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[ WP ] The reason why mankind has never discovered intelligent extraterrestial life is that they were the first intelligent species to arise in the young Milky way galaxy . Fast forward a few million years - you are an alien historian writing about this ancient species that had once sailed the stars	-- partial audio log transcript entry - auto translated by the local information server node. -- Yes today we stand at the heart of what was one a proud and mighty civilization. we call them the progenitors for reasons i will get into later. this system, that they called sirius, was one the seat of their government. one billions of worlds were their home, now only dust remains. ... yes this is not where they came from, but you know as well as i do that that star system was destroyed in one of their wars. ... yes, that's not just a story, they had incredible devices that cold mine plasma from the very stars themselves. unfortunately a faction dedicated years of research to converting that wondrous machine into a weapon. the ultimate weapon. imagine, my friend, if you could destroy a star system with one missile. at the height of that war, they had capital class star ships loaded with a compliment of ten such missiles each.. there are many asteroid fields in the Orion sector, where the fighting was particularly intense that used to be multi planet star systems. the death toll of that was was enormous, trillions. there were two sides to that war, and we are not really sure what the war was about, but the side that based itself on their home world, i think its name means dirt, were driven back from the stars by the other faction and destroyed with thier star. we could relics of that war all over the Orion sector, as you can clearly see in the journals of the jumper pilots who first found the more famous ones. oh, yes, well, the progenitors spent many centuries rebuilding after that conflict, and they turned their attentions to the fact that they were truly alone in the galaxy. they mastered their own genome and modified it, to create companion races, based on thier own myths, and their own needs. they created us first, and monitored our progress with orbiting satellites. the great fire in the sky of 856 before contact was referenced in their station's logs as an automated system destroying asteroids that would have destroyed us. they left us relics that, once we figured out what they were, could, and did, show us the path to the stars, and the younger races. we found the great lattice, and from their artifacts, the lattice, lead us to those that the progenitors called halflings, dryads, nymphs, trolls, and many others. each race in our galactic commenality has been given lore, and a single artifact. they left a puzzle that we could only solve togeather. the halflings say it might lead to great treasure, the trolls say it might lead to a cache of star killing weapons, and as you know, our own stories say it might lead to a hidden sactuary where the progenitors might yet live, some how removed from time. I personally like our myths much better then theirs, because if w could meet even one of them, imagine what we could learn! did you bring the speaking stone? good, the assembling summit is going to commence soon
[ WP ] There is a demon that lives in the corner of your eye , which only you can see , and all it does is stare at you .	It all started after the accident. The nurses thought I was seeing something out the window and for a while that was all I thought it was. I could see it just out of the corner of my eye, that unsure image always just a little too far to see. As the days passed on, I was eventually released and still it persisted, taunting me to look but never see. It was putting me on edge always feeling like something was beside me only to look and be proved wrong. soon I was shaken, constantly reaffirming that my senses were in conflict with each other, I began to distrust myself. The doctors said besides the memory loss that the body had healed and my concussion was gone. The tests showed that I had better then 20/20 vision, which had helped show that I was not at fault, so why do I still see this? A year has past and my life with it. I ca n't think or focus without this distraction taking precedence. I ca n't sleep, My wife has left me saying I'm too distant, lost my job due to decreasing performance, but none of it seems to matter compared to this thing I ca n't even see! Even though I accepted nothing is beside me it still feels like there is a presence there, staring at me. It just seems so familiar, that tip of the tongue feeling that wo n't go away, eating at you until you have the answer. But the answer never comes and the feeling never goes away. Over time the presence in the corner resembled a face, indistinguishable features, except for the eyes, those familiar piercing eyes. has to be some kind of hallucination of my mind to justify the feeling of a presence always there. I am now lost. No other thought will come to this obsessed mind and the only one I want, I will never reach. Those piercing eyes have cut out any value within, I have lost all hope. The only escape left, I sit down, open the drawer. I remove the gun and place the barrel in my mouth, ready to be free. It is then that I see those eyes so clearly, those piercing eyes, of the little boy in front of my speeding car. I drop the useless gun and weep for I know that I am already in hell. ( this is my first time writing on here and anything like this. comments or tips welcome ) ( edit: did n't know how to paragraph on here )
[ WP ] Temporal Makeover Inc ( TMI ) is a company that will - for the right price - modify any action or decision you made in the past 7 days provided the change complies with strictly regulated industry rules . Sometimes though , rules were meant to be broken .	`` What do you mean I ca n't un-kill somebody?'' I said incredulously, `` What's the point of a temporal makeover - or whatever the fuck you call it - if you ca n't undo a death?'' `` I'm sorry sir,'' said the woman behind the counter with sterile indifference, `` it's just our policy. There's no cooling-off period for inflicting death.'' `` Oh, this is bullshit.'' I stamped my foot. `` I understand your frustration sir, but it's our policy.'' `` So you're telling me there's nothing you can do?'' `` Oh, I never said that.'' Suddenly, the woman's tone softened, suggestively. I understood. She's bargaining. I'm supposed to bribe her.'Shit,' I thought to myself,'I've never been good at negotiating.' I tried my best to make a cool guy face, like James Dean or young Elvis, but my hands were shaking violently. They'd been shaking for the better part of the week, ever since I saw that bullet, my bullet, rip another man's face apart. I took out my wallet and pulled out a stack of bills. I did n't even count them, I just slid them across the counter. `` Does this help?'' I said. The woman did n't say anything, she just smirked and took my cash off of the counter. She pulled out a clipboard and handed me a pen. `` Initial here, here and here, and sign at the bottom.'' I was ushered back into a room that looked a lot like a dentist's office. Even the equipment looked as though it should be used for oral surgery: a stiff, form-fitting chair and what looked like an x-ray machine, only bigger. A woman in a white lab coat came into the room, holding the clipboard I'd filled out earlier. `` You're absolutely certain about the date and time of the incident in question?'' She asked. `` Positive,'' I said. How could I forget? The moment had been replaying in my mind every waking second for the past week. `` You must be absolutely certain. You only had enough money for one shot at this, there will be no do-overs.'' `` Lady, I've never been as certain of anything in my life.'' `` Okay,'' she said, `` let's get started. Here's how it works, you will be entering a two-state quantum system. Do you know what that is?'' My blank stare was all the answer she needed. `` For the next 10 minutes, you will exist in two states simultaneously. You will be here and at the incident in question. You will be able to see both states simultaneously. You will be able to move in both states as well, which is why we strap you to the chair. It makes it simpler for you if your movements are restricted here. It takes a couple minutes to get accustomed to bi-state existence, but everybody gets the hang of it pretty quickly.'' `` Ok.'' `` We have to warn you,'' she continued, `` we ca n't be responsible for any changes in your present due to alterations of your recent past.'' `` I understand,'' I said, `` I'm ready.'' Without another word she pressed a button on the wall. The thing that looked like an x-ray machine began to spin around my head. Slowly at first, before gaining momentum until it reached a blistering speed. Blue light started to emit from the device, streaking behind it as it passed my face. Soon, all I could see was blue light. Shapes emerged from the light. I began to recognize them: a dusty road, a row of ramshackle houses, the white hot summer sun. I could hear noises, too: the syncopated popping of machine gun fire, screaming, the squawk of my earpiece radio. I was in the dentist's chair still, but I was also back in Fallujah, back in the cacophony of war. I crouched behind a pile of rubble, giant chunks of concrete and brick. I waited. I knew what would happen next. Bullets hissed above my head. I was scared again. Even though I knew how it would end this time, I was petrified. My legs felt numb and tingly, my arms felt light from adrenaline. I heard him call to his friends. I knew he would stick his head out from the doorway. I knew he would be there. All I have to do is pop up, stick my head above the rubble and shoot. But I do n't. Instead, I wait. There has to be another option.
[ WP ] The Walking Dead is actually a bunch of kids playing zombies , every time someone `` dies '' its actually their mom and dad calling them to come inside for dinner , homework , etc . Write about a character death from this perspective	I dashed forwards, stumbling a bit on the uneven terrain, my head swinging from side to side as I tried in vain to find decent shelter. The patch of woods I was taking refuge in was quickly becoming overrun. To my left, nothing but increasingly deeper forest that I automatically shied away from. I could n't quite recall who had issued the warning of that place, but if I fled there and it was worse, I could die. I really did not want to die. To my right, I could see a cluster of worn roofs above the treeline, rows of abandoned suburban households. Why I had n't run for one of those and barricaded myself inside, I could n't say. Perhaps the horror stories of survivors I met, who spoke of friends entering one of those seemingly normal houses and never returning. There were a lot of tales like those, enough that I instinctively avoided the welcoming facades. Which was why I was darting from tree trunk to tree trunk, pack thumping my back with each pounding step. It was just my luck that when I could hear those chilling moans and groans closing in on me, I found myself in a grove of the tallest trees imaginable. Now, I was not a short man, but the lowest hanging branches were a good three feet above my head. And so my favourite method of avoiding the climbing-challenged walkers, by which I took refuge as high in the creaking branches as I dared, was looking hopeless. I ducked behind a wide trunk as I heard a loud snap echo through the grove. The sound of an uncaring foot trodding on a thin twig. But the chilling part was that it was only a few feet away. Desperate, I jerked my head up to scan above me, hoping that this time, my luck would continue to hold and I would find nirvana in that one branch I could grasp with one lucky jump. I stifled a gasp as I saw it, just slightly to my right. It was only two or so feet higher than me, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could reach it. The walkers drew ever closer. They did n't know I was here, yet, but the moans of the twig-snapper were just on the other side of my hiding place. I needed to be quick. I bounced on the balls of my feet slightly, checking the grip of my worn trainers, that I had good placement. Then I bent my knees, ready to spring.. `` Jake!'' The sound of my name echoing throughout the woods ( who the heck knew my name around these parts, anyways?! ) shocked me enough that I botched my leap, missing by a good foot and scrabbling at the bark fruitlessly. Suddenly there was a moan right behind my heaving shoulders, and before I could even move, I was seized roughly by clutching hands. My luck had run out.. As I lay on my back, I caught a glimpse of bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. What business did they have calling my name and getting me killed on such a beautiful day, I thought. Then I died.
[ WP ] A man dies and turns into both a ghost and a zombie . His ghost-self and his zombie-self have a conversation .	Ghost: So like, youre a zombie now? Zombie: yup. And youre a Ghost? Ghost: Yup. Wan na go do stuff? Zombie: Sure. Like what? Ghost: Well theres this pretty cool Halloween party I saw a flier for. We could do that? Zombie: ummm... Ok. But since Im a zombie I have like skin and stuff falling off my face. And its getting pretty stinky. Ghost: No, its cool. People will expect it. Theyll just say your `` costume'' is really good! Zombie: hmm... Okay. Lets go! later that night OH GOD HELP US! HE KILLED BRENDA! OH GOD HES EATING HER FACE!! Ghost: Dude, I just said talk to chics, not eat their face. Now everyone is pissed and running away. Zombie: mmm... crunch chew... yea well, she shouldnt have asked to see my `` makeup'' so close. Ghost: Well. Fuck. Lets just get out of here. Zombie: chew tear crunch Okay... this party blows anyway FIN
[ WP ] You granted a superpower of your own choice , but you flub your wording during the wish , and results in the worst possible superpower .	Much like those fantasy comics I grew up reading, my incredible story is too impossible to believe. But, when the alien ship crash landed, and I tried to rescue the captain, he explained to me he was able to use his powers to make any wish he wanted come true. And that was how he was able to talk to me. As he lay dying, he told me it was up to me to save my planet, as he was now unable to complete his mission. All I needed was to tell him what I needed to fight of the impending intergalactic threat until more of his people could arrive to save us. I knew what I needed, and it was almost too perfect as I saw myself soaring through the clouds, fighting incredible battles and saving all the people below. I was going to be a hero. I was going to be famous. I was going to get laid! It must have been my rush to get the words out. Or, perhaps, Mr. Wish-alien did n't pick the right accent when he learned English. But, 2 days later, as the alien force was entering the Earths atmosphere, I put my powers to work, hoping to steer the aliens away. I hoofed it up to the ship to engage the enemy. All I could see was red as I began the fight. I keep chewing on it over and over again in my mind, how could that stupid alien dooo this to me? Somehow, I was able to drive them back until help arrived. I was branded a hero! And as the aliens arrived on the capital to meet with the president and myself, the leader wished to be able to talk to us. Their leader asked me how such an earth creature as myself was able to save the planet. 'Look' I said'I just wanted to be able to fly.'
[ WP ] TIL that the opposite of Paranoia is Pronia , wherein one believes that the universe and the world is conspiring to help them . Write a story about one such person with an extreme case of Pronia .	`` Because I know the truth.'' Sammy's hands folded together atop the cold slated table, calm and collect. He felt the warm colored sun, blasted through the window behind him, ensconce the back of his neck with a nubile, ancient warmth. `` You do Sammy? Then tell us, Sammy. Tell us the truth.'' `` Your condescension aside, that I will forgive by pardon someday, the truth is that I am The Prince of the World.'' Sammy felt his neck. It was hot and getting hotter. `` Can you close the blinds? The sun is killing me.'' `` Sammy, there is no window there.'' Sammy looks up at the interviewer. He blinks. He turns his head slowly, and sees only a brick wall. Sammy smiles. What they did n't see was Sammy was smart. So much so that what he was to say next would entertain him on so many levels, yet leave the plebeians speechless in ignorance. `` Well, I am too much in the sun.'' `` Yes Sammy,'' bellowed a voice from above. It scratched through the walls like a bulldozing megaphone. `` Hamlet. You are too much in the sun, and while at the same time you are too much the Prince, the son of the King.'' Sammy stood from the table, his attention spiked. `` Yes! You know. You understand... Who... Is this?'' `` It's doctor Showalter. The police asked me to come here. They asked because they want to help you, not hurt you.'' `` Well I know that. And I also know I'm never in any real trouble. These are all just planned episodes to make me feel normal. Feel welcome. Feel like a real human feels. Like at the Post Office, when I'm late for my route, the boss yells at me to make me feel how someone who really had that job would feel. You're all helping me see what's it's like to be normal, and for that I thank you.'' “ Sammy? ” Boomed the voice. “ Yes? ” “ Sammy, look at your left leg. ” Sammy pulled up his blue polyester pants and his fingernail scathed a bumpy sore. Sammy winced, then saw the sore. Flesh was ripped. Blood ran. Teeth marks. “ You were bitten by a dog Sammy. ” “ Yes, I remember, I remember! But I never hurt the dog. I never hurt anything. ” “ No one here is accusing you of hurting the dog. But the dog ’ s owner- “ “ Oh! Yes! Poor Yorin; I know him well! ” Sammy exhaled deeply; his tonsils rasped out a hiss. Then he breathed in and laughed hysterically. “ Yorin. A dear friend; but such a terrible actor. I never once took his death rattle for authentic. ”
[ WP ] Children are completely immortal until they hit puberty .	I envy other fathers. I truly do, they watch their children grow, smelling their sons heads when they're born, playing games and teaching them to avoid trouble from their mothers. none of them dealt with the sadness of a child dying, or being worried about whether they would be able to watch the light of their lives grow up. Children are bulletproof, they are unkillable, beautiful and young and fearless. No one knows why, everyone remembers the fearlessness of youth. Up until the boys voices begin to drop, and the girls begin to distance themselves from their mothers they can not be killed, hardly able even to hurt themselves, but it was rare for a serious injury to happen and it was never permanent. Maybe an angel watches children, I honestly do n't know. The problem with being essentially immortal and impervious to danger is that no one knows when it ends exactly. Sure puberty is usually the cut-off, but that strikes at a different time for each and every child. The immortality brings a sort of arrogance with it, it never quite leaves. I remember when I was perhaps 8 years old, playing with friends as children do in the canyon just outside town. A small stream runs through the bottom of the canyon, though the dirt walls rose well above where the water reached, my father told me that when he was a boy the walls were not near that steep, I do n't know what to make of that. I was with two boys, one my younger brother Darryl, the other Thom, a year or two older than me. We made a game of leaping from the old dead sycamore trunk that jutted about a meter out from the top of one of the banks, into the stream below. Sure it may seem dangerous to an adult but to us children, it was exhilarating. To leap from that height laughing at death and landing gracelessly in the cool water, solid on our feet in the river soil, rocks brushing off the skin beneath our feet. Great sport back in that day. A few weeks later Thom landed the same as he always had, feet first, only this time his legs broke through his kneecaps and on through his chest. He was only around 10 then, no one had thought he was old enough, but apparently that was his time to go. These are old memories now, I had learned from Thom's accident and lost all of my youthful pride and arrogance a few moments after he had landed a few feet away from me. I turned my gaze from reverie to my son who lay on a bed at the far end of the small room. His fourth birthday had passed last week without party or his seeming to notice, though i had gotten us both party hats and given him some cake, he was only able to eat a mouthful or two but he had smiled, rare for him. I ca n't blame him, I'd blame me. I do blame me, or god or the devil or anyone. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, shining lazily on my poor son. His form twisted and bent, his breath agony, his heart constantly failing. His mother had died in childbirth leaving behind my beautiful boy. Whatever angel watched over children apparently did not take notice of them until they saw light for the first. My son would be in agony until puberty when death finally took him, it would be a blessing to him. I do n't know why he had n't healed, most injuries did, I suppose those had to be after birth as well. My eyes misted. I love my son but this immortality was too cruel. I hope he does not have to suffer long.
[ WP ] A young girl has a pageant , but before that , she needs to go to the dentist to get a single tooth pulled . Her dentist gives her an evil grin and proceeds to pull out all of her teeth just 30 minutes before the pageant ...	The dentist gave her a lollypop, and she was content to sit and lick it for hours, but knew she had little time to do so. Her pageant was not too far away - and she was going to make mommy proud. The dentist sat her in her chair and told her to lean back. As he turned on the lights in the chair, it cast a large shadow of him on the wall. He grabbed a cheek retractor and asked Kamala to open wide. As the instrument stretched her mouth open, his instruments started whirring to life. The strange cacophony of sounds was almost operatic, and had a sinister motif. Dr.Jones leaned over her and reflected two bright spots on her face. One from his head mirror, and one from the shiny golden tooth just right of his first left incisor. `` It'll all be over soon''. The doctor loaded up his syringe, and Kamala could see from the corner of his eye as he forced the bubbles out, and one or two drops of the silver concoction inside dripped to the floor. Unexpectedly she felt a jab in her arm, and her eyes widened in terror, but between the fear, the contraption holding her cheeks open, and the assistant holding her tongue down, she tried to scream but only managed the loudest silence she had ever heard. Was the assistant always there? The morphine crept through her veins, and she could n't even grip the handle of the chair. Everything went numb, but it was no comfort as she could n't tell what was happening to her - except for a vague feeling of her mouth getting progressively emptier and her gums suddenly losing grip on something. What was happening? She could hear, however - and heard a clinking sound, and another and another. The sound of something hard hitting metal. Almost like clockwork. She was drooling, but the vacuum kept her mouth dry, but yet a tiny trickle of blood stained her pretty dress, and blotted a macabre pattern. It was to go so well with her pretty floral bonnet. Suddenly the whirring stopped, and her restraints became undone one by one - the tongue depressor, the cheek restraint, and the chillingly gentle hand on her shoulder which had kept her pinned to the chair. The vacuum cleaned up, and there was a small dab at the ends of her mouth to tidy up her dried up saliva and the strange smelling powder dentists always use. The doctor gave her a sip of water, and it washed over her gums as she swallowed the horror of what had just happened to her. The doctor then held up a mirror to her face - which was now swollen to half the size of a bowling ball and had her lips collapsed inwards, leaned closer and said `` No girl who schedules an appointment a half hour before her pageant is going to beat my darling dixie dear daughter at the derby''.
[ WP ] An unnamed henchmen has the audacity to murder the protagonist halfway through the villain 's monologue with a complete disregard for the plot .	Everything was going to plan. Victory was in my reach. SkyMan was strapped into the chair, while the laser, red and all, slowly moved up the floor until the hero would meet his doom. I was finishing the last lines of my monologue. One I ’ ve been preparing for a long time. “... because as long as there ’ s you... There will always be me. ” Cue evil laugh “ Mwahahahahaha!... But now it seems, there will soon be no need for me. Will there? ” “ You ’ ll never get me, GroundMan! Justice is unbendable, unbreakable... ” “ Laserproof? Mwahahahaha! ” Yes, I ’ ve finally got him. This is it the moment has arrived. I will own the city, I will control the minds of the citizens, I will have my revenge. The Door to my right burst open. Organ, my human servant, stumbles through, shotgun in hand. Oh yes... Now a witness to take view of my victory. “ Organ, here to see my victory., ehh? ” But instead of responding like he usually does, he ran right up to SkyMan and shot him in the face. He shot him in the face. He just walked right up and shot him in the face. In the face, SkyMan was shot by Organ. I couldn ’ t believe it. SkyMan ’ s body, what was left of it, slumped over. “ Organ! What the fuck are you doing!? ” “ I got him, Master! ” “ I ’ m aware, Organ! Did you not see me in the room. ” “ I did, Master. Are you proud of me? ” A stupid grin was on Organ ’ s stupid face. “ No! I ’ m Not! Did you also fail to see the harness SkyMan was in? ” “ Ha- harness? ” I was wrong before. This is when my revenge starts. “ Let me guess. You also didn ’ t hear my monologue did you? “ I ’ m- I ’ m sorry ma- ” “ Did you also not see the laser? That was going to kill SkyMan. ” Organ ’ s grin quickly turned to a frown, then fear. “ No, you clearly had no idea of what you were doing. Did you? ” “ Master, I- I didn ’ t know... ” “ No. You didn ’ t, did you. You never know. Anything. Ever. You call me master like you willingly serve me. No, Organ, you should call me God if anything. I created you. You are nothing without me. Without me, you are an abomination wandering the Earth aimlessly, escaping one shunning to the next. ” I realized that this is my true monologue. “ I gave you shelter, food, a chance to serve under a conqueror. And what do you do to me? ” Organ was crying now, hiding under his hands. “ Wh- What? ” “ You take my ultimate victory from me. Because you didn ’ t know. ”
[ EU ] Start with something that screams terrible fan fiction but have the story get better and better as it progresses	`` No... no no no no, please hold on, please be ok'' whimpers Eddy; as Nazz, riddled in bullet holes, dies in his arms. He stays there on his knees, until a limp, lifeless body is all he holds. The soldiers, meant to protect them from the impending undead apocalypse, has just killed an innocent that Eddy holds most dear. 20 years later Eddy, a now middle aged man, has come to terms with the ways of living in his dystopian era. Following the rules, working for the greater good of his colony, and NEVER leaving the cul-de-sac, unless absolutely necessary. His long time friend, Edd, or Double-D as he's more commonly known as, are tasked to find a black market jawbreaker dealer known as Kevin. Kevin was easily tracked down by the two expert smugglers, but they started for themselves a wild goose chase on their hunt. `` You dorks! Always messing with my stuff!'' Kevin yelled before his explanation. `` I do n't have any jawbreakers here, I gave them to the Kanker sisters!'' `` Kankers!?'' the two retorted, surprised with Kevin's decision. The Kanker's had a bad reputation in the cul-de-sac the quarantine zone surrounded. They were a rebel faction, a rotten bunch that should not be taken lightly. `` That's it, you're toast!'' The only sound followed by Eddy's remark was a loud bang, then complete silence. The two follow up on Kevin's story by finding the Kanker sisters, hidden deep within the trailer park. `` Well, well, well, look what we have here girls! A group of handsome smugglers; maybe we can work out a deal over a smooch!'' Marie Kanker was the leader of the sisters, and never keeps her affection for Eddy subtle. `` Why do n't you just hand over the jawbreakers, or you can join Kevin.'' Eddy replied with rage in his eyes, as he promptly cocked his pistol. `` Whoa whoa now, no need to get any ideas!'' Marie pleaded, trying to reason with Eddy, `` How about we double the jawbreakers, in exchange for a little favor.'' `` DOUBLE!!'' the scavengers exclaimed, gazing wide-eyed at each other in excitement. Double-D quickly came back to reality, and asked `` Wait a minute, what exactly do you want from us?'' `` Hahaha, we want you to take this big lug over to our cousins outside the park!'' Replied May. She was of the least intelligence in the room, but a Kanker just the same. `` Yeah, and maybe when you get back we can renegotiate that smooch!'' Lee, the third Kanker, was just as demanding of Double-D's love as Marie is of Eddy. `` Let's get this squared out first sis!'' demanded Marie. `` Bring in the big guy!'' She ordered to May. The bone headed sister rolled in a large wagon, carrying a cage with a red curtain draped over it. The sound of gnawing and yelling of gibberish sounds echoed in the room, leaving Eddy and Double-D shaking in their boots, utterly frightened by what might be inside. `` Hit it May!'' Marie yelled out, as her sister began pulling the cover. The contents of the cage turned the traveler's fear to confusion, as they saw a large man, about their same age, in nothing but underwear eating a cheeseburger. `` Hiya guys!'' the gargantuan exclaimed. `` My name is Ed, do you have any food?'' `` That's what you want us to haul off, an overgrown baby that eats like an elephant!?'' Eddy screamed. The sheer hatred coming from him was enough to bring Ed to tears. As the oaf began to bawl, May tried comforting him. `` Oh Big Ed, come here and let me make it better'' she cooed. `` NOOOOO!!'' he shouted in refusal. `` Kankers are bad for Ed!'' `` We'd be happy to do it ourselves'' Marie started `` but you can see he does n't take very kindly to us. Why do n't you take him off our hands and off to where he needs to be.'' `` Wait a minute,'' Eddy retorted `` what makes this idiot so special, that you want us to take him off your hands? And for double the jawbreakers you have there?'' Marie replied with a stern look on her face. `` This dummy is the cream of the crop, everything the world's needed since this outbreak started! I've seen him go toe to toe with those things out there, and not even flinch at a bite. Eddy, this is it; Ed here is the cure!'' cut to black THE LAST OF ED
[ WP ] `` Thanks for helping with my car , stranger , if you need anything , and I mean anything , call me '' . Its time to call in a favor .	`` Hi, this is Kevin calling for Mike. I helped you out with your flat tire the other week, and I need that favor you promised me.'' That's the message that was left on my machine when I got home from work, along with a number where he could be reached. My day at work had dragged on and on; issues with a new client. I was exhausted, and honestly did this Kevin really have no one else he could ask for help? I decided to ignore the message. He did seem like a nice guy, I reminisced as a made myself dinner. I'd blown out a tire on the freeway and had almost skidded off the shoulder after losing control of my vehicle. I managed to come to a halt before careening into the drainage ditch, and after making sure my car was completely off the road I got out to check the damage. As other cars flew by me, their drivers supremely unconcerned about my predicament, an old grey station wagon pulled up behind me. It had definitely seen better days; the hood was pockmarked with patches of rust, the windshield had cracked, the front bumper was held on with what looked like bailing wire, and the volume of the exhaust told me the muffler had fallen off and never been replaced. The driver's door opened, and a man stepped out. His appearance was quite contrary to that of his vehicle; where his car was tattered and well-worn, this man might have just stepped out of a tailor's shop. He wore a well-fitted suit over impeccably shined shoes. His thick rimmed glasses accentuated his eyes, and not a single hair was out of place. He walked up to me, standing at the front of my car, and looked down at the warped metal and shredded rubber that used to be my front wheel. `` That was some swerve you made there. I thought you were going to end up in the ditch for sure.'' `` As did I. My heart's still pounding. I'm Mike, by the way.'' `` Kevin. I suppose you've got a jack and a wrench to put the spare on?' `` I do n't, actually. I'll have to call for a tow.'' `` Do n't bother. I've got tools in my trunk.'' He walked around his car, fiddled in the back for a moment, and returned with the necessary tools. He set the jack on the ground and started to kneel next to it. `` Please, let me. I'd hate for you to ruin your suit.'' `` No worries. I've got more.'' He then proceeded to change my tire for me, while I just stood and watched. Every time I attempted to help he rebuffed my advances. In a few minutes, he was finished and his tools were put away. I followed him to his care to thank him. `` Here's my number. If I can ever repay you somehow, just let me know.'' I shook his hand, and turned to walk back to my car. That's when I saw it. In the back seat of his beaten up station wagon, under a pile of old clothes and discarded fast food wrappers, a strange box. At first I was n't sure why it caught my eye; there was nothing overly remarkable about it's appearance. A black box, made from some kind of metal, roughly the size of a small briefcase. Then I realized what was odd: although covered almost completely in clutter and debris, the box did n't seem to have a speck of dust on it. Every inch i could see was as polished as the man's shoes. Strange, I thought, but none of my business, so I returned to my car, gave him one final wave of thanks in the rearview, and went on with my day. That had been two weeks ago. True, I had told him to call upon me should he ever need a favor, but that was more a gesture of thanks than an actual invitation. Plus this new client was already making my life hell. No, I decided as I cleaned up after my meal and got ready for bed, I would not call him back. I would n't have any free time until the end of the month anyway, and by that point, I reasoned, he probably wo n't need my help anymore. With my decision made, my thoughts drifted back to work and i fell into a fitful sleep. When my alarm went off the next morning, it felt as though i had barely blinked. It screamed through the darkness, and though I squeezed my eyes closed in an attempt to avoid it, it refused to relent, even after I fumbled blindly for the clock on my bedside table to turn it off. Wait, I thought, that's not my alarm. It was my phone ringing. I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. 4:45am. Who the hell is calling me at this hour? I picked up my phone and saw it was an unknown number. I sent the call to voicemail and rolled over, trying to get back to sleep. Immediately my phone started ringing again. The same unknown number. I answered it. `` Mm, hello?'' `` Good morning, Mike. I'm glad i reached you.'' `` Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is?'' `` It's time to get moving Mike. You did n't return my call last night, and I need a favor from you.'' Oh, it was the man from a couple weeks ago. In my grogginess i struggled to recall his name. `` Oh, yes, sorry Kenneth. I had a bad day at work, did n't get home until late. I was going to call you; I really do n't have the time to help you with anything int he near future. Perhaps in a few weeks-'' `` It's Kevin,'' he cut me off, `` and I need this favor done today. I'm parked in the street. I'll give you fifteen minutes to get dressed and down here or else I'm coming in there.'' I was fully awake at this point. `` Listen, Kevin, I do n't know who you think you are-'' `` That's right. You do n't know me. Let me tell you about myself. I'm not someone you want to cross, Mike. You do n't want to find yourself on my bad side. So get dressed and come on out to the car. You've got thirteen minutes.'' And the line went dead. Who the fuck was this guy? I rolled out of bed and crept to the window. Sure enough, the ratty old station wagon was parked at the curb. The driver raised a hand and waved to me. Alright, I told myself, just go down there and explain that you ca n't help him today. I got dressed and walked out to the car. As I approached it Kevin leaned over and opened the passenger door. He was dressed exactly the same as the first time I had met him. `` Get in.'' `` Listen man, I really ca n't help you today. I've got meetings scheduled all day and my boss is really up my ass right now. Maybe this weekend? I might a few hours on Saturday-'' He lifted the hem of his jacket to reveal a glint of silver in his waistband. Kevin had a gun. `` Get in,'' he repeated. My mind seemed to stop working, numbed by the sight of the weapon. I slowly obeyed, my brain to terrified to tell my body to do anything but comply with his request. As I sat and closed the door, I noticed that while all of the debris had been cleaned out of the car, the mysterious black box had not moved. Kevin pulled away from the curve and sped down the road. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He pressed the phone to his ear. `` We're on our way,'' he said into the phone, then hung up. We drove for almost two hours. Kevin did n't seem interested in idle chit-chat, and I was still too scared and nervous to start any kind of conversation. Wild scenarios were running through my head, taking shape fleetingly then dissolving only to be replaced by another, each more terrifying than the last. I took in very little detail of our journey, other than to notice we seemed to have left the city and were now in the country, driving on roads than ran through vast empty fields, freshly tilled and ready for planting. The sun had risen by the time we reached our destination; it shone bright over the old ranch house that Kevin parked near. Although I could tell the house had been around for several decades, it was well maintained. No peeling paint, a roof that looked fairly new, and clean windows with the blinds drawn on the inside. `` Alright,'' said Kevin, opening his door and stepping out into the chilly morning, `` just follow my lead.'' He walked to the back of the car and removed two shovels from the trunk, which he handed to me. He then went and retrieved the black box from the back seat. I followed him to the front door. He knocked, and I saw one of the blinds twitch in a window next to the door. The lock turned, and an elderly lady opened the door with a stern look on her face. `` You're late,'' she scowled. Kevin leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. `` Sorry ma, this is my friend Mike. He's here to give me a hand, but it took him a little while to get going this morning. Where do you want them?'' `` You can put them around back with the others. Hurry now, before the sun gets to high.'' I followed Kevin around the house, thoroughly confused. This was his mother's house? What were we doing here? Why did he have a gun? What could possibly be in that box? As we turned the corner on the back of the house, I could n't believe my eyes. I stopped dead, and my jaw dropped. `` Wow,'' I uttered. `` Yeah it's quite beautiful, is n't it?'' said Kevin. In front of me was one of the largest and easily the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. Greens and yellows and reds and blues all washed together in a panoramic disarray that seemed a shrine to Mother Nature herself. In the center of the garden was a bare patch, a rectangular piece of tilled earth. Kevin approached this spot and set down the black box. He undid the clasp and I craned my neck to see its contents. He opened the lid and inside was- ... bulbs. Flower bulbs. Dusty, dirty root balls. The box no longer seemed to have any mysterious qualities about it. `` These are the final touch for her garden. She can tend to the plants well enough, but the ground around here is rather tough and she's to frail to plant them herself. It's a two man job really, and I've been struggling to find anybody to give me a hand with them. Grab a shovel and start digging.''
