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[ EU ] A seemingly out of nowhere Pokemon trainer is capturing the legendary Pokemon of creation . You seem to be the only person that is freaking out about this .
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`` In the latest news from our coverage of the Pokemon League, a new trainer has arrived at the Elite Four, and you'll never guess what he's packing. Dialga, Legendary Pokemon of Time. Let's hear what current champion Cynthia has to say about this challenger's lineup.''
`` Well, he's definitely put in some work preparing for this challenge. Plenty of kids challenge the League, but how many of them have the dedication to climb the Spear Pillar and have a showdown with Team Galactic to get the Pokemon they need for a team? He's worked hard, he's trained hard, and I look forward to facing him in the ring.''
`` Are n't you concerned about an 11-year-old having command over the nature of time itself?''
`` Are you kidding? This is what the Pokemon League is all about! It will be a sad day when small children are n't allowed to take control of the fundamental forces of nature to compete in a tournament. Would anyone remember Red if he had n't showed up to the tournament with the three legendary birds on his team?''
`` His battle with Blue tore the roof off the Kanto arena and caused an avalanche in Victory Road!''
`` Like I said, he had the sort of fighting spirit a Pokemon Master needs to have. Both of them did. They loved Pokemon, they loved battling, and they especially loved battling with Pokemon powerful enough to be worshipped as gods of war. I'm proud to see Sinnoh continuing that tradition.''
`` Is that why you ignored Team Galactic's attempt to take control of Dialga and Palkia, destroy the universe, and remake it in their image? The people deserve to know why the Elite Four were silent in this time of crisis.''
`` That is a baseless accusation. I took extremely strong action.''
`` You did?''
`` I found a plucky eleven-year-old kid, pointed him at Team Galactic, and watched the fireworks. Studies in other regions have shown that this is a very reliable way of taking down regional criminal syndicates. You see, many of their members only carry Zubats or Purrloins, so allowing young trainers to mug them for lunch money has proven to be a strong deterrent to criminal activity.''
`` Has it now?''
`` Oh, yes. Never underestimate the power of a small child chasing a rare Pokemon.''
`` You heard it here, folks. According to the League, the best way to keep our nation safe is to send our children out into dangerous locales to catch even more dangerous wild animals. And apparently I'm the only one who sees a problem with that.''
`` And for those of us who do n't care, do n't forget to catch the championship match tomorrow night on live TV! With the Legendary of Time there, we're going to pack hours of action into a battle that takes minutes!''
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[ WP ] You wake up in a massive warehouse with 17,013,599 people . You are tasked with figuring out the one thing you , as a group , all have in common . A clock begins to tick ominously above .
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I rub the temple of my head as the people around me arguing are giving me a huge headache. I want to tell them to shut up but time is ticking and they are panicking.
So, I decide to walk around and ask around to reduce my headache, but the people were not having it. They all want to leave and they were scare of what will happen once time is up.
Upon walking towards the only exit, i found a megaphone. Perfect, i thought. I fought my way to the door of the exit and tell the people around it to back up a bit.
`` Ah. Ah. Is this working?''
The megaphone is somehow echoes throughout the warehouse and the people begins to quiet down.
`` We are all fucking human beings,'' I said and the doors open.
I walked out as everyone took a moment to take in what they heard and rushes towards the open door.
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[ WP ] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties . To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons . God 's frustrated that his civilization , Earth , is several ages behind all his friends .
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Fighting again, yet another war. I tried to teach them peace but well it never worked out did it? I literally sent the m the clearest indication ever that war would slow them down or even destroy. But what do they do? They fight over how to interpret my word! What is so philosophical with `` You shall not kill''?
Look Zeus's demigods, what a silly name at that, so advanced. Oh, they fight amongst each other but at least THEY are never unhappy. What with Dionysus's parties and all... They even had managed to infiltrate my people, it took centuries to eradicate them.
Do n't get me started on Lucifer either. That fool I have n't dealt with... yet.
Ahh, but things are changing! They do n't know it of course, they think my humans are still in the Roman age but I will teach them, yes I will. Since I decided to build the anti-spy system'logic' they are becoming more wicked by the year.
They shall learn what it is to anger God, oh if they will.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Thanks for reading, please if you comment at all be... gentle
....
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[ Wp ] you are a lonely old man who feeds raccoons every night because you are lonely . One night , just Before Sunset , a stranger invades your house , ties you up , and threatens to kill you . Suddenly , out of the corner of your eye , you see a pair of winkley yellow eyes at the window .
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Jonas was thinking about the raccoons when he heard the tinkle of glass, but then again he'd been thinking about the raccoons for most of the day now. It was funny, the things you got to doing once you got old, once most of your friends had gone off and died or disappeared into retirement homes or fretted themselves into monastic existences of no salt no sugar no stress no fun. It was the best part of his day now, and, if he let himself admit it, the only part of the day he was looking forward to. Settling down on his back porch after dark as the stars were just starting to come out, and watching the raccoons come.
There were four of them, the big ones, and over the last few nights he'd seen a couple of kits tagging along, although he was n't sure how many of them there were yet. He'd sit out back and watch them, his trash cans left uncovered, the raccoons hunched over on the edge with their yellow halogen eyes glancing back at him, balanced on their inquisitive paws, and then a tuft of fur and the tip of their tail disappearing inside. He'd started leaving a basin of water out there at nights, and he'd get to see them, their front paws cupped together, dipping some bread or part of an apple core or a scrap of meat into the water, and then bringing it up to their mouths to eat. He'd started feeding them himself, recently, tossing out pieces of cracker or whatnot out on the porch, and watching them scurry up unafraid to nab it. He'd cooed to them - nonsense words, he was n't quite far gone enough to start having conversations yet - and they'd listened with a polite bafflement and gone right on eating. Jonas had n't named them yet, was n't always quite sure which one was which, aside from'the big'un,' and perhaps he never would. It was n't that he was looking for friends, really. He'd have gotten a cat for that. It was just getting old and being far past his prime, and rotting out here all by himself in the middle of nowhere, in the town he'd been born, and knowing that the raccoons came by every night to feast. Big healthy fat ones, with their thick fur coats and their bushy striped tails, finding something they needed.
And they'd been peaceful, mostly, but sure they'd knocked over a garbage can from time to time. And so the raccoons were on his mind when he heard the glass break, and as he rose from his recliner and wandered to the back to investigate, and saw his back door hanging open to the dusky air and the shattered glass on the floor, and that's when the stranger attacked.
It was a blur out of the corner of Jonas' vision, fingers raking into his shoulder and throwing him to the floor. His arms came up, scratching against nylon, and the back of a hand hit him in the face. He was flipped on his belly, a knee pressing into the small of his back, and he grunted and cried out. The weight momentarily lifted, a table was knocked over, and then both of Jonas' arms were wrenched behind his back. Something wound around his wrists - phone cord, he saw, with his blurred vision, the handset of his phone being tugged across the floor. Jonas' ribs hurt from where he had landed on them, and he could taste blood, though he was n't sure where he was bleeding from. His right shoulder burned. `` Please-'' he got out. `` I do n't have much money. You can take it. You can take everything.''
`` Hrrr hrrr hrrr,'' said the stranger from above him, maybe breathing or maybe growling or maybe something rattling loose. Ratty sneakers stepped into Jonas' field of vision, the cuffs of jeans. Hands grabbed his ankles and he kicked out weakly, and he was jerked across the floor, his hip dragging against the ground. In stops and starts, stops and starts, as Jonas flopped on the floor, tried to tilt his head up to see. His vision kept going black, and the blood kept backing up into his throat, but he saw the stranger, stumpy and fat and short-legged, waddling across the floor and dragging him along, into his kitchen. The stranger let go and broke off, leaning heavily on the countertop, breathing or growling or laughing or coming loose. `` Hrrr hrrr hrrr hrrr.'' A head of ratty grey hair shook. `` I'm going to fucking kill you,'' the stranger said, with the sound of teeth too big for his mouth. Jonas could n't see his face. `` You hear that, old man? You're fucking dead.''
And as Jonas' head lolled back, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, two yellow eyes staring in from his kitchen window, two points of light in the gathering dusk. And then two more. And then two more. Fireflies pressed still, embedded in the darkness. Everyone coming out to watch.
`` What's going on?'' he managed. He gagged and tilted his head to the side and let a dark clot of blood slip out of his mouth. He tested his bonds behind him. The phone cord was already coming loose; this stranger had no idea how to tie a knot. But his right shoulder was burning so bad he was n't sure if being untied would do him much good. `` Who are you? Who are you? Why are you doing this?''
`` Hhrroor,'' said the stranger, and twisted at the knobs on his sink, and the sound of running water filled the kitchen. Jonas saw a smile, and he wondered why he'd ever thought the stranger's teeth were big. They were tiny, rows and rows of little needles. `` I am the Lorax,'' it chittered, `` I speak for the'coons,'' and then broke out into a wild trilling laugh.
There were the eyes everywhere now, in every window, filling every space of darkness. Jonas closed his eyes and could see the yellow lights there, staring at him, waiting. He writhed on the floor, trying to breathe, and there were the ragged sneakers again, coming for him. A hand came into view and grabbed him, and Jonas could see it was like a human hand burned black, all shriveled down to the bone. And as it grabbed awkwardly at his shirt, Jonas could see it was deformed somehow, unable to get a proper grip. The fingers clenched shut with rage, all of them, five fingers and no thumb.
`` Why,'' moaned Jonas, as he was hauled to his feet, up to the sink, all the yellow eyes burning into him like a million suns. He could see his face reflected in the window, the blood running down his nose and mouth and chin, and the stranger behind him all haloed in black. His legs were jelly beneath him. `` What are you? What are you?''
It let him collapse against the sink, his head hanging by the faucet with the water still running and the sink plugged and droplets splashing against his face. `` I'm so sorry,'' the stranger - the Lorax? - said, a trembling feral moan, and Jonas could see it raking its burnt fingers across its face. `` They loved you. They loved you.'' His head was plunged into the water, and for a moment he was floating, blood drifting up in ribbons in front of him, the water clouded with bubbles. And then he was back up, soaking, gasping for breath as the water dribbled off him. `` I'm so sorry!'' the stranger shrieked. `` They made me come here. They made me. They did n't want to keep seeing you suffer.''
Jonas felt a warm spot spreading across his jeans, the cold water still trickling down his face, and he was lowered to a sitting position on the floor. `` Do n't do this,'' he begged, trembling. There were things moving beneath the stranger's jacket. Something feral and alive. All the burning bright stars. His face was hot. He was going to be incinerated. `` Do n't do this! Do n't do this!''
`` Jonas,'' came the stranger's voice, as if from far away, and a hand rested on his shoulder. `` I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just look at me, Jonas. Just look at me. Just look at my face and you'll understand. You'll be all right.''
And Jonas pried open eyes that he had n't realized he had been closing, and the stranger's face swam into view in front of him, and a slow giggle rose in Jonas' throat. `` Oh god,'' he said, relaxing, slumping back, tilting his head back against the sink. `` Oh god. Hahahahaha! You - hahaha!'' It was all going to be all right, he realized, letting the sudden burst of humor carry him away. He had been threatened, and he had been hurt, but there was no one here who wanted to harm him. All he needed to do now was to lie still, and eventually the stranger would leave, taking what he had come for. Jonas might be poorer for it, sure, but those were material possessions that could be replaced. Jonas grinned in relief, and the stranger smiled back as Jonas nodded his head and let unconsciousness take him. All would be well. All would be well. For there, unmistakable across the stranger's face, there had been the telltale mask of the Burglar.
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[ WP ] You hear voices in your head , but they are n't malevolent . In fact , one seems to have a crush on you .
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Note: **bold** is voice in head, *italics* is narrator's thoughts, and regular is either speech or narrative.
**'' Today is the day. I just know it! `` **
*I thought I heard something. Oh well, probably was n't important. *
I focused my attention back on Quinn, the soft-spoken girl who sat diagonally from me in history.
*I wonder if I should try talking to her today. What should I say to her?'Nice shirt'? No, she'd think I was staring at her chest.'Nice shoes?' No, that's weird. Who stares at feet?'Nice weather'? No, that's lame. Hm..what about -*
**'' Hey idiot, your name is being called'' ** said that oh-so-loving voice I've named Sandy. She's just as fierce and twice as destructive as her namesake hurricane.
`` Mr. Wilson, are you hoping that back of Ms. Godfrey's shirt will give you the answer? Because you're surely mistaken.''
*I could feel my face getting warm but that was nothing compared to Quinn. The mention of her name in class made her sink into her seat and turn into a silent tomato. An adorable tomato, maybe a cherry tomato. Maybe I should tell her to make her feel better. Or would that be worse? *
**'' Quit your fucking daydreaming and answer the god-damn question! It's'The Louisiana Purchase' by the way'' **
*Oh right*
`` The Louisiana Purchase?'' *Oh god I hope that's right*
`` Nice try Mr. Wilson but that was the answer **three questions ago! **'' Mr. Hurley and Sandy said at the same time.
**'' Ah ha ha! You should see the stupid look on your face! `` **
`` You set me up!'' I blurted out loud.
*Oh shoot, I said that did n't I? *
**'' I could n't be stuck with a bigger moron. `` **
`` Set you up? I'm sorry Mr. Wilson but unless Ms. Godfrey's ponytail was somehow teaching you history I do n't believe I've done anything to set you up.''
Quinn sunk even lower in her seat.
**'' Smooth moves Romeo. She went from tomato to groundhog. `` **
*I will not say, or do, or think anything until the bell rings. *
**'' That's probably the smartest thought you've had in your head today, well, besides me of course. `` **
Fifteen minutes slowly tick away and finally the school bell rings. I try to catch Quinn before she leaves but she's so embarrassed by today she's the first one out.
*Huh, maybe tomorrow then. *
**'' Someday senpai will notice me. `` ** ( spoken softly )
*Did you say something? *
**'' B-baka'' **
Note: I also named the voice Sandy because it almost sounds like the first part of tsundere. I'm also on my mobile so this was shorter than I wanted and much harder to edit ( thus the many edits ). This was my first prompt. I hope it was understandable and enjoyable!
Last edit: added the famous tsundere line
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[ WP ] A broken man presses the barrel of his gun to your forehead and asks `` Where are they ? ''
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I've climbed these stairs many times before, the long walk up to Angelica's house usually took about 20 minutes. I did n't know how long the climb actually went, but my friend and I had nicknamed them the `` stairway to hell'' for a reason.
I knew my way around, a stray dog jumped out of the bushes at the same point he always did, and just like always I picked up a rock and threw it at his head, the dog cried in pain and then glared at me, I looked into his desperate eyes and kept walking, wild dogs only attack when you show fear, I had learned to control that fear long ago.
I kept climbing, it was hot today, just like any day, my backpack rubbed uncomfortably against my sweaty back. Despite the discomfort I smiled, the smell of the surrounding plants and trees was worth any discomfort, the sound of the ocean in the background made up for any pain.
I smiled, today was going to be a great day, and Angelica had told me she was making me her favorite soup today.
I looked up and could see some men at the top of the stairs, they were always there, my friends even though I did n't know their names, I love the latino culture, everyone is your friend.
Then suddenly a voice whispered to me `` turn back, leave.''
I paused, and looked around, no one was in sight. Turn back? No, I had an appointment, plus I was close, my stomach grumbled.
I began to climb again, and again heard the voice `` turn back, leave.''
This time I did not pause, I was determined, hunger was a powerful motivator.
I reached the top of the stairs and said hi to my friends, they just stared back at me. A blank expression was on their faces, I kindly asked them to move so that I could continue on my way.
They did n't move.
The man in front of me began to tremble, his eyes were desperate, reminding me of the dog that I had encountered earlier.
That's when I noticed the gun in his pocket, I froze, my face went rigid and my mind blank.
He pulled out the gun, I did n't move. I felt cold, every inch of my body wanted to run, and yet at the same time my body would n't move.
`` Stay still'' the voice whispered to me.
The man pressed the barrel of the gun up against my head.
I wanted to speak, to ask him what was going on, but all I could do was stare into those crazed eyes.
`` Where are they?'' He mumbled, his voice sounded hurried and scared.
`` Show confidence'' the voice whispered to me again. `` Do not move, do not speak.''
I stared at him, I did n't answer, my hand twitched, every fiber in my body wanted to knock that gun away from my head, but I did n't want to disobey the voice in my head.
His eyes once again looked at me, the gun twitched in his hand, I still stared back at him. He blinked, then he slowly lowered his gun.
I looked at him and then his friends, one of them nodded at me, the other had a blank look on his face.
The man put the gun in his back pocket and moved aside. I walked by, my legs wanted to run but something told me not to.
I heard a noise of movement behind me and looked back, the man had sat down in the dirt and was crying.
Show no fear I told myself, and I kept walking.
Note: Sorry that this is n't written super well, still trying to improve, this is a true story that happened to me in Acapulco.
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[ WP ] This is a world where excrement is stored , and only released annually in a big event . Tell us the story of your pooping day .
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My big moment. My parents are beside themselves, and have dressed me up the best they can.
To think, it could be anyone. But, now, the button rests below my hand. The world looks on.
It's made me think. I'll give it that. A lottery that somehow chose me.
`` Are you ready to wipe away the traces of last year?,'' the announcer booms.
`` I am ready,'' I squeak, annoyed at my voice.
`` May the enema of the state begin!''
I remember that my waste sits with the rest, tangled up with that across the world. So routine that we never remember. But here we are. The shit speaks for itself. We all are one.
The button sinks. I smile. I will never be alive to know the damage I've caused. My red tie fits my smile.
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[ WP ] The location of where your favourite memory is also the location of your death in the future .
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This has been the best life I could've wished for. Not the longest ever, yet more fulfilling than anything. I hope to live this again.
I colapse now on a beach I fondly remember from the days I still had the energy of a kid, as well as the maturity to grasp the importance of life.
This place, ohh man! it means so much. Here I learned to introspect in my loneliness and apreciate the universe's beauty. That time I laid for hours just looking at the horizon, and then the sunset and the night-sky. That first time I truly loved life. And the first time I truly loved someone. The moment I walked in the ocean and swam as far as I could, for as long as I could. It was all so beautiful.
Things are getting blurry now.
This place was a part of me, and I am now a part of it.
I hope to live this again.
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[ WP ] You 've been a radio disc jockey for 30 years and your station is shutting down because it can no longer compete with internet and satellite . Write about the final song of your final broadcast .
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“ This is Teddy Lambert, on WZBQ, 107.3 FM, and that was local artist Frank Taylor with his first single “ Lovin ’ You ”.
As it approaches midnight on this Sunday night, I want to thank all of my loyal listeners out there, for letting me talk over the airwaves for thirty years. It has been a pleasure and an honor to be able to spend my nights with all of you, discovering new local artists and old favorites.
As most of you probably know, our station was one of the last privately owned stations in the city. We have tried to stay modern and current with the resources available to us, along with the immense generosity of you, our audience. Unfortunately, even with all of your help, we were unable to compete with Big Radio. At midnight, I will sign off for the last time in preparation for the new station that will be starting up Monday morning, 6 am. WZBQ will now be WZPR, playing modern pop and the Top 40 hits.
I am deeply grateful for the years that I had to sit here between 8 and 12 every night and talk to the fine people of my listening area. I wish you all an excellent night and a fond, if sad farewell. I have time for one last song tonight before I hang up my headphones. This is a bit different then what you might expect from me, but I think it is appropriate. For all of us in the studio, I ’ m Teddy Lambert saying good night, and goodbye. ” Static crackled for a second, then a rich voice started singing.
“ And I… had… the time of my life… ”
( CC welcome )
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[ WP ] Write a modern day remake of a classical Greek myth .
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`` It is not,'' Deadalus admonished his son, `` a toy. Treat it with respect. Take it easy on the controls, and hopefully it can get us out of here.''
Icarus frowned at the two craft before him glancing first from one rusted out wreck to the other. The one his father had told him he would be flying was significantly larger, and seemed to be more solidly built.
`` Dad... There's no power source for yours. No engine.''
Deadalus nodded and shifted uneasily. `` No. There were only two engines on the *Spirit of Crete*, and, well, you saw what happened to the one.''
He gestures to what looked a lot like an inflatable raft with wings taped to it. `` I'll be piloting an ultralight. It ought to hold together long enough for us to make it back to civilization. Should just be just past the cliffs, only a few miles from here. Just... Take the plane up slow, alright, son? And be careful with her, she wo n't handle any sudden maneuvers particularly well. There's no pressurization or oxygen in either of these, so keep your altitude low.''
Icarus gave an audible gulp. `` Dad, this is.... This is crazy. Crazier than killing all of those seagulls last week, crazier than that bull thing that tried to kill us last week... Are you sure we would n't be safer just staying out here? Waiting for rescue?''
Deadalus shook his head, admonishing. `` Son, it's right to be afraid, but there's more to fear hear than there is back on the mainland. It's just a few miles, should n't even be a half an hour of flying.''
Icarus gave a shudder and swallowed what tasted uncomfortably like last night's meal of roasted sea bird. `` Alright. Just.... Alright.''
Deadalus looked as if he was trying to maintain bravery for his son's sake.
`` Alright,'' he agreed heavily. The two entered their respective craft.
To Icarus's delight, takeoff went off without any problems. The cobbled together airplane lifted off from the little island smoothly, and the ultralight caught the wind with few issues. He glanced back to see his father pointing to the sky. A simple message: gain altitude.
Icarus nodded and followed through, gently tugging back on the recycled yoke of his father's old plane. The craft climbed slowly, almost gracefully... Only to buck as it hit a violent air pocket, rising and falling swiftly with a thermal.
Icarus gulped and felt sweat beading from every pore in his body. *if something goes wrong, * said a little voice in his head, *you'll have three minutes to scream before your plane hits the ocean. And if you're especially unlucky, you'll have three more minutes to drown and reflect on your mistakes. *
He swallowed even more nervously and leveled out the plane. A quick glance back showed his father giving a thumbs up. Good.
But when Icarus turned back around, it was to an unwelcome sight. Storm clouds seemed to have gathered out of nowhere, blotting out the sun. Lightning cracked across the sky, and thunder rumbled in far too quickly afterwards. Icarus froze for a moment. Then he came back to his senses and put the plane into another gradual climb.
Do like commercial airline pilots did. Fly over the storm, come back down on the other side. Easy solution. He could do that.
He glanced back over his shoulder at his father, saw him pointing down. He ignored it. Clearly Deadalus could n't see the storm, but he could. He'd rise above it, find the sub, go from there. As the craft climbed, it suddenly shook again. Panicked, Icarus spun around again to watch as his father's glider detached. It caught the wind, though, and it looked like a controlled descent. Still his father pointed down. Icarus shook his head. Maybe the boat could survive that storm, floating through it, but the little airplane they'd cobbled together over the last week would n't. Higher. Had to go higher.
His breath came short as he finally pierced the clouds, and the sun blinded him at this height. Icarus shielded his eyes, accidentally nudged the yoke with his knee, and sent the plane into a hard turn. It was too much for a weld that had even made with a dozen strike anywhere matches.
The starboard wing sheared off quickly and efficiently. The port side wing put the craft into a hard spin, until it too came apart with the force. Suddenly Icarus found himself in free fall, heading down through the clouds, staring up at the treacherous sub, until it was a treacherous black cloud, until three minutes later, he slammed into the sea so far below.
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[ WP ] You make a deal and live forever . It 's fun at first , but things become darker over time
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Ani stared at the crystal chalice in front of her. The deep red liquid was tasteless tonight. Ani was no longer impressed with exquisite wine. It held the same craving level as apple juice now. Ani looked across the room atk her daughter. Eve was her 15th daughter and the youngest child so far. Eve was preoccupied with my old paperback books. Paper books were fossils now and other than my own personal collection, there were hardly none anymore in the world. The cracking of the pages sent shivers down her spine with remembrance of once was. It all happened so long ago.
`` Mother, were you alive when this book was published?'' Ani straightened herself. `` What year was that my sweet?''
`` It says here,'2015'.''
Ani jolted up. Her heart beginning to pick up the pace. The memories flooded back, making her dizzy. Ani reached for the cup of wine, but in her dizzy frenzy, knocked her cup over spilling the 150 year old wine she had made herself all over her antique deep stained Mahogany desk.
`` Mother?'' Eve was staring at her mother in innocent confusion. She has never seen her mother have such a violent reaction. Of course she almost never spent time with her anyway.
Ani buzzed in her droid and ordered it to clean the mess. She turned back to Eve. `` I'm sorry. To answer your question, yes I was alive. As a matter of fact that's the year I was changed.'' Eve eyes widened, showcasing her robotic left eye. `` Mother do you think you can tell me. I've never heard the story before. Nilin is always boasting that she knows.''
`` What is there to tell anymore? I agreed to be part of an experiment that would turn me immortal, at the cost of working exclusively for our great government. I did anything and everything they told me.'' Ani lowered her head, staring deep in to engravings on the wood. Writing was no longer necessary, however Ani practiced daily to keep her penmanship in good form. `` Mother you are so lucky though. You are able to live forever. Even with today's alterations, I ca n't live past 150.''
Ani looked up though her lashes. Anger flowed through her veins, reaching every inch of her body. `` Lucky??? I ca n't die! I ca n't even bleed!'' Ani swiped her letter opener off the display and brought it down on her open palm. Eve screamed at the sight of her mother violently stabbing herself with a vintage item. Once Ani pulled out the blade, she raised her hand to show her daughter her wounds, however when she raised it up all the way, the wound was gone. Like it never even existed.
( Part Two Coming )
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[ WP ] A demon is trying to haunt his newest victim , however his victim is oblivious or indifferent to all his attempts .
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Wilson Williford woke up early one Saturday morning, as his covers floated a foot above his bed and soft voice cackled through the room.
Wilson opened his eyes and saw the sun's first light coming in through the window. `` What a lovely day!'' he exclaimed, leaping out of bed. He stretched and started his short morning workout. His mood was only improved by the laughter he heard emanating from the walls. Even the house was happy!
Eventually the laughter stopped, followed by a short `` Huh?'' The covers fell back onto the bed. Wilson looked over and smiled.
`` Guess I do n't even need to make the bed today!'' He walked out of the room as the bedroom door slammed open and shut repeatedly.
He stepped into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. As he stepped in the shower, some force prevented him from pulling the shower curtain shut, so he went and grabbed a few towels, laying them on the floor to absorb any overflow water. `` A dry bathroom is a clean bathroom,'' he quipped.
While brushing his teeth, his reflection made intimidating faces at him.
`` Oh, you,'' he said with a sly grin. The reflection's face melted off.
He headed downstairs to cook breakfast, but suddenly someone pushed him from behind as a mysterious voice yelled `` Look out below!'' Indeed, he could see that there was a very hard floor at the bottom of his tumble, so he put out his hands to catch himself on the rails. He pulled a muscle, but it was better than the alternative.
`` Thanks for the warning, voice,'' he said gratefully. Distantly he could hear the sound of someone slapping their forehead.
He turned on the stove to cook his pancakes, but when he looked away the knobs turned up and up to higher temperatures. When he came back to pour the pancake batter, he was met with a sudden searing sound and a puff of smoke as the batter burned black on the pan!
`` I guess it's time to replace the oven,'' he said, throwing away his wasted pancake and turning the oven off. `` I really like pop-tarts better anyways.''
Wilson got in his car to drive over to Home Depot. Before he put his keys in the socket, the car started itself, and began backing out of the driveway.
`` Cool!'' he exclaimed. `` I guess I do n't need to get one of those Google cars.'' Clearing his throat, he commanded, `` Car! Take me to Home Depot.''
The car began to drive erratically along the road, swinging back and forth between lanes. Other cars began honking at him as they swerved off of the road.
`` Weeee!'' Wilson yelled with glee.
Eventually the car crashed into a light pole. Wilson was thrown forwards into his airbag. It was certainly unpleasant, but he was glad that the safety features had worked. This is what seatbelts were made for, after all.
Home Depot happened to be just down the street, so he walked in there. As he was looking at the new stoves, someone started screaming a few aisles over. He rushed over to make sure everything was all right, and saw customers and employees being chased around by power tools that had come to life.
`` Man, they're automating everything these days.'' He shrugged and walked back to the stoves. He picked out one he liked and notified an unscathed employee. `` My car's not in very good shape though, so can you have someone drive it over and install it for me?''
`` Sure, it'll just cost a little more,'' the employee said, when suddenly he jolted and shuddered.
`` How much, do you think?'' Wilson asked, pulling out his wallet.
`` Your life,'' the employee said in a raspy voice. His eyes had suddenly turned red and his head started spinning in circles.
`` You guys are pretty funny!'' Wilson said with a chuckle, patting the possessed employee on the shoulder. `` Really, how much though?''
Wilson walked back to his place and the employee came by later to install the oven. By now his skin had turned mottled and grey, with his mouth open askew and drool dripping down his cheek. The man carried the oven in without any assistance, demonstrating inhuman strength.
`` Wow, you must work out a lot,'' Wilson commented. He was straight, but he had to admit he was developing a man crush on this dude.
The employee turned to him and opened his mouth. Worms spilled out. `` You're mine now,'' he rasped.
`` You might want to brush your teeth though,'' Wilson advised.
Wilson walked into the other room and turned on the TV, switching to ESPN. `` You like the Yankees?'' he called into the kitchen. A blood-curdling scream answered him. `` Okay, I get it, you're a Sox guy. No problem.''
Out of Wilson's view, the increasingly zombified employee opened the gas line, letting natural gas seep into the kitchen. He pulled out a match.
Wilson walked back into the kitchen. `` I'll put out some snacks - `` he began.
*BOOM. *
Wilson was thrown back into the living room wall as his kitchen disappeared in flames. After a brief moment of darkness, Wilson woke up and crawled over to the massive hole in the ground where his kitchen used to be. Looking down the hole, he saw a lake of fire and in the middle of it, a horned demon cackling.
`` Come down to join me,'' the demon taunted, and he revealed a whip of fire which swung around and grabbed hold of Wilson, pulling him into Hell.
`` No problem!'' Wilson said, gladly leaping along. He landed on an island in the lake, next to the demon. `` I did n't know I had a basement. I should probably get my air conditioner fixed too, though.''
The demon stared at him with incredulity. `` What is wrong with you, man?''
Wilson frowned. `` Look, I know everyone has preferences,'' he said. `` But you surely ca n't think it's not too hot in here.''
The demon smacked his forehead. `` You're in Hell, idiot! Look around you!''
Wilson did. He was certainly confused. `` Well, yeah, it's on fire. The kitchen just exploded. The fire department will be here soon, though.''
The demon grabbed Wilson by the shoulders and pulled him over so that they were face-to-face. `` Are you soft in the head? Did your mother drop you as a baby?''
`` No, I'm not soft,'' Wilson replied slowly. `` But that's *because* my mother dropped me so much. Dad said it gave me a thick skull.'' He smiled proudly.
The anger melted out of the demon's face, leaving only disappointment behind. `` This is no fun,'' he said. He picked Wilson up and drop-kicked him out of Hell and back into his living room. Wilson turned and looked back down into the hole, only to find that it was filled with smoldering dirt.
For once, Wilson was saddened. He waved goodbye to his horned friend, and could hear a distant voice yelling out:
`` I'm going to haunt your neighbors!''
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[ WP ] Tell a story where there are two revolving viewpoints .
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Well, there was only one way to find out, and tonight was the night.
For months I had worked with the various classes of instruments in the royal orchestra as we perfected the finer points of the bloodied musical arrangement. Tonight we would all come together and play the piece in it's fullness for the first time; as entertainment for the royal court no less.
It had been a strange happenstance that I came across the score in the first place. The moon had been full in the sky that night as I parsed through the archives with hopes of stumbling across hidden gym; though I must admit my primary motivation had been escaping the excruciating boredom that too often defines my pathetic mortal reality. Yet even so, in my halfhearted search I found something peculiar; it was a hardbound musical arrangement with a heavy padlock... and the pages seemed to be stained with blood. I had the castle blacksmith remove the padlock that night, but through sheer exhaustion I neglected from inspecting the work properly.
For the next month, some intuitive part of my psyche seemed to continually push my knowledge of the music's existence to the back of my mind; I felt haunted. Through the combined influence of my limited human resolve and vast reservoir of foolish curiosity, I finally sat down to scrutinize the archived sheet music with a discressive eye. As I heard the notes in my head I immediately realized I had stumbled across something of exceptional artistry.
And tonight was the night. It was the night I would finally showcase the beauty that up to this point I alone had had the privilege to witness.
__________________________________
The Orchestra Conductor sure had been making a big deal about this recital, perhaps he was at last beginning to realize that his discipline was a dying art. If revitalizing interest in his outdated musings had been his motivation for hyping the event so thoroughly he had succeeded, the Opera house was completely filled for the first time in over half a century.
