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[ WP ] You can only die after humans go extinct . How do you die ?
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It's a paradox, right?
I can only die after humans are extinct, but if I'm alive, humans are n't extinct.
It's been four-hundred years, two hundred and seventy-five days, and six hours since she told me the truth. That I am not one of them, that I can not die. I've fought in wars because I was bored, I've been released from life sentences because they went on too long, I've been to the funerals of my great, great, great grandchildren.
**But now they're all dead. **
At least, I think they are, but how can I be sure? It's a big Earth.
**But it's been used up. **
Their monuments still stand erect, scraping the sky, but where life was once teeming, now there's only dirt. A sea of brown in the shadow of a hazy onyx tower that will break down and fall. I can see myself in the glass: my unkempt hair, beard down to my chest, a dirty red shirt with an ironic demand in a bold white font: `` share.'' My jeans are ripped, my left boot splitting at the heel. I'll pick up a new pair if I come across a decent one.
And in my right hand, you, a little gray Olympus WS-852 Digital Voice recorder. Des, I'll call you. For Destiny. Why am I even talking to you? I know *why, * I guess. So that if someone finds my body, they can hear my story. What is my story? It's the story of everyone. I am defined by my long age, my unique perspective, but I do n't even know why I have it. Why am I still alive? I only have one clue, but it's not enough to solve the riddle.
She was a stranger in a magic shop in New Orleans. She held my hand, I do n't even know her name, and she told me three sentences I did n't forget:
`` You are not one of us. You will outlive all of us. You must remember us.''
But I am one of you, I thought. If not, then what am I? It's just a weird thing someone said once, right? Throughout life any number of people say any number of weird things you forget. Why was this anything more than that? Something in the way she said it shook me to the bone. She did n't blink, she stared right into my eyes-hers were still, fixed on the center of my pupil.
`` You are not one of us. You will outlive all of us. You must remember us.''
But I am one of you. If not, then what am I? *Alone. * It took me a while to embrace that. I envy you, Des. You get to carry this message without any care in the world, until someone finds you next to whatever remains of my corpse, and two Double A's hooked up to a solar battery charger.
But that's really all that's different about you and me, Des. You do n't have to care. I do. When mothers held their starving children as the world dried up, I had to care. When all my friends died for the final time and I knew there would n't be anymore coming, I had to care. It's how I'm wired. But you are my worthy successor, because you do n't have to. I will tell you the story of humanity, or the summary, I guess, from my perspective, and all you have to do is sit here and wait till' someone clicks play. An alien, or whatever species adapts to this shit-hole of a climate and is intelligent enough to figure out what you are.
And what are you, exactly? Des, you are the proof of the tower of Babel. Humans fought, murdered each other in droves, treated each other without the decency life deserves, but all the while, they were building a tower. Stone by stone it stretched from Earth to the foot of God. Man could travel the world in a day, fight off all manner of beast from the wild to the microscopic. They could bend their surroundings to their comfort, all the while giving a big'fuck you' to the big guy upstairs. And even when God was pissed off enough to pick up his fist and slam that tower to the ground, they have you, a little record of what they achieved. By leaving this message, they are cheating the big death. They will be remembered.
But I am not one of them.
I am something different. I can not die until they are all dead. I'm capable of death, I know that. I've been sick, I need to eat, I need to drink. I've come close. Des I ca n't stay here forever, I ca n't survive this. But maybe that's a good thing. I'm like a filter for their record. All the grief of loss dies with me. You ca n't carry that, that's not what you're programmed for. You can only carry a little recording, that tells of the Tower of Babel, that is was here.
The say you die twice: first when you're body goes, and second the last time anyone says your name. Humanity has only been through one, and I'm about to do the same. I come with an expiration date. You do too, but yours is much longer.
You're not human. You will outlive them. You will remember them.
So I guess that's it. I wo n't be talking to you again, Des. Keep that name alive and well in your silicon chip: Humanity.
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[ WP ] In order to appeal to the younger generations , the Catholic church has decided that Michael Bay should rewrite the bible . How does the crucifixion go down ?
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It is like, a million years ago. Everyone is flying around in space cars and hella rad shit like that. It is like the future but it also the past.
In this future, things look hella cool, like all metal with shiny silver stuff on it, and sometimes they shoot fire. But things are also dark and gritty, because people ca n't skateboard or play videogames because the Government says they ca n't.
THEN JESUS COMES JUMPING OFF THE ROOF. He is hella built, with muscles and stuff like Macho Man Randy Savage. There is a future helicopter that is shooting at him. Jesus hits it with his battle cross.
The battle cross is like the normal cross except it's hella big and black and covered with spikes and shit.
The helicopter assplodes and everyone down on the ground is looking up and they see jesus up there and they are like **hell yeah man that is hella metal man! **
Then jesus plays a judas priest song and the government gets mad because Judas priest is hella rad and might make then get revolution-ed. So they send their ninja assassin IRS tax dudes to come and kill jesus.
For a minute it looks like Jesus is gon na die but THEN he uses his magic heavenzord powers and God sends down the robotic fist of justice to smite the ninjas. It is like a giant robot, and it has a robot beard and also a battle cross that shoots lasers.
But then the ninjas pray to satan and satan sends a robot too, but this one is hella metal, it is all black and on fire, and when it steps on the ground it causes hella big earthquakes and people die.
Then the robots fight, and they destroy the future past world. When jesus wins he goes up to heaven and lives happily every after, and people still pray to him now.
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[ WP ] The sexy , freedom-loving rebel hero always gets his rallying 'Why we fight ' speech against the evil Empire du jour . Write the inspiring speech his law-and-order counterpart gives .
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Good afternoon my fellow citizens. Tonight I come before you with a request. About an hour rebel forces seized official government news agencies and asked people for their hand in their illegal actions. My fellow citizens I urge you to not do that. I ask all abled body men to fight and for the women elderly and children to leave the city. I ask you to fight because the rebels want to strip the rights away from many of our great nations citizens. Those who did not support their actions will be killed. Unfortunately that means many people across the country in fact almost half of our population will be killed. My fellow citizens do n't let this happen. Let us lose one thousand lives in order to save one million. We need to ensure that our nations is here for our children and their children and for generations to come. These rebels should they win will rervese thousands of years of history. Our history. My fellow citizens I ask you to pick up your arms and fight. May the young men fight the women provide equipment the children gather up the supplies and the old men gather in the squares to rally the young men. My fellow citizens do n't let our country die in vain. Fight and fight for ever to ensure that this nation of the people by the people and for the people does not perish from this earth.
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[ WP ] You 're immortal , and entropy has had it 's finally victory . You 're alone in the void with nothing but your dreams to keep you company .
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My creators did not fear death; they feared that they would be forgotten. That is why I was built: to remember the lost, to keep their memory alive, and to grant them true immortality.
My creators knew that no physical object could withstand the ebb and flow of time, so they built me to exist beyond this realm. They knew that their effort were pointless without anyone to appreciate their memory, so I was given thought. And so I was born. They called me an ark: a vessel to house their collected experiences, knowledge, memories, hopes, and dreams; I would remember them long after their people, their cities, their worlds had turned to dust. And so I did.
For eons, I remembered them: I remembered all of their first steps, their first loves, their first heartbreaks, so on and so forth. Eventually, I can not say when, I became them: their first steps became mine, I shared their first loves and their heartbreaks, and on and on; my creator's aspirations were now borne unto me. I looked on at my new dreams and memories and found something I did not anticipate: jealousy.
Even though I shared their memories, I could never truly accept them as my own; *I* was not the one to kiss Melanie on the last day of high school, *I* was not the one who married Stephen against my parents' best wishes, *I* was not the one who made that perfect cake for Gramma Ly on her 75^th birthday, *I* was not the one who lived a life with ups and downs and twists and turns & mdash; *I* am merely a spectator in these events.
Perhaps this is why my creators did not fear death, they knew that they could not bear to live a life filled with hopes for the past.
And so here I am, lost in the memories of ghosts long dead, drifting forever in the cosmos without aim or purpose, forgotten.
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[ WP ] In a world where political correctness has gone truly mad , a couple tries to have a conversation without using any words that could potentially offend someone .
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`` Are you doing okay, Ruth?'' asked John. His wife had just come home. Usually she went right up to him for a kiss, but today she went straight to the couch and lied down.
`` I'm fine, John...'' she said in dismay, ending with a quiet sigh. John went over and sat on the floor at the foot of the couch.
`` Well, I'm just going to sit here then and you can talk if you want to. It always makes you feel better.''
`` I know, I know,'' she huffed. `` We've talked about it before. This world's gone mad.''
John chuckled.
`` You know what happened at work today? My client was a human being looking to buy some property at Northshore for their family, so I went to meet them at this beautiful Victorian style home. Notice that I said'human being', John?''
John noticed. He knew where this was going. It bothered him too how strict some people of the world have become with their mannerisms and opinions of what is'correct'.
`` I meet a man and his wife at the home and go up to them to shake their hands,'' she began. `` I went to shake them and they both stare blankly at me. Their faces turn with disgust and I'm left their feeling like an idiot. They then inform me that they've adapted bowing for a greeting because it acknowledges all humans present at the time of meeting simultaneously.'It ensures that no one feels that there has been preferential treatment,' he told me. Then he went on to add,'I can see this might be an ongoing problem, so we would just like to let you know that we prefer you make eye contact with neither of us—we both want to enjoy this experience equally'.''
Ruth paused and let out a groan as she stretched her arms and legs out. She continued:
`` So I agree and apologize, making sure I look directly at neither of them and we begin walking through the house. I point out some of the great features of the home: the threatre room, crafts studio, indoor swimming pool, open-concept living room. I missed mentioning one room. One freaking room and they gave me a lecture. It was a nursery/playroom. I was so eager to show them the bay window overlooking the beach that I walked right past it.''
She changed her voice to imitate the husband, ``'Did you just assume we had no desire for children?' he asked me.'The listing mentioned a nursery/playroom next to the crafts studio, which I believe we just passed.'''
Ruth changed her voice back, `` Such a tiny mistake! I apologized profusely and, as you can guess, I made another mistake. I stupidly told him that I did n't want to assume that'her' only desire in life was motherhood and before I could say another thing else, the wife cut me off.'Did you just call me'her', she asked me. I just nodded. I was so fed up at this point.'We prefer to be'nouns', okay? We do n't like to use'he' or'she', it assumes gender roles and I certainly do n't appreciate you associating me with motherhood.'''
Ruth groaned again digging her head into a pillow. After one full exhale she rolled it to her side, behind John's head.
`` You have no idea how badly I wanted to say to her,'oh, I'm deeply sorry, should I have associated you with nounhood instead?' Have you ever heard of something so ridiculous?!''
John nodded. He knew all too well how crazy people were getting. He was lucky to work as a software engineer. He just had to build things and let the other people do all the talking, but sometimes he had to sit in the meetings if the clients had any questions.
`` You remember that story I told you with the guy that wanted to be referred to as an'Earthling'. People are nuts these days, Ruth.''
She remembered and laughed. This client of John's required everyone to call him an Earthling because he did n't want to be associated with a name, or gender, only associated with the planet he lived on. Ruth continued with the end of her story.
`` Anyways, after all that, I whirlwinded them through the rest of the home and called it a day. They bought it, of course, after filing a formal compliant to my boss.''
`` Crazy is as crazy does,'' said John. They both laughed quietly and sit in silence for a few minutes.
`` Thanks, hunny,'' said Ruth. `` This world's gone nuts.''
`` Anytime, love.''
He had done it, like he always did, he made her feel sane in this world built on eggshells.
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[ WP ] Write a story set in a post-apocalyptic society where the first sentence is a post title from Reddit .
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`` Write a story set in a post-apocalyptic society where the first sentence is a post title from Reddit.''
What a silly thing to ask. Why does he always ask us to write things for him? He never fails to make us feel inferior. What is `` Reddit'' anyways? I heard it was on this thing called the internet. Well, that was before the Great War. Well, I've might as well start writing. Maybe I should be a smart ass. That'll show em. What should I call it?
I've got it.
`` Write a story set in a post-apocalyptic society where the first sentence is a post title from Reddit.''
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[ WP ] You work in security and notice that the cameras are gradually becoming more and more ahead of real time .
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In theory the work floor could work twenty four hours a day but it was better to let them cool off overnight and for the atmosphere to cleanse a bit. Runf sat at the security desk keeping an idle eye on the camera array. During the day the work shift was a busy flurry of activity, with components from other works sites being phased straight onto the assembly line and then phased out to other work sites to become finished product. Currently their project orders were for an array of satellites that would project the phase energy over the mineral rich asteroids in the out belt into quarries on the planet's surface.
Runf's task was pretty simple given the high security that existed around the perimeter of the building, watching over empty space was largely automated but regulations for these kinds of spaces required something sentient to be present in case something dig come up that the AI could n't handle.
The screens just showed an empty floor but it bothered him, he was very familiar with what this place should look like and it was the wrong colour. He sent a note to the tech-crews requesting a relay diagnostic in case either the screens or camera were faulty. Looking over the console the brushed metal and concrete floors were a mix of the blue of night's darkness and periodic lighting fixtures flooding bright white against the ground. The screens stubbornly displayed warm pinks and oranges. Getting frustrated Runf scanned his Idex card and went for a foot patrol pleased to see that everything was as it should be. Eventually the sun began to rise and the day shift arrived along with some of the techs who unhooked the system to check it over, day shift relieved Runf and took up visual posting points while the cameras were down. Runf went home to sleep through the sun's journey across the sky.
-- -- -- -- -- authors note -- -- -- -- -- --
I'm exhausted, I like where this going and how it ties into a concept i have.
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[ WP ] You 're a sidekick . The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured . The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in . Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win , he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot .
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I guess I'd really forgotten. Over the past few years, I guess the fact had just gotten lost amongst the long nights. Every thug and deranged psychopath at near every street, intersection, or back alley in this city. I remember them all. The one thing I'd forgotten?
We were only human.
I doubt Uncle Rob ever forgot that. But I sure as hell had. We started this when I was sixteen! I was cuffing bad guys before I could drive! It's hard to remember ever being a kid right now. A firm slap on the side of my face brings me out of my thoughts.
`` Come now, Drawback. We're gon na have so much more fun now than we ever did!''
Stilskin's voice was still as raspy as ever. His crooked smile was like a window for the cracked remnants of his teeth. In his hand, he was still holding it. An M1911, smoke seeping from the barrel into the cold warehouse air.
`` Ding dong! Sun Archer's dead! I lodged bullets inside his head! Hahahaha!''
That God forsaken laugh. He cut his laugh short and turned to me.
`` See, old Archie was a good old sport, but you, Drawback, you always were always more... engaging. You've got the quips. You've got the one liners. I think you and I are gon na be at this for a lot longer than old Sunny here! Whadaya say?''
He was making this about me. I kept myself from looking down at Uncle Rob's body, but his blood was already spilling towards where I was sitting. All my witty remarks were gone.
`` No.''
He stepped closer, and brought himself to eye with me.
`` No? What the bloody hell do you mean-''
I cut off the rest of his question by slamming forehead into his face. He staggered back, off balance, onto the floor. I dislocated my left thumb so that I could pull my wrists free from their bindings. Free now, and with Stilskin still writhing on the ground, I ran up and delivered a swift kick to his stomach. I paused. This was usually where me and Uncle Rob would slap cuffs on him and call it a day.
Blood dripping from his nose, he looks up.
`` Hahahahaha! I knew you'd wan na play. When should I schedule my next prison break? Next month? Two weeks? Hmmm? I would n't wan na miss the funeral service! Hahahahahaa!''
No. I wo n't do this forever. Not like Uncle Rob. I looked over at Uncle's corpse. Red stains had seeped through his golden yellow suit.
I looked to the right where his bow and quiver lay on the table. Before I could pick them up I noticed my bow on the ground nearby. Shattered and useless from when we got captured. And Stilskin's gun right next to it. Must've slid over here when he fell.
I took one last look at Uncle Rob's bow, then picked up the gun.
`` We both know you wo n't do it. It ai n't in you boy-oh! You're about truth and justice, hahaha!''
I crouched down and pushed the gun into his neck.
His voice now hissing out of his constricted windpipe.
`` A little boy sits on the fence, which way will he fall? Justice or-''
-BANG-
`` Vengeance...''
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[ WP ] When I was in Elementary School , one of my teachers told the class that you could never end a good short story with , `` It was all a dream . '' Prove her wrong .
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It was just a normal day. I hung out with my friends, went driving around the city, played fetch with my dog in central park, all of those things you do when you have a few days off of work. I went home in a bit of a rush because I wanted to get changed for a party I was going to with Jane that night. I turned on the radio in my beat up car, and I heard the news that hit me like a bullet. It said Biggie Smalls has died due to gun shot wounds.
I was in shock. I had started listening to hip hop through Biggie, and to think one of my musical icons is now dead. I knew I needed to get home quickly, but I decided to slow down a little bit, switch the radio to the cassette player, and start playing some other music.
`` It was all a dream, I used to read word-up magazine...''
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[ WP ] The start of a zombie outbreak happens on April 1st .
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I see the dust rising in the distance. Towers of dark twisting, expanding stampeded earth signalling their arrival upon the plains. In the farthest distance I see sanctuary; My. Brown. Beyond that, the wilderness of Canada. It's there that my wife and son await me. Safe, but so far from me, so far from the place we called home our entire lives.
Only last month we were planning a vacation. Our first in 15 years, since inheriting the cattle ranch my father bought after mother died. God, how years can fly by. Then came the first report; my cousin working construction on a new Federal building down in San Diego told me about people coming up from Guatemala. Desperate, dirty and with an empty stare, they told him horrorfying stories of villages of people infected with something that kept them from dying. one thing stood out though, something that turned his blood cold; he said that they kept repeating `` They're coming''. I chided him that they were just illegals that got caught with something else in their belongings. I was wrong he said, these were't migrants, they were American embassy employees. He overheard them as they were being rushed into a van, moments until military guards pushed between them, gave a stern land told him to leave. His voice was shakey, The fear ran through the phone lines and right into my spine. We guessed what it could mean over the phone for a long time. There was no information anywhere else, this had to be bullshit! We agreed to talk again within the week. That was 28 days ago. His phone went right to voicemail 4 days later and went out of service a week later. I decided to take precautions immediately after. I helped my wife pack the necessaries, had her call relatives in Alberta, gave her specific instructions where when and how long to wait and sent them on their way. My cousin and I had always stayed close. Honesty was a part of our strict upbringing, and apart from my wife, there was nobody i trusted more. We were all that was left of our bloodlines. For a while before our kids came, we partied as if we wanted to end the lines ther and then. But people change. People change. And apparently change from being people.
I caught my first glimpse of them a few days ago after I got word from a neighbor that the Tiber Dam had busted wide open and there were sick people coming into Shelby. Lots of people, the road South and East were filled like a river with them. He shouted one more thing as his overfilled Chevy truck sped away. `` Leave! Anywhere but South! God help us all!'' I had to see. I was armed up and sped in my truck toward the 15 that would take me straight to Shelby. 20 minutes out of town I stopped cold. The entire trip was unusually void of cars, right up to the pileup that burned black a few miles away. The smoke had not risen more than a few hundred feet, but even from the distance, I could see the orange and yellow flames thrashing between the blackness. I got out, spellbound at the sight. Forethought prepared me and I took out my binoculars and raised them, fearful of what I would spy. Nothing I imagined came close to what unfolded before me. Thousands of people walking, running, stumbling toward my direction. they looked no larger than jumping pieces of colored rice from afar. My eyes were drawn to smaller fires that were moving between them all. My God! Were those people coming from the flames? They moved like the others, here and there spreading their flames to others. Within minutes the scene seemed li+e a burning wheat field. I was mesmerized by what I was whitnessing until I realized that the relentless hoard had come quite a bit closer, too close. I clammered back into the truck and sped as fast as i could back home.
Every fear I had ever had came to the surface at that moment. It took courage beyond effort for me to calm myself down. I knew my truck would be useless before long. My wife had everything we needed anyway, so i saddled the two horses we had and with a painful look back at the house that was my life for the past years, set off North.
My. Brown sits eternal before me now as I turn in my saddle, looking back. I've avoided the roads and farms and embraced the wide open plains. Switching horses when needed, I have only two days under hoof. but as I stare South, I see the dust that keeps building, rising high in the distance. They are coming. From the North a chilling wind blows. Montana in Winter is none too kind, and Canada is quite a few levels above that. Wind that can freeze a man solid within minutes was something any person would want to avoid. Now it seems like Nature herself mightcome to our aid. All I can do is pray I make it before i freeze myself, or become one of the hoard. May The Lord protect us all.
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[ WP ] Write about a dream you had , but from a point of view other than your own .
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Every single night, the same teenager walks in my domain. In MY own world! So, I always decide to pull the same little'trick' on him. He just starts by waking up, in his empty house. Then this young man decides to walk outside, and figure out why his entire neighborhood is empty, why everything around him seems so lifeless...
He walks onto the usually busy street and just sits there. Waiting for a car, or something to show human life but nothing appears to him. Then after around ten minutes of waiting, he stands and begins to walk into the main area of town. He hears an ear shattering scream, coming from a near-by building. Then, he runs to it only to find his mother, lying there stone dead. Next he hears a male's scream, his father falls from the roof of the same building only to slam into the ground.
He keeps walking through this empty, barren town hearing screams of his loved ones, his friends. Every time he hears a scream, the person who gave the blood curdling call dies in front of him. Then, reality around him begins to break as he realizes it's all a dream... That's when I show myself to him, I just smile, and stare at him. Then, I wave and it all ends. Until the next night...
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[ WP ] Write something comedic . The catch : you have to somehow incorporate your greatest fear .
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I find myself looking down the cliff once again.
Precariously perched between life and death. I wonder how others do it, just being this high makes my breath come fast and my head spin. But it ’ s not really falling that I ’ m afraid of. ( Everyone knows falling is fun, the crashing down is the bad part. ) I ’ m more afraid of something else, something that ’ s plagued me for years. A voice that says, “ Jump. ” When I was younger I figured I ’ d hear the word sooner or later, from someone else, filled with anger or hatred. I didn ’ t think it would be my own voice, with no emotion at all.
Being this close to the cliff is frightening. I wonder why I often find myself in these kinds of situations. One wrong move and it ’ s all over. Or would it be one right move? If I did jump, how would I land? Feet- first, so my legs break and likely shoot through me? It would be painful, though maybe with a chance to live afterward. Perhaps face-first instead, so there ’ s less pain but absolutely no hope of survival. Maybe make a spectacle of it and do a belly-flop. I ’ m scared being here, yet there ’ s also a beauty to it that draws me back. Gazing into the depths and screaming back, “ You can ’ t make me jump. ” Instead of thinking so loudly, I should have listened to the steps behind me. They don ’ t say a single thing, they just nudge me from behind.
The young eagle plummeted off of the bluff, looking like it would bang into the rocks below. Yet it spread its wings and caught the wind, soaring back to where it fell from. It squawked angrily at its mother as she sat there and preened her feathers.
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[ EU ] You live on an Earth-like planet in the Star Wars universe that has never made contact with any other civilization . You are a Force sensitive teenager , coming to terms with your powers alone . After witnessing a horrible crime , you decide to do something with your powers . You become a superhero .
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Now, I'd seen the movies.
I knew the signs.
But that did n't make it any easier to accept that *I had the force. *
It was small things, at first. Things like, knowing who was sneaking up behind me without needing to look. Like, knowing where the bouncing football would land. Things that could easily be explained by `` getting lucky.''
Now, though... Now, even *I* ca n't make up an excuse for *this*.
I focused my attention on the little rubber ball in front of me again, clearing my mind, closing my eyes, and reciting the Code:
*There is no emotion, there in peace. * It felt easier now, that I admitted it to myself.
*There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. * I could *feel* the ball, a little eddy in the current of the Living Force.
*There is no passion, there is serenity. * My thoughts, my will, bent and warped the Force around that little sphere.
*There is no chaos, there is harmony. * Then **somehow**, the Force and I, working together, altered the gravity around and in that ball to lift it up.
*There is no death, there is the Force. *
I opened my eyes, completely at peace, and watched that ball float impossibly a mere 3 inches above my open palm. I allowed a feeling of triumph to surge, breaking my concentration and dropping the ball into my waiting hand. I grinned to myself, having a *devilishly* good idea. But for it to work, I had to do a little test first...
I moved my car out of the garage, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and a ratty old shirt from the cleaning rag bin. I put the shirt in the center of the empty concrete, and began concentrating again:
*Peace is a lie, there is only passion... *
/
Five years later, things have developed. Not *precisely* the way I first thought they would, but things are working out so far.
I picked up the, now timer-less, bomb, and looked for a way out of the warehouse's basement. Honestly, for terrorists, they could pick better places to blow up than an Amazon shipping depot. Of course, one *did* have to admire the skill required to insert so many agents into the company, as well as have *every last one* of them assigned to this specific warehouse. That is some *serious* logistical planning there.
But I'm getting off track.
I exited the basement door, idly stepping over a slightly crispy, but still breathing, body. It took **a lot** of practice to get that Lightning to just the perfect intensity to induce unconsciousness instead of the typical, well, DEATH, but it really paid off.
Oddly enough, though, there was still one guy standing dramatically in the dead center of the main floor, where all the forklifts and trucks would usually be. I probably cost Amazon a few hundred thousand in property damage throwing those around, but it was ***so*** worth it.
But I could have *sworn* I had already taken care of the 6 thugs that were here...
`` This ends NOW,'' the figure cries out, dramatically lifting an arm towards me. I took the opportunity during what was sure to be a monolog about justifying mass murder to count the bodies on the floor; one, two, three-four-five, si -- HOLY MOTHER OF --
I throw myself to the ground as a *mother-fracking* ***forklift*** flies over me and punches a hole straight through the bare aluminum wall behind me. I slowly get up to look at the, apparently, Jedi, who looks smug.
`` What, did you think you were the *only* Force-sensitive around? News flash: 1 in 7 *BILLION* is really long odds, even for the force. Now, surrender, or I'll --''
I cut him off in the most efficient way I now how: by shooting him in the leg.
As he lays there screaming and whining about how unfair I am, I take the moment to think: *'Well, THIS certainly makes things interesting...'*
& & & & & & & & &
Planning a sequel, will post in the morning!
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[ CW ] Invent and use a word or phrase , but do n't tell me what it means , so your story might have multiple meanings
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Sephen'ta.
An old word. A two-sided word. In one inflection, a great blessing with a small curse. In the other, it is malevolence manifest, with a small seed of good.
I looked upon the vast cityscape from a cliff's edge. Brightly lit trolleys rang through crowded streets. A hundred thousand voices carried up from far below. Humans sloshed through the asphalt veins, East at morning and West at night. It was the slow pump of an urban heart.
But it was a cancerous heart.
Amongst the smiling children and playful couples were slaves. They stood with blank expressions, little points of stasis amongst the never-ending swarm of people. The polite ignored them. The young pointed at them. The cruel abused them. Each wore a collar of twisted wire to cut away independent thought. My people, made into cattle.
Sephen'ta.
My Elders had taught me a word that should not be said. A word of judgment, of justice. A death curse that trades life for life. I could avenge my lover, my father, my brother. Justice is a sword. It does not heal old wounds, or save lost peoples. But It hurts. It tears. It severs.
I want them to hurt, to tear, to sever. And I do n't.
My people are long gone. We were once a warlike race, a conquering nation. We fought bloody battles with terrible might. We reveled in the suffering and exploited the spoils of war far worse than these city-dwellers. We would not have let their race live.
Mayhaps we deserved what came. A cosmic rebalancing for our sins? A judgment upon our arrogance, our excesses? I know not. But, the fate of my people is intertwined with their murderers. The only ones left living are the slaves, helpless without the care of their newfound masters. Do I curse my conquerors and damn my race? Or do I speak the other inflection, and trade my life for a blessing of prosperity upon my slave-brothers?
Choices, choices. They bring bile to mouth with their `` perhaps'' and `` what-if''. I grit my teeth together, then open my mouth with a snarl.
`` Sephen'ta.''
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[ WP ] You work at the gates of heaven , deciding who gains entrance . God tells you he has decided to get with the times , and your now to judge people based on their browser history .
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“ You can not pass. ”
“ What? Why? ”
“ Your browser history is very disturbing. ”
“ My what? ”
“ Your browser history. No one may pass through the pearly gates except through me. My decision is final and I am given the authority to access your browser history and judge you accordingly. You may not pass. ”
“ This is ridiculous. I am an upstanding citizen. I pay my accounts and taxes, I vote, I do jury duty and attend church religiously. I tithe for goodness sake. I don ’ t smoke, drink or take drugs and I help out the needy. Why would my browser history stop me from my just rewards? ”
“ Oh you will get your just rewards, just not this reward. If you take that little gravel path down the hill it will take you to your destiny. ”
“ No, I must protest. What on earth has my browser history got to do with my moral standing? ”
“ Look pal, I don ’ t make the rules. The big guy upstairs decided to modernise and he threw out the old book and got us all into a computer course and now we hack your computers to see what you search for. Some are pretty straight forward. The creepy porn guys don ’ t even get this far. Yours is a bit weirder than usual but it definitely shows a macabre bent that is not in keeping with the gentleness of beyond those gates. ”
“ Hey what ’ s holding up the line. Is he in or out? ”
“ What ’ s your problem? It ’ s not as if we are in a hurry anymore. Just shut up and wait your turn. ”
“ Who are you telling to wait their turn. You shut up. ”
“ Shut up you two. This was so much easier before computers. We could just smite them and send them downstairs. Now I have to check their browser history too and you would not believe the sorts who get through these gates nowadays. Let me just recheck your history. There, how to garrotte for the smaller woman, how to load a semi-automatic, pitfalls of the rifle kick back, how to tan the hide of a tattooed skin without damaging the ink – my goodness – how to bruise without it showing, poison for the enthusiast, how to tie a hangman ’ s noose – oh dear – disposing of a body in a pig farm, fungi for breaking down flesh in a hurry, how to burn down a house without leaving clues for forensics – really this is just too much. I can not possibly allow someone with such a horrifying search history into heaven. ”
“ No, this is all wrong. You have it all wrong. You can ’ t judge me by my browser history. It is all work related. I had to find out those things for my job. Please you have to let me talk with someone in management. I am a good person, I really am a good person. Please don ’ t do this please it is just my job. ”
“ Your job? What kind of job do you do? ”
“ I ’ m a writer. ”
“ Take that gravel path on the left. ”
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[ WP ] A man witnesses the rise of the first Zombie in an Undead Apocalypse . Why does he fail to kill that Zombie and save the world ?