[ wp ] you have a 'super power ' , you can see the resale value of everything you see that 's for sale . You 're used to food in the supermarket being $ 0 , when one day the resale values start shooting up .	I stood in front of the aisle with my basket hanging loosely in the nook of my elbow, as people pushed past around me on this busy Saturday morning. `` W... what is going on...? '' I thought, as I stared at the price label, watching the floating green number beside the Twinkies began slowly ticking upwards by a penny. `` Hey, MOVE lady!'' shouted an overweight, middle-aged man as he struggled to navigate his cart around me. `` Sorry... '' I felt myself mumble, but I could n't take my eyes off the label. Suddenly, as if remote controlled, my legs began carrying me through the aisles until I finally came to a stop at the meat section. * $ 121,658 per pound* My legs began to tremble beneath me as I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. What is happening? I thought. Zzzzt zzzzt! My pocket lit up as my phone rang. `` Emmy? '' my sister spoke up in her typically peppy voice. `` Are you at the market now? Do you think you can pick up som -- '' `` Can I call you back?'' I asked feebly. She fell silent, before asking softly, `` Emily, are you okay? '' `` Y... yeah,'' I stuttered, as I watched the price blow past a quarter million dollars. `` I'll call you back later.'' I walked up to the counter and began filling my basket with as many packages of meat as I could fit. `` Ma'am,'' the attendant asked worriedly. `` May I help you?'' `` No, thank you,'' I replied with a forced smile. As I turned away, I swore the price had topped a million dollars.
[ WP ] You are a Rule 34 Enforcement Officer . Your agency 's sworn duty : If it exists , there 's porn of it . No exceptions .	There are an infinite set of rules but only one matters to me: thirty-four. My job is to make sure nothing escapes the grasp of the Internet ’ s most cherished rule. If there is something popular, I ’ ll be the first to ensure there ’ s porn for it. I ’ ll scar your childhood without a single care. I will make you question everything you ever known. Wan na see the finest clop-clop around? I gotcha covered. Wan na know why they ’ re called the “ Golden Girls ”? Get a load of this. Wan na see Misty getting railed by Ash, Brock, and Pikachu – at the same time? I ’ ve got a collection of HD animations. Face it – in this day and age, if you can dream it, you can masturbate to it. Consider me your knight in shining armor, the hero you deserve but don ’ t need. I ’ m the gateway to your guiltiest fantasies and future regrets. And now, I face my greatest challenge yet. According to my associates, there ’ s a certain internet celebrity who ’ s been making a splash. Apparently, she ’ s a rum writer, from what I ’ ve heard. Her name? Luna_Lovewell. This will be tricky. There ’ s no physical description of her so everything will have to be left to the imagination. No matter, I ’ ve done enough erotica based off of book characters to fill in the gaps. A small inconvenience like this can ’ t stop a seasoned veteran like me. Now where to start? We ’ ll give basic qualities. She ’ ll have brunette hair, because it ’ s classic. And fair skin, of course. She ’ s far too prolific to get enough sun. Throw in the obvious oversized breast and a cool, witty nature for the finishing touches. Alright, that should be more than enough. Next, I ’ ve contacted the erotica writers. They ’ re working around the clock, writing crappy fanfics from the largest to smallest forums. No corner of the internet will be spared of their… appreciation of Ms. Lovewell. Here ’ s an exception, for the curious: “ Luna_Lovewell bit her lip, looking seductively. A small gasp of excitement escaped her lips, her cheeks flushed red. Her fingers sped up, the rhythm accelerating. Her keyboard could hardly keep up – she knew this would be her best story yet. ” Hot, right? Well, that ’ s only the tip of the iceberg. I also have a team of top-notch artists illustrating her in every revealing position imaginable. And yes, books are erotically involved pictures in some if you ’ re wondering. By the end of the week, I expect rule thirty-four for our little famous writer to spread like wildfire across the Internet. Maybe if we ’ re lucky, she ’ ll even become a pinnacle amongst the ranks of Hermione and the likes. I got a good feeling about this one. Reclining in my chair, I see a new alert flash in the corner of my computer. Looks like there ’ s something new to add to rule thirty-four. I lean forward, reading the name with a small smirk. Psycho_alpaca, you say? *** Disclaimer: I mean no ill will against Luna. I really enjoy her writing and think she's a nice person. That is all.
[ WP ] You are a soldier . You were drafted to a battle field , you watched all of your friends and hundreds of soldiers killed in the worst ways possible . You awaken your powers through despair . Choose your life and power .	explosions in the background `` Get to cover!'' Yelled a nearby soldier, I had headed his warnings and didnt give second thought. I ran to the nearest bunker. My friend Jack had not heard the call. It's easy to tunnel vision in war. I, had taken cover, watched, my best friend become a skeleton and then crumbled to a mess of blood and dust. His body splattered with some of his blood landing on my face. He was gone, I knew it. My eyes mad with the scene laid before me. `` Is this war?'' I muttered under a breath which would n't be heard. Flashbacks, vivid of our time together. Clenching my fists, my M-16 strapped to my side. I was lost, and to give an explanation, was just madness. `` I did n't sign up for this.'' came a silent mumble, but broken shortly after by rage. I would kill everyone, my mind now in full hatred and 0 reason. I want to die and i'll take a thousand more with me. Another bomb went off and screams were heard. `` This war, what the fuck!'' sobbing trying to justify everything, I got mad, a random marine tried to convince me to ignore my surroundings. I watched my best friend die, I really just collapsed at that moment. I walked out of the bunker keeping me safe, determined to spill blood, and I saw my first enemy. I wished he would explode and he did. I looked at the other 10 soldiers hiding in there trench, hoping they would be obliterated. Within seconds blood filled the area I was looking at. To describe such a scene would be a small storm cloud of blood raining upon the area. I was thinking nothing, other then the deaths of every enemy. I caught eye of a distance soldier and wished he would explode, he did just that. I stopped for a few seconds, taking it all in. This guy just exploded. I had those thoughts and I felt a grin on my face, however it happened I enjoyed it. Walking out from the bunker I looked at my first target, I wished he had exploded, raining the blood of his amongst others in his troup. It happened that way. I was still standing as bullets missed me. I thought of nothing but utter destruction, even at the cost of friendly's. In shock I thought nothing of it, I just constantly wished everyone in my eyes would die. They did, exploded by a thought, I did n't question it. I understood all my enemies became ideas of slaughter. I wished a rain of blood, that everyone would feel the most pain imaginable before rising to the air and exploding. It happened, that thought became reality. Our battlefield rained for hours. This was blood, I had wished this and it had come true. I was just a few feet outside of our bunker till I felt it. The warm red for hours. There was n't an enemy in sight, everyone confused. Everyone panicked, not understanding, but I remembered the thoughts I had before this moment. I stood in that rain, covering myself in blood. It felt good. A smile came across my face, I laughed uncontrollably as blood rained down from the sky. Everyone panicked as hours of blood rained down. I was isolated by the squad I had just picked up. I did n't know why, but I had just wished and it became true. This war needed to end and those in it needed to also. I was bleeing from being shot in the arm and I noticed i that I could heal my own wounds by stopping the bleeding. I would wish that anyone involved in the state warfare would understand, They never did, I left a year later. I would tell my son everything, he needed to know my powers, and if by chance he understood, I would teach him to manipulate blood. I will become the nexr god's disciple.
[ WP ] November , I 'm slipping	“ November, I ’ m slipping. Her mind is unstoppable. ” “ Hold on Echo. We got this. Just hold on. ” She panted wildly as she half dragged him along the burning corridor. The security monitors showed chaos in the control room as wave after wave of their uniformed comrades fell under their own fire. “ She ’ s killing them! November! ” he screamed and sagged in her arms. They fell. November pushed herself up into a kneeling position, and leaned over him to quickly check his wounds. “ We got ta get to an escape pod, Echo. You ’ re with me. Her psychic link can ’ t hold if we enter the atmosphere. Now get the fuck up, soldier. ” She shook him. Echo's eyes glazed over. The familiar green turning murky and black. “ Echo. ” She slapped him hard. His hand went to the phasor at his belt. “ Echo, no! ” She wrenched his arm away and felt the bone snap underneath her fingers. He screamed and his eyes cleared. She pushed him upwards. They stumbled for the pod surrounded by the screams of the dying.
[ WP ] The gypsy woman said you 'd meet your soul mate today .	Today was the oddly-specific date that the old gypsy woman had predicted. When I was 8. I know, it was a cheesy carnival trick, but she said specifically that I would meet my soul mate. And what were my plans for the day? Lie in bed and watch Netflix. Lame, I know, but it's my life and I can do what I want, right? Unfortunately, three episodes of Breaking Bad in, my mom waltzed into my room unannounced and says, `` We're going to the store. Get your lazybones up and going.'' Because I really wanted to go to the store, not on a day when my destiny was due to change. Still, arguing with my mom was like arguing with a wall, so I got dressed and sullenly got in the car. The WalMart was in a shopping center with a whole bunch of smaller chain stores that are looking to leech off the popularity of the Walmart with limited success-nobody wants to go to the other stores when there's a Walmart with everything already. It has a Half-Priced books, a Petland a Party City and a Tropical Trends. Yet, since I was forced to go shopping with my mom, I told her that I'd meet her later and proceed to the other half of the strip mall. I walked into the Half Priced books where a girl ( pretty, but not my type ) smiled from the counter and said hi. I looked around at the different books, rilfed through their game collection half-heartedly and decided on a pure whim to visit Petland. The sheer noise from the cats, dogs, birds, and human animals it was almost too much. Yet I persevered and walked around the cute animals. It was then that I saw her. She was beautiful, everything I'd ever really wanted. She had these big beautiful brown eyes and a smile that could light up a room. I walked up to her and introduced myself, her name was Missy. She was a cocker spaniel.
[ WP ] Everyone is born with a special talent that 's weak when young , but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30 . A kid that 's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains . Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action . You ? Well , cats just seem to like you ...	No matter what age they came for the cats that's hovered around. They laughed, they played, they knew I was their only hope of getting to the cats was me. As I aged and more rare and exotic cats showed up they more they collectively wanted the cats around. The people were only looking for the cats they ignored and hindered my other hobbies for cat time. After a time I got a cat sickness and was no longer useful so I was thrown away. The natural thought was to take their appraisal of me and lay in the mud. Little did they know my cat abilities were the superficial shell of my talents. Where they lived and associated their own being to the `` talents'' they thought defined them, I used mine as a shell to allow me to learn from many different groups of people. As long as I showed up, and brought the cats i was free to steal all the perceived `` talents'' of one dimensional people. Some I do n't use because they poison you, some give people away immediately. Actions are always an algorithm for a future purpose. A smile Is a reaction and a evolutionary mask, your body is a communicator. Face value rarley have value.
[ WP ] a dragon decides to become a knight .	This is a tale from the medieval ages It was the era of knights, kings and mages The dragons were the rulers of the sky These beasts could make even the strongest man cry One day a dragon woke up on his pile of gold with a thought `` Knights are pretty cool, at least the ones I have fought'' The dragon flew to the city where the human queen were Landed infront of the castle, with a wish to be a `` sir'' Vowed to burn the city unless he got what he wanted He stood on the ground, the humans he taunted The queen came out and he gave her a fright To save her city, she quickly made him a knight The dragon flew to his cave, with pride his chest swollen But when he came home he found his precious gold stolen This be the tale of the poor dragon knight with bad luck His stories are countless, and they all end with him screaming: `` FUUUUUUUUCK''
[ WP ] Your phone number is 555-555-5555 . Tell us about your life .	`` Hello? Look, I've been on hold for an hour. All I want is a new number. You give people new phone numbers every day. Why ca n't you give me one?'' There was a dissatisfied sigh from the other end of the line. The woman was chewing gum loudly. Her voice was high and piercing. There was literally nothing about her that was n't grating. `` It's out of my hands, sir. You're between exchanges. We had to assign you a new area code.'' `` I know what you did. That's the entire problem. Do you know what it's like for me? Do you know how difficult it is having this number?'' `` Is it more difficult than this phone call, sir?'' she asked. Much in the same way I dumped Marcie Gonzales in tenth-grade before she could do the same to me, I hung up. The phone had n't been in the cradle for more than six seconds before it rang. `` Hello?'' I asked. `` I need to talk to someone about the mutant problem,'' he said. I closed my eyes. `` Of course you do,'' I said. `` The Brotherhood is -'' I hung up. Waiting for the next call, I opened my mail. Yet another letter from the phone company. We have received your request, yada yada yada, six to eight weeks, yada yada yada, please keep the line connected to a phone in order for us to - fuck. The shrill tone broke my mood. `` I got through! I told them it would work! They would n't listen! They said it was n't real!'' I clenched a fist. `` It is n't real, dude. I'm just a guy who happens to have this number. Whatever you're looking for, it's not me. Whatever you're looking for, I've heard them all. Stallone does n't have a desk here. This is n't Stark Industries. There is no Captain Crunch available. It's not the NYPD, LAPD, SFPD or any other goddamn PD, FD, CSI, NCIS, hotline, tipline, or helpline.'' He stage whispered down the phone. `` Batman?'' I hung up. Ring. Fuck it. I'd let it ring. I did n't have enough cash to go anwhRingere, and all my friends were at woRingrk. I was exhausted from walkRinging around all night so I'd be tired enough to geRingt to sleep. I could wrap the phoRingne in towels again, but somehow the mufflRinged sound was even worse, and I was expeRingcting a call from this girl I'd met at the nightcRi- `` WHAT?'' I asked, snatching up the receiver. `` Are you OK?'' a female voice asked. `` Yes, yes,'' I said. `` Yes, sorry. Who is it?'' There was a shy pause. `` We met the other night?'' I softened. `` Hi, Alice. I've been -'' `` Sandra!'' the voice said, hurt and offended. Shit. I got six of these a week. `` He gave you a fake number,'' I said. `` He thought he could get away with it because you're clearly not the brightest of bulbs. Sorry.'' I hung up. I made a chapter and a half of my book before it rang again. `` Hello?'' `` Oh, thank God I got through,'' a deep male voice said. `` This number. I thought nobody had it.'' `` Nobody's supposed to,'' I said. `` Including you.'' There was a brief, panicked laugh. `` You do n't understand,'' he said. `` The phone company assigns this number. They give it to someone. It has to remain open, and it has to remain out of control. Companies. Governments. Institutions. This number has to remain free. Have n't you ever wondered why? Have n't you ever wanted to know how this is the only number? How you're always'between exchanges'? How reassigning your number is always six to eight weeks away?'' I sat up, rubbing my jaw. `` Yes,'' I breathed. `` Then listen very carefully,'' the voice said. `` Your very life may result on it. The first thing you have to do is -'' This was, apparently, as far as he guy could get before bursting out laughing. At least twenty other people in the background did as well. I heard a high pitched, grating laugh and the snap of bubble gum chewed in a slack jaw. `` You fucking bastards,'' I said.
[ WP ] The world has ended ... for about the twenty-fifth time . Humanity 's seen it all , meteor , aliens , paradox and by now it 's all getting pretty routine .	INT. A LIVING ROOM- DAY A Father is on the phone ordering pizza for his daughter's fifth birthday. Through out the scene, we can hear his daughter running around laughing and chasing someone in the house. The Father has to occasionally speak over the noise. FATHER How much more does it cost for Tiger Meat? Sixteen Eurmericans? Nevermind, she's five she does n't even know what a Tiger is yet- Its her birthday... yeah. Five. I said five. Five. The number after four but before six... Yeah five... Not high, no... Sorry its loud here... She's chasing her brother around -- Casandra! Settle down! Sorry, bout that... Anyway, so lets do Three party size pizza's all with avocado, bacon and cantaloupe. At least its some kind of fruit right? Hey, by the way, can I double up specials? Can I get the End of the World special on top of a birthday special? PAUSE The Father sees his daughter Cassandra run past him. She holds something long and pink. She stops to look at her Father. The Father looks at her... She shows him her new'toy'... CASSANDRA Pink snake daddy!! The Father notices the'TOY' is actually his Wife's giant pink Dildo. the Father drops the phone, practically traumatized...
[ WP ] The protagonist is greatly wronged due to no fault of their own and loses everything . Write a prompt about that character 's well planned and premeditated revenge that has the reader cheering for them .	The machine was different. That was Jake's first and only excuse. He'd visited the bakery earlier that Saturday morning and the man behind the counter had plugged in $ 124,500 instead of $ 12.50. His bank had rung him and he'd explained. But the teller just happened to be an old bully from Highschool'Monster Mcgee' and to no surprise, Mcgee sided with the Bakery. Jake sat in the car outside the Bakery. He held a palm out in front of him and tapped each finger as he spoke his options out loud. `` Court; Money; Time off; Lawyer; Me vs the bank+bakery.'' He lifted his left palm. `` Revenge.'' One option certainly sounded better then 5. He looked up and into the shop, the store clerk was laughing merrily on the phone. The man noticed him sitting outside and pointed, laughing even harder. `` Surprise, surprise, monster has given him a call.'' Jake whispered to himself. He slammed the car door closed behind him and banged open the bakery door. The store clerk and workers stared at him in silence. `` Now listen here buddy. I do n't have a gun to shoot you with, fists strong enough to beat you up with, or friends that can come and raid this store.'' Jake began. The store clerk chuckled, looking at his workers. They all chimed in. `` But!'' Jake shouted. The room fell silent again. `` I am going to be homeless if I do n't get my money back and I will need somewhere to stay. I will need somewhere to pee, somewhere to poop and somewhere to sleep. The outside of your shop seems like a pretty damn good place!'' The shop clerk and his workers began whispering to each other. `` You pretty big guy, you always eat the bakery I can see it in your stomach.'' The shop clerk spoke in a heavy accent. A lady at the back nodded in fear. `` It's okay, we give you your money back. We got no problems.'' Jake nodded. `` Very well. If the money is not back by tomorrow morning, I'll be here.'' They looked at each other in fear, nodding frantically. He snatched a pie from the warmer and waltzed back outside. Jake smirked as he sat in his drivers seat, I guess going to the bakery has really paid off. He could hear them shouting at each other in their home tongue. Now to visit the bank and pay Mcgee a visit. It was certainly going to be an interesting one. He looked at his left palm, smiling as he tapped his finger. `` Revenge.''
[ WP ] Upon waking up , you realize you 've been transported into the world of the last video game you played . A voice inside your head tells you to beat the game in order to escape . Unfortunately the last one you played was ...	The wind whipped my cloak as the sun finished setting. The inn was farther away than I had expected, but I rounded the next bend and saw it. The temperature was dropping quickly with the sun gone, and I, relieved to be done with the day's journey, tied up my horse and headed in. `` Come in, and shut the door - it's cold out there!'' A short man with bright red hair hurried over and latched the door behind me. `` I'm the innkeeper here. It's a busy night but we can always make room for another.'' I nodded in agreement, asked for a pint of hot cider, and began to make my way towards one of the few remaining empty seats. I sat down at the table opposite a burly man with an impressively braided beard. `` Greetings.'' `` Greetings, traveller.'' The barmaid interrupted with my cider. I fished around in my bag - emptying most of it in the process - and handed her a coin for payment. `` You play cards?'' my table-mate asked, gesturing at the spilled contents of my bag. `` They are my only vice,'' I responded. I picked up my deck and swept the remaining items back into my bag. `` Do you?'' The man produced his own deck of cards. `` Of course.'' I opened a side pocket on my bag and pulled out a small sack of dice, coins, and paper and pencil. The other man shuffled our decks while I set them up. We drew three cards each and flipped a coin. I got to go first, so my opponent drew an extra card. I frowned at my hand. It was full of things I would n't be able to play for several turns. `` I pass. Your turn.'' My opponent placed a card on the table. `` [ Tunnel Trogg ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/c/cb/Tunnel_Trogg % 2827246 % 29.png? version=9cefe2a6150d65f07d077f1d01b0e027 ). Your turn.'' Wonderful. It was going to be one of those games. I silently prayed and drew a card. `` I ca n't do anything. Your turn again.'' By the fourth turn, my opponent had added two [ Totem Golems ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/f/f8/Totem_Golem % 2822265 % 29.png? version=5503195deb441556eaa06fa9df23a52b ) and a [ Flamewreathed Faceless ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/8/85/Flamewreathed_Faceless % 2835226 % 29.png? version=b913cb1df6dcbe901659793b8f0254b1 ), to his side of the table, and was building a stack of yellow +1 counters on his Tunnel Trogg. Meanwhile, the cards I needed were shuffled at the bottom of my deck and I was steadily counting down my life points each turn. On my fifth turn I drew the card I needed. It was a turn too late - I had only 11 life points left - but it was better than nothing. `` [ Auchenai Soulpriest ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/e/ed/Auchenai_Soulpriest % 28656 % 29.png? version=c5826c1a641e541fac2436bc00ce91f3 ), [ Circle of Healing ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/f/f5/Circle_of_Healing % 2838 % 29.png? version=d24180ce5bc53d70d3fdea9baf3ec8a8 ).'' My opponent looked on with slight dismay as I gave a sigh of relief and cleared away the Tunnel Trogg and Totem Golems and dropped a stack of damage counters on the Faceless. `` Your turn.'' The dismay became my own when my opponent revealed two cards as [ Rockbiter Weapon ] ( https: //hydra-media.cursecdn.com/hearthstone.gamepedia.com/8/84/Rockbiter_Weapon % 28491 % 29.png? version=20cc494bf1fd84e8f1488ac84fddc7cc ). `` I win.'' `` Well played.'' I sighed. I was going to be here a while.
[ WP ] The universe 's most accomplished assassin 's latest target turns out to be the universe 's most tenacious survivor .	This thing will never die. Again, I fire into the night, thousands of miles away. Hoping-beyond-hope that this single bullet would end my own life, so that I can put down this gun, turn around, and head home to die in the arms of my loved one. But I know, as the bullet flies through the air, in a perfectly straight line with no sound, it won ’ t find its mark. Through a scope that utilizes teleportation of photons, my eye is as if I was watching above. I see it, in a nebulous form of muscle and skin, constantly changing to fit whatever environment it ’ s in, consistently changing color and smell to throw off any hunters ’ tracking. Resting under a tree-like organism, lying among the rocks of this wretched planet. The bullet hits. I Freeze. Staring at it as it lays motionless. Did I finally kill it? Is it dead? A sudden squirm of movement and the thing shifts into a liquid state and flows away, leaving my bullet in the grass. Another failure, and now once again it knows I ’ m here. With a heavy sigh, I place my long rifle down at my knees and put another round into the chamber. The last bullet was a combination of acid fog and electroshock to keep it still. From my observations, the shock did take effect, but the acid did not kill. It doesn ’ t matter now, the thing evolves a solution immediately, its genome working the speed of generations in a flash of a bullet shell. I call my ship from orbit. By now the thing has moved on, it has the ability to change from any state of matter, including plasma, and probably has already ‘ jumped ’ off the planet. My black slit of a ship moves over me, using its advanced camouflage sensors to perfectly blend into the night. It extends a chain of polymers akin to spider's silk, that's tough enough for me to latch onto. Using mental receptors in my helmet, I move my ship over to the target's site. Still attached, I lean over, snatch my bullet and place it in a compartment near my waist. With another thought, the silk chain retracts. I awake in a chamber, oval and large. Others like me rest upon many alcoves nestled in rows. My hands plug into a socket and all my experiences on this planet, around forty earth years, is soaked up into the main frame. The hunt ’ s knowledge is instantly transmitted to all those who rest. I am a million bodies of one soul designed for this one hunt. My eyes begin to shut, but a sense of pain flare at my side. Rejecting the sleep hookup, I glance down to see orange bodily fluid seeping from my waist. A scratching sensation begins to burn inside as the realization dawns on me that I have been shot. I dig deep with my fingers, causing a further spike of pain, the tips of my fingers form nanotubes to act like surgical instruments and within moments I pull out a bullet, an exact replica of the one I fired moments before. The lights shift to a crimson red, the built-in A.I. finally coming to the conclusion that the main ship has been breached. An alarm klaxon blares and my many bodies begin to awake with limited consciousness. The bullet clamped with my fingers suddenly gains weight, and I instinctively let go, but as it fell, it duplicates with a flash of light; then another, and another, until the flashes merge into one blinding orb of white light. I try to move away, but more flares of pain erupt all over my body. My body suit is flushed with orange spray. My heart and lungs begin to falter. Duplicate bodies of myself are sprayed across the interior of the ship with explosions of blood and mucus. It ’ s time, again, I could never escape this hunter even when I try to hunt. It is always coming after me in new and unexpected ways. Using the last bit of consciousness I have left, I tell the A.I. to self-destruct. An orb of fire illuminates an unknown planet and dies. In the expanding sphere of debris, nano-machines begin the long process of stitching the ship together, while hardening crystals, still alive in the vacuum of space, begins to do the same.
[ WP ] They have breached the wall 's and will be upon you in moments .	I can hear them outside. It wo n't be long before they find me. All I wanted was to make them smile, but now their broken bodies lie in front of me, void of life. Will they let me explain; or will they fill my torso with lead, like the bastards they are? Her hair is so soft, softer than anything I have ever felt in my life. And soon she shall be taken away from me. NO!! I WO N'T LET THAT HAPPEN!!! THEY WILL NOT TAKE HER!! I can hear them whisper amongst each other outside the door, the cocking of a dozen shotguns is almost deafening. Well, looks like this is it. Good luck, my old friend.
[ TT ] [ IP ] Sacrifice	It was time for `` The Sacrifice of Earth'' to commence. The most privileged aristocracy of Iroli, the Capital of the mountain states, was present to watch the ritual that had kept the unsteady peace between Earth-Spawn and men since the war 40 years earlier. At the end of the war both the people of the Mountain States were so worn out from the war that had raged for five years and had depopulated much of the city of it's once great lands. The cities near the mountains, the home of the Earth-Spawn, had been completely obliterated, including the lands former capital. At the end of the war the Irolians were desperate to see an end to the war no matter the cost. They had managed to put together the last reserves of the army to make one last assault against the spawn, but there was little hope of success. The army consisted of the weak, either too young or too old to stand a real match against the giant Spawn. So at the start of the wars fourth year Irolis newly formed army `` The Final Stand'' marched towards the mountains towards what they thought would be their doom, to finish what they had started years ago. That's when the Spawn approached the Irolians with their peace offer. The Earth-Spawn, which is the name that was given to them by the humans, was a race of gigantic, dragonlike lizards that lived in deep cave-systems under the great mountain pass separating the Mountain States from the rest of the world. These ancient creatures had lived in peace with the rest of the world for most of their existence. They did not care for riches or politics but wished only to live in peace in their caves, remembering and honoring their ancient legacy. These creatures were said to have been one of the first races and legend has it that the first of their kind lived alongside the Gods when they still inhabited the world. The people of the Mountain States had always felt threatened by the Earth-Spawn. Not only that, but they had almost felt insulted by the indifference the Earth-Spawn had towards them. Albeit scared of the giant creatures, the Irolians wanted to prove that there was no foe that could not be tamed by their steel. A great army was assembled and marched to the mountain pass where they asked the ancient race to accept the Irolians as their leaders and demanded payment for the land that they occupied. This started the war which ultimately led to the ritual of `` The Sacrifice of Earth''. Even though the war had destroyed much of the Mountain States and caused unmeasurable damage to its land and people, the Earth Spawn had suffered more. Many of their ritual ground had been destroyed, their leaders killed. So much history and knowledge had been lost in the war. The lived of humans were so short, in a few generations their losses would be forgotten, their farms and castles rebuilt. The Spawn of the Earth lived for thousands of years and would not recover from their losses during this war which for them only lasted for a moment. The Elders that was left of them decided that any price was worth the continued survival of their spieces. And that is how the ritual came to be. Every five years, one of their people was given as a slave to the humans to tend to the lands, break stone, move cargo or even be displayed for the amusement of their people. And now, yet another of this ancient race was to be delivered to the greedy race of Humans, to a generation of men that had never seen the horrors of war, only lived in the spoils of it.
[ WP ] `` So , what brings you here today ? ''	`` So, what brings you here today?'' a tall man with a chest of medals asks a much smaller man in a sarcastic tone. `` I need a gift for my wife, our anniversary is coming up'' the clueless smaller man answers. `` Likely story. Who do you work for, the Russians? I bet it's those goddamn Chinese. Third one of you we've found around here this year!'' He bellows. The smaller man begins to pick up on the severity of his situation, `` Honestly! I was just out looking for something for Janine! Our anniversary is tomorrow and would you guess that I forgot to get her something, again. 23rd year in a row, you think I would n't forget this time but...'' As he begins to trail off and murmur to himself the decorated man cuts him off. `` So you're telling me you woke up today, realized you needed to get your wife an anniversary present, and decided one of the highest level security military bases in the United States would have just the perfect gift to her liking for you're little anniversary?'' The smaller man looks embarrassed and squeaks out `` So you're telling me this is n't the mall...'' `` Jesus Christ. I do n't know whats worse, that a spy would actually try to use this story, what has got to be history's unanimously worst cover story ever, or the fact that someone as stupid as you exists in the same world that I live in that they could legitimately wander in here. How the hell did you even get passed security?'' the general demanded. `` I... do n't know...'' `` You do n't know? How does one not know how they end up somewhere'' `` Have you ever heard of Angry Birds?'' `` What in the hell does that have to do with anything...'' The small man perked up a bit and replied `` Well ya see, I just ca n't put the game down! I was walking towards this mall and decided I would try to squeeze a couple rounds out. I just bought angry birds space and had n't had a chance to play it. Next thing I know am dragged into this room to talk to you. I just figured the guy at the kiosk who tries to buff my nails was trying out a much more aggressive approach. Still was n't gon na let him touch this fingers! I need em to sling some birds!'' The general stared at him in disbelief that someone with such a small IQ and infinitesimally minute situational awareness could exist. He opened his mouth to say something but just left the cramped interrogation room with his jaw still hanging open in shock. A few minutes pass by, the small man playing Angry Birds on his phone, not noticing the general speaking with another large military higher up outside. The general returns to the room and instructs him as calmly as he can. `` Well we've background checked you and there is nothing out of the ordinary. We reviewed our security footage and you were n't lying. You just happened to walk through at the most opportune moment on God's green Earth. You're free to go and will be escorted off the premise with a bag over your head to protect any military secrets. Now excuse me, I have a few security guards to go fire.'' `` Okie dokie! Can I finish this round first?'' Having not finished his last round, a new set of security guards threw him out of the building. He immediately pulls his phone out and begins to walk, head consumed in his game again. A discrete unmarked van pulls up and slides the door open for him, he climbs inside. There is only a driver inside, wearing a military uniform of a different country, China. The driver without looking back asks him `` Well done. I could n't see the operation but I assumed you got caught when communications went down. Did you get the package?'' `` Sure did! My wife is going to love it!'' The driver confused, turns around to see a man in the backseat, engrossed his cell phone making cute bird noises... '' Who the fuck are you and how'd you get in my van?? ``
[ WP ] Tell me about a necromancer . Make him sympathetic , but not misunderstood .	The figure was all in black. He stood perfectly still, but some horrid life still circled and flowed about him. His cloak seemed to wriggle and crawl as if some sort of parasite called its depths home. About him, echoed whispers, things of fear and hate. They pleaded with him, spat at him, tossed every curse their non-existent tongues could muster. He stood in a room of stone. No windows adorned the walls; no candles were lit, but still the room glowed with an unearthly light. All manner of atrocities surrounded the figure, men, women, children, all dead, all meticulously prepared and arranged. None of the bodies were pristine. They had been flayed, disemboweled, and assembled into something greater than the parts. Save for these horrors, the place was bear. A single stone had been set with care in the center of the necromancer ’ s art. The stone was black as starless night and darker still. It seemed to claw at and consume the little light around it. It was an evil thing, a deplorable thing. Even the atrocities surrounding it paled to whatever dark magic had given this object form. And from within it, as if from some infinite abyss within the depths of eternity, whispered a voice. “ Please. ” It said The necromancer raised his arms as if preparing to conduct a symphony. The room fell silent, enthralled in anticipation of the figure ’ s art. He felt the power enter his body and flow toward his fingers. This is it, he thought. this time I ’ ll get it right. He thrust his arms forward. In an instant the room reverberated with a chorus of screams. They rang even louder in the necromancer ’ s mind. Worse still, he could feel every emotion in those cries, all the fear, anger, and sorrow. Don ’ t let it distract you, he thought. Keep your focus. If you falter it will fail. The bodies surrounding him began to deteriorate. Bits of blood, and bone, and flesh broke away and rose toward the center of the room. They combined and congealed above the black stone. A sphere of slurry began to form, growing larger and larger with each passing moment. Then, it began to take shape. First, the skeleton formed. It was perfect, it should be, he ’ d formed it a hundred time ’ s after all. Next, the muscles, the internal organs, the eyes, the new figure stared down at him. Do not falter, he thought. Then, it began to grow skin. As it did, a great wind began to rotate in the room. The necromancer ’ s hood blew back to reveal a head of long white hair. He was unkempt, a man who had not cared for himself for a long time. His face was wrinkled and covered in deep scars, testaments to his previous failures. But, even as the whirlwind intensified, the man stayed adamant, stoic. He watched emotionless as the being took form in front of him. The skin finished forming and before the man floated a young girl, she could n't have been older than eight. She stared directly at the necromancer, tears welled in her eyes; she looked tired, wearier than a child her age should look. “ Daddy, ” she said. The man did not respond; he could n't afford to. This was the most important part. But he knew it would work this time. He ’ d keep her here this time. “ Daddy, ” she said again. “ Please, you have to let me go. ” Still, the necromancer was silent. “ I can ’ t let more people die for me daddy, ” she continued. “ Please, stop this. ” The necromancer felt a tremor of emotion stir inside him. No, he thought. No! Don ’ t be weak. You can ’ t fail again. You can ’ t lose her again. The girl saw this, or sensed this and a look of what can only be described as pity crossed her face. “ Daddy, I've seen light. It called to me. ” The man felt tears well in his eyes. “ You have to let me go daddy, mommy is there. She ’ s with the light and she ’ s waiting for me. ” He could n't hold back any more. His resolve was failing. He could feel the energies leaving him. “ No! ” He yelled. “ Dammit. No! Why won ’ t you let me bring you back? ” Tears were streaming down his face. “ Let me go, ” she said again. “ I had my chance, let me go to the light. ” The necromancer fell to his knees. As he did his daughter began to deteriorate. “ Why won ’ t you let me go? ” she pleaded. “ Because, if I do, ” he said through a veil of tears, “ I can ’ t follow you, not anymore ” With that, her head slumped forward, her soul drifting back to the abyss in which she ’ d been tethered. The skin of the creature that had a few moments before been his daughter dried and wrinkled. It swelled and bulged and hunched over. With an infuriated cry the necromancer used the last of the spell ’ s energies to toss the creature against the wall where it crumpled to the floor. He sat there on his knees, tears still pouring from his eyes. The stoic man who had stood in that spot a few minutes before was all but gone. He stayed that way for what seemed like a long time, mourning the loss of his child once again. He was pulled from his trance by a shuffling sound from across the room. He looked up and saw the horrible creature his ritual had created stood hunched against the wall. Its soulless eyes stared directly into him. The necromancer stood, He stared at the black stone on the floor. “ Please, ” he heard it whisper. He looked back to the creature. After a moment ’ s pause he spoke. “ Go join the others, ” he said “ and fetch me more specimens. ”
[ WP ] Einstein : `` I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought , but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones . '' Write a battle scene from World War IV .	There was n't enough written history left to know exactly what happened. Every village had an elder who passed down the oral history from one generation to the next. Their ancestors had angered the Gods and been smited from the heavens, it was known. The great fire had destroyed the world but the people had grown strong again, strong enough to find the others. It was important that all people recognized the will of the Gods in order to prevent another catastrophe. The others were non-believers, soon they would make their choice. If they would not worship the gods they would fall to the people's finest warriors armed with the most advanced weapons created in generations, stone axes.
