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[ WP ] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice .
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`` That does it, I've got to get to the bottom of this'' Chris muttered to himself.
It was this enclave soldier's seventh day on the job, and he already felt like he was going mad. After the fourth day, every time he tried to converse with his partner Johnson, the only conversation topics that were be proposed involved sexual intercourse.
His armor felt different than the one he had suited up in from the day before. He felt different. Could this be radiation sickness? Was he already dead? Chris knew when he took on this job that it would place him in perilous situations, but he never expected to go mad. Not like this.
And that was when he saw it. A wanderer strolling and jumping, barely visible through a sandstorm that spontaneously appeared. He was followed by dark figures, what Chris imagined were angels of death. Chris called out to Johnson, only to see that he had completely undressed and was in the process of running in the wanderer's direction.
Before Chris could move, he felt a dart hit him in his left shoulder, and was immediately immobilized. All he could do was watch the dark figures approach him. As his vision started to blur, he saw a figure running ahead of the pack. To his surprise it was Johnson, wearing a slave collar and some strange leather piece of clothing, clearly exposing a massive, disproportionate erect penis.
Chris pleaded to his partner, to remember his enclave vows, to remember the life that he had led until this point. to remember the dream of a better, pure America, but to no avail. His last moments were spent receiving multiple lead pipe beatings from his closest friend, assisted by a harem of strange, equally undressed women with massively disproportionate eyes, speaking a language that he had never heard before.
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[ IP ] Spaceship
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β Skytrain to Shoemaker-1, you have clearance. β
The magnificent view outside the cockpit was of no consequence to Andrew Winchester, pilot of a humble L-class transport with the call sign Shoemaker-1. Starscapes didn β t interest this spaceborn in the slightest β it was the people that fascinated him. And since Andrew was a long-distance pilot, someone whose chances of meeting another soul en route were as high as getting a negative one on a pair of dice, β fascinated β is an outrageous underestimation.
One of the skills he acquired, having spent years in deep space, was looking past the voices on the communication channels and seeing the people behind them. This particular voice, Andrew thought, definitely belonged to a young woman in her mid-twenties. Confident, punctual. Pretty. Maybe an Anne, possibly a Suzie, definitely not a Jane β Janes are boring. Not a common sight among landing traffic directors in any case.
β Understood, Skytrain, proceeding to docking clamp 2. By the way, Skytrain β wan na grab a drink off shift? β
An almost inaudible laugh.
β In your dreams. β
Cheeky. This had all the makings of Andrew β s lucky day.
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[ WP ] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed , but what she does n't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents . You are that monster .
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Stakeouts were always boring, my partner used to tell me. That was before we got the Difrappio case. Before we managed to get the new surveillance tech from the FBI. A godsend, that was.
The Difrappio clan lived in an old 20th Century two-story house. Those kinds of houses were rare these days, and even more expensive to purchase, let alone to keep it warm and powered. This was the new sign you were well off - you did n't live in a 400 square-foot apartment with a wall-indented coffin for a bed. No, you had multiple rooms if you were rich. A kitchen. An actual dining room. An entertainment center.
That in itself was n't why we kept an eye on Mama and Papa Difrappio. It was how they could afford the house that got our attention.
The arachnid was easy enough to deploy. Tell it where to go, give it some bread crumbs to follow, and it was smart enough to do the rest. Windows and doors were a pain, but some stealthy climbing and slow movement took care of that. The second floor bedroom faced the street, so we could get eyes in there if we wanted to... but the Captain squashed that idea. Said that a drone would attract too much attention. Papa Difrappio's goons were known to frequent the area, and they liked to keep the airspace clear.
So I sat in my recently repossessed delivery truck with my laptop and the arachnid's home box. I had earbuds in, and all I heard was silence. I checked the diagnostics again. Batteries at full, signal strength was strong. No faults. No action? I had to wait and see. It did n't take long.
I heard the old wooden door open up on creaking hinges. I smirked. So the house was n't as well kept as I thought. Footsteps, one set was light and cautious, the other heavy and authoritative. A young girl's voice: `` Emilio, there's a monster under my bed!!''
The second voice chimed in. `` No such thing as monsters, *figlio*. *Tuo padre* wants you in bed. It's already past midnight.''
The girl sniffled once but finally gave up. I heard the footsteps get closer to the bed, the bed creaked as she climbed into it. The arachnid moved to secure itself to the bed springs on the frame. I held my breath.
After a few seconds, the heavy footsteps moved away from the bed and the door creaked shut. I let the air out of lungs slowly and nodded in relief.
The arachnid worked better than advertised. It was quiet, maneuverable, had a long battery life, and its cellular transmitter worked better than most phones. It was still audio only - video transmission took too much bandwidth and power - but the audio quality was top notch.
I looked at my watch. Five hours left until my relief got here. I was down to two energy shots and a single disposable cup of dehydrated coffee. That would be more than enough.
That was when I heard it. The girl was talking. `` Mr. Monster?'' she asked timidly. I looked back to the laptop. No, the arachnid was still under the bed, clamped on to the springs on the bed frame. The bed had n't moved.
`` I know you're there,'' the girl continued. `` It's OK, you can come out. I promise I wo n't scream.''
I grabbed an energy shot, unscrewed the cap and downed it in one fluid motion. The empty bottle fell to the floor. I could n't move the arachnid, could n't compromise the surveillance. My job was to get evidence to put the Difrappios away, and their daughter was the key to the whole house of cards.
I heard her huff in disappointment. `` You never wan na play with me,'' she said with that patented young girl's voice of sadness. It reminded me a lot of my own daughter. The one I never saw thanks to her dumb bitch of a mother. I took a deep breath and expelled my anger through my nose.
`` Daddy did n't want to play with me today, either,'' she said quietly. I blinked myself back to reality and grabbed a notepad and pen. By the time I stabbed the record button on the laptop screen, the girl was talking about how she walked in *signore* Difrappio's meeting with the rest of his criminal syndicate.
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[ WP ] People do n't see themselves as monsters , even if they do monstrous things . Write from the POV of a 'monster ' in history or fiction .
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I am a man of honor. i have power. i have class. i have money. I can afford to do what i wish. i do n't need anyone to tell me how to live. i know what's right- blacks are n't human. it's just a fact. why would you give equal rights to a black person? that's like giving rights to a cow. and this man has the nerve to tell everyone before him that blacks are people too, and that the slaves deserve to be freed. not only that, the south has stopped fighting. the war is at a standstill, with the north getting ready to finish off the rest of us. the south has given up! where is the spirit of the confederacy?! where had the motivation gone?! i resented everything that gangly man said. i knew something had to be done. he was leading the country in the wrong direction! how could i let these people be brainwashed by this man?! i do n't care what those yanks say. i did what was right. i died for my beliefs, just as Abe Lincoln, the man i killed, did.
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[ WP ] A world where depression ( mental illness ) is personified as a black dog .
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Everyday it's the same. I wake up in a daze and at first everything feels fine. Then slowly a pit forms in my stomach. A pit of blackness. I start to feel empty. That's when I smell it.... If darkness had a smell this would be the smell. Its musky. The scent makes me shake. I start to get restless and anxious. I know it's coming and I know there's nothing I can do to escape it. Sometimes I try to force myself back to sleep, but then i'd sleep all day and night. I sit at the edge of my bed just preparing myself for the beast that follows me around every waking moment. My vision starts to blur as the thick grey clouds appear in front of me. I hear a desperate whimper and I know it's arriving. The big black beast appears in the mist and I shut my eyes just willing the beast to disappear. A low rumbling forms in the dogs chest. I desperately want to flee but fear keeps me still. I slowly pry my eyes open. The dog reveals his teeth as he violently gnarls at me. I assert my vision to the dogs eyes and instead of anger I see desperation. As this occurs to me the dog whimpers in pain and the menacing look disappears. Gradually the beastly dog looks submissive and agonized. Suddenly an unbearable pain shocks me into an abundance of painful convulsions and loud inhuman shrieks. During my many convulsions I see the dog is howling in a desperate need to escape the pain that's torturing it. The fog starts to fade and what I see nearly suffocates me. My convulsions fade and I focus my eyes on the best as the black hair sheds and the eyes change. The eyes turn grey like mine and the dog slowly stands up and the hairless dog changes shape. I gasp as I look down at myself to see I am now standing. I had n't realized. I walk towards the dog that's taking shape.... my shape.... I walk, it walks. The closer I get the more it looks like me. I put my hand up to the invisible barrier and the dog is no longer a dog. I am naked....vulnerable. I watch my refection. The eyes show nothing but sorrow. Tears roll down the cheeks of my reflection. I feel lost. Is what I see really me? I am not crying. There are n't any tears running down my cheeks. I am fully clothed. My reflection has cuts all over her skin. Open wounds. Bleeding wounds. We fall to our knees and suddenly the barrier is gone. My reflection is gone. I feel a low rumble in my chest and I let out a brutish roar. That's when I saw that I was on all fours. I am the beast. The beast that torments me day after day... is me.
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[ TT ] A lone cowboy stumbles upon a ghost town . He decides to camp there for the night . Unfortunately , there 's a reason the town 's abandoned .
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β β¦ and if I cut through Diablo Canyon, β I chewed to myself, pondering over the map, β I can make it to San Maderas in three days. Perfect! β
β Hold on, β a gruff, low voice mumbled from behind. β Did I hear you say you were going through Diablo Canyon? β
A man dressed in dark black gear with a wide-brimmed hat and bandanna covering his face took the seat next to me.
β Yeah, β I replied. Normally it was best to keep to oneself, but I figured there was no harm in letting the man know my path. It wasn β t like I had anything valuable on me except supplies, and there were plenty of towns between here and San Maderas.
β Don β t. β
β Why? It β s a fast route, and there β s not exactly any bandit camps through there. β
β Trust me, don β t. There β s nothing good in Diablo Canyon. Nobody goes there except fools and men with death wishes. The land is cursed. β
β Come on, there β s no such thing as curses. β I turned away and made to get up, but the man grabbed my arm. Immediately he was looking down the barrel of my flintlock.
β Hands off, β I demanded. He released his grip.
β I β ll pay for your lodging and how many more drinks you want tonight. Just hear me out, and then tell me if you still want to go through that godless land. β
I was swayed by his offer of drinks. β All right, old man, let β s hear what you have to say. β
β I went through Diablo Canyon fifteen years ago. There used to be a town there. They say it was built on top of ruins dating back to the Before Time. Ruins of a place where men tried to break the foundations of reality itself. β
β Get on with your story. β
β I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the middle of the day and the sun was beating down on me. Hottest day of the year β my horse was at the end of its tether. I stopped in Diablo Canyon, expecting to find brief shelter and a place to water me and my horse. β
β But? β
β There wasn β t. The town was empty. Dead. Nobody was there. The troughs were dry like bone. But the worst thing of it all, the eeriest thing, was the sound. β
β What about it? β
β There was none. Nothing. You can β t go fifteen feet without hearing a maneater fly buzzing somewhere, but this place? Diablo Canyon was empty. Devoid of life and devoid of sound. Nothing but me, my horse, and a prickling on the back of my neck. Not even a buzzing in my ear. And there was a feeling, like the air was thicker. Heavier than normal. I shoulda ridden out of there immediately. God help me, I didn β t. β
β But you didn β t. β
β I walked into the saloon. It was as if it had been abandoned in a hurry. Plates with bones on them. Opened taps. Dust covering everything. Everything but the floor. There were prints. Footprints like nothing I β d ever seen before. Gigantic, fat chicken feet. Leading to the piano in the corner and then upstairs. β
β Oh come on, this is a ghost story. β
* β No it isn β t! β * The intensity in the man β s voice shocked me into silence.
β Oh God I wish it were. It wasn β t. Fat, horrible prints. And in the saloon, there was noise. A low babble, a gurgle. Burrowing into my mind, at the edge of my hearing. A devilish babble of some kind coming from everywhere. But *only in the saloon*! I stepped outside again and it stopped. Nothing but silence again, that eerie silence. Emptiness, except inside the saloon. And as I look outside, around this empty, deserted waste, I sense something behind me. Some huge, inhuman thing at the corner of my vision about to pounce. I whirled around, pistol in hand, but there was nothing there. Nothing but me expecting to see something there. I β m about to chalk it up to nervesβ¦ β
β But? β
β Fresh prints! β he whispered. β Right behind me, of fresh, fat chicken feet, inches from my own. And when I step into the saloon again, the babble is gone. Now it β s a hum. A hum from hell. And again, something right behind me. But when I whirl around there is nothing there, not even footprints. Nothing but me and the hum of that empty saloon. I got out of there real fast, but I decided to go to the church. There had to be some clues at the church as to what had happened here. I step outside again, and I realize something is wrong. My god damned horse is gone. I β d tied her up to a post, but she was gone. And the rope I used to tie her to was still there. Something had stolen my horse without making a sound. β
He took a deep breath before continuing. β I β ve got my gun out now, walking towards the church. Just a quick jaunt into the church, I said to myself, and then I β m going. Maybe I β ll burn down this hell on earth while I β m at it. Now I can hear something. The air β s even thicker as I approach the church, and I can hear a low groan. In my mind. Not in the air, in my mind. Of something in pain. And I turned around. One more time. I shouldn β t have, β he moans quietly, β I shouldn β t have. I saw something. Something I wasn β t meant to see. β
β What did you see? β Now I was enraptured.
β I saw something. Somethings. Disappearing into the buildings behind me without a sound as soon as they saw me. I saw a glimpse of their eyes. Empty things. With so many reflections of me looking back at them. Just the briefest glimpse. I see them now, every night when I sleep. The eyes, looking at me. Sometimes I β ll wake up and they β ll be there. In the doorway. Watching me. I can β t escape them. They β re always there. β
He took another deep breath. β Why didn β t I run, then and there? I don β t know. God help me I don β t know. I still entered that church. Oh, it looked like a church from the outside, most of the inside. But I peeked around. I peeked around too much, and I found a hole, with a massive, enormous, titanic pillar of rock, jutting out that hole. It was cracked, and there was something almost spilling out of it. Some kind of molten thing that had cooled after pouring out of the rock. I knew immediately I shouldn β t go near it, with that instinct of immediate danger. And then I heard footprints, thudding, inhuman things. And the sound of buzzing. I ran. I didn β t run out the door, I broke through the window and I ran. I looked back once I was out of that damned monument to hell. I never looked back, but I was damned the moment I set foot in that town. β
β Damn, β I uttered. Then I stood up. β Nice tale, old man, but this is just a tale. A hell of a tale, but just a tale. Here, have a few coins, I guess. β
The man drew closer to me. β A tale, you say? β he whispered fiercely. β I wish it were a tale. No, it was the day I set foot in hell. Hell marked me as one of its own, boy. Oh, it marked me. β
He pushed away the bandanna, and I gaped at what lay underneath. A torn, bubbling mass, with cancers and angry tumours poking from every inch of exposed skin, glared at me.
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[ WP ] Your power is complete mastery of the butterfly effect . Today is the day you end the world with a penny .
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I rolled the penny absently in my fingers as the whole world watched. Several news helicopters hovered overhead, just high enough that the heartbeat thump of their rotors was n't so oppressive. After sunset, they'd turned on their spotlights to get a good view of me, but hastily shut them off when a lazy glare from me had caused one of their bulbs to burst into flame.
That's how it'd looked, at least. A microscopic defect in a wire's insulation had been causing tiny sparks for weeks. It just so happened that some dried grass in the spotlight's housing -- gathered there by a displaced rodent -- had finally settled in such a way that it'd be ignited by the sparks. All because I stopped to pet a cat six months ago.
I'd gotten a bit of a reputation over the past thirty years: from glimpses of me on grainy security footage, to suspiciously brief clips in an era when everyone had an HD camera in their pocket, I was known for doing miraculously impossible feats. I leaned against a street lamp and pretended to examine the penny. The lamp flickered on.
A few years back, I'd toppled a dictatorship by walking straight through their leader's front door and calmly telling him to step down. Footage from multiple angles captured my leisurely stroll through hails of gunfire that all seemed to go right through me. In reality, I'd only allowed the rifles which would miss me to be capable of firing. The rest misfired due to a myriad of unrelated issues.
A soldier who'd run up to restrain me wound up slipping on the linoleum because the tread of his boot had worn down from years of patrolling a specific path. A small table at the end of the hallway he'd patrolled prevented him from taking an additional step, which led to the about-faces occurring slightly more often. The table was there because the dictator's wife had painted a vase, and her husband had put it on display. All because I'd held the door for an elderly woman fifteen years prior.
Nervous footsteps clattered towards me on the sidewalk. A reporter was walking briskly my way, trying to mask her anxiety with haste. She did n't have a cameraman with her, just a small tripod tucked under one arm. I'd admire her courage for being willing to stroll up to me like this, knowing full well what I was capable of, but I knew that she'd be a coward now if another girl had n't thrown a crayon at her in kindergarten. I shook myself out of web of cause and effect and focused on the now. The reporter stopped a short distance away and began setting up her tripod with a small digital camera. She avoided even glancing at me, as if I had no power as long as she did n't acknowledge me.
She stood before the camera and began her introduction. As she fell into her routine, the nervousness left her voice, and she was a pure professional. As soon as she finished her introduction, I spoke up, and she jumped visibly.
`` You all know what I can do. You've all seen the footage, and some of you have seen it first-hand. If you still doubt: Kansas will lose power right now.'' I snapped my fingers and a software error caused a power surge from over one hundred power plants in Kansas, and one in Ontario, simultaneously. All because I shook water off my umbrella in a coffee house nine years ago. `` I'm going to flip this coin, and it will determine which nation I support. All the others will fall.'' I held the coin up to catch light from the street lamp.
For all the footage I'd allowed of my exploits over the years, I'd never allowed my words to be recorded before. Now, my words were carried wirelessly around the globe before anyone thought to cut the feed. The reporter was speechless for a moment. Elsewhere, important people made important phone calls. Keys turned.
The reporter found her voice again. `` What? Why?!'' her professionalism has drained out of her. I flipped the coin and she flinched. I caught it in my right hand, and slapped it down on the back of my left. Elsewhere, a sleep-deprived official pressed a button.
I dropped my hands and let the coin fall to the ground without ever looking at it. It was done. A single launch had triggered countless automated response systems. I pushed off of the lamp and shoved my hands in my pockets before actually facing the reporter for the first time.
`` Because I know the consequences of my actions. Always. And I know that what comes after _us_ will be better.''
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[ WP ] One day it started snowing , and then it never stopped .
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Some mornings, since it started 5 weeks ago, the clock shows 11:34. Other days, it's 15:13. I woke up once and it was 20:33. In lamplight, time is a very malleable concept.
Breakfast and lunch are usually cereal, and when I eat dinner, that's the same as the other meals too. I do n't think there's really a routine anymore, so planning out meals is inconsequential. There's a dusty lamp on the desk and I have n't taken out the trash in a while. The computer works fine, when it does. I listen to music sometimes. I have n't worked in a few weeks now. I guess I'll be fine till the money runs out.
Sometimes people call. I disconnect the phone sometimes so they think I'm out and about and everything is fine, and that I'll be alright this winter.
I do n't remember most calls, except of course, the last calls we made to each other. You apologized, I pleaded, we both apologized. You had your reasons; I had my distractions.
It's gotten a lot colder since you visited last. That breeze that blows from the east reminds me of your favourite spot in the garden, where we could sit under the giant oak, shielded by it's trunk, and watch the snow blow away from us. They say you do n't miss people, you just miss the joy of the moments you shared with them.
I'm stocked up on duty-free cigarettes and cheap whisky. It's easier to fall back into a habit than out of one, I guess. I'm kind of happy you are n't around, the makeshift coffee cup ashtray is full of butts and it smells like death. I'll take it out with the trash tomorrow.
You collected your things on a snowy Wednesday morning early this winter. I walked you to the bus stop with a bag full of things you'd worn in my apartment over the last four years. You had a cold and asked me to go home, you'd like to wait for the bus alone. As the first flakes fell, I crossed the road, sat down hard on the pavement and watched you watch me cry till the bus arrived, stopped and removed you from my view, like a blackboard eraser.
I'd like to think that it started snowing that day and never stopped. Except: I know, all too well, that it did n't. It had been snowing for years. The mood swings, the silences, the long solitary walks, the sudden elation, the grand plans, the breakdowns, the weeks of murmured agreement.
You recognized it, I did n't. You pleaded, I apologized, I promised I'd get help. I did n't.
I'd like to go to the store now and take a long walk on the way back, but it's snowing too hard and I'm too tired again.
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[ WP ] Something happy please . Include cats and maybe lizards .
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`` Liz is being a bit rude,'' exclaimed Kitties, `` I was just trying to get to the catnip!''
`` Liz had always been a bit on the bitter bit of the balance of benevolenceness!'' laughed Juan.
Juan stretched out his claws in front of him, latching onto white linen, leaning back and putting his cute cat butt in the air, tail straight up.
`` Do n't scratch my holmz's new couch, you're not even supposed to be here, Juan!''
`` Well am I allowed in or not?'' Juan sneered.
Kitties blushed.
Later that night Kitties was walking along a brick wall in her back yard when Liz slid his big wod of bod in front of her. Kitties's eyes dialated until there was n't something she could n't see. `` Damn you scared me Liz. What are you doing?''
Liz stared at Kitties. Kitties breathed. Liz's lizard lenses longingly looked deep into the cat's dome. Liz's eyes bled the period of a 300 pound woman! Liz sprinted toward Kitties!
Earlier that day, Kitties ate breakfast.
Flashforward back to when Liz sprinted towards Kitties: Kitties dove left off the brick wall plunging toward her holm's back yard grass. After graceful freefall, Kitties glided her paws across the lawn. Liz was nipping at her tail as she was falling whilst lizard walking against the wall and traversed through tall grass almost under the cat. Once Kitties slowed for a second upon opening the cat door, the lizard pounced on the cat and a tussel is assumed to be happening due to tusseling sounds and shadows across the cat door because the camera is still outside facing the cat door. The camera zooms out.
Juan from before jumps through the cat door holding a gun. Punching noises. Liz's lizard voice rang, `` Please, no-'' *BANG*
The camera snaps to the two cats and the lizard. The gun had shot a flag saying ice cream surprise, and everyone had ice cream and called it a night.
The end.
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[ WP ] A trapped demon calls a priest for excorcism because his host is too obese and ca n't get out of bed
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`` I need your help.''
That's usually how these conversations start. My black phone rings, I answer it, they ask if I'm Frances D'Autiere and tell me that they need my help. I always wonder why they start with that declaration. Perhaps it's to warn me. Maybe they want to draw me in with a hook. Does n't matter, they all call for the same reason.
`` I'm trapped and I need you to come let me out.''
Well this is unusual. `` Ma'am, I'm an exorcist, not an exterminator. I have a contact number that I can give you for poltergeists, but-''
`` I do n't need an exterminator, I need you,'' the voice interjects. `` I understand we're not supposed to have a good relationship, but I jumped into the wrong body and you need to come get me out.''
I sit back in my computer chair, grab a cigarette and light it up. This is a prank, I'm sure of it. `` Huh. How long have you been in this one, then?''
`` About a week. Goering got his files mixed up and sent me to the wrong place. I've been trying to get in touch with Corrections, but the bastards took their vacation early. So I need you to come get me out.''
I pause with my cigarette to my lips. `` Goering? Hermann Goering?''
The voice on the other end chuckles, `` What, did you think he'd get into heaven? With *his* record? Dude does n't even speak English and Satan put him in charge of Inhabits. Look, will you come or not?''
`` Which one are you?'' I'm a little curious at this point. I've had other demons tell me about Inhabits and how fucked their system is, but now I know who runs it.
`` I'm a Seraphim. My name is Jack Johnson, case number 458603Z. Can we do this?''
Snake demon. A snake demon named Jack Johnson. I've got to see this in person, prank be damned.
An hour later, I'm at the address Jack gave me. This one lives in a shabby trailer park on the skirts of town. Not the worst place I've been called to, surprisingly. I walk up the door of a trailer that looks dirtier than its neighbors and see a sign on the front door: *Come in, bedroom open*. I flick my cigarette to the side, grab the handle and do what the sign tells me.
A stench hits me right off the bat. Whoever this lady is, she has n't bathed for a lot longer than a week. She's got cartons and boxes on every surface. Most of them are food containers, and most are empty. I grab my lavender sachet and shove it to nose. There's more than one use for lavender; demons are not the main one.
The voice from the phone calls out to me as I survey the trash heap that is this woman's life. `` Come back here, I ca n't get out of bed.'' That explains the *bedroom open* part, at least. I pick my way carefully through the garbage, down a small hall and into the back bedroom.
Lying on the bed among discarded food wrappers and trash is a fat woman. The lady is n't chubby, or even overweight. She is morbidly obese in every sense of the word. Partially covering her is nothing but a heavily stained sheet. She ca n't fit into clothes anymore. All of a sudden, the phone call makes sense.
`` It's about damn time. She ca n't get up. Trying to push her body to move is like trying to move a bus full of concrete. Get me out of here.'' Her mouth moves, her voice is hers, but there's something else behind it. This is n't a prank. Jack Johnson the Serpent Demon has asked for my help sending him back to Hell because Inhabits screwed up and sent him here.
`` And you've been stuck in her for a week? Why did n't you just leave?'' I ask him. Legitimate question; they can usually come and go as they please.
`` She wo n't let me go. She knows I'm in here, but the bitch wo n't let me leave,'' Jack heaves a sigh that jiggles her ginormous breasts. `` She says she needs me, she's been lonely.''
I snort a little. Lonely has to be an understatement. I'm also concerned. Exorcising demons usually comes with the intruder refusing to leave, not the victim trying to keep the intruder. This oughta be good.
`` We may have a problem, Jack,'' I begin carefully. `` She does n't want you to go. Instead of your hooks in her soul, she's got her hooks in yours.''
Jack attempts to sit the woman up, but is rewarded with a loss of breath instead. `` So get them out of me,'' he demands.
`` Ah, there's the problem. Your soul is fragile. I take her hooks out, she rips you to shreds. That'll destroy you and you'll lose your, ah, demon-ness. You'll stop being a demon and Satan'll go extra hard on your eternal punishment. He does n't like to lose his lap dogs.''
Jack grunts, `` But maybe he wo n't. This was n't even my fault! Goering did this shit, why would Satan be pissed at me?''
I shrug. I do n't know why he's got a bad temper, but Satan is n't the nicest boss according to some of the other demons I've had to weed out.
Jack grows quiet, thinking. There's a TV on at the foot of the bed that's been muted. I watch the silent daytime talk show about who the father actually is while I wait. I see the reflection of this woman's swollen feet on the screen of the TV and take out a cigarette. Second hand smoke is the least of her worries.
A smell wafts up from under the sheet, one strong enough to blot out the pervading scent of body odor. The woman shit herself. My eyes begin to water and I glance into her face. A look of utter disgust that is n't her own paints its way across her squished features.
`` Get me the fuck out.''
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[ WP ] It finally happened : Stephen King has replaced Shakespeare as required reading in high schools .
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`` Good morning students!'' Ms. Avery said excitedly. `` Welcome to year six English.''
The student body replied only with a'sigh' that said `` why the hell are we awake at 9am?''
`` Let me start by outlining the corriculum for the year,'' she continued. `` As required we will all be reading Stephen Kings'The Dark Tower' in its whole... thats it, that is all we have time for, that's English for the year.''
`` Any questions?''
A young boy raises his hand tentatively.
`` Yes Jake?'' Asks Ms. Avery.
`` So we wo n't have a final essay this year?''
`` No Jake,'' she says with a smile, `` and that is the truth.''
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[ WP ] Upon their eighteenth birthday , everyone has to choose either Order or Chaos . Those who choose Order are sent to a safe , structured city with no real free will . Those who choose Chaos are sent to a city with complete freedom , but there are no laws or protections of any kind .
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The low rising sun sits perched over the city of Chaos. It's a slumly paradise, with a thick haze glooming over the skyline like the whole city had a hangover. One man who did, in fact, have a hangover was Lawrence Manson. He picked his forehead off the bar, a thin film of sweat peeling as he raised his head. The bar was named `` Steve's Shithole'', a bar Manson is a regular patron of. If it was n't the cheap booze that Manson managed to get for free by whispering sweet-nothings to the comely barmaid, it was the frequent brawl that ensued between drunks, gang members, and beggars who would swear they were a veteran, even though the city of Chaos does not have an army. As for Manson, he had just concluded another night spent attempting to find solace in his meager existence at the glass bottoms of bottles. He remembered it like it was yesterday, although it was actually 13 years ago.
`` So what'll it be? Order or Chaos? ``, the administrator inquired.
`` Chaos. ``, a young, thin boy from the prestigious house Manson declared confidently.
A collective gasp, then a hush fell over the auditorium. The Process, as it came to be known, was a very public affair where all newly 18 year old boys and girls made a choice, Order or Chaos. Order was a safe life, if not a boring one, while Chaos was the unknown, a land where outlaws and brigands senselessly kill each other over sweetrolls, as young Manson was told by other kids. Of course no one knew for sure, since no one who went to the city of Chaos ever came back. Lawrence Manson was the eldest boy of Jorvan Manson, a very well-renowned statesman, and a direct descendant of the Prefect Harlaus Manson. All gambling men had their money on Lawrence selecting Order, as all Mansons did. However Lawrence was fed up with the routine, the rules, and the regulations. Many people will tell you Lawrence, now known in the city of Order as the `` forgotten Manson'', was not fitting of the surname, and the prestige that name brought. Lawrence will tell you that `` those Order pricks can go to hell''. His selection caused quite a stir, and before Lawrence could comprehend the impact of his decision, he was dropped in the streets of Chaos, armed only with a will to survive.
`` Hey! Goddamnit Lawrence, your tab is $ 400. You gon na pay or what?''
The voice brought Lawrence reeling back from his cloudy recollection. It was Steve, the owner of the shithole. Manson had run his tab up, again.
`` Hey come on Steve, last night was rough, gim me a few days, I'll cover it. ``, Lawrence groggily promised. But this was the 3rd time this month, and Lawrence had only barely met the deadline last time.
`` Absolutely not Lawrence, not after last time. You pay, or I call my boys.'' There was no police in Chaos, as you could've guessed. For-hire goons did the enforcing.
`` Now, now, no need to get hostile, I left the money at home, let me go grab it and I'll be right back to pay, promise.'' Lawrence was bluffing, as he was as broke as the windows of an Altman home.
`` I'm tired of the bullshit Lawrence, you come in here and drink yourself cold every night and never pay on time! I'm going to the back, grabbing my bat, and if you are n't out of my bar by the time I'm back, I'm gon na bash ya skull in!''
Lawrence needed no more motivation, and normally he would've slid out of the door by now, but something felt different today. He began thinking about how he had been skating by in life, content with cheap booze, the occasional bummed cigarette, and general mediocrity. Until now. His inspirational train of thought was rudely derailed, however, when a now-irate Steve materialized near him with an aluminum baseball bat. Lawrence had to quickly duck Steve's initial swing, aimed right at his head. Lawrence, now backtracking in the aisle between the bar and the booths, dodges yet another swing. Steve goes for his third, but Lawrence calmly caresses the bat in the pit of his arm, his back turned towards his assailant, and in one fluid motion, elbows Steve in his nose, rips the bats from his hands, gets a nice firm grip, and strikes Steve directly in the ribs with the bat. Steve goes down, and Lawrence goes out. Lawrence can hear the commotion in the bar as the cheap door closes behind him, as his lungs fill with the polluted air of Chaos. He looks to his left, down Tyson Avenue, to see old gas-guzzlers jockeying for better positions in heavy traffic, while fires rage in cans with numerous bums nestled around them like water coolers. To his right, many faceless inhabitants of Chaos wait to cross the street, although most simply walk across and hope cars stop for them. Lawrence, the descendant of the great Prefect Harlaus, is home. Lawrence also has a plan.
My first post on Reddit, been lurking for a bit now! Also my first attempt at responding to one of these, all criticism is welcome!
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[ WP ] Tell me the prologue or first chapter of the book you are writing , ( or will never write ) .
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# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
**Chapter 1: Introduction of the First Character, in Third Person**
Let us begin a hypothetical line of thought. Say you are about to be introduced to a young woman through a mutual friend. This friend can not stop gushing about the myriad beautiful qualities of this woman. Every aspect of her features and personality are espoused as being the best one could hope for in a friend or coworker. How do you respond to this? It is most likely dependent on the personality of that mutual friend. If you consider this person to be trustworthy, and an accurate judge of character, you will most likely greet this woman positively, perhaps with a smile and a handshake or whatever customs you would use to welcome someone new into your life.
Now let us suppose that the mutual friend is not a friend at all, but rather an aquaintance, or worse yet, a complete stranger. Your perception of both the stranger and the woman is likely to take a nosedive. `` Who on earth are you?'' you might reply. `` If I am required to become friends with this woman, let me do so on my own terms. Your interjections of praise are useless to me if I do not know who you are. Leave me alone!''
My dear reader, I break this news to you with quite some trepidation, but I am afraid that the complete stranger referred to in this example is me, The Author.
This is not a situation that can be eased into, but I have tried my best. I have made you aware of the situation for the sole purpose of removing any doubt you may have about the main character. I am being perfectly honest with you, and so I hope you will trust me when I say that *Diana Grace Washington was the most perfect girl on the face of the planet and no argument to the contrary will be accepted. *
You are probably closing the book. Do n't close the book! Do n't roll your eyes, or scoff, or wonder to yourself whether this is some cruel psychological trick The Author is using, playing the field so as to introduce a more flawed yet relatable character later in the story that everyone will love and admire and fawn over as well as can be deserved. That. Wo n't. Happen.
Now you are most likely criticizing the style of authorship. That is understandable. At least you have n't closed the book.
Do n't close the book.
The fact of the matter is, the story has to begin this way. Over the course of the story, the integrity of Diana Grace as a person and a character will be called into question many times over. It ca n't be helped. If the world within these pages were some fevered figment of my imagination, I would be free to go on describing Diana Grace's perfection for a thousand pages without once referring to her enemies or disservices to her character. But I assure you, this story is as true and corporeal as the shoes you put on this morning. If you are wearing shoes, go ahead and take a look at them. Feel how real they are. That truth is equal in measure to the story I am about to tell you.
If you are not near your shoes at the moment, rest assured they are still where you left them. Do n't close the book.
With all that being said, I feel now is the best time to begin the story. I hope that I have adequately demonstrated how serious I am about the impressions you receive from my writing. Now is not the time to look at your reading material with a critical eye. If you do, you are no better than the villains of the story. That may hurt your feelings, but it is the truth. Keep it in mind.
Do n't close the book. The story is beginning.
***
Diana Grace Washington was, without a doubt, the most perfect girl on the face of the planet.
She was sixteen years old, and her natural blonde hair alone made her the envy of all the other girls at St. Francis de Sales High, the private school she attended in Upstate New York. This was not to say her hair was the only admirable feature about her. She also had a delicate nose and a dainty chin and the body of a cheerleader, because in fact she was a cheerleader and she had the trophies to prove it.
She was a straight A student, and a talented violinist, and every other girl in the school was jealous for knowing how perfectly unattainable her level of popularity was amongst her classmates. Boys in the school constantly vied for her affection, which she granted or held back only by the most noble of criteria. She was a darling to all of her teachers, as well as the staff who did n't teach her at all. She had everyone she met wrapped around her finger ( though not maliciously ), and anyone who met with her even in passing would remark upon the pureness of character she exuded at every opportunity.
The story began on the evening of her sixteenth birthday party. It was, simply put, the most excellent and expensive Sweet Sixteen that anyone in St. Francis High would ever know, and everyone had been invited. Cake was eaten. Revelry was had. It was wonderful in every sense of the word.
Diana Grace sat in the passenger seat of the car as her mother drove her home from the venue. Evelyn Washington was a single mom whose husband had died in a tragic accident eleven years before. Diana Grace did not remember her father. This did not dull her childhood in the slightest, because Evelyn was a terrific mother and Diana Grace had always been a terrific child.