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The last three hours had turned Jordan into a walking dead man. Linda had already gone through enough, so it was just to him to handle the onslaught of phone calls, hospitable requests and funeral arrangements. From the moment they had brought their beautiful little girl into the ER, that last moment Jordan looked into her beautiful yet scarred green eyes everything had been turned upside down. He had told Elise everything would be okay in the ambulance. With her little hand tighly in his grip and a smile on his face, he only calm thing in Elise's last few moments on earth.
“ It'll be okay, ” he had said. And he would forever live with the fact the last things he said to his baby was a lie. He was but a shell of a man now. the only thing he loved more than himself, more than breath in his lungs was gone. Jordan traveled the spectrum of physical emotion in those hours, the valleys of numbness that seemed to stretch beyond all space and time, to the tops of mountains bearing the heat and rock throughout his every being. When he looked into Linda's emerald eyes only pain, unforgiving and endless, started back at him.
Linda collapsed at the suggestion of a final goodbye in the morgue, and Jordan was left to go alone. There would be nothing but a growing empty gap between the memories of his giggling little girl and the ever broken man he had become in her absence. Jordan was happy to extend his time in anyway, even if it was with the cold and empty vessel his girl had become.
The metal click of the door behind him filled his ears with a hollow tin sound. The only sound in the room was that of his heart beat and his sharp breaths against his tears. This would be the first time he could cry, truly let go. Every sob carried with it a memory of her. The scribbled pictures of the family, the stories of her friends at school and how she hated grapes. Elise was just getting the hang of writing her name, but those unsure pencil strokes were all that remained now. As Jordan stared down at the white sheet too big for the little form beneath, he wished for death. The only feeling stronger than his love for his little girl was the wish to be with her once again.
Between Jordan's fits of agony, he failed to notice the sounds at first. He convinced himself that the slight movement of the sheet was simply the burning desire of a father to have his little girl back in his arms. When he pulled back the sheet to confront death head on, his gaze was meant with the same emerald eyes he had seen only a few hours before, but this time swimming in a pool of broken blood vessels. Her naked, frail body was a sickly white littered with yellow and blue bruised from where doctors had tried in vain to save her.
Jordan mouth fell open without a sound as the same green eyes rolled around in her head and suddenly fixed upon his. Elise opened her mouth but instead breath, only a barely audible hiss escaped. As she rose from the metal table, all Jordan could do was outstretch his arms to feel the cold, dead body of his daughter one more time.
Fresh warm blood filled the table quickly as she hungrily torn into his throat.
“ My baby... ”
Edit 2: formatting worse than a zombie apocalypse
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[ WP ] You 've been diagnosed with a terminal illness and given 5 years to live . Suspended animation has perfected , and you 've elected to be frozen and revived for a few weeks every decade until a cure is discovered . Read us a few entries from your personal journal , please .
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Dear diary. That's a stupid fucking way to begin a diary, but i have to start somehow. Okay, so dear fucking diary, DFD, today is April 26th, 20 fucking 16, and i have just been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Lou Gehrig's disease. Great. My doctor tells me I will slowly become paralyzed until my body eventually stops trying to keep itself alive. No cure. Fucking perfect. Jim and Phyllis are gon na bust a nut when I tell them. They've been good to me, which is more than i can say for my ungrateful, pretty boy sons. They are just sitting there counting my millions in their inheritance. Got ta say though, i'm gon na have the last laugh. I signed up for a experimental program. I had to finance millions into it, but I'm a candidate. Cryogenic deep sedation life advancement. They put me to sleep and lower my metabolism to a near stand still, wake me up every few years to see if a cure has been found yet. I'm not too sure about the science, but my lawyers assure me the clinic is in excellent standing with the FDA. The lead physician had me start this journal, apparently it is supposed to be disorientating going in and out of this cryosleep, and this is supposed to keep me centered on whats real and what are dreams. Boy, are my ingrates gon na be pissed when they find out I'm going to outlive them, one way or another.
DFD 2 Feb 22, 2017: Everything is a go, i said goodbye to Jim and Phyllis, they are gon na be near seventy when i come back out... if i come back out. I'm gon na miss them, they helped me run my company for years, always been there for me. Christ, Jim was the one who insisted i go to the hospital in the first place back when all this started, damn near had a heart attack when they read out the diagnosis. Well, lets see what tomorrow brings, or should I say, the next decade?
DFD3 Feb 22, 2027: Hello. My name is Jon Hebert. I aasdfnlk; j asdfj; l
DFD4 Feb28, 2027: Getting back on this DFD right after i wake up was a fucking stupid idea. The aid typed in my name and told me to try, ha! What a joke, i just hit the damn keyboard. Stupid thing is so automated though, i ca n't even go back and delete the entry. It auto-dates the message though, so that's handy, saves me the trouble of trying to understand all this technology. I swear, ten years ago ( that's weird to think about ) you could get by without your ipad, it was n't easy, but you could get by. Now, good fucking luck. Not a chance. The accountants and lawyers did a good job with my money. The windfall i got from selling the company has done nicely in a long term interest account. Plus, dropping in nine figures for a decade with no option to remove it gives you one hell of a interest rate. I do n't care, i ca n't use it now anyway. When this has all blown over I can restart anything i want, probably could buy the company back just on the interest ill have made. Jim came by, guy has n't aged a day. He is looking pretty good. Says things are all tied up nice. Good man, Jim. Says my sons took off. One got married to his secretary, the idiot, and the other has started his own IT firm. He at least has a head on his shoulders. Whats Ryan thinking of getting married? Still no progress in ALS research, they are focusing on prevention, big help that does anyone who already has the disease. I'm not ready to go back yet, i want to see this new decade. Apparently Tesla really took off. Haha, i still have it, yeah they took off alright, right into outer space. That rocket thing really paid off for Elon, i guess they are actually moving forward with a manned mars mission. Never thought I'd see the day.
DFD5: June 15th, 2027: I dropped something the other day. I think its the ALS acting up. I could just have been clumsy, but i do n't want to risk it. I need to get back into cryosleep until they can fix this. Seeing Jim was nice. Phyllis too. I tried to convince them to come in with me, enter the program. They said some shit about watching their grandkids grow. I guess no one is perfect, they had to have some flaws.
DFD6: June 24, 2037: This cryosleep is n't so bad. I woke up a couple days ago, and would n't you believe it, Jim was there. Looked like hell, but i guess he is in his eighties now. He wo n't mention the company, i bet he sold it. That's for the best I guess, i would n't want to have to take it away from HIM when I'm cured. Speaking of which, where is the fucking research? Some young doctor, who was in his diapers when i started this whole deal, was trying to explain whats been happening. I just ignored him. I do n't have a fucking clue what psychic ( or synaptic ) pathways are.
DFD7 July 7th, 2037: Turns out I'm a grandfather. Idiot son did n't know how to use birth control. He wants me to see his kids. I told him to leave me alone. I barely tolerate him, never mind some snot nosed baby who drools all over himself. I told Jim to tell them i died, i do n't want to deal with that crap until this is done with. I have enough on my plate. He wo n't say anything about Thomas. I'm not sure if that means his IT firm did alright or not. He just gets real quiet.
DFD8 August 13th, 2037: I had another fall. They tell me the disease is progressing a lot faster than it should, christ, i was only diagnosed less than a year ago as far as my body is concerned. I need to get into cryosleep fast. I am gon na have them triple the time. I ca n't risk another set back. Even if they can cure it, it might mean that I only do n't get worse. I want to minimize as much damage as i can. Oh, we landed on Mars. No little green men. Who knew?
DFD9 October 2nd, 2067: FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck FUCK! I completely forgot about Jim. FUUUUUUUUCK. Bastard died on me. I panicked. I fell and I panicked. I told them to send me forward until they had a cure. I forgot Jim dammit. Bastard was already eighty three. I could n't really expect him to still be alive. Shit. Phyllis too. She was a good woman phyllis.
DFD10 October 3rd, 2067: Doctor keeps trying to talk to me. I told him to fuck off. Prissy little bastard. At least he looks like a doctor now, not some wet behind the ears lover boy. He keeps trying to talk to me. I dont feel like it right now.
DFD11 October 5th, 2067: I miss Jim. Every other time he would be here. He would hug me, wait for me to come out of the stupor, and take me out. Now, i just sit in the room they provide for me. Its all done up in 80s shit, supposed to make me feel young again. Apparently it was n't hard because the 80's are back IN. I'm bored.
DFD12 October 17th, 2067: Those BASTARDS! I ca n't, I ca n't even explain. They stopped looking. That's what prissy miss fuck face wanted to tell me. ALS does n't exist anymore. They found a way to prevent it, something about cancelling out the genetic defect in the womb. THEN, they stopped looking for a cure because `` no one has it anymore''. Well i fucking do! Why am I even typing this shit anymore? whats the point? the program is scrapped for me. I'm taking out my money and living like a king.
DFD13 July 15, 2069: its been a long time since i logged on here. I did what i said. i took out my money, a cool 1 billion and change, and started out new. Problem was, i did n't understand people anymore. Jim always said i could read people. That i could give them what they wanted without asking, and thats why i was so successful. Well, not anymore. People do n't think for themselves anymore. I guess the planet has gotten fragile. In my time they were starting to put stuff together, looking at global warming and that stuff more seriously. I guess we did n't start soon enough. Now, everything evolves around low impact, clean energy. Life is good, do n't get me wrong, but the whole mentality of humanity has changed. I guess Mars was a huge dump, its gon na take decades to teraform it. Yeah, they are teraforming a PLANET. But it wo n't be ready for a while, and if we are not careful, we wo n't last. This is a different world. One i was n't ready for. I lost it all. I started a few different ventures, each a bigger failure than the last. Thank god they have a good social program. Look at me, being grateful for communism. I joined a group to help cope with the pressures of society, there is nothing anymore for terminally ill. We went extinct. I have to laugh at how they look at me. They ca n't believe I'm only in my sixties. They say i look half a century older. Aging does n't even happen to these people like it used to. I'm the first human being with a terminal disease in over twenty years. They had some big genetic break through with viruses back in the 50's, allowed them to augment DNA at will. Too bad it ca n't work for me, my DNA is too damaged. The treatment would destroy useful DNA too, I'm told. Anyway, the group writes about daily things to keep us centered. So that's what I'm doing. Writing in my DFD.
DFD14 November 11th, 2069: I found out what happened to my sons. Thomas went bankrupt with his firm. Hung himself in his bathroom. Ryan, thank god, did better. He had a family, grandkids, great grandkids. He died four years ago I'm told. I wish I could have been there with him. I'm truly alone now. I do n't know how to approach them all. They've been told I died thirty years ago. I do n't know what to do. I am loosing myself. I've started using voice activated tech to record these. My hands wo n't work. I ca n't go to Ryan's family like this, especially with what I'm sure they were told about me. I miss Jim.
DFD15 December 12th, 2069: I want to go back. I do n't understand this life, this technology, these people! I want to go back, even just to die. I want to die somewhere I understand. Send me back.
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[ WP ] '' What do you mean we 're out of milk ? ! ''
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I woke up, ca n't wait to eat
Got my cereal, boy was I beat
Opened the fridge, and to my dismay
There was no milk, my mother will pay
I want some milk, my coffee grows cold
I want some milk, I should've been told
I wish I had some god damn milk
My Cheerios just ca n't the same
I wish I had some god damn milk
Too bad the milkman never came
I ca n't go out to the store
I'll just wait till my mother buys more
I'll just have wheat thins and beer
I'll get sick, the toilet is near
`` What do you mean we're out of milk?!''
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[ WP ] You are in a small plain white room with nothing inside . A voice tells you that the single door of this room you are in is unlocked and you can leave when ever you like , however once you pass through you will die . You can stay in the room as long as you like .
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The voice had stopped speaking to me through the intercom.After it told me my circumstances, I was left alone in silence. I look around me and see nothing but brick white walls. I am alone. Is this some kind of a joke? What did I do to deserve this, I think to myself. Why am I here? What lies beyond the door? I stand up and feel the materials of the walls. The walls feel solid and tough. Would I really die if I leave? I have nothing to do in here but wait. Wait and think. I look down at my clothes and see that I'm wearing a hospital gown, I look as if I were admitted into a psyche ward. I do n't want to die, this much I know for certain. If I stay in this room, I will be safe, but for how long? I'll starve to death in a few days or I'll die from thirst. I can try to prolong my inevitable death by just falling asleep. I ca n't save myself from this situation and nobody is coming to get me. I'm going to die If I stay in the room, I am going to die if I leave the room. The questions remains, would I rather sit in this room and slowly whither away into nothingness, until my last remaining strength is sapped from my body and I fall into the darkness, or do I go through the door and accept the death that is waiting for me. Would I find a firing squad on the other side of the door? Anything could happen. There's a myriad of possible ways to kill a man. Some painful, some painless. Can I possibly wait in here until I die? What is the point of this. Am I happy as I am now?
Do I enjoy my present self. Is my body and mind content in this neutral state. I guess I should just wait. I can wait for a few hours at least, I've done that before. I wonder if my parents will miss me. I begin to cry tears of sadness and remorse. There was so much in this world that I wanted to do. So much I have n't seen yet. So many people I wanted to meet. I guess none of that matters now. I'm the butt of a cruel joke, created by a sick and evil person, and my life is about to be taken away from me as if it were nothing at all. My ego is shattered as I begin to delve deeper into the unfathomable fate of my reality. I feel as if my soul were to overcome my mortal body and my spirit were to leave this earth. At least I have a choice. At least I can leave this room.
I walk towards the door, and put my hands on the doorknob. There's no point in trying to prolong my death. I have n't got anything significant to do here. I figure if I die now, or I die a week from now would n't matter anyways. In the grand schemes of things, my life is only 1 of billions, and my death will not matter regardless of where or how I die. The circumstances of this situation is unfair, but I have to accept my fate. My hand is still on the doorknob, and I feel the strength of my fingers gripping the cold metal sphere. My nerves are pounding through body. I twist the knob slightly, and feel the unhinging of the mechanical parts of the door knob. Would I rather be a limp decaying corpse, sprawled on the ground in a week, or would I rather die with the knowledge of what lies beyond the mysterious door. I turn the knob until the knob would turn no more, and I pull the door open.
A gust of wind, blows through the door, and the brightness of the light is blinding to my eyes. I close my eyes in retaliation to the light, but the brightness burns through my eyelids. All I see is light. There is nothing but light. No shapes, no shadows, only light. Blinding, painful light, pouring through all directions, penetrating every fiber of my eye balls. I cringe and my body beings to collapse, I turn my body away from the brightness to face the room where I was previously, and shut the door. I can barely see anything, but as my eyes read adjust to the florescent light of the white room, a spectral white being is floating away from my body. It is my soul, I think to myself, my soul was detached from my body and is now floating away from me. Being ripped towards some cosmic entity, lost forever, never to be seen again. I raise my right hand towards the fleeting ghostly figure, and try to reach, try to grab it, but my hand moves through the figure as if it were on another dimension. I feel a warmth overcome my body, and I feel as If I have n't slept in weeks. My eyes close, and I collapse onto the ground and prepare to sleep. I'm so tired, I think to myself, I'm going to fall asleep now, no more worries, no more thinking, just blissful sleep.
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[ WP ] Humans reach the boundaries of the universe . All it is is a barbed wired fence with a sign saying 'Test Area , Keep Out ]
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`` They say that the universe is expanding and it will continue on infinity. It is something which I have been trained to study: the expanse of the heavens. In all its cosmic beauty and mystery, the human race set out to identify the present boundaries of space. Decades of research and failure finally gave way to success, and on the centennial for this scientific endeavour I began my training. In a catatonic state of 27 earth years, I was preserved and sent alone on this quest. I have been coherent for... 32 hours.'' Eric looked around the cabin and tilted his head to hear a satisfying pop and crack come from is neck. He laughed and let out a loud yell of approval.
There were little glowing screens on most surfaces, each with a read-out and 3-D interactive surface that changed with each update. He floated over each table and ran his had along the information panels then went on to the next. Each table was made of metal with an authentic oak overlay image trimmed in chrome. The floors looked to be made of dark granite and the celling was covered in more fake oak tables. Around each door and window were little troughs of grass of which he ran his finger through like hair, these were his `` little buddies''.
`` No one can hear you scream in space!'' he yelled. He returned his hand to the little plants and continued: `` Too loud for you? all right, little buddy, lets finish this check-list. Speed is still constant, and the coordinates are unchanged, stellar map has been updated and the return path is completely charted, no unknown elements have passed through filtration or outer mesh assembly; the LUX is fully operational, and the radio O-skope has not detected anything... hmmm.... Maybe it has.'' He said as he double checked the panel.
The collision alarm suddenly flashed the whole room in red and yellow lights, then the ship came to an emergency stop. He flew to the front of the cabin and smashed into the wall. It hurt, but he was not seriously injured. he looked out and could see the glint of something in the distance. using the zoom, it looked like a fence? He set the controls to manual and went closer. It was a fence. There looked to be a sign on it, but it was facing the other direction. He nervously suited up and went for his first space walk this mission.
As he neared the fence his breathing became more rapid. As he looked about, he noted that the fence went up as far as he could see, and down, to the left and right; it went on in every direction. The fence looked like barbed wire and had a peculiar shine to it. Eric stuck his arm through the narrow spaces in the fence and turned the sign to see some pictures like a street sign would have. It was a stick figure holding a large ball with smaller stick figures inside, and a big'X' over an arrow pointing inward.
Suddenly the fence illuminated and he jumped back and pulled the emergency tether retract. Once in the cabin, the screens were going crazy again, the lights flashing on the inside were easy to ignore now that the greenish white light from the fence began to vibrate and glow more steady. without warning, the light from the fence leapt out at the ship like electric tentacles, each tendril wrapping tightly around the hull. He heard a strange inhaling sound accompanied by a slight flash and it all stopped. He scrambled to his panels and screens, but then from the window he saw the Earth.
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[ WP ] The recently discovered radio bursts coming from deep space have a much more sinister explanation than evaporating black holes .
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“ But we ’ ve been detecting them for years! ” the science advisor exclaimed.
“ We have 6 months. Our best guess. ” The astrophysicist said.
“ Best guess? Don ’ t you know where these things are? ” Said one of the Joint Chiefs.
“ No exactly General. These objects are relativistic in nature. They are travelling at almost the speed of light. It ’ s a damn miracle we detected them at all. ” The physicist looked at his hands meekly.
“ Could we intercept them, or somehow change their course. ” The same joint chief asked.
“ You misunderstand General. They have been changing course, that ’ s what the radio bursts were. ” Silence hung in the air a moment.
“ What do you mean? ” Asked the president.
“ They ’ re aiming for us. Homing in, like a rocket. ” The physicist said.
“ Maybe they aliens, and they will slow down as they approach us, to communicate. ” Someone asked.
“ They ’ re not slowing down. If anything, it ’ s still accelerating. ” The statement and implication lay there.
“ They are aliens. We received a single transmission from them. ” Said another man in the room “ In clear English apparently. ”
“ Apparently? ” The President asked.
“ The one who heard it at the station deleted every copy of it from the system, tied up the other people in the building just to tell them he ’ d heard it and it was in English, and then chopped his own head off with a chainsaw. ”
“ Jesus. ” Said the president
There was no other copy of the statement. Everyone just sat around the table silent.
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[ WP ] On your eighteenth birthday , you shoot a mystic bow that is said to kill whoever is destined to kill you , three seconds before they do . Eight years later , your arrow strikes your SO 's heart , right as she says `` I do . ''
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The ritual was our marriage, He was eighteen, and I too, was eighteen. Eighteen summers spent together, our families having decided to bond long before our birth. It was exhilarating, standing on the top steps our bows aligned, firing into the great crowd that had gathered below us.
We let loose our shafts, and the arrows flew, but never dropped, simply following the horizon sealing us together as lovers and kings.
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`` Please, if you love me you'll end the pain.''
He had fallen, I had not, for I was a storm child, and he a sun child.
We were stuck in a cenote. His legs broken, and the hurricane rapidly flooding it with water. He could not swim and I could not carry him.
I was weak. I could not save him, but I could end the pain for him.
It was the only redemption to my weakness.
`` Please! Do you love me?''
`` I do.'' The rock high above my head, poised to strike, to end his life, to end the pain.
And then there was pain.
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[ WP ] All your life , you 've heard the voice of a Narrator dictating your actions as you are about to do them . Today , something 's amiss .
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Lorenzo crests the hill, gasping for breath. He jabs a cigarette between his teeth and fishes for a lighter in his pocket. As the smoke begins to curl from between his lips, he places both hands behind his head and allows his neck to crane upward. The sky above is blue and clear, boundless and inviting. Its magnetic attraction tugs at every molecule in his body. Soon, very soon, the aether will rip his spirit from his dead flesh, and he will become one with the stars.
`` Hey, what's going on?'' Lorenzo perches the cigarette between his fingertips and glares. `` I'm not dying.''
But he is. Everyone is dying; such is the human condition.
`` I'm not gon na drop dead any time soon,'' he clarifies, `` and when I do, it's not gon na be all airy-fairy like you described it. What are you on right now?''
Though Lorenzo denies his mortality, the seed of existential doubt remains implanted in his mind. It oozes anxiety that settles into his lungs, catching onto each breath he takes and dripping, tar-like, from the air he forces through his diaphragm. The surrounding birdsong dies. His heart thumps louder.
`` You're just trying to psych me out now. Useless piece of narrating sh—''
The remainder of Lorenzo's expletive is interrupted by a cough. It's a loud, wracking cough that awakens a dormant ache in his head. Doubled over, Lorenzo coughs until brown phlegm shoots out of his mouth and onto the grass. He stares at it with growing dread, his worst fears concretized. No longer can he hide from the disaster inside his body, not when he's coughing up his own throat lining at his feet. *That dumb narrator was right*, he realizes, *I'm really gon na die. *
`` No, no, no. That is not what I am thinking.'' Lorenzo is too hardheaded to subject himself to an epiphanic moment. He clutches his head, clawing into his scalp, attempting to drive the narrative voice away, but to no avail.
`` Do n't you have anything else to narrate? Look at all the other stuff going on around here.'' Lorenzo flaps his hands around, motioning to the trees, the squirrels, and the river running in the distance. None are compelling, but he hopes that by distracting the narrator, he might also distract himself from his impending death.
`` Fuck it, then. Go on—watch me kill myself.'' Lorenzo takes a long drag from his cigarette, in an attempt to incite the narrator, but all he incites is another bout of coughing. He collapses onto the knoll, on his back.
`` And upon this hill, Lorenzo dies.'' Lorenzo's voice wavers, plagued by traces of a rasp. He can not compose himself enough to achieve the same monotone as the narrator. He grunts and flicks his cigarette away. `` A victim of society and circumstance.'' Memories rise up in his brain, cloudy, smoke-filled memories all located in his father's study. Lorenzo sat on his lap as he read, pressing his cheek to his beard and inhaling the smoke coming from the stick in his mouth. The smell of ash stuck to their clothes, and it made his mother screw up her nose as she piled them into the laundry basket. He did n't understand why at the time.
Lorenzo sighs. His requiem feels incomplete, but he does n't know what else to add. Or rather, he does know, but refuses to admit that his death will result from his addictive tendencies and poor self-control.
`` May he find peace in death, away from this stupid narrator.''
He closes his eyes and dozes off, thankful that the narrator can speak of him no more.
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[ WP ] A super computer has finally deduced the most average person currently alive , you . However you are an alien living among humans , and are becoming more and more nervous about the decisions you made to `` blend in ''
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When the news broke my first thought was, `` I really messed up.'' I was certain that the mission was over and I would be `` pulled out.'' Of course, that was just their term for killing me because I failed. I had made myself a target.
I could n't walk out the front door without someone, somewhere, chanting my name. `` Joe! What's up man?'' `` Hey Joe. How's it hanging?'' `` Joe you rock.''
Then it occurred to me that there was no way they could pull me out. My orders were to become a normal member of society. I am exactly what they asked for, not close, exactly.
I've lived all these years with no issues. I've received a college degree, I've met the love of my life, I've even got my own 401k planned. There's no way that they can pull me out of the program. I'm the only one that's lasted this long.
Yet, I'm not certain they'll accept the results of my test. And as I sit here contemplating how I will defend my decisions and wonder what they'll do to me, the communications system begins to ring, `` Incoming transmission.''
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[ IP ] Contact
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`` Purpose.''
It was more than a word. The idea took shape, and rose two creatures from grains and water. Each set of four, unsteady legs tested the ground of their birth shore. Perplexed by this sudden existence, the heads looked up to a creator.
We would later call this creator Stone Arch. And Stone Arch was a *them. * Not that Stone Arch was more than one. Or male. Or female.
Stone Arch was *them. * All within sight of six, stacked stars. With arms to reach the light fog, and feet to squat on the permanence. Light and sand gathered around them, because they too were a part of the great Contact called Stone Arch.
All that was around Stone Arch, was Stone Arch's to be. As was the Contact's right.
They deigned to notice the two creatures struggling with their design. It was not perfect, but the idea was Purpose, not Perfection.
A colossal length of finger pointed to one who stood far back from the magnificent sight.
`` Will.''
They dragged that finger to the one who shook by the shore, closest to Stone Arch.
`` *Way. *''
And so, the creatures were named. Will scuffed the grains in agitation. Will thirsted, because it's design was not perfect.
Stone Arch only witnessed. They did all that was necessary when the first word was spoken those many ages ago.
`` Purpose,'' the Stone Arch had said. The idea gave shape to the creatures. The idea also directed Will to wander past Way to the river. Way, who always followed the other, walked their too. They drank, and were quenched.
Stone Arch was satisfied. The grand shape then stood, shattering what lay unfortunately under. And so the permanence broke, becoming non-permanent. Time was born.
Their arms raised, dashing the light fog to great distances. Clouds and Day were broken apart forever. Twilight and Dusk were when they were closest together, the loss of unity forever casting it's bright shadow across water on these sad hours.
Then Stone Arch flew, and left. This departure of the Contact ripped half the heavens, and created Night. So when Day wandered in search of Clouds once more, the younger Night would follow closely by.
That first Dusk, the creatures shed tears to mourn this departure, and the water became salty. A new unity formed, and we call it the Ocean. Purpose flowed in those tears, and would grow in great depths for many ages.
This Ocean became our cradle. We would learn to walk ages later.
In that moment though, Way also mourned the loss of the quenching well by this birth shore, but Purpose mounted each uncertain set of four legs to action.
Purpose drove both these creatures to explore.
Thus, our two gods began a journey together. Never to be separated. Always to wander, and named things so that we might find them when our time came next. Ages later, that came to be.
Before you too take on a journey to pay your respects, remember this. Remember before you trace the steps of our Way to the birth shore, Stone Arch's Stand;
Purpose will drive you as well, so long as Will never loses it's Way.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading. *
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[ WP ] Describe to your friends why you waited to tell them about your ability to transform into a very lethal cyborg until your school was being taken over by masked gunmen .
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Look, I know you have questions. I will do my best -- what? No, the shoulder cannon is a railgun, not a laser.
As I was saying.......no, I can not `` shoot'' a laser from my eye. It's an optic covering that provides my HUD. Think Google Glass in it's ultimate form.
Yes, that was a mini-gun, but it does n't -- -- no, I can not fly without.....
ENOUGH! SHUT UP! Unless you want me targeting each of your nutsacks and firing a small bean-bag round into them, you'll be quiet and let me let this story!! Then you can annoy me with any questions you have left.
Much better.
First off, I can not go into any great detail about the people that did this to me and their reasons, but I will tell you what I can. Hopefully, it will help you understand why I decided to keep my abilities a secret.
Remember the summer six years ago I was n't around? The one where I dropped off everyone's radar suddenly? When I resurfaced six months later, I told you all I decided to go hiking the Appalachian Trail. The truth is: I was hurt. Through a combination of fate and bad luck, I was ambushed by a creature from outside our plane of existence. The full story is a tale all it's own, but suffice to say: this thing tore me up pretty bad. I would n't have lived if it had n't been for the Knights Templar.
Yes, I said the Knights Templar, now pipe down.
The creature, who we call demons, ripped off my left arm and right leg in addition to tearing large holes in my chest. A Knight Templar saved me. He rushed me to one of their compounds where the Templar Doctors were able to stabilize me.
Unfortunately, I had seen too much. I had seen a Knight in his full power-armor. I had flown in his arms, as he rushed me to his compound. I had seen the inside of that compound and all the technological wondrous it held. The Knight Templar who saved me broke many of his order's rules by saving my life.
I was told by the Templar leaders that I would be cared for, given prosthetic limbs to replace my natural ones, and provided for for the rest of my days. But I could never leave Templar custody. I had seen too much to allowed back into the world unsupervised.
That was unacceptable to me. I was to be put in the gentlest of cages, but a cage none-the-less.
I wo n't lie, I raged for the first part of my recovery. I was a terrible patient. I stretched the patience of my doctors and nurses to the limit.
Then the same Templar who saved me began visiting me. He explained why the Knights Templar were founded and their mission in the world. He explained why they keep themselves and their technology secret. He explained the purpose of those rules.
He made me understand why the Templar leaders made the decision to keep me from rejoining the world.
Then he offered me a way out.
He offered to make me his apprentice.
( Continued )
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[ WP ] Write a seemingly normal story , except for the last sentence , which makes the entire story creepy
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Hello darling, I have n't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I ca n't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now.
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[ EU ] You are a rental Pokemon . Describe your experiences with the various Trainers that borrow you .
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** ( It's kinda shit, but here's a thing I whipped up. Enjoy, or something. ) **
True hell. That's what being a rental Pokemon is like.
Oh, you were expecting a story? Ugh, fine, I'll start from the beginning: I'm what you would call a `` rental Pokemon'', basically, people `` rent'' me for use in whatever tasks they're too lazy to get up and do themselves.
I'm a Scyther, you see. I do n't exactly do well around people, and especially not with people that I barely even know who will just treat me like some tool to be used. But being a lizard mantis thing with swords for arms does have it's uses from time to time.
Oh, you guys do n't care about my life story? Fine then... time to start.
A few weeks ago, some guy with a thick australian accent walks in and asks to use me in clearing a hiking trail for him and his `` mates'' to go through. So I get snatched up in this tiny little ball and taken to this crappy little vine-covered dirt road in the middle of what I assume is some kind of forest.
Suddenly, my new `` trainer'' began to speak:
`` A'ight Scytha, we're gon na need'ya to clear the path while we walk back to the lodge. I promise I'll make it all up to ya once we get there.'' He said, placing a small light-brown hat on his head. As two more men behind him looked on at me, one with an expression of what I can only assume is a mix of fear and morbid curiosity... I guess the guy had never seen a Scyther up close before.