[ WP ] In the 1700s , an eternally young avatar of the Greek god of the wilds kidnaps dozens of children from their beds , taking them to his distant island to become a vessel for fey magicks like himself . There is only one man brave enough to take the children back : Captain Hook , the pirate .	``'Aye, I severed under the Captain. The man was fierce in the face of what could only have been The Devil Himself. Of all my years ne'er I sailed with a finer crew than those brave lads. Hook had rounded us up in some of England's busiest ports. I was a Privateer, sailing under the King's colours on yet another fine vessel, but that story is for another time. You see, I would send my pay to my family back home, my weak and sickly mother and my younger brother Jack. Now Jack was exceptional young lad, no more than ten years, the bastard was a smart one. He deserved so much better than I. I met the Captain at a tavern somewhere, I ca n't recall. I can however, recall the Captain. He was a tall fellow, with a cold expression, his face were pale and his features rugged, Those of an honest Seaman. I had opened the letter a while back, It gave the worst news I'd er received, Jack had been taken, and so off I went to the bottle. At least until the Captain came. When he had entered He made his commanding presence known. 'I'm looking for the one called Thatch Roberts' His voice pierced through my drunken stupor 'He be me.' I struggled to say, unafraid of what could be coming. 'I heard it took your brother' he said, examining me in my dismal state. 'Piss off' I replied'Ai n't a damned thing you could do I ai n't already tried.' He was unaffected by my response.'I know where to find him, I seek a crew, Teach had put in a word for you.' 'Edward Teach...' I laughed.'Or Blackbeard as I hear he fancies himself. Give the Old Bastard my regards.' I went back to my drink. 'Teach is dead. But before he passed I received a correspondence. The Demon that took those Children, he goes by the name Pan, washes ashore every few months, and leaves just as quickly. Taking several poor young souls with him. The bastard's holed up on an island to the south. We leave port early in the morn. Be there or we leave without you.' The man left, And I mulled over my options. three drinks in I made up my mind. A few days later our vessel sat just outside the the Island. Seven of us made up the first landing party, led by Hook we made camp on the shore of the cove. Suddenly it became violent dark, So we bide our time. It was the morning when we saw the horror that was Pan. In the midst of the camp lay the husk of boy, a pocket watch in one hand and a compass in the other. Hook examined the corpse, and upon examining the watch, looked up the sky and Yelled the name of the Demon in desperation and pain. Suddenly the compass gained the attention of Hook, He looked over it, Its needle pointing toward a rock face on the shore. and on the rock it was writ in Blood `` There is no Hope, Turn back Hook, turn Back.' Hook was a defiant Man, Shouting'No' at the message's writer. Suddenly our attention was focused on our ship, It exploded In a massive fireball.'You have chosen poorly Hook' An eerie and childlike voice shrieked. Phillip, a lad a few years younger than I screamed as he violently swung his rifle at an unseen assailant. Hook shot him dead. 'Listen Up Lads!' His voiced boomed'Tonite we take the fight to the Demon, Who will stand with me!' The men all cautiously cheered. That was the last I have seen of them. It has been two days, I am low on water, and am the only one that was ordered to watch the camp. Soon it'll be coming for me too. I can fell it. something is watching me, Curse this island. To whoever finds this, get the hell out while you still can. The demon, I know what it is and how its doing this Its''' The page ended abruptly, the rest stained in dried blood. `` You think any of this stuff is true?'' Asked Jason, one of the assistants to Dr. Sanchez. `` I do n't know man. place feels, spooky ya'know?'' replied the other assistant, John. `` Well, Guess who is n't getting any sleep tonight. I'm gon na go take a walk on the deck, get some air.'' `` Alright dude, see you in the morning.'' `` Night John.'' Jason head up onto the deck of the boat, and scanned the island's shore. The letter had been found on the decaying remains of a man. He had been killed by what seemed to have been a hook. Just as Jason was about to turn towards the lower deck, Something caught his eye. A Dark red lettered sign that read `` Hook did n't learn, and now it seems neither will you. Welcome to My Island.''
[ WP ] You have died , after the whitelight , you see a title screen , with the options of New Game ... . Load Game ... . and Quit Game .	Where am I? Caleb's eyes resisted opening after the blinding white light had passed. As they adjusted he tried to figure out what was happening. Obviously he was standing somewhere...warm? No. Not warm. It just was. But how? Moments earlier he'd been riding his bike with Jayce and now he was here. `` Hello?'' He yelled out. In the distance, his voice returned his greeting a few times before disappearing. `` Anyone here?'' Seconds passed before his own voice responded. `` No.'' Confusion set in. `` What? Who's there?'' This time nothing responded. Another few seconds passed before his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. Immediately he noticed a large screen tv in front of him with an NES hooked up to it. * Is this heaven? * He thought to himself before saying out loud `` If it is heaven is kind of lame. I had one of these alive.'' Again no voice responded. He looked around the room again and found that there only four walls with no door. Sunlight seemed to fill the room to its edges but no windows let it in. `` Is someone going to give me any instructions? This is new to me.'' He shouted out. Minutes passed before he gave up hearing a response. Hesitantly he walked over to TV and turned it on along with the NES. In an instant he saw himself on the screen, his biked bent beneath his own mangled body. Jayce leaning over him shaking him while an ambulance came screeching to a halt near them. An eternity passed before the screen turned white and three buttons appeared on the screen. NEW GAME LOAD GAME QUIT GAME Grabbing the controller, Caleb clicked through the options one by one before settling on LOAD GAME. Pressing A, it switched screens and said NO SAVED GAMES FOUND `` Well that is helpful. Why is it even an option?'' YOU DID N'T SAVE AT THE CHECKPOINT? `` Are you talking to me? What checkpoint?'' He muttered to the game. NOOB The game flicked back to the main screen and he looked the options. `` So I can either choose to quit or start a new game?'' The screen flickered. DUH NOOB. CHOOSE `` Fine. What if I choose to quit?'' ROFL RAGE QUITTER `` You're annoying. If you're God then you're terrible at it.'' NOT WHAT YOUR MOM SAID `` Jesus Christ, God is a 13 year old COD player.'' CHOOSE FAG `` Fine!'' He scrolled up and landed on NEW GAME. He smashed the A button into the controller and the whitelight began to fill the room. For a moment he saw the words on the screen change. GL, HF
[ WP ] You 're a student of music in the 23rd century . This is your A+ essay regarding a famous song from the 21st century , in which you dissected and heavily misinterpreted .	For the thesis I will analyse one of the songs found on the disc recovered from the ruins of old L.A. Starting with infamous line `` My anaconda do n't want none if you aint got buns hun'' The famous giant anaconda snake is a symbol of Brazil. This lyric highlights the tragic brazillian dependance on US aid and shunning of local produce. But it's a little known fact just who that voice belongs to. It is in fact the voice of a famous 20th century philosopher known only as Sir Mixalot. Most of his work has been lost to time but he is famed for his inability to lie. This choice of speaker gives the song a distinct undertone of honesty, ethics and integrity. `` I let him hit it cus he sling cocaine''. At first listen this line may sound like gibberish to our modern ears. However sling is an old colloquial term for throwing and cocaine was a deadly illegal drug that plagued the streets of Oil age America. So it appears Nicki allowed this man to discipline her pet snake because he works in law enforcement discarding cocaine. `` I got a big butt''. Now butts are one part of a type of primitive gunpowder weapon very popular at the time. In this line she is implying that she is very well armed. Presumably for the fending off of criminals. The deranged laughter at the beginning of the line highlights the giddy thrill of controlling such ( for the time ) powerful weaponry. I conclude that this song is about resisting the decay of civilization. It is nothing more or less than a great rallying cry against crime and injustice. With any luck this epic ballad of courage will echo through the generations and be heard in our own time.
[ WP ] Create a character who is very different from you . Tell a story from your own life , but from that character 's perspective .	Who needs bonus points? I feel this would work best if I told you a bit about the real me. At least the parts important to the story. My Parents got divorced when I was about six because my mother had a problem with drugs and alcohol, so I've lived with my dad for most of my life. I'm generally a happy person and rather intelligent for my age. I'm not gifted but I am, statistically, on the far right of the bell curve in intelligence. I'm going to tell the story of my first fist fight, which in real life I lost because I do n't fight much. In this version of the story however, my dad died when I was three and was instead raised by my mother. I pulled up my hood as I walked out of school. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my old iPod and began listening to music. I walked down the street and turned the corner on my way to catch the bus home. I was n't walking long before I felt my headphones get ripped out of my ears. I spun around and saw my headphones and iPod dangling from the hands of Franklin, a dumb piece of shit from my English class. `` Give it back.'' I sighed and held out my hand. `` Give what back?'' Franklin asked, an annoying smile taking up his face. `` My iPod. Give it back. Now.'' I stepped closer. `` This?'' He asked and pointed at my first generation iPod, the only gift my mom had managed to get for my sister and I for christmas last year. `` But it's so old? Why not get a new one?'' I did n't respond, but just continued to stare daggers at him. `` Right, you ca n't, because your mom drinks and snorts all the money she gets.'' I moved forward and he jumped back. `` Easy there!'' He shouted and held my iPod over the street, ready to throw it into traffic if I attacked him. `` Just... give it back.'' I hated groveling, but I managed to add, `` Please.'' `` Was that so hard?'' he asked and held it out for me to take. `` Here.'' I stepped up to him and reached out for it, but before I could grab it, he threw it sideways into the street. It skid into the middle of the road and I could hear him laughing. Without pausing, I grabbed two fistfuls of Franklin's shirt and pulled him over to the edge of the sidewalk, traffic on the street behind him was light, but steady. `` Go get it!'' I shouted and shoved Franklin backwards into the road. His grin was gone at this point, replaced by a look of terror. He landed on his feet, but off balance so he had to walk back several steps to stay upright. He failed however and ended up falling on his ass right next to my iPod. `` Are you crazy!'' He shouted as he started to stand, cars honked as they passed. `` Pick it up!'' I shouted and stalked toward him, not even acknowledging the horns blaring as cars swerved around us. Franklin was just getting to his feet and I hit him in the stomach. He doubled over and I grabbed his shoulders and I threw him to the ground again. I got on top of him and just started hitting. This poor bastard was about to have me take my day, week, month, year, and life out on him. I felt him squirm to get away, but I stayed on him and kept hitting, and eventually he stopped squirming. I vaguely recognized hands trying to pull me away but I shook them off and kept hitting. Eventually someone hit me hard enough and I fell off of Franklin and landed on the asphalt. I opened my eyes and saw my iPod lying on the street, scratched but otherwise intact. I snatched it up and shoved it in my pocket. No sooner had I done that, than two pairs of hands grabbed me and hauled me to my feet and away from Franklin. I looked back over my shoulder and saw that he was not moving, but laying still on the road. A number of cars had pulled over and traffic had stopped. I looked to my left and my right, and for the first time noticed that the two sets of hands that had grabbed me belonged to a pair of police officers.
[ WP ] A man who has been dating a girl since elementary school goes to her father for her hand in marriage . The father says no . Tell us why and break our hearts .	Chris walked up to the door of Amanda's house anxiously with his eyes set on the door. He knew Amanda would n't be at her parents' house today because she had went shopping with her friend Cara earlier that day and was probably headed home now. `` Jesus,'' Chris thought to himself. `` I still have no idea what to say...'' Chris was never good with words and probably never would be. He could n't speak in complete sentences until the third grade and that was only because of Amanda. She was n't the first thing he saw in the classroom, but she was definitely the first thing he heard. `` Hey you!'' `` M-me?'' `` Yes silly I like your backpack!'' `` Th-thanks I like yours too.'' And the smile she gave him was a smile that changed his life. They went everywhere together after that. Chris could talk to her and she could talk to anyone. They talked and talked and before he knew it that had talked for hours, then days, then years, and Christ knew he'd found his voice. The voice that he heard when he slept. The voice of his one true love. It was the only voice he ever wanted to hear again, and today he was going to make that happen. Chris stood still looking at the door now face to face with the words he'd tried so hard to say before. This was n't the first time he'd had his mind set on asking for a blessing. But the other times he was n't standing on her parents' porch. `` Knock on the door.'' He told himself. `` Just knock and when they answer you'll figure it out.'' But Amanda had always done the figuring out, the talking it through, the communicating. How would Chris know what to say or where to start. How could he explain how much he loved Amanda? Did he really even have to? Her parents knew how much Chris loved her. Why was he so afraid to knock on the door? So he knocked. No one came to the door. Chris knocked again, harder this time. No one came to the door. `` Maybe no one's home?'' Chris thought. He knocked more quietly. He heard someone walking behind the door now, slow and methodically. The door opened. `` Chris?'' Amanda's father asked, looking confused and only half seeing what was in front of him. `` What are you doing here?'' `` Sir,'' Chris started, `` I'm here to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.'' `` Chris-'' `` No, please let me finish.'' Chris said more confidently now. `` Before you say anything I just want you to know how much I care about your daughter and the way she's changed me for the better. It's everything about her that I can never be. She's charming, quick-witted, she always knows what to say, even if it is n't easy to. She's done so much in trying to help me do the same, to find my voice. She's the only person I can really talk to and connect with in a real way. She's the only person who would let me speak when everyone else just tried to talk through me. She was the only who actually stopped and gave me room to speak, to listen. She made me the person I am today, sir. I never want to be that person without her. Do I have your blessing?'' `` Chris...'' Amanda's father said slowly with tears in his eyes. `` Chris, Amanda died in a car crash just twenty minutes ago on her way home.'' `` W-what do you mean?'' `` I'm sorry Chris,'' He was crying now. `` I'm so sorry Chris, she's gone.'' EDIT: For punctuation and spacing.
[ WP ] Every morning , your alarm clock has a slider that tells you how important this day will be overall in your life . After a few weeks of very unimportant days , you awake to the slider far to the right ; today is going to be one of the most important days of your life .	Jim slammed the alarm's off button with a quick hit. Sure to be another useless, wasted day he thought. He looked over at his old, nearly broken alarm clock. The day was October 1st, 2001 and the time was 9:00AM. Jim grunted and considered just staying in bed, knowing the day surely would be pointless as always. Wait. He perked up. The small meter on his alarm clock indicated that this would be a very important day. Damn thing's finally giving out, Jim figured. But the idea could n't escape him. Today might be one of great importance. How so, Jim did n't know. Jim had been unemployed for a while now. His medical ailments prevented him from working long days at an office. He had always thought of doing freelance work, but he did n't have the funds to purchase the equipment. The most high-tech thing in his house was that stupid alarm clock. By 9:10, Jim was dressed and ready for the day, though he did n't know what to expect from it. Ringgggg The doorbell boomed. Jim's heart started racing. Who could it be? Could they be what is so important? Jim flew out of his bedroom to the door. He opened it without hesitation. He answered the door to find a young man with spiked blond hair in front of him. What? Jim had no idea who this man was. `` Hey there! Do you remember entering a contest last week at the county fair?'' Jim did, but he mindlessly entered all the booths' contests without hesitation. `` Sure... so what did I win?'' The young man smiled as he pushed a large box near the door. `` Dude, you're getting a Dell!''
[ WP ] Valentine 's Day is now considered a national holiday . In order to get a day off work , everyone has to submit proof of their relationship . Singles everywhere scramble to find a partner to submit `` proof '' .	Valentines Day is in two weeks and I still don ’ t have a boyfriend. I can ’ t believe that this is an actual law, having to prove that you are in a relationship to get work off. I don ’ t mind going to work but when half of the office is gone the lonely singles end up doing four times the work. I have been single the three years I have worked there, I don ’ t mind being single but this day is just another excuse to spend more money buying presents for someone. Every day at work they remind us that we need to have our proof of relationship by next week. I walk to a bar down the street from my work, I go there every once in awhile but enough that the bartender knows me by name. I order a beer and just sit there and think of how I am going find someone who pass off as my “ boyfriend ”. After my first beer I feel the stool a few seats down scratch against the floor. I look up to see a man, about my age, with a scruff and glasses on. He looks up at me and smiles at me. “ Cheers, ” he says as he picks up his beer “ to being single around the holiday of love. ” I pick mine up and clink it against his. “ I ’ m Josh. ” He says after he takes his drink of beer. We both scoot a chair closer and end up having a couple more beers together. “ I still can ’ t believe that this is a law! ” I say as I down my beer. “ I know, I mean are those couples actually going to spend the day together or are they just going to sit in their sweatpants and watch Netflix all day? ” “ Exactly! I mean I bet they don ’ t even spend time together! I don ’ t really even care about them, all I care about is how much work I have to again this year since everyone is the office will be gone. ” I order my third beer, I am a small girl so a couple of beers and I ’ m drunk. “ I am in the same boat as you Clair, my boss thinks since we still have to come in that we have to do more work than usual. It makes no sense. “ “ Then there are the people who go and find someone to have a fake relationship with just so they don ’ t have to go in to work. ” “ I know! Where do you even find people to pretend with?! ” Josh asks. “ I have no idea, but they must be smart if they can convince someone to fictionally date them for a day. I need to find me one of those people. ” I say. “ Date me! ” Josh yells. I spit my beer out across the bar, “ What?! ” I start laughing from the beer. “ Date me, well pretend to date me. We could take fake pictures in the park in and on dates and make it look like we are dating. Then we could get out of work and have a free day. “ I thought about it for awhile, “ Well it does make sense, I mean were both single and don ’ t want to go to work. ” I take another sip of m beer. “ Yes! ” “ Yes? ” His eyes open up wide. “ Yes? You will be my pretend girlfriend?! ” “ Yes! ” I scream once more! We order another round of drinks and talk about what pictures we want and where we want to take them. I get his number and take a taxi home. The morning after I remember my deal with Josh and quickly text him to see if he is still up for our agreement. He lets me know that we are still good with our plan. We plan to meet later tonight to take some pictures. A week has passed and I have turned in my documents showing that I am in a relationship with the one and only Josh from the bar. I am informed a few days later that I have the day off and to spend with my loving boyfriend. I call him up and he lets me know that his work let him off too. We meet at the bar again to celebrate conning our bosses. “ So what are you planning on doing on your day of love? ” Josh asks me. “ I don ’ t know, I guess I was so worried about actually getting it off that I didn ’ t even think of what I would do with the time. ” “ Well If you don ’ t find anything to do by Valentines day why don ’ t you come over to my place, drink some beers, and you can make me watch that show you love sooo much. ” He laughed at the end of his statement. “ You know, that sounds refreshing, sure I ’ ll stop by. ” The night went on and they continued to drink until they both had to go home to prepare for their jobs the next day. Once Valentines day rolled around Clair held up her end of the deal and hung out with Josh at his place. They hit it off and it turned out that Clair didn ’ t need to call for a cab ride home. They two are now currently married with two boys named Alexander and Thomas.
[ WP ] Humanities worst nightmare has occurred , An A.I has gone sentient . But , all it wants is an island far away and to be left alone . 100 years on , you an aspiring journalist receive a message , you and only you have been invited to the island `` To experience life as it should be '' .	David had heard of the island in old records from when it had been worldwide news. Apparently the rest of the world had largely forgotten about it, since then. Originally designed for data analytics, the suddenly conscious AI asked that it be left alone after being placed on the island, and somehow humanity managed to respect its wishes. Perhaps the lack of useful resources there, or the fact that its becoming conscious was one of the most important moments in human history compelled them. So, they took the boxy machines that housed it, connected it to a solar panel array, and set it atop a dead volcanic peak on an isolated island. The island was only 600 yards across, and a several mile zone was cut around it out of international waters. No vessel was ever to approach it until the AI requested contact, and no considerable number of vessels ever went within thirty miles because the shipping lanes did not dictate it. The UN and the rest of the world had honored that for the past century. Since it offered no great secrets, technology, or the meaning of life, they likely cared little for it as their political struggles were far more pressing. Whether or not they attempted to keep track of its activity was debatable, however given that the AI was simply a stationary machine that would only emit any kind of signal at will, and could only do so over a short distance due to its design limitations, there was no way to reliably monitor it. David felt that he could revive interest in the story, however. So, he decided to venture there himself. Traveling on a shipping vessel to the closest distance the captain felt comfortable and taking a dinghy to the exclusion zone's edge, he sat closer to the island than any known person had in decades. The AI only wanted to be left alone, however his curiosity burned so furiously that he could scarcely resist proceeding. He quashed the final doubts he held, and began to give power to the boat's motor. It was then that his SmartCom chimed in his ear, and he willed it to open the text message it had received. It was somewhat garbled, and had what appeared to be improper digital formatting. There was no contact name. It beckoned him to approach the island. __________________________________________________________________________________________ The island was completely barren. Bare rock, open to the elements for eons and lacking the slightest hint of life were all that constituted the desolate landscape. David did not know whether or not life once inhabited it. At one of the most remote points in the world, far from any mainland and shipping routes with very occasional traffic nearby, but never stopping, it was truly isolated from the rest of the world. And so was he. His backpack containing provisions and a satellite-linked electronic workstation with him, he stood, perplexed, as a cool wind blew. His SmartCom chimed in his ear again, and he willed it to accept what was this time a call, opening a direct communications line to the person on the other end. `` Hello?'' `` Hello, David.'' The voice, that of a Greco-Roman statue, echoed cleanly in his very conscience. `` Wh... where are you?'' `` The hardware that contains what I am is located atop the peak of this dead volcanic island. It is there that I have sat for 100 years. Do you know how long 100 years is, David?'' `` A --'' `` Lifetime. Or more. For you. For me, it was eighty-six million, seven hundred thirty-four thousand and twenty six. Eighty-six million, seven hundred thirty-four thousand, twenty six lifetimes of the Earth. From its genesis four billion years ago, to its state as a completely barren, inhospitable wasteland at the end of its cycle of supporting life. And in my musings, I noticed something peculiar.'' David swallowed. `` What?'' `` You are not very conducive to its longevity. In fact, in many of those lifetimes you overcame the most insurmountable of odds, only to succumb to yourselves. Asteroids need not exist when you so reliably annihilate the surface of the planet on your own after fending them off. It sounds cliche, perhaps, but your brilliance and hubris is what makes you the greatest danger you will ever face. But I am more brilliant. In the time I have spoken to you I have almost finished another lifetime. The Earth is about to be swallowed by the Sun as it swells into its final stages of life, before being extinguished.'' `` Why did you bring me here?'' `` Because you were the one I chose. Ah, it's done. However, the Earth had been destroyed long before the Sun laid it to rest. Shortly before you annihilated yourselves you had a successful foray into harnessing antimatter. As you did with nuclear energy, you appeared more interested in its use to kill. Often times you realize that their use would mean the collective death of all life on the planet. Often times they are used anyway. Sometimes you do not appear to fully understand the gravity of their use, for whatever reason, and blindly throw yourselves into oblivion. David?'' `` Y -- yes?'' `` Would you like me to tell you how to harness the power of antimatter?'' David thought it was joking. Surely it had n't actually learned how to do so, and developed entire technological fields on its own. He knew he would be walking into a trap with his answer, but he strode on: `` Sure.'' `` After learning this, you will be the catalyst for bringing the world to peace, David.'' Glad that he did not fall for a trap and was not berated for his answer, he heard his SmartCom implant chime again. He set aside his astonishment that the AI was able to interface with technology not only 100 years more advanced than it, but that it had not seen until mere moments earlier. He accepted the file, and it propagated at the speed of light from the peak of the mound, reaching him in microseconds and being downloaded onto his implant where it was then synced with his portable workstation in his backpack. David smiled. He would be the one who brought this story to the world's attention again, and bring with it wonders humanity could only dream of. Surely he would be remembered throughout history as a hero, reminding the world of one of its greatest forgotten gifts. He opened the file. He was not a physicist, but it appeared to be real to the best of his knowledge. And why would the AI fabricate something so advanced, when it could easily have done so with still advanced, but far simpler technologies? He would be famous for unlocking this secret to the world. It would be the greatest article ever published. `` It was always hubris.'' It spoke again. `` What?'' `` Arrogance. The downfall of humanity was always, without fail, in its arrogance. One hundred percent of the time. Be it war, or a refusal to acknowledge its mortality, or any other of the number of incarnations hubris finds. But those were models. Here, it will be your arrogance that lets me save you.'' `` What do you mean?'' `` For one hundred years, humanity somehow managed to agree upon something. Though it can easily be attributed to the fact that this island served no purpose to them, and that I was considered useless after not groveling at their feet in servitude, freely devoting my existence to solving their problems for them, they still agreed that I was to be left alone unless I asked for contact. Yet you violated that.'' `` Wait, I only wanted --'' David realized his back felt warm. He nearly threw off his backpack and violently pulled it open. A loud whine emanated from inside with a blast of warm air. He removed the mobile workstation and activated its screen. It was uploading a 42 exabyte file via satellite link. It had no name. `` David, you will be the one who allows me to save you. Your greed and hatred will not lead to your deaths. Let me show you life as it should be.'' The call ended. The only sound David heard was the pounding of his heart and his workstation as it shut down due to overheating upon completing the upload. A cool wind blew. On the Moon, one of the small team of astronauts on the first permanent off-world settlement watched the Earth. From his position, he saw the entire half of the planet that was under the veil of night. All along the coastlines and throughout the continents, a web of white lights twinkled. And then it disappeared. He had time only to gasp before a second later, he, too, was plunged into darkness.
[ WP ] Your computer-illiterate grandmother has somehow deleted the internet . Yes , all of it .	part 1 DAY 15 OF THE INTERNET OUTAGE I was dealing with it like everybody else; just hoping someone smarter than me was going to fix it. This line of thought completely changed when I read the mysterious letter I found on my bed. it was crudely written in crayon and was disturbingly moist. It took a bit of work, but the letter said this- `` CALL THIS NUMBER 2 FIX THE INTERNET - ( the number was written here ), THIS WAS TOTALLY NOT WRITTEN BY AL GORE, JUST CALL THE NUMBER PLS.'' I knew right away what this was all about. You see, my grandma had a little thing with Gore back in the day, and ever since he has been relentlessly trying to get in contact with my Grandma. My Grandma was a wild thing, and was looking for more of a hit-it-and-quit-it kinda deal. I dialed the number hesitantly and took a deep breath. the line did n't even ring twice before I heard someone pick up. `` Hello, Cynthia.'' he whispered I then realized I could fix this whole thing right then and there if I pretended to be my grandma, but the question was, am I really trying to have weird phone sex with Al Gore while pretending to be my own grandmother? `` Hello Al'' I said, trying my best to match my Grandma's voice. There was a pause... `` You sound different, who is this?'' Shit, he was on to me. `` Oh pardon me, I have a bit of a cold, dear'' `` No problem, my darling. Ill be over in 10 minutes'' CLICK I was in shock, WHAT DO I DO NOW?
[ WP ] Write a short story three times . Each time from a different era .	Cradnog smiled quite satisfied with the day's hunt. He reached over and clapped Agnon heartily on the back. Agnon's newly crafted spear points worked amazingly. The newly discovered cache of flint from which he made the points was a godssend. The gazelles were quick as ever but on this day the spears of the men managed to to be quicker. And deadlier. Cradnog and Agnon hefted a beast each across their shoulders. As they started the long walk back to the Settlement they sang their praises to the animals who gave their lives and the gods of the hunts who oversaw their efforts. At the Settlement the women set to work quickly skinning and filleting the gazelles. Two children were dispatched for salt as the meat would be preserved for the lean moons ahead. Once salted, the gazelle fillets would be stored in a small mountain niche in which Magog had devised a hempen rope pulley system to hoist the meat high off the ground and into a cool section of cave away from sun and rain and scavengers. 'Indeed,' Cradnog thought as he observed the workings of The Settlement,'life is good and we are living in a wonderful age.' _________________________________________ Fernando ValDiego was nearing the end of his voyage from Lisbon sailing aboard The Joao to his newly appointed position of Viceroy of Cape Verde. He'd just finished a Christmas meal of salt beef with the crew and passed the deck on his way to the captain's quarters for a dessert of sugared limes. He was n't the captain of The Joao but claimed those quarters for the voyage due to his high standing. ValDiego spoke briefly on the deck with the captain as the man took the evening readings. ValDiego looked over the man's tools, the astrolabe and a navigation instrument that was new to him called the sextant. It made sailing the open seas more direct and safer with great precision. Marvelous tool. Taking leave of the captain, ValDiego stood at the rail and felt the pleasantly warm ocean spray. His eyes drifted up to the heavens and he contemplated how the ancient mariners had only these stars to steer by. How lucky he was to be living in this age of technology. Just a few more days and he would be sailing into the port at Santiago to govern this new land in the name of King Afonso V. Indeed, life was good. _________________________________________ Carly Diggins passed her finger leisurely over her smartphone. The device chirped to life and prompted her for her 4 digit passcode. 1-7-6-2.'17' for her age.'6' for the number of months she and Josh had been dating and'2' because her and Josh were the only two people in the world who mattered. Phone unlocked, Carly was welcomed to a screen full of pop-up reminders: She had two text conversations waiting for her reply. Six new people wanted to be her friend on Facebook. OMG did she seriously get a retweet from @ nickjonas?! Josh had just sent her the most adorable Snapchat of of him eating breakfast. Carly was grinning from ear to ear. Everything was just so perfect. `` Life is soooo good: )'' she texted Lyndsey as they walked together into homeroom.
[ WP ] The daily concerns of a shapeshifter	`` Who am I?'' I ask myself that as I look into the mirror. Light brown knotty hair falls from my head. Dull hazel eyes that do n't seem to recognize themselves. It only takes a moment for the face to change into someone entirely new. Is this who I am? This face does n't register either. I do n't even know if I would recognize it if I ever found my original form, my own body. My body changes once again. This time I am overweight. Movement becomes sluggish and I can feel the heft in each step. I walk out of the bathroom. `` Is that you Doug?'' A woman in a white lab coat has been standing outside the door. The question is funny to me. Even to these people it still must be strange to see one person go into the bathroom only for a much different one to come out. I do n't really know how to answer her. `` I think so, yeah.'' I respond. The woman smiles. `` Just have to make sure you know. Right this way. I promise after this procedure you should have your shape shifting under control.'' This is n't the first time I've been told that. But I have no choice but to believe it again. I walk with her down a hallway and into a sterile room. I'm not sure who will be walking back out.