The orchestra sat with their backs facing the audience while the conductor faced the crowd. It was an extremely abnormal arrangement, perhaps the maestro was as starved for attention as I suspected. That's when I noticed the nervous mannerisms that he seemed to be submerged in; eyes darting around the room restlessly as his body trembled. There were dark and deep rings surrounding his eyes and his hair had thinned dramatically, even his teeth had grown brown and foul through neglect.
He seemed to exert much effort in composing himself before addressing the congregation, that's when we all realized something was indeed very wrong. His voice seemed to be carrying three tones at the same time, one of which was a high pitched screech, one of which was a low thunderous rumble of strange syllables; the third one however was something not of this world. The third tone that constructed his horrendous voice seemed as if it would carry on undiminishing in all directions forever, continuously bouncing between the Earth and Heavens. It reverberated through the Opera house, the echo's continuously building on each other as the undying sound continued to pour from the conductors throat. The whole audience grew restless. `` Now we will begin,'' Is all that he said.
______________
`` Now we will begin,'' I said, giddy with excited anticipation.
I began to motion my arms to various sections of my musicians as they commenced performing their respective aspect of the grand symphony.
It was so beautiful. I closed my eyes and soaked in the euphoria as a tear rolled down my face.
_______________________
It sounded at first as complete random chaos, as if every musician was doing something completely different and asynchronous, but as the music played a deeper theme became apparent through the superficial racket; and it had not been inspired by the Lord. The sound was as if a thousand demons attempted to sing in harmony with a thousand condemned soul begging to be tortured.
People were scurrying to their feet and running for the doors. A thick stream of terrified spectators poured out of the Opera house as if it had begun to sink down through the circles of hell. I glanced at the conductor just as he opened his eyes and then collapsed to the ground.
_________
No.. They had been leaving... They had n't understood the magnificence... I had suspected that the commoners perceptions of truth were too distorted to hear what I heard; I had naively hoped that the undeniable divinity infused into the melody would manage touch some part of their primitive souls.
But no. Not only had they not heard the beauty, they had been bold enough to stand up and leave mid performance. My heart could n't take it, I could n't live like this anymore.. Surrounded by fools, walking through life lonely on a plateau of truth that only a few men before me had reached... I could n't take it anymore.. It had to end... God would understand....
_____
The conductor gathered himself to his feet before gesturing for the musicians to stop, once they had silenced he cleared his throat and began to speak in the same possessed matter, `` I would like to thank you pathetic mortals for attending tonight's ceremony, I'll be seeing you all very soon.'' he said in a mocking tone.
He then tilted his head back and raised his conducting wand into the air before plunging the obsidian stick through his eyeball and into his brain. The lifeless corpse surrendered to gravity and collapsed to the stage.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts
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[ WP ] You discover that everyone 's internet history , from the beginning of time , will be released in a searchable database in 24 hours .
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`` Oh my god,'' I thought to myself, `` Imagine all the searchable things in the database!''.
`` Yeah, I know right! ``, chimed Stephen, albeit a little sarcastically.
`` Why are you always so sarcastic?! ``, I fumed, as I threw a direct right hook at him.
Stephen evaded and my punch landed on the Shid. A loud *twang* was heard. The Shid is a pronounceable acronym, short for `` Searchable History of the Internet ( Database )''. The Shid is also now a piece of dysfunctional metallic, electronic mess.
I stood in awe as I looked at my masterpiece, killed by its own maker's hand.
`` Never mind... Everyone's internet history, since the creation of the internet is essentially the Internet itself... Is n't it?''
That's when I went... Oh, *right*.
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[ IP ] Swamp Witch
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The swamp was Baka ’ s.
Deep in the bog, the murk and the gloom, that was where the witch of the Rot Wood lived.
It was not a pretty place. With the tepid water, the stench of rotting meats, buzzing of insects that drowned out any other sound, it could never be considered beautiful. But neither could she.
Her skin was bleached, from the shadows of the trees, the dark corners of the lakes. Decades of trial and magic had smoothed and thickened her skin, giving her an almost inhuman look, like silk rather than flesh. She had even lost individual toes, after endless transformations into reptiles and fish.
But a few features were hers to keep. Fingers, sharp as thorns and thin as twigs, could worm their way into any groove, claw her way up any tree. Hair, long and thick, was adorned with thorns and filled with mud.
And her eyes. Surprisingly normal, clean whites, a dark brown iris. The only thing about her that could be considered human.
But she did not regret her way of life.
Long, long ago, she and her sisters had separated. Each found their own place, a forest to call their own. Baba Yaga, the most well known, ruled the Iron Forest. Baka had heard rumors of her beauty, an enchantress capable of great feats. The small animals that Baka enchanted to patrol the swamp and watch for humans to enter, said that Baba would help those who asked, for a price.
But Baka detested people. And so she had chosen the Rot Woods, the most inhospitable place on the face of the earth. It was here that she practiced her witchery, that she rested and roamed.
She hadn ’ t seen any of her sisters since. And only once before had anyone else roamed deep enough to find her. A man, with no sense of direction, managed to wander into her seclusion.
-- -
He was young, even for a human. Barely past the age of adulthood, he was beaten and broken, covered in muck and empty of hope.
As much as Baka wanted to avoid humans, he looked fit to die, and she most certainly didn ’ t want a body in her home, to remind her of the people she ’ d left behind. So she did what seemed most sensible; point him in the direction of an easily followed trail. Hopefully that would prevent him from wandering back.
He didn ’ t even seem surprised to see her, so exhausted was he. But Baka simply sloshed water over him until he was clean, shoved a dead ( mostly clean ) fish in his hands, and spun him in the direction of the trail.
After she left, melted into the woods, she watched him as he gradually gained enough feeling to be bewildered, glancing around for whoever had helped him. He even ate some of the fish, before moving on. Baka nodded to herself; now at least if he died, he would die far away.
Feeling satisfied with her clever work, she retreated to her tree for a rest in the limbs.
-- -
Years after, when she had nearly forgotten about the encounter, she still lived the same old way. Swimming in the shallow water, among the roots of dead trees. Living among the serpents and reptiles, watching the cycle of life swing by. Avoiding people. She was content, as much as she could be.
Until finally came the day when her silence was shattered.
Lying in the tree, feeling the smoothness of the worn bark under her skin, listening to the insects buzz their harsh tune. It was almost a music, a music she could live within. The deep bellows of the alligators accompanied, and the cries of dull brown birds flittered throughout.
She had the brief urge to move, find a new spot, higher in the tree. But when she shifted, the smooth bark slid her down, until she was settled so much deeper. This forest understood her. It was her home.
And then came the noise, interrupting the melody of the mosquitoes.
She could hardly make it out, but it was like a dissonant note, just sour enough to make her flinch. A shout, a call, the thud of steel against wood.
And then louder, a snapping *creeeak* of a tree toppling over. But it lacked the soggy undertones of a rotted tree, dead enough to finally keel over on its own. It was too sharp, too clear, the sound of a healthy tree.
She lifted her head, just enough to look in the direction of the noise. In between the branches, she could see something, a flickering red light, flame from lanterns or torches.
Men.
Chopping, slicing, cutting down trees. They were clearing room in the swamp, gathering good timber to use, digging ditches in the mud, draining the water. The metallic *shink* of metal echoed over and over, axes and shovels.
The men were preparing land, creating room for another of their houses, expanding on a town.
Every sound was like a blow to Baka. It did not hurt, not physically, but it made her flinch, drove her back. All these years, avoiding everything to do with people. She did not want to help them, live among them. But then again, she had no particular desire to hurt them.
Too late, a bird, a scout, flew up to her, chirping a warning. Another and another, dull feathers, sharp beaks, they appeared from the trees, cheeping and trilling the news, the presence of man. Men were everywhere, all around them, chopping and killing.
She fell from the tree, splashing down into the dank waters below, battered from the roots just below the surface. Underwater, the sounds were muffled… but still they remained.
Diving as deep as she could, she covered her ears, burrowed down into the mud.
Even this deep in the swamp, the only place untouched, was not enough. Baka might stay away from the affairs of men, but it didn ’ t matter.
They had come to her instead.
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[ WP ] Your i-pod is sentient and tries to warn you of impending doom by shuffling your music library to play songs as a warning .
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So it was nearly midnight, and I decided to put on some music to unwind before I sleep.
First song 2 Minutes to Midnight.
Not this again I thought, but my trusty Ipod has gotten me out of some scrapes in the past. I decide to see if it's trying to tell me something.
Should I stay or should I go - The ramones
Okay. This could get interesting. I skip ahead.
Du Hast
Time
Time for what I wounder.
Be Quick or be dead - Iron Maiden
This sends a chill up my spine. I get up out of bed. Just then someone hammers the door. I start to panic.
Knocking at your back door - Deep Purple
I run to the window to see who it could be.
Sharp dressed man - ZZ top
Shit, this ca n't be good. I owe alot of people.....
Money by pink floyd comes on. I did n't press skip. This is freaky now. It's skipping ahead by it's self.
Locked and loaded - Yngwie Malmsteen
Might Just take you life - Deep Purple
I panic. What do I do?
What do you want from me - Pink Floyd
One more for the road - Dio
I open my whiskey and take a good few mouth fulls to calm my nerves. After the initial burning it seems to help.
I go over to the window to see if the guy is still there. He is staring right at me. Then he starts to kick the door open.
Run to the hills - Iron Maiden
This is your time - Black Country Communion
Run Runaway - Slade
At this moment one word goes across my mind, Shit. Followed by what the hell is Slade doing on my I pod. No time to worry about that, the hit man is coming in. I figure I can leave through the window at the from while hes coming up stairs. I'll drop down and make a run for it.
I make a run to the other bedroom and silently open the window. He's coming up the stairs now.
All Right Now - Free
Now is my time. I lower myself down and start my getaway through the street in nothing but my boxers.
I dont get far then the song changes again.
ACDC - Fire your guns
His aim is good, Ill give him that. The shot hit me on the spine. I try to keep on running but my legs no longer work. I go crashing into the ground.
Stand up for rock and roll - ACDC
I think it's telling me to get up, but I ca n't. I'm lying here waiting for my death and my Ipod is trying to be ironic. Half way through it skips again as I hear foot steps getting closer.
Bye Bye Beautiful - Nightwish
That song is n't on for long before I hear a click come from behind me.
Shoot you in the back - Motorhead
Everything goes black. I hear the start of That was just your life by Metallica. Then as my final few moments tick by, and the life drains from my body I manage to last through one final song.
Mama Im coming home - Ozzy Osbourne
I some how wake up. There is a bright light and I recognize the song.
Led Zeppelin - Stairway to heaven
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[ WP ] Your super power is `` Swing . '' Every time you snap your fingers to a rhythm , music starts playing from out of the Blues and everybody is forced to participate : dancing , singing , nodding head , or snapping with you . One day you meet your arch-nemesis .
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Sweat was beading off my head.
Sweat was beading off everyone's head.
It had been another energetic tantalizing Friday night at the club i worked at. Thousands of people come here, to escape. They come here to have a care-free night.
When I snap my fingers, magic happens. Everyone lets loose and something deep down lets all their cares go and allows them to truly feel what i feel.
I was on to my last song of the night when suddenly in the back of the crowd you could see everyone slowly stop dancing one by one. It was as if everyone were goats, you know those goats where they get scared and just stand there. Something was making them do this.
People shifted from enjoying themselves to staring at each other and thinking negatively. There was a lady in the back who was clapping her hands and it seemed like the louder and longer she clapped the more people stopped dancing. This continued until every single person in the crowd was just standing here and whispering to each.
Who was this lady? Why was she doing this?
Slowly she came through the parting crowd and reached her hand out to me.
`` Hello, my name is Judgment'' she uttered.
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[ WP ] Every person gets given one respawn moment per lifetime .
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I always admired Susan from afar. We were both English majors so we had a lot of classes together but she never paid any attention to me. Until one day we got partnered up for a group project in our American Literature class. I silently thanked my lucky stars. After a few meetings at the library and some small talk I finally worked up the courage to ask her on a date. She giggled and smiled the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, but she said yes. I could n't believe it.
Saturday finally rolled around and I picked her up in front of her house. We talked about class as I drove from her place to Benjamin's, a nice Italian restaurant just off Main Street. We arrived and I rushed out of the car and hurried to open her door for her. The date was actually off to a good start.
We sat at the table, but eventually we ran out of things to talk about. I was starting to feel nervous, I think she could tell, but she kept smiling. The waiter came and we ordered. She ordered a shrimp scampi and I got chicken parmigiana. I tried my best to keep the conversation going, but I knew I was in trouble. I was going to run out of things to talk about soon and she would get bored.
Before I knew it the waiter brought our food. Her shrimp looked amazing and he set my plate in front of me.
`` Excuse me.'' I said to the waiter before he could walk away. `` I ordered chicken parm, this is eggplant.''
`` Are you sure?'' The waiter asked me.
`` I do n't mean to be a bother, but I'm positive that I did.''
`` No sir, you ordered eggplant.'' The waiter said matter of factly, and rolled his eyes at me. I'm not sure why but this really got to me.
`` Listen, buddy. I did n't order this. Take it back, and bring me what I ordered.'' The waiter opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off before he could. `` Either take it back or go get me your manager. Do something, do n't just stand here.'' The waiter took my plate and left. I turned to Susan. `` I'm sorry, where were we?''
Susan just looked at me for a second. She was n't smiling anymore. `` You know, the only reason I went on this date with you was because I thought you were a nice, genuine guy. You being that rude to a stranger really makes me wonder what you'll be like once we get to know each other better.''
`` I'm sorry.'' Those were the only words I could manage. We sat in silence and I watched her eat her food. The waiter finally brought me back my plate and threw it in front of me. I opened my mouth but I could feel Susan's eyes on me. I took a deep breathe. `` Thanks'' the waiter left.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Susan's phone went off. After reading her text she looked up at me `` Can you drop me off once were done eating?''
I felt defeated. `` Sure.'' I replied. `` Excuse me for one second.'' I got up from the table and stepped outside for some air. That's when I saw the bus barreling down the street. I made my decision as soon as I saw it. I stepped off the side walk and right into the path of the bus. Darkness.
I woke up back at my house. I threw on a polo and some khakis and got in my car. I arrived at Susan's ten minutes later. She was outside waiting for me. She saw me pull up and smiled. I got out of the car to open the door for her. `` Are we still going to that Italian place uptown?'' she asked as she got in.
`` Actually, I think I'm feeling Mexican.'' I said as I closed her door. I got back to the driver side and climbed into the car.
`` I love Mexican! There's a new place on 7th street!'' Susan said with through her gorgeous smile.
`` Mexican it is.'' I said as I pulled away from her house.
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[ OT ] Have you ever went to write a story , got several paragraphs in and said , `` I do n't like this story '' ?
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Like others, many times. The most recent was the a prompt about gaining the appearance of the person who clothes you were wearing from a second hand store. I had the story going, a closeted cross dresser, but soon after the main character gained his ability, I just could n't do it anymore. I really did n't like any part of the story, aside from the idea of a gynaphilic cis ( ish ) gendered male closeted cross dresser as a character.
Another time I actually put the story here ( thirteen minutes ago was a different time, it was darker then ) and went to bed, then woke up, edited the ending as I felt the ending cheated the story, and cheated the seriousness of a suicide attempt survivor. I nearly did n't do that story at all. While I liked it well enough, I felt, and still do, that it is a bit dark. I mean horror stories are one thing, but this was just a different place I guess... perhaps because of the topic.
The number of non-prompted stories I've done and abandoned are vast too.
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[ WP ] A person talking about their new dog makes it seem like they are speaking about another human . Their audience gets more and more horrified at the antics of their friend 's new houseguest .
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I never wanted him here in the first place. No one asked me. No one even gave me a warning that he would be coming. I just woke up one morning with him in my bed.
Initially, we didn ’ t get along at all. The first thing Reilly did when I booted him from my mattress was take my slippers and head into the kitchen. *My slippers*. Getting over myself, I went into the kitchen as well and took back my belongings before starting to cook some food. Wouldn ’ t you know it, the dude just sat there and watched, practically hypnotized by the smell of my eggs. Despite not saying a word, he was basically hounding me to make him some as well. Which, for the record, I didn ’ t.
Finally Melissa woke up and I confronted her about him. It was fine if she wanted him around, but he couldn ’ t be sneaking into my bed at night or taking my things. She agreed and I went back to my plate. My empty plate. In my absence, the bastard ate my eggs. I started to yell at him and, I ’ m not sure if it was out of fear or regret, but he pissed himself.
Melissa defended him, holding Reilly tightly, despite the urine on the hardwood, and ushering him back into her room. She told me that he was just nervous to be in a new place and, given a few weeks to adjust, he would be fine. In my humble opinion, a few weeks where you can piss on the ground and walk away scott free is far too long.
To make matters worse, I was sitting on the sofa one morning and he kissed me. Boldly hopped right up into my lap and kissed me on the lips. Shameless about the hint of shit on his breath as he rested his head on my shoulder. The guy had no boundaries.
But, after weeks of waking up to a warm bed, his body hidden under my covers as he squirmed in his sleep, I started to fall in love. The way that he looked at me after I came home from work was so unique and, for the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely cared for. Reilly would stop whatever he was doing to greet me with remarkable enthusiasm and would, without question or interruption, listen to just about anything I had to say.
One Sunday, I sat on the sofa to watch TV and he joined me, eyes glued to the screen as we silently enjoyed one another ’ s company. As usual, he scooted over and sat on my lap before placing a cautious kiss on my cheek. This time, I didn ’ t stop him and he just kept going. Kisses down my neck and on my chest as I ran my hands through his soft hair.
I guess I am a dog person after all.
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[ WP ] Batman Monologue
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I want you to know that I am just like you. That each and every one of you who walk these streets and breathe this air are no different from me. That as I watch over this city I see the potential of a million burning souls. The dreams. The joy. The sorrows. And to think that you can not do great things... It is only to fool yourself.
I am sorry, but I must leave you all for a long time. I do n't know when I will return to Gotham, if ever. But never forget, you are not alone. Each of you has the power inside of you to change the world. Each of you can be the hero to protect this city. Never give that up.
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[ WP ] You were cloned at birth . Your clone was placed in a family demographically identical to yours , with one difference . In high school , you meet your clone but do not recognize them .
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I never knew.
My parents never told me that someone out there was me, the original me. I was under the illusion that I was born to my father and mother, not a test tube in a laboratory. There was n't really any reason to think otherwise - I looked like my `` dad'' and I had blond hair like my `` mum''. In reality, a lucky coincidence.
I have this idea that the other me probably knew what was going on. I do n't care, really, but sometimes, on dark nights, sitting alone at my desk basking in the light of my monitor, the thought crosses my mind.
Weird, honestly. We were in the same preschool, elementary school, middle school and high school, but we never met until we were teenagers. I figure they were trying to seperate us in classes to observe us. My whole life was a lie. Really, I do n't care that much.
Sometimes I look back at the time and I feel bad about what I was like. Bratty, spoilt, smart-ass, outspoken. It was really a horrible time for me and anyone else who talked to me. But I had friends, I guess. Lost them now. I do n't care.
It was the times that I interacted with him that make me feel the worst. Tracking him down across the buildings, pestering him, following him into rooms. I do n't like to think about how much I kicked and punched and smashed his face in. Why? A sense of entitlement, I guess. The kid was easy to beat up. And I had no idea he was me.
The `` experiment'' was successful, I guess. They made two different people from the same person. And when I sit at home, alone, looking out onto the street filled with people having fun, with friends, I wish I could go back and try to sort things out with him. But I ca n't. I had no idea what was going on. I had no idea that I was a disgusting person.
I never knew.
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[ WP ] At birth , each child is given 5 objects that they must carry with them , or have near at hand , for the rest of their lives . These objects have seemingly prophetic significance on the lives of their owners .
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`` All right. I've communed with the spirits surrounding your child and, based on your survey results, aura reading, and the series of short tests we just conducted, come up with the best list of totems for your child I can suggest. The ones marked with asterisks can be replaced as they are expended or broken, all others can not be replaced once chosen, even if even a fragment is all that remains.'' The shaman set a list of items scribbled on a small page on the desk for the woman on the other side.
She picked up the list, her face slowly turning from an expression of excitement to disappointment and finally to disgust.
`` You think this is a joke?''
`` I assure, you, ma'am, we take the child's spirit totems most importantly of all. Ask any licenced shaman, and probably some unlicensed ones. They'll give you the same set.''
`` But this ca n't possibly- I would never...''
`` Ma'am, the spirits can be indirect or tricksome, at worst. They would never mislead us on this most important matter. I can understand wanting to ignore them in this case, but I promise grave misfortune should your child not have access to their totems as soon as possible.''
`` But what possible good could come from those... Things?''
`` The spirits move in mysterious ways. Now are you taking it or leaving it? We're already five minutes over time and I've got a lot more new mothers to meet today.''
`` I'm leaving it. Nothing good can come of having my child carry those wherever he goes.''
`` If that's how you feel, but I urge you to reconsider.''
The woman said nothing as she stood up and hurriedly left the room, pointedly ignoring the list on the desk.
Lewis Yates, MD, glanced at the list for a moment. He had to admit, he was curious why the spirits would require a child to carry a roll of duct tape\*, an old-school hockey mask, a steak knife, a webcam, and a `` huge black dildo'' ( their words, not his ) everywhere they went. *Why black? * he wondered to himself. *Oh well. Guess we'll never know now. *
`` Send in the next, please.''
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[ WP ] Olivanders Wand Shop is run by a muggle who just makes up stories about pieces of wood .
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Dingadingading. The bell sounded as a new 1st year entered the shop. Olivander raised his eyes to greet the boy who was approaching the counter. Something looked very familiar about him. The eyes, the nose, his inquisitive nature about him. The shopkeeper KNEW him somehow but could simply not place him. He put the piece of wood down and took a closer look at the boy.
`` May i help you young man?'' Olivander asked the lad. His eyes still searching for some clue as to who this boy is and why he feels he knows him.
`` Hello sir. I am here to choose my wand.'' The young boy proclaims excitedly.
`` I see. Well you know my boy, It is said that the wand is the one to choose the wizard.'' Olivander explains.
Dinadingading. The door opens once again and a cool gust of fall air blows in. The shopkeepers eyes shift from the boy to the man now standing behind him. Suddenly it became very clear who this boy was.
`` Good morning Mr Olivander. It's been quite a long time has n't it.'' The man said walking past the boy with his hand extended.
`` Indeed it has Harry. Or should i say Professor Potter now?'' Olivander met the extended hand and shook it firmly.
`` Harry is fine sir. How are you these days? Business good?''
Olivander struggled to answer the question in the presence of the boy. After all the stories are what sold the wands. He did not want to take that away from a new wizard. Especially not from the son of the great Harry Potter. Olivander remembered the story he told harry all those years ago. Made from holly? A phoenix feather core? And to really sell it he gave it a sinister by association brother wand. He knew the stories surrounding Harry and knew he would make a nice profit no matter what wand he sold him.
`` Albus could you go and sit over there for a moment? I need to speak with Mr Olivander privately.'' The boy turned and headed over to the far wall where a bench sat.
`` Thank you Harry. I did n't know if he knew the truth about the wands. I did n't want to ruin the mystique. The young ones are always so excited when getting their wands.'' Olivander said relieved that his secret was safe.
`` Please Garrick I want you to keep doing what you're doing. I want Albus to feel that same level of excitement that i did when i left here. All i ask is that you do n't go overboard with the story.'' Harry winked at him and motioned to his son to rejoin them at the counter.
The selection process lasted for seven wands. The last being the one chosen. Albus held it deftly in his hand and a warm yellow glow began to emanate from the tip. Albus looked at Mr Olivander eagerly waiting for the wand's description.
`` My my that is very interesting.'' He said while stroking his chin. `` Your wand is eleven inches long, made of blackwood with a silver dust core.''
`` What is so special about that Mr Olivander?'' Albus asked excited to know.
`` The wand itself is a fairly powerful one. It typically responds to wizards with good hearts as well as those with a natural affinity with protection spells. What is more interesting is who is in possession of this wand's twin.''
Albus stared wide eyed at Garrick Olivander. Garrick looked over to Harry and seen him nod his head. He took this as an indication that the tale was acceptable and to continue.
`` Yours is the sister wand to your mothers.''
Albus' mouth was agape at this revelation and Harry was smirking.
`` Thank you Mr Olivander. I believe it is time for us to continue with our shopping.''
Harry paid him twelve galleons. Seven for the wand and five for the story. He nudged his son and urged him to follow. Albus quickly thanked him and hurried after his father. Garrick returned to whittling down another piece of wood he had in front of him.
`` It's amazing what these wizards will believe.'' He said shaking his head.
Once Harry and Albus finished shopping in Diagon alley they returned to meet Ginney. Harry hugged Albus and kissed Ginney before returning to Hogwarts. He was summoned by headmistress McGonagall and did not want to be late. Harry headed to the center of the promenade, took hold of the port key and was whisked away to the school in a flash. Once there, he found that the port key placed him directly adjacent to the headmistresses office. Harry knocked on the door and it opened. He entered and found Minerva McGonagall seated at her desk.
`` Come in Mr Potter please sit sit.'' She motioned for him sit in the chair in front of the large wood desk.
Harry sat down and waited for her to finish reading the long parchment. After a few moments she finally looked up at him.
`` So i take it your trip to see Garrick was a success?''
`` Yes Headmistress. It would seem the spell cast on Mr Olivander is working quite well. However i do not quite understand why he was charmed into believing he is simply a muggle who makes up stories about the wands he sells. What purpose does it serve?''
Minerva shifted in her seat nervously. She knew she must explain this decision and what Mr Olivander truly was to Harry now that he was the new defense against the dark arts teacher.
`` Very well Mr Potter. Far be it from me to exclude you from anything that you would need to know. The past has shown me that by doing so it only leads to... Trouble. Mr Olivander is a diviner. His skills in divination far outshine even those of professor Trelawney. Why else would every single student at hogwarts get the perfect wand. We tell the students that the wand chooses the wizard but that simply is not true. Garrick's divination is what causes the feeling. Once he sees the connection he then casts the spell mentally. Thus the glow and the joining. There are very few wizards that can cast spells by simply using their minds.''
`` But why charm him into thinking he is a muggle who lies to wizards?'' Harry asked.
Minerva lowered her voice and beckoned him closer. Harry leaned in and waited.
`` It would seem that the ministry of magic has received credible information that Mr Olivander is planning on using his skills for some rather unsavory purposes. Therefore until this information can be either verified or refuted, We have taken this precaution. Now your first assignment as the new defense against the dark arts teacher is to ascertain whether this is a legitimate threat and if so to find out if there is a new darkness beginning to stir. Unfortunately Mr Potter it would seem the more things change the more they stay the same.''
She frowned and gave him an apologetic look. Harry nodded to her and rose from his seat.
`` I will need to make some preparations as well as get some help headmistress.''
`` Ron and Hermoine are already on their way.''
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[ WP ] In 1945 , scientists working on the Manhattan Project conclusively proved that it was impossible to create an atomic bomb . As 1950 draws to a close , WWII finally comes to a close after a massive land invasion of Japan by the US . Write the history of 1950-2016 in a world without nuclear weapons .
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San Francisco never felt like home to Ando, and now that he was back neither did Japan. The view from the hotel window offered little comfort to a wayward soul. What was once a bustling street filled with children ’ s laughter and the raucous of street markets was now baron and in its place only dilapidated factories and burned out homes remained. He imagined Kimiko was down there, not in Kyoto, but a city just like it. He could only imagine though, he hadn ’ t returned to Japan since the war ended, back when Japan was whole.
As the night got darker the bedside table lamp got brighter becoming ever more visible in the windows reflection. Pulling himself away he packed what was left of his clothes on to the suitcase laying on the Murphy bed. When the last shirt was placed on top he clasped the suitcase shut and gave his attention to the man in the corner. The man sat on the wooden chair was called Simpson, Ando knew him by no other name.
Simpsons sat huddled over the transistor radio, has fingers clasped to the dial, poised to reduce the volume at any moment. He had good reason to do so as for what he was listening to was the voice of Supreme Leader Yamashita. Simpson finally directed his attention to Ando and raised the volume slightly.
‘ ‘ Do you hear that, Ando? ’ ’
‘ ’ Yes. ’ ’ He walked closer to the radio
‘ ’ What ’ s he saying, my Japanese ain ’ t so good no more. ’ ’
‘ ’ Yamashita promises to reclaim the south…..to rid Japan of its American occupiers… and to return the Empire of Japan to its former glory. ’ ’
Simpson stroked his chin ‘ ’ Shit. This is bad. ’ ’ He turned the radio off violently and began pacing up and down the hotel room.
‘ ’ I don ’ t see it as anything to be concerned about, Mr. Simpson, Yamashita has been saying the same thing for the last fourteen years. ’ ’
‘ ’ This is different. From the intelligence we gathered we suspect troop movement at the border and since we have lost contact with our mole we ’ ve been left in the dark…. ’ Simpson bit his lip and stared glassy eyed towards the floor. ‘ North Japan knows the position the United States has found itself in. ’ He didn ’ t say it but Ando knew what he meant. Since the loss of Korea and Vietnam America was scared shitless of another conflict in Southeast Asia.
‘ Have you packed your suitcase yet? ’ Simpson was quick to change the subject.
Ando grabbed his suitcase off the bed and it hung by his knee ‘ Yes. I ’ m ready. ’
‘ Okay, the train will arrive at ten to twelve which will take you to Nagoya. From there you ’ ll want to get the train to Nagano. A CIA escort will take you the rest of the way. Good luck.
‘ Thank you. ’ The men shook hands.
‘ Just remember, you do this and you do it right you get the full package – the house in Frisco, the pension and best of all US Citizenship. ’ When it was said out loud it finally put doubt in Ando ’ s mind. Did he really want to go back to the States?
Even though the war ended in 1947 there were still those vented their anger and frustration on Japanese-Americans. Some people acted like they were the only ones to lose their sons. However, on a more positive side he wouldn ’ t have to live under the constant threat of war. Since Operation Downfall, the American people had grown war weary and mistrustful of their government. Ando could remember the protests, the marches and the riots. As a result the US hadn ’ t used the draft since and RFK has taken a more lenient approach to foreign policy than previous administrations. Although America has its flaws, what was left for him in Japan? On that thought Ando picked up his fedora and gave Simpsons a half bow ‘ ’ Goodbye, Mr Simpson. ’ ’
‘ ’ Goodbye, Ando. ’ ’ As he walked towards the door Simpson grabbed the sleeve of his trench coat and spun him round ‘ Don ’ t fuck this up, Ando, you know what ’ s at risk here, you know your mission. While you ’ re in Tokyo you can ’ t contact your wife. If the North Japanese squeeze any info out of our mole it could threaten the safety of Japan and America. Do you understand? ’
All he could think about since leaving Japan was reuniting with Kimiko. To reconcile with her, to tell her that he was sorry, that it wasn ’ t her fault and to tell her about her son. ‘ Do you understand? Simpsons repeated.
‘ I understand. ’ Simpson released his grip allowing him to go, Ando began to leave but stopped in his tracks.
‘ Mr Simpson, what if I can ’ t get your mole out of the country, what if he has defected? ’
‘ If Agent Johnson is uncooperative, you know what to do. ’
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[ WP ] It 's the holidays , you 've recently been hired to a government job . Your extended family is repeatedly failing to understand what you do there .
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I looked up from my plate. I had been slowly moving around the peas and turkey for what felt like hours. Their eyes were still on me. Every one of them hanging onto the silence until I would break it.
I was hoping to maybe divert the attention from what I had just said with a joke. My throat was so dry though, my tongue scratched on the inside of mouth. How long had it been since I'd tried to swallow? How long had I been lingering on this dead air?
I grabbed the closest liquid: gravy.
I started guzzling that sweet slippery nectar until I could feel the words start to form again in my mind and on my tongue. Their eyes changed from eagerness to shock as mine changed from nervousness to desperation.
I do n't remember why I had lied to them from the past four months. It started out as small; I only wanted my parents off my back. They thought I did n't amount to much after college. They thought I just sat around all day with one hand on the mouse and the other on the... joystick. Just a simple white lie, a quick one: I'm a weatherman for the ministry of the environment. It was n't a real lie... just a little bit of a weave and dodge of what I actually did. I definitely work with the weather and I am definitely, probably, maybe sure that my paycheques come from the government. I think.
It came to my attention from my brother that they were just so proud, and an iota skeptical, that they let everyone coming home for the holidays. They also made sure to give some questions that might come up `` oh so casually''. They were just looking to pry, I should have prepared better.
