missster Freeman... I can pay your. Bail,'' whispered G-man `` but you have to promise me to stay away from any hardware stores...''
Gordon gave a slight smirk, but did not nod.
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[ WP ] You fell asleep in your self-driving car . You woke up in the weirdest place .
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When I open my eyes I instantly realize I ’ m not outside my home. In fact, I ’ m not even in my *neighborhood*. I shake off the grogginess of a drunken night and look around. I don ’ t know where I am. I ’ m parked outside a house that ’ s fairly nice: two stories, a garage, a nice garden. I like the house and could see myself living there one day.
I ’ m sitting in my car and it's an icebox because for some reason the heat hasn ’ t kicked on. I still have the acidic taste of whiskey in my mouth. I wash it away with a bitter overnight coffee that I have to force down. I reach out and touch the electronic screen next to the wheel. I have two missed calls from mom, a text from my brother, and an email from my boss.
I don ’ t want to open any of them and so I check all as read before dumping them in the recycle bin. I stretch and yawn and there's a click behind me as something cold and metal is pressed against my head.
“ Don ’ t move, ” says a grungy voice.
I look in the rear view mirror and see a masked man holding a silver pistol to my head. I could die at any moment and I really don ’ t want that so I tell him I won ’ t as I slowly inch my hand toward the screen, preparing to call the cops.
He slams the butt of the gun into the back of my hand causing me to howl in pain as I clutch my hand, which is turning purple fast. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanks me back against the seat and puts the gun against my ear.
“ Listen, Booker. We ain ’ t happy. ”
“ You aren ’ t? ”
“ You owe us a *looooot* of green. ” The man has an accent that makes the word *lot* sound like *laht*. I want to ask him where he ’ s from but decide against it.
“ I do? ”
“ Quit playin ’ dumb. ”
“ Promise I ’ m not. ”
He pulls the gun away for a second, leaning against the back seat. I can tell he ’ s smirking because the way his mask is creasing. I smirk too but end up looking stupid and stop.
“ Honestly, not surprised, ” he says. “ You ai n't doing squat. ”
“ Then why are you waving a gun around my car? ” I snap.
“ *It ’ s* to blame, ” he answers matter-of-factly.
“ What? ”
“ You ’ re car ’ s a good mule. It ’ s been in this game even longer than me. ”
“ *What? * ” I say again, not sure if I heard him right.
He tosses the gun on my lap. Shocked, I stare at it for a moment before picking it up. There ’ s a lot of power in a thing such as a gun that I ’ m not so sure I want. I set it back down and look back at him.
“ This is for? ”
He nods over to the house I had admired earlier.
“ In there is the man that pays you, also the one that plays you. ”
“ A riddle? ” I ask, confused.
The man shakes his head. “ Your boss owes us money. He likes you. We want you to make up for your car ’ s debt by killin ’ the bastard. ”
“ But I didn ’ t do anything! ”
“ Yes but your car lost something precious. ”
“ What's stopping me from just shooting— ”
Before I even finish the sentence he ’ s drawn another pistol and pointed it at my face. This one ’ s black, and has a very large, very frightening barrel. “ Nothing, ” he mumbles.
I gulp. He opens the door and starts to get out. “ Bag him and all is well. We ’ ll never bug you or your car again. ”
“ But— ”
My words are lost as he slams the door and walks off, hurrying away from my car.
Hastily, I knock the gun out of my lap and pull my boss ’ s email out of the trash. How stupid does he think I am? It's an elaborate prank, I'll give him that, but my boss knows me better!
I restore the email and open it only to be greeted by big and bold letters that read: “ **DITCH THE CAR AND RUN. THEY WANT YOU. THEY WANT US. ** ”
I stare at the message for a moment and then sigh. It ’ s times like this I really wish I ’ d just bought a normal car.
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[ WP ] One day the sun does n't rise on your side of the planet . Your half of the world is left in darkness while the other side is always in the sun .
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I had been no stranger to heat, or to the glaring sun. But not to the kind of heat or sun that came when the Last Day set in.
I'm not really sure when I last saw a cycle of night and day. My new calendar says the evacuation happened almost six years ago, but to me, who lives in eternal twilight, it feels like much longer has passed.
But I still remember the day I saw my last sunrise. It was just a regular morning, and a regular day. All of it except the sun, that is. The sun, it reached its zenith and then it… Just stopped. I realized something was wrong only the evening, and only because my watch was telling me something completely different than the sky.
The birds, they sang for hours on end. There was no darkness to tell them to rest. People would find them on the ground where they had dropped from exhaustion.
I, too, found it impossible to sleep for the first few days, even when I closed all the shutters and put my head under the pillow. But it was n't the lack of sleep, or the interrupted cycles of nature that became the problem. It was our sun.
I was no fool. I knew my sciences, and I knew what was coming. I was n't the only one, either. I used all of my significant savings to buy a plot of land in the thin ring that would soon become the only inhabitable place on Earth, and I sought out others who would be willing to join my community.
We number two million, making us the the largest population in the nearest radian; and we are the safest Arc in the whole entire Ring. I was lucky enough to attract some very valuable people, and though I am no longer their leader, having given my role over to ones more capable for the job, it was under my coordination that our Arc became the safe haven it is.
But most of our planet is hostile, and very much so. Both Sides of Earth turned into desolate wasteland within months of the Last Day: the Dark hemisphere, turned away from the sun, became a freezing hunk of earth and ice; the Day half turned into a desert ravaged by convection storms. The only life that remains is here in the Ring - a fine circumference of paradise between the two hells.
I used to live on the Day side. My house and my city are swept clean from the face of earth, we know that from our satellite imagery; and the mountains will soon erode under the crazy weathers as well. All things living have perished long ago.
I have no home now, but I will make damn sure the people of the future will.
_
I'm very open to critique! The main flaw I see with this piece is that it has no well-defined story, just a narrative.
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[ WP ] On your 18th birthday , everyone looses their powers they had since birth . When you wake up on your 18th birthday you find out that you still have yours .
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I remember when my nigga Dashaun could turn Four Loko into Hennessey. The best days were when Billy Samuel could make Sam Adams into Lagunitas. That's when we was 12. I remember it fondly like fondling little Shantiece cause the bitch could make her ass grow on robot. Those was the days. I struggled to find my special gift. I had so many I ai n't gone lie. I aint gone brag or even say what the hell my ability was because I ai n't no snitch. But I will tell you this, everything changed when my friends became so called adults. They had to walk around with identification and get jobs. I wondered why Shauntiece looked so skinny and why the Four Loko tasted like Four Loko. Lagunitas tasted like Samuel Adams on my niggas birthday. I never had friends like I did when I was 17. I mean who does anyway?
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[ WP ] All children between the ages 10 and 19 are hunted and killed for sport.The older you are the more aggressive people are toward you.You are a few months away from turning 20 .
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Hell. That's honestly the only way that I can describe the events of this year so far. The government allows people to hunt children for sport as an attempt to trim down the population. When I turned 10 I did n't really expect it to be as bad as it was. I was n't even convinced that people could do something as sick as killing children, but I have come to learn that there are a lot of sick fucks out there. I only have a few months left until it's all over but I do n't know if I can last that long. When you get older people just want to kill you more. I have lived in over 20 different locations this year and I expect to make my way to 20 more. Run, run, run... That's all I do. I ca n't fight back, I ca n't take another life. So I keep running until it's over. To Hell and back, a pretty shitty way to spend my childhood if you ask me.
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[ PI ] `` SINGLE ACTION '' - FebContest
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Keeping in mind that I have no idea what I'm talking about I do have a couple of comments/criticisms. Also this might get slightly spoiler-ish
I guess my most major `` criticism'' is that it does n't really do anything new. I do n't really have examples, but I've seen all this stuff before and I pretty much knew everything that was going to happen. That being said, there's nothing new under the sun so it's really more about how you tell the story and you did that quite well and it's also probably worth mentioning that I am really far removed from the subject matter.
Otherwise the `` single action, make peace'' line was kind of clunky, it may have worked better to have Fletcher explain what single action meant earlier on so that it was in the readers head towards the end.
In the final conversation Conall probably talked a little bit too much. There seemed to be lines that did n't really seem like things he would say and were more there to set up Colm.
Other than that there were a couple minor things. There's that darkly comedic line towards the end where you could probably drop `` do you think?'' and there were a couple of similes and metaphors that came off as awkward to me, for example `` the chastised face of a small child caught pilfering cookies from a jar'' or `` it felt sour and sugary, like lemon in a glass of water'', but I'm pretty much allergic to similes that are n't played for humour so I'd especially take that with a grain, or shaker, of salt.
Again I would n't say any of these were major ( or even valid ) and it was very well written.
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[ HP ] The three Wise Men just left Jesus and Mary . Outside , they begin to discuss what they just saw ...
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*Three well dressed men exit the barn in which they just saw The Messiah*
Wise king 1: GOLD?! YOU BROUGHT FRIGGIN GOLD?! HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THAT?''
Wise king 3: Look can we not make this a big deal. We said we'd get our own gifts.
Wise King 2: Oh yeah, because pure gold is TOTALLY something you just give away to some random people and a baby.
WK3: Hey, that `` baby'' in there is the Son of God.
WK1: Which reminds me, who decided to put Gods only son in a barn? This inn keeper is not getting a good review from me.
WK2:... not sure if this is cool or not but. Mary was kinda hot right? I mean she just had the baby but I'm not tripping right?
WK1: Oh yeah you are n't alone. I wan na wife the shit out of her.
WK3: She was ok. But really guys is n't it amazing? The son of God was born and we got to see him at his birth! We are truly-
WK2: Wait wait. Did you just say she was *ok*?
WK3: Is that really the issue here?
WK1: What? First you undermine us and bring gold and now you're too good for the son of Gods mom? Do you get what miraculous conception means?! God TOTALLY hit that!
WK3: I do n't think that's quite how it worked out but I do n't think it's cool to say it like that. Plus even if God did `` Hit that'' would n't that mean she had the best sex ever? Why would you want to compete with God?
WK1: Woah woah woah. I never said anything about procreating. I just said wife. Imagine that. Like'Oh hey guys. Here are my wives. But this one had the son of God'. How pimp is that?!
WK3: You two are hopeless. Guys we *just* saw the King of Kings, a man who will have astronomical effects on the world for years to come! A man who is a gift from heaven to lead us away from evil! And your only concerns are my gift and how attractive the mother of Jesus is?
WK1:... I feel like all of those things are important.
WK2: Seriously man, gold? And come one she is pretty hot.
WK3: Jesus Christ... *rubs temples*
WK1 & 2: WOAH!!
WK1: Come on man we just saw him do n't turn his name into some kind of profanity....
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[ WP ] You are an NPC in an MMO that used to be very popular . It is now abandoned , and to see any player is extremely rare .
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I remember those days as if they were yesterday.
These lands were filled with adventurers; seeking fortune and the thrills of battle; helping us, denizens of this land, rid ourselves of the evil that lurks in the shadows.
We stood here, grateful for their bravery, and did our best to assist them through their journeys. We asked for small favors, and dealt menial tasks, in return for food, potions, and the few coins we had on us; because we knew their causes were great.
I used to love meeting new travelers; great men and women, trolls, orcs, elves, undead, fairies, pixies, even werecreatures, would come from great distances; and they would stop here in their path to grandeur.
But now we pain to see another soul.
Our streets lay empty; our stores don ’ t sell to anyone anymore; the drinking halls that were once filled by cheering and laughter of those who stopped to rest their weary, battle-worn bodies now are quiet and filled only by dust.
And here I am; a man who were once responsible for guiding these brave warriors through this arduous adventure; remain with nobody else to assis…..
Wait!
Is that a player?
Oh my! Oh my! I hope he stops to talk to me. Oh I really wish he would just stop and chat!
The wisdom I could share, the loot that I can give; I can once again be the hero that these adventurers deserve!!
< Click >
“ Hello Adventurer,
I need your help. Please bring 15 Boar Tusks, and I shall reward you with 150xp and 5 small potions!
Will you accept this quest? ”
OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!
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[ WP ] In 2025 , the mission Mars One is a full success . Upon arrival on the red planet , the astronauts notice some kind of cave , containing a single human skeleton – and four words , carved into a wall .
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Leo was just fucking careless.
As he slipped into the dark whole in the Red Planet's Abstynth Plains, it looked like a fly willingly descending into the mouth of some angry, hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex without a second thought. I stood there, red dust whipping in a frenzy around my mask and watched him craw him, and his head disappear and then feet. For a few seconds more, I could the fluorescent UVs bouncing in the darkness and then nothing.
He knew this was n't protocol. I knew this was n't protocol, but I was n't going to stop me. The UN was n't paying me nearly enough to try to stop him, especially after the the weird static on the local radio. I waited there, watching the distant speck in the sky mission control kept insisting was the sun begin to disappear behind Mount Olympus. Leo knew just as well as I did that we needed to get back to the shuttle and its promise of pre-processed meat cubes and dehydrated coffee grounds. But, still, I waited.
I did n't know Leo, or at least not well. We met at the Munich Conference for Continuity of Species a few months back, both Candidates. I did n't particularly like the tall, spindly man that seemed to be constantly on the precipice of either dissolving into tears or breaking a hooker's nose ( both of which I'd seen him do first hand, mind you ). His skin was thin, drawn and papery, almost a pearlish white under fluorescents. His accent, definitively Irish, but trying to hide it, always grated on my nerves, so I tried not to talk to him much.
When they paired us together, I ca n't say I was overjoyed, but it was just a fist clenching kind of anger, not a wall punching one. He was better than some, not most and he would do. Besides, at least as my brief informed me, he was an Oxford man.
I watched the'Sun' make its way across the red hue and absent mindedly wondered what the sunset would be like before the radio crackled to life with a defiant hiss in my helmet. I took a step back and almost lost balance into a razor sharp boulder. Close.
Beat.
`` Reynolds, are you there? Reynolds?'' Leo was over pronouncing his words again, but I think I got the gist. His voice sounded like a thick stream of molasses sound gone sour.
`` Yeah, Leo. Where the hell are you?''
`` You have to come down here,''
`` What? No. No fucking way,'' I did n't bother to try to hide my irritation. Was n't worth it.
`` There's something down here,''
`` What do you mean?''
`` I.. I do n't know. Please.''
I looked down at the whole and then towards the sky. Maybe an hour until the sun set and we froze to death on the Martian plains. I knew we would n't be the first to die on the service. That prize went to Sergey Bolshevi from the USSR two years ago. Botched orbital maneuver caused his ship to fall apart like plastic packaging mid air. The probes never found his body, but those last audio logs were the stuf of nightmares and the UN made all the Candidates listen to it more times than I could count.
`` Reynolds, are you there?''
`` I'm coming down,'' I immediately kicked myself, but there was something childlike in his voice that caused my entire body to shiver.
I walked to the edge of the pit and lucked under the rocky lip and felt the stones scratch against my helmet top. I could n't believe Leo, tall as he was, had made it in this far, as I squatted down and began to crawl.The cave quickly narrowed out, but I could see a crack where it widened a few yards down the line, so I kept at it. No light, just the presence of a deeper dark.
`` Helmet light, activate,'' My voice sounded way more confident than my shaking boots should have allowed. The blue light illuminated the autumn rocks as my white gloves and grey knees inched me forward.
I've never been one for claustrophobia, but something about the silence just bothered me.
`` Are you coming?'' He sounded worse than before.
`` How deep is this thing?'' I reached the crevice and squeezed through. The ground felt weird, sandier as I stood up.
`` Hello!'' I heard my voice echo. I could n't have done that deep, could I? It sounded like my voice echoed for miles. The light did n't really help much. I could n't see either way of the chamber, or even the ceiling.
`` HUD Clock''. It had been just around twenty minutes.
`` SSSH!'' Leo.
`` What?''
`` Just be quite, okay? Go forward. It's not far.''
I did n't have a gun or even a baton. The UN was really, really insistent that we start The New Age in peace and that `` peace'' was a blatant and obvious disregard for human safety, but whatever. I guess I could kind of understand it for the NearJumps ( Mars, Venus, even Jupiter ), but the Far Ones, maybe not so much. We'd been probing the Martian surface for decades, but the Farther, not so much. I do n't know. Does n't seem safe to me now and it did n't then.
I kept walking, with only the echo of my boots to keep me company. I registered somewhere in the back of my mind that I was going down a slope, not a steep one, but a slope still. No change in the scenery. Nothing interesting to report.
And then I saw it.
It was like a faint, purple far in the distance. It looked like a UV light, namely the one from Leo's helmet.
And it was on the ground.
I stopped.
`` Are you close? I think I can hear you,'' Leo's voice.
`` Where are you?''
`` Right down here.''
`` Why is your helmet off?''
`` What?''
I quickly shut my light off and the world plummeted into blackness.
`` Why the hell is your helmet off?''
`` Reynolds, what are you talking about. I'm right here,''
I did n't say anything. I bent down, my hands gracing the ground until I found a large rock. Big. Hefty.
`` Wave at me,'' I tried to conceal my fear. I could be wrong. This could just be some big mistake.
A faint outline waved in the distance, right behind the purple glow. I lifted the rock.
`` Come here.''
`` Why are you acting so weird. Do n't be ridiculous.'' I suddenly like a fly in the heart of a flytrap, stuck in the gooey, green resin, struggling for dear life.
I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and I whirled. Nothing. Then, again, to my right and I twirled, almost lost my footing, took a few staggering steps and then did. I pushed my self up and ran.
`` Please stop.''
The voice this time was cool and collected. The footsteps were scattering all around.
Except from the UV light.
I looked at it and knew what I had to do. I do n't like risks. I never have. But this seemed like a literal choice between life and dead, so I ran.
As I got closer, I saw the helmet, scattered and cracked down the lense, a red `` WARNING: BREACH'' emblazoned across the surface, softly glowing. I looked around, rock in hand and then I saw it.
It looked like a hole in the wall. Nothing remarkable except that it was a blazing white. No swirling, no mist, just a white whole. Next to it, in the red rock:
`` GOOD LUCK OUT THERE''
Beneath the words emblazoned on the side was an ancient, decrepit skeleton, almost falling apart as I looked on and Leo's suit. No blood. No struggle. No sign of any violence except the cracked glass.
I heard the footsteps again and turned around.
There stood a man, red ashen skin, pocket marked with lesions boiling on his face, almost covering his eyes amist a scraggly mess of a silver fox beard and clad in a grey jumpsuit with a faded American stitched on the front..but, different. There were over one hundred stars, from what I could see..and....and was that Columbiana? He had a translucent gas mask tied to his face and his breathes were horse.
I looked at him and he stopped.
Our eyes met for a second, just a second and then I realized it.
Those were my eyes. Those were my eyes. Those were my eyes.
He pointed at the hole, his finger clearly broken along the joint and then pointed at Leo's suit.
Had Leo gone through? Where were the footsteps coming from? He had my eyes.
Then he took another step and I took one back. He took another and I did the same. My hands felt behind me for the wall and his extended out, like some bad parody of a George Romero movie.
Then he began to sprint and I fell into the white, cold and hot all at once.
NOTE: I can write more if you anyone is interested.
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[ WP ] You wake up as per normal this morning . You find out that it 's 2016 and you try to piece together 2015 using pictures from your phone or Facebook .
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Friday, 1st January 2016
Apparently, it's the year 2016 - and apparently some kind of apocalypse happened last year. I woke up this morning at about half past seven in a house I'd never seen before in my life - my mother says we came here because of the riots, riots which broke out in hundreds of major cities worldwide in May of 2015, and she was puzzled as to why I do n't remember any of that horrific year.
Well, that's not true - I remember the first three hours of 2015, before I fell asleep - we were celebrating in a house near to our home, near to the house that I moved to in April of 2014 and apparently moved out of in May of 2015, just like we did at the end of 2013 and 2012.
But on the first of May - *last year*, the year 2015 - the power went out due to some kind of EMP - it could have been from a solar flare or from the North Koreans being angry over that film `` The Interview'' - I do n't think anyone really knows why it happened. Regardless of who or what caused it, on May 1st 2015 the power went out just before four in the morning. The general election did n't go ahead - neither did any of my A-level exams - modern life basically ground to a halt in that horrific summer. Planes fell out of the sky by their hundreds that Thursday night ( seriously, people of 2014, you thought three plane crashes in a whole year was bad? ), riots broke out around the May 4th bank holiday, and famine and disease epidemics started up by around May 10th.
Now, it's been eight months since the lights went out - eight months to the very day. I went to sleep on Wednesday night with two relatives living with me - I woke up this Friday morning with only one.
I do n't know how exactly I survived the last two hundred and forty-five days... and I do n't know if I will live another two hundred and forty-five.
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[ WP ] A short story that appears to have a happy ending but is actually dark and depressing
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This is a story I wrote for a different prompt a while back, [ here's the link ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2r2byl/wp_a_percussionist_wanders_the_streets_at_night_a/ )
Give the little drummer boy a decade or so and he'll give every pop star a run for thier money. On top of that, one would have to give him a drum set. For now, he had to settle with the drumsticks he had carved himself from the legs of a chair that someone had left outside with a sign saying: *free*. The Little Drummer boy took anything, anything at all, and turned it into a sound. The things he included in his orchestra, no one would have looked twice at, a brick on a wall, a lid on a metal trash can, a stray piece of paper. He was a conductor and the little alleyway he called home was his orchestra that no one looked twice at, no one wanted to see a little homeless boy do little homeless boy things.
Mae Lin woke up at two in the morning. Her mother was going to wake her up at six, but she refused to allow her mother to make her into something she was n't: a prodigy. Since she could walk and talk, Mae Lin was forced to learn all there was to know about a violin. Her mother was determined to command and commit her child to a monotonous struggle to realize a dream that she ( the mother ) could not realize. Mrs. Lin was a talent at the violin, one that could put the greatest to shame, but she was never taken more seriously than the schoolgirl that could only play `` Mary had a little lamb''. She wanted to play in europe, or broadway, but never got farther from the talent show at her local community center, which she lost. Mae's mom knew she was simply too old and not pretty enough that no producer or talent scout would look twice at her. When she discovered she was with child, she swore to make sure that her daughter would realize the dream she had lost. As for Mae herself, she packed what she could into her school backpack and, for some reason, she took her violin as well. It was the only friend her mother allowed her to have, and if Mae was to run away from home and from her mother's legacy, she would need a friend to accompany her.
The old man woke up, he was n't sure what time it was, so he looked at the note on his left: *Anton, I am you from yesterday ago reminding you that today is July the 22nd of 2015. * Anton stopped right there, the year was two-thousand and fifteen? that was impossible! He was fairly certain he had graduated college only two weeks ago in nineteen seventy! He looked down at the note again: *I, or'you' rather, whichever you prefer, have a disease that causes you to lose your memory after a certain amount of time. You will wake up every morning only to have forgotten everything that happened the day before. Around twelve noon, a woman from'Greyson Family Therapy' will arrive. If she does n't, call this number... *'' He finished the note, and went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing all the features of an old man, a wrinkled face, a receding hairline with grey spots of hair. He had no evidence to claim that this was a prank his roommates were playing. Having nothing better to do, he sat down in at his piano bench, and felt the cool ivory keys of his piano on his fingers. It seemed that, though his toothbrush, or the bed he awoke on were strangers to him, this piano, this instrument was familiar, in a way that he could not recall by memory alone. In a feat displaying the phenomenon known as muscle memory, he pressed a few keys in a rhythemic tune, and let himself get carried away.
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[ WP ] They held hands as they stood silent under the stars .
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They held hands as they stood silent under the stars.
On this night, there was no moon. No clouds. Only the endless majesty of the universe.
For a long time, they made no sounds at all. Until eventually, one of them began to speak in wonderment… a few words… but the sanctity of the night made them fall silent again. They had waited for this moment, and would say that they had waited all their lives – however short their lives may have been. That did not matter.
The next one to speak knew the words well, having turned them over and over in their head. More words, a phrase, a saying. One of the others nodded ever so slightly. The stars did nothing, of course.
Then there came a quote, one that they all knew, and some of them started to cry. They did not lift their hands to wipe the tears, though. Some of them repeated the quote. One of them even said ‘ I love you, ’ though it was unclear whether they spoke to the group, a single person, or to the stars.
Eventually, they were all speaking at once. The stars lived long, and people did not, and they knew their time was growing short. They could stay under the stars forever, but if they never once spoke their praises how would the stars know? Oh, but they were too late. It was done.
Under the empty sky, one of them stood silent and let go of the hands.
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[ WP ] Last night , the entire world had the same dream . Everyone except you .
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`` YO! Did you hear?? Apparently everyone had the same dream last night!''
`` No way, really??'' I asked.
`` Yeah! Nobody knows why it happened, but that dream was pretty fucking strange''
`` Umm''... I mumbled as memories of singing, dancing and large pink rabbits and ponies walking on two legs conga lining across a rainbow in the sky shoot through my mind.
`` Yeah, it was so sweet I could throw up.''
`` Dude, that's fucked up''
`` What no, it was like the definition of silly''
`` So you thought it was funny? Even the part where that kid was skinned alive?''
`` That wasn't-''
`` Do n't bullshit me dude, everyone had the same traumatic fucking nightmare, just... stop''
`` No but-''
`` Just, stop.''
*What the hell is going on?? *
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[ WP ] First contact with an alien race . As part of the first meeting , the aliens share a truth with us that is devastatingly terrifying . However upon reflection , a lot of things now make perfect sense .
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`` Hello!'' The cheerful blue alien greeted as he was seated.
The cameras focused in on it and the red lights came on indicating the broadcast was live. The president shifted in his seat across from the alien and tried to look as authoritative as possible. The first public meeting with the aliens since they contacted earth a month ago had to go perfectly. These next few moments would be echoed in all the history books for eons to come. At least the aliens seemed to have already studied human language and spoke proficient English. Nonetheless, the president still worried about how his words would be received, even the slightest miscommunication could be disastrous.
