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[ WP ] Throughout a persons life , they are given a hidden guardian . A creature that watches over their lifespan . When someone is murdered , the creature haunts the killer . You have been found , murdered . And your guardian is loose .
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I never thought I ’ d see a Guardian at such a young age. We always learnt at school that killing people was bad, and if you killed someone, you were cursed by the victim ’ s Guardian. I guess nobody knew that you were able to see your Guardian after you were murdered.
My Guardian told me that it was normal for murdered souls to still hang around Earth because of lingering regret. I ’ m not sure I had any lingering regrets though. Maybe not telling my mom I love her for the last time, or being there to protect her. My father was violent and always hit my mom or me. I felt it was unjust knowing my mother had to face Father ’ s wrath alone.
After my death, I followed my Guardian around while he stalked my killer. My father stomped down the front steps on his way to work, a heavy air hanging around him. His hair was unkempt and his tie loose. Mom looked more frazzled than usual as she rushed after him to straighten his tie and comb his hair. He slapped her hands away. She brought her hand to her chest before turning back indoors and slamming the door behind her. My father sighed heavily and looked up briefly to acknowledge my neighbour, Mr. Gage.
Father drove off to work. My Guardian and I stayed behind, as usual, to observe Mr. Gage. He was the one who killed me, my Guardian told me.
I was shocked. Mr. Gage moved into the neighbourhood two years ago. Although he had no children of his own, he lived with his dog and two cats.
Guardians are silent, but they speak through our minds. They don ’ t really have a physical form, they mostly look like shadows and wisps. They are the things that people think they see out of the corner of their eye, only when you look for it, you can ’ t see it.
Mr. Gage watched my house for a few minutes while pretending to prune his hedge. We followed when he went back inside the house. He was preparing to move out, feigning that he was offered a job in another state.
My Guardian never told me how I died, apparently it was too gruesome for a 13 year old boy to know. I didn ’ t really want to know anyway.
As Mr. Gage packs his belongings, a piece of paper flutter to the ground. Mr. Gage looks at the paper and he immediately looks for something. I catch a look at the paper. It ’ s a permission slip for a school trip my class was planning. He finds what he was looking for - a lighter - and sets the paper alight.
Mr. Gage packs his things faster. He freezes when the doorbell rings. It ’ s mom.
She ’ s brought over some potato salad because there was too much for just her and my father. Mr. Gage tells mom that he has something for her too and hands over a box. Mom opens it. It ’ s some of my toys that I thought were lost but were actually in Mr. Gage ’ s yard. There a few of my other belongings too.
Mom tears up and her hand trembles as she picks up one of the toys. She sifts through the box and something catches her eye. “ How did you get this? ” she demands.
Mr. Gage stiffens. Mom holds up a piece of paper.
“ I ’ m not sure, ” he begins cautiously, “ maybe it flew over the fence too. ”
Mom ’ s bottom lip trembles. “ This is my son ’ s permission slip that was issued on the day he was murdered. He didn ’ t come home with this slip! ”
Mr. Gage is white as a sheet and visibly sweating on his upper lip. “ It ’ s all because of your husband! ”
Mom looks as shocked as Mr. Gage.
“ Your husband killed my son! He hit my dear boy with that filthy car of his and ran off! ” Mr. Gage ’ s voice broke.
Mom doesn ’ t say anything, and just stands in the doorway with her mouth agape.
“ I ’ m calling the police, ” Mom says in a calm voice after a minute. “ This will have your fingerprints on it. ”
“ Wait- please- I can explain! ” Mr. Gage exclaims. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pocket knife. He lunges towards mom. I yell to warn her but she can ’ t hear me.
Mom screams. Mr. Gage looks down. She ’ s not hurt. He ’ s holding a toy knife, the ones that go back in when you stab someone.
Mom runs off while Mr. Gage looks defeated.
“ It ’ s easy to make someone think they see what they want to see, ” my Guardian tells me in my head, “ or don ’ t want to see. ”
“ I put a similar curse on him that was put on your father, ” my Guardian adds but doesn ’ t further explain.
I find out later in my father ’ s and Mr. Gage ’ s testimonies. Mr. Gage ’ s son was murdered in an unsolved hit-and-run. Mr. Gage discovered the driver was my father. He researched on ways to get back at him, not knowing my father was reliving his guilt every day.
My father acknowledged his domestic abuse problem after being shown photos of mom ’ s bruises and her medical reports. He also admitted he abused me too, only because he hated the fact that I was growing up to look more and more like the boy he killed in that hit-and-run. He hated looking at me, to be reminded of his guilt. He hated my mother for giving birth to a child who looked just like the boy he killed.