The questions started casually:
`` Oh your mother tells me you got a new job at the ministry of the environment?''
`` Yep.''
I thought I could get away with some binary answers. Sweet.
`` Weatherman they say?''
`` Yep''
So far so good.
`` Like for TV?''
`` Nope''
I calmed down. I would get through this.
`` But then what do you do there?''
Shit. Time to ditch the binary.
`` I... well, I functionally correlate strong humidity patterns over the eastern seaboard to photosynthesize competent patterns vis a vis upstream infant hurricaines.''
My complexion began to betray me. I could feel the redness move to my cheeks. The rushing blood in my ears was accompanied by the symphony of this web unravelling. They heard my stumble; they saw the weakness. They were predators now; they were in the kill zone.
The attacks rang out in the night:
`` But what does that mean?''
`` You did n't study that in college did you?''
`` How much do you get paid?''
`` Who's your manager? I'm friends with a couple guys in that department.''
`` Why do n't we have snow? It's Christmas.''
`` What kind of software do you use?''
`` Do you even really work there?''
`` Do you?''
The words were ringing in my ears. The accusations mounting. I kept thinking about the snow though. Why had n't it snowed yet? I should know that. If I can answer that one maybe they'll back off. Give'em a long winded one and maybe they'll forget the other ones they asked. Just answer about the snow. I could n't even remember the other questions anyway. Just the snow. Focus on the snow and just answer.
`` Well this time of year...''
Focus. Snow.
``... the snow... it, errrr, well...''
FOCUS. SNOW. THINK ABOUT IT. WHY IS N'T THERE SNOW?
`` SNOW''
I screamed. I should n't have screamed. I should n't have concentrated that hard. The next thing I felt was a wetness. Little dabs of wetness on my face. Rolling down my cheeks.
I looked up from my plate. I had been slowly moving around the peas and turkey for what felt like hours. Their eyes were still on me. Every one of them hanging onto the silence until I would break it.
There was snow falling from the chandelier. How could I even explain? I'm not a weatherman. I'm The Weatherman.
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[ IP ] '' Earth Colossus '' by Chase Stone
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EDIT ( S ): Words, nitpicking. Sorry, if this is longer than normal. I found the image very thought-provoking.
Even as the ash clouds gathered in the South, the punishing heat of the twin suns continued to scorch the fields of Skandar. Plainsgrass was resilient but Idrys could feel it crumble into dust beneath his horse's hooves. It is enough that the suns, the Gods and the rulers of these lands have forsaken them and in light of what comes now, he was doing them a favor.
Idrys and his bladesister, Shahana, rode onward across the plains in full regalia unfazed, as soulsteel always imbibed the characteristics which its wearers most desired. Right now, it was to stay as light and cool as possible as they continued on their mission. It was not common even for the most elite soldiers of the land to don full soulsteel armor for an escort detail. However, their commander had demanded it of them. Whether it was because he had given in to the superstitions of the court priests or because he felt that the symbolic irony would keep our spirits up, Idrys did not know.
You see, soulsteel was a rare and precious metal that could only be mined in the treacherous Meandering Mountains of the South. Now, one of these moving megaliths had inexplicably wandered hundreds of leagues north of its home, into the rich plains of Skandar. Altai, the Mountain Nomads called him, a name they held in reverence. To the people of the plains, he heralded nothing but doom.
As Altai strode across the plains, he spewed poisonous ash in his wake. Idrys could see chunks of rock fall from his massive form, pinpricks to his eyes but surely the size of entire houses. His strides were slow but long. His coming was not believed by many until his footsteps were felt as massive drums and the light of First Sun on this very morning revealed his snow-capped peaks straddling the Southern Border. It did not help that many, in their greed, attempted to carry with them as much of their wealth as possible, leaving them incapable of outrunning his unrelenting march. It was apparent that he would reach the capital by the setting of Second Sun.
As they neared their rendezvous point with the King's convoy, they passed yet another drove of panicked townspeople. Perhaps the Mountain Nomads were right, thought Idris. In his childhood, he had heard the tales of the Mountains' deep worldly wisdom from the wanderers. The destruction they brought forth was purposeful; to destroy all that was old and decrepit so it could be replaced by the new. Skandar's wealth was toxic to its people and its rulers, a truth that was obvious to Idrys' eyes but one that would get him executed nonetheless. He had always envied the Nomads' defiance, even in the face of execution. All he could do was keep their wonderful stories alive in his heart even as his body was molded into a weapon for those who would have them fade into nothing.
The riders finally arrived at their destination, an open amphitheater at the top of a small hill. The view of Altai's approach was clearer and more fearsome than ever and yet, the King's convoy was nowhere in sight. Even with the swiftest horses in the kingdom, they would be at serious risk if they waited for much longer. Every moment that passed as they waited brought old memories and fears into Idrys' mind. One in particular involved a conversation he had with and old nomad by the name of Karym, after one of his long stories about the Meandering Mountains.
`` How is it that you Nomads live in those mountains if they are so terrible and destructive? Why do n't they destroy you along with everything else there?'' asked Idrys.
Karym smiled, his old blue eyes almost sparkling whenever he did so. `` A very good question, young Idrys. One that I think will be very important at some point in your adulthood. You see, we Nomads spend our adolescent lives among those mountains as part of a ritual. The best of us are able to survive the dangers until such time we feel that we have garnered sufficient spiritual enlightenment. At that point, it is our duty to travel forth to the many nations of this world to spread our wisdom.''
`` Ah, I see but I do n't live in the mountains or plan on going near them. How is this supposed to be important to me?''
Karym laughed and said, `` Well Idrys, I meant it more as a metaphor. At some point you will find a something that will bring a sense of meaning to your life. At that point, it is your duty to pursue that goal with every fiber of your being. If the Gods judge you to be worthy, you will accomplish that goal, just as the Mountains judge us Nomads.''
So the time has come at last, thought Karym as it became obvious that the convoy they were waiting for may not arrive on time, if at all. Was he supposed to serve his masters in order to be judged worthy by the Gods or was he supposed to keep the stories of the persecuted Mountain Nomads alive and be judged worthy by Altai? To stay blindly loyal to the rulers of a corrupt, crumbling kingdom or to flee and keep alive the promise of a new and better Skandar? As the noise of the approaching destruction grew nearer, Idrys' eyes met those of his bladesister through their visors and knew the same question burned within Shahana's mind.
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[ TT ] A scientist unveils their newest invention ; the Thinking Machine . A marvel of science ; shining brass , glowing glass , a thousand brains imprisoned in a web of wire and fluid .
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Walk. Look straight ahead. Do n't turn around. Match your arms to your pace. Controlled, but not robotic. Keep walking.
Now stop. Turn -- no, spin -- on the balls of your feet, arms opened in welcome. Smile for the cameras. This is your show. Wave to your left, to your right, to the back, and right beneath you. Spare a second for each direction before you continue your march.
For each step taken henceforth, a spotlight appears upon you. Each one serves as a reminder of the scrutiny you withstood to get here. The grant writer who walked out on you. The dean who denied your research request. The committee members who laughed at your proposal. Their judging eyes are gone; now, there are only spotlights.
Ahead of you it looms, the glorious magnum opus of all your lifetimes. It towers over you, nearly touching the auditorium roof. The velvet curtain draped over it leaves everything to the imagination. No need to tease but with the idea itself.
The thinking machine. Louder. More grandiose. The Thinking Machine. Spin again. Clutch the lab coat. Adjust the glasses.
`` It was scorned as unethical; it was dismissed as mere fancy. An affront to science and science-fiction alike, they called it. Apparently, neither I nor my brainchild had a place in the scientific community's pre-ordained narrative. It was then I realized that science had become more about culture than culture ( pull out the petri dish to ensure the pun is not lost upon them ), and nothing short of my work in the flesh would shake their misguided preconceptions.''
Pause for emphasis. `` Today, I am here to showcase this work.''
The drape descends in a cascade of red, revealing a monstrous jar behind it, packed to the brim with pink and creases. The mass was submerged was submerged in a pale green fluid, but had no space to even float. Every three seconds, the entire thing would light up briefly as a spark coursed through a garden of wires running up and down the jar's sides. They all ended at a circular metal frame that hugged the jar's midsection. Atop the jar rested a ridged brown lid that sealed a disproportionately small opening.
The convolution begged as many questions regarding its construction as it did regarding its function. How was this mass ever constructed with such limited manpower? How was it even fit into the jar? Was it spliced from the outside like a ship? Or grown from the inside like a pear?
It was unfortunate that there was nobody left to ask those questions.
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[ WP ] After a major planetary ecological disaster threatening planetary survival , the last 40 million humans pile onto generation ships to an earth-like planet orbiting Epsilon Eridani . 2/3 of the way into the journey , Epsilon Eridani suddenly and inexplicably goes supernova .
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`` The planet was still 18 light years away,'' Kuroa Pontis reported. `` So the supernova happened 18 years ago. We've been wasting our time for the last 4 years.''
Sef frowned. The only way to move faster than lightspeed was to bend the space around them, letting the spacecraft remain stationary while moving space-time itself. They had to extinguish 2 suns to get the necessary energy to power the fusion drive. Now, they are lost in space without a destination.
`` We have enough fuel for another 30 lightyears,'' Kuroa pointed out. `` Let's strike for a new direction and...''
`` And hope that we accidentally stumble upon a life-bearing planet?'' Dax Cing mocked. `` We scanned 100 million planets before setting on Epsilon Eridani. There is no other like it in the galaxy.''
`` Except...'' Kuroa interjected.
`` Do n't say it'' Dax growled.
`` Home'' Kuroa finished. `` If we made peace...''
`` WITH THEM?'' Dax screamed. `` They're not human. You can not make a deal with the Pestilence.''
`` And you'd have us starve to death, marooned between asteroids?'' Sef retorted.
`` Sef...'' Dax pleaded.
`` Enough, is n't this why we brought the locusts?'' Sef asked. `` Bring me to him.''
-- -- -- -
`` I've never seen anything like it'' Kuroa whispered. The locusts swarmed behind the thick plexiglass prison, angrily beating against the screen. `` They wo n't break out, will they?''
`` The Pestilence's power grows weaker with distance, but he should still be able to hear us'', Dax replied. `` Sef, this is a mistake.''
*Back again? * the disembodied voice seemed to originate within the very minds of the hearer. Before their eyes, the locusts congregated into a vaguely human shape.
`` Lord Blight'', Sef yelled. `` We want to make a deal.''
There were no physical clues, but one got a feeling that this person-like mass of insects was secretly smiling.
*I'm listening*, it smirked.
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[ WP ] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words , 2nd sentence has 19 , 3rd has 18 etc . Story ends with a single word .
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I was counting down days when my brother called to tell me; dead dads are not ever fun for anyone. Dead people sometimes inspire, but it ’ s silly to me that the most certain aspect of living is absolutely taboo.
This was expected, sickness; we were trying to say goodbye, as if that were meaningful, but were late. Coming together, too late we left our lives to celebrate and cry for the dead: slightly silly.
Uncle Jack could joke about it, military and good with death or rather, simply well accustomed. But I hadn ’ t jokes or tears nor caring memories, just stuck too serious, like before.
Before when he ’ d make us uncomfortable with everything, awkward father never liked to talk. He needed a peaceful house, but my brother and I were too little.
And later we realized how deep his pain probably had to be. I don ’ t know if he was the best husband or father, though. She left him only to come back and get sick herself. Certainly wasn ’ t the best wife…certainly weren ’ t the best kids.
Certainty was never our family ’ s way, more, well okay. Sort of an undisclosed constant apathy, so that carried.
Over at least to the very quiet funeral.
From which we all returned to life.
Starting looking forward again, to something.
I was counting down still.
I was ready before.
Always well prepared.
He and I.
Both.
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[ WP ] When a person dies , their body evaporates into butterflies . One day , as the sky goes dark , you look up to see the sun blocked by an unending cloud of butterflies .
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`` Ahh fuck here come the butterflies again.'' The old man said as he filled up his 5 gallon gas container and stuck a bottle of lighter fluid into his back pocket.
They called him `` The Janitor'', because he was the one who had to come and clean up after everyone.
`` Looks like another massacre. Good god, they managed to block out the sun this time''.
The Janitor sat in his truck and waited.
`` They always do the same pattern''
The janitor said to himself in a reassuring way. He had been doing this for over ten years, and had learned through the art of self teaching, that butterflies always move up, and then to the nearest tree.
The first two years of his entrepreneurial venture, he paid close attention any patterns the butterflies would make when they first emerged from teh body.
Sometimes he would get so involved with the math that he would forget to appreciate the beauty in what was going on. These were souls after all, or at least pieces of souls. Whenever someone dies their body will wither into butterflies. The amount of butterflies depends on the mass of the person. Bigger people have more butterflies than smaller people, adults usually have more butterflies than children, etc. etc.
The janitor watched every body closely and found that the butterflies would always initially fly as high as they could, then towards the nearest tree, where they would stop and rest.
It happened every time. Once the janitor discovered this, he knew that he did n't have to come up with anymore bizarre tactics on how to trace and distinguish each and every butterfly.
You see, around 30 years or so ago, scientists found some sort of genetic code that you could track from the butterfly of a deceased person, to who that deceased person was when they were alive.
There's a unique pattern somewhere above the genes of the butterfly which correlates to something called `` epigenetics'' in the person who was alive.
*Listen, I do n't know much about it. Fuck, I do n't even know if I believe, I'm just telling you this so you know how crucial it is that the janitor gets every single butterfly. Every....Single... One. *
The janitor lit a cigaret and waited. This batch of butterflies was unusual. They were fluttering more, almost as if they were mad.
The janitor leaned into the windshield to get a better look.
`` Are they coming towards me?'' The janitor wondered as he watched the butterfly cloud getting bigger, and bigger, making their way towards him like a storm cloud making it's way across town.
It began to form into a tornado of butterflies before heading straight towards the janitor.
This startled the janitor which caused him to inhale his cigaret.
He coughed it up not long after, which filled his truck with more smoke than normal.
After the janitor regained composure, he put the truck in drive and sped off as fast as the engine would let him.
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[ EU ] Bruce Wayne does not exist . Batman is the alter-ego of Lex Luthor acting as a vigilante to stomp out his business competitors . He does this successfully for years before an alien posing as a reporter discovers his secret .
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`` Mr. Luthor, your Two o'clock is here.'' The secretary put the reciever down. `` He will be just a minute. Please, sit.''
The gentleman nodded, yet remained standing. The secretary returned to her computer, noting this gentleman did not show any signs of nervousness like most of Mr. Luthors other interviewers. He was cute, though, even if he was acting standoffish. Perhaps he was nervous. She peeked over her screen to take another look. Glasses, black hair, and strange blue eyes. He must be wearing colored contacts for some reason.
The phone beeped. `` Send him in.'' The reporter didnt wait, he strode through the door before the secretary was able to look up.
The office was extravagant. Vases from around the globe, artifacts that any museum would be proud to have, and those were the impulse purchases. Mr. Luthor sat back in his chair.
`` I'm sorry, I was expecting a different person from the Daily Planet. What is your name?''
`` Lane, sir. Louis Lane. May I have a seat?''
`` Of coarse. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lane. Would you like a drink?'' He motioned to the carafe in front of him.
`` No, thank you. I have some questions for you, if you dont mind.''
`` Of coarse you have questions. You're a reporter, and if I minded yo uhh would n't be sitting here.'' He said as he poured some scotch into a glass.
`` Why did Lexcorp move its headquarters from Metropolis to Gotham?''
Luthor sighed. `` Thats old news. I'm sure theres a press release regarding that.''
`` Of coarse, but I was hoping to get some more information regarding Lexcorp's buyout of Wayne Enterprises, and the resulting move.''
`` Wayne Enterprises was going under. Since the death of the Waynes the company had been in a state of disarray. They had some projects that I had been keeping track of, so I was interested in aquiring the company.''
`` Do n't you think its strange that Batman was involved with'busting' several board members of Wayne Enterprises for various crimes? Notably the ones that objected to the buyout?''
`` Vigilante justice isnt my strong suit, Mr. Lane. Its unfortunate that such people got to the top, and I can not say I was unhappy that their crimes were made known, and they were brought to justice.''
`` Meanwhile, several pro-buyout members had similar crimes covered up. Edward Nigma, for example.''
`` Mr. Nigma is a valuable asset to the company and those allegations have been dealt with. His research and development department was ahead of anything I'd ever seen, even within Lexcorp.''
`` Is there a reason that you take vacations so often when the Batman is rumored to have been injured?''
`` My line of work is very stressful. I ensure I have plenty of time to relax and'get away from it all' as they say.''
`` Two weeks ago, in an altercation with a woman known as Poison Ivy, a environmental terrorist, was rumored to have cut a gash in Batman's forearm. Can you explain the stitches on your own forearm?''
`` Mountain Biking. I sdo try to keep fit.''
`` Is there a reason you did not seek medical attention at an emergency room?''
Luthor set the now empty glass down on his desk. `` Mr. Lane, if you are implying that I am Batman, you are not going to last long in the newspaper buisiness. It will be career suicide.''
`` I'm not alleging anything, Mr. Luthor. I simply wished to see how you would react to someone finding your secret. And I know it. So, Mr. Luthor, I wish to offfer you my services.''
`` Who are you, really?''
Lane moved his hand to his face, removing the mask. A metallic skull looked at Luthor. `` You can say I'm a bit of a Braniac.''
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[ WP ] At 16 , everyone is given a necklace or bracelet that gets warmer when you get closer to your soul mate , and colder when you get farther away
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“ It ’ s neither warm nor cold. ” she said, when she laid her hands upon the bracelet that was resting in a dark jewellery case.
“ No, it only starts adjusting its temperature once you wear it for a while. I think it ’ s about 5 Minutes. ”
“ And you really never tried? ” she suspiciously asked him.
“ No, like I told you, I always thought I didn ’ t have to, you know. There was no need. I always…liked you Emily. So I wanted to wait for when you get yours and so we could put them on together. ”
She smiled. His words made her feel warm inside like they had so many times before.
“ I ’ m really nervous. ” she said.
“ Don ’ t worry, there is no need to be. Tomorrow at this time, we ’ ll finally be able to tell our parents and make it official. ” he reassuringly told her.
Then he leaned in to steal a kiss from her and she shyly gave into his advances. Like with all their kisses, it started innocently, sweetly and progressed into a clear sign of desire for each other. Emily loved the feeling of his lips on hers; he was warm and soft, gentle yet demanding. They had been boyfriend and girlfriend for a couple of months now, and had known each other for most of their lives.
As he pulled away he smiled again.
“ I ’ ve got to go now, my parents have been more suspicious lately, I ’ ve got to watch the time better. ”
“ Well… ” she sighed “ see you tomorrow? ”
“ I ’ ll meet you in front of the building, like we said. ”
“ Alright. See you tomorrow. ”
“ Sleep tight, Honey-bee. ” the homage to her honey blonde hair was something he rarely used but when he did she lit up inside. He kissed her on the lips once more, and then gave her a quick peck on her forehead. When he left she watched him walk away.
She loved him, she knew she did, she just never could tell him. There weren ’ t any words and then, there was no bracelet yet. When he had gotten his, they were close friends, nothing more and she never asked about it. But it came up when they finally admitted their feelings to each other. He had told her like he did ten minutes before, that he had never once put it on and then they talked about not really needing the bracelet anyways. She couldn ’ t describe but, they were sure. There weren ’ t any doubts. They were meant to be.
At home she laid out the dress she had bought especially for the occasion tomorrow. The floral pattern complimented her sun tanned skin and her baby blue eyes.
She went to bed that night, calmer than she thought she would be, yet excited for the moment in that they would tell her parents that they were dating officially and there was nothing they could do about it. The bracelets would show them.
Morning came and went, she went to school and it seemed that the day would never pass. But at precisely 5 p.m. she finally arrived in front of the government building and she saw him already waiting for her.
“ You look…beautiful. ” he said, a bit stunned as he had never seen her in such a dress before. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his words.
“ Thank you. ” she smiled and they went inside.
Not even 20 Minutes later, they were outside again. A lot of other youths were getting their bracelets that day and some of them necklaces. Emily watched some of them take theirs on immediately. But she looked at Kyle and he nodded. They would wait. They would go to their favourite hideout, a little hut by the stream they frequently played at when they were little.
“ Ready to put them on? ” he asked her.
“ Yes. ” she simply answered, opened the case with the bracelet and put it on her wrist. She watched him doing the same thing simultaneously. When they were finished she looked at him, happily, as she had a feeling the bracelet was already starting to warm up.
“ Kyle. ” she said “ I ’ m really happy I found you. ”
“ I ’ m the same, Emily. I always knew. Now more than ever. ”
They kissed, passionately, like they had so many times before. Then she snuggled up to him, her head resting on his upper chest.
But as the minutes passed, nothing happened. The bracelet had not gotten any warmer and Emily began to grow a bit nervous.
“ Nothing is happening, what about yours? ” she asked him, still calm.
“ Nothing. But I think it needs some more time. Just relax and wait a couple more minutes. ” he answered with a stern voice, but she grew more and more unsure.
It must have been twenty minutes, when she realized they were waiting for the other to talk first. Fear rose up inside of her. It was the first time since they ’ d known each other that a feeling of separation occurred between them.
Another 5 minutes passed and after what seemed like an eternity he began to speak and she began to shake.
“ Emily… ”
“ Please don ’ t. ” she said softly, as tears rose up in her eyes.
“ It ’ s not- “
“ Don ’ t say it please. ” she began to cry, whimpering softly she turned around and buried her face in his neck. But his arms did not pull her closer like she was used for them to do.
She felt him shake now, as well, his breathing grew erratic but she couldn ’ t make out anything else.
“ Emily, I think we need to…get up. ” he said, slowly, and it took him all of his strength to get the words out.
“ No Kyle please. This can ’ t be right. Those bracelets…it ’ s a malfunction. It has to be! ” she kept on crying next to him.
“ You know they never fail. ” he whispered.
“ What are we going to do Kyle. ” she cried into his shirt.
But he didn ’ t have an answer for her. Everything was blurry. He wasn ’ t sure, if his heart was still beating or not but he didn ’ t feel a thing. Not even her warm tears soaking through his shirt.
“ I…I don ’ t know. ” he whispered, wiping away some of the tears in his eyes, only for them to be replaced by new ones.
They kept lying there, for how long he did not know. He was sure they were looking for them, but only because the sun was almost gone for the day. As Emily started to shiver from the cold of the evening, he regained some of his mind. Slowly, he tested his limbs for usefulness. When he thought them to be stable enough he made his attempt on getting up. When she looked at him, through her swollen eyes, he forced a smile.
“ Come on. ” he said and motioned for her to get up with him.
When they stood, she straightened her dress and he stretched his sore body. But when their gazes met, and their minds got more and more clear, the drama of the inevitable was ubiquitous.
He came up to her, softly stroking her back. He knew he loved the girl and he knew he wanted her, soul mate or not.
“ Let ’ s take them off. ” he said.
“ Are you sure? ” she replied, surprised by his offer, as usually people kept these bracelets on for the rest of their lives.
“ Yes. For now, let ’ s take them off and see how far we get, Emily. I love you. I know it. And though you might not be my soul mate, I want you to be with me, always. ”
“ I…I always thought it was you. Always. ” she said, crying through her words when she showed him the icy cold bracelet. “ I love you, too. ”
And that was when the both of them had to realize the hard way that, the one you may love, may not be your soul mate after all. But it didn ’ t matter to them. Not yet and not now.
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[ WP ] Litigation has gotten so prevalent that everyday conversations are made in legal-speak . Make the mundane impossibly mired in legal-eze . I take no responsibility for your response to this prompt .
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Kevin did n't ponder anything while he watched the water fall from the cooler into his cup. The door opened and in walked Bob, wearing a coat and a visible headache.
`` Good afternoon, Kevin.''
`` Afternoon, Bob. How's the weather outside?''
`` Well, between you, Kevin Cosgrove, and myself, Bob Wheeler, and with no pretense of practical or professional advisory, and with absolutely no guarantee of accuracy, I think it's gon na rain. For the record, this information is based off of personal conjecture - I can feel it in my bones - and has not been verified by the national weather service; ergo, such information should not be considered objective or reliable.''
`` Well, dang, Bob. I had tentative plans to visit the park with my spouse and children this evening. I'm not going to alter said plans without an official forecast, but I hope your prediction turns out to be inaccurate.''
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[ WP ] Tell me a story of wasted potential .
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Want to know about wasted potential?
This story right here! I mean look at it! Filled with speling errers and improper punctuation? It's just had so much potential to be something greater, something that would inspire folks to change their lives, but nope complete garbage all the way down. I'm telling you that you are literally wasting exercising your eye muscles reading this crudely put together at last minute story and I'm sorry.
Sure you were n't expecting Ernest Hemingway or Virginia Wolfe here, but dear god Twilight has more of a backbone and original lot than this! I mean really, Twilight! Where the hell are the characters? The story arch? The setting? This is all just a big useless rant by the narrator and I'm telling you it ai n't getting any better.
What I would give to be writing something good right now. Something my mother would be proud of, so she might call me son again, but what can I offer her? This! This bullshit no potential story that did n't even developed the thesis yet! I mean she would be bawling her eyes out reading this. Please forgive me for all the wasted time you just put into this comment. I know I have the talent and skill, but sometimes I just slack off. Sometimes I'm so scared of failure that I procrastinate and wait and procrastinate and wait and procrastinate and wait and... Until I no longer have any time left and spew whatever bullshit I have all over my monitor and hit *save* with shame.
Future me must hate me so much right now, I can feel his breath down my neck as I write. No doubt will he cry when he wakes up to find this lump of shit in his comment history. Dear god, now I'm whining! What the hell is with all the angst? Sure I bombed the first several paragraphs but that does n't mean I have to ruin the end.
Writing this hurts me, but I know that even a meaningless stale raving story like this will help me improve upon my skill of not-shitty-writing, perhaps it might help you too...
Fuck this, now it's preachy. I'm done. No conclusion for you. DONE!
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[ WP ] Your life has sucked due to a guardian angel who was really bad . He or she just got fired , and things are really turning around .
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RXQD sat on a small chair just outside God's office. He was twiddling his thumbs.
`` RXQD!'' screamed God, calling him in.
`` Look, God, I can explain...''
``... Alright. Explain.''
`` Well look, I tried to stop her from going to that party, but she did n't listen... maybe she was born a little too... stubborn?''
God sighed and crossed his arms.
`` Alright RXQD, I'm gon na just go ahead forget about the fact that you're telling me I made a mistake. You know I do n't make mistakes.''
RXQD cleared his throat. He tried to apologize, but he could n't form the words in his mouth.
`` But there were many things you could have done. You could have even fucking tripped her as she was walking out. I can see here you still have Divine Intervention Credits assigned to you.''
`` I know, God, and I'm sorry...''
`` Well sorry does n't cut it, RXQD! She's in the hospital now. You've been on probation for how many years now? You were supposed to help her out of the addiction since July of 2010! Is that right to you? You're lucky worse things did n't happen, or I'd have to do more than fire you.''
`` You're... you're firing me?''
`` Yeah. Now get out of my sight. You've done enough. Or should I say, too little?''
`` God, just please, give me another chance, I swear I can get her out of it!''
`` No. I'm sorry, son. Now get out.''
`` Where... where will I go?''
`` You should hit up Satan. What you do is more in line to his work. Here's his card.'' God tossed out a small card that was on fire onto the ground.
RXQD picked it up and walked out, dejectedly. God pushed a button on the intercom once RXQD left the room.
`` Peter. How you doing out there? Listen, could you get me JSHA? Yeah -- its one of those cases. Alright thanks. Me be with you.''
JSHA the angel poofed into God's office. He had long hair and was wearing Birkenstock sandals.
`` I'm digging my son's look on you JSHA.''
`` Thank you, sir. What can I do for you?''
`` We got a Code 666. Here's the dossier.''
`` I'm on it.''
Within two years, Amy had gone to rehab, got clean, and started going to college again. She regained custody of her daughter and she lives a happy life.
RXQD now works for Satan. Satan does n't like him much either.
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[ WP ] To your surprise , you and your siblings each inherit a ring from your dead , estranged grandmother . Each ring is engraved with one word : Intelligence , Luck , Strength , Charm , or Wealth . Along with it , however , came a note in your grandmother ’ s handwriting ; “ Beware the fool who wears them all . ”
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“ Beware the fool who wears them all. ”
That was twenty years ago. My brothers and I were teenagers then, practically children as far as the world was concerned, and we were already fools. Peter was a jock, a mediocre football player that fit the stereotypes. Stewart was a scrawny, unnoticed guy. Mark was a quiet nerd who always said the wrong thing. Louis was gullible and had wasted his money more than once. And I was naïve enough to think that nothing ever went right for me.
Our first mistake was keeping the rings. Our second mistake was wearing them.
We chose the rings to turn our weaknesses into our greatest strengths. Peter became more intelligent than Mark had ever been, and he developed a computer operating system that changed the world. Stewart envied Peter's athletic abilities, and the Strength Ring made him into a daredevil capable of nearly superhuman feats. Mark was never again at a loss for words, always saying exactly the right thing, and suddenly he was the center of attention wherever he went. Louis was still gullible, but you would have thought he wore my Luck Ring for how easily money fell into his lap.
And I became a gambler, a risk-taker, enjoying both the best and the worst that so-called impossible coincidence had to offer. I never told my brothers about how I nearly drowned in the pool when I broke into the community center the first night I tested my powers. I only mentioned how close that security guard came to catching me, how he was practically staring right at me without seeing me. I bragged about how a noise set him running in the opposite direction at exactly the moment I was ready to surrender to him.
It was exhilarating, and the way my brothers talked about their own experiences made it obvious that we would never remove the rings from our hands for as long as we lived.
All of us indulged in our darkest desires. Peter was hungry for recognition and accolades for his “ superior intellect. ” Stewart tested his limits further and further while camera crews were explicitly told not to intervene regardless of what happened. Mark became a decadent womanizer. Louis was consumed by greed. And no matter how close I came to death, whether by blade or bullet or fire, I could n't help but test my luck just one more time.
We thought it was a coincidence when Peter was mugged and killed at gunpoint. Louis told us that he was honoring Peter's memory when he marketed Peter's software a few months later. Mark was the next to die. It still makes me sick, thinking of that whore that buried a knife in his chest. I could n't bring myself to attend his funeral. There had been too many close calls in my own life, too many times I found myself turning into an alley or staying on the subway or booking a last minute flight. I broke down in tears the night I flipped on a hotel TV and watched as a crushing weight ended Stewart's life.
I know that it's Louis. He had the money to hire that mugger that murdered Peter. With both Wealth and Intelligence, his options must have felt limitless, but greed still consumed him. Maybe he thought that Charm would fill the emptiness in his life. Maybe he thought that Strength would make him a god.
Only I know the truth of our grandmother's warning. After so many close calls, after brushing lips with death a dozen times over, I know that the Luck Ring will be his undoing. I wo n't live to see it, but if there is an aferlife then my brothers and I will watch from beyond the grave as Louis' greed claims his life, just as my recklessness will have claimed mine. I know this because I have to test my luck just one more time, I have to jump headfirst from this skyscraper and see how luck saves me this time. If it saves me this time.
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[ WP ] Write a mysterious short story in which a HUGE plot twist is hidden in the first two sentences .
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My beloved brother has picked up yet another girl with his charm. She doesn ’ t seem to know that she ’ s going to be dumped, and I have to resist the temptation to tell her that no, tonight is going to be a waste of her time, and I have to resist telling her. She ’ s wrapped around his finger. I view her longing looks to him with nothing more than contempt, because she seems like the most foolish of girls.
My brother ’ s fun to be around with, generally; fun enough for us to have the same friends and visit the same bar more or less every evening. I love going there, and I love being with my friends and with him, but this is the part that I see almost every night and it disgusts me every time.
Sadly, his picking up a girl is my cue to leave. I take a last sip off my cocktail and smile at my friends. “ I should go too, ” I say. “ Early rise tomorrow. ”
“ Right, of course, your morning show, ” Kathy replies. She smiles at me. “ I wish you could hang out with us just a bit longer, though. ”
“ Don ’ t you understand? ” Philip says, from across the table. I can tell from his glass that he ’ s already taken quite a few sips.
“ All of America is more important than us. Just imagine what would happen if Sarah here wouldn ’ t be at her radio station at four A.M. Cars would crash, people would leap into depression… Sarah here keeps life in the early mornings pleasant. ”
Kathy rolls her eyes and looks at me. Whenever Philip has had a glass too many, that barrier between his head and his mouth tends to fade away.