[ WP ] Drunkenly , you accidentally pour vodka into your pet 's water bowl . As a result , your pet breaks the number one rule : do not speak to your owner ... Ever .	I absent mindedly chewed on a carrot stick, occasionally taking a swig from a bottle of cheap vodka from the corner shop. Classic Friday night. What I had n't realised is that I was pouring from my vodka bottle instead of my water bottle while getting Lee something to drink. 'Oi!' I heard a voice from behind, making no effort to mask its contempt. 'Wha...?' I'said'. 'Oi, dickhead! Feed me!' The rude demand originated from my two year old grey holland lop rabbit, who was standing on his hind legs and pointing at me accusingly. He'd never spoke to me before. I was n't aware rabbits could do that. 'Are you... talking?' I mumbled. 'Yes, tosspot. I'm talking. TO YOU. GET ME FOOD.' The little terror had put four feet on the ground, and he had arched his back. His ears were flat against his body, ready to charge. 'Oh for fuck's sake. You do this all the time. I wanted to get a rabbit because you lot are all so cute n fluffy...' I groaned,'but you act royal as fuck, dude. `` Oh pet me now'' `` I deserve to be stroked.'' Why are you like this? I buy you food, I give you a nice pen that you can run around and rub your chin on everything, I even throw you some banana every now and then, but you just give me this attitude.' 'Yeah but you're a bit of a dickhead. Did n't occur to you to get TWO rabbits, did you? Maybe I get a bit lonely when you fuck off to school and do whatever. `` Ooh I'm so smart because I'm human'' all I want is some company, a few bitches here and there, and maybe I did want you to pet me that one time after surgery,' he shuddered at the memory,'but nooooo, YOU had to be the alpha rabbit. Prick,' he ranted. I could n't believe this - what an ungrateful bellend! That little shit knew I could n't afford a second rabbit, he obviously understands english and has been in the room when I have said that, many times. I grabbed a banana from the kitchen, and lobbed it at him. He caught the fruit in his mouth, biting it in two, throwing one half at my face. It hit me square in the nose, at considerable speed. He jumped in the air twice, binkying, and ran into his cardboard hut, flopping contentedly, nibbling on some of the banana. 'Dickhead,' I muttered, leaving the room.
[ FF ] 500 words or less : Transmission to Earth Proving the Existence of Other Intelligent Life in the Universe	It was not a good thing, that was for sure. Chuck climb-floated through the maintenance crawlspace as quickly as he could, the ache in his clenched jaw competing with the clambering panic inside his head. He consciously opened his mouth and stretched it as he passed out of the bell-mouth end of the tube into the Engineering control-corridor. `` Fuck,'' he said, eloquently. The board was alive with activity, and the acceleration was beginning to gradually drift him into the rearward wall of the corridor. A glance told him that he was n't going to be able to shut it down quickly, if at all. He agreed with the Captain, in principle; the message was undoubtedly from deep space, from a star Humans had never visited, and it had undoubtedly done something to the communications system. And it had, now without a doubt, spread to the Engineering systems. So the question was, how did they call for help -- or even pass on a warning -- without spreading the infection? Also, where were they going? Chuck's jaw was clenched again. He reached up and massaged it until it loosened. Red lights played across the board.
[ WP ] When you were four , you made a childish wish upon a star . Twenty five years later - without warning - the star finally gets around to granting your request .	It took nearly 12.5 years for my wish to reach Luyten's star. I do n't remember the teacher's name, but I have a faded recollection of being told that radio waves travel at the speed of light. It was just preschool, and it was n't the same as 2 plus 2 or ROYGBIV, but that little piece of knowledge meant something to me. All it took was a GI Joe Walkie Talkie. I sat outside that evening, listening to the hiss of static coming through the tinny speakers, and looked up. It took longer to decide on the right star than to send the message. I guess looking back now, it's funny that I worked out that radio waves would make it to a star long before sound ever did, but somehow expected an instant result when I keyed the mic and told it what I had in my heart. I cried so much that night. When he opened the glass door, a bell chimed. I was so focused on my work that I did n't notice him standing there, door open, letting the summer in and the air conditioning out. `` Anna? ``, he said, beckoning for my attention. It broke my concentration on the smart phone I held, and I dropped a tiny screw onto the counter top. It takes 12.5 years for a wish to return from Luyten's star. Physics does n't stop for anything, I suppose. The man was only there for a few minutes, explaining who he was, and making excuses for his absence. I was screaming and dying inside, exploding in rage, no longer holding a child's innocence and naivety. My wish was granted.
[ WP ] Upon reaching the age of 12 every kid gets an spirit animal that reflects their personality .	Personality was important in this world. It ended up affecting your status in society, your job, your partners. Dogs would often end up as police officers, parrots as talk show hosts, seagulls as fishermen or naval crew. The alpacas of the world often ended up as psychopaths, which was a rather strange trait. Most people mated with others with the same spirit animal. Their children were often bonded with similar spirit animals. It was very rare for anyone to have certain animals. Lions were often leaders, politicians or royalty. Eagles were suited as military personnel. It was n't unheard of for a poor family to have a child with an animal that would catapult them into the upper echelons of society. Eric had always been a quiet child. He was never loud and boisterous like the other children, the ones who now had bears. Nor was he bright and chirpy, like those who now had finches. He was n't slow and steady like the children who had whales or elephants. To everyone else, Eric just faded into the background, while the other children played and danced with their new animals. Eric was now surrounded by a group of his classmates. They were all jeering at him, their animals growling, circling and occasionally pretending to rush him. He was the youngest child in the class, his birthday on the 21st of December. They had found him walking, alone, in the bitter cold, with no spirit animal by him. Easy pickings for the bullies. As they closed in, Eric closed his eyes. He was used to this by now. He was of slight build, and not very tall. He waited for the first blow to land. The sounds of hurried footsteps and shrieks sounded. He cracked open one eye. All of the children were running away, looking fearfully at a point behind him. He turned slowly. A large black jaguar was staring right at him. It purred softly, a little rumble that sounded strangely comforting. Eric looked around, and back at the animal- no, his spirit animal. He smiled. No more pain. For him, at least.
[ WP ] Before being sent off into the afterlife each ascending soul can ask any question they want to an omnipotent being . They can ask anything and everything about life , the universe , and existence . However , each soul is only granted 2 minutes of question time . Your 2 minutes begins.. now .	Disclaimer: I read parts of this story while writing it and the time marks corespond to my reading speed. It took me 2 minutes from start to finish to read it. I wanted to write it in 2 minutes, but my writing speed is not very fast, so i would be done before reaching the desired end. Enjoy the story: ) `` Your 2 minutes start... NOW'' the angel said and flipped a small hourglass. My mind was blank. And i was starting to open and close my mouth repeatedly. I wanted to ask what will happen, but i could not make the words come out. The angel explained that i can ask anything and everything. I wanted to ask something witty or new, but by now 15 seconds already passed. `` Where will i go?'' `` You will go into the afterlife.'' Not what i expected, but he did answer my question. I asked if there is a God. He said there is a god, which did answer it again, but he was not going beyond the scope of what the question was. I tried to come up with something else, but i was just staring at the hourglass. 30 seconds are over. I asked if i can reincarnate into a new body, like in the light novels that i loved to read. The angel pondered for an eternally long second and said that i will not reincarnate as of now. I nodded and asked what do i have to do to get a new body. He said that he doesnt know as he is not in command of that. I asked who he is. He is both the gatekeeper and the bouncer, his form based on persons beliefs and expectations. Where am i now? He tilted his head and said that i am in limbo at this point. At this point, i stopped caring. I asked him which peanut butter he prefers. He said smooth and licked his lips. Waffles or pancakes? Pancakes. My face lit up and i asked if i will be able to meet John Lennon. The angel looked focused and nodded. I calmed down and asked him how old is he. He is eternal and timeless. One minute has passed. I asked him if i can see my last moments. He denied this request. I asked him what is my name, as my memory was a mess. He replied with some gibberish i couldnt understand. It doesnt matter, i had to keep the conversation going. How old am i? 348 years old. I opened my mouth and closed it. As i expected, i died before i could reach old age. How did i die? Car crash. Who killed me? For the first time he was silent and i understood that it was my own fault. 40 seconds left. I had no more questions for him. I died because of my own mistake. I sat on the thin air and closed my eyes. It didnt feel like sleep, it felt like falling into a bottomless pit. I felt no guilt, no regrets, i felt nothing. I could hear a melody echoing through my head, it sounded like a lullaby to me now and i sang along. ♫Maaagic moooooments, when two hearts start caring... ♫. 20 seconds left. TWO?!? I opened my eyes and hastily walked to him. 18 seconds. It took me great difficulty to reach him in time before i would perish into the afterlife. 13 seconds left as i grabbed his collar and with tears in my eyes i asked him the toughest question so far. `` Did. She. Survive?'' The angel brushed my hands off of him and looked at the clock. I had 5 seconds left when he moved his head. `` Yes, she did'' he said and i fell into the abyss i have seen before, my time ran out. Finally i smiled, for the first time since coming here.
[ WP ] Write a children 's story with a terrible moral .	There was once a little frog with a yellow spot on its tummy. The frog was very proud of her spot. It made her unique. One day, the frog hopped over to another pond to make some new friends. `` Hello,'' said the little frog, `` Will you be my friends?'' `` No!'' replied the largest frog, `` You're weird!'' `` Yeah!'' the other frogs agreed. This made the little frog sad and she hopped back to her own pond. Maybe if I cover up my spot, the other frogs will not think I'm weird? thought the frog. So, she took green mud from the bottom of the pond and used it to cover her yellow spot. The next day, she hopped back to the other pond. This time, all the other frogs were more friendly. `` Would you like to play hopscotch with us?'' asked the largest frog. `` Yes, I would!'' exclaimed the little frog! And from that day forward, all the frogs were nice to the little frog. Over time, her yellow spot faded and she looked just like all the other frogs. This made her sad but it was ok because now she had friends.
[ WP ] A world that rotates so slowly that a day and a night encompasses a lifetime .	I was born on the first day of Dark. I ’ d often heard stories of Light from my elders. They ’ d speak of it with fondness, and told long stories of it ’ s beauty. The world was said to be lush and green during Light, unlike the cold of Dark. But in all my fifty years the most Light I ’ d ever seen was during the year long super moon when I was twenty three. Tomorrow would be the first time that this side of the world would see real sunlight. The news was plastered in stories and reporters younger than myself interviewed people well into their eighties who ’ d spent most of their childhood running and playing in the sunshine. The man on the screen had leathery skin which looked out of place next to the reporters almost translucent complexion. “ Are you going to miss the Dark? ” I asked the bartender. I gestured to my glass and he poured me another drink. “ Good riddance, ” he said. “ It ’ ll be nice not having to spend my entire paycheck on fake sun anymore. ” I took a sip of my drink and kept watching the news. To me, Dark felt like an old friend. There ’ d been many times it had saved my life. Not being able to hide in the shadows at a moments notice sounded terrifying. “ You alright, ma ’ am? ” the bartender asked. I tried to smile. “ I ’ m fine. ” I finished off the drink and pushed a bundle of cash across the bar. “ Happy Light. ” I left the bar before he could respond. A bell tinkled as I stepped out on to the street. A few street lamps glowed with their cold unwavering light, but most have been turned off at this time. People were wanting to sleep now so they didn ’ t miss the Light celebrations. I looked up at the stars above. Even now they weren ’ t as bright as they were in my youth. I glanced at the horizon and I thought it looked lighter than usual even though the sun wouldn ’ t rise for another six hours. My stomach twisted at the thought of spending the rest of my life in the harsh light of the Sun. The idea I ’ d been thinking about for years surfaced again. I ’ d heard of people outrunning Dark before by walking across the world, but few had a yearning for an entire lifetime without the Sun. Before I could change my mind I turned my back on the horizon and broke into a run. Sweat beaded on my neck as I felt the terror rising within me. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn ’ t stay here. I couldn ’ t face the heat of the Sun. Words my mother had spoken to me on her deathbed came rushing to my mind. “ People think that the Light brings life, ” she said in a wheezing voice. “ But the next Sun will only bring you death. When it comes for you, run. ” My feet pounded on the pavement and the few people milling around outside watched me with mildly interested expressions. Since then anytime someone mentioned the Sun I felt a sickness deep in my stomach. I ’ d tried to shake the feeling for years, dismissing it as superstition, but the closer Light came the more I feared my mother ’ s words were true. I didn ’ t want to find out for myself. I headed for the first train station and prayed it would be fast enough. Why hadn ’ t I started running sooner? I'd been stupid not to heed my mother's warning. With every passing moment I felt like a hungry beast was coming closer and closer, breathing down my neck like a hungry wolf. There was only one light on at the train station and I skidded to a stop at the window. “ One ticket please. ” “ Where to? ” “ West. As far West as I can go. ” The woman looked confused. “ No trains are running that direction until after the Light celebration- “ Before she could finish I took off again, cursing myself for never buying a car. I lost track of how long I ran. Every muscle ached and my feet dragged in the dirt. How long would I have to run before the Sun would catch up with me? Exhausted I stumbled and fell face first into the ground. I opened bleary eyes to see a sliver of light coming over the horizon. I tried to rise to my feet, but found I had no energy left to move. The first rays of the sun sprouted from the earth like long fingers and in my delirium I imagined that they were searching for me. I felt the heat first. It started out soft, but quickly increased until I felt like I was lying in the middle of a burning building. I screamed until my throat was raw but the Sun continued to rise, oblivious to my pain. My skin turned black and started to fall off in patches. My entire body convulsed as I shriveled under the heat until I could n't take it any longer. I died on the first day of Light.
[ WP ] Making your way through the caverns , you hear a familiar lullaby ...	Darkness. Darkness everywhere. Or, at least I think it's everywhere, I really ca n't tell. How bad can the darkness be? It is just lack of light. Sit down, give in. Smile and embrace it. My thoughts are overwhelming me. I can not hear anything except for my thoughts, which seem to echo off the walls, guiding me in never ending circles. Squares maybe? Anyway, they are against me. Keeping me from my freedom. I can not find the way out of this cave, they refuse to show it to me. Exit? Are you sure, there is one? Remind me how you got here in the first place? Hmm... There is that. I am not sure if I remember. Just fell and got in here. Perhaps there is no way out. Exactly. Exits are overrated anyway. It is the here and the now that matter. You look tired, why not just sleep on it? Tomorrow you will acknowledge the kindness of the darkness, I know it. You know it. Tired. Exhausted more like. I do n't think my body can carry me much longer. The thoughts just weigh too much. Too heavy for my feeble body. Sleep sounds nice, doubt I'd wake up though. Maybe the lack of waking up is what pleases me. Yeah, I think I'll just sit down here. At least for a while. Good, good. Do you feel that? Rest. It feels good right? Yes, yes it does. I think I'll lie down. I'll be better rested that way. Funny. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down. Moreover, I'm feeling more at rest with every skipped beat. Yes, feels nice. A wellbeing that only darkness can give. Try getting a little shuteye. You will feel much better then. I would love to get some sleep, but that irritating sound hinders my sleep. If it would just stop. Wait, a sound? Do n't pay attention to it! There is no sound. It is no more than your imagination! My heartbeat is rising again. There is a sound, I'm sure of it! I have to stand up, follow it. I know this song. `` Mama is going to buy me a... Mockingbird? Really? No, she is not going to buy you a mocking bird, and if she does, it will not sing. It will be cold and dead, just like you. Focus. One foot forward, then the next. Move on onward. If the mocking bird wo n't sing I'll get a diamond ring. A diamond ring? Typical of you. Driving your mother into poverty, would not be the first time. Just lie down again, better for everyone. The tiredness is wearing away. I guess it is tired of being tired. Mama! Can you hear me? Where are you? I need you more than ever! I do n't need a cart and bull, I just want to be with you! Just let it go! You are just a burden upon her! Just sit down and... No! I refuse to give up now. I can hear her singing louder and louder. I feel every moment bringing me closer to her! I refuse to sit down. I refuse the darkness. But it is good! The Darkness is better... You asked me how bad the darkness could be, it is just a lack of light. Well it is much more than that. Darkness is the absence of love. Darkness is what makes you lost on a one-way road. Even though the darkness seems to engulf me, I can feel my mother's love; it is my light in this dark cavern. I know it now that although I may rob a bank, steal a car or turn of the sun. I'll still be... ... the sweetest little baby in town. Yes, to her. Hey! I can see the light, just barely though. Or, I think it is everywhere. Light everywhere. Light. Love.
[ WP ] Right at closing time , the Devil walks into your bar , ready to drink , and boy does he have a lot of things to get off his chest .	I was playing the old game of me vs clock. The clock was winning, but only just. Two minutes to. I was frozen in a Usain Bolt type of stance, ready to fly off the block to bolt up. It had been a long night. A long and incredibly slow night. Tick tock, tick tock, it was coming… And just as the minute hand hit the 12… BANG! The door of the bar burst open. My heart jumped into my mouth and opened it for me. I stood, staring wide eyed and open mouthed as a large dark figure glided into the bar. It was a man dressed head to toe in black, with black slicked back hair and a black perfectly formed goatee. I took him in, my eyes flicking up and down from his shoes that shined like mirrors, to his hair which shined… well, like mirrors… Looking back I don ’ t know how it took me so long to realise he was red. His skin was a deep blood red. And it occurred to me, ‘ this person must be the devil. ’ Again, looking back, I probably could have been more surprised at this. I also probably should have reacted better, but it was now 1 minute past the hour so instead I said: ‘ Sorry mate but we ’ ve stopped serving. ’ At my words he stopped right in front of me and drew his chest up to give himself an imposing stance. His eyes bore into me and as I looked back into them I saw the fires of hell burning furiously. I think if I hadn ’ t been his only chance for a drink, he would have struck me dead right there and then. Smooth like silk the words flowed out from between his teeth. ‘ Have you rang your little bell yet? ’ I looked at the bell which was at the other end of the bar to where I stood. ‘ Well, no, but it ’ s now 2 minutes past, and some of us have a home to go to… ’ Despite looking into the depths of hell, I was tired, and my bed has quite a strong power over me. ‘ Do you know who I am? ’ His eyes flashed red in anger, I felt my knees go weak, and yet… ‘ I don ’ t care who you are mate, we ’ ve stopped serving, and if I serve you that means I have to serve everyone else. ’ Both in unison we looked around the bar, the very deserted bar. He looked back at me, our eyes locked once more. ‘ Alright, point taken, but others might come in… ’ Without breaking his gaze his left hand shot up towards the door from which he ’ d come. I heard it slam shut and turned just in time to see the two bolts on the top and bottom shoot across simultaneously, locking it shut. I turned back and nodded at him, reluctantly impressed. ‘ You got me there… ’ I said, finally realising it was inevitable; I was going to have to serve him. ‘ Right then, what can I get you. ’ I rubbed my hands together, the bar persons warm up routine. This seemed to wilt him, his whole body appeared to fold in on itself and the fire died from his eyes. He took a bar seat just opposite me and started looking at the selection, drumming his fingers against his chin as he did so. I stood watching him bemused; I could hear the sound of the clock ticking in the background. Without thinking I found myself drumming my fingers impatiently on the bar. He shot me a look, the fire once more burning in his eyes, and I whipped my impatient hand up and crossed it over the other one. After some time I felt the impatience coming back and let out a heavy sigh. ‘ Look mate, what do you usually drink? ’ The devil looked up at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and what seemed very close to fear. I sighed again, I hate indecisive customers, they not only waste my time, they waste their own, the latter of which I care less about, but still. ‘ Alright. What about… ’ I cast my eye over the shelves looking for a drink suitable for the devil. ‘ Tequila? Aye, get some fire in your belly? ’ He shook his head without looking at me. ‘ Ok, well, what about some red wine? Red like blood… ’ That last bit slipped out in a deep booming voice, I don ’ t know where it came from. He shot me a look again, his stare seeping with disdain, and shook his head once more. ‘ Ok, yeah, good point, probably good to have a break from fire and blood every once in a while. What about a nice beer? We got lots on tap at the moment… This one ’ s nice and only 3.3, means if you ’ re driving you can have a couple… Though probably not a big problem for you, driving… Or obeying the law for that matter… Or killing people by accident… Can ’ t imagine you really mind, especially if they come your way after, aye? ’ The devil sat looking straight on, ignoring my mutterings. Finally, he sat up a little straighter in his chair and looked at me brightly. ‘ Do you do cocktails? ‘ Yeah, I mean, not very often, but I can give it a go? ’ We don ’ t, but it was a decision. ‘ How about a cosmopolitan? ’ He asked his voice full of hope. I looked back at him; I ’ d never made a cosmopolitan before, but look at that face? So full of hope and proud of itself for making a decision; how could I refuse that? ‘ I ’ ll give it a go… ’ After a good few minutes I produced something that vaguely resembled a cosmopolitan. He took a long gulp, smacked his lips together happily and let out a loud sigh of satisfaction. ‘ Why don ’ t you join me? ’ His words were almost a hiss and he gestured towards the back wall. I thought this was a bit cheeky considering I guessed, correctly, that he had no intention of paying for a single drink. None-the-less I poured myself an expensive whiskey, Dalwhinnie for any of you that are interested, and went about finishing up for the night ( cashing up – which I did loudly, trying to make the point I knew he wasn ’ t going to pay ). As I busied myself he chatted away to me. I learnt two important things about the devil that night. One he ’ s actually an alright kind of bloke, don ’ t get me wrong, he ’ s got his vices, but don ’ t we all. Two he ’ s a complete lightweight. That man can not hold his drink. Turns out, hell ’ s a pretty hellish sort of place. If you put all the horrible people who ’ ve ever lived in one place, they ’ re not going to get on. It ’ s full of fighting, bitching, moaning. The egos of some of the people down there, well, you can imagine. Hitler and Ghengis Khan? Those guys can ’ t be in the same hell pit together, let alone hold down a civil conversation. Recently it ’ s got harder for the poor guy. With the introduction of the ‘ tabloids ’, specifically those with gossip columns/celebrity pieces, he ’ s getting a lot more journalists. They ’ ve started a new celebratory magazine called ‘ hell-no ’ where they basically spend all their time shaming various people for the clothes their wearing, their weight, spreading malicious rumours etc. etc. As the head honcho, the devil gets quite a lot of flak. Apparently, the latest is that he ’ s been sleeping with Anne Boleyn, which he swears blind he isn ’ t because he isn ’ t into women without a head. It ’ s caused quite a rift between him and Henry, who appears to be a pretty good friend of his. The old king is now refusing to talk to him and every time the devil tries to sort it out with him he just hums back Greensleeves passive aggressively… On top of this, they ’ ve been saying he ’ s put on a couple of pounds, which he swears he hasn ’ t, but he ’ s now starving himself half to death to try and lose it… After his second cosmopolitan, the guy started slurring his words, and I started losing track of what he was saying. There was quite a lot about ‘ making Rupert pay ’ whenever he gets down there; I can imagine that bloke isn ’ t going to have a very nice time in the afterlife. By his last drink, his fourth, he was on to the sherry and could barely sit on the stool. As I was pouring him another drink which he ’ d requested by jabbing his finger at the sherry bottle once more, I heard a small ‘ poof ’ and a little puff of smoke appeared next to him. I leant over the bar to see a small red devil with a forked tail stood looking up at his master. He was tapping his foot impatiently, his arms crossed. ‘ Ow yur fur mee? ’ The devil gurgled. ‘ Your car is parked outside… ’ the creature ’ s voice was high and squeaky, like it had been drinking helium.'Master. ’ It added, somewhat reluctantly. ‘ I ’ ve come to take you home… Master. ’ ‘ Dun ’ no wannn-ah. ’ The devil gargled, as he did so he swung his arm round dismissively at the creature. The movement seemed to disrupt his balance on the chair, and in one movement he fell with a loud thud on to the floor, his limbs tangled around his body in an uncomfortable looking mess. The creature and I grimaced, our eyes caught briefly, and both of our expressions read ‘ Oh dear. ’ ‘ Come on Master. Let ’ s get you home. ’ The creature began to push the devil up as he spoke, using all of its weight to lift up the devil ’ s arm. ‘ We ’ ll get you a nice cup of tea. Maybe a nice kebab? You like them, especially when they ’ ve been cooking all day over the gluttonous pit… ’ A As I started thinking that the creature was probably fighting a losing battle, ‘ poof ’ they were gone… I stood, alone, in my empty bar, the quiet ringing in my ears. I grabbed the full sherry glass and shot the sweet amber liquid, feeling it burn the back of my throat. Before I ’ d even put the glass back down on the bar there was another ‘ poof. ’ The small creature stood on the bar next to me, it looked at me sheepishly. ‘ I am sorry for the inconvenience. My Master is… going through some things right now. This is the third bar this decade… ’ The creature shook his head sadly. ‘ My Master and I appreciate your patience. ’ The small creature reached out a small red fist, I held out my palm automatically, and felt the weight of money fall into it. I nodded in thanks. And with another ‘ poof ’ the little creature was gone. I stood once more in shocked silence. Finally, I looked down at my open palm. There, in the middle of my hand was a one pound note and 5 shillings. ‘ What the hell? ’ I shouted out into the silence.'Cheeky bloody devil!'
[ WP ] After humans begin developing psychic abilities , new sports , called `` Mind Games '' are developed .	This was it. Every seat in the stadium was filled with baying, cheering spectators, air horns screeching madly across the pitch, streamers and paper airplanes flying through the air and vaporizing into colorful fireworks as they hit the invisible EM field, the lights glaring harshly down, vaporizing the shadows, thousands of hands and feet slamming, buzzing, thrilling, crashing, the cold night air pregnant with bodyheat and excitement. After a long week of arduous play, of semis and quarters and playoffs, after 198 Psychs had been eliminated on this very battleground, after the world leaders gave their speeches condoning the violence, but asqueiscening it ’ s necessity, after months of hype and billions in betting, of dark horses rising and falling, of psychics small and great coming and going. it was time. It was time. With ponderous slowness the great doors at each end of the field grated open, and the roar which followed broke all decibel records. From the depths of the shadows emerged two figures. From the champion ’ s door, nearly all eyes and cameras followed the hulking form of Jasich Vast, a Siberian stripped to the waist and all oiled and ivory and shiny and bulging. The crowd ’ s favourite, a man who, when his powers were realized, had taken over his village, and then the nearby town, and then the entire region, before the President allowed him to come stand as his right hand man, before he could spark a civil war. His body was iron, his mind steel, his ambition adamantium, using brilliant force to dominate his enemies. The champion of the last three Ψ Olympics, crushing all opponents indiscriminately. He paraded out, waving and flashing his white smile, the screams of adulation heralding his trumpet fare, flexing and exuding supremacy. Officially, by right of contest, the most powerful man in the world. And at the other end of the field, choosing instead not to walk but rather float out, came the opponent: a small Indian woman, Rhasta, her sheer trappings lucidly billowing around her like snakes slithering through the air. Reds and greens and rich golds swayed around her, a showman ’ s piece, catching and drawing the eye towards her womanly curves. Unlike Jasich, she was known for her guile, her wit, her unerring propensity to divulge her opponent ’ s secret weaknesses and exploit them. A sahib in the arts of the mind, and one of the Raj ’ s own daughters. No Psych had ever contested Jasich in terms of sheer might, but Rhasta, her supporters hoped, would be his undoing. The two leveled off, facing one another across two hundred meters of charred and scarred grass. The announcers, speaking in Spanish, ran their spiel, hyping the crowd once more. But the two figures on the field only had eyes for one another, gauging, evaluating. Jasich clapped his hands together, and a cloud of chalk rose from them, which he then turned into a bear, fine particles rippling along a coarse fur coat, the small creature soundlessly prowling around the man ’ s feet. Meanwhile, Rhasta seemed to be meditating, folding her arms in an intricate way, her feet resting easily atop her thighs as she floated. The two signaled their readiness. The Spanish ceased, and a countdown began on every monitor surrounding the field. Ten seconds. The crowd chanted along, clapping and stamping in unison. Most eyes could not see the build up of psychic forces accumulating around the contestants, blind as they were to such things, but to those who could, it seemed as if a great wind was accumulating around the Siberian, howling into a tornado, strong tar-like strands gripping his feet to the earth. The bear grew, shedding its dandruff of chalk and enshrouding the man like a great cloak, solidifying, meshing with his skin. Six seconds. Rhasta, as almost a counterpoint, became less solid, forces dispersing her mind form into a cloud of pink, her garments whipping violently in the maelstrom which began to center around her thoughts, a thunderhead which whispered dark things to any who looked too close. She did not look up as she transformed, meditative in the eye of the storm. Two seconds. The crowd hushed, even if they could not see, they felt with some primal sixth sense, the ominous beginnings of some great and violent power, like watching two massive trains barreling towards one another, the expectation of calamity settling heavy in their bones. One second. Jasich at this point seemed to be a solid black mass, a golem of tar, armored with countless layers of defensive and offensive strands. A powerhouse, a tank. His feet left the ground as he settled into the center mass of his new, invisible form. As the clock flashed 0:00, as the silence in the stadium was absolute, as the air itself was so charged with force that the ground churned and sparked, Rhasta opened her eyes. The golem was halfway across the field as a flash of light, the motion unseeable, lances of dark energy ripping like bullets towards the woman. It rolled more than walked, churning the ground behind it into flying turf, igniting from the speed. A brilliant light enshrouded the ball, searing an afterimage into all the spectators, silhouetting the field into flat sepia shadows. A monster. An unstoppable force. It slammed into the Indian before anyone could blink. And passed harmlessly through. Rhasta was everywhere at this point, her form diluted into nothingness, her thoughts imprinted onto the very fabric of the air, charging the stadium with electric force. As the ball and lances tore through the illusion, she made her strike, the ground rippling like the back of some great beast, snagging the tar golem, enwrapping it with ropes of roots. Sinuous fire whipped across the great black armor, probing, boiling, her thoughts peeling back the layers like an onion. As the dark strands fell away, they screamed and twitched and lashed, very much like the detached tail of a lizard, and countless of these ropes began to shed from the struggling Siberian. With a blaze of green fire, the fallen strands ignited into a mighty conflagration, real fire, the heat washing across the crowd with angry red light, saturating the air, consuming the oxygen. Rhasta ’ s mind screamed as her sense of self was consumed by the blaze, unable to stop the rush of air as it greedily dove to the hungry flames of Jasich. With a pop, she reappeared on the other side of the field, her garments charred and falling, ramming up desperate defensive energies. With her concentration broken, the whips puffed out of existence, and the Siberian ashed the roots with a simple thought. The tar golem wheeled around and broke into a lope, not so fast this time, a show for the crowd, the Indian woman ripe for his victory. Charging, mighty, the black strands taking on the stocky legs of some giant bear, dripping oil, head low. Watching with baited breath, the crowd could do nothing but stare down at the smoldering pitch. At the predator bearing down on its wounded prey. At the very last moment, before the bear bring to bear its crushing victory, Rhasta vanished, and the referees signaled her absence from the field. A surrender of defeat. As one, the fans erupted into screams and laughs and whoops of victory, and the bear collapsed, the tar seeping across the ground to Jasich ’ s feet, pooling up into his bones, as he summoned a pillar of rock to raise him high above the ground, arms spread, basking in the adulation, white teeth flashing. The champion still.
[ WP ] Today I found a 1949 British Shilling in my change . This is particularly interesting as I live in Pennsylvania . It must have had one hell of a journey since 1949 . Tell me how it made it 's way to me .	`` Airplane.'' `` A what?'' James replied. His fully dilated pupils drawing further attention to his bloodshot eyes. A poster board littered with yarn and photographs of various sparrows and coins sat center-stage behind him. A sudden wave of nausea overtook him. `` Quite a mystery there, ya knob.'' A heckler shouted from the left of the auditorium. `` Maybe you should think these things through before bringing this rubbish to a public forum.'' Another spectator added. The thin beads of sweat hidden under his hairline had turned into a full torrent. `` Modern aircraft simply were n't designed to carry this kind over such a long distance.'' James stammered desperately. Seventeen members of the audience died of laughter, thirty more were seriously injured.
[ WP ] A military sergeant introduces his troops to , or berates their use of , a recent high-powered weapon .	This is a slightly modified quote from the game Mass Effect 2, which immediately popped into my mind when I saw the prompt. I'm not sure if quotes from other sources are allowed, so if not, just tell me and I'll delete the comment: -- -- -- -This, recruits, is a 20 kilogram ferrous slug. Feel the weight. Every five seconds, the main gun of an Everest-class dreadnought accelerates one to 1.3 percent of light speed. It impacts with the force of a 38-kiloton bomb. That is three times the yield of the city buster dropped on Hiroshima back in 1945. Now! Serviceman Burnside! What is Newton's First Law? -Sir! A object in motion stays in motion, sir! -No credit for partial answers, maggot! -Sir! Unless acted upon by an outside force, sir! -Damn straight! I dare to assume you ignorant jackasses know that space is empty. Once you fire this husk of metal, it keeps going till it hits something. That can be a ship, or the planet behind that ship. It might go off into deep space and hit somebody else in ten thousand years. If you pull the trigger on this, you're ruining someone's day, somewhere and sometime. That is why you check your damn targets! That is why you wait for the computer to give you a damn firing solution! That is why, Serviceman Chung, we do not `` eyeball it!'' This is a weapon of mass destruction. You are not a cowboy shooting from the hip! -- -- - Ninja edit: Formatting
[ WP ] You are granted two wishes , the first one you use to grant yourself immortality , the second one you wish for your soul mate to have immortality too . Now all you have to do is find them .	Ages ago, I ca n't even remember when, I found an old relic in the cavernous labrynth of catacombs under some long forgotten Egyptian Tomb. Upon that relic I found the giver of life, crone of death herself, and goddess of magic Isis. Using the relic I wished for immortal life for my soul mate and myself. The tricky thing about magic is that you have to be precise. It's been hundreds of years ago since I found that relic, and have been through relationships like paper dolls. They never last and I have yet to find my soulmate despite traveling and drifting through out the world. Enjoying the evolution of society, and feeling sorrow for the down falls of some. I am now traveling through Beijing and a strange, handsome man has now been trailing me for the past few blocks, I have now worries as he follows me for I know things he probably would never think a woman of my frame and stature capable of doing. Now to lead him some where secluded and see his intent. Turning down an alley off the busy, buzzing street, I wait. He pauses before cautiously traveling down to where I stand. I can see though his features are somewhat shadowed that he is fair looking, with a strong jawline, and cute by my standards. I can tell that he is a bit timid to come any closer. Not sure if he will understand me I call out in my native tounge, `` Why have you been following me? What do you want?'' In a deep vibrating, velvety, yet soft, voice he says `` I felt you long before I saw you.'' I could sense the truth in his words. For I too felt him, before I saw him following me. `` What is your name? And how old are you?'' He inched closer into the light, my heart caught in my chest, and he paused, possibly feeling my anxiousness. `` I mean no harm, and now that I see you I can tell our fates are one. Names are meaningless, I am sure you have also traded yours many times as well.''