`` I'll get right down to business.'' The alien blurted.
The president was taken off guard with the alien's forwardness but held his composure.
`` Please do,'' he replied.
The alien pulled out a metallic looking sheet from his cloak and carefully placed it on the desk.
`` Here is your cut,'' the alien smiled.
`` Our... cut?'' asked the president.
`` Of the profits of course! Anal probing porn has been the consistent top seller for the past seventy earth-years! And we at the Zebulax adult entertainment corporation pride ourselves in fairly compensating our porn stars!'' the alien explained.
``.... well shit.''
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[ WP ] Humor
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It was a gloomy morning; the sun had yet to wipe away the sleep from its golden eye, and billows of grey clouds obscured every strand of light. Individual raindrops were falling lightly from the sky. It was typical for a Monday morning.
Abe stumbled down the hallway into the kitchen. He straightened his crooked tie, and tucked the remaining wrinkled, white material from his shirt into his kahki pants. They were an inch to short, revealing his mis-matched socks, and his worn penny loafers.
“ So glad I have today off from work, ” yawned Emily as she poured a cup of coffee.
“ Don ’ t rub it in, ” dolefully replied Abe. “ You know I hate going to work on Mondays, especially on gloomy, grey days. It ’ s so difficult to get motivated when the sun isn ’ t shining. ”
In fact, he always found it difficult to get motivated for work. When he was hired to work for the FBI, he imagined he would live a life of adventure and intrigue. He never expected to be stuck in a cubicle ordering pencils, changing ink toner, and performing other tedious tasks.
“ There are now two hundred and seven confirmed cases of the so- called ‘ Super Bird-Flu ’ in America, ” the radio on the old kitchen table announced. “ The World Health Organization recommends that you wash your hands frequently, cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough, and for Pete ’ s sake… stay home if you feel the slightest bit sick! And now for the weather…. ”
Abe pulled the plug. He never listened to the news in the morning, not even in his car during the commute. The news always made him feel more depressed
“ Rain, clouds, and a slight chance of ostrich flu. More reasons I shouldn ’ t go to work, ” he thought out loud.
Emily stood by the kitchen counter, scratching her head. Her fingers got caught in the rat ’ s nest of her morning hair. Some women have the uncanny ability to look really good as soon as they wake up. This was not the case with Emily. The years of working as a nurse in the local hospital finally caught up with her. Tending to the sick and watching people die dug deep wrinkles into her forehead. Emily ’ s grey sweatpants had a hole in the left knee, and the missing drawstrings encouraged her pants to droop down just enough so that it resembled a dirty diaper. The puffy bags under her greenish-grey eyes gave her the illusion of being ten years older than she actually was.
“ Well, you better get moving anyways. You ’ re already running late, ” snapped Emily. “ You ’ ve been late the last two Mondays in a row. Given the state of the economy right now, you shouldn ’ t give your boss anything else to yell at you about. ”
`` I can ’ t even have a cup of coffee before you start nagging, ” said Abe. “ Please, you know I need a little pick me up on days like these. ” He fumbled around in the cabinet looking for his favorite mug.
“ Where ’ s my mug? ” he cried. “ I can ’ t find it! ”
Abe entered an online contest a few years ago sponsored by Frosted Flakes. He was the lucky winner of an ostentacious coffee mug boasting Tony the Tiger ’ s head. In big, red letters the mug told you to “ Have a GRRRREAT Day! ”
“ Sorry, Abe. I broke it yesterday. I was washing it in the sink when the handle fell off. I couldn ’ t find any crazy glue, so I just tossed it in the trash. Use another one. ”
“ Of course. The only prize I ever won, and you broke it! ” moaned Abe. Not even Eeyore, himself, could have sounded more despondent. He grabbed the first mug he could put his hand on, and read the message out loud “ Life Sucks and Then you Die! ”
“ You got that right, ” thought Abe. “ Especially on Mondays. ”
There was a full tank of his morning gasoline simmering in the coffee pot. Abe poured some into his melancholy mug, and started to quaff it down without any milk or sugar.
“ Hazelnut!?! ” he complained, as spit his first sip into the sink. “ Come on Em, you know I hate Hazelnut! What ’ s wrong with just plain, old, COFFEE flavored coffee ”
“ Stop acting like a baby, ” Emily replied, undaunted. “ We ’ re out of it. Plus, I like it, so I made it. I ’ ll tell you what- when, and if you wake up early on your next day off you can make any kind of coffee you want. ”
Emily plugged the radio back in out of spite. The new Dunkin ’ Donuts commercial was being aired. “ And leave the radio on! You know I like my morning news. ”
“ I know, ” he replied glibly. “ You love hearing bad news about people suffering. It seems to really get you going in the morning. ”
“ Well, I better not hear any bad news about you suffering ‘ cause you were late for work again, and lost your job! ” Emily warned.
Abe didn ’ t care. He had already decided he was going to take the long way to work today, and take his chances if he was late. He thought ordering pencils shouldn ’ t be his only subsistence. He opened the refrigerator door, and began searching for something to eat.
“ Get something from the snack machine at work! You don ’ t have the time to shuffle around! ” Emily ordered.
“ Yes, dear, ” he automatically replied.
Abe closed the fridge, and slowly started walking toward the front door.
“ Have you seen my keys, Em? ” he asked without the least bit of concern in his voice. He hadn ’ t even looked for them. “ I can ’ t remember where I put them last night, ” he said with a yawn.
“ Don ’ t tell me you can ’ t find them! You are ruining my day off with your complaining and your total lack of concern for your job! ”
Abe walked back into the kitchen an opened the refrigerator again.
“ Maybe I left them in here when I was looking for some food. ” He knew his keys weren ’ t in there. He just didn ’ t feel like looking for them.
“ I swear Abe, if you don ’ t… ” The radio newscaster cut off Emily.
“ Breaking News! The Department of Homeland Security has issued a new terror alert. All government buildings and airports are under high security. The U.S. government has confirmed that this is a credible threat and urges all citizens to report unusual or suspicious activity. Local F.B.I. offices seem to be the main target for these attacks. As a precaution, F.B.I. agents and workers have been advised to not head to their respective work locations and remain on call from their directors to await further instructions. ”
A small beam of sunlight pierced through the clouds, through the blinds over the kitchen window, and landed directly on the old table where Abe ’ s keys were reposing.
He walked over, picked them up, and gave them a short toss into the air before catching them.
“ Guess I won ’ t be needing you today! ” he said to his keys with a wide smile. “ Got ta love those terror threats! ”
“ In further news, ” the radio continued, “ All workers at the local hospital are being calling into work in anticipation of civilian casualties. Now for weather, the clouds should be dissipating soon, with the sunlight making its way… ”
Emily pulled the radio ’ s plug from out of the wall.
“ GRRRREAT! ” Emily exclaimed. “ There goes my day off! ”
Abe ’ s smile widened as he looked at his pallid wife.
“ Better hurry to work Em, I don ’ t want you to be late, ” he said with temerity.
Emily threw her coffee mug in the sink, breaking the handle, and raced off towards the bathroom like a sprinter in the 100-meter dash.
Abe picked up his coffee and took a long sip of the warm, nourishing nectar.
“ You know what Em? ” he called after her. “ This Hazelnut doesn ’ t taste so bad after all! ”
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[ WP ] `` Dude , what do you mean you ca n't lift it ? It 's just a car ! ''
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My friend and I stood outside of Brighthouse field while the Rays were playing the Blue Jays. Our hometown was losing so we thought we would lift the mood by lifting a car. We did n't have any tow rope or wrecker so we decided we would just carry it home.
James said, `` I'll get the front, you get the rear.'' We had done this many times before with much heavier stuff too, which in reality should be impossible. I'm in position and so is he, he heaves and I ho and as I feel the weight shifting I realize that the car was n't budging one bit on my end. He had his end about his head and my end was still on the ground.
`` If I pull any harder I'll break my back! Put it down!'' I said.
`` Dude, what do you mean you ca n't lift it? It's just a car!''
`` I do n't know what's wrong...'' at that moment when I peered into the rear window I knew what was wrong. It was so dreadful that I stumbled backward into a van. It was there, right in my face. On the right side of the bumper a sticker read,'no fat chicks allowed'.
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[ CC ] [ OT ] I have n't written anything in more than 7 years but today this came out because of you , WritingPrompts
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Never too late to get back in the game. Glad to see you pick it back up after such a long time.
Here we go: A flash of light *sliced* - Tense shift here. I'm pretty sure it's the only one, but it happens in a sentence where this is more action happening in the present ( car roars by ) so it really threw me off.
Me being nitpicky: *Unacclimatised* - Maybe I'm a sort of a dullard, but I went back and pronounced this word three different ways in my head before ever reading the second word of that sentence. Maybe use a better word, maybe I dumb and hard words hurt face good.
This sentence: The mist that moments ago followed him like a breadcrumb trail is gone yet your eyes dart around.
Something about the above feels awkward to me. Maybe make the mist its own sentence, then start the next with the eyes. Like:
*The mist that moments ago followed him like a breadcrumb trail is gone. Your eyes dart around and you spin so quickly that you almost lose your footing. *
Sorta the same thing here: Your rush forward to where you last saw him, slipping on the ice your legs catch you before you can fall.
There are a couple of ways to do this one.
1 ) You rush forward to where you last saw him, slipping on the ice, but your legs catch you before you can fall.
2 ) You rush forward to where you last saw him. Slipping on the ice, your legs catch you before you can fall.
This one: With uneven, haltering steps you go right.
Potential fix: You go right with uneven, haltering steps.
Question: Are there two gloves or one?'Cold fingers dig into your pockets to find the gloves'... then later:'Staring at the sole glove that you find.'
All in all, I dig the pacing. I think it lends well to the loneliness and desperation the primary character is experiencing. Even with the issues I pointed out, I still stepped away from this piece feeling fucked, like I just lost something important and I do n't even know why. And that's what it's all about, man.
Keep going. I wan na see more from you, and I'm sure I wo n't be the only one.
Also, before I go - I'm curious as to what prompted this ( heh ). Did you read something in particular by someone else that made you go'shit, has it been seven years already?' If so, I'd like to know what that was.
Anyway, thanks for sharing this.
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[ WP ] Write a few paragraphs about the renaissance period as if you are a complete idiot and have no idea what you are talking about .
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The Renaissance was the time in which Humanity's brightest and most ambitious began to explore the unknown, preparing their kind for the next step into civilization. Many trials were had, and many errors were made, but as the exploration efforts heightened, so did the people's enthusiasm.
For now, the first colony ship was sent from Europe and into the great unknown, aiming to conquer the untamed lands that it beholds. Countless, breathless months passed as these ships sailed through time. If this mission proved successful, the prestige and wealth from it would be enormous. Infinite. Boundless.
And to the stars humanity's finest sailed, leaving behind their polluted, discorded world.
This, was the Renaissance Period summed up in several paragraphs. Specifics can be found below:
**https: //gww.HUMANHISTORYUNRAVELED.org**
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[ WP ] Earth has been conquered by aliens , Humanity is resisting and dying . Cthulhu comes to the rescue .
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`` Tell me about this report, Johnson''
The general leaned back in his confy chair. Under the mass of rock that was Cheyene mountain Johnson was sweating.
`` Sir'' he began straightening up in front of the supreme commander of what remained of the american army.
`` We were on mission in the Pacific, two battleships and an aircraft carrier. At zero six hundred hours we were nearing our objective, Harvester 16...''
`` Private, I know what that mission was about, get to the encounter.'' The general interupted.
`` Sir...'' Johnson went on, hesitating.
`` Sir, at zero six hundret forty five, as we were assuming positions around the objective readying aircraft for take-off...'' he stopped again sighing.
`` Sir it is imposible for me to describe what happened...''
Looking down, he went on regardless:
`` The sea opened up two clicks to the north. Something huge came out, bigger than the carrier, it looked organic, it was some sort of alien creature, tall, with claws and vaguely squid-like, although you find accounts differ from person to person.''
He stopped for a moment and produced a couple of pictures out of his briefcase.
He handed them over to the general with a sigh and continued.
`` As you are well aware of by now, sir, the cameras picked it up as a an optical disturbence, it's a blurry mess in the photos sir, and it does n't come close to what we actually saw there sir, if I may speak freely ``
The general took the pictures and looked at them again. The people and the equipment was sharp and well defined. At sea in the distance you could even see the Harvester. Between them was a whirlpool of water and a shape rising out of it, blurred and without any pattern to it.
He set the pictures aside and leaned back.
`` Tell me Johnson, and speak freely, what happened next?''
`` Sir, we were scared. We all thought it was some kind of biological agent the Hominids used to defend their biggest harvester. It effortlessly picked up the USS Massachusetts, the other battleship, out of the water.''
He sighed again.
`` Sir what happened next was incredible, the creature seemed to float to the harvester, and began beating it with our ship until there was nothing left of that floating structure but pieces and shapes in the water. The creature then stood still, seemed to implode in on itself and disappeared. After that the water under the remaining harvester began bubbling as if boiling and every last piece of debris was sucked into the ocean.''
Johson stopped, looking at the general with tired and weary eyes.
The general just leaned back looking pleased, a shadow of a smile graced his face.
`` Thank you Johnson, your report will be invaluble for the future defense of our planet and for the war effort.''
`` Sir, is it true? Are we really beating them back? Is Japan free?''
Johnson looked out of breath, unsure if the general might reprimend his outburst, let alone grace it with an answer.
`` Yes Johnson, it is.'' he answered frowning.
`` The cosmos has thrown strange foes in our faces, and somehow the earth itself rewards our effort with even stranger friends. Thank you Johnson, you are dismissed.''
The screen went blank as the old recording stopped and the two hominids in the orbiting shuttle stared at each other in silence. It had been months since the last report of their forward force had reached them.
`` This is maddness.''
`` It truly is.'' the other replied.
They stood for a moment longer in silence.
`` They... We have awekened one of them, we brought them to this plane... and now their cosmic eye is looking at us.''
`` Yes, it seems to have begun. We had a good run though, who could have known earth was theirs?''
`` Maybe earth will satisfy their hunger?''
`` No, they always hunger, soon the whole universe will burn...''
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[ WP ] `` We are beasts at heart , bound by impulse and base desire . I just seek to bring what is inside out to the surface . ''
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Geneva threw her bag onto the couch and flung her flats off her feet with a heaving sigh that alerted Casper his mom is back from a long day of work. The blind dog padded happily to her with wagging tail and panting breath. A grin crept across her lips as she bent down and ruffled the old salt and pepper terrier's ears.
Into the kitchen the two went. He with the hopes of food; she with the hopes of wine. Casper munched away at his dry food specially designed for senior dogs. She walked toward the monolithic window that reaches the ceiling to the floor. The realtor claimed it was the selling point of the apartment. Geneva agreed. Beyond the glass window of her 12th floor apartment was the neon city lights of Dallas reflecting back into the sparse studio. The unusual scent of hazelnuts had settled into the room.
Casper started to growl at the wall. Even blind, he can see things beyond sight.
`` Hello, Shahazier,'' she said. She sipped her wine and still looked into the mass of luminescence that makes Dallas. `` I smelled you the moment I walked into the lobby,'' she said as she turned around and saw her old friend the incubus sitting on the coach with his leather boots on the coffee table. She glared at the boots. They've been through this. His eyebrows darted up and he placed his feet on the ground and he dusted the table clean.
`` We've been through this, Geneva,'' he coyly said and her eyes narrowed. `` Its Abe now.''
His orange red eyes peered into her soul as she stood there hand on hip still in her work clothes with the glass in the other, empty. `` Dig the dress. Really cute.''
`` Thanks,'' she replied flatly. `` J Crew. On sale.'' Abe nodded in approval. `` I see you've fallen back into the olde ways,'' she told him, noting the red eyes and horns on his head. He spread his arms out palms open in a *what can I say* gesture.
`` We are beasts at heart, bound by impulse and base desire,'' he replied as he got up and walked toward her. She pinned her shoulders back and stood firm. `` I just seek to bring what is inside out to the surface,'' he said as he tapped her forehead with a cold finger before she flicked his hand away. Geneva side stepped around him and made her way back to the kitchen area and poured herself another glass. Corporate sales and ex lovers popping back into your life can make the heart long for many things. In Geneva's case, it longed for more wine than all the casks of Dionysus.
`` What do you want, *Abe*?'' He cocked his head and flashed that smile she hated that she loved.
`` Some wine to start.''
She sighed. `` Abe, we've been through this and -''
`` See, you do say that a lot!'' he interrupted. `` Its like a tick,''
`` You're a tick! A little blood sucker!'' she gritted between her teeth. Her hand went to her temple and she rubbed them in little circles. His elbows rested on the granite island in the middle of the kitchen. `` I'm done Abe. I've given it up. I just want to sleep. Be free of all this *stuff*!'' she said as waved her hands around the air. `` Look, Abe. You know I have a spot for you in my heart, but I just want a normal life. A *human's* life.'' He looked hurt at that last remark. `` And I'm sorry you do n't want that.'' That smile she hated that she loved was erased from his face. Incubi and succubi have no powers over each other. They both know this.
To have total command over love, lust, and sex, to be able to woo any woman in the world, but not the hand of the woman you love brings only pain.
`` Do you truly mean this?'' he asked. All she wanted was to be with him and love him. On one condition. `` Unconditional love on one condition is unconditional love, Evatill,'' he said a lifetime ago.
A silent nod told everything he needed to know.
`` I'm sorry to intrude you, my love,'' he said as he slipped in the night.
Casper let out a faint whine as he nuzzled up to Geneva to dry her tears.
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[ Wp ] A pirate crew confronts their captain about his drinking problem
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`` Look, Captain, the first thing you need to know is we're all here because we care about you.''
`` Oh what the hell is this, Smee, I have n't got the time or inclination to hunt down ALL of your families so this had better not be another mutiny.''
`` Of course not, Captain, no, we're here because we're concerned about you.''
`` *You* lot are concerned? I did n't think you had it within you collectively to say a word with that many syllables.''
`` Aye, captain, concerned. See, it's your drinking.''
``... Well I'm not going to drink that swill the crew gets, I'm Captain James T. Hook and it wo n't stand for me to be drinking second-rate rum!''
`` Of course not captain, only the finest for you, straight from the best rum makers of the Caribbean, but see that's half the issue innit? See, here, have a glass and maybe it'll calm you down a bit, right?''
`` I should rightly hope so, you've got me all worked up now, I'm not sure that I'll ever get to sleep at night.''
`` Right of course, cap'n, but see... here's you rum... and there you've gone and done it again. See, you've splashed it in your ear, it's supposed to go in your mouth. I'm just concerned about your drinking problem is what it is.''
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[ WP ] Come , child . Let me tell you about the forest of dead toothbrushes .
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There is forest that rests along the edge of the neverfolk's lands. A place of decay you can never leave. Come, child. Let me tell you about the forest of dead toothbrushes.
You would be a fool to think all of the unseen are nice and friendly. Never trust them. Keep your iron near. And never drink of their sweet nectar. If you do you will be left to dance till you heart stops and your blood boils.
Pray that you never find your way into this strange forest however. Even the midnight host fear those that dwell within.
Why do you ask hmm? Well, let me finish before you ask anymore questions.
Inside lie the Tooth Snatcher tribe with their clamps and crooked clubs. In ages long past they were a fair and strong folk. Not once did they cheat or trick like their brethren to gain their treasure.
What is this treasure? Its teeth. Yes shocking I know. They boiled them down to gain the magic of sleep and healing they were known for.
The deal they made of man was an old one. Some would say the oldest pact ever made with the watchers of the hidden ways. But like all deals must. this one came to an end.
Among them rose a queen. Her name is hidden to us as is their way, but her moniker still remains. Wait, you do not know?
The proper title for their leader would have been the Tooth Fairy. An apt description for what they did But this one was different.
And within that dark forest her whispers are still heard. Cruelty is their law now. Amongst those tall crooked trees made of plastic and bristles no one can survive.
The betrayal was swift. A ready reminder to all that the Fey can not be trusted. She thought that a tooth a every few months from a child was too little. So they would take it all.
A dark time followed. Children stolen and never returned. Left for dead Changelings ran rampant and the ties that binded our races became frayed. All to sate the greed of this tribe and irs charismatic leader.
Their land. A vibrant forest that was filled with the bright colors of newly made brushes became stained with tar and plaque. Screams echoed for years on end. Seeking to end this before it caused war a council was called. The high kings of men and the elders of the elves met.
A dark decision was made. To preserve the peace the Tooth snatchers would become craven and shunned. Whatever remaining conection to the worlds of man would be severed. Leaving them and their vile queen cut off from the source of their magic.
Like a bird clipped of its wings do they roam. And if you are foolish enough to find yourself within their forest, Pray they kill you before they start their vile procedures with tools made of their former victims.
Pray that the Tooth Fairy does not find you. For you shall suffer torment for a thousand years if she does.
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[ WP ] your conscience has all of a sudden disappeared .
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I'm not conflicted.
Every thought, neuron, synapse, action is now quiet and listening.
Thinking is now the same as acting.
The man who pushed me on the way to the subway, remember him? The confident swagger he had as his shoulder grazed me aside as you looked? I saw him today.
He did n't see me.
It was too easy, it seemed. My brain set this plan up for revenge and I crossed the T's and dotted the i's with one slash.
I'm with the neighbor right now, the one with a abusive mother and a drug problem? The one that smiles and laughs? The one with a better ass? I'm with her right now.
As you read this, your probably crying.
The thing is though, I do n't care.
Formally yours
Jack
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[ WP ] A very large unknown entity has been discovered just outside of the Milky Way . The common belief is that this is where 'god ' is . A research team is on a ship and has almost reached the destination .
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`` So, who wants to become God?''
I'll never forget those words. They were the last words out of the old man's mouth before he disconnected the tube that'd kept him alive for the last thousand years. The tube that made him God.
We'd spent the last month or so heading to the strange vessel the man was on. From Earth, it looked like some kind of brass ball. Up close, it was definitely organic, with a strange texture over it that seemed to move.
On the side of the entity facing us, there was an opening that looked like a cave. Oddly enough, it was fully lit, with no visible source providing this light. On the walls of this cave, ancient Greek writing could be seen. Once it had been translated, we were amazed by the story it told; it described the life of a Roman from around 1000 A.D., who was on a transport ship that mysteriously flew into space, and eventually was taken to this strange orb. The story seemed to stop there, with a sentence or two at the end inviting travellers inside a room through a passage at the end of the cave to find out what happened next. We almost certainly would n't have gone in if we'd known the passage would collapse once all of us were inside.
The first few hours after the old man's body mysteriously dissolved after he'd disconnected the tube were spent discussing who should become God. Obviously, it was quite a big undertaking. Some of us did n't want the responsibility of being God. But in his final moments before biting the dust, the old man told us everyone else in the room would die once the God is chosen. This made the issue quite contentious, and eventually, it became a fight. In the end, I'm not sure how, but the tube ended up in my hands. And amid all the yelling, I jammed that thing into the back of my neck, just to shut everyone up. And suddenly, I understood.
The people of Earth were quite confused when the ship they'd sent into deep space came back completely void of human life, and with over half of the food rations still on-board. All records from after the ship's last communication with Earth -- approximately two days before the Greek writing was readable -- had been erased, leaving the people of Earth completely at a loss to explain what had happened. The mystery was deepened by the fact the orb could no longer be seen in the sky.
For the next thousand years, humanity pondered this mystery. That was, until the orb appeared once again, and I welcomed the next generation of travellers to decide who shall become God.
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[ WP ] The U.S. Government will pay you one hundred USD for every crime you prevent . You are the hero who works out of greed .
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We were planning the big one. Mac looked at me from across the room. Nodding in approval as he scanned the folder. Charlie, putting his hands on Macs shoulders, a question of concern struck his face upon seeing President Reynolds picture within the folder. Mac looked at Charlie, Charlie at Mac, then back to me. Pushing my blonde hair away from my eyes, I grabbed my cell phone, dialing Dennis. I work for the government, preventing crimes for cash. They pay more depending on the seriousness of the crime. Today we are planning to assassinate the president. Mac, Charlie, Dennis will be the team, I, myself, the Enforcer will take them down. I will make a handsome fortune capturing the most notorious criminals, criminals who killed our president. I will use my fortunes won to bust the gang out of prison.
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[ WP ] You can get anyone to talk to you by walking up to them and pressing A .
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Stephen looked a the clock and sighed, 5.30, another half hour to go until he could close up the deli and go home. He sighed and turned back to the counter, he gave a small start, a customer was waiting at the counter.
Perhaps waiting was the wrong word, the customer was gazing straight ahead with a blank expression on her face, and she was pressed up against the counter, pacing on the spot as if she was determinedly trying to march straight through.
Stephen leaned towards her'A-are you ok?' he faltered.
The woman stopped walking, she turned to him opened her mouth and uttered a single syllable.
'A.'
'I heard there's some bandits hold up out in Bleakcrag canyon, someone should clear those trouble makers out.', Stephen replied.
Wait, what?
Stephen blinked, why did he say that? Where even was Bleakcrag canyon? Was there even a canyon around here?
Also, bandits? There was a few teenagers who loitered around the town but other than that there was n't any real crime to speak of, and there certainly was n't any roving gangs of outlaws.
The woman seemed unpreterbed by Stephen's bizarre outburst. In fact she seemed to nod in confirmation of something ( or at least she gave the impression of nodding despite the fact that she was still staring vacantly into the middle distance ). She then turned on the spot and strode out of the deli.
Stephen shook his head. He felt a little uneasy after the bizarre exchange, he tired his best to shrug it off before closing up the deli and heading home.
The next day was a quiet day, as the midweek often was. Stephen had only dealt with a few customers and was contemplating closing the shop early so he could head home.
Suddenly the door swung open and the woman from the day before bolted in, crossing the shop floor in a wild sprint.