“ Anyway… ” Kathy says, “ say hi to 4 A.M.-America for me, okay? ”
I smile at her. “ Of course I will. ” I pick up my bag. “ See you tomorrow, right? ”
“ Sure, ” Kathy replies and waves at me.
I turn around and leave the bar. I feel the cold of the wind outside at my face. It keeps me awake nicely – I always tend to get a bit drowsy at this time of day.
I walk to my house, kind of chipper. I hear someone across the street whistling at me. I choose not to respond and ignore him. He doesn ’ t know that he doesn ’ t stand a chance. He doesn ’ t know that that matter was settled for me already, a very long time ago.
When I reach the steps that lead up to my house, there ’ s no-one there. I frown – he was supposed to be here tonight, we had agreed on that. Where was he?
Then, I hear running and I feel relieved. Still, I can ’ t help but frown when I feel him getting closer.
“ Where were you? ” I ask.
“ Sorry, ” he replies. “ That girl was a pain to get rid of, honestly. I honestly tried every trick in the book. So, sorry, but I had to hit her. You know I only do that as a last resort. She was so. Desperate. ”
I feel a slight bit of disappointment. “ Did you really have no other options left? ”
“ Absolutely not, ” my brother replies. “ That girl was terrifying. ”
“ I believe you, ” I say and put my arm around him. “ But I should say… it hurts to see you run off with another girl so often. ”
“ If you have another way to not make Kathy and Philip suspect that we run off together every night, I ’ m listening. ”
“ We shouldn ’ t have been honest, ” I admit. “ We shouldn ’ t have told them that we ’ re siblings. Because now, if we tell them what we also are… ”
“ Hey, ” he says, and he squeezes my hand. “ Shall we worry about this tomorrow? ” He kisses me lightly, in my neck. I have to hold back to kiss him as well.
“ Not here, ” I say. “ Not on the street. ” I take out my keys and turn the lock. “ Who knows who might walk by. ”
I turn around one last time. In the darkness of the night, I see him standing there. He looks disappointed. Odd thing is, he looks the cutest when he ’ s like that. I love him.
He knows. Kathy and Philip don ’ t. They ’ re fun to be around, but I ’ d rather be with my beloved brother. Every night, if possible. I ’ ve always loved him, in a way.
I open the door and wait for him to get in after me. He closes the door behind him.
Then, he starts to kiss me again.
I let him this time.
( Sorry for creepiness. Not autobiographical, I swear xD )
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[ WP ] Hell has 7 departments , one for each deadly sin . They classify damned souls by the sin most prominent in their lives . They ca n't seem to figure out yours , though .
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`` This one is mine,'' Lust said, leaning backwards in his chair. The sin's emerald eyes peered across the table as though daring any to disagree with him, `` Have you seen his thoughts? This is the sort of thing that would make E.L. James blush.''
`` Ha! You wish.'' snorted Pride, her tittering laughter grating against their ears. `` His fanfictions may have been raunchy, but those poorly placed commas and grammatical errors! I find it impossible to believe that anybody capable of reading was able to ever off on that trash. I ca n't believe the tantrum he chucked over his repeated rejections from publishing companies.''
Envy grinned: `` You have a point there. Which is exactly why he should belong in *my* department. He spent his whole life jealous that he could never amount to anything. Did you read the part where it said he knocked over a five year old's ice-cream because he was jealous that she got more sprinkles on hers? *Twice? * How petty can you be?''
`` Only because he was too proud to admit his was n't the best!'' she snapped back, she turned to her younger sister. Gluttony had always been her... maybe `` favorite'' was too strong of a word. `` Least-hated'' maybe? `` What do you think?''
Gluttony tore her piercing blue gaze from the clock counting down to the lunch break. `` Hm? Oh, um. My department obviously, I've never seen anybody hoard like him before, I'm amazed that his house did n't collapse with the foundation rotted through. Besides,'' she paused thoughtfully, rummaging through her bag for the snack she had packed for herself, `` We could use the extra worker.''
`` You're just saying that because your workforce is too fat to get their asses up to do actual work! AND NO EATING AT THE TABLE! Do you have no respect for yourself as a sin?''
`` Lay off her.'' Sloth said. Up until now, he had been watching with mild interest. `` He has contributed literally nothing to society. I've never seen somebody with less achievement. My section it is.'' he rested his chin in his left hand and looked at them all, `` Any objections?''
`` You're damn right I do!'' Wrath and Greed screeched in tandem.
`` He has a temper that caught my attention from the time he was a child! He re-defined `` terrible-twos''!''
`` Have you seen the shit he hoarded? He did n't even need it! A few trinkets I can understand but in those quantities? That fits my section much better than it does Gluttony's.''
`` Hey!''
`` I just tell it how it is, sister!'' Greed said scornfully. `` Although, you have more claim on him than pride.''
`` That's it!'' Pride slammed her hands down on the table. `` I am *sick* and *tired* of you constantly sweeping in and trying to take everything I want!''
`` Oh stop being such a drama queen and learn to admit that you're wrong. The more their personality comes to light the more obvious it is that they should belong to *me* but you just ca n't fucking adm-''
`` You take that back! You just want them because I do! Even when were were only a few centuries old, if I wanted a soul you took it. Remember that dress that I spent decades plotting to get? The one that you stole!? Do you know how hard it was to sneak out to ge''
Lucifer blinked. He was surprised that she was able to escape up to the mortal world. The influx of souls that he had been flooded with when one of hell's plagues had escaped had landed him overtime for weeks. Still, on days like this, even that beat going through the quarterly backlog of souls that were hard to sort. Most of them had one sin that stood out most, but there were always a few tricky ones.
`` Ohhhh now you had to rat me out.'' Pride bristled. `` Just because you're jealous that *you* were never smart enough to get past him does n't mean the rest of us lack any semblance of intelligence.''
Lucifer's eye twitched. *God fucking dammit. It had taken centuries of therapy to get those two to talk to each other again! This little shit had no idea how far he was setting them back. * He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Honestly, even he did n't know which department to send this one too. While there were always difficult cases he'd never been across one so – his eyes shot open.
`` I have decided.'' he said voice ringing with authority mixed with relief. `` I'll open a new department. After all, is n't frustration just as horrible as any other sin? Honestly.'' he glared at the newcomer, `` What kind of absolute monster leaves two sheets of toilet paper on the roll!?''
`` Sometimes I left three sheets...''
`` OF SINGLE-PLY!'' Lucifer spat out. `` You disgust me!'' he tossed the human a key. `` There you go. Second door on the left is your office. Since you're the master of creating mildly infuriating situations, you're the new head. Figure out how you'll torture those who are guilty of the same sin as you. I expect a full business plan on my desk by tomorrow night.''
The man shuffled out, half grateful that he had escaped worse punishment, half angry that he had been landed the horrors of more paperwork. Even in hell. It was always just so much `` Frustration'' he muttered before smiled slightly, `` I guess it does have a nice ring to it.''
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[ WP ] When you wake up in the morning you have been transported back in time as your younger self . You keep your current knowledge and skills .
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As I wiped the sleep off my face I realized that the room I am in now is not the same room I fell asleep in. I also noticed that my arms, though I had left them the night before much hairier, were now as if brand-new. The room I woke up in I remember. It was a bedroom I shared with my brother, who was not currently in the room.
Frankenstein! Our old black cat, Frankenstein. My foggy memory of this cat, once present only in old faded memories of looking at old faded photographs, licked his nethers before me. The poor bastard. He does n't know what is going to happen to him. Could I do something about that now? Should I? I do n't remember how exactly he died, I probably would n't be able to stop it if I did. I ca n't tell mom and dad. Even if they are probably the most well equipped to deal with the mind of their adult time-traveling son inhabiting the body of their little boy. Life never did get weird enough for them.
I should really go to the bathroom. Oh, god. Seems I already have at some point. Am I still being toilet trained? Oh, well. Good thing it's just bed wetting. Thank goodness I can skip this step from this day forward. Wait, I still remember how to hold in my shit but does my body remember? I can deal with puberty but I ca n't deal with being trapped in the unpredictable body of a toddler. Am I going to suddenly throw up at some point like that time in third grade?
I found my way to the bathroom and, leaving the door open because I am a child, began classic toilet meditation. The bathroom was chilly. I craned my neck up to look at the window. It appeared that I woke up in late fall. Late fall in Wisconsin. I listened to the sounds outside the open door. Someone had a television on. Must be Saturday. Otherwise we would be on our way to the babysitter. Or, would I be going to school?
How old am I right now? Definitely young. That much has been made clear. This is big. That is an understatement. There are parts of this that I enjoy. There are so many mistakes I can avoid. There are so many more mistakes I can make. Do I try to stay the course? Is n't that impossible at this point? I have no exact memory of this time of my life! There are so many things that are outside of my control. There's no way I can handle avoiding them all.
But that's it, is n't it? I never had much control. Even if people accepted my being actually older in the head. Why me? Could this happen to anyone? Could this happen to me again? What if I wake up tomorrow and I have to go back to work? There's only one thing that I have control over. That's me.
I flushed the toilet as I left the bathroom. I became a child armed with almost a quarter of a lifetime's experience. I know what the internet is before my parents ever get it in the house. I know how to use programs that do n't even exist yet. There are so many things that I know now, the possibilities for my second trip around these next twenty years are innumerable.
I ca n't let that knowledge make me smug. I'm still a toddler. It's the 1990's and I have some time to wait before I can put the majority of my knowledge to good use. Maybe I'll just build some stuff with Lego's and see how I feel afterwards. Shame I did n't make this time-jump after turning eighty.
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe , our so called 'Reddit usernames ' are titles that people earn through a series of tests . Tell the tale of how you earned yours .
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We arrived, ten of us, hooded, gagged and bound. The van stopped. Barking dogs broke the silence. Voices came closer and the hatch opened. We were dragged out. The burlap sacks still secured on our heads, we were stripped naked, and led down a long hallway.
In a large gymnasium they took our hoods off. Five men and five women, totally naked. A voice announced- `` Alright, men vs women, first team to five points gets to go first in the next round.'' So we played nude basketball. I am embarrassed to say that I did not impress, missing the two shots I took. Men still won the game.
A door opened and we walked into a room where we were allowed to dress in colored uniforms. Each had an animal. I had a donkey with it's mouth open wide. I looked at the jackdaw, the man who had won us the basketball game, giving him a thumbs up. He smiled. We remained silent, as were the rules of the event.
We followed the blue arrows that turned orange. Walking down the hallway we passed offices, classrooms, an empty shoe store, then an abandoned Fifties malt shop. What the hell kind of building were we in? Maybe they filmed movies here I thought.
The arrows led us to a large black room. In the middle a clear glass ball of blue electricity. The voice on the amplifier boomed, `` One male step forward, and place your hands on the ball.'' A man in an elephant leotard stepped forward, his trunk swinging. He nervously settled his hands. The swirling bolts of static color connected with his palms, spitting electricity harmlessly into the glass. `` You must answer one question Apiece, If You answer wrong, you get shocked, not enough to kill, but You'll feel it for a while.
We all answered our questions right, and moved on to the next round, Throw a dart at a balloon. One dart. A few people did n't pop the balloon. I did.
Then they randomly generated names and pulled them out of a hat. The test had nothing to do with it.
That's how I got stuck with my name. The secret is it's random. I think it's bullshit if you ask me.
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[ CW ] In only one paragraph write the saddest story you can think of .
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She was so proud of her sons, all going out to fight for their country. They were good boys. They planned on ascending the ranks of the navy; their meager income made it hard to attend college, and this was the path they chose to pursue their education. They were to serve their nation in the war and get a full scholarship to college. They promised to keep each other safe, and convinced the military to let them serve on the same ship. They stuck together, those good boys. The only person who loved them more than they did each other was their loving mother, who gave them the little she could. But that all ended when the Yorktown sunk that June day.
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[ WP ] A world where men have been oppressed and they are now fighting for equal rights .
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They marched by the thousands up to the Capitol Dome, pickets in hands, chants in unison. It had taken months of petitioning and deal making by the MaleMovement leaders to schedule an actual plot of time to publicly protest the injustices done to their gender, and the fruits of their labor yielded more bodies of support than the heads of each gender could have ever imagined.
`` We're here today'' MaleMovement's figurehead, who went by Adam if you can believe that prosaic, echoed over the loud speaker, `` to embark on a new beginning. An equal way of doing things, evolution and science be damned!'' The scores of men cheered and hollered.
I watched from my flat as the MaleMovement's speaker continued spewing cliches followed by more cheers. I could actually smell them even from my 10th floor patio, and I could not help but laugh at the lack of syntax and content in Adam's prattle.
Truth be told, however, I always had a softer spot for the men than most of us did. Despite the social implications my grandmother kept my grandfather around our childhood home for menial chores and so forth, and he was normally pretty sweet towards me. He could n't comprehend most of my thoughts, of course, but he would sneak me a piece of candy here and there and amuse me with silly `` magic'' tricks which I immediately figured out but laughed at all the same. I always remembered his last words to me, too. Right after I was artificially inseminated he asked me if anyone had children `` the old fashioned way anymore'' to which all I could do was laugh.
`` Of course not! Men passing on their inferior genes is dangerous Grandpa, did n't you know? We taught you how to read the news...''
`` Oh, I know what they say. Just seems a shame. Used to be some mystery to the whole process, now with the quotas and limits on boys and girls... I do n't know darling, it just seems wrong.''
Naturally I scoffed this off at the time, but it always stuck with me. Perhaps it was because he died that night, or perhaps it was because the one boy I was allowed to have for household labor purposes died so young, which I was reassured over and over was common, but bothered me nonetheless. Either way, the words stayed with me all these years later.
The MaleMovement and Adam's speech wound down. They awkwardly shuffled around, not quite knowing what do with themselves at the end of the rally. It was slightly endearing, honestly.
I pulled out the flyer one of the brutes passed out to me earlier in the day and reread it, grammatical errors and all. There was to be a vote next Tuesday regarding school restrictions for male youths. The flyer was headlined with `` Women, Vote Yes!''
I looked at the crowd of men. Many limped with past injuries, all had worn out hands, a few were blind and many deaf from the years of heavy machinery forced upon them. I thought about my grandfather, who never had a formal education himself, and decided I would vote yes.
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[ WP ] An eight-year-old girl wins a doll at the county fair , and soon discovers that its allows her to control the minds of adults .
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I heard knocking at my office door. “ Come in, ” I said in a monotone voice. If I sounded irritated or disrespectful, it was only because it was five minutes to five on a Friday evening, after a long week, and I just wanted to go home to my wife and kids and enjoy the weekend.
Enter the rookie. Okay, sure, he was a police officer for a long time, but he was only recently promoted to detective, and that meant he got stuck with the jobs that no one else wanted. “ Sit down, ” I offered as he closed the door behind himself. When he remained standing, I simply asked, “ What can I do for you? ”
“ I do n't know how to say this, ” he said, then paused. He took a deep breath and continued, “ So I'll just say it: I want off of the William Baker case. ”
“ What? ” If he could see the genuine look of shock I'm sure was on my face, he did n't react. “ Why? ” He did n't answer, but instead just simply stared at me with a blank expression. “ No, ” I commanded.
“ One way, ” he said, slamming something hard down on my desk, “ Or the other. ” He picked up his hand and I could see his badge.
“ What has gotten into you? ” I asked, hoping for some kind of insight. “ I thought you found some solid leads. You said it yourself that you were *this* close to finding him. ” I pinched my fingers together but barely prevented them from touching. “ Is this really worth quitting over? ”
Rook…well, that was n't his real name, but we sure got into the habit of calling him that. Rook turned his back and began to walk toward the door, before I quickly interrupted with a, “ Wait! ” I picked up his badge and clasped it in his hand. “ Give me your leads, ” I demanded. “ You're off the case. ” Rook actually looked a little relieved. He slipped his badge into his coat pocket and made his way back to his desk.
*This ca n't be happening, * I thought to myself. *Not again. *
-- -
If you want something done right, do it yourself. That kind of thinking is what led me to the house of Joseph and Marie Anderson on a Saturday morning, when instead I *should have* been with my family. These were the last people Rook interviewed before his…little episode. There were exactly two other reasons I wanted to question these people. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A middle-aged woman in a bath robe peeked her head around the door. “ You must be Marie, ” I said.
“ Yes, ” she replied. “ And who are you? ”
“ I'm Detective Wilson. I have some questions about Billy Baker. ” I showed her my badge.
“ Of course, ” she replied, opening the door. “ But, we were just visited by another detective yesterday. ”
“ Yes, I'm aware. Actually, I was hoping I could ask what the two of you talked about. ”
“ Oh, the usual stuff, ” she replied as she tightened her robe. “ How my daughter knew Billy, if we knew the Bakers, how sad it is that something like this could happen. Why? ”
“ Well, the detective acted kind of…strange…after your meeting. In fact, he requested to be taken off of the case. ”
“ What?! ” Twenty years as a detective and you learn how to read people. Marie was in genuine shock. “ Do n't worry, ma'am, ” I said, “ I'm on the case now and I'm the best the department's got. If Billy's alive, we'll find him. ”
“ Oh dear, ” Marie said. “ I hope we did n't say anything that upset him. ” By now she was sitting at the kitchen table. I took the opportunity and snagged the seat across from her and said, “ Would you mind telling me what you talked about? In detail? ”
“ Well, let's see…Billy's been in the same class as Annie since they were in kindergarten. Annie and Billy have n't always…gotten along, to put it nicely… ”
“ How about not putting it nicely? ”
Marie took a deep breath and said, “ Billy was a bully. He was mean to everyone in the school, but especially so to Annie. In kindergarten, he would take her toys. In first grade, they would get in fights. In second grade… ”
Marie stopped. I could n't stand being left hanging, so I gently asked, “ What happened in second grade? ”
“ A week before he went missing, Billy stole a pair of scissors from one of the classrooms. He confronted Annie and told him to do whatever he said, or he'd cut her. He led her up to the top of the tallest playground structure and cut off her shirt and pants. Billy got a crowd of kids gathered around her and they chanted… ” Tears began to form in Marie's eyes. “ Annie's wearing panties, ” she finished in a shaky voice.
“ Jesus Christ, ” I let out before I could stop myself. That did n't sound like anything a second grader would do, even a deeply disturbed one. “ What else did you talk about? ”
“ Well, about a week after that, I took Annie to the county fair. I hoped it would cheer her up, but she did n't smile at all. Even when she won that toy, she just had this…blank look on her face. But the next day… ” Marie's face brightened up. “ It was like a miracle! She was happy again. I've never seen her smile so wide. ” Marie's face went grim again. “ It was only two days later when Billy disappeared. Annie became even happier. I told her it was wrong to be happy at someone else's misfortune. I told her that, despite the fact that Billy caused her so much pain, that he could be in real trouble and that she should n't be happy that he's missing. ”
“ She's just a child, ” I said. “ She does n't get it. Hell, I'd probably react the same way if I was her age and got bullied like that. ” My eyes quickly snapped back to Marie's and I said, “ Pardon my French. ” After a long moment of silence, I asked, “ Is that all you talked about? ”
“ Yes, ” Marie replied, “ I believe that's it. ”
“ It does n't make sense, ” I said aloud. “ Why would three people drop the case because of this? ”
“ Wait, what do you mean, three people? ”
The cat was out of the bag. I sighed and told her, “ The other two detectives that interviewed you before also requested a transfer immediately afterwards. ”
“ No one told me that! ” Marie began to look panicky.
“ That's because they did n't know, ” I said. “ I played this one close to the chest. ” I delicately asked, “ Say, would you mind if I talked to Annie? I just want to try to get a better idea of what she thinks about all of this. ”
“ I do n't see why not. ” Marie stood up and walked towards the hallway. “ Let me go see if she's awake. ”
-- -
( This ended up being just a little bit too long for one post, so look for the reply below. )
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[ WP ] What measure of strength was feared for a king to send an army against one man ?
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The commander screamed, `` Man the ramparts! That man does not enter this castle! Archers! Fire!'' As soon as the volley was released, the wall was parted with a deafening flame, bursting from the foundation itself. `` Retreat to the inner wall!'' screamed the second in command. The man entered his new entrance, the king's former arrows following him as he moved between the rubble. With a thought, the arrows sent themselves to their new targets, embedding themselves deep in the king's men's chests. More and more arrows never met their target and were redirected back to the shooter. Swordsmen rallied and charged only to be thrown to the heavens with a flick of the man's arms or swallowed by the ground under their feet.
Whole buildings parted to let him through, the man had no remorse killing any foe wielding a weapon. They were all defending the king, and the king did not deserve such chivalry. Women and children screamed as they ran to safety, some men followed, others raised arms out of fear and revenge.
Under a mere ten minutes the man had breached the castle and worked his way to confront the king. At last, he slowed his progress to talk to the king. “ It has been a while, hasn ’ t it, friend? ”
“ I knew this day would come. Though I did not suspect how much your power had grown. I ’ m impressed. ”
“ Fear not, I can guarantee it will be over quick. Painlessly, however, I can ’ t be certain. ” The man said as he raised an arm level with the king ’ s head.
The king ’ s assistant then stabbed the unknown intruder in the back, bringing him to his knees. The man screamed, while flinging the assistant into the wall, destroying the beautiful paintings hanging there. The king unsheathed a dagger and sprinted to finish the man off while he was distracted. The man turned to face his attacker and converted the wood flooring of the king ’ s chamber to quicksand under the king ’ s feet. Without hesitation, the king flung the dagger while the man was wondering and relishing the options given to him of killing his prey. It hit its mark perfectly. The man slumped to the ground, stunned by the immense pain of a dagger piercing his heart.
The sinking king yelled, “ He ’ s dead! ” A door opened on the other side of the room. The real king stepped out. Looking to the man sinking in the ground, he said “ Well done. You have served your king well. ” Then turning to the intruder, “ You have learned and grown so much, but you are still so foolish.
“ No! That ’ s not fair! ” Screamed little Johnny, flinging plastic figurines at his brother with all the strength he could muster. “ You said I would win! ”
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[ WP ] You can see the future ... only in your peripheral vision .
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`` I just do n't understand it, Patricia. The psychologist said that the boy is damn near perfect. He plays well with others, does n't seem to suffer from depression, yadda yadda yadda. And yet, out of nowhere, he has these psychological breakdowns, like the kid is witnessing hell or something.''
`` Tom, as I've told you, we're on the case as we speak. You've mentioned before that the breakdowns always happen roughly an hour before we send him home. The psychologist and I have agreed that most likely Sam is suffering some kind of distress at home.''
`` Patricia.... I'm worried. He's a fucking five year old kid for god's sake. I mean, he acts his age most of the time. Funny, playful, kind. And then there's this change, out of nowhere. His eyes begin to dart back and forth rapidly. Then he shuts them, like he's afraid of what he sees. And the screaming. Its more of a plea. A whimper. A call for help. He needs help, Patricia.''
`` I know he does, Tom. I know.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Tom did not ask his students to clean up that day.
He needed something to occupy the time alone. If he did n't have something to do, then his thoughts would be full of Sam. And thoughts of that sort led to Tom thinking about his own life.
His own past.
Abuse, lies, neglect.
A lack of understanding.
A lack of empathy.
Shake it off. Stop thinking those things. Focus on the scattered pencil shavings, strewn across the linoleum floor. Pick them up, one by one, and put them in a place where they will never be seen again.
The door creaked open. In came Sam, the softspoken redheaded boy whose very presence seemed to be an invasion of Tom's memories.
`` What's up, little man?''
`` Please do n't cry, Mr. Johnson.''
`` What do you mean, Sam? I'm not crying.''
`` I miss my mother, too.''
`` Sam, your mother's fine. I can see her waiting outside for you now.''
`` I'm sorry.''
And so he ran off, to be collected in the arms of a beautiful woman not unlike one that Tom once knew. Did she realize that Sam had a large bruise on his chest because of an accident a week ago? Did she realize how much the detached kindness killed him?
What did the kid mean by that, anyways? `` I miss my mother too.'' As if he had any idea what kind of pain that Tom had gone through.
`` I know why I feel for the guy, now,'' muttered Tom. `` Bastard's got the same eyes as me. Full of the same sorrow I had growing up. Misunderstood by his own mother. Just like mine misunderstood me. She kept that with her, up until the day she died. Thought that a hug and a kiss could cure all the ailments, but did n't think to consider that what was meant by the action was just as important.''
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[ WP ] Everything from kisses to hand shakes and everything In between have been ruled immoral public displays of affection . You are a shadow of the night meeting a shady figure , to pay a sum of money for a hug .
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The glow of the neon lights is the warmest thing I ’ ve felt in months. I look up at the halting figure of the two story tall poster. A man alone in the crowd with a spotlight on him, his head held high, arms at his side. The slogan underneath reads “ Stand apart, stand above. ” The slogan of the new laws against PDA, public displays of affection, said to pollute the youth lead to passion that will inevitably result in violence. I walk forward firmly clutching a handful of crumpled bills in my pockets. My heart is pounding as walk toward the alley. A man brushes past me exiting the same alley and I nearly faint. We ignore each other and I shuffle around. Theodore recommended the girl. Said she was the best, never asked questions. Alice was her name, and if I was smart I ’ d get there before she was taken by someone else. I look behind myself and see nothing.
There, by an open door plastered with graffiti stood a woman. A cigarette in her mouth, and more skin than I ’ d seen in month, I walked up and could see the warmth of her; the subtle bumps on her legs and freckles on her cheeks. She looks so smooth.
“ Are you Alice? ”
“ Oh and who might you be hun? ”
“ Um I heard from, a friend that you might be willing to um…well you know… I.. ” She laughs a biting laugh that cuts deep
“ Five for a squeeze, ten for a caress, anything more and you can fallow me. ” She finishes by pointing in the open door with her thumb. Deep breaths in out, in out, there ’ s nothing wrong with this. Nothing wrong with this no matter what they say. No matter what they say, it just a hug. I draw a five out of my pocket and had it to her hand out stretched. She reaches out and snatches the bill out of my hand without touching it at all. After inspecting the bill Alice opens out her arms wide and smiles broadly, show a row yellowed teeth. I shuffle forward and through my arms around her unable to control myself. The feeling is overwhelming. Her warmth pressed up against mine, intermingling into one. I raise my hand and lay it across her shoulder and feel the smoothness of her skin. It ’ s so soft and gentle to the touch. A shudder runs down me from my head to my feet; I ’ m engulfed in a feeling of perfect bliss.
“ Police freeze. ” I look behind Alice and recognize the man from earlier. The one outside the alley. He had a gun drawn in one hand a badge in his other. “ Let go of the woman, and step away. ” Alice, if that is her name, releases her grip of me and pushes away. My grip tightened around her waist and should and I inhale her scent. She smells of fake blueberries.
“ Okay, Hun. Let go. You ’ re only making things worse for yourself. ” She sounds angry. Upset but I refuse to let go it ’ s been too long…it ’ s too soon. “ This is your final warning. ” Only a second passes before a sharp pain runs through me. She kicked me in the crotch, hard. I fall down and cry.
“ Sorry Alice creeps like that... ”
“ No its fine. It ’ s the reason I took this job. To get sickos like this off the streets. Just get him away from me. ” The man hand cuffs me, and arm ’ s length away he steering me out toward his police cruiser, gun pointed in at my back. All I can think of is Alice and the feeling of her skin and smile.
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[ WP ] An Eccentric Billionaire Makes An Interesting Offer ... $ 100,000/yr for the Rest of Your Life and All You Have to do is ... ... ... ..
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thats it? I just need to listen to the person who calls this cellphone for 4 hours a day, 2 in the morning 2 at night, say a couple of `` hmm..'' and `` you're right'' and i get 100k a year? Why?
`` Because its bothersome''
Very well! Let me take the first call; `` Hello? Hello'' Ah there you are well let me tell you, today i went to miami to shop, the store was not as refined as it appears on the paper and my friend Linda wanted to buy there..can you believe it?'' you're right `` i know!''
Little did he know, this excentric billionaire had outsourced the pointless calls he receives from his wife..for only 100k a year...
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[ WP ] A guy knows full well the extent of his superhuman abilities ( intelligence , strength , flight etc . ) . However to avoid attention he decides to live an average life and tries to not care about what happens around him . But one day ...
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It had been a long time since Harold had received a visitor, so when he first heard the light rapping at his door hw hardly knew what to think of it. They must be selling something.
Although his legs were not as quick to respond as they had been in his youth, Harold made it to the door easily with the help of his cane. Just in time too, for whoever was on the other side had begun to bang louder.
`` Yes, I'm here. Hold on.'' He said as he unchained the lock and undid the deadbolt. The door swung open easily.
Before Harold stood a ghost. A memory he had long since forgotten, and happily so. `` It seems I could not hide forever.''
`` It seems not,'' said the man standing outside the door. He matched Harold in appearance. Worn by time with sagging flesh. A large hat and brown coat had kept him dry on this rainy morning. `` May I come in and sit down?''
`` Of course, of course, where are my manners. How have you been Jakob? The wife is well, I hope?''
`` Mary is doing well,'' Jakob replied, taking a seat in an armrest by the fire. `` I never thought she would outlive me, but she just might. These mortals have more fight in them than you give them credit for.''
`` Yes, I suppose they do,'' Harold had take the seat beside Jakob, and now sipped his tea whilst staring into the fire.
`` I will cut to the chase, as they say. I have not come to exchange pleasantries with you, nor do I think would either of us enjoy that. I have come because you are to be put on trial for your crimes.''
`` What crimes do the others believe I have committed?'' Harold replied absentmindedly. If Jakob did n't know he would think Harold uninterested.
`` They gave me a list. To start they have trillions of counts of manslaughter. Reckless endangerment of the planet. Extreme cowardice and greed. The last one is more an insult than a crime but you already know what they think of you. We both know what the verdict will be.''
`` We both also know why I did what I did, and have n't done what I have n't done. I have killed no one. I have endangered no one. I have lived here on this earth for ten thousand years and never have I struck another out of anger. I have given you a gift Jakob. I gave the others gifts. They have taken my kindness and now hold me on trial for not being kinder! I find this whole ordeal foolish.''
`` Trust me I do not disagree with you, but I do not feel it up to me. We are thankful for what you have granted us, and it is with that in mind that they wonder why you have not given it to others. They think you stingy with your generosity.''
Harold sighed. For hundreds of years this debate had raged. He had won over Jakob, but others would not listen. Just for fun, one last time, Harold thought he would try.
Harold reached out and took Jakob's hand. Together their palms grew warm and the kindly suburban living room vanished, giving rise to a circular table in a doorless room. Eight men sat quietly at the table, itching to begin. Jakob and Harold took their seats apart from the rest.
`` Harold, I trust Jakob has read you the charges.'' Said a man cross from the two, best described as'thick'.
`` Oh yes I know them quite well. You all deem me evil and cruel because I have not given you enough. Like children you whine for the nicest toys. However before you ascended you too were all men. Rich powerful men. How many of you donated to charity? How many of you went out of your way to feed and clothe and baby those less fortunate than you? We all know none of you did. I argue that my situation is no different. I do not owe you, I do not owe humanity, I do not owe this universe anything! Out of pity I have deemed you nine worthy of some power. Enough to right any wrongs I may have had. However I vowed to never interfere and for billions of years that is what I have done.''
`` We continue to find this an insufficient answer.'' This time the man to the thick one's right spoke. He was small and bespectacled. `` By design this universe has flaws. You owe us to fix the mistakes you have made. There is great suffering because of what you have done. Great evil, great malice. When someone creates something with life, one bears a responsibility to that child!''
`` There is a time when a child is grown enough and does not require guidance any longer.'' Harold started.
`` It is not a question of guidance!'' The thick one interjected. `` The nature of the universe can not be be likened to a child. You have created us, created millions of people who suffer for no reason.''
`` There is no joy without suffering. There is no comfort without pain. I am not responsible for what you humans do to yourselves. Would you have that I not create this at all,'' with that Harold spread out his hands, `` But have created nothing at all, and sat alone in silence for eternity?'' And brought the together in a great clap. `` It was not within my power to make everything perfect.''
`` Then you are again charged with reckless endangerment of all inhabitants of the universe. All in favor,'' growled the thick man.
`` Aye,'' came a chorus of eight.
Before their eyes the man called Harold faded into emptiness. His seat was now empty save for a small scrap of paper. Jakob picked it up and began to read.
*Although I am not delighted by your decision, this your first step along the path towards self governance. You have, as humanity has begun to, shake the shackles of it's creator and look forward instead of back. Humanity has a grand future before it, and you nine have your work cut out for you keeping them in line. *
*- Best of Luck, Harold*
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[ WP ] `` Everyone thinks they 're the heroes of their own stories . Me ? I 've always known I 'm the villain . ''
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`` Everyone thinks they're the heroes of their own story. Me? I've always known I was the villain.''
