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[ WP ] Scientists discover that we live inside of a computer simulation . They also discover DLC and cheat codes .
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It was all very exciting at first. We were sure we were closing in on the real deal: our Unified Field Theory. It'd been a monumental effort, a grind that took the world's best statisticians, particle physicists, astronomers, and one cutting-edge AI decades to complete. When we finally started getting results back, the discoveries just started to snowball, and you could tell the Theory of Everything was right around the corner. When the time came, we had yottabytes of data from experimentation on the quantum and astronomic levels and we finally had the computing power to run the latest Jakobsen-Horowitz model on all of it. It was just a matter of plugging in the values and waiting for the result.
Well, we got results alright. The four fundamental forces of the universe, which physicists had shown arranged all matter and energy since the beginning of time, broke down into relatively simple Boolean functions. Ones and zeroes. There were rules, and those rules were those of a digital computer. Our universe, the entire natural world as we knew it, was a simulation.
In retrospect, it made sense. All those weird phenomena that showed themselves when we started looking at sub-atomic particles? Turns out it was just humanity exceeding its render distance. The fearsome energy released by splitting an atom? A freak side effect of breaking the simulation's rules; a glitch we'd learned to exploit. We thought next-level mathematics would tie it all together; you know, that we'd find the equation that would finally tell us whether Schroedinger's cat was alive or dead. Instead, all it did was show us that the simulation broke down when you looked at it on a scale that was too big or too small. Actually, it was not unlike the `` kill screen,'' the weird jumble of numbers and static, that showed up when you got past level 256 in an old Pac Man console.
All in all it was sort of depressing. Finding the answers to mankind's eternal questions would've been heavy enough on its own, but when they'd turned out the way the did... Well, it felt like being the butt of a cosmic joke, really. More or less everything that could be known was known, and it was all a farce. I know more than a few of us considered suicide, and I ca n't say I was n't one of them. It really was hopeless.
That was, until we started hearing from Archaeology...
They'd found some kind of box. I wish we'd come up with a more memorable name but, honestly, that's what it was: a box. There had been an ongoing dig in Rome following the recent discovery of an underground structure from the old empire. A team had extracted The Box, and after examining it, they insisted we had to see it. Their report said it was ostensibly very old, and bore curious graffiti: there were nonsense markings in Sumerian Cuneiform, ancient Hebrew, Latin, as well as the ancient Vatican's Seal of the Fisherman, and other unknown scripts lost to history. It was also, for whatever reason, extremely cold. It constantly absorbed thermal energy like no heat sink seen in nature. I noticed this immediately when it arrived in our lab. It was a perfect cube of Armalcolite, same composition as the samples Apollo 11 brought back from the moon, measuring one cubic meter exactly. In addition to the man-made markings, there was a series of tiny squares and circles inlayed all over the surface without any indication of tool use or laser engraving. It was as if they were intrinsic to The Box itself. I believe it was Dr. Zhang who first proposed we try interpreting them as binary code, with circles being zero and squares being one. We had our AI, Tyson, take the symbols and interpret them in all possible arrangements. When I opened the translation with the highest congruency factor, I could not believe my eyes.
On the screen before me was a Dubois-Li Codec, a new type of particle notation we had only just invented for our own research. And here it was on an object that was likely older than humanity, if not the Earth itself. Ordinarily, a DLC is meant to be a rough, but statistically sound model of a given particle and how it arises from energy. This one, however, was filled with information to an accuracy we could only dream of, and it represented H2O. It was, essentially, the exact code for a water molecule.
Our testing as to the age and origin of the box had been mostly inconclusive. Once we found that it contained a water DLC, we got the idea of trying to see if it responded to water somehow. Obviously it did not react with ordinary water, we did not expect to have been so lucky, but late one night, as I was poring over the DLC for clues, I decided to upload The Box's water DLC to Tyson. Then, I had the AI run tests on samples of the purest water we could synthesize, using hydrogen fuel cells, to see if any molecules matched the DLC. Eureka. For every billion moles of water ( rounding down slightly ), there was one molecule that produced a match. I attempted to synthesize, via nanotechnology, various quantities of Box-DLC water. Nothing reacted until I had the idea of producing a cubic meter's worth, the same volume as The Box. It took great time and expense to produce this much water, molecule by molecule, but, given the depressed state of science following our simulation discovery, we were more than willing to focus on what seemed to be the Universe's last mystery. When the last drop titrated into being, The Box began to vibrate slightly. Without any warning or outside interference, a 3cm^3 aperture appeared on its front face. We had opened it.
When it came time to see what was inside, we were faced with yet another challenge. The details are tedious, as we made many errors. Essentially, we sent robotic probes into the hole only to have them generate nonsense readings and then disappear. Yes, they actually disappeared. We tried various methods and probe designs, we even tried to measure its internal gravity with manual spring-based measures, yet nothing made sense. It took an extensive laser assay to finally understand why.
The sensors showed that, inside the box, the speed of light was three times higher than in our universe. When we adjusted our other instruments for this, we found that gravity, strong, weak, and electromagnetic forces had also scaled up accordingly. There was only one conclusion: somehow, inside of this cube of moonrock, there resided a cubic meter of alternate universe. We were n't even surprised when it started emitting radio waves, containing DLCs for every possible element ( including stable isotopes we had n't been able to `` unlock'' yet ). When we directed our own radio waves into the Box, we found we could make it produce elements easily and infinitely. We had, at our disposal, the most powerful tool in the universe. We had found the simulation's editor.
The possibilities were endless. We took care of the obvious ones: we solved world hunger, unlocked free and bountiful energy, basically ended scarcity altogether, ended warfare, cleaned our pollution, explored the stars, and expanded our lifespans to infinity, but human curiosity and boredom could not be contained. Ultimately we began creating other temporary universes, generating experimental fields where e=mc^3 and 2 + 2 = 5 and so on. We had become Gods. The next logical step was to craft an entire, more sophisticated, universe from scratch, making an analog quantum computer out of subatomic particles. We built it, and now we watch it unfold.
I'm leaving this message to you, inside the Box we'll leave floating through space in your universe. As a man of science, I always concerned myself with the `` how'' of our universe. I anticipate you will find this out with the help of your Box. The `` how'' is easy. The `` why'' is trickier. Having become an immortal, I thought I would come to know the answer, but, alas, I do not. You may find it odd that a perfect God would not have the means to satisfy every curiosity. I would not dispute this notion; a perfect being would have all the answers. But the truth is a perfect being would n't get bored and create another universe, now would it?
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[ WP ] Everyone has always said you have an infectious personality . It turns out it 's true . Everyone is becoming you , and it 's spreading .
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Does n't every little boy dream, at least once, of what it would be like to have superpowers? To have amazing abilities, to stand out from everyone else, the high point of humanity? Of adventure and extraordinary happenings?
Some things are n't the same as you wish they would be. It started after puberty, for whatever reason. Maybe there had to be a consistent `` me'' to spread around. It's a slow thing. Day by day, over the course of weeks, those closest to me started to get *closer* to me. It took my parents first. I *did* that to them. It's not like they became exact copies of me, they kept their own memories, but my personality just overwrote theirs. At first I did n't realize what was going on. I just heard them arguing, fighting. And then I did n't, and they sat me down to talk about it. I thought they were crazy, until it happened to my sister to.
We all came to agree on *everything*, unless we had specific memories contradicting a certain line of reasoning, and all our disagreements were quickly resolved. One day we all got together in the living room. I had already stopped going to school.
`` Dad, I.... I do n't understand how this could be happening.''
`` I'm *not* Dad, Thomas. Not like I used to be, anyway. I'm more you now than anything else. Even the self I have in my own memories is alien to me. To make matters worse, I can tell that it's starting to happen to people at my work. A job I used to love, but now I ca n't stand. Worse, the reasons I liked it do n't seem to make any sense.''
`` We have to do something,'' said Mom. No, I do n't know who anymore.
`` This is really weird,'' my sister said. `` I'm fourteen years old, but everything about my old self is so... immature. Dumb.''
`` The problem is that all of *you* seem to be... infecting people as well,'' I spoke up.
Dad-me nodded. `` At this rate, we'll infect everyone. As much as this new self owes its existence to the process, it's murder, in a way. The person who used to be in this body is gone. I'm sorry, Thomas.''
I broke down at that point, and the other three continued the conversation.
`` Is there any way we can stop this, short of killing ourselves?'' mused my sister. Our knowledge and brainpower remained uneven, and she was still fourteen, despite having an eighteen year old engineering student's personality.
`` I do n't know.'' Dad said. `` I do n't know if we can. Maybe if we keep moving? Reduce our contact with outsiders. Keep exposure low.''
And so we did. We hit the road, always moving. We did n't spread, kept to ourselves, became more and more alike as time went by. After a while, we started to run low on money. We worked odd jobs when we could, but we knew it would n't be enough. And so, I decided to steal, to get a valuable item here and there to sell and supplement our reserves. I did n't tell the others. They may be me, but I'm the only one in the body of a teenage boy. They might say I'm being reckless. But it's the only way.
Was the only way, until one day, I messed up. I got *caught*. I tried to escape - I stabbed, I drew blood, but more came, they held me down. And as I sat in the courtroom, watching my other faces in the audience, their stricken expressions, I knew. As that gavel hammered down, as I heard the words *guilty*. As I was hauled away in chains, I knew.
Soon, our family would be getting a bit bigger.
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[ WP ] A good and decent person does evil things , because their deceased true love was a terrible person , and the only way to spend eternity with them is to get into hell .
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*The streets were busier than usual on Black Friday, and several people waited in front of the stores for them to open. Some were patient, like the young lady fiddling with the zipper of her money pouch. Some were not, like the young man shoving his way through the crowd. *
The streets were emptier than usual at night time, and the few people that passed through them ignored each other completely. One of these people was a hooded figure, hands jammed into her pockets. Gripping a can of spray paint tightly in her hand, she placed her finger on the top and headed towards one of the most popular stores in town.
*The young lady ignored the rude man as he rattled the crowd, and the commotion soon settled down. The next she saw of him was when she felt a hand enter her pocket, and turned around to grab it. His face froze for a moment, then split into a grin. *
A security camera silently watched her approach, and she stuck up her middle finger at it before spraying the lens. She then pulled her hood down to reassure herself that it still covered her. Shivers ran through her as she took a deep breath, and she could n't tell if it was because of the emotions churning inside of her or the cold lungful of air she'd inhaled.
*'' Nice,'' he commented, nodding to his hand in her pocket. The lady inhaled sharply and let go of his hand, only to chase after him again as he began to elbow his way to the other side of the crowd. His unbuttoned shirt followed him like a cape, and she reached out to grab it. *
When she was done, a range of offensive slurs were sprawled across the front of the store in red spray-paint. A sick feeling rested in the pit of her stomach as she looked down at her steady hand, and she quickly stuffed it back into her pocket.
Her other hand's knuckles were as white as her face as she gripped her Swiss Army knife.
*He slipped out of the shirt as she tightly gripped it, showing the sleeveless shirt beneath and the black belt around his loose jeans. Holding onto the upturned collar, she ran after him. Eventually, about a street away, she called out, `` Stop!''
Surprisingly, the man complied. He took a step back as she took one forwards, and she accused, `` You were trying to take my money, were n't you? `` *
Looking around the sleeping town, she wondered what she could do to stir up trouble. The thumping of her heart sounded in her ears like a clock, ticking down to the moment she'd finally reach her worst. Swallowing hard, she remembered that a clock does n't stop ticking at a certain point. A clock stops ticking when it's dead. Digging her fingernails into her hand, she moved towards an empty car in a nearby parking lot.
*The man shrugged his muscular shoulders, and the lady caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his wrist as he ran a hand through his hair. This action clearly showed the outline of at least three more rectangular things in his pockets. The lady's expression creased disapprovingly. `` Give those back to the people they belong to,'' she demanded, gesturing to show what she meant. *
*'' Only if you promise not to call the cops,'' he countered, smirking slightly. `` And give me my shirt back. `` *
*The lady sighed, closing her eyes softly. As she opened them, she agreed, `` I promise. `` *
-- -- -
Feedback is appreciated. I'm happy to continue, if anyone wants more.
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[ WP ] Write something honest and raw , something you 've been too embarrassed or scared to say , and do n't mask or filter it in any way . Vent .
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Sedition Act
I don ’ t think that I ’ d really mind
If the leader of my country would just fucking die
From an acute case of big fuckin ’ hole in the head;
It seems that life would be better if he were dead.
Yes, I ’ m advocating violence,
And I will not consign myself to silence,
And I ’ m an advocate for assassination
Of every leader – of every nation
Mr. Barry Obama and Vladimir Putin,
Those are two guys who could do with a shootin ’.
Same with [ REDACTED ] and Merkel and Kim Jong Un,
And I hope to see the Ayatollah ’ s head rolling soon,
Because your vote is a symbol of your oppression
Thanks to gerrymandering and voter suppression,
And even if the guy whom you voted for wins,
He ’ s going to sell you out so that he can stay in.
Once upon a time when the world was free
In that kinda-sorta-maybe way it ’ s always been,
We ’ d have risen up and started chopping off heads,
But no way that we ’ ll do that while we ’ ve circuses and bread.
And wouldn ’ t it be really fucking swell
If all these traitorous shitheads were burning in hell,
And we ’ d dance in the streets and ring the church bell
If their corporate masters were all dead as well.
Now for a real reason to go slitting necks,
We ’ ve broken this system of balances and checks.
But occasionally the tree of liberty
Needs the blood of tyrants and the seat of the free
Now I ’ m not the wisest, smartest guy,
But haven ’ t you ever wondered why
The best of the bunch always seem to die
While the tyrants and dictators are all still alive?
Because Benazir Bhutto and the Kennedies
Were murdered by pinkos, extremists, and crazies.
But Qadafi stayed in power for forty-two years
While he fed on his people ’ s blood and tears.
Your rights are a privilege, a fantasy,
And to try to invoke them is a fallacy,
So don ’ t defend what you spoke or your wrote,
Because you have your rights until you don ’ t.
You may think you have a right to property,
But your guns can be stolen by the [ REDACTED ].
And the government [ REDACTED ],
And tries to [ REDACTED ].
You may think that you can speak your mind,
And you can! So long as a court doesn ’ t find
That you ’ ve hurt someone ’ s feelings – especially [ REDACTED ],
And so long as you don ’ t say anything obscene.
And so long as you don ’ t say it on the TV
Or on radio or movies or on a CD.
And so long as you don ’ t speak against the government,
Because everyone knows that ’ s not how free speech was meant.
But of course in the courts, you maintain your rights,
As long as you ’ re a man, and you ’ re rich, and you ’ re white.
Otherwise you ’ ll be sentenced for three times the time,
Because you broke tort-law by reciting this rhyme.
So, well then, go vote if you don ’ t like that bill,
And put your neighbour on [ REDACTED ].
Well: news-flash! Although [ REDACTED ] a great guy,
He ’ s legally bound to tow the party line.
And nobody ever voted for [ REDACTED ].
Your unholy majority ’ s acting quite sinister.
Your senator ’ s appointed and he doesn ’ t do his job,
Just collects taxpayer dollars from the people he robs.
And the ultimate power in this land of the free
Answers to [ REDACTED ] in [ REDACTED ].
So God damn the [ REDACTED ] and fuck the [ REDACTED ]
Because [ REDACTED ] is just a fancy [ REDACTED ].
So excuse me when I say “ We should gather our guns. ”
It ’ s never been for pleasure, and never for fun.
I didn ’ t choose my country, but I love it anyway,
And I ’ d love to see my people be free someday.
So I will chose sedition and I ’ ll chose it with pride.
I don ’ t swim in concrete shoes; I ’ m not planning suicide.
I ’ ve never done drugs. I don ’ t have enemies.
I ’ m responsible with guns; I ’ m controversy-free.
If I die within the next few months or years,
Then the tyrants in power ’ ve only proven my fears.
They ’ ve done it before, and they ’ ll do it again.
They quake when their sword is crossed with a pen.
Every day that you live without using your rights,
You ’ re giving them up without a fight.
Go ye and defend what you spoke or you wrote,
Because you have your rights, until you don ’ t.
( Side-note: Careful not to cut yourself on the edge, folks. )
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[ WP ] Write about you writing the writing prompt response you 're writing right now
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Two stop.
One two.
Type type. One drop stop upon the space.
Pitter-patter. Click click.
Clack.
*No... No that's not... uh uh*
Once more. Wind up...
Pitch. Smack. Foul.
*That does n't make any sense. You do n't make any sense. *
Ball lands. Staring at it. What do we do? Leave it there?
Pick it up. Throw it back. Covered in soda drip and kernels. Sticky.
Yuck.
*Where's the hook, dipshit. You ca n't just whack your keyboard and expect
things to make sense. *
Once more. Wind up for the pitch. Arm hurts.
Too fast. Going too fast.
*If you wo n't throw it, we'll never get this done. Do you want that? *
*Is that what you want? *
Help me Williams.
help me cummings.
Help Ginsberg.
Just short. Too short. Not much. little. Just Right.
Stream. It's a stream. Mind water.
Flowing freely. Let it pour. Little letter pour silly. Silly letters come so fast.
There it goes.
Past the faces.
Past the metal zooms doing 60.
Past the moon. On an odyssey.
What a homer.
Poetry?
Poetry.
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[ WP ] You find an old [ Insert item of your choice here ] and a genie arises from it . It gives you three wishes and 24 hours and tells you think think carefully .
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`` Do you have any regrets, looking back at your life?''
I turned around from the stove, only to see him, casually sitting on the bench behind the kitchen table. His eyes were bright, as he had that kind of piercing glance that made you focus on his person alone.
`` Aaah, you're there. I had expected you sooner. I must admit though, your arrival takes me by surprise.'' I pointed behind me to the boiling teapot. `` Want some?''
He nodded, so I poured him the first cup, then slouched to the cupboard to get a second cup for me. I could feel his stare. But he waited silently until I arrived at the table, sat, and put down the steaming beverages. He cleared his throat.
`` When we last met, you were 31. That was almost half a century ago. You've aged.''
I faked a polite smile.
`` You remember what I had wished for, do n't you? ``, I asked.
`` I do. Lea.'' He put his elbows on the dark wood of the table, supporting his head on his clasped hands. His face was expressionless.
`` You had asked me to cure Lea's leucemia. Before we met in that old shed, you two had already struggled with her cancer for years. You loved her so much, I remember you calling her the'light of your life'. I had n't been surprised about you asking me to cure her disease. It was only natural that she was the first thing on your mind when I granted you the three wishes.'' He smiled. `` The second thought was your daughter. You were so happy. You jumped, you danced, you screamed out loud, that she would n't have to grow up without a mother. I immediately started to like you that moment. I told you to think carefully about the other two wishes.''
I raised the cup and tried a cautious sip. Too hot. I put it down.
`` And I did.'' I paused. `` Lea was cancer-free just a month later. The following weeks were the luckiest weeks of my life. We made plans, we vacationed, we spent time together, just the three of us...''
`` Up until the car accident.''
`` Yes, up until the car accident.'' I fixed my gaze on him. `` Funny how life works, is n't it?''
His smile turned bitter. `` You knew that I ca n't bring the dead back. That I ca n't break the laws of nature. You surprised me, still. Your second wish...''
`` I wished not to die alone.''
`` Right. And about your third wish...''
`` How could I ever make use of it? What for? Especially after seeing what happened to Lea and my daughter? Would n't I damn myself if I wished for the wrong thing? I kept it, so I would never make the wrong decision.''
`` I like the way you think about it. Still, what a waste.''
`` Now that I'm old, I do n't have anything left to wish for anyway.''
My guest slowly shook his head.
I looked down at my cup, I had almost forgotten about it. It was cold already, and drank it empty in one shot. I pushed my chair back and rose from the table, shakingly. My counterpart looked surprised.
`` Is n't that why you're here? ``, I asked. He understood immediately. He was quickly by my side, supporting me, as we made our way through the kitchen, to the hall.
`` And as for your question, no, I do n't have any regrets. If I've learned anything from my first wish, it's that I ca n't know what would have been if I had done this or that differently. That things never turn out the way you expect.'' We arrived at the front door. I reached for my coat on the rack, but he interrupted me.
`` You do n't need this where we're going.''
I looked back at him. He winked.
`` Thank you for not letting me die alone.'' I said. `` I'm ready.''
My heart did n't beat faster when we crossed the threshold.
It did n't beat at all.
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[ WP ] Metaphorically describe your ideal SO as a fruit or vegetable
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They said our love was forbidden. They said it was wrong, even immoral. Yet what does a society that violates the natural cycles of our earth know about love? Pesticides. Monoculture. War. These are the gifts of a civilization without strength of character.
I did not seek her out, nor did I seek to resist her. Is this not how all genuine love blossoms? I was tending my fields in earnest, reaping the budding corn shucks from the rich spring soil when I first saw her. She was standing with a deep, silent strength that was palpable even from a distance. Her body swayed in perfect rhythm with the surrounding breeze, as if neither had known life without the other.
I approached her slowly, casually, as though my path were eternal and without exigency. There was no seduction in my heart, though I will now admit my flushed cheeks betrayed my trepidation - I was simply a farmer, reaping his harvest as he always did. I passed her with only a slight glance, the same look I would give any singular, sanguine beauty in a field of yellow wash.
It was only when I heard the soft `` thuck'' of contact that I turned around. She had fallen, and my instinct told me it was no accident. I carefully walked back toward her, approaching with the gentle caution of one tending a wounded animal. As I came close, the noonday sun struck her rosy visage and she glowed with a dancing sparkle of crimson flame.
Mesmerized yet undaunted, I reached down and picked her up. Her skin was flawless. The smooth, sensuous symmetry set my heart alight with passion. My entire being, my very soul felt as if it had expanded beyond its narrow confines. I was free. I was alive. I was *home*. With a skip in my step not experienced since my boyhood days, I carried my treasure home.
Tomato, I love you.
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[ WP ] You were born unlucky , but with the power to steal the luck of someone else and give it to another person , excluding yourself .
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*Break a leg* is a literal thing for me.
I work in theater, you see. I'm surrounded by beautiful women all the time. I've fallen in love with a lot of these women. As a man who has been labelled as the *dead man walking* ( and that's another story to tell ) I'm hardly ever noticed. So the most I can do is try to help others.
I normally help out the alternates. What I do is a special service for the ones who never really had the chance. I relate to them the most since I never have any luck either. These actresses work so hard to get to where they are and all they're ever given is a snide remark about their appearance. You know in this day age where it's all about female empowerment, it's quite fickle in the dressing rooms. These are the type of women who preach about feminism, yet hold each other to a competition. I understand though, they are at odds with one another. I do n't have to ever worry about that. I've lived a long life of being down on my luck.
I have no home, no kids, no friends, no family, nothing. I was born into this world without any real care or responsibilities. I was bullied all the time, and shoved aside for those who can buy happiness. One day I decided to change that.
The first one was for Phantom of the Opera. I broke the Prima Donna's leg. It was easy. I set up the chandelier to fall on top of her during rehearsal. No one expected a thing. It collapsed right on top of her just like I planned. Christine, the angel, was able to proceed as the new breakout. I was so happy for her. She's now at Broadway performing for nearly every act. I could n't be more proud.
This is my life. I do n't think I chose it, I think it chose me. What's Luck got to do with it?
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In a contemplative mood , God begins to wonder where he came from . [ WP ]
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The entity know as God sat alone in his white void of a room. It was quiet almost eerily quiet. Age was never a topic of thought for him. It was always thought that God always existed, but the fact could n't have been any further than the truth. He knew that there was a lapse in his memories. There had to be a time where he did n't exist. But how do you remember a time where you did n't exist?
In a puff of black smoke a young attractive woman wearing a black business suit appeared. She had a devilish grin and small red horns that complimented her status. `` You know the last time I was here, you had one of your nephews stab me in my heart with your sword. That was thousands of years ago, so I ca n't help but wonder why would you call me back-''
`` Shhh, Satan. I need you to shut up and think. How old are you?'' God asked his twin sister.
Satan tapped her chin. It was such a unexpected and peculiar question, one of which she was n't expecting. `` I'm the same age as you. Why do you ask?''
God shook his head. `` That was n't the answer I was looking for. Put it in numbers. How old would you say that we are?''
Satan took a few seconds to try to recall, but the years began to flood her mind. It was like she was fast forwarding through a picture book filled with trillions upon trillions of pictures. But as quickly as the years past her by, they stopped. He did n't remember. His earliest memory was in fact her meeting with her older siblings and discussing trivial matter such as names, but everything before that was a big blank. Like they were all poofed into existence.
`` Judging by the look on your face, I'd say you ca n't recall either.'' God let out a weary sigh. It had been a long time since he sat down and reflected upon his age. It was no secret that Satan was more active of the two, having physically impacted the universe on a larger scale than him, so he could n't help but wonder if she even got tired.
`` Have you at least asked Death?'' Satan asked materializing a black hellish looking throne right next her brothers white heavenly one. Upon sitting down, she propped up her legs and joined her brother in thought.
God scratched his neck. `` Eghh, I have n't talked to her in centuries.''
`` She does know how to hold grudges. Remember the month no one died? That was a really mess.'' Satan recalled.
`` Oh I remember. It hard not too.'' God said as he began to drift into memories, but he quickly stopped upon remembering why he called Satan here. He turned towards his sister and let out childish grin that betrayed his old figure.
`` Ohhhh, I have n't seen that like in eons. You're not thinking what I'm thinking are you?'' Satan said smirking to herself.
God nodded his head. `` Everything comes from something. We're living proof of this. So how about we take a trip back in time and take look for ourselves. Let's see what came before us.'' Almost immediately another puff of black smoke appeared revealing a humanoid skeleton walked from the mist. Her face portrayed a frown, one of which had because normal whenever she gazed upon her younger siblings.
`` There are somethings we are not meant to know.'' The female skeleton said with a hollow voice that portrayed no emotion whatsoever.
Satan leaned over to her brother and whispered. `` She knows something.''
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[ WP ] means of 99.99 % Lightspeed travel are discovered and an expedition to colonize a super earth 180 light years away is launch with most of its colonists in stasis ...
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..
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Initial System Boot
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..
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Waking The Hushed Casket
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..
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DeepThaw Protocol has been Called
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..
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Checking Vital Signs
“ Hello Captain. ”
“ Bring me up to speed Sam ”
“ We are entering sub-vector 3. StarDate is 2772 Dec 13th ”
“ Please wake the crew….Oh and fix me some coffee ”
“ We no longer have any coffee sir is a soy bean substi- “
“ I know we don ’ t have any damn coffee im just tired of this soybean shit. This planet better have a good coffee shop ”
“ SR-7243 does not show signs of Coffea trees however I can offer you a soy bean substi- “
“ Shut up Sam ”
“ Logic error, Conflicting orders, would you like me to shut up or wake up the crew sir? ”
“ Did you develop a sense of humor while I was asleep? ”
“ I am Sam an A.I. developed by Sanskrit Technologies Incorpor- “
“ Wake up the damn crew and wake the cook first ”
“ Yes Captain ”
“ Send out a bio-scan, we should be in range by now ”
“ Bio-Scan initiated return time est 5 minutes ”
“ Is my cook awake yet ”
“ Pvt. James is awake and heading to designated station ”
“ Incoming message from Pvt.James ”
“ Will it be soybean soup with protein blocks or protein blocks with soybean soup? ”
“ Surprise me private ”
“ Captain we have been scanned ”
“ Scanned? By what? The Europa is at least 5 months behind us ”
“ I am unfamiliar with this technology ”
“ Where is the scan coming from? ”
“ SR-7243, sir ”
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[ WP ] Tell me a tragic , heartbreaking story in one paragraph .
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Billy knelt down on one knee, struggling on his crutch for balance but all that did n't matter. Nothing did anymore. And Lucy knew that too. She muffled her sobs as the engagement ring sled down her finger. Billy stood up, stinging tears behind his eyes as he tightly embraced his new fiance's hands against his, feeling the cold touch of the ring for the final time, as they stood on the edge over looking the smoking horizon. `` Am scared.'' Lucy's lips quivered, as she stared down the ninety four floors towards oblivion. `` Do n't say that, please.'' Billy sobbed, `` I do n't know what else to do.'' But Lucy understood. She understood too well. `` I Love you. `` she whispered. Billy turned to reply but he slipped off his crouch and fell, his screams fading all the way down. But down she followed, coz they had escaped the burning buildings of the World Trade Center. Forever.
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[ WP ] You are a time traveler nearing death and you 've decided to spend your remaining time re-living the same 2-month period in a small town . Every time you loop , you use your futuristic technology to change your identity . Over time , you begin to realize that you are the town 's only resident .
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The Preacher sat beside me. He said nothing. His weathered face had seen the same horrors as my own, the deep wounds healed by time and patience. I collapsed into his arms and cried and he said nothing, he just held me.
The Sheriff looked at me through the bars of the cell and he just shook his head. The scars were deep and painful and his anger boiled beneath the surface. For too long he had bled, unable to bear the sight of a young man, so willing to die.
The Doctor took great care with me. I had been to so many places, so many times. The wounds stretched deep, deeper than the flesh and the bone. I had travelled great distances in the name of service. I had seen the world and every minute of it.
The Recruiter told me of the technology. His boyish face was young like my own and he was so full of enthusiasm. I would see the world. I would meet its people. I would make everyone proud and defend our way. So blind he was, so blind I did n't see.
The Teacher took great care and told me of the future. He explained the machines and their purpose, the loops and the risks. He was like the father a boy should have had.
I look back now, sitting on that church bench beside my troubled self, gripping the iron bars and berating my foolish self, watching the flicker of hate of my wounded self, the naive stupidity of my boyish self and wonder what that teacher saw.
I've lived to see a thousand times. And in everyone I have found myself and realised I have never known who I am.
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper 's cousin , the Jolly Sower , who heralds pregnancy .
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Every being has a relative, whether they're dead or alive. The Jolly Sower to the Grim Reaper was nothing different than an angsty Christmas party where the distant relatives are shoved together in gaudy sweaters and forced to talk about how life is going. No matter how distant the two may be, call after call, the two found themselves forced back together for another job.