When I looked at the photo of Mr. Gage ’ s son, he looked nothing like me. I remembered what my Guardian told me earlier.
Although it was nice knowing my murderer had been caught, I still wanted to say goodbye to mom.
My Guardian couldn ’ t do anything to help me since he could only help in haunting the murderer. My Guardian would still continue to haunt Mr. Gage for the rest of his life.
I didn ’ t have to follow my Guardian around so I stayed with mom. She was going through the box that Mr. Gage gave her, smiling as she touched each toy. She gasped when she came to an envelope addressed to her.
I remembered writing it when I was 11 for Mother ’ s Day. I wanted to post it through the mail so I had written the address and stamped it. I look now to find that I had written Mr. Gage ’ s address by mistake. She carefully opened it, her eyes brimming with tears.
Inside was a short letter telling her how thankful I was to have her as a mom, and how much I love her. There was also a small plastic ring inside, one of those freebie ’ s inside candy packets.
She gave a tearful smile and slid the ring on her pinky finger.
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[ WP ] You are an engineer in Wayne Enterprises Applied Sciences division , after watching some recent footage of your `` hero '' fighting crime , you are slowly starting to realize that Batman is using some of the tech that you helped design .
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**PART 1**
**Killer Croc Captured by the Batman! **, the headline read.
`` *The* Batman?'' she muttered to herself. `` Why must they keep referring to him as *the* Batman? Is n't just *Batman* enough?''
It was a minor distinction, but attention to *minor details* was why Sheila Gold was paid the big bucks.
Sheila pushed the newspaper aside and turned her attention back to the latest issue of *Engineering Monthly*. As Head Engineer of Applied Sciences at Wayne Enterprises, she was constantly staying up to date on the latest technologies. The article she was reading now was on liquid nitrogen's cyrostasic effects on human cells and a new slow-release mechanism being developed to assist with some research underway by a Dr. Fries.
It barely held her attention. There was something else quietly poking at her mind.
She put down the journal and took another look at the newspaper. Underneath the headline was a picture of the monster they called the Killer Croc, bound at the wrists. But those were n't handcuffs. Was it some kind of rope? Restraining a beast like *that*? No, that would n't hold.
Sheila peered closer, and gasped.
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`` I need to speak with Mr. Wayne immediately,'' Sheila said quickly to the woman behind the counter. They were on the 68th floor. A giant `` W'' hung on the wall.
`` Appointment, Ms. Gold?'' was the curt response.
`` You know I do n't have one, Margaret,'' Sheila replied. Margaret could be a real stickler, but such could be expected managing the schedule for Gotham's boy prince.
`` I'm sorry, Ms. Gold. Mr. Wayne is unavailable today.''
`` It's important!'' Sheila replied, voice rising.
`` Perhaps you could take it up with Mr. Fox, then?''
Sheila sighed and stormed back to the elevator.
Just then, the elevator doors opened and there he stood - philanthropist, billionaire, and Gotham's most eligible bachelor himself - Bruce Wayne.
`` Oh, umm - Mr. Wayne,'' Sheila stammered. God he was handsome.
`` Yes?'' he asked, stepping confidently out into the lobby.
`` I'm, uhh, I'm Ms. Gold. Sir,'' she added. *Stupid*, she thought.
`` Ah, all that glitters,'' he responded.
`` I beg your pardon?''
`` All that glitters *is gold*. And call me Bruce,'' he smiled.
Sheila blushed before remembering why she was there in the first place.
`` Mr. Wayne,'' she said, ignoring his request. `` We need to talk.''
-
Bruce sat behind his desk, listening to Ms. Gold relay her findings. He sat straight in his chair, posture unfaltering despite the claw-like scars bandaged across his spine. He had been through worse.
`` So you're telling me the rope used to restrain this crocodile man was of the same composite that you yourself designed? And you could tell this from a blurry newspaper photo?''
Ms. Gold sat nervously across from him. She nodded.
`` Is n't that a bit of a stretch, given the circumstances?''
`` I know my design when I see it, sir.''
`` Bruce,'' he repeated. `` So what does all this *mean*?'' he questioned.
`` Mr. Wayne, I believe that Batman is working with someone from within Wayne Enterprises, *robbing you*. That rope composite was still in *development*. It's not even available to our *testing* team yet!'' she exclaimed.
`` I see,'' replied Bruce. He would have to proceed with caution, and chose his next words carefully: `` and do you have any idea *who* this someone is?''
`` No, sir. But only three people have access to our work. Myself, Mr. Fox, and... well, *you*, sir.''
`` Me?'' asked Bruce with mock surprise.
`` Well, technically sir you have access to everything.''
`` Oh, of course.''