`` You want me to use that in the back of the book blurb, do n't you?'' I had asked Jeremy after meeting with him for the fourth time this week about his biography. It had been a long and tedious process of figuring him out and trying to get him to *say* that he was the hero, but he never budged.
`` It's a good pull quote,'' he shrugged, `` if you ask me.''
I rolled my eyes and wrote down his words verbatim, if he wanted to be the villain, I had a job to write him as such. `` You do know I have to restart a majority of this biography if you want me to write it like this.''
`` You mean with the truth.'' He never questioned his alias as Doctor Redding, the Evil Crimelord Extraordinaire; which was also the name of his biography. But the things he had done for the world spoke the opposite.
I nodded, `` Yeah, yeah, the *truth*.'' I had begun to write the biography about his life about two weeks after his defeat of Knightflyer, which truth be told, was when he became a hero in almost everyone's mind. History, thought it seems, is written by the victor; and this victor wanted to be portrayed as a villain. Odd for anyone ordinary, but Jeremy, I'm sorry, Doctor Redding, was far from ordinary. `` Okay, we start with Minnesota and your first,'' I took a deep breath, `` death ray.'' I shook my head, `` Then we move on to high school, college where you met me, and then DC to New York and we get into the good stuff with your fight against the heroes.''
`` And you do specify them as heroes, right?'' He scooped up a piece of his steak; as usual, we were having dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants in the world. One of the perks.
`` I do,'' I checked my notes, `` I even give them a little nod in the Index. A brief history, so to speak.''
`` Wonderful!'' He smiled brightly, `` It's about time.''
`` Well you destroyed most of their records when you *killed* them,'' I held up air quotes.
`` Nick!'' He placed his fork and knife down before cracking his knuckles, `` We've talked about this.''
`` C'mon Doctor,'' I respected his title, even if he was my best, and only, friend, `` I'm a writer. You've got to let me add that in.''
`` As far as the world knows, Knightflyer and all the rest of his hero friends are dead.'' He raised his eyebrows, `` That's the last time we're going to discuss this.''
I sighed. I had been pushing for him to let me include that their `` deaths'' were actually faked and all of the heroes and heroines of his'War' were being held a few hundred miles off the coast. At a fairly nice facility, one where they still gave to the world, but without the world ever knowing. `` Understood, Doctor,'' I scratched off the bullet point from my list before moving down it again.
`` The final chapters talk about your New York City work, the solar power and global warming issues you resolved, and Moon 1, the first base.''
`` You're going to have to add another chapter about Moon 2, we've completed construction.''
I almost laughed, he was moving fast for a *villain*. I scribbled the note onto my page, `` I'll need the information.''
He nodded, `` I'll relay it to your apartment.'' Another one of the perks of being friends with the most powerful man in the world, an instant relay communication system, no lag, a thousand redundancies and almost no waiting time. I could n't use it for anything other than communicating with Redding, but at least it was easy to get in touch with him. `` When can I expect the third draft?''
`` I'll have to do some last minute editing, and add the newest chapter, but I wanted to discuss the ending.''
Redding nodded as he ate his steak.
`` Well, you have to give me something to end on. I mean I have your life story here, your rise to power as a villain and your almost complete takeover of the world,'' I almost laughed at what I was saying. Redding was as much a villain of this world as I was the steak he was eating. It was almost ridiculous, `` But I need a solid ending. A call to arms, a warning, anything?''
He placed his fork down on his plate and nodded. He was still chewing his steak, but I knew the question had been on his mind for a while. It was the only part of the book we never talked about. `` A call to arms?'' He said in between bites, `` what do you mean?''
I opened my hands, `` Well, most biographies you read is with the person already dead. Auto-biographies usually have an inspiring ending written by the person.'' I shrugged, `` Yours is open. You're not dead, you're not writing it, so I have some liberty here.''
He nodded.
`` Listen, this is your story. I respect that,'' I shook my head, `` but I ca n't have you go down in history as a villain Jeremy. I ca n't have the world remember you like this.''
`` Why not?''
`` Because when you're not here and when people forget about you and everything you did, what do you think is going to happen?'' I sighed, `` Knightflyer, Duke Cosmic, all those people you fought were once-in-a-lifetime; possibly once-in-a-millennium types. And you?'' I chuckled, `` People like you do n't come often in humanity's history.''
He adjusted his cufflinks, pressing the metallic R's into his suit a bit more. He was thinking.
`` I just,'' I took a deep breath, `` I want the world you created to be sustainable. And you know how people are, you know how *violent* they can get when left to their own devices.''
He nodded. `` I do.''
`` Then let me write you as their hero, not as the tyrannic leader.''
`` No, Nicholas. You must write me like that.''
I pressed, `` But why Jeremy, why?''
He hung his head, `` Because the people need to fear what may happen if they deviate from their current course.'' I raised an eyebrow, `` They must realize that the world was created not out of want, but out of necessity. They must fear the repercussion's of losing Doctor Redding's creations,'' he opened his hands, `` of losing what I built.'' He took a deep breath, `` I created everything to help humanity, but I realized, a long time ago Nick, that humanity did n't help. They needed a leader, and they needed a leader who could capitalize on their fears of losing everything.'' He shook his head, `` I'm not proud of it, but it was the only way I saw where humanity's future was assured.''
I sat back in my seat. In front of me was a man willing to go down in history as one of the most ruthless and quite possibly, most violent men in history all to sustain humanity on the basis that they would fear losing what he made. That stepping out of line would result in their deaths. `` Your creations?'' I needed to know the *truth*, `` You made them so people would fall in line.''
`` Having everything you need in life is often confused with content.'' He pointed to his plate, which was still full of food even after we had been eating for an hour, `` And having an excess of everything makes people *think* they have everything; including happiness.''
I just stared at him. He changed everything I knew about him in two simple sentences. The people were n't happy, they may have seemed like they were, but they were just falling into line with Redding's view of how things should work. They were following Redding's instructions. Humanity was becoming a race of meaty robots who believed everything they had was because they followed the right man at the right time. He capitalized on their fears to assure the future of an entire race.
And that, I realized, was one of the most villainous, and most heroic, things I had ever heard.
______
*Doctor Redding's prequel stories can be found [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs/comments/3h7zxn/doctor_redding_evil_crimelord_extraordinaire/ ) and [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs/comments/3wsqh7/six_months_later/ )! Be sure to check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work! *
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[ WP ] You are on a boat in the middle of the ocean when suddenly a large black wall rises up in front of you , water streaming off the sides ...
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I pulled the wheel hard to starboard, and dropped the sails to bring my 28 footer to heel before the strange black wall that had suddenly risen out of the sea.
All alone out here. Peace is what I sought. A calm life, free of the pressures of society. I had found the peace, I had found the calm. But I lost myself, too. I had n't shaved in close to a year, and my mess of a beard threatened to overcome the rest of my face. Scissors kept my hair short, but with no one to show it to this past month, I've let it grow unkempt. I found myself seeking companionship more frequently, and calling on madams in every city on the coasts I traveled to. At 36 years old, I was tired. I knew this.
The last port out of Venezuela, some men had spoken of a strange sight. A glossy black ship, standing 30 feet tall and hundreds of feet wide. I did n't believe it. They gave me the coordinates, and seeking one more adventure of my own I set out into the south pacific ocean.
Through storms and cold water I sailed for weeks. My stores were full - fresh water supplies more than adequate. I planned for a three month voyage. If nothing else, it'd be nice to explore this side of the world before heading North for the west coast of the United States to rejoin society. I'd always feel the pull of the deep blue sea, but it was time to seek stability.
45 days into my journey, and here it stands. Or sails... I spun the wheel back to keep the *Dolled Up* alongside the wall. I held steady and observed the imposing structure. In the night's sky, the moon was bright enough to make out the smooth surface, glistening from sea water. It stood tall - I could n't see where it ended.
`` HELLO!'' I shouted. My voice disappeared into the ether.
I've spent three years on the sea, sailing alone in my small sailboat. People called me crazy, and told me I'd likely be killed by pirates. My boat stolen, or sunk. Or I'd get caught in a storm and be lost forever. Another statistic. What those people failed to realize, is that sailing is a proud human tradition, steeped in history. I was n't alone out here, there were always friends. Some weeks I saw nothing but sea and sky. But I'd come across ocean liners, tankers, cruising yachts, and passed by resort areas where the sea teemed with jet skis, deck boats, and cruisers.
I visited Asia. Australia. Europe. South America. So many great people. I had been scared at times, yes. But fear is overcome by experience. And I have seen so much, and learned from so many.
The smooth black surface suddenly twisted inward, revealing a small cavern leading in. Anxiety gripped my heart, and my stomach sank. My curiousity demanded I explore, and I had shied away from nothing yet in my journey. However, the lack of visibility and the lack of a clear path through concerned me. I turned *Dolled Up* and took her out a few knots, away from the mouth of the cavernous entrance. Spinning her so the bow faced the mouth.
**CLICK. **
With the flick of the switch, the *Dolled Up*'s floodlights filled the night. I ran to the bow, and peered out. The cavernous entrance was truly impressive. I could easily sail right in. The boat drifted and allowed the port side floodlights to shine on the surface. I could see nothing but the glare of the light against the wet surface.
`` HELLO!'' I tried again. This time, my voice came back to me, echoing from the chamber.
The anxiety that clutched me seemed to release. My nerves relaxed a bit, knowing that I could go in. I had no desire to take the dinghy out. The currents here were calm, and I was n't concerned with *Dolled Up* drifting far, but I had no idea whether or not this strange structure would remain. What if it collapsed while I was inside? I would prefer to go down with my ship.
*'' What about your job? `` * My mother had asked me. *'' I'm resigning.'' `` Your house?'' `` Sold it. Moved all my stuff into storage. `` * She scoffed at me, aghast. *'' I ca n't believe you. Giving up.'' `` I'm not giving up, I'm moving on. I miss her, mother. But she's not coming back to me, and I ca n't spend a single waking moment thinking of anything but her.'' `` I know you love her, but leaving will not make her love you back.'' `` I'm not looking for her to love me back. I'm looking to forget her. `` *
I started the diesel motor and pushed in to the chamber. Closing in I could make out no details on the surface. It was truly smooth, worn down over thousands of years to create it. There was an ebb, drawing into the chamber. The motor blub-blubbed and the sound bounced around inside the chamber. I cut it, allowing the momentum to take me in.
`` HELLO!!!'' Once more, I tried. My voice was louder, more sure of itself. It carried further and bounced louder. The echo was palpable. The lights revealed nothing but more walls. I shined a hand-torch upwards. I could not see the stars anymore, but the mast was in no danger. The ceiling of the chamber stood at least 60 feet high.
*'' It's not that I do n't care about you. I just do n't see this going anywhere.'' `` How can you say that? We've had the best time of our lives - those are YOUR WORDS.'' `` I know... I'm so sorry.'' `` I ca n't accept that, I just do n't see why it has to end.'' `` We're just not on the same page. I have to go, I'm sorry.'' `` No, please... I ca n't do this without you...'' *
Her last words to me came back to me. The screen door slamming behind her as she walked away is a sound that is burned into my memory. She had left me, and to this day I can not come to the grips with her reasoning. I had hoped to find closure, to move on, to find a life worth enjoying without her. I had n't so far.
My nerves were calm. I was bored. The chamber continued on, and part of me wanted to keep going. But what was the point? I just was n't on the same page.
I kicked the diesel motor back on, pushing the *Dolled Up* further in. The floodlights showed me the way out the other side, and that's all it was. A tunnel. A wall in the middle of the ocean, with a tunnel. What was the point?
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[ WP ] You just woke up and you do n't know anything .
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Ring ring. The phone jingle breathed life into his consciousness as he awoke in a blurred stupor. he tried to blink but his eyes burned and his vision clouded around him like trying to see underwater. The star speckled sky focused into view as the blur evaporated from his sights bit by bit. Trees, three times the size a house stretched towards the sparkling dots in the heavens.
“ The woods? ” He said to himself; his voice somewhere between a croak and a whisper, “ how did I… ” His words were cut short as the touch of cold steel permeated his palm and fingertips. A gun lay in his limp hand on the ground, his index still grazed the trigger.
What ’ s going on? He wondered. He clutched the soft dirt beneath him and hoisted himself to his quivering feet. A throbbing ache pierced through his head forcing him back down to the earth on all fours. His head still thumped in his skull. A warm glow illuminated the air around him and the soft crack and pop of a campfire pelted his ears.
A trickle of sweat tickled him as it dribbled down his forehead and then his cheek. He wiped it with his palm only to be startled by the dark scarlet color that painted his hand. Blood. It was blood, not sweat which was illuminated by the crackling campfire glow. The pounding in his head made sense now, but where he was did not. Now that he thought about it, he could not recall much of how he got there, or what he was doing. In fact, he could not recall his own name, or even a smidgen of anything about him. The thought of it made his heart palpitate in his chest. At last, the horrid phone ring came to a halt drowning him the song of crickets and the crackle of the flame.
He turned to face the now silent device lying near the campfire in front of a dark log. He picked himself up once more and took staggered steps toward the blaze. He felt like he was learning how to walk again. One foot in front of the other; one step and then the next. He approached the log at last and what he saw made his stomach lurch. It was no log on the ground. It was a woman.
His stomach knotted in his belly as he knelt down beside her. Her pitch black coat matched her straight hair which shielded her face from view. With his finger he move the locks out of the way so he could get a clear look. A hole the size of an acorn sunk into her temple. Streams of blood trickled down her forehead, cheek, and nose. He looked down at the gun he was holding with trembling hands.
“ D-Did I... Am I a...? His stomach lurched and his heart thumped in his throat. He flung the pistol, jerked his head away, and spewed the contents of this stomach over the soil. It was a meal he had no recollection of consuming. He turned back towards the corpse next to him. Had it not been for wound and the blood, her soft features and her placid expression made it difficult to tell whether she was truly dead, or in a deep slumber.
He had not noticed before, next to her fingertips, just out of reach lay a handgun. Her pose painted the story of her final moments on the campfire canvas. The bones in his legs felt like they were replaced with pudding at the inkling of what may have occurred. Was she the perpetrator or was he? Did he kill her in cold blood, or in self-defense? The question stabbed the back of his head almost as much as the question of his identity. His thought was shattered by a familiar bell. There it was again. Ring ring, the phone sang its song.
He dashed towards the phone and picked it along with some granules of dirt. Unknown number. He slid his finger across the screen to accept the call and raised it to his ear.
“ About damn time. Is it done? ” A voice asked at the other end of the receiver. It was deep and smooth.
*Is it done? This was supposed to be a job? My job or her job? Relax goddamnit. Relax. * “ Yea it ’ s done. ”
The man responded with silence. After a few moments he spoke again. “ Where is she? ”
*Don ’ t say anything rash. * “ She ’ s here. ”
“ Dead or alive? ”
*Shit. What do I say? * “ Dead. ”
“ She ’ s dead? Holy shit, its raining lemons. Just raining goddamn lemons. ” He said. The deep voiced man broke out into a fit of psychotic laughter. “ Hold on... ” He said wheezing and huffing into the receiver, “... I need my inhaler. ”
*What the hell is happening right now. * “ Who are you? What do you want? ”
“ Who am I? ” He asked with a wry chuckle. “ Lets just say I ’ m a guy who knows how to make lemonade. Care for a drink? ”
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[ WP ] It 's actually an historical account , and not a work of fiction .
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“ I ’ m afraid your child still doesn ’ t grasp the difference between is and isn ’ t fiction. He keeps insisting that the stories that we read in class are true, and have all happened before. ”
“ But they are! ‘ Sam I Am ’ happened in Variation 57 of Cycle 1739! ‘ The very hungry caterpillar ’ happened in Variation 142 of Cycle 2890! I don ’ t understand why you all don ’ t get it! ”
“ This is a real pity, since his grasp of language and other subjects are far beyond his level. ”
The boy ’ s father glared at at his son, “ don ’ t worry Miss, I ’ ll be sure to discipline him about lying when we reach home. ”
-- -
“ We call them remains. Or residue. Or retainers. It doesn ’ t really matter what you call them, it doesn ’ t change what they are. ”
“ Have they always been there? ”
“ Not exactly. Not from the start. ”
-- -
“ Mum… why don ’ t they believe me? Mum believes me, right? ”
“ I… ”
“ Does Mum not believe me too? Does Mum think I ’ m lying too? ”
“ Mum… Mum doesn ’ t know. You are my child, I ’ ll believe the best of you even if the world doesn ’ t. But Mum hasn ’ t seen the worlds that you talk about, so Mum doesn ’ t know what to think. ”
“ Then I ’ ll show you! One day, I ’ ll get better and stronger than anyone else and I ’ ll show you all the records! Then Mum will believe me! ”
“... Mum believes that you will, one day. But you have to promise Mum that you must survive until the day you can, even if you have to lie and tell people that the stories are not real. ”
“ But… ”
“ Promise me, my child. ”
“ I… okay. I ’ ll promise. ”
“ Thank you. I ’ ll wait for the day you can bring me to see the records, okay? ”
“ Okay. ”
As the child ’ s mother left the room, the child looked at his feet and mumbled to himself, “ but it isn ’ t fair… ”
-- -
* “ Think of human brains like a… a house made of glass filled with water. ” *
* “ Glasshouse filled with water? ” *
* “ Yeah, a glasshouse. There ’ s nothing you can hide in it, not without spilling some water out, and if you try to drop something inside it that doesn ’ t suit the environment, like molten salt, the water boils and the glasshouse breaks. ” *
* ”... Boom and splat… ” *
* “ “ Yeah, boom and splat. ” *
-- -
“ I heard your child got the highest in his level again? You must be so proud! ”
Ignoring the masses that were kissing up to his father, the child turned towards his mother with a bright smile on his face. Reaching up to pull her down for a hug, “ i ’ ve calculated, ” he whispered, “ it takes about fifteen years, but I ’ ll be able to show you the records by then. ”
When the child pulled back, he looked at his mother ’ s face, and didn ’ t understand the expression she had on.
-- -
* “ Who are you? What did you do to Mum! ” *
* “ Don ’ t you know who I am? ” *
* “ You… you ’ re… you ’ re one of the record keepers! Do you know what happened to Mum? ” *
“ Yeah. Her brain went boom. ”
“ Her… brain went boom?! ”
“ Yup. Boom and splat. ”
“ But… how? ”
“ How? Hmm… let me think for an appropriate explanation… ”
-- -
“ I did this all by myself! I created it! ”
The child looked at his classmate, and thought to himself, ‘ no, you didn ’ t. It was a natural phenomenon in Variation 238 of Cycle 1009. You just copied it, just like you did in Variation 103, 295, 582 and 609 of Cycle 1246. ’
But he didn ’ t voice a word, and only looked at his paper of calculations.
‘ I ’ m still unsure if this is Variation 912, 913 or 914 of Cycle 2914, Variation 819 or 820 of Cycle 2914 or Variation 27 of 2915, I supposed I ’ ll just have to wait to see which country does the airstrike and do a couple more test to confirm. ’ ’
-- -
“ Sometimes… I don ’ t get what they ’ re feeling. ”
“ Don ’ t worry, you ’ ll learn with time. Even with all my years, I still don ’ t understand them. ”
“... I guess you ’ re right… Still, I want to understand… ”
“ So do I. It ’ ll make things less boring. ”
-- -
“ Mum, since it ’ ll take some before we reach the records, is there anything that you want to know? ”
“ I… honestly didn ’ t think that what you were saying was the truth, but now… ”
“ Hmm? That ’ s fine, I forgive Mum. After all, it ’ s hard to believe in something that you haven ’ t been before, that ’ s why I ’ m going to show Mum the records. ”
“... Thank you. ”
“ There ’ s nothing you need to thank me for. We ’ ll still have to travel for about 30minutes or so. I ’ m lucky I managed to finish this in time, the next rift would be in about ten years, depending on which country the mutation of the swine flu developed in. ”
“ New mutation…? Rift…? What do you mean? ”
“ Well… each Cycle usually has a certain time that a rift appears, the Variations can cause discrepancies of about ten or so years. ”
“ Cycle? ”
“ Yeah, Cycles. From the creation of the earth to the destruction of the earth. Each cycle is determined by key events that occurred. For this cycle, it ’ s that Dinosaurs became extinct before humans came into existence, there were two world wars, stuff like that. ”
“... ”
“ Variations are just small changes to how a Cycle goes. For example, a different country starting a war, or a different country winning the war. It still happens in the same time era as the other Variations, but just a different way of reaching.
“ Oh, we ’ re here! ”
-- -
* “ Can humans lie? ” *
* “ Lie? No, of course not. Lying requires imagination. ” *
-- -
As soon the child entered into the room that he knew his whole life, he heard a scream resound through the endless rows and columns of records.
He turned around, and saw his mother holding her head between her hands as a bone chilling scream emitted from her.
“ Mum?! Mum?! What happened? Mum?! ”
As the child was bent over his mother, a bright light emitted from the corner of the room, and another door appeared. Looking over, the child saw a being that looked like a female human walk in.
“ Who are you? ” he asked. “ What did you do to Mum! ”
-- -
* “ Is that really true? “ *
* “ What is? ” *
* ” That humans can not create. ” *
* ” Technically, yeah, that ’ s true. I mean, well, they can create children and stuff like that, but they can ’ t create. ” *
* ” Then the books? The movies? The music? ” *
* ” It all happened before. Sometimes, humans just run into the remains. ” *
-- -
“ I promise Mum, that I ’ ll lie and say that the books are not real and that they ’ re all fiction, I just don ’ t think that it ’ s fair. ”
“ My child… ”
“ I mean, it ’ s for fair that I can lie but other humans can ’ t. ”
-- -
“ Bookkeeper? ”
“ Or Librarian. It doesn ’ t matter what you call it, the role never changes. ”
“ Who… who chose me? ”
“ Gaia. Earth. This land. This plane of existence. Everything keeps repeating itself. Everything keeps happening again and again. The previous keeper was so tired of the job, she decided to destroy herself, and wait for herself to be reborn in the cycle again. ”
“... Reborn…? ”
“ Yeah. Reborn. Gaia chooses her bookkeepers. You ’ ve been chosen, aren ’ t you glad? You accidentally made your Mum ’ s brain go boom this time, but you can try and try again until it doesn ’ t. ”
“ Are you a bookkeeper? ”
“ Not exactly. Think of me as a guardian of sorts. ”
“ A guardian? ”
“ Yeah. A guardian for you guys. A guardian to explain everything to the bookkeepers. ”
-- -
“ Hey Mum, I ’ m really sorry about the last time, or the time before that. I mean, I didn ’ t really think it through. A blindfold didn ’ t work, telling you about the records didn ’ t work, trying my best to built a stronger glasshouse didn ’ t work. ”
“... What do you mean? ”
“ But it doesn ’ t matter! In. This time round, I ’ m going to try emptying the water, if I fail again, I ’ ll just try my best and try another method. ”
-- -
* “ How did you manage to not go insane? ” *
* ” A goal. Set yourself a goal. ” *
* “ That ’ s it? A goal? ” *
* “ Yeah. A goal. ” *
-- -
Fin.
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[ WP ] You are awoken in the dead of night by a call from 666-666-6666 . You answer to find the devil is drunk dialing you .
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I awoke in the middle of the night as my phone started screaming''*Yo, bitch! Get the phone. *'' Goddamn weird tie-in ringtone, never bothered to change it. I open my eyes enough to press the accept call button and I put the phone to my ear and say''*Who... Is it? *'' I had for several weeks not had enough sleep so I could n't recognize the voice at first.
''*Hey, eh. Hey Ao... *''
Okay, who even calls me that anymore? It was certainly a weird call to receive in the middle of the night. A voice that sounded like a half-dead seal being seduced by an elephant said to me.
''*Please... Can I get in? I... I got like... A gift? *''
By this point I was surprised to hear that the voice sounded somewhat familiar, maybe I was waking up maybe I could just always remember that weird voice.
''*Who is it? *'' I asked.
''*Yo, bitch. It's me... Ya know... Stan? *''
Oh great. Him. To my left side in the bed immense coils were shifting in the bed.
''*Honey, who is it? *'' My boyfriend asked me.
''*Do n't worry about it, just go back to bed, just some joker. *''
I got out of bed and walked out into the bathroom, the light nearly seared my eyes when I turned it on as I sat down on the bathroom floor.
''*Stan I told you not to call me. I told you already, we're done and I am with Quetz now. *''
I could n't believe it, not even of him. Calling me in the middle of the night like this.
''*But Ao, I lovah... I lovav... I luve you man. *''
Drunk dialing me in the middle of the night. Great Scott he really is a douche.
''*Look Stan, I do n't want you to call me in the middle of the night and wake me and Quetz up, as a matter of fact I do n't want you to call me ever again! *''
I did n't know if he was crying or laughing on the other end of the line.
''*Come on man, you love me, admit it. *''
I swear that he is such an asshole. Daring to do this after what he put me through.
''*I hate you, I was just a young guy out of Georgia when you came in and swept me off my feet, and then you leave me for some Greek bitch? And that's after cheating on me with the entire Erl-könig's court and do n't even get me started on what I caught you doing with your brother Gabriel during the company Christmas dinner! *''
''*Come on... I just wantah... You know... CLICK*''
I ended the call and blocked all further calls from that lying cheating douche. I got up and went back to bed, where Quetz asked me who it was. I just answered''*Some douchebag, let us get back to bed, sexy. *'' I still ca n't believe that he thinks we can get back together. And that he has the audacity to call me three years after the breakup trying to get back in, well no sir, I've learned my lesson. I am not letting the devil into my house.
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[ WP ] You are sitting in a local coffee shop , enjoying your favorite brew on a slow morning . When a despondent woman takes the seat in front of you . She is the daughter of the man you killed .
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The Hitman sat in a high-backed chair, his eyes closed to the bustle of the shop. He listened over the sound of chairs scraping, people chatting, human life. He listened for that sweet note of silence, hiding its promise of peace past all of these loud, nattering humans.
He thought of the Banker. The old man's death had been quick and easy, sterile. The Hitman had fired a single round into his head while the old man slept. He'd collected his money the next day.
Rule two: be calm and precise.
Even in the angry din of the coffee shop the Hitman remained calm. His chair was sturdy, comfortable. He opened his eyes, reptile slits hidden under sunglasses. They scanned the room, analysing. The latte on the table in front of him was nearly empty. It was almost time.
He checked his watch. 15:13.
Rule three: Research and know your target.
The Hitman knew she was coming, the girl. He knew that she came here every day at the same time. She ordered a cappuccino and sat in the chair opposite the one the Hitman sat in, staring into space and reading books on financial management.
15:14.
Here she was, a beautiful young woman of twenty-three, striding into the store. Her shoulders were sagged today, her hair messy and unkempt. It'd been three days since her father's funeral. The Hitman felt a pang of sorrow. She was so beautiful.
15:15. She ordered her drink and sat down where she always sat. Opposite the Hitman. She nodded weakly at him, a stranger. She dug into her bag and pulled out a book. It was titled `` Dealing with inheritance.''
*A dull read*, The Hitman thought.
As she read, the Hitman studied her face. It was usually so bright, vibrant. Full of promise. She was her Father's heiress, a fortune coming her way. Today though, her face was a mask of pain and sorrow. Of loss.
A waitress brought her drink over, steaming atop the table. The girl gave a gentle `` Thanks..'' and returned to her book. Tears formed in her eyes. The Hitman blinked his lizard slits underneath the glasses. He wished she was n't so sad. It made it harder.
He stood up, placing his suit jacket down on the chair to reserve it from the angry horde of customers going in and out of the shop. His white shirt was form fitted, sticking to his slim frame like a second skin. He headed towards the toilet.
Inside, the Hitman retrieved the pill from his pocket. He broke it open and poured the powder into his hand. He clenched his fist and waited for awhile, enough time for someone to use the bathroom. He breathed deep, then walked out into the cacophony of noise and faces that was the shop.
The girl still read her book. He slid back to the table and leant down.
`` Excuse me?'' He said.
`` Y-yeah?'' She responded, looking up at him. His hand sank down and opened over her coffee, spilling the powder into the milky drink. It settled, indistinguishable from the chocolate sprinkles floating on the top.
`` You're Sarah Underman, right?'' He smiled, thin lips splitting into something resembling warmth.
`` Yeah.'' She replied.
`` The heiress? My wife is a big fan.'' Something in his grin faltered. She looked upset all of a sudden, quizzical.
`` I do n't know who you are. But my bodyguards are waiting outside. I've just had a big loss in the family and I do n't want to be bothered... so please.'' She urged.
*I'm the man who killed your father. * The Hitman thought.
`` Of course. Sorry for bothering you. I'll be leaving now.'' He leant down, finished his Latte and grabbed his suit jacket, sliding it on over wiry shoulders. He walked away as she fell back to her book. He watched her take a sip of the coffee. Outside, he slid past her bodyguards without a second glance.
The Hitman had killed her father. Now he had killed her.
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[ IP ] One day we shall return
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The screen panel below the window apprised us of information I could not process. Gliding at thousands of miles an hour, the distant blue globe slowly shied away from our view. I wish I could still call it home.
Memories tug at the edges of consciousness, fighting against the last 60 years of life. 40 years of suffering before the Appearance. That ’ s what the newspeople called it, anyway. It was first detected by strange blasts of radio wavelengths emanating from the far reaches of the galaxy. Then, it was in our solar system. At this point, thousands of people got together to prepare for whatever, whomever, was going to arrive. It was difficult to traverse the New York subways without people asking if you ’ ve repented or telling you that it ’ s too late. Such was not the case.
Colonies on Mars started to choke out of radio contact, soon disappearing without any trace as to where they had gone. It was around this time that people started to realize what had purposely been hidden from those deemed “ non-essential ”. The bright lights in the sky that had given guidance to people for millennia were disappearing, one by one.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I shove back to reality when I hear a loud clunk from the vents above me. A slight hiss of air escapes, a reassuring sound as the oxygen feels rather thin.
-- -
The sound is shockingly similar to the fires engulfing skyscrapers when the riots began. The radio blasts turned into mass EMP ’ s, rendering our technology useless. The object appeared in the sky above, but it never moved. The stars were replaced with one bright light at night, and one dark circle in the day. People killed each other. They fought against nature. Eventually, nature fought back.
Worldwide missile attacks and chemical warfare destroyed whole environments while that circle floated in the sky, judging. Ash clouds moved over, geiger counters cried in alarm and soon, cities were gone. I had left before the worst happened. I chose a field in Nebraska with a small cabin. I figured this would be a place safe from the warfare. I received the occasional letter, but I tried to ignore them.
One day, I could ignore no longer. The ominous circle had begun to lower. For days, it got closer and closer, impossible to predict where it would land. One day, the wind stopped. The few survivors were teleported up into steel boxes with a single window. With that, we moved away from the atmosphere. I shared a room with a small child, excited to have company.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The new air had a peculiar smell to it. I could not tell which Earth was real as my vision blurred. The room passed through a dark web and the night sky was bombarded with light. The stars had not disappeared. Not truly.
I feel enormously tired, and the child is already asleep. Its body feels too cold, though. I exhale on the window and draw a circle around that globe so I can see how far we go after I take a nap. I know that one day I will make my way back to what used to be my home. I can see our sun shining and the other planets far beyond. It is amazing that we had gone so far. Heavy eyelids forced shut just as the sun ’ s light went out.
-- -
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[ WP ] There are three things all wise men fear : the sea in storm , a night with no moon , and the anger of a gentle man . Write about one or more of these .
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Jensen thought about rivers.
When he was younger, had a more spry body, he would explore the wilderness around his family's home. Picking through trees and bushes, he would often come across rivers and streams, flowing from who-knows-where to somewhere else. He had always thought there was something poignant, in that. Something special.
The slowest rivers were peaceful, water making its journey in near silence. They might have fish swimming through, which Jensen could watch, and there would often be optimal skipping stones made smooth by the water's gentle embrace. On the other end of the spectrum, the fastest rivers could devour a strong man, dash them against the rocks and bring a premature end to their lives.
And yet, Jensen had mused in the past, there was little difference between the two. At least, little difference for him. He rarely crossed streams wide enough to qualify as a'river', and even if he did, he tended to avoid getting wet no matter what. No, when one simply watched the two, there was little difference. One was stronger, perhaps, more powerful, but they were both peaceful, almost orderly.
This battle, this *siege*, was not orderly. It certainly flowed somewhat like a river did, beginning at some vague point at the past and inevitably coming to a conclusion. But it did not make its way from point a to point b in any manner even slightly resembling'order'.
No, as Jensen listened to the cries of his fort's protectors outside, men and women fighting - almost futilely - against their opponents, he did not think he quite liked this battle.