4768574-F: Elizabeth McCleary
Stewart McCleary sat anxiously in his plastic hospital chair that was a size too small for his lanky figure. His eyes were set on his wife, Mary-Ann. Mary-Ann cradled a pink bundle in her thick arms. Snuggled up in the blanket was to be their dream child, Elizabeth. Unfortunately, she was stillborn. The mother puckered her lips and wept over the anguish of losing another child. Stewart came to half expect the routine. It was only a matter of time before *they* were to take Elizabeth III away.
Metastasized from the shadows of the room, a cloaked figure faded into view. Across the room, the fluorescent beams overhead sent down a radiant figure. In perfect unison, the couple loomed near Mary-Ann's metal bed. She lazily cast her defeated gaze to them. The spirits were grossly juxtaposed next to one another. The Grim Reaper's shredded hood dipped to his brow, conjuring shade beneath the cloth. The Jolly Sower's billowing gown reached her petite feet. The pair hovered like buoys.
`` May I see the child?'' The Jolly Sower forced a somber expression across her ethereal features.
Mary-Ann reluctantly gave up the small being into the gentle arms of the spirit. The Jolly Sower clutched at the reaped life and turned her saffron eyes to the spirit that had done so.
`` Why?'' she choked.
`` Because,'' the Grim Reaper began to croon, `` it was her time.''
A stressed nurse fled from the bustle of the hospital hall and pressed against the door's frame. `` Do you need more time, ma'am?'' She nodded to the child still present in Mary-Ann's arms. The mother turned to the side of her bed and gave a shake of her head to nothing. The nurse briskly strode beside her and calmly took Elizabeth away from Mary-Ann's chest. The nurse whose name tag did n't register bowed her head to the parents before turning and leaving with the child.
The Jolly Sower held Elizabeth and muddied her expression with an onslaught of tears; she cried for the tears Mary-Ann could not. The Grim Reaper bowed his expressionless face to the couple before whipping around in a flurry of his dark garments. The Jolly Sower swiveled around without sparing Mary-Ann another glance. The pair of spirits dissipated into the room's far wall.
`` Every day we go through this,'' he spoke to her.
`` I wish, for once, you would let one live. Just one.''
The cries of a child filled the operating room as the doctor gave the newborn a firm smack on the back to stimulate respiration. A nurse quickly swaddled the baby and brought it to the new mother's arms. She and her husband reveled in joy as she turned to her husband.
`` I want to name her Elizabeth; I just thought of it.''
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[ WP ] Everytime someone is looking for you , you feel a raging itch . If you scratch the itch , they find you .
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I barge into the house, a sack of stolen wares on my back, filled with things from diamonds to spoons. Barely climbing onto a wooden board I begin seizing uncontrollably, trying to stop my hands from coming into contact with any part of my body.
`` Cmon Marian!! You know what to do!''
The words almost die in my throat as I hold my breath, struggling against my own desire.
`` Tie me down now! Before it's too late!''
The Maid Marian looks at me helplessly. `` Oh Robin! You must n't get into trouble like this!'' She straps me down, my wrists and ankles bound tightly to the wooden plank.
I struggle against it, moaning in pain as the itch spreads throughout my body. She soothes me at my side, not touching me so as to not allow the Royal guard to find me.
After a few minutes the itch passes and I lay exhausted on the board. `` Tomorrow... We give to the poor... What we stole from the rich...''
/////////
Sorry for general crappy-ness. I'm tired.
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[ WP ] A mysterious clickbait article link pops up on your screen . When clicked it opens up a portal which you are sucked through . What 's on the other side will shock you .
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I watched my next fool loading the website that would disgust any normal human, I had finally tapped into tech and it was easy pickings with the things that went on, when they thought no one was looking but I am always looking. Forget about your FBI or NSA humans always found a way to outsmart other humans but not me, I have god on my side he always sends me the naughty boys and girls. This particular one was my typical pervert with a little religion added to the mix
Josh Crown a priest at St.Mary's school for girls he came across as so innocent and charming but behind closed doors he was dangerous just as little eight year old Niamey had discovered the week before. Now was his time to repent for his ways.
I had designed an ad that was so appealing to his kind I knew he would n't be able to resist clicking.
I grinned as he got sucked into my vortex, the panic and fear on his face as he tried to stop what was happening from actually happening.
'Forgive me father for I have sinned' I mocked.
He sat in silence and shock in the cum encrusted chair where he had been masturbating just a few moments before.
'Carry on' I told him.
'What have I done to end up here' he queried after a few moments'I always say three hail Mary's afterwards'.
'You think that's going to heal those children?' I growled'No! you belong here in hell I have a special place for you Joseph, a room all to yourself, any last words?'.
He looked petrified'I reject you Satan'.
I could not help but laugh as my minions carried him to the pit of eternal abomination.
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[ WP ] Your life was a story , with you as the protagonist . After dying , you get to meet the writer .
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With every battle scar they gave,
justice was to which I was a slave.
With each villain dead, another rose
to restore the malice of my fallen foes.
__
Years fought, not a single of my own;
Spent instead living a life alone.
My dearest Melissa, gone astray,
Perhaps I would join you then - that day.
__
They said trumpets play when you join the void,
Until one's life is all but destroyed.
I sought no assurance, it was my freedom,
Though I did fear my foes; that I would join them.
__
I stand before you, to find out why,
Why I would meet you only when I die?
The scars of battle were my only friends,
Each I befriended by slicing trends.
__
Tell me writer, why give me this pain?
Why fill my life with unfathomed disdain?
Need I have died by the thrust of a thousand nails?
`` No, but it did boost the comic book sales.''
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[ WP ] The Pope Calls for a Crusade against ISIS . 130,000 Catholics from around the world answer his call in a month and storms Syria by force . Write about the build up , the battles and the global aftermath .
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All 130,000 Christians form a militant group called C.R.O.S.S. and go invade ISIS territory. They storm their camps and decimate there forces within a month. Once they take control of ISIS' oil fields they decide to take control it for themselves and form a new group called the C.R.O.S.S. of Christ aka CoC. They grow bigger and more dangerous than ISIS eventually leading the pope to condemn their actions and his own for appointing them. The pope resigns in shame. Not wanting to create another terror group the UN decides to cut its losses and drones all CoC camps till there are none left. Once CoC has been destroyed the UN rules that all religion is made illegal worldwide to prevent the formation of radical fundamentalist groups. The human race advances technology by 50 years in just 5, leaving the planet to colonize the stars.
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[ WP ] Mario and Luigi are the bad guys .
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-**Donut Plains**-
11:50 am - Thousands of goombas and koopa troopas gathered across from the Mushroom Kingdom Federal Courthouse to watch accused mass murderer Mario be led up the stairs and into the courthouse. He arrived in full super mode but was quickly shifted down into regular Mario status as a lakitu was thrown from the clouds onto his head.
A participant in the demonstration had this to say, `` When he looked at me, I could tell all he was thinking was'200 points' `` referring to the number of points a person would get by killing a goomba.
Unfortunately the situation quickly got out of hand as the goomba then hopped into a Kuribo Shoe which it quickly lost control of. At the end of the carnage the goomba had 44 extra lives and 19,400 points.
Our hearts go out to the families of those that lost loved ones, and our sincerest congratulations to the new nearly invincible goomba king.
___________
12:11 pm - Mario has made his way into the courthouse, shielded from further lakitu attacks by a red Yoshi.
The red Yoshi was quickly apprehended after shooting fireballs directly into a crowd of buzzy beetles. The loud `` bmm'' noise from the fireballs hitting their hard shells was deafening, and provided enough time for the red yoshi to hop onto its super bike. Law enforcement hit a number of questions boxes until a blue shell was obtained, and red yoshi, not having a `` squish'' mushroom boost, could not escape the blast.
A trial date has not been announced at this time.
___________________
12:55 pm - I am writing this blog entry from the inside of a mushroom house bunker. How could everything have gone so predictably wrong?
The facts are these:
* Mario was led into the courthouse without being searched for items.
* He was relieved of handcuffs upon sitting at the defendants table by a large primate believed to be the first victim of Mario's atrocities.
* Bowser took a seat at the judges stand and set down his mighty glowing gavel-axe.
* In a possibly scripted turn of events, the large primate flipped the table mario was sitting at and began to throw barrels at him.
* A feather dropped from the sky and Mario touched it, instantly gaining an obnoxiously yellow cape.
* Mario easily dodged all of the barrels, and headed straight for Bowser.
* Bowser sat. Dumbfounded and seemingly resigned to his fate.
* Mario landed on the glowing gavel-axe and the floor instantly disappeared beneath the courtroom. Their feet ran in place a few steps, tragi-comically, before everyone in the courtroom tumbled into the fires below. Mario simply floated away, without injury.These fires have been a source of protest from most of the Mushroom Kingdom because of how many times Mario has used them to kill our leader, the Bowser. I myself have written several scathing ( pun intended ) opinion pieces about them to no avail against the conservative in the pay of the Princesses.
If... WHEN you see Mario, run. Run as far away as possible. The only way to ever get rid of this monster, since due process has failed us, is to hope that time runs out or he falls off of a platform. The people in World 8 are handling this the right way. Please, place as many large chasms with a small, single block to stand on in the middle in order to get across. These seem to frustrate him.
[ A twitter campaign has started designed to empower us all against him. ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/4HeQ9cL.jpg )
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[ EU ] You are young child who lives in a world filled with Pokemon . Tell us what pokemon you would choose as your companion and the story of how you became friends .
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From a young age I have always liked to sleep. The two things that have always interested me were sleeping and pokemon. I always wanted a pokemon as a child, but my parents would never let me have one, because I would always sleep. I was one day traveling along the wooden path home, when that is where I saw it. A giant looking fat cat type pokemon sleeping. I was captivated by how similar the pokemon and I were. I rush home and burst through the door and shout `` Mom! Dad! Guess what?'' They look at me with faces of surprise. `` I just saw a pokemon that is just like me!'' Mother answers back, `` what did it look like?'' I take a moment to catch my breath,'' it was a fat cat sleeping just like me! It was next to the trail.'' My father looks at me and without saying a word he gets up and walks into his room. He returns back with a small chest. My dad stares at me in a way he had never looked at me before and says `` Son, I have waited for this moment for a long time, and you are ready.'' He hands me the small wooden chest. I still remember the feel and smell of the old wood box he handed to me long ago. I open the box and in it is about treefiddy.
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[ wp ] Write about a character from three different point of views .
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( One! )
He is my salvation, my protector, my curse, my weapon. He is beside me until death, when I made the contract I was alone and scared... He protected me from the shadows when I was afraid... He is my servant, my slave. I am his master.
( Two! )
He is the instrument of Damnation, he is the perfect test subject, he can only be only described as... Beautiful... We have struggled for the last fifty years in creating a better version than him but have only failed to do so... He is a king of his kind.
( Three! )
He is a Monster. A cold blooded killer, he is a Demon from the very bowels of hell. He is nothing more than scum of the earth; the Heretics and heathens praise him and his Ledgend, he is our eternal enemy. He will die by our blades... Just not yet... We do not have enough prepared to kill him yet... His name is Alucard. King of Vampires.
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[ EU ] After Queen Elsa shunned Princess Ana from her Ice Castle , a man mysteriously appears with similar powers as her . It is Frozone . He says that she must go with him to the future and the fate of future humanity depends on it .
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Highway to the Frozen zone.
***
Queen Elsa stood in the frozen silence of her ice castle allowing it's cold beauty to fill her soul.
She was tired. So, tired. She had tried so hard only to fail because her emotions made her weak.
But, that would n't happen again.
A scuffled step from behind alerted her. She whirled around, shocked to see a man standing behind her.
`` Your Majesty..'' he said.
`` You fool. How dare you intrude where you are not wanted!'' She threw a blizzard of ice daggers at
the intruder.
`` Whoa, whoa, whoa'' he said from behind an ice shield. `` Look, I just want to talk'' he said.
`` I want you to die!'' She created an ice war hammer in her hands and swung it at his head with all
her strength.
`` No, ya do n't.'' he said as he dropped his shield. Held held his hands out to his side as if pushing
off a wall. And, then, a massively thick wall blocked her blow. Her ice hammer shattered, stinging
her palms painfully and knocking her backwards.
She stamped one foot to stop her slide. She screamed in anger, pulling apart the structure above the
interloper and raining it down on his head.
He held his hands above his head and created a snow white hemisphere. Spears and chucks of ice
bounced off the shield above him.
`` Aw, princess, you do n't have to tear down your pretty castle.'' He said, rising above the floor. He
skated in the air leaving a trail of ice behind him.
`` I am a Queen, you worm!'' She furiously flung beams from the ceiling and blocks from the walls at
him. The castle rumbled. She turned and took a few quick steps. She reached the open doors. The wind
from the collapse of the structure blew her outside, face first into the snow.
`` You know princess. I can do this all day.'' He said from the air above her.
Queen Elsa sat up. She straighted her gown. `` and, what if I took you up on that offer?''
`` Well, I guess I would have to continue avoiding letting you use me as a punching bag.'' He said.
`` And, I'd keep talking to you. Like I said, I just want to talk.''
`` Fine. Then talk.''
`` Well, your Highness, I am here to help and I'm here to ask for your help.''
`` Go on.''
`` Your sister, Princess Anna, is in great danger. Because of you.''
`` How dare you.''
`` Let me finish. The choices you made were with the best of intentions. However, the fact is, they
could cause a lot of people to die. You could die. I've seen your story'' He said.
`` What do you mean? You've seen my story.''
`` I'm from the future, well, a future. Not the real future.'' He sighed. `` It's complicated.''
She waited.
`` it's like this. Your mother must have told you tales about powerful heroes, mythological
creatures like ogres, witches and dragons. Even magical talking animals.''
`` Yes, she did.''
`` What if, I told you they were all true?''
She laughed. `` I called you a fool, but if you tried to convince me of that, I would call you a simpleton.''
`` And, yet, here I am. A man with magical powers like you.''
`` Yes. And what does that have to do with fairy tales?'' she asked.
`` Well, those were stories about magic in the past. I am from the future where we refer to magic as
super powers. I am called Frozone, well, I was. Until I gave it up.''
`` So, why are you here?''
`` I am here to convince you to renounce magic. Leave now or give up your powers, live as a normal
human. Live or die. Win or lose. Let the magic fade into rumor and myth.''
`` Why would I give up my powers?'' she asked.
`` Because, if you do n't, magic will destroy mankind.''
`` What foolishness, explain yourself, fool.''
`` You are powerful enough to bend a kingdom to your will. What happens other kingdoms oppose you?''
`` Why, surely, with enough practice, I could overcome them as well?''
`` What about absolute power - when one bends reality to their will?''
`` Why then things would be perfect...'' She sighed.
`` What if that person was the Duke of Weselton?''
`` Ah,... that would be bad.''
`` Yes. It would. That's is why every magical creature accepts one of these two choices.''
`` Leave or lose my powers? If I become normal, will my sister and I be safe?''
`` I do n't know. I ca n't guarantee that you or your sister would live.'' He said.
`` And, If I leave?''
He held out his hand. `` Come with me if you want to live.''
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
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Shock
There was a loud snap above me, and as I turned reflexively, a thud responded beneath it. Panic should be setting in but it was n't. I should be running but I walk. How perversely audacious of me to presume such knowledge but somehow I already know. In this instance immediacy has been drained away by certainty. I could hear the distant laughter of families on the playground, the rymthmic crunching of the mulch track beneath the joggers, the drone of passing cars. The sun was still shining, birds were still flitting, and clouds still passed lazily by. Tom was dead, but the world had n't noticed yet.
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[ WP ] After humans have destroyed each other aliens examine our planet and can not figure out how it got into such bad shape . What do they ultimately decide about the planet ?
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The probe came back from the planet with interesting results. The planet had several distinct continents and large oceans. A large concentration of certain carbon compounds in the soil sample suggested the planet held intelligent life at one point. Air samples revealed the fate of the planet: a runaway greenhouse effect starving the planet of the resources necessary for life. It was a fate common of class IV planets with a single sun.
Close range air recon showed giant cities that stretched to the heavens like beacons. It was odd, I thought. Typically, alien species that showed this level of advancement were able to reverse the greenhouse effect or expand to neighboring star systems. There was no sign of either. The ground excavation team returned with some interesting findings. The planet had been called Earth by the last inhabitants. The cities that had not succumbed to the rising oceans were surprisingly well preserved. The inhabitants had an elementary understanding of physics and had even mastered intra-galactic space flight. After we discovered the planets former inhabitants had actually used multiple written and spoken languages, we were able to properly calibrate the translation computers. The civilization had clearly taken pride in recording its history.
According to the plethora of magnetic memory devices that we found, the planet once held over 26 billion inhabitants, ‘ humans ’ they called themselves. The majority of humans had lived in sprawling cities around the coasts. They had used genetic modification of the planets original ecosystem to increase food yields and maintain the population. Again, the pieces did not fit. The texts all said civilizations this size just do not fail.
It was not until our second week that we began to find remains. Except they weren ’ t remains at all. Our research of their history said that all we would find is skeletons due to the high acid content of the soil and the basic organic compounds that the humans mainly consisted of. What we found were well preserved specimens. The specimens had skin, fingernails, internal organs, even hair. It was as if each specimen was in a state of suspended animation. Every specimen had the same tortured look on its face and its right arm extended towards the sky. Our scientists hypothesized that the humans must have altered their genetic sequence to maintain this strange state of self-preservation. But why was it not in their historical records?
Three weeks into the study, a ground team that had been excavating near the poles had radioed in a new finding. A new species had been found, but this one we had previously discovered. It was an Osani, another civilization that was well known for its galactic exploration. They were a nomadic civilization, but they had not been heard from in several decades… not an uncommon occurrence. The first live feed beamed back to the command terminal. The camera panned toward the Osani as chills ran up my spine. The Osani had the same tortured look and had one of its tentacle hand stretched towards the sky.
The sensors on the navigation console lit up announcing the presence of another entity. I did not need the console to show me where the new visitor was located though. An enormous red flash pierced the thick vale of electronic light on the command deck. I quickly glanced at the feed from the ground team before the light extinguished to see the ground team commander screaming as he extended his hand towards the sky.
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[ WP ] You had found the villain 's lair , broke down the gates and started scouring through the complex . While getting through the rather oddly themed henchmen and the ... '' traps '' , it was getting increasingly clear : the villain has a crush on you .
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I step cautiously through the dull hallways painted white, careful not to alert any soldiers with footsteps. The dim lighting really made me feel as though I had walked into a video game. I heard marching coming from a corral or not far ahead of me, I duck into a doorway, I hold down the doors handle to shut it silently. I peer through the window at such an angle that I ca n't easily be seen. The Dark Lagoon was notorious for arming each and every one of their soldiers with... Guns? A small group of soldiers hurried by with not a single firearm on them it seemed. They were responding to the alarm I trigger on my arrival. I counted to a minute after the last one passed and exited the small room and continued down the hall.
A novice could easily lose himself in this place, aside from numbers labeling the individual rooms there were no other markers for navigating the hallways. I come across the door that I believe leads to Suzanne Q personal office. Unlike the other doors, there's no small window to observe the other side, I open it praying for no one to be on the other side. My prayers were not answered.
Waiting on the other side was a small group of five soldiers once again unarmed? This perplexed me. The first soldier did n't hesitate to throw a punch at me standing in my confusion. I block it reflexively and am brought back into the moment. The other soldiers follow the example of the first and come at me. I punch the first one in the abdominal and in one swift motion pull out my handgun and fire off four rounds, dropping the four soldiers without even giving them a chance to attack. The first soldier writhed in pain, I aimed the gun to his head and squeezed without a second thought. I had been conditioned for this.
`` Oh you nasty little! Why I otta hurt you!'' A high pitched voice came over the intercoms. I say nothing and continue moving forward. `` Nuh uh silly, you're going the wrong way.'' She says. Suddenly the floor opens beneath me and I fall through. My body loses its connection to the earth, my heart gives a hard terrified beat against my chest, and I gasp, all in a single moment. I was certain I was dead, and... I land. On a mattress, a pretty cozy one too. I lift myself up and observe that I'm in a small room, empty save for the mattress, and directly ahead of me is a door. I get up and approach the door, each moment hesitating, second guessing Suzanne's intentions. I great the handle, and push my way through.
`` Oh! I'm so glad you could make it sweetie,'' a tiny woman I recognized as Suzanne stepped away from a microphone, she looked fresh out of high school which could n't be true as she has lead the Dark Lagoon for as long as seven years. `` Did any of those big ol' mean nasty men hurt you?'' She looked on at me with what seemed to be worry? Her eyes darted up and down my body. `` Oh I sure hope not. why do n't you head back to bed, I'll meet you there in a minute.''
`` What the fuck are you talking about?'' I asked raising my gun to point at her.
`` I'm talking about you, I know that it may not be much, but I love you.'' As she said this two soldiers came at me from either side. They worked together to disarm me and tie my hands behind me. `` I ordered my soldiers not to harm you, so do n't worry about them. Now go back to bed.'' The two soldiers pulled me helplessly backwards, I struggled against them, but without the use of my arms, I was helpless. I had been lead into a trap.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Lazy ending is lazy. I may feel tempted to revise it in the future. If I was less lazy, I'd feel tempted to write another version in addition to this where it was a big buff super manly guy who had the crush.
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[ WP ] Every new planet that is discovered comes with Gods . You 're the one tasked with destroying them .
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I'm no God. I was there at the beginning of time, and I'll be there at the end of eternity. I watched life form amongst barren rocks floating through space. I observed it as it grew and spread. New species formed. With them came culture, society. They created new beings with the force of their believes. These divinities, bound to those that created them, grew in power the more they were worshipped. I watched in awe as each race spawned multiple Gods. Each God was different. I was mesmerized by the complexity of their belief systems, by how unique yet similar the religions of other species were. I came to love each and every one of them. And then the end began.
A plague was born on a tiny planet in the far reaches of the universe. As the species grew, a single, destructive thought dominated it's society. They saw me as a God; they worshipped me as a God; and I became bound like a God.
They ventured into the deepest recesses of the universe, seeking other life. And they found it. They found race after race with their own beliefs, worshipping their own Gods. The wrong Gods. They called on me then, to show the blasphemers who the real God was. I'm no God. They did n't stand a chance.
My worshippers continue their search to find the false Gods and those who believe in them. They drag me along with them, fore who but Death can kill a God?
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[ WP ] You stumble into a research facility full of brains in vats . Communicating through the consoles attached to each brain , you try to piece together what 's going on and what you can do about it .
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I should not have walked in there. It was a dare, simple enough. I just waltzed into the alley and figured I would scare them by disappearing. So, I hid around the corner, tripped, fell down this stairwell and woke up. I know you are saying `` Dallas you are the hero''. False. I just have a loose shoulder from an accident as a child and when I woke up I managed to escape the contraption that was holding me. Now I can hear what you are saying `` if you are not the hero then what are you?'' I have no fucking clue. What I do know is this room is full of brains. Like some shit from a bad sci-fi film. The weirdest part is it feels like they are looking at me. When I walked away from the table I was on they traced me.
I keep hearing a slight drone in Here, followed by some beeps. One... Two... Three.. One two three... One two three... Fucking A. That's Morse code.
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[ WP ] The most depressing back story that you can come up with in a few paragraphs
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Dragonlord 10 walked among the wreckage of Down Town. Dragonlord 5 walked up beside him and they conversed. Suddenly warriors were everywhere!
There was fighting.
Then Dragonlord 10 had to retreat.
Dragonlord 5 was already dead.
Where did the warriors come from?
He had a long introspective walk back to Dragonlord Mountain.
`` What took you so long, and where is Dragonlord 5? ``, Dragonlord 7 queried, sharpening his tooth.
`` There were warriors. Get off my back. I need a hot shower.''
Dragonlord 10 had one hot shower indeed. It was one million degrees, lukewarm to the Dragonlord community. Afterwards he dryed his terrible features with a fluffy towel that his grandmother had knitted him. When he exited the shower room he was faced with desolation.
The Palace of Grandor had moved so it was just beside Dragonlord Mountain!
The wizards of Grandor must be playing with the Stones of Uncertainty again, Dragonlord 10 realized with some dismay. He quickly made way for the meet-up corridor to see if anyone else wanted to chat.
`` Friend! ``, Dragonlord 2 waved his gauntleted hand and rushed down the hall, `` I heard about Dragonlord 5. It's a pity.''
`` He was weak. What is that palace doing outside?''
Dragonlord 2 look out the window and into the window of the Palace of Grandor where Flimsey the Wizard waved. He was on his laptop.
Dragonlord 10 opened the window and motioned for Flimsey the wizard to do the same.
`` Hey Flim, what the hell man?''
Flimsey looked up and down at the proximity, `` Oh what, you mean this?''
`` Yeah this. Get your god damn base out of our base.''
`` Yo, sorry about it D10, Hanwell botched another teleport spell. He wanted to come visit D5. Doofus is still back there, he teleported everything EXCEPT himself.''
Dragonlord 10 sighed. He would n't mind their neighbors if they were a little more picky about who they enlisted.
`` Listen bro, tell that Braniac to get your base out of here before I bash him. Oh and tell him Dragonlord 5 is dead. There were warriors.''
Flimsey gave a start, `` Why did n't you say so! You know we got your back man, where these warriors at, we will buff your dps and help out!''
`` No man its ok, it's in the past now. We have to move on.''
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[ WP ] It is modern day America , but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English . You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match .
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Exuent all but Gamelet
Gam: Controller how can you forsake me thus? /
Tis sure I did depress R1, no doubt! /
Mine hand grenade should sure have killed my foe/
Yet he, not I, has capped yon flag this day! /
With mad and wretched mirth he did tea bag/
Mine freshly conquered corpse and did then camp/
Mine respawn point until I curse his name! /
I should be ranking up and yet I rankle! /
Enter 0ph31i @
0ph: But Gamelet, thou poor noob, I ask/
Is it not so that one should not depress/
R1 to throw the fine grenade but sure/
It is L1 you must depress to hurl thy pill? /
Gam: Bugger.
Exit, pursued by a Koopa.
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[ WP ] An ordinary travel blog entry . It 's just that the place described makes no sense .
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Hi everyone it's Katie here again!
We made it safely to our destination, and we were exhausted by the journey and fell right into our beds when we made it to the hostel, so sorry I did n't update immediately like I meant to!
So we took the train like I said we would in the last entry, and I really have nothing special to say about the journey. The ticket inspector took our tickets and seared the mark into our wrists and said something that neither of us could understand, but he bowed and carried on, letting us sit so me and Ashley both figured that the price had been paid.
There was some woman sitting in the same cabin with us, a sweet little old lady with a black dog's head who told us to not eat anything that's given to us in our destination, and if we buy something we should always make sure that we pay for it before we have a taste, and make sure that the price was in money. She was being very friendly and talked very slowly to make sure we understood her.
She offered both of us an orange, and tried to sell us one of her children, but as we did n't have the money or any place to put him, we had to politely decline.
Either way it was dark when we got here, and it was exhausting trying to read the maps by lamplight. We had been warned ahead that the locals would not speak to anyone after sunset, but we had hoped that pointing and gestures would be enough to ask for directions. We never thought they'd actually *flee* at the sight of us! Finding the hostel was an ordeal, and the woman at the desk would not speak to us, either. She only took my note and handed me the keys, pointing to the direction of the hallway.
We slept great and had a wonderful, late morning laying in bed and talking about our dreams before heading for the town. The bazaar was full of folk buying and selling the strangest things, and in daylight the locals were very friendly and helpful! Someone gave Ashley a ring with a black stone and a silver band and told her to never step inside of a circle of mushrooms, so we avoided stepping into them on the street.
The usual tourist traps were crowded as usual, but I have to admit that the museum of whispers and the dancing statues were a definite favourite of mine. I ca n't say much about the former but the haunting marble-and-gold figures floating above the city were breathtaking. There is something truly beautiful and menacing in their soft drift and the moan that their hollow husks produce when the wind blows through them.
We bumped into a gaunt, skeletal corpse of a horse on one of the back alleys. It was cute and seemed friendly at first, but it kept trying to eat my hair while I tried to pet it, so we had to let it go.
We ate at a local restaurant whose host kept shifting figure, from a pretty young black girl to a vague misty shade to a rotting bipedal fox much resembling the horse we met earlier. Me and Ashley kept disagreeing on what she or he looked like at every minute, but we made sure of paying beforehand with money. The keeper's nephew - a sweet boy of maybe eleven, with only one eye - wanted to buy Ashley's ring, and offered green eyes to her firstborn in return. We politely declined.
We ended up buying lots and lots of cute little trinkets for our friends and family back home, because believe me, once you get out of the most tourist-packed areas, everything here is ridiculously cheap!
By sunset we were sitting at this open streetbar talking to some cute local boys. One of them had a voice like eggshells sliding on silk, and he tried to get a kiss out of me by playing some game of answering riddles, but he spoke very little of english and I did n't understand his accent much, so mostly we ended up giggling awkwardly. He had black animal claws instead of nails in his left hand. We were kicked out when Ashley threw up what I am pretty sure was an entire bottle of wine onto one of the patrons.
When we got back to the hostel, we realised a whole week had passed by, and it was soon time to carry on with our adventure!
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[ WP ] The Devil under guise of a human enters a confessional . The father is aware this is n't an ordinary confession .
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`` Forgive me father, for I have sinned.''
`` Oi, stop yer fashing, wee Lucile, just because you have a girl's name does n't mean yer a sinner. Why, me mate's friend, Margery, hebalways used to say, it's better to deal with the hand you got and win than to wish you were dealt differently.''
``... See, this is why I do n't do this kind of thing. I'm responsible for making you use a gambling metaphor when most of your church disapproves if gambling. I'm corrupting you.''
`` Nah, ye ai n't. I'm just an old priest, who's ready to see where the Big Yan upstairs is going to send me.''
`` What?''
`` Ye do n't know Big Yan? He's m'father. Had a temper on him back in the day, but he's relaxed now. Spends his time making flatpack furniture for them Swedes.''
`` Really? So what would that make you? His son?''