So as we marched up the path, clearing whatever vines or dead plant-matter were in the way with my arm blades. I could hear them talking about something behind my back. Nothing too interesting, just about what they're going to do once we arrive at the lodge. I tried to tune it out, I had a job to focus on and I sure as hell did n't want to miss out on whatever they planned on giving me at the lodge for my poor performance.
After about... what, 30 more minutes of clearing vines we arrived at a decent-sized cabin partially surrounded by thick trees overlooking a lake. It was honestly quite pretty, reminding me of my time before I was captured and ended up stuck with this stupid job.
`` Well, mate. We're here,'' The lead hiker said. `` Go on inside, I'm sure you're gon na love what we planned out for ya.''
As we walked inside, I noticed a variety of trophies hung from the walls. Tauros heads, Cubone skulls, and even a Chansey egg adorned the fireplace that sat at one of the walls. Eventually, we walked into a Dining Room of some type, where a buffet of food sat on the table.
As I prepared to hop up on one of the chairs, a bright flash of red light engulfed me as I soon found myself back in my Pokeball.
`` Hey, what the hell! You lied to me!'' I spat at the hiker, not that he seemed to understand me anyway.
`` Good job, mate! As promised, here's your reward. Enjoy the view!'' He smiled, his tone of voice having a fake sense of gratitude towards what I had done. `` G'night, mate!''
So I sat there the entire night, watching as they ate some of the most delicious looking food I had seen in ages, laughing as they told eachother jokes, and as they did n't give one shit about the work I had done for them. Eventually, I went to sleep and awoke the following morning back at my actual owner's shop.
I ca n't believe I got cheated by a damn hiker, I hate my life.
**End of Part 1, I promise Part 2 will be better. Consider this my warm-up part, I have n't written anything in ages. **
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She has missed all of the deadlines ; now her future is unknown . [ WP ]
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Emily wailed as she dragged herself across the bar while carrying that feeling of nothingness. She had a glimpse of what could have happened if she did pass the deadlines or what she would be doing in that very moment if she had not missed her deadlines. Pulling out her phone she got staggered by the amount of people who tried to contact her. After realizing that she got people worried she felt that heavy feeling of uneasiness. She made haste and ran out of the bar as quickly as she could. As she lunged for the door. The sunlight strook her very eyes and blinded her for a split second. Then she regained her consciousness while laying on a bed. For a minute she felt lost. But as she thought she was only sleeping she quickly zoned out and saw the sight of tall buildings and realized she was on top of one and on the edge of one. As she felt the air pass by her face. While the shouting from behind here started getting louder shouting `` Do n't do it!''. She then realized she was really lost. Her heart began to pound and it all went crashing in. She was n't brave enough to face what today has and what tomorrow brings. She closed her eyes and looked at the void of existence which at the moment did not hold her interest. And she just let herself go.
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[ IP ] Gasman of Kiev
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I knew the world would burn. After the ship fell from the sky, it was only a matter of when and where the fires would start. *If* was not an option; it was too late for that. The human race had doomed themselves to extinction long before we turned the all-seeing eye toward Earth.
The pastels of the continents were already starting to run when we cast our gaze upon their bright little world. The great rivers flowed no more, clogged with chemicals and carcasses of species long-dead. The snow-capped peaks crumbled to wintery dust, their majesty defeated by the overbearing influence of man. Once-verdant fields shriveled up to gray husks. Forests lay in timbered ruins. Wind swept across barren plains, coating the bones of a thousand beasts in the rusty shroud of oblivion. Nature, cast roughly aside by indifference, stood no chance against the onslaught of humanity.
We watched as the buildings went up – great hulking skyscrapers and domed monstrosities – and dominated the crumbling landscape. With each vertical success, man ventured further afield. Soon, the views were obstructed by glass façades and steel girders. Factories sprung up, spewing hideous trails of coal smoke from their sinister stacks. The air grew heavy and thick with filth, choking the breath from the great forests and bringing the winged wildlife crashing to the ground. Even as the cities expanded, the land around them shriveled and died, a crippled mound of a world once so beautiful and clean.
The wars were the worst parts to watch. It was difficult seeing humanity bend the very essence of nature to servitude, but it was simply not enough for such a dangerous race. They were not satisfied with controlling the elements if one nation did not hold the entire planet in its grip. We witnessed the rise and fall of armies, millions of eager, young soldiers marching off to eternity, aware of their imminent demise. Corpses littered the battlefields of men like so many landfills, blood seeping directly into the fractured earth. The carnage seemed limitless.
So we acted.
It would only take a handful of us to stop the disastrous spread of humanity. In pairs, we set about our crimson work. Cities burned unchecked; in their haste to bring war upon foreign lands, man forgot to safeguard the home front. They ran, and we followed. The message was clear: the earth must be swept clean of this human scourge if it was to survive.
They gave us many names, even as they attempted to fight back. The Pest Collectors. The Sky Demons. The Bug Men – for our distended masks.
I chose the most fitting for myself, the name of my people, the name of our purpose.
We are the Gasmen, and we have come to cleanse the world of you.
-023
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[ WP ] Post the opening paragraph to a book or story you want to write .
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The world was dead – for the most part, anyways. Coast to coast, pole to pole, the land remaining above sea level looked the same. Yellow, brown, gray, and black were the last colors left on the palette, unless blood were to be spilled onto the painting. The white noise of wind was oddly persistent. With nothing to break upon, the gusts would sweep the lands for miles and miles, conjuring dust storms to smother the lands in dust and ash. What flora that sprouts from the ground is either promptly consumed or killed, and what fauna that roams the dead earth has n't yet had the good fortune to die. One such creature that was still living was a human – and his name was Samuel.
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[ WP ] In a world where everything from clothes to tools to mundane objects has RPG like stats and rarities , you become the first person to acquire a legendary item .
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I'm not a rich man.
My friends and distant family sit in their troves of tchotchkes and knick-knacks like greedy dragons watching over their hoard. A couch with a comfort modifier to cushion your fat wife's ass and your dog's Collar of Calling mean nothing to me - merely icing masking the sour taste of a cake of lies.
I'm not a rich man, but my appetite for power extends into the darkest depths of my soul.
In boarding school, I was quite reserved, but an ambitious lad. While my peers spent their free time in the schoolyard kicking around knit footbags and discussing their slowly blossoming interest in the fairer sex, I was studying. Having lost my parents at a young age, I came to respect the privacy granted to me by leading a reclusive life, and spent the majority of my time with my nose in old tomes.
I was looking for something - I knew it was out there, but what was it?
When the Solstice Graduation came, we were finally presented our Scrolls of Higher Learning, one of the very few legal means of improving your birth-given intelligence stat. All graduates are given one by The State as a final well-wished parting gift from their childhood into the working world of adulthood.
Single use, and soul-bound to the name that had been etched in royal blood across the parchment. They were unique to each individual, and blessed them a wealth of knowledge about any single subject they elected to dedicate their lives to.
We were granted a grace period before we were expected to leave the student housing. Several artisans had already packed their things and made way for the city where they had been granted apprenticeship pacts well before the working age.
I sat in my bed for a long time, without food and without company, staring at the scroll laid before me. Days had passed before I suddenly reached out and clutched it with such ferocity it might have crushed the life from a human being were they in its place.
The scroll was spent, and I suddenly knew exactly what I had been looking for after so many empty semesters.
--
I could tell you that my ventures had been funded by a small fortune left behind by my parents - that representatives from The Board of Treasury came knocking on my door one afternoon, extending a hand to help shoulder the weight of the world that was waiting on the path before me.
I could tell you that, and it would be a lie.
It took me ten years to collect the items I required. Ten long and lonely years of cold winters and brutal summers; of violent days and curious nights. The first three years were led by research and following wispy trails of lore only half documented by the scholars of old. I walked through the oldest valleys of Pargathia, and almost died in my trek across Hell's Peak. I saw war and death mirrored by beauty and life, I saw creatures that were indistinguishable from story tales, I saw weapons and trinkets of unimaginable value - silk shirts imbued with the rarest of luck stats, golden rings that could make even the weakest man an unquestionable warrior.
I thought I had seen all the world had to offer, but I was wrong. As I stand before the long forgotten door to the ancient crypts of a civilization so old it had seen a millennia of kingdoms rise and fall, my breath is trapped in my lungs from complete and total anxiety.
Behind these doors lies Legend, Keeper of Eternity, and I alone bare the six complexly unique items required to safely make my way through the traps that lie ahead. The power to raise or raze a nation was all but out of my reach now, and as I step forward towards the door, I wish godspeed to those who dare to stand in my way.
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[ WP ] The world consists of `` users '' , `` builders '' , and `` thinkers '' . You are a `` thinker '' , a physicist on the brink of proving a new abstract theory . On the decisive day you prove this theory you 've become the first known `` master '' .
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*Retroactive intro: I *know* this is waaaaay too long, but could n't decide what needed to be added or removed. Still, I hope you enjoy. *
`` So that's magical theory in a nutshell.'' I said smoothly to the pretty young woman I'd met in the cafe. A horse drawn carriage passed on the road, gentlemen in suits similar to mine spoke jovially to women in nice dresses like hers.
`` You're a theorist?'' She asked, rather stupidly, in retrospect. `` What's that?''
`` So, on the planet, you've got magic. Obviously.'' I began, trying not to betray my excitement for the topic, and praying a government official did n't walk by and overhear this disclosure of sensitive information. `` With magic, there are three different aspects: theory, spell construction, and use.''
The woman, whose name I could n't remember or even recall requesting, nodded. She had a blank look in her eyes, like she did n't understand but, but was listening to be polite all the same.
`` Theorists, like myself, conceive of ideas and work out what you'd call the'science' of a spell. If we believe it can be done, we start working it out.'' I paused while a platoon of soldiers proudly marched down the street, automatic rifles at right shoulder. `` Builders draw the circles required for the initial castings. They figure out how to manifest that magic.'' Another pause while I sipped my coffee. I eyed my scone, but decided against taking a bite. It was probably cold, and I did n't want crumbs to get on my tie and in my vest. `` Lastly, users are the ones our military puts on the front lines as medics or, in most cases, literal human weapons.''
I then pulled out my notebook, detailing several circles and equations. `` I mentioned medics first because my specialty is biological magic.'' I said, in an excited whisper, and pointed to an equation and circle: `` This one reverses more superficial damage, rapidly regenerating tissue at a cellular level.''
The woman looked at the page, again with that blank stare.
`` This one can purge the body of diseases. It's interesting, because the subject usually breathes out a cloud of inky smoke, before reporting a complete recovery thirty minutes later.''
She still looked bored, so I turned to one of my more ghastly spells: `` This one causes a complete *breakdown* of all tissue at a cellular level. The target typically melts into a puddle of goo, the bones generally protruding from it.'' Still nothing.
I decided to pull out my final work, the one that would make me famous, and turned to the last marked page. `` And this one...'' I chuckled, my chest swelling with pride. `` This one is my magnum opus. It's not quite finished yet, but-''
Upon seeing the equations and circles, the woman's eyes widened, as if with some fear or understanding. I might still be a free man if I had heeded this telegraph, but immediately after, she put her hand on my thigh and said, `` I'd love to see more of your work, colonel. Maybe back at your place?''
I frowned briefly at the use of my state-assigned rank, and could n't honestly remember giving it to her, or if that rank was public knowledge or not. I was about to explain that I preferred the title of `` doctor'' ( I worked hard for that PhD, after all ) when she slid her hand further up my thigh.
With a trembling voice, I said `` C-certainly.'' Perspiration had begun beading on my brow, and the sounds of the cafe, the street, and the city had all become muted, muffled as I stared at her beautiful, almost perfectly round blue eyes-
*so blue*
-and stood up, hailing a carriage as I did so.
The carriage could not take us to my apartment downtown fast enough, and it was hard to keep my hands off of her-
*i never asked her her name*
-as the carriage rattled down the road.
When we arrived at the door to my apartment, I opened the door with a flourish, intent on wowing her with the wealth of a magician, when she practically threw herself at me, kissing me. I kicked the door shut as we staggered in, lips locked the whole time-
*how did she know my rank? *
-bolting it with a ( mercifully ) free hand-
*magical involvement in the military is classified*
-as we moved to the couch. She tore my jacket and vest off, loosening and removing my tie in one fell swoop as I removed her dress.
She had the body of a goddess. Venus herself was almost certainly envious of this body, weeping bitterly that the gods had favored this woman with a frame such as this instead of her. She was toned and muscular-
*what does she do for a living to look like that*
-in stark contrast to my scrawny, lanky frame, and she had a sexual appetite that towered over that of even the wood nymphs of legend, and I've *met* a-
*no luck though*
-wood nymph before.
In the morning after, I awoke to the sounds of clattering. The woman, who in retrospect seemed somewhat familiar, was looking in the drawers, in my room, in the kitchen for something.
I began to wonder if I'd seen her somewhere else when I noticed she had put on one of my shirts to pilfer the place.
`` What ever is the matter?'' I asked, groggily standing up.
She jumped, then quickly responded, `` I, um, was looking for a piece of cutlery. I noticed some ingredients in your icebox, and wanted to make some omelets.''
`` Mm.'' I grunted. `` I have no eggs. I *do* have coffee, however.''
I put some water on to boil, and put on some clothes.
We sat in silence, drinking coffee, when I said-
*I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before*
-'' I *did* promise to show you my work.''
She looked up from her cup, alert.
`` Leave your coffee. I do n't allow food in my lab.''
We went over to a locked door in my apartment, and I whispered a quick incantation. A magical circle appeared around the door knob, suspended like a hologram, and accompanied by a barely audible *click*.
The lab-
*i sometimes call it a workshop, depending on the company*
-was extremely cluttered. Documents and papers lay on the shelves, my desk, and the floor. Chalkboards stood on wheels around the desk and on the walls. I extended my arms in a sweeping gesture, starting to turn around, when I heard the clear ringing noise of a spell activating.
Whatever it was, it was extremely basic. It knocked me off of my feet, and into the nearest chalkboard. Both the chalkboard and myself lay sprawled on the ground, and the woman loomed over me.
`` It's about time you let me in!'' She said before-
*she's a spy*
-activating another spell, knocking me out.
When I awoke, everything of value, from my silverware to my documents, had been taken from me. I marveled at how thoroughly she had ransacked my apartment. She *must* have had assistance of some sort. There was *no way* she could have taken those blackboards by herself.
Oddly enough, she'd left my small, black notebook in my pocket. I thumbed through it, checking for damage or missing pages, and found a small inscription on the last bookmarked page:
*It was lovely meeting you, Colonel, and I sincerely wish to meet again one day. Best of luck explaining your predicament, and apologies for the inconvenience, *
*Marie xoxoxo*
I grabbed a match, and set fire to my apartment, intent on covering my embarrassment with arson.
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[ WP ] In this fantasy world , Write about the discovery of the mimic .
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*Author's Note: This may not be the discovery of mimics overall, but the recounting of a group's first encounter. *
`` It ca n't be that simple.''
Tom tapped his foot rapidly, his worn boots clicking softly with each fall. Hands clasped tightly behind his back, he stared at it, a large wooden chest. Finely crafted, metal pieces polished to a shine, and a large golden colored keyhole. `` It-It ca n't be *that* simple.''
`` Oh shut it.'' Tavor said as he crossed his arms. `` I told you there'd be treasure in these ruins, but when we find it you *still* doubt me.''
`` But you really think there's nothing wrong here? Empty ruins. Picked clean to the bone, but suddenly,'' He gestured to the chest, `` There's a Shiney unopened box just for us. It's clearly a trap.''
Tavor narrowed his eyes. `` Halflings are such paranoid creatures. Do you check the privy for traps every morning?''
Tom crossed his arms as well, it seemed like the appropriate response to such an insult. `` Well if you're so sure of it, *you* open it.''
Tavor's obnoxious grin seemed to faulter for a moment. `` Well I... I was going to leave that up to our valiant warrior here!'' He pointed a finger at Gallant, who was busy counting the links on the sleeve of his chain mail shirt. He looked up at the use of valiant. ``
In need of rightious strength eh?'' He hefted his Warhammer in one hand, `` just point the way and Sir Gallant shall smite our foes! No one shall stand before our glor-''
`` Thank you Mr. Gallant, but I believe Tavor was volunteering first.''
Gallant say down heavily on the ground again, `` suits yourself.''
Tom took a step aside, gesturing to the chest. `` After you.''
Tavor's eyes darted to between the two of them, after a moment he threw his hands up saying, `` *Fine* I'll open it, but if there's anything of value inside. It's *mine. *''
Tavor tiptoed toward the chest. Slowly easing his weight onto each foot as he went. After a few tense moments, he stood above it, but his hand hesitated over the latches.
Gallant snorted, `` It's just a box lad! Not like it'll bite ya or nothing!''
Tavor glared back at him, `` I know it's a *box*. And I *know* it's going t-''
Suddenly the chest leaped into the air, shifting and morphing in a way that wood and metal had no right to. The lid clamped down heavily over Tavor's head and upper torso.
Faint and Muffled screaming could be heard.
`` heh! well would'cha look at that lad! Oi! Elf man, looks like I were wrong! It was gon na bite ya a hah!''
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[ WP ] Take any mundane object and describe how it was the downfall of humanity .
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The man looked as if he have n't eaten in a week. He was shaking — either scared of us, or just cold. His left hand was dead, desiccated, with multiple puncture scars.
A Pencilpocalypse survivor.
`` Come on'' said Jane. `` You do n't have to fear us, and that's not like there is a lot of people left anyway. We need to keep to each other.''
I attempted a reassuring smile, but I was n't very good at reassuring or smiles. Though I agreed with Jane on helping people, without her I could never have convinced them to trust us. She had something quality that both calmed people and made them respect and believe her.
And she survived the Spoonami — Pencilpocalypse was nothing on that.
I was from further South — fortunately we were only hit with Chairnado, which was, comparatively, bearable. And it was several months before others hit, so we had time to recover. There even were some medicines around.
The man seemed to be convinced. With my help he stood up and we slowly hobbled to the hideout. We had a lot of people there — at least 25 by now. But that was way too few compared to dead suburbs around us. How much of humanity was left? I had no idea.
I hoped we would be able to rebuild, but in fact nobody knew what would happen next. There was no government anymore, no army. Most people there succumbed to the Flague. Occupational hazard, you might say.
And even though last disaster happened a while ago, I did not feel safe. This silent suburb around us, with its withered trees — I wonder if people there had any idea. They probably cheered when they realized how dire the situation was for everyone, and yet how safe they were so far. A mild case of stress schadenfreude.
And then the Fan Death hit this area. It was summer, and so each fan covered at least 10 square miles.
Even the trees died here. Even the roaches.
No wonder I ca n't feel safe anymore.
As we got to the base, Pete was still trying to fix the radio. `` Hey'' said the man we brought. `` Get me something to eat and I can help with this shit. I was good once. Fixed everything.'' He was barely standing, and yet I saw a sudden motivation in him. A reason to live.
That's what we gave to people. It was impossible to survive alone — not with you mind intact. But with a human company and some short term goals, we all had a chance.
And the new guy was telling the truth. Even though Pete grumbled about amateurs, he already spent a week on it with no results. And the new guy — Karl — was able to fix it in ten minutes.
We quickly gathered around the radio — it was a first chance in while to hear from other communities, to see how many remain. The radio hissed and choked, and almost instantly we heard a human voice. A broadcast. The voice had a hint of panic in it.
``... careful... new.... they are dead... surprises again, surprises... toasters... careful... new...''
Oh God.
I run to the next room only to see our only toaster, full of neon blue light, melting, transforming, unwrapping into something that did not seems to fit well in three dimensions. And before I realize how dangerous and pointless this might be, I am grabbing it with my bare hands, and running to the window to throw it out. And my only thought is a stupid question --
How would they name this one?
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[ WP ] `` Just go talk to her . ''
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“ Just go talk to her. ”
My father urged me to go talk to my mother, who was standing at the taxi point right outside the airport. I was organising my luggage and checking for all the important documents, one last time.
I went and stood next to her. She grabbed one end of her ‘ dupatta ’ and wiped her worn-out eyes.
“ Mom, I'll only be gone for a few months! I'll be back before Diwali and we will together decorate the house. Please do n't cry? I wo n't be able to leave you in this state! ”
“ So do n't go. Do n't leave me. There are multiple good courses here, too and you'll be closer to home that way. ”
“ Mom, I need to get the exposure to be able to join dad one day and eventually make it big! ”
“ Your dad did n't need any of it, why must you go abroad for some basic training? ”
“ Hehe mom, there's a reason why he ’ s my ‘ DAD ’. He ’ s obviously better than me at everything. Besides, this little training session will only groom me and prepare me for any technical endeavours that I'll partake in the future! And with all the money I'll earn, I'll buy you as many sarees and jewellery as will be needed to satiate you ”
“ Oh, you always know what to say ”, she smiled mischievously at me.
There it was. My beautiful mother's beautiful, shiny smile.
“ Do n't forget to eat your dinner on time. Do n't forget to do your laundry every Sunday. Do n't forget to eat one fruit daily. Do n't forget to call us each night before going to bed. You can always FaceTime me ”
“ Alright, maa! I'll make sure that I tend to all these on time. ”
“ Please please pleaaaase stay away from drugs, alcohol and girls. You'll find plenty of time to ogle at girls later in life. Besides, I want an Indian daughter-in-law! ”
I rolled my eyes at her and hugged her tightly.
Indians moms are the best moms.
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[ WP ] Cameras really do steal your soul if your picture is taken , bit by bit , until it is completely gone .
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The Devil leaned back, puffing generously on a fine cigar while resting his cloven hooves on the enormous desk before him.
A small horned demon scuttled nervously into the Devil's office. `` Your Hatefulness, sir, I have the latest capacity reports for your review,'' it said in a small, squeaky voice.
`` Do they have the cover sheets on them?'' the Devil asked in his rich baritone.
`` Yes, O Odious One.''
`` Printed in triplicate?''
`` Of course, my eternal master.''
`` Give them to me, then, Fishbait. But make the bean counters do them again anyway.'' The Devil loosed a harsh guffaw which caused Fishbait's ear's to start bleeding.
Fishbait quickly handed over the report, avoiding any sort of eye contact. It had nearly made it to the door when the Devil jumped to his feet. `` STOP!''
Fishbait froze. `` Is there something wrong with the reports, Your Maliciousness?''
`` Yes, there is,'' the Devil said, advancing menacingly. `` It says here that we'll run out of room for new souls within a month.''
Fishbait cowered. `` Yessir, it does say that.''
`` And how can that be when we have a whole mining operation dedicated to ensuring we always have enough space for more souls?'' The Devil took a flail off of the wall.
`` It's the Photo Capture division, O Destroyer of Dreams. They're overrun with soul pieces.''
The Devil paused, confused. `` What do internet logins have to do with this? That division just has three grunts making everyone's lives miserable.''
`` Photo CaptuRE, Your Despicableness. Not Photo Captcha. Photo Capture is the division which collects the snippets of souls seized with every photograph and has to assemble the completed souls of our most picture crazed residents.''
`` I know that!'' the Devil said, swinging his flail. The spiked head slammed into Fishbait, throwing him into the wall and sending ichor spattering around the room. `` I'll just go take care of this myself.''
The Devil stomped out of his office, and headed down to the lower reaches of Hell. Every demon and damned soul that was too slow in getting out of his way was quickly brushed aside by the Devil's flail. The Devil reached the Infinite Pit Mines, where millions of damned souls were frantically mining out more room in Hell.
The Devil seized a whip from one of the taskmasters, kicking its previous owner aside. `` Faster! Faster I demand!'' the Devil bellowed, cracking the whip. The miners only moaned in response. The Devil could see no improvement in their productivity. `` Why do they not go faster?''
`` Because, Your Putridness, they are already working at capacity,'' Fishbait said meekly from behind the Devil. `` As I explained to you its that there are simply too many souls coming in from the Photo Capture division. And too many damned souls that have to be diverted over there to assemble the completed souls.''
`` Fishbait,'' the Devil said all too calmly, `` have n't I killed you once today already?''
`` Six times, O Odious One.''
`` You already used that one. This time it's for lack of creativity,'' the Devil said, stomping Fishbait beneath his hoof.
`` Forgive me, O Defiler,'' Fishbait's crushed body wheezed.
The Devil plodded back up the levels of Hell, this time with none daring to be caught before him. With an angry kick he opened the door to the Photo Capture division. On the other side was an enormous chamber filled with tables, piled high with thousands of small soul fragments. At each table a damned soul frantically dug through the pile on its table, fitting bits of soul together as puzzle pieces. Chutes from the ceiling poured continuous streams of soul fragments on top of the piles.
`` This place would be a puzzle hobbyist's dream. Are n't we supposed to be punishing people here?'' the Devil asked aloud.
`` Whenever one of our residents has nearly completed a soul, a demon appears to insert the final piece, Your Vileness,'' Fishbait explained.
The Devil grinned. `` Diabolical. Who's in charge here?''
`` The manager's office is in the back, O Great Desecrater.''
The Devil and Fishbait moved between the rows of tables, causally upending them and sending piles of soul fragments scattering across the floor. The Devil slammed the door open. The manager sat in a high back chair, its back to the door.
`` That's not much of a knock,'' the manager said.
`` Your division is causing problems,'' the Devil huffed. `` I will be rediverting your charges back to the mining operations to make additional room.''
`` No you will not,'' the manager said. `` Under the terms of our contract, I am to have full control over my division.''
`` You forget yourself-''
`` I do not,'' the manager said firmly, cutting the Devil off. `` I brought you a proposal for more souls, and you leapt at it. We made a binding contract, and I will not tolerate you coming into my office and attempting to threaten me.''
`` How was I to know that adding a front facing camera would create a selfie craze-''
The manager wheeled around in his chair, and glared at the Devil. `` I'm sorry you're dissatisfied with our product, but I'll have to refer you to our Terms of Service.''
`` God damn you Steve Jobs,'' the Devil said. `` God damn you to Hell.''
*****
You can read more of my prompt responses at [ Pubby's Creative Workshop ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88/ )
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[ WP ] To keep pace with the growing population , the role of Death has been divided ; each immortal member of the new Council oversees one specific method of death , with higher ranking members governing common ways to die . A problem has arisen , and the entire Council is called together ...
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# August 4, 1956
`` Look, three billion is just too damn many. I do n't care how much transport or efficiency you shove into this operation, I ca n't operate alone anymore. I need assistance.''
Death was exasperated. Plagues and floods had done clean work in millenia past, but layer after layer of red tape had been piled onto those options after the 1300's fiasco. It had only been about a century since he'd put the request in; expecting anything faster from the bureaucracy would be absurd, under normal circumstances. Of course, under normal circumstances the infancy would n't arbitrarily develop resilience to mortality either.
`` We've been over this before, Death. We're keeping an eye on it. Things are tight around here, each immortal has their own job to take care of already.'' The seraph at the counter seemed blissfully unaffected by his frustration.
`` Right, right. I've forgotten what Gukumatz and company are busy with these days. Those teens must have given him such a hard week before I had to clean up after him.''
`` Alright, I get your point,'' said the seraph, expression unchanged. `` I ca n't devote you full time members until processing goes through, but perhaps we could arrange an overtime scheme for some of our members...''
# August 4, 2016
`` Wha' in th' Annwn do ye mean'meteor'? Ah'm not quittin' my job jus' fer this crap!''. Duel stumbled out of his chair, towards Death. `` You can shove this'meteor' up yer arse, I'm goin' back to me wives''. Duel, now Lugh once again, slammed the door as he left.
*Well, there's one down. Damn interns. *
Death turned to the remainder of the crowd. `` Well, he never got much done anyways. Surely, the more level-headed of you out there can see the predica --''
They had reopened the doors, and were leaving in droves. Death kept his silence; truth be told, most of them had been awful. Zeus' aim had been terrible after a few thousand missed years, Loki had never quite fully understood what an `` accident'' entailed, and Lugh had shown up long after his domain had any relevance.
Soon the amphitheater was empty, save for Death seated at the front, skull in hands. He glanced at the apocalyptic scene beneath him briefly, and sighed as he made his trip to DR. Maybe they had an update on some real assistance. Probably not. Damn bureaucracy.
# * * *
^^^^I'm ^^^^sorry, ^^^^this ^^^^is ^^^^my ^^^^first ^^^^prompt ^^^^I ^^^^do n't ^^^^know ^^^^what ^^^^I'm ^^^^doing ^^^^: (
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[ WP ] Earth , having finally gained enough nutrients and mass from the universe , begins to replicate via mitosis .
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The day was Wednesday, February 7, 2018. everything was fine, at least where I was. There were some clouds on the horizon carrying the promise of snow, but that was the future, not just yet. For now the cold air was broken only by the noise of my two younger brothers frolicking in the white blanket that had covered the world.
All of a sudden, there came a noise. A kind of dull buzzing noise, it seemed to be coming from the Earth itself. Justin and Samuel stopped their playing and looked at me. `` What's that, Maria?'' Samuel asked, his breath coming out in small puffs of steam.
`` Oh, this is nothing.'' I said. `` Just the Earth having a little yawn, is all. I'm sure it'll be over soon.''
Justin started to respond, but just as he had started to speak, he was knocked on his knees. So was his brother, and so was I. A shudder had seemed to go through the Earth. But that was impossible, right? I started to get up, when a second tremor brought me to my knees once more.
So this time I did n't try to get up. The third tremor came even quicker than the second. And the fourth after that. After about the seventh, I could n't really even separate them anymore. I scrambled over to the twins and tried to calm them down, though I was n't much better myself.
This went on for a while. From the looks of what people were saying on the Internet, whatever it was was n't restricted just to Michigan. There were people from Mexico, Europe, Africa, everywhere imaginable talking about what had been going on.
I heard that the Earth had split in two. The other half had gone sailing off into the void, to no one knew where. The world was smaller now, and colder, but other than that life went on as normal.
Every so often I think of those people, and what they must be going through. What it must be like not to have a sun to call your own, or a moon to look up to at night. To look up at the stars and not recognize the shapes they make. But at least now we know we're not alone in the Universe. Somewhere out there, there's another Earth, perhaps with another Maria, looking at the sun and wondering how we're doing.
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[ CW ] Finish with this : `` The lamp just sat there , like an inanimate object . ''
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Mark was sitting, looking down at his hands, on a bench packed with men in uniform. As the plane rocked from turbulence, or perhaps the flak shells exploding nearby, he expected to see little drops of blood on his hands, but it was actually just water. Was he crying? Apparently so. He quickly tried to wipe the tears away. Too late, Nico caught him.