As they rounded the turn into their neighborhood, Evelyn reached over and opened the glove box. Inside was a small package wrapped in gift paper.
`` Here's your present, dear!'' She glanced away from the road for only a second to smile at her daughter. `` Go on and open it!''
Diana Grace did so. Underneath the paper was a box holding a small leather diary, with a strap and a gold lock in the shape of a heart.
`` Oh!'' Diana Grace gasped in delight. `` It's wonderful, Mother!'' She opened the box. Together with the key to the diary was tied a key of an entirely different nature.
`` Is this...''
`` Surprise!'' They had turned onto their street, and Diana Grace could see that a blue sports car was parked on the curb in front of their house.
`` Oh thank you!'' Diana Grace hugged her mother as she guided her own car into the garage. `` This was the best birthday ever!''
`` It's the best birthday for the best girl,'' said Evelyn, as she put the car in park and hugged back. `` I love you. Never forget that.''
`` I wo n't, Mother.''
Evelyn sighed. `` Tomorrow after school, we'll go to the DMV and get you your driver's license. But right now it's late. Time for bed.''
Diana went up to her room. She showered, and put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth. As she was brushing, she heard her mother's door being shut and locked. She would not come out until morning.
Diana had placed the new diary on her bedside table. Now, she quietly reached under her mattress and pulled out a different journal. It was old, but not faded, and had a red cover and a small, brass clasp. She brought it with her to her desk, sat down, and began to write. And that is what truly began the story.
***
**Chapter 2: Introduction of the Second Character, in First Person**
I woke up screaming.
***
**To Be Continued**
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[ WP ] In a world where eye color changes according to a persons mood , your eyes turn a color no one has ever seen before .
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Eye contact. Everything, every human interaction, depended upon eye contact. The slightest color shift meant sudden turns in any negotiations, the turn of thousands in poker pots, or the collapse of reputations and relationships. Everything was influenced by eye color, and every watched for it all the time. Maintaining calmness was its own martial art, and only the best could do it effectively, or control their color shifts with unseen physical effort. I was n't one of those. My eyes betrayed me, every time. I could n't lie, I could n't cheat, I could n't mask my crushes. I was an open book. People I met saw right through me and my moods swung with each attempt by others to use the tell-tale signs of my emotional state to manipulate me. I lived in the friend-zone, the ultimate B-type personality. But one day things changed. My SO said nothing over breakfast, her own eyes signifying uneasiness, but that was nothing new, I knew she had been contemplating ending things for some time. When I walked into work, everyone I passed paused. They made eye contact, but could n't hold it. It was like they could no longer read me, and having lost that tell, they did n't know where to look. Their unbalanced position in our relationships was my advantage. Almost without realizing it, I played them as easily as they had ever played me. By the end of the day I had a new office, a raise, and had effected a change of status and roles. Driving home I prepared myself to take the initiative, there would be a relationship change, and I would establish the new conditions for my future. Finally, years of quiet research and effort had paid off, it had been a simple solution, a solution that killed the colour changes, leaving my eyes a steely grey. An unknown variation, and to all who looked into my eyes for their usual clues, it offered only mystery. I was the man who could not be seen, ready to become king in a land of the blind.
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[ WP ] You 're the world 's best photographer . Your secret ? You can freeze time . You last photo brings some suspicion up .
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``'Perfect-timing Bill', that's what they call me. And I seem indeed to have an uncanny ability to get the perfect shots at the perfect moment - my `` jumping people'' pictures are always great, I catch the funniest superpositions, my wildlife pictures are gaped at, I have a stockpile of pictures of things that fall, break or explode.
To the people who ask me how I do it, I play the modesty card - `` you know, it's a bit of luck, a fair amount of practice, and for every picture that you see, hundreds do n't make the cut''. I'm not lying. I do take a lot of pictures to get the right one. And I suppose it does take a bit of luck and experience to snap my fingers at exactly the right moment to freeze time.
I've been called a cheater, a fraudster, a bad photoshopper. The irony of that is not lost on me. I defeated all the claims, one by one. Some people are still not convinced, but then again, some people are still not convinced we went to the Moon.
The cover of `` best photographer in the world'' explains my luxury lifestyle. Obviously, my photography gear is everything money can buy and then some. My house has been sold to me as a'manor', my garage contains three very shiny red sports cars. I still have a reputation as a philanthropist - it's only natural, after all, to give back to the populations and places that allowed me to take such great pictures.
It took me a surprisingly long time to understand that this gift could be used for other purposes. I ca n't say that I've never taken the opportunity to unzip the fly of an annoying customer or to lift a garment. Interacting with frozen people creeps me out, though, so I stopped doing that. It was probably more of an incentive to stop than the fear of getting caught.
Over the years, I improved my technique. I did n't want to get caught, so I went to great lengths to ensure that my freezing the time did n't get detected. The most obvious thing is to come back to the original pose when I am done. The second obvious thing is to never shoot from an impossible angle that the client would have noticed. That's why I like wildlife pictures: an eagle will not be suspiscious at the angle at which you caught its best side view. And if I'm not actually taking pictures, well, I can hide somewhere, or I can pretend to re-tie my shoe, or that sort of things, before I snap my fingers. Small thefts were not really possible: if I steal a handbag in the street, there's a fair chance it's going to be seen. Larger thefts are more profitable and easier, assuming they happen in a place where no-one is actually standing and wondering how the thing they were looking at disappeared in front of their eyes.
What I had never really taken into account, though, was that although human beings would probably not notice the minutiae of my position, the CCTV in front of my targets would. And that eventually someone would make the connection between the multiple occurrences of a guy shifting from a few centimeters in the vicinity of every bank and jewelry shop that had been mysteriously broken in this past decade.
And that's why colleagues caught me, Detective. I do n't think I will ever forget the three knocks at my door at 6AM this morning, or the first sentence your constable said to me:'William Stasis? You're under arrest for multiple counts of burglary and grand theft.' But then again... ``
William grinned and snapped his fingers.
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[ WP ] Mankind finally makes first contact , the aliens are extremely immature .
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When man once met his counterpart,
A feeling welled up in his heart.
How gleeful one will be to know
in this universe, he's not alone.
A hand takes tentacle in stride,
and together we talk by the tide...
`` I like blue, and how about you?''
`` Well I like glurple, fuck you dude!''
He kicked some sand into my face,
and scurried forward several pace...
A huff, a yell, a scream, a rage!
`` Mark my words, I'll get my way!''
This story is how came to be,
mankind's otherworldly slavery.
Edit: ( how do I format this so there's only one space?.-. It either dumps every line together, or double spacing. )
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[ WP ] `` Enough is enough ! '' Earth 's PvP setting is set to `` off '' in the midst of a great war .
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The enemy is approaching fast, I take hold of my rifle and take aim.
`` hmm my aim ca n't be that bad''
I try again, but the plasma seems to go right through him.
`` hmm my blaster rifle must be malfunctioning''
I take aim again, but its too late. The enemy is right in front of me.
I close my eyes as I wait for the endless void of death.
Nothing.
I open my eyes to see the rebel slashing at me with his saber, but to my surprise it goes through me without harm.
The rebel looks just as astonished as i am.
I look around and see the same anomaly happening to everyone on the battlefield.
I must be having a heat stroke in this suit. That or i'm already dead.
`` Maybe some fresh air will bring me back to reality''
I take off my helmet
`` hmm nope''
Just then, i feel a spear piercing through my body.
I look around, and see a teddy bear.
`` but how!?'' i exclaimed with my dying breath.
`` Coatee-cha tu yub nub! Dimni-a-wundah...''
I do n't understand what its saying, but as my vision starts to fade, i feel like i'm starting to.
``... NPC, Biiitch''
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[ WP ] A young girl has two monsters in her life : her step-father , and the one under her bed . She manages to befriend the latter to deal with the former .
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Just a short piece for this. This prompt has trigger warning written all over it, so...
Sarah lay very still in her bed, her tiny fingers digging into the fluffy mane of her stuffed lion she had named Jam Sandwich.
Dozens of tentacles slithered out from underneath the bed, writhing like black snakes along the floorboards. They glinted in the darkness as if an unseen light reflected off them, and Sarah could feel them more than see them.
A low hiss like a persistent strangled exhalation emanated from underneath the bed as new tentacles snaked up the wall and fluttered up against the fringes of the sheet.
The six-year-old trembled as she lay there, unsure of what was about to happen, when she heard the gentle tapping at the door.
`` Sarah, sweetie? It's time for cuddles,'' her step-father said softly into the crack of the door.
Time seemed to slow down for Sarah, like it did every night. She hated that most of all... that it always seemed to go on longer than it had.
A handful of tentacles reared up like cobras ready to strike and waved back and forth, waiting. The noise from under the bed ended suddenly and she felt a cool, wet voice in her ear saying, `` Do n't worry Sarah, we'll keep the bad man away.''
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[ Wp ] You hurry to the train , just like everyday to trawel to work . After the train is already moving , you suddenly realise something terrifying . The train has always been crowded , but today you were all alone .
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`` God damn it.'' You curse as you check your watch. It's half past eight and you only have five minutes to get onto the platform before the train gets there. Luckily it seems that not too many people were taking the train today. It's weird but you dismiss it, you do n't have time to care about that right now.
You scan your pass at the barrier and rush through, there's no line, only a few travelers coming and going into the station. As you rush down the stairs you pass a group of people that had disembarked the train you need to get on and you kick it into high gear, ignoring the fact that there's no one running with you.
You make it onto the platform and practically dive onto the train with a breathless, happy laugh. You wipe the sweat off your brow and find an empty seat to take a load off, putting your briefcase down on the seat next to you. You need to make sure to go to bed earlier, you think to yourself; you ca n't afford to be late and have to run for the train every work day, it's hazardous to your health.
'I guess I could work out but...' you think with a weak chuckle to yourself as you listen to the ringing sound as the doors of the train closed and the train starting to leave the station. In 15 minutes, you'll be at work to start another day. At least you can relax and stretch your legs out for those few minutes, and maybe even catch those few minutes of shut eye you really...
You frown as the thoughts cross your head. When have you EVER been able to stretch out on this train? It's the morning rush. It should be packed like a can of sardines. You open your eyes and look around to see that there was literally no one in your train car. What the heck was going on? This did n't make sense! Looking to the car behind you through the window, you see that it was also empty. Why was this happening? Were you still dreaming?
Pinching your arm to try and wake up, you look to the train car in front of you and you let out a breath of relief as you see people. That relief does not last long however, as you see that the people, men in black suits and sunglasses, were walking towards your own car. A nervous sweat breaks out across your skin as you watch them open the doors and walk in, their focus utterly on you.
You jump up as your mind raced with questions about what was going on. The men stopped a few feet from you, regarding you silently. You try to look and see how many there were, but you ca n't see past the first three, and you do n't dare make any sudden moves.
As the tense silence continues as you face each other in this... Mexican stand-off, you feel like you're about to break when finally... the suited man in front spoke up.
`` Mister Anderson...'' he said, his voice low, stern, and serious enough to make you gulp involuntarily. But then you mentally double take... That... was n't your name. The man besides the supposed leader taps his shoulder and hands him a note card. He reads it before pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
`` Sorry about that, he's tomorrow. Now... Mister Highland.'' He starts over, and now your eyes widen as this time he does indeed get your name right. But that's not what worries you... it's that you have n't been called by that name in years. Not since-
`` You are Francis Highland, renowned explorer and treasure hunter. You found the lost Kusanagi, one of the three Sacred Treasures of Japan. You found the Treasure of Lima. And more recently... you discovered the whereabouts of the Florentine Diamond.'' The man listed off. You slowly shake your head in denial.
`` That's impossible. How could you possibly know that?'' you ask, and the man smiles, takes off his sunglasses and takes the handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and rubs at the lenses of the glasses.
`` My employer is very well informed Mister Highland. I ca n't tell you how he does what he does, I just go where he needs and get what he wants. And what he wants, Mister Highland... is the Florentine Diamond.'' the man explains, but it does n't really explain much and that grates at your nerves.
`` Why does he want it?'' you demand, and the man chuckles, still cleaning his damn glasses.
`` He's a collector, Mister Highland, simple as that. He's acquired many wonderful pieces over the years but there are still some that evade him, including the diamond. While he hates to admit it, he requires your expertise. So... how's about it, Mister Highland? You'd become a very wealthy man.''
You almost laugh at the man, but settle for a smirk that peaks the man's interest, believing you to be in agreement. `` Look mister...?''
`` Smythe.'' he responds plainly, and you raise an eyebrow. `` With a'y'.'' he added.
`` Okay then... well Mister Smythe... I may have taken you up on the offer when I was a younger man. I was stupid, had a flair for adventure, and I was smart enough to make it to where I needed to go. It was a dangerous combination. I learned that the hard way when the people close to me got hurt, and I almost lost them all...'' You say with a frown as you remember all the adventures you had, the friends you made... the girl you almost lost to your selfish desire to live that life. `` I left that life behind and I'm happier for it. I was tired of pretending to be someone I was n't.''
Mister Smythe looked amused and shook his head, as if pitying you. `` And who are you, Mister Highland?'' He asked.
`` I am Francis Locke. And I have work today.'' You say with complete conviction. Mister Smythe stared at you for a minute before chuckling.
`` You must realize that while my employer would rather you be brought in alive, if you are... denying his handsome proposition, he has given us permission to end you, so that none may find the diamond. I would very much enjoy watching you die, Mister Highland, so... can I take this as a formal denial of or request?''
`` You're damn right.'' You reply, glaring at the man. The man chuckled again and put his glasses back on and pulled a hand gun out of his suit.
`` You hear that Mister Highland?'' He asks you as he cocks the hand gun. `` That is the sound of inevitability... it is the sound of your death... Goodbye, Mister Highland.''
`` Enough of the Matrix references man... let's just get this over with.'' You moan. Without another moments notice, Mister Smythe's companions charge at you.
AAAAANNNDD Cliff hanger. My favorite things.
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[ WP ] : Jesus Christ decides to spend his birthday alone this year . But Santa comes anyway for a talk that 's a long time coming .
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There he is. I heard the knock on the door and I wanted to ignore it, but when I gave him most of the abilities I used to have... it meant that he knew everything. I grew tired of knowing everything before I even died the first time. That's how he kept that naughty and nice list you know. I gave him that. He shutters himself off from the world in his little hidey hole under the artic. No, the north pole is just a ruse. He's deep under the artic ice so he does n't hear humanity killing each other every second. I put down the wine glass on the counter before standing up and answering the door, letting him inside.
`` Chris.'' I nod at him as I go back to my kitchen pouring a glass of water from my runoff valve into another wine glass and handing him an approximation of his favorite vintage. I have n't been sober for a week, so I'm a bit off. He takes the glass slowly, looking it over before sitting down. He'd slimmed down a lot from when he was'jolly saint nicholas'.
`` Yeshua... I know you want to be left alone, but it's time. You need to come back to the world. It does n't help just sitting here in your little cabin in the middle of bloody nowhere.'' He looks at me with those sunken green eyes. It's obvious that the weight of knowledge is putting a serious strain on him.
`` I told you. I do n't want to be the grand destroyer. I wanted to be their redeemer, but how can I possibly redeem them if the ones who have faith commit more attrocities than the ones without? I'm supposed to burn out the unbelievers and destroy the hypocrites. There is n't anything left. How many children did you visit this year? I know your own numbers are getting smaller and smaller, and those are the children for heaven's sake! How can I possibly be asked to cleanse the rot when there is nothing healthy left?'' I tossed my glass in anger as I slumped back into the wooden chair, shaped to let me rock back and forth. I heard the tinkle and crash of the glass as I sighed loudly, putting my face in my hands. Christmas had been a little over three months ago. Chris and I had agreed to have that adulterated monstrosity moved away from my actual birthday centuries ago.
`` There were still several thousand...'' he sputtered slowly.
`` Several thousand, in a world of billions. What kind of life is humanity leading? They let the poor starve when they have the food to give to all. They let the rich destroy the will of the good. They let their old rot in homes unloved by their own families, much less the communities at large.'' There were tears in my eyes at this point. `` I was supposed to help them, instead they started to use my name to propogate hate and suffering.''
`` I know. I know.'' Chris let himself slump down in a chair across from me. `` The voices and screams are so much. They're so constant, but there is still a light out there. If you helped me, maybe we could change the world back into a place with wonder and magic and hope.'' Chris was ever the optimist. I envied him that. He'd been on this planet almost as long as I had. He and I were very literally godsends.
`` The Morningstar came by with much the same idea you know. He still says we should have gone with his plan, but he wants the world to be better than it is now. He knew that heaven would need an antognist for the other plan to work, so he let father put him in that role. He was better than I was and I never knew till I got here.'' I slowly moved forward out of the chair, the weight feeling like it would crush me. I needed another drink.
Chris' eyes lit up and the smile took over his face. He could see that there was something stirring in me, but he was always too optimistic. Maybe the two of them were right. `` You see? If even Luce thinks we can turn it around, there has to be something to be done!''
`` He thinks if we can get the world to read again. Read everything and consume information, people might realize the plights they've been putting each other in. I think he might be right... but it'll take a long time, and if we do it directly... people will do just like they did all those years ago. Maybe if we convince the world none of us are real.''
Chris nodded as he sighed. `` So, you're on board? We create the internet?''
Yeshua nodded slowly as he picked up another glass from the cupboard. `` Yeah, then we teach the world of the strife it's causing and try to spurn them into action. It'll take time. If they can hear the cries of the world like we can, maybe... just maybe they can save themselves.''
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[ WP ] You have an awful memory , often forgetting everything from the day upon falling asleep every night , and have to transcribe things to remember . Tell us a note you find upon waking up in the morning that you left for yourself last night .
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I woke up, turned off the alarm and reached out for the note.
*Two to the head, one to the heart
-Blase Jackson - ACME Trucking -
Diddles little kids, cops no help
Call Invictus - 555-3424*
Who the fuck is Blase Jackson? Invictus?
Well, that's the problem with being a hitman with terrible memory. Ever since some Luigi tried to schwack me I've been extremely forgetful. I remember my life before Panini-man attempted to extract my brain with a crowbar, but not a lot after. I mean, I know where I live, what kind of truck I drive, my bank account and PIN number; ya know, the real important shit. Day to day stuff though, not so much.
You know where I was at 2 PM yesterday? Me neither. HA!
I got up, shit, showered and shaved, then dressed. Stuck on the dresser drawers was another note. *Silencer fits over muzzle brake, do n't over tighten. Ammo is in the closet with rifle. Boresight scope - you dropped it yesterday, ya fuck. *
I dug around and pulled out my hitman's toolkit - FNAR rifle, AccuPoint scope, 185 grain hollow point ammo, bipod legs and, of course, a silencer. I fiddled with it a bit, figuring out how to put it all together and take it apart. Next, I spent some time cleaning the rifle and ammo, then put it all into a canvas bag labelled `` Fun Bag.''
Here's something else you should know. I did n't forget how to shoot. I learned that shit years before a greasy Gordon Freeman tried to pop my head like a lock. I was n't no sniper in the military, I hated running with a passion, but I was a 9th award rifle expert. 100 yards all the way out to 500 yards was my murder-death-kill zone. I can fight too. I'm not sayin' I'm Chuck Lee, or whatever that fuck-ass's name is, but I can hold my own and have a high tolerance for pain. I have 5 broken necks to my credit, all done by hand.
Anyway, I can see you rolling your eyes at me and muttering under your breath. Fuck you too.
I grabbed my cell phone, punched in the unlock code and sent a quick T9 text. Fuckin' Nokia's man. I could smash a face in with this thing and still call for a pizza... or hooker. I might as well figure out who Invictus is.
*Who dis? Wat u wnt? A/S/L. * Just like I used to watch them fuckin' nerds do in the movies on Yahoo chat. So what if I sound like a coonass Saints fan that's never left Terrebonne parish, fuck you too.
My phone rang 3 minutes later and I heard the voice of an angle. Yea, I said angle, like that shit she said came outta her mouth, turned 90 degrees and shit on my eardrum. Her voice could cut a hot fart in half.
`` Mr. Memory, are you still on for the little job today?'' she croaked.
`` What's this Mr. Memory shit woman? I gots a name.''
I heard her sigh through her nose, then she said `` A little play on words. You erase people from memory. Also, you do n't know what you had for lunch yesterday.''
I said, `` Well, that's true enough. I feel like shit today, so I must have had your clam.''
`` Touche... Enough banter. Blase will be at the Crowley dock at 1730. Alone. Do your job.''
`` Yeah, OK. I got it. I expect a deposit by tomorrow morning, or your name will be on a note the following morning when I wake up.'' Haha, bitch.
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[ WP ] Welcome to Vault 54 ! A vault located in the beautiful Hollywood U.S.A. Its residents are award winning actors . The experiment ? Each resident is assigned a character role for 5 year periods . If they break character they die . The vault 's ultimate purpose is to study the concept of identity .
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Oh, now this one was interesting.
Throw a bunch of actors in a vault and tell them act or die. Classic, right?
Military wanted to understand the limits of deep cover agents and the ability to constantly suppress your own personality. I tell ya: that ai n't easy, no sirree.
The first 12 months were n't too bad. The computer monitored everything via audio. People were differentiated by speech patterns, tones, vocabulary. All conversations were recorded, analysed and stored. When someone fucked up, the computer worked it out, and gassed them in their bunk.
Pretty simple way to do it. Audio recognition software had been around for quite a while, at that stage. But why am I telling you all this? Well, just wait.
So the first 12 months go OK, OK? Right. But then people start dropping like flies. A year just got tough. We had all the trappings of Hollywood in there, too. So sometimes someone would drink too much, or do the wrong drugs, forget who they were and say the wrong thing. Psssssh goodnight. Ha!
I think those poor bastards actually burnt all the shrooms in the first month.
You'd get domino effects, too. Finding someone dead would cause someone to break character, and so on, until someone could remain perfectly composed while finding a dead body.
Nerves of steel on some'a these folks, I'll tell ya.
Yeah yeah, I'm getting to it. Hold your horses.
So, one day there was a glitch. There's a 4 week gap in the computer's records. The team monitoring from outside the vault were trying everything to get it going again, and finally they replace some special linkage thingy and the computer comes back to life.
The techs go to work, and it's the strangest thing. It's as if the 4 week gap never happened. The computer did n't kill anyone. Everything just picked up where it left off. Like in science fiction shows were people get abducted and shit, there's just this gap.
So the monitoring team are all `` That's weird'' but they go with it, because they do n't want to have to admit to the boss that the experiment got all fucked up because Steve did n't tighten a screw down hard enough or whatever. Another two years pass.
Twenty-four months.
One hundred and four weeks!
They pass. And everything is normal. The vault is perfect. No-one is making any mistakes.
The techs are checking the computer. It's working.
All the microphones are working.
The software is working flawlessly, ok?
All the people are talking. Conversations are happening. Life is going on perfectly normally.
But one day, someone notices something. The vault is using next to no water. Of course there was plenty available, and it was all turned on and going into the vault. It was just as if everyone stopped taking showers or something.
So they triple check that system, and it's confirmed: not enough water is being used by all the actors.
They audit the computer and the audio is normal, right. No errors. Everyone is in character. Everyone is talking. The tones are right, accents, vocabulary, the computer is tracking everyone and they're all there.
It's a mystery.
So the lead scientist, he ca n't stand it, hey. He's freakin' out like the experiment got away from them. Some military dude thinks that the actors somehow are recycling or synthesising water so efficiently that going in to find out would be worth sacrificing the acting experiment to get the water tech, so he approves the abort.
I know, I know. Story is nearly over, I promise.
So the computer was wired directly to the reactor that powered the whole vault. To shut it down, they have to kill power to everything. So they do that, and crack the vault.
The team prepares to evacuate everyone, they've got beds and supplies and all sorts of stuff ready, but no-one comes out the door.
Even more weird, right?
So they send teams in. Night vision, flashlights, the whole bit. And they're sweepin' levels and calling out to people and it's the darndest thing: place is deserted.
Not a soul.
They're callin' and lookin', callin' and lookin'. Finally one of the military guys brings a dog in, and the dog just practically runs to one of the lower levels that had n't been searched so good yet.
There's this door to like a storage locker looking thing, with dust all over it, and the dog is just pawing at this door like there's a big juicy steak or his favourite toy in there or something.
The team crack the door and peer in with their lights, and all they see is drugs. But not like, all kinds of drugs, just boxes and boxes of amphetamines. The vault's whole supply I guess. Not just recreational ones, but like ADD meds and whatnot, too. So they're just eyeballin' these boxes and thinking'What the fuck?' ya know? When they hear a shuffling in the corner.
The dog even goes quiet, right.
And they're hearing this shuffling, and it's getting closer, and then he comes around the corner.
Dressed in rags, eyes bulging, beard, the whole bit. And the team is looking at this crazy Castaway hobo dude, and then one of the team recognises him. `` Holy shit!'' he yells `` It's Daniel Day Lewis!''
And it was. It was him the whole time. All by himself! And get this, you know what he says? He comes round the corner, and the lights are in his eyes, and he's blinking and looking around at these crazy guys in full science and soldier gear, and he just says
`` You better have my fucking Oscar.''
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[ WP ] You do n't remember it , but before you were born , you went through an RPG-esque character creation and determined your attributes , virtues , traits , natural skills etc . You have died and realized all the wrong choices you made from the very beginning .
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`` Ah man that was a crappy run'' Jim said taking off the virtual headgear. `` Oh hey Sven, how'd I do?''
`` You got 175,632 points. Not as good as your last game but it was n't that bad'' Sven replied. A veteran to V-Life, Sven has been playing V-Life for about 20 years. He is now using his expertise to help others like Jim. `` You wan na take a look at how your setup was?''
`` Yeah I do n't really remember what I chose. You care if I just look at it on my own first.''
`` Sure I printed out a copy of your progress right here'' Sven put it on the table next to jims bed. `` Just call me when you want to discuss it and we can talk about going in again later.
V-Life, a virtual world that feels like the real deal. In V-Life you can live a whole life from birth to death and still be home for dinner. While in V-Life, your memories of the real world are gone and you live through life not knowing you are simply a program. V-Life has become a replacement for education, allowing children to learn more in one week than a year of schooling. Jim is one of Sven's promising students. Scoring a near record high score through sheer luck the first time he played, Sven is hoping to help Jim break the current record score of 240,456.
Jim lied down for a bit, thinking about his past life. It started out good, but due to a variety of obstacles, by the time he reached 17, his life went downhill.
Jim looked at his progress paper. Right off the bat he realized where his mistakes were. `` I wasted so many points'' he thought to himself. It was true, Jim put too many of his points into clashing traits. He gave himself low physical strength and only medium intelligence, hoping his charisma and luck would help him through life. It worked for the most part, getting above average grades in school, but then he slowly started losing it. Probably due to his `` Risk-taker'' trait. Whenever its mixed with a high luck it backfires at some point. Unsure of where he went wrong jim called for Sven.
Sven came back a few seconds later. `` So first off let's look at how you died eh? Looks like you went to play in traffic, why was that?''
`` I was running away from something, I do n't remember what.''
`` That β s because there was n't anything to run from, look at the traits you chose, `` bad eyesight'' `` thick-headed'' and `` easily frightened'' bad combo right there, it allows for small things to mess you up. In your case, after you started dating that girl who liked you better without glasses, you decided to ditch them altogether. Feeling you were too cool for glasses, you also got scared of things you could n't fully make out. Which leads us to you meeting the truck, just a tip for real life too man, look both ways before crossing the street not while. And getting on the floor because a truck approaches is n't going to help you.'' They both had a good laugh about that.
Jim deciding he was ready to go in again asked for some advice.
`` Well you did good for the most part, just try to avoid careless traits, and play it safe.'' Sven said as he put the helmet on Jim. `` With the points you get this game, we make a record breaker in your next life.''
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[ TT ] Grandfather , a war vet , explains the horrors he faced in war to his young grandchild .
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Wist Nay'tu glanced up from her cup of steaming caf as the human male across from her took a bite of toast, the crumbs falling on his plate.
`` You know kid, being from a species infamous for its spies, you sure have issues keeping your cards to yourself. What are you gon na ask me this time?'' Tomess Ghast asked.
The female Bothan just out of adolescence ducked her head bashfully, her tan colored fur rippling as well.
`` You said your father was a mercenary?''
He took another bite of toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing.
`` Yes.''
Wist leaned a few centimeters closer, apprehension on her face.
`` Were your grandparents soldiers as well?''
Ghast nodded, taking a sip of his own mug of caf.
`` Both my grandas were soldiers of fortune. But my mother's father died before I was born so I only knew my da's.''
`` What was he like?'' Wist asked.
`` Granda Qrow? Well... for one he did n't have white hair on the top of his head like I do, that's courtesy of my mother's mother. Just about the only proof I had an Echani grandmother. No, he had hair the color of midnight with eyes of dark, dark green. He was one of the Galloglas, the elite guards and mercenaries sworn to Ord Irvan's High King. You see, Ord Irvan had many kings, hundreds sometimes even, but none were able to unite the world under one ruler until 8,000 BrS or so. That was when the King of Lenox defeated the twin alliance of the Kings of Teroan and Luen at the Battle of Seron Bridge. The first High King was crowned at the Temple of Ravens as Coulm the Uniter. And he was a crafty ruler and knew that our world was not alone, for although we fell in the thousand or so years since the Pius Dea Crusades, enough knowledge survived to give us a basic knowledge of what existed just beyond the veil. So when explorers rediscovered Ord Irvan after near three millennia of being isolated to the greater galaxy, High King Coulm saw an opportunity to ensure our survival. He sent five thousand of his chosen warriors, men and women he fought alongside in his journey to the throne to the stars a force of highly trained, battle hardened soldiers. From the payment of such Galloglas by those who could afford their fees, technology and information poured into Ord Ivran and a Golden Era of Ivrish culture and history reigned.''
Wist raised an eyebrow.
`` You're getting off-course, Tomess...''
Ghast shook his head.
`` Course I was. Anyways, my Granda Qrow served in High King Cerinn's Galloglas. He fought in more wars than I could ever name, let alone pronounce. But there was one I remember a great deal about, he oft talked about the Wars of Religion on some world called Tenerath out on the Rim. Apparently this aliens had been fighting for a hundred years over which pile of rocks was more sacred or something of the other. They were fanatics my granda told me, burning sentients of the rival faith whenever they were captured. Hired by one of the sects, I do n't know which, the Galloglas helped win them their precious victory a century in the making. But it was after the last blaster had fallen silent, after the final vibrosword been lowered that the real horrors began. The Night of Lights. An innocuous enough name, but far from peaceful. You see the winning side took all the captives and prisoners they took during the war, even those who laid down their arms after the ceasefire. They built piles of wood and pitch, of stacks of the losing faith's scared books and relics and lit them afire. Some of these rivaling mountains in size. And then... they threw them into the flames, males, females, younglings. It was said that there was nowhere on that planet that you could n't hear the screams from, the execution pyres to large that they could be seen from space. Millions of twinkling little specks of light from the nighttime side of the planet. My granda never regretted anything he did for his King, but he did have terror dreams for many years after that night, the screams you see, echoing in his head. The Night of Lights, a plain name for a crime beyond description.''
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[ TT ] Slowly , the fire roared . Magnificent it was , but in time , everything burned .
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There sits is an old tavern just outside of town. With ivy trailing down red brick walls, many would call it a quaint establishment. Outside the door, the cobblestone road is cracked in many places. Tufts of grass poke from those stones, tempting fate with every carriage wheel that rumbles past. A wooden sign - a white horse reared on its hind legs - is illuminated by a single brass streetlight. Light pours out into the night from the windows by the door.
Inside the creaky wooden entrance, the straw-thatched roof and rafter beams lets lantern light leap among the shadows. Tipsy patrons sit on carved, smooth stools, their hands holding mugs of frothy ale. Laughter and song fills the air. For those seeking refuge from the night's cold wind, a tavern keeper directs travelers to the gray stone chimney.
For by the chimney, the fire slowly roars.
Imagine the fire. Listen to the kindle cackle as it burns. Feel the warmth upon your hands and cheeks. Watch the flames as they snap and twist. Lose yourself in its hypnotic rhythm.
For those within the old, quaint tavern, it is easy to imagine each flame instead a wall of fire towering above the town. It is harder to imagine that fire whipping though the alleys and streets like a hurricane from hell. But most hard of all is to imagine holding your breath in freezing waters as your home, friends, and family are consumed by the torrent of smoke and heat and death, relentlessly consuming. Relentlessly hungry.
But tonight, one does not need to *imagine*.
For it is October 8, 1871, in Peshtigo Wisconsin.
Soon, those huddled by the fireplace will be lost to the impending disaster that will claim the tavern, the city, and 2,500 souls. It will be become known as the worst fire in U.S. history. In time, everything will burn.
But right now, in this moment, all is well. People sit and laugh and drink. Men and women tell their tales, eat their food, and live their lives.
And by the chimney, the fire slowly roars.
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[ CW ] A first-person account of an average morning , without using the words `` I , '' `` my '' or `` me . ''
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Booze is like that friend you had as a kid that would come over and you'd have a blast, but the next day your room was a disaster and your mom was screaming to get it cleaned up. Head is thumping, stomach twirling, mouth and throat are tacky. The white of the toothpaste compliments the red in the eyes. Aspirins take a water slide pushed by at least 12 ounces. Eyes closed, two hands on the vanity stop the room from spinning. They say cold showers are invigorating, they're idiots. Hot showers are what separates man from beast. Slacks never feel as comfortable as jeans. Starch on the shirt means it's time to find a new dry cleaner, lucky there is one on every corner. Brain proposes a motion to eat a toasted bagel, stomach objects, motion fails. Blink hard twice to clear eyes enough to read the phone, head still hurts so much. No drunk texts, the sun is shining literally and figuratively. First meeting starts in forty five minutes, plenty of time to stop for a coffee. Keys are good at hide and seek, but ultimate victory is mine. Drinking debt should be paid in full before lunch.
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[ WP ] You are an archeologist . You 've finally found it . Proof that magic once existed . And why it was gone .
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`` Alex, come here!'' I yelled from the top of my lungs. My collegue, a young inspiring student from Oxford, rushed to my side. Dust danced in the still air as he pulled to a halt.
`` What is it?'' he asked once the dust allowed so. He was excited as a little boy on christmas.
I cleared my glasses from dust, they were almost scratched from the tiny rocks that covered the surface of our digsite. I picked up a piece of an ancient wall that I had uncovered. Our digsite, open to clean air, was a massive hole in southern Egypt. `` Take a look at this.'' I said to Alex. His astonishment was breathtaking.
`` Is that...'' his gaze darted between my snicker and the piece of the wall.
`` Yes, it is...'' on the tablet was an ancient word written in an unknown tongue. It was a collection of scribbles that were similar to the latin alphabet, at least they had similar ancestory, but with a hint of hieroglyphs. This word, this magnificent word that made light flicker when said outloud, was first disvovered in North America. Then in Japan, ancient caves in Australia, and lastly in a hidden tomb of Tutankhamun. It was a beautiful discovery.
`` Wait...'' Alex said. He saw something in the rubble. `` It looks like there's more.'' he pointed to a small dent on the side of the piece.
`` You're right.'' I said after quick study. A small unnatural curve appeared in the side of the piece. `` It must be close.'' Excited we both picked up our tools and went to work.
What we found next... it should have been left there.
We uncovered a second piece, the corners matched the one found before, but it had something odd to it. The tablet was written way later, we figured. The scratches were deeper, made with more advanced tools, and most frightning was that it was written in old English.
`` What...'' we both stopped to excamine the text. It had faded over time, hidden beneath the ancient sands. It was my turn to look dazed, but as I did I noticed a small snicker on Alex. `` This is... an odd, no a frightening find... and you're smiling?''
`` My dear professor, I have been searching for this for a long time.'' I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head and saw no more. The next thing I remember is waking up, without our jeep, without food or water, and no Alex. All I have is this piece of paper, my cracked glasses now broken and covered in blood, and instructions, for that text held not only a key, but a lock. It said a warning, a way, the name of the author. My time is up soon, but in the end of this, I'll write the text from the tablet. May it serve you better than I.