`` S- sorry, sir. I did n't mean to imply you were involved,'' she stammered. Bruce noticed her brow begin to sweat. `` You're, you're *Bruce Wayne* afterall, why would you steal from your...'' her voice trailed off.
`` Ms. Gold?'' Bruce asked.
`` Oh. Oh my g- you... you're the...''
Bruce reached down to his conference phone and pressed a button.
`` Margaret, clear my schedule for the rest of the day. Something's... come up.''
**End of Part 1. **
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[ WP ] You are body-swapped with someone random on earth . When you arrive , an otherworldly being tells you that you have 24 hours to meet up with this person or remain permanently switched .
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`` -your ten-eighteen is Mr. Parks from accounting, and your ten-thirty-two is Ms. Hollywell from the Asian investment division.''
My secretary paused for breath, an unspeakable offence when listing my day's routine.
`` Then?'' I snapped.
Her face became panicked, but she knew better than to try and apologize. `` Then at eleven-oh-one your driver will take you to the golf course to meet James Gold of Gold and Sons.''
I grunted. `` That'll do, Simpson.'' My secretary scuttled quickly over to the door, eager to flee the scene.
I caught her before she could reach her freedom. `` Simpson?''
`` Sir?''
`` Who was that strange looking fellow sitting outside?''
`` He said he was here to see you, sir, he said-''
`` Does he have an appointment?''
`` Um... no, sir.''
He had given me the most peculiar smile when I walked in. It had been completely unnerving, and even I had been a little shaken. You could tell, because I did n't reprimand my secretary for um-ing. I detest verbal tics. Very inefficient. `` Then get rid of him, girl.''
She vanished, and I took a sip of the fresh espresso that had been placed on my desk.
When I turned around, he was standing there. The coffee reputed from my mouth, and a fleck landed on his starched white collar. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at it distastefully.
“ That was a little unnecessary, do n't you think? ” he said. His voice was as soft as silk and as sharp as a razor.
“ I'll tell you what's unnecessary, ” I said, the words exploding out almost as violently as the coffee. “ You. SECURITY! ”
He took a seat in the chair opposite my desk, a seat designed especially to make my guests uncomfortable while I interrogated them, and he relaxed into it as if he were going to take a nap.
“ SECURITY! ”
“ They ca n't hear you, you know. ”
I rounded back on him. “ Who the devil are you, and where the hell are you from? ”
“ An apt choice of words, Mr. Jones, ” the man said. A lit cigarette appeared in his hands. He'd obviously missed the plethora of no-smoking signs plastered throughout the building. “ Tell me: if your lunch with Mr Gold goes well today, what will happen? ”
“ How do you know about that? ” I said.
“ Humor me, ” he commanded, taking a long drag of the cigarette. I felt an urge to ask him for one, even though I had n't smoked in decades.
“ Well, ” I began hesitantly, although a part of me screamed that I should say no more. He had to be corporate espionage, or something like that. “ If all goes well, we will acquire Gold & Son's. ”
“ The food conglomerate, ” he said, although we both knew it already. “ And then you'll restructure, laying off thousands. ”
“ They'll be cuts, ” I said defensively. “ But that's just good business. ”
He tapped his fingers on the desk, and regarded me thoughtfully. I thought I saw a flap of something white and feathered behind his back, just for a moment.
“ Who are you? ” I asked again, but the words came out as a whisper. “ Are you an angel? ”
“ Some might have said so once, ” he said. “ Me, I prefer to think of myself as a facilitator. Come. ”
He extended his hand.
I recoiled, but it did n't matter. In the time it had taken me to blink, my 48th floor Manhattan suite had become somewhere else, something far less pleasant. I gagged on the smell.
“ Where is this? ” I asked.
“ I thought we'd do a site visit to a meat packing plant, ” he said. “ So you could see what you're acquiring. After all, that's just good business, no? ”
“ Take me back, ” I muttered. “ Whatever you want, money, women, they're yours. ”
“ Oh, I'm afraid it's too late for that, ” the man said. “ I do n't think they would even let you in the front door of your office building, Mr- ” he reached over and lifted the name tag on my overalls, “ -Lopez. Mr Juan Lopez. ”
I looked down at my hands, the hands of a stranger, scarred and calloused.
“ What… ” But I was too stunned to finish the sentence.
The man looked down at his watch. “ The real Mr Lopez is about to enter a meeting with Mr Parks from accounting. A very competent man, if I may say so. I wonder why you've not given him a raise in three years. ”
“ But- ”
“ 24 hours, Mr Jones, or should I say, Mr Lopez. 24 hours to meet the man you once were, or this will become your life. ”
And, just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the filth and the stench. He was n't an angel. He could n't be. Because this sure as hell was n't heaven.