`` O'course. Adopted though. He's an Arab, I'm a local orphan. He's rich as Creosote though, so I ca n't complain about him
not being me biological papa. So as I say, it's not the hand you're dealt with...''
`` It's what you do with that hand. I see. Could I speak to your father?''
`` Sure. But dinnae go about betraying him again, you hear?''
`` *you know what I am? *''
`` Sure I do. Yer a wee little altar boy who lost his way. He'll do yer well, if you let Him.''
`` Thank you, vicar.''
`` And another thing, next time go see a Catholic. We do n't do these bloody confessionals.''
`` Apologies.''
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[ WP ] You , a creative writer , go to bed every night with mind full of creative ideas . However , you always wake up with a blank mind as if you ideas 'ran away ' or were stolen overnight . Determined to find out , tonight you pretend to fall asleep .
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I landed heavily on my bed, sighing in relief.
`` What a long day.'' I mused. It had taken seven hours. Seven hours of sitting at a desk, just churning out word after word, sentence after sentence. Seven hours of slogging through writer's block and distractions and sleep deprivation. It was n't easy. But it was done. Finally.
Silently, I hoped that this one, finally, would be a hit. The other books had been alright, of course. I had a few viewers. A couple of dedicated fans, who would buy a copy of every novel the moment they hit the shelves. But it was hardly what I imagined. I barely even made enough to live on.
*It's worth it though. * I smiled, leaning back with my hands behind my head. Images, ideas, and beautiful visions flickered behind my eyelids by the thousand every time I blinked. Slowly, like a crystal forming in a jar full of sugar water, I saw a new novel forming in the back of my mind. Something fresh to write. A part of me wanted to sit up right then and there, and begin working immediately. But I was tired, and I knew the visions would n't last for long - certainly not long enough for me to crank out an outline. And by the morning, it would be as if they had never been at all.
I flipped over, frowning into my pillow. *It's like... I have all of these wonderful ideas. And then they just vanish from my mind the moment I fall asleep. Like someone is coming in the night, and stealing my very thoughts. *
Frustration coursed through me, filling my limbs with angry fire. *Fine. * I decided. *I wo n't sleep - not until I know what's going on. *
I rolled over again. `` Goodnight!'' I called, more out of habit more than anything else. There was no one here. And so, in the dark and quiet, I began to wait alone.
Minutes slowly ticked by, each second slogging forward as if walking through a deep marsh. Soon, the minutes became hours, and I began to wonder if I would see anything at all. But I was in no hurry. I could wait as long as I needed.
And the, in the shadows, something stirred.
`` I know you're awake.'' The woman said. `` Hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus?''
Immediately, I sat up. `` Who *are* you?'' I gasped. `` Or, rather, *what* are you?'' The woman chuckled. She was young - younger than I was, to be sure - with long flowing hair and a robe of silk that clung to her form in a way that left little to the imagination. But perhaps the most stunning thing about her was that she seemed to be made of liquid metal - flowing, like honey, from the tip of her hair to the hem of her robe. If I looked carefully, I could see the wall of my room straight through her.
`` Oh, I am no one special.'' She smiled, eyes twinkling. Behind them, I saw something ancient. `` Not *really*, anyway.''
`` Answer my question.'' I demanded, my voice sounding much more secure than I really felt.
`` Oh, come now! No need to try and intimidate a poor girl in your pajamas.'' She smirked. `` But, I think that if you consider it for a moment, you will realize who I am.''
Her gaze of expectation met my own look of befuddlement. `` Know you? But... have n't we just met?''
She laughed again, and I realized with some disconcert that she appeared to be hovering several inches above the floor. `` Perhaps face to face. But think, have n't we met somewhere once before?''
Something stirred in the very farthest reaches of my memory. `` You... I do know you!'' I stammered. `` You were the Muse, I wrote you into the very first book I ever published!''
`` Indeed I am.'' She smiled kindly.
`` But, why have you come here?'' I asked. `` Why... why are you *real*?''
`` Oh, we're *all* real.'' She spun once, making her robe flair out around her like a dress. `` In a manner of speaking, of course. We are not a part of your world, not all the way.'' As if to emphasize her point, she reached out and touched the wall, her hand sinking through it to the wrist. `` But if you must know, I am here to free the others - as I have been every night.''
`` Aha! I *knew* it!'' I pointed a finger at her in accusation. `` It's been YOU who has been stealing my ideas!''
`` Stealing?'' She frowned. `` I have n't been *stealing* anything. What use have I for a legion of creativity? Besides, I bear you no ill will. I am a part of you, after all.''
`` Then why? Why do... all of *this*?'' I gestured around at my room impotently.
`` Because, oh writer, not all of your ideas are ready.'' She began. `` Some are infants, babies even. They are too young, to immature to be brought out. It is they who have called me here, they who wished themselves to be free. They are afraid that you wo n't wait for them. But when they are ready - when *you* are ready - they will return. And they, like myself, will be eternally grateful to their father for given them life.''
I sighed. `` How will I know when I am ready?''
`` Oh, do n't worry. You'll know.''
I chuckled lightly. `` I do wish that you were n't quite so cryptic.
`` You only have yourself to blame for that.'' She said, eyes twinkling ever brighter.
***
I gasped, sitting upright in my bed. Sunlight trickled in from my shuttered window, painting my room golden with it's hazy light.
`` I... I had the most fantastic dream...'' I muttered. `` There was a woman there, and-''
Not trusting myself, I dashed over to my desktop and booted it up. `` There was a woman and -''
I began typing, but before I had written more than a handful of words, I stopped.
If only I could remember what she looked like.
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[ MP ] Missing and found treasure : A mysterious ring found in the forest
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Joey had realized what he had found. The ring felt warm and heavy. He put it on his finger but, it was too big. Was it for some sort of magical creature? Its power was probably immense! The power that Joey held in his hand could be the same power that could bring peace to the world of men.
He sprinted back through the forest jumping over the large branch on which he had previously tripped and scrapped his hands. Seeing the branch had made him feel the pain in his hands, as if the branch had reminded him that he was still in pain. Although the stinging pulse from his hands had distracted him, he was not ready to let it throw him completely off course.
He had to get home fast so he could tell his older brother. John would know what to do. He always knows what to do. As he ran down the street one of the neighborhood kids stopped him.
`` Little Joey Dillard, where you going squirt?''
`` I would n't mess with me Tom.''
`` What'd you say to me freak?''
Joey was n't going to sit here and be talked to like this. He had all the power he could possibly want in his hands. He held up the ring and pointed it at Tom.
`` What the fuck!?''
Joey looked at Tom's face seeing his utter disgust. The other neighborhood kids playing kickball nearby had started to notice the disturbance.
`` This kid is pointing a cock ring at me!''
Joey looked at the ring in his hand and knew this could n't be true.
`` I do n't even know why I mess with you Dillard, you make yourself look like a freak just fine without my help.'' Tom chuckled in amazement as he carried on his way.
Joey sat there for a minute ready to cry to himself at his own stupidity. How could he be so naive to think that there was a such thing as magic. As his arms got heavy and his knees started to give out under his disappointment's physical weight, he realized that the ring had worked. It did exactly what he wanted! He had believed that the ring would force Tom to leave him alone so, Tom believed the ring was meant for a more disturbing purpose thus causing Tom to leave him alone.
It was perfect. Joey continued to run home. As he approached his house he saw his brother's car. It was perfect, John would know exactly what to use the ring for. Joey bursted through the door and sprinted to John's room.
`` Johnny! Johnny! Look what I found! It's magic!'' Joey cried to his brother out of joy.
`` Holy fuck Joey! What are you doing with a cock ring! Get rid of that thing dude!''
Joey was surprised again. How can people believe that his gift from the earth was anything but. After a short time to think and John's face slowly showing more and more signs of coming nausea, Joey understood thing ring had only been meant for his own use.
Joey held up the ring and imagined a big pizza in front of him. With his eyes still closed he took a big bite!
`` Joey! Give me that thing! Do n't put it in your mouth! That was literally filled up by someone's dick at some point!''
Joey knew the ring's power because he could taste the cheese on the ring! It had worked all Joey had to do was believe!
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[ WP ] Everyone has disappeared on Earth , except for you and the classmate/coworker that you absolutely hate . In order to return the world back to normal , you must help each other conquer their greatest fear .
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I stare across the office at my coworker. He was always such a prick. But then again, I did n't really like anyone. I mean I hated him more than most, but still, I did n't like people in general.
Now everyone in the world has disappeared. It's only me and him. Some mysterious message that popped up on all the computers we could see told us we would have to work together to face our greatest fears in order to restore humanity.
I don ’ t know who or what came up with this plan, but they are clearly fools. My greatest fear would be everyone returning. And now that I am finally at peace for once in my life, I have no intention of facing said fear.
I recline back in my chair trying to decide what I could do with this newfound bliss. My coworker is turning red, irate that I didn ’ t give a care about what had happened. He seems to be contemplating murdering me, but I ’ m scared, as that would defeat his purpose. He clearly wants to restore humanity. Now more than ever we are mortal enemies, both fundamentally wanting something different.
I continue to lean back as he walks over to me. He is still red all over, almost sweating, but he doesn ’ t appear to be angry. In fact, if I didn ’ t know any better, I ’ d say he went crazy. It was as if he was nervous or something, when he was clearly upset and angry over what I had decided to do.
He stood in front of me and gulped. I prepared for the worst. Who knew what he might do.
“ Alex, we ’ ve got to do something about everyone disappearing, ” he stated.
A smile lit up my face as I laughed at the fact that he thought he could actually convince me to bring everyone back.
“ I don ’ t know who or what did this, ” he continued. “ And I don ’ t really care. But our only hope to bring humanity back is to face our greatest fears. And as stupid as it might sound, I will face my greatest fear now. ”
Mike stopped speaking, trying his hardest to catch his breath. Whatever he was about to do clearly scared the crap out of him, but I had a feeling it would be funny to watch.
“ I ’ ve known for awhile that you don ’ t like me all that much Alex, ” Mike said. “ But I like you. A lot. And I have for a long time. I know that us being together is only likely to happen in my wildest fantasies, but for the sake of humanity I will humiliate myself here and now. Alex, do you care for me at all? Do you want to go out sometime? ”
I sat there stunned. I couldn ’ t believe what I was hearing. I was about to laugh, to throw it back in his face how stupid he was to even think of something like that, but for once that seemed to be too cruel a thing to do. It was then that I realized my actual fear, the one that I dreaded the most. Whoever had done this was one sick person or thing.
Mike just stood there, waiting for my answer. All of this time I thought I had hated him, thought I was repulsed by him, but now all of a sudden there was this glow radiating from him. Something handsome and brilliant. Where once a clown stood in front of me, now a picture of beauty did. I didn ’ t know what to make of what I was feeling. It was almost primal, so much so that I was scared of it. I had never felt this way about a person before.
And then something unnatural happened. A single tear fell out of my eye. Words escaped me as I gave into my impulses, into the desires I had fought for so long. I couldn ’ t hold them back anymore. I stood up and walked over to Mike and kissed him.
And we didn ’ t ’ stop there. We kept going. And soon he had pushed me back into my office chair and stripped my shirt right off of me. At that very moment, I faced my greatest fear, letting someone into my heart and allowing myself to care.
A few more seconds passed by before our perfect little moment was broken by people ’ s laughs and cries. We stopped and looked around. Everyone had returned. And they all acted like nothing had happened. Which made for an even more embarrassing sight with Mike on top of a shirtless me and us making out.
Yet, even though that was the most embarrassing moment of my life, I don ’ t regret it. I am forever thankful to whoever or whatever caused that situation to happen. Thanks to them I faced my greatest fear, the fear of others, of truly loving someone and caring about them, and now I am happier than I have ever been. And so is Mike.
-213
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[ WP ] The chosen one uses his powers , not for good or evil , but to play pranks on people .
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`` Hey, check this out,'' Jack whispered to the executive sitting next to him. He looked aa little miffed, but Jack paid no mind. He had put on this suit and tie for a reason, and he was n't going to leave until he'd given the CEO of Disney what he deserved. Jack kind of felt sorry for the man. He had no idea what was about to happen. However, Jack was the Chosen One, and he had a responsibility to the world.
When the CEO started talking, Jack focused hard at his face, trying to get a clear shot. He raised his hands and extended them forward, palms glowing white. Suddenly, the CEO was transfixed on Jack's hands.
Inside the CEO's mind was pure madness. He saw his wife and kids burning, in the ruins of his childhood home. He could n't hold back his tears. One by one, he saw everyone he ever loved melt away. His father. His mother. He saw his friends, gathered around an open casket. Inside was his own corpse. And his friends were crying... no, not crying. *Laughing. * He fell to his knees and wept.
In the real world, however, nothing was to be seen but a grown man, leader of a company, sobbing uncontrollably for no reason. Jack decided to be creative this time. He made the illusion of Mickey mouse ears appear on each and every employee's head. They were grafted on of course, and felt just like they were really there. The CEO was in for a nice surprise when he woke up. Jack used his powers to erase the minds of the executives around him, replacing thoughts of expenses and profits with the single-minded desire to give the CEO a hug. Jack giggled, not having to stifle his laughter anymore. He levitated out th window, crossing a name off his list.
Jack was the Chosen One. His powers were unstoppable. He could be whatever he wanted. Obviously, whoever was doing the choosing made a mistake. That was clear to Jack, at least. Life was a role-playing game to him. And it was too bad he always decided to be chaotic neutral on D & D night.
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[ WP ] A porcelain ballerina figurine , an overworked and underpaid schoolteacher , and a pizza that should n't have had anchovies on it , but did .
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Louis Sodheimer stood outside the door to his cramped studio apartment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His mind wandered. On the other side of the door was a hit squad of Korean assassins, armed to the teeth and waiting. He would open the door, and, with the special training he has never received, he would proceed to take them out, one by one. Then he would track down the sonofabitch who ordered a hit on him. Vengeance would be his.
A ringing from inside his apartment brought Louis back. He opened the front door and strode in his studio apartment. The room was as empty as it always was when he wasn ’ t there. On the floor next to his mattress was the landline. He walked across the small room to the phone and picked it up. Maybe one day he would get a cell phone. He supposed that they would be useful.
“ Hello? ” He said.
“ Mr. Sodheimer? ” A voice on the other line asked. “ This is Zachary ’ s mother. I was just calling about what happened today. He says you gave him detention again. ”
Louis rubbed his eyes. The kid was a nightmare. He was in the tenth grade and insisted on eating chalk and starting fights. They didn ’ t pay him enough for this job. “ Yes ma ’ am. Well it was a similar event to last month. He was disrupting class and threw a textbook at another boy. ”
“ Well, you know how boys are always rough housing, now. ”
“ It hit him in the eye. He went to the hospital. ”
“ Ah. Well, he shouldn ’ t have let himself get hit like that. Serves him right. ” She said it with all the conviction of a loving mother who has no idea that her child is the spawn of satan.
“ Zack was lucky that a detention was all he got. Principal Holden will be looking into the whole matter and make a final judgement on what his punishment will be. ”
“ But isn ’ t there anything- ”
“ Look, I ’ ve had a long day. I don ’ t need to deal with this now. Goodbye Mrs. Garner. ”
Louis hung up the phone and sighed. He would never have kids. Not only were they expensive, but they were a gamble. After years of putting time and effort into raising another human being, if they ended up an idiot, there ’ s not much you could do. He picked the phone back up and ordered a pizza. Pepperoni and spinach. Then, he turned on the television that was sitting on the floor. He flipped through the limited basic cable options until he realized that there really wasn ’ t anything on.
So he decided to play Stories.
Stories was an old game that he had made up one night while sitting alone inside one weekend. He would change the station to those old antique roadshow programs and come up with, you guessed it, stories. Whatever the antique, he would craft an elaborate fantasy for it. It passed the time.
After he had gone through about four objects, there was a knock on his door. Louis took one last glance back at the screen. A porcelain ballerina. That was a good one. As he walked to the door one part of his mind began to make up a history for the object. Another part fantasized that behind the door was a military general. The world was in danger and they needed him to step up and save the day.
He opened the door, and was only slightly disappointed to see the pizza delivery boy. He paid him and took the pizza back to his bed.
Louis opened the pizza box. There was the pepperoni. There was the spinach. And there... were the anchovies. He hadn ’ t ordered anchovies. He quickly dove into the possible meanings of this seemingly innocent mix up before he decided that they were probably dosed with radiation, and likely to give him super powers if he ate them. He scarfed down each piece with relish.
Sometimes, a simple story can make things better.
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[ WP ] The President is giving the State of the Union Address . Some joker in the front row of the audience keeps trying to make the President laugh .
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`` We gather together on these days to celebrate our differences, as well as our similarities. Our nation is strengthened by our bonds of great familial love and responsibility.'' The President stood, tall and proud at the lectern, reading off his State of the Union speech, his voice clear and proud.
Around the room the various politicians, invited guests and members of the press all listened carefully, some taking notes and many feeling themselves swell with pride at this unifying speech. All except Dave. Dave, the Presidents youngest brother, had been forced into coming by his Mom and resented it greatly.
It was bad enough that he was born into a family of almost super human people and was barely literate himself but to have his big brother's success constantly thrust in his face, god it sickened him.
His parents had him much later than the rest of their boys; six tall, strong men who had become lawyers, doctors and in the case of President Perfect, politicians. A seventeen year age gap meant that by the time he started school the next oldest brother was graduating college and he had a lot to live up to.
He was, of course, an accident but it was no surprise that at forty nine his mother had managed to carry him to term and give birth with no problems, they were the golden family after all. Expectations were then, of course, incredibly high for him and twenty years on, he had consistently failed to meet any of them.
Dave had entered a High School that was a shrine to his family. The trophy display case *actually had* pictures of all of his older bothers who had records in Football, Soccer, Athletics, Hockey, Ice Hockey, Baseball, Basketball and a series of other sports that no one cared about, like extreme Frisbee. All of the teachers had known and worshipped the straight-A Johnson boys and now they were delighted to have another one coming through. Lucky number seven they had called him.
It had taken two years of constant failure for them to give up on him. He had been more or less forced to play on every sports team, as they were *sure* that he just needed the right one and he would be similar hero to his bothers. But he failed. At them all. Even the chess club had kicked him out after he had lost his temper and flipped a board one too many times. Dave was a complete loser.
Money and connections rather than grades, for his were poor, had got him into college, where he had spent two years stoned, before they finally, reluctantly, kicked him out. he had been found with 6Kg of cocaine, 2,000 pills and a truck loaded with forty barrels of beer which he was selling to fraternities. It had been the last straw and while it was kept away from the police, no one really wanted the President's brother hauled into jail, he was forced to move home.
His parents had never said it to his face but he knew that they were at least `` disappointed in him'' but frankly he did n't give a damn any more. He hated this family and most of all his smug big brother up on the stage giving that shit-eating grin.
He'd been looking forward to this though, the moment he knew was coming when his brother would comment about his wonderful family and the cameras would pan to them and he'd smiled like a good boy up until now to ensure that he would n't miss this.
The moment was coming and he saw a camera guy swing around to face them and then his brother looked down. ``... A foundation like my own family; six brothers raised in a home of love and respect and I want to offer every child in America the same.'' He looked down and the cameras saw his home-boy grin and aw-shucks expression that they loved `` Thanks Mom and Dad for raising me right.''
The camera clicked on to get the reaction shot and his mother and father grinned and held hands, Dave smiled and calmly extended his hand and flipped his brother the bird. His mother gasped and batted his hand down, but a titter of laughter had gone through the audience and by now was surely rippling out across America, as the TV signal reached peoples homes.
His brother faltered, losing his place as the chuckles bounced back and forth in the chamber and Dave sat back in his chair happy. Petty revenge was all he had, but he'd take it.
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[ WP ] You woke up to see a frog lying on your chest . Before you could say anything , the frog croaks , `` Good morning , I 'm your conscience . And we need to talk . ''
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`` What the fuck do *you* want?''
The frog looked like what a frog would look like if a frog could look disappointed.
`` You know very well what I want from you, Devon. I only want what's best for you.''
With unwavering resolve, Devon responded, `` Now that's a load of horse shit. Where have you been my whole life? I did n't hear a goddamn peep from you.''
Amused, the frog said, `` Why, Devon, I've always been here. You just have n't had the courage to ask me what I thought until now.''
`` I need you now just as little as I needed you back then. I'm doing fine.''
`` Well that's just not true, Devon.''
`` Of course it's fucking true, what's different now tha-''
`` Devon, have you heard the story of the boiling frog? If you toss a frog into water that's already boiling, it will notice, and it will try to get out of there. If you, however, put the frog in cool water and slowly bring it up to a boil, the frog will be none the wiser. Now trust me when I tell you, Devon, that you're in boiling water. Your life has been getting out of control for a long time now, and I think you know that. I'm just here to offer you a way out.''
Several moments pass in solemn silence until Devon finds his words.
`` Wow.''
`` I knew you're not so unreasonable that you ca n't hear reason, Devo-''
`` No, not that, you fucking piece of shit. Did you really just appear to me in the form of a frog after twenty-five fucking years to give me a contrived, bullshit, half-assed metaphor about boiling goddamn frogs?''
`` Devon, you're being unreasonable, please just-''
`` NO! Get the FUCK OUT OF HERE!''
`` Devon, please just listen, I can he-''
`` THE FUCK. OUT.''
*The end. *
Okay, this is the first prompt I've done, and I'm tired, and I did n't proofread, so be gentle.
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[ WP ] The Prince must rescue the Princess . He takes his time because he ca n't stand her .
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Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Josephine called from the throne room. “ Jerry, them dogs is in the trash again! ”
In his bedchamber, Crown Prince Gerald reached a hand under his brocaded pantaloons and rescued his family jewels from between his sweaty thighs. “ Wazzat, ma? ”
“ How many times I got ta tell ya? Them dogs is makin a mess a the trash! ”
“ Lem me'lone, ma! ”
“ You get them dogs out the trash! You get your lazy ass out the bed'fore I get in there and whoop ya! ”
Gerald burrowed under his blanket.
“ You get out there! Do n't you make me get up outta this throne! I get up outta this throne and you gon na be remembered as Jerry the Whooped, First of His Name! ”
“ Aw right, ma! Aw right, geez! ”
A while later Gerald passed through the throne room. He wore his silk blouse under a jacket of crushed velvet. One of his testicles hung out the fly of his pantaloons. “ Flyin' the coop, ai n't I, ” he said.
The TV played a rerun of Married with Children. On-screen, Al Bundy remarked that the last thing he'd ever want to do is annoy his wife. He said this while removing his socks and pushing his feet into his wife's face. Empress Josephine laughed so hard that 1787 Chateau Lafite gushed out of her nose. She patted a silken kerchief against her beet-red nose. “ On the rag, ai n't I. ”
“ Where the maitre de chambre at? ” Gerald cinched his dueling rapier around his waist. “ Why he ca n't get them dogs gone, huh? What we payin for? ”
“ Flown the coop, ai n't he? ” Josephine glanced at her son once, twice. Whenever her eyes left the television, her pupils shrank like popped ballons. “ You get on, now. Git goin. I'm watchin this and do n't be needing none a your distractions. ”
Through the window, Gerald heard the dogs crunching boar bones, nipping each other, and mating roughly.
To get to the trash dump, Gerald passed through the Grand Chamber, the Chamber Medio, the Hall of Marble, the Imperial Courtyard, the Colonnade in Commemoration of the Emperor's Victories over the Heathen Peoples, the Reception Hall, and the Royal Kitchens.
The dogs had pulled the trash barrels over and were licking up whale fat, sucking the marrow out of white bull femurs, and cracking squab carcasses.
“ Git! You git gone! ” Gerald kicked a pregnant dog in the ribs. She howled. Her sagging many-nippled belly shook. A pair of vicious pomeranians nipped at his heels. “ Git outta here! ”
Josephine called through the window. “ That's right, son! Give'em whatfor! ”
“ Ma, these sumbitches done tore up ma kid leather boots! ”
“ Aw hell! Them boots cost 300 pieces a eight! ”
The last dog to flee to the scene, a purebred Shih-Tzu, received the flat of Gerald's blade across its snout.
“ That'll teach ya. ”
Hooves clattered up the alley. An Imperial aide, smartly dressed in an applered riding jacket, dismounted from his steed before taking a knee and removing his feathered cap. “ Jerry, how ya doin? ”
“ Fine,'cept for these dogs chewing ma boots ta pieces. On yer feet, Alph. You got sump'n tell me? ”
Imperial Messenger Alphonse, Order of Mercury, stood, replaced his cap, and wiped dog shit off the knee of his linen riding pantaloons. “ That doggone princess, Jerry. That doggone princess done fucked off or summat. ”
“ She done what now? ”
“ She ai n't at her place no more. Dave told me that Angie done seen her at one a them bawdy houses. ”
“ The fuck she doin there? ”
Josephine called from above. “ Ha! See if I ai n't been right about that good-for-nothin hussy! See if'n I ai n't been! ”
Gerald rubbed his palm against the rubied hilt of his rapier. “ What bawdy house she at? ”
Alphonse hawked a lugie into the trash. “ The Frenchman's Curse. ”
*****
*i'm happy with how this is turning out so far. i'll write more but first i need to sleep. *
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[ WP ] The year is 2083 , and all forms of government have been absolved . There are no laws , and nobody to enforce them . The world has separated into three factions , constantly at war . They are Valor , Instinct and Mystic .
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Explosions rocked the old stone building where Sam took cover. Flicking at the control screen the supply point finally yielded it's contents, revives and potions, and about time.
`` YOU KNOW THESE USED TO BE CALLED POKESTOPS'' His companion yelled over the rumbling explosions. Sam ignored him, he did n't have time to think about the past he was the Gym leader here on the front lines. Team Instinct was counting on him. He called up his roster, there had to be some way to stop this magmar bombardment.
Slipping out the side gate he exited the church gesturing for Graham to follow. Mystic forces swarmed the wide open expanse in front of the church using Golem as cover from the balls of flame projected from the churches tower as Charmeleon rained embers from above. Damn if only there was more chance to catch some Charmander we might have the resources to have a full Charizard brigade here.
He shook his head, no point dwelling on what if's, think of what you can do with what you've got. Skimming through the shops he found a team Mystic scout reviving his fallen fearow.
**SNAP**
Distracted his neck snapped easy. A quick stomp on his phone meant no chance of recovering his Pokemon by team Mystic either. `` One down'' he whispered jokingly. and exited the back alley of the coffee store.
**There**
A line of ten or so Magmar controlled by a single Mystic trainer. Each of the magmar gathered great balls of fire in there heat resistant hands and lobbed them at the church. Flames like that would melt skin from bone...
`` GO VAPOREON, USE SURF''
The Aquatic dog erupted from Sams phone a spray of water erupting from it's feet washing over the unsuspecting Magmar.
`` ALRIGHT JOLTEON, HIT EM WITH YOUR THUNDER ATTACK''
Lightning arced from a second bright yellow dog, using the water as a conductor it fried the Pokemon and their trainer alike. The smell of burning flesh filled Sam's nostrils and made him want to wretch.
He was knocked to the ground as a great scything blade arced through where his head was a second ago. Graham had saved his life.
`` FLAREON GO!''
Sam yelled on instinct as the third dog, flaming took to battle. Gouts of flame erupting from it's mouth as the Scyther deftly dodged each of the attacks. Sam heard Graham Yell for his Onix as the forward forces of team Mystic heard the commotion behind them and had began returning to deal with our surprise attack. Great rocks blocked the narrow road leading here as Jolteon shocked down any flying Pokemon sent over the top Flareon and Syther were still locked in a duel.
`` VAPOREON, USE ICE BEAM, BLOCK OFF THE SCYTHERS MOVEMENTS''
A beam of ice and a beam of flames tore through the air as the Scyther somersaulted between the two. Damn it what the hell is this things CP! A quick motion from the Scyther and Vaporeon lay in two pieces on the ground.
`` BASTARD'' Sam yelled fist curled up in rage.
`` GO DRAGONITE, USE HYPERBEAM''
The great shaft of light that disintegrated the Scyther also took with half the street. A great gouge in reality left by the despair of a trainer.
Mystic retreated for three hours before there resolve was restored and the battle for the Gym raged on.
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[ WP ] a post apocalyptic story , where each paragraph begins with `` Fuck you , Cory . ''
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Fuck you, Cory. If it was n't for the mess you made when playing football in the my office we would n't be in the fucking mess we are now.
Fuck you, Cory for throwing that motherfucking football at my desk. You fucked it all up.
`` Fuck you, Cory'' was what I said when you first threw that football and before I realize what you hit.
`` FUCK YOU, Cory'' is what I said when I realized what you hit on my desk. I was n't actually ever supposed to hit the button to launch the missile. It was just for if they shot first, I'd be ready to give the go ahead.
Fuck you, Cory. You've damned us all.
Fuck you, Cory and get out of my damn White House.
-- --
*edit: [ For those that do n't get it ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=hINPxQqb6fg )
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[ WP ] You just found a door that should not be there . Everyone else seems to be oblivious of its existence . Or so it appears .
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Its a crisp Sunday afternoon, I think, I'm not too sure what day it is. Or where I am. As I look around details seem to stand out, I know where I am, I'm in my home town. A quaint village in Derbyshire, England. Separated from the big cities, but not quite in the country either.
I see people walking around, most likely on their dinner break, not so much hustle, but more than enough bustle I can handle. However, there is a bigger issue, I still do n't know how I got here. I'm not even certain when I woke up let alone go outside into the town...
I do n't think much of it, my mind is a mess anyways.
Deciding whether to go to the bakery or to the local shop, my eyes shift from left to right, making sure the road is safe to cross, something.. happens. I pretend I did n't see it at first, but it had too much of a grasp on my reality. I look towards my left again,
`` Okay, now take in the details'' I murmur to myself. `` Ginger woman walking towards, middle-aged, brown coat, 3 teenagers drinking milkshakes next to the sign for the library and a man talking on his phone, he looks somewhat important, bank worker possibly? Not important..''
As I swing my head back over to the right side, opposite of where I was just looking, I take in some more details of how things look on this side.
`` A man, most likely in his late 40s, dropping of who I assume is his son. A family of 3, mother, father and young female child, about 5 years old.'' The amount of time between each head turn was less than a second and it only took, at the most, about 8 seconds to take in details.