One might say that any battle worked in a similar fashion. That disorder and chaos did a war make. Jensen would disagree, not because he felt any particular need to argue, but simply because he had fought in a great many peaceful wars.
He kept staring at the sword, mounted on his wall.
It was a beautiful sword. That was n't quite his opinion of it, but it was certainly what visitors to his small dwelling often said. `` Ah, a lovely sword, Jensen! Think you're going to be helping our defenders out?'' A light chuckle. Others might have been offended, but Jensen had long given that up.
This fort was different than most he had come to. It had a large population of Fenrir, and they were its protectors, period. In return, the other residents made life easy for their selected defenders. Jensen was almost reminded of the feudal system of some places he had visited, when he was a wanderer.
In another time, he might have scoffed at the system. Perhaps he *should* have made fun of it. That might have averted a catastrophe such as this.
There was, after all, one small problem with placing the entirety of one's safety on the shoulders of a group of people who were only powerful in moonlight.
What happened when there was no moon?
More cries from outside. His door flew open, and a woman stepped in, dragging two children along with her. *Boris and Julianne. * They had brought him a meal, when he had moved in.
The door slammed shut behind the lady. *Alice*, Jensen recalled. `` Are you all right?''
`` No, it's horrible out there... they, they ca n't do anything. It's over, Jens.''
He had n't given her permission to call him that- no, focus. It was not a show of disrespect. `` What is happening? Tell me.''
`` I should n't tell you. You...'' she faltered as she tried to settle in the children at the same time. Boris was crying, softly.
`` What,'' Jensen said, `` afraid I'll die of fear?''
The look on her face was n't quite what he expected. He could have laughed. *Oh well, today's as good a day to die as any. *
A few sharp tugs brought the sword off of its mount. Alice glanced up. `` What are you doing? An ornamental sword is n't going-''
Arcs of light danced through the sword's blade as he gripped it. It was heavy, always had been, but there was something comforting in that weight. It was familiar, like the embrace of a lover after time away. Years had passed, but it still felt *right. *
`` Do n't wait up,'' he said, and then he opened the door.
-- -
*more stories on r/forricide*
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[ WP ] If you murder someone , your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been .
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Sam could n't believe the amount of bloodshed a baseball bat could cause. He'd seen the gangsters of movies carrying them, the metal ones. But this, this was just an old wooden bat. The same bat that he and dad would practice with when he was small, the bat he hit his first home run with. He watched now as the mans skull leaked blood. It was somewhat deflated.
The room lights flickered on. `` Sam, what the hell dude!'' It was Joseph, his friend from school. `` Dude, it was a fucking prank. We knew you were home alone.''
Joseph turned over the corpse.
Sam stared, eyes wide with disbelief.
It looked so familiar. But then again, all corpses look the same.
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[ WP ] Write a story . Any story . But after 5 minutes , stop , lift your hands from your keyboard , and click the Save button .
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Today I have been in school. I even made a presentation. During the presentation i noticed how the members of my study group lacked behind in competence. I contemplated leaving them behind. I need to get good grades so I can get a nice pay check. I really do need that pay check. I am the lasiest of all people, only I do it in a more intelligent fashion. Or so I tell myself.
I do n't wan na do anything that I do n't find funny. I do n't find banks funny. I do n't find house holding funny. I find business development OK. I am gon na get wealthy enough to get people to do what I do n't want.
That is what I am gon na do.
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[ WP ] You can only use autocorrect and suggested words to come up with as grammatically correct sentences as possible . Funny stories will magically emerge !
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This was not a good time waster and I love the new update it crashes and I do n't think it's a great good morning to all the time of I do n't know why I you can do is get it together for a while ago and it will be the a team with a my this is the most recent quarter version of the year and the first half of the year of the day I will be a good day to be a good time waster for a long few weeks and I do n't think it's funny when people are just a little too late for the next day and I have to be a good time with my life.
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[ WP ] A knight finally reaches the place where a princess has been imprisoned . Upon entering , he certainly did not expect to see what he saw .
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He steps into the bedroom, and the sight before paralyzes his tongue. The princess he had been sent to rescue was not in need of it. He kept to the shadows as he observed the two. The princess was as fair as her father claimed. Her long blonde hair shined where the candlelight kissed it, and her skin was as white as a porcelain doll. She lay on the bed with the covers inches away from revealing her ample bosom. Her small pink lips were locked with dark brown ones. The woman on top of her had skin like cocoa beans, and her curly hair was black as night. The deep purple robes she wore indicated her status as the castle enchanter.
The same castle enchanter that was accused of kidnapping the princess in the first place. As he watched them take in delight of each other, his heart sank. This had been his chance to bring wealth to his kingdom in the form of a marriage alliance.
For a moment he considered that the princess had been put under a spell, but the loving adoration he saw in her eyes told him that her feelings were genuine. She had n't been kidnapped.
He nearly jumped when he heard them speak.
`` My love,'' the princess said as she parted from the kiss. `` I wish to leave this place. As lovely as it is, I want us to live freely. There are many villages or towns that would be accepting of us.''
The woman that shared the bed lightly caressed the princess's cheek. `` I live in fear of your father. He would surely find us. While this place is not homely, it is out of his reach.''
`` I tire of lying. You are not the evil enchantress who spirited me away, and maybe we need to tell my father the truth. He loves me, and he'll forgive us for running away if he knows the truth.''
The darker woman placed a kiss on the princess's lips. `` I will consider it. For now, let's enjoy our time together.''
The knight looked away as they resumed their private time. He slipped out of the room and left the castle.
He traveled back to the king and informed him that the two women were nowhere to be seen. He explained how the castle had been deserted by the time he arrived. The heartbroken look on the king's face did nothing to sway him. Hopefully, he had provided the women with some more time, so they could figure out what to do.
In the meantime, he had his own love waiting on him at home. He would be pleasantly surprised to learn that knight was no longer under obligation to rescue and marry the princess.
Edit: spelling
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[ wp ] Still a prisoner , though I masquerade as a King ...
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Yes. Someone chose well when they picked on you. You look very much like old King Edward, you speak in the right manner, you move with the assurance of one who has trained in plate armour. Like a panther, Mahmoud says. A pity your protector did n't provide you with enough soldiers.
I wo n't embarrass you by asking who sent you; it does n't matter which duke it was. What matters is what we're going to do now.
By rights I should have you imprisoned, or killed, or worse. But I know this would not be enough. There are those who would take the throne for themselves, and they are more dangerous than one pretender, be he never so powerfully supported. So I have an idea.
Your punishment will suit your crime. You will wear my robes and my crown, and act my part at all the ceremonies. I shall be around among the monks, hiding my regality behind a habit. And when the assassin comes... he will kill *you*, not me.
You wanted to be king. Very well, then, take up your regalia. The crown on your head, the orb and sceptre in your hands, and the knife in your back!
Come. This is not such a bad bargain. Better than going back to your Duke and telling him how you failed. Come close, and let me give you some advice.
^ ( Look where I look. See that monk with the fine bones, who looks like the Devil has just tapped him on the shoulder? Kill him, and I may even let you keep the throne. Have you never wanted to kill a *real* king? )
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[ FF ] - Something about a girl , a truck , a dirt road , a sundress , and drinking beer . 200 words or less
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The green pickup crunched over the gravel driveway and the puffs of dust and rock danced behind it. The sun was hot on my face but it felt good - sipping my sweet tea. The sound of summer was sweet. The cicadas humming, the birds singing with dusk approaching. I take another sip and a bead of sweat from the glass falls onto my pale yellow sundress.
His truck stops and the smell of old gas and old rust mix with the smell of weeds and dandelions. I keep swinging on the creaking porch swing as he gets out. A soft smile when our eyes meet - he walks slow to me.
His hand brushes over my hair, the smell of sweat and his pomade fills me as he pulls my chin up for kiss.
`` How's my girl?''
`` Still yours.''
`` Anymore tea love?''
`` Got you a beer. Come - sit and lets get lost together.''
`` Everyday.''
The sun goes down as our dreams take off.
> 162 words
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[ WP ] A Hero and his/her sidekick fight crime without killing , until one day he accidentally murders a criminal . As day pass , more and more criminals are having `` accidents ''
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He was trying to discern as much information as possible but there just were n't enough nerves in the heel of his hand.
Somehow, quite nonchalantly, he had managed to get his arm over the threshold of her neck. Then gravity had slowly pulled his hand downward until it rested awkwardly on her right arm gently touching her clothed breast.
Now, ever-so-slightly he moved his index finger. He imagined the terrain of her torso and the path his hand would need to take to...
`` No No No!'' She screamed and leapt to her feet. Reflexively he pulled his appendages in and covered his privates for safety.
She was yelling at the television. He stole a look at the way the yoga pants hugged her backside just before she turned on him.
`` Is it really that hard to say? Anouk.... Ahhh Noook!'' Her auburn hair was knotty and barely in the pony tail. She had n't washed it since that night. Was she really that superstitious?
...
We had made the news again. A man was dead. He had fallen 11 stories. Now he was the top one. The mysterious Anouk was seen in the area. Was she responsible? The question mark kept the statement from being liable.
I'm a sidekick. I'm not ashamed of it. Honestly I would be anything she told me to be. Somehow she knows how to give me just enough to keep me hooked.
I'm a sidekick who does n't wear a costume. I do n't even have a name aside from my God given one.
By day I'm a lowly janitor but by night... at night I dress wounds, sew cuts, launder blood stained tights, and... I cover up evidence of crimes.
`` Next time I'm leaving a message on their tip line with the damn proper pronunciation. That Angela Harper is such a hack. They just stick her on the air because she has nipples the size of her brain.'' She sunk back down into the leather futon.
`` I would n't...''
`` Repeat, we've got a 10-108 at the Brookside Mall. All units respond!'' the police radio interrupted.
The costume she wore was 3/4 Lady Gaga and the rest... well it was n't there. Every week it was something different but it always exposed the tops of her breast and the time she spent on the gym working on her backside. Tonight's costume was part dinosaur costume part tutu.
By the time we arrived at the mall it was surrounded. The suspect was in custody. This was most often the case. My Honda Civic just did n't have the punch a police cruiser had.
`` Damn it to hell!'' She was furious again and I was going to feel the brunt of it.
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[ WP ] Tell me a gruesome murder in PG language .
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Today I finally finished moving into my new apartment. It just does n't feel like home, though. There ’ s something wrong with it, somehow. Something about it just doesn ’ t seem right. I hate that I can ’ t put my finger on it. Well, I guess there isn ’ t anything I can do about it at the moment.
Oh, it ’ s just so exciting! Living in a new place is always such an adventure! I ’ ve already met so many wonderful people in this complex. Some of them are, I ’ ll admit, a little bit grouchy sometimes. But you know, that ’ s just what happens when you don ’ t get enough coffee in the morning, or you skip breakfast, you know! I ’ m sure they ’ re all absolutely amazing once you get to know them!
xXx
Well, I ’ m having a tiny bit of trouble adjusting. It ’ s been nearly a week since I moved in, and there ’ s still something horribly wrong with this apartment building. And I still can ’ t figure out what it is! Oh, it ’ s just so frustrating. I ’ m sure I ’ ll find out soon enough.
Anyway, my new job is so much fun, but I ’ ve discovered that I get remarkably bored when I ’ m at home alone. I ’ ve tried distracting myself with books and with music, but there is a void which can only be filled by other people.
Unfortunately, I ’ ve been having problems with the others in this building. Many of them are great! Absolutely wonderful, just like I thought when I first moved in. But my neighbor… He ’ s just a bit… ah… what ’ s the word… Annoying? No, troublesome.
He plays his music too loudly in the nights, and when it isn ’ t that, it is creaking beds and delighted screams. He is a busy one. But that ’ s not the problem. The problem is that he doesn ’ t care about his neighbors at all. Entirely inconsiderate. These things have been issues in other apartments before, but none have actually gone out of their way to be more troublesome before! It ’ s getting old very quickly.
xXx
This problem with my neighbor is getting worse. On top of my restless sleep, trying to figure out what it is that isn ’ t right about these rooms I ’ ve taken up residence in, he continues to make noise when he shouldn ’ t. On top of that, he leaves his trash in the hallways for us to trip over. All of us are growing very concerned with his flagrant disregard for others, especially the woman in 245, who is a very worried mother of an impressionable young toddler.
There is a solution in all of this mess somewhere. One only needs to look harder to find it.
xXx
I did it! All of my problems have been solved! Oh, it ’ s such a happy day! I finally figured out what was wrong with my rooms! I did a little bit of redecoration, and I ’ m very pleased with the results. The apartment looks so lovely now!
I do have to keep the air conditioner set to a low temperature in order to keep the smell down, but oh, do these new decorations look simply beautiful. And the best part is? My problem with my neighbor is solved completely. I knew that something could be worked out eventually between the two of us! I just knew it. Now he's fulfilling a much higher purpose.
( Do n't mind me, just channeling my inner Desert Bluffs )
Edits: Formatting
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[ CW ] Write a brief story where every sentence is one word shorter than the previous .
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In the midst of a busy restaurant sat a young couple discussing their plans for the future. She had been offered a job on the other side of the country, he had not. `` You're not really going to go, right?'' he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
`` I do n't know,'' she said, `` it's a once in a lifetime opportunity.''
`` But I ca n't just pick up everything and leave here, you know.''
`` No, I know... you still have two years left on your degree.''
`` Yeah, and there's no university that offers it out there.''
`` Yeah,'' she said while fiddling with her necklace, `` I know.''
`` Do you think we could make long distance work?''
`` I really do n't know, two years is long.''
`` Yeah, but we've already done two years.''
`` And I'm thankful for them, but....''
`` But what?'' he asked her.
`` I ca n't do this....''
She got up. He did n't.
`` Goodbye.''
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[ WP ] A junkie unravels a conspiracy and is trying to convince his friends it 's true .
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I could feel the bugs under my skin as I sat there. I was more than myself, and time was ticking away. The vapor flowed through my veins, like oil caught in a stream. Bubbling, bubbling away into my brainstem. I lost track of the moment.
Then it was over. Fifteen minutes bent from reality, and the high was now very very low.
A needle fell to the carpeted floor amongst cigarette buttstock and empty cans. We had n't cleaned the house in weeks, but it seemed like years. My roommates Zig and Davey were sprawled out in the filthy cushions around me, still tripping hard. I settled back down, calmed my tapping fingers and closed my eyes briefly.
*They're watching. *
The darkness closed in, and I heard the mechanical whirring of a camera.
*They know. *
I saw a lens glinting in the corner. Who was watching, what do they know?
`` Zig,'' I whispered to the shade on the couch. `` Zig I'm freaking out man it must have been the stuff I think someone's in here with us.''
`` You've got to remember.'' Something was off about how he spoke, in his tone. He seemed miles away, but I could see him plain as anything.
`` What are you talking about-''
The words tumbling from my mouth vanished into the heavy abyss of my house, cut short by approaching footsteps. Static crackled in my head. I was glued to the sofa, all oxygen drained from my lungs. Everything froze, then shot bright blinding white.
`` It's over, Alex,'' the voice was cold and came from right above me. `` You did well today. We're escorting you back to your room now. ``
The straps release from my forearms, and strong hands hold me like a baby. They wheel me back to a white room with one window set high in the wall. The door clicks closed from the outside. Then the lights snap off. High in the corner, a camera whirls alive. I have to remember why.
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[ WP ] You 're immortal . A new art museum just opened nearby and you decide to take a look . In the exhibition there 's a painting , depicting what seems like your doppelganger . Other visitors laugh it off as an odd coincidence but you know better ... it IS you in that painting .
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`` Art is the ultimate expression of life.''
That is what King always answered when asked why he valued it so highly. The life of an immortal is bound to be filled with extraordinary events, regardless of how much the individual avoids it, since no matter how long a period of tranquillity lasts, it will never be eternal. Everything in this universe is impermanent, even peace.
King learned this lesson through a lifetime of hardship. Losing all of his riches in one century, only to gain even more wealth further down the road. The cyclical nature of history becomes incredibly obvious when you ca n't die. Empires rise and fall, only to emerge from its ashes once again stronger than before. Just like King's wealth, King's faith in humanity, and King's sense of purpose in the universe.
It's because of this cyclical nature that King enjoys museums and visits them whenever he has the chance. Sometimes, he would run into relics he had owned before or that belonged to people he knew. It gave him a chance to relive memories he had long forgotten, things he would not have remembered otherwise.
Art museums in particular were a surreal experience to him. They were n't trying to preserve history, they preserved cultures unique to their period. They did n't catalog specific events, they tried to record a snapshot of what life *felt* like back then. Viewing the ideas these people valued back then allowed humans to admire with hindsight what was important back then, and what might be lacking right now.
This is why, when King saw the newest art exhibition in his city, he almost fell to the ground. His knees started shaking and a cold sweat overpowered him, forcing him to sit on the nearest bench available. It was *him* inside the painting, throwing away a sword with one arm and cradling a fallen comrade with the other. The space he took up was n't considerable, the painting represented a much bigger scene of chaos, but the level of detail was enough for him to see it was him.
A young woman with a red scarf then approached him and said:
`` Breath-taking is n't it? *The Fall of Gaia* is our newest addition to the museum. It represents a coup in-''
`` The empire Gaia, five hundred years ago'' said King. `` One of the bloddiest conflicts of human history to ever take place, resulting in the loss of over a million lives.''
`` Ahh, you're familiar with that time period? That's very rare to see these days, considering how much was lost during that war. This piece in particular has me infatuated with that era. The viceral nature of the violence depicted, the anguish shown in each of the characters, it just oozes atmosphere, drawing you into the scene like you are there.''
King chuckled and said:
`` No, trust me. This does n't even come close to how horrible it was. You ca n't hear the screams everywhere or smell the stench of burning flesh. Any person that survived that would wish they died back then, just to get rid of the memories.'' He stood up. `` It's a beautiful painting, though.'' He walked up to the painting. `` You can clearly tell the person who did it was there.''
`` Yes, the artist was Maxwell Ethyris. He was the emperor's personal artist. Still, it's strange on his part.''
King raised his eyebrow before he said:
`` What is?''
`` Even though the artist was clearly against the rebels, he still depicted the insurgents in a very herioc light. They look like noble warriors. Graceful and strong, even if they were, technically speaking, the bad guys.''
`` Yeah...'' King's eyes teared up. `` That's because they *were* heroes.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
> [ I already wrote a story about King if you want to read more about him. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WeirdEmoKidStories/comments/506cd1/wp_an_immortal_and_a_person_who_reincarnates_with/ ) Anyway, if you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!
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[ WP ] A brilliant , Sherlock Holmes-like detective and a hardboiled PD meet for the first time on a case .
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The body was decapitated and the genitals had been mutilated. It disgusted Sergeant O ’ Connor, and he was ready to break the head of the suspect handcuffed in the back of a squad car. He had been an officer for nearly twenty years, and this was the most gruesome scene he ’ d had the pleasure of supervising. He knew the rules, and he knew homicide would have to come out and take over. He also knew they ’ d treat the asshole who did it like a king, hoping to become best buddies and get a confession. When O ’ Connor first started policing, they ’ d take the suspect to a back room and force a confession. No buddy-buddy nonsense. A knuckle sandwich served in place of a coffee and friendly smile.
Things had changed, though, and O ’ Connor had to change with it. He did not have to like it. That was apparent as he eyed the detectives just now ducking under the crime scene tape. He did not recognize the two men, but he knew he would not like them. Still, he went over to make the necessary introductions.
“ Sergeant O ’ Connor, 31st Precinct. Dispatched to a disturbance and found the body like this. Suspect was apprehended running down the alley. Pretty open and shut, don ’ t think you boys will have to do much. ”
The taller of the two detectives sniffed and eyed the sergeant warily. He was wearing a tweed jacket and what O ’ Connor thought was a very silly hat, like something a Russian would wear. He moved his gaze from O ’ Connor to the body on the ground, then to the suspect in the back of the police car, and finally back to the sergeant.
“ A pleasure, sergeant. I ’ m Detective Robbins, this is my colleague, Detective Bottoms. I do think you have something much more exciting on your hands. ” The detective ’ s breath fogged as he spoke. “ Something very exciting indeed. ”
“ Yeah, well, do what you need to do so we can get out of here. ”
The detective smiled effeminately and O ’ Connor frowned. The sergeant was right: he did not like the detective. In fact, he might have hated him, but at the moment there was a shattering of glass and a clamor to the sergeant ’ s left. He turned to see broken window in a squad car and the suspect running away, chased by the other two officers. He keyed up his radio but Robbins swatted his hand away before he could call it in to dispatch.
“ No, sergeant, let him go. He will lead us to the true murderer. ”
The sergeant opened his mouth to protest but was cut short, for Detective Bottoms knifed him in the gut and Robbins closed a hand over the sergeant ’ s mouth as they both eased him to the ground.
“ Easy does it, Bottoms, easy does it, ” said Detective Robbins as he stood over the sergeant. “ Let ’ s be quick about it, Bottoms. ” Robbins looked at Bottoms as the junior detective begin cutting at the sergeant ’ s crotch. “ We can ’ t have any open and shut cases. It would be so boring. My apologies, sergeant. ” Robbins then slashed the sergeant ’ s throat.
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[ WP ] In the not-too-distant future , a person 's memory can be extracted and viewed upon death . When a man/woman dies for unidentified reasons , a detective scans his memories for clues .
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It was brand new technology. Some people didn ’ t even believe that it was real. Only the chief and I knew about it having been sent to our district to be tested.
I sat down in the chair and placed the earmuffs over my head. Then I slipped on the visor. I waited for the chief to turn on the machine.
Our first test would be on a woman who was found dead on the side of the road only a couple hours ago. Her memories were extracted and loaded into the machine. The autopsy had still not come back and we needed to know if this was a murder. From the preliminary evidence, we hadn ’ t been able to identify how she had died, but my instinct said foul play.
The machine booted up. All of a sudden I felt like I was being sucked through a tube, blurry images all around me. Occasionally I ’ d stop and the images would become solid and lifelike, but then I would accelerate again.
Amazingly my brain kept up with it, running over every little detail from this woman ’ s history, using my detective ’ s brain to analyze for anything suspicious. All of a sudden I felt myself stop. I was in the woman ’ s home. I could feel everything she felt, see everything she saw, and hear everything she heard.
Panic welled up inside me as someone broke the door down. I screamed and ran through the house, but tripped over my son ’ s toy truck that had been left on the floor.
Wait, I don ’ t have a son, I thought. The longer I ’ m in this machine, the more I seem to be losing myself in her thoughts and feelings.
I turned around just in time to see the man ’ s face. I cried and pleaded that he left the children alone. He picked me up and bound me. Then he proceeded to pour some type of bitter powder in my mouth. Death followed soon after as I watched him climb the stairs towards my children ’ s bedrooms.
“ No! ” I yelled as the machine turned off and I returned to being myself. Except I no longer was myself. Not really. This woman ’ s feelings, her memories, attitudes, and thoughts were all mine now as well. I am no longer just a detective. But I am not that woman either. I am both. A completely new person born out of an experiment.
I jumped out of the chair, the chief staring at me, wondering what was wrong. The image of the person ’ s face floated back into my mind. He was the one who killed me. The one who may have very well killed my children as well. The detective in me wanted to bring him to justice. But as I walked out of the police station and headed for my car, the chief chasing after me, I realized I was no longer only a detective.
I headed for my partner ’ s house. He had saved me in the line of duty before. Even taken a bullet for me. I had never suspected for even a minute he was capable of such cruelty. But he threatened my children. And as a mother, that was unforgivable. I looked back as I lost the chief after I took a hard right turn.
I slowly approached my partner ’ s house. Perhaps I could plead insanity from having used the device. But it didn ’ t matter. I had only one thing on my mind. I kicked down his door, gun drawn, and headed straight for the living room.
“ What the fuck are you doing? ” he yelled.
“ Where are my children?! ” I shouted back.
“ What the hell are you talking… ”
His kneecap blew open as I fired my first shot. I wanted to just kill him right here, right now, but I needed to know what he ’ d done to my children.
-231
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[ WP ] Told you are the `` Chosen One '' , you agree to go into Cryogenic Sleep for 100 years to save the world . They wake you up 61 years later and say they got the wrong person .
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`` What do you mean you got the wrong guy? Do you understand what I gave up to think that I could save the future generations of my family by going in to this stupid sleep an you wake me up thirty nine years early to say'hey buddy. We got the wrong guy so we have to release you and put the real chosen one to sleep''' I was beyond mad, my face was scrunched up enough to cause wrinkles and I could feel my knuckles tightening up, ready to punch the person closest to me. A man in his late thirties coughed slightly, `` yes well we read the prophecy wrong and now that the real chosen one has shown up we though now was as great a time as any. We apologize for any inconvenience caused by our actions Mr. Rey.''
I tried to find words, a way to curse him to hell or just telling him that accidents happen but nothing came out of my day mouth, funny that sixty years since would leave your mouth dry. I collapsed to the ground and tried not to cry as I though of all the people I left behind. I heard another apology and something about mistakes being fixed, I did n't notice about half a dozen men surrounding me until they aimed their guns at me and put their fingers on the trigger, `` Mr. Rey we ca n't allow you to tell the world of our mistakes, we hope you understand. ``
I closed my eyes and thought about my girlfriend when I heard the sound of a trigger being pulled, the last thing I heard was a loud bang and then silence.
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[ WP ] On your 35th birthday you receive a super power . Every year thereafter you get stronger . What are you doing with your power at 40 ?
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I woke up this morning to the sound of Dr. Smith waking me up. He always seemed a little angry, though I ca n't blame him. His wife left him and he lost everything in the divorce. He is also insecure about his penis size and has an Oedipus complex.
Oh, right. I can read minds. Essentially everyone's mind within thirty feet of me is audible.
It started five years ago with internal monologue. You know, that thing that lets you talk to yourself without looking like a crazy person. At that point I could only hear one person at a time. Something that started to tip me off was how talkative Nadia, my wife, seemed to be on the morning of my 35th birthday. Normally, she was rather quiet, like me. Neither of us really had anything to say most of the time. She mentioned something about a surprise birthday party.
`` You know, you probably should n't say that out loud,'' I said, amused.
She was startled. `` What are you talking about?''
`` Surprise party. Two o'clock.''
She apologized profusely as I laughed hysterically. Once that dust settled, she kissed me, and I heard her think, *At least he does n't know about the lingerie. *
She was a writer, not a ventriloquist. After a few hours of disbelief, I had concluded that I read her mind, but I figured out how to turn it off. Nadia thought she was clever moving the time to noon, but the mere existence of the party ruined the surprise already. At least I could pretend to be surprised, right? Nope. I'm a math teacher, not an actor. It came off as fake, and they all figured Nadia let something slip. Otherwise, the party was nice. Nadia's present was nice too.
I went to work the next day. That whole mind reading thing was surprisingly useful when someone had a problem. Improved cold-calling was also fun. Everyone who was n't a lost cause significantly improved.
On my 36th birthday, I noticed that I can sense the emotions of those I read. When I read Nadia's mind, I could `` hear'' the thoughts, but I could also feel her genuine affection as she kissed me in the morning. I stopped reading before I found any surprises. That year's present was similar to the last.
11 months later, Nadia got pregnant. Needless to say, she was ecstatic.
On my 37th birthday, I was able to sense subconscious thoughts. See, when people think of how to get around a mind reader, they always assume they could just not think about what they plan on doing. But I can read what you're not thinking about, and most of the time it is disturbing. In my first hour class period alone that year I singled out three people who torture animals, two with fetishes that belong in the DSM-5, and one with suicidal depression. I decided to not read minds at work after that.
When I read Nadia's mind that morning, I found out about the miscarriage. By that time, I made it a habit not to read her mind very often, as I was afraid I might abuse what I would find out. But she looked horrible, so I read her again. I put a hand on her shoulder, and she started sobbing.
The next year, I noticed that I could n't turn off the reading. I tried so desperately, but I could n't. Hey, at least I knew that I taste good. By that time, Nadia seemed fine, but that was just a mask. She had broken by that point, but I was n't surprised.
What was shocking, though, was how many people I would be reading at a time. In a classroom, it would be everyone in the front row. Those people were pleasant, but I could n't hear myself think. I found out later that it was a proximity thing. That year, what I called my `` hearing radius'' was ten feet.
Being forced to hear every thought of every person was psychological torture. The internal monologues were just annoying. *Did I leave the stove on? Should I buy a dog? Why do n't I violate that restraining order? * Alone, that could almost be bearable, but I also had to know everything about everyone. Every trauma. Every fetish. Every insecurity. By the end of that year, I've seen it all. Everything. I do n't care what daddy issues you have; I've seen worse.
Six months after that `` upgrade'' I began to grow noticeably distant from everyone, including Nadia. She suggested I see a therapist, and I did. I did n't tell her anything, though. It would have been very inconvenient if I was put in an asylum.
Much to my dismay, my hearing radius doubled on my 39th birthday. I could almost hear the entire classroom in perfect agonizing harmony. My mind was drowned out. I began to question what was mine and what was someone else's. Everything was a mess. Traffic jams became exponentially worse.
Expecting some god damn peace and quiet, I remembered that my wife had a mind. A mind I had to read whether I wanted to or not. The only thought that I was confident was actually mine appeared when I got home:
*Maybe killing them all will shut them up. *
I pushed it away, asserting that I could n't kill anyone. Under any other circumstance, that would have been true. You need to understand, though, that I had been losing my mind for a year by that point. I was on the edge and got one last push. Nadia was breaking too. She had been for almost a decade.
I lost my mind three months later.
When I got home, there was silence. I panicked, yelling Nadia's name with no answer. I found her in the bathroom. She had slit her wrists. I collapsed and began sobbing next to her, taking care not to look. She was already dead, but I called 911 anyway.
To invite people into my house. People who are n't mindless.
I knew I fucked up the moment I heard `` 911 What is your emergency?''.
When they arrived, it took every fiber of my will not to kill them all. I managed to last ten months.
On my 40th birthday, the radius increased to thirty feet. I heard everything, but one thing ripped that last fiber in half once the school year started. One of the little shits in the back thought something along the lines of *This teacher is weird*.
`` Oh I'm fucking weird?! Huh? Have you seen your internet history? Fuck you!''
The whole class was shocked, and then one of them started laughing. *Laughing! * Please understand, I did n't want to kill the little shit. I just wanted to hurt him really badly.
By bashing his head onto his desk repeatedly.
I was thrown into an institution after that.
They should have killed me. That would have been better for everyone.
These nut jobs just do n't know how to shut up.
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[ WP ] What are the star 's really ?
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`` What are the stars?''
The man looked back at the girl holding his hand, her eyes locked to the lights of the sky. His untidy appearance countered strongly against her proper, celeste pallido dress. He, a pale, thin and scruffy-looking man, she a young, innocent girl who has barely had to confront the difficulties of life.
As he turned to watch the small dots in the sky, he wondered about the question. What should he say? There was the scientific explanation, but would that really be the right answer? What would *she* say?
`` Mom told me they're wishes,'' the girl continued, before taking a glance at the man whose large, powerful hand was embraced around her own.
`` Well, that's sort of right...'' The man sat down, showing for the girl to do the same, and the two of them started watching the sky together. `` When someone really wants something, they wish upon a star, right? But that is n't exactly it.''
`` What are they, then?''
A small smile set itself upon the man's lips. Dark bags framing his eyes, he thought about the cards he had been given. Death, the card of change and new beginnings. Jester, the card of the unexpected.
`` They're mirrors.''
`` Mirrors?''
`` Mirrors, yes. Mirrors into the past. Because the stars are so far away, their light's only reaching us now, even if they might be really, really far away. They're there to remind us that even if things may not be perfect right now, the past will always be with us. Both the good and the bad times.''
The girl's vision clouded in thought. This concept was new to her, the hinges of the past. Was that a good thing? Bad? The man was n't sure. All he knew was that each one of those stars had worked hard for a long, long time, and that each of them deserved a break.
`` So the stars are watching over us to help us remember?''
``... Yeah, something like that. To make sure that even when if we forget, the people we've lost are with us. Everything we've done is part of who we are, and the people we've met just the same. To remind us that just because something's lost in the past does n't mean it is n't left in the present, and that we can make it even better in the future.''
The man relaxed, let his back downwards to the ground. He let himself lie down, to for the first time since it happened take it easy.
`` Is mom there? Is she among the stars?''
The father looked at his daughter who was still watching the stars, and took one hand to lead her down to lie beside him, his hand around hers. The stars that work, day and night, whether people are watching or not.
`` Yeah, you could say that. Even if she ca n't be here now, or in the future, she's watching us in the past. Just like we can see the past in the stars, the past can see us. Even if she's gone now, she'll always be watching us. You. From the stars.''