-- -
*Read more of my stories at* /r/jd_rallage
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[ WP ] Change a TV show 's genre to Horror and/or add a Giant Monster to it
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**What's Rockin' Rockefeller? **
Open to Jenna Maroney and Liz Lemon walking down a hallway.
Jenna: Liz, do you think I'm fat?
Liz: Jenna, we've been over this.
Jenna: Oh, you're too kind, but I know that I'm not the little toothpick that Mickey Rourke used to pick the panties from the mouth of his giant sex robot anymore. Luckily, I've found a solution!
Liz: Here we go again. What is it this time?
Jenna: I found this little Japanese supermarket underneath of the gas station Paul practices his flaming pole dance act at.
Liz: What the what?
Jenna:... A nd that's where I discovered, this handy little thing.
Liz: Nuclear Waist... A Delicious Blend of Soy, Seaweed, and Nuclear Refuse?
Jenna: Look, it came with this little toy too!
Liz: Jenna, that's a geiger counter.
Jenna: Actually it's called a geiger scale. It tells you your weight when you stand on it.
Liz: Jenna, there's no way this is healthy for you! The skin where I touched it is turning into scales. See?
Jenna: Oh Liz. You sad, sad lizard person. I know you've always been intimidated by me sexually, but trying to stop me from losing weight wo n't make you the prettier one.
Liz: Oh, well okay then. You go drink whatever you want! See what I care!
Liz storms off and bumps into Tracy.
Tracy: Good afternoon Liz Lemon! I see from your scrunched up face that you've come straight from some source of recent contention.
Liz: How did you- whatever. Jenna's drinking this weird radioactive stuff to make herself skinnier and I told her it was bad for her but she's all-
Tracy: Have you ever seen Godzilla, LL?
Liz: No, why?
Tracy:'Cos my lizards are boring me and I was hoping I could make one bigger so I could ride it on a city wide rampage.
Liz: Go to rehearsal Tracy.
Tracy: Fine! But if I find out you were lying, it'll further aggregate the already malignant distrust I have against you white people!
Later...
Jack: Lemon, please explain to me why one of your `` people'' is rampaging through the streets of New York.
Liz: Well, see, it was n't my fault, Jenna wanted to get skinnier, so she went to this little Japanese place under a gas station which I pretended not to know about, but it's actually where I get my favorite japanese sodas from, and then she drank the stuff and now she's taller, and now Tracy's gone, probably trying to do the same thing to his lizard-
Jack: Lemon. Stop. Sit down.
Liz sits down.
Jack: Now stand up and go fix it.
Liz: Wha- why?
Jack: Go.
Liz: Nerds!
Later...
Toofer: Liz! Tracy's Racist Lizard is trying to eat all the white people!
Liz: Why are you so worried?
Toofer: He told me I `` Ai n't got the jive'' and tried to eat me to!
Frank: We're gon na die Liz! I have n't cleared my search history in weeks!
Liz: I'll think of something.
Jack runs down the hall.
Liz: Jack?
Jack: Liz. Kenneth. The lizard got him! I was trying to hold him, but he slipped! His last words were, `` I was supposed to live forever!'' And I let him go! Good god Lemon, I do n't know what to do!
Liz: Jack, calm down!
Jack: I ca n't! The lizard's coming, none of us are safe!
Liz: Wait, do you hear that?
Loud, clanging footsteps are heard coming from somewhere.
Toofer: What's that?
Liz: I think someone's come back to save the day.
Silhouetted by the sun, 51ft Woman Jenna Maroney comes riding back into New York on the shoulder of Mickey Rourke's Giant Sex Robot.
Jenna: Tracy! I order you to stand down!
Tracy: Jenna! I'm already sitting!
Jenna: Well then prepare to die! Sex Robot, attack!
With a roar the sex robot and lizard charge at each other.
Later...
Jack: Well Lemon, we've saved New York.
Liz: And all it took was some strangely poetic sex between a giant sex robot and a giant lizard.
Jack: I've got my top men working on shrinking Jenna back down to size.
Liz: That's good. How's Tracy?
Jack: He's good. Adjusting to having Kenneth's ghost as head page, but he'll get there.
Liz: Well, that seems to have wrapped everything up. What's left, Jack?
Jack: I do n't know Lemon. That lizard and that giant sex robot seemed to have a good thing going on.
Liz: Oh, but Jack, you're my mentor, and I'm your mentee.
Jack: Quiet, Lemon. No 30 rock fanfiction is complete without this.
Jacks pulls Lemon in closer, hair down, glasses up, lights off. In the darkness they pull their faces together and-
Liz: No!