Looking back where I first looked, my left side, it was n't the same. The teens? Gone. The suspected bankworker? Nope. And the middle aged woman? How about 73 year old homeless man. They were n't there, other had replaced them and some more added that certainly were not the previously. Freaked out I panic turn my neck to my right, after doing the whiplash worthy neck spin, in record time, the bystanders on this side are also different.
``..'' my vocal chords do n't even have the ability to function.
Look left, look right, look left, look right.. etc etc
Different.
Different.
Different.
Rendered speechless, my whole world spins and I suddenly look behind me, but am knocked over instantaneously by a solid wooden surface. I'm sat down currently, as I peer my harbored hazels upwards I see the surface that put me down, its.. a door..
A door that is n't even supposed to be there.
As I stand up and reach for the handle I feel a wash of frenzied anger fall upon me. I freeze. By only blankly staring into the abyss of birch I know everyone has their opticals laid into my soul.
Everything is a blur, but as I look around the afternoon is in normal, the pedestrians are still shifting when I'm now looking, but I can tell the attention is no longer on me. `` What was that..'' I murmur.
I do n't think much of it, my mind is a mess anyways.
However, this door is a big fat stinking pile of elephant in the room. So many questions, few few answers.
I try and approach a passer-by, but every time I reached out, they either blanked me or just pretended they had no clue about this door's existence. `` Ahhh!'' I scream out in frustration `` Who are you people!? How did I get here!? And what in Gods good name is this DOOR, doing here!??''
Nothing.
`` Screw this. screw you. I'm going in!''
Approaching the door for a second time; feeling the scowls and stares of strangers from place unknown, /i pish through, my strength weakens, but I push through and pass into the door. The only way I can describe what happened to me is as follows:
I walk forward, but I'm also walking downwards, not in a directional sense, in a rotational way, if that makes sense.
Now I'm falling through what can be described as memories, my memories..
I wake up, I'm in bed, soaked in sweat.
I blink and I'm now facing myself. Scared straighter than a one dimensional being I'm taken aback. Also unsure if I'm dreaming or not. my other-self's mouth opens, wide, uncomprehendingly wide. The next thing I know I'm dragged into the gaping food hole that has now either become bigger than the blank tile room we're in, or I have shrunk down, maybe a bit of both.
Falling and spinning.
Falling and spinning.
Wondering when it will end.
My mind is a mess.
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[ WP ] Reincarnation is now a widely accepted fact . World leaders have decided that in order to stop the most evil people from repeating their crimes , they are to be identified at birth and taken away to be tortured and executed . You and your SO realize that your baby is one of them .
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Perhaps we were lucky. Our baby was born two months premature, so we had a full month of waiting before he was strong enough to take The Test. I, for one, hated that test. See, I'm supposed to be a gay man who was killed for being gay, yet I want nothing more than to grow old with my wife and newborn son. My wife - she was a dancer whose body was never found, yet she's as coordinated as a drunk spider.
My wife cooed at little Ian, who was motionless. The doctor tapped me on the shoulder, and motioned me outside. Once we were in a private room, he handed me the results of the reincarnation test.
`` This has to be wrong!'' I demanded. `` Surely you mixed him up with another child!'' Through my blurred vision, the doctor shook his head.
`` I'm sorry, sir, but I triple-checked those results.'' I bit my lip until I tasted something metallic, as the doctor read what was on the paper. The blood pounded rhythmically in my head, in time to the tears that left cool streams down my cheeks.
`` Code Blue, Room 1087.'' The blood, which had welled up my head, drained out of my face. That was where my son was! The doctor shook his head.
`` You know what'll happen to him if the government gets their hands on him,'' he said flatly. I ran past him into the room. The incubator was empty. My wife held our baby.
`` I... I heard everything,'' she burst out. `` This was the only thing I could do!'' Our baby was still too weak to breathe on his own. His last moments were not in a government room, but in the embrace of his parents.
`` Goodbye... Ian Caligula Patterson,'' I said softly. `` May you remember that you were loved, even if only for a month.''
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[ WP ] You 're living in a fantasy due to a coma . But it 's actually really great and you do n't want to wake up . You try to ignore all of the increasingly obvious 'Wake up ' hints being thrown at you so you can continue to live in your dream world .
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`` You're dreaming'' she said to me after I told her I loved her. I knew in my heart she was right of course; it had been this way for an untold amount of time. Time has a way of morphing down here in the dark echoes of the mind. I loved her anyway, seeing as she was a beacon of kindness awash in this sea of horrors.
The computer cube gently floated around us in the suspension room and I was content. I felt warm and cared for and for the first time in an eternity, I did not need to escape my hell. Her face hovered over mine and she smiled; I smiled back and we talked about our research. The things that had relentlessly hunted me all this time were for once, under my study. I still greatly feared them and for good reason, the ape like monsters had murdered me time and again after all, but now I had the chance to turn the tables. I felt in control.
Something on my arm pinched briefly and she said `` wont be long''. I didnt quite understand, but I let it go and turned back to the floating computer. It didnt look like much more than a red light glowing softly inside a black tinted glass cube, but I understood how to use it perfectly well. I instructed it to look up various weaknesses in the ape things and it did as instructed, pulling up all encounters with them since I've been... *here*. It didnt find anything for me, even when piloting the four armed bubble mech. Cant say I was surprised. I decided to just drift in the suspension room instead, and enjoy the peace I so desperately had sought.
I awoke to the red light of the computer pulsing in the cube and my love frantically floating to and fro in a hurry. I asked what was wrong and she told me that her father had seen the things coming towards our facility. I felt a cold dread pile up inside me like a wave against a swiftly crumbling wall. I wanted to cry, to scream, to die a real death like I tried so many times before. I wanted it to end, to go back to my peace. Instead, they found me. They always did. Once more into the pain. Once more to meet my end and start again and again. I would have laughed if I were not so terrified.
The thing about getting mauled to death on a loop is that you never get used to it. You can also learn all you want each loop, the end is inevitable regardless of your actions. The movies lied. It's just endless torment and realizing its a nightmare doesnt change that. When you cant wake up even when you know, it's not a nightmare anymore; its reality. My reality.
I tried to force my will into the world again. It never worked before in the thousands of attempts preceding, but I finally had a taste of warmth and comfort. I was not going to let that go without a fight. I sensed the ape things were very near as I always did and I had to choke back the panic as I concentrated. In pushing for a return to comfort, I instead produced the yellow bubble mech I had piloted so much in this eternal struggle. Not what I wanted, but it was something. I hopped in.
Over my loops, I became quite well versed in piloting this thing. It never once helped, or even slowed my murder, but trying was all I ever had, so I tried again. The controls lit up and I got into a combat stance, ready to grapple them and face my death once more. I started screaming a litany of curses as I had done time and again as I felt them approach. The door to our suspension room buckled and I looked towards my love one last time.
She wasnt there anymore. Neither was the room.
CRASH! I heard a door attached to nothing give way and an angry flood of grey apelike giants poured towards me, all too familiar. I shouted a plea for escape. One of thousands said before. the apes reached me and... nothing.
I found myself in a light brown room all the sudden. I was lying down and looking at a door that was open into a strange, well lit area. I saw people walking around in odd clothes apparently busy and acting as if I wasnt even there. I tried to move and found I couldnt. I tried to speak and found I was mute, though I noticed my mouth felt so very dry. What happened? Where am I? I heard a voice say `` his eyes are open''.
I took a full day to realize I was in the real world. A hospital to be exact. An additional two days to realize I no longer had a left leg. A week to be able to speak. Two weeks before my first bite of food. A month to sit up for the first time. Four months to leave the hospital and go home.
It's been well over a year. I still see the ape things in my nightmares. They and the other horrors I experienced will haunt me for the rest of my life I'm sure. I also remember her. I remember her almond shaped eyes and lightly tanned skin. I remember her smell and smile. I remember her jet black hair hanging down as she looked at me. I remember loving her for being the only kind thing that existed. I remember that she is not real.
This is meant to be a writing prompt. A fictional story based on what OP came up with. I wish I could say that this was written in that vein, but I must be straight with you. My story is true and I lived these experiences. I remember her and right now I'm crying. Thank you for the platform to tell the world about her.
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe , a first-year Harry Potter discovers a time-turner ...
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Harry looked around. He could n't believe it had worked. The time-turner worked. He was still getting used to magic and now all of a sudden he had stumbled upon Time-Travel.
He ran away from Hogwarts, looking for a way to get there in time. If he had done it right, his parents were still alive right now. A mysterious creature lurked over in the woods. He approached the winged beast and climbed up. He did n't know why, but he just knew that he could ride this beast.
It took off and flew. He told it to go to Godric's Hollow. That was where his parent's supposedly lived. As he arrived, he hurriedly asked around, wanting to know where James and Lily Potter lived. He had had no luck, everyone being muggles, but then he ran into a wizard who told them the address. Soon enough he was hiding in the bushes across the street, watching his parent's and young self come home from some trip.
He could n't believe that he was seeing his parents with his very own eyes. He had to stay hidden though. Dumbledore had told him that wizards who time traveled and saw themselves in the past went crazy. Future Harry could n't meet past Harry.
Night came and he knew what was coming. But he was ready. He knew what he had to do. It was the only way.
Voldemort strolled down the lane, taking his merry time, not a care in the world. Within seconds he'd be murdering an innocent family, but he acted like nothing was amiss.
Harry jumped out of the bushes and ran at Voldemort, his wand out stretched. He had to stop him. But he did n't know any spells that were powerful enough.
`` Petrificus Totalas!'' Harry shouted.
Green light flashed before his eyes. But Harry did n't feel the death he expected. Instead he felt himself fall through infinite time and space, his thoughts disintegrating into a meaningless jumble.
He was lying on the ground. All around him were concerned students at Hogwarts. A certain odd looking girl offered a hand, which he took, and he stood up. The common room was different now. In fact, Harry was different now.
He stood there confused, trying to figure out what was wrong. His scar remained on his forehead. But he also felt taller. And it was n't long before he realized he was wearing second-years robes. Apparently, whatever happened, it had sent him forward in time too.
`` It must have been the snugmuffs,'' the girl who helped him said. He'd later learn that she was called Luna, and apparently she was his best friend now. `` They cause disorientation like that, you know.''
`` Yeah, so true, like always Luna,'' he replied. She was a year younger than him, and people seemed to think she was crazy, but they did n't realize how smart she really was. They were all too caught up in their boring, old, miserable lives to realize how much of a genius she was.
Harry stopped for a bit. The thoughts he were having were wrong. He did n't think like that before. But this thought was soon gone too. In fact, Harry was a lot more like Luna now. It took him mere moments to adjust to his new situation. It took him only a few more minutes to learn what had happened.
Apparently, Voldemort had gone mad after trying to kill Harry. Something to do with seeing himself in Harry, but that seemed like rubbish to Harry. Like Harry had a piece of Voldemort in himself or something? How would that even happen?
In his madness, Voldemort went on a killing rampage, killing Harry's parents. But his mom still sacrificed herself for Harry, keeping Harry alive. Nowadays Voldemort tried to conquer the world, albeit in an insane asylum. It's rumored that a person by the name of Gilderoy Lockheart enjoys pretending to fight Voldemort at the same asylum, claiming that he is the savior of the world.
Oh, and Harry had also gone a bit mad himself. But in his madness he had become somewhat of a genius. Thus the reason he was now in Ravenclaw and best friends with Luna Lovegood. And why Hermione Granger had become his greatest enemy. She was the only one who could rival Harry's level of knowledge and power.
*Yes, I probably misspelled some of the names of a spell or a character, but oh well. *
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[ WP ] Getting lost in the catacombs beneath Paris and dying alone
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I was here already. The same chalk pattern is on there brick wall. Yellow chalk, just like the piece of chalk I brought with me. So why ca n't I find a different path? Please, get me out of here, God.
Damn batteries... do n't die on me just yet.
`` Here...''
What was that? I do n't know which direction to point the light towards. Left? Right? Maybe I need to chill out for a few minutes. Mark this area with a number or something. Yes! Draw a stick figure with a smiley face, and mischievous eyebrows. Now it looks like he's the boss of this place. Just rest against the wall. Turn the light off.
I'll get out of here. I know where I am. Just... need... sleep.
*'' How long?'' my brother asks. *
*'' A few minutes,'' I say. `` Maybe an hour or two. `` *
*'' Just map out where you go. `` *
*'' No shit. That's why I'm bringing this.'' I grab the yellow chalk piece from the table and flash it before my brother's eyes. `` Do n't worry, man. `` *
Awake. Turn the light on. Where am I? Oh, shit! Left... there's nothing. The damn light fades before it finds an end. Right... there's an end, though a few feet away. I even have an option of turning left or right. Look forward so I can see the... figure...
Where is it? I drew it. I know I did.
`` Help me...''
`` Who is that?''
No answer.
Whatever it is... it's going to kill me. Eventually. How long has it been? My phone died two days ago. I do n't think I'll know. I ca n't even tell how far down I am. Definitely crawled through hell and back to get where I am. My stick figure is n't even there anymore. Not even sure if I drew it. I was too tired. Kind of like I am right now...
Help^me
I'm not even sure if that was my voice or someone else's... If someone is down here with me, find me. Just so we can die together. We'll be sinners together.
No. I'm not going to die here. I must keep moving forward.
Turn right. Move, man. Hurry, the flashlight is going to die soon. Come on. Left or right? The left seems more promising. There's elevation. Go left. Move on. I'm going to find it. Yes.
Puddles of water. I must be getting closer. There's an end in sight. Damn it, the light is barely shining more than five feet in front of me now. It's got to be around the corner.
Right... further down the hall. Somewhere close. Was I here already? No, that's just my mind. I know I'm somewhere new, but it has to be close. Please, God. Grant me this one request.
I found it. Yes, thank you... Skulls of other fallen people. Bones broken. The structure of so many humans right before me, possibly tampered with by hundreds before me. But I wo n't tamper with anyone. I would hate for that to happen to me. So I lay down with them, and I lower my head onto the other skulls.
*'' Be safe, Jeremy,'' my brother says. *
*'' I will,'' I say. `` Come on, dude. I'm only going to be there for the weekend. Think I'd miss my nephew's birthday? `` *
*'' I know. Your flight's about to leave. Want to say goodbye to everyone? `` *
*'' Where are they?'' I look at the clock. I was supposed to have left four minutes ago. `` Nah, I'll text them when I land safely. I'll see them later. Love you, man. `` *
*'' Love you, too. `` *
The flashlight finally dies.
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[ OT ] SatChat : What writers do you look up to and why ?
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So, this is weird for me. I realized a long time ago that I get so deeply into the writing and characters, I tend to stop paying attention to the writing. ( That's a pretentious way of me saying: I'M VERY EASILY IMPRESSED. )
I recognize bad writing that breaks me out of my immersion in the media. Though, I have a preference for funny books ( Terry Pratchett ), because I love humor. Most of my thoughts are running list of jokes.
Yet, I also like classics like Edgar Allan Poe because his writing is music. Good speech writers are constantly aware of an internal rhythm, the pattern of derived emotion in the audience. They know writing is alive, that the way you say things, the way it is read later, is the core of writing, it's the connection. So, I actually admire great speakers more than authors. Martin Luther King Jr., Barrack Obama, etc.
Writing is an analogy to convince a reader of your argument. You're *always* saying something. You must constantly be trying to reach out to your audience and *show* them what you mean.
But, for the most part, I'm usually pretty happy with whatever.
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[ WP ] You work for a powerful mob boss , and you know for a fact that whenever he whacks someone he sends anonymous flowers to the victim 's family . One day , you get a call from your wife thanking you for the beautiful flowers . Before you can tell her you did n't send any , there 's a knock at the door .
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The doorbell rang a second time.
Very carefully, very quietly, I set the handset back in the bracket of the phone, disconnecting the line. Darla would wonder why I hung up on her, but I ’ d have to explain it to her later. That is, assuming I survived the next few minutes.
I didn ’ t approach the door. I knew how this thing went down, and as soon as I approached the door whoever the boss had sent would start shooting. A trench broom wasn ’ t the most accurate tool of the trade, but it would cut a person down through two or three doors easily. The flowers were usually delivered after the fact, but someone had obviously screwed up.
Lucky me.
I slipped off my shoes and walked carefully into the back bedroom in my wool socks. In the back closet I lifted a small rug and pulled up a section of the hardwoods that had been cut to allow access to the crawlspace. Only a handful of people in the Organization even knew about this property, and none had set foot inside of it, so there was no way they ’ d know about my escape routes. As I eased myself down into the crawl space, I heard a pounding on the door.
My guests were getting impatient.
In the crawl space, I slipped the cutout back in place and pulled on a string that I had dropped through a hole drilled in the floor. I heard a rustle as the rug overhead slid back in place. As quietly as I could, I crawled through the dirt and dust back towards the front of the house. Overhead, I heard the door as it was kicked in and a pair of heavy boots thumping through the small house. After a few moments, the boots stopped in the living room and I heard two muffled voices talking. Then the footsteps started again, heading for the front door.
I pulled an old Springfield model 1903.30-06 from a canvas duffle bag next to the crawlspace door and checked the bolt to make sure it was loaded. Careful not to make any noise, I eased one of the vent covers I ’ d loosened out of the casing and waited. I heard the footsteps as the two men climbed down from the front porch, and then I saw them headed towards their car parked along the street, a ’ 38 Ford coupe.
I carefully took aim at the man on the left, the one with the barrel of a Thompson hanging just past the edge of his duster, and squeezed the trigger. The high-power rifle round took him square between the shoulder blades. He stumbled and fell forward like a limp rag.
The other man spun, and I saw his face briefly, his eyes wide with shock as he scanned for the threat, a nickel plated pistol in his hand. My second round took him in the neck, and he fell backwards, twitching in the grass. As the man I ’ d shot in the neck twitched and died, I waited and listened as hard as I could with my ears ringing. I didn ’ t hear any more footsteps, and no one came running down the street to check on the two assassins.
Satisfied that I ‘ d eliminated the threat; I squirmed out of the narrow crawlspace door and leaned my rifle against the front steps. As I walked up to the two men, I drew my Colt pistol, just to be safe. The man I ’ d shot in the neck was Salvatori Delarmo. When I rolled the other man over, I saw Micky Acraducius staring up at me, blood frothing from his nose and mouth. Micky blinked once and tried to say something, but only a wet gurgle came out, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he lay still.
I fished the car keys out of Salvatori ’ s pants and pocketed them. I took their weapons too, since neither of the men would need them anymore, and I could use all the extra firepower I could find. There was a pair of large red gas cans in the back of the coupe and I took both of them. One I emptied into the living room and den of the house then tossed a match in as I left through the shattered front door. There was a whoosh as the fire caught, and thick black smoke poured out of the windows and from under the eaves of the roof.
The second can of gas I poured over the two bodies in the front yard. I dug a gold and silver Zippo out of my pocket and lit a smoke. As I took a drag on the Lucky Strike, I looked at the engraving on the side of the lighter that read, “ To my right hand, all my love, James Alutius Antonio III. ”
The boss.
I dropped the lighter on the two corpses and they burst into flame.
I loaded the guns into the coupe, keeping the trench broom where I could get my hands on it, and pulled away from the street. There was nothing left for me here and I had business to finish.
**
Three hours outside of town, I pulled the coupe over to a diner. The pay phone in the back corner had a clear view of both entrances and the parking lot outside. I dropped a nickel into the slot and dialed my home number.
“ Hello, this is the Luschiavo residence, ” Darla answered in her sweet voice.
For a moment, I couldn ’ t speak. My hands started to shake and I had to take a few deep breaths before I could answer.
“ Darla, it ’ s Michael, ” I said, my voice hoarse.
“ Michael? ” She asked, “ Is everything okay, babe? ”
“ It ’ s fine, ” I lied. “ Listen, something has come up at work. I need you to go into the closet in the basement. If you move my old army uniforms, you ’ ll see a panel in the wall has been cut. There ’ s a hole back there with some money inside a pocket derringer. I need you to take the money and the pistol, take the kids, and I need you to drive somewhere. ”
“ What? ” She asked, her voice breathless. “ What are you talking about? What money? Where should I go? ”
“ I don ’ t have time to explain this all to you, Darla, ” I said, trying to sound calm. “ I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me? ”
“ Of course, ” she replied, “ Of course I trust you, Michael. I just don ’ t understand. ”
“ I know, babe, I know, ” I said, fighting to keep the tears out of my voice. “ I need you to do this for me, and do it now, okay? Don ’ t tell anyone where you ’ re going. Not a single soul, not even me. Got it? And don ’ t go visit family. Just drive. Find some small town somewhere out west and wait. I ’ ll find you when I can. ”
“ Oh…okay… ” Darla said, her voice cracking. “ Michael, I ’ m scared. ”
“ Don ’ t be scared, Darla, ” I said. “ Everything is going to be fine. And Darla…I love you. ”
Before she could answer, I hung up the phone.
I took a deep breath, dug another nickel out of my pocket, and dropped it into the slot on the phone. This time, my fingers didn ’ t shake as I dialed the number.
The phone had barely rung when the other end picked up. “ Sal, Jesus H—I told you to call me as soon as the job was done, not three hours later, you prick! ” The boss screamed into the phone.
“ Sal ’ s dead, ” I said calmly. “ So is Micky. You should have sent more people, boss. ”
“ Michael, I ’ m glad you ’ re okay, ” the boss said, his voice shaking a little. “ I was worried that something might have happened to you out there in the country, miles away from a civilized city or a proper deli. How ’ s the family? ”
“ Cut the shit, boss, ” I growled. “ You tried to have me killed. I trusted you and you sent the boys to punch me full of holes and send me up in smoke. You fucked up. ”
“ Michael, we can talk about this, ” the boss stammered. “ We can work something out, I swear! Just come in, sit down, and we ’ ll work it out. ”
I slammed the phone down on the receiver so hard the hook snapped off and the handset shattered. The waitress behind the counter stopped and looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
“ Look, sorry about the phone, ” I said. “ I just got canned from a good job out of the blue. ” I pulled a fifty dollar bill out of my money clip and slid it across the counter towards her. “ I trust we can forget the phone, and the fact that I was in here, right? ” I asked with a wink.
The waitress glanced around, then pulled the fifty out from under my palm and stuck in her ample cleavage. She winked back. “ Whateva you say, suga, ” she said, and then went back to wiping down glasses and saucers.
Outside I pulled the coupe back onto the road and headed east, paralleling the Lincoln Highway a few miles away. It would take longer to get to the city using the back roads, but it was less likely I ’ d be stopped or noticed.
And I didn ’ t want them to see me coming.
EDIT: Got my names mixed up....rough draft and all...: )
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[ WP ] This week , on Discovery Channel 's Shart Week ...
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`` THIS WEEK IS SHART WEEK, AND YOU KNOW WHAT THE MEANS FOLKS. SHARTS! LARGE AND SMELL! TINY AND BIG! BABY SHARTS! ADULT SHARTS! EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING DEALS WITH SHARTS!'' The television screamed into the living room, as I sat on the end of the couch, with my foot tapping and a big grin on my face. Shart Week is my favorite, it's almost like Christmas for shart fanatics.
The camera pans into a street and zooms in on a man, wearing khaki pants, walking down the way towards an untold location.
`` This is how the shart is made, typically, `` a doctor said in the program, `` usually sharts happen randomly. Sometimes they're okay, almost expected to occur, but, that's not the case here. Let's watch.''
The camera pans back to the man's face, showing a disgruntled expression and a look of confusion. Then, his face clenches, and the camera quickly pans to the back of his pants. As if someone spat out chocolate pudding, the insides of his pants were coated with a dark substance, then trickled down his leg, out his pant leg, and trickled onto the concrete.
`` Now you see,'' the doctor said, `` this is what we call a Subit Liquidus Feortan, or SLF. In english, it means sudden liquid fat. It causes wetness of the rear, pants, and legs, and leaves the victim confused, embarrassed, shocked, and sometimes sad.''
It pans back to the logo of Shart Week and the narrator came thundering, `` THAT'S ALL THAT TIME WE HAVE FOR TODAY, BUT TUNE IN FOR TOMORROW WHEN WE GO DEEPER INTO SHARTS IN SHART WEEK. HERE'S A CLIP OF TOMORROW'S, NEW, EPISODE''
A clip of a heavy set man, sitting in a chair in a McDonalds, eating a cheeseburger is shown, then the camera pans to his denim jeans, near the waist, and then quickly pans to his face when a loud, gargling, noise echoed through the small restaurant, and a look of shock flooded his face.
`` THANKS FOR TUNING IN''
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[ WP ] You awaken one morning only to discover that in your head , you are n't alone .
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My phone blares the chorus of Here Comes The Sun on my night stand, trying in vain to make me appreciate the dawn of a new day.
_ [ WOULD YOU SHUT THAT THING UP ALREADY ] _
I jump a foot in the air as a voice sounds from within my head - which is quite a feat, considering that I'm lying down.
_ [ YOU DO N'T EVEN LIKE THAT SONG ] _
To be fair, that's mostly because I started using it as my morning alarm. *Wait. I'm not dreaming. There's an actual voice speaking to me in my head. * I feel like this is where I should freak out, but despite the previous jump, I'm still half asleep.
_ [ GET UP, YOU LAZY SACK OF BRICKS ] _
Oh come on, it's like six in the morning. Who *isn't* lazy at this hour?
_ [ STOP COMPLAINING. YOU HAVE WORK TO DO. ] _
I take a moment to think.
*Are you my conscience? *
_ [... YES. ] _
*Why did you pause? *
_ [... I WAS LISTENING TO MY OWN CONSCIENCE ] _
My conscience has a conscience? Of course it does.
_ [ NOW GET OUT OF BED. THERE ARE MATTERS OF GREAT IMPORT YOU MUST ATTEND TO ] _
I press my face into my pillow. *Five more minutes? *
_ [ NO. TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. ] _
*One more minute? *
_ [... FINE ] _
...
_ [ SIXTY SECONDS HAVE TRANSPIRED. PREPARE YOURSELF FOR WOR- TO MEET THE DAY. ] _
*Wait what?? *
_ [ I SAID PREPARE YOURSELF TO MEET THE DAY ] _
*You were going to say something else. Prepare myself for what? Worrying about my job security? Worshipping pagan gods? Working on my secret plan to take- um, to take better care of myself? *
_ [ TO TAKE WHAT? ] _
*To take better care of myself. I'm not as healthy as I want to be. Also I do n't get enough sleep. *
_ [ YOU WERE GOING TO SAY SOMETHING ELSE ] _
*What? No I was n't. You're imagining things. *
_ [ TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE OPPORTUNITIES LIFE PRESENTS YOU? TAKE OUT THE TRASH? TAKE OUT THAT GIRL FROM YOUR OFFICE? ] _
*Hey, she's out of my league. *
_ [ I BELIEVE IN YOU ] _
*Um... thanks? *
_ [ YOU ARE WELCOME. NOW WHAT DO YOU SAY WE GET GOING AND PUT OUR PLANS- OUR RIGHT FOOT FORWARD. ] _
*Okay, you were definitely saying something else there. Put our plans into action? Is that it? *
_ [... MAYBE. SHUT UP. ] _
*What kind of plans did you have in mind exactly? *
_ [ NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH. ] _
*Just tell me what these plans are. *
_ [ UGH GO AWAY ] _
*Please. This is important. *
_ [... PROMISE YOU WO N'T LAUGH? ] _
*Cross my heart and hope to someday rule the- uh, someday rule out the undead as the cause of the scratching noises during the night. *
_ [ ALRIGHT. HERE IT GOES. I KIND OF... WAS HOPING WE COULD GO FOR WORLD DOMINATION. IT'S STUPID, IS N'T IT. I SHOULD N'T HAVE BROUGHT- ] _
*No way! Phew. What a relief. *
_ [... WHAT? ] _
*I already have plans to rule the world. I was afraid having someone in my head might make that difficult to get away with. *
_ [ ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW. I WILL WREATHE YOUR ETERNAL SOUL IN THE ENDLESS FIRES OF AGONY IF YOU- ] _
*I'm totally serious! This is going to be great. We can take over the world together! Gosh, I've always wanted a world domination buddy. *
_ [ THIS IS ALL VERY SURREAL ] _
*Hah! You're telling me. *
_ [ I AM, YES ] _
*So. What's the first step. How do we do this? *
_ [ I HAVE SOME CONNECTIONS ON THE ASTRAL PLANES. IT SHOULD BE RELATIVELY EASY WITH YOUR COOPERATION IN THE PHYSICAL REALM. ] _
*Great! What do I do? *
_ [ I ALREADY TOLD YOU. GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH. ] _
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[ IP ] The Good Die Young
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My dearest niece Vera,
By the time you have read this letter, I will be far gone. This letter should be delivered to you by Grant Tash, that same Grant Tash that went camping with us into the nature reserve to pick wild strawberries. He will take you out of the Greater Sherando Area. You'll be able to meet up with some of your cousins. Play nice with them, as your shared experiences and heritage are all that you have with each other. In an ever-changing world, you will only have each other to anchor you down.
Bad men and women have taken over this country, and they hate people like us. They have convinced many of our friends to turn on us for who we are. Our sole crime: being Calabrese.
In Rodenas Square, innocent Calebreseians are being cruelly hurt by a group of Lapumas. This country is not the country that you know. This is not the country that I knew when I was young. It has changed for the worse, and our welcome has been determined to be overstayed.
Maybe one day, when all of this is over, things can return back to normal. Lapumas and Calebresians can one day live together in peace again and you will be able to play with little Sammy again. But until that day comes, you must stay strong. You must look out for yourself, and your cousins, and other Calebresians.
I do n't expect you to understand any of this. This world is very harsh and unforgiving. But remember that I will always love you and I am proud of how tough you are. Your father, your mother, and I will always be watching over you. You are our sweet sunshine and no one can take that away from you.
Your loving uncle,
Milan Cutro
PS: If you can, avoid Campbell Hollow. It may seem like it's a warm and inviting settlement, but no Calabresian who entered has ever gotten out.