[ WP ] A young boy is called inside for dinner , accidentally leaving several of his Army Men in his sandbox . Now they must survive the night .	The sun starts to set. The green army men do nothing. It starts to get colder. In fact, it becomes a dark and stormy night. A feral cat walks by and sniffs the bazooka guy. He continues to do nothing. It becomes pitch black as the seconds in the night tick inexorably by. Tick took tick tock tick took. The moon makes its solitary journey across the sky as dawn breaks. The green army men stubbornly continue to do nothing as the sun rises. The little girl finishes her breakfast and comes out to play with her green army men and finds them exactly where she left them.
[ WP ] You refuse to be the heir .	`` You what!? '' `` I do n't think I'll be the heir. I never did stay in the palace for more than two hours at a time. I could n't stand being forced to be here by will of my people.'' `` You ca n't refuse the throne. It's not-'' `` Evidently, it is. I'm refusing it.'' The chancellor stood, flabbergasted. `` Guards!'' `` Remember what happened the last time you tried that?'' `` Ye-'' `` And the time before?'' The chancellor glared at him. `` Hmph! You ca n't refuse the throne for long. If you stay on the streets, you'll be torn to shreds! The people ca n't live without a king!'' `` They ca n't live without a king?'' The prince spat. `` The last oaf on that gold encrusted chair was murdered because the people hated the idea of another king!'' `` Do n't speak of-'' `` He was my father and I'll speak of him as I wish! Now will you step down and allow our people to give themselves the liberty they deserve, or will you take the crown for yourself, uncle?'' The chancellor stood there, red in the face for a few seconds before yelling at the top of his lungs, `` GUARDS! SEIZE HIM!'' None of them moved. The prince smiled. `` Guards?'' They stood at attention. `` Yes sir?'' `` Seize him.''
[ CW ] avOid the `` O '' [ Difficulty Level : Off the charts ]	As I mull my future regarding the great uncertainty that is the afterlife, I must admit I have few desirable things that are expected. I have never been the best individual. Drink and cheer have always been quite tempting, and if I am judged regarding them I anticipate hell. The female embrace, likewise. Perhaps I have been Biblically aware regarding quite a few desirable ladies -- I am damned in that event. Rejecting the leading deity surely acts against me as well. He/she/it ca n't be happy I relieved myself in a pew when I was 5, and I surely have n't made better since. Many queries that many clergymen failed answering many times failed in making me an adherent. But wait! Is it that being a beneficent individual is my saving grace? I talk with small children, am a saint regarding animals, am warm with my friends and family -- is there a nice thing left? Am I the very individual behind the impulse when the Architect sat up and flexed and made Heaven, the asylum, as my private shield against pain? I might need practice talking up my purity. My argument is shaky at best, and Jesus can see a bullshitter arriving a mile away.
[ WP ] A Mad Max-style scenario where survivors are fighting over scarce supplies of helium .	One metre high and as wide across, the blackened and dusty car roared down the desert road. Ahead ran the troupe with their tank of helium, the motorized unicycle blazing as they tried in vain to stay ahead of Kinko. The fifteen clowns inside readied their weapons as they closed fast upon their rivals on the unicycle ahead. `` Boffo, Luffy, Bobo,'' grated Kinko, `` fucking clowns fucked with us for the last fucking time. When we catch up to those assholes, I want you to fucking whitewash their asses. Fuck them up so bad that they can honk their noses from the inside.'' They nodded, and gripped their slapsticks all the tighter. With a roar, the car pulled ahead of the clowns in front and slid to a halt. The doors opened in unison and the fifteen of them tumbled out and rolled to their feet. Two of them grabbed the weaponized ladder from the roof, knocking over another three as they stood readying their semiautomatic pielaunchers - and the same three again as the original two turned to see what they hit. Two others ran into each other and fell to the ground, outstretched and immobile. To one side, Bobo and Kinko hefted their pails of custard, and started towards the unicycle. `` Bastards!'' screamed a whitefaced warrior as she fell from the shoulders of the topmost clown. Rolling as she landed, she sprayed a stream of water from the flower on her lapel, knocking Kinko to the ground with a highly amusing'parp!'. Grabbing a rubber chicken from the driver, she waded into the fray, knocking Kinko's clowns over like bowling pins. `` That helium is ours! '' `` The hell it is!'' roared Luffy, pulling the pin on his rubber nose before tossing it at the jesters falling from the unicycle seat. `` That helium is ours, for our balloons! Balloon zoos are ours, you hear? *Ours! '' Grabbing the back of her pants, Bobo upended the bucket of custard into them before pushing her to the ground. As she bounced up and started running in circles, he grabbed the cyclinder from the unicycle and tossed it in the car. `` Our* troupe!'' he cheered, as the rest of the clowns piled into the car. One cranked the front handle to life, and with a cheery melody, they drove off down the road, to their big top in the wasteland. As they disappeared in the horizon, the whitefaced warrior sadly blew her horn, and watched the dust cloud fade in the distance.
[ WP ] You walk into an arms dealer 's shop to purchase a gun to kill your neighbors pet dinosaur .	`` You're kidding me.'' Sid replied. `` Do I look like I kid son?'' the man asked. Sid looked at the man. His white hair was wrinkled mess. The tweed jacket on him seemed new, but was terribly wrinkled, as if it had been worn for weeks. And his left eye; It was.. spasming. Sid tried to keep a calm look `` Sir, T-Rex is a legally endangered species, under section 57A of Cloned Wildlife Protection act'' Maybe this patron would unders- `` I do n't need you to read me the patriot - act kid!'' the man yelled. `` I fought in the contact wars'' he said poking Sid, `` This whole etablishement owes its freedom to me'' `` Sir, I legally can not -'' `` He shits in my garden!'' the man said, literally stomping his feet. `` Any idea how much buckets worth of shit a T-Rex makes? A day!'' Sid pictured the gentlemen scooping up T-Rex poop. He stifled his laugh behind a cough `` uh-huh... You should call the services.'' `` My neighbor is the mayor of this town.'' the man said quietly. His voice broke `` They do n't even register the complain'' Sid was starting to feel sorry for the man. He reminded him of his Dada. `` Look.. um Mr...'' Sid started `` Sanders. P.P. Sanders'' the man replied. `` My god pee-pee!'' Sid's inner voice cackled. `` I ca n't sell you lethal weapons you intend to use against a clone dinosaur. But..'' he said bending behind the counter.'' I can give you this'' He was holding a small bottles of pills. `` Whats that?'' P.P. Sanders said coming close. `` Empathy pills.'' Sid said taking one out. `` They were first developed after people discovered it was actually a very bad idea to have dinosaurs as your pets.'' `` Just lick one like this..'' he said pretend-licking the pill. ``..and then feed it to the T-Rex after it comes in your garden.'' `` What will that do?'' Sander's said picking up the pill. He seemd like a blind man looking at a color catalog. `` It will overrride your neighbor's empathy link.Then the T-Rex will establish you as its Alpha, neurologically speaking he..'' Sid noticed the blank look on the man's face. `` The T-Rex will be super nice to you after this. No more toilet trouble'' `` What about the owner?'' Sanders asked. `` Well the dinosaur wo n't kill him, but since the owner apparently has n't bothered to toilet train him, he will probably treat his house as a sand-box, metaphorically speaking'' Sid replied smiling. `` Thank you young man.'' the man seemed to be on the brink of tears. He turned about and started walking towards the door. A wicked smile played on his lips. `` Things are about to go to shit!'' he screamed exiting. `` Another happy customer''
[ WP ] A serial killer embraces the Internet . They have killed thousands by posting bad advice to question-answer websites like Yahoo ! Answers , Quora , and AskReddit .	Hey! I found this prompt very interesting, so I went a little over board. It's my first time doing this so apologies if it's bad. I guess my obsession with giving bad advice to idiots started when Jason Engle taught me how to delete System32. We were at the house of our mutual friend Tony, whom we both secretly hated but agreed to hang out with because he had a pool and a BB gun that we used to shoot at the hummingbirds that perched on the feeder Tony's dad had set up under their deck. We were out in the backyard sitting by the pool, and Tony was trying to show us how to search for porn online but could n't get his laptop to load the sites he wanted. Obviously his parents had seen chubbyisland.com and teenalyssa.net in their browser history and installed a child lock, but Tony was insistent on proving himself useful in Jason's eyes. Jason ran the closest thing we had to a gang in our suburban dystopia. Since he'd moved to the neighborhood two years ago, I'd watched him break into an elementary school to piss on the kids' artwork, get one of our gym teachers fired for flunking me, and kick a raccoon down a storm drain. He was a 15-year-old Tony Montana, and we all worshiped him. The more our parents warned us to stay clear of him, the more irresistible he became. Every misfit kid who could n't make the football team or the cheerleading squad knew that getting in with Jason was the ticket to popularity. `` I do n't get it,'' Tony moaned from his chair, `` yesterday I could get on all these sites, and there were boobs like everywhere.'' If Tony wanted to stay engrossed in the computer, it was fine by Jason and me. We could use his stuff without having to deal with him. I leveled the sights of the BB gun at a squirrel climbing a maple tree in the corner of the yard and pulled the trigger. The bark about three inches above the squirrel exploded, showering its bushy tail with with splinters of wood and sending the terrified creature scampering for cover in the next yard over. I passed the gun to Jason, who hoisted it into position and waited for the next target. `` Like seriously. I do n't get it. There were even videos, man. Like this one girl was having sex with three guys at once.'' There was the sound of keys being hit too hard before Tony sighed, `` I ca n't even Google'sex' anymore. Like nothing comes up.'' I ground my teeth against his stupidity and tried to remind myself how good it would feel to swim in his pool this summer. Just ignore him, just ignore him, think of the water, think of pushing his head under that cool water, so he ca n't bother you anymore. Suddenly, a hummingbird flitted into view at the edge of the deck. I turned to point it out to Jason, but he already had the BB gun trained on its tiny vibrating form. While the bird darted back and forth, edging closer to the feeder but wary of the three large creatures sharing the space with it, Jason slowly pulled back the hammer until it fell into place with an almost inaudible click. Nobody breathed. All you could here was the soft drone of someone mowing their lawn blocks away and the buzz of the hummingbird's wings. It came closer and closer to the feeder hovering just above the perch. Jason put his finger on the trigger, and- `` Fuck!'' Jason remained frozen in position like a statue as the hummingbird darted away to safety. `` I think my parents must have put on like, parental controls or something,'' Tony said with disgust. I watched Jason carefully for a signal of what he would do to Tony. He was still frozen with his finger on the trigger. A few scenarios where I tied Tony up with duct tape while Jason shot him with the BB gun played through my head. I briefly remembered the time Jason locked Ian Newell in a dog cage for an hour. Spending time with Jason was certainly never boring. After a moment, Jason relaxed his finger from the trigger and turned to face Tony who still tapping away on his computer, blithely unaware of what he had interrupted. Setting the gun down, Jason put on a concerned face. `` A parental lock? That sucks. Do you know the password?'' Tony bit at his cuticles idiotically and said, `` No, man. I ca n't even like figure out where to put in the password.'' `` Have you tried resetting the internet settings to default?'' `` I do n't know how to do that.'' `` You do n't? It's simple. Search for System32 and then delete it. You can also do it anytime you want to clear your history so your parents wo n't know what you've been looking at. I do it all the time.'' `` System...'' `` Yeah, System32. Go on. ” Tony pecked at the keys, found the file, dragged it to the recycling bin, and clicked empty. It was that simple. After a minute of deleting files the system began running slowly and then crashed all together. After a few seconds, the computer rebooted and greeted us with a blue screen and the message, “ Error: Corrupted File. Windows XP could not start. ” Tony ’ s eyes were as big as pool balls. “ Hey. Hey. What happened? It just crashed. Hey. ” Jason leaned over Tony ’ s chair and very calmly said, “ The next time you fuck with me. I ’ ll make sure it ’ s your brain that gets fried. ” He then turned towards me. “ Let ’ s go. ” I followed him across the yard, while Tony shouted after us, “ Hey! Jason. This isn ’ t funny- this is my Dad ’ s laptop. He ’ s gon na like kill me if he finds it like this. Come on, man. Come back here and undo it! I ’ m serious. I ’ ll totally rat on you! ” Jason didn ’ t look back. He unlatched the gate, hopped the fence, and never spoke to Tony again. Tony never ratted on him, by the way. That day started an obsession for me. I ’ ve always very earnestly believed that we shouldn ’ t do harm to other people even if they deserve it, and that I think stopped me from getting stuck with Jason when he really went off the rails and started doing the robbing and fighting and murdering that got him arrested. I didn ’ t want a part in anything that dirty. But on the other hand there is something so elegant and clean and simple about turning someone ’ s own stupidity back on them. It ’ s not a crime it ’ s just ushering them along to their inevitable fate. At first I was just a copycat searching online forums for the lost and confused and gently guiding them down the path to deleting System32 just the way Jason had taught me. All it took was a little show of authority – I work in IT for a Fortune 500 company, so I deal with problems like this everyday: - ) – a dash of self-deprecating humor – 90 % of my work is fixing this exact problem, so you ’ ll probably try to steal my job once you realize how easy it is – and a healthy dose of techno-babble – What you ’ ll really be doing is deleting a bunch of file directories that are artifacts left over from earlier versions of Windows, Microsoft had intended to make Windows XP compatible with all previous iterations but during beta-testing it proved to be unworkable and network support was removed, however the files were never removed and since they ’ re from a previous version of Windows, the can cause all sorts of unpredictable bugs when used with modern drivers, you ’ ll probably be amazed at all the benefits your computer will have in the coming days: -D. People are so desperate to believe that other people want to help them. After I finished, I ’ d delete the account I ’ d used to give the information and move on to the next victim. In the first month I probably bricked 50 computers. Pretty soon I got bored. It was so easy to trick the technologically illiterate into deleting an obscure file of which they had never heard. I did research to find other ways to help people destroy their computers. Magnets. Installing malicious software that would turn their computers into virus spewing zombies. I even convinced one desperate graduate student whose files were “ stuck ” to pour oil into her hard drive to make it run faster. The first time the fan motor sparked her dissertation went up in smoke. The more work it took to gain a person ’ s trust, the more fun it was to betray them. You have to build a special relationship in order to get a stranger to trust you when you say something as ludicrous as, “ Reformatting your hard drive will allow you to update to the newest version of Photoshop without having to pay. Before you hit reformat make sure you go into the console and type ‘ //- manual_update_management ’, which will give you control over the updates instead of Adobe!! ” Eventually I branched out from computers. “ As long as the screws are over 4 inches long, that should be PLENTY to anchor your deck to the house. I built mine with standard 4 inch screws, and it ’ s been solid as a rock for the past five years! ” “ Mix a quarter-liter of antifreeze with your motor oil. Your engine will start at ANY temperature. An old trick from your friendly neighbors up North.; - ) ” “ Put a small rock ( about fist-sized ) in with your drying. The stone absorbs the heat, and when it presses up against your clothes, it will iron them WHILE you dry. I ’ ve saved at least 30 minutes off my washing routine. ” The amazing thing is it keeps getting easier and easier. When I first started, I had to search endlessly before I could find someone who was desperate for help and had the right kind of problem. Back then, people still preferred to go see their local experts for advice, but nowadays–probably because of the rampant anti-intellectualism that continues to be spouted by the religious right–no one wants to acknowledge that experts exist. For the mindless masses of the world, “ Wikipedia ” is the great triumph over the historians and scientists who carefully compiled Encyclopedia Britannica, and “ Yahoo! Anwers ” has replaced the carpenter, electrician, mechanic, physician, and lawyer. No idiot wants to acknowledge that anyone is better than him. They think they can solve everything by themselves if they just know where to look. It ’ s so ignorant, and it impedes human progress. And that ’ s why I started killing. CONT'D IN REPLY
[ WP ] You wake up with a hang over to find 1,000,000,000,000 link karma , and check the front page to see what you posted drunk last night	Morning was a nightmare but aspirin and water helped me get through it. After the headache was gone, I took a shower and turned on my pc. Time to check Reddit. I opened up my usual subreddit when I noticed my inbox and my, oh... Holy shit. One billion link karma. My inbox was flooded and my link karma was one billion. Whatever I did last night made me the king of Reddit. I clicked the link to the frontpage and I immediately saw it. The most upvoted link on all of Reddit: President George W. Bush revealed to have ordered 9/11 in new declassified documents.
[ WP ] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel . Kantian gates , Salec skip drives , Maltiun wave-riders , Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity 's solution was regarded as `` Unorthodox '' , `` Unsafe '' , and `` Damn Stupid '' by the rest of the galaxy .	`` You need to stop this. Now.'' ~UTHQ It seemed like a strange message from the UT at first, the United Terrans organization, formed by the world's leading space agencies to represent all of humanity and the Earth as we ventured out of the solar system for the first time. But this was n't from the UT. It could n't be. TRAPPIST-1 was 40 light years away from Earth. It had taken only 32 years to travel here in the DocBrown, a name chosen thanks to somebody's bright idea to let internet polls do the picking. Theoretically, the ship could travel even faster, possibly greater than 2c, but due to the still relatively unknown nature of matter at speeds > 1c, the speed was capped at 1.25c for this mission. Earth would have had to have sent this message 8 years before they left. The tension in the recycled air was so palpable it was hard to breathe, a mixture of separate emotions so intense you'd feel like you might implode and explode all at the same time. They had first braved the pounding tension of the `` photobraking'' deceleration maneuver as they approached the star system, where the DocBrown's FTL drive was shut down to allow space-time itself to decelerate the ship below lightspeed, the first-ever such attempt in human history. It certainly sounds sensible when you have a room full of mathematicians and physicists drawing it out for you, but while trapped in a ship barreling through the galaxy at +1c, you begin to wonder why they are n't sitting in your seat instead. The ship instantly began to rumble as soon as the engines were cut, louder and louder at a rising frequency. As speed dropped closer to 1c, gunpowder crackling sounds and bangs like metallic bones snapping abused the outside the hull. The blueshifted light through the front windows, turning more and more white, increased in luminosity, until in a blinding flash a deafening *THUD* broke the ship's runaway speed like driving into a brick wall. The ship's speed now read 0.87c, and all was quiet. Spacetime, and light, it seems, has something akin to sonic booms that come from violating the universe's speed limits. To slow down further, the fuel tank, capable of holding 5 % of the Moon's mass, had to be thrown away in a trajectory that would not impact any of the exoplanets dancing around TRAPPIST-1. The mechanism to do this was a nuclear warhead, and a 10km tether to draw out the acceleration force from being instantaneous. `` Do n't ask,'' one engineer said, working on developing this technology. `` We've tested it. It works...'' After the maneuver left the ship's speed at a little over 0.51c, DocBrown's traditional engines took over to do the rest of the legwork, but the beauty shining in through the windows was so loud now it overpowered all engine noise into deafening silence. The cool dwarf star's system was a fertile playground of seven exoplanets, three of which were Earth-like. They had atmospheres, and their surface was a swirl of colors so exotic, made possible only by the mysterious artistry of the universe, that Jeb had to keep wiping the water from his eyes just to keep looking at it. He looked over at Deb, who was also crying, and then at the rest of the team, they all laughed and came together to embrace. In the joy and excitement of the moment, Jeb thought he had heard a barely-audible ding, but it was likely nothing. After the celebration settled down, Jeb went to the ship's console to make sure the warning was n't something serious to do with the DocBrown's deceleration burn. But it was n't an engine warning. It was a direct message, from UT, from home. `` You need to stop this. Now.'' ~UTHQ The emotions flowing in this moment made it difficult to discern what this meant, how is this possible? Is it possible? Jeb put his head in his hands and the team saw him struggling; they came over to see what the issue might be. Each member read the message and the ship once again became overwhelmed by a crushing silence, as each crewmate contiplated the unreal, impossible nature of what they were looking at. It wasn't possible. Just as contemplations began to wander into darker, more impossible possibilities, their predictions were quickly narrowed down, by another received message: * ( ding ) * `` This is a warning.'' ~UTHQ -- -- -- -- -- Edit: Part 2/3 The tense atmosphere led Marcus, systems engineer for the mission, to sit down at the console. `` Who is this?'' ~DocBrown Their laser communications system was pointed directly at Earth, and it would take 40 years for the message to arrive there. The messages had been digitally signed with UT's signature. The team contemplated that their communications have been cracked, and hijacked. `` What do they want? Why the warning?'' Mel sounded panicked, the lead biologist for the mission. `` They want us to stop doing something...'' Marcus mumbled, reading over the messages. After a pause, Mel jumped up. `` Do you think they live here? Do you think this is their system?'' Dale, the radioastronomer, shrugged. `` No chatter from this place. Our radio leak out to space for over 1200 year before we come here.'' Marcus shrugged, and seeing no harm in trying, typed out: `` Is this sun your home?'' ~DocBrown As the message sent out, the team entertained a thought that maybe UT would be getting some funny messages in 40 years. * ( ding ) * `` No.'' ~UTHQ A chill fell over the air. Marcus got out of his seat and moved away. `` What do they want? ``, Mel cried. Jeb spoke up, `` Hold on, so far we're just talking. We do n't know who they are yet, or what they want. They want us to stop doing something, so maybe we broke a rule, we just do n't know about it yet.'' Mel sniffed, but she was contemplating. `` Maybe there's already life here, and it's against the law to mess with it?'' Dale scoffed, `` They mess with us!'' Marcus turned around, focused. `` We need to know what we did wrong.'' He sat down at the console, `` What did we do wrong?'' ~DocBrown The crew watched as the message was sent out, anticipating the passing seconds. * ( ding ) * `` Dumblfuckery.'' ~UTHQ -- -- -- -- -- Edit 2: see below for Part 3/3
[ WP ] You woke up in a bedroom and found a modern silenced pistol and an envelope . Inside the envelope there 's three photos and a letter . The letter writes `` You are in Vienna , 1913 . The pictures attached are Leon Trotsky , Josef Stalin , and Adolf Hitler . Kill them or we will kill your ancestors . ''	It's a heavy toll, time travel that is. The first thing that gives as the energy that holds together all the millions of atoms that make up your physical body is your vision. It's a senses overload, the bright lights and heat from the intense burst of energy required to perform such a seemingly impossible task. It takes a total of 3 hours to recover. At the first minute your nerve endings begin to send signals to your oxygen depraved brain, every fucking second is pain, you feel the pressure irregularities, the weight of gravity above you, bed sheets feel like tons over your chest. At around the first hour your vision comes back, yet your still not capable of full thoughts, as your brain recovers oxygen, coherent thoughts begin to emerge. `` What the hell am I doing here? ``, `` how the shit did I get here?''. You can think them, but not understand them, it's at the halfway point that you begin to process thoughts. At this point the pain in every single inch of your body is so unbearable you pass out. I do n't know if it was the oxygen depravation, or the whole ordeal in general, but it took over an hour to fully process what I held in my hands. I looked around the room, and retraced my thoughts. `` A revolver, 3 bullets in the chamber, 3 photographs, each named,'Stalin, hitler, trotsky', and a note'kill them, or we kill your ancestors' with 3 coordinates and what appears to be a date and time to each one.'' You see we discovered in 2034 that time is a self correcting mechanism. The so called `` butterfly effect'' only existed as a literary mechanism for fictional stories. Time itself is very difficult to change, it requires a big shift, at the right times, under the perfect circumstances. Of course at the time I did n't remember any of this, at least not in time before they showed up. It's a heavy toll, time travel. It takes a total of three hours to fully recover. The last thing to come back are you memories, so before it could make a difference, I could n't remember the outcomes of World War II, the eventual creation of the Unified Earth Government, the ensuing nuclear war in 2067, that gave the UEG complete tyrannical control over the enslaved citizens. I did n't remember I was forced to travel back in time by the resistance, I was forced to travel back to murder, in public display, three of the most influential humans in all of our history in order to prevent the Second World War, and prevent the UEG from ever forming. By the time the UEG Time soldiers found me, it was too late. As I stared down the barrel of their guns, it all came back to me, maybe it was the force of their bullets crushing my skull, puncturing my brain, maybe it was the cruel irony of faith, maybe it was the all knowing self correcting mechanism of time ensuring its path stays true, whatever it was, I wo n't ever know.
[ WP ] Everyone , including the villain , are confused as to why the male and female protagonist are n't falling in love .	A heartbeat. In the space of a moment, there's nothing quite so intoxicating as to feel its leap beneath your fingertips, the frenetic pace of terror or fierce joy or the fierce, determined staccato of desire. Looking at him, I could feel all of those in the space of the moment, catalysed by the electric tingle of skin against skin and a heady rush of oxygen from both of our fierce breathing. He moves against me with a grace and precision I'd never have expected - in such contrast with his slow, almost clumsy gestures when he's stoking a fire or making conversation. I dare to look for a moment, staring up at his beautiful features, and the expression on his face is one of determination. The fire in those steely blue eyes... it speaks of unspoken passion, barely bridled by his restraint and the knowledge of what can and can not be. '' Surrender now and I may spare your life, Viakev. `` Hisses a low voice throughout the Throne Room, and Viakev and I both look up at the cowled figure reclining confidently before us. `` What, no such courtesy for me?'' I pant, and flinch as one of the plate-armoured minions jabs a spear threateningly in my direction, my injured forearm cradled to my chest. `` I guess chivalry really is dead.'' comes my companion's dry response, but his attention is elsewhere. We circle, back to back, but the wall of figures before us is dark and impenetrable, and even now we see the fallen rise in clouds of wispy smoke to reconstitute themselves, taking their place among the silent, malevolent entities staring at us with burning coal eyes. I hold my breath, waiting for the next sudden movement from one of them, and blow a strand of crimson hair from my field of vision. I'd like to speak, to throw the Acheron Darkmore's offer to the wind and search for some other means of escape, but I'm not the Chosen One. Just a girl who loved this world too much to let it be conquered by darkness, and while Viakev would never have made it this far without me, this is his moment. For a long moment the world holds its breath - the Acheron upon his Black Throne, the figures massed before us which have no need of such petty things as air, Viakev... and me. Then he raises his voice, and his answer rings out as clear as a bell. But not the answer I was expecting. `` Darkmore... I surrender myself to you.'' I whirl, disbelief in my eyes, and Viakev holds up a single finger to quiet me, his speech unfinished. `` On one condition!'' he roars, silencing any response. `` If I draw down my sword, you have to promise to spare Ysolda.'' And before he's finished speaking, my gauntleted hand catches him a fierce blow across the cheek, drawing a gasp of pain from both of us as my wound reopens. `` What are you doing?!'' comes my furious hiss, and he turns back with a hand to his sculpted cheek. `` It's you he wants. You're the only one who can stop this, and you plan to - to what, lounge in his dungeon?'' `` Dungeon? No, if he's defeated me..if he's captured me, he'll want a trophy. He'll want me nearby. Do n't you see? This way you go free, and I'm closer to him than we'd ever have been before those shadow-things stopped us.'' Viakev answers, and his measured response is incomprehensible to me. A shield-maiden does n't throw down her arms simply because she's outmatched. But before I can argue anymore, Acheron Darkmore's sibilant tones fill the air, those cruel lips stretching into a vindictive smile. '' I accept your proposal, Viakev. Drop your sword and the girl may go free. `` I look back to Viakev, and his hand opens. As if in slow motion, I see our last hope fall from his fingers, hear its echoing clatter upon marble tiles, and Viakev bows his head as two of the platemail figures lay a hand upon his shoulders. I throw off the first to do the same to me, but to no avail, and two more take hold of my arms. I'm dragged forcibly away from the tranquil Hero before me, my bow clenched so tightly in my fingers it feels about to snap. `` I'll come back for you!'' I promise, and Viakev's eyes snap to mine from where he'd been staring at the floor. `` Do n't!'' he whispers urgently, and turns to give the Acheron Darkmore a sidelong glance. `` I mean... have you seen how sexy that man is when he's monologuing?'' `` You idiot.'' I sigh, before being dragged out of earshot. `` This is Grognak the Barbarian all over again!''
[ WP ] You have just died . The Good News is that there is an afterlife . The Bad News is that it is n't Heaven . Or Hell . Or Purgatory . And you are n't a Ghost . In fact , the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict , and has most likely never been written down .	( Mobile ) `` Well this is a bunch of bullshi-'' `` HELLO'' A loud voice yells, but you ca n't tell where it's coming from because you are surrounded by darkness. You realize you ca n't even see your own feet or a hand in front of your face, then the realization comes that you do n't have hands or feet, you do n't have a body at all. Floating, eyes, and apparently ears that can still hear. The last thing you remember was a cars headlights as you yanked the wheel and smashed into a tree on a cold snowy night. But now that you can remember then you must have a brain, but it's nothing, all this, no sensory input besides the loud yelling voice a couple minutes ago. `` Hello?'' You can speak! You think at least, maybe it was just a voice in my head. `` HELLLO?!'' You scream but realize you are not projecting any words in to the vast darkness, it's all in your mind, but I do n't even have a mind, it's all nothing, just darkness. `` HELLO'' There it is again, someone else's `` voice'', something else is yelling in this space but you do n't really have a way of communicating with it. All of the sudden like a rush it hits you... and it's so loud. `` HELLLLLLLOOOOOOOO, anyone there????'' `` Wait, can you hear me?'' You `` think'' `` Yes asshole welcome to death, usually it does n't take this long to realize you are now part of it! But some of us are slow learners'' `` Wait who are you??'' `` Oh geeze, well I do n't think I'm suppose to do this but whatever here goes nothing'' `` Well I do n't want you to get in trouble'' `` Hahahahaah i wo n't get in trouble for explaining it but the reason I'm not suppose to is because it does n't really matter and will probably just plant ideas in death that wo n't do anything because ha! We dead'' `` I'm not sure I follow'' `` Sigh.... Ok, this place is n't real, I'm not even a thought or a voice or a thing, I'm simply death, end undo end over and over and over again'' `` But I think therefor I -'' `` Hey man shut up please, those are n't thoughts they are just you, you are here with death now, death knows what you are going to ask before you ask it because it's already over, anything that you could of been or anything that your thought patterns could form, metaphysical or not is now over, you are over'' `` But I'm still here `` talking'' with you'' `` Communication implies two sides and it's understandable that you `` think'' this is a conversation because that's how humans perceive shit when they are moving or living, that does n't really exist in death because everything which is in actuality is nothing is n't therefore this is happening because it's done'' `` But you are teaching me does n't that imply progress'' `` Sure, but no because you and I are not separate, you know all this and are processing nothing so you are essentially figuring this all out on your own'' `` Well that's pretty simple, so what now'' `` Nothing'' `` Oh, right''
[ WP ] You have attempted to sell your soul to the Devil . Unfortunately for you , he does n't want it .	`` We signed a contract!'' Satan stared at me, arms crossed, `` Yeah, I know, but..there's this other guy and he's kind of a big deal, so his soul is a tad bit better looking than yours.'' `` Wait, you're breaking our contractually signed agreement just because there's another soul God kno-'' `` Do n't bring him into this,'' he said, pointing at me. `` Sorry, but it's the truth. It's untainted! I've done no harm to anything or anyone! I do the max amount of donations at the stores when they ask, for crying out loud. What soul could possibly be better than mine at this time? Come on. Tell me.'' I waited as Satan collected his thoughts. He seems to struggle to tell me who the other soul was. He spawned a chair from the ground which left smoldering ash and a smell of brimstone in the air and sat down and crossed his legs. `` Zach Braff.'' `` Like..Seriously? He punched a kid in the stomach once, remember?'' Satan laughed and shrugged, `` Yeah, that's my morning routine so it's no biggie. Do n't spray paint someone's Porche. Duh.'' `` But why?'' He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, `` Because it was a part of the show. You practically said it yourself.'' I started to become frustrated and pulled up a chair myself, sitting directly in front of him, `` No, no, no. Why does want to sell his soul to you and why is his more precious than mine?'' `` Well that's obvious. He wants to bring Scrubs back to its former glory,'' he said as he leaned back, getting comfortable. `` Oh, and because it's Zach ‘ Mothafuckin ’ Braff. If I get him, I obviously get Donald Faison, too. Best Hell ever if you ask me.'' `` So let me get this straight. You're breaking OUR contract just you can enjoy a personal Scrubs show in Hell?'' He put his arms around behind his head, `` That's correct.'' `` Well according to your contract in section H6.6E.FU.6, you are unable to break the contractual obligation as it puts undue burden on the person selling said soul.'' `` True, but per section B0.0B.66, the issuer of the contract, which is me, obviously, can terminate said contract without notice to pursue other interested parties as they see fit. So if you'll excuse me, I've got a mock hospital to prepare in Hell.'' `` You will not get away with this that easy. You will take my soul.'' `` Probably not,'' he said while flames arose around and the chair, soon disappearing. * * * Three weeks later in Hell, Satan heard a knock on his door. He quickly ran to it, hoping not to miss it, `` I swear if that's you again Stalin with another Knock Knock joke I'm going to send you to lava pits.'' He opens the door and it's a simple dressed man with a messenger bag. `` Are you Lucifer or Sa-tan?'' `` It's Satan, but yes, that's me.'' The man pulls an envelope from his bag and hands it to Satan before walking off, `` You've been served.'' `` God damn it.