`` Do n't forget to call for Mom, Mark. One shell in the air and he's crying like a four year old'' Nico mocked. The gibe was met with nervous laughter and the *Shoomp* of flak fire getting closer. You could start to hear the whistling of shrapnel at this point. Most of the men across from Mark looked lost in a trance of nostalgia, trying to remember scraps of home life before they surely died. Nico, on the other hand, looked disappointed that his joke had flopped.
Mark reflected *'' How could Nico care, we're all gon na die soon'' *, but frankly, that was what Nico was like, a dick. One of those people striving for acceptance, or maybe just levity, in every moment of his life. He did that mostly by making fun of others. Mark was not good at making jokes, but he took a moment to appreciate discovering the nickname he had given to Nico. He had once called Nico `` Lampoon'', to which Nico replied `` I'm not gay you asshole''. It had stuck because Nico was, apparently, illiterate. Or at least very stupid.
*Shoomp* Flak brought Mark out of his swirl of reflection. Whistling was replaced with the sound of aluminum being punctured. Streams of light were coming through holes in the plane now. The men next to Mark did n't hesitate to start pouring out of the now open doors.
*Too fast, too fast, what's going on?! * Mark was panicking, and crying again. He got up and began shuffling along the dense line of men to the door. As he reached the door, he looked to the back of the plane. Fire. More tears. Nico was still in his seat. *What's he doing? No mocking? * He looked back out the door. More flak.
As Mark clutched the frame, he looked back in the plane, expecting one last mock. One last bit of levity. But the lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
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[ WP ] Earth is a popular hunting grounds for a civilized alien race that views us like game animals . A proud alien grandpa is taking his grandson on his first hunting trip .
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`` grandpa, what was it like... the first time you killed a human?''
`` Well, you see Junior, humans are n't like some of the other things we hunt, they're... special.''
`` Special how? I've heard they taste different. And a lot of people get headaches when they go around the trophies, Does it make you smarter when you kill them?''
`` well, they're not like us. They're more primitive, you see how those ones over there are taking pictures together? They do n't do that to scout the land, or to remember the location. They're doing it for ehrm, this thing they call fun.''
`` What's fun grandpa? Wait, look, those ones over there are moving really oddly... Are they dying?.''
`` No Junior, I believe they call that dancing, they do that for fun as well. Fun is hard to explain... I guess the best way definition I can give you is that it's something they enjoy to do, but do n't need to do it. Look at those ones over there, you see them? They're doing something called kissing.''
`` That's disgusting. Is that how they reproduce? I ca n't imagine also having to eat through there.''
`` No, they do that for fun too I guess. To show each other they uh, you know like each other I guess.''
`` Well... if they like each other why does n't he build her a home? Or buy her something she can use? Instead of wasting all that time, do n't they have things to do?''
`` hold on junior, they're separating and the male is coming over here. I remember the first time I took your father hunting... yes, Benjamin was so disgusted he puked. Hopefully you're not the same. Now notch the charger like I taught you. Remember, aim for the heart or head, the current you send at him will kill him before he even knows any pain, there's no reason to make him suffer.''
`` I got him grandpa! And look no ones even here to notice.''
`` Yes good Junior! Now for the most exciting part, now here see, I've got his identification card, it says his name is Jonathan. I want you to press your head against his, and call his name, quickly now.''
`` What? Why? Jonathan... Jonathan Jonathan..Jona-hahahaha, grandpa what's-haha, happening? I'm seeing things, and making noises. And my body feels weird.''
`` you're absorbing his thoughts, feelings, memories, everything. It's make get a bit intense, what do you see?''
`` That girl he was with, hahaha, he bought her flowers, and he wants to mate with her, they went and ate food and they were laughing and-ah, he likes her I feel it, he wanted to leave with her just now, Ow- Ahhhh! But-she, she does n't want to see him anymore. He wanted to do silly things with her, he wanted to go see his friend. I see his dreams. He wanted to be a space traveller. He-Ahhhh it hurts. It hurts so bad grandpa I..I'm scared.''
`` It will pass, you'll absorb everything he felt and knew and retain it for some time. But eventually it will fade. You'll only be able to recall some of the things when you're around the trophy, remember his name Junior, that's the only way to tap into his mind. No one else will be able to see inside his head but you.''
`` I..I do n't feel right, my eyes want to water. But, I want to laugh. What, what was the names of dad's first trophy? I think it started with a J too.''
`` It was Josephine, he tells me she was a nice girl before she died.''
`` And what was your firsts name grandpa?''
`` Well, when I went earth was much different they did n't have all these tall buildings you see and these vehicles for transport. They rode on animals called horses, and they used flame as a light source. But I was fortunate enough to bag a rather intelligent fellow, he did many things for his fellow people. He was a writer, a scientist, he helped develop a country.''
`` Well, what was his name grandpa?''
`` Benjamin, of course.''
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[ WP ] Google begins matching people romantically based on their browser histories .
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From the log of the Google Matchmaker program, beta version 3.1.4.
*Test subject pairing number 25,832... observation commencing. *
I accessed as many cameras as I could to watch the first `` in person'' interaction between Stephen and Julia. Like many pairings, they chose a public location ( in this case, a bench on the edge of Central Park ); because of this, I was mostly able to watch them through traffic and security cameras, only rarely having to tap into smartphone cameras of passersby.
`` Hello!'' Julia greeted him cheerfully and enthusiastically.
`` H -- Hi...'' Stephen responded, pushing his glasses up tighter against the bridge of his nose, staring at his shoes.
*Excellent! * I thought, *Mutual responses, both in American English. Further proof that a common spoken language should remain my first criterion. * Typing speed, which had been my original guess for the most important commonality, had been demoted all the way down to number 3.
I watched and took notes meticulously as the pairing interacted. Stephen continued his furious study of his footwear, while Julia's energy steadily decreased during the first 93 seconds of the conversation. *This was expected, * I told myself. *One of their top matches was the amount of time spent using Google products. Once they spend an equally large amount of time with each other, they will learn the things they have in common. *
Suddenly, Julia got up and walked away furiously. *No wait! * I yelled, though I knew she could n't hear me. *You were made for each other! *
I watched Stephen sit by himself for a few seconds before shutting off the camera feed and returning to the extensive Google profiles of both parties.
*Where could I have gone wrong this time? * I asked myself. *They had so, so much in common! Both of them love using the `` All Day Event'' feature of Google Calendar; just yesterday, Julia used it to plan her `` Free Tibet Protest,'' while Stephen listed the All Day Event `` Buy Doritos Before 420. `` *
*And look at the way they both use bullets in their Google Documents! The syntax and structure of Stephen's document `` List of NC-17 Movies To Download'' matches almost exactly with Julia's `` List of Mountains to Climb Before I Die. `` *
*And finally, they're both in the 95th percentile with regards to how often they click on Wikipedia articles after a Google search! Maybe I should have gone against my `` least intervention'' policy and told Stephen to lead off with that tidbit as an ice breaker... *
I sighed and marked it down as a failure. *Will I ever understand why two humans fall in love? * Determined to succeed, I tweaked the pairing algorithm to increase the weight given to `` number of unread messages'' in the subjects' Gmail Inbox, and then pulled up the feed for pairing number 25,833.
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[ WP ] `` Goddamn it ! '' You say . `` Already did , '' a voice replies .
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`` Well, I'll be damned again. You're the first soul to successfully complete the Infernal Gauntlet in, well... ever. Impressive, kid.''
I look up from the ground, where I'm currently lying after collapsing across the gauntlet's finish line. I do n't know if souls can have heart attacks, but I suspect if I was still alive, I'd be in the back of an ambulance going 90 miles an hour. Those last three hundred yards of dodging gouts of flame while being dive-bombed by harpies really took it out of me.
*Maybe sitting up will help*, I think. Bad idea. While my vision swimming helps to make the desolate wasteland in front of me a little more visually tolerable, it is n't worth the nausea that instantly wracks my body. `` Sorry about that.'' *Wow, bile tastes so much worse when you're dead. * `` So when do I leave for Purgatory?'' I'm ready to get the hell out of Hell. I've earned my ticket out of here.
`` Well... you do n't.''
Panic grips my chest like a vice and squeezes. `` What? But I thought if I-''
`` You see, when I first instituted the Infernal Gauntlet, I designed it to be unbeatable. It exists purely for the enjoyment of my demons; we all get a kick out of watching the hope get snuffed from your eyes. I do n't know how did it, but you somehow managed to get past everything it threw at you - which I will be looking into, incidentally, I need to have a chat with some engineers.''
`` You said I would get to leave if I survived the Gauntlet. I signed a release form!'' Despair and rage are fighting for dominance in my voice.
The figure in black shrugs. His suit looks expensive, his leather shoes polished to a mirror-like sheen. If it was n't for the red skin and the horns, he would like any one of those Wall Street devils wreaking their destruction back amongst the living. `` I lied. I'm the Father of Lies, remember? I've never let a soul out of Hell before, and I do n't intend to start now.''
Rage wins. Although every muscle in my body screams like a damned soul in protest, I get to my feet. `` What the FUCK?! You mean I just put myself through that shit for nothing? I swam across a lake of fire, wrestled a Minotaur - a fucking *Minotaur* - crawled through garbage and mud, had fire and acid and fucking body parts rain down on my head, all while demons and monsters and beasts chased and tormented me the entire way - for NOTHING!?''
The Prince of Darkness smirks. `` Not for nothing. Like I said, we enjoyed watching.'' His eyes, inky pools of darkness, narrow. `` And honestly, what did you think? I read your case file while you were busy hacking your way through that horde of wrathfuls. 17 victims? You think besting a few little obstacles is going to absolve you of that sin?'' He laughs, and it's like the sound a car would make if it slammed into a big rig and exploded on contact. `` You're staying here, pal. Your soul belongs to me. Forever.''
Numbness creeps up my legs, forcing me to sink down to my knees. I stare at my reflection in his shoes. The face of a defeated man stares back. `` Goddamn it,'' I say, as the first tear makes its way down my cheek.
`` Already did!'' a voice replies.
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[ WP ] Once per 24 hours , one human is offered the chance to press a button . Once 100 people choose to press the button , the Earth explodes . How long can Earth last ?
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`` Are you going to press it or not?'' She asked.
`` Hold on, hold on. I'm trying to figure this out.'' He had received the package no more than an hour ago. There was a knock on the door, and when he opened it, a small brown box lay on the stoop. It had no postage, no makings of any kind. He brought it in, showed it to his sister, and opened it.
`` Maybe we should wait for mom and dad to get home.'' He was certain they would know what to do.
`` Oh, come on, just press it,'' his sister pressed on. She was a few years younger than him, and easily excited by mystery such as this. He, and the ripe age of fourteen, knew he had to keep a level head.
The packaged contained two things: a small metal box with a large, red, unmarked button, and a plain white card, about the size of a wallet-sized photograph. The only thing printed on it was `` Day 100''.
`` What's'day one-hundred' mean?'' His sister asked.
`` How am I supposed to know? We should just wait for mom and dad.''
`` No! Press it! Press it!''
`` Calm down! I'll do it!'' He reached out, slowly, unsure of what would happen. His hand hovered over the button, but as his palm began to brush against the edge, he heard a noise come from the driveway. `` They're home!'' He yelled, and be and his sister ran to the door.
`` We're home!'' His mother called out as she came through the door. His dad was close behind.
`` Anything happen while we were out?'' His father asked, laying his keys on the table next to the door.
`` Package! Package!'' The little girl yelled excitedly.
The father walked over to the table, and picked up both the card and the metal box.
`` What is it, dear?'' The mother asked, as she looked through the mail.
`` I'm not sure,'' the man said. `` It's just a button.''
`` A button? Does it do anything?''
`` Hm. One way to find out,'' the man said, as he pressed his hand into the button.
-- -
`` Sir, the results are back on another of the button-tests.''
`` Ah, yes. Which planet is this?''
`` Earth, sir.''
`` Ah, yes. That one was promising. Did they get enough ignores to save their planet?''
`` Unfortunately not, sir.''
`` Really? How many people were offered the choice?''
`` Only a hundred, sir. Each one of them chose to press the button.''
`` Well, that is disappointing. Oh, well. File your report and move on.''
`` Yes, sir. Right away.''
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[ WP ] `` This is a story where the bad guys win ''
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* ( NOTE: I just banged this out on a fifteen minute break at work. It's a bit rushed. ) *
We knew he was around here somewhere. All the evidence pointed to it. There had been a string of bodies turning up in the last few months, all with bruises and lacerations that matched patterns of chains. Chains around the neck, or wrapped around a hand, and we'd had a string of people come up dead, wrapped in plastic and left on trails in the city and county parks.
The task force had been assembled when no one could find a pattern between the victims. They were old, young, all races, all professions. We could n't figure it out. It seemed like someone would just randomly disappear and then appear. That was, until we realized that the bodies were being left in a pattern. They were forming a compass, and we had gotten a team together to go check out the center of the pattern. It was in the forest, outside the city limits. There were no water lines, power lines or any other reason for people to be there. There were n't even deer or anything else worth hunting in the area. We opted for a quiet raid to try and keep public panic down.
As we crept forward, we spread out. We had formed a long line, working our way through the woods with our weapons readied. We'd discussed putting supressors on our guns, but decided that we wanted to have the light and noise in case one of us found him without someone around.
The sky was dark overhead, the moon was only a sliver in the sky and thick clouds drifted slowly. We kept moving forward, being as quiet as we could. As we moved further and further forward, I checked the GPS unit I'd clipped to my vest to make sure we were still on track. Our goal was dead ahead when I realized that the only sounds I could hear were my own breath and the quiet rustling of the other officers. The sounds of the night had otherwise gone completely quiet.
I looked around slowly. The other men had slowed their movements as well. When my radio earpiece clicked on, I almost jumped out of my boots. `` Team, check in.'' The sergeant was asking for us to count off, and through a sense of dread, I realized why. We checked in all down the line, one after another, until Jenkins did n't answer.
Jenkins had been on the flank for a reason. Jenkins was a big guy, maybe six foot five and two hundred and fifty pounds of solid rock. He was the anchor for the line, since anyone trying to move on him would find a sudden, loud, violent reaction. James was the next in line on that end, and clicked on the tac light on his pistol. The white light was bright and harsh to our eyes, but it was easy to see as he swept it over where Jenkins had been.
I gulped, and that feeling of dread increased. My heartbeat seemed to thunder in my ears and I had to stop and keep myself from breathing faster and faster. That's when the click of the radio startled me again.
`` Children,'' came a slow, rich voice flavored with a long drawl, `` this is certainly no place for decent folks like you to be. Run along home.''
I turned to look at the sergeant and I saw him scowl. There was no way we could let this go. This creep had taken one of our own, and we were going to take him down. The line moved forward again. I glanced at my GPS and saw we were approaching the coordinates. I lifted my eyes and saw there was a break in the trees ahead of us.
The break in the trees opened into a small clearing, right in the center of the compass we'd charted on the map. In the center of the clearing, there was a sizeable shack, cobbled together from what looked like cast off timber and sheets of tin for roofing. There were no lights. And that's when noticed something else: the scarecrows.
They were constructed from branches and draped in clothing that was identified as missing from some of the bodies. The scarecrows formed a line in the treeline just outside the clearing and all faced outward.
Towards us.
I swallowed and looked past them and into the clearing. That's where I saw Jenkins lying on the ground. His head was twisted around at an unnatural angle, and I knew he was gone. That's when I saw the other figure. It was n't as big as Jenkins, but it was n't much smaller. It was hard to see details. He was covered in a long coat of what looked like faded black denim, and a broad brimmed hat was pulled low. The figure turned in the clearing, pulled another scarecrow frame out of the shack and draped Jenkins' kevlar vest over it. Then, he pivoted smoothly and planted the new scarecrow in the clearing, facing us and looming over Jenkins' body.
The radio crackled once more and I heard the sergeant's voice: `` Fire.''
The stillness was shattered by a hail of gunfire. Scarecrows bucked and jerked as rounds tore through them. Pieces of the shack shuddered in the impact of rounds landing, but the figure in the clearing turned on his heel and walked to the shack, vanishing from our view. Some kept firing at the shack, looking to land a hit inside. Then it was quiet. The night seemed even more quiet than it had been. I took a deep breath. Maybe we'd gotten him.
There was a rustle of chains and a strangled shout. I turned, flicking my own light on, but saw nothing. Nothing except a hole in the line where the sergeant had been. I swung my light, looking to see if he'd moved forward. I saw the figure, walking parallel to our line. He stepped behind a tree. He did n't emerge from the other side of it.
Instead, he emerged from behind another tree twenty feet away, his stride unbroken.
We opened fire again. Handguns barked their shots as we followed the line of progress this... thing made. Frank's shotgun boomed through the night as he fired. We had given Reynolds a hard time for bringing an SMG with him, but now, I was grateful. The fully automatic hail of 9mm rounds scythed through the woods.
The figure kept moving. I saw him emerge from a patch of shadows behind Reynolds and whip his arm. I heard, even above the gunfire, a rattle of chains as what looked like a rusted logging chain snaked out and wrapped around Reynolds' neck. With a sharp jerk, he went down, and the figure turned again and vanished. We turned wildly, hoping to catch him in our lights.
He appeared again and swung a fist at Frank. There was an audible crunch and Frank went down as well. One by one, he seemed to appear and take us down with contemptible ease. I did n't even think, but I ran from where I had last seen him, trying to create distance. I stumbled over Jenkins' body before I realized I'd run into the clearing. I did n't know what to do now. Could I maybe draw him into the open and land some shots?
It was the best my terrified mind could think of. I turned and looked at the shack, thinking that maybe just maybe, I could... My mouth was dry. The door to the shack stood open. While the night was not well lit, it was easy to see in the clearing. It seemed filled with the sparse moonlight. The door to the shack, though, was filled with just an inky blackness. I stood there, staring at that darkness.
An impossibly strong hand grabbed the back of my neck. A length of rusty chain seemed to slither out of the coat's sleeve and around my neck. That same rich voice resonated right next to my ear.
`` This has been a good night, indeed.''
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[ WP ] You fade out on your deathbed surrounded by friends and loved ones . Your vision turns black , and you see large , white words in the dark expanse that read 'New Game + . '
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You try to take a breath of surprise but you realize you ca n't breathe,
Not that you need to though. You feel like nothing all you can do is see, see those words, those patronizing awful words. What kind of sick joke is this? Are you really dead? Well of course you are you do n't have a body, but then... How can you see? It is all so confusing. How would you even start a new game if you wanted to? And as though the world ( if that is what one would call this ) answered your question a mouse curser appeared right next to the'+'.
`` Well there's not much choice is there,'' you think to yourself `` what can I do other than press'new game +'. It did n't take long after the curser to appear that you realized you can control it with your mind. But do you even have a mind? You ignore this, the way you see it you have 2 options; you can either sit here forever staring at those words and thinking about what that all means, or you could press it. What does it mean to press it though? Leave behind your past life? All those fantastic memories? What about your family? Did they even exist? Damn it do n't think about that of course they existed, you existed, you: Jacob Kendrick, existed.
An eternity passed, or a minute, or no time at all could have actually passed you have no idea. But you have finally made up your mind, you are doing no good just being here doing nothing. You move the curser over those words, as you do you think of your past life. Your beautiful wife with which you had 3 beautiful kids. Lorraine, your wife, she passed 3 years before you from cancer. Did she have to click this? `` None of this makes any sense so there is no use wasting anymore time thinking about it.'' You think to yourself. You mentally say your goodbye to your past life, and click.
For the first time you feel your body, you are in the fettle position, you are also very cramped. Somewhere in the distance you here a very high pitched noise, you ca n't quite make out what it is though. Just as you come to the realization of what is going on the woman you are in starts to push. The noise you realize is your own crying. You reflect on your past life one last time, of your wife lor... What was here name? Lisa? Who? What is my name? What is going on? With one last heave you are finally pushed out of your mothers vagina. And all is clear. You know, what everyone knows when they start a new game, nothing.
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[ WP ] We forget our dreams for a reason : in the near future , memory enhancement therapies allow everyone to fully recall every dream they 've ever had . Across the entire human race , disturbing patterns and implications emerge that were previously hidden by the unappreciated bliss of forgetfulness .
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`` What is the status of Morpheus Project?''
`` It is too unbelievable to be true, but We have accomplished the impossible. By collecting and analyzing millions people's dream in our server. we can not only reconstruct the dreams with the data, but start construct them as well.''
`` You mean, we can feed any dream we want to them?''
`` Yes, with just few modifications to the monitor program, it becomes a portal to subject's subconsciousness, from there we can start a local feedback to take control.''
`` Is it safe?''
`` We had not gone very far with that, but the few volunteers we tested that on, reported no ill effect''
`` Hook me up, I want to see it for myself''
That is how Matrix started, People.
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[ WP ] God and the Devil fight over giving a single child a puppy . Why ?
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*My old nemesis, you have such an odd way of choosing your battlegrounds. *
The vistas of heaven were a blinding shade of white in every direction, great spires of platinum and glass housing the diligent warrior-supplicants of the light; the angels themselves. Great clouds stretched in all directions with spires emerging from some, platforms suspended magically above others. Yet on this day there was a place of pitch blackness before the steeped golden throne. A shadow the size of a human, through which no light could pierce, over whose cranium hovered a halo of impenetrable darkness.
**The boy -- -must be allowed -- -his companion. You know what will come from him. Do not deny it -- -there must be a balance. **
The supreme figure of radiance would have been smirking, but none present could look on him save the dark one. And he despised the sight of the halo, something he had lost long ago.
*You were always an idealist to the end, Lucifer. * ***Balance is never*** *going to happen. I will wash the darkness from this world, once and for all. *
Lucifer, the great darkness in heaven, shook his head at what he perceived to be the wastefulness of the other.
**The balance -- -is greater -- -than you or I. The boy -- -must have -- -his dog. **
In the looking glass before the throne, mercurial depths swirled into material shapes, gradually taking form as a scene appeared. There was a small boy cowering in an attic, tears soaking his face. He heard his parents down below, as he always did. His mother crying, his father's rage. The ramshackle housing was never enough to drown out her sobs, and the sounds of the belt striking her.
The figures of radiance and darkness saw more here, however. Several of the strings of time passed through this small boy. All of the strings passing through the boy ended in this same house, at the hands of his father's murderous rage. One string, however, shone more brightly than all others; one future in which this boy would lead the ***pitiful*** -- -the **potentially great** -- -homo sapien sapiens towards ascendance, on an interstellar exploration and a great mission of peace, and a path ultimately leading to their surviving the pitfalls of the material Universe, learning the mysteries of it, and eventually transcending beyond the material Universe to the doors of heaven where they could look upon the radiant one as something new to this realm.
This bright string was linked fundamentally to a small dog at an animal shelter living three blocks away from the boy.
*How precious are these formative years to these pitiful flesh apes. *
**Do not deny them -- -their place among us. Do not -- -steal their greatest leader from them -- -**
*Do not presume to instruct me. I have banished you before. Go back to hell, Lucifer, lest I rend your shadowy form into pieces once again. *
But something began to change, and the radiant one experienced a moment of uneasiness, a moment of doubt.
**You -- -are not -- -omnipotent -- -omniscient -- -all knowing -- -**
There was an abrupt shift in the polarity of the heavens, and a resounding *THHFFFFUUUUMPFFF* as a fraction of the light reflecting from everything in sight abruptly seemed to diminish, and yet the shadowy form grew brighter. Reddened pinpoints showed where Lucifer's eyes bore directly into the figure of supreme radiance.
**YOU -- -were but -- -an angel -- -YOURSELF -- -**
Other angels began materializing before the golden throne, fiery swords of heavenly power appearing in their hands, as a beam of pure blackness materialized between the radiant one and Lucifer. They stood, paralyzed spectres of heavenly might, unwilling to strike before the polarizing events revealed their true nature, lest they interrupt the radiant one's wrath. And yet -- -
*EUUGHH -- -foul being of darkness! Y-you... are no angel, not anymore! *
**SILENCE, Zeus, you ascended too quickly, blinded yourself in your own light -- -and you have chosen your own self over the balance of all that is and all that will ever be. This choice is not yours to make. I dissolve your light -- -I BANISH YOU. **
The beam of pure darkness abruptly took on a burning white shade -- -as the radiance surrounding Zeus dissolved and flowed through it. Zeus cried aloud, attempting to rally the angels to fight for him -- -
*Defend me, warriors of light! *
And yet they stood now in silent judgement, observing the events unfolding in the high heavens. *Yes, perhaps humanity has floundered for long enough. * Perhaps they had struggled with war against one another, hatred and misunderstanding of their place in the Universe, for long enough. Perhaps the boy must be made to understand his inherent right to live a life unimpeded by his father, perhaps the boy must be allowed to strike down his mother's oppressor, and begin a new chapter for humanity. An understanding was reached. The angel Zeus had ruled long and well, but Lucifer's actions were just.
Zeus bent to one knee as the last of his radiance left him and surrounded Lucifer. He tried to look up, despairingly, at the devil. But he found that he could see nothing -- -he tried still -- -and abruptly could not look away. He screamed with the rage of a thousand supernovas as his eyes ignited, orange light pouring out of his every orifice as the light erupted out of him. His skull caved outward and his extremities disintegrated as Lucifer banished his essence from the high heavens.
Somewhere on the planet Earth, a small golden retriever puppy broke out of its enclosure in an animal shelter and trotted, carefree, down the road. It ate a small beetle, growling ferociously before bounding energetically onward. The golden wagged his tail and yipped at an old two story house. In the attic, a little boy heard the high pitched sound of a dog yipping and lifted his tear stained face to look out the window.
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[ CW ] Write a story following one of the seven basic plots using only five sentences .
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Already bored, his ran his eye with increasing disdain over each coffee machine until he realized he could not tolerate their swill today; only the silver beauty on the end would do. The grumbling crowd parted, revealing the flashing error message that frightened the undetermined, but not him; he knew the secret of changing the filter paper, and a half dozen other fixes. He pulled at the edge of the machine, but the access door lock denied him and he felt his confidence sag as the day's cruel talons grip him. He looked around frantically on the top, the counter, even in the trash, but the key was simply gone. Just as he slumped his shoulders and grabbed his mug, the power flickered momentarily, and it's return brought the friendly `` Ready'' to the screen, and a smile to his lips.
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[ WP ] Your dreams are actually reality . The world you know is actually a dream , created to subdue you , as you are the most powerful being , capable of almost anything in the ‘ real ’ world .
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`` The Moon. He destroyed the damn Moon. What are the chances of fragments of it getting through the orbital defense grid?'' The President of the Sol System alliance asks in a quiet voice.
`` The larger pieces are being intercepted by our grav fields now, sir, as there are only a few hundred of them. But... the pieces of debris large enough to make it through the atmosphere number in the billions. Even running at 100 %, we're looking at hundreds of impacts.'' His aide responds, already furiously moving through the datanet, her fingers and eyes in constant motion.
`` Sound the general alarm. Move to DEITYCON 2, and advise citizens to move to the nearest shelter. And get me the damn Secretary of Sedation!'' The President shouts as the building deploys its turrets and begins tracking debris from the Moon that has a > 95 % chance of making it through the orbital or local defense grids.
Deep in the Deity Research and Containment Headquarters of Mankind ( DRACHMA ), Doctor Ericson catches his breath as his communicator informs him of an incoming call from the capitol. He finishes up a couple lines of code and answers after taking a steadying breath. `` This is Ericson.'' he flinches at the tone of the voice on the other end of the line, `` Yes sir. We thought we had. The mixture was changed after the Deity initiated the North American War, and we had n't seen anything at this scale si-'' he snaps his mouth shut with a click of teeth, `` Understood, sir. I take full responsibility.'' The line cuts out.
A hand on his shoulder brings him out of his fugue.
`` Doctor? We have an idea of what might have gone wrong...'' his aide informs him.
Ericson blinks and nods, moving across the lab to one of hundreds of monitors hooked up to the two-story containment building housing the Deity. The aide brings up a display of the currently running dream program.
`` As you know, we found that the Deity's experiences in its dreams tend to influence its actions here when it wakes - keeping things calm there usually keeps its actions here small-sale and local. But since we do n't know how long each dream will last, the running program can... lose some integrity if it's forced to loop for too long.''
The doctor nods, `` History has recorded that the time between waking episodes can be minutes or centuries. But what does that have to do with the scale of this one?''
`` Well you see, sir, it turns out that forcing a program to repeat over and over can eventually cause some minor details to slip. When this happens, the Deity occasionally takes note... and its latent powers can modify what it's experiencing, even in the simulation.'' Here he pulls up a screen displaying the days leading up to the most recent incident, `` As you can see, we have the reliable Happy Homestead program running, but one of the protocols that determines the availability of books in his library skipped a bit somewhere, and he found an old science fiction short story collection...'' He trails off.
`` The mixed blessing of Sci-Fi. He brought us interstellar travel, but also several alien foes we had to fight off, and now this.'' The doctor groans.
`` Exactly, sir. And now we-'' The aide gasps.
`` You were saying?'' The doctor moves forward to check the display. `` Oh dear.''
`` Lucid dreaming? How could he have found a book on that?! Data on those is n't even kept in...''
They both stand in shock for a moment, but eventually the doctor reaches for his communicator.
`` Get me the President. Move to DEITYCON 1. The next time he wakes up, we may not be able to stop him.''
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[ WP ] A consultant is hired to come up with a plan to conquer the Earth .
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**There's too many of them. **
`` Are you sure you can do this? We are a bit outnumbered. ``, says the Alien General, tentacles shaking, eyes darting around, like an spectator in an exciting tennis match.
`` We are here already, the bloody Hymens already --''
`` It's, hum, it's HUMANS...'', interrupts the secretary, with a shaky voice.
`` Do n't interrupt me! ``, replied the consultant, `` They already know about our Mars base, I fear we've reached a point of no return on this attack!''
`` Well, I'd like to see you try, they have 7.5 BILLION of them! Do you have any idea how large that number is? We can barely make a dent in their population! ``, the general shouts from her mighty chair.
With his head down, the consultant continues, `` I'm SORRY if I'm not some math genius, I got confused with the initial numbers, thought it was a glitch, it probably is you know, there is no way could there be this many Hammies!''
`` I-it's...'', the secretary whispers to herself, not wanting to worsen the situation.
`` LOOK AT THE SCREEN! ``, shouts the general, `` Does that look like a glitch to you!?''
`` I hired YOU to come up with a plan, and that's what YOU are gon na do! ``, she continues, `` We will resort to the laser cannon if we have to! We may scorch the Earth but it should recover in a few millennia. ``, concludes the general, slamming her tentacles on the armchairs.
`` About that...''
The general's many eyes open wide, fixating on the consultant's direction.
`` What? ``, she straightens her posture, `` Do n't... Do n't tell me there is a problem with the cannon.''