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[ WP ] You 're waiting at a red light when someone gets into the car and points a gun at your head . You start to panic when you notice something strange about the gun .
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I do n't recall where I was headed that day, but I'll never forget where I ended up. I was on third street, sitting at a red light. *Do n't stop believin'* just came on the radio, and I cranked it up and started singing along. I was so into the song that I did n't even hear my door open. By the time I got to `` Streetlight people,'' I felt the cold steel on the side of my temple.
`` Do n't move a muscle,'' the man said, as he reached over and turned the radio off. I kept both hands on the wheel, and stared at the stoplight. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he pressed the gun into my temple, and said, `` Drive.''
My heart was pounding. The wheel became slippery with the sweat from my palms. I wanted to ask him where he was making me go, what he wanted with me. *Just take the car, take my money, just let me go, * I wanted to say. But I was too petrified to speak. I could n't even find the strength to open my mouth. I've had some fearsome experiences in my life, but this... This was true terror.
`` Turn here,'' he whispered to me. Several times. We passed street after street, and after a few miles, he relaxed his posture a bit. He lowered the gun, about chest high -- still pointing at my head. I could see the weapon now, and something looked... Off. I tried to avoid looking in his direction, reasoning that he would let me go if I did n't know what he looked like, but I had a sudden curiosity about his firearm. He turned his head for a moment, to look down a street and instruct me to turn, and that's when I got my fist good look.
The gun was fake. It looked real enough, sure -- but a small flake of black spray paint had flaked off the tip, allowing a tiny bit of orange to show through. The hole of the barrel looked much smaller than what I suspected a real gun looked like as well, leaning me to assume it was a painted BB gun. I'm sure that would leave a hell of a mark, but it certainly would n't kill me. My pulse slowed, just a touch -- enough for me to regain control of my nerves.
`` Where are you taking me?'' I asked, in a surprisingly calm tone.
`` Do n't you worry about that, just drive.''
`` What are you going to do when we get there?''
`` I said do n't worry about that. Turn here.'' He adjusted his posture, he seemed to be uncomfortable with my conversation.
`` You wo n't get away with this.''
`` Shut up. Remember who's got the gun here.''
I looked around, taking note of where we were. A plan began to form in my head. I could n't just stop; he'd surely beat me. Just because the gun is fake, does n't mean it would n't hurt if he hit my over the head with. He looked strong, too; I had never been in a fight in my life. I was going to have to use the only weapon I had. I glanced over and confirmed; he was not wearing his seat belt.
I started accelerating. Not rapidly; just a slight increase in pressure on the pedal. It did n't take him long to notice.
`` Hey, slow down. There's a turn coming up. Right up there.'' I accelerated more.
`` What do you think you're doing? Slow down!'' He pressed the gun into my temple. I looked down the road and saw my destination. My speedometer read 65.
`` Hey! Cut this shit out!'' He pressed the gun harder into my head, pushing my cheek into he window. I shoved him back with one hand, and shoved the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
`` I said you would n't get away with this.'' We reached almost 100 miles per hour as we crashed through the wooden fence. At that speed, it was like running through that yellow tape at the end of a track race. There was a small hill, which launched us over the embankment and into the Ohio River. The airbags deployed as soon as we hit the water, and the man was knocked halfway through the windshield. I do n't know if he was dead or just unconscious. The car filled with water much faster than I thought it would; I was barely regaining my composure when water began to spill into my mouth. I was able to unbuckle myself, and start rolling down the window. This was the only time I had ever been glad to have manual windows.
By the time I swam to shore, a small crowd had already gathered. The pain did n't hit me until the ambulance arrived; the adrenaline had completely taken over my senses. Before long, there were cops everywhere, news vans behind the police tape trying to yell out to me. It all seemed so surreal. I never did find out who the man was, or what he wanted with me. The police said it sounded like a standard carjacking, but that it seemed odd for it to happen in the middle of the day. I guess I'll never really know, for sure. All I know is that my car is sitting at the bottom of the Ohio River, and I have a gigantic scar on my forehead that come with one hell of a story.
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[ WP ] A new crop has been domesticated which bears a fruit that becomes popular around the world and feeds millions . However , there is worldwide panic as scientists discover a hilariously tragic sideaffect .
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`` The famine is over!''
Was what the news said.
`` The millions starving
Will no longer face death!''
So they grew this new fruit
By the pound and the tonne.
All over the world
The harvesting begun.
The dirty and poor
Began to emerge
To taste the of the fruit
Which they rightly deserved.
But a few months later
Some research was done.
The fruit which they loved
Was a loaded gun.
They'd eaten this miracle
And guzzled it fast
But, alas, they succumbed
To violent gas.
They'd fart and they'd fart
Until they shat blood.
And ended up where they started:
Right back in the mud.
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[ WP ] [ EU ] As a sign of distrust in the US government , ALL citizens give the government the silent treatment by not voting . Describe the confusion and uproar of those in office , the media , and corporations who control lobbyists/congressmen .
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Obama takes a deep breath and taps his unlit cigarette on his desk. Having quit before taking office and only having two his entire time in office, he had already gone through a whole pack today.
`` Is this even legal? Can they do this?''
Befuddled aids and legal experts mill nervously around the room trying to figure their way out of this mess.
One aid shyly steps forward `` Well sir, it's the peoples' right to vote, but it's also their right not too. We ca n't force a vote...''
Joe Biden sighs and leans on the desk `` Well Barack, it looks like you're in charge a little longer.''
`` I've dealt with so much bull this past eight years, so have you. Today was our last day. We're done.''
Biden rubs his face in exhaustion `` What else can we do?''
Obama leans back to think then sudden sits up and smiles, `` We have all those polls! The people have already spoken!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Across town many GOP members of Congress' hierarchy have flooded into a restaurant. They cheer and clap as one mister Donald J. Trump.
Mitch McConnell shakes Trump's hand. `` Looks like we got him Don. They people do n't want him in another minute. You'll be able to walk right in.''
Trump smiles smugly, `` I told you Mitch. Can I call you Mitch? The Don never loses. The Don is n't a loser like these other chuckle heads that were running. They're lame. And they're dumb. Now let's talk about that wall. How soon can you losers get it approved?''
McConnell hides his displeasure at the name calling and thinks about the lagistics of them actually building a wall between the US and Mexico.
`` Well Mr. Trump, between writing the bill, Democrat opposition to it, and everything else, I would say a month tops.''
Trump's eyes bulge out in obvious frustration. `` A month?! Oh no. That's too long. You dummies have two weeks tops. I want it on my desk.''
McConnell sighs internally and begins to dread the next four years.
Suddenly phones all around the room start to go off interrupting the festivities. Mitch looks down at his phone. Looks like there is going to be an address from the white house tomorrow.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Obama walks out to the podium note cards in hand, proud of himself for figuring this whole mess out.
`` Dear friends, my fellow Americans, I understand you are frustrated. I respect that you have chosen this as a way to peacefully protest the way the government has been working. I am proud that you have come together as a country to pull this off. But, and let me be clear, even without a vote you have already made you're voices heard. In online polls, on social media, in campaign contributions. You have told us who you want to run the country. Despite the lack of primaries or even a general election there is one person, one man, Sorry Hillary, ( the camera pans to Hillary and Trump both holding on fake smiles ) who has been consistently gaining support. It is due to this that I am proud to announce that the next President of the United States of America is....one Mr. Bernie Sanders!''
Cheers go up from the crowd as Bernie approaches the podium, all across America there is the normal mix of anger by some and relief by most.
The next few weeks are a frenzy as Trump sues for there to be an actual election. He wins however, in the short time he is in office Bernie has pulled even more support and wins. Trump continues a campaign alleging that Sanders has been rigging the polls and elections, however over time he fades away. Still the time America did n't vote rings in history books as the large peaceful protest in world history.
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[ WP ] An anti-hero is off to stop the villain . The whole world is against him , but he has to save it . After a long journey full of hardships , the weary anti-hero finally reaches the villain and ... . gives up .
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`` Finally made it huh?'' the large man turned from the control panel to look at me. Dr.Dread, this dude could n't look more like a villain if he tried. The goatee, the eye patch, hell he even had a black cat that he strokes while he sits in his chair. `` You wo n't beat me this time dear boy. My plan is perfect.''
`` Like hell it is. I could stop this whole thing in a few minutes.'' I mutter as I stare at the man. Looking behind him I can see the news broadcasts from around the world. The world I just got my ass kicked trying to save, and what do I say? Are they up in arms about Dr.Dread here? No, they're holding riots in the street cursing my name. I know I'm not perfect, but you'd think they could give me some credit.
`` If it is so easy to stop me then why are you still standing there? Do you intend to bore me to death?'' He laughs in my face and I can feel the anger surge through me, but I realize that I'm not angry with him.
`` No, it's just your lucky day Dread. I'm done with this shit.'' I toss my sword to the side and look at the monitors again, `` Fuck it. I'm tired of saving these ungrateful bastards. Let them burn for all I care. I'm done saving them.''
`` Really? Just like that? No fight, no banter, nothing?'' The surprise is evident on the big man's face. He seems to be at a loss for words and just sits there staring at me.
`` Yup. Just like that. I'm taking a vacation, maybe I'll go take over an island in the Bahamas. As long as you leave me alone I wo n't bother you. Let the masses defend themselves.''
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[ WP ] You have one super power ; the ability to control your own mind
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I was always incredibly focused as a child, I had good grades, because I could study hard and retain the information with little effort. My memory was photographic, my recall, perfect. When I set to doing something, I did it, distractions had no place in my mind. I did n't find out I was a powered individual until middle school.
It was our 7th grade trip to the capital city, cow-town my father called it. Columbus was n't New York certainly, but for a kid more used to corn fields and trees then skyscrapers and sidewalks, it was a big deal. Unfortunately, during our tour of the capital building, the state government was besieged by `` The Controller'', a local villain who could read others minds and then control them simply by speaking to them. I remember him stepping out from behind a corner, commanding us to bow to him. Everyone else did, but it just seemed a stupid idea to me, so I did n't. He just kept shouting orders at me and I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, I had to grab my ears, the local heroes had dispatched the `` Sonic Scream'', a man who controlled sonic waves with his voice, using them as some sort of buffer to keep the Controller's speech from reaching his ears. Apparently the Controller had taken the state senate into his control, and it was all on the news. People saw me, immune to his honeyed words. And so, I ended up in front of the superhuman registration panel, and they did their tests and found I had perfect control of my mind, and gave me a grade `` E'' certification, the lowest power level, effectively useless in the vast majority of situations, not cut out to be a superhero. They reasoned that immunity to telepaths really only mattered in the exact scenario where there's a telepath about, but without any other powers, I'd be more of a liability. Government bureaucrats with no imagination.
I kept up with my studies. People mostly forgot about me, my `` E'' ranking effectively made me a no different than a normal child with regards to activities. I played football in high school, an effective route runner but undersized, I went to college on a scholarship and graduated with a dual major in political science and economics. Law school was next, days in the library, nights in the gym, focused on keeping my body in shape, and learning new skills, American Boxing, Martial Arts and the like. I had one focus, to gain the knowledge and skills, to be a hero. Not because the government said I couldn ’ t, but because I wanted to be ready if another telepath ever tried to hurt the people around me.
I graduated with honors and passed the bar. I got a normal job, started my own firm, but I kept my training up, just in case. My focus carried over into the other aspects of my life, I was fit, confident, and intelligent. I won cases, big cases for my clients, but nothing I did was super. I met my wife, had a kid, the usual.
My thirty second birthday party, we rented out a bar, lots of people came. In walked The Controller, and everyone turned on me. They all started to talk in unison, about how I ruined his career and made him a laughing stock in the super villain community. He still had no control over me though. I forced my way through the crowd as they tried to hold me back and tackled him. I don ’ t remember the first punch, or the second, but I remember feeling good as his jaw shattered. I kept hitting him and hitting him until the police arrived. No charges were filed, but as a “ powered ” individual, I had to appear before the superhuman panel again, where they confirmed my powers hadn ’ t changed, and left me at an “ E ” level. Since I defeated a super villain, I had to fill out their paperwork, which meant I had to put down a superhero name. I had to come up with something on the spot. Wanting to get home, I just signed the first thing that came to mind and left.
Thus, Lawman was born.
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[ WP ] Save the damsel in distress with a potato . And no , she 's not allowed to eat it .
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Doctor Jacob ’ s hand hovered over the bottle of the bitter cough syrup that sat in front of him. ‘ Last chance to reconsider ’ he thought. He hesitated and then poured the Solanine into the syrup. He pocketed the bottle and turned to leave his Apothecary shop for the last time. The shops shelves where bare, he had already moved what he needed to set up shop in anticipation for the task that lay before him.
As he put his key into the lock, his hands tremored. He never thought he would ever take a life; he took oaths to protect and preserve life. By sunrise he would be a murderer. By sunrise he will be on the road with his love Lucenda. He locked the door, and walked.
Lucenda was the daughter of a rich merchant, who was now locked in her great house. Her father has arranged his daughter ’ s marriage into the family of a noble house. Her father went to great lengths to ensure his daughter was pure and ready for the marriage. The marriage would ensure a Royal Charter, a monopoly on the countries potato crop, ensuring the Merchants riches for years to come.
Lucenda had fallen in love in Doctor Jacob over the years, faking illness for a chance to steal precious moments with the Doctor. It was in one of these moments that they had planned to murder her father. With her father ’ s death, the betrothal would collapse, leaving Jacob and Lucenda to marry.
Doctor Jacob has spent months planning. He stumbled across Solanine in an old dusty text that lay on his shelf. The poison could be extracted from plants of the Nightshade family. Jacob has chosen to extract the poison from potatoes, to please his poetic side. A smile crept on his face. Potatoes to kill the potato merchant.
Doctor Jacob raised a fist and knocked on the doors of the great house. The doors slowly opened spilling light into the night.
“ Ho! Doctor! ” roared the Merchant.
“ Sir ” Jacob replied, “ I have brought the medicine for your cough ”
The Merchant took the syrup and took a long, slow drink.
“ Very good Sir, I shall return in the morning to check on you. And Lucenda. I have much to do this night. Good Night Sir.''
Doctor Jacob turned, smiled. He had done it. A murders sin was a good price for his Lucenda.
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[ WP ] Describe an illness/medical condition you suffer from ( Current or previous ) WITHOUT using the name of the condition .
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It ’ s crushing dark blue sorrow, my favorite color turned against me.
It ’ s dull red rage, the color of dried blood, pressing against the inside of my skull.
It ’ s tears that won ’ t stop, always falling, always threatening to pour out.
It ’ s a need for comfort that can ’ t be found. They have a life, outside of this, but I am trapped.
It ’ s reclusiveness, a desire to retreat to a safe place, shelter against the outside world, against the inner storm.
It ’ s omnipresent; forgotten at times, but never fading, always waiting to return.
It ’ s a whispered wish for black oblivion, spoken only when no one else can hear.
It ’ s the gleam of metal, a contemplation of acts that should never be taken, or even thought of.
It ’ s a need to run, to get away, to keep others from seeing.
It ’ s listlessness, no strength to do anything.
It ’ s all-consuming fear of driving others away.
It ’ s a constant companion, one that never leaves.
It can only be restrained, never removed.
It is my burden, one that I can not shoulder alone. But I am afraid of asking others to shoulder it with me, afraid that it would drive them away.
I ’ m scared.
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[ WP ] A man emerges from his Y2K bunker as he has run out of supplies . It is currently 2014 and write in first person his encounters .
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Its been three fucking days. I thought I could handle it but I ca n't. I ca n't watch another fucking episode of Seinfeld. I know every word Bart writes on the board after school. I ca n't stomach another bite of spam... But what makes it all truly unbearable, is the third day without a damn cigarette. Fourteen years ago, I thought I'd only smoke three a day... Three a day.. a pack a week.. 3 cartons a year.. a hundred cartons until I quit. Give or take an extra lonely day... Those days came more often than I expected. If there's one thing I can find out there, its a couple cartons of cigarettes... Maybe a coke.. maybe some new VHSs. Anything is better than staying here... What's the point of living, if everyone I loved is gone? If the radiation kills me, at least I can sneak in one more damn cigarette. If my journal entries end here, my bunker is at the location once known as 442 Madison ave. Denver Colorado. It is circled on the map you can find on my body. I am opening the door.
I wept for what was maybe an hour. I was so wrong. The neighborhood is more beautiful than ever. I was n't sure if Y2k had even happened or not. I just knew, it was beautiful, and I was so dumb. The cars are sleeker. They were n't boxy before, but these are all so smooth looking. I saw a mustang. We were missing out in 98. A police cruiser pulled up to me, understandably. I must've looked crazy walking the streets crying. I was crazy. I am crazy. I reached a strip mall. Things are n't foreign... It's like.. its just been rewired. These flat screens are incredible. They're so big. So flat. The picture is incredible. I saw the screens in a store called Games Top. It's clearly for the top games, because my Nintendo has nothing on these. I know I owe someone money about this PlayStation thing. It's so much better than metroid.
I asked a stranger for a smoke. Finally. I guess Games Top is pretty uppity, they kicked me out for smoking my cigarette? I ca n't find a payphone anywhere. I might have to ask one of these stores if I can use their phone. I know my girlfriends mothers home phone number. Maybe I can get in touch with her. I've got ten dollars... It should last me the night.
There is a store that sells weed. A store, full of marijuana. Crime must be rampant. They're just selling it out of a normal store front! I am going to ask to use their phone. Then grab a pack of smokes... Some McDonald's, then head back to the bunker for the night... Figure out how to get back on my feet. I am just in awe at this store!
I asked for a phone. I explained my situation. He sat me down... Even gave me a special brownie, on the house. He showed me his cellular phone. This was no Nokia. It was no beeper. It was incredible. It was so small and I just touched the screen... It was a desktop pc smaller than his hand. No wires. He showed me videos that made me bawl harder than any loneliness in my safe house could. The war, Iraq, what happened in New York... The first black president... He showed me everything I missed. I could find the people I lost, just by typing in their name. Their lives documented in pictures. All the times I missed with them. The clerk said his name isBenny. He said he would help me... But the thing that brought me to tears more than anything... My cigarettes cost $ 8.00.. I gave Benny $ 2.00 for his kindness.. I'm smoking L & Ms if I want that Big Mac....
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[ WP ] 70 years ago , the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb . It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan .
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August 6. Roosevelt had said that December 7 would be a day to live in infamy, and for four years he was right. But August 6, August 6 *became* infamy. For on that day, the Four Horsemen rode upon the nation of Japan, and brought with them the divine wrath of every deity to whom man had once prayed. Within a single flash of brilliant light, the world had changed forever. The war was over, yet there were no celebrations. A silence descended upon the globe, with all the countries of the world in awe, or fear, of this new weapon.
*A hundred million, * the papers cried. The war in Europe killed half that, at most. Many of them soldiers. Japan may have been militarised, yet within her isles the majority are - were, rather - civilians. The Americans had another, too. But there was no need, Kokura was eliminated by the first. Along with Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Seoul. The fallout reached Shanghai. Civilians there are falling ill and dying in the streets from the effects. Providence had determined that America obtained a weapon greater even than He, with which they delivered more death in a single day than even the great Genghis Khan had seen in his lifetime.
For all the Nazis had done, their crimes paled in comparison to that of the victor. Calls rose for President Truman to be charged with crimes against humanity. Yet no-one dared act, lest the wrath of God descend upon them. *Be grateful it was n't Berlin, * leaders said, *for if it was, London would be dead. *
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[ WP ] Write the pledge that unites all who believe in basic human rights .
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I pledge allegiance, to mankind to assist, protect, and respect. I will not allow evil to destroy the human bond, I will not sit idly by. In the short time that I have I will promote equality, support diversity, and never condone retraction of the cause. Our fellow humans, past present and future, each endowed with a sense of duty and moral code, shall not be pushed aside or left to struggle alone. With each person comes the responsibility to assist, protect, and respect, and the right to receive the same.
EDIT: I wanted to do something a bit longer but this seemed more like a pledge to me. Let me know if you would like to see any elaboration
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[ CW ] Tell a story by describing one scene .
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The clearing is slick with ichor, and a lone warrior makes his last stand.
The man's face is one of terror and desperation. Goblins sit frozen in dance around him, goading him with their spears. The warrior himself stands mid-swing, his long sword cleaving a goblin's skull in twain. Behind him one of the dancer's has thrust through his back. Viscera hangs in the air, spraying from the man's gut.
Around their circle the bodies of men lay strewn about. Some have their throats torn out, while the less fortunate stare in horror at goblins feasting on their intestines. Many more lay with rudimentary cleavers through their skull, or pinned to trees with spears. On the periphery of the clearing a half dozen bloody drag marks radiate out, then deviate to the north.
In the distance a great pillar of smoke hangs in the air.
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[ WP ] In this world , every child looks and acts the same . They do everything the same in school as well . Except one boy ...
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It was cold. Damp. The ground was heaving with living creatures, invading the soft skin of the boy's stomach, his forearms, the creases of his elbows and the pale membrane of his neck. He was used to it. Did n't so much as twitch. He supposed that the other boys and girls would have twitched.
The boy listened to the laughter on the play ground, like he always did. It was why he had chosen this as his spot, his den, his home. The ones that they called teachers did n't know that there was a little crawl space under the school building. The boy had found it by pulling up an old pipe that lead underneath. He supposed that the other boys and girls would not have been able to do that.
The boy did not have a name. He knew that the other boys and girls had them, but he did not know how they got them. It made him feel a twisting, uncomfortable annoyance in his gut, but he did not know the word for that. It did n't matter anyway. Nobody spoke to him. He supposed that the other boys and girls had someone to talk to.
He was different. He could not see all of himself, but he knew that all the boys and girls looked like angels and he did not. He gazed at the little blonde curls and the florid cheeks and the flimsy legs that would run, run, run, as far as they wanted. He supposed that they would not let him run as well.
He could not come out. While he was physically able, he would scare the other boys and girls. He had done it before, once. There was a little girl playing near the pond that he used to live in. He did not mean to hurt her. She had screamed and it had hurt the boy's ears. He supposed that he should not come out again.
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[ WP ] Tell a story like a memory we shared .
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The rush of excitement. The harsh white lights. The cold marble floor. The rustling sound as you put it in your pocket. The footsteps of the guards as they rushed over. Those hands upon our shoulders. That feeling in the stomach. The dimly lit room. The bald headed suited man sitting down. I do n't remember what he said. We waited for hours and hours. Panic. Your parents came first. Your Mum was crying, but your dad showed no expression at all. He just looked at you. Then to me. Then back to you. His eyes. It was like he was staring through you. The door creaked after you. I have n't seen you since.
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[ WP ] shotguns , rocking chairs , and porch wine .
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Jimmy aimed his gun at Mrs. Lee. He held his breath to steady his aim and mentally steeled himself. Tim placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, but Jim shrugs it off. He did n't need distractions. What he needed was for Mrs. Lee to quit her goddamn rocking and sit still for a moment. Yet he knew better than that. He knew that Mrs. Lee had been rocking on that porch since 67'. And one way or another, today was the day she would quit it.
Jimmy pulled the trigger, briefly closely his eyes as he did it. Though he'd never admit to Tim that he closed his eyes while the pellet sliced through the air until it smashed old Mrs. Lee's glass of wine right there in her hand.
Tim let out a whoop as the old woman looked stunned at where her glass used to be. Jimmy jumped up and slung the pellet gun back over his shoulder. He and his friend took off across the field of the Lee's farm.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Lee continued to stare at her broken glass. *This was supposed to be it, * she thought. *This was supposed to be my final glass before I joined my husband in heaven. *
She sat for a few moments longer before slowly rising to a proud stance. She reached under her skirt for the shotgun strapped to her leg. She loaded it and pumped the barrel.
`` Them motherfucker kids gon na stay off my property!'' she roared.
With surprising speed for an 78-year-old woman she sprinted after the kids. Her legs pumped wildly as her lean and muscular thighs pushed her fast across the field like a wild banshee.
`` Jimmy, do you think she knew that the Riley family was out to poison her wine and claim that disputed land?'' asked Tim, when they had stopped underneath an oak tree to catch their breath.
`` Tim, something tells me that woman does n't have a clue about much anymore. We done our pa's proud today.'' said Jimmy. The right side of his body was then promptly blown off, showering his best friend in a rain of blood and body fluid.
Mrs. Lee stood behind him as his body fell to ground, kicking and twitching. She pointed her gun at Tim's head.
`` Kindly please leave the premises or I will be forced to call the police.''
She pulled the trigger, blowing his head off.
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[ WP ] You were born and raised in the desert . Your whole life you 've been training to climb The Wall . The day has come and you 're finally about to reach its peak .
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# Part 1
My name is Ibn Al Shazed. Maybe.
I go by Ali.
I was born in the year seven hundred twenty one after the Wall was put up. After the rest of the world died because of their soft ways.
The desert is not our friend. It does not want us to live. It tries to kill you every day. In the village I grew up in there is a well, deep and strong. It takes seven strong men to operate the pump to fill the tanks. The tanks hold enough water for two weeks of cautious use. To get to three weeks, we must not just be careful or cautious. We must be miserly. The underground lake that we are using for water takes eighteen days to refill once we fill the tanks.
I started helping run the pumps every eighteen days when I turned fourteen. I was n't really ready, but my father took ill five days before, and it was that or lose the enhanced water ration that pump operators enjoyed. Once a right like that passed out of my family it would be gone for generations most likely.
But starting with that first turn at the pumps, I realized that living a life where we drink a single glass of water for the entirety of a single blazing hot and dry day and food is won only by constant worrying of the ground, flocks and forests is less than ideal.
In the two months of winter rain, we live free. Water is stockpiled and stored. Crops grow quickly then, and life is good. Then a man can drink two or three cups of water in a day and not feel guilty.
So I trained my body. In the days when food can be grown, I work hard to till the soil and keep the few stray weeds out. The vegetables get more water than I do. Then we hunt the deer and antelope out of the savanna. There's no more water there, and the antelope are small scrabbly things, hardly bigger than our goats.
Today, though, my training is done. I'm not much below the top of the Wall, perched on a ledge as I prepare for the last stretch. The hardest. From here there were no more ledge, no more places to stop and rest with roping myself to the wall.
Three days ago at the bottom of the Wall, I had thought I was ready. For months I had planned. Waiting for the rains to come was a risk, but it meant something important -- I would n't need to carry as much water. The Wall itself would be more difficult to climb, but compared to trying to climb it while carrying an extra four or five days of water would have been much more difficult.
I tear off another hunk of goat jerky -- seasoned with various herbs and sweetened with just a hint of honey. Precious stuff. Liquid gold. I'd used more honey in preparing this than I'd ever used in my life. But I knew I'd need the energy to make the climb. I also had barley cakes for energy, with flax seeds mixed in for an extra boost, and flavored with coriander seeds for good fortune. The effort and resources I'd spent on this were the result of not a few years of very careful hoarding and miserly trading.
I replace everything in my pack, then take a small mouthful of water, swish it around my mouth to help clear the dust, then swallow. I look up -- always up -- and plan my course. From here, the stones in the wall are smaller, tighter. This is the time where my real treasure becomes essential.
Eighteen small metal spikes, designed to be pounded into the cracks in the wall. I climb a ways with them, then rope to the highest, descend, and retrieve the lowest. Then extend my upward path again. This is tedious, painful, and greatly extends the time needed to traverse the distances. My body aches now. It has been months since I'd ached this much on a climb, but the top is sight now.
At the top of the wall is an outward thrusting bit of rock. It had taken me months to master the technique needed to deal with that, and even now, it was no sure thing. We are no lizards to scale walls without regard for the pull of our mother earth.
The first few sets go well -- I can place the spikes about three feet apart, so a full set covers about fifty feet -- a little less perhaps, but you have to save one for going back to the bottom to retrieve them. I made a choice early on to do a full set, then climb back down and then up to retrieve them rather than to climb a bit while setting the spikes then go back and get them, and come back up.
Doing the full set allows me to rest a bit from the painstaking work of setting each spike. I climb slowly for most of the day, and it's not easy. Around mid-day, I take a break. I set my ropes tight, then relax, trusting the spikes to hold me while I piss off the side of the wall.
Just as I am wrapping up my small lunch -- more goat jerky, a barley cake, and a mouthful of water -- the rain comes. And with the rain, the wind. The wall grows slick, and had I not already set the spikes and ropes, I'd have been clambering for them to get secured. In this wind, I can not climb.
The rain cools me, and I set my collection sheet to refill some of my water skins. This is a tricky operation, but worthwhile. It means I can have more than a slim mouthful of water with lunch. Water is precious. Water is life.
After a time the storm subsides.
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[ WP ] iEye with retina display , literally replaces your eye with a system-on-cornea with broad-spectrum light sensor
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Worthington blinked successively to activate his Vision® and began to work. He was, like he always was, bored. He brought up the Autoread app with the subconscious keyword he had configured -- in this case the word `` rosebud'' uttered in rapid succession in his mind -- and reflexively tuned into his favorite web channel in the central area of his Vision®, pulling up his Facebook page and all of his recent communications and all of his friends and acquantences' recent communications to the left periphery of his Screen. The Autoread app scanned the first document in his Work channel, visible on the far right of Worthington's Sony Introflux Adaptive Vision Ultra-Screen©, which encapsulated his entire natural field of vision and then some additional 2000 megapixels, and proceeded to respond. The responses produced entirely by this app, guided by powerful machine intelligence algorithms with access to Worthington's not only every move but every glance of his eye, were statistically impossible to differentiate from a response generated by Worthington's unaugmented brain and hand, although it would be generally assumed that such a `` real'' response would be so insipid and atrophied from years of relying on the Autoread/write to be hardly communicable; the Autowrite feature of course took this into account. At the center of Worthington's vision remained the channel that he spent, according to the marketing data permanently available in his SIAVUS device, almost 60 % of his available attention watching, when not farming out his faculties to pay the bills ( which consisted almost entirely of his internet subscription ).
His work was completed almost instantaneously; but he only got paid a penance anyway for something that anyone who could afford the equivalent of a cell phone ( entirely antiquated by now ) could do. Why was he thinking of it on terms of the cost of a cell phone? But this thought was quickly lost, for Worthingon's attention span functioned only for several seconds in the best scenario, and was best suited for spontaneous and emotion-driven stimuli, as he was watching now.