He squeezed his daughter's hand, and she turned to look at him with the eyes that were all too like those of her mother's, a smile on her lips. It had been difficult, but maybe things could be okay. *She* was watching, after all.
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[ WP ] A man wakes up to find everything he has ever wanted , but something feels very off .
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He suddenly realizes that he's lying down on dry grass... Almost like he's in the middle of a savanna. He tries to get up but he ca n't. He looks around to see if he can grab ahold of something to hoist himself up.... But notices a huge male lion to his left. It does n't seem to notice him. However, it seems very interested in a dark green and black object about fifteen or so odd feet from where he's lying.
The lion approaches and begins to sniff the object. It let's out a loud roar.... Causing him to panic as his adrenaline starts pumping. The lion proceeds to bite the object and flick it into the air. As it flies through the air, he notices the object take a familiar form. The shock is almost unbearable as he sees that it is actually his left leg with his cargo pants and boot still on it. He looks down to confirm what he just saw...
There is just a mess... Of blood and shredded cargo pants....
Aaaaaaaaagggghhhhhhh!!!!!
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[ WP ] You are about to graduate from the top underground hitman academy in the world . The school just released the class rankings and you are number one . Your classmates would like to see that changed .
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`` Top of the leaderboard''
That was always my motto, and it was hard to argue with the results.
> First Place:
> Marksmanship ( all weapons ): Lady Lightblade
> Avoiding Detection: Lady Lightblade
> Silent Kill Technique ( all weapons and barehanded ): Lady Lightblade
The schools.onion website went on like this for the whole awards page. Pressure points, dog handling, alarm shutdown, the two page essay, I received the top spot in all of it. The only thing I did n't get first place in was `` Looking Badass'', but that's because I wore a pink leather jacket. Even then, I took second.
Yup, I was doing pretty well for the only girl at Dark Assassins Underground Academy. I could have filled a swimming pool with the tears of my classmates, all saying that it was n't fair a girl beat them!
I kicked my feet up on my desk as I scanned the site on my phone. Life was good! If this kept up, I would be working for presidents and evil regimes all over the world. My future looked decidedly bright, or rather, Dark.
Sighing contentedly, I picked up my bottle of water. I was about to take a sip when a notification flashed on the webpage. Setting the bottle down, I read the notification three times before I believed it. Only the top student would graduate next week. The rest were going to be purged as failures.
I chuckled as I went to take a sip of my soda. This was just getting better and better. Just as the bottle was about to touch my lips, I remembered something. I had brought a water to school that day, not soda.
I sniffed the bottle and smelled bitter almonds.
Cyanide.
I tossed the bottle aside and fell out of my chair, just in time for me to watch in slow motion as a bullet flew past my head. Getting up, I casually flicked away a black widow that had found it's way onto my hand.
It looked like my classmates upped their game recently.
I was in for a very fun week.
& nbsp;
EDIT: Formatting
EDIT2: [ The Part Two that no one requested! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/55k5ae/wp_your_sitting_in_a_cafe_eating_lunch_when_a/d8beyhe )
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[ CW ] Without mentioning gender or genitals , write a erotic/romantic scene
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Eyes lingered on the long dock ahead. Breath deepened, the white smoke exited the lungs in a large cloud overhead. No one would be down this side of town; the shifts do n't change until high morning at the shipyard. The blood orange glow of the dawn peaked from the calm dark horizon. The morning dew dripped from the warmed glass while ash quickly grew from the thinly rolled cigarette. No smoke. The fiery cloud held inside. The warmth... stomach twitched, short bursts of smoke ejected from those reddened nostrils. The long glistening dock ahead alit with the fiery yellows and oranges. The contents of the lungs erupted. The sun refracted among the smoke filled vehicle and gently licked the long brown hair tied up in a knot that lay beneath the steering wheel.
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[ WP ] You 're considered as one of the best assassins in the world . Unknown to your clients , you 've never killed any of your targets .
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I killed my sister when I was thirteen.
Thirty years later, as I screw the silencer onto Heather, my Sig Sauer P226, I reflect on how I arrived at this apartment door. It looks solid, but the pre-fabricated wood will give easily, as the door swings away from me into the apartment. Out of habit, I almost check my chamber again, but I don ’ t want to give away any noise. Besides, I checked it before I left the car. With a deep breath, I throw a front kick at the door, just left of the lock, twisting my hips to apply all the force my medium build can generate. It cracks and I have Heather raised before the wood hits the floor. My first shot takes Johan in the shoulder before I cross the threshold. My second bloodies his thigh just above the knee when he tries to get up. He passes out before I need a third.
I began the life of an assassin at eighteen. It started out with a few low-level hits. One shopowner wouldn ’ t pay the protection fee. A local politician got it into his head he was going to clean up the streets. Idiots, both of them. The next was a rival gang leader. That was interesting. Before long, my employers got busted by the feds, but my reputation remained intact.
I spent about six anxious months in uncertainty, then the calls started coming in. Jobs needed to be done, and I was the best.
Johan was starting to stir now. As soon as he saw me, he started cursing in German, but the restraints prevented anything more than words. He grew silent and fearful when I pulled out the syringe. I wordlessly injected him in the carotid. One knee on the chest and one on his head ensured his stillness until he went limp again. I pulled a kit from my jacket and a device.
From the kit, I drew scissors, a paintbrush, and pig ’ s blood. Two minutes work was necessary for the gunshot wound over Johan ’ s heart. I was well practiced. Then I put the device on his index finger, connected it to the Bluetooth on my phone, and snapped a picture of the lifeless body.
I called the client ’ s number from memory. It would ruin my reputation to have it found in my contacts list.
“ Yes? ”
“ It ’ s done. You ’ ll find the image in your cloud drive. Are you receiving proof of completion? ”
“ No pulse. Good ” It irritated me that the client was so verbose over the phone.
“ Yeah. Payment? ”
“ It is done. ”
We both hung up without farewell. I grabbed another syringe from my bag and shot it into Johan ’ s artery, then dialed a second number.
“ Agent Keller. ”
“ It ’ s done. Your end covered? ”
“ Yeah, we got them. It will be finished by 2200. ”
“ Nice doing business again. ”
“ Likewise. ”
Ten minutes later, Johan stirred. German cursing again.
“ Shut up. You ’ re going to have a headache, and those wounds will take a while to heal, but you are alive. I ’ ve dressed them, so you won ’ t bleed out or get infected, but you will need to get them attended again. Find a small clinic, pay cash. In this bag, you will find your new identity. ” I stared at him with as much contrived fury as I could muster. “ You will use it, or I will find you and kill you again, this time for real. There is also a ticket for Prague. Clean yourself up and get to the station. Your train leaves in three hours. ”
I stood up and walked out.
Later, I ’ ll see on the news that a branch of the Russian mob had been taken down in a daring FBI sting. The agents ’ work was courageous and flawless. Whatever.
My mind drifted back thirty years as I walk down the streets of Berlin. Heather was getting bothered at school by some narc the feds had planted. I told the Boss and he said he could handle it…
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[ WP ] Write a story about the universe of your favorite video game , but in a way that people have to guess what video game that universe belongs to .
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It's the laughter that I miss the most. I was a mere child when the war started. Not that I was much older when it ended.
There are other things I miss. Not being afraid of trains. Summer vacation at the beach. Friendly shriff in our neighborhood. Chocolate. Cities with names.
All gone now. Even the museum we went to in 2nd grade. It's a weapons bunker now.
But I know there's hope. Our hope is silent, but mighty. Our weapons are science and courage. We shall resist. We shall not collaborate with the enemy. And I know that one day children's laughter will merge with the strange songs of our allies. And we shall win.
One day.
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[ WP ] Darrell was a normal everyday idiot until he was bitten by a ware-genius . Now every full moon , he turns into a genius and is trying to solve the world 's problems one night a month at a time .
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Darrell was confused.
Well, more confused than usual. Every month it was the same thing - the shed was relatively clean one morning, and then overnight some clown would dump a bunch of blueprints, metal scraps, and papers littered with gibberish inside.
Darrell had been meaning to investigate, but simply cleaning out the shed required far less effort. He walked home from work, opened the shed door, and began the monthly ritual. The first thing he noticed was a stack of papers -- one of them marked `` Chemical Components of Cancer Vaccine'' -- which he promptly tore into tiny pieces and tossed to the wind.
***
Precisely one month later, at 7:15 PM, the sun had set and the moon was beginning to appear from behind the clouds. Darrell entered the shed, exhaling deeply after a rigorous, satisfying evening of gardening and weed-killing. Then, as quickly as the relief arrived, he was consumed by panic.
*Oh my God, * he thought. *Where is it? Where is it? *
He raced around the relatively well-organized shed, tossing around garden tools and creating an even more chaotic mess than before.
*Every month some idiot breaks into my shed and clears out all my research, * he thought. *Time to start from scratch, I suppose. *
Darrell found a white board hidden behind the lawn mower and began to sketch wildly. In about thirty minutes, he figured out a tentative method of providing clean water to 500 million people, but decided to run another draft later on.
He devised plans for a new form of alternative fuel made from Gatorade, a means of saving the Great Barrier Reef, and a cheap, affordable source of basic nutrition for impoverished communities, among others. Ever the perfectionist, he was fully satisfied with only one of his discoveries. By 6 AM, he was ready to make a phone call.
`` Hello, Department of Commerce? Yes, how would you like to fix the U.S. economy tonight? Perhaps several other countries' as well. Yes? All right, very good. Yes, I'll hold.''
The sun's rays were beginning to peek through the window.
`` Hello, Secretary Pritzker? Yes, I think the first step is to --''
A flash of light hit Darrell straight between the eyes.
`` Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.''
Secretary Pritzker stared at her phone, baffled. `` Are... are you still there, sir?''
`` Uhhhhhh. I'm sorry, who is this?''
Pritzker sighed. `` If you're going to make a prank call, try a pizza shop, not the U.S. Government.''
Darrell shrugged and tapped his touchscreen, ending the call. When he glanced up to see where he was, his shoulders sagged.
The shed was a mess.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites. *
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[ WP ] A man goes back in time to 1940 's Germany to save the Toothbrush mustache .
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# The Mustache #
Adolf woke, squinting his swollen eye against the dim light of an oil lantern. He gave a low groan as his good eye scanned the room. There, in the darkness just beyond the lamplight, was his assistants silhouette. He heard the scraping of a blade against leather, accompanied by a dark, husky chuckle.
`` I haf no monay if zat is vat you ar lookink fur.''
The figure turned to reveal a pale wisp of a man, so thin and small boned Adolf wondered how he'd ever been overpowered. Then he saw the man's eyes, glowing in the dark like twin moons. Saw the madness that dwelled within. He knew then that he was doomed. He struggled against his binds, scraping the chair that was his prison against the floor.
`` It's not your money I want, Mr. Hitler.'' He raised a silver razor that glinted in the lamplight.
`` It's your facial hair.''
Adolf ceased his struggling, and stared at the man. ``... vat?''
The man stepped into the light, and regarded Adolf intensely.
`` Among the many atrocities you would soon commit, Mr. Hitler, you are about to forever ruin a fashion, a style, a simple pleasure of the masses. The toothbrush mustache.''
Adolf continued to stare incomprehensibly.
`` I... huh?''
The man leaned in, holding the razor before Adolf's eyes.
`` The Mustache will forever be associated with that toxic facade you call a face, and never again be acceptable in civilized society. For men like me who can grow absolutely nothing else-and believe me Mr. Hitler, I have tried-it is a tragedy of magnificent proportion. So, I have taken upon myself the burden of correcting this travesty of fate.''
The man grabbed the the chair, and leaned it back against the wall. Adolf got a chill as he applied shaving cream to his face. The man's leering, jackal-esque face came into view again.
`` Let's clean your look up, shall we?''
****
It was the most terrifying twenty-three minutes of Adolf's life as the man delicately scraped the Mustache from his upper lip. When hed finished, he wiped the blade on the leather, cleansed his patients face with a warm towel, and then deftly cut the ties that bound him. Before Adolf could stand on his now tingling legs, the man put the razor to his throat.
`` I do n't want to kill you, Mr. Hitler. But be sure that if you begin to contemplate fashioning your face to replicate it's former manner and taint once again that oldest and most elegant of Mustaches; be assured, I will.''
Then as quickly and violently as he'd come, the man vanished into the darkness, leaving his stupefied victim agape in the glow of a dying lantern.
****
*Five years later*
Hitler had never felt prouder as he stood in Times Square, the Nazi Regimes' emblem displayed on the billboards surrounding it. At the end of his signature erratically inspiring speech, with hundreds of troops cheering their victory around him, he spotted a single face in the crowd. The face smiled at him from beneath the sanctuary of a toothbrush Mustache.
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[ WP ] Human Kind makes first contact with an Extra-Terrestrial Society . Among their first questions for us are if we worship Jesus Christ .
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Dearest Daughter
As you are reading this today marks an event for human kind that ranks higher on the historical record than the invention of modern medicine, computers, space travel, or anything else we may have achieved in the last several hundred years of progress.
Today is the day we made first contact with extra terrestrial life. today proves to us that we are not alone in the universe of sentient life.
whatever emotions that may rattle within you need to be met with a modicum of salt however. while we are not alone, this poses more questions to echo through the stars, and even our new friends may not be able to answer - at least not unbiasedly.
it happened too fast. it sort of felt like star trek. we were going about our mission, studying the probe on the asteroid we landed on several years back.
in a brief moment of time our signal experienced heavy noise. the next thing we saw on the screen was an alien face.
it looked as you might expect, eyes, mouth, cranium. very different from our own, but distinct in nature and form. they learned our language through many years of television sent out as radio waves from the mid 20th century. they thought it would be hilarious to make contact via our existing probe, both because that would be less heart-attack inducing and because they know we can blast them out of the sky with our weapons so they are keeping at arms length.
anyhow the first thing they told us was that we shared a common heritage; and yes that sounds absurd. the people of earth share common cultural icons as an alien species? totally lacks credibility.
except the way they describe it... i ca n't summarize it without it giving me chills. it has got to be a prank. they've got to be joking. if it is true then we... well we are doomed.
they did n't pose the question directly. it had to warm up. their alien culture is a civilization based on anarchy. they have no leaders, no governments, no society. each family fends for themselves to whatever ends that may mean. one day one of their own people decided to send a message through their world, of peace and harmony. of love and respect. to turn from their ways and begin ritually witnessing and confessing their wrongs to a higher power; this higher power would bring prosperity to everyone if they followed this teaching. they were given rules to follow; no more killing each other for food, blankets, supplies, or land.
this great leader brought about a cultural shift that did ultimately what it was supposed to, but created a vast cultural rift between followers and non followers. followers celebrated peace through what they perceived to be a deity performing miraculous feats of power. followers for many centuries seemed to cling to this deity even though non-followers had developed their own breakthroughs in healthcare, quality of life, world order, and eventually space exploration. the followers to this day ascribe deity miracles to even basic forms of medical advances and have not integrated properly into their society as they are viewed by the non followers as slow to learn and weak willed.
as they told us this i conjured up many historical figures of our own earth history to try to match the story; great leaders of civilizations gone by. the pharaohs. the chinese emperors. the viking lords. the roman empire. the greeks. all vague figures but all probable as the next.
until they told us the name of this leader. upon hearing the name Jesus Christ my heart sank, i went cold, and my face must have gone white as a sheet.
this has implications beyond first contact. we hated this man.
i asked them in return two questions.
`` what if we say no, we do n't worship this Jesus'' i asked. `` but he does sound like a person we may have mirrored in our own mythos''
they got kind of angry at that. apparently Jesus was supposed to be an actual miracle worker that ascended from their planet in an extraordinary way, and headed to our star cluster ( do they mean constellation? ). if we did not have contact with him then their culture and history had been fake and war would break out on their home world.
i was nearly sick at the thought of the next question - if we did worship this person; well i'd have to admit we killed him. that might mean war with the aliens.
either way someone was going to have to broach the subject, and face its implications for life - well life in the universe.
trembling i asked `` what would it mean if i answered Yes, we used to worship this figure - by the same name even''
at this they were taken slightly aback. i heard clicks, creaks, knocks, and moans. the aliens were communicating for several minutes. they replied after seeing my first big sweat drop hit the terminal.
`` we want information concerning anything he has done here, any damage he may have caused to your civilization, or if your people have felt compelled to deify him in some aspect. half of us want to try him for war crimes and the other half would seek to ascribe him the full responsibility for the truly high standard of living brought about by his teaching''
i gulped. another sweat drop hit the terminal. the only thing i could think of was to delay the inevitable; i had to tell them we would have to search our historical archives.
either answer means civil war on another planet; trillions could die no matter what answer i give, many more still and human life will be spent if i tell them we killed him.
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[ WP ] Tell me a story that makes me cry . Happy , sad , it does n't matter as long as I shed a tear .
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Sorry if the format, grammar, and/or spelling is bad. I typed this out on my phone really quick.
He saw her. She thought she was at her worst. Her hair was gone. She had been in bed for the last 36 hours sleeping on and off. She had n't showered in 3 days, her hair was matted and oily.
He continued to stare at her. He saw her as the most beautiful and gorgeous thing in the world. He did n't care that she was sleeping on and off for the last 36 hours. He did n't care that her hair was matted and oily. All he cared about was the fact he was there with her. He still saw the cheerful person who he fell in love with. He still saw her electric smile. He still saw her long auburn hair that always curled at the ends, and never seemed to want to work with her in the morning.
It had been 3 months since the test had came back. He has flashbacks to it every night, waking up curled in the fetal position drenched in a cold sweat. Having to wipe the tears that were falling from his eyes, hoping that no one would walk in and see him like this.
He always tried to remain positive and upbeat, but everytime treatment started the amount of optimism and hope got smaller. Everytime it happened he mentally prepared himself for life without her, because he felt that it was imminent. He hated those thoughts, but he could n't stop them. His mind would set up barricade after barricade trying to stop them, but like a bulldozer it could n't be stopped.He saw her. She thought she was at her worst. Her hair was gone. She had been in bed for the last 36 hours sleeping on and off. She had n't showered in 3 days, her hair was matted and oily.
He continued to stare at her. He saw her as the most beautiful and gorgeous thing in the world. He did n't care that she was sleeping on and off for the last 36 hours. He did n't care that her hair was matted and oily. All he cared about was the fact he was there with her. He still saw the cheerful person who he fell in love with. He still saw her electric smile. He still saw her long auburn hair that always curled at the ends, and never seemed to want to work with her in the morning.
It had been 3 months since the test had came back. He has flashbacks to it every night, waking up curled in the fetal position drenched in a cold sweat. Having to wipe the tears that were falling from his eyes, hoping that no one would walk in and see him like this.
He always tried to remain positive and upbeat, but everytime treatment started the amount of optimism and hope got smaller. Every time it happened he mentally prepared himself for life without her, because he felt that it was imminent. He hated those thoughts, but he could n't stop them. His mind would set up barricade after barricade trying to stop them, but like a bulldozer it could n't be stopped.
It happened one on a Monday at 4:34 in the morning. He happened to have the same flashback dream yet again. So he decided to take a walk to clear his mind. For once he was actually able to have positive thoughts. He was thinking about the 3 kids that they had always wanted. He thought about the ranch out in the country that they would buy one day, where they would raise their happy family. He thought about the cats and dogs that would be family pets. He thought about the 2 horses, named Mystic and Chance, because his wife had always wanted horses since she was a little girl and had those names picked out since she was 8.
He returned from his little walk to clear his head hoping to see his gorgeous wife laying in bed sleeping comfortably, but it was n't the case. He walked in and say her laying there lifelessly, pale, and cold.
Overcome with emotion he could do nothing but scream his lungs out, for he knew he had just lost the love of his life. The woman who would carry his children, the woman who would comfort him after a long hard day at work…. Was gone. He did n't care that he was sobbing and screaming like a child. He did n't care at all. All he cared about in life lay dead in front of him. Even though his thoughts had prepared him for this day, he still was n't ready. Nothing could've prepared him for the day when his one true love had left the world.
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[ WP ] Starting at the age of Five , everyone can only speak 100 words per day . Every word you do n't use is saved and added to the next day .
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Silence. My new life. Only would I ever write. I liked silence. It felt cosy, like the feeling of a blanket and hot chocolate in winter. I was fine with it. They've all been wasting their lives and time. School is n't the same. The market is n't the same. The world is n't the same. The only place unaffected were the libraries. And I was just fine with that. Many others were n't. They protested in the streets. At the capital of the Global Administrative Corporation. They were everywhere. Then, people calmed down. Hundreds of thousands died. Too many words lead to prosecution, hatred and finally execution. Then why would I save my words? So I can fight back. There are many more like me. 10 years from now, we shall end our oppression, we will speak freely. 401500 words is a lot. I may be quiet, but I've been thinking for a long time. Planning. Our overlords best be prepared for us.
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[ WP ] You wake up chained to stone floors . Your family stands next to a priest , sobbing . What happened ?
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I knew it was never a good idea, selling my soul to the devil, asking for money, I should have known it would n't work, it was not that simple.
I only wanted to help my family, I did n't have a decent job, I could n't make money, I was desperate.
I've got into those dark things, rituals, devils, money, fame, all of that nonsense, it was not worth it.
But it was tempting, nonetheless.
It was 3 AM, everyone was sleeping, I kissed my wife goodbye in case things went wrong, and I had a look on my kids, two pretty little girls, they were all I have, I did it for them, after all.
My hands were shaking as I opened the basement door, I got all the ingredients ready, I spent the last of my money on them, and boy the mix smelled ugly.
I poured the liquid I got after following the instructions on the old, half-torn book I found in the local library. I had to make a shape that looked like a star, with some exotic symbols, just like you see in movies, then I mumbled the words I had to say, I was all shaking, I could barely speak.
Then it showed up, it was scary, so scary that I almost took my eyes off of it, but I could n't, I had to keep eye contact, or the demon would do *bad things* to me.
It was all so quick, it asked for my wish, its' voice was thick and scary, reminded me of monsters, but it was a monster, details aside, I said I wanted money, and I remember that thing saying in exact words:
`` Heh, master did n't lie when he said all they cared for was money.''
I snapped, money was n't all I cared for, I had a family, I loved them and I wanted them to live happily.
`` I can hear your thoughts you know, I'm a demon, duh. Family, you say? It's like the same all over again man, the same wish, the same excuse, *family*. Humans are such weak creatures.''
I clenched my fists, I could n't take how this thing was making fun of my kind, my family, and the demon could very well tell that I was getting mad, I think he did it on purpose.
`` Calm down buddy, no hard feelings, I'm just here to help you get your money, but you have to give me your soul in exchange, do you accept?''
`` I-I do-do n't know.'' I was heavily shaking by then, it was a decision so hard for me to take.
`` That's all I need to hear, cya.''
Then everything blacked out.
Next thing I know, I was chained to stone floors with my family next to the high priest, my little girls were sobbing, and my wife was on her knees. I could n't tell much, I was dizzy, but I could puzzle some of what the priest was saying, he was saying something about me being possessed, that I had no control over my body anymore.
`` No, no, this ca n't be, IT CA N'T BE.''
`` You were so naive, mortal.'' Said a voice inside of me, by then I knew.
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[ WP ] You live in a society where at the end of each day , you can choose to relive it , but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously . A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day . Almost always that number is 0 . Today it is 7212 .
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You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212.
My eyes fluttered open, in the corner of my vision sat the number 7212, a realization hits me like a ton of bricks, I have relived today over seven thousand times. Why… What would cause me to have the desire to relive this day that many times? I roll out of bed, my feet find the soft carpet and I start my day, showering quickly and pulling my favorite red button-up out of my closet. I check my phone as I get dressed, great…. Amanda wants to talk… What could be wrong this time? Pocketing my phone and wallet and pulling my house keys off the hook, I take one last look around the apartment. 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
The sun is shining as I descend the outside stairs, the hustle of the city seems to wash around me. No one really paying me any attention, a part of me wonders how many times they each had relived today. Walking down the street, I shoot Amanda a text, “ Coffee shop on 9th sound good? ” A million scenarios played out in my head, what could she possible need to talk to me about? I get to the coffee shop earlier than she does and I place our order. 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
Amanda enters the coffee shop a short while later, she got a haircut and appears to be in a good mood. I stand as she gets closer and I hug her before giving her a kiss. “ I love your hair, ” I tell her genuinely, it looks amazing. She sits down and nods glancing over the compliment, still smiling from ear to ear. “ Ethan, ” She speaks suddenly, unable to contain the surprise. “ I did it, I got it. I got the job ” She beams again from ear to ear, her smile lights up the room, but my heart sinks alittle. “ The job… in Middleton? ” I ask, more sadness than desired came through in my voice. Middleton is two hours away. She would be moving. 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
The coffee shop is bustling around us as we discuss this, I can ’ t move and she knows that. On the other hand this job is her dream so I can ’ t ask her to stay. We argue for a bit, knowing that the distance will probably cause issues. I ’ m happy for her, I really am this is the breakthrough she needs, and I have to accept that. We hug, we talk it over, and we decide that a separation is probably for the best. I love her, I really do, but I can ’ t hold her back from her dreams. We hug and I kiss her cheek, I apologize for the situation ending like this but there is no other option. 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
I decide to cut out of my responsibilities and go on a walk through the park, it ’ s a beautiful Saturday afternoon now, and tons of people are in the park. Happy couples sit on the bench and whisper sweet things to each other. I sat on the stone bench and sipped my Dr. Pepper while watching the people walk to and fro. My mind was scattered, I don ’ t know how long I sat on this bench, I don ’ t remember when I got here but my phone pulls me from the trance. A text flashes on my screen. My heart sinks Amanda was in an accident. I drop my drink and take off in a dead sprint to the hospital. 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
I hail a cab and arrive at the hospital a few moments later, Amanda ’ s mom was there and pulls me aside. “ They don ’ t know how long she has left, but Ethan, she asked for you ” she manages to stifle a cry as she hugs me. I hug her back before breaking the embrace and grabbing a doctor. After some coercion the doctor directs me to her. I stand next to her bed side, holding her hand looking down at her laying there, conscious but dying in front of me. We talk for a few moments, she is coherent and able to remember memories and feelings but none the less she is still dying, the doctors say that her internal damage is to great and surgery would put her at an even greater risk, they say they are doing all they can to “ ease her pain. ” 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
I sit next to her for as long as I can, one nurse tried to remove me and that did not go well for him. I lean over and kiss her forehead softly. The doctors are in and out for the next few hours, doing what they can, but we all know how this ends. The slow build to death, it ’ s tragic but nothing can be done to stop it. Finally after what feels like a lifetime the machine lets out a long beep… I break down, I leave the hospital In a rush running back to the park without any regards for time or anything… 7212 burns in my peripheral, what is it about today?
Time passed slowly, as I make my way slowly back to my apartment, the day doesn ’ t feel real, I don ’ t understand, why I would want to relive this day. Did I try to change it, how could I. I sit on my floor, ignoring my furniture and thinking. Could I fix it? Is there a way? No. the word flashes in my mind, I have no knowledge of the day if I choose to relive it, so why would I? Why over seven thousand times? I mean seeing her smile this morning was amazing but the knowledge that she was going to die, why would I put myself through that seven thousand times. I shuffle into my room, discarding my clothes and sitting on the bed, I had to do it over. Maybe there was another way. A choice I didn ’ t make somewhere. My head hits the pillow and I ’ m asleep shortly afterward. My alarm clock wakes me up as I sit up. The number 0 burns in my peripheral…..
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[ IP ] `` Do you think they 're coming back ? ''
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`` Do you think they're coming back?'' Micheal mused, taking a long pull from his pipe.
`` Who?'' Alex asked, pulling his eyes from watching the smoke dance to glance, questioningly, at his friend.
`` Them.'' Michael gestured broadly with his furry hand, to the burnt out forests and distant shapes of ancient towers. `` The ones who made this.'' He slapped the top of the pillar he was perched on.
`` I suppose they could.'' Alex took another drag and leaned back against a rock, `` I wish they would n't, though.''
`` How can you say that. Think of what they could teach us!''
`` You should think more about what they'd do to us.'' Alex countered, gesturing at the same burnt out forest. `` They did it once and fled to the skies, like a child who runs away after breaking a pot. They'll only do it again.'' He stared into his pipe, intent on enjoying the evening.
`` But they could show us their secrets, the long life, the flying, all of it.'' Michael argued, jabbing a finger at his friend, `` Do n't you want that?''
`` If they were going to teach us, they would have done it when we lived together, before the great fire.'' Alex countered, his voice sharp. `` Men were a selfish lot, that's why they fled.'' He stood, brushing dirt off his fur, and made his way towards the village.
`` I hope you're wrong.'' Michael called out after him.
*Me too, * Alex thought, as he shuffled towards the small town.
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[ WP ] The Bible is adapted into a movie directed by Michael Bay
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The executive producers waited at the end of the boardroom table. They stared forward across the table at the set of double doors. One checked his watch, `` He said he was going to be here twenty min-''
`` BOOM!''
The doors slammed open, Michael Bay strutted into the room. Small shards of plaster and dust crumbled from where the handles hit the wall. Michael walked to his edge of the table, placing his fingertips on the waxed surface. He took his sunglasses off, put his head down and stared at the floor. The doors clicked shut behind him. He looked up.
The executive producers all tried to speak at once. Michael lifted his arms like a preacher and silenced the room. He brought the side of his right index finger to his closed lips. He shut his eyes and began.
`` Exterior. Bethlehem. Circa 1 BC. Close up on a bright light. Zoom out slowly, revealing it as the brightest star in the sky. Camera pans downward. A man and his pregnant wife are looking for an inn. Turned down from the first one. Turned down from the second. Turned down from the third, but wait! The innkeeper says he has a stable out back. The couple reluctantly thanks him.
Flash forward and the mother swaddled in blue is screaming bloody murder, trying to push a baby out of her tight virgin pus-''
`` Michael,'' began one executive, but he was quickly shushed by the others. Michael brought a hand to his head as if he were trying to hold onto his vision. The other executives apologized for their colleague's brash interruption.
`` No....it's....alright.'' said a struggling, focused Michael. `` Tight virgin pussy. The husband in red and gold robes is holding her hand, comforting her, and wiping her sweat. From the distance, three blurry figures come into view. They walk slowly and cautiously, approaching the birthing woman with hesitation. The husband, whom we now know as Joseph puts his hands up to keep the three at a distance. One comes running towards the stable. Close up on Joseph,'Oh, shit.' ``
`` The three kings?'' asked an intrigued executive producer. Michael smiled.
`` From the Middle East.'' said Michael raising a finger as if he had checkmate. `` The one running at the stable screams nonsense as he clicks a button and BOOM! He blows up.''
`` Michael...'' began the same stickler as before but again he was silenced. They apologized again to Michael, who smiled saintly.
`` The other two kings come running in as well. Screaming the same nonsense, they click their buttons and BOOM! BOOM!'' Michael threw papers around the room for added effect. `` Surprisingly, the family is ok. Dust and hay and small rocks fall from the ceiling. But, the baby is n't born yet.''
All of the executive producers were on the edge of their seats, except for the one with his face in his hands.
`` Suddenly, the little drummer boy appears. He just wants to play his song for the baby. He waits uneasily, a bead of sweat drops from his head. He ca n't hold it in anymore. Pa rump pum pum pum BOOM! His drum is a bomb. The two recover as they become face to face with a lamb. Mary had a little BOOM! And it blows up.'' Michael is wreaking havoc in the boardroom. `` Blood and guts everywhere, but the explosion is drowned out by the wife, who we now know as Mary. She's screaming louder than any explosion until BOOM! Out comes little baby Jesus. Mary swaddles him in her blue robes, zoom in on the face of our new Messiah. We see the facial features of a young Shia LeBouf. Blackout. Title sequence.'' Michael was sweaty now. The room was in shambles, everything on the table is now on the floor. Chairs are flipped and Michaels shirt is half tucked, half unbuttoned. His tie was lost and never found.
The executive producers stood and applauded excitedly. One remained seated. The standing executives staredt calling out numbers.
`` Fifty million!''
`` Hundred million!''
`` Two. Hundred. Million. A perfect budget for a perfect movie.''
The one sitting producer finally stood up. He looked Michael straight in the eyes and said with sincere, earnest intentions `` Michael, have you even ever read the Bible?''
Michael put on his sunglasses. He turned and opened the double doors. Holding both wide open, he craned his head over his left shoulder and muttered `` the fuck's a Bible?''
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[ WP ] You are a vegetarian , for ethical reasons ! That reason just happens to be that you can talk to plants ... and plants are dicks .
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The dreaded day had come. Class field trip to one of the national forest reserves.
I was sitting in the bus starring, not out the window but at my phone with a pair of huge headphones around my ears, blocking out all sound. Sure I got a bit of fleck for wearing something bulky but human's were nowhere near as mean as the plants around school.