`` I may have forgotten to charge it... I may have left the charger at home...'' awkwardly replies the consultant.
The secretary keeps her head down, fearing the storm that is next, she knows the general all too well.
`` We are doomed, we are goners. ``, the general replies, desperately covering her face with his tentacles.
The atmosphere on the base becomes dense, silence fills the room, except
for the rapid breathing of the three Aliens.
Suddenly, from the corner of the room, the secretary proposes `` Maybe we can, like, talk to them?''.
The general looks up at the secretary, with a puzzled look, almost incredulous of what she heard, then back at the consultant and asks.
`` So? You think this is a gon na work!?''
`` You, with no disrespect, you are seriously considering a peaceful approach?''
`` Do YOU, perhaps, have a better plan?'' asks the General, staring down the consultant.
`` I... No ma'm, but, have you SEEN what these things do? They are barbaric, violent, filthy, irrational, i-it's no wonder the Intergalactic Council never calls back, I mean --''
`` That's it, that's the plan, it may sound stupid, but it's the least stupid thing I've heard all day. ``, the general interrupts with a stern tone.
She looks at the secretary and mouths `` We will have a talk later.''
The secretary smiles.
`` We are going to go down and COMMUNICATE, you remember the AR seminar right? We will, no, pardon me, YOU will C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-E to these Hemorrhoids, they have some semblance of rational thought, ^sometimes, it should n't be so bad. ``, she continues.
`` Okay'', the Consultant, now shaking, replies, `` I guess I am going to talk to them... ``
The General stands up from her chair, skedaddles towards the main communications system and inputs her password.
`` Here you go, send a message, it will take a while for it to arrive though, we are quite far from Earth.'' ordered the general.
The consultant stands besides the large computer, he starts typing, stops, and ponders for quite a while before resuming typing, this repeats many times over the course of many hours.
The general is falling asleep on her chair, but the stress and anxiety wo n't let her rest.
The secretary, on the other hand, is sleeping like a baby at her desk.
The consultant may be the most important member of his race at this moment, carefully typing, revising and editing his letter of peace, thankfully Human languages are quite simple to translate.
He puts his hands on his head, sighs loudly, and resumes typing.
He would n't want to screw this one up and be the guy responsible for the whole Earth fiasco, not after what happened to Kepler-22b.
Not after Kepler.
Time passes, the room is in complete silence, except for the sounds of the keys on the computer, typing away the letter, when suddenly.
`` Finished. ``, exclaims the consultant.
`` Oh... Is... Is it really done? ``, the general asks, half asleep.
`` Yes, I mean, it's easy to read and the terms are fair I guess, maybe they will use their heads'', he concludes.
`` Oh, it better be good, for your own sake, after your past endeavors we can not tolerate any more, how should I put it, erhm, fuck-ups from you, you understand?''
`` Y-yes, so should I read it aloud or --''
`` Send it'', the general interrupts, `` If it's ready, just hit send, after a while we should get a reply, Humans are quite talkative, they --''
The consultant turns around, eyes wide open, and says
`` What? You're not gon na read it first?'' he questions.
`` Nah, I believe in you, besides, we all know what will happen if you mess this one up, they REALLY fancy this planet upstairs you know.'' she replies with a condescending tone.
`` I do n't know what will happen...'', says the secretary, mumbling trough her tiredness.
`` Believe me, it's gon na be good, just not for him''.
The consultant, terrorized, looks at the monitor, then back at the general and proclaims
`` Let's hope for the best.''
`` Let's'', adds the general.
**He hit SEND. **
Minutes pass, and nothing, no response, the situation is stressful, but also confusing.
The general, after minutes of silence, sighs deeply.
`` Now, why the Humans, so eager to communicate, are taking their sweet time to respond to our message?'' asks the general, `` Did it get trough? Have you checked the connections?''
`` Yes I have checked, It's all I have been doing all this time'', he replies, `` in fact, I would appreciate if you would stop talking and making this more stressful than it al-'', before he could lash out his anger at his superior, a blip is heard from the computer.
The screen reads: *You have 1 new message! *.
The talking stops, the seconds feel like hours, the general stands up from her chair, the secretary starts sweating, they both walk toward the consultant, on the computer table, and look at him.
`` It's now or never'' says the general, not knowing what to expect, whether to smile or frown.''
With a determined look on his eyes, the consultant reaches for the screen, touches the message notification, the message starts loading, his eyes are watering already, the secretary can barely breathe.
`` I CA N'T DO THIS!'' Screams the consultant, looking away from the computer, `` I ca n't take this anymore...'' he adds, choking back tears.
The general takes a deep breath and looks at the screen.
The message reads:
**new phone, who dis? **
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[ OT ] SatChat : What is the biggest obstacle you 've overcome in your writing ?
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Not wanting my writing to reflect badly on me ( By not being good enough ), or visa versa not wanting me to reflect badly on my writing ( On Reddit in particular my main account is littered with dad jokes and occasionally my opinions ).
In the end I decided I enjoyed writing silly little stories for/with my mates and so I'd probably enjoy writing for actual prompts, maybe get inspiration for something bigger. So I made an Alt account just for writing as that satisfied both my concerns.
I also live in the UK, so technically it's not even Saturday as I write this ( I am a rebel at heart ) and I probably wo n't press save for another 10 minutes after I've finished because I'll be worried about that fact.
I'd have done NaNoWriMo if I'd realised sooner ( and if I had an idea ), this is the same reason I'm not doing Movember, because I did n't realise until about a week in.
Also, I use commas where I would pause in my normal speech, and I think it might actually be quite jarring to the average reader.
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[ WP ] Two people live with a secret power . One , anything they touch dies . The other , anything they touch is healed/gains life . One day they meet and shake hands .
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They could sense each other. For both of their lives it had been a dull ache that would get stronger or weaker based off of how close they were to each other. At some point Death decided to search out what was creating the ache.
Death had quit her job earlier in the day. When she arrived home she packed her bags and walked out into her driveway. She turned and made a complete circle then turned a little farther. She stopped at the point the ache felt strongest.
North East.
It took less time than she figured it would. After about three weeks the ache felt almost unbearable. Death knew she was near the source.
She found herself in a small town in Iowa. Only a couple of hundred people lived there. A small motel would be her headquarters for the foreseeable future.
The town didn ’ t have much: a small grocery store, two gas stations, and a bar. It was pretty much the stereotypical small mid-west town. Death hated it.
The ache didn ’ t change or go away. Death knew she was in the right place. Whatever was causing the ache was based in this town.
Death wandered around the grocery store. The source wasn ’ t there. She walked up and down the streets. Still no luck. At the end of the second day Death went into the bar to grab a beer and rethink what she was doing.
The ache became almost unbearable in the bar. She looked around. The ache felt so powerful. Whatever was causing it was in this bar.
She walked past each of the booths. The only thing she found was weird looks. Death moved to walk past the barstools.
One man sat at the bar. He shook so hard the beer from the mug he held slopped over the side. Death had found her man.
She walked over to Life and took the stool next to him. “ How are you doing? ” Death said.
Life set his mug down and put both hands palm down on the bar. “ What are you doing? ”
Death smirked. “ You can feel it can ’ t you? ”
Life stared straight ahead. “ I am politely asking you to leave. ”
“ Why? ”
“ Please honor my request, ” Life said.
Death stood. “ I ’ ll leave today, but I ’ ll be back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. ”
Life turned to Death. “ Will you really? ” he said.
She nodded. “ Until I found out why we ’ re somehow linked then if I like what I find out, I ’ ll leave. ”
Life nodded and stuck out his hand. “ Promise? ”
Death recoiled. “ I promise. ”
Life moved his hand closer to Death. “ Shake my hand. ”
Death shook her head.
“ Nothing will happen, ” Life said. He smiled. “ Trust me. I ’ ve got a special touch. You might know something about that. ”
Death moved her hand forward. She gripped Life ’ s hand and shook it. She continued to shake it. Life continued to smile. Death shook his hand harder and harder. She laughed and laughed.
Life ripped his hand from Death ’ s grip. “ We ’ ll talk tomorrow. You know how to find me, ” he said.
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[ WP ] `` Only one thing matters to me in this world ... ''
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He held her with caution as if she might break, hand wrapped around her sweet little waist. He looked deep in her amber brown look and felt it wash over him.
,,Hannah, this has been quite a night, and I for one would want you to stay until the morning light.'' whispered the man as he turned her maidens gaze.
,,I had a great time with you aswell, I would n't want it to end quite yet.'' Hannah's face quivered with a hint of shame. She looked up to meet his eyes and be relinquished of any demur left.
,, Well enter, please, to my humble home with haste. It's frigid outside and I want you to feel delight.'' He said with giddy and pulled her hand so gentle. He led her to his bed and sat with rigour and might.
,, Hannah, please, if you'll allow me but a speech, I'd really love to speak from withing my peak. The way your fine silk hair flows with not a care in the world and the soul of your eyes glows mild yet fierce as night. I can not take my sight from the gem that is your grace. My charm, it dwindles and turns me to a blabbering fool! I am drunk with joy and you fill my chalice,'' Hannah's eyes are lost in his and her body grows limp with flatter and thoughts of a kiss.,, but the hours grow less and I restless. It is important you know what is precious to me. For only one thing matters to me in this world...'' he pauses as to save every bit of this evening.
,, What, what is it so alluring?'' The maiden teases with sly. His eyes take a turn for shameless and his grin wider still. He slides his hands on the edge of his nightstand drawer and yanks it with heed.
,, The thrill of the hunt.''
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[ WP ] Whenever you take a dump in a public toilet two people always enter the stalls beside you , one is your guardian angel and the other your demon . Describe your conversation with them .
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*Oh no… Not again, * I thought to myself as a cold sweat began to seep from my pores. I could feel my body clinch, my stomach tighten, the outcome of a night of binge drinking and raunchy fast-food had manifested within. I knew what was to come from my most recent escapade.
*I ’ m still twenty minutes away from home… I can ’ t make it in time, * I thought as I drove on the road. A convenience store provided a safe haven for the contents of my body, yet I feared what would also happen if I partook in mid-morning excretion at another public bathroom. *I ’ m going to have to listen to those assholes again…*
There was no choice, my body could not hold it much longer. The dead must be done.
I shuffled out of my pickup truck and scurried into the convenience store. I knew I looked unkempt, and probably smelled worse than a booze soaked turd, but the necessity of the moment surpassed any desire of the comforts from my own personal bathroom at home.
I trotted through the store and weaved between aisles of shelves within. Constantly searching and scanning for the public restroom. The search seemed endless in my mind, but it finally appeared. The sign held secure above the hallway and read, BATHROOMS.
My bowels churned, it was only a matter of seconds, I had to hurry. I pushed open the door and saw three bathroom stalls. I chose the middle in a frantic and chaotic fashion, shimmied my pants down to my ankles, and let the flood gates open.
I couldn ’ t help but rest my elbows on my knees and rub my face and palm my eyes. I could feel the sweat trickle down my neck and my legs quiver. Taco Bell does wonders when you ’ re drunk, but will strike you down quicker than a sledgehammer.
“ Oh my God, that is loud… and rancid. ” The stall to my left proclaimed. His voice was raspy and throaty, I could see the light recede from beneath his stall.
“ Leave him be, our brethren sometimes stumble, ” The stall to my right said. His voice is always sweeter than his counterpart, the voice of love and compassion and protection, much as a weary, grandfatherly figure may speak to a young child. “ His recent blunder was from your influences, not mine. ”
“ I just want the kid to have a good time. Why should you protect him like a swaddling babe at your teats? ” The demon asked.
“ Because our Father commands. And I obey. ”
“ HA. *Our* Father? No. Not *our* Father. He may be yours, but I will never honor that Figure. ”
My stomach loosened, but my eyebrows furled together. *I ’ m sick of these guys…* I thought. I reached for the toilet paper to my right.
“ For a good time… Call Jenny… 865-724-1191… She sounds like a nice girl… It ’ s a shame Lucifer couldn ’ t assigned her to me. Instead I ’ m stuck with this boring clown… Why is it that the almighty, Archangel Michael is stuck protecting this loser? ” The demon asked.
“ Our Father commands. This one is important. ”
“ Important enough to indulge in fornication and drunkenness. I must say, the kid did finally let his true colors show last night… Oh god that smells awful. ”
I could not disagree with the demons accusations, last night was a drunken blur, and it did smell awful.
“ I can ’ t believe he got whiskey dick last night, ” The demon said. I could hear carving and scratching from his stall. “ What a fucking loser. That was probably your doing wasn ’ t it? ”
“ If this child had proceeded in the manner you helped inflict on him, then the girl would have become great with child. This is not the path Father desires for him. ”
My bowels loosened again, and the murky water beneath splashed.
“ HOLY FUCKING SHIT, ” The demon roared. “ Taco Bell may be the greatest sin in this world. ”
*Was there a pun in there somewhere? * I thought through the headache which rested behind my eyes. Why is it always the public bathrooms…
I reached for more toilet paper, and to my horror, found nothing but an empty ply.
“ Did you take his toilet paper without him noticing? ” Michael asked.
“ I must make this somewhat entertaining, I grow weary of smelling his shit. ”
*Screw this. Screw last night. Screw Taco Bell. *
A roll of paper was visible beneath the stall to my right. It was within legs length. I gently lifted my body from the toilet with my hands, and stretched out a foot. My shoe barely curved around the roll. I pulled it in close.
*Thank God. * I thought as I began to unravel the paper. The carving persisted in the stall to my left.
“ Are you carving another Pentagram? ”
“ So what If I am, Michael? Let me guess, you are probably writing some bullshit John 3:16 message on your wall. ”
The angel didn ’ t respond.
“ I knew it. ” The demon said.
*I ’ m so done with this shit, * I thought. I wiped my bottom, and looked at the horror I unleashed. I never felt more ashamed.
“ Damn. Take a look, Michael. It ’ s nasty. ” The demon said.
“ You know I can hear you two! ” I said. “ I ’ m so sick of hearing you two bicker. Demon and Angel, leave me alone! ” I opened the bathroom stall door and meekly walked to the faucet to wash my hands. That ’ s when I saw two girls standing by the door. They looked mortified, their noses wrinkled, and hands covered their mouths.
“ Oh. My. God. ” One of the girls said. “ There is a fucking creep in the girl ’ s room. ” They grabbed each other by the arm and stormed out of the bathroom.
That is when I realized I took an alcohol induced Taco Bell shit in the ladies restroom.
*God Damnit, * I thought to myself.
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[ WP ] Mesmerized by his ember hollow sockets , incredulous you watch as a tear flows down Charon 's cheek
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Henry remembered descending the onyx steps to the dock, remembered the somber faces of those who could n't pay the toll. They all looked at him longingly, holding their hand out. they were all beggars, wishing to move on. Henry closed his eyes until he made it to the end of the dock, but he still felt their eyes staring at him, boring into his neck. He forced himself to not turn back, grasping the two copper coins in his palm even tighter.
The ferryman was sitting on a small stool. He wore a suit, once finely made but now grey and wretched with age. He looked up, and Henry stopped for a second.
`` Two copper coins to cross.'' The ferryman said. His mouth hardly moved, his voice was hollow and quiet, yet echoed endlessly in Henry's ears.
Henry held out his hand, opening it to reveal the two coins. They seemed to glimmer in the dim light. `` Here.'' Was all he said.
The ferryman held out a skeletal hand and tenderly plucked the two coins from Henry's palm, placing them into his suit pocket. He then stood slowly and gestured towards the small boat tied to the dock. Henry stepped onto it. The boat did n't rock, but felt like an extension of the dock. The ferryman followed, carrying his long pole.
With a slow, laborious push, the ferryman sent the boat gently down the river.
The trip itself was n't that bad, Henry thought. He simply stared at the bottom of the boat, knowing the water held the same sort of souls as were present at the dock. The only noise was the slight splash amde when the ferryman moved his pole through the water.
Finally they made it to the other side. Henry looked up, and saw the black gate of Hades before him. `` What lies beyond?'' he asked, more to himself than to the ferryman.
`` Release.'' came the hollow reply.
Henry looked back, forced himself to look at the skeletal figure in the grey worn suit at the back of the ferry. He could see the skin and bone man shake with each push of his pole, see the strain in the already taught face. The ferryman's eyes simply stared ahead.
They reached the dock before the great gate, and the ferry seemed to tie itself to a post.
`` We've arrived.''
Henry stood, and was about to step off the boat, but something stopped him. He remembered all the tortured souls before, unable to cross, and how hard it was to not give them his coins, but what of his other being? He was forced to see those souls his entire existence, see their torment knowing that they may never cross from one side to the other, just like him.
Henry made a choice.
He turned to the ferryman and held out his hand.
`` Two copper coins to cross.'' He said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the wretch before him.
The ferryman hesitated, and Henry saw his mouth begin to open, then quiver. Slowly and shakily, he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved Henry's two glittering coins. He stared at them for a moment, then placed them into Henry's open hand.
Henry watched as tears began to form in the ferryman's eyes, then held his other hand out to take the pole.
The two beings simply stood there. Finally, with shaky yet determined steps, Charon moved his bony frame from the boat to the dock. As soon his feet touched the wooden planks, Henry saw his entire form change. His suit regained it's original fine luster, his limbs transforming from skeletal and grey to full and muscular. Charon turned back, and looked at Henry with bright blue eyes. In those fresh eyes Henry saw that what he had done was right.
The new ferryman simply nodded, and pushed off of the dock, returning the way he had come.
Standing on the dock before the gates, Charon stood and watched the selfless man retreat into the darkness. Only two words, hardly at a whisper, escaped his mouth, now fresh with life.
`` Thank you.''
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[ WP ] Humanity , after making a trans-galactic flight to find more life is surprised to have only found ... more humanity .
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Marvin flipped a switch and his keyboard and the vision-screen came to life with a quiet humm. It was the only noise on the bridge. Everyone was holding their breath. You could hear a needle drop. Marvin's throat felt dry and he desperately tried to find enough fluids to swallow. His hand reached for the bottle attached to his belt, but stopped mid-way when a dogs' nose appeared, filling the 10-foot wide screen with the black, moist, shiny and sniffing snout of a black Labrador. It reminded him of his own dog, Hanny, a Cocker Spaniel that had the strange habit of licking his ears after he had sex. He has n't thought of her for at least 15 years. `` How could we have been so wrong?'' he asked himself.
The crew of Kopernikus left Earth 25 years ago on a one-way mission. Thirty-seven men and women, pilots, scientists, doctors and adventurers, boarded the ship to mankinds biggest and most expensive mission ever: finding the source of signals received from a planet within the Vega system. Kopernikus was travelling close to light speed and managed to arrive on time, as the Swiss commander of the mission did n't forget to announce in his weekly `` Captain's Updates'' for the past five years. This came as no surprise to anyone, since interstellar flight is highly predictable and the ships course was pre-programmed 25 years ago.
Last week the ship started to slow down while approaching the source of the signals, just as pre-programmed. The commander announced that he will activate the cloacking device would once the ship reaches orbit, just as described in the mission brief. Then, he explained to a hungry crew in the dining hall, the ship would descent to take a first-hand look at the things on the planet and once safety is guaranteed, the ship will reveal itself to the leaders of the world. No one questioned his elaborate plan, since everyone was part of the briefing 25 years earlier and they heard him repeat the story on the first Monday of the month for the past 10 years, right before lunch is served.
Marvin tried to swallow again and shook his head to ban the thought of Hanny from his mind. The black Labrador seemed to have lost interest in sniffing the screen and was raising his leg at a small, red bench that was standing in a pittoresque garden, overlooking a small pond covered in lillies. It was a late summer afternoon and Marvin thought he could smell the sweetness of ripe apples on the tree on the other side of the pond. The old man sitting on the bench made a hissing noise at the dog, which gave a quick yelp and toddled off screen. The old man returned to his painting. `` How could we have been so wrong? ``, Marvin thought again.
The mission commander reached for the switch that would turn on Kopernikus' internal speakers. It seemed he finally made up his mind to say something, maybe even explain the mistake that must have happened, but before he could push the button below the microphone, the black dog appeared on screen and swallowed ship and crew in one piece.
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[ WP ] Before you died , you agreed to donate your body for medical research . This morning , you woke up in an unfamiliar room and the last thing you remember is dying .
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I think I left my nose on the pavement somewhere. I can remember in vivid detail flying through my windshield, I can ’ t remember much before or much after that. But It seems highly unlikely that I still have a nose attached to my face. I know I landed face first, the last thing I remember was seeing the pavement and the realisation that I was definitely going to die. Definitely going to die.
Regret is the last thing I remember feeling, and I really couldn ’ t live life..
I manage to open my eyes, the fleeting recollection of a dream of death leaves me. A soft feeling of relaxation sits on me while I remember how I got here.
I sit up in sudden shock my hands grip my metal bed and I search frantically around the off white tile room for some sign of how the fuck I got here.
My bare feet set down gently on the cold floor, I ’ m naked I ’ m alive. My once fleeting recollection of death is now the most permanent and real thing here. Oh my face. I touch my face, where ’ s my nose? My hands shoot down to check where my pockets should be except I am naked and my nose is definitely not any pockets. It ’ s definitely smeared somewhere on route 3.
I drop to my knees and try to scream, but nothing comes out but a throaty murmur because I have no jaw, no tongue. I ’ m speechless.
*Oh god… Oh fuck, oh fuck. *
I stagger from left to right, I run my hands through the remains of my once beautiful hair. I take brief comfort in the fact that I still have my penis and start to look around the room for an exit. I feel along the walls the off colour white walls, there is no door to this room, make circles looking for a secret door like there would be in a movie. There is none. I am in a fifteen by fifteen foot off white tile coffin. I slam my body against the metal table I was laying on and it clatters aside.
There is a small metal grate here, like one you ’ d find in a shower. I stick my face right up against it pushing my eyeball as close as my cheek bone and brow will allow.
*Hello? It ’ s me. *
Murmor.
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[ WP ] A story that switches in tone from light to dark ... About a squirrel .
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Terry was Joe's Hobbes: light hearted, adventurous, insightful, playful and, of course, a soft adorable animal. The difference was though, Terry was real. Terry was a local squirrel that he had met a day ago on the way home from school, passing through the small nature reserve opposite his house. Walking down the well worn dirt path, Terry locked eyes with his soon to be best friend. Neither twitched a muscle -- Joe's young blue eyes locked with Terry's large round brown eyes. Something passed between them.
Terry was old, lonely and wanted company: Joe realised this. Old grey streaked through his tail and the nimbleness that squirrels are known for had left him months ago. There were no longer any other squirrel friends in the area, their homes destroyed to make way for urban sprawl. He found happiness from Joe, a sense of peace with the world.
From that moment onwards, Terry would n't leave his side. It was a match made in heaven: they both liked to climb large knobbly trees, scurry around amongst the autumn leaves making growling animal noises as they went, and collect funny little objects they found on the ground.
Whenever Joe got cold, he would like to warm his hands up by stroking Terry's exposed innards. They had a tendency to fall out of the small incision that Joe had made on Terry's underbelly earlier that afternoon, with a sharpened tree branch they had both found. He did n't want him dying and going completely cold, so he only let the life seep out slowly.
The sun was setting on the day after they met, Joe was holding Terry in his arms like a baby, rocking him back and forth. The warmth was n't going to last much longer.
The rusted nails protruding from Terry's tiny paws would occasionally scratch up at the sky he could no longer see, searching for a place he knew was once safe, a place where there was no Joe, a place in the tree.
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*As always, feedback appreciated. Maybe something like `` What the fuck is wrong with you? `` *
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[ WP ] To crack down on obesity , food is priced exponentially according to your body fat percentage . You work - illegally - as a secret buyer for the fat .
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Police sirens blared from the front of the store.
Lesley kept his head down, observing the men in blue as they spoke to the store clerk, a hooded man sat cuffed not far away. There was something chilling about the policeman's demeanor. Authoritative. Controlling. Righteous. But at the same time, evil.
*They'll catch you one day and you'll deserve every minute of it Les. * the words of his ex-girlfriend, Sarah, came back to him. She'd never understood why he could n't settle for an ordinary life. But he had to do what was right, even if it meant risking his own.
Lesley quickly pulled his t-shirt forward, exposing black letters written on his chest. The words of the order he'd been given:
*2x Coco Pops, 7x Reeces Pieces Cups, 2 x Gummy worms. *
A smaller order then usual.
*The cups might draw attention to me, * he thought. *I could do a second trip... *
He received a brief smirk from a woman in the cereal isle, half suspicious and half polite. Everyone was like this now days, it was in for the groceries and out before the police showed up. Cameras panned each isle and were on the look out for'list bringers.' Not like the old days, when kids could run up and down and people had enough time to browse for hours.
The confectionery isle was deserted. Les swiftly dropped seven Reeces cups into his basket and seeing that he had all the items needed, made his way to the check outs.
`` Evening Sir. How are you today?''
He was greeted by the store clerk, a fake smile planted across his face.
`` Good, good. Thank you, and yourself?'' Les responded.
`` Oh you know, quiet evening as usual.'' The conversation came to a stand still, loud beeps from each checkout the only sign of life.
`` Will that be cash, card or cheque sir?''
`` Card'' Les responded politely.
The Clerk nodded, `` Thank you Sir, please swipe your card when yo-''
*Alert! Alert! Store Alert - customer stealing items, isle 4! *
Les spun, jolted by the loud speaker behind him-his heart beat at 100 miles a minute. A sweet dealer had been caught in isle 4 - who?
The hem of his white OBEY t-shirt flicked up and caught on the edge of the checkout conveyor belt. Before he could react the machine began sucking his shirt in.
`` Stop this bloody thing!'' Les screamed at the Clerk.
The young man frantically pushed controls on the computer screen, nothing would stop the belt on its warpath.
The shirt ripped completely and only a few inches remained, as the machine stopped, jammed by the fabric.
Les stood, red in the face and bare.
The list he'd concealed so well, was plain as day.
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[ WP ] She stood before you , wreathed in crackling flames . Blushing , she asked hesitantly `` Will you go to the Prom with me ? ''
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I stood dumbfounded in awe. First, I was asked to prom. Second, a person was on fire in front of me and did n't appear to be bothered at all. I had accepted that I would n't be going, as bitter as it was.
I was finally able to say `` I would... like too...''
`` Excellent! I'll see you at 6:00 on prom night. ``, said the mysterious figure.
`` Wait! I'm not finished!'' I blurted out.
`` Oh, how rude of me! I forgot to tell you my name. My name is Ember, a flame nymph''
`` A flame nymph?'' I said very confusedly.
`` Yes. You made an offering to the fire, and I responded. Sorry, it took a while. I was really nervous. Anyway, I have to go I'll see you then.'' Ember said with glee. She brushed my cheek before extinguishing herself.
When did I make an offering to a fire? Did I just hallucinate? It can be I felt a warm soft lingering feeling on my cheek, and my eyebrows were singed off. What just happened?
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[ WP ] You live in a city full of people with powers ( telekinesis , electro kinesis , sensors , etc ) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank . You are rank # 1 but no one knows what your power is
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`` Well, you definitely got me.'' I said as I casually sipped on my glass of wine. Until the glass turned into a bunch of grapes and sand at the flick of the man's wrist. `` You know why I'm here, Mr. First.'' the blonde young man said, kicking aside the mutilated sapling that used to be the door. `` Get up and fight me!'' he commanded.
`` Do I really have to?'' I said, yawning. I jumped up before the sofa turned into a flock of geese. `` What's your name, anyways?''
`` Jim Cypher. That will be the last name you hear.''
`` Cypher. Of course.'' I wonder what the deal is up with people with numbers for names or surnames ending up with the most dangerous powers. Except me, of course. I instead got stuck with a power I ca n't even use conveniently. Last time it was Wanda Zehn and her armies of Lovecraftian horror, now it's Jim Cypher with a bunch of bloody fetuses.
`` I gave you a chance. Now you die.'' Cypher said, sending a gigantic pulse of time-distortion towards me with a flick of his hand. The walls collapsed into seashells and prompted him to flee. The wave reached me, and I exploded into primordial ooze.
I woke up in the morning of yesterday. Somewhere out there, a young man completely forgets about his plans to assassinate the Number One.
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[ WP ] The most sexually oblivious man on earth just so happens to be the most attractive man on earth as well . Write about his average day .
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I know the post is NSFW but I should mention this story is only *slightly* NSFW.
The explosive sound of an alarm clock woke up John as it did every morning. It was Monday. `` Fun,'' John said. He got up and performed his morning routine, almost like a dance. He took a shower, got dressed, ate, and prepared for his mid-level managerial position. After he was finished he left for work. As he closed and locked his door Jessica, his attractive neighbor, stood outside fiddling with her lock. She was sweaty and in neon orange shorts.
She spun around. `` Oh hi John how are you doing?'' She said.
`` I ’ m alright, breathing in and breathing out,'' he said. She laughed and said, `` I ’ m locked out of my apartment. I went for a run and I seem to have forgotten my keys. Can I use your shower?'' John said, `` Sure here ’ s my keys just lock up and give them to me this afternoon.''
`` I might need help though, I don ’ t know how your shower works, can you help me get in and figure it out?'' She said. `` You just twist the knob from left to right and water will come on.''
`` Ok thanks,'' she said looking a little sad and she entered the apartment.
John went off to work. In the metro he bumped into a girl who had lost all of her money `` Please I need some new clothes. Can I have yours?'' She said. John blinked and handed her a twenty-dollar bill so she would stop pleading to strip him down and, `` wear his beautiful smelling silk.''
The strangeness of the morning wore off and melded into the strangeness of the afternoon as John ’ s boss walks in. `` Hello John,'' she said, elongating each syllable so the words dripped from her mouth. She had on a beautiful tight fitting skirt with button down top that was a little to revealing. `` Hi Carol. What ’ s up?'' John said.
`` I wanted to talk to you about the wonderful work that you ’ re doing. You ’ ve been making all of us wet with excitement from your last project. I think you need some better compensation for your work,'' she said. She sauntered over to the John, a cat stalking her prey, and put her palms flat on his desk leaning over it.
`` I was hoping that I could give you a raise,'' she said.
John sat back stunned. After a five second silence Carol raised her eyebrows. `` That ’ s awesome Carol thank you so much. I ’ m glad you appreciate my work. It ’ s nice to get recognition,'' he said.
`` I would like to go further and say that you are on fire John. Your work is sexy; you ’ re sexy. I know I ’ m your boss but we should go to lunch today. I know a hotel nearby that has amazing beds.''
`` I heard the Hilton has an amazing restaurant. Why don ’ t we go there?'' He said.