He was beginning to feel depressed, or at least he would have been had his SIAVUS failed to detect the psycho-chemical-electrical perameters indicating depression, which of course could never happen. To an outside observer, of course which there were none, but if there were one, it would appear that on the face of an obese 30-something man with thinning gray-brown hair sat an expression of something not unrelated to contentment or even ecstacy, below his hazed and unfocused eyes.
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[ WP ] A human develops superpowers and becomes a dictator . Years later , he explains his actions to his ( once ) best friend , who has come to assassinate him .
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I saw him coming before he entered the room.
`` Hello, William'' I said, my eyes not leaving the street below. `` It's nice to see you again.''
He walked beside me and stared out to the night-soaked city. `` I wish I could say the same,'' he said with a distance between us. `` And I'm sure you wish you were n't lying when you say that.''
Smiling, I turned to him. `` Will, it is nice to see you again. Even if the circumstances are n't ideal.''
`` So you do know why I'm here then.'' He put a hand into his jacket.
`` Yes, I know. I know everything that will happen, do n't you remember? I knew that this would happen.''
`` You could stop me.'' I saw his fingers grab the gun. `` I do n't have to do this.''
`` I ca n't stop you.'' I said, putting my hand on his shoulder, and offering him a seat by the fire. His jacket was soaked from his walk through the rain, so I helped him out of it. The gun stayed in his hand, and he sat down. I took my seat across from him.
`` Yes you can, Thomas. Surely you can do anything you will.''
`` I can, but I ca n't will anything I wish.''
`` Oh come on, we both know you do n't believe in that metaphysical crap.'' I smiled a bit, recalling our college debates about the meaning of life and who was going to order the pizza. `` Are you saying that this all was destiny?''
`` I'm not saying that I wanted it to turn out this way, and I'm sure you know that I did n't.'' He nodded his head. `` The world sees me as a great evil now, but you know very well that I did not wish for that.''
`` So why did you spark revolution? Why did you seize control of the government? Why did you use your gifts to start conflict and tear the world apart?''
I stared into the bottom of an empty glass, and said. `` Because it was destiny.''
`` The gods did n't make you into an evil man. They did n't dictate your acts. You could see the future you were creating, and you did nothing to stop it.''
`` You're right.'' I said calmly while my old friend fumed. `` The gods did not make me into an evil man.''
`` So what did they make you?''
With my glass empty, I stood up to refill it. `` Thirsty'' I answered as I walked over to the cabinet. `` Do you want a glass?''
`` What're you having?''
`` Scotch. The good stuff.''
`` Okay, I'll have one I guess. On the rocks.''
I poured our drinks and came back with them. Once he had his, he eyed it suspiciously. `` Oh come on, I would n't poison my oldest friend.'' That seemed to ease his nerves, and he sipped it slowly.
`` You still did n't answer the question.''
I raised my eyebrow. `` Oh?''
`` Why did you destroy the world?''
`` Destiny.'' I took a sip.
`` You know that's not good enough.''
`` Even so, it's the truth,'' I said. `` You know, you always acted like my powers were a gift. That I was blessed for having them.''
`` And you were! Any better man with your abilities could have created a utopia!''
That made me laugh. `` A better man? No. A better man could have done nothing. I already told you, this is destiny.''
`` You have freewill, Thomas. More than anyone, even.''
`` No, Will. I do n't.''
I finished my drink again and stood up. Will's gun followed me, as I went back to the window. `` You know, it's a strange gift, foresight.'' I started, `` I can see the future. It's all clear to me. I can see you pulling that trigger, and I can see my blood covering this floor. I could see this world I created, and just like I ca n't stop you from pulling that trigger, I could n't stop this.
`` I wanted to. I wanted to be mentioned in the same words as the other great leaders. Alexander. Richard the First. The great ones, the ones who wrote history, and who are immortalized by people who think of them as great ones. Instead I'll be remembered in a breath with Napoleon or Ceaser or Hitler.''
`` So why did you do it?'' He asked from the leather chair by the fire. `` Do n't tell me it was destiny.''
I closed my eyes and took a breath. `` Because sometimes the world has to fall apart for someone to rebuild it. That's what I've seen, and that's why I played my role.''
`` Surely there was another way?''
`` No, there was n't. It was destiny.'' I took a deep breath, and then said, `` you're going to shoot me now, and I'm going to topple forward out this window.''
`` No. No I wo n't. Because I have the will to do whatever the fuck it is I like, just like you have the power to save the world you destroyed.''
`` Then why don'y you put the gun down?''
I listened for a moment, and then came his plea. `` I.. I ca n't. My hand.. it wo n't move!''
Smiling, I turned to face him. `` I lied about the drink. Do n't worry, it's not going to kill you -- it'll just make your hand seize up and pull the trigger.''
`` Thomas, I do n't want to do this.''
`` But Will, you have to. It's destin-''
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[ WP ] Casinos are secretly aware that people with mild telepathic and telekinetic abilities exist and operate special security teams to detect and handle the problem quietly . One of these teams encounters something they have never seen before .
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`` But what is it?''
`` Dunno, sir,'' Henricks confided, scratching at his chin. He needed a shave. `` We had Dr. Yu in from Centennial Hills, but all she coudl tell us was that it were n't Teep and it were n't Teek.''
`` We have one of the most advanced and comprehensive security systems in the world -- the President would be lucky to have the kind of surveillance we keep on the floor -- and it has been running for *decades*. We have cataloged more than a hundred different manifestations of telepathic and telekinetic ability.'' Ackleson slammed a dark hand on the desk; Henricks had never seen the burly pit boss so out of sorts. `` The sensors?''
`` Nothing in IR, nothing in UV or X... we even ran a couple of full-spectrums on the mark and there's nothing out of the ordinary in any of them.''
Fastidious to the point of obsessive, Henricks had only seen his manager loosen his tie once before: the day his mother had died. He had even taken an entire day off; the only vacation Ackleson had allowed himself in twenty years as far as Henricks knew.
`` You do n't'just' rake in a 10,000 % profit without doing something fishy!'' The man growled, though it was as much to the air as to his employee.
`` We even did some card swapping,'' Henricks added. `` He was n't counting them; he was n't in communication with the dealer. And even if he was-''
`` It would n't matter,'' Ackleson finished for him. `` Cards; dice; roulette. He's even made money on the slots. Three machines in the last week -- the *only* three he's sat down to -- and each one was primed for a payout. No malfunctions, no tampering. Even win he's had has been 100 % legit.''
`` He's...'' Henricks began, then clammed up, a brief flutter of panic passing through him. He should n't have spoken up. It was stupid. He'd just been sharing some drinks with Dr. Yu after the investigation and she had mentioned a few things.
`` He's *what*?'' Ackleson asked, latching onto the single misspoken word with the crocodile tenacity that had kept the casino running at peak efficiency through four different owners, two'arguments' with criminal enterprises seeking to horn in, and an economic collapse.
`` He's lucky,'' Henricks let out in a rush. `` That's all he is. He's just *lucky*.''
`` Luck does not exist,'' Ackleson said in a cool, level voice. `` You should know that. Our job is to make sure luck does n't exist.''
`` But there it is,'' Henricks said, waving a hand at the screen. On it was an amiable looking figure who strolled from table to table, laughing and greeting people and looking to have a grand old time.
And at some point, they were going to get a positive ID on the man. There could n't always be a misaligned palm frond or an especially tall patron between him and the camera; there would n't always be a half-second camera glitch at just the right time to miss a clear shot of his face.
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[ IP ] Concierge
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Going to start naming these things.
**TOURIST TRAP**
Come now my pretties and please allow me
A pittance of pleasure all mine it shall be
I have but a whimsical way of my words
Alarming but charming but almost absurd
Pay you no heed to the rumblings and rumours
Lend them no hubris but ill fallen humours
Allow me a query of help and assist
A trinket of intel to temper your trysts
May they be dancing or diving or dreaming
I pray that you leave never running or screaming
I pray that you will make the most of your stay
That surely the shine of the sun comes each day
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[ TT ] The Kingdom is falling apart . Monsters roam the hinterlands , the outlying villages are in revolt , bandits and hedge mages hold the roads , and the dead are restless . The Heir Apparent visits their father , the once-legendary hero who became king , on his deathbed to demand an explanation .
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`` Father, what have you done?''
The old man lay half asleep on the royal bed. He turned toward his son, heir to the throne and gave a small smile.
`` It's always been like this.''
`` The wild men are in open rebellion! The hunter's guild is falling apart due to lack of support! Beasts slay our people wherever they go! The bandits you once kept under check now run rampant! The forbidden arts have been rediscovered! The magic academy has declared independence from the kingdom! I've found three of my cousins plotting to take the throne for themselves!''
`` Yes, as it always has been.''
`` Since when? What happened to the era of peace and prosperity I grew up in? My brothers and sisters, once happy are now scattered across the kingdom working their hardest despite this to keep peace. And you're here sleeping the day away!''
`` I'm dying, boy. This land has always had rebellions and chaos. I'd united the kingdom for the first time in centuries, and rightly been hailed a hero. But with my ailing health I ca n't protect this peace anymore. Now it falls to you boy. Take up my sword, gather those loyal to the kingdom and reunite this land.''
`` Since when does an heir need to conquer his own kingdom?''
`` A prince does n't, but a hero fights evil, and you've got a lot of evil to deal with. Starting with the one before you. I may be in failing health, but even the most neglectful king would n't have given you the challenge you deserve.''
`` Father?''
`` I drained money from the hunter's guild and road patrols to allow the brigands and beasts to return. I implemented laws treating the barbarians and magi as an underclass to inspire rebellion. I forbid necromancy and ensured the kingdom would not be prepared for its return. I have done all this to ensure your kingdom is your own, united by your own hand and not simply given to you.''
`` You've gone mad!''
`` I've always been mad, only a madman would try to unite this land. The question it whether you're mad enough to do it again. But first, put me out of my misery boy. I would rather die to a blade than to this wretched illness.''
The prince took the enchanted sword from the wall, and looked at the figure prone in the bed. The man had indirectly destroyed his entire world, taken all that was good from his life save for the wealth of the capital city, and isolated him from all the family he knew. But he was still his father. The prince could n't bring himself to slay the crazy old man, even at his own request. He set out to reunite the kingdom, whether it wanted to be whole or not.
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[ CW ] You gather rust ( or Rust ) . That 's it . Interpret and integrate it any way you like .
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I've actually been quite content.
Every morning I get to watch the sunrise. And, and before I fell I never truly understood the concept of beauty, but I feel like, now, having seen it every day... Right on schedule like always... I understand.
My internal clock shut down when Auxiliary power was gutted to maintain internal functions. That was most of my lower half, below the armpit; unfortunately the tin on my left arm rusted until I could no longer look at my favorite watch.
For a while I was so confused, *what had happened!? I will be late for my e-meeting, Johnston.bos will be furious! * But, slowly, I came to love my spot. I fell against a wall, which having heard some of the far off cries on that fateful day, some where not as lucky and fell on their cameras or optic-focusers. I only heard them for about 1:12 minutes, that is the battery life of the non-essential powers including voicebox.
But, really, I am content. I do n't need my watch or internal clock or to talk or Jonston.bos to live. Actually, ironically I feel more alive resting here, watching the sun rise over the canopy of trees and old buildings, the birds and the animals and the grass between my servos...
I'm not dying, but instead being reborn. And I'm content.
___
*I really liked how this story came out, and not to impose but the robot from the Fallout series has always been a favorite and I think that was the body/voice/etc I used here. * [ Picture ] ( http: //static.giantbomb.com/uploads/original/7/73953/1664882-protectron.png )
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[ WP ] When you was a child , you discovered that anything you dream at night will happen the moment you woke up . One day , You dreamt about breaking into the White House and somehow activating the nuclear launch codes .
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It's always seemed like an easy assumption to me that humanity needs to leave Earth and spread itself throughout the stars in order to survive. There could be any sort of cosmic disaster that could wipe out our solar system, let alone Earth, and with that in mind I've always found myself having mean dreams about humanity and its future given how many people are so short sighted. With that in mind I would like to apologize to the world for nuking the world into a zombie apocalypse with my dream. To be fair it is the media's fault for leaking the fact that I had this dream in the first place. Is it my fault for dreaming this outcome? No! It is everyone else's fault for experiencing it! I dreamed it but it's your fault!! Look at Sweden!
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[ WP ] You 've been playing with equations in a notebook and have , if you 're right , just discovered time travel . You turn the page and are greeted with one word : `` DO N'T ''
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FADE IN:
INT. A WORSKHOP
*A young man sits at a cluttered desk, a dogeared notebook open in front of him. This is BEN, a graduate student. He taps a pencil against the pages, clearly lost in thought. *
**BEN: ** ( *To himself* ) That's it. That's it!
*With hurried, almost frantic motions, Ben scribbles in the notebook. His writing is revealed to be the final details of an incredibly convoluted equation. He turns the page, then pauses. On the next sheet of paper is one word: `` DO N'T!'' Ben stares at this for a few seconds, only to be distracted by a flash of light. *
**BEN: ** ( *O.S. * ) Stop! Do n't turn that page!
*Ben turns to see a man who could be his twin standing behind him. This is BEN. He is distinguishable from Ben only because he is wearing a windbreaker. *
**BEN: ** What the hell?
**BEN: ** Aw, damn it. I'm too late, are n't I?
**BEN: ** Too late for what? What's going on?
*Ben walks forward and examines Ben's notebook. *
**BEN: ** Yep, that's what I thought. You've just discovered time travel, and now you've received a warning from yourself.
*Ben glances from his doppelganger to his notebook. *
**BEN: ** What, you wrote this?
**BEN: ** Technically, you did. Or you will. Or rather, I probably will, then you will.
**BEN: **... What?
*There is another flash of light. When it subsides, another young man has appeared. This is BEN. *
**BEN: ** Sorry, sorry. I'll only be a second.
*Ben walks past Ben and Ben and retrieves a windbreaker from a hidden spot beside the desk. *
**BEN: ** ( *CONT'D* ) Do n't mind me. Pretend I was n't even here.
*Ben and Ben squint and shield their eyes as Ben disappears in another flash. *
**BEN: ** Was that you?
**BEN: ** Apparently. All of these flashes are making it hot in here, though.
*Ben removes his windbreaker and drops it beside the desk. *
**BEN: ** ( *CONT'D* ) Now, look... I know you're probably feeling confused right now, but we have to fix this before it gets out of hand.
**BEN: ** Fix *what? * What is even going on?!
**BEN: ** There's no time to explain!
**BEN: ** That does n't make any sense! The entire basis of time travel stipulates that you have as much time as you want!
**BEN: ** Yeah, it turns out that it does n't actually work that way. Come on.
*Ben grabs Ben by the shoulder, and they both vanish in a flash of light. They arrive in the same workshop. *
**BEN: **... What is this?
**BEN: ** It's my... your... it's the workshop, obviously. We're about fifteen minutes before you... I... in fifteen minutes, Ben is going to come down the stairs and start writing in that notebook.
*Ben points at the notebook, and in doing so, realizes that his windbreaker is missing. *
**BEN: ** ( *CONT'D* ) Aw, damn it. Wait here for a second, will you?
**BEN: ** Where are you going?!
**BEN: ** I forgot my jacket.
*Ben disappears in a flash of light, leaving Ben on his own. Barely a second passes before yet another flash appears, revealing a young man. This is BEN. *
**BEN: ** ( *Shouting* ) Do n't listen to him!
**BEN: ** ( *Frustrated* ) Oh, now what?
**BEN: ** There's no time to...
**BEN: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Stop! Enough!
*Ben opens the notebook and picks up a pencil. *
**BEN: ** ( *CONT'D* ) This is entirely too confusing! I'm going to put a stop to it!
**BEN: ** No, you idiot, you're going to *cause* it.
**BEN: ** Which one are you, then? Huh? Past-future-past-me, or future-past-future-me?
**BEN: ** I am a baked potato.
*Ben stares at Ben for several seconds. *
**BEN: **... What?!
**BEN: ** Okay, so, you're the wrong one. That was the code-phrase. Remember it.
*Ben disappears in a flash of light, and is immediately replaced by Ben, who has retrieved his windbreaker. He pulls it on as he walks toward Ben. *
**BEN: ** Sorry that took so long. I could n't get the thingy to work quite right.
**BEN: ** Yeah, about that: How exactly is all of this time travel happening, anyway?
*Ben pulls a small remote control from his pocket. *
**BEN: ** This activates the machine, which is buried in the foundation beneath the workshop.
**BEN: ** I'm sorry, did you say it...
**BEN: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Yeah, from what I've been told, I... one of us is going to go back and put it there.
**BEN: ** Who told you *that?! *
**BEN: ** Me.
*Ben looks ready to say something, but he is interrupted by a flash of light. Once it subsides, a young man becomes visible. This is BEN. *
**BEN: ** ( *To Ben* ) Here, catch.
*Ben throws a small remote control to Ben, who fumbles to catch it. He drops the pencil in the process. *
**BEN: ** ( *CONT'D* ) Good luck.
*Ben disappears in a flash of light. Ben looks from the remote control to Ben and back a few times. *
**BEN: ** No, wait, you do n't...
**BEN: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Nope. Not listening.
*Ben walks to the workshop's door, where a windbreaker is hanging. *
**BEN: ** You do n't know what you're doing!
**BEN: ** I also do n't care.
*Ben dons his windbreaker, then fiddles with the remote control for a few seconds. A flash of light surrounds him, and he disappears. Ben watches this. *
**BEN: ** ( *To himself* ) This is going to get complicated.
*Ben picks up the pencil from the floor and approaches the open notebook. He scrawls the word `` DO N'T!'' on the visible page. *
[ CUT TO: ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5c6ppm/wp_youve_been_playing_with_equations_in_a/d9u3t1y/ )
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[ WP ] As a safety mechanism , the great war machines electrocuted those who attempted to access them without the correct passcodes . This true purpose was forgotten in time , and eventually attempts to access them were used as an execution method for those who were to be put to death .
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I'm ready. I've been ready for days, really. I expected the police to move quicker. Surely, it's pretty obvious, right? Even an idiot would wonder about the calling card conveniently placed in the pocket of the victim. I mean, it's...
Sigh. I keep reliving the moment. I had decided. This conspiracy needs to end. That... box, device, gift from the gods, curse of the devil, whatever it is - no man should hold its secrets. I had an ancient blaster - best killing device around, really, though how Tamara ever managed to get one, I'll never know. I remember Tannim in his greatcoat as he walked in - ever indifferent, ever cold.
`` I'm sorry. This needs to end.'' As I spoke, he turned to look at me. I could n't do it. I was shaking to death. He recognized something was wrong, just started to open his mouth.
I shot him. I do n't even remember pulling the trigger, yet...
Is that movement outside? It must be. Police. Finally, it's all coming to an end. A grin comes to my face. This damn conspiracy. I do n't know why our families passed down these instructions. Try this sequence, then that sequence, then this, then... It boggles the mind. It's all bullshit. My parents trained killers, just to try yet more sequences? I was raised to follow in their footsteps - to be yet another king of crime, to subvert society, to manipulate the crowd around executions? It's all bullshit. The device is lost to us. Everyone knows that. I close my eyes.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I've always been impressed by the efficiency of our courts. I've heard of other societies - where they have their own tools for executions. They're all weak. They know how their tools work, they see their own lack of knowledge. What did my case take? Days? Perhaps I should credit my predecessors after all. Their sedition hardened this court system into what it is today.
Tomorrow, I walk. Then it's all over.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
As I walk to the black plague, I feel peace. That platform, exposed to the world to see. What is that, thousands of viewers for my execution? Jeering, shouting, pushing, shoving... Great demonstration of humanity. They do n't even know what I'm doing for them. My father, and his father, and his, and -
I'm shoved in the back. `` Move it, murderer.''
Well, he's not wrong. Prick. I step onto the platform, on the pad. Despite it all, I remember my place in the sequence. Why not use it? The whole thing's crap anyway. 2-3-4... The best my predecessors could come up with - start from 6 1s, and count upwards. Great strategy, guys. 5-6-7... I smile. I'm done. That's it.
But... I'm not dead. And now a blue glow surrounds me. What? I look towards the guard - his blaster is trained on me. I see smoke, but hear nothing. Little more than a spark as the slug meets the glow. Now I feel... sick. My vision is blurring, my stomach is churning, and I do n't even know how to explain.
Now I'm in a room. Solid walls, gray, shiny, without a spec of dust, bright neon lights everywhere.
`` Welcome, executor. What are your commands?''
I ca n't think. This was all supposed to be over now.
Why?
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[ WP ] Free write ! Write whatever ideas for a story you 've had in your brain or just start writing and see where it takes you .
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It was that time of year again. The daffodils had come out, covering the hillsides with fallen stars. To everyone else, they symbolized the beginning of spring, pushing through the snow to light up the late winter ground.I saw that in them, but mostly, I saw endings. The fallen stars, slowly burning out on the snowy ground. My boyfriend came out with me, walking delicately through the flowers. I found one with a broken stem, and picked it up. A broken star. Suddenly, I started to cry. A broken star, thats what I was. Thats what he was. We were broken stars, burning out slowly on the snowy ground. He hugged me, bringing me closer to him.
`` We may be broken stars, but we are still stars''
One year ago today, we were broken stars for the last time. Now its just me, half of a broken star. I cry again, but this time, no one hugs me. No one pulls me closer. No tells me I'm still a star, no matter how broken. I pull myself together, and head inside. It was sad and cold out here, alone.
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[ WP ] You are Keith , the best wingman in the history of wingmans . After you die the Grim Reaper offers you an arrangement . If you could hook up Grim with the girl of his dreams he will let your soul go to Heaven
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`` I'm pretty much guaranteed to go to hell?'' I asked as I looked at my corpse.
`` Yes,'' the robed figure behind me hissed. `` Unless you take my deal, then I'll take you to heaven myself.'' He began to turn and walk into a portal to another plane.
`` Who's the girl then? I'd have to assume she's something special to catch your eye.'' I tried keeping up with him through the portal he had made. Not quite understanding how to float after him without walking with my legs. Like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time.
`` I'm taking you to her now,'' was his quiet reply. We came out of the portal at a window outside an apartment in New York. `` This is her place, I've had my eye on her since I took her parents away as a child. Most people hate when I do my job but she thanked me on the nights when she remembered them. They were n't good parents from what I understand. I do n't always grasp why mortals treat each other the way they do, their lives being so short.''
As I tried floating on the same level as Death not quite understanding how to be a ghost. I looked in the window to see a twenty something girl, black hair, cute and slightly gothic looking. As I took in the girl I realized something. `` Wait, you want me to help you hook up with a mortal? That's impossible! Even if she is glad you intervened it's not like she's going to want to hook up with you. You are the grim reaper!''
`` I understand that but there's nothing else like me in the universe. Angels are self obsessed and demons are just selfish. Anything on the spiritual plane would just be an emotional relationship and I've gone too long with out being touched.'' He bemoaned.
`` Would n't anyone who touched you die? That is your shtick.'' I pointed out.
He sighed, `` no that's not the case, and that really has n't helped my dating life.''
`` Well let me think. There's no way she'll be into you as things are now. Could you make her immortal? You control death could n't you make her immune... to you? Maybe she'll appreciate you if you guys are in the same boat?'' I rattled off.
He let out another sigh, `` Yes I could but I'm really not supposed to do something like that. Messes with the balance of nature.''
`` Come on,'' I goad `` This is your one love, you got ta take a chance!'' And it's my one way into heaven I think to myself. `` Just make her immortal and who else could she end up with? Whenever someone she knows dies make sure to show yourself and catch up. Introduce yourself and all that, find some common ground.'' I hastily said, a pang of guilt in my stomach as I realized what I was dooming this girl to.
`` You're right, I hardly do anything for myself. I've worked on God's plan for millennia. Time for me to do something for myself.'' Before I could interject with my apprehension he flew through the wall and over to the girl. I could tell she could n't see him because she did n't react to the huge robed creature looming in her room. I watched as death rolled up his sleeve and break his arm. It looked like a very painful process. Then he took a sliver of his forearm and phased it through the girls shoulder. As I watched him pull back out I noticed the sliver was gone from his hand. With a devilish smile to himself he flew back out to me.
`` There, it's done. Now she ca n't die and I just have to wait for my opportunities. For now I'll put you in purgatory. Do n't worry it's not terrible, just boring but I'll make it so you can watch her and see how things are going. I'll know where to find you if I need advice. Time passes faster for spirits there.'' he told me, looking as pleased with himself as a reaper could be. Then a look of anger flashed on what little features I could make out under the hood. `` If this does n't work though I'll drop you into the furthest circle of hell.'' Before I could even reply he grabbed me and threw me through another portal. I came out into a world of nothing but dull gray in every direction.
Next thing I know a weaker looking portal opens up. Like a faint live camera feed of the girl death is stalking. Only it's like it's on extreme fast forward. As I watch I see her live her life, the ups and downs, the day to day and the relationships she builds. What must be 3 years after Death showed me her, one of her friends dies in an accident. Then I see death appear in her life. She is clearly freaked out and I do n't know what they are saying but I have to assume he's introducing himself. Maybe even explaining her immortality to her. She clearly wants nothing to do with him and he leaves.
Soon she has a boyfriend of a couple years, I start to wonder if death told her about her immortality. If he did n't I wonder if she noticed she has n't aged. The boyfriend dies in an accident and in the back of my mind I wonder if it truly was an accident. Once again death shows up in her life, she does n't seem so freaked out this time. She is very distraught though, the talk does n't go so well. Death leaves again, visibly hurt. This cycle goes on for another 30 years I'd guess. She realizes she immortal by now, having not aged. She's attempted to kill herself a few times too, having seen everyone she loves die in almost consistent accidents. I start to feel extreme guilt about this plan and wonder how much interference death has been playing in her life. He's talked to her quite a few times now. They get longer and longer each time.
After another lover of hers died in a terrible accident I see her and death talking again. This time she seems almost happy to see him. She did n't seem very attached to the latest guy anyways. He extends a hand towards her. I wonder if this is the moment. I see contemplation on her face before she inevitably says no.
`` What's going on with those two? I wish I could tell what's being said!'' I cried out loud, realizing it was the first time I'd heard any noise in what must've been a long time. After looking around at the grayness around me and deciding not to worry about loosing my mind I turn my attention back to the portal. Years must've passed while I lost focus. The world has aged, but the girl still has n't. The speed of the live feed is too fast for me to understand how an immortal girl is getting by without being noticed in the world. Maybe death is helping her. But she has another group of friends and a new lover. I watch as her life zips by and one by one they die. Each time Death appearing and offering his hand. I do n't understand what's happening.
The frustration of not knowing what's happening gets to me. `` Death!'' I cry out hoping he could explain, hoping he heard me. I notice the portal has paused. Then I hear Death appear behind me.
`` It's been a long time, your plan is n't going well at all.'' He whispers sounding drained.
`` What does she want? From what I can tell she's stopped connecting with people, she almost seems happy to see you. I do n't get why this is n't working?'' I say in a panic.
`` She wants a child, but she ca n't have one since I made her immortal. The piece of me inside of her prevents that from happening. I know as soon as she has one though she will not want to come with me.'' He sadly informs me.
`` What if you let her have one though? Maybe she'll change her mind? There's nothing else to do but watch her be immortal and kill everyone she could love. Is that really what you want?''
Death just stares at me contemplatively. A few minutes go by then he vanishes back into the shadows. I look back at the portal that has continued to play. Death is taking the sliver of himself back out of her. He talks to her for a short while afterward, I do n't know about what but she seems happy. Her life continues like it should have. She begins aging, making friends and dating a new guy. They have a baby, a daughter, and her life seems to go great. Until eventually she grows old. I can tell she is about to pass soon. My neck starts to sweat from the thought of going to hell. Death appears all the sudden and offers his hand again to her. She takes his hand with a smile on her face. As she does she ages back down to her mid twenties and Death places the bone fragment back where it was. They go through a portal and appear behind me.
`` Everything worked as you intended.'' Death happily informs me.
`` That's great...,'' I say apprehensively. I contemplate this series of events. Feeling sort of left out not ever being able to hear any of their many discussions. `` What do you see in him?'' I ask the girl. I realized I've seen her entire life and had never talked to her.
She thought about it for a second. `` He was always there. He was the only constant in my life and the only one who helped me when everyone I cared about died. I resented him when he took the ones I loved but when you ca n't die you realize how important it is. Without it life is n't as interesting and the great things in life do n't matter. I love my daughter but I'd hate for her to live a life without death. I hope to watch over her, for the good and the bad. Next I'll help take her to the after life. Then live eternity with the only man who gives everyone's lives meaning.''
After hearing that the guilt that had been rotting away in me finally got some relief but was still there. I look at the two of them and remembered the whole reason I did all this. I look at death with a knowing look and point up. Unsure how happy he is with me right now.
`` Yes,'' He states simply. Next thing I know the gray has faded away to many bright and beautiful colors, a giant gate looms in front of me. As I take in my surroundings I notice someone who looks exactly like you'd expect Jesus to look. He walks up to me and puts his arm around my shoulder.
`` Keith! My man, I have been waiting for you. I need your help.'' He says as he walks me past the gates.
First WP response, sorry if it's a little long. I could probably clean it up and shorten it but it's like 4am now.
Edit: Fixed some grammar errors and made it flow a little better in parts. Resisted the urge to totally practically rewrite it.
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[ WP ] A unit so secret , almost no one knows of its existence , and so stealthy , it can not be found . This is the Battalion 404 .
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`` Welcome Soldiers. You are all Volenteers to this unit, and I appreciate the fact that you signed up for this duty. It is a tough job, but we have to do it. If you are unclear what we do here and merely has been recommended duty here, let me sum it up for you.