Liz jerks up out of bed.
Criss: What happened! Are we out of pancake mix again?
Liz: No, I just had a nightmare.
Criss: What was it about?
Liz: Jack and Jenna and Tracy. Jenna grew like 50ft tall, and Tracy fought her with his giant lizard, and then there was this sex robot, and Jack started kissing me. It was awful.
Criss: Well, it ca n't be any worse than reality.
Outside, a giant lizard foot comes crashing down on the street outside. The giant creature bends down until Tracy appears in Liz's window.
Tracy: Good morning LL, my Godzilla Godzilard heard you screaming. Are you out of pancake mix again?
Fade to black.
Liz: Aw, blerg!
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[ WP ] Write a story about something you do n't understand . Do NO research . Make everything up as you go .
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`` So whatchu' wan na do is load up the shot just like dat.''
`` All 300 pellets? ``, I asked.
Ol' Jedediah was showing me his new hunting shotgun and we a
We're gon na use it later for some fowl down by Johnny creek.
`` Now, when you yank on the pump, make sure not to fondle the grip too much, that makes your weapon a bit too tight, causing it too jump right into yer face when you fire.''
`` But Jeb, my grip has always been this tight, surely you must be messing up something..''
`` I've been hunting in these parts for 3 decades, I know what I know, and dats huntin'.''
`` Whatever you say jebby boy'', he was right, I had only been hunting in these parts for 20-a-forthright and I know jack onion about goose huntin. I fired a few shots, which all flew straight, and hit the target.
`` BULLSYE! Right on the whiskey beard Ezekiel!''
`` Thank you Jeb!''
`` Now, loosen ur grip and try and shoot bum.''
I have never shorten from my hip before, so I knew this would be interestin'. I squeezed the trigger after I lay the brand spanking new Remington-Jackhammer 300 on my sternum. Surely enough, shot flew all over the place and covered the Ol' tomato sign like butter on grapes.
`` YAHWEE! You shoot like John tucker on a Saturday night after he drank fifty shades of the Ol' Tennessee black! You'se a natural Zekie!''
I was full o' pride, but I knew I had it in my blood from my Great gran pappy. He was a union sniper for during the battle of Gettysburg and got over 500 confirmed KIAS and 300 confirmed MIAS. Surely enough, I got it from him.
We payed our Ol' Jash caps down on the ground and poured a swig in his memory.
I will miss you granpappy!
Love, Zekie and Jebby
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[ WP ] Your father is a Baron of Hell ... but he 's still a typical embarrassing dad .
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I really hate my life sometimes. It's ridiculous when I think about all the things I have to go through just to have an ordinary high school life without my parents, especially my dad, messing it up for me.
Speaking of which, I got ta hurry. Better get going before he wakes up. I can make it, I can do this!
`` Hey! Junior, wait up!''
UGH! Every single time, I swear to Satan, I do n't know how he does it. He *always* seems to know the exact moment when I'm about to head out the door. I even change the times I wake up in the mornings! Like, seriously, it's FIVE A.M. right now! First period is n't even until almost three hours later! What the heaven is he even doing awake!?
`` C'mon, you were n't trying to leave your old man behind, now were you?''
`` Really, Dad, really? OK, first of all, stop calling me'Junior.' It's annoying. Also, would it kill you to lower your voice by, oh I do n't know, a few thousand decibels? It's like your volume is stuck on 11 on a scale from 1 to negative a thousand.''
`` Aww, do n't get mad, Son. I love you, and I want you to know it, that's all.''
`` Trust me, Dad. I know, OK? I know. Also, I'm old enough to go to school on my own. Literally no one else's parents try to drop them off every single morning.''
I glared at my father as hard as I could, wishing that the law on creating flying daggers with your eyes could somehow be repealed for just half an hour. What I would n't give to stab him in the face a few hundred times so that maybe he'd leave me alone.
Then again, he did n't become one of the strongest barons in Hell because he was a pushover. I mean, it's clear he's all brawn, no brains, and pretty much dumb as a brick, but still `` a lovable oaf,'' according to Mom.
`` Look, Son, I just thought, well... I just thought I could take you to school on my infernal hydra, that's all.''
`` Dad, I'm 160 years old this year, remember? I have my own infernal hydra now. *You* were there when we bought it. And I'm pretty sure you still have the scars from Mom freaking out after you said you sold her bloodstone necklace to pay for it.''
`` Yeah, well, yours only has six heads. It's still young and prone to mistakes, just like you. What if you get lost, or try to kill something on the way there and end up getting hurt?''
`` Jesus Christ, Dad, do you really think I -- WHOA!''