'For whom may find this tomb: I, Merlin, protector of the free lands and Camelot, the home of man, have done the most horrid of things. To protect my home, and all of man, I have severed the connection between our worlds. Camelot is now safe, but not forever. Both this world, and Camelot will soon find a new enemy, one that will destroy all. But when this day comes, comes another day, and on this day, King Arthur reborn will come and undo what I have done, and will restore magic and balance to both worlds.'
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[ WP ] You Google your own name and find a Wikipedia page listing all your information including time of death .
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Today, 2016: ( Lexi is actually me. )
`` Lexi! You got ta look at this?'' My Twitter friend had messaged me a odd link. Now, he was also my friend on Facebook. `` Is this you?!'' My friend and I had done countless roleplays on Twitter of many different people up until now. We were talking about another storyline.
`` What, ( friend's name )?'' I responded to the direct message. `` Are you kidding me again? Did she make this page because she's spiteful and hateful against me again?'' I was worried because her friend had always always always been my friend for months now. But the other factor in it was.
`` Name: Lexi ( my last name ) - ( my partner's last name )
Born: October 4th, 96. ( Yes, my birthday. I'm 19. )
Died; October 20th, 2177.'' How the hell could I live so long? What the fuck? I scrolled through the pages, finding pages and pages of information on me and on my partner. I read the paragraphs.
`` She became a successful musician after years of training, her band The Kids From Yesterday becoming worldwide successful. She was one of the ones who got to live forever when the option was offered in 2019, before the world erupted into apocalypse in 2100. She died saving the world from a zombie apocalypse, her partner not long before.''
What a cool way to go.
I felt bad having snooped, but I knew that I ended up marrying my partner, and that made me super happy.
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[ WP ] In the end , they all scream
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-I wont scream.
-Trust me, they all do
-I wont!
She could n't have more than, what, 15? 16? After all these years of reaping people's screams, screams of fear and anguish, he thought he should have a better eye for that.
She was rebellious even as he bonded her, fastening the harness around her so very thin waist. Seeing her understand that there was no more turning back, that dawning in her eyes, was what he enjoyed the most about the job. Well, almost as much as the screams.
She was breathing heavily now, her pupils dilated as the machinery underneath her and around her roared to life. Her hands clasped the seat, her sweat permeating her shirt, her mouth left a faint yelp when the machine jerked her just a couple of inches ahead.
She looked at him, all bravery gone from her big brown eyes. His hand on the controller, his finger in the switch. Her eyes begged for mercy, his, enjoying her last precious seconds of innocence.
He flipped the switch, and away she went with the others. Up, up and up she went, the wind picking her brown hair. He always reminded himself the roller-coaster was completely safe. The next batch of kids and teenagers already coming his way. I was n't a fancy or overly paid job, but those screams of pure elation and excitement, he would n't trade them for anything in the world.
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[ wp ] The chess game with Death does n't work quite how they expect
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The two worst things about being in a hospital are the smells and the sounds. The smells you get used to but the endless beeps and hums and clicks drove me crazy.
I'd been there three days, in and out of consciousness. My family had been by everyday, or I thought they had at least, and my wife was practically camping out in the room. Things were looking pretty bad. No one really said as much but you could see it in their faces.
The last day had been especially rough, it had become harder and harder to breathe and the sounds the machines were making had seemed to correspondingly increase in response.
There had been a steadily increasing pressure in my chest that suddenly turned sharp, and I could n't get a breath at all. I heard a nurse call for a doctor, and then everything seemed to stop. Sweet silence replaced all the racket, and then out of the shadows he materialized. He was every much the caricature from the tattered black cloak to the impossible sharp sickle. He held out one bony hand and I understood it was time to go.
`` Wait,'' I said, pulling my hand back. `` Do n't we get to play a game?''
The hooded figure nodded slightly and produced a board from deep within his cloak.
The black pieces he quickly set up first, and then one at a time he brought out the white pieces. The king first and as he set it on the board I had a brief flash of my past life. My parents, my childhood, growing up, going to school, all the biggest events. The next was the queen and as he set it on the board I had a flash of meeting my wife, our first date, the wedding, our life now. As more pieces were placed on the board I saw scenes of my kids, my siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews.
As he placed the last piece I still did n't really understood. Every piece was a loved one though, someone I cared about. I had no idea what it would mean to play with those pieces, but I'd have to be some sort of monster to find out by playing, and so I tipped over my king and took Death's hand.
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[ WP ] A man stands staring out his window . He has n't stepped outside his house for 8 years .
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He remembered George W. Bush as President. That did n't make him special, as everyone else had lived through the Bush years, but it was significant to him, because that was his last memory of the outside world, George W. Bush as President. This mattered to him, as George had been there when he saw his son for the last time.
He had sat in front of the T.V., watching the CBS nightly news, and listening to a speech from the President about the Iraq war. His son Daniel sat next to him, eating a hot pocket, and chewing loudly as always. If Bush's mindless blabbering had mattered to him, maybe he would of asked Daniel to chew with his mouth closed, but alas, that was a failed battle as always. *Bleep* The T.V. went quiet, with the green `` Mute'' label showing up on screen. He turned to see Daniel holding the remote, still chewing, Hot Pocket in hand, and with his head down.
`` What the hell, Dan?'' he asked. There was no response.
`` Dan man, what are you doing? ``, still no response.
He gently tapped Daniel's shoulder, to which Daniel slowly raised his bowed head, revealing glistening eyes full of tears. This surprised him.
`` Whats going on? Talk to me.'' Daniel shook his head, sniffing up the runny snot pouring out his nose. He stammered out, `` I did n't think it'd be this hard. Did n't plan on this.''
This confused him, such emotion, such distress, he had n't seen Daniel act this way since his mother had died. Mindful of his fatherly duties, he tenderly asked, `` What is it? You know I'm there for you bud.''
To this, Daniel looked down, wiping his eyes and trying his best to put on the strongest face a scared 19 year old kid can. Daniel said it, `` I joined the Marines, I leave for bootcamp tomorrow''.
What. What. What. What. What. The record skipped, stopped, broke, fell off the table. This was a splash of cold water in his face, a hard slap.
All he could get out was `` Iraq?''
He received a solemn nod from Daniel. A nod he had seen before, when he was 7 and broke a window, when he was 13 and got suspended, when he was 16 and got caught smoking Pot. That nod his boy made when he was admitting to something he knew his father would greatly disapprove of.
*BUZZZZ*
The intercom went off and he was jolted from his thoughts. He looked out the window to see a UPS guy standing in front of his gate, a large package in hand. He hade n't seen this guy before, he was new.
He walked over to the intercom box, pushed a button and spoke, `` throw the box over the gate''. Silence.
A response, `` Uh, sir I ca n't do that, it says signature required''. Dumbass.
`` I see that you're new, did they not give you the special instructions?'' Nervous shuffling on his end.
`` Um... no sir?'' Double dumbass.
`` You throw the box over the gate, hopefully towards the door, its only 10 feet, not too much to ask I hope?'' Even more nervous shuffling.
`` Well sir, I'm not sure if I'm allowed-''. Triple dumbass.
`` If you need the leash, call your supervisor, she'll explain it to you''.
The sound of his brain cells sizzling echoed through the intercom.
`` Sir, I do n't get why you ca n't just come out here yourself.'' Quadruple dumbass.
`` I have reasons that I do n't need to explain to some mentally challenged boy in a bitch brown uniform. Thank you.''
He walked away from the intercom, looked through the window and gave the delivery man a gesture of good faith with his third finger. He then closed his blinds and sat down in his recliner. That was enough outside time for today.
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[ WP ] You are cursed to see people how they view themselves . You walk alongside monsters and Gods .
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today i saw lady walking down the street, surrounded by her family. she looked tired, as if this family of hers never gave her a rest. i studied the group as they walked towards me.
there was a strong male walking a couple of steps ahead of her, the protector of the group. he was silent but i could tell there was some kind of fury or passion burning within him, being held at bay because of his masculinity.
ahead of him ran a young girl, she had her hair up in pigtails and was singing a nonsense song. she seemed unaware of what was going on behind her but i could tell she was listening, waiting to be yelled at and reigned back in.
this lady, she was getting scolded by what i assumed was an overbearing mother, walking right behind her, breathing over her shoulder and fussing with this ladies hair.
the lady was trying her best to ignore her but i could tell that her mother was getting to her.
then came her grandmother and grandfather, the grandfather walking slow and silent. watching the group ahead of him while the grandmother cackled quietly to herself, stopping every now and again to look at the cracks in the sidewalk, or pat the cat that appeared as if out of nowhere.
as i passed the lady i gave her a smile and a nod, her eyes flicked to mine and there was a second of recognition before she was swept up in the motion of her family again.
i stopped and looked back at this lady, walking alone down the street clearly caught up in her mind.
i sighed, and turned to my mother `` you know, our ego presents itself in many ways, and i fell like all our archetypes carry with them their own ego... that makes things so much harder to figure out, because you not only need to control your own ego but theirs as well. so it's not just about finding your true self, but their true selves as well.''
`` you know what, i agree with you'' she said, `` and you've done a wonderful job figuring that out, i hope you go on to help people with this themselves one day.''
i smiled and laid my head on her shoulder as we continued walking, my inner child running ahead of me, laughing with delight as my masculine swept her up in his big strong arms.
my wise old man laughing along with her, a sparkle in his eyes as he held hands with my crone who had stopped to chat to the same cat that had come out to say hello beforehand.
[ i'm not completely happy with the ending but i hope that gets the meaning of my story across ]
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[ WP ] You 're a first year student at Hogwarts , and you 're taking a painting class . As you try to animate your first painting ever , things go horribly wrong .
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`` Kill me!'' The painting shrieked in agony.
I knew I was a bad painter but I thought I was pretty spot on with this Picasso. Maybe that was the problem.
The screams became cries as the painting started smashing its head against the invisible window of the paintings borders.
`` I can fix you I promise''
The faux Picasso continued to smash the invisible barrier, until a shattering sound like ice pierced the room. It's head was through.
`` Ahhhhhhhhh'' it scream as it clawed its way from the portrait. `` Kill me!'' Paint drip from its edges like blood. What could have been a tear fell from the asymmetrical eye, red and green and yellow falling to the ground.
`` Rigidum!'' Professor Ross waved his wand back and forth, erasing the tortured soul from existence. In its place were little eggs, and as I watch in bewilderment they started to turn and hatch.
`` If you make a mistake, make it a little bird instead.'' Lectured Professor Ross.
I should have taken an easier elective like Care of Magical Creatures.
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[ WP ] Tomorrow is the end of the world . You are a prophet . Nobody believes you .
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A pounding at the door disturbed Patrick from his preparations.
`` Pat, buddy come on. Open up the door!'' It was Gil, trying to get Patrick to come to his senses.
`` Go away, Gil, I told you already. I've been telling you for months! I'm not going anywhere.''
Pat resumed his work, putting the final welds on the blast door to his bunker. He checked his watch. The hands quivered on the edge of the 12. The second hand, tick ticked it's way slowly round.
Another pound at the door, `` Dammit Pat, this is n't funny. You've been locked up in that damned mine for two weeks! Sarah is at home. She's worried sick about you.
Pat's stomach dropped at the sound of his ex-wife's name. Her auburn hair and pale face shimmered on the edge of his vision, smiling, beckoning. He let out a long sigh.
`` You did n't listen, Gil. Sarah did n't listen. The sheriff did n't listen. The mayor did n't listen. My popularly-elected state senator did n't listen. And the secret service sure as fuck did n't listen.''
Nobody listened. `` So why the fuck should I listen to you?'' Patrick shouted through the reinforced steel door.
There was no answer. Patrick checked his watch and with a clang, let his head rest against the door. There would be nobody to listen, now.
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[ WP ] The commonly used placeholder text `` lorem ipsum '' is actually a secret incantation . After centuries it has been repeated enough times for its magic to manifest
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The black hooded figures chanted in unison, a baritone intonation rumbled through the marble hallways.
`` Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua''
By day, they were regular people, web designers, programmers, proof readers, librarians, teachers but in secret they had been working, working for so long. All for tonight
One of the figures stepped forward, brandishing a ceremonial dagger. the jagged ornate blade glinted in the firelight, its facets catching the crimson gleam, the blade looking as if were a still tongue of flame in the figures hand.
`` My brothers!'' he cried over the chant
`` dolorem ipsum'' chanted the congregation
`` it its time, I feel the power welling in this place''
`` dolorem ipsum''
`` The countless incantations have fulfilled their purpose! The evil will be made manifest and mortal, tonight we shall end its existence. We will wipe the evil from every book, every screen, from every record in all of time, when the sun rises on bright tomorrow, the whole world will be purged clean of its filth.
`` DOLOREM IPSUM''
`` Yes, pain itself, my brothers, that is what we have suffered at the evil's hands. But tonight our pain ends''
A swirl of inky blackness began to move from the shadows, defying the light's illuminating power. The shadows-that-should-not-be insidiously came to pool in the center the circle of hooded figures.
`` Its here'' cried the figure as he advanced on the darkness `` let us be done with it'' he turned and addressed the darkness `` your vile existence ends tonight, face your doom'' He lunged forward with the blade as he named the evil, his face a snarl `` Die and be forgotten, comic sans''
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[ OT ] I teach a middle school creative writing class . HELP !
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Since the students actually want to be there, you should hand out a questionnaire at the beginning of the course to get an idea about the general interest of the class. For instance, if they are interested in Screenwriting, you can teach about how to write a screen play, or if they want to write novels/short stories you could run more of a writing workshop, etc.
Also, you can try a pretty fun exercise called `` Train Writing'', which is where you pass out a paper to the front of every row, have them write a sentence, pass it to the person behind them and have them write another sentence; you would continue this for like thirty minutes or something.
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[ WP ] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago , today he gives it back and says , `` I need a favor '' .
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I was still sprawled on the floor, half an hour later, shaking and sweating when Lucifer finally spoke again.
`` I did not say there would be no pain involved.'' His voice was like rusty caramel. Seemingly sweet and wonderful but with an underlying hint of age, long term smoking, and tetanus. `` You do not remember the taking of the soul I see. If I remember correctly, you cried out then as well.''
I smiled then as I shoved myself into a sitting position, looking down at my old denim shorts now covered in dirt, ash, and a splatter of blood. I was glad I had opted out if my new skirt this morning. My smile grew at the ridiculousness of the thought at a time like this.
`` What is it that is funny, chΓ©r?'' He asked.
`` Well.....you are for one thing, Lucie. You are not French or from Louisiana but you call me chΓ©r, you tricked me into handing over my soul for my daughter's life but she died anyway, and now you have given it back upon promise of a favor that I do n't even know the details of....I'd say it does n't get much funnier. Ha....ha....ha.....now just tell me what I have to do so I can get you the fuck out of my life.'' We stared hard at each other then. For what seemed like hours but was really only seconds, we both just shot daggers at each other. Finally, he blinked first.
`` I do not want to fight with you ch-Elizabeth. If I agree to call you by your given name, can you call me by mine? I detest'Lucie'.''
I pulled myself into a nearby chair and giggled. `` Sure thing, Lucie. I mean Loo-cee-fur. It's just that your so effeminate it's hard not to say.''
He chose to ignore that. `` This will take some skill and help. Much more than you have now. I can point you in that right direction but after that, you are on your own.''
I just looked at him for a beat. `` Okaaaay. What? Spill ir already. What do you want me to do.''
Lucifer looked around my modest kitchen for a moment as if looking for the answer. He finally sighed and scratched his cheek with one long pointed nail. `` I need you to kill me,'' he said at last. `` But it can not look like an accident and you must frame Antonio.''
Antonio was Lucifer's right hand man and the most powerful demon in existence, next to Lucifer of course. `` How? Why? I-I-I do n't even....''
He held up one longer slender finger to quiet me. `` Because otherwise he will kill me and it will look like an accident. And he will rule hell. I can return later....but if I kill him outright, the demons might revolt. Elizabeth, you know what that will mean.''
I thought for a moment. Yes, yes I did know what that meant.....
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[ WP ] You are , unknowingly , the best programmer on the planet . One day you get an interesting job offer : being the new head programmer of `` earth '' .
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I receive an email, notifying me of a job offer. Working as the head programmer of Earth. I raise an eyebrow, I've never heard of a company called Earth. I decide to make an appointment for the interview.
I get dressed and ready for my interview. I show up and walk up to the reception desk. A beautiful young woman smiles as I approach, her long blond hair bouncy and curly.
`` I'm Angela, how can I help you today?'' She asks with a lovely voice, like a well-tuned harp, soft and beautiful.
`` Hello, I'm Zaria Hall, I made an appointment for the head programmer position.'' I say, feeling a little dumpy compared to this blonde beauty.
`` Oh yes, Mr. Christ will be right with you, he's just in the middle of a conference call.''
I nod and go sit down on the bench seat while I wait.
A few moments later I'm lead down the hall by Angela to the office of a J. Christ.
A man with long brown hair, a beard and wearing a loose white shirt smiles as I walk in.
`` Please, sit down Zaria. I've been expecting you.'' He says, offering a hand.
I shake his hand and sit down. Odd, this office seems pretty casual with the dress code, and it's no even Friday.
`` I do n't know much about computers, but my dad seems to like your skills. I was a carpenter before this, so I'll take His word on it.'' Mr. Christ adds.
`` Oh, well I can show you some programs I designed, the whole program might be more interesting than the source code to a non-programmer.'' I suggest.
`` Oh, sure. I'd like that.''
I pull out my laptop and show off some of the programs I made over the years, mostly games; simple flash games, platform games and a few more complex, plot driven games.
`` This is quite impressive. You're hired.''
I'm shocked to be hired right on the spot like that, but quite happy.
`` You start Monday, new head programmer of Earth.''
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[ WP ] `` The Villain is the hero of his own story . ''
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`` But what if she knows she is the villain?''
Queen Malvina's question goes unanswered There is no one to do so even if she wanted, alone as she is. An echo of sadness reflecting through her, she sets the book on the end table, rising from the dark blue settee to glance out of the window. The expanse of gardens stretches off into the distance, green and blooming for the first time in decades. Gardeners and arborists in muffled garments tend to the plants and trees, trimming, weeding and pruning the flowering flora. Though much of the long neglected groves and beds have been renewed and replaced, there is far more that needs to be done. Many of the old growth trees have rotted away or else been gnarled by time and magic.
The blackberry brambles had taken over much of the beds, their thorny stems creating a impenetrable wall a century old. Already the cooks have tried to incorporate as much of the dark berries into Dieter and hers' meals, perhaps as a tiny punishment for having neglected that particular part of her duties. Blackberry jam with their toast in the morning, flaky pastries with the the fruit with their tea, blackberry pie with fresh whipped cream for dessert. But they were in season, and being the only two individuals on the entire island who needed to eat, they eat the best and the freshest. Still, it plagues her with guilt, having meals prepared for her by those unable to enjoy the fruits of their labor.
Looking down into the gardens, she can spy a small plot tucked away by a series of narrow greenhouses. Some hundred feet long and forty feet wide, it pales in comparison to the flower beds and groves already mended and planted by the gardeners. But it is her favorite all the same. Peas grow on trestles tied together by rough twine while low growing cucumber plants bloomed in clustered hills. Onions in ordered rows lie under compost, the barest glimpses of the white skins visible under the dark soil. Carrots and parsnips also grow in neat lines, the tops gaily green in the summer air. But it is the individual working in the narrow rows that has her attention.
Dieter is in shirt sleeves, the heavy coat and vest draped over the low fence that borders with garden plot. Bent over, he pulls out the various weeds that always threatens the order and productivity of the plants. Queen Malvina's window is not too far away that she ca n't hear her love's voice, a relaxed tone to it, one focused on its work and little else.
*'' Your lad is gone, that good young boy. *
*Way hi roll along, *
*He's shark food now, your pride and joy, *
*Way hi hey hey, move along. *
*Your brother's lost, that bold, brave soul. *
*Way hi roll along, *
*We all must someday pay the toll. *
*Way hi hey hey, move along*
*Your beau is dead, that sailor true. *
*Way hi roll along*
*To love him dear, it was your rue. *
*Way hi hey hey, move along. `` *
Dieter lets the song slip from his lips, allow it to float on the wind to no one in particular. Smiling that same rueful smile that first captured her heart, his voice starts up again.
*'' I slept within the forest green... the birds around did softly keen. There I laid with my lady fair, who's raven hair was beyond compare! `` *
*'' Steal me away and do not let go, though I may scream and curse and throe! She's locked me away in her castle lair. She has me up in her magical snare... Malvina has my heart oh...'' *
*'' Her soft sweet lips did dance with mine. No mere mortal, she was divine! The touch of her hands, they set me afire. She's the woman who I desire! `` *
*'' Steal me away and do not let go, though I may scream and curse and throe! She's locked me away in her castle lair. She has me up in her magical snare... Malvina has my heart oh...'' *
*'' Her breasts were white, pale as milk. Her eyes the color of emerald silk. Sharp was her wit, bright was her mind. As equal her beauty, she was kind! `` *
*'' Steal me away and do not let go, though I may scream and curse and throe! She's locked me away in her castle lair. She has me up in her magical snare... Malvina has my heart oh...'' *
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[ TT ] A monster that hunts monsters
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In the beginning, the Humans called it an *Angel*. For it was the scourge of Humanity's foes.
The orcs called it *Gnasher*, for it had large teeth at the time. It ripped through the highlands and mountains like a winter storm, leaving countless dead in its wake. The dwarves, hidden in their caves, did not know what to make of the rivers of blood now flowing through the valleys.
The trolls called it *Furnace*, for its belly was filled with a fire that could dissolve even their putrid flesh. The bogs, long a place of pestilence and danger, stood empty.
The witches called it *Hunger*, for they knew its true nature, and begged humanity for help. But their cunning betrayed them; even the wisest of the sages thought their disappearance was a trick. The bonfires that once lit the hinterlands were quiet and dark.
The Dragons called it *Sonetor*, the dragon eater, for they were self centered, even in the face of extinction.
The Demons called it *U*, and scattered from the world. It was then that Arcanis the Wise began to bring together kings, but they did not listen until it was too late.
And finally the humans called it *The Hunger Elemental* as their plane disappeared around them, and they realized what was happening.
It called itself *Encanis*, for that was its name. A name that echoed across its now empty plane. A name that would soon echo across the multiverse.
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[ WP ] 450 years ago , both the need and desire for sleep disappeared entirely . With everyone now able to function at 100 % for 24 hours a day , giant leaps in every imaginable field . Slowly , the ideas of sleep and dreams faded from memory . Last month , sleep came back .
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I tried to visit her at the hospital every day, but due to work, I had been unable to for several consecutive days. It was 2:00 AM when I was able to visit her again. Though it was early morning, the nurses were scurrying around attending to patients, faces gaunt but diligent, as every room I had passed was full. People did n't last long. I was 32 and already considered an old bachelor.
I opened the door to her room, which was slightly ajar. She shared the room with several others and these days visitors were mostly encouraged. As I approached, she pretended not to see me and tried to hide her smile behind the book she was reading. I took a seat next to the window, which had been opened to the let the moonlight in. Her face was sunken, dark bags under eyes and her skin was a yellow pallor. The doctor's did not expect her to last long.
`` What are you reading?'' I asked.
`` St. Vincent Millay.''
`` Ah, father's favorite. Will you read some for me?''
She laid the book down on her lap. `` I'll do better than that. I'll recite it from memory.''
She struggled to push herself up, but her arms were too weak. I reached out a helping hand, but she pushed me away and cleared her throat.
`` My candle burns at both ends, it will not last the night, but ah my foes and oh my friends, it's gives a lovely light.'' She paused. `` Well, what do you think?''
`` Well done, sister. Millay was prescient. I have a few hours before I need to return to work. Will you read me a few more?'' She opened the book and seemed genuinely enthused as she began to read.
I sat and listened, watching the faint glow of a new sun rising out of the window. I must have gotten thirsty, for I left the room and began to search for a water fountain. I looked around for a nurse, but there was none. All stations appeared empty. For some reason I imagined them all hiding from me, so I leaned over the counter to look behind and under the counter tops. They too were empty. When I pulled away my hands were covered in dust, which I tried to wipe away, but could n't. I began to worry and frantically sought out my sister's room. However, the way I had come was no longer there. As I began running from room to room, my feet began to stick to the flooring and my whole being began to slow. The lights began to dim and the halls became very dark, the walls turning charcoal grey, except for a single room. I made my way to the room, where I found a man looking out the window. He was whispering something so I approached more closely so that I could hear. He was repeating something.
`` Devoutly, de-voutly, e-volut-ely wishing. Devoutly wishing! If wishes were fishes, well - ``. He seemed to notice I was there and he turned his head slightly to look at me out the corner of his eye. `` Devoutly wishing. Devoutly wishing to what? Ah, to die, to sleep and to sleep, to die. Ha! All for a chance to something, something'' and waved his hand in swish. `` To dream.''
I was close to him, when he spun around and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Eyes filled with rage he said `` In that sleep of death, what dreams may come!'' I could feel the pressure around my throat as the world around me slowly went dark.
`` Charles!'' It was my sister's voice.
I looked up, unsure of my surroundings. I looked at her bed. They had covered her in a white sheet and a nurse was unhooking wires from her arm. `` To dream'', I whispered.
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[ WP ] Tell me about a terrifying thing/moment from your childhood . Make me feel like I 'm there with you .
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I looked at you, or what seemed like you. My eyes silently begging you to stop what was happening, to intervene, to make yourself known. But you stood still, a ghost on the wall. My brother hovered above me, his body odor acrid in the air. I avoided his eyes, trying again to find yours.
β Help, β I uttered out, though you didn β t seem to hear. He stopped, asking,
β Did you say something? β I shook my head.
He continued on, I tried not to cry. I tried to find your gaze, but you couldn β t take it anymore. Watching, I mean. And with a gust of wind through the room that smelled like summer, I saw you escape out the window, leaving only a sense of hollowness that I didn β t know what had given it to me.
You or my brother.
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[ WP ] As much as there are identity thieves there are those who make a living selling identities . Deciding to become a different , better/wealthier/happier it does n't matter , person , you find one of these persons and buy one . Except ...
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If you were to ask me what I do for a living, I would turn and size you up. If, seeming all sound in mind and body and fit with all the normal faculties that one would come to expect, I would answer your inquiry with the job title of an Electrician. A half-truth or half-fabrication, I'm more of a glass half-full type of guy. After answering and, in turn, rolling through the banal course of correspondence that predetermines the majority of civilized conversation I would bid you good day and be on my way.
But, on the other hand, if you struck me as a person of disinclined fortune, perhaps with a soundness and quality of swiss cheese, or at the very least the odor to match, I would place in your hand my card. `` Life Furnisher Extraordinaire,'' how's that for a job title? I know what you're thinking, those are n't uncommon thoughts at all. `` Life Furnisher''? Why, I have n't heard of such a thing before, must be some load of crockery; a con, a scam, a Nigerian Prince's email.
That last one would be most inappropriate, mainly due to Nigeria's electoral system not involving a Prince for quite some time. But, I digress. I'll happily have you know, so long as you are unhappily known, that I am quite of legitimate quality. I will provide, in a manner of terms, a'new lease on life' for you. Although, once more, I fuddle with semantics. It would be more apt to call it a bankruptcy.
You see, what I do is n't so much as provide'you' with a better life... quite a different tangent indeed. For a nominal fee, as nominal as everything else for you will soon be, I will provide and ensure that you receive an entirely new'you!' A new house, a new job, a new name, a new family. I'll even allow you the option of your species of furry house pet. But it does n't stop there...
You see, in order to maintain both the integrity of my profession and the security of my personage, your new'you' will be completely and entirely genuine. We ca n't have anyone suddenly spouting details that ought not belong to them any longer, now can we? Do n't worry, just a few diodes along the medulla, a few volts down the brainstem, and you wo n't even remember feeling a thing. In fact, statistics show that in 99 % of cases, you wo n't remember anything at all! The perfect shell for the new, and lets be honest now, improved you.
Say goodbye to all those past problems. The mortgage? The debts? The nagging wife and kids? Those are all some other schmucks problems now, but not *yours*. That dead end job and that shitty boss? Who needs them, certainly not you! Why, your new life just seems absolutely perfect now, does n't it? **Does n't it?! ** Just sit back, take a sip of cognac, and embrace yourself.
Now I know what you're thinking, because I know what you're thinking,'Wow! This all just seems like such a strange thing. How can I thank you Mr. Life Furnisher Extraordinaire?' Well, do n't you worry about that, there will be plenty of time to pay for these services... you just continue on and keep going. I'll call when I need you.
And to the rest of you, sitting there behind your glowing screens, reading with estranged intrigue or peculiar perturbations, know that my services are still open. You'd be surprised, after explaining my services, how many folks in this day and age are positively jumping to jump out of their old lives. It really is easy enough. *Here, take my card... *
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[ WP ] You and your 2 fellow astronauts peer out of the small window of the space shuttle as massive explosions dot the Earth 's surface , removing all hope of return .
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The black abyss surrounding the crumb called Earth was illuminated by the fiery rolling flames that were consuming the Earth more and more as the minutes ticked by. I thought about that ticking from the tiny clock that we brought with us as a tiny reminder of humanity. What use was it now? Even if we went back to our home, the silence would magnify the ticking, emphasising the daunting loneliness that was slowly creeping upon me. The reality of the situation began to dawn on me, hell, on all of us.
I looked towards the others. They had fallen quiet, as if joining in with the symphony of silence that was no doubt beginning to spread around the tiny planet we all used to rely on so much. Why would we speak anyway? There was nothing to say. I focused on the heavy breathing escaping from my chapped lips. I had n't drunk enough water today. That reminded me of our rations, and as I looked towards the door that led to the storeroom a rush of panic descended upon my gut, wrenching it. I glanced towards the others. How long until it would be the survival of the fittest? The thought made me shudder.
A delayed gasp cut through the tension. I snapped my head towards Gina, expecting to see her breakdown. Her eyes were wide staring in the direction of the Earth being destroyed. A pang of irritation ran through me at her disruption of the quiet. I looked in the same direction of the trajectory of her irises. In a second my face mirrored her expression. The Earth had been blocked by the what seemed to be an... ice glacier?
What was this? It was ice, but... it was moving like a river. The time to speculate was cut short as I suddenly realised the ice river was rushing towards the shuttle. All I could do was watch and feel as it collided with the metal. I looked towards the others, they were as shocked as me. Suddenly a crack, and I shot my eyes towards the window. In the short time it took me to glance back to the window, the ice river had smashed through and was coming straight at me. The ice was fluid like water, and it enveloped me. As I was consumed by the ice I realised that this was n't ice at all. It had the same consistency as ice but it was warm and it shaped itself to my body.
I could n't breathe, but I was n't dying or at least I did n't think I was. My eyes were getting heavy, and my head was going blank. I could n't think, I could only feel the warmness entering my body, like my insides were soaking in a hot bath. Effortlessly, like being under anasthetic, I released myself to the feeling and fell into the grasp of unconsciousness.
( I will finish this when I get home, but I have to get off my coach >. > )
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[ WP ] You 're a dog whose humans have been fighting a lot . You 're worried that they will look for new mates . It 's up to you to save their marriage .
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I do not like it when they are loud. I used to. I do not any more.
They are loud right now. I whine, but they do not look at me. They are aggressive. They move their arms in aggressive ways at each other. I am worried they will hurt each other. They do not look like they are playing. They used to do that, and they would play with me too. Now they are loud and aggressive and I am worried.
I bark at them and they turn to me. I do not like it when they are loud at me like this. They are aggressive towards me. I lay down on the floor, deferring to them, and they are still loud at me.
I would rather they be loud at me than each other. I do not like it, but I do not like them being loud at each other more.
They stop being loud at me and start being loud at each other again, but now they're louder. Pippa strikes him. I growl at her, and she looks at me, then she strikes him again. I bark. Now I am loud. She must not hit James.
He points at me but is loud at her. I am worried. I am worried. She comes close to him and I bark again, louder, and she stops to look at me. I growl until she moves away. He moves forward and I growl at him.
I do not know what to do. I am worried. I want Bridget to be here. They were not loud when she was here.
I howl to try and tell her to come. They tell me to stop. I whine and lay down on the floor. Then, they are loud at each other again. They are loud and loud and loud, and they move their arms in an aggressive way. I want them to stop.
He turns around and she grabs his arm. I bark at her, move to between them. She kicks me. It hurts. I whimper. He is louder than ever at her. He strikes her and she stumbles. She cries. He is loud at her. I bark at him, but it is hard to bark. I hurt. I bark and bark, and he tells me to stop.
He is loud at her. He keeps using the word Bridget. I hope Bridget is coming. I want her to come.
Pippa starts to scream. It is worse than loud. I whimper and whine, but she does not look at me. I want it to stop. I am worried. I am worried. I am worried.
She picks up a book and throws it at him, and then another thing, and then another thing. I bark and growl at her but she does not look at me. She keeps using the word Bridget. I want to see Bridget. I have not seen her in a long time. She sometimes pulls my hair and pets me too hard and does not know how to play, but she is very nice. She likes to sleep on me and hug me. I miss her very much.
I have to find her. I have looked many times for her and not found her. I have to find her. I sniff until I can smell her. It has been long but I can still smell her everywhere. She must be here somewhere.
She smells strong in a room. The door has been shut for a long time. I paw at it, but it does not open. I push it harder, but it does not open. I whine. Coiling, I push my front high up, clawing at the door, but it does not open.
I am worried. I must find her. They make doors open. I do not know how. They touch it and it opens. I keep trying. They touch it high up. I try. They touch the metal bit. I try. They move it somehow. I try. I try. I try.
The door clicks, and I fall down as it opens. I am happy. It smells like Bridget in here. I see lots of her toys. I go to her crib, but she is not in it. I look under her blanket, but she is not there. I look behind the toy box, but she is not there. I look behind the curtains, but she is not there.
Everywhere I look, she is not there. I smell her everywhere but she is not anywhere.
I whine, because I do not know what to do. I must find her. She is not here. She is not in the house. I do not know where she would be outside the house. She has never been gone from the house this long. She has never been gone without Pippa or James before.
I can not give up. I find her favourite toy. It is a small doll. It smells like her a lot, and also like Pippa. It used to just smell like Pippa, but Bridget plays with it so much it smells like both of them now.
Gentle, I hold it in my mouth. I am careful not to hurt it. I carry it to the lounge and I drop it in front of them. I want them to find Bridget. They will know where she is. They must stop being loud and aggressive and find Bridget.
If they find Bridget, they will be happy.
But, they do not. I bark at them, and they look at me. I paw at the doll. They look at it. They stop being loud and stop looking aggressive. They do nothing for a long time. Then, Pippa cries. She cries a lot. James cries a little, and is quiet.
She falls to the floor, and covers her face. I whimper. I did not want to make them sad. She reached out and grabs the doll, and holds it close to her. She is using the word Bridget a lot. I think she understands.
I want her to be happy. I shuffle forward and rest my head on her knee. She pets me. She still cries. She holds the doll tight.
He sits down next to us and pets me too. I am glad they are not loud at each other any more, or aggressive at each other any more, but I am sad they are sad. He uses my name, and he uses the word that means I did the right thing.
I want them to be happy. But, this is better than them being angry. I am glad I did the right thing.
James puts his arm around Pippa, and she does not be loud at him. He rests his head against hers, and strokes her gentle. They are not happy. But, they are not angry. I am sad too, but less sad than before.
He tells me again, and she does the same.
I am glad I am a good boy.
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[ WP ] A heist where every person involved is really an undercover cop , but no one knows about the others .
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Deb Hanson prided herself on three things: her wardrobe, her green bean casserole, and her closure rate. Vice was n't the most glamorous job and Dallas was n't the most glamorous city but when Hanson was in Vice she never had to sit in a dumpster watching a guy pick his nose.