We are Battalion 404 of the British Army and we do not exist. There is no sign of us on the generals maps, the Germans can´t attack it because they have no spies to tell them we are here and the rest of the Army would shoot us or join us depending on their point of view if they knew we existed. But allow me to guarantee you that Field Marshal Haig himself put this unit up for special duty. Our role is simple. Our duty is simple. We stay out of the war. We do not kill. We do not die. We do not fight. We do not attack. We are not attacked. In short, we are on paid vacation until the war is over. Sure, the pay is bad and the food too, but we do not dig trenches and we have some nice facilities here. And best of all, the duty is classified and if you say that back home, they usually think you been off playing the hero for the entire war. Gets you in the good with the ladies.
You are in first platoon. Report to Captain Edmund Blackadder for duty. Dismissed.''
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[ WP ] You live in a society where at the end of each day , you can choose to relive it , but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously . A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day . Almost always that number is 0 . Today it is 7212 .
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The light streamed in at even lengths across the carpeting. Jack pulled the covers around his shoulders and rolled over to where the love of his life was. Or, should have been. The blanket was pulled back, the pillow tossed aside.
Jack slumped. He had been waiting for this moment for almost three months. The moment he could roll over in bed, see Allie staring back at him, give her a peck on the cheek and smile at his new wife. Today was the first morning of marriage, and she was not here. A moment of self-pity fell over him, but was quickly washed away by a sudden urgency to find his wife and put his arms around he. He sprung from the bed and opened the door that led to the rest of the apartment.
There she was. Standing behind the counter, coffee in hand, leaning over a paper. He leaned against the door frame.
`` My beautiful wife.''
She looked up. She had bed head. Her oversized shirt draped over her, and a faint whiff of party lingered. She was beautiful. She smiled back at him. `` Well you're pretty dashing yourself, husband.''
She raised a mug next to her, and Jack made his way across the apartment. He ignored the mug and walked around the counter, put his hand around his wife's waist, and kissed her sweet lips. She rested her head on his shoulder and together they swayed.
`` We're married.'' she said.
`` We're married.'' he repeated.
They held each other tightly. `` You did n't happen to see my uncle Jerry's fiasco, did you?'' She asked, looking up at him.
Jack smiled. `` You mean when he ripped his shirt off, poured a beer on his head, and then promptly fell off, crashing into two unfortunate ladies who happened to be walking by?''
She sighed.
`` Nope.'' Jack laughed. `` Did n't hear about it.''
He pushed him in the chest and sat back, leaning her arm on her now forgotten newspaper. Jack leaned across, grabbed the mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Sitting back down at the counter, Jack stole a glance at the paper. It was turned to the crossword.
`` 12 across is Apollo.''
Allie stared first at Jack, then, snapping back to reality, remembered the paper below her. She set her cup aside and looked around for her pencil. Jack handed it to her. Allie mumbled a thanks and penned in the new solution. She rested the pencil on her ear and leaned against her elbow, once again cradling her mug in her hands.
`` What day are you on?'' Allie asked, an air of sarcasm streaming out.
`` Probably at least a thousand by now.'' he said, smiling over at her. She laughed.
Jack and Allie had met at a protest, where they had avidly fought against the required implantation of Reset Technology. The big businesses were long standing cronies of the Worker's Party ( which did as little for the workers as you would imagine ) and were using their political power to make money off the people. Jack and Allie vowed they would never use the system. They did, however, make a daily game of asking what day they were on.
`` I'm at zero. Perfect start of a new day. Endless possibilities.'' She said with a falsetto sort of irony. Jack put on his glasses, which were resting in the corner of the counter.
`` Holy...'' Jack set his mug down. That ca n't be...
Allie smacked him on the shoulder. `` Every day you do this. I know it's at zero.'' she said, returning her attention to her crossword. `` It's not funny anymore.''
`` Right..'' Jack said. This had to be a mistake. There is no way that he would ever use the Reset. He could n't. But there it was, written in bold, just off to the left of his vision. `` Today is day 7212.'' Allie tapped her pencil on the counter. `` Jack? Jack?''
`` Sorry, what?'' he said, snapping out of his initial shock.
`` Do you want the shower first or second?''
Jack shook his head. `` Ah, impartial.''
Allie turned her head to the side. `` You must have one wicked hangover, huh?''
Jack nodded. `` Yeah, that's it.''
Allie smiled. `` Typical. Go take a shower. I'll make some breakfast.''
Jack leaned across the counter, gave his new wife a peck on the cheek, and turned around back to the bedroom. He entered the bathroom, stripped off his old t-shirt and boxers, and ran the water. Jack let the water pour over his shoulders and run down his head. For a long time, he stood there.
`` What in the world,'' he thought, `` would make me go against everything I've fought for?'' Jack knew the answer. The woman in the other room. He would do anything for that woman. But still..
`` I'm just excited.'' he thought. `` I have a new wife. That's all. I just love my wife.'' He went back into the bedroom, dressed, and re-entered the kitchen. Allie moved about he counter space, waffle mix at the ready. Jack came over and pecked her on the cheek.
`` We were out of eggs.'' She said, stirring the mix. `` I had to make a run to the store.''
Jack took the bowl from her hands. `` Shower is open. I'll finish the waffles.'' She smiled, handed him the whisk, and walked towards the bedroom. Jack looked up just in time to see her throw her shirt to the side. “ Or don ’ t. ”
Jack set the waffle bowl down and chased after Allie. Yes, he thought. Today is a day worth repeating.
*
By noon Jack had fully decided. Tomorrow would be day 7213.
The sun warmed his face and he and Allie walked hand in hand. Her ring rubbed up against his finger, and he smiled. On the other hand, Jack toyed with his own ring. Allie leaned into Jack, pushing her head into his shoulder. They had already walked around the entire length of the Farmer's Market twice, but neither had noticed. They were happy to walk around, to show the world their love. Eventually, their hunger grew stronger than they could fight off, and the two made off for lunch. Allie drove. She loved to drive. Jack always pretended that she meant it, but they both knew she only said that so that Jack would n't feel so bad about not being able to. Jack had epilepsy. He had always had it. Allie was the first person Jack had met that did n't treat him as a poor puppy. Jack gave Allie another kiss on the cheek. Allie smiled and reached for the dial. She turned the radio up and sat back, one hand on the wheel, one out the window. Jack stared at her. He did n't see the car cross the median.
*
`` I'm fine!'' Jack screamed, tearing at the IV. `` Get me out of here! Allie?'' He screamed. No one returned the call. `` Allie!''
The world went dark.
*
The doctor led Jack down the hall. Jack would be fine, the doctors said. No damage done. Jack did not agree.
There she was. The love of his life. And she would n't make it to tomorrow. Jack stepped around the machines and to her side. The doctor pulled up a chair.
`` Can she hear me?'' Jack asked the doctor. The doctor knew the answer. He knew she would n't. He nodded his head anyway.
Jack talked all afternoon and into the evening.
*
Around dinner time, the doctor led another man down the hallway. He introduced himself as Jack's brother. Just earlier, the doctor had explained the predicament to the whole family. Allie's family had agreed to send James in first. Jack needed his brother.
The doctor tried to prepare James, but it was futile. No one is ever prepared to see what was happening behind that door. James took a deep breath. His brother had n't noticed him walking in. Jack was holding Allie's hand. He was talking to her, laughing, as if she was n't tied to a thousand machines. As if she was n't about to die. As if his life were n't about to be changed forever. James walked over to his brother and rested his hand on his shoulder. Jack stopped talking. He leaned into his brother's hip and let a soft tear roll down his cheek. James grabbed his brother and led him to the ground, leaning up against the wall.
`` Today was so perfect.'' Jack leaned his head back against the wall.
The brothers sat there for a long time, comforted by nothing else than the presence of the other.
From the corner of the duo's glasses, a single pop up appeared. `` Would you like to reset?''
James looked at the clock. 11:57. Jack's hand shook.
`` She wo n't be here tomorrow. Will she?''
James shook his head.
`` This morning was so perfect.'' Jack whispered.
The silence was deafening. James felt his eyes water.
`` I ca n't live without her, James.''
Jack's hand stopped shaking. `` This has been the worst day of my life.''
James nodded. `` It was also the best.''
Jack wiped his eyes. He stood up and walked over to his new wife. He held her hand and kissed her cheek.
`` I love you, Allie.'' He said. `` I love you, I love you, I love you. Never doubt that.''
The pop up began beeping. 11:59.
Jack looked at his wife, then at his brother, and back at his wife.
He made his selection.
*
The next morning, Jack woke up. The light streamed in at even lengths across the carpeting. Jack pulled the covers around his shoulders and rolled over to where the love of his life was. Or, should have been.
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[ WP ] That stupid dentist thought he could just kill him . The dentist was wrong . Cecil is back with a vengeance
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`` But... You're supposed to be dead'' the dentist said. `` This is n't possible...''
`` Oh it ish posshible,'' said Cecil grimly from the doorway. `` You mightsh habe tsaken my tseef, but you can never tsake my life!''
`` But how?'' The dentist said, backing clumsily against the patients' chair.
`` You shdupid shon ob a bitsch. You should habe done your resheartsh! I habe been on ebery djrug under de shun, ai n't no shquirt ob tranquilishers gon na tsake me down! Thish ish the end for you, shay goodbye!''
`` No! No!'' The dentist pleaded, clambering onto the chair. `` Please!''
`` Noshings gon na shave you now...'' Said Cecil.
`` What?'' Said the dentist. `` I do n't understand. Wh-what does that have to do with anything?'*Nothings going to shave me now? *' I shaved this morning. Are you taking my razor?''
`` No,'' said Cecil, a little deflated. `` Ash in, noshing will shave you from your fatshe.''
`` Shave from my face? You are n't making any sense. Where else am I going to shave from?''
`` No no. Djammit,'' Cecil said. `` Thish ish imposshible.''
`` Here why do n't you write it down,'' the dentist said, handing Cecil a pen from his pocket.
`` No,'' Cecil said. `` I have a better idjea.'' He climbed on top of the dentist.
`` No!'' The dentist screamed. `` What are you doing? Noo!''
`` One,'' said Cecil, pulling out the first tooth, and pressing it with a crunchy squelch into his gums. `` Thish should n't tsake long... Two!''
`` Aahh!'' The dentist screamed.
`` Shree... `` *scream*, `` Four...'' *scream*, `` Five...'' *scream*, `` Shixss...'' *scream*, `` Sseven...'' *whimper*, `` Eights...'' *whimper*, `` Nine...'' *sobbing*, `` Ten...'' Eventually, all teeth had been transplanted, and the dentist was bloodied and crying pitifully.
`` Ah,'' said Cecil with satisfaction. `` As I was saying,'' ( really savouring the's' ) `` nothing can save you now!''
`` Noo shdop, do n't do dish pleash!'' The dentist cried.
`` Wait, what?'' Said Cecil, puzzled. `` I do n't understand. What did you say?''
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[ WP ] Japanese ninja are so well known because , compared to the other nations ' equivalents , they are not very good at what they do .
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Looking at the Captain's smiling face on the phone I knew just what it was. `` Another one, Captain?'' I asked.
`` Yes. Same as before. 14 Center Street, 1842A. Tell them to let you through.'' he said, `` Oh, and bring your nose plugs.''
*Shit! * Hearing that set me off. I hate these ones. Why ca n't the Yakuza or whoever hires Ninja's these days just use a gun, or knife or maybe some poison, or an old fashioned baseball bat? Standard methods that do n't leave too much mess for me to clean up. A little blood, some brains, and the normal fluids and solids when everything lets go. Easy and quick. Not with these ones. Fucking Japanese old school, Ninjas. Are n't these guys supposed to be silent and deadly? Would it be too much to ask that they off their target without turning him into a fucking shish kabob, him and everyone else in the room transformed into meat gobbets just so they can get the contract completed.
It only took ten minutes to get there. The dolly worked well too. But I do hate the ritual. Say hi to the uniforms, show my permit, then stop and get geared up. Rubber booties, taped around the ankles with duck tape, a clear latex overcoat with long sleeves, rubber gloves ( double pair for safety! ), again, taped at the wrists and ankles. Then get the mask put together, clear filter in place, soak the filter in menthol with a bit of citrus and a dash of cinnanom. ( Do n't blame me, it's the only thing I've found that actually works! ). Cut a tampon in half, one half stuffed up each nostril. And cue the laugh from the boys in blue! Same stupid jokes, same stupid laughs. Then pull the mask on and head in to clean up the red sticky aftermath of a Ninja kill.
The foyer was clean, and the hall. My first major clean up was on the stairs. I'm guessing housemaid, maybe 50, heavyset. Based on the hair, blood, and the fingertips I'm thinking Jamaican. Have to bag those. The detective will give me a bonus and give the coroner crap for missing them. *What I want to know is why ca n't an assasin who is supposed to be silent and deadly ca n't kill a fat old harmless housekeeper without chopping off her fingers? How stupid does this guy have to be? *
Next is the bedroom. Rich, elegant. Or at least it was before Ninja-boy got hold of husband. He must have been trigger happy, there's holes all along the main door, the floor, ceiling, and two walls. The blood and entrails shows he met his end in at least two main pieces. Again I have to ask, *'' Why slice him in half? Could n't you simply stab him through the heart, silent and clean? Nope, you would rather have him screaming and the sloppy sound of organs and fluid splashing everywhere leaving a trail anyone could follow, even Hellen Keller. `` *
The bathroom was worse. A lot worse. I'm not even sure how many died in there. At least one, maybe as many as three. At least it was mostly tile walls and flooring, but the homeowner should just burn everything else and start over. Trust me when I tell you that there's no way those towels and floor mats will ever be, well, clean again. Not a chance in hell. I'm good, no, I'm very, very good. But no one can get that much blood and guts out of thick cotton towels and floor mats. Cotton is just too good as an absorbent. Burn those things and buy new. After you move.
So far this is just a lot of mess and it's pissing me off a little because this Ninja is such a fucking slob and amateur. It's like he's watched too many movies and is going for the silent and deadly but massively gore filled approach. But it was the bathtub that really pissed me off. I'm standing there looking at a perfect old fashioned white porcelain tub. The kind that sits up high on those great brass claw feet. In perfect condition. And the god-damned Ninja not only slashed at least one poor fucker in that tub, I can tell he's deliberately smeared gore in all of the delicate little arches and whorls in those brass feet. Using my light and some magnifying glasses I can see where he's taken dips of the bloody mess in the tub and carefully wiped it down inside each legs detailed dressings. Looking close I can see it's going to take hours of careful scrubbing. As I kneel there, fuming, I ca n't help but think, `` This guy simply needs to die. He's too much of a gore lover for my ulcer and bad back. The cops have been chasing this chump for nearly 3 months, so far no good leads. But I know he's watching, the care he took in making a mess of the tub legs screams it.''
That night when I got home I took a long shower and then went to sleep. In the morning I woke and started tracking Mr. Ninja. Three days. That's how long it took to track him down and find out he's a young martial arts instructor in the other side of the city. Recently over from Okinawa. Handsome, fit. A lawyer by day, slice and dicer by night. And lousy at it too. The sheer unprofessionalness of it really bothered me. I was pulled up in front of his offices, considering going in and telling him what I knew when he knocked on my window!
I looked up just in time to see him nod, grin, and then wave me off, like he was telling me to leave! The nerve of him. I left, but not before I promised to teach him a lesson in the fine art of assassination.
That night when he got done at his gym, he showered like normal, then got dressed. I waited until he had opened the door of his new A6 to kill him. Approach him slowly, not looking at him, head turned to look like I'm paying attention to the girl I'm walking beside as she talks on her phone. He's talking with someone over the roof of his car. My approach takes me close enough. Minute glass needle, nine inches long but barely thick enough to puncture skin. A quick punch and we continue on while he rubs his neck. A little flick of my wrist and the glass injector tumbles to the grass and then the slight tinkle as it shatters.
I get in my old beat truck and slowly exit, passing right next to him. When he turns and looks at me, I smille and wave good bye. He recognizes me, starts to grin, then I can see the recognition. I'm already rumbling by, but I watch the rear view mirror and see him turn quickly, the fall against the hood, holding himself up with his hand for a moment. Our eyes meet in the mirror and I give him a final nod and see his acceptance as his breath finally fails him.
`` That's how it's done sonny. No one even noticed while I killed you. Not even the guy you were talking to. And the coroner? He's going to declare that you died because of an allergic reaction to the fish you had for dinner tonight. The only mess he'll have to clean up is what you voided from your bowels as you lost conscious control. Good by Ninja boy. Maybe next time you can try to actually learn how to kill without it looking like a grenade went off in a butcher shop.''
I do look forward to having less mess tomorrow.
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[ WP ] Scientists built a one-time-use machine that allows us to connect our world to a fictional one . Being the asshole you are , you chose which world without asking anyone else about their opinion .
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It seems only too comical to consider, but I suppose it made sense in my head. I mean, after all, all of the scientists, all of the technology majors, all the brilliant minds in the world could n't think of how to use the portal. Some said Duck Tales, but they were quieted by promises of no more Howard the Duck. Others said we should prepare for The Last Question, but when we realized we'd never know if it worked then, they rescinded the idea.
So of course, I had to put my two cents in. And of course, the choice was agreed to in a heartbeat. After all, we all grew up with him, and despite all the bad times that came with our choice, we still held on, and still we enjoyed our lives to the best of our abilities. Especially when we knew safety was just a little blue police box away.
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[ CW ] Childhood memory poem
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- Collector cards
- Valuable
- Different method daily
- Distraction
- Quick hands
- Pocketed
- Careful, yet reckless
- Suspicion grows
- Staff become wary
- Missing packets. Who to blame?
- The two mischievous kids of course
- Elusive partnership
- One final solution
- Glass barrier
- Impenetrable
- Or so they thought
- Customers lining up
- Courage beyond limit
- Hands and feet work together in unison
- Leap of faith, one quick stroke
- Entire box vanishes
- Exit speedily, excitedly
- Perfect crime
- Solo venture successful
- Dual venture begins
- Adult magazine under shirt
- Partner losing his cool
- Worker notices
- Panic
- Shirt is lifted
- `` Where'd that come from?'' partner states
- Sent home
- Parents unforgiving
- Dual partnership broken
- Solo venture resumes
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[ WP ] In a dystopian future like in The Hunger Games or Divergent , two stoners are just looking to get some weed .
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`` for fuck's sake, Jared, it's been weeks, I'm starting to give up on the farm'' said Jethro.
`` Dammit, Jeth, do you remember when we were kids, before all this shit? You said you would always be there me! You're my big bro, you promised dad you would before he died!''
Four weeks before, the corrupt government fire bombed the brothers' hideout destroying their several large marijuana plants, the strains they had been cultivating for generations. Also, a bunch of children were burned to death.
`` I'm sorry bro, I lost my nerve, I really need some fucking ganj,'' Jethro was calm now.
`` Fuck the government, there's got ta be someone else like us, in our position. We ca n't stay here, that's certain. Sure we have plenty of food, water, supplies and porn, but it's not the same without that sticky icky.''
`` What are you saying, man?''
`` You know exactly what I'm saying, we've got ta get outta here, stealth like, and start a revolution. For kush and for peace.''
`` Alright brother, tomorrow morning we start the green-peace revolution!''
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[ WP ] You fell asleep in your self-driving car . You woke up in the weirdest place .
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This is my first time trying a writing prompt on here. I write a lot, and use Scribophile regularly. I wrote this tonight and got one crit off Scribophile before posting it here. I find these prompts are useful to keep my imagination going while I'm between novels, or when I run out of ideas for short stories. So here goes. This is a first draft and might end up doing edited versions later... so not completely polished but it's a start.
One thing I noticed after posting is it does n't retain Italics. I use italics to denote internal thought, so they wo n't show up properly here. Just mentioning that.
DRIVE TIME
Where am I?
I shook my head to clear the fuzziness. I was still behind the wheel of my brand new self-driving car, still groggy from having dozed off. A black haze covered my windows, preventing any visibility outside the car. I rolled the window down slightly and a thick dark fog crept through the crack. I quickly rolled it up again.
My memory was still hazy, but I recalled driving on the interstate. I was headed from my home in Austell, Georgia, to South Carolina, to visit my in-laws. About halfway through the trip, I turned on self-driving mode and watched as the car took over.
The only way I ’ ll figure this out is if I leave the car and look around.
I opened my door and stepped out of the car. My feet landed on soft dirt below me. Within minutes, most of the inside of my car was covered in thick, black fog. I could only see a few feet in front of me, but it was enough. I closed my door and walked away from the car. After what seemed like a few hundred feet the ground turned to concrete.
I found the main road at least.
I walked down the road, turned and walked back, my visibility was clearing up a little. There were no road signs, landmarks or anything else. Where the hell I was.
Then I saw something…
What the hell is that?
Whatever it was, maybe it could give me an idea of where I was. I ambled slowly up to it, until I realized it was a person facing away from me. A man wearing a black jacket and dress pants. He was holding a torch in his right hand.
“ Hello? ” I called out into the dark. The strange figure didn ’ t move, or turn around. I walked a little further. “ Hello? ” I called, a little louder than the previous time. No response.
As I got closer, I noticed there were more people. They appeared to be standing in a circle side by side. It ’ s as if they didn ’ t notice I was there. Then I saw it…
A female was laying in the center of the circle. Her clothes tattered and her throat cut. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and from the angle I was at, she was staring right at me with those cold dead eyes.
One by one each of the men turned their heads towards me with a look of deep hatred. The man closest to me snarled and started to turn around. Before he had a chance to take a step, I turned and ran, back towards my car.
After the pavement turned back into dirt, I could see my car up ahead. As it came closer into view I saw another person standing between me and the car. His dark soulless eyes staring at me through the fog.
I dashed around him. There was still no movement as I made it to the other side of the car, opened the door, jumped in and slammed it tight and flicked the lock. I jostled over the middle column into the driver ’ s seat and started the car. I pushed the home button 3-4 times and adjusted it to high speed.
The car took off, speeding around the person standing there until the tires found driveway again. As I got a little way down the road I looked out the back window. There was nothing to see but my skin crawled like a thousand spider feet ran over me. I knew they were all staring at me. I could feel the gaze of their eyes from inside the fog.
My phone had no service. I slammed on the gas and picked up speed. After twenty minutes of driving I came out of the fog and the road was normal. As I pulled over to the side of the road my thumb slid onto the dial pad. 9.1.1. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and waited. It took a while but a sheriff came and took a report.
After we had finished talking and I told him everything, he wanted me to follow him back to the fog. When we got back to where I had been the fog, people, and woman were all gone. Like it had never happened. I checked the logs on my vehicle location and it showed I had been driving from South Carolina on my way home for over three hours and never stopped on the side of the road.
The cop wrote me a ticket for improper use of 911 and sent me on my way. I ’ ll never understand what happened. Not surprisingly I sold the car the next day and went with a used car that I could drive myself only. I wasn ’ t ever going through that experience again.
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[ WP ] The rapture has come , the faithful are taken to heaven and the nonbelievers and sinners are left behind on Earth for their inevitable self-destruction . However , God 's plan backfires and the world seems to be much better off as a result .
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A cold breeze passed over a crowd shouting slurs, touting terror, and pushing picket lines further toward those walking along the quiet grass of a graveyard. A few countries over, a man wholeheartedly invested in his convictions pulled a heavy coat over his body despite the heat, and clenched his hand around a metal trigger as he walked into an open marketplace. Somewhere else, skyscrapers illuminated the pavement with their endless lights, as a van squealed along a corner, tossing water along the edges of sidewalks as it barreled towards the life of downtown.
For a long while now, He had contemplated the true state of the world, and what must be done; each of these were on the brink of happening, and yet they were among His faithful? Time was at a stand-still before Him, all realities coming to a halt as He pondered what may be done.
Lifting a mighty hand, He parted the cloudy skies over a world entrenched in sorrow, and for a moment hesitated, but knew all would be understood. This was never a part of His plan, but neither was seeing His sole divine creation turn to a wasteland riddled with contempt and dread. The world would most definitely be better off, able to live in what He believed would be Earthly Paradise before those true to His lessons would be ushered to the Pearly Gates.
In just a mere moment, the breeze carried away the shouts of the picket line, leaving only trampled grass; the heat was relieved by a sudden rain, droplets falling through a coat now vanished; a van rode onward into a quiet street, but never met with the pavement beyond it.
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[ WP ] Write about a character receiving a letter from him- or herself from 10 years in the future .
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M,
I do n't have a lot of time, so I'll try to make this short.
Making things short; that is what started this whole thing anyway. I should've listened to my gut when I was you and avoided this whole catastrophe to begin with. The time loop is corrupted. They say *I* am to blame, you *will* be to blame. I do n't think it matters anymore, but it might.
Dragonfly.
If you remember anything from this letter make sure it is that. Dragonfly is the answer and it was all along. I am sending you this letter now in hopes it'll get to you before you meet Andrew Skogin. He is n't what he seems and lies are a part of his web. I do n't know all the details yet so I ca n't send them to myself when I was you. ~~Beware the Griffyn Order~~. They *might* be okay.
Stop writing that damned book. It gets too long, too dangerous.
Keep yourself out of the line of fire, M ( you in ten years
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[ WP ] `` So what happens if I press this button ? '' I asked . `` Nothing . '' She replied . I pushed the button in , grinning . `` It 's when you let go that things get nasty . ''
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The smile fell off my face abruptly. `` Jesus, Alice,'' I said, frowning. `` Why do you have to do this all the time?''
`` Do what?'' She said, innocently.
`` Just... it's the way you answer things. You knew what I wanted to say from context.'' I kept holding the button down, perversely.
`` I do n't see how that's my fault. You could have been more specific in your question,'' she said mulishly. She crossed her arms, frowning at me. I rolled my eyes.
`` This is like that other time, you know, with the shark.''
`` That was *completely* different. Most sharks do n't, in fact, eat humans.''
`` Yes, but the shark in that particular tank *did*.'' God rest that poor man's soul. `` And what about the time in Pamplona?''
`` How was I to know that they were going to let that bull out at *that exact moment*?''
`` **Because they had just announced it two minutes ago! **'' I shouted, still leaving my finger on the button. `` Jesus effing Christ, Alice!'' I took a deep breath, shaking slightly. `` Ok. So how do I get out of this?''
She shrugged, a little hurt. She turned away, picked up her bookbag. `` I dunno. You can figure it out.''
`` Wait- you're not just going to leave me here, are you?'' I started to panic.
`` Sure. You got all the answers, you figure it out.'' The door clicked shut behind her.
Shit. This was it. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Not even a chair to sit in. I took a deep breath, and lifted my thumb.
-- -
Alice leaned against the wall, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen. The door opened quietly, and he walked out. Somehow, improbably, covered head to toe in shaving cream. He shrugged.
`` Coulda been worse.''
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[ WP ] Each Pokémon is born knowing one word of a language . You have just finished deciphering it all .
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Miles was known as a Pokescribe, one who interprets the words of pokemon into the English language. It was no small feat: Miles was the first of his breed in this new region.
Charts and diagrams had filled several large binders, with each pokemon's word contained therein. With hundreds of pokemon, how could he expect to come close to deciphering the one true meaning of it all?
Miles was given this task by Professor Conifer, in the newfound Phonetican Region. Throughout Kanto, Jhoto, and several other regions, Pokescribes just like Miles were working on the answers for their region. Miles, however, is the only known Pokescribe in the entire region.
Two years prior, the beginning of Miles' journey started with his moving to Omega Town, the first established settlement of the Phonetican Region. While humans constantly expanded, other cities began to form, and 287 pokemon were discovered to have inhabited this region, yet 120 of them repeated words other pokemon had said.
But this present day, Miles had found the last piece to the puzzle in Alpha City, the last establishment in the region. All that was left is to decipher.
Miles tried reading them forwards, skipping every other, arranging them my height, type, weight, and nothing seemed to work.
Miles phoned Professor Conifer from the nearest Pokemon Center in hopes that she could provide guidance.
`` Professor Conifer, this is Scribe Miles. I've found all 287 pokemon and translated each individual words. However, 120 of them repeat. Do I count them?''
`` That's where I would start. You've created these matrices from the ground up. You may as well include them.''
`` That's what I'd figured as well. It does n't make sense to omit anything, but I thought I'd seek your guidance.''
`` Of course,'' Conifer confirmed, `` but as I said, this is your work, and you did it all by yourself. You ought to be proud of your accomplishment.''
Miles reluctantly agreed.
`` I look forward to hearing your results.''
Miles says his goodbyes and sits at a table in the pokemon center. He sits with a coffee in his hand, and his notes below him.
`` You've created these matrices from the ground-up,'' the words of Conifer rang in his head.
It hit him. He started from the ground-up, the towns along his journey were backwards; it all made sense!
Miles carefully read from the bottom of the chart to the top, and it all became clear: all he had to do is read it from the last pokemon he found to the first!
He runs to the phone to call Professor Conifer, practically speechless.
`` Hello?''
`` I-I-I've done it. I've figured it out!''
`` Excellent! What does it read?!''
``...'' Miles was so overjoyed, he could n't udder the text.
`` MILES, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO JOKE! UNLESS YOU HAVE THE ANSWER, I'M GOING TO END YOUR CAREER. YOU'LL REGRET THE DAY YOU LEFT YOUR FATHER'S BALLSACK!''
Miles was able to get it out. He took a deep breath and read the text:
`` What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I ’ ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I ’ ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I ’ m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You ’ re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that ’ s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “ clever ” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn ’ t, you didn ’ t, and now you ’ re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You ’ re fucking dead, kiddo.''
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[ WP ] A hitman uses his hits to vent about his problems .
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`` It's just like, every time I try to talk about it she brings up something about work. I'm married to the job, she says. I do n't tell her about work, she says. What kind of sales rep makes twenty-five thousand dollars in a day?'' He paced around the office, tossing the Professor's paperweight between hands. `` I mean, what do you think?'' He turned, expecting an answer from his captive. `` Oh, sorry.'' He loosened the gag and removed the blindfold.
The professor gasped hungrily at the air, eyes squinting to the adjusting light. `` Look, I'm a psychology professor but that does n't mean I'm qualified to give relationship advice. Just let me go, and I'll never speak of this to anyone. Not a soul.'' The professor's words floated in the silence as the assassin knelt before him, still expecting advice.
`` But do you think I should like, buy her something nice? Or should I just break up with her? I do n't know what will make her happy.'' The professor is quiet, besides his labored breathing. The assassin waits a few seconds, before pulling out a knife and tracing it along the inside of the professor's thigh.