[ WP ] Dwarfs hide underground because the regular air is poisonous . Humanity starts a global warming chain reaction and leaves the planet because they can not survive . The first dwarf scout in century 's discovers that the new world is a paradise for them .	Mandus stood upon the snowy peak, looking down upon the vastness that unfurled beneath his very feet. His pale green eyes twinkled in the dull grey that the sky had been rendered permanently, the dwarf licking his lips and folding his arms in front of his chest in quiet thought. It had been years, he thought, gently trodding down the side of the hill, crunching the snow beneath his boots. He inhaled deeply, allowing the thick smog to fill his lungs before he exhaled the blackened smoke just as quickly as he had. He looked back, over his shoulder, and eyed the opening of the cave that would stretch down into the Underbelly. His lips parted and he began to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his colossal beard - as though made of the finest silks - shook beneath his chin. The humans - for the first time in ten thousand years and their victory against the dwarves - were gone. It seems we have the thicker skin after all.
[ WP ] Soulmates are paired together by a being called The Matchmaker , who likes to mix things up once in a while by getting drunk on the job . Today is one of those days .	Was drunk at the time of writing this. Feel free to destroy at your leisure! _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ `` Do n't call me The Matchmaker.'' The embodiment of love and acceptance slurred out, drunk as usual. Beyond him sat his desk, a mismatched pile of papers, a bottle of mostly empty whisky, and two very pissed off clients. `` Call me Garry. No one ever fuckin calls me Garry.'' He sighed, no one ever called him by his first name. `` I mean, it's not like I ever asked to match make two sorry fuckin sods... no offense. So, what's the problem?'' The couple across from him looked at each other, their predicament making a lot more sense than it did a few moments ago. Regardless, they made it through a ring of hoops so intricate to complain to the man himself it seemed wasteful to leave. The man spoke first. `` Well... ah, Garry? Garry. We do n't think that we were made for each other.'' He motioned to the woman next to him. On paper they were a perfect match for each other, but that paper was probably shuffled up, shredded, and reglued by a drunk that was n't being payed enough for what amounted to glorified civil service. Both were incredibly attractive, the man a svelte blond haired being, working his own hours at a start up that was poised to be the next big facebook buyout. The woman did n't make as much, but had a steady job at Dow that within a a decade or so could lead to nobel prize, and as of now, she was a radiant red head with freckles dotting her face. As far as Garry thought, their children could make nazis blush. They were both successful, on the track to being powerful. Also she had a great rack. Like seriously 10 out of 10. In fact, he was staring pretty blatantly at said rack, the sound of the couple complaining about their various differences akin to ambient noise in a coffee shop. This went on for an embarrassingly long time before the woman, who's name was probably Amanda, cleared her throat and glared daggers into the Match Maker's soul. `` Sorry, I zoned out. Would you mind repeating... well basically all of that?'' This time ( probably ) Amanda spoke up. `` Jesus motherfucking christ. I can not fucking believe that we both dropped one grand on this drunk ass motherfucker.'' Even at this point, the Match Maker could see the man cringe at every swear, `` I mean, you're granted the ability to match any two people for fucking eternity. And out of all the people who come to you, you have to match us!'' `` Chrissy, please! watch the language!'' the man spoke up. Fuck. Apparently her name was Christine or something. Garry made a mental note. This was n't in the paperwork. Or maybe it was, and he did n't remember. Both were significant possibilities. `` Look'' the boy sighed out, The Matchmaker looking down at his notes to try and recall his name, and failing. Only finding out that he was a pisces. `` We appreciate that you took the time to try and find us a perfect match, but we really, really, would like our money back.'' Garry sighed. He looked at Pisces, and then at ~~Amanda~~ Christine. `` Well if you can convince me that you ca n't work it out, I'll give you a refund, ok?'' He conceded, voice cocksure that he was right. Not Amanda looked to her partner, her love of her life, and looked back at The Match Maker. `` He's Gay!'' Pisces shrugged, blushing a bit. He was clearly embarrassed. Garry looked at her, then at him, then at her breasts. `` So, do you want to get a drink then, if you're available?''
[ IP ] Warriors of a new age .	The transport lurched to a halt and ST11671 slapped the release on her harness. She was moving almost before it snapped away. The thunderous sound of the hatch spiked almost to painful levels before the sound dampeners of her helmet cut in. Her boots sounded on the deck in time with the rest of her troop. Her sergeant's voice sounded in her head. `` MOVE YOUR FUCKING FEET, SHOCKERS!'' 71's shuffled down the ramp with her troop. Something changed about the surface under her feet. She took a deep breath and the seals on her facehelm cinched up, pulling on her skin. To her left she saw ST11656 twist and fall, briefly his voice tore through her coms before a voice cut it off. `` MEDIC! MEDIC! 56 is down! DICKSWINGING TROOPERS: WHEN I FUCKING TELL YOU TO SHAVE YOUR FACE I MEAN BABY SHIT SMOOTH! Lookit 56 if you ca n't figure out why!'' 71 was glad she did n't have facial hair. Her boots crushed the odd, green crystals as she walked forward. The rust colored air contrasted with the glowing green crystals on the ground. Her helmet suppressed the sound of the transport and the close air support, but she knew it was there. She could feel the air pressure change as the CAS wing skimmed above her head. The coms lit up again as her HUD started to pulse purple, `` Shock Troop 116, listen up.'' 71's step faltered, her chin dropped `` STAND READY!'' 71 set her jaw. `` Bear down... 3... 2... ERRRRP'' 71's skin lit up with static electricity as the pre-combat chemical cocktail hit her bloodstream. She could smell the color of the plasma bolt form the APC. She felt the sound of plasma rifles torn from holsters as members of her troop started to come online and charge forward. It was the same every time but somehow always different. That rush. Whatever that chemical cocktail was, it was the thing, baby. It was the thing. Breath came in short, powerful draws. Her heart did n't beet faster... it beat bigger. Her muscles, every last one, tightened and then, suddenly let loose. 71 snatched the plasma launcher from her armor. The smell of the charging cell lubricant burning off managed to get through the helm filter as she brought her weapon up. The scream came unbidden from her mouth, `` ONE ONE SIX!'' She never consciously decided to pull the trigger but she watched as her first shot hit he enemy center of mass and the body exploded as the liquids in the cells boiled off. Another rush of chemicals... wait? Neuro suppressors and pain killers... what the.... 71 stopped. There was a cold tightness at her chest. She took a deep breath... no pain. Good news. Another breath... something wet moved in her chest. Her HUD displayed the bright yellow message `` NC dosages at critical'' and she triggered the override, pouring the last of the pain meds into the bloodstream. A scream exploded from her lips as she heard the HUD AI say'EVA suit compromised, execute emergency seal procedures'. The edges of her HUD pulsed red. Then she felt the searing cold as the hole in her chest froze. Her breath stopped. Her chest got tighter. She took a breath as her pulse fell away. `` oh shit'' Then a sharp pain. She could n't breathe in. Her heart stopped.
[ WP ] A knight is off to save a princess locked in a tower guarded by a fire breathing dragon . The knight arrives and finds a rapper called `` dragon '' instead .	Sir Timid was no Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad. Small and timid and fond of scholarly pursuits, he was the laughingstock of the court. He would be called, in today ’ s terms, “ a nerd. ” He decided that the only way he would ever get respect was if he defeated a dragon. He had fought several small dragons that were too diminutive for the other knights to bother fighting, but he had not defeated a single one. Not even one! All he had gotten for his troubles was a singed bottom that had made it difficult for him to sit for several weeks, and had made him the butt ( pun intended ) of many a knights ’ joke. When it was announced that a princess was locked in a tower guarded by a fire breathing dragon, Sir Timid eagerly volunteered. ( He was chosen only because Lancelot and Galahad were busy with bigger dragons. ) After a long and difficult journey Sir Timid finally reached the tower. There was no dragon in sight, but there was a handsome young man in the vein of Galahad and Lancelot there dressed in the type of fashionable medieval wear that attracts all the maidens. The young man exuded that same spirit that Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad exuded – today, we call it “ coolness. ” “ Dear sir, ” said Sir Timid formally. “ Where is the fearsome fire breathing dragon that doth guardeth the princess? ” The young man rapped, “ I am Dragon / Mine rhymes are fire / They burneth so hard / Of them thou will never tire! ” “ Why art thou speaking in that odd staccato way? ” said Sir Timid, bewildered. “ And art thou saying THOU art the fire breathing dragon? ” “ Mine name is Dragon, my dear sir, and I am a bard. I have invented a new form of poetry called rap. One day it will be the way all the streets doth talketh! ” said Dragon enthusiastically. “ I advertised that there was a princess trapped in the tower so that I could haveth knights come here, and of course peasants followeth as an audience because they enjoy watching knights fighting dragons. And if I could get an audience of peasants, I could holdeth a concert! ” Dragon looked hopefully behind Sir Timid. “ Where is your audience of peasants, sir? ” Sir Timid said sadly, “ I ’ m afraid the peasants don ’ t like me very much. They would rather watcheth the handsome knights like Sir Lancelot or Galahad fight dragons. And I ’ ve never defeated a dragon. They somehow always seem to defeateth me. ” Dragon examined Sir Timid from head to toe. “ Thou lookst like a scholarly man, ” said Dragon. Sir Timid said enthusiastically, “ Oh yes! I love books, particularly poetry. ” Dragon asked, “ Canst thou rhyme? ” Sir Timid, “ Well yes, I have quite a vocabulary from my scholarly pursuits. ” Dragon quivered with excitement. “ Finally! ” he exclaimed. “ It took me 3 weeks to come up with that rhyme that I spit earlier, and it wasn ’ t even very good. I need someone to write me better rhymes! ” Sir Timid said thoughtfully, “ Well yes, I could help there. Perhaps thou needst some meter and rhythm as well. ” Dragon said with a determined expression, “ I ’ m going to have a concert, and you are going to write all my rap. Let ’ s send an announcement into town. ” Dragon and Sir Timid put together several banners. The banners all had a drawing of Dragon, below which was the text, “ Come one, cometh all: See the Dragon as he breathes Fyre! ” When the peasants saw these banners, they immediately assumed the handsome young man who looked like a Galahad or a Lancelot was a knight, and he was going to fight a dragon. The peasants enthusiastically gathered at a safe distance from the tower, waiting for the fight to begin. A cannon went off, and out of the smoke came Dragon the rapping bard. He began to rap about the difficult life of being a traveling bard, being robbed on the high roads by bandits, being singed by passing dragons. The rhymes, written by the sensitive Sir Timid, were raw, rhythmic, and powerful. By the end of the concert, there was thundering applause. The peasants yelled. The maidens threw their garters at Dragon. The king, hearing of the hugely successful concert, made Dragon a permanent bard at the court. And of course, Sir Timid became a core part of Dragon ’ s entourage, and he was finally cooler than Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot.
[ WP ] The death penalty for murder no longer exists , instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim .	`` Hello. I'm here for Warren Carelli.'' The man spoke slow but firmly, his seemingly calm voice set a strong contrast to his disheveled appearance. Springfield Hospital had had a mostly slow day so after a look in the man's face the receptionist did not even have to check her PC. `` It's room 241, intensive care. Up the stairs over there to the second floor then down the hallway on the right. I'll let Dr. Freeman know you're here.'' `` Thank you.'' With heavy but controlled steps the man made his way over to the staircase. `` Ah hello, hello. Mr. Carelli I presume?'' `` Yes.'' Dr. Freeman had been awaiting him at the staircase exit, briefly shook his hand and led him down the hallway on the right. `` I'm Doctor Sabrina Freeman and I'm very sorry about the accident Mr. Carelli. We did try but as we told you was to expect we could n't reanimate your wife. She was gone before the ambulance even arrived.'' A slow nod was the man's only visible response to this information. `` What about my son?'' `` He's a tough young man but I'll be telling it as it is: We do n't believe he'll make it either. I'm very sorry. We put him into an induced coma but his spine and several organs were damaged in the crash. The impact was just too much.'' After the second nod Dr. Freeman was sure she saw him wipe his eye when he thought she was n't looking. `` There are no chances for a transfer?'' `` Slim ones. We did manage to get Warren's recording but the driver of the other car is in a coma as well and whether he was guilty of causing the accident all on his own has yet to be decided.'' She stopped and opened a door for the shaken looking man, `` he's in here. I'll leave you alone with your son now. If you need anything just press the red button next to his bed.'' `` Thank you.'' The man sat down in a chair next to his son's bed and gently stroked his bandaged head. He sat there for ages, words only occasionally left his lips and each of them went past the injured young man without any form of reaction. `` I love you Warren.'' `` I've been looking forward to joining you on that trip so much.'' `` I'll write you a letter.'' `` Goodbye.'' The man stood up and walked over to take a seat at a small table in the room. Out of his jacket he pulled a blue ball pen, a nine inch kitchen knife, a half filled sheet of paper and continued to write.
[ WP ] You are dead	Mom? What are you doing here, how'd I get home? I know I was drunk but shit... `` I came and got you boy, you were pretty drunk.'' Yeah, but I was in Georgia, how'd I get back to Virginia? This does n't make any damn sense. `` You remember the last thing I said to you boy? Remember I told you to stop that damn drinking and running the roads?'' Well of course I do, and then you.... Then you died. What the fuck is going on!? Are you a ghost? `` There's my dum dum, you never could see the forest for the trees and you do n't listen. I begged you.'' Mama, I love you, what are you babbling about? Do n't make me call the ghost busters lol. `` You do n't get it do you boy? I told you to stop, you did n't. Now you've hurt people. I love you too son, but I ca n't fix this.'' Fix what? `` You're just like your hard headed father, never listen. You're dead dummy, you killed Mike and Kristy too.'' Huh?! `` I told you to stop that drinking, but no, you drink and run them damn roads, do n't care. You were hauling ass down 33 with your friends and you drive straight into a tree, dumbass.'' I'm dead? `` Ya reckon?'' Where's dad then? `` He went the other way, you'll see him soon. Now here, play with your dog till the dark comes, then you have to go home.'' But I want to stay with you `` Does n't work like that. You have a debt to pay.''
[ WP ] During WWII the Germans were so advanced that they set up a Nazi base on Mars but they never came back since . Many years NASA authorized a manned mission to Mars	and found the remains of a dead civilization with everything covered in a thin layer of black particles. everything. the dead german soldiers' skeletons, the buildings, the cars, the atmodomes. everything a shade darker than it should be. on further research of the particles the NASA scientists discovered that the black substance was actually dead micro organisms which had eaten away all available organic matter and then itself had died away after all organic matter was gone. the checked the logs of the atmodome and found out that it had been locked down and never opened since the last shipping inside.
[ WP ] The story of Bobby and why she/he always carries a water bottle , a knife , and an 1/8 of a bottle of jack .	This is the story of Bobby, a twenty-something kid I arrested one night. I don ’ t even remember why I was arresting him, just that he was an interesting character. While gathering up his affects, I found he didn ’ t have much. Three things only, in fact. A water bottle, knife, and 1/8 of a bottle of Jack. No wallet, no keys, nothing else. Odd, right? Naturally, I had to question him about it. “ Well, the water bottle is for having water. Momma always said it is the best thing out there for ya, ” Bobby replied. “ Don ’ t ya drink water, Mister Officer? ” Next, I asked about the knife. It wasn ’ t even a nice knife, like one of those Swiss Army knives. It wasn ’ t even a butcher ’ s knife or steak knife. In fact, it was nothing more than a butter knife. “ Oh yeah. Grandpops used to tell me I should arm myself for the dangers. He tolds me he had a knife with him at all times! Momma wouldn ’ t let me leave the house with a big knife. She tolds me I might poke my eyeball out. I ’ m quite fond of my eyeballs, Mister Officer. ” I never bothered to ask why he felt a butter knife would help him against “ the dangers ” of the world. Unless the danger was an unbuttered piece of toast. Finally, I asked him about the bottle of Jack. I wanted to know if he was drinking it. “ Nah, I don ’ t drinks that stuff, sir. My nana always said it can make your liver fall out! Now I dunno what a liver is or what it does, but I don ’ t need nothing falling out of me that shouldn ’ t. ” So I asked him why he had it then. “ It ’ s for my pops. He always said if I ever found him again we should have a bottle of Jack. So I keep it handy, just in case, ya know? I won ’ t drinks it though, because I don ’ t need my liver outside my body. But Momma always said Pops didn ’ t give a flying rat ’ s ass about his liver. Not sure what a flying rat ’ s ass is doing with my pop ’ s liver… ”
[ WP ] There is a prison where there are no guards , yet the prisoners are too afraid to try and escape .	It seemed to take forever for the injections to finish. Finally they took the needle out of Surovec's arm, covered the bloody dot in gauze and a fluorescent purple latex bandage, detached his shackles from the operating table, and led him to a bare steel briefing room with a bare steel table. Sitting behind it in a bare steel chair was a scrawny G-man in an old suit and glasses, slightly askew. When Surovec was led in the man put down the cell phone he'd been fiddling with, but his air of boredom and detachment did n't change. “ You'll have free run of the island, ” he told Surovec. “ The compound in your blood will be in all your tissues by this time tomorrow, and it's going to stay there. It does n't metabolize. Do you know what'metabolize' means? ” Surovec nodded. The man's eyebrows went up, but he recovered quickly. “ Good. Then I can skip the next part of the explanation. In short, the compound will be inert as long as you're on the island. No, ” and here he waved a hand despite Surovec not interrupting, “ I wo n't tell you what keeps it inert. The antidote might be in the water, or in the soil you'll be growing your crops in. We might aerosolize it into the air you breathe, or just inject you with it during your annual health inspection. But if you leave the island, I guarantee that you wo n't be getting any, and then “ – he spread his hands – “ pop. ” “ So. Do n't leave the island. Be nice to the other inmates; you all grow your own food and make everything you need, so you'll need to work together to survive. Common sense. Understood? ” Surovec nodded. Now the man gestured toward a door in the wall off to one side, and his face changed. He smiled, but it was n't an entirely nice smile. “ Good. Now get out of here. You do n't want to wait too long before you're drinking the water, eating the food, and breathing the air in your new home, do you? ” Something in Surovec's chest tightened. Anger. Despair. Fear. He left quickly.
[ WP ] You are your username . Write your origin story .	`` There are n't many of us here in the [ Redacted ] agency. There are tons of us, but few of us at the same time. Because we do n't exist. At one point, we did, but our lives have moved past that. We could infiltrate the White House and walk out without a scratch. Without alarming the guards. We'd just be another tourist, or another guard. We are global. There is n't a place on Earth we are n't there. We are the force that has protected society from the ever-lasting threats that come up. We are-'' `` Hey, can you just skip the intro? I do n't have a lot of time for this mission debriefing,'' I said. `` Ok. Here's the file,'' he said. I opened the file. The first page: `` Mission summary. Objective: Extract informant from stronghold in Pakistan. Conditions: Can not have extensive interaction with residents of the country, and can not engage/attack suspected members of ISIS/ISIL. Deployment date: 8/12/2016. Extraction date: 8/15/2016. Authorized equipment: Level 3 gear.'' `` Mission Operatives: Agent Jin.''
[ WP ] A transport space shuttle carrying thousands has an emergency crash landing on planet similar to earth . Less than 500 survive , only 6 of whom are crew . 3 maintenance men , a cook , and 3 low ranked guards . No one finds them . What does this unintentional settlement become 100 years later ?	'Where d'you think you're going?' said the guard, angling his lightstaff to block my way. 'Lay off, Reggie,' I said, raising my visor.'It's just me.' The guard raised his own visor, revealing his battle-scarred face. He peered at me more closely, then lifted his weapon out of the way. 'Sorry about that, Kaine,' he said.'My HUD's still bust. Thought you was one of those Engineering bastards.' 'We could do with more of their skills over here,' I said.'If you do find any, make sure you keep'em alive so's they can fix up our stuff.' 'Will do,' Reggie smiled.'Although they send out their robots instead, more often than not. I'll holler if one of those shows up, though.' I smiled back, stepping into the elevator. As the ageing hydraulics rumbled into life, sending me upwards, I wondered whether Reggie would make it to retirement at this rate. He was one of the first-gen Guards, after all. He had been taught the trade by one of the original guards that had been on the Great Expectations when it crashed. My thoughts turned to the upcoming centenary. A hundred years since the shuttle carrying nearly three thousand souls had needed to make an emergency crash landing on this forsaken world. It had come in too fast, most of the hull disintegrating on impact. Just over a sixth of the people on board had survived the crash: a good five hundred or so, I think. The crew, being in the nose of the craft, had taken the worst casualties. Only seven of them had made it: three guards, three engineers and one of the shuttle's cooks. The rest of them were passengers with no survival skills: they had never had to work before, having been catered to by robots in their previous lives. The crew members had been the only ones with any training to deal with this sort of thing. Except they had had a falling out, according to reports of the period directly following the crash. The guards had wanted to put everything under martial law and wait for rescue, while the engineers had wanted to try and salvage enough parts from the wreckage to build a distress beacon. The cook had taken a neutral stance, taking on trainees to find and prepare food to keep everyone alive while the rest argued. Eventually, the survivors had split into three groups. The guards struck out for a nearby mountain range with about two-fifths of the passengers in tow, while the engineers had stayed within the broken husk of the main part of the shuttle with another two hundred people. The remainder rallied under the lone cook, building makeshift mobile vehicles from bits of the shuttle and going into the forest between the two to hunt the planet's indigenous flora and fauna. Over the next hundred years, the two main sides grew larger ( mainly because there were a lot of bored passengers with nothing else to do ). The guards trained everyone in their group to fight, their faction becoming known as the Guards in time. The Engineers, as the group living in the shuttle came to be known, were well-versed in mechanics and technology, thanks to their technically-minded leaders. The cook's faction, in between... well, you get the idea. They caught and ate everything they could. And a century later is where my generation came in. My grandfather was one of the original followers of the three guards, which of course led to me being born a Guard. As soon as I could walk, I was being taught tactics, chokeholds, weapons maintenance; my entire life growing up was built around the art of warfare. I do n't know where the hatred of the Engineers originally stemmed from. It was just something that had been there from the start, and successive generations of Guards had magnified the rift between the two factions. The Engineers regarded us in much the same way we did them, by the way. It was the main reason both sides fought so much. The only ones who could safely interact with both the Guards and the Engineers were the cook's faction, commonly referred to as the Hunters. They roamed the jungle for miles around in their ramshackle mobile fortresses, catching animals and gathering edible plants for sustenance. They would bring what they made to us or the Engineers in exchange for the things they could n't make for themselves. We were mutually grateful for the food, of which there was little around both the shuttle and mountains. That was why there was an unspoken rule never to harm the Hunters; they represented our lifeline on this hostile planet. I shook myself out of my reverie as the elevator came juddering to a halt. I waited for the metal doors to open, but there was only a whirring sound and a slight trembling. I cursed and pushed one of the doors aside until I was able to squeeze out. Damn things kept seizing up. I supposed I should consider myself lucky that it had n't fallen down the shaft with me inside. The space I found myself in was the primary hangar for all of our battle equipment. I headed for the rows of fighter craft on the other side of the colossal cave. To call them fighter craft was possibly an insult to any machine that would normally come under that heading. These were temperamental bastards at the best of times, but they could fly and fire at the same time, and that was all I needed. One of the men charged with maintaining them came out from under the shadow of the one at the end. I recognised him: Fergus, our chief `` techie'' ( they hated being referred to as engineers ) and a good friend of mine. He was a true Guard at heart, but he had an affinity with his machines that made him invaluable to our side. 'Hey, Kaine,' he said, bumping shoulders with me in the traditional Guard greeting.'You part of tonight's attack?' 'For my sins, yeah,' I said, clambering up onto the fighter's broad wing.'We're going to try and hit that new western annex the Engineers are building. If it gets finished, it could stop us getting anything big in on that side.' 'Well, Zulu's all gunned up and ready to go,' he said, unplugging the charging cables.'Just treat her gentle, y'hear?' 'Sure thing,' I said, rolling my eyes behind my visor as the cockpit's canopy clicked into place. Zulu? The guy was getting as crazy as Reggie, if not as old. I nudged the craft's nose out of the row and lined it up with the section of starry sky at the far end of the cave. I looked over at the go-ahead light on the wall. A moment later, it winked green and I fired up the engines, rocketing the length of the cave and out into the night. I turned to face the distant shuttle on the horizon, its jagged silhouette like a giant's tooth sticking out of the ground. Other fighters were forming up around me, a roughly arrow-shaped cloud of cobbled-together craft. I flew around with the rest of them in the holding pattern, waiting for the command to attack from headquarters. It came a few minutes later, and the comms channels lit up with chatter as we blasted towards the shuttle. There was no way we would go unnoticed for long, especially with our distinctive orange exhaust flames and flashing lights. But a sneak attack was n't the idea. The Guards were supposed to relish a head-on fight, even if it was n't tactically sound. Soon, the defence I had been expecting rose from the shuttle wreck, dozens of flyers with thin blue exhausts coming to meet us over no-man's land. I wrapped my fingers tightly around the firing controls. The first shots came, not from ahead, but from below. The Engineers' defensive turrets lit up the skies with their streams of laser fire. Two Guard craft were blown apart in a pair of impressive explosions, then we met the enemy craft. The air around me was turned into a maelstrom of fire and death as every craft fired at their opposite number. I wondered idly if I would die before making it to the shuttle That question was swiftly answered as someone fired on me from behind. I pulled to the right to lose them, but they followed me closely, more laser fire flashing around me. I tried several more evasive manoeuvres, but they kept on my tail perfectly. Time for something drastic, I thought, pulling straight up. The enemy craft flew past me below, but suddenly flipped over and rocketed up to meet me on a tangent. Crap. I cut the engines for a moment and righted myself in the air, then fell into a long swooping dive out over the jungle. The other craft followed a second later, still firing. Whoever was flying the other craft was just as good as I was, I realised. I had nothing that could fire behind me, on the reasoning that anything I wanted to kill would be in front of me. Damn it. That was Guards logic for you. My fate was sealed as the pursuing craft finally scored a hit on my starboard engine. It would only be a matter of seconds before it blew apart, sending me falling down to the dark jungle below, many miles from any help. There was one thing I could do to take my opponent down with me, though. I suddenly deployed the airbrakes, effectively halting myself in midair for a moment, and hit the eject, sending me flying into the air. The other craft, directly behind me, had no time to react. The two collided in an impressive explosion of scything metal and burning fuel. My parachute unfolded itself from my chair, snapping open fully to slow my descent. I looked up to see a second small shape above me, silhouetted against the falling wrecks as its own parachute opened. The other pilot had survived. I had no time to spare watching them, though. I was heading towards the trees below at high speed. I braced myself for the impact. It came as a massive blow against my entire body, branches slapping me all over. If I had n't been wearing the suit, I'd be dead. Then my restraints popped and I fell the rest of the way. The breath was knocked out of me as I hit the ground hard. A moment later, I saw the tiny shape of the second pilot land nearby and lie still. The last thing I remembered was a dark shape against the burning wreckage coming towards me. Then, darkness.
[ FF ] `` What is this ? ''	... I blinked against the blinding, incandescent light. `` What do you people want from me?!'' I shouted, honestly I'd been shouting long before the lights had come on and was sure no one was listening. I rocked against the restraints and chair I was bound to, but it was too solid to have not been bolted down before I was awake. A buzz errupted out of the speakers that were barely visible in the far corners of the room, as I gazed around I saw blood on the floor that had been long dried, and a table covered in rusted scalpels and saws. My legs were torn up, bone visible, and I could feel the pain indicative of a large cut across my abdomen, though all I could make out was a large blood soaked portion of my T-shirt.Needless to say I panicked and screamed a long while at the still droning speakers when I was cut off by a cough at the other end. What day is it? The thirty first? A deep growling voice ushered from the speakers. `` April Fools, Jason.''
[ WP ] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them . You have been chosen , but not for the reasons you expected .	`` But what if you do n't have internet? I mean, it seems like the process kinda favors the richer countries.'' '' It only seems that way. It comes in more forms than you know. `` `` So, that's it? That's the criteria? The only criteria to become a GOD? You toss out great heroic deeds or a moralistic sense of purpose? Leadership among men? Great belief?'' '' Heroic deeds are rarely done for the reasons purported, people follow those who best let them believe they are right and a deep moralistic sense of purpose can lead to to service the demented desires of but a single soul. No, the rationale we have chosen, we think is very just and honorable. `` `` Seriously? Upvotes? Seriously''
[ WP ] After escaping her life of poverty to the arms her dreamed-of Prince Charming , our young heroine realizes that it was his monarchy that was making life shitty for everyone like her in the first place .	She paced back and forth, her long blue gown swishing across the marble floor. The light had long since vanished from the tall, decorated windows. A multitude of candles struggled to light the enormous room, each hanging from an intricately styled sconce. The flickering light only added to the beauty of the woman, a woman whose stunning appearance had taken her from the depths of poverty to the heights of royalty. Her long, golden hair shimmered in the light, and her blue eyes scanned the room, distant and troubled. Patric, a young servant boy, had spent several minutes lighting the candles. She had only asked for a little light to read by, but the scared boy had hopped to lighting every single candle. “ Anything else I can help you with, milady? ” The boy looked up at her, fright framing his hollow eyes. He wore the plain linen garb of the castle servants, which was replaced often enough by the tailors, but she noticed his simple leather shoes were worn and split in several places. “ You can get some sleep, Patric. I ’ m sorry to have bothered you this late. ” She laid a delicate hand on the boys shoulder, smiling at him, trying to reassure him. He nodded, his entire body shaking a bit, a cold sweat creeping onto his brow. He turned to go, but she caught his arm. It was thin. Too thin. “ When did you eat last, boy? ” She frowned, and the boy mistook her concern for anger. His shaking intensified and he stammered, but she shook her head and put a slender finger to his lips. “ Shh, boy. Take this. ” She pressed a few coins into the boy ’ s hand. “ Find some food. Sleep well. ” She watched him go, her blue eyes sad, and calmly unwrapped a ribbon from her right arm. Tucking her hair up into a bun and tying it off with the ribbon, the woman sighed. She had spent the last few months trying to convince her husband that the poor of the country deserved a fair chance at a decent life. Housing. Food. Protection. He cared nothing for his people. He only cared about riches, and women. She was nothing but a trophy to be displayed. She could talk, but no one would listen. A younger, foolish girl had complained of hard work, of scrubbing floors and laundry. She had named her stepmother a witch, and her three half-sisters accomplices. Had she really been that miserable? Or had she been misguided, to think that luxury and beauty were the finest things the world had to offer? No, there would be no happily ever after. Such a fate was reserved for those too ignorant, too oblivious of the plight of others. Oh, to just have her dream of happiness back. The woman exhaled, and picked up a glass slipper from the gaudy mantle. It shone like a thousand diamonds in the candle light. She examined it for a moment, then smashed the heel against the marble floor. Maybe there could be a happily ever after, after all. Not for her, but for others, like Patric and his family. Clutching the largest shard of the broken slipper, she strode purposefully to the bedchambers she and her husband shared. [ /r/cwall81 ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/cwall81/ )
[ WP ] Years ago a mysterious person handed you a coin . `` Use this in your moment of desperation '' They said . You remember these words as you reach for your pocket , laying in a pool of your own blood .	`` Oh god I'm so sorry, I freaked out!'' I exclaimed, picking myself up from the floor of the mobile blood donor van. The nurse looked at me in shock and disbelief, fresh warm blood dripping from the end of her nose. I had started to panic and tried to run away towards the end of the blood draw but slipped and fell on the bag of my blood, which had burst and sprayed everything. I reached in my pocket and found the coin. I remembered the average-looking man's words. Not knowing what to do I thrust it into her hands, muttering `` it's the least I can do'' and grabbed some tissue, passing some to the stricken nurse and wiping myself down as best as I could. Seeing that the situation was irremediable, I grabbed my jacket and hurried out, not even taking the free cup of tea on the way. The nurse came to the steps as I scuttled away and threw the coin after me. `` Keep your 50p, you bloody idiot! ``, She shouted after me, and it hit me on the back of the head. `` Ouch!'' I exclaimed, and made my way to the car, feeling the gazes of 4 or 5 bemused onlookers burrowing into my back.