Right, right, I forgot that, on top of being the most embarrassing father in existence, he was also incredibly touchy about proper language and not above punishing me immediately whenever I screw up. If I'd jumped to the side even a second later, I'd probably be stuck in a medical sac by now, trying to grow my head back.
`` Watch your mouth, young man! You know the rules. We're not having any of that in this house! You live under my roof, you follow my --''
``'Rules,' yeah, yeah, sorry, whatever. It just slipped, OK?''
`` I'm sure. Just for that, I'm taking you to school today, no complaining, and that's final.''
`` What!? Dad! No, seriously. Stop. OK? Just stop. Look, I'm sorry, all right? Really, I am. It's not even that big of a deal in the first place, anyway. Mom was n't even around to hear me. C'mon, please, Dad, do n't do this to me.''
`` Nope. And since you kept complaining, I'm putting on my'I'm his Dad!' shirt with the flames coming out of the shoulders.''
`` NO! Dad, would you freakin' stop already!? Are you *trying* to ruin my life!?''
`` One more word out of you and I'm coming to pick you up in the afternoon as well. I'm sure your mother would n't mind coming along for the ride too.''
There were a million thoughts rampaging through my brain, trying to force their way out of my mouth like a pack of raging hellhounds, but at this point, I'd rather be chewed to death by those beasts than have my friends see my dad twice in one day.
I wish I was born an angel. I bet none of this crap ever happens in Heaven.
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[ WP ] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion .
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Hello old friend, I ’ ve got some news
They were wrong, it ’ s not the blues
The bottles helped, but just a bit
I ’ ve had enough, I ’ m jumping ship
It all came out just like a flood
My temper ’ s hot with boiled blood
The time is now, I just can ’ t stop
Waiting for this chair to drop
Who will come, what will they say?
Why did he choose this very day?
Was it music, drugs, or a game?
Or his parents we should blame?
No, no, it ’ s none of these or those
It ’ s really something no one knows
I was always scared of what ’ s inside
Of what I always tried to hide
So my demons on the loose
I ’ ve reined them in with this old noose
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[ WP ] A child , having always been able to read minds , discovers his/her ability is unique .
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Whenever I touched somebody, I felt them. Ever since I was a baby, whenever my mom or dad would let me grab onto them, I **felt** them, in a way. Warmth, flooded throughout my nerve endings, their synapses intertwining with mine, seeing, nono, **feeling** what they saw, felt, and thought. It felt nice, and I thought it was normal, I thought it was how everybody felt. My parents said I always preffered to hug people than talk to them when I was little, but that way I got to know them better. Their secrets, their knowledge, their relationships, floods of knowledge, into my brain. I became smarter than the average child, being able to know every aspect of everybody, from their birth to things even they ca n't remember.
I remember one time, I think I was seven, I hugged one of my dad's friends. I felt the usual, extreme love at birth, regular childhood, and a job as an engineer. I even learned a bit about wind turbine design. But then I felt something else. A deep depression. A needle, no, multiple needles, controlling him. A slow, warm feeling, like turning on the electric blanket. A deep regret. A scream, and a knife. I began to bawl, and my mother hugged me.
`` Get me away from him!'' I screamed, face twitching, tears itching and pouring down my face and chin. My mother brought me up to her room, cradled in her arms and breasts, and put me my bed. She put my blanket over me. My electric blanket. I screamed again, even though the feeling was new, it felt all too familiar. That was the day she began to suspect something was different, but she never found out, nor did my dad.
School was easy. I would sneak in a handshake with the professor every month or two, and I had the full curriculum stuck in my mind. While it may have come off strange in the mind of the students, but the professors and teacher took it as a sign of politeness and respect. When I was twelve, I realised that I was special, that I was different. Whenever I touched somebody, I wondered why I did n't get the feelings and memories of people **they** touched, too. But I did n't. Whenever I watched a TV show, and people kept secrets from each other, I wondered why they did n't find out about it when they touched.
I took a job as a psychologist. You would've thought that I would've taken a job in the government, helping with espionage and whatnot. But during my life, I've traveled. I've traveled all over the world, and seen what governments do. Even ours, it hurts people, it destroys lives. I stayed away from that. From the firsy handshake with a patient, I knew all of their problems, the cause, and the fix. I did n't get a job in the CIA or NSA, or whatevertwolettersbeforeanA corporation. I help people, I do n't hurt them.
I am different, but it is n't going to stop me. At least not yet.
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[ WP ] An aspiring writer just wrote his best literary masterpiece in /r/writingprompts . It receives no comments or upvotes whatsoever .