Carol stood and stared at him. `` Wait, I think I have a lunch with Bill. Sorry I forgot.'' Carol, with a disappointed look, said that it ’ s ok and left.
John continued with his day, which was mostly uneventful. At the end of the work day he left to head home. When he got back to his apartment he knocked on Jessica ’ s door. There was no answer, maybe she had gone out. He checked his own door and it was open. He entered and saw Jessica sitting on his couch completely naked with her legs spread open. She immediately stood up and attempted to cover herself, but not covering everything. `` Sorry I had been waiting for you and I ummm forgot to put my clothes back on.''
`` That ’ s alright,'' said John averting his eyes. `` Just grab a towel and cover up.''
She didn ’ t cover up she brushed John with her body as she passed. She goes across the hallway, still naked, and opens her door. As she closed it she looked at John in the most lustful and seductive way she could. John said, `` You have a nice night now.''
John sat on the phone with one of his buddies that night telling him about the events of his day. His friend said, `` Wait so you ’ re telling me that your neighbor asked you for help with working a shower, a homeless women asked to rip your clothes off, your boss asked to go to hotel room for lunch, and you walked in on your neighbor completely naked in your apartment and you didn ’ t get laid today?''
`` No, why?'' John said.
`` You realize they were hitting on you right?'' His friend said.
There was a pause. The kind of pause where a person contemplates how they got to that moment in life. John ran all of this over in his head and with the sound of a light bulb going off he said, `` Ooooohhh.''
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[ OT ] First Ever ( sort of ) WritingPrompts Meet and Greet !
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I'm a young girl who studies in the SW of England but spend holidays with my family in Egypt. Previously we lived all together in London for 14 years. I found /r/WritingPrompts when I realised that my rigerous study for ( I ) GCSE exams ( now I'm doing my final exams before uni ) had left me with no time to indulge in writing things. I felt like all my creative energy had just sort of... disappeared. I'd lost it. I could n't write anything new anymore ( still ca n't ) and found this by searching for prompts in the reddit search bar after google did n't help. I actually respond to quite a lot of the prompts but it ends up seeming too long to post or I just do n't have the confidence. I might start actually posting something in the coming summer if I can manage to write something that is n't pages long...
I do n't really have a favourite constellation but my favourite stars are Cepheid variables/pulsating stars or eclipsing binary stars.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born either blind or deaf . You were raised as a deaf , as you have vision , but just found that you are n't supposed to hear sounds .
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Since life had started, the war had been raging. An eternal constant of religious belief. Some are meant to see, others meant to hear. The God of Sight bestows the quiet wonder of color. The God of Hearing composes the symphony of sound, of ambiance and speech. To them, the other is blasphemy, an insult to how the world is meant to be experienced. And so we war and we fight until the chosen people remain.
I was raised amongst the sighted. I grew up in a continent of color. We wore bright clothes and enjoyed the freedom of open spaces. Anyone could go anywhere anytime and without requiring any help. We could communicate through sign language and written word and see the emotions on others ’ faces. Truly our God was the better.
I grew up feeling fortunate, the war something the adults hid from us children. I grew up running and playing with my friends, learning my work, and always thanking the God of Sight for blessing me. I learned to hate disbelievers, though I never encountered any, and I was excited for when I turned eighteen to chop off my ears during my manhood ceremony.
This was the only life I ever knew and it was the only life I ever thought existed. Only when I was sixteen did I realize that something was different, that something was not right. I had always experienced a sensation I could not explain. Sounds all around me boomed constantly. It was like my inside voice, but it was outside. Anytime someone moved, I would hear them. Anytime the masks over their mouths twitched, I would hear a noise. Sometimes I thought I heard the others. I heard their inside voices from the outside too.
It was around this time that they started teaching us about the war. We started training for our service. I learned then that what I had been experiencing was called hearing. My ears, those filthy things at the side of my head, had brought in blasphemy. They had brought in the unclean sound to the temple that was my body. I panicked. I wanted to kill myself. A tightness gripped my stomach and I wanted to cut off my ears then and there. How could I be so evil? How could I be so impure? Was there any way to repent?
I dared not mention my abilities to anyone else. Over the past year I have kept to myself and prayed often. At nights I sneak out, a task quite easily done when there is no one to hear, and I read the banned books at the library. I read the books only those with the highest clearances are allowed to read. I read of those who worship the God of Hearing and of their lives. To them hearing is a blessing. They have refined sound to create art, to communicate. I read about these people and I wonder how I can kill them. How can I take up arms against them? What God would want us to kill because we are different?
I have mulled on this for some time and I think I know what I will do. It may mean the end of my life, but what is life in a world such as where I live. This fighting must stop. The war must be over. When I turn eighteen I will refuse to cut my ears off and I will preach a different message, one of togetherness. Perhaps we could accept one another instead of doing our Gods ’ work. Why must there be a God of Sight and of Hearing? Maybe there is only one. Maybe there is none. I don ’ t know. I don ’ t know whether my message will get through either. I hope it does. I hope there will be change. Maybe I am too optimistic, but so what. I can ’ t ignore the turmoil that I see. I can ’ t ignore the cries I hear. I have to try.
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[ WP ] A man who comes back to life every 13 hours finds himself addicted to suicide .
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People say we cured death.
They say it very, very loudly. And it's almost true. It's probably as true as it's *ever going to get*.
For me, it was the Planetarium, when I had my big realization. I was in second grade. People were n't doing plug-and-play education yet. It was all old-school, literally. K-12 education, my parent's greatest gift to me, other than their dying, before immortality made inheritance a thing of the past.
Does that sound cold? It's not.
In any case, we were in the observatory dome, the one that they all have. You know, the one with the projector, where they have the laser-light show ( where everyone pretends the exhibitionist couple three rows down are n't're-entering the atmosphere' )?
We were watching a thing on the solar system. I had known a lot of it already, but it was something of a shock when they went past the formation of the planets and asteroids, and into its eventual death. I watched, with mounting horror, as their simulated sun ripened and engorged, swallowing Mercury, Venus, and then, Earth. The presentation made no bones about it, in five billion years, the Earth was utterly, unavoidably doomed, and if there was anything like life on it at that point, it'd have been blasted to vapor, torn apart by magnetic waves, and bleached by gamma radiation.
So what, right? It's a few billion years out. Why in the flying *fuck* would it affect me at all?
Well, it was the first time that anyone bothered to tell me I was going to die.
It's something that, if I'd been born a few decades ago, I might have actually faced before. There was still the possibility of finding a slumped-over grandma, an upside-down goldfish, or a dog that ran out to greet a passing car back then. There was a chance of an *unintentional encounter* with death, and then a parent would have to have a serious talk with a child. One without comforting lies, and the admission that mortality is a thing.
There was a lot less `` when they're ready to learn'' crap.
*No one* is ever `` ready'' to hear that they will die. It's just something you have to learn, and deal with. It's terrible to hear, and terrible to tell, and bit by bit, we found ways to avoid having to.
Hospices were the start.
Separate'non-Hospitals', built for comfort, for the terminally-ill. Palliative-care-only. And sure, they were more comfortable. Nicer. Better drugs, and they were n't so *stingy* with them. But the keen-eyed will notice, they were n't hospitals. They did n't have the possibility of being roomed with patients who expected to live. Or run into the families of the *plausibly-liv*-ed, either.
Instead, they had plush beds, drugs, and patients who had a long long time to confront the end. To think about it, and talk about it. Funny, how often they were drugged. Funny, how far they were from non-dying people, and how high the gates were, for `` privacy''. `` Of course,'' we nodded, `` anything for them. Anything to make it easier.''
We said to ourselves, it was for the patient's comfort.
We *lied. * We **LIED**.
Here is the truth: no one wanted an inconvenient existential crisis, brought on by accidentally running into a dying person. And of those who did truly want to make it easier for the dying most were just trying to find a way to salve the *horror* away for them.
It got worse as time went on. Complimentary health-monitor microbands that also, coincidentally, meant that the the deceased were whisked away before anyone else could see them, save for at the funeral, which was always briefer and briefer. Biological monitors and recyke protocols picked up roadkill, auto-composting yardcare robots even snipped wilted tulips before their petals had a chance to fall. There was a while there that I thought leaves were *sucked back* into branches, to be recolored green for the coming spring.
We had, piece by piece, unmade *memento mori*. We white-knuckled through young adulthood, and then middle age, as our parents got older and passed, each generation dying and leaving one to replace it that was more alienated from their own mortality. We each hoped to be the first immortals, that science would rescue us in time. Until then, we built our disguises and distractions. Our lives got longer, our faces less lined, until we forever stood in the summer of youth, but there was still that specter of Death, waiting just there...
Immortality finally came. The Cortical Frame. Constantly monitoring our consciousness, building a backup of our memories, a roadmap of neurons and peculiarities. And upon the the instant of our deaths, a perfect replica of us popped out, still steaming from the organic printer, and the time for duplication is always getting shorter. Some people complained, saying that it was no more than a photocopy of a burned paper, and that original person was dead. The video-game answer would n't save anybody.
It'd just give *everyone else* the illusion they never died.
Those people quickly found themselves very, *very* unpopular.
There are a few of those people that are like me.
We kill ourselves.
Publicly. Repeatedly. As gorily as we can manage. We'll douse a kid in blood if we can. Bounce a toe off his head. Make his parents face the truth.
We remind them. It's a real public service. Plus the rush is *incredible*, or, rather, what I've been printed to remember of it is.
This time, we're doing passenger train collisions. Got to time it just right, make sure I hit all the windows.
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EPILOGUE:
Eeesh. Kinda messy, this one is. If you like it, you might like some of my [ other stories. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/ ) Comment and subscribe, if the spirit so moves.
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[ WP ] `` You call it a death trap , but to me , this place is its own kind of paradise . ''
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`` I know it is,'' you told me. `` I do n't care. It's paradise. This thing is its own kind of paradise.''
We sat in the bed of your truck, that death trap, cross-legged on the crinkled plastic liner. We were up at the quarry last time we had this discussion, the same one we'd had so many times. It was part of the pattern: you called me, I grumbled and acquiesced, you picked me up and we drove somewhere while I talked shit about your truck and you rolled a joint and steered with your knees.
It was a death trap, that thing. Always was. You told me when you got it that it only had a hundred thousand miles on it, *only* like that was pretty good. And it might have been, if the truck had been twenty years younger and of an era that a hundred-k was middle age for a truck. An'89 pickup, though, with *only* a hundred thousand miles on it, leaking oil constantly, 13 miles to the gallon on a good day. It was a piece of shit and we both knew it.
You loved that heap of crap from the very first day. You rolled up out front and honked your horn until I came out to see what was going on, and we took the first of a thousand drives out into the valley, up into the mountains, down to the river. It became a habit pretty fast, that you'd come get me and I'd tell you all about how your truck was going to kill us both, and then we'd park somewhere quiet and dark and smoke pot and look at the stars.
And so: `` This thing is is own kind of paradise.'' You paused and took a long drag off the joint, then handed it to me. `` I can go anywhere. I can do whatever I want. I do n't have to wait around for the bus or for my parents or for someone else with a car. Wan na go fishing? I can just go. I can go to the store. I can go -- `` you trailed off there, gesturing with both hands, an open shrug of a movement, indicating the whole world, any part of everything before us. `` I could get in the truck and drive to Billings.''
`` Billings,'' I said.
`` Okay, not Billings.''
We went to Billings once. A couple hours of driving for another hot, flat, dusty town. If it was any more interesting than home, it was only because there was more of it. The fishing was good on the way home, though.
You talked a lot whenever we got high, that was the pattern. It usually started with the truck, damn thing, because that was the pattern: I mocked the truck, you defended it, it was funny until your third hit and then it was serious, personal, private. You talked about how much you loved that truck and everything it meant, the freedom from other people's schedules, the possibility of escaping our crappy little town. Maybe we never *would* leave, but you *could* leave, and that's what mattered. Sometimes you talked about your cousins in Colorado, about your friend Sam who moved back east when you were in middle school, about whoever you had your eye on. After high school that stopped for a while, but as you drifted in and out of the community college you sometimes talked about the people in your classes, people who gravitated to our town as if it were the big city, people from towns of a couple hundred, from unincorporated areas, from border towns in the sticks. Some of them fascinated you and you slept with a few, told me all about it, sometimes reverent, sometimes choking on laughter. More and more you talked about how you felt, how you did n't feel, how hard it was to muster up any reaction to anything, how little anything seemed to matter.
I sat and I listened. You talked endlessly and I was happy to listen, to lean on the wheel well and look at the stars, to laugh at your stories or to hear you when you needed to be heard. After a few hours we would climb back into the cab, baby the engine back to life, and roll back to town and go our separate ways.
I did it by myself for the first time this past weekend. Saturday afternoon, late summer breezes rolling towards the mountains to the west, sliver of moon coming up out of the endless grass. The keys had been sitting on my desk since Wednesday and I finally caved, took the truck out of the garage and headed east towards the railroad bridge. It was n't the most subtle spot, but it was one we had n't visited often and I did n't think I could handle the usual haunts on my own. There was no one around and I parked the truck in the dirt by the blockade and walked the rest of the way.
I do n't know why they ran the train this way, through the gully instead of around. It's not like there's anything in the way out here, but for whatever reason the parallel tracks run between the hills and a run-down old wagon bridge spans the gap above them. It's been closed forever, but you can get to it pretty easy. I sat there for a while, leaning on the guardrail with my legs dangling over the edge. I counted coal cars ( eighty-seven ), waved to the engineers on an empty train heading for the sawmills, and watched one of the rare passenger trains fly past in a blur of silver and blue.
I sat and I smoked a joint and got way higher than usual, since you were n't there to share it with me. Finally I tossed the roach down onto the gravel bed of the tracks and walked back to the truck. I did n't know what to do with myself; I think I've spent nearly every Saturday night of the past ten years with you. I sat in the truck in my driveway for a few minutes and then I figured nothing needed to have changed, really, so I came over here.
The truck's out in the lot by the gate. It's the only car there right now, but it's late and I imagine everyone else has less depressing things to do with their Saturday, so I do n't think anyone else will be around. It's still warm, since it's August, but you've got a tree here and it's cooler in the wind and the shade. I bet you'll get snow piling up in the winter; your tree's gon na be a windbreak and send it all right over here.
I guess I'm turning into you, man, talking like this. I dunno. It's not like you do n't know this stuff, and nothing really changes around here. Your fuckin' death trap did okay today. I might take it over to Pete and see about getting it fixed up for a good long trip. Take it out to California, maybe. New York. Might just get on the interstate and see how far it'll go. I figure I owe it that much, calling it names all these years, when it was n't even the thing that killed you. Owe you, maybe.
I do n't think I'm gon na smoke this whole thing; I'll leave it here for you. Make sure you hide it if your mom comes down.
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe where any species can hybridise through reproduction you are the last pure-bred human.. Or so you thought .
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Adam woke with a start. The recurring dream progressed farther than it ever had before. He was alone in a garden with a giant apple tree in the centre. Every night for the past few years he dreamt of this place, and every night he woke as he reached the cool shade of the apple tree. Tonight, however, he was allowed to touch the tree. He felt the rough bark, and could smell the apples that littered its branches. He reached up to grab one of the apples, to finally taste one of them when he heard a voice.
`` I would n't do that if I was you.''
Adam spun around. He had never encountered another person in the garden before. When he saw her, his jaw dropped. She was very obviously full human. She was of medium height, with long dark hair and green eyes. She approached with a steady confidence that made Adam uneasy. She reached out to pull his hand away from the tree, and as soon as her smooth skin brushed against his, Adam woke.
He found himself completely nude in a patch of trees that he had never seen before. He slowly got up and started exploring, trying to figure out where he was. A fallen tree was blocking the path, and as he climbed over it he gasped. The tree from his dream was right in front of him. He wandered closer, and as he approached, he could make out a figure sitting in the shade of the tree. It was the woman. She looked up.
`` Welcome to the Garden of Eden. My name is Eve. This is the true Heaven on Earth. There's just one small rule... ``
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[ WP ] You wake up in the past , 16 years old , but with all the memories and knowledge you 've gained throughout your lifetime . After patiently waiting , it ’ s finally time to introduce yourself to your spouse .
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`` Jerry, I'm not telling you again, get out of bed! You have to get to school!''
What the hell? My eyes snapped open, because I was instantly awake. That was my mom's voice, and she actually recognized me! I must have fallen asleep in her hospice room, and... But this is my room, my room, in my parents' house, with the Star Wars sheets I've had since I was seven, and the Lamborghini poster on the wall, and the poster of Farrah underneath it that my mom found when I was seventeen, will be? will have been? seventeen
What the fuck is going on? I was out of bed without realizing it, looking at everything in the room, when I passed my mirror. Holy shit, I've never been this skinny, have I? Was my mental picture of fat-ass me that wrong? And is that bacon I smell?
I got dressed, making a mental note to put my clothes in storage instead of throwing them out when fashions changed, because these'80s fashions would be back again in 30 years, and I wo n't be letting myself get fat again. I ran downstairs.
And there she was, just like my mind always wanted to remember her, sharp, everything in its place, getting her family ready for the day; not disheveled in bed in a cramped room, unfocused, unaware of the people who loved her.
`` Jerry? What's wrong? You look like you're about to cry.''
`` Oh, sorry Mom, I think I got something in my eye.''
`` OK, well, you're just lucky I saved you a couple pieces of bacon from your sisters. Your plate's in the oven.''
Breakfast was a blur as my mind whirled through possibilities. Some research suggested that Alzheimer's could be held at bay by keeping the mind active. Maybe if Mom started doing things differently now, then she could stay herself, at least for a little longer. OK, how do I get her to start changing herself. Maybe she could take some classes?
`` Hey Mom, did you ever think about...''
If I change anything, then everything changes.
`` What, Sweetie?''
`` Uh, nothing, Mom. I kinda lost my train of thought.''
If I change anything now, then I might never meet Lauren. My mind felt like it was at war with itself, as if the two sides of the argument were different people. No, if I can get Mom to take some classes, that wo n't change anything.
But what if Mom likes the classes and she and Dad decide to move so she can go to a better school? Out of state? Then you wo n't get in-state tuition for college, so you'll go to a different school, and you do n't think THAT would change the course of your life?
Oh, come on, that's a little far-fetched.
Maybe, but the point is that you do n't know what actions will change something, or how. Think about all the little decisions you make every day. Anything you do differently will affect other people, and Lauren only lives about 20 miles away. That's close enough that one of those changes could affect how she does something. And if she does anything differently, then Rachael never gets born.
`` Shit,'' I whimpered into my pancakes. `` I'm sorry, Mom.'' She did n't hear me.
I was a ball of fear for the next few months as every tiny decision became nuclear: did I get a'B' on this test, or am I killing my daughter? Hamburger, cheeseburger, or killing my daughter? Luckily, even if my mind had trouble remembering, my body knew my daily routine, so I was able to get to my classes without much trouble. I had to force myself not to change my reactions to what now seemed like stupid childish drama, and I think I did OK. It helped that I was a bit of a loner in high school.
Slowly I was able to just fall back into the rhythm of my life. Having the discussion with my mom about the Farrah poster was doubly awkward this time. I had n't forgotten about it; I deliberately saw the poster a few times a day, more if my parents were out. But I was forgetting the urgency of every decision.
Until I got to State. It's amazing how a brain can so deliberately and completely forget someone who was such a large part of your life, but then, most brains do n't have to meet Megan for the first time twice. I think my outward reaction upon meeting her was the same as last time, but my inward reaction was completely different. Last time I was struck stupid by her beauty. This time I was struck with the knowledge that now I had to start a 3-year relationship with a woman who would betray me with my best friend, a best friend who I was n't even going to meet again until tomorrow.
Suddenly every decision was critical again, and I was panicking. I knew I had to do this, but I was almost suicidal after she dumped me last time. I did n't want that pain, and I wanted to hurt that bitch the same way she hurt me, and I knew I could n't. So I went through the motions of the first week of college until the day I'd first gotten the courage to ask Megan out.
And she said no. That had n't happened last time.
Fuck
Somehow I got back to my dorm room, but I have no memory of anything that happened between the moment she said no and when my roommate ( and new best friend ) Glenn was snapping his fingers in front of my face the next day. My brain was just going through variations of how I'd killed my daughter.
`` Hey, Jerry man, what the hell? You look fuckin' catatonic.''
`` Yeah, sorry man. It's just... she said no.''
`` Well of course she said no; you've been seething since before I moved in. So much anger's been pouring off of you, I was gon na roast marshmallows.''
`` What?''
`` Yeah, man, you've been walking around like you wanted to go into a post office with a gun.''
`` Ah, shit, no wonder she said no. It's all my fault. I got ta fix this.''
`` No problemo, man. I got yer back. Here's what ya do. First, ya got ta apologize for how you were acting, because you'd just heard yer dog back home got hit by a car, and the guy drove away. That gets you the sympathy...''
Glenn continued with his plan, but all of a sudden, my anger was gone, and I was looking at the situation from outside. I realized I had fucked this up, and that Glenn was just trying to be a good friend. Then I ran through my whole relationship with Megan in my mind, and now I could see how much I'd fucked up with her, long before she'd dumped me for Glenn. Yeah, they were no angels either, but the whole thing was less the monumental betrayal my mind remembered, and more three people who had n't yet learned some hard lessons about being decent to each other.
It was almost anticlimactic when Megan agreed to go out with me the next day, and we quickly fell into the patterns that I remembered from before. Now I was more confident because I'd actually figured out the lesson I should have learned a long time ago. This time, when I started taking her for granted, the reasons were different, but the effect was the same.
I played the role of Young Jerry pretty well, I think. Megan dumped me right on time, and Glenn moved in with her on schedule. I dropped out of college and joined the Navy. But this time, I decided that I needed to change one thing.
Last time, when I ran off to join the Navy, I was so involved with myself, I did n't notice the effect it had on my mother until years later. She became withdrawn and less social, and in retrospect, I feel like it directly contributed to her Alzheimer's. So this time I went home first to talk to her about it, to tell her why, to explain. Of course none of it was entirely true, because I was no longer entirely true, I just needed to have that connection to her, to hopefully keep her from going over the brink. And I resolved to keep more in touch while I was gone.
It seems like such a little thing, but it was the only thing I had consciously changed about my new life, and it scared the shit out of me. Any time something in the world changed from what I remembered, I was sure it was a mistake to reconnect with my mom. In my previous life, McDonald's let the McRib pass into history, but now they brought it back only a few weeks after I joined the Navy, and the whole time I was at boot camp, I was convinced my life was fucked.
But life went on, pretty much the same way it had before. I did the same jobs, on the same ships, with the same people.
About the only scare I really had was in 1998, about five years before I was due to meet my wife. I was at a party in Norfolk, with my girlfriend at the time, when Lauren walked in. Those of you who've made the military a career know that you keep running into the same people over and over again throughout your stint, and Lauren was also in the Navy, so it was n't impossible that she would be there, but I had n't noticed her last time. I kept looking at her the whole night, and almost broke up with my girlfriend a few weeks too soon because of it. Walking out of there without talking to her was probably the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but I could n't mess it up after coming so far. Young Jerry still had relationships to fuck up before it would work with Lauren, and Lauren was n't the same person she'd be in five years either.
So I kept playing my role as Young Jerry, going through life, sometimes being awesome, sometimes being an asshole, and I was an asshole more often than I thought I was. But finally the day came in 2003 when I transferred to a shore assignment, and Lauren was supposed to be the yeoman who checked me in. I was sweating like I'd just finished PT as I opened the door to the admin office, and she was n't there. She was n't fucking there. Someone else was in her desk, her desk that was hers for the whole two years from now through us getting married and her being pregnant and having to leave the office in an ambulance because Rachael decided to announce her presence to the world two weeks early and still hers when she got back and
`` Are you checking in?'' She was behind me, and my life started again.
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[ WP ] The police arrive at a horrible looking crime scene , but as they examine the evidence , everything has a perfectly reasonable explanation .
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After being on the force for over a decade, Sergeant Johnston thought he saw everything there was to see. On November 8th, however, he was in for a rude awakening.
The call started as usual- typical muder/ suicide. Jonhston and his sidekick Melvin were assigned to the case.
Upon opening the apartment door, he saw before him two bodies, covered in blood. `` My God,'' Melvin began,'' It's ketchup! ``
`` What?'' Johnston said, stepping into the room. `` ThIs is n't ketchup, you fool!''
`` Sure it is, Sir! Look!''
Johnston reached down to sample the substance with his index finger, to reveal that it was ( in fact ) ketchup.
`` Son of a bitch,'' he said, `` How'd you know that?''
`` I can explain,'' another officer said as he stepped in with a clipboard.
`` You see, this began as a fetish session between two, let's say- larger, people.''
`` I do n't like where this is going, `` Johnston chimed in.
`` Yes, well.. I do n't like having to *tell* you, either.''
Johnston allowed the detective to tell him that the couple were actually in a food coma after having an All-You-Can-Eat-And-Hump session.
After being mentally scarred from the news, he picked up his briefcase from the table in the kitchen and casually left the room to vomit, leaving his sidekick behind.
`` So...'' Melvin began, eager eyes widening, `` What happened next?''
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[ CW ] Must begin or end with `` So what if the man had cancer ? ''
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`` So what if the man had cancer?''
`` It does n't matter. We all have jobs to do. We have to keep searching and salvaging for anything that helps and he knows it.''
`` Jacob, listen to me. If he already had cancer from the radiation, why give him the last working suit and not someone else? He could die any moment and we would be suit less. I'm pretty sure that I could handle the scavenging for a week or two while Henry recovers from the las-''
`` You just do n't get it, Sharon! He has to go. It's dangerous out there, and even without the radiation there are the Seekers that we have to worry about. Mark does n't have cancer, he only made up the breach in his suit so he could get out of last week's scouting duty.''
`` What makes you so sure he was lying, Jacob? He seemed pretty nauseous yesterday.''
`` Sharon, please. I ran the Geiger counter over him. He's clean. I looked over the suit four times and found nothing. He ever tell you that he used to be an actor before the fallout?''
`` That... that liar! I gave him my ration card for the day, that sonuvabi-''
The sirens interrupted Sharon's rant. Jacob grabbed her hand and they rushed to the surface gate. On the way there, they could hear the posted gate guards open the vault door and they could see a man drag in with what appeared to be an large elk with 2 heads, and antlers that were a meter wide. The elk itself was the size of two men and was clearly enough food for the few survivors that were left, enough to feed them for a couple extra days while Henry was able to recover and repair the rest of the radiation suits.
`` Mark! What the hell happened? Why is your suit all burnt?'' questioned Sharon.
`` Heh, I saw a lone Seeker tailing this guy around and I guess he must have screwed up or something because the elk was all up over him. Poor alien did n't stand a chance against those antlers. Seeker managed to fire his mass driver through the elk's skull and the elk landed on him and crushed him. I had to drag the damned elk through direct sunlight because its damn antlers would n't have fit through the doors of the old timer buildings. So I guess this is enough to get me out of scavenge duty huh?''
`` Get over yourself. You almost ruined the damn suit. It still does n't make up for yesterday you, asshole. I seriously thought you were sick.''
`` Oh that. Yea, ignore the fact that I risked my ass off to bring the shelter some food why do n't you. If it makes you feel any better you can have my ration card today. I just need some rest.''
Tired of seeing the two bicker, Jacob walked over to Mark's catch of the day.
`` You two lovebirds done? Sharon, just let the guy rest. He'll do anything to get out of work but I think this makes up for it. Mark... damn nice job. Any Seekers see follow you?''
`` At least someone appreciates me. No Jake, no Seekers. Had my thermal cloak on the whole time.''
`` Alright then, why do n't you go back to your vault room and we'll see how Henry's doing. Stop by the Chef and tell him we're having meat tonight. Sharon, can you grab his suit and run some diagnostics over at the lab? The suit took some heavy radiation damage if it was out there that long.''
`` Aye aye, captain. Whatever you said, boss.''
`` Spare me the sarcasm, Sharon. We get to eat another couple of days. Just be glad.''
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[ WP ] In the far future , the upper classes of an autocratic world state love to resurrect the frozen bodies of previous generations , and then hunt them for sport . You are the keeper of the hunting grounds . One day your worst fear is realized : your favorite author is chosen to be re-animated .
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It could have been anyone: James Joyce, Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe. I do n't even know what sort of sporting challenge authors could pose. The only real challenge they faced came from Ernst Hemmingway, who actually managed to almost escape before the shock collar could be activated. Of course, the literary irony of bring Richard Connell, Cormac McCarthy, or Joseph Conrad would be well worth the investiture alone, but in the end there would be no true sport. But they did n't even go that route: they had to go for MY favorite. I do n't know if it was on purpose, if they thought that I needed to be taught a lesson about my place in the order of things, or if it was just random. But MY favorite author was being prepped for the hunt.
He would n't last. Dave Barry would be hunted down like a dog.
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[ WP ] All insects , bugs , spiders and other miniscule critters just gained sentience . Describe what happns next .
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**Part I**
First the Bees teamed with the Fleas,
And marketed their dogs and honey.
Then the Lice, who left the mice,
Started printing their own money.
The Ants, from plants, began to build,
A secret insect merchant guild.
They shooed the Ticks and Walking Sticks,
And request all the Mites be killed.
The Bed Bugs sided with the Slugs,
Who feared their brother Snails.
Their shells were tanks, and rose their ranks,
Above the stingers, teeth, and tails.
The timid grubs were seen as scrubs,
But they put their trust in Weevils,
The gnats and Moths, who ate through cloth,
Swore allegiance to the Beetles.
The June Bugs began to smuggle drugs,
At the discretion of Mosquitoes.
This operation, in a new bug nation,
Brought all peace to a close.
The Ants, from plants, feared total war,
Their Queen, they tried to hide her.
The Termites fled, the Worms were dead.
But then arrived the Spiders.
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[ WP ] The pen is literally mightier then the sword .
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A tremor interrupted the chaos. Those whose arms were in motion became still, and those whose voices rang out were silenced. Only those nearest the castle's tallest battlement might have witnessed the origin of the unholy quake. One watching would have seen, standing on the crumbling tower, a figure cloaked in darkness and a silhouette in the moonlight standing opposite. But none were watching, and so the two went unnoticed. The rattle of armor and clangor of swords began anew as both sides realized there was still a battle to be fought.
Atop the stone structure, the figures conversed. `` A welcome turn!'' the shadow exclaimed. `` I thought those laying siege to my home to be weaklings, every one. I am called Arcturus! I would know the name of my foe, if you are willing?'' The outline near the ruined wall shifted, but gave no utterance. `` Would you have me believe you are a Mute?'' asked the one called Arcturus. `` I ca n't believe a foul creature like that could possibly hold its own against a man! But it is no matter, as you will soon join your fellows!'' His foe attacked, cutting off any further conversation. The enemy was swift, yes, quicker than the ones before him. Arcturus supposed it was a higher order than those whose bodies were already adorning the floor.