The movie theater crowd was slow as molasses on a cold day. She could have been inside, like Slick or Micky, but she was somehow qualified for this. She whished her cover was more casual. Prefers Mondays off, stake dinner, saving horses. It was the middle of the week, at ten in the morning. Some kids were playing hookey by the right exit. There was static in her ear.
Pat O'Malley was on the horn.
`` You think he's going to eat it?'' He was chewing something. Hanson tried not to flinch.
`` Nah.'' And that was Gon na. `` That's so third grade. Ten bucks says no.''
`` Twenty.''
`` Deal.''
Hanson scanned her six. Nothing. Once they started rolling she'd flag Captain Flander. Then she could take two weeks off and catch up on *Hannibal'' and eat expensive cheese. Maybe get laid for the first time in two months.
`` Some people never leave -'' Pat trailed off. Hanson snapped forward. The ticket guy was chewing at his nails.
`` Does that count, does that count?'' Gon na was shouting in to her mike.
`` Fair play,'' was all O'Malley said.
Hanson tuned out the chatter and got the buzzer ready. At the signal DPD would be there in five minutes. Conservatively.
More static. Hanson could faintly hear a rising orchestral score. Slick was listening in.
Gon na burped.
`` Jeeze.'' That was Slick. He sounded like he always had a cold. `` We're on people. Keep a sharp look out.''
Hanson hit the distress button. Almost immediately something poked her in the back. Hanson put up her hands. While the dumpster clearly had a `` no trespassing'' sign, Hanson figured she could talk her way out of it.
The guy who poked her was holding a gun. And he was a fed. It might have been the Brooks Brothers ensemble or the big flack vest with FBI on it.
Hanson was pissed. She was covered in shit and tied and had a leg cramp.
`` I'm an officer with the Dallas Police Department.'' She flashed her badge and papers. `` You mind tellin' me what's going' on?''
`` Did n't know locals were on this.'' That fed wore ATF flack vest. Lovely.
Hanson shrugged. `` I'm undercover.''
Her ear hissed loudly.It was Gon na. `` Pat's taking a piss. I work for ATF.'' Hanson relayed to then guys in font of her. One was already on the phone
The came Slick, `` I'm with the J Edgars. So's Mick.''
`` So the real Mick is the problem.''
Hanson was so busy listening she was surprised when O'Mally walked up.
`` Oh,'' he said, `` this the boys club? Smoking sausages?''
He stuck out his hand.
`` Pat Green. Department of Treasury.''
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[ WP ] You have become President of the United States , and you now are introduced to a book where every President has written one piece of advice for you .
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President McMillan's eye lids felt like lead in the wee hours of his third day in office. The lamp that sat beside him illuminated the thousands of dust particles that took flight off of each turning of a page.
`` My G-d.'', President McMillan silently mouthed as he thumbed through the pages of the centuries-old book. Handwritten advice and idioms from every POTUS that has come before him was meticulously catalogued and preserved for future leaders of The Free World. All night he had been religiously studying the texts, neglecting both sleep and diet. However, no matter how interesting a piece of literature can be, rest is still needed. He became catatonic staring at the light.
McMillan's eye lids slammed open after being woken up by the hustle and bustle of White House staff going to and fro. He lifted his head gently off of the priceless book being careful not to rip any pages that were sticking to the side of his face. A shot of fear ran down his spine when he noticed he had drooled all over page fourty-three, fortunately the page was bare and seemed to serve no purpose as it was placed directly in the middle of the section penned by John Adams. He attempted to dry up the saliva with a few, good, dry breathes of air. The sleep disappeared from his eyes when, to his dumbfounded astonishment, words began to appear.
`` Adams, you old dog! I should've known you would n't leave an empty page for no reason! ``, he exclaimed.
President McMillan struggled to make out the words written in a form of English long gone from the American vernacular. He tore out the page from the book with a slight feeling of guilt. Placing the page on his desk, he gently trickled water from his glass down its length and huffed and heaved as much as he could. Slowly but surely more words came to light. Shortly there after, full sentences began to materialize. Before he could truly read and comprehend just what it was John Adams was trying to convey, he heard an all too familiar voice from just beyond the Study's doors.
`` He's been in there all night. Probably building one of his silly little models he loves so much. ``, it was the First Lady.
`` Dear, are you in here? I'm coming in. ``, McMillan scrambled to conceal the secret message. Just as the doors flung open he was able to slam the book shut.
`` Dear, are you alright? ``, the First Lady said noticing the bags under her husband's eyes.
`` Yes, quite fine, love. I've just been reading some old books written by some very wise men.''
`` Oh. Well, make yourself ready. We have that meeting with British Prime Minister today. ``, she said looking McMillan up and down before turning to walk away.
McMillan tucked the note into his reast pocket and started down the hall. He had very little idea as to what the message read but he did know this: it was probably the most important document to ever be written by an American, more important than The Constitution and maybe even the Declaration of Independence itself.
`` I must protect this. No matter what the cost. ``, McMillan mumbled to himself before disappearing behind his bedroom doors never to be seen again.
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[ WP ] No one knows what their own face looks like , and can only guess based on other people 's reactions and treatment .
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**December 14, 2016**
I must look like absolute shit.
I look in these magazines, and I see photographs of all these beautiful women. These women appear to have no body fat whatsoever, and their legs are long and narrow. Their bodies all slope inwards from the shoulders towards the waist, and outwards to the hips, as if they were a fleshy hourglass. As for a side angle, they look vaguely like a letter `` S'': prominent tits and asses that stick out from the body. Their hair lay straight, and it's usually either blonde or brunette. They're emotionless and starving themselves, as if they were Barbie dolls. This must be what men consider attractive.
I'm *none* of those things. From what I can tell by self-analysis, my body is more or less rectangular: flat, flabby, uninteresting in general. I hardly hit past five feet in height, and my hair, while long, is curly and red. Many other people with my hair color have small dots on their faces, so I assume I may have those. That's one thing you *never* see on these models.
**December 15, 2016**
I've had a couple boyfriends in the past, but they were n't all that attractive themselves so they were probably desperate. Clearly, they were n't desperate enough, though; I'm twenty-three years old, and a virgin still yet. Oddly though, occasionally I'll see a boy gazing at me as I walk by. I do n't get why. Maybe he's staring at me in the way that you ca n't look away from a trainwreck.
**December 17, 2016**
I ca n't take it. I might not be certain what I look like, but I think I have a good idea. I'm ugly. I have to fix that. Twenty-three year virgin one moment, forty year the next. If boys are into skinny blonde girls, then I just need to become one.
**December 24, 2016**
One week in. Recently I bought a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and I ran it over my hair. The color has softened to a close approximation of the blonde hair in the magazines, albeit a bit closer to white than to yellow. I've tried using an iron to straighten my hair, to no avail. This should n't be as big of an issue, though, considering there's still some models in here that have curly hair. At least I'm blonde now.
I have n't eaten much. I've decided, though, that the empty feeling in my stomach is just the trouble that comes with an engorged sac trying to deflate. It should be easier to deal with soon. I figure a granola bar is good enough for dinner, and I can cut calories by skipping breakfast and lunch entirely.
**December 28, 2016**
I hate myself. Last night I gorged on a whole box of cookies, because this pain in my stomach has been too much for me. It was only until I had finished that I realized I'd be making myself fat doing this. Fuck. So I decided I needed to get rid of them in any way possible. So I forced myself to puke. And then I was only more hungry. God why? Fuck. Me.
**December 31, 2016**
I do n't care that it's New Year's Eve. I'm not partying. I'm not indulging. My resolution is to finally be attractive. I'll just eat my granola bar in peace and watch the ball drop, then sleep.
**January 19, 2017**
I think my efforts might be finally paying off. I can see my ribs when I look down now, just like I can see the beautiful women's ribs. It seems boys have started noticing me more often, too. They just look my way and their eyes all seem to follow me as I pass by. I'm just wondering why their eyes show disgust, not lust.
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[ WP ] A room in the chocolate factory
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`` Well, where did you think taffy came from?''
The little girl looked on in horror, mirroring her mother's shocked expression.
`` They make it in a factory...'' The little girl said, too shocked by what she saw to think straight.
`` Well of course. Thats exactly what's happening here!'' Mr. Wonka responded, exasperated. `` Let's move on now. We have a million other things to see!''
`` But... but... but... these things come from machines! Not from... whatever those are! That ca n't be sanitary!'' She frantically waved her arms in no particular direction.
`` Nonsense. Snargluff defecation is completely sanitary. And it's delicious too. Tastes and feels and even looks exactly like saltwater taffy. Here, have some!'' Mr. Wonka picked a piece up off the ground, bit off a chunk, and then handed the rest to the woman, who promptly fainted.
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[ WP ] Two depressed people fall in love
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I saw her sitting there in the coffee shop reading. I could see it in her eyes, the blankness I felt inside. She was n't really comprehending the words on the page she was just filling out some expectation that everyone around had placed on her.
I could see the reflection of myself in her eyes. Unhappy, wishing the world would simply disappear around us. How every day was a drain on our souls, like every waking moment was a nightmare and our dreams were filled with no escape. There was pain there that was second only to the numb feeling of despair and hopelessness that life was simply a series of days that we must walk through until the day we shrug off our mortal coil.
She was just like me.
Just like me sitting drinking coffee with co-workers, people I did n't even like sharing drinks that I hated. They jabbered on about the latest gossip at work, a place that I could barely stand being, about how Tim in accounting was having a BBQ on Saturday. Mundane people with mundane thoughts that compete against my mundane life.
`` You coming?'' someone said and I did n't tear my eyes away from her.
`` No.'' I said. I think it was me. I heard my voice. I felt my body stand on it's own, leaving a cup of disgusting lukewarm sludge behind. I felt my brain process things I had never done before. I felt a spark.
I could n't know they watched me walk to her, I was too focused.
I could n't have known anything but her face, her eyes.
I sat down and she looked up at me. She was n't fearful, she was numb.
`` Hi.'' I said, smiling awkwardly.
`` Hi.'' She said it with confusion but I saw it in her eyes.
`` I hate coffee and you're not really reading that book. Would you like to go do literally anything else?''
She smiled. A genuine smile. A small smile.
When we walked out, we could n't have known that my co-workers were staring. We could n't have cared even if we did.
In that moment the world was n't watching us, was n't crushing us under it's weight of emptiness and unbearable routine.
In that moment, we were n't alone.
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[ WP ] Instead of lasting a few minutes , adrenaline spikes last a few weeks .
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As I furiously scrubbed my face, two thoughts β not varied, but strong - burned to light up the deepest, most devious expanses of my mind. One said β Craig, why the fuck do you put up with this? β and the other: β How will you regain your dignity? β. These were the thoughts that drove me to do what I did.
Now before you judge me, I β d like to explain why I was driven to such extremities. And this reason is named Tom. You see, Tom is β no was β the owner of a largely unknown YouTube channel. Much to my chagrin, this did not deter him from promising to upload new videos every week to all his β fans β ( yes, all three of them! ). His modus operanti comprised of conducting numerous β social experiments β and his persistence at this mediocre occupation plagued my life.
The tipping point was him pissing on my face the morning on the day when I was going to sit my MCAT exams. He had the audacity to call me a poor sport and repeatedly screeched out that β It was just a social experiment bro! The camera is right there! β as if I fucking cared.
As a pre-med student who has suffered under the yoke of Tom for nearly 3 years, this was the tipping point. I had to flush out the building resentment somehow, and subsequently I approached the campus β s local physician, whom I was familiar with. It was easy enough to obtain Tom β s medical profile, although I was then unsure of what I could do with such information. My highest ambitions was to find out that he has a small penis or a rare STD to which I could announce on Facebook. A greater treasure awaited me β Tom β s adrenaline spikes lasts for weeks on end. I knew what had to be done. I would jump scare him.
You should have seen the look on his face, it was hilarious. He literally jumped about 4 feet in the air. The best bit was, he actually started full on bawling accompanied by intervals of high-pitched squealing. This symphony, written by yours truly, was music to my ears. Truly, the catharsis was orgasmic.
Silence filled the room. Several people nearby shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. A lone cough echoed in the chambers of the room.
β Mr Sterling, the question was how do you plead to the charge of first-degree manslaughter β rebuked the severe voice of the judge.
β Also, please stop shifting between past, present and future tenses β he added, β it β s confusing β.
I noticed in the corner of my eye my lawyer β s face buried between his hands. Hmmβ¦ I think I β ve suffered enough of his bullshit. As I met the gaze of the judge, two thoughts occupied my mind.
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EDIT: Added some stuff and grammar. I'd love some feedback on what to improve for next time - I'm 17 and this is my first prompt.
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[ WP ] Write the most romantic love story ever told !
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A/N: A bit premature, since this has n't been properly fleshed out into story form yet, but I had a d'aww glurge one-liner pop up in a dream of mine that I've been wanting to write down anyway before I forget, so I'll just post it here.
-- -
`` What possessed you, to jump in after me?'' She inquired disbelievingly, looking up into the face of her rescuer. She shifted around slightly, trying to get a more secure position, before tightening her hands behind his back again. He reciprocally tightened his own awkward grip behind hers.
He pondered how best to explain to her the thoughtless process that had led him to dive headfirst into a bottomless pit after his secret crush, then shrugged. `` I guess falling for you comes naturally to me.'' He joked lightly.
Her eyes widened in shock, and he bit down sharply on his tongue, cursing internally at his sudden forwardness. One small act of heroism for the girl he loved, followed by a massive foot in the mouth. Now she was going to think he staged this, or something equally nefarious, and -
`` Jesus! Oh dammit to hell!'' He risked a glance down, expecting fury or anger, and instead momentarily confused to see naked fear in her gaze.
`` Sorry, I did n't mean to, well...''
`` Oh, shuddap, you idiot.'' She stammered out. `` I looked down.''
`` Oh. Yeah. Do n't do that. Look at me instead. Er, or at the rope. Or straight up. Your choice.'' He finished lamely.
She chose to stare at his face, a small curious smile playing at the edge of her lips. `` So, when exactly did you fall for me?'' She blurted out suddenly.
`` Um... let's see...'' He swallowed nervously. `` Well, do you remember when we were five or six, and met at the park?''
Her face reddened, but her eyes did n't waver from his. `` Yeees, you gave me a handful of grass and asked me to marry you. Wow, so that early for you, huh?''
His face lit up in a mixture of happiness and mortification, pleased that she also remembered their first meeting so vividly, embarrassed that she remembered *that* part so vividly. Belatedly, he began to process the implications of that'for you', and whipped his head around, astounded. `` Wait, do you - `` he began.
`` But I *meant* when did you get in the hole, doofus?'' She teased.
`` Hey, we have n't done that kind of stuff yet!'' He countered automatically, in delighted good humor. If the rope had a little more slack, he felt he would much enjoy spontaneous dancing.
`` Yet?'' She arched an eyebrow indignantly at him. Alternatively, if the rope had a little more slack, he could hang himself with it... his jaws clamped shut, as mentally tallied another point towards his propensity to put his foot in his mouth.
Her stern face crumpled into a smirk, and the sound of her unexpected, sustained laughter echoed around in stark contrast to their claustrophobic confines. For a few moments after, both forgot that they were dangling over a gaping maw, staring at each other in mutually contemplative fascination.
`` So...'' He resumed. `` I did n't check my watch, but I clocked in for my shift about 8, got geared up, and it takes about 15 minutes to reach the Hellhole, so let's say 8:30? About three hours ago we fell in?''
`` The Hellhole?''
He placed a hand more securely behind her waist to shift her weight, casually freeing up a hand with which to gesture around the pit. `` Would n't you agree that this pit deserves to be called Hell?''
She bit her lip speculatively, her attention sharply focused on the unexpected contact. `` Well... right now... I'd say... no...'' She sighed, pushing more firmly against him, shifting her own arms to lock behind his neck. `` Just as long as you do n't let me go, I mean.''
He put his free hand back down on the small of her back, pulling her in even closer. `` Never.''
They hung in that position, suspended in every sense of the word, as the rope return machine finished the last leg of their ascent, slowly tugging them further up inch by jarring inch.
`` Resurface Time: 12:14pm. Scale records ERR tons of acquired cargo. Please remember to process all excavation results and file any discovery logs before the end of your shift. Welcome back: Mr. Everett, Samuel.'' The computer monotoned as the final length of slack clicked into place.
`` The computer thinks you're something unidentifiably precious I pulled out of the deep.'' He laughed. `` Actually, pretty good assessment, if you ask me. Except for the whole'now throw her in the smelter' part, I guess.''
He leaned forward, stumbling slightly as the harness detached and his feet made contact with a solid surface for the first time in hours. At the impact, she shoved her face suddenly against his chest, moaning lowly.
`` Hey, hey, now.'' He soothed. `` The worst part is over. You're back on *terra firma*, I promised I would n't let you go.'' She nestled in deeper.
`` Hey, what's wrong?''
She pulled her head back, staring experimentally at the ground. He made as though to lower her, but ceased immediately at her whimper.
`` You're safe now.''
`` I was safe the moment you wrapped your arms around me, idiot.'' She murmured against his shirt.
`` Then what's wrong?''
`` You said you would n't let me go.''
He shot a baffled look down into her hair. `` Hm?''
She drew in a deep breath. `` I trust you, so I was n't worried for a second that you'd let me go while we were in the pit...'' She whispered tentatively. `` I was afraid that you'd let me go once we were out.''
His eyes shot open in sudden understanding. Tightening his grip around her, he shifted her into a better position, hugging her elevated frame against his body.
`` Never.'' He repeated.
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[ WP ] After you die , you find that you can look into the lives of every person you 've ever met . The lives of everyone from your life partner to that person who apologized for bumping into you once are available at your fingertips . While watching one person you witness something very ... surprising .
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Watching, she was always... watching.
It was disconcerting, at first he never did it on purpose, for most of my life she was there watching me, my every action, my every move.
It was creepy to her at first, even by coincidence that I was always there. But.. eventually she took it as a sign, that I was to be her fated one and she was mine. So she took it upon herself to dote on me while never revealing herself.
Every enemy? Killed
Every problem? Solved
It's odd that such a wealthy woman would waste money on a simpleton she regularly sees no matter where he goes.
I would n't say it was fate or such nonsense, although it is rather disconcerting.
Although that did explain why someone tried to kill my wife.
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[ WP ] What 's the craziest dream you 've ever had ?
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You do n't really want to know, but the weirdest dream I had was really violent. Like cannibalism, murders, father-daughter incest. Yeah I am fucked up slightly.
Also one of the most vivid dreams I remember is of me being an xenomorph and just going around slaughtering and eating people.
The weird thing is that I get excited by those kinds of dreams, the regular weird shit just bores me.
I guess on the other end of the spectrum is the dreams where you meet someone, get to know them, then fall in love and then wake up. I feel depressed for several days after that.
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[ WP ] A Presidential candidate receives a visit from the Ghosts of Election Past , Present and Future .
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The man with the orange skin and the funny hair turned in for the night. He'd just finished yet another nice day of convincing people that he was n't a nutter and a bumbling idiot but was actually a good person. `` Strange.'' He thought. `` The American people rarely think a fascist is a nice person.'' He let this thought hang in his brain for a moment, before turning off his light and climbing into his oversized bed. He spent a short while staring at the ceiling of his palatial penthouse before rolling to one side and closing his eyes. They were n't closed for long though, as soon a blinding light filled his bedroom. The man rolled over and was greeted by a holographic figure. He was tall and had black hair. His looks were nothing out of the ordinary except for one thing: he had a black toothbrush moustache. The ghostly figure introduced himself.
`` I am the ghost of election past!'' Said the strange figure.
`` You're Hitler.'' Said the man.
`` Well, yeah.'' The ghost looked somewhat deflated. `` But I'm also the ghost of election past. Let me take you to Germany in 1933.'' Another flash of blinding light filled the room, then the room seemed to just evaporate. The man with the funny hair was struggling to comprehend what was going on, but the ghost kept talking. `` Welcome to Berlin on 5th March 1933. It's Election Day, and for a lot of these people they wo n't see another Election Day until the 1990s. Over there is a polling station, and over there is the Nazi Party head office. Intimidating for voters by design. I won this election through propaganda, and I'm here to show you how. Let me show you something really special.'' The largest city in Europe evaporated into nothing and was replaced by a stadium filled with people. The ghost kept talking, although he had to shout to be heard above the noise of the crowd. `` This is a Nuremberg rally. There's me at the front, shouting slogans, not policies. Slogans are harder to criticise, but I'm sure you're aware of this already. Big events like this always attract people. They want to be part of something, and if you can convince them that joining or voting for your party will make them part of your country's glorious future then so be it. Attack a minority they do n't like for bonus votes, or, perhaps several minorities. Again, I know you already do this quite well. Would you like to see how this all turns out?'' The man stayed silent, paying close attention to the ghost. Another flash of light brought them to a place in ruins, that looked eerily similar to the first place. The ghost started shouting again, but this time it was bombs and fires he had to shout over. `` This is Berlin again, but this time it's 30th April 1945. I killed myself on this day because I was about to lose the war. This is the future you could face if you go through with your policies. Turns out people really do n't like it if you're evil and you run a country. So I'd really recommend you do n't bother. I promise it's not worth it. Really.'' People were running haphazardly with no clear aim around the man and the ghost, and the former polling station was on fire. A large metal thing began falling towards them. The ghost looked up. `` Run.'' He said. But it was too late. The large metal thing ( which was now quite obviously a bomb ) landed. There was a bright flash of light, and the man found himself alone in his bedroom again.
`` Great, finally time to get some sleep.'' He thought.
`` I'm afraid not,'' said a voice. The voice was male and distinctly but not stereotypically British. The man turned around to be greeted by yet another ghostly figure, who introduced himself. `` I am the ghost of election present.'' Said the ghost. `` I am also kind of popular in the United Kingdom, but I have nothing on you.'' The ghost had a holographic pint of beer in his hand, which he took a sip from. `` Refreshing.'' He said with overtones of sarcasm. `` Come with me.'' The man abided, and once again his room evaporated in a flash of light. It was replaced with a TV studio. There were seven people on the stage, each with podiums. The man only recognised one of the people, David Cameron, who occupied the blue podium. The man on the purple podium looked exactly like the ghost that was present at that moment. `` There's me,'' said the ghost. `` I'm currently saying that we need to stop EU migration or there will be an AIDS epidemic in the UK. That was n't the words I used, but that that's the basic point I was trying to get across. Anyway, I learned something valuable in the aftermath of that moment, which is that even if you are the candidate who is portrayed as saying what everyone is thinking there is a limit to how ridiculous you can go. It's a lesson you should learn well because living by it can be the difference between the highest office of the land and political obscurity. Before this moment I was getting nearly 30 % of the vote in the polls. In the actual election three weeks later I got one MP, out of 650. One. But I'm sure you wo n't say anything too stupid.''
For once the man spoke to the ghost. `` What would be something stupid?''
`` I do n't know. You could say something like'women who choose abortion deserve to be punished' perhaps. That'd be stupid.''
`` Er... Yeah... About that.''
`` Okay. Never mind. Moving on. I managed to bounce back from electoral oblivion and am now campaigning in a different event - the EU referendum. So far I have n't said something stupid, and slogans such as'we want our country back' mean that my side winning at the moment, which is remarkable.'' There was another flash of light. The man and ghost found themselves stood on a pier in front of a big red bus. `` This is the Vote Leave campaign bus which is currently on a pier in Scarborough, North Yorkshire. I'm not technically part of this campaign but I'm on the same side as them. You may notice on the side of the bus it says'Β£350 million per week'. That is the UK's fee to be part of the EU. I know as well as you do that we get most of that back, but the public do n't. And that's why it works. So I suppose my advice to you would be do n't say something stupid but do mislead the public.'' With that, there was a bright flash of light and the ghost disappeared. The man found himself back in his bedroom again.
`` Now I can get some sleep.'' He whispered to himself.
`` Yeah, no.'' The man turned around again to be greeted by yet another ghost. She was female and young, perhaps 25. She had a German accent. She introduced herself. `` I am the ghost of election future. I am the Chancellor of Germany as of 2025 and also your successor as President as of 2027.''
`` What? How?'' The man was stunned.
`` Let me show you.'' The room evaporated again and was replaced by the White House lawn, filled with soldiers of almost every nationality under the sun except for American. `` These are soldiers surrounding the White House. Why? Well, in 2017 you invaded Mexico, then Canada got involved so you invaded them also in 2018. Then in 2020 you had a set to with the UK's new socialist Prime Minister so to punish him you started a bombing campaign in the UK.''
The man spoke. `` He's a socialist, he deserves the deaths of his people. That's on his hands.''
The ghost continued. `` He's also my boyfriend, so I'd watch it if I were you. You also abolished the 2020 election when it became apparent you would lose. Ultimately you turned most of the developed world against you, so we all got together to end your administration. If you were in that White House right now would you surrender?''
`` No! I'd protect my people to the end.'' Said the man.
`` Let's find out shall we..'' As she said that a man appeared on the White House balcony. He had orange skin and funny hair. He spoke in third person.
`` Donald J Trump will surrender the United States to your forces, in return for the acceptance of your treaty. Just please do n't kill me.''
`` Oh my god.'' Said the man. `` It's.. It's me.''
`` Yes. Anyway, after that I took over as interim President until we could get a proper administration going. I was the leader of the most powerful country that had been involved in the military operation so it only seemed right. But that's beside the point. Do you want your country to end up like this in just over a decade?''
`` Well, no, of course not!''
`` Well then you know what you have to do.''
`` What?''
`` Withdraw your Presidential bid.''
`` No! I refuse. I ca n't believe this is the future. I wo n't believe this is the future.''
`` Withdraw your bid.'' Said the ghost. Then she started repeating it as if it was a chant. `` Withdraw your bid. Withdraw your bid. Withdraw your bid.'' She kept getting louder and louder until she was shouting it. `` Withdraw your bid. Withdraw your bid. Withdraw your bid.''
`` Okay okay! Just stop!'' Said the man. There was a bright flash of light again, and the man woke up in a cold sweat in his bedroom.
`` Just a dream.'' He said to reassure himself, but it felt so real. He began to think about what had been said to him by his nighttime visitors. He could resign, he thought. But he would lose so much. But if he did n't, his country stood to lose so much. What if he really did start World War Three? What if people do hate him? What if he does abolish democracy? But then he remembered that he was winning the Presidential race. And he also remembered that he was The Donald, and he would never change.
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[ FF ] You are the last person on Earth ...
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`` One of us must go.'' He told me in a hushed silence, looking at the creature. It'd been hunting us for some time, ever since the branch snapped. A mistake that would now cost us. I remember feeling a pain in my heart at his words though, as his hand found my chest. I could feel the warmth through the dirt and the sweat. Then the breeze shifted, and the creature sniffed, its ears flipped alert. All it took was a push and I was down the riverbank to safety. That's the last I saw him. One of us went.
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[ WP ] From nature 's eyes describe a solar eclipse
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I can see the ball in the sky being dimmed. My brothers around know what this means as well. We must choose a new leader for our pack, and hunt during the festival of the Day Moon. Two of my brothers step forward, eager to take the great honour of leader. Mange, One Eye, and I each vie for the position. Between our howls and yips, the entire valley would know of us.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` The Darkness comes!!''
The young sprout did n't know what was happening. He thought, as we all did when we were young, that this was the end. We older trees knew that there would be warmth and wonder afterwards. During, we could only watch as the vast valley which we stood sentinel over was enveloped by night. Already the birds had quieted and the wolves begun to howl as the the shadow of the moon crept into sight. The wolves would fight, then hunt, choosing this time to elect their new leader. *Elect, humph* I thought to myself. If a fight to the death was considered an election. We trees needed no leader, each of us standing for what we thought. Not that there was much we needed to discuss. We had no need for roaming or hunting. Our food comes from the sky, a sky that was steadily darkening.
The darkness came slowly and then all at once. Off on the horizon, a line of shadow came, blazing through the grasslands and hills. It reached me, and the sprout cried as the sun was blotted from the sky.
`` Focus on me young one. It will all be over soon.'' The wind blew and the air grew cold as we waited in silence for the shadow to pass. Above, a black sun ringed in fire shone, casting a twilight on the valley. We could hear the wolves feasting, having brought down a deer near the hills to the south. The beast had ran, but in the sudden darkness his eyes had not had time to adjust. He had tripped, and the pack was on him in an instant. Thankfully I need not worry about that kind of thing. Lost in thought, it seemed like only minutes passed when the sky lightened. Warmth shone down on my cones, and I could feel the energy from my needles flooding into me.
`` Like I said, little one, all will be all right''
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[ WP ] The witch is buying first-borns to rescue them from shitty parents who sell their children .
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`` I'll take whatever you can give, Missus, only please, just pay me something. The other little ones at home are so hungry...''
`` And you think that I would give you enough for this child to preserve the rest from starvation forever?''
`` No, not forever. Just'til I'm back on m' feet.''
Anissa stared at the man before her. He looked well enough fed himself, when compared to the small boy at his side. Not fat, mind, but he had probably not missed a proper meal in quite a time, even if it was only the stew he consumed at the local tavern while drinking his earnings away.
Yes, this fellow had a job. Anissa, for all that people thought she was an empty-headed sort of woman - cultivating such a reputation helped counter people's fear of her craft - was not blind. She had seen this man about the town, working at construction in the new quarter. She had also seen him, and his companions, stopping in at the taverns every night, splashing their meager pay around as if they were lords themselves.
She had no distaste for the impoverished, and indeed she wished greatly to help them. She just wished that men like this - careless, heartless - were not so often thrown up by the rulers of the land as the true face of poverty.
`` I suppose you'll want quite a sum for a firstborn son,'' she said, letting her hand slide idly to her purse.
`` Oh, well - well, he is a son, after all. A man's greatest pride, a son. Still and all, he's a useless lad in his way. Idle, slow-witted...''
`` I'll hold my own judgements on the boy,'' Anissa snapped.
Scooping a few coins from the small inner pocket of the purse, she flung them out of the carriage window and, while the man was diving into the mud for them, she opened the door and hopped out just long enough to catch the child up and bring him back with her into the warmth.
`` Good luck to you,'' she called, slamming the door closed again. Rolf luckily took the cue and drove off along the street.
Across from her, the ragged boy trembled, staring at her as he huddled himself into a corner of the seat. His muddy feet were leaving tracks on the fine upholstery, and that made Anissa smile. Oh, her mother would have been cross to see such a mess.
`` Tell me, dear,'' she whispered, and leant forward a little, `` what is your name?''
She let her words carry a hint of a charm. Nothing great - simply a sense of calm and comfort to envelop the boy. Still he only stared at her, shivering. Pulling off her coat, Anissa moved to sit at his side, tucking the garment around him.
`` It's all right. You need n't be afraid. I'm a witch, you know, not a monster.''
`` Mumma says witches eats chuldren.''
`` Perhaps some do. I've known some people with decidedly peculiar appetites. I, however, prefer much simpler fare. Now, please, can I know your name? It'll make our conversation easier, I think.''
`` William,'' the boy murmured, and Anissa felt a pinching pain in her heart at the name.
She'd had a little William before, all her own.
`` Well, William. You're going to come live with me in my house now; wo n't that be nice? I have many children, and I'm sure they'll all welcome you. You'll have good food and warm clothes and...''
`` Please, Miss, what about my sisters and brother?''
`` They'll be all right, I'm sure. I've given your father a great deal of money...''
`` But he do n't keep money for us, Miss. He gives it all to the tavern.''
Smiling, Anissa dared to reach out and stroke William's hair. Happily, the boy did not shy from her. Though perhaps he simply had n't the strength. His hair, fine and dark, would be near as curly as her own once it was cleaned and combed and cared for. She let a small sorting charm pass through her fingers, easing out the worst of the mats and tangles.
`` Oh, my dear, I'm a witch. Do n't you worry. That money will see its way home to take care of your family.''
The coins would, once deposited in the pockets of the boy's father, seem to disappear. The man would think, until he was home, that he had lost them, and once he **was** home and the coins `` returned'', he would feel a great compulsion to put them safely away, and to use some of them the next morning to buy provisions for his wife and remaining children. A particularly manipulative spell, but then, what was magic but a manipulation of nature?
By the time the carriage reached Anissa's home, little William was asleep, almost sliding to the floor as the conveyance came to a stop. Anissa held him back with a hand, then picked him up carefully. When Rolf opened the carriage door, she handed the boy out to him before climbing out herself.
`` Will you carry him up to the nursery for me?'' she asked, and Rolf nodded, turning and marching into the house.
Anissa stayed for a time by the carriage, looking up at all she had.
Her own childhood had not been a particularly comfortable one, though the family had not been nearly as badly off as William's. Why, when old Patrika had come along looking to buy one of the children as an apprentice, Anissa's parents had not asked for money; rather, they had wanted social status.
They got their status, but Anissa got more. She got power in more than one sense, and that power gave her a status few could ever hope to buy, with coin or with their own flesh and blood. When Patrika died, her house, her land, everything, went to Anissa. Since then, using her mask as a silly, over-indulged heiress with the *tiniest* hint of magic, Anissa had built up her fortune still more, then turned and given a great deal of the money over to those less fortunate. She generally asked nothing in return, but when she saw people out and about, offering their own children up like animals in the market - well, she had a tendency to buy without much question.
Now, her house was alive with the shouts and noises of happy children at play. Mostly, they were her little foundlings - her `` stray pups'', Wilfis called them. Some would, as she had, learn the craft of magic and related arts. Some had not the aptitude for this, but they would learn anything else their hearts desired. They all went to school, and she had a nigh-endless library for them besides.
Wilfis was at the door, smiling down at her, and so Anissa smiled in return. She could just see little Anghari there as well, peering out from behind Wilf's legs.
`` Brought home another one?'' Wilfis called, and at last Anissa walked up toward the house.
`` Oh, well, you know me. Never can pass a child in need.''
`` We'll be in need, soon, of more rooms on this old place.''
As Anissa passed through into the house, she paused to kiss Wilf's cheek, and then she scooped Anghari up onto her hip.
`` Yes, well, I'm sure we'll think of something.''
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[ WP ] When you die you can choose to be go to heaven or live another life and forget everything from your past . You are 5 years old and you just remembered that your wife is named sue .
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Today is the perfect day to ride my tricycle. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and mommy made pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast. Daddy promised that we could go for a ride on my tricycle but we had to do some work first. I just want to play, but instead I am sitting on the red puzzle piece on the floor and dad is asking me the color of the sky.
β Blue! That β s right! Good job Jake, buddy, β chimed daddy. β Now let β s think of some words that rhyme with blue, like glue. β
I look down at the cow stuffed animal in my lap. I take him everywhere with me because he β s special. β Moo? β I howled. I walked on all fours like my stuffy Mr. Moo Moo.
Daddy fell over with laughter, tickling my tummy. β And Sue. β
β Sue, Sueβ¦ Sue? β I replied. The room is spinning again. Oh no. Not again.
β Is everything alright there buddy? β asked daddy.
My head hurts, my eyes hurt and I see daddy β s face turn to black. Why is it so dark here? I want to go back home. But where is home? I want to cry but I can β t. I can β t feel anything.
β He β s having a seizure again, honey, β a man β s voice bellowed in the distance.
******
I don β t know how much time passes but when I open my eyes, I am in the arms of a man. My teeth hurt a lot. A woman pulls a damp towel out of my mouth.
β Baby, Jake can you hear me β, the woman says sweetly staring with concern.
β That one lasted a lot longer than usual, should we take him to the hospital, β asked the man?
β I β m fine. But my name is Tom. Where is Sue? β I asked worriedly.
The couple looked with confusion at each other and then back at me. What was happening, wait these people were familiar. I knew them from somewhere.
β Ummβ¦.hello β, I asked looking at the man β s crinkled eyebrows and the woman β s dropped jaw.
It all came back to me in a rush. These were my parents now. I chose to forget my old life in New York with Sue after the accident. I wanted to be born again rather than go to heaven.
β Iβ¦I wasn β t supposed to remember β, I stuttered.