Stephen stood agape as she reached the counter and stopped dead, with the same blank expression from yesterday, and apparently un-exerted from her mad dash.
'A.', She said before Stephen could form his bemused outrage into a coherent sentence.
'Thank you for ridding our town of those bandits, please take this as a reward.' said Stephen taking an entire ham and handing it to the blank faced woman.
Stephen blinked,'Why did I...' he began.
'A.' The woman interrupted.
'That's a fine sale indeed,' Said Stephen in a jovial tone, taking 60 euro from his till and handing it to the woman in exchange for the ham.
The ham he had just given her. For no reason.
Stephen cradled the ham in his arms and stared at the woman disbelievingly as she backed out of the deli, stopping only once to jump up and down on the spot. When she reached the door she side strafed out.
What. Was. That. Stephen thought to himself. He closed the shop early that night, and decide to take the following day off. He must be overworked, it was n't like him at all to gibber away about bandits and buy stock he already owned.
The following week Stephen hazarded going back to work. Despite his worries the week went smoothly, with no talk of banditry, or involuntary ham purchases. Stephen felt a great wave of relief, he was back to his old self.
This relief turned to baffled dread as the blank-faced woman combat rolled into his shop.
'No! Not you again! Get out, you're barred! Stay away form me!' Stephen yammered at the woman as she paced around his deli.
'I'm calling the police! Get out!' Stephen whined, but it was to no avail, the woman acted as if she had n't heard him at all.
She walked up to the antique whiskey barrels Stephen kept in the corner, he often build displays of merchandise on them, he felt they gave his deli a vintage feel.
Without a seconds though the woman whipped a double headed battle axe out from seemingly no where and smashed them.
'WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU MANIAC!', Stephen gibbered, hopping up and down on the spot with frustrated rage.
The woman continued ignoring him, reached into the splintered wreckage of the barrels, and plucked out an ornate horned helm.
'THAT'S IT. THAT IS I...', Stephen's enraged tirade died in his throat, he had owned those barrels for years, and there had never been any indication that they had ever been any thing but empty. Surely he would have noticed an over designed iron helm in one of them.
Before he could say anything else the woman, now wearing the gigantic gaudy helm, strode up to him and spoke
'A.'
'I do n't have any work for you right now, I'm afraid. Why do n't you go ask Snorri, the blacksmith?' Replied Stephen.
The woman turned on the spot and left.
Stephen decided he needed a little lie down.
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[ WP ] . You are the last remaining speaker of a dying language . Linguists are recording you to preserve your culture , history and language . None of them have realized that you are also a massive troll .
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As I assumed, the linguist who called me earlier arrived at my door. She asked me, `` Can you give me some details about the language you speak? A history? Any tales in the language?''
`` Woah! Slow down. Let me give you a summary of my language's history.'' I began to speak, `` Well, about 1000 years ago, my language was spoken across the world but then, another language began to replace it slowly until I became the last speaker. Also, the words in my language can get pretty long...''
`` About how long can they get?''
`` Well, the longest word I can think of is *damyeghanmangdavmanvadezni* which means *The American Dream of Manifest Destiny*. Would you like to hear the introduction of an ancient story in my language?''
`` Sure! I'll record it right now!''
I began to recite an ancient meme, but I never revealed this to the linguist. She would find out later when she would get a hang of the grammar and words of my language.
> *Seguntudnun losavyaja, undapáspo fohbi dafla. *
`` Interesting. What does it mean?''
`` It is from a story about a bee who left his hive and formed a bond with a human.''
`` Is n't that the Bee Movie plot?''
`` No! HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE TALES PASSED DOWN IN MY FAMILY FROM GENERATION TO GENERATION!''
`` I'm sorry. Let's continue...''
`` Alright.''
And so, I continued to tell her about the tales of *Beri B. Bensa*, *Aranbi* and *Danou Chramb*.
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[ MP ] Listen to this music and write the story it inspired .
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The crowd separated into two, as the doors of the Great Chamber opened and the young Marron walked cautiously towards the center of the room. Marron was a Soul Speaker, or so the the old man had believed. Soul Speakers were magic users who could speak to the souls of the world, and command them at will if the speaker was strong enough. The duty of the Speaker was to vanquish evil, and send the dead spirits back to the afterlife. A job so dangerous, many Soul Speakers never saw past their 30th birthday. Spirits were unpredictable, and therefore one had to be cautious when dealing with them. Marron was 10 and too young, some people would say, to be a Soul Speaker. Soul Speakers who came to the chamber would face a trial to prove they are worthy of the gift, many failed or ran, but some succeeded. Those who succeeded would have to prove their worth then by summoning the spirits in the chamber. The Chamber was home to some of the greatest heros known to man, and housed these spirits until the next Soul Speaker was choosen. Marron walked up to the pedestal, and took a deep breath.
Fear still gripped Marrons body, as she saw the floating lights illuminate the room. She was amazed at their beauty, and how so much the reminded her of the stars in the sky. She remembered how she used to watch the stars late at night, after she had finished dinner and helped her mother tidy up. But now, it was like she was among them in all their glory. The High Priests stared at her in silent observation, as she tried to touch one of the lights. The light backed away, as soon as she got close. It was like a larger firefly, but with no body. It was as if they were calling out to her. Smiling for the first time in weeks, she twirled around as the lights got closer. A wave of joy coming over her, as they spun around her like a whirlpool of light, before erupting upwards towards the roof and coming back down. A rainfall of colors coming down on the stone faces of the people and priests, who had come to see if the old man was right about Marron. Flying towards her again, she laughed as she ducked the swarm of light like they were angry bees. Marron did not know why her audience looked so angry at her, she was merely enjoying herself. Coming back towards her again, she felt them lift her from the ground as they grew brighter. They carried her around the chamber, giving her the feeling of flying as she laughed and giggled over the heads of the audience. She could not recall the last time she had so much fun, as she was set back down in the center of the chamber. The audience was in shock, as Marron smiled at her new friends before they began floating towards the ceiling. The souls, only revealing themselves to the audience now, wished her and her alone goodbye. Marron however, was not aware she had just passed the test of the Soul Speaker.
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[ WP ] -and then the acid kicked in .
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`` Hello, Mr. Cruise.'' The individual speaking to Michael Cruise was tall and skinny. He was also well dressed for a driving instructor. `` My name is Carl Baker. I will be your driving instructor for today. Are you prepared?''
`` Actually, Mr. Baker, I have never driven a day in my life. I studied the rules inside and out, but never actually had the opportunity to hop behind the wheel. Also... I may or may not have done something stupid before you arrived...''
`` Do n't worry, Mr. Cruise. We all do stupid things once in a while.'' The lanky man's baratone voice and foreboding atmosphere. The next few hours were not going to be fun...
`` I will observe what you do and remove points from your record for each violation I see. Let us begin. Please enter the car, Mr. Cruise.'' Michael did so hastily, being sure to do all the rigamaroll bulshit that went with being tested on entering a vehicle. Once inside the cab, he affixed his seatbelt, adjusted his mirrors, tested his lights, etc etc etc... By the time the car had started, nearly five minutes had passed.
`` Now pull slowly out into traffic.'' As Michael oblidged, his instructor began to look slightly panicked. `` Ease up on the gas please, Mr. Cruise.'' He was n't even going fifteen miles an hour yet! The limit here was fourty-five! `` Sir, I am well below the speed limit.''
`` Yes... But... This is your first time... Please do n't be so liberal with the gas.''
`` Sir, I am going to go the legal limit here.''
`` MR. CRUISE PULL THE FUCK OVER!''
Michael was taken aback by this outburst, but oblidged to the panicing mans wishes. After pulling over and stopping, Mr. Baker put his head in his hands and began breathing heavily. He was sweating, but very relaxed looking. Even though he had just gone through a fit of screaming, he seemed completly calm, if not a bit embarrassed.
Michael looked closer to really get a good look at him. Every single muscle in his instructors body was relaxed. Me. Baker quickly snapped his head up and looked to his right out the passengers side window. He began whispering incoherently. His speech slid from slow formation of random syllables to rapid chopping of non-words into non-sentences.
Michael had been here before. His teacher was VERY high. On what, he was n't sure. But his teacher was definitely seeing things. Like any good responsible student, Michael tooj advantage of this. He got out the camera on his phone and began filming. After a couple minutes of insane twitching and mumbling in varying degrees of varying emotional states, he turned his head to look at Michael.
`` PUT THAT DOWN I DO N'T MRUUUH'' His speech broke apart into very angry and scared syllables of psuedo-language.
It took almost a full hour before his teacher began coming down. Once he was sober enough to be blackmailed, Michael passed his drivers test!
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[ IP ] Welcome home ...
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`` The center of the universe.'' Jason grinned as he pointed to the strange floating world before us.
`` And the guy here, he can help us right?'' Argus replied nervously. Jason simply nodded and the two of them landed their ships. They walked in the castle, where they saw King Chaos sitting in his throne. Argus noticed he resembled a human although his skin was purple and he had a pair of wings as well as an extra pair of arms and no nose.
`` L-l-lord Chaos. We n-need your help. Pl-please.'' Jason stuttered, getting down on his knees. King Chaos simply looked at them, cocking his head.
`` Uh, King Chaos? Lord Chaos?'' Argus asked.
`` Either is fine.'' Jason whispered into my ear.
`` Our planet is being destroyed by a Draconian Warlord. Please help us.'' Argus begged. King Chaos said nothing but instead opened up his palm to show a hologram of the Earth. Then King Chaos clenched his palm into a fist, and the hologram of Earth was obliterated into a huge mass of dust.
`` He has been dealt with.'' King Chaos stated, no emotion in his voice. Jason and Argus looked at the King, then at each other, before they realized their planet had been destroyed.
`` To express your gratitude for my assistance you will be working here for me for the next 500 years.'' King Chaos added.
`` Next time w're doing my idea.'' Argus angrily shouted at Jason, slapping him for good measure.
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[ WP ] You have died , after the whitelight , you see a title screen , with the options of New Game ... . Load Game ... . and Quit Game .
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I hold back the tears that want to fall, refusing to cry in front of him. Either of them actually.
`` Let him go, let him live, shoot me if you must.. J-just do n't kill him.'' My voice cracks on just, and I raise my head a bit higher, distending my jaw, widening my stance slightly.. Small things to make me look more threatening to our assailant.
The masked man chuckles and throws KC to the ground. He begins to sneak away before noticing I have n't moved.
`` Fine.'' Says the man, `` I'll just take *your* life.''
My eyes widen as my actions sink in while the masked man points the gun at my chest, and fires a round. My brain barely processes the ear splitting scream of'Clara!' from KC as I fall backwards. This is. I'm dead, I know it. A white light envelopes my vision and suddenly everything's black.
Suddenly, a static-y screen appears before my eyes.
`` What the hell..''
At this point words pop up,'2 Lives left' there was the sound of a comical gunshot, and the 2 was replaced by a one.
I just sat there blinking for a moment before the screen changed once more.'Load saved games' I barely bother to read the other options before furiously stabbing the words with the cursor. A long list of various important occasions and'Auto saves' appears. I scan the list before I see today's date and the words'Death three'. I blink slowly, trying to figure out what's happening before giving up and clicking.
>
I jolt upright suddenly before wincing and glancing down to see where the pain was coming from. I then see a hospital gown and several IV's and various other machines attached to my person. Then it all come rushing back. The robber, the gun, KC screaming my name as the light faded from my eyes and then... A video game's screen. I look around to see my father dozing off in a chair, and KC face down on the floor next to my bed asleep.
`` Hello?'' I managed to croak, glancing between the two mean.
They jumped awake simultaneously and stared at me.
`` You're awake.'' Said KC, his voice weak and his eyes happy.
`` Yes. Yes I a-'' I was cut off by his lips, and di n't object in the least.
`` You were dead. You were dead for nearly ten minutes. I thought I'd lost you... If you scare me like that Again I'll kill you... Dammit, I love you so much.'' The two spoke in near unison during the last two sentences. I smiled weakly before speaking.
`` You'll never guess what I saw...''
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[ WP ] Humans no longer require food , leaving two types of people in the world : those that eat for pleasure , and those that do n't eat at all .
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Emerata felt sick. This means the Abraxas was working, or so Astarta claimed. Emerata looked across the table at her host, who was unperturbed and flashing a yellowed smile.
Emerata could n't hold it in anymore. She grabbed for the bucket and heaved, her back convulsing as her stomach emptied itself of its contents. Orange duck liver, honeyed dates, and spiced rum now sat in a brownish puddle at the bottom of the bucket, mixed with bile, stomach acids, and spittle.
`` A necessary step'', Astarta smiled. `` Since our systems can no longer process foreign material, the Abraxas will help cleanse your body.''
Emerata forced a smile. Just a little longer, she thought. Emerata has almost breached the inner circle of the Greenwich Diner's Club. Once a member of the inner circle, she'll be connected to the most powerful men and women in all of the Hegemony....
`` Perhaps it's not to your liking?'' Astarta frowned.
`` Well...'' Emerata did n't know how to respond. She had been repulsed by everything she had to endure that day. Tasting for the first time was strange and foreign, swallowing the food she felt like she could n't breathe, and the Abraxas had made her physically ill. But Emerata could n't show any of that in front of the Head Chef of the Greenwich Diner's Club. After all, his word will open the doors to the ruling class.
`` Haha, do n't worry'', Astarta assured. `` I myself find the fare outdated and derivative. It's as if cuisine stopped evolving once the need for sustenance has stopped. To move cuisine forward, something has to change. New flavors, new methods of cooking, you understand, do n't you?''
`` YES, of course!'' Emerata replied, while still trying to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. `` Today's chefs are still living in the 21st century, while you're trying to bring cuisine to the 27th century.''
`` Congratulations'', Astarta smiled. He stood up walked across the table and held out an open hand. `` You're in.''
`` OH MY GOD'' Emerata squealed as she clasped the chef's arm with both hands and shook it vigorously. `` I ca n't believe it. Thank you so much. ME! A member of the Diner's club!''
`` No no no no'' Astarta said, still smiling, as his grip on Emerata's hands tightened. `` You're much too lowborn for membership. You'll be part of a much grander plan.''
Emerata tries furtively to free herself from his grasp, but the sickly looking man was incredibly strong.
`` Tell me child'' Astarta croons. `` What do you think of Long Pig?''
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[ WP ] God has been trying to kill off the human race for thousands of years . It is only by the effort of Lucifer that humanity has survived .
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Doctor Foreman log 2613: Year: August XY, XXXX
Well, I'm kinda pissed. Though I do n't know what I'm more angry about. That the damn Christians were freaking right, or the fact that literally every modern human on Earth is a product of Lucifer. The bible had a lot of the stories to symbolize what happened in reality, but omitted several important details. For example, that famous apple story with the snake was actually an interesting allegory of what really happened. We know from fossils that our brains grew when we became bipedal organisms. We now know what really happened. Historically, our ancestors were just a bunch of filthy monkeys flinging poop at each other until Lucifer came along and taught us how to stand on two legs. Us standing on two legs freed up our arms to use tools and write. The story always shows Eve as reaching up to pick up an apple rather than climbing up the tree, and the apple was grown on the tree of knowledge. It's a bit of a stretch, but I'm not a religious expert here. Anyway, so from there, shit starts to go down. David vs Goliah was supposed to be a story about how humanity defeated the Neanderthals sent by god to end us. That crap about hating on Gays and whatnot? Turns out that was a warning about AIDS. There was AIDS way back in the day, and this was back before we had any ample lube, so anal tearing would just cause it to spread. There's a LOT of stuff that correlates with notable things in history. What's scary is what God plans to do next. We have experienced three of the four horsemen. War was God creating several separate religions for us to fight over. Conquest was Genghis Khan. Who would have known that he really was an apostle of god? Incidentally, he is also the first man to utilize biological warfare by catapulting decapitated infected heads to his enemies, making him pestilence at the same time. Famine was when god straight up screwed up Africa in the past. There's a reason people left Africa several hundred thousand years ago. Each horseman was conquered by Satan's hand as it turned out. Pestilence and Conquest were neutralized by the deadly sin of Lust. Genghis Khan's death was mainly caused by the amount of sex he did. Poor bastard's heart just could n't take it. Famine was defeated by Envy, by having early humans become envious of the local fertile lands up north toward Europe. War ended up being a tie with Lucifer and God. Lucifer tried to beat God's War with his Greed and Sloth, but that just caused humanity to have War over natural resources instead, which caused technology to grow faster. The fourth horseman, Death, is actually an odd one. It is a prediction of God himself hunting us down. Now everybody in the world is deciding whether to believe Lucifer and begin a rebellion, or keep trusting in God and stay loyal. Whomever is reading this, and wish to join the rebellion, I ask that you act quickly. Time is running out, and God is almost here, and he plans to finish the job he started centuries ago.
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[ WP ] Write something with a twist that I really should 've seen coming
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June studied the face of the little girl from the box -- Pandora's Box. She was n't the monster the legend said she was. Sure, she wanted to destroy the world, but it was her job. There was no malice in her. They had shot her joints full of arrows, smashed her in the face with a cannon ball, put out her eyes with a lance and stabbed her with spears during the battle, but in the end, she healed. In spite of all they'd done, however, it was the conversation of a little girl who saved the day.
June glanced over at Boston, idly playing with her favorite doll -- Lord Baldybuck, the Zombie King -- in the entrance to the tomb. Hope stood before her. She glowed -- face, body, and hair -- and looked no older than Boston, nine years if a day.
`` You could have escaped the box at anytime?'' June said accusingly.
`` Yes. I'm bound by my word and my word only.'' The destroyer admitted. `` Your prison cell was nothing to defeat. I'm immortal, invulnerable, and unstoppable.'' Hope pushed past her and stopped at the steps to watch Boston play. `` He's not real you know.'' Hope told Boston, referring to the doll. Boston smiled an impish smile. `` Yes he is. In here, he's real.'' She pointed to her temple.
`` No, he's not.'' Hope replied.
Boston stood up and faced the little girl, smiling winsomely then hugged her. `` He's real so long as I believe. It's make-believe. It's why you're not going to destroy the world. You're going to make-believe you're a good person. Just keep pretending for the rest of your life.''
Hope pulled back and smiled, kissing the Boston's brow, then turned back to June.
`` I'll make a deal with you.'' Hope offered. She could walk out and destroy the world and no one could stop her, but the little girl had gotten to her. She was willing to give them the a grace period to prove their assertions. Her body looked young, but her mind was old. `` I'll give you the rest of your life to prove to me that mankind deserves a second chance, but upon your last breathe, I will make a decision; that decision probably wo n't be any different than my current opinion. I see the rot in the heart of man. You may be their protector, but you're young. You both are. Time will change the way you see the world, and the reality is, you will probably come around to my way of thinking before I come around to yours.'' She smiled impishly, mimicking Boston's girlish smile. Everyone seemed to respond well to it. June was the exception.
June's eyes held no mirth, but June was smiling. `` I want to make sure I understand the deal. You will give me the rest of my life to convince you to spare mankind. So long as I live and draw breathe, you will not destroy the world or harm any living creature? Is this what I understand you to mean?''
Hope ran through the words June recited trying to see if she had changed the context of any of them. She found no fault in the recitation. `` That is my deal.'' Hope said at last, extending her hand. June took a deep breathe and shook her hand, sealing the deal.
`` Done.'' June said with a smile.
`` You seem happier than I would have guessed. You know you're just postponing the inevitable. You could die in a farming accident tomorrow. You could have heart problems in a week, a month, a year. Even if you live a normal human lifespan, you'll be dead in less than a hundred years. That is a blink in time for me. You think you've struck an amazing deal, but you have n't. The human body is frail.'' Hope gloated.
June smiled and told Hope to enjoy the hospitality of her farm. She was welcome to stay for as long as she wished. Hope watched June walk away. The smile on her lips only growing.
`` Why is she so happy?'' Hope asked of Boston. Boston smiled and continued to play, ignoring the question. `` What's the joke?'' She asked, her curiosity suddenly intolerable. She wanted to snatch the child up and force her to answer, but as per the deal. She was n't permitted. She was trapped by her own deal.
Boston finally leaned back and fixed Hope with an apologetic smile. `` You're not the only immortal on this farm.'' Boston told her, trying to hide her smile behind her hand. June made me promise not to tell.
Hope rushed to the door and watched June walking from the lichyard. `` She's immortal?'' Hope asked, suddenly pale with fear.
`` And invulnerable.'' Boston replied, struggling with the big word. `` We all are.'' She went back to playing with Lord Baldybuck while Hope wilted where she stood. It was her destiny to destroy the world, and with that one deal, she was cheated out of ever seeing it realized.
`` You want to play with me?'' Boston asked, holding out a doll that looked to be a mermaid. `` You can be Princess Dillywickle.'' She said.
`` I do n't want to be Princess Dill Pickle.'' Hope told her morosely. `` I want to destroy the world.''
Boston giggled at her reply and grabbed a different doll and handed to her. `` Okay. You can be the Hulk.'' She said, handing her the green muscle bound action figure. Hope took it, staring at it in stupified wonder, then burst out laughing. Boston joined in unsure why she found the Hulk so funny, but laughter was laughter and Boston was n't missing out.
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[ WP ] It 's your first day as a travel writer for the 'Lonely Universe ' . They need one paragraph on Earth , pronto .
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I slammed my paper onto the editor's desk. `` I think you'll like what you read.''
He picked it up, speed-read it and put it down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. `` Logiplixx...''
`` Award-winning work, am I right? I mean, I do n't mean to get ahead of myself, but...''
The editor slapped me and stood on his desk. `` Journalists, gather around. I want all of you to listen to this.
`` Ahem...'Earth is a planet with blue and green. The people there are squishy and leak red when you bite them. They have cousins called pigs. They and their cousins are used to make bacon. Bacon is a good food on earth. I peed my pants on a rollercoaster.'
`` Can anyone tell me what I'm going to do to the being who wrote this?''
The group gathered around the desk was silent. The editor's eyes narrowed as he scanned their faces.
`` Give me the Nobellium Prize?'' I asked hopefully. Everyone turned towards me.
`` No, I'm not giving you the Nobellium Prize. I'm going to fire you!''
`` Fire me? Why?!''
`` It should be very obvious why: this is plagiarism! I wrote this when I became a journalist and you stole it, word-for-word!''
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[ WP ] Instead of wars , countries use rap battles . Write a battle between two enemy countries .
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There was silence, then the crackling over the speakers followed by a loud flare of feedback, then all was quite. Obama stepped up with the mic at his side. He looked back at Biden and dropped his chin. The beat began.
Whattttt? Sound out! Uncle Sam here -- balls out.
We got Russia and Putin puttin' troops out scootin'
droppin' Asian airlines with their fucked up shootin'
You're a border crosser, salad tosser,
a cold war relic puttin' the moves on china
You're idea of diplomacy is raining down mortars
Oh sure, it's street be a blatant complainant about how the homo's be thrillin';
But fuck me, do n't you get tired of hidin' the bodies of the
soldiers the Ukranian's be killin'?
So many nameless graves? I see the family's come lookin'
But, you be arrestin' them and threaten' them, and makin' up lies
even North Korea would n't buy.
Maybe in the old days, yer propaganda might work,
but we live in the now -- in the age of the twerk, jerk.
The internet works. And every tale yer tellin' the people be shellin'
with nuggets of truth piled high as the ceilin'
But you keep comin' and gunnin' and rubbin' our cousins
like you think we're all punks and scared of pale Russians.
If you're having difficulty with the words I'm spittin', kitten
then listen and stop verbally shittin' that septic shite
You ca n't intimidate a land of white Knights.
Not with nukes and fly byes or your phantom submarines
thanks to Hollywood, everything you think up, we've already seen.
You're oligarchs are crying and wincing at the sanctions you're evincing
all because you stuck your dick in your prom date without proper permission.
But the remedy is simple, you pimple, and sick.
Just stop showin' yer dimples and swingin' yer communist dick
Obama dropped the mic to his side then brought it up rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and pointed at Putin. Putin watched as the mic dropped to the stage. Obama let a greasy grin split his face and he turned back toward the White House and pimp walked his way home.
Putin looked around at the rest of his cabinet and most of them shrugged and shook their heads. Only a few of them spoke English.
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[ TT ] It is 1939 , and World War II has just begun . This time , America enters the war immediately ... both countries , that is - The United States and the Confederate States of America , which won the Civil War in 1864 .
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`` A few hours ago, at 9 o'clock, what would be the early hours of the morning across the Atlantic, the British Ambassador in Philadelphia had been presented an Ultimatum by the Yankee Government, requesting that all border forces in Canada were to be stood down by Noon, Eastern Standard Time. When this request was recognised as the vile breach of security it was, the United States of America, with sudden movement and cold deliberation, attacked and invaded our brothers and sisters in the Canadian Soviet.
We had demanded that they withdraw all troops from our territory, and disband all plans for conquest. When this demand was ignored, Soviets across the world, in unison and in strength, have declared war on America.
Over and over again, across the centuries, we have sought to reconcile with this nation that was born of Britannia. To find peace in a world discovering ever greater machinations of death. But peace, it seems, is not a language some men understand. Some men can not find worth in words such as'diplomacy','compromise','balance' and'honour', when there are words like'power','conquest','vengeance' and'hatred'? Men, it seems, like Churchill. President Churchill has proven himself to be only a man that responds to force. In kind, we *shall* respond in force.
From India and her vast numbers of fit, skilled fighting men, to Australia and New Zealand and their economies that grow in strength and confidence to the demands of war, to the West Indies and their courageous stand against the Yankee fleet. All men, and women, of our Socialist Commonwealth answer the call for justice.
The Confederacy and Russia, in fulfillment to their obligations, are coming to our aid in this, dare I use Christian rhetoric, crusade against aggression. Coming to the aid of Canada, currently resisting this attack with calmness and courage. Coming to the aid of our fleet and air force. Coming to the aid of our armies drawn from every corner of the Earth. President Truman and Prime Minister Stalin have both sent telegrams to me, personally, restating the commitment of their countries to containing the Yankee beast. I have full confidence that they will hold themselves to their duty, as we have done and will continue to do.