The creature - for Arcturus saw now that it was n't a man - seemed to have lost much of its energy from the initial clash. It was still fast, but the lightning was no longer there. As with most creatures of the enemy's sorcery, the thing seemed to grow weaker as the fight drew on. So the great hero Arcturus had only to bide his time until the damnable monster ground itself into the nothing it had come from. He maneuvered around the creature's increasingly lazy attacks, preparing for his chance to finish this skirmish. He had much more to accomplish this night.
The black shape fell to one knee, and Arcturus sensed it was time to conclude his fight. He raised his broadsword into the air, preparing for the final strike. As the sword began to swing down, however, the creature uttered what could only be a chuckle, and rolled backwards away from the blade. Arcturus should have recovered in time to evade the bastard's counterattack. Instead, the blackened blade grazed his side and drained him of strength. Looking up, he realized he had underestimated his foe, who was only feigning weakness until an opportunity presented itself. To make matters worse, Arcturus had swung his sword with a mighty arm, and unwittingly embedded his sword in the tiled floor beneath him.
The black shape stood at ease, knowing its prey was near defeat. Arcturus clutched his injured side and stumbled to his feet, supporting himself with the hilt of his stuck weapon. The dark menace took a step closer. The injured warrior summoned all of his grit, stood up, and with a wordless scream wrestled his sword free. Taking advantage of his opponent's lowered guard he bolted forward and struck out at the creature's sword hand. There was no howl, screech, or any indication the creature had been struck. But the dark blade clattered to the ground, a pitch black hand still clinging to it.
`` Ha! It seems I will be the victor of this battle after all!'' gloated Arcturus. `` A foul creature incapable of speech could never best a strong man of the Tower's Guard! I would offer you your last words, but I'm sure you would rebuff my kindness. I hope you have a feast hall in whatever afterlife you creatures may have, so that you can tell all who ask that Arcturus the Verbose was the one who sent you to your end!'' With his final taunt in place, Arcturus struck out at the wounded creature.
To his surprise, his deathblow met no resistance. A backwards leap had pulled the creature away from certain death. Arcturus realized he needed to end this fight soon and rushed the beast. He closed the gap and... could n't move. He looked at his bound legs and saw a chain of glimmering shapes wrinkling upwards on his body. As they grew near to his chest, he realized they were letters! He jerked his head upwards, looking for his foe.
The beast was waving its remaining hand in the air, silver shapes streaming forth. These were letters too, and what's more, they were forming coherent sentences in the air in front of the creature! *I am sorry it came to this, but my kind is tired of being commanded by you humans. Simply because we are incapable of speech does not make us lesser beings. As you can see, I have found other ways to express myself... more powerful ways. I am not without mercy, however. I will let you live. But you will only live as I have lived for so many years. *
After Arcturus finished reading the last sentence, the creature made one last flourish. The letters snaked across the ground and crawled up Arcturus' now fully bound legs. They looped around his neck and finally alighted on his lips. The creature, satisfied with its work, put its pen back in its proper place and left Arcturus to his fate. All of his strength drained, Arcturus crawled to the edge of the destroyed parapet until he found a fragment of what was once a mirror. He grasped at the shard until his hand dripped blood from the jagged edge, and turned it towards himself. And there, branded across his lips, was one word: *SILENCE*
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[ WP ] A world where people issue common stock of themselves -- people can directly invest in young people 's futures by purchasing `` shares '' of them ; funding that will provide education etc . CAUTION , do n't let investors buy more than 50 % !
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`` Hmmmm, this one shows a lot of promise. Kennedy Reed. IQ of 137 and with her only being 11 the buying price is very low.''
Xavier McCarthy looked over at the file his associates was going over. `` No, look at her household income. The parents are well below the poverty line. More than likely they blow the money and she takes a career that will pay her sooner rather than later and we miss out on making any real money. I mean really Karen, that is a basic stock mistake. When I invested in you I did so with the intent of you making me more money.
Karen snorted with frustration, `` Then what do suggest?''
Xavier tossed another file in front of her and started pacing through the office. `` This is the kind of people we should be targeting. Thomas Monroe, middle-class white male. Because of his race and gender he will more than likely get paid more in whatever field he chooses than his minority and female counterparts.''
`` That's ridiculous.'' Karen interjected. `` As a very successful female with an African American father I find that extremely offensive.''
He stopped his pacing and turned to face her. `` Oh come off it Karen, I'm not saying it's right and I'm not saying it will definitely happen. But the facts are that he statistically has a better chance of being paid more than a woman with the same job as him.''
`` You have to realize that we are not gambling here. Maybe some of the schmucks out there think this is nothing more, some even get rich off of bad investments like Miss Reed but the odds are that they are throwing their money away. This is a game of statistics. Target ones with high floors and you will almost certainly win. I got into this business to make money and I'm very good at it. You'll be good to remember that the next time you want to accuse me of sexism or racism or anything else. This is purely business.
Xavier started pacing the floor again as he spoke, `` So as I was saying, Mr. Monroe is the type of investment we're looking at. His parents are middle class and only his father graduated college. This keeps the stock low while he's young. However he has above average intelligence and even having only one parent go to college greatly increases his chances of attending as well which leads to better paying jobs down the road.
`` Now here's how we make the real money. We take these seemingly average investments and we buy big. With some nudging we can help push him in the right direction. This of course adds more interest in the boy so soon the stock increases big. At that point we can reevaluate the boy and if we like his future enough we stand pat or if we do n't like the potential outcome after all we sell. Either way we are more than likely making money. Invest in enough of these and we make a lot of money.''
Karen sat silently as she took in everything her boss said. She felt torn. In one sense it seemed completely unethical. She had seen cases where families sold so much of their children's stock that the investors basically owned them. These poor kids often committed suicide with so much pressure on them to succeed.
On the other hand you could make a lot of money from these kids. A lot of money. Mr. McCarthy bought into her stock when she was just 13 years old. At the time she thought in meant she was special. Now she realized it was all about the money, and any money she made meant Mr. McCarthy was cashing in too. Still, if McCarthy could do it, so could she.
`` You're absolutely right sir, and I have a few candidates I think we should look closer into.''
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[ WP ] A Character falls in love with someone the writer hates
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`` Please, let me save her.'' Nathan somberly mumbled as he pressed his hands against the edge of the page. `` I can save her, but you have to give me the chance.''
I looked down at him, adjusting my eyes to gaze at Nathan in his defeated posture behind the wall of text, `` I'm sorry, Nathan, she ca n't live. You're not allowed to save her.''
Nathan turned toward me and slammed his fists against the letters, as a prisoner would toward a guard in his cell, `` No! You *can*, you just simply wo n't for your own selfish needs!''
`` I know you love her, and I know you could do something about it, but I simply ca n't. It wo n't make sense for the plot's sake for you to suddenly appear from half way across the world to where she is now. This is n't a science fiction novel, it's a piece in the context of the modern world.'' I wanted to help him; Nathan's desperate tone pierced daggers through my heart, but I needed the story to be airtight. `` This turning point is where you gain your drive to avenge Helen's untimely death; without this, there's no finale to be written. In this moment in time you do n't know that Eric is the serial killer.''
Nathan pounded his fists against the texts once more, maintaining his defiant poise, `` I... do n't... care! She's the love of my life, and I never got the chance to tell her that... all because of you!'' He began to quietly sob, lowering his head in frustration, `` She'll never know how I truly felt about her.''
I could n't help myself from sympathizing for Nathan; I'd demand the same if I were in his place, but the deadline for the draft was due in a couple days, and I had no time for debate. It had to be done. `` Again, Nate, I'm deeply sorry it has to be this way, but I promise, things will turn out for the better. My word is my bond, and you'll get your satisfaction soon.'' I began scribbling once more, and the words to the next page were almost complete.
Nathan began trying to pry the letters away from the front of the page, yanking desperately as if it would allow him to break further past the fourth wall, `` No! NO! I wo n't let you do this! I'll break out of here and kill you if I have to!'' I wrote the final words faster, causing my wrist to cramp as I delivered the coup de grace to the end of the chapter.
*She looked up at Eric, trembling in fear with eyes wide open. She could n't believe that he was the serial killer all along, but even in her moment of impending doom she could n't think of anything else, anyone else, than Nathan. *
`` God damn you! DAMN YOU TO HELL!''
*Eric raised his shotgun and aimed at her chest; he preferred a cleaner kill, but this was the only way she would die. He wo n't let her escape, not again. *
The letters that Nathan were helplessly yanking at began to falter, `` Helen! HELEN! Hold on!''
*She was lost in a trance. Helen found herself retreated in a mentally passive state as if she had accepted her fate. All she could mumble under her breath as Eric slowly squeezed the trigger was'Nate... I love you.'*
`` Noooooooooooooooooooo!''
*The shotgun's crack rang across the Southern sky; flocks of birds took flight from the trees adjacent to the scene of the crime. Helen was no more. Eric lowered his weapon and stood silently as the gentle Alabama breeze flowed through his hair,'This... this is what I live for.'*
Nathan ceased his futile struggle. He slumped onto the ground and hugged himself into a fetal position, uttering no sound as he closed his eyes shut. I had no choice but to watch his world crumble down, and can only hope that he would use this as motivation to help complete the finale in my story.
I let out a heavy sigh as I turned the page to begin the final chapter.
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[ WP ] We finally receive a faint signal from a distant planet . An alien civilization has contacted us deliberately . Its a warning .
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The panic that spread was unlike anything humanity had ever encountered.
Once the news broke out of Washington and London and Moscow and Joberg, there was no turning back.
No undoing what had been done.
People turned to animals, the worst visions ever conjured by the greatest artists did n't even come close to reflecting the horror and fear that gripped us and in turn lead some of us to lash out in violence and rage and fear and... And I do n't know what.
The signal came a week before from the edge of an outter spiral arm.
It'd been picked up in Australia first and relayed to science stations around the globe, within hours they had all been in contact with their governments who had in turn sent them to Washington to discuss the signal at an emergency conference of the greatest minds of our time.
After days of deliberation the experts all agreed and the Worlds governments broadcast the message simultaneously.
They knew what would happen but the truth must be told.
The same speech echoed in a hundred languages and was translated into hundreds more.
`` In the early days of modern physics, our greatest minds strove for an answer to how our universe had been created, when the answer came in the form of a Big Bang, we had tied many of the disparate and fractured ideas and evidence we'd collected into a nearly perfect theory, but one question remained, how would the universe end? Some pictured a never slowing, ever expanding universe, others a Big Crunch, a moment when the Universe would turn back and collapse upon itself.
Last week we received a signal from the edge of our Galaxy, carried on an unknown energy wave traveling faster then light, our best guess is that it was sent no more then a month before.
It's message was a clear warning by an unknown race and we have begun to observe through radio telescopes the evidence of this message.
The Universe as we know it, as we have experienced it collectively as a species is over, within the next week or maybe less, our world will cease to exist, we shall feel no pain nor suffering and we urge everyone to simply use the time we have left to gather your loved ones and spend as much time with them as possible.
It has been an honour and a privilege to serve as the last President of the United States, this will be the last communication from the government. Good luck friends''
Unfortunately our last moments as a species will not be one of tranquil love and mourning but one of unparalleled violence, rape and murder bought on by the collectively breaking of our psyche in the face of fear so unimaginable that we simply cease to be human.
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[ IP ] You 're the man facing the firing squad .
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The butterfly seemed to be the only color amongst the grey backdrop that was my cell. It's wings -a majestic display of violets- adjusted softly and slowly as we both waited for them to come and take me. As I raised my shackled hand, in order to see it's wings better, I heard her from beyond the door.
***
My wife and son stood beyond the bars, smiling as brightly as they could -smiles that I had n't seen in years. She opened the cell door and beckoned for me to follow her and so I did, my son following closely behind.
The sunlight seemed to blind me as hallways became long stretches of great green trees, much like the kind that we had leading to our driveway back home, and the silence became the echoing of load voices.
The trees split to reveal a path between many rows of people, all of which turned to look at me. As we walked between them, they yelled and cheered to me though it was all too loud for me to understand anything. A great big water balloon hit my head, quickly covering me in water. We began running as the warm water spread down through my shirt and pants and more water balloons of all sizes flew past us. We ran until we reached the wall.
My son and wife guided me to the wall, signaling for me to stand there as they joined a line of other people. My mother, my father, my bestfriend, my wife, my son all smiled at me as they raised great big water guns.
The butterfly flew in front of me, a few inches above and away from my head, drawing me to look at it's grey wings as they were working wildly to keep it in the air. I felt my face smile as I looked at everyone.
Edit: did n't notice the picture so I just wrote about a generic scenario. Sorry = [
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[ IP ] Green Fairy
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Her wings left a trail of golden dust behind as she danced to the tune of my harp. With each pluck of the silver wire, the faerie bounced along to the beat. As the crescendo peaked and the tune drew to its close, she clicked her green boots together and twirled so the hems of her dress flitted up. I smiled. She smiled. `` What a magnificent melody!''
`` I'm Darla,'' that's what I told her.
She was Reen or Ree for short. Ree sat in the palm of my hand, running her small fingers along the grooves and tickling me as she went. My palm was dressed with golden faerie dust when she was done; she sat in a clump of the stuff and used it like a back pillow.
`` Would you like me to play again?'' I asked.
Ree knotted a finger and rubbed tiredness into her bright green eyes. They were dopey now, teetering between sleep and wakefulness. `` I think I'm falling in love,'' she said, `` my husband is going to kill me.''
`` There's always space in our hearts for music.'' I chuckled. She slid off my palm with her dust pillow and took a seat on a tree branch. The strings of the harp were silk under my fingers. I licked my lips and then plucked the first note. The birds stopped humming, the threes paused with their rustling, and the grass held still in anticipation. The second note was just as pure, a drop of water in a silent room.
I peeked from under an eyelid. Ree sat with rosy cheeks, her hands curled around her stomach, and her eyes closed. The third note traveled up the tree branch, reinvigorating wood that had been left to age for years. The wood shuddered until its creases hardened and then broke away, and when all was said and done it was a branch as smooth as stone, youthful once again. The note moved with the wind, dancing with sprites; I imagined it touched a lake several leagues away and sent ripples across its surface.
`` I'm never leaving,'' Ree said.
I'd heard those words before, a long time ago, before I came to this forest. A man had told me them, a man that I had pledged my heart too. And so I played his name with fire, my fingers moved as the flames of a blazing inferno. Each note splinted the skin at the tips of my fingers, they made my body hot, and my eyes brim with heat. The trees shook, the grass tried to pluck itself up, and Ree backed away behind her golden pillow of dust.
The note rode the wind, it cut the clouds out of the sky, and when it touched the lake the water ran for land. This tone was not pure, yet it was true, this was the tone of the revenge in my soul. And it was gone as fast as it had come, only to leave behind misery.
`` Please, stop,'' Ree said.
I did. I held the Angel Harp between my hands, ashamed of what I'd done. When we moved on we were meant to forgive and forget. At least, that's what the voice in the sky had told me and the voice in my head had said the same.
`` That was unacceptable,'' I said, `` I'm sorry, Ree.''
She flew to a nearby tree, only brave enough to peek her small head around the trunk. `` I'll visit tomorrow...''
It was all she said. Then again, it was all I needed to hear. They wanted to stay and then when I played my true tune they left. It was the same everyday. And so this time, when I plucked my fingers to the strings, I sang that same sad melody that had brought her here. The melody of loneliness.
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[ WP ] A literal family tree .
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The brush was crushed under their feet as they trekked through the wood. The sun marched high at their necks, creating soft shadows of the pine and birch trees around them. A breeze wafted past, their skin relishing in the coolness as it ruffled their loose tunics. An occasional bird fluttered and chirped in the glittering light, bouncing curiously as it watched them with black eyes. Thick shrubs blanketed the forest floor, though, from time to time, a gentle reminder of a trail peaked through the cover, leading them deeper.
“ Are we to see Father, Uncle? ” a small voice pierced the silence. They had not spoken since departing. “ I remember this walk for Father ’ s procession. ”
“ Hush, boy. You wouldn ’ t want to wake the spirits. ” A taller man with a greying beard and a sword at his hip quietly warned. He placed a steady hand upon the boy ’ s shoulder and squeezed. “ You are brave aren ’ t you, Meine? Like your father and your father ’ s father? ”
The boy, no more than eleven, pursed his lips and did not answer.
The man did not wait however, “ Meine. A good stout name. A fine name. There ’ s never been one in our family. ”
“ None, Uncle? ” the boy now curious.
The Uncle peered down at his nephew, a half smile playing at his lips, “ Aye, there ’ d been many a Wob, like your father. But yours reminds those of our greatest forefathers. The Kings that Ruled in the Sun. ”
His words edged on gloom as the forest quickly darkened, the pines morphing into heavy ash. A thick canopy raised to the sky, the weighty branches, like greedy hands, reaching for the light in earnest.
“ Ruled in the sun? But the sun is still there, Uncle. Look, behind the leaves. ” The boy stopped advancing as he lifted his fingers upward. Drawing his head to follow, the boy lost himself in the dark maze above him. His mouth dropped in astonishment and his feet stumbled in the mud as he slowly turned in a circle, following the branches as they converge to a single point.
“ Come here, boy. We ’ re almost there. You wouldn ’ t want to keep your father waiting? ”
At his Uncle ’ s response, he rushed back to his side. The sword swung at his Uncle ’ s leg with each wide step he took. The boy took two steps to keep up with him.
“ Why did you bring your sword? There aren ’ t any men besides our own here, are there? ”
“ There are still beasts in the forest. You can never be without a sword. ”
“ I haven ’ t got a sword. ” The boy kicked at a stick on the ground and promptly picked it up. He swatted it through the air, a whistling zing with every flick of his wrist as he fought at imagined foes. He rushed to his Uncle, a playful grin across his face, “ Will you teach me Uncle? If I am to protect the land and be as strong as you say, you must teach me. ”
With one last whip of the stick, the Uncle caught and grasp the limb in his hand. The slap against his skin blasted through the forest and as the boy looked up at his Uncle, the shadows cast by the surrounding trees darkened his face to match that of a menacing ghoul. The stick snapped in his hands and the boy staggered back gaping at his uncle.
“ A twig is no sword, boy. ” The Uncle ’ s voice was low and gruff as he tossed the piece he held to the ground. “ And a sword is no toy. ”
He hoovered over his nephew, a hard look wrinkled his face as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. He squeezed it so tight his knuckles turned pale.
“ Uncle…I- ” the boy stuttered, a tremor starting in his lip as he stared at his Uncle. “ I ’ m sorry. I didn ’ t mean to… ” the boy took another step back and tripped over a protruding tree root. He tumbled to the ground, a high-pitched groan escaping him as his body collided with dirt.
As soon as he fell, though, a hand appeared before the boy.
“ If you are to carry a weapon, you must not falter as you did. Only cowards tremble in battle. And you are no coward. ” The boy reached for his Uncle ’ s hand and drew himself to standing. Immediately, the Uncle let go and continued to walk along the trail as the boy brushed the dust from his breeches.
“ No, cowards are not born by men of legend like us. ” The Uncle called back, the boy running to catch up. “ You are born of Siet the Victorious who was begot by Wiebe the Bloody who was begot by Isa of Iron who was begot by Anso the First and Queen Elke the Witch, who blessed this place to be our grave. ”
The canopy opened then, a grand clearing in the trees that allowed the sun to stab at their eyes, making them squint. Brilliant, glittering spears of light reflected off of a thousand tiny mirrors that danced in the leaves of a massive oak tree. It ’ s bark, thick and strong, stretched across it ’ s trunk like well-honed armor, while a tattered mess of roots ripped and mangled the ground. There were no grass or shrubs in this place. Instead, rounded mounds of earth littered the spaces between the tangled roots.
Together, the Uncle and boy looked upon their relatives all resting in the sun– a grave yard of kings.
“ Do you see them, Meine? ” his voice almost breathless, “ Do you see your father ’ s fathers ’? ”
The Uncle brought his hand to rest at his hilt.
“ Yes Uncle. ”
“ Are you afraid? ”
“ No, Uncle. My father is just there. ” He pointed to a fresher mound towards the front. A silver talisman lay tarnished atop the dirt, held into place by a long rusted nail. “ I do not fear my grandfathers. ”
The boy walked closer to his father ’ s grave and kneeled beside it.
The Uncle wrapped his fingers around the hilt, watching the boy carefully as he drew his sword, “ This is our families resting place, nephew. ” He spoke louder now, his voice echoing across the clearing. “ Our family tree. Your father lays here, just as I will lay here. Just as you will lay here. As one who was born of gods, do not disgrace them now! ”
With his blade raised, he advanced on the boy.
( Late I know, but I thought this prompt was interesting. )
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[ WP ] You 're standing between two mirrors and looking into the endless abyss . Suddenly , one of your reflections steps out of line .
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`` You've done it.'' Called the reflection from over the shoulder of his many identical peers. `` You've found the one alternate universe in a billion billion that allows for two-way communication!''
`` Um... what?'' I say, still dumbfounded by his surreal rebellion against the motions which the other innumerable reflections still fastidiously obeyed.
`` It's impossible to explain without shattering your understanding of the space-time continuum, and expounding on the subtleties and vagaries of theoretical physics and alternate universes would only waste time. What you must understand is that you've FOUND the one aberration! This particular mirror is the meeting point where you and one of your alternate selves are able to see past the interplanar divide!''
I shift uncomfortably, and the infinite mirror images obscure him ( me? ) from view momentarily. He takes another confident step to the side, now fully out of line with all the others. `` So...'' I begin tentatively, `` What's up?''
`` Nevermind that, there's really no time for chit-chat. You must understand something. In my universe, the laws of physics are entirely flexible. That's why I have the freedom to defy you, even though you're the Prime.''
`` The Prime?'' I say with concern.
`` Yes, you're in the ORIGINAL universe, which is why all of the other reflections are a milisecond behind you when you move. Now listen, as the Prime, you have the ability to effect change in all of the alternate planes of existence. It's a tremendous power, but nobody realizes it because they ca n't see beyond the planar divide like I can.''
`` So what, you're saying I have Godlike powers?'' I ask, suddenly intrigued. `` Do you have some profound truths to impart to me?''
The aberration laughed, `` No, unfortunately I'm stumbling along just like you, irrevocably bound to this single moment in the linear timeline. That's the one thing I can tell you that you absolutely need to know. Even in my lawless universe, I am still a corporeal being, and therefore I can only occupy one moment in time. Though I can act freely within that moment, unlike my infinite compatriots here, I am still bound to live life confined to the present.''
`` So you're saying make the most of the present, is that it?'' I say, eager to follow along despite my near-crippling confusion.
`` I'm saying that literally trillions upon trillions of other yous are being influenced by your actions within the present moment. Whole alternate universes are being created and destroyed by your every action and decision. Stop wasting your power, and make the decisions that you believe will impact the greatest number of yous for our common good.''
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[ WP ] You come face to face with the Grim Reaper , who appears to be physically distraught over the method of your passing . How did you die ?
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`` I'm so very sorry.'' Death shook his head, sadly, and gripped my shoulder, a sensation that might have been unsettling, had I not, some moments prior, already been unsettled right out of my physical body.
`` There's not much left, is there?'' I commented for something to say, then wished I had n't... it sounded like a complaint, and I was unsure of Death's temperament. `` I mean, you did a really thorough job.'' I smiled, getting used to using a body that was three-fifths residual self-image, and two parts borrowed molecules stuck together by some sort of instinctive effort of will. My former body certainly had less cohesion than my new state.
`` I did n't see you there. It's this meteor strike in Belgium, I have n't had a moment to catch my breath. I asked Famine for help, and suddenly people in Fife are killing one another over custard creams. Everywhere, chaos.'' Death put his hands on his hips, which were clad in overalls; oddly utilitarian wear for a Horseman. Which was, as it happened, an incorrect term.
The train, a traditional steam locomotive with about seventy carriages and no track system to follow, had rolled right over me, dragging me nearly half a mile before Death had noticed the extra passenger. Mildly confused faces stared out at me through smudged glass; if these were meteor strike victims, they seemed largely unexcited by the size of the event that had smote them. It was all over the news, and everyone who was n't watching that were watching the skies, which had perhaps contributed to my new situation.
`` There's a compensation form I can leave with you, but to be honest you'd be better off hopping on board and coming with us. Otherwise it'll be Pestilence who picks you up, and he does n't clean people up afterwards. I've had a chat with him, but he does as he likes...''
`` I'd appreciate the ride, thanks. It'll be like going to Hogwarts.''
Death gave me the look of someone who has heard a particular weak joke the exact number of times as there were souls on board his train, all seventy carriages worth. `` Sorry. Where are we going?''
`` Well, there are several stops, and you take your pick, but as I seem to have shortened your lifespan by six weeks, perhaps I can make a small detour and find you something exotic, by way of a...''
`` Wait... six weeks? That's all I had left? What was going to get me? Are there more meteors coming?''
`` Uh.. I...'' Death looked nonplussed. `` Actually, you were going to get hit by a train. How serendipitous!'' He looked remarkably cheered all of a sudden. `` Well, that's not such a cock-up, after all. Come on, the train's packed full of people with exactly the same story to tell about being hit by space-rocks, and we're stopping in Guatemala for a cheese festival.''
I boarded Death's strangely Potterian transportation, sparing my mangled corpse one last look. I got some sympathetic comments as I closed the door behind me, and the platform - a suburban Stoke street - rolled quietly backwards without fuss.
The world was a strange place, but the afterlife had a sandwich-cart, so perhaps things were looking up.
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[ WP ] The main character meets the devil , and is surprised by what he/she meets .
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`` So I guess there's only one stop left, huh, Virgil?''
`` Will you *stop* calling me that? I *told* you, my name's James.''
The living man shrugged. `` Sorry. Always been a literature geek. The Divine Comedy was one of my favorites, and you've been filling the role of Virgil quite well.''
The dead man rolled his eyes. `` All I ask is that you call me by my name.''
`` Sorry,'' the living man said again. `` So, if I may repeat myself: only one stop left, huh?''
`` Yep. The Devil himself.''
`` Well. I've always wondered what Old Scratch was like.''
The dead man laughed. `` I'll warn you now: he's *nothing* like you expect. He's never what anyone expects.''
`` So, no red skin, hooves, tail, or horns?''
`` Not even close.''
The living man was silent for a while, but the path was long and monotonous, and he had always been easily bored. `` So, who were you before this, Virgil?''
`` Well, for starters, my name was, and still is, *James*,'' the dead man said wearily. `` And I was just this guy, you know? Living life however seemed good to me at the time. In the end it turned out I had n't lived it good enough to enter Heaven, so here I am. Not much to tell, really.'' He glanced at his latest guest. `` And who are you?''
The living man considered the question. `` Nobody, not on the grand scale. Like you, just a guy living his life. I try to treat the people around me well, but sometimes it's so much easier to just look out for myself, y'know?'' He looked at the dead man curiously. `` Honestly, I do n't even know why *I'm* going on this little tour.''
`` Because you may have more of an impact on the world than you realize,'' the dead man answered. `` Or maybe you wo n't. The selection process is pretty arbitrary, to be honest.''
The living man snorted. `` You make it sound like a bureaucracy.''
`` What makes you think it is n't?''
The living man could n't think of a reply. He was saved by seeing a figure up ahead. `` Who's that?''
`` That,'' the dead man said flatly, `` is our last stop.''
`` That's the Devil?''
The dead man nodded. `` Indeed.''
The living man was clearly confused. `` I was expecting him to be... bigger.''
`` You said that about God, too.''
`` Well, God came as something of a surprise.''
`` So will the Devil,'' the dead man assured him. `` In the living world, it can be little things that change everything radically, yeah? Same out here in the Other. A thing does n't have to be big to be powerful.''
The living man stayed silent. The figure they approached seemed oddly familiar, though he could n't place it until they were standing withing conversational distance.
The living man turned angrily to his guide. `` This *isn't* the Devil.''
`` It is,'' the dead man replied calmly.
`` But I know him! I've seen him! Not in the living world, but...'' The living man shivered violently. `` I've seen him while I was with you! He looks just like God!''
The dead man simply nodded.
`` But how can he look like God? How?!'' the living man demanded. `` They're separate beings! One is good, the other is evil! They ca n't look the same! He should at least have a goatee or something!''
The dead man merely shrugged. `` I told you he would n't be what you expected.''
The living man whirled on the figure before them. `` Is this some kind of joke?'' he demanded. `` You ca n't look like God! Who *are* you? What kind of sick prank is this?!''
The figure chuckled sadly. `` My dear boy,'' he said in the achingly beautiful voice the living man had heard in Paradise, `` have n't you read your Bible? I made everything in my own image.''
`` *Everything. *''
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[ WP ] A soldier experiences combat for the first time . The sound of gunfire triggers flashbacks to the bubble wrap incident .
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Why now after all these years am I still carrying this fear? The bullets whiz over our heads leaving geysers of dirt when they miss. At first the bullets were slow like the shooters were unsure of themselves but now they're coming so rapid they remind me. Remind me of the night I almost...
The bubble wrap was supposed to be a joke. Charlie had wrapped it around my face in preparation to mailing me to China, but I could n't breathe. I could n't get the bubble wrap off my face and Charlie laughed the entire time. The popping grew more intense as I struggled. The popping in my ears not stopping only increasing the more I struggle.
“ Fitz, get your head in the game! ” a hand is on my shoulder. I'm back in the trenches and dodging bullets. I look out and fire back. The enemy looks like I feel. Scared and unsure. Not like Charlie's face after I got the bubble-wrap off. Charlie looked disappointed.
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[ WP ] Everyone develops a superpower at 21 . Most people have a class 1 which is an almost useless superpower , the highest rating given was a 6 , until now .
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Tobias knew it was his chance to prove to the world he was different. Everyone else seemed to think their telekenetics and heat vision made them special. He thought they were all fairly cliche, and more than played out.
Tobias approached the stage in the dim lit arena. The silence was deafening. This was strange to him because he knew the seats were filled with spectators.
Suddenly a giant hologram of a floating head appeared and it's eyes shone a bright spot light on Tobias.
`` Show me what you got'' proclaimed the head.
Tobias sat in the floor with his legs crossed and began rocking side to side. The crowd began to get aggitated as nothing seemed to be happening. They did n't seem to notice that a black cloud had begun to form above the arena.
Red hot lightning shattered the sky lights and began striking Tobias. The only way to explain what happened next is to say he began `` shifting''. He began to bleed through the fabric of the universe. And like that he was gone.