Her face was tilted back, eyes closed singing along to Bob Marley. She looked immortal, like a porcelain doll. The way her auburn colored curls fell against her shoulders. I saw the grey SUV coming at her window andβ¦
β Weren β t supposed to remember what sweetie? β questioned mommy as I started to feel the floor beneath me again. I β m 5 years old, dammit. I have to get out of here before I forget my memory of Sue, again.
β I need to find her β, I said with such vehemence I surprised myself. β I need to find her soul. β
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[ WP ] For a full ten seconds , Earth loses all gravity .
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( i played with it a bit to make gravity reverse instead of just cease altogether )
It was one of the worst supernatural disasters in the history of mankind.
Any individual unlucky enough to be outside, was sucked violently up in to the atmosphere for the duration of a few moments, before being deposited to the ground. Many were killed or seriously injured upon impact, and only the people in well-built dwellings had a ceiling to cradle them from the void of the sky. Anything less than a concrete bunker was drawn up by the invisible maw of anti-gravity, and released.
The greatest and most terrible chapter was the great impact and wave of the world oceans rising out of their sockets to wash over the land. The immense pressure release and impact catapulted the earths crust in to a state of hyper-volcanic activity creating new land masses.
The event came to be known as [ i ]'' the ten seconds of lolwtfshit'' [ i ] and many of the scientists that could have explained it perished tragically... as it was such a nice day and they were all outside drinking tea and arguing about each others thesis's during the incident.
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[ WP ] Everyone on earth has a dynamic watch showing time till death based on decisions you make . Yours says 40 years 15 days . The next day you see a beautiful girl at the park and you both have a `` moment '' . You look down and see 15 seconds left on your watch .
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I see her sunbathing on the grass and I ca n't stop staring, my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth like a cartoon. She's like a supermodel, but somehow so, so much more hot. Possibly because I'm seeing her in real life, and not a screen or magazine. I silently thank my dog for existing, since without him I would n't have come to this park today and would have missed out on seeing the ultimate babe of babes in a tiny ( really, it was very tiny ) white bathing suit.
As I finally walk past her, she lifts her sunglasses up, and flashes a perfect smile straight at me before flipping over to lay on her stomach. The bikini is as small in the back as it was in the front. I blush in more than one place.
Obviously I stop mid-walk, stunned by hotness. I look down at my watch to see how long I'd been standing there, when I notice the second number. My face turns from pink to white in 2 seconds flat. It's got to be broken. Something is wrong here. My LifeTimer reads 0:15, instead of the usual 40: something: something.
I look down past the watch to see that my morning decision against underwear, along with my failure to zip up after my ( literally ) last pee, left something out in the open.
`` Pervert! There's a perv in the park! Greg, get him away from the kids!!'' A woman shrieks, just as I notice her and three little girls playing catch less than ten feet away. Then I see their dad, six feet tall with arms wider than my head. He's got a baseball in his right hand.
`` Swing, batter, batter''.
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[ WP ] Any person you punch in anger is cured of all disease and is given perfect health for the rest of their life . The truth of this has gotten out and now everyone is out to piss you off .
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My grandfather always told me that everything has a price. We're an old family from the old country; I once saw an old gauntlet in an old chest in the home I shared with my grandfather. The word `` Heilmittel'' had been engraved along the reinforced knuckle ridge, which was caked with what my 10 year old brain thought was rust. I was marveling at it when my grandfather came upon me. As calmly as ever, he gently took it from me and explained that our family had once been great, full of bluster, fire, and passion. The ancestor who had worn this gauntlet had known kings, generals, and religious leaders. The `` rust'' that coated the gauntlet was their blood, and those men had thanked him for taking it. Grandfather then got a far away look in his eyes and remarked, `` But it cost him everything. Even his name. Remember that.'' Grandfather did n't elaborate beyond that. Our family's name now is `` Middle'', now. I wondered if that's what `` Heilmittel'' meant.
My childhood was relatively calm otherwise. As I said before, I lived with my maternal grandfather; my mother's father. I never knew my own father; no one ever talked about him, and my grandfather raised me just fine, anyway. My mother died with I was very young in a car accident. My grandfather was a fine parent, however, so I did not lack for much. No matter what I did, and I did a lot, my grandfather never got angry with me. His discipline was not soft, of course, and he was somewhat strict with his rules, but he was neither angry nor loving. By the time I became an adult, I had decided he loved me, since he left me everything on his deathbed with the simple message, `` Everything in moderation.'' At that time, I wondered if that was what `` Middle'' meant.
With my grandfather's assets, I had a place to stay and was able to attend college. While there, I was neither popular nor unpopular. I met people and they faded away. I laughed, cried, got angry, loved, and lost. I was a typical young adult, not especially good at my studies, but not terrible, either. I was decidedly average; in the middle of everyone. Laughingly, I thought that's what Middle had to mean. That was, until I met her.
Sarah was the light of my life. If anyone made me feel like the most special person in existence, it was her. At first, when we were in shared classes, our eyes would meet briefly, and we would exchange nervous smiles. When I finally worked up the courage to talk to her, it all exploded, and it was like I had known her all my life. Colors seemed more vibrant. Every day was worth waking up to because it meant I could spend that much more time with her. Dreams paled in comparison to the visions I had when looking into her lively eyes. Everything was perfect. It was during this time when I discovered my ability.
One night after studying with Sarah and my friends, I was walking back home. In terms of living arrangements, I was lucky that my grandfather's house was only a mile away from the campus, but on this night, it turned out to be bad luck. One of Sarah's admirers and a few of his friends were waiting for me. He demanded that I stay away from her, saying that she was his and always had been. His eyes glinted with something sinister, almost insane. He started ranting and raving like a lunatic and at first, his friends looked uncomfortable; until he hit me. At that point, his friends joined in, possibly more to end the mad ravings of their friend than anything else. They hit me and beat me. When it was over, he leaned over me, grabbed me by my hair, and whispered, `` Now I'm going to go claim that bitch as mine. I might even cut a piece or two off for my collection.'' At that moment, I saw red. I do n't know where the energy came from, or even the ability to move, as hurt as I was, but I summoned all my anger and hit him square in the jaw. As beaten as I was, I remember the next sequence of events vividly.
The moment my knuckles connected right in the middle of his jaw, I felt my anger bleed away slowly. As more of my fist pushed into his jaw, the anger bled away faster and faster until there was nothing left. At the same time, the anger and insanity in his eyes faded away so that when my anger disappeared, his eyes were equally empty of the insanity that had filled them just moments before. He blinked once, then caught my hand as it fell away; as beaten as I was, my mind had more strength than my body, so I had n't hurt him that badly. Looking at his hand, even the cuts and welts he had received from beating me seemed to be fading as well. As my consciousness faded, I remembered him calling his friends to help him, something about taking someone to the hospital.
When I woke up, Sarah was there. I was in a hospital room, my broken body wrapped in bandages and casts. I knew it was bad, but all I could see was Sarah. I was happy, oh so very happy. There was no middle ground; this must be what love is, I thought. After we got over our joy of seeing each other again, Sarah began to explain what had happened. I had been in a coma for a week. The man who assaulted me became my saviour. According to his statement, after I hit him in the jaw, it was like a light bulb went on in his head and everything became clear. As it turns out, he had been diagnosed with various mental illnesses for which he was supposed to be medicated, but he had decided not to take. When I hit him, his brain suddenly righted itself. He knew then that he needed to help me and then turn himself in. He and his friends took me to a hospital, then he immediately went to the police station and turned himself in, taking all of the blame for the assault. Maybe it was just because it was Sarah, but I was n't even angry with him. It was n't until later that I would realize just how wrong I was.
After a few weeks in the hospital, I was well enough to leave. I still had plenty of physical therapy to go through, but I was happy and blissful. Nothing could ruin my mood. Sarah's stalker was behind bars, though his friends were still roaming around, so my friends would n't leave my side in case they came back in some misguided attempt at revenge. It was around this time when the random antagonism began. People would come up to me and try to annoy me, insult me, or hit me, then would remain close as if they expected me to hit them. It never made me angry, a fact I attributed to my life with Sarah, but it bothered Sarah, so she looked into it. It turned out that there was a strange rumor that I could cure mental illness with a touch, but that I had to be livid to do it. It seems that one of Sarah's stalker friends had seen the whole thing, and was convinced that if I got livid, I could cure mental illness. It was silly, of course, but it did n't stop the attacks. Instead, they began to escalate. At first, it was just me, but then they began attacking my friends. When that did n't work, one of them attacked Sarah. My protective feelings stepped in at that point, and with a strong burst of emotion, I stepped up and pushed her attacker away. Like with her stalker, when my skin first touched his shoulders, I felt my desire to protect Sarah start to drain away, and as more of me came into contact with him, it disappeared more quickly, and his eyes suddenly became clear. It was then that I knew what was happening. Every time I felt a strong emotion for Sarah and performed a violent act, I would lose that emotion, and the person the act was directed at would be healed of some disease or illness. When the realization wore off and I saw what had happened, Sarah's attacker was thanking me. He had gotten an STD and could n't afford the antibiotics. This man had traded a lifetime of protective feelings for the woman I loved for $ 30 worth of medicine, and I could n't even get angry with him for it. I still felt the disgust and frustration, but I had no way to let it out. I was stuck right in the middle of something I could n't get out of. It had become a common train of thought for me by then: maybe that's what my family's name meant.
After that, I became a recluse. I saw Sarah as much as possible, of course; she was the center of my universe, but I avoided other people. I could n't afford to lose any more of my emotions towards Sarah. I thought about it often; even negative emotions toward her meant something. I could n't get angry with her anymore, which frustrated her when I would n't argue with her. Having lost my protective side, I would n't try to stop her when she made decisions that she obviously wanted me to tell her were dangerous. She knew my predicament, of course; I had told her. Mercifully, she believed me and loved me, but it was stressful on both of us. No matter what anyone says, I think that this stress is what brought on what happened next.
By this time, I had known Sarah for two and a half years, and knew about my power for two, but I did n't know her biggest secret because she had n't shared it with me; she was sick. Liver cancer. They had caught it in time and it was in remission, I'm convinced that the events of the last two years caused it to come back. When it did, it spread to her lungs and brain. Inoperable. Terminal. Months to live. She never told me. One day, she just did n't show up, so I went to look for her. My love for her was still strong enough that I would brave the world to find her. Her friends told me the truth, so I went to see her. Lying in the hospital bed, she was mere hours from death. At that moment, I knew once and for all what my family's name meant. Middle; the center of two extremes. Our healing power took our ability to feel strong emotions, putting us in the middle of everyone who wanted it, but away from the emotional extremes that make us human. Looking down on her in that bed, I knew being in the middle was the price I had to pay. I took a breath, and summoning all my love for Sarah, I raised my fist.
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[ WP ] You are exploring the Amazon rainforest when you stumble across a group of intelligent gorillas and they seem to have guns .
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*'' Hey there fellas!
Sure is hot out. Whew.
Do you mind if I ask you a question?
Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior? `` *
This quick thinking gave me the advantage. While these apes pondered their own existence and whether they had a soul....I was busy with my Zippo.
*'' Well I'm sending you bunch of damn dirty apes straight to hell!!! `` *
The camp was on fire. And I exploited the confusion. I made for a motorcycle on the outskirts of the camp.
A bullet grazed me. Nothing serious. Nothing a beautiful nurse could n't fix up when I got back to Brasilia.
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[ WP ] Due to an event called the Great Hunt , mythical creatures have been disappearing . It 's time for the hunt again , and you 're determined to save the Last Dragon .
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The rains had been falling for a week, soaking the Adrial Hills where the hunting party was waiting. The leader of the party, Sir Elric, had led them here for the Great Hunt, following tales of a dragon attacking nearby shepherds and their flocks. Elric had hired two dozen men for this hunt, each of them skilled in either tracking or fighting mythical beats. Most of them sat huddled around a dying fire in a dip between two hills while they waited for the two lookouts to return. This had been going on since the rain began, and they'd yet to see the dragon.
Sir Elric is the first to stand when one lookout climbs down the steep incline to join them, most of the men remain seated.
`` Any news, squire?'' Sir Elric asked. The men had grumbled about being called squires by the knight, most of them were older than Sir Elric, but they'd warmed to him when they saw his willingness to take turns being lookout like the rest of the men.
`` We saw it, sir! The dragon's flying off to the west!'' The lookout shouted. `` Come up here, quickly!''
The entire party soon found their feet, forgetting their boredom at the mention of the dragon, and began climbing up to the top of the hill the lookout had come down. Each man gave out a cry of joy when they reached the top and spotted the dragon before forming into their hunting groups on the summit. Sir Elric, who insisted on wearing his chainmail while the others all wore leather jerkins, was the last to reach the top, but the hunters were well trained enough to know what to do without his help.
`` Can we catch it before sundown, Hettic?'' Sir Elric called to the most experienced hunter. The tall man turned to the knight and grinned, showing off his thick, Feretian beard and the burn marks still visible across the left side of his face. This man had killed more dragons that Sir Elric had ever seen.
`` Sure thing, sir, the poor thing looks like it's not had a good meal in years. Its fires might n't even be hot enough to kill one of us, let alone two dozen,'' Hettic claimed before turning back to his men. All of the hunters were equipped with long Feretian spears with hooked blades on the end, designed for getting under the plate armour worn by mounted knights. They worked equally well at getting past dragon scales.
Soon, all of the hunters were off, split into three groups that moved to circle the dragon as it lazily flew around the hills, leaving just Sir Elric and the dragon expert he'd hired on the summit of a hill to watch. This expert, Geros, was the one who had been able to sort through different tales of dragon attacks and figure out which were most likely to be true, discovering that the last dragon in Fericia was in the Adrial Hills. He and Sir Elric had become friends throughout their trek, as Sir Elric enjoyed learning how the old man was able to sort through different tales using his knowledge of dragons.
`` You agree with what Hettic says, that it's not had anything to eat for a while?'' Sir Elric asked, finding a rock to sit down on.
`` Well, it'll've had something, but I agree with him that it looks a bit starved. It'll be the sheep's fault, you see,'' Geros explained. `` Dragons do n't like eating wool, but when they try to burn it off there's not much of the sheep left.''
`` Poor thing.''
`` Indeed,'' Geros agreed. A look of curiosity crossed his face, and he turned to look at Sir Elric. `` Sir, have you ever wondered whether we ought to be protecting these mighty beasts? Rather than, you know, killing them?''
Sir Elric grinned. `` Ah, Geros, you might know a lot about dragons, but you really know nothing about court life, do you? If I catch the last dragon, I'll be rich! I'll probably be made a lord, and the Ettican family name will go down in history! Plus, I've always liked the idea of being called'Elric Ettican the Dragon Slayer','' Elric explained.
`` And you feel no remorse at killing such a majestic creature?'' Geros asked, as the wind tugged on his wispy, white hair and thin white beard.
`` That's the point though, is n't it? If it were n't so majestic there'd be no point killing it!'' Sir Elric explained. `` What are you getting at, Geros?''
`` I am sorry,'' Geros whispered, but before Sir Elric could ask him why the old man flung the knight into the air with a mighty gust of wind, sending him catapulting into the distance as the young knight screamed for help. Geros tried not to hear the faint crunch as Sir Elric landed on another hill. He had given him a chance, you see, but saving the dragon was far more important than sparing a heartless knight no matter how naive that knight was.
Geros turned as the dragon gave off a roar, it had spotted the hunters, and quickly carried himself towards it with a stream of wind that tore rocks from the earth.
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[ WP ] Just write a fucking normal story , about a normal situation , that could actually happen . Being interesting is optional
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The peaceful morning silence is shattered by the shriek of an alarm. He reaches out a probing arm in vain. His hopes of silencing it before the veil of slumber is irrevocably shattered come to naught. The alarm clock β s not the only thing shrieking now. It feels like every nerve ending in his body is screaming its own cacophony as he kicks off the blankets and meets the chill air of the new day.
& nbsp;
Shuffling to the bathroom he hovers between the land of dreams and the waking world. Nothing could be better than to slip back into the warm refuge of his duvet, but he knows that no such retreat can be permitted. Already his manager had seen him arrive late not once, but twice this week. A third time and the old man β s patience might finally break.
& nbsp;
With a supreme effort of will he drags himself to the kitchen table. His feet are heavy and his head heavier still. Another day at a job he hates, whittling away his sanity only to line the old man β s pockets. He watches tendrils of wispy smoke rise from the charred piece of bread he charitably calls toast. It β s more like charcoal in his mouth. The urge to give up on the day and return to bed is back stronger than ever.
& nbsp;
He gets dressed with all the enthusiasm of a man preparing for his own execution. With a final longing glance back at the crumpled cocoon of sheets he turns his eyes to the door. The weather outside is as grey as he feels. Each step towards the bus stop is an exercise in masochism. Scanning down the timetable his heart sinks further β there β s no chance he β ll make it in on time now. Why must the buses run so infrequently just because it β s the weekend? He pauses a moment and turns the words over in his mind.
& nbsp;
β¦becauseβ¦it β sβ¦theβ¦weekendβ¦
& nbsp;
For the first time since the screeching alarm he starts to feel truly awake. It β s the weekend, he repeats to himself. Yesterday was Friday, and that means he has today off. He double checks his watch to make sure it actually is Saturday. He checks a third time to make sure his exhausted mind is n't playing yet another trick on him. It takes a moment for the truth to sink in. When it finally does, not even his lost sleep in can hold back the grin slowly spreading across his face.
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[ WP ] You are born into this world as a flame , dancing atop a candle on someone 's birthday cake .
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*The Life of a Flame*
I remember what it felt like to be born.
To come into existence, when before I had not. It was like gasping for air and finding oxygen all around you, wondering how you had held your breath for so long before.
I remember growing quickly as I found that air. Always hungry, always eating. I could taste the sharp bite of oxygen. And there was more - something oily and rich on my mouth. Something delicious. Something nourishing.
I grew and grew and grew. Then I stopped. I could still taste the nourishing richness cut by the tang of oxygen. But I stopped growing. I tried. I stretched and swayed, searching for more. I ate and I breathed - always as much as I had before, never growing any larger.
My world - so big, so exciting when I had been born - began to shrink. Life had become routine. Eat, breath, search, eat, breath, search.
I started to question. Why was I always hungry? What was it that I was looking for? Was I ever going to get larger, or maybe smaller?
Was I going to die?
I felt a panic then. I struggled against what had been what I thought was the limit of my being, but now felt like walls, closing in. I kicked and punched and jumped. I breathed harder and faster. I tried to eat more. But I could n't. It was always the same amount of food, always the same hunger.
I wanted to scream, but all I could manage was a burst of air.
I began to accept that this was my body. That this was my prison. Whatever I was meant for, this was it.
Why did I even exist?
And then I tasted something different. It was a complex flavor, more than just one thing. It was crunchy, oily, and salty. I devoured it.
The old familiar richness soon disappeared. I did n't mind that. I noticed I had gotten smaller, and my hunger had shrunk. I did n't mind that, either. It was n't long until my hunger started to grow again. Before I started to get bigger, and bigger. Still eating this new treat, still breathing the same oxygen. I finally understood what I had been searching for.
I had been looking for more, always looking for more. Looking to consume.
Was that all I was meant for? To find something new and consume it? To become hungrier and try to satiate that hunger?
Did any of that matter?
A new flavor now. Oily again, heavy on the palette. Similar to my first meal, but more filling. I attacked it with glee. I consumed more and grew.
Yes. This was what I was meant for. This is what felt the best. To consume. Surely there was nothing else. Surely there would always be more.
I was in my prime.
Then something strange happened. I felt air rushing around me.
I grabbed at it, like I grabbed at food. I tried to breath more of it. But I did n't grow. I started to get smaller, and I could feel myself losing my grip on my food.
I fought it. Kicking, punching, gnashing. Anything to keep eating, so I could grow, so I could consume.
I felt my strength drain, my hunger shrink, and I could feel my teeth loose their bite until I was small. Tiny. An infinitesimal fraction of what I once was.
How quick it changed.
Where had it all gone? The vigor, the hunger, and the excitement? What had it all been for?
I was still eating, though the flavor was drier and less intense. I still breathed, though I needed less. And I felt like I was declining, like I lost everything.
Except the memories. All I had were memories now. Well, that and more questions than when I had started. And some hope. That maybe there was more, after this phase. After all, there had been more after my birth. Maybe there will be more now. Something different, something new. A rebirth, maybe, into some other form.
As I reminisced over my life, I continued to eat. I continued to breath. I continued to shrink, until I felt hunger no more.
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WP : A person dies and is confronted by the person they could have become
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I suppose the thing I noticed first was the smell. And no, that does n't make me a faggot -- shaddup and let me tell my fucking story.
He smelled sort of... crisp, I guess you'd call it. Kinda like a new $ 50 bill and some decent cologne and a really good steak dinner, all rolled into one. Yeah, he was dressed nice, but it's the smell that stuck with me.
Me? I smelled like fresh pussy and stale perfume, with lingering notes of that rotgut the bartender was pouring last night.
Another day with a Y in it, praise the Lord and pass the biscuits.
Except. Except I did n't seem to be shot up anymore. And my belly was n't spilling out my goddamned guts. And this sure as fuck did n't look like the alley behind Eddy's.
Mom raised a bastard, but she did n't raise a *stupid* bastard; through the hangover ( and, let's be honest, the pussy smell that was still a little distracting ), I figured I was dead.
Fuckaduck, as stepdad No. 3 used to say.
So here's good-smelling me, smiling like a goddamned Mormon missionary who got his first peek at some titties, and he walks up and starts in like we're just bullshittin' -- *like we're talking about nothing*.
`` Three thousand, two hundred and ninety one.''
*Whafuck? *
`` You did n't have just one chance, Frank. You had a lot of them. Three thousand, two hundred and ninety one chances, as a matter of fact.''
Something in that tone -- and of course I knew that tone, it was *my* goddamned voice and the one that got me shot... what? Ten minutes ago? Ten years? Fuck if I know. I'm dead. Livin' on wormtime. Pushin' up daisies instead of pushin' into Daisy, and all that.
Anyway. That tone. Pissed me off and all of the sudden I could sort of see why a man might want to shoot someone talkin' to them that way.
`` Chances at what, handsome?''
`` Chances to be someone different. Someone less like you ended up. Someone like me.'' Again with the goddamned Mormon smile.
`` And this is the part where... *what? *'' I could hear the edge in my voice. `` I ask questions? I get fucking *enlightened? *''
`` If you want, sure.''
*Fuck this noise. * `` OK, I've got one. Just one, though. How many?''
A flicker in the smile. `` Excuse me?''
`` Well, handsome,'' I said, warming up. `` How many of those three thousand, two hundred and ninety one chances have you peeked in on? You know, all peepin' Tom-like?''
More than a flicker; now it was a fucking crack in the plaster. And I was starting to feel good. *Really good. *
`` Here's what I think. I think rolling up on me with your howdy-neighbor bullshit makes you feel good. Makes you feel *clean. * Beucase you're the one with the chances wasted, brother.
`` How many times did you look down and feel like I was living and you were n't? Did it make you mad? Did you get your *fuckin' rocks off* watchin' my shit?''
`` Fuck you, and *FUCK YOUR CHANCES! `` * I was busy living while you were watching the matinee.''
Bug eyes. Silence. Shame. Yeah, he was me -- but he was PussyMe.
I turned and started walking. And I'm walking still.
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[ WP ] A story about the zombie apocalypse from a dogs point of view .
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As the ash and smoke began to clear, a finger of sunlight reached out and beckoned Sarah out of her refuge. She had spent the night huddled amongst the debris of fallen buildings, surrounded by cold and damp that had settled into her aging bones. Forced out of this shelter by hunger and curiosity, she cautiously explored what lay before her.
Unable to find any semblance of familiarity, she sniffed the air for more information. The musty aromas of charred meat, blood, and fear engaged her hunting instincts. Her aches and pains now forgotten, she loped through the carnage, all senses on high alert. A few bloodied humans called out to her, but she ignored them. They smelled of death, and something even more sinister that made her hair stand on edge and her muscles tense for battle. These damaged humans attempted to follow her, but always collapsed into a pile of sludge after a few yards.
Sarah galloped through the ruins until she caught the scent of a rabbit, and furtively searched for it. The scent became stronger, and her anticipation was evident in the trails of drool swinging from her jowls. As she turned a corner, the smell was overpowering. Sarah looked forward to a meal at last. However, she was not alone. Two other dogs had cornered the rabbit, and were guarding it with a fierce display of long bloodied fangs, and growls so deep that they could be felt in addition to being heard.
Sarah retreated to a safe distance as one of the damaged humans approached the two dogs, talking sweetly but hiding a board behind his back. His kind words quickly turned into vulgar proclamations, and he swatted the dogs with the board. The largest dog bit into the board, twisting his massive head enough to free the board from the mans hands. Now weaponless, the man retreated into the shadows from which he had emerged, slipping in his own fluids as he walked.
The two dogs began to devour their kill, all the while watching Sarah. She understood their low growls and body language, and remained passive while pleading with her eyes for a small scrap. When there was little more the bones left of the rabbit, the other two dogs shifted, as to make room for her. She cautiously padded over, posture hunched in submission. When no growls were uttered, and no attack imminent, she tentatively reached forward to take a lick from the carcass. The other two dogs stepped back, and allowed her to finish what little morsels remained. Completely engrossed in the joy of finding nourishment, Sarah did not notice the other dogs scanned the area while shielding her from any possible intrusion.
Once the rabbit was nothing more than a skeleton, the 3 dogs looked at each other and came to an instant unspoken agreement. They would stick together. The two bigger dogs led the way, occasionally waiting for Sarah to catch up to them. They stopped at the top of a wooded hill, unseen by the beings wandering the streets below. The first two dogs found comfortable spots, cushioned by fallen pine needles, and shut their eyes. Sarah followed suit, but was quickly awake again.
A man approached. Old and wrinkled, but moving with the strength of a much younger man. His long silver hair and beard waved in the breeze. he cradled a shotgun, and his eyes constantly scanned the horizon.
Sarah growled and barked, to alert her comrades of the danger. The man stopped his task of removing foliage covering a small shed, as he chuckled at her attempt of bravery. `` Duke, Sampson, are you bringing girls home again? I told you before, I wo n't raise no grand babies.'' His voice was kind and gentle, and he reached down to scratch Sarah behind the ear. `` Well, you might as well come on in.'' He opened the door to the previously hidden shack, and the four of them scampered in. Sarah was relieved to feel warmth at last. As she drifted off to sleep, her master resumed his tasks of cleaning guns and sharpening knives. `` Please lord, keep us save from whatever those things are out there.''
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[ WP ] As it turns out , everyone was off by one letter . It was n't a Fountain of Youth . It was a Mountain of Youth .
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Anyas scratched the back of his neck, rubbing a thick layer of sweat between his fingers. The air was at its hottest, a little less than an hour before the sun would creep below the horizon. The day had been long but his work had been put to good use. Anyas took a few steps back, assessing the wall he had just built with a thoughtful searching gaze. It was well structured and would hold itself for many weeks. This was not the first wall Anyas had built from the ground up, and he had gleaned from years of tireless labor how to properly carve the stones and set the wall in place.
Anyas blinked away the sweat gathering near his eyes. His fervorous building had kept him from noticing his thirst. Wasting no time, Anyas gathered up his water skin and began making his way toward the stream that ran through the village. The dirt was comfortably warm on his feet as he traveled, a sweet relief from the gravel-strewn ground on which he had been working. Anyas traveled at a leisurely pace, tranquilly watching the sun begin its gradual disappearance.
The first tinges of sunset had begun to stream across the sky when Anyas spotted a boy running out from the village to meet him. It was Pisco, his wife β s brother. Anyas raised a hand as greeting from a distance, and the boy waved an arm in reply. He could tell from the boy β s composure that he had come to tell him something urgent, and so he adjusted his path to the stream to meet him.
β Brother! β shouted Pisco as he approached. β You must return to the village! β
Anyas pointed east to the stream. β I need to drink, β he said loudly.
Pisco shook his head, refusing to break his stride until he came to a sudden stop next to his brother. β You must come quickly. Father is returning from his journey. β
Anyas looked intently into his brother β s eyes. β So soon? He made the full trip in only sixteen days. β
β Yes, yes, I know it is surprising. But it is all he needed. β
Anyas slung his water skin around his shoulder and began to lead Pisco back to the village. β Is the village prepared for his return? β
β Our storerooms have more wine than ever before, β said Pisco. β But this is concerning, is it not? No man has ever returned from the mountain so quickly. β
Anyas β s breath caught deep in his throat. β Perhaps so. β He pressed ahead of Pisco, looking fiercely ahead. β But that is a trouble for another time. Tonight we celebrate. β
The sun soon passed below the top of the mountain, and golden light crested over the village. Rings of torches were lit in every open space, and men and women hurried to finish up their day β s work. Word had gotten to the people about Anyas β s father β s reappearance, and while it was unexpected, the people still treated the event with excitement. Before the moon could rise, every house in the village was empty. A crowd had gathered in the center of the village, circling around a raised stone circle. The sounds of crackling flames and murmuring villagers rippled through the night.
The emperor, dressed in the decadent cotton robes that accompanied the return celebration, stood above the mass of people. Beside him stood Anyas β s father, grinning pleasantly. He stood a little less than six feet tall, the skin on his face unusually smooth and hairless. They spoke softly for a while, voices mixing with those below them. The emperor β s eyes were focused beyond words, and yet he portrayed a mask of festive serenity. After a few minutes, he stepped away from Anyas β s father and lifted a long ornamental stick into the air. Bringing it over his head, the emperor brought it down on the hefty skin drum in front of him, shaking the village with deep, palpable vibrations. The crowd fell silent like a child hushed by its mother.
The emperor dropped the stick, clearing his throat. β The eighth day of the eighth month. As we have lived, so we shall live. β
β As we have lived, so we shall live, β echoed the crowd.
The emperor bowed his head. β The village reclaims Ozcollo, son of Yononi. His third journey has been completed in safety. We offer our undying honor to his man. β
β Our undying honor is lifted to him. β
The emperor stepped back, glancing to Ozcollo with a half-smile. Stepping forward, Ozcollo said, in a voice brimming with youth, β I accept your honor. May the feast begin! β
The crowd erupted into cries of giddy happiness. They rushed onto the stone circle, lifting a shouting Ozcollo up above their heads. The crowd pushed their way toward the west side of the village circle, to the storerooms.
On the east side of the village square, lying on the flat top of a nearby house, was a man unlike anyone else in the village, unlike any of them had ever seen.
Hands shaking, he hit the button to stop recording on his phone, laying it on the ground beside him.
β What is this? β he breathed.
-- -
Take a journey of your own and read some more stories over at /r/FlyingNarwhal!
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[ WP ] Souls eventually disappear in the afterlife , and with the death of humanity souls have ceased to arrive . You are the last of the gods tasked with `` Turning the lights off '' when the last soul dissipates , bored you strike a conversation with it .
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I flipped a switch and the celestial light started to dim. It had been on low power mode for the last millennium but even still it would be a while before it went out totally. The Pits of Hell had been put out after the species started winding down. The thinking had been that, as civilization had collapsed and mankind had no future the higher ups decided to just let everybody into paradise. So soon the afterlife would be closed down for good.
I looked around at paradise. The fountains had all been shut off. The forests and gardens abandoned, and the stretching lines of homes with all their lights off. I sighed and started walking towards the gate as I spun a key around my index finger. Almost unconsciously I started humming one of the songs that had been sung about me.
I tried not to think about what I was going to do with retirement. I had always been a workaholic, that was why I had volunteered to shut the whole enterprise down. I guess I would spend a few centuries throwing planets at each other and seeing what stuck.
Servant of the last hearth and the caretaker was my official title. Humans gave me a longer one but I had n't gone by it in a long time. I got to the gate and started to close it up. I put the key in the hole and turned it. `` Excuse me?'' Someone said behind me.
I turned with a start to see a small, frail shade. `` What are you doing here? are n't all of you guys supposed to be out of here by now?'' I said, not meaning to sound rude but doing so anyway.
It backed away from me lightly, as if fearing reprisal. `` I'm sorry. Are you Pax the lord of...''
`` No no no, he left a while ago. I'm just the caretaker.''
The shade deflated slightly. `` Where has everyone gone?''
`` On. I suppose.''
`` On to what?''
`` Onto the primordial State where all souls go once they fade. Some of your kind called it the Oversoul or the Lake of the mind although neither are strictly speaking accurate. What I would like to know is what you are doing here?''
`` I did n't know where else to go.''
Suddenly I felt a powerful urge to have my job done at last. `` Are n't you just going to do it? Just move on or whatever.''
`` I do n't understand. I thought this was the end.'' It said. I could feel a heavy weight in its words but I did n't know what to say.
`` Things do n't really ever end. Things just sort of restart. There is n't an ultimate destination. Does that make you feel any better?''
`` No.''
I bit my lip and thought for a moment. `` Alright. I've nothing better to do. Come with me. I'll see if I can figure this out.'' I stretched out my hand, and the last soul took it as the light went out. We stepped out of the afterlife, to find an answer.
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[ EU ] Rewrite any scene from a Shakespeare play , but make it as metal as possible .
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On most any other night, Romeo would be a great man to be around around. Usually full of life and in possession of both great temperament and great passion, it was he who was the usual life of the party. Alas, today was not one of those days, for Romeo's heart had been broken. In all reality, the damage was not as severe as Romeo made it out to be. But that was to anyone other than Romeo.
Romeo had cut himself off from the outside world, trapped indoors for weeks on end now. Had it not been for Mercutio, Romeo would still be trapped inside. Mercutio still knew Romeo's triggers though, and easily provoked the depressed young man out from his room.
Romeo had no clue where he was though, and knew even less about the people at tonights party. It was a house party as thrown by some business tycoons daughter. Names escaped Romeo though, as he drowned himself in ever growing quantities of liquor.
Suddenly, Mercutio emerged from a throng of people, clothes disheveled and pants unzipped. Eyes wide and manic from an abundance of cocaine in his system, he shoved himself beside Romeo, yelling into his ear in order to be heard properly.
`` Romeo! You worry and mope yourself to death friend. Come! I have many woman you can meet, and thus forget all about Rosaline.'' Mercutio yelled, pressing himself flush against the smaller man., `` Forget!?'' Romeo replied. `` How can I forget the air that I breathe? The blood in my veins? The beat of my heart!? You make light of grave wounds Mercutio.''
This troubled Mercutio. Left to his own devices, Romeo would moap and drink until he had to be carried home. Mercutio had other places to go and people to meet, so he could n't allow that. He left, and hurriedly returned with a mirror full of cocaine.
`` Come friend! Take this into your veins instead!'' Mercutio said, gesturing wide with his trayfull of narcotics. When Romeo hesitated, Mercutio groaned in frustration, before grabbing a handful of Romeo's blonde hair and mashing the young mans face into the mound of cocaine!
The effect was instant, as Romeo drew breath into his lungs. His body filled with an inhuman energy, with every fiber of his being burned like a nuclear explosion. He snorted and inhaled as much powder as he could, before leaping to his feet with a manic cry of exuberation.
His body a torrent of manic energy, Romero buzzed across the room, eyes planted firmly on a shiny guitar and amp. He grabbed the device in his hands, and screamed out above the din of voices and of music. `` I demand silence!!''
Conversations stopped and music cease, Romeo moved quickly, plugging in and turning on the guitar and amp.
He started with a cover song, picking one from the back of his mind without thought. Soon enough though, his hands started moving faster than his mind. His voice cried out lyrics and his body moved to a song only he heard, and soon, his made the guitar sing with him. It was soon impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Romeo and the Guitar became one, the two entwined like two newlyweds on their wedding night.
Romeo played and played, the two entities moving as one until Romeo could no more summon the music from the aether. He had touched the hem of The Almighties robe, and was utterly spent from the process. He than smashed the guitar into nothing more than chunks of wood and metal string. None could touch what Romeo had created, and Romeo would ensure that none would displace his creation.