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I always knew I was Jack Kerouac but these freaking tree frogs in the gutter could n't muster up anything other than a throaty howl at the jibber jabber blabber of their monochrome whales on ice as they pilgrimed the stakes against the emerald hobogoblin in eureka as the door knob drank down the vile of flesh born from the prophets of Phoenecia in the sage of the corpse of dawn in the blanket of truth born in time of the milk dog that poured a thorn in the broken dollar eye of rope that fell from babylon towards the flesh of gefilte fish for the hungry jew starving on a halfpipe glass blown by a one eye'd prophet in drag by the vegas strip floating automobile on the bible belt.
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[ WP ] You are a soldier during wartime and you have just died . Judging whether you enter heaven or hell is the last person you killed .
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*Well, that was underwhelming. * I thought. *Is that how it ends? *
I'd always expected that my game over moment would have been much more spectacular. It turned out to just be a matter of a light blinking off over there and blinking on over here. `` Fucking sniper.'' I never even saw what had hit me.
*So this is the afterlife? * I surveyed my new environment. Sterile emptiness all round as far as I could see. *So overrated. *
*I wonder how Peggie's going to react when she hears about this. * I lay down and closed my eyes. Tried to picture her once more. Tried to guess at whether I would ever see her again. *Well, it was a good run as long as it lasted. *
I was slowly drawn out of my reverie by a growing awareness of a new presence close by. I opened my eyes to see a vaguely familiar face peering down at me. `` Hey!''
The man smiled and stepped back. `` I thought you were hit so hard on the other side that you were still feeling the effect.''
`` Would n't that go against everything we've ever heard about the afterlife?''
`` Oh good. You already know where we are. It took me quite some time to catch on.''
`` Really? Where did you think you were?''
`` One moment I'm fighting you, next moment I'm here. I thought you guys had invented some sort of teleportation device.''
*Oh, that's why he'd looked so familiar. * `` I killed you.''
`` Yes. Yes, you did.''
`` Oh, sorry about that.''
He shrugged and lapsed into silence.
`` I really am sorry about it'' I broke the silence that had fallen between us.
`` Do you have any kids?'' He looked me in the eye.
I shook my head.
`` I have three.'' He said. `` I always dreamed of watching them grow up and achieve a threeway tie for the greatest people that ever lived.'' He smiled wistfully and shook his head. `` Oh, well.''
I avoided eye contact.
`` You want to know why I'm here?'' He asked. `` Apparently, I get to decide your fate. That's the system here. I get to decide whether you go to heaven or hell. Crazy system, right? I just got my fate decided. I get to decide yours. You decide the next guy and so on. It's crazy.''
*But does n't that mean that everyone goes to hell? * `` Where are you heading to?''
He laughed. It was jarring in the empty desolate space. `` Are you scared? Are you going to beg?''
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[ WP ] Bukowski in Space .
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After a few months in space
you wonder if you'll forget
what a cheeseburger looks like.
You know it's supposed to drip with oil
but can you picture it?
do you remember what it smells like?
no, you find out you ca n't and do n't and you panic
from the lack of panicking
apathy's arrived right on time and
its hat hangs like a jury
and it's feet stink like blue collar work
but it smells good to you, or it does n't
that's what apathy is
or maybe ambivalence
not that you can decide anyway
It's all upside down in this ship to begin with.
In this court of jesters who's going to volunteer to be the jury?
When it has to atone for its sins,
When it's hung high enough to make shadows on gallow walls,
Jester's never did anything for me anyway.
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[ WP ] A man is digging a grave . Why is he digging a grave ?
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She was one of the last to die.
It was tough watching everyone else go and knowing that she would go soon, too.
I pause for a moment to wipe away my suddenly blurry vision, then I sink the spade back into the earth.
My friends begged me to use a better tool, a machine, a backhoe, anything else. They said that I was n't going to be able to finish it with a mere shovel. I ignored them. She gave her life to me; I could spend a day digging her grave. It would help me move on...
*'' I wo n't last forever, but you can. I wo n't let you waste this opportunity. `` *
I wanted to. Lord knows I wanted to. I wanted to live my life with her and end my life with her, but she would n't let me. She loved me too much to let me die.
*'' I will never leave you. `` *
My last words to her ring in my head and remind me why I'm here. I look up at the house we shared and redouble my efforts with the shovel.
This was a special case. I got special permission to bury her here. The judge did n't take much convincing once I explained my case. He just smiled a sad smile and signed the permit.
I loved her. I love her. I will always love her.
And I will never leave her again.
___________________________
I wrote this as a continuation of [ another response ] ( http: //redd.it/3a9ilo/ ) I wrote for a different prompt a few days ago.
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[ WP ] You are stuck in a Soviet tank stranded in a 1981 Afghanistan valley .