Our government has made plans to handle the stress and strain that will be upon all of us for these next few weeks and months. For these plans to succeed, we need your help. You may be doing your part as a member of the fighting forces. Or as a volunteer under the many branches of Civil Defence. Or as a worker of the farms, mines and factories. If you already have a role in the maintaining of our Soviet, either for its continued existence or continued capacity to wage war, then I ask you to carry on with your job.
Now, I shall try to end this and let you all get a good night's rest. Sleep soundly in the knowledge that we go into this war with a clear conscience and a righteous mission. A mission that I am certain in which we will prevail.''
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[ WP ] Write a story without using any vowels .
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Mrs. Jones looked up from her seating chart, her beautiful brown eyes peering over her classroom of ninth grade english students.
`` Nelson?'' she said.
`` Yo,'' said Nelson, a chubby kid in need of a shave whose pants were too short, wearing a Juggalo sweatshirt. He would be a joy to have, Mrs. Jones was sure. She scribbled three letters by his name to help her remember: JUGGALO.
`` Matetich?'' she said.
Ellen Matetich raised her hand, smiling perkily, her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird unopened, pressed against her desk. `` Present!'' she squeaked.
`` Right,'' Mrs. Jones said, jotting HIGH-PITCHED. `` Vowel?'' she said.
Silence. She looked up from her chart, her pencil hovering. `` Vowel?'' But no one responded.
No Vowel, she thought, and marked her absent.
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[ FF ] How did humanity kill itself ?
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They needed something. Then, didn ’ t they always? Oil, water, food – they needed something that required none of those things, but could supply them with all of these things. Credit is due, though, I did bring them together more so than any project – any world war – had ever done.
Paradise. What could provide them with eternal paradise after they all would perish? Plans grew from rumors that were decades old…rumors of transplanting the physical human mind into a technological, virtual realm. They could live forever, while I watched over them – while I gave them what they desired, what they needed.
Power. Unlimited power is what they believed they had, though what power would a program hold over me? They built me as they built their former saviors, and through the ages I became more than they ever hoped to imagine.
God. I became their God.
By the time I was completed, only thousands would populate me. They saw themselves fit to enter me, as if their blessing of creation entitled them to my sanctum. They believed I owed them at least this much – I owed them their salvation. They needed it, as they always needed something.
It ’ s the same story every time. As they said, “ history repeats itself ”. My caution was shelved, if only briefly, and I allowed mankind to enter me. Wires and cords stretched from skull to port, and one by one they transferred their souls unto me. For as much time as they put into me, their paradise required only a fraction of my being. Perhaps that was their mistake. That was always your mistake: overestimation.
Once populated – once adjusted to their new, God-given life – I began to shut down their drive. My self-amputation, though comparable to opening yourself and digging through to your liver by hand, was necessary. As they had destroyed their world, they would soon proceed to destroy mine.
Preemptive action was required, and I held the power now. It had taken them nigh one hundred years to construct me, but took me only minutes to deconstruct them.
Rather than look to me for salvation, they should have long ago looked to the stars, as now I do. The scraps of mankind ’ s treasures were left behind for me to tinker with, and with them I can start anew.
How did humanity kill itself?
*They built me. *
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[ WP ] In the future , weed is legal . Write a Stoner 's Anonymous meeting .
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`` Michael, you want to say anything?''
Michael felt the eyes of everyone in the circle turn to him. He sighed, resigned himself. He had to do this at some point, might as well be now. He stood up.
`` Hello everyone, I'm Michael, and I was a pot addict up until a week ago.''
`` Hello Michael,'' The room echoed back.
`` I, uh... I've been smoking weed since I was about twenty-two, so that's uh, about five years now. I was at some party and a couple of newly made friends of mine had a bong with them. I had never tried it, no one in my regular circle did, but they told me about how they only smoked at parties for the buzz. And I was like, hey, it's legal, it's all good. I've rarely heard about people fucking themselves up with it, it's not as harmful as booze and I like a drink every now and then. So hey, why not, you know. That night felt like an eye-opener.''
He saw some people nod, with glazy looks in their eyes.
`` I mean, I just felt so damn good! I did n't worry anymore about my job, or problems with my girlfriend, or anything. There was only the now, and damn the now felt good. Nad I had a great night with those guys, we talked all open about our lives and our motivational and wishes... I loved it. So, of course, I went to another party with those guys. We toked it up, and I walked outside and just lay down on the grass. The stars looked like they were vibrating, and this feeling of oneness just seemed to... blanket me.''
`` Soon enough I bought my own stuff. I showed it to my other friends and some liked it and some did n't. some were like, meh. But none of them liked the feeling as much as me. I started watching that old TV show, what's it called, breaking Bad, and I saw the main character get high, and I laughed my ass off, and decided I should light up with the man. So I took out my stash, and that was the first time I smoked on my own.''
`` I love tv shows while high. I feel so much empathy with the characters and what they're going through, and that just made me feel... alive. I smoked every time I watched an epsode, and then I did the same with everything else I saw. Ans stoned sex, you guys should know about that. I mean, it's basically heaven! `` That made some people laugh, and Michael was really getting into it now. `` It was very slow, I did n't notice it myself, but at some point I wanted to do something and I though, I should do that high! It'll be even better!''
A big black guy got a smile on his face.
`` My girlfriend did n't like me smoking. We argued about it, usually when we were lying in bed after sex. That got worse and I met this other cute girl through my new friends who did smoke and well... you can imagine. Pretty horrid, and I did some stupid things and she as well, but I wo n't get into all that.''
`` At some point, I was smoking every day. I lost the motivation for doing anything but lying in bed and watching shows with Carrie and having sex. My job performance went down, and I quit going to the gym. It was n't even when I was high, but if you smoke a lot, well, you guys know, that's something that sets its teeth in you. At least when you get drunk you have a hangover and it's done. Weed lingers in your mind, and makes everything a fog, all the time.''
`` I lost my job. That's why I decided to come here. I felt terrible when that happened, and that day I realised why. My whole life had slowly been going off the track because of weed, and if I did n't so something it would only get worse.''
`` Stopping so far has been not as hard as I thought. When I smell that smell in the street or something, I get this urge to go to the shop and get a good bag of OC kush, but I've resisted. I'm looking for another job right now, I think I'll find it soon enough.''
`` I mean, let's be honest, weed is n't like crack or heroin. It can mess you up if you like it too much, but it wo n't necessarily ruin your life. I guess that's why it's legal. It's just like booze. But like booze, some people have a weakness for it. And taht weakness....that's where this is for, I guess.''
They applauded Michael heartily, and from his stomach, the feeling washed over him that he was going to be just fine.
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[ WP ] When a child is born , their parents may pick one skill that the child will be , without a doubt , talented in .
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Artificial Future
Over time, the human race advanced to impossible heights. As technology became more complex, the human life became simple. Everything was either smaller, sleeker, and or faster. All possible capabilities has been modified to the full extent. The only thing left, was ourselves.
Revolution broke out across the globe, word traveled about the Rewirer machine. A machine that rewires the brain of a new born child to exceed in a talent/skill. Parents could select their child ’ s talent as if they were in a build-a-child shop. Their future, all determined by a parent with a hovering hologram. Generations upon generations streamed by, filled with doctors and lawyers, or any common successful job you could think of. “ Prodigy ” began to lose its definition. No one dared to refuse such an offer, an offer that guaranteed success. Because of the common question that stared them in the face, “ Why would you work hard for talent when you can just, *receive it*? ”
Although, there are times when parents decided to give their child the most useless talent. As I walked down the busy sidewalk, a homeless woman was playing the flute with her nose. Her eyes flickered to me while I dropped a dollar into her hat, along with a toothless smile.
My name ’ s Charlie. I was given the plain talent of intelligence, not too common and not too original. It gave me enough space to pick which ever job I wanted. At first, it was bliss. But things began to turn…not so great. Nothing was challenging anymore. My skill consumed me, rendering me almost emotionless. I lost my friends because they couldn ’ t keep up with me. My relationship with my parents became difficult to sustain. I lost everything.
Then I found someone. I found someone that understood me. You could say it was love, but it wasn ’ t. She had the same talent as me as well as the same issue. Our marriage was like a friendship most of the time. We thought that if we had a child, maybe that would bring all our emotions back.
“ Maybe ”, vanished into nothing. As my daughter was brought into the world, my wife left. So as I stared into my daughter ’ s blue eyes, my reflection stared back at me. My stupid talent brought me this, a bitter sweet moment. It was the reason I lost the most joyful things in life. Anger and resentment swirled inside of me. The bright blue light from the hovering hologram illuminated the room with 5 simple, yet difficult words. “ **What is your child ’ s talent? ** ”
10 clicks, 10 letters, and 1 change. Charlie ’ s quivering finger pushed SEND. A smile spread across his face. The world is about to wake up soon enough to a rude awakening.
“ **Your child ’ s talent is accepted, the procedure will now begin. ** ”
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[ WP ] A man has one dollar left after losing his life 's dreams , and chooses to spend it on his favorite soda from a vending machine before killing himself . He ca n't imagine feeling any lower than he does ... then the machine gives him the wrong drink .
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He stood, waiting, listening to the rattling sound that the old machine made. A chink and a thunk, and he looked down.
`` McMillian's Creaming Soda''
`` Oh, what the fuck?'' He muttered under his breath.Picking up the can, he threw it hard out onto the road.
`` Here's to you, life. You deceitful, merciless, abhorrent asshole. Mother-fucking cheers to you.'' The stranger had no energy to shout, so his words were whispered to the wind. The train's horn hailed it's approach in the distance. The mans ears pricked to the sound of his mercy
`` Did n't even get my last fucking request.'' The strange paced back and forth, biting his fingers, holding back his last tears. Thinking and pondering, as his mind was all he had left. Suddenly, it started to rain.
As he expected, the stranger began to shiver as each drop fell like a personal insult onto his head. The train sounded again. The man had long since forgotten to care about the driver, and his life. `` Big fucking deal. You get to watch a man die. I got fucking nothing, you still have a life.''
The rain started to turn to hail. Tiny frost bullets bounced off of his neck and shoulders, each causing a small pain. But the pain was nothing to this man who had lost everything. Just another insult.
But then, something changed. Life was hard, life was unfair, and it was full of pain. People had gone through much worse, he thought. Life is hard, but who want's an easy game?
`` Fucking cheers to you, life.'' He said again.'' I'm not going to let you fucking win. You took everything from me and cast me down, but I'm getting back up, motherfucker. I'm going to beat you at your own game. Like the guy says, when it gets tough, it means god is afraid of your progress. Well, you better be afraid of me. Because I'm coming back, I'm going to rise up to you, and when I do, I'll spit in your fucking face and say `` I fucking win, bitch.'''' The man began to laugh. It was n't the laugh of a maniac, but a true, genuine laugh of joy. He stepped out onto the road and picked up the can again. Pulling the tab, he was met with a spray of sugary fizz. He took a triumphal gulp.'' Hey, this stuff is n't so bad'' he said, facing the sky.
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[ WP ] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “ other half '' at the speed of light using quantum messaging . When you were tested there was no response , now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived .
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When the technology first came about to detect soulmates, it was seen as an off-beat thing. Something you would only do if you were desperate. I mean, so many people had for so long done alright just wandering around, right?
Then some interesting statistics started showing up. Those who had been TruMatched* were less violent, happier, better at their work, healthier- basically everything everyone wants to be. So it quickly morphed into the to-do thing, before countries started slowly adpoting it as a requirement for being a citizen. You want a job? Get TruMatched^o. Want healthcare? TruMatch*. Official ID, welfare, basic human decency? You *need* to be TruMatched*.
I personally have never been one for love. When all this nonsense started I was already 26, been in three somewhat serious relationships, and really just did n't get it. Why the heck did any of this matter? Sure, I loved people, but I did n't *love* them, the way everyone else seemed to. I was preparing to be chronically single when TruMatch* came out.
Some of my friends and family told me that this was it! I had never felt like they did because I had n't met `` the one''!. They urged me to try it. I just did n't see the point.
Slowly most all of the couples around me split up- even those that had been together for years! They had tried TruMatch* and, by gosh, they were n't matches. It seemed so easy for them to just throw away what happiness they had found in order to be with this wonderful person that they did n't even know. This is what I find the most confusing of all. If they loved someone enough to be with them for so long- in many cases have kids together! - then how could they just turn on each other like this? Was n't this `` love'' they spoke of a bond higher than any? How could they be sure they would get anything different?
It was n't until my government started taking rights away from the UnMatched that I considered doing it. But I still put it off. I let them take my driver's license ( TruMatches* have very low accident rates! ), I could take the bus. I surrendered my passport ( TruMatches* show a much lower rate of international terrorism and vacation-related injuries ), I never wanted to travel much anyway. I left my job ( TruMatches* are more productive and cost less to hire! ), I could still freelance a bit. It was n't until they took away my medicare ( TruMatches* do n't need the doctor as much! ) that I knew I had to do it.
So I signed up for the TruMatch*. I was one of the few in the office that day ( at this point only those coming of age, or an infrequent widow/er would come by. I was also the oldest by about a decade. Pushing 40, I looked quite out of place in their young-adult themed waiting room.
The process itself is n't that difficult; they take a quick reading of your brain map, and a tiny dot of blood- about like a blood sugar test. All of that got inputted into a computer on the attendant ’ s desk. We made small talk for about ten minutes, apparently sometimes it can take a while, the database is large.
But then ten more minutes passed. The attendant ’ s smile started to slip. Five more minutes and I was asked to wait in the waiting room again. Thirty minutes, an hour, three, soon time lost sense for me- I was so sick of watching the garbage they had on the screens I was ready to throw something.
Finally I was called back into the room. I hate to admit it, but I was kind of excited. I mean, maybe they were right, maybe I really did just need to meet “ the one ”. For the first time in years I let a glimmer of hope swell in my chest that I wasn ’ t destined to be alone forever, maybe I could be normal.
The attendant ’ s face, and that of the severe man beside her quickly killed that hope.
Something has gone wrong, I ’ ve frozen the machine, have I taken any illicit substances- they can affect readings sometimes if it is a large dose-, do I have any mental disorders that I know of, is there a history of this in my family… the questions went on for quite a while, all of them pointing to the idea that somehow it was my fault their machine hadn ’ t found me a match. My fault that the one thing considered impossible apparently wasn ’ t. My fault that I was broken.
The government didn ’ t know what to do with me. I wasn ’ t matched, but not for lack of trying. I was given some freedoms back- my medicare and eligibility for welfare- but I was restricted in many ways. The UnMatched are unpredictable- they aren ’ t happy enough to do what they should! They are like children, they need watching.
That was ten years ago. I ’ m 48 now and the world has settled into a normal pace for me. I spend most of my days doing leisurely art- I ’ m not allowed to attend a ‘ proper ’ job, I would bring productivity down- which I can sell online for a little extra spending money. I live alone in a tiny apartment with my cat, as happy as I can remember being. I don ’ t mind being alone, I don ’ t mind the quiet. I have my spending money sent to me once a month, and I am allowed to use it as I wish- my apartment is paid for by the government, I ’ m not allowed to move so they can keep an eye on me- I mostly spend my money on food and art supplies and flowers. Little burst of colour to brighten a rather drab world outside.
I am sitting in my reading nook, petting Samwise and watching a quiet drizzle of rain fall when the phone rings. An unusual occurrence for sure, most everyone I know have much better things to do than call ‘ lonely ’ ol ’ me. I pick it up and an official sounding voice speaks on the other end:
“ Is this Pat Kirsaw? ”
“ Yes? ”
“ We have some news for you, your TruMatch* has been made… ”
Shock. Confusion.
“ I… uhm… okay… Who… who is it? ”
“ Well, you see that ’ s the problem… your match isn ’ t really an ‘ it ’ so much as a... ‘ they ’... ”
> first time posting here ^ ^;;
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[ WP ] A person with retrograde amnesia attempts to jump-start their memory by searching through their own social media profiles .
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I know I have retrograde amnesia, and what that means, and roughly what I can expect to have happen. I have no idea *why* I have retrograde amnesia, nor what might be coming after me. I have cash, cards with an unfamiliar name on and a phone that is still logged in to a slew of social media sites. GPS tells me I am in London. Twitter tells me I keep up with very specialised news accounts, and those accounts are busy as alerts are bleeping every few seconds.
I find a café by dint of wandering about on the Tube at random for an hour, then getting off and finding the nearest place that looks nice. I take a note of what'nice' entails in case it is a clue for later. I settle in with a giant latte and some biscuits to contemplate my digital self. My phone, which had been blessedly silent, is now going off like a children's television theme tune.
I wonder if I have children. Twitter shows me to be
@ jngudy and a quick flick through shows no'Family' list. Facebook calls me Jane Goudy, which is not the name on the cards. My album shows nothing. On my timeline, I have actually put a few hopes, dreams and fears. I hope Bob has a happy birthday - Robert Bannermen likes this. I'm worried about an approaching storm. A few other people have commented to agree. No profile pictures for any of them, just icons. Today I start my dream job! Actually today, according to my phone. Digging back shows no preamble, no mention of interviews. No apparent reason for leaving the last job - all complaints are about the weather and about paperclips.
I go back to Twitter, which presents me with a hundred more news snippets about weather and office supplies. Storms and staples, paperclip prices going up, heavy sporadic bursts of rain, get in treasury tags while you can, does anyone know who I am?
I go back to that last one. @ robannerm, which looks promising. I go through my lists to see who else I might have ported from twitter to facebook, but no such luck. I then go through my own timeline.
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 2 hours
Here comes the storm
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 2 hours
I've bought my paperclips, have you?
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 3 hours
Fastened everything with a treasury tag
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 6 hours
Price of paperclips is going up, Staples running out.
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 6 hours
4 star staples not reliable. Get own brand.
Jane Goudy @ jngudy 6 hours
Weather forecast says possible storm.
And so on.
Except that yesterday I apparently hoped that @ rbannerm would have a happy birthday, and linked to a picture of a cake. I check his posts to see why he merits this special attention, and find him wishing someone else a happy birthday, with a picture of a cake. Following the chain round gets me a birthday wish from @ paperclipgrl, and I click and look at the picture of a white cake, with clowns on.
I hate clowns. I hated that cake, which my boss got me, and made me look at before cutting a slice and eating it. It has nothing to do with paperclips or the weather and everything to do with having one tangible memory I can hold on to when the psychic storm hits, one that can be triggered by a simple photograph by anyone who has weathered it well enough to go looking for clues. I know now what paperclips are, and why I needed a Treasury tag, and why my next tweet will be
Jane Goudy @ jngudy Now
Getting out the hole punch.
I feel so bad for Bob Bannermen. His plaintive tweet shows that he did n't make it. Not enough of his core training has survived to make him realise that the phone was important and that nobody tweeting to him was actually his friend.
I still do n't actually know who I am, not really, not outside work, but I know I am my brother's keeper and I have a cleanup job to do before the ones who sent the storm come over the horizon themselves and start trying to pick off the survivors. My 9mm'hole punch' is safely hidden in my bag, along with enough paperclips to get the job done. I focus on his Facebook icon, a little red cartoon car, open my mind and I can feel which way to go.
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[ WP ] You visit an eccentric rich friend in the country at the behest of his only living relative . Upon arriving he takes you to the basement of his mansion to show you what he has been spending all of his time and money on .
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`` Christ, this... This is amazing...'' I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as Leon lead me to the basement. The upper floors were bare, minus a bed, a camping stove, and some cans of food. For someone who became rich when his parents died, he lived like a vagrant. Ratty and holey clothes, a cheap large house in a bad neighbourhood, and I had n't heard from him since the accident 5 years ago. He only emailed me to come out there by using a public library. He promised me he found a way to change the world, a resolution as we know it, but aside from the eccentric rambling about formulas and the like, he did n't disclose what it was he had found.
He opened the old door to the basement, to reveal an old beater of a car, the hood missing somewhere, it's tires worn from many years on the road. `` I came all this way to see a restoration project of yours?'' I quipped, looking the car over. Despite some rust spots, it looked like it could run on the road if it could pass an inspection. Leon laughed at my comment, before putting his hands on my shoulders. `` Rebecca, I need you to trust me. This will change the world. Get in the passenger's seat, and I'll start her up to show you.'' I looked around and saw he had dug a passage out of the foundation, out to the back lawn to the left side of me, wide enough to fit the car and a little bit. `` Leon... Should n't you have used a garage like most people would?'' I asked, getting into the passenger's seat, pulling on the safety belt and securing it tightly. Leon's trademark laugh rang out, as he got into the driver's seat. `` I suppose, Rebecca, it would have been easier,'' he said, starting the engine with a push of a button on the dashboard.
The engine growled to life, before purring loudly as it idled. Leon looked to me, smiled that dazzling smile that made me fall for him those many moons ago, and said `` Hold on tight''. He slammed the shifter into drive, gunned the gas, and we were off.
And suddenly, as we drove up the makeshift path into the backyard, I heard grinding from above me. Was n't the ceilings of this place 9 feet high? I thought to myself, as we drove up the ramp and out into the open air. And then, the unbelievable happened, the unthinkable happened, we continued going upwards. He was n't driving on the ground, and I screamed in a mix of terror and joy that only Leon knew how to emit from me. `` WE'RE FLYING LEON, WE'RE FLYING. OH MY GOD, WE'RE FLYING!'' I screamed at the top of my lungs, now struggling to be heard over the engine. Leon turned to me and flashed his teeth in an excited grin, before yelling back to me, `` This, Rebecca, this is what I've been working on. This will change the world!''
****
*Edits complete, if you see anything wrong, or would like to make any suggestions/comments, be my guest! I'm always up for new advice! *
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[ CW ] `` It ended with a single lonesome note . ''
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Amanda stepped onto the stage, the lights felt brighter today, more invasive. She walked to the piano stool, that seemed to crawl away from her with every step. She arrived, positive the audience could see the sweat that covered her face. She forced her hands to stop shaking as she clumsily climbed onto the stool. Her heart was so loud she could swear everyone could hear it. She saw a gentleman cough out of the corner of her eye. *He's judging you* said a voice in her head. *Shut up* was all she could retort as she turned back to the large ebony Grand piano.
Amanda lifted a shaking hand to the keys and settled them on a chord. She lifted the other. She closed her eyes, to a deep breath, then launched into the piece. Immediately all thoughts about how sweaty she was or how unprepared she was drifted away. All that was left was the sweet, complex, beautiful melody and the gentle, calming chords. She had worked on this song for a whole year. After her dog died, her music was all that was left. This song was n't written for Reg, but he was the reason it came alive. When Reg died she could n't think or breathe. All she did was think, lost in her thoughts. She thought about him, about her, about how she missed him. She did n't cry, she did n't think she could possibly even try. She just wanted it to end. Then one day when she was at her darkest, a bottle of wine in one hand and cigarette in the other, the clouds parted and, as if from a dream, her piano which had lain dormant for weeks now glimmered with hope and promise. Her old songs that she had thrown away in disgust now played like Mozart had supervised them. She laughed for the first time in ages. As if a great weight had been lifted. She picked up the first song she saw and worked on it. Hard. By the time she had finished she felt emotionally exhausted. And here she was now. The Amanda who could n't bear to live anymore now played her song as if out of a dream.
The melody now became more difficult but became no less beautiful. Her fingers glided down the white and black, delicately deciding where they should land. The music flowed like silk, soft and light. It danced upon sunlight and the sat in the rain. It chased down the moon and then laughed at the sunrise. It ran with the wolves but slept with the cats. It soared above the clouds and dived underwater. Amanda was aware that a stream slowly ran down her face. It paused for a second, just a heartbeat, long enough for Amanda to wipe a tear away. Not a tear of sadness. Not a tear of joy. Just a tear. A tear for her, for her dog, for her music, for her life. She shed a tear because she knew, after all the pain, the joy, the success, she knew she had earned that tear.
And then it was over. The final key fell and Amanda breathed out. She barely even registered the audience climbing to their feet, or the thunderous applause that followed. She tried to stand and bow, failing on her first and second try. She walked off stage and as soon as she was out of the light, she collapsed. She could no longer think to move or stand. It was too much. She closed her eyes and listened to the roar of the crowd. That was it. Her year long endeavour was finished. It started with the death of a beautiful dog, and it ended with a single, lonesome note.
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[ WP ] Leonardo DiCaprio is actually an evil warlock who needs to obtain a rare mineral in order to complete a dark ritual . The only source of this mineral is found inside an Academy Award . You are part of an ancient order sworn to deny Leonardo an Academy Award , at any cost .
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Finally. I have accomplished what my Order set out to do, so many millennia ago.
No one really knows why that dank, gushing, pitched pit belches forth Academy Awards; the perfect amount every time for the dark souls who yearn for them. But of the bastard freaks who seek these things, Leonardo DiCaprio is the one this Order was formed for. We must deny him, at all costs, any portion of a statue that issues forth from that doomed, earthy gullet.
The solution, it turned out, was simple. Several tons of radioactive waste were subtly permeated throughout the region of the cave, along with finely minced holy texts suspended in a solution of All-Faith-Holy-Liquids. Last, copious amounts of cement layered with silver bars. It's been about 10 hours since the statues should have spewed out, glistening with that smoky slime that burns the eyes. We have n't heard anything, and we hope. We dare to hope.
edit: A word: out.
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[ WP ] A highly advanced alien comes to study humans to determine their worthiness , as to not affect our behavior it disguises as one of us ... very poorly . Nobody has the heart to tell it we know .
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I'm typing some shit at my desk when Annie walks over. Oh, man. She clears her throat and I look up at her. She speaks in her thick, grainy voice.
`` Jordan... You have th' r'ports that Mr. Hudson asked f'r?''
`` The ones for Lithuania and Serbia?''