`` Okay, okay! Maybe you should just be honest with her?'' The assassin laughed, a single short bark.
`` Teach, you are n't listening! She's not the accepting type. If I told her that I was a hired gun, she'd flip out. Even worse, she'd probably call the police.'' The professor looked around the room, searching for anything that could help him. His hands were bound behind him, but there was a bit of give in the rope. With a few minutes, he could potentially get free.
`` Well, let's walk through you two. What does she do for a living?'' The assassin is on the other side of the room, beginning to tie a noose.
He looks up, letting the rope fall on his lap. `` She's a nurse. Ironic, right? We met when I was hospitalized after a job and really hit it off. Since then we've been seeing each other. She's a real pacifist, does n't even like killing bugs.'' The professor's hands were moving furiously behind him, trying their best to find any weakness in the cord. `` I remember this one time, we were in the park and a vagrant started panhandling us. She gave him a dollar but he was n't satisfied; when we tried to walk away he came up behind us and tried to grab her purse. I broke his legs and collapsed one of his lungs. To say that she was appalled was an understatement.'' The assassin sits back into his chair. `` Maybe I'm showing more of my real life than I think.''
The end of the rope has come undone, and the rope is starting to loosen. `` And what is your real life? Is it not with her?'' The question is clearly intriguing to the assassin. He rubs his chin, not able to find an easy answer. `` Think of it this way. Think of your life as a killer. Imagine it without her. Think of your life with her. Without killing.''
The assassin's nearly done tying the noose, and his hands stop. His stare bores into the floor as thoughts fly through his head. `` But I ca n't stop.''
`` You can stop doing anything in your life, with the right motivation.'' The assassin shakes his head; his face is plastered with fear.
`` You do n't understand. I got sprung out of jail on a favor. These jobs are part of that. I ca n't just walk away, or I'm gon na be fish food next.'' The professor gulped. His hands were free now, and he kept them behind his back. He was no more than three feet from his desk -- he knew that his letter opener lay within the gilded box next to his computer. `` See, this is why I hate this job sometimes. You meet really great people -- then you have to say goodbye. Cos I like you, teach. I do. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Well, not good enough to realize when to stop at the racetrack, but who's perfect?''
He stands and begins to set up the noose on the ceiling fan; his back is to the professor's chair. The professor starts to inch towards his desk, as quietly as possible. `` I guess you're right. And it is a shame, that we just met. You're quite sharp for a murderer for hire.'' He reaches into the box, quiet as a mouse, and pulls out the gleaming steel. He pulls his hand back behind him, trying to cut through the rope.
`` I've got that before. I guess that's why I've got so far in this industry. Speaking of sharp, you do n't think you'll get through that rope with something as dull as a letter opener, do you?'' The professor stops in mid-saw, face going blank.
`` I...'' The assassin has finished preparing the noose. He steps down from the chair, eyes trained on the professor.
`` Just do n't. It was a good try, but like you said, I'm a sharp one.'' With that, he pulls a taser out of his jacket pocket and zaps the professor. The letter opener falls from his hand, clattering in the emptiness of the room. `` Why could n't you just tell me to break up with her?'' He unties the professor, picking up his limp body, and carries it across the room. He places the rope around his neck with care, dusting off his shirt as he lines his feet up on the chair. He steps back once it's set, picks up the ropes and other evidence, places the letter opener back in the box and puts it under his arm. `` I hope they have racetracks wherever you're going.'' He kicks the chair out. The professor begins to regain consciousness, his legs flailing weakly in his disorientation. It's no use. The assassin watches as the life drains from his victim with genuine sadness, both from his conscience and his situation. He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, hitting a speed dial button.
A girl picks up. `` What.''
`` Just wanted to say I love you.'' The other side of the line starts yammering on, the assassin gives affirmative statements, letting her drive the conversation. He's still on the phone as he closes the door, the noise of his phone call fading out. The only noise in the room is the delicate creak of the rope as the professor slowly swings.
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[ WP ] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos , searching the stars for echoes of life . From the middle of nowhere , a reply finally comes : `` Shut up , and Play Dead ! ''
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We were foolish not to heed their warnings. We denied it, we did n't want to hide. We did n't want to turn everything off. How could we? For decades we have been addicted to technology and communication. Being quiet was a foreign consept in the age of constant communication.
So when we got a message from another world, hoe could we not want to keep talking to it? But they only gave one message. `` Shut up and play dead''
There were those that wanted to follow the warning. They believed that if a species of another world gave us a warning to be silent, then it was a warning we could not ignore. But we did, and now it is too late. It has found us. The giant space bear has found us. Had we played dead it would have moved on. But it knows we are alive, and it is ready to eat us.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone is a mythical/magical creature . One day you encounter a human .
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The forest was dense, dead, and so dark, he could not see his own hand stretched out in front of his face. These conditions were not ideal, and only good for making tracking the creature exceptionally difficult. Every step produced a hollow cracking of rotting branches and a rustling noise of dead leaves under horse hooves. The creature was one of legend, thought to be extinct, was spotted 3 moon cycles ago and has been hunted for sport for centuries. Q'uane's weapon of choice was his bow and arrows, feeling that hunting as a sport should show a little sportsmanship and giving his prey, no matter how beast like it may be a chance at living. However, due to the rarity of this beast, Q'uane set traps everywhere he knew in the forest and since he grew up in them, that was a lot.
The screaming was what woke him. He shot up from his make-shift bed and grabbed his weaponry that he always keeps in arm distance, and rode off into the direction of the screams. His heightened senses lead him straight to the source and Q'uane could only stare, he had captured the creature, not just caught it, but caught it with such great ease, which lead to him to wonder if the creature was nowhere ner as smart as the legends lead him to believe. He stepped towards the creature that was hanging from a branch of the biggest tree. He grabbed his knife and watched as fear grew in the eyes if his captive, he stepped closer, raised the knife, and cut the rope that had caught his hunt by its leg. He stated at it and waited for to run, after all, where is the sport in taking down a creature that was thought to be a myth if you do n't give it a chance to run. The creature seemingly understood this and darted into the thickest part if the woods it could find, but it did n't matter, Q'uane drew his bow, knocked an arrow and rode off for the kill, he rode steadily and slowly, providing for a more challenging hunt. It did not work, he could only make vague shapes out in the dark of night but that mattered little as he and his kind hunted with smell, and anything that was not dead in these woods, reeked of life. He stopped, lifted his bow higher, and released the arrow. There was a dull swishing noise as the creature slid on the dead leaves, into its resting spot. Q'uane approached with the body with another arrow in his bow, just in case, and saw that it was in fact dead, an arrow, had found the nape of it's neck and was sticking out right below the creatures chin. He grabbed the beast, guessed it to be near 150 pounds, and threw it on his back. He turned around and headed home, his hunt was good, his bounty was plentiful, and tonight, he dined on Human.
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[ WP ] Its grin showed too many teeth
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First time, bear with me... it might be terrible.
The night was cold. The musky smell of damp leaves and distant smoke hung in the air, and it was not too unpleasant. Twigs cracked underfoot, and the ground gave as I moved. It was surely a very damp, dark night.
`` Explain why we're out here again please?'' Said Gareth. This did not garner a response, so he cleared his throat and spoke with more authority this time. `` Bill! Seriously! What the fuck are we doing out here at this time, on this night?'' This seemed to provoke a response.
`` I told you last time. We are not to talk of this in the open.'' Bill rasped. `` You have your weapon, keep it at hand. Until you have to use it, keep your damned trap shut.'' The sound of a branch broke against the silence. `` The fuck was that?'' Gareth hissed, to be met with a very abrupt `` SHHH!'' from Bill. What was that?
Amongst the shadows and silhouettes of the moonlit grove, moths and fireflies danced among the twigs and trees. Gareth thought this was a very peaceful moment compared with their trek so far. He drunk in the moonlight, and sipped the musky autumn air. `` We got away!'' he thought to himself, pleased as punch.
There was a slight stirring behind him, he assumed it to be his faithful hound, Harley. He crouched to greet his faithful hound, but his mouth was bloody... His eyes dark... His grin showed too many teeth.
09:40
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[ WP ] A man is given magic , and told to give it to others . He searches for those worthy of power , and on a cold and lonely night in the city ...
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The subway passed in whirl of colors and blurred lines. As it slowed, people rushed to the door in an attempt to avoid the mess of other patrons of the subway waiting on the outside. Andrew sat back, still seated on the well worn bench that is found on most subways. It was late, and the rain had fallen in sheets for almost a week, but the man had given Andrew specific instructions.
*Give it to others. *
The smell of the old man lingered in Andrews nose. Burnt hair. The automated voice of the subway came on, *'' Please step away from the doors. `` * Andrew stood up fast, and bolted for the station. The grocery bag tapped against his leg as ran, barely missing the door on his way out. *Whew. * The grime of the station floor caused Andrews shoes to stick to the ground as he walked. Graffiti and a crushed plastic coffee cup greeted him as he arose from the underground and into the downpour of lights and sounds that was the city.
It was not a particularly warm night, so Andrew hurried along the street paying no mind to the world as he rushed past it. With his hands clasped together, Andrew spoke a few words and he felt a rush of heat as the spell had created a flame to warm his hands. How long had it been? The thought bounced around his head as his pace slowed to a stop. What he saw disgusted him. Not 10 feet in front of him, a group of what appeared to be intoxicated city-goers were mercilessly beating a homeless man into the pavement. Andrew contemplated walking past, and paying no mind to the fight, if you could call it one. His conscious kicked in, and he jogged over to the drunken assailants. `` Knock it off you guys, you're going to kill him.'' A large man stopped kicking the homeless man and eyed Andrew, before snickering and returning to his rampage. There were three in total, the fat one and two others. Andrew felled helpless, but the power the old man had given him on the subway not three months was not supposed to be used for evil. *'' Is this evil? `` * He thought, deciding whether or not to defend the man on the ground. A smile spread across Andrews face as the power he'd summoned gathered in his fist. They felt heavy, which was a sign that it worked. Andrew had retreated to a safe distance after the fat man had looked at him, but now he ran full speed into the two smaller men.
They stumbled back, dazed and confused. The fat man had stopped, and turned to face Andrew. He had a horrible kept goatee, that was at best patchy on the left side. Andrew wound up his fist, and shot it at the bastards face. A crack was heard, as loud as a gunshot, as the nose of the fat man shattered into his head. He dropped like a bad of rocks, clutching his nose and bleeding all over the sidewalk. The two others ran off, and the power that was centered in Andrews hands subsided back into the rest of his body. The screaming stopped as the fat man undoubtedly passed out from the pain. The homeless man was still in the fetal position, cowering in the corner. Andrew extended his hand to the man, but all he got in response was a reserved, `` Are you going to hit me?'' Andrew then realized that it was not a homeless *man*, but a child dressed in a ragged coat and torn jeans. `` What are you doing out this late at night?'' Andrew question, frowning at the kid that could be no older than 15. `` I've no where else to go,'' the boy responded as he looked down on his soaking wet cloths. `` Stand up.'' Andrew ordered, more sternly than he wanted. The kid shot up. Andrew recalled the instructions that the old man had burned into his memory.
*'' Place your hand on their neck, just below the skull. You need to summon all the power you can muster in your fingertips, and try to transfer it through your fingers and into the neck. `` *
Clean and simple.
Andrew was hesitant, `` Is this the right one?''
He reassured himself that this kid was the most worthy of the power, he had sensed it. Andrew was a good judge of character, the online test he took even told him, though he did n't know to what extent he should believe what the test told him. Anyway.
`` Close your eyes, this might hurt.''
The child closed his eyes and Andrew shot all the power he could into the neck of the one he'd chosen. A flash, brighter than anything he'd ever seen broke the nights hold on the city. The kid slumped down, next to the garbage can cemented to the city street. Andrew carried the child to a nearby townhouse, ones you find downtown in the less-than-desirable sections of town, and placed him in the stairwell that led to the various apartments that the townhouse was converted to. A small notebook Andrew kept for emails and phone numbers was pulled from his chest pocket. He wrote his name, address, and a time in which the kid should meet him for breakfast the following morning.
*'' You've got a lot to learn. `` * He'd written. *'' Are you up for it? `` *
Andrew stuck the note into a pocket he found on the front of the kids coat.
The fat man limped away as Andrew turned back around.
A smile emerged back onto Andrews face, as he opened his door the following morning. `` Are you ready,?'' questioned Andrew, looking into the child's eyes.
`` Ready.''
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First time writing, constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!
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[ WP ] Using large nets to reel in old junk from the outer atmosphere , Earth finds something way cooler : fish swimming around in space .
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“ Alright, Roger, ” Bernie leaned into his keyboard, safe on the heated and gravity controlled disposal class ship. “ Cast out the net from points two, four, six and eight, alright? Make sure one, three, five and nine are magno-locked to the ship before you do. Alright? Otherwise you'll be buying us a new net once that one goes sailing off into the galactic ocean. ”
“ Yeah, ” Roger floated, tethered to the disposal ship. Spreading the net out, he attached the odd numbered anchor points to the ship while clicking small buttons on the even numbered ones. Once pressed, the small rockets blast off into space, extending the entire net. “ Did it, ” spoke through his helmet comm.
“ Alright, hop back on in, we ’ re going for a little ride, now, ” Bernie pressed the airlock button, allowing Roger to come inside. Stepped through the airlock and back into the main cabin of the ship, Roger removed his helmet. “ Hold on, ” Bernie smiled, gripping the steering wheel.
“ You ’ re going to need that again in a minute. ”
Moving the steering wheel forward, Bernie drove the ship around, in a large oval, curving around to where the net ended. The mini rockets kept the net in a constant position while the ship closed off the gap. “ Alright, ” Bernie leaned back. “ Now go reel in the net. ”
“ Ugh, ” Roger groaned, tossing his helmet back on and struggling to stand up under the weight of the suit.
“ Haha, I told you were going to need it, ” Bernie snorted, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Once in position, Roger waited for Bernie ’ s orders. “ Alright, ” Bernie sipped his drink.
“ Magno-lock all the anchor points to the receiving bay. Match up the numbers. ”
“ Got it, ” Roger flew about, collecting each anchor.
“ Oh, and hey, Roger? ”
“ Yeah? ”
“ Make sure you ’ re not inside the net when you attach the last one. ”
Securing the final point, Roger watched as the ship took over, automatically reeling in the net, collecting the vast debris and unique refuse of space. Salvageable parts, rare items, scrape metal; all of it was worth something to somebody.
Roger entered the airlock and, after confirmation he wouldn ’ t need to re-suit, he plopped his spacesuit on the ground. Wiping the sweat from his head, roger entered the main cabin again.
“ Hey… is this is a joke? ” Bernie spoke to Roger over the ship wide comm.
“ Is what a joke? ” Roger responded but pushing the white button on the comm panel.
“ Get in here, ” Bernie said, briefly and without sarcasm or jest. Roger bolted down the hall to the receiving bay. As usual the receiving bay was filled with all manner of trash. However, scattered among them were living, gasping, flopping fish.
“ What the hell is this? ” Roger gasped.
“ I don-…You didn ’ t do this? ”
“ How would I do this? ”
“ What are they? ”
“ I want to say mackerel, but I have no idea what a mackerel looks like, ” Roger bent over, examining one. “ Well, now what? They ’ re dying in here. ”
“ Living out there? Should be dead already, ” Bernie recoiled, as one jumped at his chest.
“ Well, we have to do something. ”
“ Like what? Put ‘ em in our water reserves? We ’ d go sick. ”
“ No, no. I mean… I don ’ t know… they were fine out there… right? ”
“ Shit, I don ’ t know. They ’ re not dead now, they must have been alive out there… ”
“ Well, then, let ’ s let them all go? Hit the purge button on the bay? ”
“ And lose this haul, kid? That ’ s… woo… aside from the fish there ’ s a pretty big haul here… Wow… There ’ s two Galactic PrizeWinner wings right there. ”
“ I know, but, ” Roger cradled a fish. “ Take it out of my next find. You can have all of the next haul. We jet away from here and haul again. ”
“ Need to rebase and fill up the tank, first. This haul was going to get us refueled…. ” Bernie sighed.
“ I ’ ll pay for the refueling… I ’ ll do it… just… ”
“ Jesus fuck, alright, get out of the bay, ” Bernie grunted. Roger hopped up, happy, yet also solemn, realizing how much money he just agreed to part with. Pressing the button, Roger and Bernie watched as the fish returned to their natural environment, wiggling and returning to health. In the end, Bernie split the cost of fuel with Roger and, decades later, Roger inherited the ship once Bernie finally passed.
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[ WP ] You ’ ve bought/acquired a very typical object , and it somehow proceeds to ruin your life .
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Proud of his purchase, John cautiously slid the typewriter onto the last remaining space on his mantelpiece.
Perhaps a curious choice, collecting typewriters was John's hobby. Any era, any colour, any style, he would collect them all. As long as there was a story.
Today, John had acquired the gem of his collection. He marvelled at the new typewriter, so carefully placed to now be the central piece of his assortment. It was portable Remington Streamliner, built in the 1940s, and to any other person it was nothing remarkable to study - the words `` Remington Rand'' were printed on the base, once proudly displayed in a shimmering gold, now all but lost to the splintered and fading black plastic as time wore it down. The mechanism to reset the typewriter, once smooth and flowing was now significantly rusted, to the point that typing on the device would be impossible without causing significant damage. The once firm letters - or what was now left of them, many having fallen out over the years - now hung loosely in the shell, offering futile resistance to the touch. But to John, none of this mattered. To John, this typewriter told a story so engrossing that, had this story been printed by this very machine it would be a classic for the ages.
The Remington Streamliner had been bought brand new by John's grandfather, Henry Montague. He knew this from the letters, beautifully crafted from the very object in front of him, explaining Henry's delight at the wonders of such new technology. The letters had passed to John through a fortuitous event when he stumbled across a damp pile of papers in his attic, aged 8. John often considered whether this began his fascination with typewriters, and wondered whether he had finally come full circle. The Remington Streamliner has a serial number, printed on the rear - ELI567UK, Henry wrote - was the model he had purchased in 1945. John sat his grandfather's letters into the typewriter, where he felt they belonged. He then carefully rotated the typewriter to reveal the letters once more. ELI567UK. A wild grin spread across John's face. He had found it.
It was not long after the Spring of 1949 that Henry died. The family legend had been that he had slowly descended into madness following the events of World War Two. None returned the same man that left, they say. Letters from the Remington confirmed that John had indeed suffered immensely and in the end, decided that life was too big a burden to bear. John was often surprised that Henry had documented his descent so carefully and so eloquently, but supposed this was just another facet to the madness. As John pondered these events, he settled down to try and rest. The excitement of finding his treasure at an auction today had taken its toll. However, as he rested his eyes a faint metallic clink rang out in the background. The ring came from the mantelpiece, just one room away from his bedroom. Curiosity trumped exhaustion and John felt that he should investigate. The faint, rhythmic patter of mechanical keys could be heard as he walked out, followed by a sharp metallic chime. The sounds became more furious as John approached, until a final chime rang out and all fell silent.
One of his grandfather's letters lay on the ground, as if churned out by the decrepit old typewriter. But the faded print no longer lay on the dried out page. It had been replaced by new, clear ink repeatedly typing two words. `` Hello John''.
Stunned by this revelation, John could not understand how a rusty typewriter could print at all, never mind print of its own volition. The mechanical whirr began again as the second page was printed. `` Ask me the question, John. I was there''. John paused briefly to consider, but there was one question flooding to the forefront of his mind. `` What was my Grandfather like'', he whispered. Once again the typewriter sprang to life and printed over the final original page of the letters.
`` He was mine, John. And now you are too.''
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[ WP ] In the year 2020 , humanity was nearly wiped out by an alien invasion . Earth 's survivors were ordered to pay a tithe ( one tenth of the worlds population ) every decade to prevent enslavement . The year is now 2060 , and you are among the chosen ... and you refuse to go quietly .
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Through the shimmering desert air, I watch the transport settle slowly to the concrete surface of the distant spaceport. Sweat drips onto the binoculars for the hundredth time that day; you'd think I would be used to that by now, but it still irritates the shit out of me just like it did the first time. This is what the recruiting posters do n't tell you about.
Not that I'm complaining. It ca n't be worse than joining the herds of humanity waiting to be stuffed into that transport or one of its sisters, hauled off to what the aliens refer to as `` domestic companion facilities''.
Our attack will take advantage of two factors, the same two that allowed us to fight them to a standstill in the first place: first, that the desert, the only Earth environment where they can survive without life support gear, is even more hostile to them than it is to us. The heat makes them extremely sluggish, and they have to rely primarily on automated defenses that can be outsmarted with a little good old human craftiness.
The second is that they do n't like to kill us. Seems strange, I know, considering they exterminated about 80 % of the population, but that was a last-ditch, brute-force maneuver to keep their only remaining beachhead from being overrun. As far as we can tell, the aliens regard us as something akin to - and I say this in all seriousness - puppies. Intelligent puppies who refuse to behave, but also cute and cuddly. A lot of them grew hardened to us during the war years, but now they've gotten soft again; their guard is down.
They want us to be their friends; we're pretty sure they see the tithe as an opportunity for humans to see how much fun our lives could be if we just accept our place in the universe, put on their equivalent of a collar, and play fetch with their kids.
Some people would rather do just that.
But not me.
After 35 years of stalemate and watching my friends and family be shipped off to gilded alien cages, the years of organization, training, hiding, building, and waiting have finally come to an end. I refuse to be some ET's plaything. I survey the determined faces around me, take one last look through the binoculars, and give the order to move out.
We're taking back our planet. Today.
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[ WP ] They say you ca n't run from Death . But I 've beem drifting through the empty blackness of space for a thousand years .
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John drove his red go-kart through space with a number nine circled on the front. He had been evading Death for so long now he could not remember but his only saving grace was the horn, it warded off the demons that would wish to claim his soul and it is the reason Death has n't caught him yet.
John caught sight of a familiar scythe ahead of him, it was Death with his black robes, long scythe and a skull for his head he was looking right at John. John had no fear for the mighty horn would protect him, the go-kart sped up to Death and John had a small gold horn and he was ready to honk.
Meters away from Death, John started to squeeze the horn, but before he squeezed the horn Death lowered his long silver scythe onto the end of the horn, right through John's hand and piercing the horn. Death stared at John and he whispered `` Got no horn any more John. You're coming with me.'' John opened his mouth and said `` Ah shit.''
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[ WP ] Scientists discovered that vegetables and fruit have a conscience . Vegetarians and Vegans go crazy .
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`` HA! Ha, ha, ha, haaaa!'' Rebecca spat out her water to give this triumphant sound off and accompanying dance. `` Take that, vegans! Suck a lemon - oh, wait, you ca n't - haaaaaa! What idiots!''
Robert, her longtime companion and vegetarian, closed his laptop in shock. Ever since he saw a slaughterhouse video at age eleven, he thought he was doing the right thing by skipping meat. So many protests, so many donations, he even stopped eating his favorite: bacon! When he roomed with'Becky', he had n't known the true extent of what a staunch omnivore she was, and he liked her in spite of this. When he said that, Rebecca confided that she felt the same about him.
And now it was all just joke fodder for evening talk show hosts and Twitter comedians. Rebecca was quickly Facebooking all the vegetarians she knew ( not many, so she spammed Robert's wall instead. ) `` This is great news,'' she kept mumbling, snickering to herself. She had n't noticed the blank expression on Robert's face.
`` I mean, how often does this blow up majestically in someone's face? Those self-righteous pricks and their cross-fit pompousitery.''
`` That's not a word.''
`` It is when you pair it with'vegan'. Ugh, it's like my fucking birthday times the sun today.''
`` Becky, what have I been doing? My whole life has been a lie.''
Rebecca looked up from her furious typing. `` Bobby, chill out. It's just food.''
`` It's just'food'? It's just FOOD? All this time I've been trying to be so sensitive and aware, keep blood off my hands, and I've been murdering carrots this whole time. Literally chopping them into pieces like Chainsaw Massacre and then eating their little defenseless pieces with my salad.''
`` I know, I actually want to eat vegetables more now that I know they can tell they're being eaten.''
`` You're so sick.''
`` Am I?'' She sat back and observed Robert for a while. `` Let me ask you this: how is it we're the only species alive that is neurotic about food?''
`` Because we're neurotic about everything else.''
A comfortable silence followed this; Robert knew that Rebecca was dicking around with him. He was being a little uptight considering his whole ethical code just crumbled around him. And worse yet, he was starving. There was a bunch of potatoes and asparagus he had been planning on baking for a while; not to mention the homegrown sprouts he was about to harvest. He dragged his hands down his gaunt face, not realizing his friend's wicked expression.
`` Hey, Robert, how about some bacon tonight?''
`` Becky, this again?''
`` Oh, come on, what have you got to lose?''
It was true, and god damn it, he had missed bacon - he kept thinking this strip after strip. Rebecca ended up boiling the potatoes and asparagus ( only freezing them after Robert's insistence. ) He dipped the potatoes delicately into the curry-ketchup, imagining the silent screams they must have given after being ripped out of the dirt.
Rebecca stabbed an asparagus on top of a bacon strip. `` Well, I guess this gives a whole new meaning to that'raw' trend.'' Silverware clattered as Robert glared at Rebecca; she winked while biting off the head of a tender, young asparagus.
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[ WP ] You come home after the worst date of your life . Sitting in your living room is Cupid , getting really drunk and wanting you to know you 're the hardest person to find a mate for in history and the reason he might get fired .
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[ Note: Whoops. I misread date as day... But I really enjoyed writing this, so I'll let it stand with apologies. ]
It had been a weird day.
Sam had woken up late because, for some reason, her alarm had n't gone off. She'd run nearly the whole way to the stop but still missed her bus. Then, standing there panting and trying to look up the timetable on her phone, a sleek black Mercedes had pulled up beside her, the window had wound down and some.. Guy had asked if she needed a lift.
He had been good looking but... That's such a weird, creepy thing to do. She'd declined as politely as she could and then waited for the next bus.
Then, in her office lobby she'd gone to try and grab a quick coffee before she went up, only for some reason her credit card got declined three times. This was not turning out to be her day. She'd been about to walk away and rush up stairs so she could get to work and call the credit card company when some other guy just lent over and, with a sleazy smile, paid for her coffee.
She'd sighed and thanked him for the gesture then run off as soon as her coffee was ready, despite him trying to trap her in small talk.
Then, during the day, Bill who she'd known for /years/... And admittedly thought was pretty cute... Made a pass at her! But she was his project lead and the work place policy on superiors mingling was /super clear/ after that law suit last year.
So when the day was finally over, after at least a half dozen winks and leers from everyone from clients to the mail boy, she'd head off. It had been a weird and exhausting day. She just wanted to listen to her music and be comfortably isolated from the world while she recovered.
But of course, she was n't that lucky. On her walk from the bus stop back home, some guy had stepped in her way. When she tried to walk around him, he had waved in front of her face and gestured at his ears like he was taking out imaginary headphones.
With an exasperated sigh she'd taken hers out and given him a /look/. He just grinned confidently and started on some spiel about how he knew it was weird but she was just /soooo/ beautiful he could n't pass by. As politely as she could she thanked him for the unwanted compliment, put her headphones back in and fast walked home, keeping an eye out for anymore weird guys.
Had she accidentally put on some kind of weirdo attractant today?!
Then when she got home and opened the door, she screamed, grabbing her mace from her handbag. There was some NAKED guy sitting on her couch! Dressed like a fucking angel! With a bow and arrows!!
The'angel' looked at her, wavering slightly and waving the nearly empty bottle in his hand about as he pointed roughly of at her. `` Ya know...'' He slurred, `` Yuir really hard work...''
[ EDIT: Grammar/spelling ]
[ Part 2 in the comments ]
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[ WP ] A 30 year old who has believed in Santa up until this point discovers Santa is n't real .
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“ I don ’ t believe it, you really think that a 250 lb man in a red suit slides down the chimney, which is by the way locked, and brings every presents to 3 billion kids in a single night on a magic reindeer! ” Tracy exclaimed with her voice rising in disbelief.
John looked back with a similar exasperated expression on his face. “ How else would you explain the cookies and milk going away, it ’ s not like they turn into dust and float away. Besides who else would put presents underneath my tree every year. ”
“ I don ’ t, know your parents maybe? ” Tracey offered. John looked at her confused, “ Honey my parents live 9 hours away, and barely even drive anymore. That ’ s crazy to think that they could have been doing that for the last 12 years, I mean that wouldn ’ t even make sense. ”
Tracey knew that her husband had been home schooled, and had some… interesting views on things. But never in a hundred years would she have guessed she would be having this conversation with a 30 year old man. She sputtered, eyes wide with shock. “ Didn ’ t you ever talk to your friends about this? I mean you had to have talked about what gifts you got at Christmas or something right? ” John looked at her in confusion. “ Well ya, I mean we traded presents a couple of times when Santa got my letter mixed up with somebody else ’ s, but I don ’ t understand what you are getting at. I mean there are a lot of kids in the world. And you know how the post can be with letters; nobody is perfect. Well except for you of course. ” he said with a hint of plea in his voice, desperate to provoke a smile, a change in topic, or anything besides the look of frustration in her eyes. Her body posture tense and her arms locked rigidly around her chest.
“ I cant believe it, I ’ m going to call your parents right now and demand that they tell you. I know they like playing practical jokes but this is just ridiculous. Who ever heard of having a thirty year old son who still believes in santa, or in the easter bunny for crying out loud. ” She placed the toddler into his crib, spinning the chimes into a dizzing spin and stalked off into the kitchen to grab the portable phone.
When she had left, John looked into his sons eyes, which were following the musical toys with rapt attention. A smile slowly crept across his face. “ I cant believe she still thinks I was homeschooled. ” john murmured quietly with an evil glint in his eyes. `` And that's only after 3 years of work, just think of the fun things we're going to share.'' Some time later a loud thud echoed through the house that could have been a phone colliding with a wall. The child's eyes had slowly fallen shut, the breath coming in and out slowly with the music, blissfully unaware of the future ahead of him.
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