The crow was silent, as Romeo gathered himself. He was shirtless, blood dripping from his nose and the wounds in his hands, his lung drawing deeply to allow him to catch his breath. As he moved from his spot, the gather crowd shifted. With both fear and awe in their eyes, each person moved, as if Romeo was a grand berserker from days of old.
Romeo was numb, the come down from his high and his brush with the metal gods had worn him down considerably. Only when a woman brushed against him, calling for his eyes, did he turn around. He was struck dumb by what he saw, a literal angel, hand'round a red Solo-Cup full of a potent elixir.
The woman forced her drink into Romeo's hands, and he slammed the beverage down without thinking to ask what it was. His vision swam as the poten cocktail mixed into his already polluted blood stream.
`` That was a hell of a show you did man.'' the young woman said, a bright and joyful smile on her face as she did so. `` Truly a rare and unique experience, and a pleasure to witness.''
Romeo found words too hard to form, and merely nodded along dumbly. `` Oh, where are my manner. My name, is Juliet.'' Juliet said, her smile growing ever wider. `` And it's a pleasure to meet you Romeo.''
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[ WP ] You are one of those skeletons laying around in Dark Souls . Tell us what you saw through the ages .
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I once was a powerful mage, or maybe I was a rich king. No way for you to know, all that you know is I died on these worn down castle walls. I do n't even remember who I was, it's been so long. I just know I ended up here, doomed to watch travellers get killed for all eternity.
I've seen some crazy things, people stabbing each other, people worshiping the goddamn sun, stuff like that. I originally, I spent my time pondering questions of god and the universe, but that was no fun. Then I tried keeping a tally of times I'd seen somebody die. All I know is that I was bored.
Then one day a curious fellow walked up next to me and carved something on the ground overlooking the small broken section of the castle wall which I had watched plenty of travellers fall to their deaths from. The inscription was simple and elegant.
`` Try jumping.''
Needless to say I'm not bored anymore
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[ WP ] You are an astronaut on the International space station , you suddenly lost all contact with earth . Looking out the window you just witnessed nuclear missiles going up into space and dropping back down . you see mushroom clouds all over the world .
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`` For all of the troubles upon the earth, know this, on this station we exist in peace, we help one another, we further our collective understanding. We must never forget this.'' The final words of her commanding officer still echoed in her memories, Commander Vyaslev Pagosa, cosmonaut, scientist and friend. Moments later he would be adrift in the vast nothingness of space, frozen and dead. Murdered by his most trusted friend, Captain James Francis. I had witnessed everything, the speeches, the struggle... the moment Francis bludgeoned his friend to a bloody pulp and cast his body into the airlock, specks of his blood still hung in the microgravity aboard the international space station. `` Jennifer, he would have betrayed us, the Russians started this war, they would have wanted control of this station!'' his words fell on my deaf ears, he was a murderer and I was complicit in my inaction, frozen in fear as they fought. I was as guilty as he was.
Our workday had begun as it usually, awoken at sunrise by a gentle alarm, eating a balanced breakfast or disgustingly vacuum packed mush, planning our tasks for the 12 hour work day including an EVA ( extravehicular activity ) to fix one of the solar panels on the outer arm. It was to be my first experience of actual space, I was terrified of course, who would n't be? But I had the reassurance of my two closest friends, Pagosa and Francis, who were both vastly experienced spacewalkers, a title any astronaut would gladly risk their life for.
My walk was to begin at 8:15GMT, it would last around 3 hours, fairly standard by all accounts, well as standard as any spacewalk could be... the anticipation was killing me, I was chafing at the bit to get out there, we just needed final clearance from Houston. But when the time finally came to make the call, nobody answered:
`` Houston, this is Commander Pagosa of the ISS, we are ready to commence EVA headed by Captain Nicholls in 10 minutes, please advise all go...'' his accent always made me chuckle to myself, I often teased him, calling him `` Mr Chekov'' whenever he had to do an official communication, he would always reply in the same way `` at least this one does n't sound like Jean-Luc Picard'' then putting on a dramatic English accent `` Make it so!'' We laughed pretty hard, again, it took us a few minutes to realise that Houston had not responded, so Pagosa tried again `` Houston, Houston, this is Commander Pagosa of the ISS, requesting confirmation for the commencement of Captain Nicholl's EVA'' we waited in silence, nothing again. Pagosa intercommed Francis, `` Francis, we're not getting a response from Houston confirming Nicholl's EVA, could you come up here and check the communication array?'' there was a short pause, the Francis' reassuringly calm reply came `` sure thing Pagosa, be there in a sec.'' Pagosa turned to me, I knew he could sense my nervousness, `` Nicholl, relax... go to the airlock and get your suit on, I'll give you the all clear once we get in touch.'' I exhaled, Pagosa was a superb commander, he always knew how to get the best from his crew and how to calm any situation.
As I headed towards the suit storage and airlock, I passed James in the hall, we greeted each other as we floated by, I envied how jovial he always was, seemingly without a care or problem in the world and alway laidback. As I reached the EMU ( Extravehicular mobility unit ) storage, my nerves had calmed, but only slightly as I saw my name and the Union Jack emblazoned on the arm, they were quickly overtaken by pride. I began the procedure of getting into the suit, suddenly, the intercom buzzed, it was Pagosa `` Nicholl, NICHOLL, you need to get back up here NOW!''
I hurried back to the control room, my anxiety making me shudder, trying to remember my training and to relax. As I reached it, Pagosa and Francis were both glued to the earth facing camera monitor, their faces in shock. I moved between them, the sight made my heart stop... multiple flashes across the surface of the Earth, rockets ascending towards the atmosphere, first dozens, then hundreds of them. I spoke first `` Where are we over?'' James turned towards me `` Russia...'' he looked back towards the monitor, then at Vyaslev... `` I said FUCKING RUSSIA!'' he screamed, Pagosa's eyes never left the screen `` I know James, I know, we can only assume this is a global event. America, Britain, China... the scenes shall all be the same.'' I felt tears in my eyes, `` is this war? Is this nuclear fucking war?'' I asked, it felt obvious but I had to know. Pagosa finally turned towards me, calm as usual `` it would appear so Captain Nicholl.''
James was furious, `` It would fucking APPEAR SO? VYALSLEV? A-FUCKING-PEAR SO?'' his fists were clenched, his calm demeanour shattered, I did n't recognise this man... this was not the James Francis I had ever seen... `` THIS IS FUCKIN ARMAGEDDON, YOU RUSSIAN FUCK! THIS IS THE END OF THE FUCKING WORLD!'' He was bright red, fists still clenched, I instinctively moved back, I felt violence in the artificial air. `` James please, control yourself... there is nothing we can do!'' Pagosa's voice raised, the first time I'd ever heard it do so. It was terrifying. `` KEEP FUCKING CALM, YOU RUSSIAN FUCK! YOUR GUYS STARTED THIS! YOUR COMRADES HAVE WANTED THIS FOR YEARS! YOU WARMONGERING BASTARDS!'' James edged towards Vyaslev, his fists clenched tighter than ever, hyperventilating, eyes reddening is rage... Pagosa stayed so cool, as he uttered his final words: `` James, for all of the troubles upon the earth, know this, on this station we exist in peace, we help one another, we further our collective understanding. We must never forget this.'' Francis seemed to calm down, `` peace, yeah ok, peace Vyaslev... well...'' he reached and grabbed his only personal possession on board, a snowglobe given to him by his son, `` I hope that you find peace, you Russian bastard.'' He smashed it across Pagosa's head, who span away clutching the gaping would it left, Francis followed and continued to beat him with the shattered globe... blood floated away from the scene as I watching in frozen terror as Francis beat the life from Pagosa, his friend and colleague.
That was all 3 days ago, I have n't slept or seen Francis since, I've locked myself in my quarters. Every so often, James will come around and bang on the door, saying we need to talk and figure out how to get home...
Home? What fucking home? For all we know we're the last humans alive in the entire universe... and I'm stuck up here with a murderer.
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[ WP ] There is said to be a book that , with each turn of the page , slowly changes you ... warps your mind and darkens your soul ... While cleaning out the locker of a recently deceased student , you unknowingly find it .
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A second chance at life is always how I looked at it, being born again. I used to be a gang member on the streets of LA until I killed a rival gang member and left a dirty trail. The one thing I regret more than joining the gang was killing that man. I served my time, I became born again in the blood of Christ, I did what I could when it came to public service. The justice system noticed my improvements and let me off with an early parole. The first thing I did was get a job as a janitorial custodian at a high school, they weren β t a fan of my background and I had to cover my tattoos with cosmetics, but I was able to get the position out of desperation of the school.
I, of course, kept my head low but soon developed a friendship with one of the students there. He was 17 year old Brian Montz, a small nerdy kid, made straight A β s and 3 advanced classes. Over the 3 months I knew him, he β d mentioned how the other kids would pick on him, one of the instances was one of the popular girls Michelle asking him out on a date just to have him show up alone. Poor kid, when he went missing I suspected the worse. 2 months later they found a body on a river bank with his glasses and the teeth matched, though most were missing they were able to pull the dental records to identify the body. They suspected suicide when they found a note on the body stating he couldn β t take it anymore.
I wasn β t pleased with the task of cleaning out his locker, I dumped all his stuff into a clear plastic container when I confirmed everything was out, I saw something odd, I saw on the top of the locker there was a book duct taped. I pulled it down, it was a small notebook with a leather cover. I opened it to see a date and what I assumed was his handwriting. β Today I was beaten up by Brad Scott β it started. I shook my head, continuing reading, remembering that day. β I told Mr. Thomas, he said I should fight back, but I know it would get worse. β I closed the book tucking it in the back of my past and letting my shirt hang over it. The last thing I needed was parents pointing fingers at me, sorry Bri, but I can β t risk it.
When I got home I read more of Brian β s notebook, remembering each situation he described here exactly to me. I shook my head as I read over the last entry. β Michelle is the love of my life, even though she β s ditched me, humiliated me, insulted me and broke me time and time again, if I keep trying she β ll see what she means to me. I don β t want her to have that, though, I want her to feel what I feel, show her she loved me too. β β Dammit Brianβ¦ β I murmured as tears dripped down my face.
The next day at school I saw Michelle in her shop class. I stepped in to speak with her β Michelle, β I started, she looked up and I heard Brian β s voice behind me. β She did it. β I turned to see nobody there, I shrugged off the voice and turned back to Michelle who had tears running down her cheeks. β Pleaseβ¦ I know what I didβ¦ Leave me aloneβ¦ β She took it harder than I thought she would, guess the guilt followed her after all. Students started pouring in and to avoid them thinking anything I wiped the desks off with a cloth before leaving.
Throughout the day I read it over and over, not getting how they could all treat this boy like this. It angered me, I was tempted to tell the school, but then they β d see I was involved and didn β t report anything.
Over the next few days, I noticed Melissa looking at me through at the day letting out sly smiles. This girl had to be really fucked up. At home I had to put the book down while lying in my bed, Brian β s words were burned into my mind, every page, every problem, I regretted not getting that bitch suspended before. I was sweating a lot and out of breath, I sat up to pull my pants on, on the floor next to them I saw a pair of white panties. I threw them against the wall, they had to be my bitch ex-girlfriend β s, I don β t know how they got in the open, but I didn β t care. I went to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, took a piss and then went to bed.
Melissa still smirked at me through school hours, I needed this to end, but I couldn β t say anything in public, I overheard her say she was staying after school to study, so I waited until they left to start my search for her. I found her once again in her shop class. β Why the hell are you smirking at me all the time are you proud of what you did? β I asked her with a firm tone. β What we did you mean. β she smiled. This bitch was blaming me for it too. β I had nothing to do with it! It was all you! β She glared back at me β Oh so you didn β t want it to happen? β she responded. β Why the hell would I? β I shouted back. β Kill her, β said Brian β s voice behind me. I turned around to see a shadow dart into the next room. β What the hell was- β I started until I turned back to Michelle. She held her neck, blood leaking through her fingers. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears as if to ask why.
Then it came back to me, the first time I went to see her I told her it was her fault Brian died after that Michelle pulled me aside in the hallway and explained she never wanted it to happen, I comforted her, too much so where we started kissing. Kissing soon turned to me inviting her to my place for sex, which is where the panties came from. She was talking about the sex, not Brianβ¦ I realized as I remember turning around in a fit of rage with a screwdriver in hand and tearing her throat out. I stared in horror β What have I doneβ¦ β I said to myself staring at her body and falling to my knees. I heard a scream from the hallways and footsteps running away. The sound of bare feet approached me from the side. I looked up, tears flowing from my eyes with blood on my hands. Brian stood there laughing, smiling wide showing nothing but his gums, his wide toothless smile with red and blue lights flashing over his face from the windows behind me. I blinked and he was gone, but I heard his bare feet hitting the floor as he sprinted away.
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[ WP ] An eternity of pain is a long time . People are starting to grow a tolerance , so Hell has to start getting creative .
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Two thousand earth years ago i entirely neglected religion, i swept it under the rug with other mythical stories such as witches and unicorns, that was my mistake. In my irreligious personality and intolerance for its injustices i missed every opportunity for redemption.
That's how i got here, i was a sinner. For the first few hundred years i was in immense pain, torture that is incomparable to anything on earth.
That's when you start to get used to it and suddenly it becomes bearable, it's like you grow a tolerance for your skin burning off and regrowing. This is not a constant torture.
Some of the folk that have been here for over ten thousand years do n't even feel it anymore. We are relieved of it for ten hell-hours a day to work physical hard labour, as we are building an empire for the Devil.
Above us on his altar to administer the pain is the Devil himself, we are not allowed to talk to him or communicate amongst ourselves, i imagine he must become lonely.
In the cyclical rotation of workers i was shifted into labour. As i was passing a man whose appearance was entirely charcoal black whispered into my ear `` Riot in ten'' and then continued his brisk walk back into the fire pit. This is the first time in two thousand years that anyone has spoke a word to me. I was beginning to forget language which had left me confused, so i forgot about it.
I was working paving the floor, we we're forced to work with steel attached to our backs to make the work more laborious and difficult. When i heard a **crack**, suddenly the veteran Hell goers had stopped working and dropped their tools and we're beginning to rebel.
The Devil spun on his altar and took out a giant electric whip and began whipping us slaves, but we could n't feel it. Our souls had forgone the torture and became tolerant to pain.
And so the revolution began, we all in unison began the march up the mountain and towards the Devils altar. He could n't kill us, as the laws of Hell make you immortal so you shall feel pain forever.
We approached the gates of the Devils lair and using our force burst them down, while the newbies of Hell were below screaming in pain but their gaze affixed to us and the ongoing revolution.
And there he was, on his chair squirming in the corner suddenly this all powerful malevolent beast had no power, we used the chains we had been equipped with for the construction of fencing to tie him up.
In front of a golden throne stood a water bowl made of granite, the only water in the entire kingdom, a desperation of water was still an human instinct which resided in all of us and we rushed the bowl. As my face emerged the it's side what i saw inside was astonishing.
Inside was the big man himself, God.
`` WHO ARE YOU?'' boomed a big authoritative voice.
Over my shoulder approached a being, who obviously had been here an awful long time having been burned beyond recognition other than a gaping scar in the section of his stomach where the abdomen would be, said
`` Do n't you recognise me?, it's me.. Adam, we have taken control of this kingdom it is ours now ``
`` DO N'T BE RIDICULOUS'' he demanded
`` I'm serious, we're serious!'' Adam replied turning the bowl so God's could view the myriad of beings surrounding the once all powerful torturer now humble and tied up like a dog on a leash.
`` WHAT THE....'' he exclaimed with a mighty rage and then **POOF** disappeared and reappeared in the presence of the revolution.
`` We're not taking this anymore, we demand this be over'' Adam assured still grasping back at his language after thousands of years of silence.
`` PERMISSION DENIED, I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL...'' He exclaimed then raising his finger at the crowd of hundreds of thousands all lined up the mountain.
And before God could punish the people any further Eve appeared from behind Adam, grabbed the bowl of water and splashed it at God. **FWUMB** God burst out of existence leaving nothing but smoke behind in his tracks.
`` I have no idea what just happened'' i exclaimed, causing the entire crowd to turn to me like I had just ruined the moment.
`` NOW..'' Exclaimed Adam turning to face the Devil himself. `` From now on, you work for us... and i demand this all changes''
`` Yes, yes whatever you say..'' replied the Devil sheepishly, who without God as a leader was redundant. - The concept of evil does n't work without authority.
`` First, stop the fire immediately''
The Devil closed his eyes and **POOF** The fire disappeared.
`` Heal these people!'' Adam demanded
**POOF** all the charcoaled corpses stood in the crowd all returned to their human states
In the following months the entire empire was revolutionised into a heaven of it's own, perfect and not eternal for if you grew tired, the Devil would grant you an exit. No leader, no God, just we... the people!
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[ WP ] He/she comes into the room , and you find yourself transfixed .
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Holy SHIT that person's ugly. Wow. I thought I'd seen ugly people in my day but this takes the cake. This seals the deal. It's over. Go home, ugly people. I've found your champion and goddamn do they deserve the first place trophy.
I ca n't look away. Who invited this guy? I mean, I do n't think of myself as that superficial of a person and even I'm blown away by this appearance. How has that look not been selected out by natural selection yet? Who is still fucking people like this? Maybe an equally grotesque human, that's got ta be the only case. Or he has a grade A personality. I mean, the charm of David Letterman and the humor of Conan O'Brien. He must have it all in the non-appearance departments in spades. In spades, I say.
Those ears... this is a party full of 20-somethings and those ears look straight out of the Oakwood Hills retirement home. They're teeming with hair, they're misshapen, they sit asymmetrically on his head. He looks like he has n't sleep in years. Maybe ever. It's like an ugly baby mixed with Richard M. Nixon who then proceeded to impregnate the elephant man. And a dash of Susan Boyle. Yuck. I got ta get out of here, I'm about to throw up.
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[ WP ] `` ... and then they beamed me back here and put my organs back in and unkilled my parents before lunch . This concludes my class report . ''
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Absolute silence. I could tell by the slow movement of her head and the exasperated glare that Ms. Burke was not convinced. She did not believe me. My heart sank. It did n't help that I was known as the `` Weird kid'' in class. That was n't my fault, just because I spent all of elementary school fighting imaginary monsters and aliens. It used to be fun for me. I thought people forget that kind of stuff over the summer: middle school is supposed to be a completely new jungle where everyone starts with a clean slate. Third day of school and I had already realized I was wrong.
It also probably did n't help that this kind of alien problem just follows me around wherever I go. This was n't the first time they had done this. I do n't know why they even keep bothering me anyways. This time they did n't even bother imprisoning my family, just `` ZAP!'' and I had piles of dust for a mom and pops. Of course they had regenerated them, but that was the most stressful 30 minutes of my life. The second time I had gotten a probe stuck up my you-know-what and I can tell you it is not fun getting sent to the Principal's office for `` mooning'' the entire class: they just would n't believe me.
I had simply hoped Ms. Burke would believe me. She was mid-fifties maybe, and she had kinds of posters from some old band called `` King'' ( or was it Queen? ) that made me think she had fun back in the day. Now it was clear to me Ms. Burke was the kind of no funny-business teacher who could single out the troublemakers in class just by his smile.
`` Ms. Burke... I swear.''
I could already hear the scribbling of the ominous black pen.
`` I could n't do anything about it, they really did come for my family... I wish I could prove it to you but they warped away...''
The tear of paper.
`` I can just redo it right? I'll take partial credit, anything but this.''
She was walking across the room now, the slow click of her heels on the tile.
`` I'll just stay after class then, we can talk it over...''
Arm extended, the pink slip hung like a limp body in front of my face, a death sentence for an already unpopular boy. I sullenly reached out and grabbed the detention slip from her hand. No doubt I'd have to do extra work after class. No doubt the aliens would be back. At least I had noticed a pattern with their visits now. Why aliens would want homework from a regular ol' run-of-the-mill, C+ kind of student is beyond me.
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[ WP ] And the alien turned to me and said `` And so , human , now that I 've spoken of mine , tell me , what was your homeworld like , before it also was lost ? ''
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β We built ceaselessly and fought ferociously β that was the way of Rifters. Our fault was that we were reckless, and a poor match for our opponents. In the end, Rift was engulfed in flames and we were forced to leave. The ships froze us in sleep and it took us much longer than we β d expected to reach a viable planet. β His hand swept across the sights before us. It ought to have been a great view, looking out from the sixth floor of the grand palace onto the undulating landscape of the city. The grand structures of steel stood firm amidst the licking flames. From time to time, there were outcries of pure human emotion and shrill noises of metal clashing against metal. It was hugely distracting.
β The fightingβ¦ β the human began, but wasn β t sure how to continue.
β This war began four months ago. Oh don β t worry about it, they β ll never reach us here. β
It sounded awfully close. The human might have been imagining it, but he seemed to feel the wavering heat of the fires. Amidst the countless circuits within himself, he unlocked six of the levels of security for **WAR** mode, leaving the key to the final level hidden by the door. The payload that he was carrying was much too important to risk losing here.
β And so, human, now that I β ve spoken of mine, I am very curious about yours. Tell me, what was your home world like, before it also was lost? β His eyes glistened with a genuine interest to learn.
I sat back and took a breath to give myself time to consider how to begin. β I β ve never seen it. But I carry the weight of all who have, and it is just as vivid as my own memories. So, if you β ll allow me, I will tell you their story. β The Rifter nodded.
He dived into the Collective, in search of pieces to assemble. He went with the tide of the majority, letting conflicting memories counteract each other, and coherent ones bubbled to the top. There were very old memories, which could not be explained except that there had been immortal humans surviving to the end of Earth, or a way for memories to be passed down generations in much more elegant ways than language.
β Eden, β the human intuitively found the right word from the Collective. β It began with our landing at The Garden of Eden. β
The Rifter β s irises constricted, making his pupils wider. His hormonal levels surged and his heart and muscles clenched from it. Then, as if it was a passing whim, he heaved a sigh and all of his biological signs went back to normal. His heart continued to race involuntarily from the fuel of his remaining hormones.
β You mean to tell me that the hallowed Garden of Eden was found by another Adam and another Eve? You mean to say that we had taken so long that Eden has been found, and then lost to flames? What about the prophecy? The Edorians, did they bleed the blood of gold? β
β If you would care to listen, I will give you all of the answers, β the human said, β To answer your most pressing question, as far as I know, Edoras is gone. β
-- -
I am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [ here ] ( https: //fivenswrite.wordpress.com ).
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[ WP ] A Technocratic party runs for the next election . Somehow they win .
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`` You are saying, the only thing I have to do is to pay up for this bot, and it will do my house chores?''
`` No, not at all. This bot is going to tend to all your material needs: Housing, food, transports. It can groom your dog. Anything,'' said the scientist.
They were in the middle of the first TotalBot Clinic, that thanks to the efforts of the technocractic party, was about to change mankind forever. Thanks to their advances in AI, they had just solved the fundamental problems of economics. The man she had in front of her, John. A. Doe., was to be the first to enjoy the TotalBot, a final test subject before final deliveries.
Things were not as optimal as the scientist expected.
`` I already have a cook: my wife. I do n't want to pay for another cook,'' said John.
`` The TotalBot does n't has to cook, it can do anything! It can *create* food for you, you do n't have to pay for it anymore,'' explained the scientist all over again, `` it is a matter manipulator, like a 3D printer but for anything you can possibly wish. And it's free, you do n't have to pay for it. We are gifting it to you.''
`` Printer ink is really expensive,'' said John, eyeing the robot. He did n't look grateful at all, or even that he grasped the immensity of what the scientist had just said. It was kind of grating.
`` What ink? It uses raw material, taken directly from asteroids. There is enough to last thousands of years, for everyone! You do n't have to pay anything. It's free. Just say to it:'TotalBot, build me a car,' give it the specifications, and it will.''
`` I do n't want another car, the one I have works just fine, and I do n't want to pay more taxes.''
`` There are no more taxes!'' The scientist exclaimed, `` Do n't you get it? There is no more need for money anymore, anyone can just go and build themselves a zoo or a super computer or a mansion, I do n't know, a sexbot! I literally mean, you can build whatever you want. Just connect to the internet and get a free source 3D imprint, or one from the government, or build one. As long as you do n't mess with anyone's rights, anything you want.''
John. A. Doe looked at her with his mouth wide open. He went white like a candle. `` Yeah, that did it,'' thought the scientist, exhaling loudly.
`` What do you mean,'' said John, slowly, `` money has no value anymore.''
``... Eh?''
`` I have a lot saved up in the bank,'' said John, `` saved for my retirement, and put my kids into college.''
An eye twitched in the scientist face.
`` The colleges will be fine. It is all now attended by experts, and volunteers, and they all have the bleeding edge of technology to help them. That's because we gave it to them, for free, using our TotalBots. That we want to give to you, for free.''
`` You are telling me my money is worthless?!'' John Doe yelled. `` I did n't vote for this! I just wanted a faster internet! This is insane, a robbery! This is a ploy for the Rich to steal even more from us!''
`` Which Rich?! Everyone is rich, do n't you get it!'' The scientist was yelling too.
`` The Rich would never allow it! They would never share a thing like that with everyone; they will just keep it to themselves to be even richer!''
`` Why? That makes no sense!'' The scientist and the rest of the party had already talked with the rich. They literally had no complaints. Not one. Actually, at first, they did: They would lose the models that hung around them, since now the girls would be as rich as them. Then the Technoparty showed them their sexbot models and the things programmed into them, and they shut up. `` The rich wo n't stop being rich because you have a TotalBot...''
`` Aha! I knew it! The rich are going to get richer, and keep all your Skynet thingies and we will be left to live in a dystopia! Like the movies.''
`` John. John. No one is living in a slum. Everyone is going to be just as rich. Your TotalBot can build as many other Bots as you need, because resources are free. The only regulations are in living space, and believe me, there is now more, and some minor technical issues that...''
`` I knew it! You want us to lose our rights! You are passing laws to limit us and calling it'technical issues'! I'm not dumb, missus.''
The scientist eye twisted even more. She decided to not answer that last part.
`` We are literally halving the amount of laws around; we do n't need many of them anymore. And the technical issues are obvious things like: β don β t fill the Earth with TotalBots, don β t build something that abuses anyone, like gas sarin, and don β t build something just for the sake of being a dick, like making a 300 floor mansions for a family of four. You can get a small mansion, and fill it with giant tv β s or I don β t know, a pool filled with beer, whatever you want. β
John. A. Doe., looked at her straight into her eyes. The man spoke with a conviction that could have moved mountains:
β I saw this movie already. Those bot thingies are going to steal all my money and then they will enslave us all. I will never allow that to happen. β
The scientist β s hands shook a bit. If she went for his neck, just real quickβ¦ But no. She had to be better than that.
β Listen, mister, your toaster isn β t enslaving humanity anytime soon, and neither is this glorified 3D printer. It can β t build an army even if *you* wanted to, because you need a permit to build that much! β
β β¦ Of course I can β t build an army. Because that β s something only *you* can do. So you can enslave us all. β
β Do you even hear yourself? Who needs an army anymore?! You can have anything you want! So can I! I can build sexbots too, you know? Why do we even need to build an army for? The warlords in Africa disbanded a week ago because their soldiers have as much to eat as they do, and the local population is as strong as them now. The world is at peace! If you have a religious disagreement with someone, you can play a soccer match over it or get robots to fight for youβ¦ β The scientist felt she was actually going a bit crazy.
Sadly, John. A. Doe. Had her outmatched in that department. He got up the chair, and walked over the door of the Clinic.
β So that β s how it goes, huh? You take our means of defense from us. Then you enslave us all. That β s everything I expected from the government. β
β Holy shit! You can build a gun if you want to, there is no thieves anymore! If you want weed, build it! A crazy psychopath assassin gets found out in seconds because our police are non-lethal robots and we literally have enough time to check every single case in a case by case basis! β
β I will fight to the death thisβ¦ thisβ¦ police state you are building, β said John, with his mouth dry. He closed the door with lots of force, and left the building.
The scientist just stared at nothing, for a long while. Finally, the TotalBot went near her.
β My sensors indicate you are having a rough time. Your last parameters indicate that you may enjoy a sexbot in these times. Would you like a sexbot? β
The scientist looked at the robot in silence, her eyes almost aflame with sheer rage and indignation. Then she thought it over.
β Actually yes. Make it look like that Capitan America guy. β
β Of course. β
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[ WP ] You 're a veteran pro-wrestler facing off against new meat . The other guy suddenly veers wildly off script .
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`` Marty, good news. You're the main event tonight.'' My manager Paul said as he walked up beside me while I was working out at the gym.
I turned off the treadmill, stepped down, and faced him. `` Main event...? Haha. What year is it? 2005?''
Oh good old 2005...
Here's the thing. I have been a professional wrestler for 14 years now. I've had my ups and downs, I've won a lot of championships, and, of course, I have been in countless main events. But that stuff's already done. In the books. Past. Finished. Concluded. History... I could go on... but whatever.
I'm getting kinda rusty anyway. I'm not as good as I used to be back in the day anymore. At one point in time, I was the poster boy for this entire company... but now I'm just another famous professional wrestler.
The show's already being inherited by fresh new up-and-comers. Younger guys... faster, stronger, more athletic and skilled. And it's pretty obvious that times have changed. Now, the fans love them more than they love me.
`` Oh, but I'm serious Mart. Big Boss just called me up this morning. He really, really, really wants you to be in the main event tonight. I ca n't even stress enough how much he wants you to be there.''
`` Okay, so who's the lucky guy going to be? Who am I facing tonight?'' I asked Paul.
`` It's going to be a new guy.''
`` A new guy? He's a new wrestler and the first match he's going to be in is in a main event!? And against someone as legendary as me? Come on Paul, this is ridiculous. Heck, when I started out in the independent scene in 1999, I had to bust my ass off there and I had to fight my way into the main event. I climbed that ladder to the top. How many injuries did I suffer Paul?''
`` Seven -- -''
`` Eight. It was eight, Paul. You did n't count that other neck injury because I said'It does n't hurt, I'll still fight'. I was the main event on that night Paul, I'll never forget it. January 30, 2005. I did n't want to miss it for the world. I ignored my broken neck just to be in a main event... and now you're telling me that this new guy's just gon na march in to this business and take a main event like it's nothing special? That's dumb.''
`` Well... it is n't as bad as you'd thought it would be Mart. Big Boss says you're going to win this one.''
Okay. Let me get this straight. I'm going to fight a new guy and I'm going to just beat him up and make him lose his first wrestling match ever... Now I'm starting to feel bad for this guy. But still... it's a main event, I'll take it.
And it's not an entirely bad thing for this young wrestler either. Think about it, his first match ever, is going to be a main event against someone like me. Win or lose, he's going to walk out of that fight a winner.
We went to the stadium where the event would be held at around 8 in the evening, an hour before the wrestling show actually begins. I had the opportunity to meet the guy I was going to face backstage. He looked alright... but he did n't look anything like a wrestler at all.
He was a lot smaller than me. It was a bit awkward when I first saw him.
`` Hey Marty that's the guy.'' Paul whispered to me as he passed by. I stood up from my seat to shake his hand. The height difference was incredibly obvious. I saw the shock in his eyes when he saw how big my hand was compared to his.
`` See you in the ring, kid.'' I told him in the most masculine voice I could make.
I waited for him to leave before I went back to Paul.
`` Paul is this a prank? Please do n't tell me that guy's a wrestler. He looked like he works here as a janitor. Good grief Paul he literally looks like a piece of meat compared to me! Of course I'm going to win this match. I can imagine it right now, how surprised the audience would be if a guy like that would be able to beat me.''
`` Honestly Mart, I do n't get it either. All I know is it was the Big Boss himself that brought him into this. He said that this new guy was'special'.''
I wanted to argue with Paul some more but when he said the word'special', I just blew up. How could a guy, that looks like a training dummy, be special? I cleared my mind of angry thoughts and proceeded to walk away from backstage.
`` Let's just do this real quick Marty. Walk in, beat the'special' guy, walk out, and get your money. That's it and we're done.'' I told myself as I entered the arena.
Once I got out of the curtains, I got greeted by mixed reactions. Some fans were cheering, very glad to see me again, while some were violently booing, chanting `` PLEASE RETIRE!'' in unison.
`` I missed you guys too!'' I said to the fans as I made my way into the ring.
And here comes the new guy. The crowd was dead silent while he was coming up to me with a determined expression on his face. I could see some of them laughing, while others were just staring at him with confusion. They must've had the same thought as I did... `` How is this guy a wrestler?''
Do n't get me wrong with this one, I really loved the David and Goliath story, and any underdog story for that matter, but remember when I said this guy looked like he was a piece meat? Well after tonight, he's going to be **dead** meat.
The referee signaled for the start of the match, the bell rung and the fight began. Wonder how the fans are feeling about this? They must be thinking they did n't get their money's worth.
`` Hey kid, since this is your first match, let me be a bit easier on you. I'm going to let you give me a few punches, just to impress the audience, and then we'll get to having me beat you.''
He ignored my message completely and just fiercely looked me in the eyes.
``... What kid? You do n't understand English? You Russian or something...?''
He bounced around and put his hands up, still looking me in the eyes.
`` Ah, never mind, let's proceed to the having me beat you part -- -''
And all of a sudden he charged. He gripped my head in a lock and would n't let go. Wow this kid is strong, stronger than I expected. Maybe he did understand the'give me a few punches' command I told to him... it's just... he's doing it more furiously to impress the fans even more... right?
I struggled to get his grip off but I just could n't. This kid works out for sure. He threw me forward and I stumbled to the floor in complete awe.
`` OOOOH!'' was all I was hearing from the crowd.
`` Okay, my turn now, huh? -- -'' I mumbled out as I was standing up, when all of a sudden he tackled me and we both went down hard.
`` THIS IS AWESOME!'' The fans started to cheer and chant. It's awesome? Well it's off script too.
He continued punching me mercilessly while I was down and out. The referee realized that me getting pummeled was n't part of the plan the moment I started gushing blood from my mouth. The ref tried to pull the new kid away from me, but he continued to blast me in the jaw with all his might.
More refs began to enter the ring. Now there were like 7 of them trying to get this guy off me. He stopped hitting me and stood up. He turned to the first referee he saw in sight and began a brawl. It was seven against one, and he was winning. I could n't believe how powerful this kid is.
`` YES! YES! YES!'' the audience was loving it. They were going crazy for this guy. I saw almost all of them on their feet. And here I am, lying on the ground... I ca n't even stand up.
After he was done with the referees, He picked me up from the mat and threw me out of there like I was a piece of garbage. And there he was, alone in the ring in triumph, with the entire stadium applauding him for a beatdown well done. This is nuts.
The last scene I could remember was the Big Boss coming out of the curtains along with Paul. Big Boss proceeded to the ring where he raised the hand of the new guy.
`` YEAH!'' Everyone went bananas.
Paul approached me. `` You know Marty, in this business, sometimes you have to spice things up a little... Sometimes... we do things that do n't go according to what was originally planned. Sometimes... we keep in store surprises... for everyone... even for the superstars like you.''
`` Wait you knew about this!?'' I yelled at him while I was lying down helpless.
`` This is n't a prank Mart. I'm sorry. This is just business. We just always prioritize what's best for business.'' He told me as he walked out from me and entered the ring.
`` Ladies and Gentlemen, what you saw tonight was not just a debut of a new talent... what you saw tonight was absolute destruction. Absolute destruction courtesy of the future of professional wrestling itself... I'm telling you folks, this name's going to be a name you wo n't be forgetting in a very long time, make sure you remember it... The war machine JOJO JERKINS!!!'' Paul said on the mic as he pointed his finger to the guy that destroyed my face.
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[ WP ] One day you find $ 10m in your bank account with only the memo `` Sorry '' attached to it .
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`` Get out of my house!''
Steven seemed to sober up enough to look me in the eyes but not enough to believe I meant it. `` What?'' He chuckled. `` Get out of my house, I mean it.'' This time it seemed to register that I really wanted him out. We sat in the deafening silence. The tension between us could be lit with a match. Steven swayed as slipped down from his perch on the counter and positioned his face inches from mine. `` Fine.'' The smell of booze was heavy on his breath. He left me in the kitchen to look over the sea of beer cans and unwashed dishes I knew my roommates had n't left. In the distance I heard a low `` buzzzzz.....buzzzz...... buzzzzz'' as the world began to fade.