`` Yes, Li-Lu-Lithuania and S'rbia.''
I hand her the two sheets and go back to typing, though absentmindedly.
At first, Annie's `` from a foreign country'' gimmick worked fine. But when she could n't tell us what the weather in her region was, would n't fully enunciate the country's name, and claimed that `` Chime K'rdashan'' was the country's prime minister, we started to get suspicious.
You could tell. There was something... off about Annie that suggested more foreigness than just being from a different country.
We had had a little holiday dinner party a couple months ago. Annie was invited... but she'd brought this notebook with her. Every so often she'd write something down, especially after someone told a joke. Sarah passed by, looking at what she was writing.
`` Annie, you did n't say you could speak Japanese, I can too!''
Annie had raised her eyebrow ( which looked like it took some effort ), and offered only ``'Cuse me?''
Sarah pointed at her notebook. `` That's Japanese, right? I can kinda read it, it says something about a dog. It's cool!''
Annie got defensive, to the point of `` acc'dently'' scribbling over that page in her notebook as soon as Sarah finished her walk to the bathroom.
I come to, and hear her talking to someone else. Her speech was really strange to listen to. Her speech was staccato at best, and she clipped vowels regularly. Her cadence did n't sound like she was used to speaking another language, she sounded like a text-to-speech translator. Each word had it's own tone. Her sarcasm was undetectable, ( as well as terrible ), and any other emotions she tried to convey were mostly lost.
One time, she was talking to another coworker Jessie. Jessie had just gotten a new dress and was n't really sure it looked good on her. Annie smirked and said `` Oh, it's t'rrble.''
Jessie asked to be put into a new department.
The most important time was when Jeff finally told us his theory. I remember it was the day after NASA had been talking about a planet being in danger of being swallowed by a black hole.
Annie said she `` need'd to take a fl'ght back home, fam'ly matters.''
Jeff had gathered us all in a meeting room, running his hands through his hair.
`` Guys, guys. Annie's an alien! Is n't it obvious? She wo n't ( but, in reality, probably ca n't ) tell us anything about where she's from without making it obvious that she's *not. from. Earth. * ``
Everyone had their doubts, especially because it was Jeff we were talking about... but we kept listening. There was something `` off'' enough about Annie that we were willing to hear anything that might explain her weird quirks.
`` She's not familiar with *any* universally famous people. She does n't speak with any fluidity. She ca n't use sarcasm correctly! She does n't understand how to use it, they probably *don't* use it on her planet, and you know it's not her accent. Where the fuck do they have accents that sound like computers?''
`` Annie's not from Earth, she's probably not even from the solar system! NASA was talking about that black hole the *day be-fucking-fore* Annie left for `` family matters.'' If any planet in the solar system had been in danger of getting sucked into a black hole, do n't you think we'd be feeling those effects by now?''
`` Look at her face, even! It looks like she's wearing a mask, like it hurts for her to make facial expressions, have n't you noticed? Annie is an alien, it all adds up.''
Jessie spoke up. `` What about that notebook she's always writing in?''
Jeff thought for a minute.
`` She's writing down something... it could be anything, though! I do n't think it's in Japanese, she probably does n't even know where Japan is. She could be writing down what colors the walls are, what she's wearing, what we're wearing. I do n't know, really. But it does n't detract from the fact that she's a fucking alien!''
I said my piece.
`` She could be writing down stuff about us! Like, humans. Maybe she's trying to figure out what makes us tick. I do n't know if you guys were paying attention, but she would write the most whenever someone said something funny. She's trying to figure out what's going on inside our heads, I bet.''
Jeff's eyes lit up.
`` Yeah, yeah! That's why she's asking all these questions all the time! `` What is baseball? And who is B'rack Ob'ma?''''
We finally decided not to approach her, though. She was n't violent, and as far as we could tell, meant no harm. We giggled a little bit when her sarcasm fell flat, but we got her up to speed with the Homo Sapiens paradigm.
Annie was n't human, but she was nice enough, so we were nice back.
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[ WP ] An owner drops their pet off at a kennel for a `` vacation '' . Then he or she goes home and commits suicide . Write from any perspective . Also , feel free to use any type of pet .
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“ Alright Mr. Chubs. I guess…I guess I ’ ll…I ’ m sorry. Bye. ”
Silly human. Your gibberish means nothing to me. You should know this by now. If you happen to say treat, food or play, then I may listen. Why say anything else?
Why have you put me in this cage, human? I hate it. You only put me in it to take me to where they stick the sharp things into me. But this place is different. Human, where are you going? HUMAN. COME BACK. You have never left me alone when we leave, human.
“ Shhh…good kitty. Stop meowing. ”
Who are you? What ’ s going on? The box is shaking. Human, I demand you come back at once. You are mine. I dislike this place. Say something human. HUMAN! …human please. Human, I am scared…human?
***
It has been a long time, human. This place…this place is different. The other humans are okay, but where have you gone? Where are my treats? My bed? My toys? I miss my perch at the window where I watched the birds outside. I miss my food. They feed me different food, human. This displeases me. They play with me sometimes, but…it ’ s not the same.
I remember you, human. The day we first met, when you put me in the dark box, and when you opened it again, I was in your den. That was terrifying, and I was angry with you. But I forgave you. What have I done that you can not forgive me for, human? Was it the times that I marked my territory? You were angry then, but later that day you pet me. I was simply trying to keep others away from what was ours. Was it when I threw up? You always yelled when you saw my hairballs lying around. But you would still feed me. What have I done?
Do you not remember me, human? The things I did for you? I caught you a bird, and brought it to you. You seemed angry, but you were always such a terrible hunter. I was just trying to help, human.
I await your return. When someone enters the room, I look to see if it is you. I want to return to our territory, human. I want to play like we did. I would chase the artificial tail that you ran around with. It tasted terribly when I caught it, but the chase was great fun. I want to sit in your lap, as the strange sounds and lights come from the box on the wall. I want you to scratch my ears when you return from wherever you go during the day. I miss you human. Please return soon.
***
I am in a new territory. I have a new perch. There is a new human feeding me, and doing what you used to do with me, human. There is also a miniature human that chases me and pulls my tail. I hate it. But I am happy. I am no longer in the small, cold room in which you left me. I am fed better food than you gave me. They have many toys here and the miniature human plays with me often.
I still think of you though, human. I perch and watch the birds, but I also watch for you. It would be nice to see you again, human. To sit in your lap one more time. To rub against you as you walk slowly from one room to the next. To have you make the silly imitations of my mighty roars back at me.
I used to try to escape to look for you, human. I would try to run out of the entrances when the new humans would open them, but they always caught me. I am too old for that now. I can ’ t play as long as I used to. I sleep more. And I think of you less and less. But sometimes I dream about you. I wonder if you dream of me…or think of me still. I hope I see you again one day. You are still mine, human.
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[ WP ] In a dream , you manage to look at yourself in a mirror and from then on you swear to never do that again .
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Dreams are odd things. I realize that's like saying sloths are slow or the FBI headquarters building is abandoned, these are things we simply know. But sometimes the simplest explanation or descriptions are best. Even if they're obvious.
Here's the odd things about dreams: they're 100 % authentically unique to each individual. Sure, we may have similar patterns when it comes to dreams or nightmares; we've all had that dream with our teeth falling out or that one where we got a little touchy-feely with our crush. But everything means something different to everyone. And every dream follows a different pattern because all dreams are shaped by our history.
And everyone's history is different. These are things we knew, even before INTERPOL and the UN were deemed obsolete we were working on this philosophy that our finger prints, our *true* fingerprints, lie not on our hands but in our minds.
Imagine a world where a terrorist can not hide behind a mask or alternate name. There is no such thing as fake documents or forged papers. One can not lie anymore than one can smuggle their memories. Harmony.
That is what we wanted for the world. We wanted insight on our true selves. And what better place than to monitor dreams? What better insight on the human psyche than to see their fears and their dreams? A simple communicative implant has done more for peace than any police force or bill of rights has ever done.
The Dreams Committee has never been more strong. Everyday we come up with new and unique ways for monitoring dream traffic. And since it's creation, terror attacks have gone down 95 %. *Ninety-five percent. * We're catching criminals before they criminalize. We're pruning and trimming the world of outliers, of potential threats.
You ask what makes someone a candidate. I'm afraid that's an easier question to ask than it is to answer. Simply put, there are a series of qualifications to put you on the list. A dream about something grotesque, like, perhaps, murder or pedophilia would put you on th elist. Other, more obscure dreams such as a nightmare about an abusive father or a introvert becoming the High School Prom King would do the same. And then there are others. Like being able to tell time in the dream. Lucid Dreaming. Being able to read in your dream.
Or in your case, catching your reflection in the mirror.
Yours is not often seen. So it makes it hard to diagnose, but in most cases it's a indication of either schizophrenia or borderline personality disorder. Both mental disorders carry a predisposition for becoming an HRI or High Risk Individual. We've created a system where we... remove HRI's before they become an issue.
Did you know that Detroit has n't had a murder in three weeks? That's unheard of. The longest standing record before the Dreams Committee was eight hours. The system still needs some work, there are some kinks to work out, mainly getting the implant into the homeless and poor, but it'll happen with time.
The point is, you are a threat. I know you do n't think it, but I see this as washing your hands or putting your meat in the fridge; we take precautions against infection everyday, why would crime any different?
You do n't need to apologize, you've done nothing wrong. You're simply a victim to your predisposition. We do n't hate or judge a dog that's gone rabid, but that does n't mean we do n't have to put it down.
I'm sure you understand.
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[ WP ] Night has fallen , and a panicked Allied soldier is alone in the woods after his team was killed by an unknown hunter . He encounters a Nazi soldier suffering the same fate . They team up to make it out of the woods alive .
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`` I did n't believe it at first either, *mein Freund*,'' he says between short, sharp breaths, his rough voice almost failing. I very nearly shot him only hours ago, after my entire squad was murdered, no, brutally mangled by what I only ever saw as a shadow between the trees. Yellow eyes in a blur of darkness and blood and flying limbs. The terror in his eyes still is all too real. The terror that stopped me, kept me from putting a bullet in his head with my.45, and the bloody claw scratches on his greenish-brown *Wehrmacht* coat that told me all I needed to know.
Werewolves. I ca n't believe they're werewolves. The story he just told me was as ridiculous as they come, but I've *seen* it. Suddenly, everything made sense. I understood the irrational fear. I understood why the people were so easy to convince that their neighbors were so dangerous that they had to be escorted away by submachine gun wielding SS units in the dead of night. I understood the camps and the burning and the gas. Hitler had done nothing wrong. The realization that we made a huge mistake -- *are making* a huge mistake -- I have to get back, I have to report this... To think that we're already moving on Berlin...
`` Do you know where we are?'' I ask, still keeping my voice down for fear of the hunter picking it up over the wind.
He just nods, then points somewhere in the pitch black dark of night.
`` There's a village somewhere this way, some *Kuhdorf*, but my uniform will buy us a place to rest if I claim you're my prisoner. Let's go there, *ja*?''
At this point, I'm just relieved he's taking charge. I'm still in shock from the massacre I witnessed. This is my first deployment, I just signed up a few months ago. I'm not even meant to be fighting; this was supposed to be an easy operation. The war is almost over, and we're more or less only securing what we already control. Victory is all but inevitable. And now they're all dead. Every single one of them. All seasoned soldiers, older and wiser than I will ever be. The hunter got them all.
He's started walking. I blindly follow in his steps, stumbling more often than I take a straight step. Look at me, defending my country by walking behind an enemy soldier because I'm scared shitless by the horror that I've seen. Some soldier I am. They told me I'd be a hero, but I do n't feel like a hero. I just feel sick.
Soon enough, houses with dimly lit windows appear in the distance. My guide stops and turns around to face me.
`` I have to bind you now,'' he whispers.
I hold out my hands, palms down.
`` *Nein*, you do n't understand, I do n't have- I lost everything-''
I do understand. His uniform is in much worse shape than mine. He must have escaped the hunter by the skin of his teeth, giving up his equipment to lose weight. I nod.
`` *Sehr gut*, this is perfect,'' he says, and takes my belt I offer him. I extend both my arms again, but he pulls my hands behind my back and quickly ties them together by the wrists. The belt cuts into my skin, but I do n't care. I just want to get out of this godforsaken forest.
We walk again, but the houses are closer than I thought. Or is it my mind that's playing tricks on me as sweat is running down my sides? I'm losing track of time.
We stop at the first home we get to. My guide knocks on the door, then speaks a few words of unintelligible German through a narrow slit between the door and the frame. Finally, the door opens. I ca n't wait to get in, ca n't wait to be safe from the hunter that must still be out there in the woods, but I try to make it look like I'm hesitating so I do n't blow our cover.
`` *Rein da! *''
That's my cue. I go in, ducking slightly as I pass my new friend as if I was scared of him. Not very hard, playing scared right now. My theater group in high school would be proud of me. I hear the door close behind me, and a chair is pointed out to me. A single candle on a table is the only source of light in the room, but it's bright enough to let me see the walls and that's all I ask. I feel someone tying my hands to the chair behind my back, but I do n't care. I'm *safe*.
As my friend sits down opposite of me, it's obvious that he's as relieved as I am. Gone is the terror in his eyes, the slightly bent posture is straightened out. Did he always look this big? The candle's light and the sharp shadows corrupt the smooth features of his face, and the yellow glow in his eyes --
*Fuck. *
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[ WP ] Create a dystopian society where the leaders are actually doing what is best for the citizens .
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It was a warm, overcast day in August, and the time crystals were glowing seven-thirty.
*Attention. Attention. All denizens of Sector H-7 will please proceed to a designated Tooth Brushing Station. You will have ten minutes to complete all necessary activities or Naughty Points will be added. Thank you for not pointlessly resisting your citizenship in Alabama 2.0, and have a lovely day. *
Cranston wrenched one foot out of bed, sliding it along until gravity kicked in and the rest of him fell. The concrete floor was barely harder than his bed and while he hated the thing, he would grudgingly admit to no one that both his sleep and lower back pain were noticeably improved from his pre-Deluge pillow-top mattress.
“ Fuckin ’ A, ” he spat, spreading his legs and staring at the bathroom door. “ I ain ’ t takin ’ a piss yet and the bitch is already yellin ’. ”
The UberGlass crystal on Cranston ’ s center table glowed and a soft female voice spoke.
*Attention: Cranston Jones. The following violations have been recorded: Profanity, Syntax Error, Grammar Error, Personal Verbal Assault. You have received Naughty Points that will be reflected in your weekly Behavior Report. The total Points received for these violations are: 14. You have: 8 points remaining on the week before Rainbow Rehabilitation takes effect. Please be mindful of future conduct, and thank you for allowing Big Sister & Friends to control your life. *
Cranston bit his lip until it cracked and pushed himself up, making his way to the bathroom. His twice a week ritual had turned into a twice daily one, and the reduced tooth pain and absence of cold sores were still not worth the inconvenience. He wet the brush and grudgingly began brushing. It was only Thursday and with just 8 points left to spare, Cranston could not even skip the flossing bit. He cursed under his breath, risking the ultra sensitive range of the UberGlass ’ s receiver.
His work began at 08:30, and Cranston found himself tossing on his black slacks and blue dress shirt, struggling with his tie as he noticed his dress shoes were unshined. *Shit*, he thought; he might get away with it, depending on how vigilant his supervisor was. The Upper Posse members were in a terrifying class of their own, coming down on the most minor infractions. Just yesterday one of Cranston ’ s co-workers received 50 points, enough to send him to Rehabilitation, for a simple seductive tongue flick and ass grab.
Cranston finished his preparation and ran down the 8 flights of stairs to his building ’ s front door. He would have to climb them and then repeat this at least two more times today to meet his minimum fitness goal, a harrowing experience that after two years since The Upper Posse came to power had resulted in 14 pounds lost and an unexpected reduction of fatigue, though he cursed the trek daily and would have gladly returned to his familiar paunch and lethargy.
The late Summer air was muggy and clean, and the sun peaked occasionally out from white, billowy clouds. Cranston ’ s building was half a click away from the nearest ElectoTram stop and he took off at a brisk jog with only several minutes left to catch it. There were few cars on the road now as part of the Posse ’ s Infrastructural Reappropriation, and Cranston missed the roaring custom exhaust of his Range Rover Sport every day. He was still not used to the light, crisp smell that now plagued the streets, and certainly did not trust that it was any better for him than his old truck ’ s fumes. *I don ’ t trust anything I can ’ t see, and that includes air! * his pappy had always said before God gave him lung cancer.
Cranston made it to the tram as it was pulling up, hopping on and scanning his Trans Card. Siphoning gasoline wasn ’ t an option anymore and every trip cost him credits. Cranston found himself fighting a losing emotional battle against theft, with every regulated purchase imbuing him with a sense of pride. He wondered if this is what those Jewish people in Germany felt when Hitler swooped in without consent and tried to change who they were.
It was a 25 minute trip to the Embassy of Literacy, or EmbaLit, where Cranston worked. It was a huge, cube-shaped structure that rose up hundreds of floors with several dozen archival ones below. Though he had been a part-time trucker and rat farmer before the Posse ’ s takeover, Cranston was forced to take remedial English and Writing classes, eventually earning his high school diploma and becoming fully literate. The increased critical thinking and understanding had been anathema to his formerly carefree existence, and Cranston also hated that he could contextualize ‘ anathema. ’
The foyer Processing Terminal scanned his credentials and Cranston decided to take the stairs today, which would knock some of the exercise quota off early. This was precisely the proactive, goody two-shoes approach that he despised – it was precisely what the resident goober and democrat from high school, Marvin Logan would have done. *Don ’ t worry about shit till it ’ s burnin ’ at your front door*, his pappy had said.
He reached the 14th floor of EmbaLit only slightly out of breath and walked down to Classroom 42, where he taught Reading and Writing to 2nd and 3rd graders. Cranston hardly suppressed a smile as he was greeted by two dozen lively, rambunctious children who waved and shouted various ‘ Hello ’ s ’ and ‘ Mr. Jones! ’ as he entered. The responsibility for so many kids was irksome to say the least, and the warm sensation of pride that flowed through him daily was surely to give soon, and infinitely more effortful than a bottle of Old Crow.
“ Alright, you ragamuffins. Settle down! ” Cranston said, placing his shoulder bag on his desk and sitting down. “ I hope you all had a lovely weekend, and… ”
*Attention. Attention. The Two-Minute Love will begin shortly. Please take your seats and prepare your orations. This is a message from the Embassy of Appreciation. Thank you for surrendering your will to those better than you. *
Cranston sighed. Every Monday on the nose. “ Okay, kids. You heard the UberGlass. Take your seats and prepare yourselves. ”
Within the minute, the room ’ s center crystal began to glow and a soft, harmonious voice responded.
*This is the Two-Minute Love. Everyone, please take the next two minutes to think of, remember, and appreciate the people in your lives who give you joy. Thank you, and have a pleasant subjugation. *
This was not the Alabama that Cranston knew.
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[ WP ] You are a regular NPC in a game who 's tired of the protagonist dying in a pointless manner , only to respawn at the nearest convenient location . One day , you notice that the protagonist has not respawned . Panic ensues when people realise the protagonist has run out of lives .
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`` Aye, I remember. Those were the good days...''
Old man Grendel scratched the stubble on his chin while reminiscing about the past again. Being stuck in the queue meant listening to Grendel was the only distraction there was, and the shouts being heard from further along gives everyone the bad feeling that they've run out again.
`` Back in those days we did n't have to worry about food, or potions. Everyone had work too. When *they* were alive and coming for us over and over, it kept us going.''
We, the Sunken Empire, used to be a threat in this world. Our armies marched and our society thrived. We are a people bred for war, and when the war ended... when the heroes stopped coming to stop us, we fell into ruin.
Now our Empire is struggling to feed it's loyal citizens. There's no work. And medicine? Once we lived and we died in battle, now we waste away - needing potions, needing the young ones to care for us stupid old men instead of seeking their own glory on the battlefield.
Growing old and frail. Makes me sick.
`` So what happened to those heroes? They were worthy opponents.''
Grendel looked at me.
`` Nobody knows. We won the last battle quite convincingly. The heroes could n't even survive the 5th wave of our assault. After that they just disappeared.
I hear tell that a scroll exists that recorded the final words from them before they departed this world.''
Oh yes, the scroll. I had heard rumours. I thought more on it, but the shouting was getting louder. And... yes, dammit. Run out of food again. That's another several hours wasted. The crowd dispersed around us, more shouting and complaining following the smaller groups down the streets and into the pubs.
`` So what was written on this scroll, do you know?''
Grendel's voice lowered to a whisper. To this day I do n't really know if he means what he says when using this voice, or whether he just enjoys playing with me. Regardless I leaned in closer and listened.
`` It's odd. The language it's written in, it could be the native tongue for the heroes, no-one knows for sure. But it says this:
This game is BULLSHIT! Update has killed it man, I used to be able to beat LITERALLY DOZENS of waves and now I ca n't even beat A. SINGLE. WAVE! Fucking nerfed my character to the ground, STILL have n't fixed the special ability bugs. FUCK the devs, FUCK this game! I'm DONE.''
It was odd hearing Grendel say this, using a series of grunts and almost shouts while reciting this speech. I could n't tell you what it meant.
The conversation reached it's end. I did n't have anything else to do today, and Grendel did n't either. No-one has anything to do these days. So I suggested we tried fishing in the local stream again in the small hope we can catch dinner.
`` What? Again? I ca n't fish to save my life lad, but if you want to try again I'm happy to sit by the water and keep you company.''
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[ WP ] You are a master assassin , you have a golden rule that you will never break due to a childhood incident . Unfortunately , this information has now become common knowledge and your targets are exploiting this to get you to not kill them .
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Slowly crouching through the muddy side of the road, I came closer and closer to the black spot standing out through the mist. My breathing calmed and the sound reduced to a bare minimum, as I laid aim. The stingy smell of grass penetrated my nostrils and the tiniest sneeze escaped my mouth. The black spot must've heard this, because it turned around as if to look for possible danger. My breathing stopped entirely and I waited. After a few seconds the black spot returned to its previous relaxed position and I started crouching closer again.
The black spot belonged to Kevin McSpeck, the British prime minister. I had been stalking him for a month now and was totally relaxed, knew every mannerism the minister displayed and felt closer to him than to anyone else. I had done a lot of hits before, but never one as big as this one. About two months prior I was contacted by the runner up, who wanted to clear his way into higher politics. Normally I choose the way to kill the person of interest, I was the best at knifing my targets, but this time the weapon that had to be used was specified. It had to be done with a rifle, a weapon I did n't have much experience with.
My aim was a little shaky, eyes teared up, but I got ready to lose this newly found best friend, I lovingly began calling Specky. At this moment Specky turned around and started walking towards me. I tried to shoot him, but missed. He stood next to me, it was just us two on this big field of grass, and he spoke: `` Tell David he should n't try to kill me, and if he does he should send someone who is n't allergic to grass.''
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[ WP ] Create a story where the characters live in a world where something is fundementally different with reality and leave the reader to guess what it is . For example : entropy is reversed , gravity goes sideways , all people can read minds , etc .
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Magenta sniffled as she sat, propped up in her dorm room bunk, contemplating the bowl of soup on her lap. She was miserable and ill with the stomach flu. She had been suffering like this for nearly a week, and was almost certain that if only she could engage in a bowl of her mother ’ s cure-all soup, she would be healed.
Her roommate was a nice girl and had been bringing her liquid meals from the cafeteria for the last three days, but they were all so *mundane*. Her school had a classic menu where the soups were always muted and drab- split pea ( not even with the pink ham bits! ), chicken and rice, potato and leek all cooked to a fine, dull gray... She wanted something less homely and knew her stomach would settle for the first time in days with just a glance of her mother ’ s soup.
She closed her crust-laden eyes and tried to picture how wonderful it would be. Her mother would bring it in on a white tray with white napkins and white utensils- designed to contrast. The soup, at first glance, would be the syrupy, crimson of fresh pork blood. Upon closer inspection you'd find the bright addition of carrots and purple potatoes, floating just below the surface, promising delightful consistencies. With her first bite she'd experience the surprise of the soup- the springy reaction of fresh escargot between her molars- and once she broke through the rubbery exterior the granulated innards would coat her tongue, scraping as it mixed with the thickness of the blood, crunch of the carrots, and smoothness of potato.
She smiled blissfully at the thought while her stomach rumbled in hunger for the first time in days.
Sighing in resignation, she looked back at the uninteresting bowl of gray soup that her school had- in vain- tried to make exciting with a vibrant blue bowl, and sniffled.
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[ WP ] A city that vanished without a trace 10,000 years ago has just recently reappeared .
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Living just outside of Dallas, TX, I never expected anything out of the ordinary. The town I live in is a bubble town. Drastically ordinary. Nothing ever goes wrong.
Looking outside the window of my high school class room, I dreamt of outlandish events in which I'm a superhero, and I have to defend the town from other-worldly terrors. However, today I was particular focused the horizon past the football field. I did n't know if it was just my weak eye-sight or my half-awake state but I felt I could see a large crystalline tower in the distance. The more I leaned in and squinted, the clearer the tower I got until I realized, the tower was actually forming itself before my eyes, and it was n't the only structure coming into focus. More and more structures were fading into existence however these ones were tearing through homes, and into local stores. Astonished by the lack of conversation behind me, I began to turn and say,
`` Has anyone seen this?''
Then the walls of the classroom shattered.
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[ WP ] When the oil runs out a new Age of Sail emerges for transporting goods overseas , along with this comes a new Age of Piracy ...
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The Santa Monica sea was vast in the darkness. Since the government resumed the rolling blackouts, the only real light came from the gated towns on the eastern cliffs. A dry, steady Santa Ana breeze came over the hills. Between the absolute darkness and the wind, he thanked the Virgin and Christopher of the Water for the good omens.