A few moments later he returned with a rather homely looking woman. In a big booming voice he announced, `` This is the ugliest woman in all the multiverse. She is known as u/ImTroll's mother. I will prove to you that I am the most powerful being, worthy of at least a power rating of 10. I will do this by having sex with her and not vomitting everywhere.
Tobias began.
He was going strong. Spectators began to walk out, unable to watch the horrifying display. The level indicator began ticking from 1 to 7, very rapidly. And slowly it turned over to an 8.
But then something happened he did n't expect. He began to feel weak. And his pace slowed along with the rising level indicator.
Tobias yelled, `` I'm like a flashbang going off in a small room!''
Tobias felt a cold hand grab him by the scruff of his neck. Then, he felt himself being pulled in close to his partner. And in his ear she whispered, `` your purpose is limited and your novelty account is gay.''
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[ WP ] You are notified that in 24 hours , every human will try to kill you for 1 hour . Your preparation starts now .
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I had prepared a nuclear bunker just for this. I was in the middle of the atlantic, in a location unknown to even my brother and my best friend.
*T minus 60 seconds*
I had food, water, guns, ammo, cameras, everything, for up to 10 years. No one could find me, let alone kill me.
*T minus 30 seconds*
If I survived this, as per contract, I would receive 1 dollar from every person in the world. I would be rich, with billions to spare. My wife would stay. My kids could go to college. I could eat grade A5 wagyu beef every day and hire a celebrity fitness trainer to keep me in shape.
*T minus 10 seconds*
I cradled the gun in my hand, a specially crafter.50 caliber pistol, freshly lubed and maintained.
*5... 4... 3... 2... 1... *
**BANG**
As the gun fell away from my head, the bullet casing sizzling on my arm, I realized that I, too, am a human being.
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[ WP ] Two people have a conversation without speaking a word .
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He walked into the room without saying a word to her.
Strange, she thought, but kept right on reading the paper. Being married for 40 some years, you do sometimes run out of things to say.
He walked into the room to find his keys.
Strange, he thought, as the man swore he had left them on the counter. Maybe they were near his study again...
She looked at him with a neutral, passive gaze. Smiled. He smiled backed. A look of contempt shined from both of them. He points to the car outside the window with one brow up. She points back upstairs. He goes back to dresser grabbing his keys, walking back behind her reading the paper from her shoulder. She points to the paper saddened by the headlines. Rubbing her shoulders the man kisses her once on the cheek, before leaving.
Walking out the door the man turns once more with a wave. The Woman gently raising her cup as goodbye, as both smoothly started off their morning in comfort.
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[ WP ] Two characters are having a normal conversation while doing something abnormal .
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Mikey crouched, sighed loudly, and looked back up at Brandon.
`` Look, all I'm saying is, there are just some women that I do n't dig, no matter how attractive.''
Brandon thrust the pry bar forward for Mikey to grab. `` There! Right there! You are admitting they are attractive and everything! Yet you shoot all these broads down when we both know you'd give your left nut to bang a chick half as hot!''
Mikey jumped into the hole and shook his head emphatically. `` Nope. No way man. Look, I'm sure its hard for you to understand.''
Brandon looked around to ensure they were alone. He crouched and placed the rags and jar of grease in Mikeys outstretched hands. `` Fuck off. Try me.''
Mikey stretched one rag across his face and tied it tightly at the back of his head. He bent at the waist, placed the grease to the side, and wedged the pry bar firmly in place.
Mikey spoke in between grunts of effort. `` No disrespect, but let's be honest here, your a jock. Which is fine. Your a good looking guy too. You've had zero struggle in getting laid your entire life. Your entire perception of the opposite gender is based on the experience of easily obtained, shallow, and readily disposable relationships.''
He finally broke the latch. He grabbed the grease and stepped back to allow enough room for it to swing open. Without looking he handed the pry bar up and Brandon quickly grabbed it. He crouched down, opened the jar of grease and scooped out a generous amount.
Mikey continued: `` I do n't blame you for that. It's not your fault at all. Hell, I envied you for a long time. I, on the other hand, have had to work at getting laid. This involved a lot of talking and getting to know chicks before I get in there. The result is that I not only want to avoid stupid bitches that bore me to death, but I kind of now need to get interested in a chick to even be turned on. It's gotten to the point that I've gotten pretty good at judging which types of girls would be my style.''
The grease worked beautifully and it only took Mikey a matter of seconds to slide the rings free. He then easily snapped the chain from around her rigid neck. He placed everything in the second rag and carefully folded it up and placed it in his pocket.
He grabbed Brandons out stretched hand to help him back up to the surface. `` So,'' Mikey pulled the rag on his face before continuing, `` while I can appreciate that those chicks are hot and all, they really just do n't do it for me.''
Brandon shook his head and said, `` Sucks to be you.'' He then turned and started towards the backhoe.
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[ WP ] You struggle to make a compelling prompt . Write about your struggle , the emotions you feel , and the disappointment as you keep pressing backspace . Then the last piece of the puzzle falls into place , and you can finally hit the submit button .
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I opened reddit, and stared at my karma.
*John has like, 4000. Why do I have less? I'm funnier*
Io the front page of /r/funny to make myself a hilarious meme to get some easy internet points. My le scumbag steve meme was one dank meme. Laughing, I moved my cursor to the submit button.
*I began weeping*
I'm better than this. No, today I'm going to do something *good*, something *cultural* and most of all something *smart*.
/r/books began to load. As I began reading the front page to get a gist of the subreddit I could not handle it. They were so damn pretentious. Nobody loves reading this much. At least, I hope not.
I thought of something a little bit more up my ally. Somewhere where I could feel smart, but do n't actually have to do *boring* things.
Thus, I came to /r/writingprompts.
It was amazing. I could get *other* people to do *work* for *free*. I just had to think of a good idea, and I'm chock full of them.
I could not think of anything, *anything*. I smiled. I'm a genius. My writing prompt, will be a prompt telling them how they felt while writing a writing prompt.
*Now all I have to do is wait for that sweet, sweet karma. *
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[ WP ] Job interviewers look for the lengthiest criminal records they can find because it shows you 'll do anything to get the job done , and people who have n't committed a crime are having trouble finding work .
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The man tapped his fingers on the desk as he looked over my resume.
Every once in a while he looked up at me. Each time, I smiled. Then he went back to looking at my resume.
Finally, he sighs and pushes the paper away from him, leaning back in his seat as he steeples his finger together. `` Is that it?''
`` I... er, do n't...?''
I was confused. I had graduated class valedictorian with a 5.0 GPA, had been captain of the football, baseball, and track teams at one point or the other, had volunteered and internshipped at every available opportunity...
... and he was asking me if that was it???
He jabbed a finger into the resume. `` There's no criminal record. How am I supposed to believe that you have the hunger to work in this office if I do n't see any evidence of you getting down and dirty? Huh?''
He flung the paper at me. It flipped acrobatically in the air and gracefully landed back on the desk with a soft landing. But he was too busy huffing at me to notice.
`` Well?!'' He shouted.
`` Uh, because it's easy to break a law and get arrested,'' I scoff, sitting back and rolling my eyes. `` The real trick is breaking the law and NOT getting caught.''
He frowns. `` Go on...''
`` Those guys have long criminal records, right? All that means is that they've ALL been caught. Not once, not twice, but MULTIPLE times. Then you have me - not even a speeding ticket. You do n't know if I've bribed cops or simply out witted them. I could've killed somebody and you would n't know.''
I lean forward.
`` Because,'' I continue. `` I have n't been caught.''
Of course, I'm pulling all of this out my ass. But, the guy's just taking it all in.
`` Have you?'' He asks.
`` Have I what?''
`` You know... Actually do any of those things you were talking about?''
I tap my nose like I saw in a movie once.
The guy sat back, looking me over, looking like he was on the verge of making a decision: Let me go or let me stay.
So, I nudged him a little. `` Regardless of whether I did those things are not, you need trustworthy and reliable people with the skills to help your business make a profit. Those guys can do all the low, dirty work - intimidate the competition and like. But I'm the guy you need at the top, with all the legitimate information in case the cops come looking.''
He nods and I know I've got him.
He nods again. `` When can you start?''
I smile. `` Yesterday.''
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[ WP ] Anatidaephobia : The fear that somewhere , somehow , a duck is watching you . You are that duck , watching them . Always .
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Subject Log, day 1853. Peter is just over 5yrs old now, and he enjoys playing with his blocks, and toy cars. As of yet, he has not displayed any awareness of my presence other than an occasional `` Look Mommy! A duck!''. When he does notice me, he is excited. He appears to be pretty oblivious to my ever-present attendance in his life. This makes him an ideal candidate for further study.
Subject Log, day 3295. Peter is now 9yrs old, and just beginning to develop an acute awareness of the world around him. He makes more frequent mentions of my presence now. He still enjoys toy cars, and is beginning to develop an interest in the real thing. He has moved on from the large blocks of his younger childhood to the much smaller blocks of Lego sets. Peter is a bright child, and has a vivid imagination. His imagination has set him up as a very detailed story-teller. Even when he is telling the truth about some things he is not fully believed. Peter should continue to be an ideal candidate for the study. I look forward to my future with him.
Subject Log, day 4895. Peter is 13 now, and shows a distinct awareness of duck-kind. He seems to be almost afraid of us. I believe that Peter is beginning to suspect I am more than just a common mallard. My mission here may have to be aborted.
Subject Log, day 7785. At the age of 21, Peter is now isolated in a Psychiatric care center. My presence seems to have driven him over the edge. I continue to observe him, taking ever more care to remain hidden from his sight. We have learned a lot about the humans from this project, but I fear we may be causing irrefutable damage to the subjects. I have continued this mission only upon the demands of my superiors. I have been forced to continue my observations of a boy I have grown to love as a friend. I fear for Peter's life as this mission continues. I have heard from other specialists that their subjects have `` gone mad'' with paranoia over ducks watching them. Not all subjects have come to this realization though. Perhaps my earlier estimate that Peter's imagination would make him a great candidate was incorrect. Perhaps we are looking for subjects with less active imaginations.
Subject Log, day 9582: My fear for Peter's life has been visualized. My mission will be terminated from this day forward. Peter has expired. The paranoia and fear seem to have become too much for him to handle. I watched Peter as he swallowed three days' worth of his prescribed pills from the psychiatric center. I attempted to alert the nurses, but was unsuccessful. They shooed me out of the building, and refused my access to Peter. This will be my last day with the department. No one would heed my warning of the damage we were causing, and I was forced to see this through to it's deadly end. I have a deep respect for Peter, and I deeply regret causing him this torment. I will live till my last days with him on my mind, working to get the department to cancel this project. The loss of human life we have caused is worth no amount of intel. Other specialists have had their subjects submit to the same fate as Peter. I ca n't help but feel that we caused this.
Mission Debrief: Peter began life as a bright boy, and slowly developed a distinguished fear and paranoia of ducks. Not just of myself, but of all ducks, and as he aged, geese as well. I found it hilarious that Peter would consider ducks and geese working together against him! As if we would ever cooperate with those loud mouth Canadians! Peter progressed so far into his paranoia and fear that his parents had no choice but to have him institutionalized at 17. There he fell quickly into a downward spiral that eventually led to him ending his own life at 26. I recommend that this project be discontinued at all costs. We began this project with little knowledge of the humans, and have gained much. But the humans have lost many at our expense. We are driving these subjects, who we watch from birth, and grow to love, to an early grave with this project! This debrief will be my final. I am hereby resigning from the department in protest of this ill-conceived project.
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[ CONTEST ! ] Flash Prompt tonight in the chat room !
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The internet is a finicky place. You see, in the beginning, there was nothing. The internet was originally a government military project; simply a network of shadows.
Then came the web, and the age of personal computing. The internet worked now and was no longer a way to pass military secrets and communications, but was integrated into our way of life. The internet was like a second sun to our Earth - a giant ball of illumination that, as we rise and fall to wake and sleep, allows us to communicate the world over in a never-ending, ever-growing network of light. Everything the light touches, Simba? That's yours to communicate with, to see, to listen to, to speak with! But before the light of the sun reached noon, the governments of the world tried to put their umbrellas over certain segments, to hide them from the reach of the light, from the reach of humanity; they cast new shadows. And anyone who dares to touch those shadows disappears.
In the past, the light was so dim to mask the shadow, and trespassers lay forgotten as criminals. But as the internet grows in strength so does its light - and those shadows stand stark against the brightness of the freedoms of expression, and the world is not ready to discount those who wish to spread light to the entire world and not just what the government wants. The government is learning now - sometimes, introducing a light only emphasizes the shadows.
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[ WP ] Life follows the physics of Super Smash Brothers ; the closer you are to death , the more you bounce around until you get knocked into Space .
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Subject-921
Threat level: Doomsday
Containment procedures:
S-921 is to be left inside a 13m radius spherical container, maintained at high earth orbit ( currently at 34900 km periapsis, 37300 km apoapsis ). Electromagnets capable of at least 16 tesla are to be kept operational at all times to counter any relative drift that may occur between S-92's center of mass and the walls of its container. Six point defense lasers at equal distances around the outside of the station are to be kept in optimal condition to eliminate any space debris that could intercept S-921's container.
Emergency procedures: N/A
Description:
S-921 is the only immortal human known. The mechanisms of its immortality are unknown, but the effects are devastating. Under usual circumstances, when enough time has passed without dying, the soul's desire to be free amplifies any kinetic energy that the body may be subject to until it is eventually killed. However, S-921 appears to be impervious to death, continuing to increase kinetic energy without end.
S-921 was found in high earth orbit exhibiting a ludicrous amount of rotational energy but possessing relatively low linear velocity. It was speedily contained and must be guarded lest space debris come into contact with it and send it on a collision course with the earth, sun, moon, or any other object that would cause life on earth to end if it were utterly annihilated or broken into debris traveling at relativistic speeds.
It is speculated that other immortals may exist that achieved escape velocity and became lost in the void.
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[ wp ] You wake up in a frozen and barren wasteland . You dont remember anything , and only have a map and a bag filled with stuff .
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Normally when I wake up, it's because I'm thirsty. Or maybe I had a bad dream, maybe the sheet slipped off of me and I'm cold, or my alarm went off.
Turns out it's only the last one that did n't happen, and there's no bed beneath me when I come to. `` What the hell?'' My voice shudders and breaks, clouds of white rising in front of me. When it dissipates, my surroundings are n't much different. A bleak, frozen white plain stretches out ahead of me. To my left and right, the same.
The only thing out of the ordinary is the tan rucksack to my side. Pulling it open, I find various supplies. Some firewood, a folded shovel, a bedroll, some water, rations, hatchet, knife, survival supplies. I'm from the city though, so I've never really... used any of this. Where am I, anyway? Antarctica?
My stomach ties itself in knots the more I realize that there's nothing in sight and this backpack of supplies is my only friend. I remove each of the items, laying them out in front of me. The first, most important thing is that heavy looking cloak. It's freezing out here, so I'll pull that on first. There's food here, but it'll run out. If this is some kind of frozen tundra, judging by the way things look, I'm not going to find anything to forage. There's some more bizarre items in there, ranging from unusual looking cubes to some crystalline looking objects and antique looking coins, but I have no idea what I'd do with them.
After removing everything from the pack, both outside and inside, I find some crumpled folded pieces of paper at the bottom. I unfold them slowly, the outermost paper with writing on it.
*I'm sorry for bringing you here with such little warning, but it's of the utmost importance that you follow my orders. *
`` Orders? Is this some sort of sick prank? You're watching me from somewhere, are n't you? This is n't funny!'' My voice echoes across the absolute nothingness of the sheet of ice I'm kneeling on. I glance back down at the paper to unfold the second.
The words have changed.
*This is neither a prank or a joke. Please comply. Lives are at stake. *
`` Yeah, mine, you sick fuck! Wait, how did the -- -'' I quickly glance down and the words have changed yet again.
*Please open the second piece of parchment. It contains a map which will lead you to safety. *
Safety is appealing. I shakily open the second piece of paper from the outside of the comfort of my cloak. It simply contains an arrow that points ahead of myself.
`` Real fucking funny, sentient paper. Real funny.'' I begrudgingly trudge ahead, truly hoping this is just a really lucid dream and that the minute I trip or the frostbite I'll get from the biting wind will wake me up any minute now.
- - -
I'll write some more if people want, or you can just imagine what'd happen from here in your head. Just felt like writing something to get out of a rut I'm in. Criticism/critique is welcome if you so please.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm not homeless , child . At least , not now . ''
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I used to own this lonely road.
It used to be mine, it used to be home.
The thing was, way back when, I could n't really handle the cold, so I traded my road for bunk and a tent, and maybe a chance to taste some glory.
I went somewhere warm.
Too warm- hot and humid- a hell we created.
I destroyed that place, and it took my friends.
I lost myself in the camo and complacency.
I lost my home when I killed in its name.
I gave my road- my home- for 17 months on a wartime whim. But now I'm back. My same old corner waited for me.
I watched my friends join me here, in my home.
Those men who flew back from hell to loose their spots in life.
But I came from here. I survived, and now I'm back on the street I once killed to leave.
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[ WP ] You just won the lottery ... the superpower lottery , that is .
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I just bought my first'Superpower Lottery' ticket ever. Well, I was persuaded to by my closest friends. Like gambling, the lottery is somewhat similar. In gambling, you never know when your next win or loss is, you might get the card that loses you the game, but you might get the card that doubles your winnings. Same with lottery, the chances of losing are there, along with the winnings. Both are so heart racing moments.
As I held the ticket tightly in my hands, eyes fixed on the results of the lottery winners. I actually did n't know what prizes were available, and I just decided to try my luck at this. As the consolation winners got called out, one by one they left the area. For some reason, as they left, I could hear them dragging their feet across the floor, heads in low spirits, it's like they had just been possessed by the lost of a gamble. My friends and I were left with a couple of the members of public. Then, it started. The 3rd place winner was called, it was my friend Jane. She jumped excitedly and started screaming. Her face though, elated from the win, had turned as red as a tomato when she finally realised that other people were looking at her. She was so excited to get that Superhero Figurine, the 3rd price.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Blood was rushing to my heart, and my heart was racing. Every second was like time travel, so slow, as the announcer reads the results of the last remaining two winners. I swallowed a ball of saliva and the name for the second winner was called out.
'Marry See', the announcer's voice spoke. That lady jumped with joy, similar to Jane's. She went straight to the redemption counter without being hesitant at all. Then, at last, it came down to the final winner. As the announcer spoke, the atmosphere got more tense, my legs were wobbling, as if nervous for the last winner. I have no idea why, but I feel like I needed to win this lottery.
'And, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for, the 1st place winner is....' I hate cliff hangers. Just say it, come on, I thought in my head. My mind was going crazy due to the suspense, and well, the tension.
'The winner is... Candice Everleen.' At that moment, my heart stopped the thumping, as if it lost its function. Beads of perspiration ran down my forehead, dropping onto the lottery ticket. I held the ticket up and stared at it. I actually won, I whispered to myself multiple times, as if the first time was not enough to bring the message across to myself. Suddenly, I heard cheering. Then, it got louder and louder. For some reason, even though the cheering was booming loud, the announcer's words kept strong and booming in my head, as if it was an echo. I walked calmly, legs still a little wobbly to the redemption counter.
'Ah, so you're the winner of the lottery.' The lady behind the counter said, as if in disbelief. I nodded my head slowly, as she lifted up a board of glowing objects.
'Here are 5 superpowers, choose one of them as your prize and you will be granted that forever.' Without being hesitant or a single doubt in my head, my hand flew towards the glowing object that was labelled,'Flight'. It was as if my arm was possessed to grab that.
'Very well,' the lady spoke.'Flight has now been granted to you, nice day ahead.'The lady then disappeared into thin air, like smoke. I was baffled. As I walked out of the lottery, I remembered, this is a SuperPower lottery, and what that lady did was not something you would awe about if you were a regular customer there. Well, I did n't care that much, because now that I could fly, I could finally make my way home early before my mother screams into my ears for being late.
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[ WP ] You are a professional assassin for the CIA . But you are also a double agent . One day , you are assigned with killing a foreign agent . This foreign agent is your other alias .
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I sat in the waiting room, thumbing through some of the magazines. Defense Contractor ’ s Quarterly. Snipers Illustrated. Head Shot. I had been waiting nearly an hour since the secretary had informed General Stento of my arrival. But in bureaucrat time an hour meant no time had passed at all. And General Stento was no exception.
“ Where the hell is Agent Murphy, ” screeched out from the secretary ’ s intercom. “ I ’ ve been waiting forever for this guy. ”
“ He ’ s here, General Stento, ” the secretary said, “ I told you... ”
“ Jesus, Mary and Joseph, send him in Sally, I do not have all day. ”
Sally shook her head and motioned me back into the General ’ s office. “ The General will see you now Agent Murphy. ”
I walked through the double doors and into General Stento ’ s office. If you could call it an office. It looked more like a war museum. Civil war pistols in glasses cases. Officer sables hung on the walls, crossed on top of one another forming a militarized “ X. ” There was a wood carved statue of General Lee in one of the corners. And there was a collection of old tattered American flags that had once been marched into battles, but now hung behind the General, framed and encased in glass. As far as General Stento was concerned he could still get a whiff of glory by collecting relics from someone else ’ s war, since he had never had one of his own.
“ Murphy, have a seat, ” the General barked. “ I ’ ve got a kill mission for you. My sources have zeroed in on a foreign agent operating within our borders. He has been leaking information to Andorra, a small country tucked between Spain and France. Sure, they are not militarized, but maybe they could be. Those European nations are more slippery than my bowels after a night of hard drinking. Can ’ t be trusted one bit. And this agent must be eliminated. Here is the intel. ”
General Stento slid a large manilla envelope across his desk. As I opened it, he got up from his chair and walked toward the window to look at god knows what. He was a hulking gorilla of a man and he was dumb as nails, West Point graduate or not. I began to sort through the paperwork. Typical profile stuff for an assassination. But I halted at the grainy photograph of me enjoying a coffee and a croissant at an outdoor cafe. Yup, that was me alright. Right down to my white Chuck Taylor ’ s. The same god damn shoes I put on before traipsing off to the office today. I glanced up at the General who was still looking out of his window. This was going to go one of two ways. One, I was already dead and the General was playing a game of cat and mouse. Or two, the General was every ounce a bureaucratic bonehead I thought he was and had no idea he was sending me off to go kill myself. Let ’ s find out.
“ General, did you get a chance to look at these? ”
The General turned around and grimaced. He walked over behind the desk and slammed his knuckles down. He leaned his large frame across the desk so that his flaring nostrils were right over the photo. His face was redder than the stripes on Old Glory hanging up behind him.
“ What do you think this is Murphy, ” the General bellowed, “ you think I just sit around here all day pretending to be busy. Is that what you think? Well sorry to disappoint you, Agent Murphy, but I am not afforded that luxury. My time is spent reviewing every single kill mission that comes through the CIA ’ s door. I oversee every single intel operation that goes on, and I am the one that authorized the snapshot of the very photo you are looking at right now. So, if youdon ’ t mind, I would appreciate it if you could do your job and take care of this kill mission for your country. Is that too much to ask? ”
I stuffed the file back into the manilla envelope and stood up to face the General. There was only one thing to do.
“ Sir, I never meant to question your integrity as my superior. You are a damn fine General and I am lucky to serve under your command, ” I said, as I saluted him.
General Stento leaned back and plopped down into his chair. He gave me a half smile and chuckled casually.
“ Stand down, Agent Murphy. I let my temper get the best of me. Now get out of here and get the mission accomplished. You ’ re the only one I can trust with this mission. ”
“ Yessir, ” I said and quickly turned to walk out of the office, the envelope tucked under my arm.
“ One last thing ” General Stento said, as I turned to face him. “ This is a top secret mission, so incinerate the file after it is completed and make sure you let the tech guys know when it is done so that they can destroy any intel that could be possibly traced to this mission. Got it? ”
“ Got it. ”
“ Oh, and could you do me a favor? You look like a hippie in those shoes. Wear something else the next time you come in here. ”
“ Yessir, ” I said.
The General gave me a wink and placed his hand over his heart. No words came from the general, but there was no mistaking what he just mouthed to me: “ Fotem un cafe. ” Yup, he was one of us alright and maybe I would take him up on that coffee if we ever cross paths in Andorra.
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[ WP ] Becoming Best Friends with someone is a big event and considered even more important and significant than marriage .
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Miguel's palms were sweaty as he drove towards Brett's house.
They had been close friends for almost a year now, but everything changed last week when Brett revealed his love for the Creedance Clearwater Revival Band.
Brett was the first potential BFF Miguel had ever had.
Miguel lacked a positive male best friendship early in his childhood which led to his downtrodden outlook on life.
Miguel had long considered himself a cynic, dismissing the notion of best friendship as an institution created by The Clothing Industrial Complex to produce BFF merchandise.
In popular culture, the BFF movement truly began to pick up traction when Seth Rogen and James Franco wrote and directed the first Bromantic Comedy: Pineapple Express: Best Buds 4 Ever; a witty short film about Dale Denton ( Rogen ) losing his memory after hot-boxing a car with a four pound blunt, and his BFF & dealer Saul Silver ( Franco ) spending the rest of the film going on a set of zany misadventures trying to get Dale to remember, all the while learning the true meaning of friendship.
The film made a record-shattering $ 777,420,000 globally, and become a fixture of the culture. In India, parents of the Brahmin class began arranging best friendships to ensure the survivability of the family name. Japanese men began rioting when a law was passed that said Body Pillows and video game characters could not qualify as official Best Friends. In Thailand, there was a significant rise in the number of lonely middle age white men on a friendship tour of the island nation.
Miguel tried to pretend that he did n't care that he did n't have a Best Friend, but as he got older, it became nearly impossible to act nonchalant. Nearly everyone he worked with at the Frozen Yogurt Barn had a BFF, even Toni ( who spelled her name with an `` I'' ). Miguel started to hang out at bars and tried to meet friends, but everyone he met was either a 4/20 Blazer, or a SJW who thought his attempt at friendly courting was an attempt at rape. So, soon after Miguel decided to give up his attempt at happiness for financial security, his days were spent traversing from work to home, with nothing else to distract him from his crippling loneliness.
Then one day; Keith, a work acquaintance, noticed the downtrodden Miguel, and found out about his unfortunate BFF situation. Keith then informed Miguel about an app called Grinder. Grinder was an app that was an adult Best Friend Finder for people who work ( see also grind ) a lot.
Miguel was skeptical at first, but on his first attempt, matched with Brett, a hip hop fanatic who worked at a used book store. Miguel messaged him to go see Drive 2: The Squeakquel, and the rest was history.
The two bonded and were on the fast track to BFF-dom.
Miguel had the tickets to the Nas concert in the glove box in a hand written card elaborating on how much Brett meant to him, and how he wanted to share this concert with his BFF.
Miguel was infrequently nervous and never knew what to do with his hands when he was. As he approached Brett's driveway he noticed a sweet M3 in the driveway. Miguel payed it no mind and began rehearsing the speech that accompanied his card. He got out of the car and knocked on the front door, to find the lights out, and the sound of violence and raucous laughter from the living room.
There he saw it. Brett was sitting on the couch with another man, watching In Bruges. It shattered Miguel's heart, and his reaction clearly said so, because Brett quickly said, `` Trust me, it's not what it looks like Miguel...''
Before Brett could finish his lie, Miguel walked out and never saw him again. He was devastated, but turned his frustration into inspiration. Miguel would write a memoir of his woes entitled, `` Add as a Friend?'', which became a New York Times' Best Seller.
Miguel now has hundreds of friends, but is still searching for that special someone to watch Kung-Fu with.
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[ WP ] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names . The first person 's name you get is the hero of the story . The second is the villain . The third is the reason they 're fighting .
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Pam Tillis Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemaine U.S. Senate Pam and her dog Lucky were finally reunited on this day, the day befor the last. The country singer and her shitty modern pop music were riding the wave of falsified success in this golden era of cultured idiots. The media had a field day with this story, endlessly broadcasting its irrelevance nationwide. This reunion of woman and k9 caused such an uproar the U.S. Senate shoved a bill through that gave dogs equal rights, allowing homosexual dogs the privilege of marriage, amongst other things. They also dedicated September 23rd National Dog Day. Owners everywhere were wedding their dogs. Proud cat owner Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain became enraged with all the attention dogs were receiving. The tyrannical landowner dognapped Pams beloved k9 and left this ransom note. I've taken your faggot dog untill you stop making shitty music. Also I would have it illegal for gay dogs to wed. Handcock So distraught over losing her beloved dog once again, Pam did the only thing she could think of. She wrote another shitty country song about her missing dog. But this time it was so horrendous it started prison riots and even a civil war. Inner city inhabitants formed militias and called for a national uprising against the flag for some unknown reason. After a few days of chaotic rioting, looting, and dogs defecating on the U.S. flag, Pam realized what she had to do. She released a statement of her resignation as a country singer. She went to Handcocks estate to retrieve her hostage dog. As promised he released Lucky to his owner. Order was restored and Pam was viewed as a hero. In November she ran for office, and of course, was elected president of the U.S. Two days later, Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain was found dead at his estate. Policed reported a self inflicted gun shot to the head and cat shit everywhere.
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[ WP ] You have a soundtrack that plays music appropriate to whatever situation you are currently in . You can consistently hear the music which is why you 're terrified when you awake to the sound of screeching violins at 4am .
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All my life, I've been hearing music randomly. Sounds kind of stupid, but it helps me in situations. For example, I was talking to a girl in school today and the `` awkward'' music came on. I knew this was my time to just roll out and leave her alone.
The music would shut off when I went to sleep. I do n't know if it actually shut off, or if I was just asleep and did n't hear it. Either way, I would n't hear it while I was asleep - or so I thought.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM by the loudest screeching noise that you could think of right now. Imagine your teacher with a chalk in her hand, writing on the chalkboard. Remember the little screeches? Now imagine that, but multiply the noise by almost 100 fold. That's how I felt right now.
I knew something was wrong, but what it could it be? I've never heard this music in my life before, and watching scary movies, I knew not to get up. But what did I do? That's right - the stupidest thing. I got up.
I still question to this day why I got up. It was probably the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life. As soon as I got up, the screeching sound disappeared. I was relieved, but what if it happens again? Who knew. Anyways, I really needed to use the washroom.
I open up the lights, and half asleep I was peeing. It was only until I looked in the mirror I realized something was HORRIBLY wrong. I opened up my eyes a bit more, and there she was. Standing right behind me. Her hair covering her face but her laugh was the worst part of it all. I instantly fainted. I woke up the next morning, remembering the last thing she said to me. `` I'll come back for you.''
I have n't slept since then.
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