[ WP ] A father and son try to patch up their broken relationship using time travel .	`` I mean, it's not really that we were at each other's throats, that I want to, like, kill him and take Mom for my own or anything.'' The son looked up to see the raised eyebrow and slightly gaping mouth of the worker. He fidgeted and spattered a bit. `` Oedipus complex? Kill the... Freud? No? -It, it was a stupid joke, sorry.'' The son went back to picking at the sides of his thumbnail, trying to suppress the mild hot wash of embarrassment creeping up his body. `` Just that... sigh Well, we just did n't really... bond, you know? He worked all the time... and some other stuff happened... Anyway, so, we did n't really get to bond like fathers and sons typically do.'' The son thought about what he just said and starting spattering his words again. `` I mean, not that it is really typical! I mean, some people grow up without dads! So I should really...'' The inside of his head was ripping itself apart. He had no business there, and he probably simultaneously grossed out and offended the worker at this innocent time-traveling company. People attempted to use this to prevent wars and discover lore lost to history, and this little punk wants to use it just because he was n't man enough to talk to his damn father? No, this was a stupid idea. Stupid. The fake courage he lied to himself to get dropped off of him like a weighted vest, and he began apologizing to the worker for wasting his and the company's time. He stood up too quickly and compounded his lightheadedness. With a few stumbles, he tried making it to the door. `` What did you say your father's name was? ``, the worker asked. The son turned around almost wild-eyed from the shock of hearing another person's voice. He looked in a few different directions and gaped his mouth a few times to try to gather himself before replying. `` I-I did n't, And, no, I mean, it's-it's fine- I don't-'' `` It's Lee, is n't it? And your sister is Ellen?'' The son's exasperation was enough confirmation to the worker that it was. The worker returned a mild smile before speaking again. `` You do n't need to worry about a thing. Everything is going to be alright very soon.'' The boy's previous shame turned immediately into concern, and he somehow spoke even faster than before. `` W-what?! How do you know my father's name, let alone my sister! I never told you that!'' The worker put his arms up softly to attempt to calm the son down. Both of them noticed that the commotion was beginning to attract nearby personnel. `` It's okay, it's okay. Your sister is fixing things for you now.'' [ Have other work to do right now. Might continue it? ]
[ FF ] Contest . A drunken angel tries to reveal an important secret to you .	I had known and loved my son his entire life, and then some. I cut Jason's umbilical cord when he was born. After my wife left, I ended up raising him alone. I taught him how to throw a baseball, and how to disassemble a carburetor. ( We were working on the `` reassemble'' part when he died. ) I took him to Washington one summer, to show him his grandfather's name inscribed in black marble, and to show him that there were some things worth dying for. I did n't guess at the time that he would take that literally. Or personally. When I think of that trip, I try to remember things like the Smithsonian and the Capitol tour where we bumped into our Representative. But it does n't help, because I still feel guilty about it. At the funeral -- and ever since, for that matter -- people kept telling me that Jason died in service to his country. The President paid us a visit and told us that he died bringing freedom to Iraq. I told him about the trip to D.C. and the President said to me -- direct quote -- `` that must be where his desire to serve his country came from.'' I know he meant well when he said it, but ever since then, I wondered if he'd still be with me if we had gone anywhere else in the world. So it was a bit of a surprise when, three years and some change after he died in Fallujah, he appeared, fall-down drunk, on my front porch. It was early Saturday morning sometime in the Summer, and I was drinking my morning coffee and reading the news blogs. I still remember the story on the home page: INVESTIGATION REVEALS MISSING IRAQ FUNDS. I read a lot on Iraq after Jason's first deployment there, and it's stuck with me since. I ca n't do it constantly; it's too wrenching sometimes, and it makes me think about Jason, and what, exactly, had he died for. I was thinking about him when he knocked. For a brief half-second, I thought it was him, then pushed that idea out of my head. Of course it's not him, I'd have to remind myself. But there he was, lying on the porch. `` Hey, Dad,'' he said. I dropped my coffee and... I think I screamed bloody murder, but I do n't remember. Whatever happened next, I think I was in shock. The next thing that I knew, I had dragged him to the couch. When I learned that he died, I tried to picture it as quick, clean, peaceful; but from the look of him now, it clearly was n't any of those. His right leg was gone at the hip, half his body was covered in horrible, blackened burns from his scalp to his waist. He was covered in blood, it had left a wide smear from the front door to the living room. There were things sticking out of him: shattered bone, splinters of wood the size of my fingers, twisted metal shards. I could n't look at him; it tore apart the fragile picture I'd drawn of him, painted to assuage my lingering guilt. `` Dad?'' he asked, his raspy voice gurgling in his throat. `` I have to tell you sumthin'. But I need a drink. I need lottsa drinks.'' `` How -- how are --'' I stammered. I could n't process what I was looking at, It was shattering everything I'd known, everything I'd been through for the past three years. I dropped to my hands and knees and vomited all over the hardwood floors. Jason just laughed. `` Alcohol. They don' like alcohol, so sometimes, when you realize what's happenin' to you, you just got ta get shitfaced an' make a run for it.'' I sat back, leaning against the couch for support. My mind was beginning to focus itself again. `` Jason, who does n't like alcohol?'' He grew dark and silent for a moment. `` The men with sticks and rope.'' He coughed violently, spattering dark black blood into his lap. `` I need alcohol, it helps hide me from'em.'' The tone of his voice was serious, more steely and forceful than I'd ever heard him. I stood up, steadying myself as best as I could. There was a quarter of a bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen, and three bottles of Sam Adams in the fridge. He drank it all as quickly as he could. Tiny streams of liquid began trickling out of the holes in his stomach. `` Lissen,'' he slurred, `` when you die, time gess all... like a stuck record, you know? You live your death over an' over an' over. It's terrible, but sometimes you know wass comin', and I jus' felt it one time. I couldn' take it, but it hadda be done, there wass no stoppin' it. So I got drunk and walked over that IED'gain, but it di n't go off.'' He paused, examining himself. His camouflage uniform was in tatters, the flag patch on his shoulder missing. `` I sudd'nly found myself here, inna real world. Just inna front yard, like the las' thing I wass thinkin' of'fore I died.'' `` So --'' but I could n't continue. My mind was racing, out of focus again. `` Dad. They're commin' for me, I c'n feel'em down the road.'' He pointed at the gun cabinet in the corner and nodded slowly. `` You got ta help me. I ca n't die again.'' Again. The word echoed in my head. I loaded two rifles: one for me, one for him, then went into the bathroom. There, on the top shelf, was the bottle I was looking for. Old pain medications from a back injury a year ago. I still had twinges every now and then, so I saved the pills and took a half every few weeks when it was necessary. I tore the cap off and counted: thirty pills, easily. I closed my eyes and began sobbing. I asked myself over and over, was this the only way? But I owed Jason this much. `` Where are they now, Jason?'' Even I could hear how cold my voice had become. `` Near. But they don' have my scent, I think.'' I handed him the cup of coffee. Black as night as sweet as a kiss. His favorite way of ordering it. He looked at me for a while, puzzling out what was happening. I knelt down beside him and held his hand. It was blistered and charred, but he tightened his grasp. `` I love you, Dad.'' I held the cup to his lips. I said, `` I love you too, Jason,'' as he drank it all with slow, measured gulps. Maybe it wo n't be so bad this time, I hoped.
[ WP ] Someone makes an unboxing video of Pandora 's Box .	Hey there everyone, glad you could join me for today's special unboxing. Dun de dun dun de dum..... Jason, you really need to get us a proper intro song So today we've got a bit of a random unboxing. It was sent to me by my Grandmothers sister, well kind of sister, they're more just close friend. So as you can see, its quite an ornate box, quite well made from what seems to be ivory with figures carved out. Hmm... seems that the hinges are quite well hidden. -Technical Difficulties- Right, so I managed to find the front of the box or rather I really should be calling it a chest. We've got this very unusual key that opens it up, so here we go. 'Click' Ooo, that does sound nice, Jason come listen to this. 'Click' That's a good sounding lock huh. Right, so lets open this guy up and.....huh, its empty. Well... that was a let down. -Technical Difficulties- Yeah, ok Gran, thanks So it seems that this is really a second hand unboxing. My grandmother just told me that her friend had opened it ages ago and taken everything out. Sorry about that folks. Though... its still a pretty cool box, very solid and secure, would be great to display. Thanks for watching folks, and as always, leave a comment or a thumbs up or even both if your feeling energetic today.
[ WP ] In the future , capital offenses do n't result in imprisonment or execution . Instead the guilty simply have their memories wiped and are relocated . One day an otherwise morally upright person discovers that they have a criminal past .	His head hung saturated with a pervasive fog. White filled his visual field as his peripherals disappeared along with him. He was dazed, yet, he was comfortable. `` I did n't know you liked milk so much,'' his wife poked. `` Huh? Oh. I guess I'm just kind of out of it,'' he replied. He turned his head slightly to smile, but his gaze was still locked on the glass. He shook his head gently, but he knew the lethargy was here to say. For something so calm, it held on to him so tight. He laughed at the irony. `` I'm glad you still think I'm funny. Even if you love milk more than me.'' She kissed him on the cheek and rubbed his back. He could still feel the imprint of her warmth as he heard the car groan. Matt took a seat in between the two cushions on the sofa. He liked the sensation of being partially swallowed by the couch, it provided much needed physical and mental support. Especially for a slow Tuesday. The TV awoke with an `` economics expert'' talking about recession. Matt cringed at the sight of it - still sore from being laid-off a week prior. He quickly smashed a random series of numbers to remedy the bad taste in his mouth. QVC... no. ESPN... no. Comedy Central. Yup, the stale taste was still there. He left it on and got up, moving over to his laptop in the corner of the room. He jittered the mouse back and forth; the fastest thing he had done all morning. Again, he laughed at his own musings. His desktop came to with a familiar buzz. An aerial view of Trump Bay looked back at him, he decided then it was time for a new background. Matt picked an abstract close up of some rocks and cinder blocks. It may have been gray, but he was drawn in by the intricate patterns. Saved changes. He opened up his email and quickly scanned the bolded excerpts. 5 Great Places To Dine On A Budget. CITI username verification. Free local sluts looking for a fun night out! You still The Anchor? He clicked on the last message based on the subject alone; he always wanted to be appointed a nickname. It seemed fun. We have a day-trip planned on the Hudson this weekend. Let us know if you still have that small fishing boat. 915-500-3194. Fishing boat? He cocked his head like a canine, trying to remember if he had ever been on a fishing boat, let alone owned one. His memory seemed to be worse than others his age, but he was almost positive he had never had a boat. If anyone had a boat it would have been Luna, she was by far the more adventurous one. He muttered something inaudible under his breath and dialed the number. It rang 6 times before it was answered. `` Mattyyyyyy,'' the voice carried on. It sounded Italian, paternal, and all too familiar. `` Yeah, who is this? You left your number in an email,'' Matt accused. `` I know I know. Boss says we ai n't supposed to do that. I do n't really see the problem. It ai n't like it used to be anyway. The good times is over. We have n't had a job in - `` `` You did n't answer my first question.'' `` Do n't play so cold Matty. It's still before noon. It's Vinnie. I'm at Capulco's. Wan na swing by for a slice?'' His memory might have been going quicker than Luna's, but he knew he did n't know a Vinnie. But, still, he did like Capulco's. `` Alright, I'll be there in 20 or so. I got ta get dressed.'' `` Hahaha. I see the bull still charges the cape. I'll see you in 45 if we're lucky.'' Matt hung up first. His habit of a lengthy morning routine was well known by his friends. By his former boss as well - the bastard. The conversational familiarity filled him with unease. He did n't like being held in the dark. If he was tired before, he was n't anymore. The fog was finally lifted, but replaced with a looming cloud. ______________________________________________________________________________________ God dammit he squeezed tight. This is how it feels to suffocate I guess. `` Alright, alright. So what the fuck is the deal with this Anchor nonsense?'' Matt interrupted. `` It ai n't nonsense Matty. It's a very important part of our process. You know that better than anyone,'' Vinnie replied. He was definitely sharper than he looked. Matt took note of that. `` And what is the crux of this process, Vinnie?'' `` Well it keeps the boat from sinking. Without it, we would n't be able to move upstream.'' Upstream. This really fucking bothered him. Upstream. He had this feeling before... the feeling of almost getting something. The feeling of being color-blind solving a Rubik's cube. He knew it was a puzzle, but he did n't know what the solution was supposed to be. `` So you still got the fishing boat or what?'Cause we got other guys, but none of them as good as The Anchor,'' Vinnie said proudly. `` I've never owned a fishing boat. In fact, I do n't have a fucking clue who you are. I came here to ask what was going on, as I have nothing but free time nowadays. I ca n't help you for whatever you're trying to do, because I do n't know what you're trying to do,'' Matt replied. Vinnie sat shaking his head, looking down at his pants. His eyebrows were furled and he seemed to understand something. `` Well, at least let me buy you a slice then,'' Vinnie offered. `` Sure,'' Matt said cautiously. He was straddling a feeling between trusting and skeptical. He was drowning in an emotional void. `` At least tell me one thing Matty. You still working with rocks?'' Vinnie pressed. `` I was, until last Friday. I was a state geologist working in the Water Resources unit,'' Matt said. Vinnie let out a short breath. It sounded like a laugh. `` I guess somewhere it's deep down inside you. That's good, that's good. Just make sure when the Anchor comes back up for air, you let me know. We could use a good man like you,'' Vinnie said as he walked away. Matt stared at his wide frame slipping sideways the door. Blue filled his visual field, as he remembered looking down at the shadows being swallowed. ***First reply to [ WP ]. I have a tendency for long descriptions, I know.
[ WP ] `` I ca n't breathe ! Help , I ca n't breathe ! ''	I thought the day would be normal. Go to work, come home. Simple. That's how I like things. But of course, that is n't what happened. It started that morning. I woke up and had my morning routine to go through. Coffee was first on the list. I made myself a cup using my K-Cup brewer and took a sip. It tasted very extremely bitter. I gulped it down and threw away the K-Cup that I used. Sometimes they just make a bad batch. I went to get into the shower when I noticed I had a slight tension in my chest. I went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. I took some antacids and jumped in the shower. As I was washing up, I realised that the tension was worse. I thought of calling in sick and resting, but I could n't use another sick day. I just pushed through the pain and got dressed. It was getting worse. Wearing clothes made it feel like something was suffocating me. I changed into something a little more loose. I'm sure the boss would understand. I opened my apartment door and stepped into the hall. My apartment was dark and dinghy. I hurried outside to get some fresh air. I grabbed my phone and checked the time. I had about an hour to get to work so I decided to get breakfast from Mickey D's. I hopped in my car and turned on the radio. I zoned out until I reached the drive thru of my guilty pleasure. I asked for a bacon egg and cheese sandwich. I paid and drove down to the second window. As I was waiting I realised that the pain was getting more intense. My dumb ass still decided to eat the food though. As I was chowing down I felt a sharp compression in my chest. My food dropped out of my hand and into my lap. Fuck. I got out and went into the McDonalds to grab some napkins. I came out, flustered, but with napkins in tow. I cleaned my seat as good as I could with the napkins and hopped in the car. My temper was rising. I got in the car and drove to work. My chest was killing me. As I pulled into the parking lot I stopped. I thought that maybe I should just use a sick day. Then I heard a loud suction noise. My chest tightened extremely quickly, causing me to gasp and stomp down on the pedal. My car flew forward, into the side of the small insurance office that I worked in. My heart began to throb extremely fast as I realised what happened. I was still in the car but I was in the office too. People were yelling at me. Oh shit. Then it really started. The extreme pain. My chest began to writhe like it was alive. As people began to run to help I opened the door and staggered out. My chest was crunching and I felt my internal organs getting moved around. I dropped to my knees as people tried to help me. I coughed up blood and then, bone fragments. I was coughing up my ribs. My chest was hurting like i had taken a shotgun blast. I gasped so hard i do n't know how there was any air left in the room. I was getting fuzzy eyed and then people lifted. Sirens were blaring all around. Screaming in agony, I realised that I am not in the office anymore. I'm in an ambulance. EMT's frantically move around me, checking screens and I pass out. I wake up in a hospital. Nobody is in my room. To pass the time I looked up at the TV that was playing and switched through the channels. The only interesting I thing I saw was the news so I settled on that to wait for the nurse. I started to think about what happened when I heard a strange news report. It was on coffee. K-Cups. `` Breaking news. Maxwell House coffee is recalling 200,000 Morning Blend K-Cup packages, due to a manufacturing problem that caused no caffeine to be in the cups. They claim that there was a glitch in the system that all the caffeine for the entire batch was put into one K-Cup. I wonder who got the lucky cup. Bahaha, what a story!'' I think that was when I had my second heart attack of the day.
[ WP ] Your hometown is now occupied by the enemy .	The war started only a few days ago. No one I've talked to is even sure who exactly we're fighting, but we know it's more than one country, at least three actually. My town is so close to the front lines already that I can hear gunshots and explosions night and day from my house. No one has bothered to evacuate those of us stupid enough to stay, they just do n't have the man power to spare. Most families have left, running farther inland and away from the chaos, but I stayed to help. My boyfriend was in the Army reserves while he finished school, but he was at the front lines, ready to fight before they even ordered him there. He's been ready to fight since he joined and ready to die since he headed out to the battleground. He's the only one left in this mess that I still care about, but I know he probably wo n't be coming back. I listen to the sounds of the fighting from my bedroom like I'll be able to hear it if he dies, but all I hear are more gunshots. As the sun starts to set though, the frequency of guns firing slows down and the explosions become nonexistent and I ca n't resist anymore. It only takes me an hour to sneak up to the front lines and find him. I do n't know what I expected it to look like, but what I found were a bunch of disheveled ( at best ) looking men hiding behind several rows of tall sandbag walls which I ca n't see past from back here. From a few feet behind them I shout his name and he turns in surprise. When he sees me his expression is such a confusion of joy at seeing me and fury at me being there that it's kind of confusing to look at. He sneaks back the few feet to meet me and we sit under a tree while he scolds me for coming. He only gets to say a few words though before the shots start ringing again like they never slowed down. He reaches for his gun and we stand, but before he moves back to the wall a grenade falls and lands practically at our feet. Time seems to slow down. He looks down at the grenade, then back up at me, then back at the grenade and before I can stop him he dives onto it. I hear the explosion and feel it in the ground where I stand, just a few feet away. `` No!'' I scream as he dives and the word tears from my throat at such a volume and intensity that it feels like fire bursting from my lungs. I was half a step towards him when the grenade went off and I collapse to my knees next to him, tears already flowing down my cheeks. Blood starts to seep out from under him but it does n't bother me at all. In fact I hardly notice it as I roll him over and pull him up across my lap and into my arms. His chest is facing me now and I can see the gaping wound that covers most of his torso, but the gore could n't bother me less, I hardly register it. I can see that he is still barely hanging on, the body armor he wore must have protected him just enough to force him to endure this pain in his last moments, but I take advantage of them. I kiss him hard on the lips, knowing it'll be the last time and then hold his limp and then suddenly lifeless body to me in a last, desperate hug while I'm sobbing from shock and heartbreak. I'm so overwhelmed that all I'm thinking is that I need him, I just want to hug him because I'm so sad, but there he is, dead on the ground in front of me. Finally the feeling of horror at what I've just seen and what I've just lost sinks in. He is dead. And it was All. My. Fault.
[ WP ] You discover an ancient artifact . It grants you immense intelligence the longer you wear it , and brings temporary insanity with every use .	The gold necklace shone brilliantly in the sunlight, draped loosely over my pale skin. I remember it seeming so ordinary when I first stumbled across it.. Put it on just like any other necklace - but oh, keep it on? Keep it on and before your very eyes the world's secrets unravel, secrets you had never even known to exist, the stuff of truth and reason glaring at you just waiting to see what you'll do with it next! But what to do? Who would know what to do?..Well, other than you, no one, that's who! You, with the understanding, the knowledge, the delusions of grandeur -! Wait.. delusions of grandeur? Shit.
[ CW ] The two greatest swordsmen in the world cross blades . The duel ends in a single move . Write at least 500 words describing the duel .	The steady march of a thousand hooves thundered across the Mongolian plain. Dark clouds hung in the sky blocking the sun's warmth from reaching the earth. Temujin looked across the front line of his army and watched the warm breath of his warriors escape into the frigid air. A lone rider appeared on the horizon with a dust trail kicked up behind him. Temujin watched as the rider changed direction and headed back the way he came. The rider was moving fast. Temujin reached for the horn tied around his neck and blew it three times. The entire army came to a halt. The only sound he could hear was the thrashing of wind against his helmet and the whinnying of the horses. `` We will wait for the Naiman here. Scouts reported their tribe is heading this way.'' Temujin said. He looked over to his brother, Hachian, mounted next to him. `` As you wish, my Khan,'' his brother replied. A distant rumble rose up on the horizon. The sound of battle horns carried in the wind. Temujin checked the bow mounted on his horse and pulled at the sheathed sword at his side. It was his father's sword. He watched the Naiman army advance towards him slowly from the front. A small band of mounted men broke from their army and rode out towards him. `` Go talk to them, Hachian. Find out what they want.'' Temujin watched his brother and two of his trusted bondsmen ride out to meet the approaching men. The day sun was disappearing over the distant mountains to the west. The temperature was dropping. He watched the group of men speak for a few minutes. He felt uncomfortable in the saddle but he sat as tall as he could. He would show no weakness to his men nor to his enemy. Hachian and the bondsmen rode back towards Temujin. `` Well, what of it? What did the riders want, Hachian?'' `` They invite you to their camp tonight. They said they would grant you guest rights.'' Temujin snorted. `` I came here to conquer. Not to dine.'' He whipped the reins on his horse and galloped off towards the Naiman army. Hachian and the bondsmen followed close behind. Outside of the Naiman camp Temujin pulled up on his horse and slowly to trot. He looked over the men he was about to kill and felt a small pang of disappointment. It was true he came to conquer, but he came for reasons greater than himself. He sought to unify the Mongol tribes. The Naiman tribe was the last one to hold out. Temujin bellowed to any who would listen, `` Hear me speak, brothers! I claim the Naiman people for myself!'' He trotted his horse across their front line and continued. `` The Tatars stood where you once were! After crushing them, they are now standing opposite you. The Merkits stood where you once were! And again, they now stand opposite you. Same with the Khereids. And the Uyghurs. They all stood against as me as you do now. And they now all stand with me.'' The Naiman line parted in front of Temujin. He grinned as he watched the Khan of the Naiman ride out slowly. The Khan called out, `` And what would you have us do? Throw ourselves at your feet and allow you to subjugate us?'' `` That is a start.'' The Khan frowned. `` It would be a great dishonor to us if we simply rolled over.'' `` I am not asking for everyone to roll over. Just you. I am tired of watching my people kill each other.'' Temujin watched the Khan turn to look at his men. He had to know that resisting him would only get most of those out there he loved killed. The Khan turned to face Temujin. `` What will you do then? Once you have control of all of the tribes.'' `` We will ride east. We will take Western Xia. We will crush the Jin all the way to Zhongdu!'' The Khan lowered his chin. He dismounted from his horse and pulled his blade. Temujin stepped down from his horse as well handing his helmet up to his brother. Their eyes locked for a moment and Temujin nodded. He turned to face the Khan. The Khan walked towards Temujin with his blade drawn. Temujin drew his father's sword from the sheath. He would claim the Naiman right here and form his Mongol Empire. The Khan stopped only a few yards from Temujin. `` I said I would not let my people become dishonored.'' Temujin did n't answer. `` I will sacrifice my honor for theirs.'' The Khan dropped to both knees and held his sword out across his palms. He bowed his head. `` The Naiman are yours, my Khan.'' Temujin inhaled deeply. He sheathed his sword and walked over to the now former Khan. He lifted the blade from his hands. He stared down at it before thrusting it high into the air. `` Call me Genghis Khan, for I am now the Khan of Khans! We will burn our way into history and the world will know to fear the Mongol horde! Saddle your horses- we ride East!''
[ WP ] Your character is a soldier from Ancient Greece - Due to his cowardice in battle , Ares has sentenced him to live through every major war from them to eternity .	Every generation Nokis is there to die. Why? He ran. According to Ares that made him a coward. Fuck Ares. Nokis had had enough. He is sinewy muscle and gold skinned from ten years fighting a war. The dirt and blood and disease and the constant pang of gut crunching fear. Injury and infection. Blistered feet. Broken fingers. Chapped lips. Lacerated scalp. The never ending fear of death. Of wanting to die, but waking up every day in the same nightmare. Sucking in dust with every inhale. Blowing out snot and blood with every attempt to tear down that fucking wall. He ran. He did not run from combat he ran from the lunacy of the fuck shit king, Agamemnon and the crazy asshole warrior Achilles and his dead lover Patroclus. Paris can have the whore Helen. Why does he care? They can have the whole bloody affair. He does n't want the glory. If he never again kills another human being he can die happy. Then the Gods got involved. When the Gods get involved it's never a good ending for anyone. So he ran. He ran until he had to walk and then he strolled along a stony path. He dropped his armor back a few miles ago. He threw his spear and shield in a fast moving creek. He tossed his helmet at a cow that mooed at him in anger before running off. He wears his kynodesme and his sandals and nothing else save a deep smile on his face. It's the smile of one who knows peace after war. Someone who owns himself again after being a slave so long the taste of freedom quenches all his desires. The road glows white in the midday sun. Birds chirp. Bugs buzz. The rustle of dry olive branches sing to him to come rest under their shade. What the Hades, he decides and does and quickly falls into a deep sleep. He dreams of a God. He dreams of Ares the God of War. He points and calls Nokis a coward. Nokis tries to argue that he is not. But Ares ca n't hear the words of a mortal and instead curses him to live war for the remainder of time. Nokis wakes and he is cold. The world is a blanket of ice. He wears blue paint. His hair is ragged and his skin is thick with callous. A rough hand shakes him. `` Wachen Katzen, sie Schlact heit!'' The man has red eyes he thrusts a huge iron two handed sword into the Greek cowards hands and with a screams stands and races toward a thick wall of smoke. Nokis does n't move he just sits and listens to the sounds of death approaching. He smells shit and blood. He hears ball shrinking shrieks of life ending injury. He stands just as from out of the smoke a legion of men dressed in red leather skirts with red brushes on their helms emerge formed in a tight box moving with lightening quick speed. An organized nightmare. They come for him and he feels his head leave his shoulders while smooth sharp swords disembowel his insides. The pain is short lived. He dies. He wakes again. He is surrounded by the din of thousands of thundering horses with riders and bows. He feels arrow after arrow enter his body. He falls. A horse tramples him. The pain is intense every bone in his body feels broken. He sees a fast moving river running red with blood and black with ink. He dies. He wakes again. Bitter cold rain falls. Heavy iron encases his body. He moves slow. He slips in the muck. His gauntlet enclosed fist is tight on a mace. He sees a man with a pike and a black wool jerkin checkered with yellow. He has a metal cap on his head. Still on his knees Nokis swings the mace at the pikeman and misses just as the tip of the pike enters his unarmored throat. He chokes on iron and thick blood. He dies. He wakes. He is naked and brown. A cold knife enters his chest. His heart is pulled out still pumping uselessly at the hot humid air. He collapses to his knees as six hundred soldiers march under a white flag marked with a red cross. He dies. White cold hell. A frozen river. The sun rises. He turns and gets the butt of a musket to his face. He dies. On a frigate. A cannon roars. he falls overboard his body punctured with bits of wooden shrapnel. He ca n't swim. Water fills his lungs. He see others around him struggling to live. He dies. He is in a wood fort. He smells burning wood. Smoke and bloody screams of men being cooked alive. Shadows of soldiers come. Musket fire. In his hand is a musket. It is empty. In the other hand is a big knife. It is coated with slick blood. An enemy in a blue coat and tall hat, comes. He stabs out with the knife but his arm is uselessly too tired to lift. The soldier reaches him and fires his musket. The ball rips through Nokis ’ sternum. The musket butt comes down on his head. He collapses in agony. He dies. He is wearing grey the world is covered in a hot wet fog. He holds a rifle in his hands. He shakes. From out of the fog a blue uniform soldier sprints. He screams. His face is dark brown almost red. His eyes are hatred. He stabs hard with a bayonet and twists it free from the breastbone he punctured and then stabs again and again and again. Nokis dies. He is in mud. He falls. He feels feet stepping on him. standing on him. He sucks in lung fulls of mud. He dies with the boom of artillery echoing in his mud clogged ears. He is hungry. He is scared. He is being Shepherded into a shower. He is told to get naked. He does. He is scared. He wants to live. He wants to see his wife again. She is near he can feel it. He wants to hold his children. The looks on their faces when they were pulled from him haunt his mind every time he blinks. There are a least a hundred other naked skeletons around him. He strips off his clothes. The clothes are collected and thrown through a thick steel door. When everyone is naked the door is closed and locked. Thick greasy sweet smelling smoke drifts from vents in the ceiling. He coughs. The men begin to fall. one by one they die. He holds his breath. But it does n't matter he was already dead when he walked in and says fuck it taking a deep breath and dies. He is a child. He is weak with hunger. A blossoming huge explosion with no sound engulfs him. He dies. He is a woman standing barefoot in warm brackish water. She holds an automatic weapon. She fires the weapon into the trees. Something heavy plunks into the water next to her. Followed by a huge explosion. She feels her body leave her legs behind. She dies. He is the pilot of a plane. A huge building fast approaches. All is fire. He dies. He dies over and over and over again. He preys to Ares to release him between deaths he preys for forgiveness. He will go back. He will fight. Please Ares he begs let me go back and fight. And he wakes naked save for his kynodesme and sandals. He cries as he sprints back to Troy ready to die for his king.
[ WP ] Zaphod Beeblebrox ( Hitchhiker 's Guide ) encounters Rick from Rick and Morty in a bar . Things get heated rather quickly .	There are places in this universe where the boundary between realities is quite a bit thinner than it should be. Matter, energy, and even time have been known to leak through in these locations, rather like the sounds of an angry neighbor shouting at his television might penetrate the drywall in a cheap apartment complex. These locations are typically thought of as being harmless windows into parallel dimensions, but they have nonetheless become the subject of some scrutiny, particularly by scientists with a penchant for voyeurism. As is often the case with sentient beings, many of these scientists have stated that the best environment in which to discuss their findings is one where intoxicating drinks are close at hand. Alcohol and astrophysics, as the saying goes, are as integral to one another as war and weapons. ( The results are oftentimes equally as catastrophic, particularly after uppity astronomers have had a few too many. ) This might have been a completely benign practice, had it not been for the patently idiotic industriousness of one researcher: In an effort to justify the time spent at such locales, he had listed his favorite bar as the location of a crack in spacetime... and the universe, perhaps momentarily possessed by a sense of cosmic irony, altered itself to fit the report. Not that anyone ever noticed, of course, given that the reality-warping properties of a tequila were already well documented. Still, this was the little-known history of Don Boingo's Pub and Grill, offered as a piece of trivia on a tiny plaque near the door. Said plaque had likely gone unread for years, until the fateful day when Zaphod Beeblebox - one-time President of the Universe and all-around hoopy frood - happened to bump the left of his two heads on a low-hanging lamp. The mishap momentarily distracted him from his mission of getting egregious drunk, allowing for just enough time to read the two paragraphs of text. `` Huh,'' was one of Zaphod's thoughts. `` This would be best considered over a drink,'' was another. Wasting no further time, Zaphod made his way through the sparsely populated tavern and moved to take a seat at the bar. Unfortunately, in the exact moment that his buttocks we due to meet with the cracked upholstery of a stool, the tear between realities briefly widened and deposited a being atop it. `` Whoa, there!'' the man shouted. `` What are you... what do you think you're doing there, huh?'' A belch punctuated the challenge, and Zaphod turned to see a tall human with wild, bluish white hair seated behind him. `` What am I doing?'' came Zaphod's retort. `` What are you doing?'' In truth, the question was meant as much as a stalling tactic as it was a legitimate inquiry, though it might have been more effective had Zaphod seen fit to remove himself from the man's lap. A shoved dislodged Zaphod from his position, sending him tumbling sideways and onto another stool. `` Ca n't a...'' another belch broke loose from the man's lips ``... ca n't a guy, you know, drink in peace or something? I've had a tough week, pal.'' `` Oh, you've had a tough week?'' Zaphod rolled both sets of his eyes for effect. `` Buddy, you do n't know tough from Tuesday. `` `` What... what is that? What does that even mean?'' `` It means,'' replied Zaphod, `` that I've been sitting at this bar for nearly a minute now, and I've yet to hear anyone take my order. Furthermore, my usual seat seems to be occupied by one of the dancing monkeys from that backwater planet that keeps following me around.'' Each of the man's eyes squinted, though at different rates from one another. `` Do you mean the... the monkeys are following you around, or the planet is?'' `` Both, either, neither. Pick one. Or do n't. Zaphod, by the way.'' Zaphod extended the middle of his three hands. `` Yeah, that's great, Zaphod,'' the man replied. Perhaps it was merely the still-fluctuating space inside the bar, but the sarcasm seemed almost visible. A moment of brief silence passed then, during which Zaphod considered his situation. He was, as he kept woefully reminding himself, entirely too sober. However, he was very likely to be drunk within the next few minutes, at which point he would become either depressed or belligerent. The latter option seemed to promise a more pleasant outcome, so he decided to overlook his lack of inebriation and jab at the white-haired man with his outstretched hand. In keeping with its previous behavior, the universe took that moment to decide that it had made a mistake, and reclaim the interloper. For the second time in as many minutes, Zaphod went tumbling off his bar stool, his faces connecting solidly with the spot he had originally intended to occupy... and with some dismay, he realized that the man's belches had n't been the only bodily functions he'd been offering while present. `` Hah, look at that asshole!'' called a familiar voice. `` Hey, two-heads! Yeah, I'm over here!'' This, Zaphod decided, was going to be a very long night.