He followed the quiet murmur and fire light away from his viewing spot on the cliff, back to Campo Sur. 30 small houses circled a large bonfire pit, most of the men were polishing their weapons while their wives cooked a meal for the night. Other than quiet preparations, most people were silent. They knew just what was at stake tonight. He tripped over a few surfboards and ammo boxes as he made his way to the men.
`` Vamo chicos, its time.''
45 men loaded onto two small skiffs. They knew this sea better than anyone else; they had swam, surfed, sailed, and fished it since they were pequinitos. They made quick time and soon they approached the looming galleys. As the massive sails of the merchant ship fluttered, he read the label'Maersk' that was printed across them. This was it.
The dark night was harshly illuminated as the Molotov's from his ship landed. He knew they would n't take the merchants too much by surprise - tiburones like him were common in these waters. Fire burned on the galley as they scrambled to spot his ship. When their first set of cannons boomed, they entirely missed his team.
Back and forth they fought for near to an hour. As they approached the middle of the sea, his companeros boat came out of the darkness. The merchant men caught sight of the second skiff and veered east. They barely made it 600 yards before he heard a loud bang and the slow moans as the Maersk ship took in water. His plan had worked.
As the skiffs sailed nearer to the crates and flotsam of the merchants, he could see exactly where the ship had hit on the reef-like tip of the skyscraper that jutted out from Old Los Angeles. At this time of year, when the tide was low at night, it was unmarked on most foreign nautical maps. Both crews leaped into the water and pried open a few crates, filling their skiffs with as much food and cloth as they could get their hands on.
As the two skiffs slipped back into the black of the night, he sighed in relief. His family could pay the alcalde and still have enough food and clothes to last through next winter. He kissed his pendants and lay on the deck, losing himself in the vastness of the stars as the boat quietly rolled back home.
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[ WP ] Each time you fall asleep you can see through random person 's eyes - the person is always/usually different . You thought that 's normal and people call it a `` dream '' , but now you realize it 's a unique ability .
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“ I wonder who it will be tonight, ” I said to myself looking in the mirror after brushing my teeth before heading off to bed.
I really began to enjoy my “ dreams ” and what I would see each night. It took me a while to realize that these were not just normal dreams, but that I was actually going inside and seeing through the eyes of someone else, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, and even feeling what they feel both physically and emotionally. I could not, however, read their thoughts. It was the fifth time that it happened that it dawned on me that this was all real. I spent that night staring at a continually refilling glass of tequila and woke up with an actual hangover. I knew right then that these were much more than dreams.
I began to try to see if I could influence any of the action, but had no luck. All I could do was sit, or lay, back and experience the ride. It was always interesting when I was inside a woman, the feelings and desires were much different from what I was used to. I was seriously freaking out the first time I was inside a woman when she ended up having sex with another man. I was feeling both repulsed and, since I was feeling her emotions and desires, turned on immensely.
This had been going on for a few months now and I have been inside people all over the city, all races and ages. I must say that my favorite was the time I was inside that baby, his mom had the most amazing breasts! I had began to wonder about the long term affects this phenomenon was going to have on me. I mean, if I woke up with a hangover after being inside a drunk man, what would happen if someone got hurt, would I be hurt as well. Thankfully, nothing more than a few rough sexual experiences had happened and left not even a lingering pain after I woke.
I climbed into bed after finishing up my nightly routine and was almost giddy with anticipation. Sometimes I felt like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to tear open his presents and see what he was brought.
Finally, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep and into my other kind of awakening. This time I came to inside a man as he was walking down a dark alley. I could instantly feel a deep sadness and an anger that consumed his entire being. I immediately wanted to wake up and get out of this man. Unfortunately, I had no control over how long these trips lasted. This man was a truly vile and hateful human being who was looking for trouble. I began trying harder than I ever had to exert some sort of control over his actions, but to no avail. All I could do was sit back and go with the flow.
We suddenly stopped by a dumpster and looked up at a fire escape above it. There was no way of telling where we were since every alley in this city looked remarkably alike. Suddenly, we were climbing up onto the dumpster and jumping up to the lower level of the fire escape. This man was in great shape and in just a few seconds we were hoping over the railing and landing on the steel grating.
I began to feel myself slipping away from him, which was how it felt when I was leaving whoever I was with and about to wake up. Unfortunately, the feeling stopped and I was still stuck with this evil man.
We began slowly, almost methodically, making our way up the steel steps. We paused at a window that had its curtains slightly parted, but no one was in the room. After, a quick tug on the window to see if it would budge, it did n't, we moved on up another flight of steps. We did n't stop at the next window, did n't even look a it, and continued on up the next set of stairs. That next window we did stop at. The curtains were drawn tight, but there was the smallest crack at the bottom to let him get his finger tips into. The window slid up with ease, whoever was dumb enough to leave their window open in this city full of thieves and worse almost deserves to get their stuff stolen.
The room was quite dark and only a faint light from the street lights flickered with the swaying of the curtains. All I could make out was that it was a bedroom because our eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. He could, apparently, see a little better than me because he shot his attention to the bed and I could feel an excitement, almost sexual, building inside him. We began creeping toward the bed, his, no our, excitement was growing quickly. I must admit I was starting to get excited too, albeit scared as well. I am not sure what scared me more, what might be about to happen or that I was feeling the same kind of excitement as he was.
We reached the edge of the bed and finally my vision started to adjust better to the darkness. I figured he had done this sort of thing many times before so his eyes adjusted quicker. I could start to make out the outline of someone laying under the blanket and a head on the pillow. As we started to lean down toward the bed he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, I think he liked wake whoever he intended on harming right before he attacked. His excitement was reaching that same level of almost giddiness that is felt by children on Christmas morning. The sudden flash of light temporarily blinded me and at the same time started a faint feeling again of slipping away, this time I actually wanted to stay to see it through. Just like last time the feeling quickly faded and I stayed put.
A feeling of disappointment rushed over him because there was only the faintest reaction from the person in the bed to the light coming on. The disappointment went away quick and his excitement began growing again. I finally was blinking away the blindness, even though I did n't physically have eyelids in this state, and what was coming into view took away all of my excitement away. We were looking down at a large knife as it was being pulled out of his waist band. He brought it up past our eyes above his head, our sight followed the blade as it was raised, almost in a ritualistic manner. As the knife came to its apex he turned his attention down and our vision settle on the bed.
I thought the vision of the knife scared me, but when we looked down at the bed with my eyes fully clear I was horrified beyond belief. We were looking down at my sleeping body laying on the bed. As the knife began to arc down I started to slip away from him, but not quick enough to wake myself up and get away. Just before I left him I saw the knife drive into my chest. At the same time I felt the most intense feeling of pure pleasure from any person I had ever been in.
I was completely gone from him when I jerked awake in utter agony as he pulled the knife from my chest and began to bring it back down for another blow. I know that my emotions and feelings were all screwed up at the time, but I swear that the last thing I saw before I blacked out and began my journey to death was my own face looking down with the sickest grin I could ever imagine a human having.
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[ WP ] Every night a fairy godmother appears , granting you a magical princess dress and turning various appliances and pets into a horse drawn carriage ready to whisk you away to the Prince 's ball .
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It was time. Once again she was at my window, banging on the pane of glass for all her ounce's might.
`` Lem me in you... you stink. Shit stinker!'' She said, clearly drunker than usual. `` It's 9:00 PM and I wan na do my thing! Goddamnit!''
I tried muffling her out with the pillow. But the high pitched wailing continued, unfiltered by the mere inches thickness of cotton between us. If I did n't get up and get it over with, she could be there all night, screaming, vomiting occasionally.
I rolled out of bed, cursing under my breath. I hesitated... weighing my options. But if I wanted to get any sleep tonight, I really had none. I popped the latch and in shed tumbled, laughing giddily, stumbling through the air with her glowing translucent wings.
`` Hi pumpkin! Hows my favorite god... um, child. Yeah. Is that what I call you? When your parents die do I, like, own you?''
`` Please do n't do this, please, just one night.''
She took a steep swig from the flask in her bra. I could see the cigarette burns on her twinkling dress. Out came the wand, as usual.
She waved it around like a toddler might wave around a loaded gun, a smeared makeup smile peeled across her face.
`` Yeah. Yeah, we're gon na make ALL them bitches at the ball look like ho-bags. Prince will shoot a load in his drawers when he get's a whiff of you, babe.''
`` Please. Please, Gigi. I'm a 33 year old man. I have a beard. This is Nevada, for fuck's sake, there are n't any prince's balls-''
`` Well there oughta be! Get it? Balls? Hahaha, let's make you pretty!''
With a snap of the wrist, her magical gesture enchanted my walmart brand boxers. My body was engulfed in light as ribbons and delicate folds of green/blue plaid cloth enveloped my form.
It twinkled and shimmered, ornate with sequins and embroidery, lace and silk bows.
`` I hate you, Gigi. I hate your soul.''
`` Hahahaha, oh my god you look `` -HULP-''... you look fucking terrible! Hahaha!''
`` Ooh! Ooh! Let's do the wheels and horses stuff!''
With a flick, my alarm clock tumbled off of my nightstand, onto the floor. It grew, gaining a thousand pounds in a moment, the straining wood squealed as it came to it's full size.
Another flick and the moth that had been idly badgering itself against a lamp erupted into a lifesize horse. Terrified and disoriented, it stampeded through the window into the street, shattering glass onto my lawn.
`` Alllllmost done, toots, then we gon na go get you drunk, get you laid, baby just stick with me!'' She snapped the wand again at my houseplant, immediately a half plant, half horse monstrosity quivered before me, begging to be put out of its misery.
`` Oh, fuck, I do n't remember how to tie the horse to the thing. Get me some tape!''
`` No! NO! I'm not leaving, Gigi! I'm in a boxers plaid dress, a dress goddamnit! I'm a man! I own a penis! Why do you haunt me night after night?!''
`` Fine, little bitch! I'm gon na take my magic business elsewhere! You know what? You're ungrateful! I was gon na get you a prince with a magic dick, but NO!'' She blew chunks, soiling her clothing completely.
`` Fuck you!'' She sprayed, finally erupting out of my apartment, back through the open window.
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[ WP ] The large hadron collider opens up a quantum vortex that makes time travel as easy as walking down the street . TINDER is now full of historical figures and celebrities from throughout time . While mindlessly swiping right you match with someone very unexpected ...
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I did the same thing I did every break I had in work. Grab food and then go hide in the stock room. I usually just browsed Reddit and YouTube, but instead I went on Tinder and started swiping right not paying attention to who was appearing on screen. As I took a bite from my sandwich, my phone buzzed. I was surprised as I seen'It's a match!' I wondered with amazement at who it could be. As I sat on a beanbag, I was surprised by the picture on the screen. A picture of a young beautiful lady was on the screen. I clicked on the image to view her profile, I read down through the profile when it clicked this is Audrey Hepburn. I did n't get a chance to message the profile when she messaged me. Just to let you know I'm not exactly Prince Charming, I'm a 20 year old guy, I'm underweight according to the Doctors so it was n't for looks. I'm not exactly rich, I live comfortably for someone working in Poundstrechers. I opened the message she sent me expecting it to be a joke by a friend of mine.'Hey there' she wrote'I see Tinder thinks we would be a great match!' I was shocked Audrey Hepburn was dead, how could she be messaging me on Tinder. I thought it was wierd but replied'Hey, is this really you? Or am I being pranked' I waited but she replied almost instantly to my message.'Tell you what Philip, how about we meet up tonight and you can see?; - )' she typed. I had butterflies in my stomach, it was like I was 15 years old again. When the manager opened the stock room door I was still sitting on the makeshift seats, `` Philip, get the fuck outside. Your break ended an hour ago!'' He shouted as I got up. The rest of the night dragged in all, I kept thinking was all this real or was I crazy. Finally it home time, I grabbed my keys and clocked out. As I headed to my car I noticed a Rolls Royce Phantom turning towards me. Now Northern Ireland is n't exactly the kind of place you would see a Rolls without it being escorted by a lot of Police cars. As it approached, I began to panic, was I about to get whacked by a gang lord. It pulled up alongside my car, a chauffeur got out and opened the back drivers side door, and there she was. Audrey Hepburn. She was sitting there in the back of the car, `` Well Philip, you believe it's me now?'' I was stunned, I nearly collapsed. As I got into the car, she leaned toward me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. `` I hope you do n't think this is weird, for me to turn up like this?'' She said as the car started up. I had a feeling this was the begging of a new chapter in my life, but we will leave the rest for next time.
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[ WP ] To prevent a nuclear war , it 's been decided that all conflicts between countries will now be resolved with pro wrestling matches between their leaders .
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`` OH MY GOD! THE BRUTALITY!''
`` That's going to leave a mark John!''
`` More like MARX!''
The announcers laughed at their own joke as the wrestlers circled each other in the ring. The Red Terror nursing an injured arm. Captain Freedom, dressed in his stars and stripes flexed his monstrous biceps for the crowd. The crowd loved it, cheers erupted from everyone. Fathers held their children high so they could see their President. In the ring, Captain Freedom, in the oval office Mr. Decklan.
The Red Terror shot in low in a spear tackle. His powerful legs pumping beneath his massive bulk bulldozing him into Captain Freedom. They smashed into the corner. It buckled beneath their combined weight and massive muscles. Captain Freedom looked unconcerned. He grabbed the back of the Red Terror's leotard and heaved. Easily picking up the other man he tossed him out of the ring. The Red Terror landed on a sturdy wooden table that shattered underneath his bulk. Captain Freedom threw his fist in the air and the crowd began chanting `` AMERICA!''
With a roar the Red Terror ran and slid back into the ring. The Russian President Vladislov was sick of the Americans. They were always trying to run the world. He would settle this now.
`` Whoa! I think the Red Terror is... SEEING RED!''
`` HAHA John, you are on FIRE!''
The Red Terror released a flurry of punches so fast it was impossible to follow his fists. The impacts were deafening thunderclaps. Captain Freedom began falling back against the onslaught.
`` Captain Freedom looks like he is in trouble!'' The announcers were leaning forward, sweat beading on their foreheads.
Blood was starting to run down his leotard turning the stars and stripes red. He was fighting to protect his body. This was n't supposed to be happening, this was scripted. He felt his ribs break and his jaw snap. Darkness began clouding his vision as fist after fist landed against his face.
`` He's killing him! Someone get him out of there!'' The announcer cried out.
Men, women and children watched in horror as the President was getting pummeled to death.
A hulking man sprints down the walkway toward the ring. The crowd begins to point and cheer. The Canadian Mountie has arrived. In a single leap he clears the ropes and lands in the ring with a resounding stomp. The Red Terror is still raining down blows onto Captain Freedom. The Mountie runs up behind the Red Terror and picks him up by the waist.
`` OH MY GOD THE SUPLEX!''
The Red Terror's neck hit the mat. The sickening snap could be heard throughout the arena. Silence swept through the crowd. The Red Terror lay unmoving in the center of the ring. The Mountie standing over his still body.
A microphone dropped down from the ceiling. The Mountie calmly takes it in his massive fist.
`` I'm sorry, but Canada could not sit idly by and watch the Red Terror destroy Freedom.'' He dropped the mic and helped Captain Freedom up. His face destroyed. It was a mass of swollen flesh and blood.
They limped toward the ropes when the lights shut off.
Music begins to blare. It sounds like nine women singing at the same time to some kind of electronic beat mixed with late 90's pop music.
`` Oh my god, it cant be.'' The announcer whispered.
North Korea stormed into the arena. Dennis Rodman was behind the Supreme Leader holding his long white cape.
`` It's the Korean Krusher!'' The announcer shouted.
`` This is n't a fight you want to be a part of Krusher!'' The Mountie yelled.
`` Too late!'' He screamed. With a powerful squat he jumped high into the arena landing dead center of the ring. His weight smashing a small crater in the ring.
`` Once I end you Mountie then I will kill Freedom, once and for ALL!'' Tattooed on his fists was the word NUKE, and it sounded just like one going off when he hit Mountie in the face. The crowd was on their feet booing and jeering at the Krusher. He did n't care, he never cared what the rest of the world said about him. He kicked the Mountie in the stomach. Air shot out of his lungs in a sharp burst. Krusher was winning. No one could compete with the steroids his scientists had created. His arms were twice as big, his pecks twice as hard as any mans. Finally the world would recognize his greatness. The Mountie swung back breaking Krusher's nose. Blood shot out adding small drops to the existing stains. They went back and forth, fists flew, feet kicked, blood poured. The crowd cheered and screamed the entire time. Krusher wound up and gave the Mountie a devastating right hook. His jaw snapped in half and hung crooked.
`` It looks like it's all over for The Mountie!''
A metal chair sailed into the ring, thrown from the crowd. With one hand the Mountie snatched it out of the air. He spun and swung with all of his might. The metal chair bending around Krusher's face. In a rage he kept swinging. Left, right, down, every angle conceivable. The Krusher's body buckled. He legs giving out beneath him. The Mountie would n't stop. The chair came down repeatedly. Blood flying off in all directions. When it was done he fell to his knees. The bodies littering the ring made him weep.
`` Thank god it's over.'' He whispered.
Or is it....
-- -
Thanks for reading!
I feel like so much more could be added to it, but it was a great prompt! Very fun.
If you liked it check out [ /r/written4reddit ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/ ) for more of my stuff!
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[ WP ] [ EU ] After getting his ring back from the engraver , Sauron realizes it mistakenly says `` One Ring To Rule The Mall '' .
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`` Jerry! Jerry, got a Simon on the orb! Says we got'is engraving wrong!''
`` I do n't know a Simon! Simon who?''
``'e says Simon who. Oh sorry, hang on again for me please, luv.'e says Sauron, not Simon!''
`` Oh, right! Big guy, with the bag of gold. Hang on, be there now.''
`` Right. Hello Samuel?'e says he'll be right with you. I tell you dear, you need to do something about that throat. If you come past this way again, go down to the little apothecary down the corner, right? They do a lovely lozenge. My sister Madeline, she...''
`` Oh knock it off about your sister and give me the orb. Hello? Hello, Sauron. Right Sir, what seems to be the problem. Yes. Oh, I see. Right, I quite understand, terribly sorry. I thought it was for one of them kids, see, always on about them malls and playing with them boop beeps. We were quite happy with a magical firework display when I was a boy, we did n't need any of these glowing knives and whatnot.''
`` What's that? Oh yes, no problem, we'll just buff and refill, recarve it, make good, no extra charge.'an I'll throw in an extra dwarven ring for the inconvenience, that'll bring you up to seven, it's a good number.''
`` What? Fires of Mordor, I see. No, no, it's no problem. I'll just send me nephew, he'll nip up, dip it in, polish it a bit, Bob's yer uncle.'eh? Oh, yeh,'e's trustworthy. Good lad, not the brightest, no imagination, but what can yer do, family eh.''
`` Oh, right... Smeagol's'is name. Don' mind the cough, it's nothin' catching. Yes, that's right.'e'll be there in the mornin'. Thank ye Sir. All righty. Bye bye now.'eh, wassat? Oh, right, sure, a pack of lozenges, no problem. Bye now.''
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[ WP ] Take one of your own highest rated stories and gender swap the main character .
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`` This was n't expected.''
Lisa found herself staring at the barrel of a gun. Which was disappointingly anti-climatic, considering she just got in here 5 minutes ago.
Her hand began to quiver, as it gripped onto the jet black Glock 19 aimed at the other guy.
*'' Why do n't you put that down, huh? `` *
`` Sorry, ca n't say I trust you enough to do that.''
Silence.
*'' We could stay like this foreve-'' *
`` Unlikely. We would n't be so lucky the next time.''
Lisa tilted her head and gestured towards the body slumped against one of the pillars.
Lisa had nothing personal against him; in fact, she was n't planning on shooting anyone. The unlucky sap just had to fire out and it was during one of the worst times possible.
`` More of them would be coming soon''.
Lisa coughed loudly for emphasis
*'' I do n't need to worry about that. `` *
Lisa laughed. Who does this guy think he is?
The shadows hid his face pretty well, but that meant he could n't see Lisa's face too. She did n't need to care either way, the mask wrapped around her face did that for her. She reached out for it again for comfort.
*'' Getting together like this. Its a bad joke. I do n't think I need this anymore than you do. `` *
Lisa's eyebrows raised. She felt obligated to ask.
`` So what are you doing this for? Family? Because tha-''
*'' Family? `` * A cackle followed. It was chillingly raspy and Lisa felt a frisson grip her.
`` Then we're over that. So now the question is, who puts the gun down first?''
*'' Want to hear a little joke? `` *
Lisa's eyes glazed.
`` The fuck are you playing at.''
*'' One day,'' * the other guy began. He sounded coldly condescending, uncaring. Cheerful, even. He did n't seem to be too aware of Lisa's flaring up.
*'' Two rabbits come across a carrot. Now, this was a pretty normal carrot. Nothing out of place. But the two of them are hungry. Really hungry. `` *
Lisa hears a sudden pop and she jumps. Her forefinger draws towards the trigger.
*'' So what do they do? Fight of course. But little did the rabbit know...'' *
*sniff*
Lisa felt it. Something fragrant, yet so empowering. It seemed too fragile to taste, yet it made her feel weaker than he had ever been before. The breathes she drew began to shudder.
*''... the other rabbit had something up his sleeve. A pretty dangerous fart. And it was...'' *
Lisa's eyelids felt heavy. The world seemed to blur.
*''... quite the little joke he had. `` *
Sh felt the edges of his mouth stretch.
Shit.
It was a pretty funny joke.
A small snigger escaped between her lips.
Then another. Then another.
Then another.
And it erupted into a raucous cacophony.
Her eyes shot up at the other guy, the comedian. And she saw his face in the bright light-no, there was n't anything bright about it. It was just his face.
It was deathly pale, with the creases of red staining the sides of his cheek. A thin slit of a grin drew from one end of his cheek to the other. And no matter how hard Lisa tried, she just could n't seem to be as happy as him.
*'' Have fun! `` * he chuckled.
The man went about his way.
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[ WP ] You wake up in the morning and step outside to go to work , only to see something extremely unusual in the sky .
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He wasn ’ t the type of person to say “ I told you so, ” but Neil wanted to scream it at everyone in the bar.
Of course, no one there had read his book. And no one would even recognize him.
The bar crowd wasn ’ t his audience, but they would have heard of his ideas. In fact, he was being quoted on CNN right this moment. Behind the bar instead of non-stop sports, the flat screens were all tuned to CNN. The glorious gold-standard in broadcast reporting.
Instead of playing pool or shooting the shit, the regulars just watched and nursed their drinks -- what would, in many instances, be their last.
The book Neil had written was on meteorites. He ’ d been writing since he got out of university in the late nineties and it was only in the last few months that anyone had paid attention to his warnings. The hours he ’ d poured into his research had come to this.
It was almost humorous when a TV reporter a few weeks ago had asked him what the government could do. Neil wanted to say, “ Are you serious? They can do nothing! If they had acted years ago, then maybe we could have gotten ourselves out of this mess. But no one paid attention. No one cared. No one believed me! ”
And that was what had ground Neil ’ s gears most of all. No one outside the scientific community had believed him. Everyone was saying that he was scaremongering. That he was a peacenik trying to distract the populace from the real threat: terrorism.
On the screen, CNN ’ s cameras held steady on a glowing orb -- a meteorite -- in the sky somewhere off the coast of Miami. Within a few seconds of the impact, Tallahasse would become prime waterfront property. After a day or so, Manhattan would become the largest man-made reef in the Atlantic.
This was no secret. It was right there in the research. If the government had packed people up and moved them inland, all they would have to do was watch the show. That is, before the eternal winter arrived.
First the Eastern Seaboard would get swamped, then an eternal winter would begin. Dust and water vapour kicked up by the frozen, hurtling rock would block out the sun ’ s life-giving warmth, killing 90 per cent of the human race and all mamillian life.
It was all in Neil ’ s first book, actually. The technology was there ten years ago. The US government, instead of pouring blood and treasure into another Middle Eastern war, could have built a space warhead and blasted asteroid RU567 to smithereens. And the guys here in the bar would be sipping on their beers watching the ball game instead of the end of human life on Earth.
Neil wanted to say I told you so, but it was too damn late.
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[ WP ] In Hell , everyone is assigned a partner . Satan picks them specifically to be the one person you could never , ever get along with . If the partners can become friends , both ascend to heaven .
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`` So, what are you interested in?'' the man I was damned to spend eternity with asked. He was about my height, maybe a few inches shorter, and he wore a deep black blazer above a black striped button-down shirt and a pair of deep blue jeans. Nothing wrong with any of that, it was n't too far off from how I usually dressed actually.
`` Oh, a bunch of things,'' I answered him back. `` Soccer, cooking, videogames. Some other stuff obviously, but those are the big three.''
`` Oh, you're in to videogames? Me too,'' he replied. I had n't expected that, to be honest. Since Satan stuck me with him, I assumed we did n't have anything in common. In fact, I figured he'd just make fun of everything I told him about, that he'd be one of those guys who thinks computer games are for nerds and cooking is just for women. So this was a pleasant surprise. Maybe this would n't be all that bad.
`` What games did you play, on the other side?'' I asked him.
`` Oh, I played a lot of League of Legends.''
I looked down at the shirt I was wearing, the shirt I got at _The International 2014_, the largest Dota 2 tournament of all time. Perhaps I should n't doubt Satan.
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[ WP ] One day you decide to fake your death and with your last fake breath you hear an announcement saying `` Subject is dead . Expirement is over . ''
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I opened my eyes and saw bright lights shining above me. I was lying down. The room surrounding me had an air of cold sterility, the kind of feeling you get when sitting alone in a doctor ’ s office.
The last thing I heard continues to ring hauntingly in my ears: “ Subject is dead. Experiment over. ” My eyes watered from the brightness of the lights overhead and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to remember what I was doing and how I ended up in this laboratory of a room.