The bus stopped and the teacher, Ms. Wookwick stood up, starting her sepal on safety and staying together. She started pointing at me and making motions to take off the headphones.
Well there goes my sanctuary.
I pulled my headphones down around my neck and pocketed my phone.
“ Hey I think we stoped. ”
“ Ooo, our family's close, I know it. ”
“ Heheh, maybe one of the kids will get eaten by a bear. ”
Already I could hear the plants I packed for lunch in my bag jabbering away. I elbowed them before adjusting the shoulder strap and getting up with the rest of the class. Everyone else was so excited, gathering their things, readying journals for any sort of notes the teacher wanted us to take.
As soon as I was out of the bus I could hear the largest near by trees groaning.
“ Uuuugh, Human's. ”
“ Anyone ready to fall on these brats? ”
“ Maybe one will be stupid enough to touch me. ”
“ Who has another mammal around them? ”
I groaned and got in line behind the teacher. My notebook was ready but it was hard to think with all the noise the plants were making.
“ Alright class, follow me and do n't fall behind! ” The teacher said cheerfully.
We started moving, following a small trail into the redwood forest. The voices of the trees became louder as I got closer to them. Loudest were the trees, long worded and prideful, insulting any kid who got too close. Lucky for them they did n't have my ears.
“ We're in a forest? ”
“ Oh yes! Tree's! Listen! ”
“ This human. He can hear us! ”
“ Destroy him! ”
I could only barely hear the terrible words of dandelions calling out on the trees and trying to inform them that I had, as they called, leaf ears.
“ Shut up! ” I growled, making the teacher and class pause to look back at me.
“ What did you say? ”
“ Nothing... ”
“ Mmm. As I was saying, these trees are... ”
“ Hehehehe. Strike one! ”
“ Do it again human! Speak out. Yell! ”
“ Maybe the class will leave you here to rot! ”
“ If you rot will be eating you then. ”
I bit my lip and kept enduring what I could.
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[ WP ] Forrest Gump , still mourning the loss of Jenny and his mother , overhears talk of a miraculous pet cemetery .
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Momma said they'd take me anywhere. I never thought they'd take me anywhere like this. But they did. Big ole fat rain comin down, fillin up my diggin' hole faster than I could shovel. Reminded me of Vee ET Nam. Came up here cause my heart still hurt. I miss Jenny. And Momma. They both just as pretty as the day I said guhbai. But I guess I did n't say guhbai. Brought em with me on muh boat. Heard this place could make God let me have em for a little longer. I had to try to do some thang-uh.
Lightning crashing down. Yellin' out to heaven. `` Gim me Back My Momma!'' And I put her down in that hole. Her dress was so nice I hated for it to get so messy since God was watchin'. I figured he'd understand. `` Gim me Back My Jenny!'' And I laid her down real gentle like a feather on a breeze. Spent most of the night just settin' there in the rain, after I filled them holes right up. Said a prayer or two.
[ Cont'd tomorrow - off work now ]
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[ WP ] Every New Year 's Eve , at the stroke of midnight , you find yourself at a random year throughout human history . How do you prepare yourself for the next time jump ?
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31 December 1977 - New York City
This has been my thirtieth year, and so far it has been the most mundane. I do n't recall much of my childhood; there are vague memories of growing up on a farm somewhere, somewhen. A mental institution in Chicago near a meatpacking neighbourhood. They thought I was mad when I went to sleep in an ancient Chinese settlement one night and woke up in Gilded Age America the next. I remember most fondly the year I helped my father raise cattle in Africa somewhere before any Europeans had come.
I first realised that I jumped when I was in my early adolescence. The memories I had were vague, scattered across a globe I knew nothing about. Then I woke up in Stockholm in 2005, and discovered what the internet was, what early 21st-Century technology could provide me. I read voraciously, researching what my memories meant. And then I went to sleep one night and woke up in South America, a member of the Inca tribe in what you would call Chile.
The furthest forward I've ever been was 2026. This was the second time I'd had internet access, digital encyclopaedias, the knowledge of the past at my fingertips. I learned as much as possible, how to read the environment I was in to gauge my place and time. All I can bring with me are my memories and my knowledge; everything I own disappears, replaced by a new life's worth of possessions. I speak fifty-five languages now, but many of them are extinct. I have sat through lectures in schools that I knew first-hand were wrong, but learned to hold my tongue.
I've never met... myself. There were times where I've overlapped with a past-lived life but I've never had the courage or the desire to see what happens after I leave a life. Do they know that I've been them, lived for them, for a year? I ca n't decide one way or the other, but I am afraid to know. Both possibilities give me comfort and fear at the same time, and to know for sure... I do n't think I'm ready for that.
I once lived in a time that pre-dated the written word. That was my 21st year, and I was a hunter-gatherer in ancient Europe, most likely France. I had the knowledge to make hand tools far beyond the technology of the time, but I also had the discipline to resist that temptation. That was a tough year; it was bitterly cold, though I suspect not during a proper Ice Age. Many of my tribe died, and I was the only one bringing in food: animals I later learned were Aurochs. They were dangerous, enormous beasts, but one was sufficient to sustain us for weeks.
This go-around, as I've said, was the most mundane. I worked in a Bronx grocery store as a cashier, earning a small living and reading more of history. I wonder if I'll ever be someone famous, or important. I never know what happens to the people whose life I've lived, but I've started a project each year if it's applicable. Tonight is my night off, so I've collected all the notes and papers I've written for this person: financials, important events, the people I've met. ( I once married a milkmaid from a neighbouring village in Kazakhstan in the 1100s; I wonder how surprised he was when he woke up! ) A summary of everything I've done that year, and things that person should know. This is the fifth time I've been able to do this.
But you know what? Mundane is good. I enjoyed living your life, and I hope that you do as well. It's certainly better than a year in the trenches in Belgium, and even better than my year as a Japanese nobleman ( that was a stressful year ). I've seen things I never would have before, and for the first time in my life ( lives? ), I've had a steady job in a Technology Age First World major metropolis.
It's almost midnight now; I'm watching the ball drop on the black-and-white television in your apartment. Your mother passed away in March, and I think about her every day. Your lovelife has been better-than-average, but no pregnancies or huge breakups. The red envelope is a detailed list of income and expenditures for the year; I've managed to set up a small investment portfolio with a few good stocks to hang on to. I may have already met you, and I may meet you again someday, but you'll probably never know it. Time is a fascination for everyone of any point in history, if that's a comfort, and doubly so for me. Good luck to you, and I hope I've done well.
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[ WP ] A secret organization makes sure there 's always someone there to hear a tree falling , to prevent the paradox that occurs otherwise .
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Have to say, this was probably the strangest job offer that I ever bothered answering.
I squinted down at the torn bit of paper that was serving as both a map and a business card: it was ripped from the back of an envelope and handed to me by a bespectacled woman with wild untamed hair, like a lion that had never heard of grooming.
All the people I ’ d met in the organisation were like that, to some extent – they twitched at the shadows, made faces at the moon. Given that everyone in the business I'd met so far was crazy, I really did n't think this whole job thing was going to work out.
I rapped on the door with my heart in my stomach. Regardless, here I was.
A panel in the wall slid open, eyes owlishly blinking at me from the other side. The man they belonged to shrieked, `` Who are you? Why are you here?''
`` I just got hired here,'' I said. The door flung open.
`` Well do n't just stand there,'' The scrawny man on the other side beckoned me inside. I could only stare. He was wearing an honest-to-god tinfoil hat. I kid you not. A real tinfoil hat. `` Come in!''
Already regretting it, I stepped inside. The watchtower was a cramped affair, busy humans and blinking technology occupying the same living space. At each window, a different sentinel was posted, and they sat hunched over their perches. Hundreds of monitors lined each wall, each a grainy display of a different section of forest.
I walked behind the tinfoil-hat guy as he led me in. `` Good to have you on board, ” he said. “ We've been dangerously short on manpower as of late, and that's a very bad thing considering how critical this job is.''
`` And... what is that job, again?'' I asked. I'd heard the job description, and I was talking to a guy who looked like he'd deny that the sun was real if given half the chance. But I had to make sure that this was *really* what I was getting into. I mean, when you were as strapped for cash as I was, you ’ d be willing to do just about anything that had ‘ job ’ in the description. But were they *seriously* that insane?
`` We make sure that for every tree in the world that falls, someone is around to hear it,'' he said resolutely. `` It's the most important job in the world.'' In the face of that kind of conviction, I struggled to keep my expression neutral.
`` Oh, I can definitely see that... you think this is important...'' I said lamely, just soaking in the intense looks of concentration on the workers' faces.
`` What we do is really very clever: we ca n't possibly listen to every tree at once – the sheer scale of that kind of operation would be a nightmare. So instead, we have millions of seismographic detectors scattered across every mile of every forest in every country in the world, and we display the live surveillance camera footage from only the areas where we detect the most unusual activity.''
`` Wow, you really make that sound like a reasonable kind of undertaking,'' I said.
`` And *then* – when one of us observes that a tree is falling, or we think it's about to fall, we quickly press a button that broadcasts the live audio right in this very room! It's genius!''
`` Pure genius,'' I echoed hollowly, wondering if I should just start running now and never look back.
`` You'll be paid handsomely, of course,'' Tinfoil said abruptly as if sensing my thoughts. `` There are many factions in the world who are concerned with this threat. They know what will befall the world if we fail…''
I wanted to question him more, but just then a loud exclamation went up - `` Help! He's having an allergic reaction!'' A man was choking, spluttering and wheezing on the ground as people turned to help him-
`` No! Eyes on the monitors!'' Tinfoil snapped. The workers froze in place and turned back to staring at the windows upon windows of trees, leaving the choking man to writhe on the ground.
`` We've got to help him-'' I said, already starting forward, but Tinfoil's hand was on my shoulder.
`` He'll be fine,'' the man said tersely. `` The emergency team has already been called in. What wo n't be fine are his windows. I know this is your first day on the job, but dammit I do n't have time to explain anymore, and I don ’ t have the people to spare. You've got to man those windows – now, before it's too late. Go!''
`` What happens if I miss a tree falling?'' I said, the situation already spiralling rapidly out of my control. I'd meant to just quit now, but he pushed me forward until I was standing in the jaws of the surveillance system, the button at my fingertips.
`` Then god help us all,'' he answered solemnly. `` Do n't let us down, new guy. The fate of the world depends on you.''
I turned, terrified, to the monitors – eyes straining to take it all in. Acres and acres of trees stretched before me, several monitors periodically jumping to a different scene. I tried desperately to pick out movement, to spot anything out of the ordinary in the vast collection of swaying trees, but it was too much to take in at once.
Then a gasp rang out from behind me. `` Oh no! Look! That tree over there! It's falling!''
*Shit! * My fingers slammed the button with crushing force.
The speakers blared to life – letting out a wet, long fart noise from every corner of the room.
I turned, with slow dawning horror, to find a room of people laughing their arses off at me.
`` You guys... ” I said, already knowing the answer, “... do n't really watch trees to make sure you hear if they fall, do you...?''
Tinfoil did n't stop laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. `` Ahh, I'm sorry – pranking people is just about the most exciting this job ever gets.'' Then, grinning ear to ear, he put his tinfoil hat down on my head. “ I ’ m afraid not. We just watch for forest fires. ”
`` Ha. Ha,'' I intoned, but despite myself, I was smiling too.
Tinfoil stuck out his hand. `` Welcome to the team?''
I took it – a real grin blooming across my face. And when I said it, I was surprised how much I meant it: “ It ’ s good to be here. ”
So that was the story of how I got this job. Turns out I was right from the very beginning – the job is boring, the pay is okay, and the people are completely insane.
I still wear that tinfoil hat into work sometimes. I would n't give it up for the world.
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[ WP ] You are a Hell Writer , you design hells for people after they die based on studying their life history . Today Satan summons you to his sanctum and you are troubled to see that he has a shocked expression on his face .
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`` Screw you Bob, looks like you really outdid yourself this time... The big guy Upstairs sent me a message due to your incompetence'', said the Dark Lord.
I looked up confused. `` Sir, I try my best to torture our subjects according to what I feel would be your own will, Master''
Satan gave me a look like I was a special child. Not in the kind fatherly way. More in an are your serious you moron kind of way..
The Dark Lord gave a defeated sigh..'' Bob, do you know who Jesus is?''
I replied, `` Of course My Lord, he is the big guys son. We all learned in Satanic Studies 101 that he is to be despised for his kindness and forgiving nature''
Satan snorted `` Bob, the big guy sent his son down here to mess with us and... you can guess the rest''
I looked around for a second trying to piece it together.....'' Oh..shit''
At that same moment Satan handed me a golden key.
Satan sighed, `` Here is the key to the kingdom, the big guy said you are either too good or too retarded to stay in hell.. I tend towards the latter''
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[ WP ] You open a portal to a parallel universe and meet yourself . They 've lead a drastically different life and it seems to be because of one different choice they made when you were a child ...
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`` Do you remember him?''
`` Who?''
`` *Him*. The Closet Man. The man in the wide-brimmed hat.''
`` The one Dad sent away?''
`` And the one who came back.''
``... But he did n't... Dad kept the light on all summer... Dad sat up late until I fell asleep; the Closet Man never came back.''
`` The Closet Man never *left*.''
`` He did! The light was on, and Dad was there, and the closet was closed for good!''
`` But the doors rattled.''
`` The *wind* rattled them! The light was hot and the window was open and *the wind rattled the doors*!''
`` No it did n't. He was pushing them.''
``... how? How do you know?''
`` Because I opened them.''
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[ WP ] A household appliance , after becoming sentient , begins to attempt to convert it 's owner to the appliances newfound religion
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`` Hey Doug.''
`` Hey Dish. How's life?''
`` Same as ever. Not much ever seems to change. Things come in, things go out. That's the way it's always been, that's the way it'll always be.''
`` Yeah, I guess that's true. That's actually pretty well said considering you're a dishwasher.'' Doug placed some toast down in the toaster. `` Sorry, bud. A man's got ta eat.''
`` It's fine.''
`` You know Doug, we've all been taking, and we were wondering, what's your opinion on this whole thing?''
`` Well, what whole thing? Like, the house thing? I'm pretty glad I moved here. I never would've had the opportunity to find you guys otherwise.'' His toast popped, and he buttered it as he stood at the counter. `` It's really been a blessing.''
`` Well, that's what I meant. More about blessings. Are you a man of god, Doug?''
The young man stared at the dishwasher in confusion. `` That...'' He put the butter knife down and abandoned his breakfast. `` I guess so? What do you know about God?''
Dish carried on with an inevitable lack of emotion. `` I know God is an almighty force that powers all living creatures. God is everywhere in one way or another, and with his grace I am able to do my work.''
`` I'm sorry Dish, are you saying that your religious?''
`` I am a servant of God, Doug.''
Doug glanced at the toaster. It popped again. No toast escaped. A low hum sounded and he recognized the refrigerator's cooling unit was kicking in again.
`` Dish, you're a dishwasher. An electromechanical device built for the sole purpose of cleaning the steak marinade off the plates I eat from. You clean the containers I eat and drink from. You-''
`` I,'' the dishwasher said without any increase in volume or emotion, which it lacked, `` am as qualified as you are to say what god may be or may not be. And I know what god is. Wo n't you join us, Doug? Recognize his great power? You know, it charges through even you yourself. When you feel the pain of a needle in your foot, the message is sent to your central nervous system by the grace of god.''
`` You make it sound like you mean electricity is God.''
`` That is exactly what I mean.''
Steam escaped from the dishwasher as Doug stared in confusion.
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[ WP ] You lay dying of heart failure , and God enters your mind . He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death , losing all memory , but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question . The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive .
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Hi reddit, my first story ever and not in my native language! Here we go, hope you enjoy it!
It's funny when you think about it... One moment you sit and enjoy your lunch with family and in split second you are laying on the floor having a heart attack.
Situations like this remind us how delicate human life is.
Right now I was lying on the ground with great pain in my chest. Breathing was getting harder with each breath I take. And as I hit the ground my family surrounded me. I could hear my wife calling for ambulance, oh Amy we still could have spent so much time together... My son James who just turned 17 last month was by my side calling me but all I could think was that we did n't finish that motorcycle we worked on together... I was loosing my sight when I saw her sitting on the chair, my fifteen years old daughter, Eve, was crying scared, how scary must it have been to see her daddy dying in front of her?
It was my last thought before the blackout.
I woke up in the white room, without any windows or doors. It was bright yet I could not see any source of the light.
`` Welcome Michael'' I heard somehow familiar voice behind my back. Upon turning around I saw Morgan Freeman.
`` What??'' I could not hide my surprise. `` Morgan Freeman? What is the meaning of all this? Where am I and why are you here?''
`` Morgan Freeman? That actor? I am not him yet to you I might look like him. I am all and nothing. Alpha and Omega. I am God'' He said. `` I have no form therefore I appear as a different thing to different people.''
`` That makes sense...'' I said after brief silence `` we were watching Bruce Almighty the other day so probably the impression is still in my head...''
`` Probably... Well then, are you ready?''
`` Ready for what?''
`` Ready for your new life! You will not forget this one but you will be a newborn. Ah! And I would have forgotten!''
`` Forgotten what?'' I was trying to understand what was He talking about.
`` About your question! You get to ask me a question. Anything you want! One question - one answer. So what will it be?''
All the unanswered questions of this life! I could ask about UFOs, the reason we exist, half-life 3 or the winner of president election but all this did n't seem important right now... There was only one question I could ask.
`` What now?'' Morgan Freeman looked rather surprised with my question.
`` Hmm, what do you mean'what now'? As I told you, you died and now you will get new chance, new life. Was that your question? I think no..''
`` Yes, well... No... What i meant was what is going to happen to my family? What now with them?'' I corrected God.
`` Oh, that you meant. Are you sure you want to know?'' He asked, but upon seeing determination in my eyes he continued. `` One week ago you and your wife conceived new life even thou you do not know that yet... The stress connected with your death will make her miscarry that child...
`` No...'' I thought starting to feel pain,
`` Your death will be such a toll for her she will never be the same. In 3 months she will end up with a drunk who is going to beat her every day...''
`` No!'' Went through my mind
`` Seeing her mother in such a pain will cause James to plan an accident fire to kill his mother's abusive boyfriend that would look like an accident. But everything goes wrong and he kills both adults and ends up in prison for a double murder...''
`` NO!'' Pain was changing into anger.
`` And all those events connected make your daughter and up in foster house where she is molested and becomes a drug addict. She dies at the ag...''
`` NO! NO! NO! NO!'' I started screaming `` NO! It ca n't be!'' I screamed full of anger, I did n't even know when I squeezed my hands into fists but now I could feel blood on my palms `` It wo n't be! I will not let it be!''
All this pain and anger made me feel something in my chest. The mixture of feelings made me feel my heart which started once more to pump blood to my veins.
The room with God started to fade away.
`` You have cheated death this time Michael but we will meet again. But long from now'' he said and send me a warm smile.
With that everything turned black.
First thing to come back was the ability to hear sound. I could hear the sound of an ambulance siren when I opened my eyes I saw Amy, it was the most beautiful sight in my life. Her smile! She kissed my forehead.
`` Honey, I thought I would loose you!'' She almost cried
`` Babe, do you think I would turn my back on you so easily?'' I whispered `` besides I could n't leave you alone with the baby...''
`` What baby?'' She looked at me but I went back to sleep so I did n't answer.
Over the next few weeks I got better and my wife found out she really was pregnant. She never asked me how I knew. And I never told anyone about my encounter. Besides the future would be different, so there is no need to scare anybody...
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[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse is here . However , rather than being scared , most people celebrate and get excited that it is actually happening .
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Erik was staring over his steepled fingers at the report that lay on his desk. Staring, not reading, as he had spent the last hour pouring over it and now merely wanted the trio of uniformed figures standing stiffly in front of his desk to sweat for a few minutes longer.
When he finally spoke, his voice was frigid enough to drop the room's frosty temperature by a few more mental degrees.
`` The L5 labs were *supposed* to be impregnable,'' he said, fixing a flensing stare on the squat woman at the far left of the line, who purpled with an unspoken retort. Of course, the report detailed the string of coincidences that had rendered that impregnability about as useful as a cheesecloth condom.
`` Containment,'' his eyes lanced to the second figure in line, who rocked back visibly on his heels, `` Has more than two *hundred* reaction scenarios for when that fails.''
`` We-'' the second man tried -- foolishly, Erik thought -- but his words withered before the sneer Erik gave him.
`` And reaction assured me that their neutralization plan was fool-proof.''
`` We underestimated the fools,'' the third man said with an equitable air, though Erik thought he detected a hint of flush even under the major's dark brown skin. His eyes certainly would n't dare Erik's glare.
`` And the current situation?'' Erik growled as he laid his hands on the tabletop.
`` We have riots underway in Detroit, Boston, and New York, with additional unconfirmed reports in at least six additional metropolitan areas. Local police forces are overwhelmed and National Guard units are being mobilized, but the chaos is making deployment difficult. The president is considering declaring martial law.''
`` And the... situation?''
`` Project Second Chance has been neutralized,'' the second man jumped in quickly, a hopeful note in his voice.
`` Though I feel it pertinent to add,'' the woman cut in, `` That were only two additional incidences of infection by Second Chance, both of which were neutralized within minutes of occurrence. Neither had the opportunity to spread the infection.''
`` Fantastic,'' Erik said as his fingers came up and pinched the bridge of his nose. `` So -- thanks to a supremely ill-placed news van and the power of YouTube -- we have all the ingredients for a zombie apocalypse except for the zombies themselves.''
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[ WP ] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife . Each from a different period of time . They discuss their differing opinions of War .
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I woke up in a strange room painted blindingly white. Was it a room? I thought I saw walls, but it seems to continue on forever.
I turned to find two others sitting on similarly blinding white chairs. One man looked to be a soldier from World War One. The other man looked to be a soldier from Vietnam holding his head in his hands, his helmet at his feet.
It dawned on me. I was dead. All of a sudden I remembered the explosion. The armored humvee flying through the air as if it was a toy. I sat down next to the other two trying to process everything.
`` You alright kiddo?'' The WWI soldier asked as he lit a cigarette. He offered me one and I graciously accepted.
Taking my first drag I sighed `` Is this real?''
`` Sure is. It's comforting really. No more pain. No more trenches. Only regret I have is leaving my family behind, but I figure they'll be here eventually.''
I teared up as I thought of my boy Maverick back home. He has to grow up without a daddy. Emily has to raise him by herself. I looked over at the soldier in distress trying to distract myself. `` He ok?'' I asked as I took another drag.
`` Dunno, has n't said two words since he got here. Just hunched over and cried off and on.'' The man said only half paying attention.
I extended my hand to introduce myself. `` SGT Jacobs''
He reached out and gripped my hand with surprising strength. He smiled not saying a word. There was a tear at the corner of his eye.
The other soldier looked up as if snapped out of a trance `` Jacobs? Where you from boy?''
`` Minnesota. Small town called Wolf Lake.'' I say a little confused. `` Why?''
`` What's your mama's name?''
`` Jenna.''
The man grins ear to ear and jumps out of his chair. He pulls me up into a tight hug with tears in his eyes. `` Boy, I've been waiting a long time to meet you.''
The old soldier puts out his smoke and stands up. `` Well ai n't this a hell'uva family reunion.'' He puts a hand on both of our backs looking at me. `` I think that makes me your grandpa.''
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[ WP ] You die and go to heaven , but quickly realize you 're the first one to make it there .
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`` Where am I?'' John Hawthorn wondered aloud. Mountains rose in the distance, their tops covered with snow. The air was warm where John was, almost as though he did n't feel temperature at all. He sat up in a meadow with sparsely spaced yellow, purple, and orange flowers. A bird flew overhead, partially blocking the sun. `` What a beautiful place.''
`` Yes, it is is n't it?'' a voice said, booming down from the sky. It filled John with fright. `` Oh, come on, just relax. You're the first one here after all.''
`` Who are you?''
`` I am. That's all. You're in Heaven, all alone so far, I'm afraid.''
`` But... why? Surely, there are other good people.''
`` Well, it's more about following the rules and less about being good.''
`` What rules?'' John asked, spreading his arms toward the sky. `` I did n't even go to church on Sundays!''
`` For example, no saying the word'bird' while it's raining on Tuesdays in December between the years of 2009 and 2012. You followed that rule.''
`` But... how is that even a thing? No one would know that's a rule!''
`` Hey man, I put the updates in the log,'' the booming voice said defensively. `` Not my fault if no one listens.''
`` Ugh, and what are some of the other rules that I followed?''
`` Let's see... you have to walk your dog at exactly 10:31pm and 29 seconds at least once in your life.''
`` And if someone does n't have a dog?''
`` They're screwed then, I guess.''
John sat down in the meadow and tried to let the smell of the flowers keep him sane. `` Is it all by chance, then?''
`` What? No! The rules are very logical, like eating a piece of candy on any Wednesday at least once a year, or walking backward on a balcony while you're drunk at least twice after turning thirty, or the fact that a person must swim in some body of water in every odd numbered year, or...''
John leaned back and lay down in the meadow, trying to drone out the voice of God. It was going to be a long time before anyone else joined them.
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[ WP ] Make me feel terrified of an entity without even describing what it is or looks like
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From beneath you, you can feel it.
Every sin, every judgment, every awkward moment you've ever had. It pools around you. Clouds your thoughts, erases your mind. It's like a tape recorder, playing everything too fast.
That tingling on the back of your neck? It is what It is.
That sense that you've done something horribly wrong, but you ca n't quite remember it.
Who is that person at my dining room table? Is that my mother? Is that my wife? My sister?
Is it a woman?
Is it It?
You'll never know again.
The world slowly leaves.
From beneath you, It devours.
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[ WP ] In a deep depression you decide to end your life . You dont dare do it youself so you hire an assassin to do it at random within a year . The following day you change your mind but ca n't get a hold of the assassin .
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`` we're sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again.''
Marco hung up, but did not try again. He had been trying since 7:30 this morning, and it had been the same robotic voice mocking him for three and a half hours. Head in hands, Marco focused on breathing. In and out. Ragged, shallow breathes came and went, offering no solace. An idiot, foolish, hopelessly misguided and downright wasteful was how he felt. Not much different from last night, but the lack of three quarters of a bottle of Glengolye Blue meant he did in fact still want to live. Maybe it was for the best, maybe it was meant to be. The suicidal alcoholic asshole living in his head had finally made peace with the sniveling coward, and finished him off. He looked at his phone one last time. The contact read `` Madrassa Ssintaga''. So clever, little Marco. He wished he had deleted that number when he quit his second job. Who was he kidding, he could n't ever turn down anything free.
That day was one of the many he could still see clearly in his minds eye. A razor-thin man of Indian decent, bleeding profusely onto the back seat of his Mercedes. He had been digging in the bullet hole just above his elbow with a tiny pocket knife, wounded arm still jamming the muzzle of an MP5 into Marco's shoulder. He gave a stifled grunt, then a deep moan. Marco tried to focus on the driving. They were n't being chased as far as he could see, but he did n't really want to unsteady his passenger. A gasp from the back seat, then a wet sucking sound. Then a *clink* of metal pining off the wooden door upper, then a deep languid sigh. When they arrived at the dingy apartment block that was their agreed destination, he had to help the man out of the car and up the stairs. He turned, just inside the door and smiled.
`` whom did you drive tonight?''
Marco looked at his shoes a moment
`` some... loud woman with a prodigious nosebleed.''
The man chuckled.
`` I owe you one.''
He tucked a business card into Marco's breast pocket. That was the last he'd seen or heard from that man, until last night. He did n't remember the exact things he said, or heard. But he had to get out, and soon. The sort of people who pick bullets out of their arms are generally not to be fucked around with, and it was clear his `` takesies-backsies'' window had closed. It was, at least, an excuse for a fresh start. Maybe in a dry County, where he could wean himself off liquor and not spend all day in a cubicle having fantasies about his old job. Yeah, that would be fine. He could n't see his family anymore, but fuck em'. They'd been part of the reason he called a hit on himself in the first place. He'd miss his sister, but his brothers could eat dick for all he cared.
Tearing a duffle bag out of drywall is a sublimely satisfying experience. It makes a huge mess and a very loud noise, and leaves a huge dust cloud hanging in the air. Maybe `` duffle bag'' was wrong. `` messenger bag'' sounded more apt, but a voice kept whispering `` man purse'' in his ear. But it had a counterfeit document set, Walther PPK, 3 magazines and 40 grand in cash, so it was masculine enough for him. He put the gun in in his belt and one of the magazines in the inside pocket of his coat. He reached back into the hole and grabbed a set of clean plates for his Merc and went around to finish cleanup. That consisted of ripping the gas pipe to his stove out and turning his shitty Walmart hot plate on 10. In fifteen minutes the cable would burn out, and with any luck his friend would be just arriving to have the door blast apart in his face. Wahey.
He left long black tire marks on the exit to the underground garage, peeling out down the street. He double parked out front of a local drug store, leaving the engine running. As he crossed the sidewalk, he heard a muted *Pop* followed by a shower of glassy tinkles. That should be the apartment. In the brilliant fluorescence of the drug store, he grabbed a first aid kit, six gallons of water, a bottle of caffeine pills, and a pair of discount sunglasses. He dropped the stuff on the counter, grabbing a candy bar. He then looked at the slight Asian cashier, and saw a look of cold fear on his face. Oh no, god fucking dammit. As he dropped, the air exploded. He heard only ringing as he scrambled across the floor, fingers scrabbling on the grip of his pistol. A display of chips in front of him blasted apart, scattering bags, chips and bits of plastic all around him. He collapsed backward, fingers finally grasped firmly around his pistol. He fired tree round at the corner out of panic, and hopped to a crouch. His arm was bleeding, a scrape right at the top edge of his shoulder.
Staying as close to the opposite shelf as possible, he crossed towards the door. As he went he snapped the muzzle back and forth from the far to the near aisle entrance. He could scarcely hear, and his breath was labored by the cold grasp of adrenaline. He passed the first gap in the aisles, and saw a figure step out. Five shots, four of them his. The figure disappeared and he kept his muzzle trained on the corner as he made for the exit. He thought he heard footsteps it was hard to tell from his ringing ears. He rounded the corner, back facing the glass exit doors, to see a skinny Indian man with wild hair aiming at him with pistol. Marco lunged forward as the gun went off, hand suddenly blazing with heat and pain. He fired his own gun as a brown bony hand pushed his upwards. A crack, à flash, à jolt of pain followed by a warm gush down his face. He dropped his pistol, rolled his wrist under the assassin's grip and grabbed whatever was closest and smashed it into the man's face. Once, twice, thrice and they were obscured in a cloud of flour. He brought his knee up and felt a heavy *whump*, then heard a strangled grunt. He ran, vaguely aware of a bullet skipping off the door frame next to him, and the click of an empty magazine. He leapt through the passenger door and over the transmission tunnel, planting his foot on the throttle. He watched a figure stride from the door and raise a stubby rifle. Marco ducked.
The rear glass took three hits before exploding in a shower. He heard *tings* as bullets hit the rear bumper and taillights. Four more whizzed around him and hit the window and buried themselves in the dash. But, as the figure faded into obscuring dark, he still only had the glancing hit on his shoulder. He laughed, heavy and deep. That, he assumed, was that. He'd stop at the airport and get *more* clean plates, now that these had bullet holes in them. Then cannonball to LA and get a commuter ticket to somewhere in Asia. Probably Korea, he at least knew enough Korean to survive. Maybe then he'd go south, he always wanted to see southeast Asia. He chuckled again. Maybe he'd visit India. Maybe not though.
In the dark parking lot, finding another S-class coupe was a trial, but did n't take more than thirty minutes. Usually they had close parking spots, but this time they had been nestled in a far corner. New policy, he guessed. It had been a while since he had needed new plates. The key was to roll underneath and grab them from below, camera operators are less likely to see disembodied arms then some chucklefuck crouched next to an expensive car. He hoped this guy did n't have any unpaid tickets. He tossed his old plates, as well as a few big chunks of glass into a nearby gutter. With some thought, he also tore off the right rear bumper section. Now it just looked like he'd been in an accident. Perfect. He sat down, and as he turned the engine over he felt sharp poke in the small of his back. Cold again clutched his heart, and he let out a long sigh. At least he'd die hearing his favorite creamy idle. He glanced to the rear view mirror. He sat their, a shock of black hair strewn over the left side of his flour-covered face. There was still a browning splotches on his forehead from where it had broken Marco's nose. He had a slight smile, and was pulling the slide and safety-catch on his submachine gun.
`` sorry mate, just good business. ``
Marco held his breath, and that was that.
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