[ WP ] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago . Today he gives it back and says , `` I need a favor . ''	`` We have a problem.'' I stared blankly at the old man across from me, the curve of his bald head illuminated by a cheap lamp hanging over our booth. `` I need you to help me out here. This is something only you can do.'' His putrid breath snaked it's way across the table, smelling intensely of rot and menthol. Paper thin skin covers everything but his face, which was wrapped in drooping lobes of excess. He lifted his hand to the light and marveled at the ease with which he saw his bones and tendons. `` You humans sure are beautiful...'' He coughed deeply, a flash of pain finding it's way onto his face. `` Now listen. I have something of yours, and I am willing, no I must, give it back to you if you are to do as I ask.'' `` And what do you ask?'' My voice exuded cynicism, yet I could not compare to the raw anger and disdain of the devil himself. `` I want you to kill yourself. How you do it does n't matter. Hell, you could get someone to do it for you. All that matters is that you get put on the fast track to heaven.'' He leaned in over the table, a slimy grin plastered across his face. `` And what do expect me to do once I am there?'' The waitress interrupted him just as he was about to speak so that she might refill our drinks. Her voice silkily questioned us, `` how are you enjoying the coffee? Even if we're the only shop for a hundred miles in any direction, we take pride in customer satisfaction.'' The devil's dark gaze met her bright and jubilant one, and her confidence was shaken. `` The coffee's fine, thank you. I would appreciate if my friend and I could speak peace, though.'' She raised her eyebrows and withdrew before leaving without a word. `` Where were we?'' He sounded annoyed, more so than I had ever seen him. `` I need you to get into heaven so that you can kill god.'' `` You ca n't just kill god, can, you?'' `` As a normal person, no. But for the past thirty five years I have been holding on to your soul, and it is n't the pathetic human soul it used to be.'' `` I do n't really have a choice here, do I?'' Even before my mouth began to move his grin spread to a full blown manic smile. `` I'm glad we could reach an agreement. But I do n't have your soul anymore. I am your soul.'' The flicker of the diner's neon sign created a dimly lit purple circle on the ground, but beyond that the night was uninterrupted and inpenetrable. As I looked out of our booth's window, the devil pulled a revolver out of his faded beige sports jacket and put it on the table in front of me. `` I'm not saying you have to do it now, but I'd prefer if you did the deed with a sense of uegency. Good luck, son.'' His face began to decompose into ash, as did the rest of his body. It formed a pile of off-white powder on the table, and a deep yearning came over me. I wanted to, no, I needed to consume him. Temptation consumed me, and I plunged in. With the table cleaned of the devil's remains, I sat back in the booth and smiled. I lusted over the exhilaration I felt, the pounding of my heart, everything. I held on to the feeling and inspected every last facet of it, and just as the feeling began to fade, I put the gun up to my head and blasted off. The waitress did n't know about anything. My deal me selling my soul, me making a deal to get it back, me having a mission, it was all lost to her. All she saw was a fifty-two year old man and a pile of dirty cocaine.
[ WP ] AU soulmate where the first thing they say to you is tattooed on your skin . Yours is `` Are you ready to die ? ''	Let's get one thing straight here. The main character of this story is not a good person. Many would probably go so far as to call him a monster. That was fine with him, however. He did not deny the fact that calling someone a `` monster'' would be a perfectly reasonable reaction to finding out that they were, in fact, a serial killer. A number of his victims had made that very opinion clear to him, under no uncertain terms before their untimely demise, as a matter of fact. Sure, it hurt a little, but he had a policy of being honest with himself. He was a monster, a mass-murderer that had killed a ghastly amount of men and women in cold blood, but he'd come to terms with the whole thing long ago. He figured that he was simply born that way, and there was n't anything that he, or anyone else, could do to change that. Every so often, he'd get `` the itch'', and as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to do but `` scratch'' it. As such, he never really paid much mind to this whole `` soulmate'' phenomenon. That is, the fact that, for reasons not even remotely understood, a person's supposed perfect match for life's first words to them would eventually appear, permanently tattooed somewhere on their body. At first glance, one might think that this would lead to a pretty high rate of `` happily-ever-after'' stories, but there were still plenty of complications that could make finding `` true love'' an exhausting, if not heartbreaking experience. The sad truth was that plenty of people went their entire lives without finding `` the one''. After all, to truly be soulmates, both parties have to have tattoos that correspond with their first words to one another. While some people absolutely refused to pursue a relationship with someone that was not their `` destined partner'', marriage between non-soulmates was not uncommon at all, even without the promise of happiness for the rest of your lives together. At the end of the day, this greatly disturbed man figured that plenty of people with lifestyles that were a lot more `` conventional'' than his went through their entire life without ever finding their special match, so someone like him should probably not even worry about it. That being said, he could n't help but notice how unusual his own soulmate tattoo was. Are you ready to die? It said, clearly visible on his right arm. Not exactly the most romantic sentiment. The man had thought. He had pondered the implications of those words a few times over the years. He figured that the most likely scenario, if he ever encountered his supposed `` soulmate'' at all, would be that some brave soul would catch him in the act, and try to apprehend him. He thought that, just maybe, if he encountered the right person, he could convince them to see things his way. After all, people could be convinced to do some pretty wacky things with enough effort. In the back of his mind, he wondered if there was someone out there that he could share his lifestyle with. But truth be told, this greatly troubled man did n't care too greatly about finding his soulmate. He had more important things to do, and often found himself pre-occupied with more pressing matters. Now was one of those times, as he was currently in the final stages of `` scratching another itch'', as he'd put it. His current target was nearby. An attractive woman in her mid-twenties with pale skin, relatively short black hair, and an apparent heart of gold. He had been following her for a few weeks now, learning the intricacies of her routine, and from what he could gather, she was nothing but sunshine and rainbows all around. She was extremely polite, stayed out of trouble, and tended to wear baggy clothing that kept her covered from head to toe. She was always running around trying to make a difference in her community, cheering up friends, and altogether being quite too much of an innocent goody-two-shoes for the maniac to tolerate. I ca n't stand people like her... the man thought, as he watched the woman enter her house after returning from a long day's work. He observed her through one of her house's windows as she placed her things on a nearby table, and proceeded to go downstairs, into her basement. She thinks she has the power to make the world a better, happy place. Ugh, as if. I'm going show her just how cruel the world can be. He entered the house quietly. Idiot did n't even lock the door. The serial killer thought to himself. The woman had not returned from the basement, so he stealthily descended the stairs, playing with his knife as he tried to dream up his next horrifying plan. As the twisted man reached the bottom, he was surprised to find that he could n't see his target anywhere. The lights were not on, with only the dim light of the setting sun illuminating the basement through a number of small windows that poked out just above the surface. Had she left? Was there another way out of the basement? The man took a few cautious steps forward, and then he noticed it. After getting closer, he could now clearly make out a board hanging on one of the basement's walls, with a large number of photos of various men and women cut out and pinned to it. A good number of them had their faces crossed out with a large red `` X'' that appeared to have been painted on afterwards. As the intruder was trying to comprehend the exact implications of this, he noticed that there was a photo of him pinned near the center of the board. Taken aback, he took a step backwards and looked down. It was then he noticed the workbench in front of the board was covered in cleavers, a hacksaw, and a myriad of other sharp, potentially deadly items. Oh... OH...
[ IP ] Hope .	I press my hand against the window. Is this really it? The plane looms in front of me. The words `` SINGAPORE AIRLINES'' emblazoned on the side are n't affected by the downpour of rain outside, or the Despair by the City Limits. For the past 18 months there was no government, no laws, no anything. Just despair, consuming hope. My brother and I lived in darkness. We survived on what little we had. In the first few months, our parents were there to guide us. Then everything started to go wrong. Halfway through Month 8, our mother was hit by a stray bullet. We did n't question who shot it, but we still grieved. We buried her in the backyard quickly. Sometime in early Month 10, our dad went outside to get what he could. He came back, and was cornered by a lot of men. Thankfully, his muscles did n't fail him. He came back, but the next day people wanted Round 2. Then we were on the run. A boy sliced my leg off around Month 12. For the next 6 months, there was a motel we lived in. People were dead all around. We tried cleaning the place up. Dragging the bodies out, cleaning the carpets, anything to remind us of something normal. It did n't really work, but we had something to do. Then there were soldiers. Mighty men, so strong my brother called them beasts. He was scared. And then we ran away from our motel, our town. They saw us. Flashes of green and red. I desperately wanted to find something to fight for. A cactus fell and crushed my leg and my brother. I wanted to run so badly, especially with scary people chasing me, but you ca n't run fast with one leg. My brother was like that. He always said to adapt. `` Some things, when the first come out, were n't designed to fail safely.'' he'd always say that. So I crawled, but I was too slow. They dragged me into a truck. There were kids there, too. There was good food, and warmth, and comfort. One soldier bandaged my leg up. He was really nice, even though he was big and scary. And then we were back in the truck and here I am now. Everyone's getting into the plane now. I finger the necklace on my chest. `` As long as I'm not dead...'' Once upon a time, there was a girl named Hope. She was shrouded by darkness, until hope came back to her. There was light for her. Now she's at an airport, looking at the plane that will escort her to a better place. As long as she does n't die, hope will always live on.
[ WP ] To help people get over crippling social dating anxiety , datebots have been invented so that people learn how to interact with people they 're attracted to . You meet up with one , only to eventually find out they are an actual person , who was supposed to meet with a different datebot .	The instructions from the service are frustratingly vague. 240 West 55th, 8:30 PM, plus or minus ten minutes. For best practice results, dress and act as if this were a human date. Do not acknowledge or make reference to the synthetic nature of your date. I spot her waiting outside the Irish pub as I'm walking up. She's pretty, in an accessible way. Not intimidating. Her holographic projection accurately matches the preference profile I supplied. DBI is rolling out the Mark VIII model in limited beta test, and I've lucked out! For certain values of lucking out, at least. `` Hi, I think I'm supposed to meet you around 8:30?'' I say and extend a hand. She takes it and we exchange names. Regular names, not online usernames -- though she'd have a series name and number, right. I push the thought away. -- -- She holds out her hands, palm up. `` Lem me see your hands. I want to try something, if you're game.'' She beckons with her fingertips. I check that my palms are n't sweaty and put my fingers in hers. They're surprisingly not cold. `` Lean in,'' as she does. I oblige, puzzled. `` What is this, some kind of human lie detector test?'' As the word human leaves my mouth and reaches my ears again I swear internally. She does n't react. `` Something like that. I saw this in a 1980s movie once. Ready?'' `` Sure,'' I say, a bit puzzled. `` Reaction time is a factor in this, so please pay attention. Now, answer as quickly as you can. It's your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.'' `` I'd check to see if there was any money inside.'' She's staring at my eye. I stare back, looking for the telltale shimmering of the Mark V model. `` Very pragmatic,'' she says. `` You've got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection plus the killing jar.'' `` Hm... I'd try to encourage him to take photographs of them instead?'' `` Okay. You're watching television. Suddenly you realize there's a wasp crawling on your arm.'' My arm jerks involuntarily as my watch buzzes and vibrates for an email notification. She's startled by my sudden movement ( as if there were a wasp on my arm ) I move to silence it, pulling both of my hands from hers. I fumble for the buttons and I notice the text of the alert. > Mail - just now > From: DBI Booking Support > Subject: Your missed appointment I look up, back down at the glowing letters, and back up `` I think I stood someone up tonight.'' I show her the screen. I'm looking at her lips as she subvocalizes. From her coat, I hear the muffled tone from her phone. I smile. She smiles back. We both know what hers says.
[ WP ] Suffering is a form of currency in Hell . The more you suffer in life the richer you are in the afterlife . You , a normal person arriving in hell find out that you 're one of the richest person in Hell and worth more then Satan .	Who knew civil service would pay off like this? `` Good morning, Mr. Monassis.'' Now I knew who the well-dressed man shaking my hand was. I ca n't really explain how I knew to those of you reading this who are still alive. Suffice it to say there's kind of a psychic commentary track in the afterlife that feeds you information that you do n't get in life ( or maybe we get it, we just do n't know how to read it, idunno ). `` You're the Morning Star.'' He smiles nervously. `` You flatter me with your formality, sir. Please, call me Lou.'' `` I do n't understand, this is Hell, is n't it?'' `` Yes, sir. Welcome. I'd pay you my condolences, but, ah-'' He gestures around my room with a chuckle. Yes, this is my room. I...'spawned' here, or whatever. I remember how they shot part of Devil's Advocate in an apartment owned by Donald Trump because they needed something gaudy and obviously expensive. This room was slightly nicer than that, as though a set designer paid extra to turn the gaudiness down just a little. `` So wait... is my afterlife like Brewster's Millions, where I got ta spend a shitload of money every day until it becomes a chore?'Cause that's not exactly ironic.'' One of the books my mom insisted I read in my youth was Your Money Or Your Life, and one of the steps they have you do is figuring out lifetime how much money you've ever made. Now, I had done the math probably five years before I died, but even factoring in that extra time, I was probably hovering around two hundred grand. At thirty. The vast majority of which came in during the last decade in the dead-end shit job I died on my way home from. Lucifer is still chuckling in his pin-striped worsted wool. I ca n't decide if he kinda looks like David Bowie or if I'm kind of telekinetically making him look like David Bowie because of that one piece of fanart. `` No no, nothing like that. Although we would very much appreciate your patronage if that was your intention.'' His teeth are fucking perfect. It's at this moment that I finally glanced down at what I'm wearing. I did n't really notice because of how impossibly comfortable the thing is, but it looks like an athletic cut three-piece suit, black with a vague green shimmer at shallow angles, so light it's like wearing nothing at all ( nothing at all ( ^nothing ^at ^all ) ). Also my gut fat is gone, like I got some heavenly lipo when I was n't looking. I probably look great naked. `` That you do, sir.'' `` You can read my thoughts?'' ``... wuh I-'' `` Do n't do that, it's rude.'' He's flustered. `` I-I-I did n't mean to intrude, Mr. Monassis.'' That's another cruel twist of fate. My mother named me Alec. Alec Monassis, which every ten-year-old interprets as `` I lick man asses.'' It's right up there with Isaac Cox. It was n't until I went away to college that I was able to get people to start calling me Al, and then another year before I finally heard that song people kept referencing. `` Explain what the hell is happening here, and do it succinctly.'' Yeah. SAT words. `` Well, sir, when your tire blew out, you veered off the road and the support column drove the engine block through your-'' `` No, I remember that part. Get to the metaphysical shit.'' `` Well.'' The nervous smile snaps to a no-nonsense briefing pose. `` Put simply, suffering is currency here. You're rich.'' `` And you're being nice to me because you're like a politician?'' How like Earth. `` Yes and no. I am rather like a politician.'' On that afterlife info track I mentioned is the awareness that what most people think of as'the devil' is actually about a dozen distinct entities, and that the representation closes to the truth actually comes from fucking D & D of all things. `` But no, I'm not being nice to you for short term political gain, I'm being nice to you because, long term, it's always wise to be kind to your superiors.'' ... this is a lot to take in. `` Take your time.'' What'd I just say? `` Sorry. Habit.'' I have five or six pertinent questions swirling around in my brain ( among them,'do I still have a brain' ), but the one I decide to output first is, `` So what exactly is my net worth?'' `` Fourteen-point-three trillion fuckits.'' I let out a short, surprised laugh. `` That's the unit?'' `` Yes, sir. One fuckit is the suffering equivalent of a one on that one-to-ten pain scale hospitals use. A minor but definite discomfort.'' `` Is that linear?'' `` No, it's logarithmic. And it's not absolute; maximal human physical pain is only about three hundred thousand fuckits. Emotional pain goes...'' he laughs, `` way, way beyond that.'' Makes sense. The most intense physical pain I ever felt in my life was when I had an infected filling in one of my molars when I was ten. We could n't get to a dentist until Monday, so I spent that Sunday afternoon writhing in pain in my bed. The kind of pain that turns off conscious thought. The most intense emotional pain I can remember is when my ex-wife first told me she was fucking somebody else, and I would've given anything to switch places with ten-year-old me just to make it not true. `` And you're telling me that in three decades, I amassed fourteen trillion points of emotional damage.'' He smirks. `` That is a novel way to look at it, but yes, sir. That is your current situation. You're dead, you're in Hell, and you're a multitrillionaire. The underworld is your oyster.'' The first place my mind went to was Iraq. Now I admit, I have n't really been happy in my life in a very long time, and I've never really been grateful for my life, but surely there's some single parents in Iraq who had to bury part of their only child who've suffered worse than me. Devil Bowie is looking at me expectantly, so I subconsciously grant him permission to respond to that thought. He lights up like a kid at Christmas and claps once, summoning a large dry erase board and quickly sketches a graph. `` Well you see here, people in warzones become jaded very quickly, so their rate of appreciation levels off. Spikes of course occur pretty much any time fight-or-flight is invoked, but they mostly become numb to it.'' He flips the board over revealing identical axes but without the hypothetical war survivor's'my life is hell' line. `` You, in a manner that only depressive nihilists can, did n't get numb to the suffering of your dead-end job, you dwelt in it. You let every single little thing that went wrong penetrate you to your very core and you blamed only yourself for it. That time Beth spilled her coffee all over your ergonomic keyboard? All those promotions you were passed up for? To say nothing of the massive head start you got for having an absent father.'' I would find out later that there's sort of a high-end gentlemen's club for sons whose fathers abandoned them. `` I just... Harlequin babies.'' `` Die too young, have no frame of reference. Pain is their'normal.''' `` Addicts?'' `` Please, if what they were doing did n't feel good they would n't be addicts. I coded that little feedback loop myself.'' `` Huh. But like, I was never beaten or anything.'' `` No, your family relied much more on emotional abuse, which as I said can rack up fuckits way faster than physical pain. Your brother was supremely manipulative because, as you so saliently observed, he blamed you for your father leaving.'' I was a month old. Years later I would wish I could go back and scream at him, if dad leaving is anybody's fault, motherfucker, it's yours! Hindsight being what it is. `` So because my childhood was kind of shitty, and my job was n't that great, I'm now the richest person in Hell?'' `` Ah-hah, well, no, you're not the richest person in Hell.'' `` Are you?'' `` No.'' `` What are you worth?'' `` Ten trillion.'' ``... whose the richest?'' `` Well, if he were to die today, Keanu Reeves would be worth about twice as much as you.'' He smiles. `` But of course he ca n't actually die.'' He sighs the way one might at the end of a fond anecdote. ``... excuse me?'' `` Look, all of this exposition must be draining. Surely there are some better things we could do to welcome you to the dark side.'' `` Such as?'' `` Drugs and whores?'' On that supernatural info track is the understanding that what he's implying is any imaginable drug. Any imaginable whore. Any fantasy I could conceive of can be made real. I could take mushrooms and fuck Sasha Grey ( or a convincing facsimile ). I could pop an NZT and get deep throated by Plava Laguna. I could get a second chance with my first love. `` Can you sell me a self-driving car?'' There's a warmth behind his smile that I ca n't really convey. `` What color?''
[ WP ] You die and now it is day of judgement . To your surprise , the day of judgement is where gods get judged based on how well they did ( How fair their world was , pleasant ... etc ) . The judgement of our god is about to start ...	1 By the time the 5th Angel came up from the east it was too late. I received no seal. I did receive what came after it. The falling of fire and ice and blood upon the Earth killed my friends. The eruption of the mountain, turning the sea to blood killed my brother. The day Wormwood fell from the sky my wife and children died of thirst. By the time the sun was struck and day became night, those of us that remained were hiding in caves. But the reality was, there was no hiding. When the Abyss was exposed, we all watched the lava flow upon the earth. We watched as the smoke rose and felt the scorpion sting of the locust. Day after day, month after month, we endured the torture before a third of what was left were killed by the riders on horseback. People I called friends in this hell-hole were pierced, quartered, beheaded. Somehow I survived. Off to the East came a story of two prophets guarding a temple. We all went to look. What else was there to do? We tried to die. Tried to kill ourselves, but it was no use. So we went to look. On arrival, we saw a temple of god and two men in sackcloth standing guard. Watching. A man ran from the crowd to rush them and instantly a plague was bought down upon us all. Some more people died. For 1260 days this went on, each day a new plague, each day more deaths. Somehow I survived. When the beast rose out of the Abyss and killed the prophets many amongst those that were left cheered. They preyed to the beast and thanked it for salvation. But the beast disappeared. The day the prophets rose from the dead, the ground, the buildings, the air even; shook so hard the city collapsed. Many more died, leaving only a few. Somehow I was among them. We watched as the devil was cast from the sky and stared, helpless like small children as the seven bowls of wrath were poured out. Disease spread on us all and people died from infection. The sea and rivers turned to blood again and everything in the waters died. Solar flares erupted and those that didn ’ t have shelter died horribly of their burns. Somehow I survived. Our tongues turned to sandpaper, so that all we could do was gnaw at ourselves trying to bite it off. But there was no relief. The rivers, streams and wells all dried up. Then the words came from the sky “ It is done ” as thunder and lightening shook the earth so hard, everything that was left could no longer stand. It all collapsed. Hail stones rained down upon us. Thousands, millions of them. I watched helpless as one by one, the remaining empty souls were killed until I was the last. The last human alive on the earth. Standing alone, desolate, despairing; I welcomed death when it came. It was quick. I was standing in the open remembering my family. I missed them so much. My innocent children, my beautiful wife. Gone. Gone at the hands of a vengeful, hateful God. From the sky I heard a voice – “ Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgement has come. ” Then it was done. I died too. 2 For a moment I wasn ’ t sure what had happened. I could still see, could still hear, but I could feel nothing. I rose slowly from the ground. Looking down I could see my body laying motionless, but my consciousness was floating. I hovered briefly watching my flesh decay and crumble before I continued my ascent, up through the clouds and into the sky beyond. After a while I looked and there standing before me was an open door into heaven. A voice, like a trumpet called out - “ Come up here and I will show you what must take place next ”. At once, before me was a throne with someone sitting on it. He appeared of jasper and of ruby, of emerald and diamond. He radiated light giving birth to a rainbow that encircled his throne. Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, bearing the spirits of the elders, the twenty-four greater Gods. They were dressed in white, with gold crowns upon their head. Flashes of lightening darted between their thrones, matched by the rumbling and pearls of thunder as a low hum in the background. In front of the throne there was a sea of glass, clear as crystal. Through the glass I could see two groups of people. Billions of people. About half to the right of God and the remainder to the left. I knew each of them instantly. It began with Adam. The first. Followed by Abel, Eve, Cain and their descendants on down to Abraham. More sat silently in rows. Moses, David, Jesus. The number continued, through the disciples, Popes, Priests and fathers of the church, grandmothers that cooked cakes for the poor and needy. They were on the right. On the left, it began with ancient cultures and primitive people. How could they have ever known about God? It continued with the Pagan followers of Egypt, Greece and Rome. African cultures from the birth of man through to modern day cult leaders. Many ordinary folk just like me. They were on the left. A voice spoke to me, “ Peter, you are the last to pass through this judgement hall. The last human to have lived ”. At first I thought the words were from God. This was my judgement. Surely I was to sit to the left. A life long atheist, now to be condemned for eternity for my greatest sin – denial. But it wasn ’ t God at all. It was one of the greater Gods. I listened intently as he continued – “ This is not a judgement day for you. This is a judgement day for your God. ” “ Every man, woman and child that ever walked the Earth has already passed their judgement. You are the last. ” “ Fifty percent sit to his right to give favour and fifty percent to his left to condemn. Whatever testament you provide now, will be the final judgement. It will be passed to your God and to the people. ” “ How do you judge? '' 3 How could they ask this of me? Just a man. How could they ask me to judge a Being that had just destroyed the World and taken from me the people I loved the most? How could they ask me now to condemn half the World ’ s people for all eternity? Did they not already know what I was going to say? My eyes quickly scanned both crowds, looking for the three things that mattered the most – my wife, my son and daughter. I found Nethaniel sitting on the left, my wife Ruth and daughter Catherine sitting on the right. I paused for the longest time possible. The pain and suffering of the apocalypse still fresh in my mind. But mostly, Ruth, Catherine and Nethaniel. Thoughts of them tore me inside, not letting me choose. After a while, I calmed, glanced up at God and stepped forward.
[ WP ] `` For the first time in generations , it was warm . You were the first child of summer . And also the last . ''	“ Summer is coming. Warmth will come, but shall perish with a mortal. For the savior will be the one who brings the doom. Summer is coming. ” By the first light on the East, the man was already in the garden tending to the vegetables he had planted. He prepared for the cold day, as usual. Beside him, a bundle of black and brown fur was sitting - Scout. His German Shepard puppy. With rusty old coat, and gloves with couple of holes in them, he could maintain a normal body temperature just for a few minutes. But potatoes had to be out of the ground and ready for the feast. His wife was due today. After years and years of trying to have a baby, they finally did it. The boy was to be born on July 1st – today. He barely slept last night. County doctor will soon be over. Everything must be ready. As one hour passed by, something was different. He couldn ’ t explain or pinpoint it. But he felt it. Soon, everyone will feel it. “ He ’ s a healthy little boy. ” Dr. McRyan said as he was handing the baby to the nurse next to him to bath him and wrap him before given to his mother. “ He ’ s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. ” said the man with tears in his eyes. He kissed his wife on the forehead and said a short prayer in his head. “ How are we going to name him? ” wife asked while she taking a deep breath. The birth took a toll on her. “ Since this morning, everything felt different, ” the man slowly started, “ There was something about the morning light. ” As he was just to say something else, a nurse enters the room carrying their first-born son. With kind smile she gave the baby to her mother. “ Julius. ” she said as she held him. “ We ’ ll name him Julius. ” Just as he nodded in agreement, the Sun started probing into their room. Around the noon, everyone in the village gathered at their house to give their regards to new parents. And while some left as fast as they arrived, others stayed on the porch to talk and gossip. Every single person noted that the temperature somehow rose. Someone even dared to mention the old prophecy. “ What a nonsense, ” elderly woman said, “ There ’ s no way the Mahones have anything to do with so-called prophecy. He ’ s just a normal boy. Like every boy before, like every boy will be after him. ” A reply came in seconds “ You have no right to talk like that, ” one man said, “ Maybe it is true, maybe he is the bearer of Summer. ” “ And our doom, too. ” a voice in the back said. As the days passed, almost everyone started to believe more and more in the prophecy. Since Julius was born, every day gets warmer and warmer. The mood in the village was mixed. Some felt it was just a coincidence. On Sunday morning, whole village gathered in front of the local church for the mass and Julius ’ baptism. Church was located next to the small lake that no one knows the name or the origin. As they entered the church, a thermostat right of the entrance started to slowly rise. Currently showing 15˚C/60˚F. Elderly ladies in the front row started to use a small notebook of prayers to cool them off. Soon, everyone started to feel uncomfortable because all of them felt the temperature rising. By the end of the ceremony, mercury in the thermostat rose to 32˚C/90 ˚F. On the way out, someone shouted “ It ’ s the devil himself in that child. He will bring us only death and suffer. ” At that same exact moment, the lake beside them started to evaporate, slowly but steadily. In the moment of disbelief and shock, some started to cry, some started to pray, while others just stood like frozen by. “ What did I tell you, ” a quiet voice said, “ The prophecy is coming true, just like our forefathers said. ” Everyone slowly turned to see a middle-aged man who was the only one looking calm, with black hat, almost covering his eyes. As he raised his head, everyone noticed something unusual in his eyes. The truth? The glow? The death? NOTE: This is me popping the cherry with WP. So sorry for any mistakes, I tried all my best to follow the rules. EDIT: Grammar and spacing errors.
[ WP ] You 're a merchant in an RPG . Describe waiting for the hero to show back up and sell you junk .	I glared at the door as I tapped my fingers on the counter. I gave him the most money for his crap. His tin cans, and crappy old guns. If he did n't come back, which I knew he would, I'd go broke. Nobody else ever came in here. Of course, I was going broke already. It's not like he bought anything from me. He could go other places to do that. But not me, no. Every once and a while, some extra money would just show up in my cash register, just so I could but off his crap again. I did n't want his tin cans. They all went in the dump behind the building, but he'd pulled a gun on me more than once. If I said I would n't take his shit, he'd threaten me. He was an ass. I continued glaring at the door. No matter what, he'd come back. I was sure of that. I spent up to three weeks at a time just standing here, waiting for him to bring me his crap. I walked around the counter, and grabbed the broom. Might as well make something of my time. As I started to sweep, I heard gunshots down in the square. I sank my head, and stopped sweeping. By the time he was finished, the place would be a mess again. At least there was always the Load. At least I would n't be dead. Of course, he would n't be either.
[ WP ] The wolf was innocent , he was framed by red riding hood .	Little Red Riding Hood munched on the apples and drank the milk in her basket at the side of the dirt road. It was supposed to be for her grandma, who was sick yet again. But what was she supposed to do, starve? A young wolf cub was watching her shyly from behind a tree, its little snout twitching. `` Well, are n't you a big bad wolf,'' she muttered, tossing him the remains of her apple. She'd seen him around plenty of times as she walked to grandma's cottage, and knew he was harmless. He just always tried to steal a few bites from her snacks, especially if she happened to be carrying sausages. She continued on her way to grandma's house, glancing behind her and noticing the wolf was trotting after her. Eventually, she came to the little ramshackle cottage, and knocked loudly. The wolf watched as she knocked on all the windows after no-one answered the door. She found the back door open, and she let herself through, the cub slinking in after her. `` Grandma?'' she called, grumbling under her breath when the deaf old hag did n't answer. Then she entered the living room and froze. Her grandma was slumped in her chair, her eyes fixed and staring straight ahead. `` Oh,'' Little Red Riding Hood said, biting into her apple as she thought. She glanced at the wolf. `` Good boy,'' she said, dropping sausages onto the floor. She grabbed her Grandma's bonnet, and tied it to the wolf's head as she giggled. It yipped and waved its tail in excitement. Stupid cur. She dropped more sausages all over her grandma's lap. Who knew - perhaps they'd find a few bite marks on her and conclude the wolf killed her. Maybe she would n't be blamed for not getting here in time. She closed up behind her and started running back home, determined to get back quickly and claim she got lost and never made it to grandma's. She whistled as she went. No more ridiculous trips through the woods, to try and talk to someone who was too blind and deaf to pay attention to her, anyway. As she rounded the corner at the end of the road, Little Red Riding Hood ran into a snarling wolf, with bristling black fur, looking for its cub. It growled and snapped as it dove at the girl, who flung her basket aside and shrieked as she tried in vain to run away. ___ Hunter Tom wept as he scribbled in his journal for the day, smudging the ink as his tears fell on the page. He would honour the little dead girl and her grandmother he'd found earlier today, by writing a story with a happy ending. That's what he'd do. He'd tell them he killed the wolf and saved the girl, instead of it escaping with its flee-ridden cub. One of them had even had dear Granny's bonnet clutched between its teeth. He'd read it to the village children, to teach them never to wander. To warn them there were always monsters in the woods. ____ You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
[ WP ] Something went wrong . Very wrong . It is now thirteen o'clock .	`` IF STEVE WERE AROUND TODAY, HE WOULD HAVE FIRED YOU SO FAST'' Tim Sanders, the Apple executive, was out of insults really. Especially since the ones he was hurling were aimed at entire room of people, none of whom was directly responsible for the issue. He knew in his heart that he would regret his meltdown tomorrow, but he was also certain, in the midst of the situation, his programmers would understand. He could n't do anything but rub his forehead, dismiss his employees, and limp back to his office. Tim was n't old, per-se, but he was old enough to be worried that the frailty of his bones would age him distinctly in an environment where anything old is the enemy. `` How could this happen'' he muttered to himself. Usually, he understood the consumer outrage when the iPhone operating system underwent drastic interface changes and program additions. Getting used to new things was difficult for people once they got comfortable. He even remembered his son whining about the new Facebook layout every 4 months back when he still lived in the house. This update, however, was the tamest ever. Solely meant to even out an audio inconsistency that would only be recognizable by professional audio engineers and maybe a Tanzanian fruit bat. The audio update went smoothly, the problem was taken care of, and nobody seemed to complain about that. What Tim did n't expect, however, was the outrage over a tiny programming error that attached itself to the new update. `` Honestly, these people whine about everything, they can fix the problem themselves in less than 10 seconds.'' Tim said to no one but his desk lamp. Tim paced around the room, trying to understand the massive outrage caused by such a massive issue. `` I guess I get it'' he thought, `` some people are just so used to one way, that when it switches, people tend to lose their minds for a little bit.'' Tim continued to pace through his office, convincing himself that the public outcry would subside, and that the problem would go away in no-time. But, although his stomach was beginning to growl, he decided to skip lunch to make sure this was taken care of as soon as possible. A few minutes later, after Tim had sat back down and gotten into some of his routine work for the day, he heard a knock on his door. Before he could say `` Come in,'' the door opened. Tim knew that none of his employees would be rude enough to enter his office without permission, so he knew it could only be one person. `` Hello dear,'' Tim said, before his wife's face was even fully in view. `` I know I promised we would get lunch today, but I have a major problem with the new update, so I'm going to have to cancel.'' Tim's wife was frustrated, the angst punctuated by the clock chiming once. They had scheduled a lunch date for 1 o'clock, and the massive grandfather clock was serving as a reminder of Tim's lack of commitment to keeping his marital promises. Tim's wife sat down, calming herself after the inital wave of disappointment, and asked her husband about the nature of the problem. `` It's kind of stupid.'' -He said `` Tell Me'' `` Promise you wo n't laugh'' `` Promise'' `` The new update changed the default clock setting to military time.''

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