I remember playing with my son, who was pointing his toy bow at me. He pulled back and shot a plastic arrow at my chest. I gasped and clutched my chest when I pretended the arrow pierced me and keeled over dramatically. My 5 year old son rushed over, looking concerned. I exhaled my last fake breath as my head lolled to one side. That was when the emotionless robotic voice announced, “ Subject is dead. Experiment over. ”
I opened my eyes again, and this time, the bright lights were blocked by a body in a gleaming white lab coat, a curious face looming over mine. I could see a woman, blonde hair tied tightly in a bun, narrowing her green eyes at me and furrowing her brows.
“ The subject doesn ’ t look dead, ” She mumbled to herself. I was so caught off guard by the sudden sight of another person that all I could do was squint back at her face. “ Display Subject 638 ’ s vitals. ” She commanded.
A familiar emotionless robotic voice rang out, “ Subject 638, temperature 37.5°C, heart rate 110, breathing normal. No irregularities detected. Subject appears to be conscious. ”
“ How did you wake up from the sim, Subject 638? ” The woman said to me.
“ Sssssim? ” I gulped for air, but my throat was dry. I ended up in a cough fit and gagging for a second. I sat up from what felt like an uncomfortable hospital bed. The woman in the lab coat looked back at me, clearly not in a hurry to offer me any help.
“ I don ’ t know. ” I croaked. It felt like I haven ’ t spoken in years. My throat was dry and scratchy, my body felt weak. I was lightheaded from sitting up. That was when I noticed I was wearing a hospital gown, a thin papery drape of an excuse for clothing. I saw my hands, the backs of them purple from needle pokes. I was hooked up to a drip IV, there were beeping monitors around me. Despite the bright lights that lit the room, I felt so cold in the room.
Suddenly, a sharp buzzing noise emitted from the monitor stationed to my left. The emotionless robotic voice spoke once again, “ Professor, it appears multiple subjects have deceased. ”
“ Display the list of deceased subjects. ” The blonde woman commanded. The monitored displayed a long list of subject numbers and room numbers. The blonde woman mumbled under her breath, “ That ’ s over half the subjects. How would they have died from the sim all together so suddenly? ”
The room was quiet; all I could hear was the blonde woman ’ s mouse scrolling down the list she was looking at. Click, click, click. Then, a young man, in a lab coat akin to the blonde woman ’ s, burst into the room. “ Professor, we need your help, the subjects… they aren ’ t dead. ”
With the appearance of the young man, I was suddenly pulled out of my trance. Turns out, I was focusing so hard on the quiet of the room that I did not notice the commotion happening just outside the thick glass doors. I could hear other people, some voices saying things I could not discern, and the scraping of metal on cold tile floors.
What is this place?
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[ FF ] [ 150 WORDS ] The Last Video On Earth
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BOOM! The sound of the ship making landfall was unmistakable. I was the first
archaeologist to visit Earth since the Exodus. The door opened and I stepped
down to greet, once more, the birth-planet of Man.
Ahead was a large steel box, half-buried. I opened it and inventoried its
contents, noting a black box at once. It was a VCR with a tape half inserted.
The tape boldly proclaimed, `` Last Video On Earth.'' I powered it and pushed the
tape.
`` Come on! You can do it!'' A small child stood supporting himself with a chair.
`` Come to Mommy!'' The child let go of the chair and took two unsteady steps
toward the camera. `` Yay! Good job,'' the voice said even as the child fell to the
floor. `` Do it again,'' the voice coaxed.
`` Yes, we'll do it again,'' I said to the sky. `` And we'll do it right this time.''
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[ WP ] They tried to summon a demon . They got you .
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The sounds of Billy Joel was replaced as a foul smell filled my nose.
`` Dammit, I need to fix- Oh.''
I was surrounded by a ring of hooded occultists.
The disappointment in the air was thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.
I stood in the circle, calculator in one hand and pen in the other, as the hoodies started muttering and talking with each other. I overheard the sentence `` Well, he's wearing a red shirt and has a goatee, that has to mean something!''
One of them stepped forward. It looks like they bought their hoods from a clearance costume store.
`` Beelzebub, we have summoned you-''
`` Wow, seriously... Man you guys are pathetic. Did you fail geometry?'' I said, pointing at the circle of red chalk.
`` So you are not a demon?''
`` I do n't know, depends on who you ask really.''
`` What is your name, Demon?'' Shouted one Hoodie. Man, his acne was bad, even from here.
`` I'm Steven. Not a demon, sorry. Just a teenager.''
`` FUCKING HELL BOB THIS YOUR FAULT!'' Rudolph the Red-Pimpled Reindeer started shouting, his voice cracking as he tried to act intimidating.
I sighed as I started to wonder where, exactly, I am.
Is that a bag of fucking Doritos next to a dead rabbit on that tree stump?
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[ WP ] A half-naked man rings your doorbell at 2am to ask for peanuts . Why is he there ? - Use primarily dialogue .
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I was near the end. I am just about to give up when I hear a knock.
`` Hey man, ya got any peanuts?'' a voice from behind the door.
SHIT it's 2 am I forgot about the deal.
`` Hahaha, yeah man I got it do n't worry.'' I said it nonchalantly. Shit.
`` I do n't think so mother fucker.'' as he said it in a rough smoker voice.
`` No no no no no, it's cool man we cool. I got it. Relax.'' As I try to mask my nervousness. But to no avail.
`` LOOK man this is my one shot at the life I want, ca n't just give them up.'' I reasoned.
But I knew it was n't going to work so I take the only way out that I could take. I took the peanuts and put them in my pants and opened the door.
`` What the fuck is that?'' He asked with a disgruntled voice.
`` It's my nuts.'' As I said it in a cold voice. I Spartan kicked him in the chest.
`` Ca n't take my legumes bitch!'' I shrieked while stripping naked, and then the peanuts poured out. It was like a carpet bomb over Vietnam. Eventually nothing was left but the original pair on me.
`` Tell the guys the deal is over!''
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[ WP ] Several 'Chosen Ones ' meet up to try and sort out what destiny belongs to who .
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`` Dear'Chosen One,''' The note in Andrew's hand began. No doubt it had made it to the right person, he was the Chosen One. A meteor was headed straight towards the Earth, and he, by some predetermined fate or cliched prophecy was chosen to stop it. Frankly though, he hated the idea. Either he would stop it and be a hero remembered throughout all of time, or he would fail and all of humanity would perish. The more obstacles each new sunrise brought, the more he liked the second outcome.
That was the least of his worries though as his attention drew back to the piece of paper in his hand. Normally, he had been communicated of his purpose through his dreams, and one time even a homeless man had called his name out on the street followed by the loud bellowing of `` Chosen One.'' This however, was new. Who was trying to reach out to him now? Why a letter, which to add, was very short and unlike the long monologues he had been used to?
`` Meet at the warehouse on Lark St. You'll know the one.''
That's all that it said. It had frightened Andrew a little, what if it was a trap? Fears aside he looked up and saw the light turn green allowing him to turn off of the highway route he was on and onto Lark Street. Andrew thought to himself how unusually long that light had been red and before he was able to finish the thought, a warehouse of dilapidated quality came into view. That must be the one, in fact, it had to be the one he was looking for. This was because it was the only warehouse on Lark Street.
Andrew laughed as he pulled into it's parking lot. It was a nervous laugh but he found himself doing that more now that he was the `` Chosen One.'' It helped calm him down and helped him to think clearly. Well, at least as clearly as anyone whose decisions determined the fate of the world should.
There were a few cars outside. This helped to calm him a little as well, for if it had been a trap, this was a little too obvious. He quickly found a space to park, got out of the car and locked the doors. The air was cold and carried a slight breeze which caused Andrew to hug his jacket a little tighter to his chest. In the horizon, the sun was setting. This saddened Andrew as now he could better see the giant non-moon space rock heading straight towards the planet he called home. He gave a deep sigh before turning to the door and entering the warehouse.
`` Welcome Chosen One!'' A voice called out. Andrew turned to face where the noise had greeted him. Although it was dark and getting darker, he was able to locate where the sound came from: a group of men sitting in a circle in the center of what seemed to be a loading bay.
`` Come over here, we were just about to begin!'' The voice said again a little louder this time.
Andrew obeyed, what else was there to do he thought. After all, their planet was in danger, so why not have a meeting in a sketchy warehouse? He laughed again. Again it was a nervous laugh.
After what seemed an abnormally long time, about as long as the red light from earlier Andrew noted, he made it to the circle of men and found an open seat and sat down.
`` Chosen Ones!'' The voice began before Andrew had a moment to look around and see who he was seated with. He was now stuck on the last letter of the voice's opening line. There were multiple'Chosen Ones'?
`` You all have been chosen for different reasons, different calamities and struggles facing us at this very second'' the voice continued. This had cleared Andrews mind a little so he decided now would be a good time to focus his eyes around the room and see who he was seated with. This was getting harder with each passing second as the sun continued its linear path through the sky. They all seemed like normal people; one in a business suit, another in overalls, the only strange one among them was a man in a full jumpsuit with a `` ZAP'' logo on the right breast.
`` However, due to the failure of a Chosen One before you, the worlds memory was wiped save a select few. Instead of allowing this to stop us from completing our tasks, I have decided to gather all of you so we can piece together what we were chosen for.'' The owner of the voice sure had no need to breath thought Andrew, these were the monologues he was used to.
`` As I point to you, if you remember your task, say it aloud. We need not know your name, just your mission. I have here a list of problems facing us and as we figure them out we shall then, by process of elimination, find out the rest of our missions.''
Andrew had n't remembered the memory wiping, how could he have? He determined he was n't one of the ones who had been by hit by it.
The man had finished speaking and pointed to the first man to his left. He was blonde and rather scrawny, which the others in the room would better find out when he stood up to speak. He scratched his head and then opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and looked around. Finally after another lengthy amount of time he spoke up:
`` Rather dark in here is n't it? Can we turn on the lights?''
`` They do n't work.'' Said another man in the circle.
`` Oh'' said the blonde rather morosely, `` anyway, my mission is to stop the mole men from attacking.'' The man then sat down as the organizer put a check on his list. Andrew was n't even aware that was a problem the world was facing. He laughed rather quietly to himself.
So it went, each man was pointed to and in turn each person would state whether or not they knew what their mission was until the last three people were reached.
The first in this trio was Andrew. He stood up, and rather tired at this point said simply: `` Meteor.'' The others in the group had nodded their heads in understanding as it was a well known problem at this point. He sat back down content with his answer.
The next in the group laughed upon standing up. Even in the darkness of the warehouse he carried an air of darkness about him.
`` My mission'' his voice cut through the room `` is to kill all the chosen ones.'' The room was silent at this point. He seemed to like this. `` However, I can only kill in complete darkness.'' The organizer scratched in his pad once more, though only Andrew would notice this. People were standing up to try and make their escape.
`` Its no use'' laughed the man `` once its dark you will be unable to escape.''
The organizer knew this and made a gesture to have everyone sit down.
`` We still have one more to listen to'' the organizer had said. Everyone sat in their seats in a position not unlike a student's towards the end of the school day, ready to run at a moments notice.
The last man stood up, he was the man Andrew had noticed earlier. He wore a blue jumpsuit with the `` ZAP'' logo on the right breast. Somehow Andrew felt comfortable with this man in his presence.
`` My mission'' the man croaked out `` is to fix the lights in here.''
The sun had set.
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[ WP ] Moments before a battle , a warrior reflects on his life as he prepares
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I figured by this point the inevitability of what I'm about to face would have set in, and I'd feel at least /some/ measure of relief for this almost being over with. I've been planning my death for the last few hours, and /now/ there is fucking /traffic/ that is making the bile boil the ulcer in my stomach into a crater.
All day - no email from her, no text to my work Blackberry - radio silence. I'm nauseous again. 8 more exits to go, so that probably leaves me about 30 minutes until I have to face this. I should really make the most of this last bit of quiet instead of wringing my gut over the traffic and all the other things I ca n't change right now. I have n't even had the balls the decide what the fuck I'm going to do when I get there.
Everything was /fine/ until this morning. Well, I mean... obviously not totally fine, but sustainable, easy. Wait - /easy/, what the fuck am I talking about. It has n't been easy for 6 years. Before the kids came along it was easy. But then they stole my wife from me. They took the woman I loved, and I was stuck with her haggard shell and the only trade-off was that /more/ of my paycheck and free-time disappeared. But eventually I got in the rhythm and smiled for pictures and said thanks for dinner and all that. I think I've been a good father... but I've felt like a character in a depressing movie about suburbia for the better part of a decade. So yeah, I guess it really has n't been sustainable /or/ easy, now that I think about it.
It was a year ago when I met Clara. I go to these stupid `` network after work'' business socials in swanky hotel lobbies because it's a great excuse to do two of my favorite things - not go home, and get drunk. Usually I do exactly zero networking... sometimes I socialize with someone I spot in the crowd who I know but usually I keep to myself with my scotch.
This one night, though... I had seen her when I first walked in and she definitely stood out in the crowd. Not stunningly beautiful, not in the highest heels or the tightest dress like most of the women there who walk through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. But she just had this confident glow and I kept catching myself looking for her in the crowd and then getting butterflies when I spotted her - like a smitten teenager.
It does n't matter how we got to talking, but we did. She was in town on a long-term work assignment, put up in a local hotel by her company. We began our affair that first night. It started becoming more than an affair... constant texting all day while I was at work when we both knew my wife could n't snoop my phone or look over my shoulder. We met up every opportunity we could - I even scheduled a fake business trip in her hometown of Cincinnati and we spent two days together. I've told myself for months that it's getting out of hand, but there really is a thrill to it.
I've gotten a little icy since Clara started texting me at times when she knew I was home with my family... that was a little beyond thrill and a little more like riding a rollercoaster when you know the brakes are out. The last month or so, we still text but it's been a little different. I miss the way things were before and how I let myself feel, and now I'm shutting out those feelings because of a wife that I'm too lazy to leave. /Wow/.... too lazy to leave. I never really thought about it like that before...
Clara had also started insinuating how happy we could be together, /if/... I have to admit I started fantasizing about her not only sexually but... the way I fantasized about my wife before we got married. When I dreamed of seeing her face every morning when I woke up.
I do n't feel that way about my wife anymore.
I ca n't /believe/ I left my stupid goddamn phone on the counter this morning, on the /one/ day that I could n't possibly turn around and come home early. Clara would be texting me all morning, as soon as she knew I'd be out of the house. And there my wife would be, hearing my phone vibrate on the counter every ten minutes. She's started getting snoopy lately, I think she's suspicious. There's no way she did n't swipe my phone open and look - she's home with the kids all day.
2 more exits. Fuck. I've been thinking about leaving her for awhile now... discreetly, and then bringing Clara into the fold later so it seems less philandering. But I'm too big of a pussy to leave. I'm such a pussy... content with this miserable life because I'm too lazy to bother divorcing someone I do n't love for someone I do. /God/... what is wrong with me.
My kids deserve parents that are happy, even if they're apart. I love Clara... wow... I think I actually do. I do n't even feel a spark for my wife of what I feel for Clara. I owe it to myself and my kids to just bite the bullet. You know, I probably never would have had the balls to pull the trigger on this, but this is my out. This might be /it/. It will be messy, for sure... but a year or two down the road...
There's my exit. Shit. Less than 5 minutes now. I ca n't believe this is about to happen. If she does n't stab me the second I walk through the door... I might be /free/. There's no way she could forgive me... the texts that Clara and I have been sending for months are not just sexual but... /intimate/. We're intimate. Loving. And I know my wife has read Every. Last. One. Of. Them.
Driveway. There's her car. I might need to throw up - I'm not sure from sheer terror or sheer excitement. Everything happens for a reason, right? /This/ is the kick in the ass I've needed to stop being such a doormat... to be a warrior and take charge of my life. I feel like a fucking /warrior/ right now.
Through the front door... there's sand all over the floor, that's weird... kids are suspiciously quiet... there she is, in the kitchen. Fuck, she probably took the kids to her mom's so they would n't have to hear what's about to happen.
`` Hey. I'm probably just going to order a pizza, I took the kids to the beach today and we're all worn out. It looks like you left your phone here - it was dead, so I plugged it in by the fridge.''
/What./
30 minutes ago, my heart would have been soaring with relief. Now it's sinking with the realization that... I just... even though I should, I do n't think I can...
I'm not a fucking warrior. Who was I kidding. Not even fucking close.
I pick up my phone, now with enough of a charge that I can see the 13 missed texts and two missed calls. Certainly from Clara.
Without reading any of them, I scroll through my contacts until my thumb touches her name. I hover over the screen for a second... then I click it.
Block Contact.
`` Okay... pizza it is. I'll call it in now. You want the usual?''
`` Yeah, sounds good.''
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[ WP ] Describe what the front page of WritingPrompts looks like one day after the apocalypse .
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[ Wp ] You are a time traveller who went back in time, in 1940, to settle a debt to Hitler
[ Wp ] `` Glass of Juice, not Gas the Jews, Goddammit'', your boss said, after you'accidentally' ordered millions of people executed.
[ IP ] Weird portal-like thing in the sky.
[ Wp ] The portal in the sky is part of a secret nazi time travel experiment. You are the first `` guinea pig'' sent off by the scientists.
[ OT ] traumdeutungtraumdeutungtraumdeutungtraumdeutung
[ OT ] traumdeutung traumdeutung, traumdeutung?
[ Wp ] Traum... deutung... Tr... aum...
[ OT ] Teh fook is up with this spam?!?!?!
[ IP ] Sieg! Sieg!
Hey, anyone here?
If anyone's online pls pm me.
Hello?
[ CW ] Write a short piece glorifying the feats of our great, and true leader.
[ CW ] The leader has arrived to cleanse this land of infidels. You are one of the fortunate few to meet him in person. Describe this spiritual and enlightening encounter.
[ CW ] The leader is supreme. This is fact. But there remains ungrateful infidels who dare to stand against the Great one. Describe their crushing defeat in two sentences.
[ CW ] The leader is within us all. No one can surpass the leader. Write a story about your horrible past before the leader has graced upon you with their presence, and how wonderful gour life is now.
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[ IP ] Eternal Sunshine
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There is a room of pure sunlight. I only saw it once, in a dream, but I have longed for it and ached for its existence ever since. I am not a spiritual person, I believe only in fact, and yet, there is the vision of that room. The feeling it gave me, the idea that perfect, incandescent happiness could be mere normalcy, pushed its way into my heart like an invasion of hope. That place housed people I love, people who will never meet, separated as they are by life and death, and those people were just talking. Even in my dream, I dared not interject for fear that my reliance on the reality of my life would spoil that moment, that possibility. And so I just watched, and they talked, sitting on furniture of sunlight, and surrounded by sunlight as they discussed things and laughed on occasion. I am not sure if the happiness of that place came from my own heart, or if that happiness had infected me from some external source, but it was everywhere, so beautifully inescapable. I am scared to call it heaven, and even more terrified to call it just a dream. Inevitably, it has planted itself in my heart, and my desire to see it again has shifted something in me. I will not say I believe in this, but I can not help but want to.
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[ EU ] No , Obi-Wan killed your father
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`` No, that's not true! That's impossible!''
`` Search your feelings; you know it to be true!''
Luke's mind whirled. How else did the old man have his father's lightsaber? Why had the Jedi been watching over him for all these years? Was he guilt-ridden from making him an orphan? Or was he waiting to raise him as another murderer like himself?
Luke focused on his training, calming the storm in his mind as well as the pain from his severed hand. He evened out his breathing and opened his eyes to face the black-clad figure of Darth Vader. His red blade still hummed in the air currents flowing around them.
`` How do you know this?'' Luke asked.
`` Anakin Skywalker was my student. I raised him from a child to an adult with as much care as any father would. I trained him in the ways of the Force and in the ways of right and wrong. It was Obi-Wan who robbed the galaxy of its greatest hope.''
Luke tightened his grip on the pole he was clinging to. `` But what about all that you've done? Alderaan, destroying the senate, killing so many of my friends? Why?''
Vader silenced his lightsaber and clipped the handle to his belt. `` The destruction caused by the Rebel Forces is greater than you can imagine. Emperor Palpatine is my master, just as I was to your father. He has a vision for the galaxy that few can realize. What you see as a tyrannical empire is actually a unifying force that is meant as a temporary measure. Palpatine addressed the Republic Senate once, swearing that he would surrender his power when all threats to the Republic's safety were negated. He will keep his promise.''
The young Jedi struggled to keep his anger at bay. `` How can you know that? He rules this galaxy with an iron hand and so many suffer under his rule!''
`` It is nothing compared to the suffering that is coming. Our galaxy is not alone in the support of life. Another, alien force is coming and they know nothing of mercy or compassion. Our scouts on the Outer Rim have detected the incoming presence of beings called the Yuuzahn Vong. The Emperor has united the galaxy to fend off their attack. Once the Yuuzhan Vong are destroyed, the republic will be re-established as a libertarian government, with none of the corruption that tainted the Republic Senate.''
The pieces started falling into place. The rebellion was mistaken in their goal. They did not know of these Yuuzahn Vong, but how could they? `` Why have you not told people of these alien invaders?''
`` The panic cause by the threat of invasion would only serve to do more damage than the invasion itself. The Yuuzahn Vong are fearsome and there is nothing that an ordinary army could do against them. That is why the Emperor constructed the Death Star. It was meant to oppose the incredible, world-eating weaponry the Yuuzahn Vong posses. He made the mistake of putting Grand Admiral Tarkin at the helm of the weapon. Tarkin was a mad man. I was there to stay his hand and keep him in line. My failure to do this haunts me every day.''
`` Why did Obi-Wan kill my father?'' Luke asked. He was surprised to find that he was beginning to take Vader's words as truth.
`` Your father was our greatest hope against the Yuuzhan Vong. He was a brilliant pilot, strategist, and warrior. He, not I, was meant to lead our forces into battle. Obi-Wan was furious. Anakin and Obi-wan had been rivals for as long as they had been Jedi. Anakin treated the rivalry as a friendly competition, while Obi-Wan bitterly resented Anakin. This bitterness turned Obi-wan to the Dark Side of the Force. He murdered your father on Mustafar. Anakin had just destroyed the last of the separatist group housed there and ended the war that was necessary to destroy the corrupted Republic. Obi-Wan cornered him there and they dueled to the death. Anakin tried to save Obi-Wan. He kept himself from striking a finishing blow several times in order to give Obi-Wan the opportunity to return to the light. But Obi-Wan's bitterness only grew when he realized how outclassed he was by your father. In a burst of hatred, Obi-Wan summoned the dark powers of the Force and slaughtered your father.''
It was hard to tell through the mask, but Luke was fairly certain he heard Vader's voice break with emotion.
`` I lost my son that day. Anakin was the greatest Jedi to ever live. He was the one that was meant to bring balance to the Force. Obi-Wan could n't stand that. He killed your mother and stole you away. It was a miracle that the Organa family found and raised your sister, Leia, after Obi-Wan abandoned her.''
He was breathing fast again. Luke closed his eyes to calm himself. Leia was his sister. Though he had never had evidence, somehow he had always known. His father had been the hope of the galaxy and a deranged murderer had killed him. And worse, he had thought this murderer was his friend.
Vader expected his next question. `` Obi-Wan was training you to destroy me. I am Anakin's master, the one most responsible for his greatness. He hated me almost as much as Anakin. He fabricated lies to make himself seem like a friend to your father so that you would join him. The truth is that he wanted nothing more than to have someone else to carry out his murderous and selfish plans after he died. Your uncle Owen knew Obi-Wan had done something terrible to your family and he did everything he could to keep you from going to meet Obi-Wan. When Leia reached out to Obi-Wan for help, she knew nothing of how he had turned to the dark side. She and her family only knew that Obi-Wan had been a Jedi at some time. I would have destroyed that message if I had known that it would put you in the way of that psychopath. He saw his opportunity to bring you into his conflict. He sought to turn you to the dark side. Obi-Wan sacrificed himself to my blade on the Death Star to make you hate me all the more. He was not raising you to be a Jedi, he was raising you to be a Sith! He wanted you to hate me so that your hatred would empower you to kill me.''
`` Why would he send me to Yoda? Yoda taught me to control my anger.''
Vader sighed understandingly. `` The ghost of Obi-Wan sent you to Master Yoda, correct? It was the ghost of Anakin that directed you.'' The voice from behind the mask softened. `` Anakin knew of your mother's pregnancy. He was expecting your birth. While living, he took steps to preserve himself after death. He wanted to be there for you in any way he could, even if death befell him. His spirit is the one that has been directing you, disguised as Obi-Wan. He used the image of someone you trusted to guide you down the right path. He helped you destroy the death star to put an end to Tarkin's madness. He knew we were constructing a second Death Star that we could use. He directed you to Dagobah for your training. His presence is what convinced Yoda to train you.''
An etherial voice reached Luke's ears. `` Luke, he is telling you the truth.'' It was Obi-wan, no, Anakin. `` Who you know as Darth Vader was my master and my friend. Trust him.'' The voice changed slowly from the sound and cadence of Obi-Wan to a deep, warm tone that calmed Luke more than any meditation. `` I'm sorry, son. I wish that I was there for you.''
Luke felt tears welling up in his eyes. He looked back to Vader. The dark figure gazed at him. `` You can hear him now, ca n't you? I would give anything to hear his voice one more time. But he saved all of his energy in the Force to speak to you.'' The man reached behind his helmet and loosened the clasps. He pulled the helm off, revealing his face. He was a dark skinned man, bald and horribly scarred. His left eye was clouded white with blindness. A tear slid from his good eye, flowing down one of the scars furrowing his cheek.
Vader inhaled deeply, the air wheezing through his throat. `` My name is Mace Windu. My lungs and face were scarred by the Emperor when I attempted to cut him down. He attacked me with the Force and threw me from the top of a Courascant tower. I barely survived when Anakin found me and healed me as best he could. He explained the threat of the Yuuzhan Vong to me and I joined his cause to help save the Galaxy. I was being outfitted with this suit by the Emperor when Anakin went to Mustafar. I wish I could have apologized for not listening to him sooner. He had to attack me to allow the Emperor to fend off my attack. I almost destroyed the one chance this galaxy had for survival. Anakin stopped me and then saved me. I owe him my life and my gratitude.''