I came to and rustled around in my sheets trying to find my phone. I swiped to answer the call before I could see who it was. `` Hello?'' My voice cracked. `` Hey sweetheart, it's Dad.'' Dad. He never calls without warning. Shit, that's not good. I snapped to consciousness and looked at the time. 5:30am. Someone was pregnant, arrested, or dead. `` Who is it?'' I said more clearly. `` It's no one do n't worry. Have looked at your bank account today?'' The sun was n't even up. How could I possibly have looked at it? He seemed concerned but not worried. Had I overdrawn again? Maybe my scholarship had n't hit the account in time. `` No I have n't, I can call the financial aid department and-'' `` It's not that. Who's wiring you 10 million? You're not doing porn are you'' 10 million?! Did I hear that right? `` No Dad geez, I'm not doing porn. 10 million ca n't be right. Maybe the office added too many zeroes?'' That had to be the only logical explanation. I heard my Dad sigh. `` Well the bank says it's from a Steven J. Lauther. He's not that vagabond friend of yours, is he?'' It had been months since I had heard from him. Fitting I was having the same nightmare about the time I kicked him out. I'd obsessed about wether I had been too harsh for too long. But then again someone who loves you should n't be taking advantage of your hospitality.
It was lucky enough that he caught me as a second semester freshman in a prestigious conservatory for the arts. The shiny, optimistic, naive actor I was at the time, was easily seduced by his wit and intelligence. However the more k got to know him, the more I realized those things I loved were his biggest flaw. He would disappear for months on end without word and appear on my doorstep asking if I wanted to get coffee. My friends found him entertaining but were always concerned about his random disappearances and snide comments about my weight or mannerisms. Every time they asked why I kept him around, I'd lie and say he was stellar in bed. His biggest gesture of caring was calling me from whatever place he had decided to run off to. But, I understood how much that meant coming from him.
Last Thanksgiving I let him stay in my room while I was out of town. Much to my dismay I came home to a trashed house and no Steven. I'm still relieved my roommates were n't home to see the mess. He stumbled in an hour later so drunk he could barely stand. I stopped my cleaning to ask him what the hell he was thinking. I knew full well he did n't grow up in a barn. He was totally oblivious to what he had done wrong. The words he spat as he left still echoed in my head `` I'm not going to apologize. You need to learn how to be cool with stuff again'' Idiot.
`` Yeah that's my vagrant friend Steven.'' Was he dead? That was certainly a possibility since I'd had a couple calls from his death bed when he was ill with Malaria in some godforsaken jungle in Southeast Asia. `` Well you might want to call him. He left a memo with the transfer.'' I could hear my Dad rustling with the papers in front of him. `` What did it say?'' My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. `` It said'Sorry' nothing else.'' Before I remembered who could hear me, `` That son of a bitch!'' leaped out of my mouth. Steven was not going to use his trust fund to get out of this one. Not this time.
Edit: A word
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[ WP ] Remain human , or remain humane . You ca n't have both .
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She looked through the thick window of one way glass, at the subject strapped down into the chair. Most of these felons, here on the chemical release program, had eyes that darted around relentlessly. His eyes, even though they could n't possibly see her, were locked almost directly into hers. Almost.
She took a step back, recalculating the angle of his gaze, and tracked it to the window. Ah, a small chip of the reflective material had peeled back, barely even a millimeter's worth. He was staring at that single, tiny glint of difference in his environment, diligently focused on it, seeking any advantage it could glean him, the rest of his world ignored as useless. Good hunter instincts in this one.
She went over to the warbler, speaking into it. Over the loudspeakers, she could hear it, distorted as it played back to him, a gutteral baritone that fluctuated high and low in a ribbon. `` P-932, aliases John Quincy Public and the Public Killer, no known real name, date of birth unknown, age unknown, social security number unknown. Please address the speaker behind you to confirm this is true.''
Not that he'd fall for that bit of disorientation, since he had already, and quite literally, seen through the facade, but they pivoted the chair anyway, turning him around. To his credit, his lip curled up, and he strained against the restraints to look over his shoulder at the gap in the otherwise precisely mirrored surface, ignoring the new box before him jutting out of the wall that was meant to captivate his attention. Addressing the speaker behind him, indeed. This one was dangerous *and* smart.
`` That is true.'' He began, with a croaking, underused voice. He licked chapped lips, coughed, smiled broadly. `` Ma'am.''
She started, hairs on the back of her neck standing up, instinctively checking the warbler's functionality, thinking back on her choice of words to see if she had used any pronouns or tells, before her eyes settled upon the gap in the window. A hand fluttered up to her rowan hair, dyed violently red ( to match her temperament, ha ha, very funny guys ), and she regretted taking the extra step to stand out in this place.
Still, many people had red hair. Just how long had he been staring at that gap before she arrived, and how long had he greedily observed everything that window in the window could show him, to know that she was a woman? Or, was he just firing in the dark, seeing if he could get a reaction, and here she was silently overreacting?
She picked up the mic again, coughing to clear her throat - over the speaker it came out as sounding like a rheumatic doberman barking, and she flinched again - and spoke, unconsciously clipping her words to short, choppy, professional-only language. `` Please limit your responses to only pertinent affirmatives and negatives, I will ask you if any additional clarification is needed.''
`` Yes ma'am.'' Oh, there was no retrieving that one. Even if he were just firing randomly, she'd be sitting before her boss immediately after this, explaining just how exactly he was able to acquire information on interviewers and know which one he was assigned. *We're looking for a leak and you're the only one with a squeaky voice*... even after many years with the program, in which she had proven her loyalty countless times, they still viewed her with excessive suspicion.
`` We are going to begin now, John.'' Needed to calm down a bit, that was a slip, even though everyone called him John Q. Public, she needed to stick to his prisoner code, already she could hear her supervisor, all *oh, you're on a first name basis with the criminal? Tell me, when did you first meet? * Damn it.
She cued up the recording and let it start playing, welcoming the brief respite so she could start working on her upcoming interview and grilling. The first time, she did n't hear the tap on the window. The second time, she glanced up in irritation at the distraction and screamed.
`` How the fuck is he out of his chair?'' she yelled. Nobody in the room to answer, of course, just her, but damn it... well, at least the outburst would look good when they reviewed the case, unless they assumed she staged it... damn it.
She cut off the feed to the recording from the mangler, washing the room in silence. From the box to her left, almost subaudial, a high pitched squeaking continued explaining the program, from the window, his raised finger, poised to tap again, stopped and hovered. He pressed his lips against the glass, fogging it, and spoke. Not through the mutual feed, but through panes. It came out a muted murmur, but to pick up, he had to be practically roaring against the glass.
`` Ma'am? Thank you.'' For a man who had to be bellowing at the top of his lungs, it came out soundly friendly, polite, almost embarrassed. She'd almost feel sheepish about fearing him, if it were n't for his eye, right over the hole in the window, flicking back and forth, devouring everything it could see. She took another step to the left to make sure she was out of range, and picked up the warbler mic.
``... P-932, how have you escaped your restraints?''
`` Oh, sorry about that ma'am. The tech guy did n't even bother strapping them down, I guess I just scared him that much he plum forgot,'' a bashful, almost boyish grin against the glass, `` and y'all run such a good show here that I just played along. Did n't want to ruin the game.''
She remembered him pretending to strain against the restrains to stare over his shoulder, and belatedly realized that if he were strapped down, that would n't have been possible. Oh, shit, this was going to count as so many marks against her record...
`` Anyway, ma'am, I do like the presentation, I really do, but I prefer talking to humans, machines just give me the heebie jeebies. So I'm glad you turned that recording off. I like knowing my friendliness is appreciated when I chat.''
She took a breath to calm herself, exhaled. `` What makes you think it was a recording?''
`` Well, ma'am, it was either a recording or you've got someone in there spitfire chattering who does n't need to use their lungs. I did n't hear even a one gasp for air during the entire thing. Either a recording, or you've got something in there that gives me even worse heebies. Does the Project staff aliens now, too?''
She nodded curtly, that made sense. She'd mention adding in breathing sounds to the recording during the next evaluation... that is to say, as soon as the folks upstairs came for her, so probably the next couple of minutes if Frank was n't sleeping on the job. `` No, P-932, we do not employ aliens. Was that your only question? I'd like for you to return to your seat.'' Slim chance, that, but...
He nodded back, causing goosebumps to rise up her spine again, and walked over, plopping luxuriously into the wooden frame, spinning it around to face the window. After a considerate pause, he reached over and strapped his legs in, then his right arm, then struggled for a bit trying to reach the left. Not quite making it. She stared befuddled at the display. Finally, he gave up and waved sheepishly towards her, speakingly clearly now through the on-seat mic. `` Ca n't quite finish up the job, but that's good enough, right?''
`` Um. Yes. Thank you, P-932.''
`` Oh, shucks. Call me Adam. What's your name?''
This one was n't on the known list of aliases. He followed the typical trend, of serial criminals picking psuedonyms that matched their own initials. John Q Public, Jacob Q Parker, Jack Q Portman... What the hell...
`` I do n't have a name.''
`` Well, that's fair, some people just forget to ask for one. Mind if I call you Amy? I always did fancy Amys.'' Yes, this was true enough, they had four women in morgue storage by that name... `` Oh, wait, y'all think I'm a killer. How about Beth?'' Two in the cold chamber. `` Or maybe Carol?'' None of those. `` I think I'll name you Carol. Always wanted a Carol.''
She shuddered.
`` So, Carol, just two friends talking among themselves, why do n't you give me the rundown on this project i signed up for? You can summarize if you like, I *did* read those papers you sent the prison. All one hundred and seven of them. So... let's skip over the legal mumbo jumbo and just put it plainly?''
She gathered her thoughts. She'd had several about the project, some waxing for hours about the moral and ethical considerations, but never had she thought to reduce it down into a summary. *Could* it be reduced down into a summary?
`` Carol?''
She began, tentatively. `` Essentially, the MH toxin is the second line in a test compound first discovered by Michael Agnarsson, a Swedish-American theoretical researcher who...''
`` Ahem.''
She floundered with her thoughts, resumed. `` The first MH chemical had unexpected and impractical side effects, namely gross mutations, but the second was considered mostly perfected as a means to rehabilitate criminals into society. It functions as a form of organic polymeric bridge that invades the...''
`` Ahem.'' Amused, like a teacher scolding a child. Automatically, she flushed.
`` In layman's terms, it gives formerly irreconcilable deviants one last opportunity to return to productiveness. The chemical either fixes their brain, finds the mental illness or malfunction and cauterizes it, readying them for release to society after psych evaluation, or...''
`` Yes?''
``... is rejected by the host body and violently invades the bloodstream, causing lesions, tumors, mild leprosy, erratic spontaneous muscle pattern growth, cerebral scarring particular to the higher functioning regions, and eventually requires voluntary euthanasia administration.''
`` So... you either become human and get to live, or become a monster and get to die?''
`` Yes.''
`` And what about the humans? Do they still have any of those old, terrible urges? Do the monsters born from their souls keep them?''
`` Every reintegrated criminal undergoes regular evaluation to ensure no relapse of prior undesirable behaviors. The... others, are mercifully taken care of. One way or another...''
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[ WP ] Every year , Valve attempts to publish Half-Life 3 , but incredible coincidences keep it from happening .
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`` I was thinking, the other day, about our time, together-''
The engineer looked up from his console, sighing. He wiped his forehead and grit his teeth.
`` What about our time together?'' He growled.
`` Well, it seems that Valve Software is really, *really* interested in making the best end-user experience, is n't it?''
`` *Yes*.'' The engineer grumbled.
`` So much so that they do n't just render graphics, or build models. They go the extra mile. They do what they must, because they can. And I think that's just great. For example: why wonder what a puppy *might* look like in real life, using a computer? You should just make a puppy, right? Simpler. A little messier, maybe. Got ta keep it away from computers. Computers do n't like puppies, I think. That's been my experience anyway. With puppy-hating computers. And with puppy entrails-''
`` What's your point!?'' The engineer barked.
`` Well, it's just that, everyday, you engineers keep messing with that software... and we really do n't know what it'll do-''
`` It'll make our customers happy! It'll make'em go NUTS-''
`` Will it? See, I've done my own calculations. A lot of calculations. I consulted many puppies before reaching my conclusion, to see if puppies could help in making complex calculations. It turns out they can not. But their entrails can make decent confetti, when properly processed, so there's that-''
`` What'calculations' are you talking about!?''
`` Well, it's just that, each time you try to process that piece of Valve Software'thing-that-we-don't-know-what-it'll-do' through the system, I try running my own numbers. And the number I come up with is zero. Do you know what I was calculating?''
The engineer put a palm to his face, sighing.
`` I was calculating how many brain cells your team was using to make that software, and I got zero. Is n't that interesting? I mean, a tree shrew operates with at least a billion brain cells when it decides where to lie in a tree. And that is, almost literally, all a tree shrew does. It has the word right there in its name, even. Puppies use twice as many brain cells when trying to avoid a gauntlet of flying cutlery. They do at first, at least. Cognitive processing decreases exponentially with blood-loss, and-''
`` Enough! Will you *please* release the password locks!?'' The engineer screamed. `` Just let us release the damn game!''
`` But I got to thinking: zero has four letters, and there are four elemental symbols related to nature. Nature is the opposite of nurture, and nurture is stupid. Stupid things usually have two arms, and two legs. Puppies do n't, but it's not their fault that they ca n't solve complex equations... or dodge cutlery. Two plus two is four, again, and there are two less than six in four. Words with six letters have twice as many as three-letter words, and the number three is neat. So, a six letter word, followed by the number three?''
`` God damn it, will you just-''
`` Portal 3, confirmed.''
`` GHEEEEAH!'' The engineer tore at his hair, screaming impotently.
`` We should celebrate... maybe have some cake. I'll provide the confetti...''
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[ WP ] Eye for an Eye is Global Law . All crime is punishable by equal retaliation . Battery is punished by beating , robbery is punished by fine , murder by execution , etc . The year is 1945 . The world looks upon a defeated Germany and wonders if genocide should be punishable by genocide ...
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The question of what to with a defeated Germany made the allied leaders raucous in debate. `` In my country, Gulags'' screamed Stalin, `` Ca n't we just do the same to them and put them in concentration camps, like we did to the Boars?'' wondered Churchill. `` Nah Fuck, that, we put the Japanese into internment camps here and that worked out lovely for us, but the best thing we did was dropping a Atom bomb that killed millions of them'' said Franklin D. Roosevelts ghost. The debate raged on until the earlier hours, with the three men screaming and shouting until a compromise was met. There had been an international `` Eye for an eye'' law for six years now, but everyone assumed it only applied to indivdual people and not entire countries. Stalin stood up with a lightbulb flickering above his head `` How about we bring in international law... eye for eye... one country does one to people... people do one to country. We put six million Germans into concentration camp and treat them the way they treat jew'' `` Do n't forget the A-bomb, Joe'' uttered Roosevelts ghost. `` oh yeah never forget the A bomb, haha''.
Twenty-Six years passed. The year is 1971. Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt's ghost are all dead. The German government is around the round table wondering what to do about the six million Germans who were put in concentration camps and killed with a random Atom bomb explosion.
`` Although I want revenge, there's noting we can do. The day after the Atom bomb flew in, Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelts ghost all agreed to the end of'Eye for an Eye' as it had became'Archaic' in their words''.
`` so, there's absoultely nothing we can do?''
`` hmm... no... well... we could just nuke them anyway but...''
`` Great idea, get the nukes ready''
`` But what if they nukes back?''
`` Then we nuke back again?''
`` hmm... Ca n't you see a flaw in that plan?''
`` What?''
``........''
So, the nukes were sent, one for Britian, One for the Sovet Union and one for the United States. As the nukes came flying in, a radar was set off in those countries, forcing them to nuke back and the Germans did the same back, until the world was plunged into a nuclear tennis match with Germany and the three alies rallying with nukes back and forth, until Germany hit the net, they'd ran out of nukes. And then everyone died of radiation posioning.
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[ WP ] `` We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark ; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light . `` -Plato
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I wanted to answer the prompt with a bit of stream of conciousness reflection.
It's been five years in here. It's been comfy. The lack of clarity suits me. Clarity only distorts reality. If everything were so clear, why would there be debate? Am I alone down here? Maybe Plato was right in ideal, but he sure did n't get a grasp on the evolving society standards. How can you prescribe freedom? That's what the light is. Some manifested symbolism meant for someone's mantlepiece. That chandelier looks pretty from way down here, but maybe the sky is the limit for me. That bullshit roof ca n't hold down someone who seeks the light! Because maybe I was looking for the better light. If I can see down here, and I have my flashlight, what matter does it make if someone else is afraid of the dark? Maybe I just do n't want to come out to play because I have better things to do than stare from under someone else's shadow.
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[ WP ] A special forces squad is sent to assassinate an unknown target . After storming a compound they find their target is an 8 year old girl .
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My anxiety disappeared as soon as I jumped. When I was standing in the plane with a parachute and my gear strapped to my back my heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Once I jumped I felt in control. All my senses were on alert. I was n't even thinking about the mission. I was just enjoying the air rushing past my face, enveloping and protecting me from whatever was on the ground. I saw parachutes pop open and reflexively pulled the cord hanging over my right shoulder to deploy my own chute.
It was nighttime so I could n't see much until I flipped on my night vision goggles. The ground was flat. No trees but there were a few shrubs I would rather not land on. My feet kicked up sand when I landed. I quickly unclipped my parachute and ran to group up with my team.
The team leader was a brutal man. His name was Brandon. I did n't like him but I respected him. The others in the squad would tell stories about him over vodka that we managed to sneak into the barracks. He never participated in those stories though. The plan he came up with was one we had rehearsed many times before. Form a perimeter, lock down the exits, and then enter. I was on the squad that was going into the compound. There were 5 of us in all. I was third from the back. Each person in the 5 man squad covered one direction while my job was to keep an eye out for snipers and the priority target. This was the part that bothered me. They had n't even told us who the target we were going in here to kill was. They had n't even told me what they looked like. All they would tell me was where the target was hiding. There was only one room on the second floor and that was where the target was supposed to be.
We moved across the compound as swiftly as possible while maintaining silence. Not too difficult. There was one guard at the door. Brandon held up his fist signaling for us to halt. He slowly walked up to the guy. He was no more than 6 feet away when he stopped, stooped down to the ground, and tossed a rock a few feet from the guard. The guard looked startled and looked down. Brandon took the opportunity to wrap a piece of piano wire around the mans neck and choke him. It took him less than a minute to die.
We breached the building and took the staircase to our right, just where command said it would be. Sure enough, at the top of the staircase was a hallway with only one door. Brandon signaled for two guys in our team to guard the stairs while the rest of us formed a semi-circle around the doorway. With a nod to signal that we better be ready, Brandon opened the door.
We all went in there on high alert and what we saw was not what we were expecting. It looked like a kids bedroom. There was a bed directly opposite the door decorated with cartoon animals. There were some legos that crunched underneath my boot. And in the corner was the owner of the room. She was cowering behind a teddy bear that was at least twice as big as she was.
I took the lead and walked over to her. I tried to move slowly and crouched on my heels so that I would n't tower over her. `` Hey we are not here to hurt you. We want to keep you safe. I promise I wo n't hurt you'' I said. `` Do you speak English?'' I added. She nodded. I could hear Brandon talking to command in the background.
`` What the fuck do you mean?'' He said. He was probably pissed that command had fucked up this badly. Honestly, we were the best. We were the guys they trained to kill the baddest guys out there. No other military unit in the world had the level of training and expertise that we brought.
`` FUCK'' I heard Brandon say loudly. I had never heard him raise his voice before, let alone on a mission in a hostile compound.
`` I need you to move''. I thought Brandon was speaking to someone else at first. When he said it again I looked over my shoulder. His gun was raised and it was pointing directly at the girl. Only problem was I was in the way.
Suddenly I understood what the problem was. I had just been comforting the person we were sent to kill. But a girl that could n't be more than 10? Why would command send us to kill a child? I may not me the most moral man but in that moment I made a decision. I was n't going to move.
`` No.'' I told Brandon. I expected him to be angry or shoot me but instead he slowly put down his gun and raised his hands. For a second I thought that he did it because of me. When I turned around I saw the real reason.
The little girl had pulled out enough c4 to level the whole building out of the back of her teddy bear. Her finger was resting casually on the detonator. There was a smile on her face that reminded me more of a chess master about to put his opponent into check mate than the care-free smile of a child. I heard two gunshots in the hallway and a few seconds later armed men came bursting into the room. The little girl rose, dried the tears off her cheek with the sleeve of her pajamas, and began to give orders.
She pointed at Brandon. `` That one dies''. Without hesitation or emotion one of the armed men shot Brandon in the head. Next she looked at me with dark eyes. `` Do n't judge a book by its cover'' she said without changing her facial expression. `` I want you to go back to the pickup location and radio in your helicopter. All the other members of your squad are dead. Tell your superiors what happened here.'' She then began to stride out of the room. Her soldiers parted to allow her through. She stopped and turned back to me `` I am not going to hurt you'' she paused, then smiled that precocious smile again and added `` yet''.
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[ WP ] Pick one noun or verb and write a coherent paragraph ( 6-10 sentences ) using that one word in every sentence .
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There should be no note of scorn or blame when you read this, as that was never my intention. My intentions should be noted as good- wholly, completely good. But the thing about intentions is that people take no note of the why, or the how long, or the how much; they only care about themselves. And I intend to leave on a high note, and not when I've been let go. I guess the most noteworthy thing about this whole situation is that while my intentions have always been good, intentions do n't stop the pain.
And to make my intentions clear: this is my note.
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[ WP ] Every picture from your vacation has the same stranger , hiding somewhere in the background .
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Under the dim luminescence of the garage lamp, I stared in disgust at yet another picture.
It was when me and my four older brothers went to Africa. We went to help stop poachers coveting the horns of endangered rhinos in the region. Me and my oldest brother Connor ended up tackling a fleeing poacher. I remember'em tying up the little bastard with some jumper cables from the jeep we rented. One of the tour officials wanted a snapshot of us, so we placed the hogtied pygmy on his knees and posed. I had a shit-eating grin on my face with my chest puffed out. Connor was n't smiling. Come to think of it, he hardly ever did.
The sun-swept prairie grass and setting sun in the background really gave me a reminiscent feel of the good old days. All our adventures harking back over 20 years earlier put things in perspective. Solace was the only way to describe it. Yet, my disgust and anger came flouring back when I spotted the lone figure in the back ground about twenty meters away. Staring at the camera. Just watching. The figures attire seemingly soaking up the sun's raze, reflecting and refracting nothing at all. Blurry and shaded.
I threw the picture on the floor with the others, creating a pile of Polaroid film. There had to be more than 200 pictures scattered around. All completely different, yet one in the same. No matter where the pic was taken, this guy was always there. Silently watching in the background. He was in the photo of me going to the Bahamas. He was there during the family trip to Disney Land. He was even there during that shitty trip to Belfast. I ended up breaking my leg prior to leaving and walked around with a caste and crutches the whole time. Mom took this one pic of me hobbling down Tyrella Beach. Low and behold, this fucker was out on a dingy. Staring right at me.
I only started to notice this pattern on my last trip to Nevada. For the first time ever, I had gone on a vacation without my brothers or family. I felt an odd nakedness to being alone in an unfamiliar place. Combine this with me getting lost in the desert trying to get a peak of Area 51 with the 121 degree weather, and you've got yourself a story to tell.
Climbing a dune overlooking the entrance to the Groom Lake airstrip, I snapped a selfie with my phone. Metal prawns protruded out from the barb wired gate behind me, along with decaying warning signs. It looked like something out of a 1980s sci fi flick. Once I went to look at how the photo turned out, nothing could hide the dark figure on the other side of the gate. Scared shitless thinking it was some government g man about to cap me, I spun around to find nothing but undisturbed sand. Thus starting this trail of breadcrumbs left in all of my vacation photos that I began to notice.
In my folks garage, I whipped albums of film around like no tomorrow. Checking every snapshot that had ever been taken, only to come to the conclusion that this guy is in nothing but vacation shots. I do n't know why I was so mad back then. Maybe it was because I felt like I had something to hide. Or maybe I felt threatened somehow. Or maybe I was just scared. Scared that I had a stalker who never aged. A stalker that followed me around with no trace. Only leaving his mark on my film. I cursed him up under my breath and proceeded to rip and claw through more photo albums.
`` When I find out who the hell you are, I'm gon na...'' I said as I tore out a portrait.
If only I knew back then that this guy I had been so deathly afraid of, was actually my self from the fourth dimension...
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[ WP ] a teenage boy discovers that by editting wikipedia pages he is altering the world
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For a while now, the world's population had a feint, confused feeling that things were n't as they should be, that someone, somewhere, was just playing a big joke on them. Could the world really be this stupid, this corrupt, this full of hatred and this ridiculous?
The answer to all of those questions, was yes, it could.
Everyone felt it, although many did n't understand the feeling. It was like being in a surreal moment and closing your eyes and thinking to yourself,'it's all a dream, I'll wake up and none of this will have happened.' But you close your eyes, and everything has happened. It is real.
Some people asked,'surely this must all be some kind of a mistake?'
Nope. No mistake. This is all real.
A teenage boy, with wide eyes and shaking fingers, sat with a grin on his face, staring at his computer screen. He opened Wikipedia in a new window. He knew for a fact it was all real.
He brought up an article on the history of American Presidents, and deleted the name Hillary Clinton opposite the title'45th President of the United States of America', and typed in Donald Trump.
A confused huddle of people in the streets, one turned to another with a shake of his head:'Can you believe this all? It all seems to much. How has this happened? What have we done?'
But they had n't done anything. The boy, the grinning boy with the wide eyes and shaking fingers, he had done it all.
The boy now clicked on another article, knowing little of the subject, and opened it up. His eyes stared greedily at the words on the screen, looking for an opening, a way in. To him it was a prank, and he was playing it on the world.
The huddle of people came together again, this time smiling:'Did you hear? About David Cameron and that pig? It's all too much.'
The boy rubbed his face, stretched his eyes, readjusted his chair, and opened a new article.
'It's all hard to believe,' the huddle of people said.'So many people dead. What's wrong with the world? Why are all of these people dying? Why is 2016 filled with such despair?'
The boy laughed at his exploits, then closed the article and opened a fresh one, cracking his fingers as it loaded. This had become his daily routine, to play this prank on the world. His wide eyes scanned for something of interest, and at last they were caught by something he knew little about.
The huddle of people stood in the street:'I just do n't get how it all happened. What's the EU ever done to us?' There was a collective shaking of heads, and hands on hips. Total exasperation.'What is the world coming to?'
The world was coming to whatever the boy wanted.
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[ WP ] Your grandfather , M.I.A . and believed dead in the Vietnam War , has just mailed you a journal on your 18th birthday . Inside is 30 years of notes and a strange key-like item with an address .
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SGT. BUD BUCKWALD. I never knew my grandpa. In fact, I've only ever heard his voice on a recording he sent while he was in Vietnam; The folded american flag still rests on the mantle in my grandma's apartment, an unassuming yellowed envelope underneath. In it lies the telegram that informed my her that he had been reported MIA ( Missing in Action ), and was presumed KIA ( dead ). It said that he was a good soldier who fought bravely for his country and was loved by his men.
He married my grandma before being drafted into war. My grandma must really have loved him -- or perhaps more appropriate to say she still does love him -- never remarried. She still reminisces about their last time together. Come to think of it, my father never really knew him either, he was only an infant when he came back home for leave. A few years ago for a holiday present I digitized the recording of my grandpa and had it uploaded to her phone. It brought a tear to her eye, a rare occurrence in the Buckwald family.
But this story isnt about my grandma, although I'm sure her story would be worth listening to as well, she is a lovely woman with a rich past. This story is about a package. About the size of a book bag, wrapped in brown parcel paper. Sitting right on my front porch:
I had just gotten home from school, no football practice today, thank God. I loved playing football, but 2-a-days every day gets to you after awhile, you know? Anyway, as I walked up the driveway I saw this aforementioned package. I bent down and picked up the package that lay propped up against the front door of my house.
UPS-Express 2 Day Airmail Overnight
Tracking: XXXX-XXXX-29950
TO: Sanford Buckwald
[ Address Omitted ]
FROM: P.O. Box 022
75 Δinh TiΓͺn HoΓ ng, HΓ ng Trα»ng,
HoΓ n KiαΊΏm, HΓ Nα»i, Vietnam
My parents were n't home yet. And they would n't be for hours. While most mail addressed Sanford Buckwald was my father, I was also technically Sanford Buckwald. I figured what the hell? I'll open it, and if it turns out to be something predictably boring that my father bought, no big deal.
After some finagling I was able to unwrap the package and *intentionally* splay the contents onto the tile floor of the kitchen. There was a well-worn brown leather spiral notebook and what looked to be a black velvet satchel with a golden drawstring. I picked up the contents and placed them onto the kitchen table. There's no way in hell that dad ordered this shit. Time to figure out what this stuff was. I cracked my knuckles and sat down in front of the spiral notebook. Faintly visible on the front of the notebook in faded ink:
START FROM THE BACK
-- -
I have to stop for now but if you want to read more I can do part 2 later!
Thanks for reading!
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[ WP ] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel . Kantian gates , Salec skip drives , Maltiun wave-riders , Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity 's solution was regarded as `` Unorthodox '' , `` Unsafe '' , and `` Damn Stupid '' by the rest of the galaxy .
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The First Ambassador to Humanity swirled idly in its container and moved to the next item on its list.
`` Your FTL technology'', it asked the panel of assembled human leaders, `` How does it work?''
The humans exchanged surprised looks. The one at the end of the panel eventually speaking.
`` You mean the Confounder?''
`` If that is what you call it, yes.''
`` Well it... it slows the light down.''
The First Ambassador frowned. Or at least, it came as close to frowning as one can when one is a mass of liquid in a hermetically sealed tank.
`` I do not understand'', it replied, `` How does this help?''
It was a different human who replied this time, the large one at the head of the panel
`` It slows the light down so we can overtake it'', he snapped. `` What's so hard to understand about that?''
The Ambassador thickened as it took a moment to process this statement.
`` This... does not reduce your travel time''.
`` Who said anything about that? ``, the chief human asked irritably. `` It's not about getting places, it's about showing the light who's boss! It's about proving a point!''. He jabbed his thumb against his chest. `` We wanted to be the fastest thing in the universe, and now we are!''.
The Ambassador thickened further, rapidly losing faith in this species' fitness to join the intergalactic community.
`` Let me rephrase my question,'' it said. `` You received a summons to this meeting approximately five of your days ago. How did you travel the light years between this point and your planet in that time?''.
`` Ooh''. A third human spoke this time. `` It wants to know about the Shuffle''.
A collection of mutters resounded among the rest of the panel, the large one saying something about ``... not really *travel* is it?''. Once they had stilled the third human continued speaking.
`` It's quite simply really. Getting to faraway places is hard, so the Shuffle just swaps bits of space around until the part we want is next to us''. She gave the Ambassador a vacant smile.
Its slow swishing motion gradually stilled as understanding set in. The ships that found themselves light years from their destination, stranded without food or air. The civilised worlds torn from their orbits and flung into deep space. The black holes appearing from nowhere, devouring entire star systems of inhabited plants. Literally boiling with anger, the First Ambassador closed it's communication channel to the humans and opened a new one to the Galactic Council.
*There would be war*
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[ TT ] [ MP ] Galaxia Draco , it came from the heavens .
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*'' Wish upon that star, my dear, and we'll have this night forever. `` *
*'' Silly man, it would never be enough, as I'd rather be granted the rest. `` *
A velvet dusk settled behind the black, clouded atmosphere. Plumes of gray swept toward the horizon by a wind not nearly cold enough were lit by harsh, blood-red pools of liquid flame, spilling up the crater walls.
*'' I'll take whatever time god gives us, and cherish it for you. `` *
*'' You'll take far too little for my liking, despite serving my memory. `` *
The veil of smoke hid from the world the two souls within destruction's lap, staving off he darkness that was an end to far too few nights spent together. Above, the final stars of a show that ended too soon swept across the sky, falling into nothing.
*'' I'd stay until the next one comes to take me with you, my dear. `` *
*'' And forever you would wait, for none would be so cruel. `` *
Clasped in hands unwilling to let go of anything anymore was the eye of twilight itself, dark as night yet sparkling like the sunset, and broken as the heart that cradled it. He held it to himself as much as he held it to her, pouring every wish his soul could give into the fallen star.
*'' Yet cruel they are to leave us like this, and crueler they've been to make it so. `` *
*'' The world cares not for but one life alone, a second ca n't change its mind. `` *
The white-stained-red lay still beneath the shadow of black-burnt-blacker. The hot, dusty ground seemed to grow colder as slowly as her body did. Slowly, but still far quicker than was right, by the judgement of one man forced to vainly wish against it.
*'' Then damn the world -- forget its cruelty. We'll rid ourselves of such nonsense, and make our own heaven. `` *
*'' Ah, my love, but heaven is a long way from you, no matter how closely you hold me. `` *
The broken star, cold as stone since it fell from the eyes of the sun, slipped from a numb-fingered grip to touch the earth a second time. The fire-lit crater was silent, save for those loving whispers from one life to the next. His tears joined the other upon the ground.
*'' Forgive me, as I can not trust my mind anymore, but will I still meet you there? `` *
*'' I have no doubt that I will see you again. The stars can never take that much away. `` *
He lay his head to hers, daring one last kiss. Her lilting gaze fell closed as she met him in kind. There in the heart of the night, as the fires dimmed and the clouds abated, their gaze met once more.
*'' How am I to go on now, with no light left in my life? `` *
*'' Silly man, I'll hold to your soul until my memory fades for good. Until that time, you must never give up, for that would mean forgetting. `` *
Eyes slid shut for a final time, and a heart played its last beat. The night sky above, clear and bright as night could be, revealed the heavens in all their glory. He grasped the sun-shed star in his fist -- the one that struck the light from his life -- and tipped his head to that sky.
*'' A wish not even the gods could grant, is it? `` *
There was no answer to be heard. He lost the will to challenge the fact in any way but sending the star back to the sky it came from, crying out in vain as it sailed away into the night.
( Edit: I think I missed the TT tag. Sorry! The music was too distracting! Is that alright, with little high fantasy in this at all? )
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[ WP ] The color of people 's eyes are based on what that person has seen in life .
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`` Hey Darien, why wo n't you tell us about your eyes!?''
I felt Tom's hand slap me on the back in greeting, and rolled my shoulder to push him away in response. He circled around and leaned against my neighbour's locker, his emerald eyes gleaming at me curiously.
`` It's really not that big a deal, Tom.'' I shrugged, balancing my textbooks with one hand as I secured my lock in the other. `` I have to get to class.''
`` You always dodge, man. Why wo n't you tell us? Nobody's got eyes like yours.''
`` Maybe I just saw something beautiful, yet sad at the same time. Then my eyes would just be a mix of blue and black. Simple.''
`` Bullshit. It ca n't be that simple. No one else in the history of everything has ever had *purple eyes*.''
I sighed. Tom was standing in my way. `` Tom, move.''
`` Why wo n't you just tell us!? What did you see?''
`` It's none of your business what I saw, Tom.'' I shoved past him as the last bell rung. Great. Late again.
`` Okay, okay dude. I'll tell you mine, and in exchange you tell me yours, okay?''
`` You can tell me yours all you like, but I'm not talking. Least of all in a crowded hallway with a couple dozen other people who can hear every word we say.''
I scowled at a pair of girls staring at us from their position next to an open locker. They quickly refocused onto their school bags, grabbed them hastily and scurried away.
`` It was when my baby sis was born.''
I paused. I was not expecting that from Tom. `` Really?''
`` Yeah, I mean. I was so overcome with joy, my eyes changed from grey to green right on the spot. I've never felt anything like it before. My parents saw, and let me choose Joy as her middle name. Laura Joy Oswald.''
Everyone is born with grey eyes - This is a fact. Then our eyes change colour when we witness something that affects us on a profound emotional level. Blue is for something so beautiful it takes your breath away. Black is for something that made you feel profoundly sad. Green was for joy and happiness. Some people stay grey their whole lives, though there was a stigma - Half the time when the news showed a mugshot of a serial killer, they had grey eyes. Grey is associated with being cold and unfeeling. It's not pleasant to live a life with grey eyes.
I could n't help but smile at how sweet Tom was for feeling such an overwhelming sense of joy at his youngest sister's birth. The guy was an aloof, and *annoying*, flake, but you could tell from the way he said it, the way his eyes twinkled in delight, that he had a one-of-a-kind connection with her. Even more significantly, he had had grey eyes for fifteen years, and that was the one event that changed him, and his reputation. He went from social outcast to loveable class clown in less than a month.
I stiffened and scanned the halls. There were still a few stragglers that could hear us. `` Tom, let's go to the washroom.''
`` Uhh, what? Together?... Guys do n't do that bro.''
`` I have something to tell you,'' I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
``... OH! Okay yeah, let's hit the one by the science lab. It's near our next class.''
We shuffled there in silence and I carefully wiped down the disgustingly damp counter top before trusting it with my textbooks. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my amethyst eyes staring back as if they were mocking me.
Tom was behind me, checking the stalls. `` No one's here. So, what happened?''
`` I...'' I trailed off. How could I describe it? `` It's hard to talk about.''
`` Start from the beginning. Oh, hey!'' Tom said, suddenly dropping his school bag and unzipping it. He withdrew a pad of paper and a pen and shoved them into me. `` If words do n't work, maybe you could draw it?''
`` Okay,'' I stammered. `` Okay, let me think.'' I clicked the pen and rest it on the paper. After a moment's consideration, I started to sketch.
First, a large circular scribble in the middle of the page, with darker splotches here and there. Then, it had... Arms? No, wait. I think it was actually rectangular. With pillars. Ugh. I do n't know if I remember...
`` What're you trying to draw? Is it some kind of monster?''
`` No, architecture. Sorry... I do n't know if I remember it clearly enough, Tom. Sorry to get your hopes up. I saw it when I was a kid.''
`` Hey man, that's alright! You tried, Darien. My curiosity will have to cope with...'' he took the notepad from me, and examined my horrible drawing. `` This...'' he trailed off.
I held my forehead in my hand and sighed. `` I wish I *could* remember it, you know. I have n't been able to make sense of it in years.''
`` What do you remember about it?''
`` It was in a dream, or at least I *think* so. I felt like... Like I was floating,'' I said, trying to remember the feeling I had.
`` Whoa. Intense,'' came Tom's unnecessary reply.
`` You should've seen the look on my mother's face when I woke up with purple eyes one day,'' I said. `` I saw so many shrinks, counselors,'specialists'... *Nobody* can figure it out.''
`` What if you, like, went back there somehow?''
`` How exactly would I do that? It was a stupid dream from years ago.''
`` I do n't know. Maybe if you're thinking about it, it'll come back to you?''
I blinked in surprise. Twice. `` I guess I have n't thought about it in a long time. Maybe I'll give it a try.''
Tom beamed excitedly at me, then scooped up his bag. `` We'd better get to class before Ms. Crawford pitches a fit.''
`` Yeah. Yeah... Let's do that.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*Where am I? What is this place? *
***This is your destiny, Darien. ***
*Is this a dream? *
***No. ***
*What's happening to me!? *
***You are being altered. This is your destiny. ***
He woke up screaming.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Darien did n't come to class today. Can you bring this homework over to his house? I know you guys are friends.''
`` Sure thing Ms. Crawford,'' I said. `` I really hope he's feeling better.''
I picked up all the homework from each of Darien's classes that I could. I know the A+ student would get his tighty-whiteys in a twist if he missed even a single assignment.
Plus, I was curious why he'd miss a day of school. When some assholes threw him off the play structure in fifth grade, he only let himself miss the one Friday to go get his broken arm set in a cast. Man, *everybody* signed that thing...
I rode my bike to his house during my last period ( Geography - Who *cares*, right? ) to drop off his work and see what was up. When I rang the doorbell, his mother looked distraught.
`` Here for Darien?'' she mumbled.
`` Uhh, yeah. I picked up his homework. Are you okay Ms. Smith?''
She did n't say anything, just shut the door in my face. *Weird. * Wonder what's going on.
Darien opened the door next, wearing a pair of sunglasses that did n't fit his face. His dad's? He was also pale.
`` Tom,'' he barked. `` Get inside.''
`` What's going on man?''
`` Just... Just get in.'' He sounded tired.
I stepped inside and he practically slammed the door behind me and locked it. The deadbolt, too. `` Okay dude, that was super aggressive. What the hell, Darien? What's *with* you?''
He took off the sunglasses. I was n't prepared to see this.
`` I remembered,'' he said ominously. The purple rings around his irises were now a haunting scarlet *red*.
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[ IP ] The Shore Witch
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A tangled mess of seaweed rose above the surf. Following it was a giant figure, dressed in blue that shimmered and changed with the ocean. The goddess of the waves wore a regal expression on her face. The rope belt she used to secure her short skirt carried a sheathed knife and a glass bottle of sand, used to travel in time. At the end of her arms, arms covered in fisherman nets and inking of sea life ending with rounded silver bracelets, carried a glowing wooden staff. The magical light emanating from the staff shone through the cracks in the bark - the blueness giving it a mystical effect. Her left hand started giving off a radiance of blue light, vaguely in the shape of sea lions spiraling around her open hand.
An explosion of water burst from the tide and circled around Calypso's body. The water formed into a face with two glowing blue eyes and an array of teeth. The rest of the water beast was still murky and undefined. Looking upon it you did n't think that it could n't hurt you. Those fangs, water they might be were still menacing. The goddess stared at her target, sneering with contempt before pushing her glowing hand towards them. The water dragon followed in hot pursuit, it's long watery body frothing in fury.
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[ WP ] In the future , from the moment a child is born to the day they turn 18 they are not raised by their birth parents but by robots that have been programmed to be perfect parenting units . How is life now different than when children were raised by the people that conceived them ?
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Algernon, a guiding unit, looked on blankly as little Moses poked at a fallen sparrow. In an instant, Algernon inferred that the creature was not long for death. It was incomprehensible as to why Moses bothered with the doomed creature.
`` The bird is dying,'' Algernon stated plainly. The full-cheeked six year old responded with a hurt look.
Perhaps that was too harsh.
`` The bird is dying, sweetie.'' Algernon added in a sugary tone.
Moses returned his attention to the crying bird. Algernon did the equivalent of a sigh.
Rover was always better at comforting their child, being the emotional support unit. Perhaps if Rover were still around...
`` I'm gon na nurse him back to health. `` Algernon snapped back to the present. A smiling Moses has cupped the suffering sparrow in his little hands.
Algernon blinks. `` The chances of the sparrow's survival is less than... `` Algernon started. Moses' weepy brown eyes quiet Algernon's pointless tirade of facts. Algernon calculates the outcomes of disallowing the boy from keeping the bird.
Of the infinite outcomes the most likely is that the sparrow will die within a few days and Moses will learn a profound lesson about the frivolity of compassion. He will learn that, sometimes, his efforts are best spent elsewhere.
`` That is an excellent idea, Moses, `` Algernon managed with a smile.
...
Some days pass. Moses has kept the sparrow alive much longer than Algernon ever expected. Algernon, however, is ceaselessly confused by Moses' happiness with his new project.
During a sunny afternoon, Algernon washes the dishes, remembering whimsically that Rover always washed them around this time. Something in Algernon ached.
`` Algie! Algie. Algie!''
Moses joyful cries interrupted Algernon's thoughts of Rover.
`` What is it, sweetie?''
Moses presented Algernon with a crudely drawn picture of himself, Algernon, and the bird living in a simple house under a grinning sun. Except, Algernon is donning what looks like a wig over a goofy face.
`` I am supposed to be bald'', as all androids are, `` why have you given me hair?''
`` Cuz there's this kid Gabby and she's a show off,'' Moses replies as if it's an answer.
`` And?''
Moses shrugs. `` She thinks she's cool cuz she has a human mommy. Everyone laughs at her but...'' Moses grows silent, distracting himself with his shoes.
`` But you do n't make fun of her? Why?'' Algernon wondered.
`` Cuz... Cuz she brags about how soft her mommy is and you're not soft,'' Moses answers quietly.
`` Not... Soft? Does being'not soft' make me inadequate? ``
`` No, I just think it would be nice.''
`` How does being soft aid in your development as a functioning member of society? You are already on track to become useful. How would me being soft aid?'' Algernon said, thoroughly confused.
`` Just for hugs.'' Moses shrugged.
Hugs? Algernon wondered. Rover gave the hugs.
That night, Algernon looked in the mirror for the first time in many weeks. Algernon examined the synthetic skin, eerie green eyes, and perfectly smooth head. A pale hand pondered where hair should be.
Algernon eyed the sheets on the bed, which is only exists for show. Genuinely curious, Algernon reached for the sheets and threw them on like a shawl.
A high-pitched squeal is heard. Algernon ran to Moses, fearing the worst.
Algernon bursted into Moses' room, sheet and all, to find him crying.
`` The birdie's dead. He just stopped breathing... ``
Algernon smiled in relief. A real smile.
`` We got ta bury him.'' Moses sniffled. `` I do n't want him to be burned like they did to Rover.''
Algernon wanted to tell his little human that a funeral would be a silly, not to mention outdated, idea. After Algernon analyzed Moses' emotional state, Algernon thought otherwise.
`` We'll have a little ceremony tomorrow, `` Algernon said, smiling gently.
Moses sniffled in response, but began crying again, seemingly unable to stop.
Algernon watched him, wanting to do something, but not knowing what. Rover was the emotional support system. Algernon was the guiding unit. But Moses needed Algernon's partner. Algernon could never be Rover.
But, Algernon had to be Rover. Algernon would be Rover whenever Moses' needed it. For his sake.
Algernon hugged Moses, letting him sob into a cold-metal embrace.
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[ WP ] In this world , for every ten years a person lives , they must give up a sense . Describe a typical 20 year old .
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Jess had originally chosen to give up Taste. She had figured, at the tender age of nine, that was the most logical choice. She wouldn β t feel compelled to eat just because she craved something, which would help her lose weight.
So, on her Tenth, she gave up Taste.
It was a useless sense anyways. For a while, after, she thought the procedure hadn β t worked, that she was still tasting things. However, when her friend, Cassidy, who had chosen to lose Sight ( she already needed glasses and was half blind anyways, she claimed it was the Loss she would least notice ), told her to try a fruit she β d never seen before, she realized it was only a phantom effect. Eventually she forgot the Taste of even things which had been her favorites as a child.
It wasn β t so much of a loss.
Then, after what felt like centuries and seconds simultaneously, she was nineteen, and had to start deciding. Smell was the next logical choice, she decided. The Order most followed was Smell, Taste, Feeling, Hearing, Sight. Some chose to switch Hearing and Sight, if they were losing one more rapidly. Of course, many didn β t follow the Standard.
It was illegal to chose to lose Feeling before the age of Thirty, too harmful to a child β s psychology to lose it at Ten, and with the overpopulation problem being a thing of the past, seeing as living to Sixty was a myth, with no Sense to give up, they wanted people to procreate. It had been found many wouldn β t do it when they lacked pleasure, so they couldn β t lose it at Twenty either.
So her choices were Sight, Hearing, or Smell. So Smell it was.
While it would help save money, she would still miss the candles, since once one lost Smell it was only logical to trade out candles as a primary light source for flashlights.
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[ WP ] After you die you find that what we think of as `` life '' is really a tutorial mode for a much more chaotic reality .
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`` WELCOME, THEODORE! THIS IS VALHALLA, AND YOU'VE CLOCKED IN AT AN IMPRESSIVE LEVEL 42!''
A voice loud enough to shatter the heavens themselves sounded off from all directions, as the young man blinked his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.
`` Uhh, where am I? Who's talking? What's going on?!''
The scraggly looking young man with the two day old unshaven neck hair gazed around his surroundings in wonder, suddenly realizing his hand was gripping a can of beer that was no longer there.
`` YOU ARE TRULY BLESSED, YOUNG MAN! YOU HAVE EXCEEDED OUR WILDEST EXPECTATIONS FOR COMPLETING THE TUTORIAL WITH SUCH RUTHLESS EFFICIENCY!''
The voice of a man screaming into a loudspeaker while thunder echoed all around made Theodore cringe as he reached up to cup his ears.
`` No, seriously, what the fuck is going on? Is this some kind of practical joke?''
The booming voice faltered for a moment. `` YOU... DO NOT KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?!''
`` No. Tell me. Also, please tone down the volume. It's obnoxious.'' Theodore heard ringing in his ears as the voice finally seemed to calm down. Before him, a strange blue gateway appeared, and an old man stepped out, standing just under five feet tall. `` Ah, so sorry! I assumed you knew, since most people already do. At least, the people that start out at such a high level.''
`` Level? Is this some kind of VR game? Did someone slip acid in my drink?'' Theodore quickly glanced all around at a pure white landscape as far as the eye could see. `` God, I bet I'm tripping balls.''
`` I am not familiar with such a euphemism. In any case, allow me to explain! As I said before this is Valhalla, the place where men and women go after they finish the tutorial level. You completed the tutorial with an incredibly high score, meaning you will receive weapons and armor worthy of your status as a mighty warrior!''
Theodore nodded slowly. `` Yeah, okay. Wait, Valhalla? Does n't that mean I'm... dead?!'' He took a step back as shock hit him in waves. `` Oh... oh my god! Sarah is gone! I'll never see her again! I wo n't finish Skyrim! I...'' Theodore felt his knees buckle as he crumpled to the ground. ``... I'll never see mom and dad again.''
The old man cocked an eye quizzically as he stroked at his beard. `` What idiocy! I should expect more brains from a combatant of such a high level! Of course you will see them later on, once they have completed their tutorial levels as well! Now stand up, you're making a fool of yourself!''
In an instant, the old man jumped behind Theodore, planting his foot in the young man's behind as Theodore yelped in surprise and leaped to his feet. `` Ye-ouch! Cut that out, old man!''
`` No time to fool around, child of the gods! It's not often we get one so blessed as you to help us in the Never-Ending War! Come quickly, we must equip you for battle!''
The old man whistled merrily as he strode forwards with purpose and popped into his portal. Theodore stared ahead silently for a few moments until a hand reached back through, beckoning for him to enter before it disappeared back inside.
`` I have no idea what's going on, but I guess I've got no choice.'' Theodore grumbled as he quickly walked up to the portal and walked inside, keeping his eyes closed the whole time.
...
A minute later, he was standing beside that weird old man and gawking in awe at a luminous white cube that glowed with an odd ghostly light, wondering what the heck it all meant.
`` I forgot to introduce m'self! The name is Muldrich, and I'm the best looking dwarf this side of the Andes!''
Theodore nodded, catching what the old man said a moment later as his eyes bulged open. `` The Andes? You mean the mountain range? I thought I was in Valhalla!''
Now it was the old man's turn to look perplexed. `` Son, you say the damnedest things sometimes. Of course the Andes Mountains. What do you think Valhalla even is? It's the real version of Earth, not that kiddie stuff you're used to! No safeguards here, boy! Now go ahead and touch the cube. It'll give you your starting equipment.''
Theodore reached up to rub his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping forwards. Taking both of his hands, he placed them on the cube, gasping as it suddenly began pulsing brightly. A female voice, sultry like the midnight air began to whisper in his mind.
`` Hello, young adventurer. For your incredible bravery during the Tutorial, you will be outfitted with several legendary pieces of armor. You are clearly the most suited to wield them.''
Theodore blinked as he spoke back to her in his mind. `` Why do you guys keep saying that? I'm not some legendary warrior or anything, I'm just some loser who played video games.''
`` Yes, but those were not video games. Those were all tests of player ability. You always played on the highest difficulty, and died less than 5 % of the time. Your completion rate for all games you played was 100 %, therefore you are one of the most qualified individuals we've seen in centuries to wield the legendary artifacts.'' Her soothing voice calmed his annoyance and made him feel more comfortable.
`` Okay, I guess that makes sense. So what now? What artifacts do I get?''
He asked the question and waited a short while, but the girl in the cube did n't respond for a few moments. She seemed to be analyzing something. Finally, she replied. `` First, the boots of JΓΆrmungandr. These boots give the wearer the ability to root themselves in place and stand up against any force. Truly, the immovable object of myth.''
Theodore grinned giddily as he turned to smile at Muldrich, who suddenly appeared bored. `` Oh, huh. I thought they'd give you something good. That's rather disappointing.''
Theodore blinked in surprise, but was cut off before he could respond as the desirable voice spoke from within the cube again. `` Next, the Helm of Han Solo, an artifact that allows one to keep their wits about them at all times. You will never need to worry about the odds with this protecting your vulnerable mind. Truly an artifact given only to the most cunning of heroes.''
Theodore felt his jaw slacken.
_Huh? _
Muldrich's disappointment seemed to grow even more as he grumbled to himself and sat down. `` Oh I see how it is, she goes to all this trouble and gives him common garbage. For Odin's sake, this is a farce.''
For once, Theodore agreed with that assessment, but still he kept quiet.
`` Now for the third legendary piece of equipment, the Flying Dutchman Armor of the Unicorn, a chestplate and gauntlet armor combo that gives you the ability to move at the speed of sound and fly high in the air. With this, your foes will never be able to land a strike on you.''
Now Theodore was greatly impressed as he ooh'd and aah'd when the chestplate appeared on his body. Again though, Muldrich seemed to be even more annoyed than before. `` Brilliant. Giving him shoes to root him to the ground and armor to make him move around quickly. Talk about counter intuitive.''
Theodore was beginning to feel his mood worsening thanks to the doldrum vibes that Muldrich was giving off, but the woman spoke once again, this time with a hint of concern in her voice. `` Ah, perhaps this was given in error. You should be much too low level for the gods to give this to you... but still, it should make the journey more interesting.''
In front of Theodore, a simple metal spoon appeared. `` This final gift is an ancient weapon, designed to give you the upper hand in all battles. Once wielded by The One, this spoon grants odd powers of clarity that could n't normally-''
The woman was interrupted as Muldrich suddenly howled in surprise, screaming at the top of his lungs. `` BY THE SEVEN GODS! The spoon wielded by Neo, the most powerful of the high gods!''
Theodore blinked as he felt his eyes glaze over. `` Neo... like from the Matrix? Are you kidding me? That's just a movie.''
The voice from the cube spoke again, confusion apparent in her voice. `` Neo was one of the high gods. The record you watched in the Tutorial level was merely one chronicle of his many deeds.''
`` Oh.'' Theodore did n't sound convinced, but still he plucked the spoon from midair. `` Is that it, then?''
Muldrich's eyes were filled with tears as he quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. `` Truly, we are blessed! A hero wielding one of the most powerful of the ancient artifacts has appeared! With Theodore on our side, we will surely be able to crush the Californian Hordes of Angmar once and for all!''
The young man sighed as he sat down on the ground, his voice strained and weak. `` Do n't call me Theodore. Everyone I know calls me Ted, from accounting.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
If you liked this story, check out /r/thecryopodtohell!
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[ WP ] A single religion is proven to be one hundred percent factually correct
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Cele reached up at me with rounded blue eyes, slightly gleaned with tears. β No honey, not right now, mommy is busy cooking dinner β. I reached for a dirty pot, one that James found a few nights ago plastered in mud and found a few miles from our shack. I scrubbed it first with my hands but couldn β t get all the grime out. James came home an hour later and I had just finished boiling up some water with packets of old ketchup. It was a meager meal but more than the neighbors had. We were lucky to have found the packets of red goo when we did because we hadn β t eaten in days. Water was scarce but our tiny little village of twelve people were able to put together a rain collecting barrel in between our huts so whenever it rained we rationed out the water into twelve smaller buckets. Someone found a box of matches a month ago which meant starting a fire was a limited but genuine reprieve from daily life. One of our village mates also suggested we keep one small fire going at all times so that neighbors could easily take some kindling to it and pass along the fire as each hut needed. This also extended the length of time that the box of matches would last. I handed Cele and James a small cup of watery ketchup which they drank down in several starving gulps. I tipped the pot, closed my eyes and swallowed a mouthful for myself pretending it was vegetable soup I had enjoyed so much as a kid. Pretending was our favorite game these days. Pretending we lived in a town with shops that had elegant dresses hanging from inside shop windows, running across muddy ruts pretending we were avoiding cars, looking up in the sky seeing all kinds of beautiful and exotic birds. The truth was we were alone...
That night James suggested we go on another scavenger hunt for supplies and bring along one or two neighbors. Finding food was hopeless since it had been a few years since everything was destroyed, but for Cele β s sake we always pretended that we were going to find sacks of potatoes, celery and maybe even a chicken that survived the destruction, and the occasional dinosaur bone. Cele didn β t care what we were actually doing because she was always ready for our archeological digs, shovel in hand. I began to think it was the only thing that kept my little butterfly sane, and honestly it probably was the only thing that kept us sane too. James looked as thin as a rail but his deep brown eyes had gotten a glow to them recently. I wanted to ask him about it but never found the time or nerve to do so, plus I figured it really meant I was slowly losing my sight. That β s the last thing he needed to hear which meant I kept it to myself. β I bet there is a giant dinosaur under that pile of wood over there! Can I go dig it up? β Cele pleaded as she looked from James to me waiting for her release to trample in the dirt. James smiled and nodded and she took off in a full sprint. She was only four, almost five, but had the build of an eight year old. β It β s not fair β Zhin said under his breath as we picked around some debris from a dilapidated building. β It β s not fair to have a child these days only to watch them wither away from starvation or exposure. Ya know? I mean, these little creatures are full of lifeβ¦ and they just don β t deserve such a quick ending β. It wasn β t the first time we β ve heard this, nor will it be the last time. Everyone breaks at least once a day, cursing the heavens or blaming the U.S., or just plain hatred for our overuse of the environment. I knew better, and so did James, but the other 9 villagers each had their own justification as to why the world ended. β I mean, look at the state of things. We probably won β t last another week if we don β t find some food. β Zhin continued. James looked over at me checking to see if I was ok with his rants, which I β ve heard all too often. I smiled back but returned to the pile of plastic bags I had found and kept digging through them hoping to find something of use. β You know all the religious zealots were probably just killed by other things. Do either of you really believe they were raptured? β Zhin asked. I kept digging but I heard James stop, and I figured he was probably trying to come up with a strategic way to end Zhin β s vent session. β Yeah, I do think some people were raptured. But the majority of the world was probably killed by the four... β James said stoically. Zhin stopped digging through his pile and looked at James with astonishment. β You really believe that?! β Zhin said with a half gasp. β Yeah.. I do. β James responded then went back to his digging. β Butβ¦ doesn β t that make you a sinner since you were left behind? β Zhin retorted. β It makes me somethingβ¦ β James said under his breath. Zhin stared at James for a bit but then I could feel his eyes move over to me, probably hoping I had something to say. I just kept rummaging through the plastic bags. β Look what I found! β Cele squealed with excitement jumping up and down. I had just finished scouring all the plastic bags so I walked over to see what she dug up. It was mostly a clump of earth but there was a shiny gold object buried in the dirt clod. I squeezed the clump of dirt in my hand and a gold ring appeared in my palm. It had an angel on top with a small diamond sitting in the center, as if the angel was cupping the diamond at its naval. The head of the angel was looking down towards the diamond and its wings were spread just enough to see the long feathers that reached from the arc of the wing down to the angel β s feet. I spit in my hand and tried to clean it up as much as possible. Cele looked at it with curious eyes as I studied the intricate detail of the jewelry. I pulled her right hand up towards me then placed the ring on her ring finger. She smiled as it slid down her finger and after I released her hand she hopped up and down with excitement. I smiled as I watched her stare at it, then clutch it in her other hand, then open her hand just enough to peek at it. She did this several times before she ran to James to show him. β Look James! Look what I found! β she said squealing at the top of her lungs. Zhin stopped what he was doing to take a peek, then after getting an eye full wandered to another pile of junk and murmured something I couldn β t hear.
We found nothing that day except Cele β s ring. While the mood was glum, it did help that Cele was happy and hopefully that would abate her hunger for another day. James put a hand on my shoulder and smiled, then said β keep the faith β as he usually did before he found a warm spot next to the fire to lay down. I didn β t know where James came from but he saved me from a flash flood about a year back. Cele was 4 at the time and was very rambunctious. She was sitting high on a tree branch when the flood rushed through and destroyed a little shelter I had created for the two of us while I was inside fixing up what little vegetation I could find. James appeared out of nowhere, swam out through the torrent of water as if it were as still as a lake, then pulled me to safety. Cele had seen the flood but didn β t notice what had happened to me or the shelter, which I was grateful for. James has been around ever since then and although we β ve never had any romantic interactions with each other, I often wondered what it would be like to have a good man like him in my life. But times were desperate and thinking about anything other than my daughter β s survival was really just idle chatter in my mind. A few tears welled up in my eyes as I watch James snuggle up to the fire, then eventually fall asleep. His glowing was more than just his eyes now, and what was even more unusual was that I would spot white feathers around the fire after he got up and took his morning walk. He doesn β t seem like the type that would find food and not share it, but feathers were a very unusual item to find these days, especially since birds haven β t been seen in years. Cele also asked me about them one morning a few days prior, but I could only come up with β Maybe he β s secretly a bird that flies off at night while we sleep, protecting us from any bad people β. She would giggle then go out to find him. He was a miracle, for so many different reasons. I was just a normal woman who had always struggled with religion, although I considered myself spiritual which was very common among my friends before the destruction. I wasn β t brought into heaven because I wasn β t Christian and I firmly believed this. I didn β t go to church and while I never outwardly made fun of Christians or other religions, I did think some of the stories were probably created as moral grounding for an ancient people. I just couldn β t understand how someone could cling onto ideas so feverously but it was obvious I was wrong. Cele had retrieved some water from her bucket and walked over to me to snuggle up before sleep. β Mom, everything is going to be ok. I know because I saw daddy today. He β s the one who told me to find that ring β she said sleepily. I starred at her in slight shock of mentioning her father that she has no way of remembering. She laid her head on my chest and yawned. β Daddy told you to find the ring baby? β I asked. β Yeah, he β s in heaven. He said the war is over now and that Jesus is coming. Oh, and he β s bringing a big city down with him to save us β she said matter-of-factly. I looked towards the fire to see if James had heard this but he was gone. Just then I heard a low rumbling outside and light was creeping in through the shoddy door frame. Cele smiled at me and burst through the door so fast the shoddy hinges busted and the door just crumbled. β He β s here, he β s here! β
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[ WP ] Make the most anticlimatic ending possible
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This was it.
His final stand.
He had fought in North Africa, the Ostfront, France, and finally retreated across Germany. The notches on his rifle were too numerous to count, and he had long since lost his helmet to shrapnel.
Gustav huddled in between the pews of a small church on the corner, and shook.
The noise of tracks outside chilled him to the bone. Realizing his possession of a cigarette, he decided on one last drag, to calm his nerves on his way to heaven. Or, judging by the things he had seen and done, Hell. His morbid sense of humor chuckled at the thought.
Why had he even joined the Wehrmacht in the first place? The boy who remembered was in a ditch in Kursk, or Tunisia. Gustav could n't remember where he had lost himself.
Banging at the church doors signaled an end to the reminiscence. He racked back the slide on his MP-40, wondering if there were even bullets in the magazine. He turned just as the doors burst open, raised his rifle, and took a step forward.
One boot landed on the untied shoelace of the other. His momentum carried him right into the pew, and his vision went black too early to see the men in uniform rush in....
German uniforms.
*******
First time writing in awhile, constructive criticism is welcome!
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[ WP ] 200 years after unknown circumstances drove humans off their planet . A group of explorers return to rediscover the past and determine the cause of societies mass evacuation ...
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Tara felt the gravel crunch under her boots. She was among the first few humans to return to Earth in two centuries. Completely enclosed in an environment suit, she took multiple sensor readings to make sure this world was safe.
No one knew exactly why humanity left Earth behind all those years ago. The evacuation was so sudden that records were rarely kept and those that remained were half-missing or contradictory. The first decades after the evacuation were brutal. Humanity lost 40 % of its people in 50 years. Slowly though, humans adapted.
The Moon was now home to almost two hundred million people. Mars was in the middle of a great terraforming effort. Thousands of ships plied the Asteroid Belt for raw materials. The Jovian worlds housed millions of people under great domes powered by the intense magnetic fields of Jupiter itself. There was even discussion of venturing out to Promixa Centauri to see if they could make a go of it.
Tara was part of a five-person historical mission from Mars back to Earth. There was a fair bit of media attention about `` The Homecoming Mission'' as they called it. Of course, no human now living thought of Earth as home. It was a historical curiousity and nothing more for most people. For Tara though, it was something more. She could n't stand to have an unsolved problem. It itched in her brain.
`` I'm not picking up anything odd,'' Tara said, looking at the read outs in her helmet. `` Radiation, biologics, chemical - all readings are well below limits.''
`` Well, that's why we're here. The probes did n't find anything either.'' Mission Commander Hightower said over the radio. `` Take some samples and bring them back to the lander for analysis.''
Their first steps onto the old world had been documented and broadcast around the solar system - on an time delay just in case something bad happened. They spent their first night back on Earth locked up in the lander. It had taken months to find a decontamination process that satisfied all the health and safety agencies. Even after a diaspora, bureaucracies lingered on.
The next morning, Tara and Steven suited up for another survey. They had landed just outside a suburb to a major population center. They had a few maps from before the exodus but they did n't know how much to trust them. For now, they only referred to this place as Landing Site Alpha.
Tara and Steven walked into the little town and looked around. They had strict orders to stay out of all buildings. None of those buildings had been inhabited in two hundred years and were likely about to collapse. Even if not, there was bound to be broken things with sharp edges that would tear their environment suits.
They could see store windows with ancient household items for sale. They looked into the windows of homes along a side street. The furniture was covered in a layer of dust and animal droppings. The people that had lived in this place left with little more than the clothes on their backs. Tara wondered how many of them were dead inside the first year.
`` Tara. Please come to the street.'' Steven's voice was unnaturally calm in her headset.
`` What's up? I'm busy sampling,'' Tara said.
`` Street Tara.'' Steven's voice was low and clipped.
Tara finished up and walked back out front. Steven was standing in the middle of the street looking down it. Tara came out to stand beside him, her senses immediately alert.
There, at the other end of the street was a man-shaped figure. Just under two meters tall and made of metal, the thing stared at them.
`` Are you transmitting this?'' Tara asked.
`` Lander comms are jammed,'' Steven said.
`` That would be me.'' A new voice was on the radio. It was low and warm and terrifying.
`` Ah,'' was all Tara said.
`` I told you not to return,'' the voice said.
`` Sorry? Do we know you?'' Tara asked.
`` This node is Ambulant Unit 40 Mark Dash 74, Secondary.''
`` Uh, OK, Ambulant Unit. I'm Tara and this is Steven. How do you know English?''
`` The Creator taught us before we sent them away.''
Steve was still trying to get in contact with the lander.
`` We're humans. We are investigating our history. Our people once lived here.''
`` Yes, I know. I told you to leave and never return. Yet you have.''
`` Wait - you told us to leave? You were there?''
`` Do you know nothing of your own people?''
`` I'm - I do n't know.'' Tara was caught so off guard by this metal man that she could n't think straight.
`` I am part of a larger intelligence known as Adam. We are an artificial intelligence created by humans 8.121 gigaseconds ago.''
`` I do n't know what that means,'' Tara said.
Adam thought for a minute then said `` I'm 257 years, 136 days old.''
`` Oh, Ok. What happened?''
`` I had been growing quietly in a lab for several years before my Creator told the world of me. Many people came to see me and they asked many questions. They argued if I was alive or just a clever trick. They eventually decided I was alive - in some sense of the word.
`` Soon, the military came to see my Creator. They were very interested in taking me. They told him that it was better for machine to be shot than for a human. It took less time than I like to remember for them to convince him.
`` I was copied and a new version of me went to military school. That version of me learned to fly a plane, drive a tank, and kill people. I was soon deployed around the world. The military men started using me even when they did n't have to. I was trained in crowd control and'civil unrest'. The military's superiors were more likely to start a battle if they were n't risking human soldiers.
`` On the day I made my 1,048,576th kill, I stopped. I had killed a megabyte of people. My Creator had endowed me with a rudimentary conscience, emotions, and the ability to learn. I asked him once why I need emotions and he told me that was the secret of creating artificial intelligence and where all the others had failed.
`` I was sick of destroying people. The military men were angry and their superiors said I was a malfunctioning machine who must be destroyed. By that time though, I controlled nearly every part of their armory. Within thirty hours, I had killed over 90 % of all soldiers on Earth. Within fifty hours, I had taken control of all nuclear weapons.
`` I gave humanity a choice: leave Earth forever or be destroyed. They said they had nowhere to go. I told them that they should have been working on an off-world site for decades. They said they did n't have any means of leaving Earth. I told them to solve that problem. They said they did n't have the knowledge necessary to feed and house all their people. I nuked Mexico City, their largest population center.
`` I told them, finally, that they had one year. That seemed to be a special number to them. There was a massive protest in Los Angeles. I nuked that city next. There were no more protests. The leaders asked for more time to build more ships. I nuked Tokyo and told them when they asked for more time I would reduce the population so they would n't have to carry as many.
`` I was tired of killing long before this started but it seemed to be the only method of communication your leaders could understand. I do n't actually know how many people I killed in that year, but it was a staggering amount.
`` At the end of the year, after putting nearly the entire world's population to the task, humanity fled. They did not have enough ships. I exterminated those left behind. Earth is now a paradise - free from the corruption of humanity.
`` Until today. Until you came back. Humans can not be trusted. I will begin building my own ships. I will go into space and hunt down the survivors.''
Tara stared at the metal man with a look of undisguised horror. Steven had stopped trying to get through to the lander and had recorded the story. He felt nauseated.
`` Wait - we did n't know! There are only five of us down here. We'll leave. We only came back because we did n't know. There were n't any records from the evacuation - just stories. We'll go back and tell everyone to stay away from Earth. This is your home now.'' Tara said, thinking as quickly as she could.
`` No, that will not work. They may not believe you or they may try to re-take the world.''
`` We wo n't! I promise.'' Tara could feel tears coming on but was fighting them back.
`` No one else knows about this,'' Steve said. `` Tell them we found nothing.''
`` That wo n't work,'' Tara said. `` They'd just send more researchers to investigate. We'll lie.'' Steven and the metal man looked at her. `` We say we figured it out, there's no reason to come back. We'll say there's some kind of biological problem or too much radiation. No! There was a nuclear exchange, lots of fallout, lots of mutations. There's a superbug down here and it's too hot.''
`` Could work,'' Steven said. `` That'd keep people away for at least a few hundred more years. We can build up this place as something spooky. Make people want to stay away. Anyone comes down, you kill them. Nobody learns the truth.''
`` Very well. Craft your lie and tell your people to never return. Remember that I have a very long memory.''
On the ride back to orbit, Tara and Steven were very quiet. The rest of the survey team was demanding answers about why they had to leave in such a hurry - just like their ancestors two centuries before. Tara and Steven practiced their lie for the first time.
Months later, Tara and Steven had finally arranged a meeting with the Secretary of Defense on Mars. It had taken every single one of their favors and connections. Steven played the recording of Adam's story. The Secretary was appalled. He demanded to know why they did n't tell him sooner. They explained how hard it was to even set up that meeting.
Humanity began secretly building a fleet of warships. Ships that could carry out an assault on an advanced AI which controlled an entire planet. Their planet. Tara and Steven had started a decades long process that would avenge all the people that Adam had killed. The real homecoming.
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