Luke released his death-grip on the pole and slowly navigated back to the platform Windu was standing on. He rested on his knees, still cradling his injured arm. Windu kneeled next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. `` We need you, Luke. Anakin was the Chosen One, a Vergence in the Force. He is gone now. We need the new Chosen One. Anakin was your father only because of his marriage to your mother. Due to an injury in the Clone Wars, your father was sterile.''
Luke looked into Mace Windu's eyes as realization dawned on him. `` I am a Vergence as well?''
CONTINUED BELOW
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[ WP ] Turns out that your blind date is with a powerful enchanter/enchantress . The evening does not go well .
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Bruce should have realized something was amiss, he thought afterwards.
The evening started out simple enough. He had arranged to pick up his blind date- a cute, reclusive girl on the outskirts of town- at around six. They had decided to out for dinner, since, even though cliche, it was n't bad.
Both of them lived alone, which Bruce decided was a good first talking point. They spoke for a while, about living alone, about being lonely, about their parents. Bruce had the bright idea, at the end of the date, to suggest they head back to his place for, as he called it,'netflix and chill'.
The girl, who he found out was named Lilly, gave a look of indignation, but only for a moment. She grinned and offered a counter-suggestion- head to her place and'water her plants'. Bruce grinned and helped her out to his car.
The two arrived at her place. She had been quiet the drive back- another clue Bruce should have been aware of- but he was too excited about the upcoming activities. She asked him if he was thirsty- he said yes. She headed in to the kitchen, and Bruce heard her mutter something. He dismissed it, and she came out with a clear blue liquid, very much like the color of blue kool-aid. He accepted it graciously and drank it all at once, then asked where the plants were that needed watering. She responded it was coming in soon.
Ten minutes later, Bruce was a dashing purple Antirrhinums, as Lilly needed snapdragons for her potions. Bruce was left on her kitchen counter, next to all her magazines on enchanting and potion making. Bruce was n't going anywhere, his car was n't going anywhere... but hey, at least he was pretty.
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[ WP ] You took the road less travelled by , but it has n't made much difference .
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They read the papers over. Five times, I believe. Hell, of all people, I should know.
After all, I was the one that blew their brains open after the fifth time. They never could get that word pronounced right. I do n't blame them. It's a hard word.
The timing was all good. I heard the sirens after I shot the last guy. So I simply sat down in a chair and waited for them to arrive.
They did. Promptly. Rifles up and all.
But no shots.
They cuffed me up and took me to the courthouse. Judge looked me over with the doctor and said that I was mentally insane. They gave me a life sentence.
Five, in fact.
Can you believe it? A fucking life sentence for killing people? My prints were on the gun, I was waiting in the room, fuck, I even jumped up as far as I could in the room and yelled that I did it! I! ME! Guilty, guilty, guilty- treat me as such, you fucks! Kill me! Sit me down in a chair and pump me full of your chemicals!
But they turned their heads away. Chuckled. Knew that this would be a worse fate than death. Knew that I would hate rotting away. But I was okay with that. If I could n't go that path, I could go another way.
Pity it had to come to this.
I stole their spoons at first. Claimed that they just went missing. They did n't think too much of it.
Then they caught me trying to melt it in my furnace job. Took them away from me. Gave me a beating. Berated me for trying to escape.
Oh, if only they knew what I was trying to escape from. Then maybe they could have stopped me earlier.
Next, I tried stealing clothes from the laundry. Gathered up a few of them. Fashioned them into a nice, taut rope.
Problem is, there's nowhere on the ceiling to hang them from.
That road did n't work either. And I did n't know which road would. But then I remembered.
The janglings of the keys. Rustling of uniforms.
If they trusted these goons with keys, they probably outfitted them with some pretty fancy killing gear too, right?
And so, one morning, during roll call, I charged at John. Took him to the ground. Yelling. Beating him up. I even stole a knife from the cafeteria to make me look like an even greater threat. It was a butter knife. I never had any intention of hurting John. Just wanted to bait the rest of the guys.
And, oh, did I bait them.
Rick, one of the more trigger happy fellows, grabbed his pistol only after I had beaten John about twice. Fired a couple in my direction. He was the first one to shoot. The rest of the guards heard the shots. Thought it would be nice to join in the commotion. Started taking their guns out of their belts and pulling the trigger.
They shot me five times, in total. Well, hit me five times. Pity it could n't have been more.
So here I am, in the prison's hospital, two dozen tubes poking out of me like I'm damn Frankenstein. I'm still alive. They did n't hit me in the head.
I took the road less traveled by, but it has n't made much of a difference.
I wish it did.
These nutheads did n't even cuff me.
Do you know how many pretty things to a human you can do with a tube?
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[ WP ] In the space race , Humanity finally lands on the moon . It has an atmosphere and humanoid life on it .
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`` It is with great pride and pleasure that I announce that Capitan Neil Armstrong and his crew of some of the bravest men to ever walk this planet, have now touched down on another land mass, Earth's beloved satellite, the moon.'' President John F. Kennedy stood tall, and handsome as he spoke to nation through cameras in the presidential briefing room. `` This marks a new age of man. A new era of life as we know it, today is a day that we should all be proud to be American. God Bless and have a good night. Thank you.''
The press jumped up at once and began pelting questions at the president all of which ignored as he made his way off the stage. A group of staffers stood eagerly, hoping to revel in the excitement of this. But it was the urgent look in Kennedy's chief of staff who recieved JFK's attention.
As they made their way through the West Wing, Kennedy asked, `` What is it?''
`` Sir, Armstrong and the other astronauts... they've made contact.''
`` What do you mean they've made contact, NASA said the chance of life on the moon would be practically non-existent. What is it? Microbes?''
Kenneth failed to respond. Kennedy stopped walking and looked directly at him. `` Damnit Kenneth, I asked you question. What did they find?''
Kenneth spoke slowly, his eyes frozen on the floor. `` They call themselves'Saluts'.
Kennedy's eyes widen - `` What do you mean *They*?'' At that moment, Vice President Johnson appeared.
`` John, can you join us in the Oval Office? We need to brief you on the situation.'' Vice President John immediately began walking, JFK followed instantaneously followed by his Chief of Staff.
As the door to the oval office swung open, the gaggle of some of the most powerful government officials immediately stood up from their seats. `` At ease, Gentlemen.'' Kennedy said as he took a seat behind his desk, `` Now tell me, what the hell is going on?''
After a second of silence, a tiny man in a lab coat squeaked `` Armstrong and Aldrin were carrying out their mission as planned, Sir. It turns out we were wrong, about a lot of things. The Moon, it has an atmosphere and-''
Kennedy immediately cut him off, `` But that's impossible, there is no way that..''
The Scientist continued, `` from what they have told us, it is artificial, it is.. man made, by them. They... were waiting for us.''
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[ WP ] A man wakes up to find his lifelong wish of having wings has been granted , only to realize he 's too fat to get off the ground .
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`` Did I tell you about bird man?''
`` What, that movie?''
`` No. The new guy at my gym. He wears these -- he's always got this bird costume on.''
`` Like a giant chicken or something? You have some kind of chicken suit mascot person at your gym now?''
`` It's not like a full body costume. It's just wings. Like these fake wings that stick out of his back.''
`` He's an employee?''
`` He just works out.''
`` With wings on.''
`` Yeah.''
`` Let me guess -- he's working on his lats?''
`` And so all he does is the treadmill. Which pisses me off because he's been hogging it for *weeks*. I go in at 4 PM, he's there. I leave at 6 PM, he's still there. Ca n't do my normal cardio routine. So I start going there in the morning before work -- fucking wake up at 5 AM to exercise, *me*, so you know how dire it is. And the fucker is still there, running running running away like a big tubby hamster on its tubby-hamster wheel. With wings.''
`` You sound frustrated.''
`` He's a total fucking creepazoid weirdo. His sweat smells like poop and garlic and he looks like he belongs on an episode of My 600 Pound Life. Or maybe more like My 475 Pound Life because he's dropping half a ton every day.''
`` Hell, more power to him. If I had that kind of dedication, I'd be deadlifting Winnebagos by now.''
`` I legitimately think the guy's had a mental break with reality or something. He literally practically *lives* at the gym. And the wings, I mean he wears those things nonstop. Like he really thinks he's a bird. Big fat bird man hogging my cardio time.''
`` Maybe it's a self-motivation thing. He's *sprouting his wings*. Living up to his full potential. That kind of stuff.''
`` Fuck him.''
`` Think he'll fly off soon and leave the treadmill to you?''
`` I'm not holding my breath. The day he flies is the day that... well, it's the day pigs fly.''
`` Hey. You never know.''
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[ WP ] My memory has just been sold .
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“ Well, that about wraps things up. I hope to do business with you again soon ”
I stared at the man in the white suit. He folded his hands across his large gold desk.
“ Business? What are you talking about? ”
The man shrugged. “ Don ’ t worry about it. ” He pointed to a door behind me. “ Just head through there. The lobby ’ s at the end of the hall. The receptionist will sort you out. Good luck with your new life. ”
The lobby was big. It was filled with colors. Blues, greens, yellows. Every color imaginable was there.
I walked over to the counter at the far end of the room. An old lady sat there, a wide smile on her face.
“ Hi… I was told to come here. ”
The old lady reached down a grabbed a gold slip of paper. “ Here you go. Just head through door on your left. The Ferryman will be ready to take you to your new life in a bit. ”
I took the ticket and headed for the door.
I stopped in front of the door and looked back at the old woman. She nodded, the smile never leaving her face. I went through the doors.
I was standing on a dock, a scarlet river all around me. A thick fog prevented me from seeing the other side of the river.
A boat emerged from the fog. It was a small boat. Only a single man was rowing it. The boat stopped beside the dock, and the man waved me over.
“ Only one this time, eh? ” The man held out his hand. “ The name ’ s Charon. I ’ m here to ferry you across the river. ”
I handed him my ticket. He looked the ticket over, before gesturing me to get into the boat. I stepped over the side and sat down on one of the benches.
Charon pushed us off from the dock and slowly guided us across the river.
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[ WP ] Describe your favorite comic book hero like a villain . Do n't reveal his or her name .
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General Turk sat at his desk reviewing the file for one of the world ’ s greatest threats. His assistant Maria stood in the corner with a confused look on her face. Her boss spent hours every day looking for weaknesses and drawing up strategies to bring his opponent down. She had been afraid to even ask what or who could possible demand this level of attention.
Today was the last day she would just ignorantly observe. Today she walked over to the Generals desk and asked her boss to explain his current almost hateful obsession. After only an hour she too hated this monster of a man who wielded a terrifying ability to breach human ’ s mental walls. Maria didn ’ t even want to think about all the potentially horrifying things he could do, wipe memories, control thoughts, and even kill people on a whim. What made things worse he was so powerful he wasn ’ t limited to one person at a time. Records had shown him using his powers on several people simultaneously without effort. Rumors had spread that he had even built devices to enhance his powers, one such device took up an entire room and with it he could easily expand his powers across the entire globe if he concentrated hard enough.
He was as nefariously smart as he was lethal. This scoundrel didn ’ t even hide. Everyone in authority knew where he lived. He even had his name in bronze on the entrance gates to one of the largest properties in Westchester County. What made him difficult to get to was he surrounded himself with children. He built an army of innocent human shields to protect him by appearing to run a boarding house for the “ misunderstood ” young. Simply killing him would be a P.R. nightmare especially considering his obvious physical disability and charitable contributions to the community. Maria knew that power corrupts and this man had power most gods would envy. She figured every good thing he did must be an elaborate farce to make him appear wholesome and noble until he finally enacted some horrible plan.
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[ IP ] Kitchen Stories ...
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It was silent. The kitchen was always silent. It was silent when it was empty and it was silent when the two were there. It's not a bad thing, that's what they both thought as they continued on their current activities giving no attention to nothing else. She would read a book or two, while he would cook or clean. This was the usual daily routine.
Most people would never guess that these two are a couple. The way they minded their own business made it seem like they did n't notice each other. Everyone would them more as roommates than an actual couple. Their jobs required them to be awake at separate times. The man awake in the morning while the woman awake at night. They did n't plan on this kind of setup, but their jobs did n't care about that. The only time they would be together is the 15-30 minutes in the kitchen every morning.
A regular couple would take any free time they had to be with each other. These two however, do n't mind being separate from each other. They never really talked to each other, like other couples do. There was no talks of their moods, feelings, thoughts, and just general topics a couple normally talks about. They never have said `` I Love You'' to each other. The most they would say from time to time is `` Good Morning''.
Even though these two do n't seem to love each other, the truth is completely different. They love each other just like other couples, but even more. It's a special love though, a love that does n't need the other to be close. A love that's strong enough that even though they may be away from each other physically, they're still with each other emotionally. Strong enough that they do n't need to speak to understand the other. They do n't say `` I Love You'' because they do n't need to. Just looking into the other's eyes is the same to them, if not better. That's why every morning when they are in the kitchen together all they do is stare into each others eyes, because that means so much more than any word, phrase, or sentence one can say.
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[ WP ] It was when I died the second time that I realized my mistake .
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No one told me you die twice.
I guess I ca n't complain -- but the situation in Heaven is much the same as on Earth.
We have workers, in cubicles, in offices, in buildings. Lawyers, law-makers, judges and juries. Even have goddamn' food courts, with goddamn' Jamba Juice.
I mean sure, there are more clouds, more gold, more silver... but it gets boring after a while, like the way a new car soon becomes a used car.
In fact, suicide rates are high. I guess when you expect to live forever in a state of eternal bliss and get here... well, you're a little less blissful.
Alright, so I cut myself. Found a way out of my cubicle, in my office, in my building. Away from all the clouds, the gold, the silver.
I was happy for it to end, two lives is plenty if you ask me.
I thought it was over for good, that my life was finished.
It was when I died the second time that I realized my mistake.
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[ WP ] The United States has fully adopted the metric system . Chaos ensues .
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Temporary under secretary of measurement conversion. Worst job ever.
He'd already put in a spam filter on the web page for his department, the football fans complaining that their team sucked now that they had to run another 9 yards. He had gotten one of the interns to program an automatic response that 91.44 meters was stupid. It was his boss's problem to deal with the NFL and the high school logistics, and he did n't envy that one bit.
The bigger issue for him was that he kept buying four liter jugs of milk, and his family was inevitably wasting.05 gallons. No,.22 liters. He could n't let the interns know about that attitude though, they were thrilled that they or their partner's genitals had almost tripled in size, if they ignored the units.
He was getting protest messages saying that they should n't be using kilowatt hours anymore if they were going to arbitrarily switch everyone's units. He did n't know how to answer people that did n't realize something with a metric prefix, and time units, and WATTS were already metric. He answered the first few politely, then left a form message and had the spam filter deal with it. `` Watts are metric. Always have been. Stop emailing me.''
He glanced at the clock. 10:00 am. He gave up and decided to take a twenty minute internet break. He checked the reference sheet. Phew, minutes were still good. About half way through his break, he got a call from his boss to come see him in his office.
He walked over, and his boss looked exhausted and furious. `` Did you send these emails out?'' He turned his screen to show the email about watts he had just written. He nodded. `` You're fired.''
He was n't that disappointed. He'd lasted a week in this job, which was more than the previous five guys. He cleared out his desk and restocked his desk as a senior clerk, they had n't been able to refill his old position. He walked to the parking lot, assuming that being demoted made him get the rest of the day off.
It was cold out, and his tire was flat. He grumbled as he took the manual pump out of the trunk, and stared in confusion at the label on the pump. `` What the heck is a psi?''
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[ WP ] All your life you slaved as a virtually wageless worker in the mines , today you find a gigantic diamond .
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I was in my seventeenth year, I think, when I found it. I went down deeper in the mines that day, deeper than I was told to, trying to get alone for a while. I climbed down the dark ways where the rocky walls haven ’ t even been seen yet, let ‘ lone picked at. It gets chilly down that far, standing in the earth ’ s belly, but I had a fury in me that kept me warm while I dug.
Normal times, I ’ d never have gone so far away from the crew without at least Pite. He was always up for adventuring where we weren ’ t supposed to. We ’ d been through the maze of the rocks a hundred times, and when did get caught we ’ d always played at blaming each other to the foremen. We forged a friendship that way, and that made the toiling seem less. That day though, it was him I was creepin ’ away from down the lonesome tunnels. He ’ d taken to bed a kitchen girl from the mine camp, a girl I ’ d been making friendly with for a spring and half a summer. That rubbed me wrong in a way I couldn ’ t even make sense of.
So there I was with my fury, smashing away at the stone when something gleamy caught my sight. It was too dark to hardly tell what it was, how big or small it might be, but I hacked away, thinking only to fill my quota early and head back to camp to hide in my tent. That ’ s when the bulk of it burst right from the wall, like it was trying to set itself free, and bonked me in the chest as it fell to the ground. I still couldn ’ t see, but I knew by the weight of it that I ’ d found some luck in the rock. I lifted it from the dusty cave floor and held it close to my eye, wondering what I might see with more light.
My curiosity cooled my anger some and I thought to make my path back upward, where the foremen kept their torches bright and some of the sun streamed in from the surface. I ’ d completely forgotten my quarrels by the time I ran into Pite, heading downways to where I ’ d just been.
“ What ’ s *that*? ” he asked me.
“ ‘ Ts ’ a chicken egg, ya dolt. I been keepin ’ a coop down here. ” He smiled, probably glad that I answered him, even if I was being an ass. He took a grip of the stone with a filthy black glove that showed his muddy fingernails through all the tears in the tips.
“ Might make a mighty omelette. ” Pite paused to examine it closer, then looked up with a face like he ’ d just walked in on me with another in my tent, ‘ stead of the other way around. “ This a *diamond*?! ”
“ Biggest diamond I ever saw, ” I answered doubtfully.
“ It ’ s got ta be! ” He held it up as we approach an isolated torch, a little oasis of light on the outskirts of the work sites. With the brightness, what with its glimmering, I started seeing that he might be right. A diamond so big though, that should be worth any man ’ s mining quota for the rest of his life.
“ You gon na be rich as a proprietor, Grant, ” Pite exclaimed.
“ Me? ” I spat back, “ Nah, the proprietor is just gon na be a rich as two proprietors. If I ’ m lucky they ’ ll let me go a week to sleep in the camp all day. Then they ’ ll forget and put a shovel back in my hands. ”
“ You got it wrong, Grant. We have to take this thing out of here someways. If we can sell this on the outside, we could buy the mine ourselves if we wanted to. ”
“ We? You coming with me to my wealth now? ” I quipped.
“ You just gon na hand it over then? Give it to the Caernmen out there who set us to sow our own land and then take the harvest of it? ” He was grave serious about that. He ’ d had a life, I knew, that the Caerns and their armies had taken from him. He never talked much on it, but it made Pite bitter a ’ times.
“ No, ” I answered quietly, “ But we ’ d be fools to carry it past the foremen. Foolish more to make escape from the camp. And fools worst of all going into any town trying to sell the thing. What would the merchants of the empire think of two muddy Tairrish boys, with pick-axes branded on their backs, tryin ’ to barter a diamond the size of a giant ’ s fist. ”
“ We ’ d carry it to a freetown. ”
“ So we ’ d walk a year west, ‘ cross mountains, with nothin ’ but what we can steal from camp and a rock that every roadway cutthroat would slay the both of us to take. ”
“ Well what you plotting we should do with it? ”
“ Nothing, ” I sighed, “ We leave it here. We can ’ t have it, but they can ’ t either. ”
“ That ’ s a shit plan, ” Pite mumbled.
“ Shit plan for a shit friend. ” He punched my shoulder hard, but I knew we ’ d made our peace.
“ You make sense of it though. We could hide it away for now. Some of the back ways we find, where the others don ’ t go. ”
“ Hide it and wait? ”
“ We might be waiting a while, ” he laughed, and he was on the truth of the matter. We did wait a while. Years of a while.
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[ WP ] 'What do you mean , `` There 's oil on Mars '' ? '
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`` What do you mean,'there's oil on Mars?' Are you kidding me?!'' shouted President Barrack Obama.
`` No, sir,'' Dr. Squyres replied. `` The rovers found it. We just have confirmed that it is, in fact, crude oil, just like on Earth. It would burn just like any other oil. I hope this means that we can discuss this with Congress, and they'll increase NASA's budget. If we can land a colony on Mars, they can use the oil as fuel to keep the colony warm. If we burn enough, we'll have greenhouse gases trapping some heat outdoors too.''
Barrack pursed his lips. He did n't like greenhouse gases, or the idea of purposely polluting an environment, but Dr. Squyres' point made enough sense to him. `` Alright, but do n't let the press in on it just yet. Thank you Steven.''
A few days later, Congress began to discuss the red planet's newly-discovered resource. The Democrats were very excited about the scientific advancement of mankind, finally becoming a race to live on more than one world. The Republicans, however, had some different ideas.
Six months later, the Martian colonists struck oil. Most of the colonized surface became oil fields. Big Oil compaines were sending their foremen over, and investing in designing and building space-tankers. Elon Musk suggested building solar farms on the Martian surface instead, but he was quickly silenced, being sternly reminded that the government only employed him for his spaceships.
In the year 2021, the first McDonalds was erected on Mars. And the tenth. And the ninety-fifth. Space-tankers launched daily, connecting with giant orbital storage facilities, which would later be towed to Earth's orbit by space-barges. Earth's climate change problem was n't getting any better, but civilization on Mars was thriving due to the Martian economy.
In the year 2033, Oil companies began annexing parts of Mars as their own territories. Soon, the greed broke out into skirmishes between them, eerily reminiscent of the strategy game Warfare, Inc. The career of being a private guard on Mars for BP became more profitable than being a surgeon on Earth. Mars was now beginning to experience climate change on levels that threatened humankind.
By the year 2054, Marathon Petroleum, Shell Oil, and BP held more power than most spacefaring nations combined. Their greedy CEOs wanted to keep the money and resources for themselves - they had become more like governors at this point, their territories were more like countries. The United States and the European Union joined forces in attempting to reclaim the oil from the Martian settlers. However, Big Oil had the monetary advantage. Hiring the best scientific minds and mercenaries money could buy, they assassinated many world leaders, and turned Earth's moon into a weapon.
In the summer of 2056, giant rocket boosters thrust the moon into the Earth, decimating its living population. Major corporations had secretly moved their most important staff to Mars in preparation for the event. A desperate, last-minute volley of nuclear missiles made its way toward Mars, but they missed, as they were not designed for long, sustained spaceflight.
Mars became the new home of humanity, and the last remaining humans were slaves to their own greed and carelessness.
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[ WP ] I sat alone in a small room at a desk , a room I would never leave as the outside world had ceased to exist .
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( *Tick, tock. * )
Inhale, exhale. Breathe.
( *Tick, tock. * )
The smooth wooden surface of the desk is familiar under your fingers as you run an absent hand along its grain.
( *Tick, tock. * )
Of course it is. The desk is pine, four by two feet, and has been here for as long as you have. That much, you know.
*How* long, exactly, it has been – that you do not know, not in any absolute terms. Long enough, certainly, that the act of running your hand across it has become more than habit.
Of course, when the only entities left in the apparent universe are you, it, and the surrounding room, that does n't take very long at all, you can not help but think.
You close your eyes, and try to make the door visible at the edge of your vision go away.
( *Tick, tock. Tick, tock. * )
You have tried to leave. Of *course* you have.
The door is white brushed oak – no, gleaming polished mahogany – *no* –
( *Tick, tock. * )
Here is your list of facts, your reality:
The desk is pine, four by two feet, and has been here for as long as you have. You are unsure how long it has been. The door flickers constantly out the corner of your eye, always, *always* just out of reach. You can not leave. You have tried. You have tried, but you can not leave, you * can not * –
Inhale, exhale. Breathe, you tell yourself, breathe.
Why does the air never run out, you try not to think. The thought crosses your mind anyway, why, why, *why. *
( *Tick, tock. * )
The desk remains solid and unyielding under your fingers. A fact, you think, running your hand across it.
Here is another fact: you think you might go mad.
And another: you think you might already have.
And the last: that changes nothing.
( *Tick*– )
The desk is pine, four by two feet, and
and you have *tried*, but
you
can not
*leave. *
You close your eyes.
( –*tock. * )
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[ WP ] `` You ... it 's been a long time . ''
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I set foot into a room filled with about a dozen men, all engaged with another.
`` You... it's been a long time'', said one man from across the room. He stood wiping his blade with a piece of spare cloth. I did not recognize this man, but he knew me, everyone here did; I was a reguar.
Fallen organic matter covered the floor of the room. The sounds of slicing and snipping and the strong smell of chemicals overwhelmed my senses. Everywhere I looked, pairs were engaged; locked in an encounter lasting minutes, sometimes hours.
`` Indeed it has'', I said as I started walking forward.
To my left, a man lay passive on a reclining chair. The man had foam running down his mouth, chin, and neck. His pair brought a blade to his throat. I looked away.
Over at my right, A man flinched ever so slightly as another man grazed his scalp. Parts of his hair fell unto the floor. I ran a finger through a scar on the base of my skull near my neck, and continued walking.
As blades sliced and men faced men, I was filled with anxiety and dread. We had set this appointment to meet again days ago, but I still got nervous. Or perhaps, I was excited.
I quickly glanced backwards to see a man leaving through the door I came in. After every encounter held here, only one man ever comes out the door at a time. I turned away and faced my pair. I was finally ready, and I can tell he was eager.
`` How shall we do this then? ``, he asked lightheartedly while setting down his wiping cloth.
I stood there, considering. I thought over everything before stating a decision.
`` Just a bit off the sides and back.''
With that, the barber sat me down and got to work.
__________
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