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The tank is disabled. All the other guys that got out to stretch their legs or take a piss are dead. I'm just sitting here hoping no one will take a look inside the tank and see a tired, foul smelling, motherfucker give them the finger. Because that would mean I actually have to move my arm a bit in their direction. And I'm just too tired to do that.
But I decided long ago that if I was ever going to die sitting in a tank in my underwear, covered in muddy sweat, I'd do it with some dignity. You have to flip off that bastard who is about to shoot you. I mean how could you not? He's taken all the effort to walk around in this hot desert, disable your tank, mow down the dumb asses that climbed out with a machine gun. And take a look inside just in case.
I mean after all that effort, the least I'd expect is to see a smiling lunatic giving me the finger saying `` Da svadanya motherfucker!'' practically prompting me to kill him right there. No chance of surrender.
I hear movement outside. Someone chucks a grenade into the tank. I think, shit I never got to flip off the bastard before I died. I see the pin is still in. I chuckle. I pull the pin out and hold the lever, hoping the dumb ass will come take a look. He does. I give him the finger. I let go of the grenade. It explodes. We both die.
I still get the lolz whenever I tell my grandchildren about that stupid dream I had all those years ago...
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[ WP ] A man at a bar turns to you and says `` You know , I was God once ''
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The dwarf's head was a misshapen parody, with an unsettling face which looked like it had been fashioned by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what a human was supposed to look like. His body was a cruel punchline, and his limbs were useless stumps. He turned a single great, green eye up towards his discoverers and began to speak.
`` So...'' he wheezed, in a voice that sounded so weak and frail. So fragile and broken. It was hard to imagine that this twisted creature was the reason that they had travelled so far. `` At long last, you have found me. This disguise has served me well for millennia. Who honestly pays attention to the crippled or the deformed in this cruel world you have created?'' The creature seemed annoyed, but there was a reluctabt note of resignation in his tone which indicated that he had seen this moment coming. He had known that some day, his peaceful, idyllic retirement would be broken by some busy-body adventurers looking for fame and glory. So, what did they want? They had hunted him to the ends of the earth, and now, in this seedy tavern at the edge of civilisation, they had finally found him.
`` So yes....'' The creature growled, fixing his warped gaze on the heroes before him. `` I was a god, once... But that time is behind me. I do not play a part in the troubles and strife of men nor gods. Not now.''
`` But,'' said the youngest hero, his voice trembling. `` It's about your children.''
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[ OT ] SatChat : What is the synopsis of that book you 've always wanted to write ?
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Ah, what the hell I'm late to the party but I've always wanted to talk about this. I'm just a dude living in central Canada whose been thinking of a book idea non stop for the past 2 weeks or so. I do a lot of daydreaming and story/worldbuilding and this is the first story I have this much confidence in. Now onto the actual story.
The story takes place following great war which destroyed major Canadian cities, and follows the resulting life of a young man ( let's call him John ) who survives for many years in the remains of Winnipeg, Manitoba using the knowledge his father had given him all throughout his life. Through many events that happen after the war, John will slowly transform from a normal survivor into a feared local legend known as `` The Bear Man''.
I want the story to follow intimately with John's struggle to survive and the transformations he must go through and decisions he must make. It will probably focus on the feelings of isolation, longing for the past, loss of humanity and the effects of becoming a feared entity for people around you. Also, because the actual day to day surviving is a large aspect, I want to make sure that the John's survival remains realistic for the most part, meaning I'll focus on the aspects of food, shelter, cleanliness, injuries etc.
It's got a long way to go but I feel like it has a good premise and I've thought of events that can happen throughout the story.
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[ WP ] As the sole survivor of a downed fighter jet in the Pacific Ocean , you 've managed to elude death for 2 months . It 's only now you 're realizing that the diet of rainbow colored sea life which has nourished you , is *changing* you
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If I stared into the ocean for too long, the reflection of the sun would burn my retinas. I place my free hand over my eyes as my fishing line, improvised from parts in my survival kit, bobs in the current. As pins and needles invade my legs, I wiggle in the sand briefly before I feel a tug on my line. Urgently, I pull on it feeling whatever I caught on the hook. Without a proper reel, I pull on the line, winding it around my hand and battling with my adversary. When its shadow in the shallow water became clear, my heart soared as I lifted large fish dressed in multicolored scales from its home. Stoking the fire made from the vegetation of the island, I eagerly skinned the animal and dug into entrails.
For two months, I repeated the process while stuck on the shore. The island itself had many sheer cliffs and inclines which made it both dangerous and difficult to explore the interior, so I built a shelter out of palm leafs and reeds on the shore, along with an eternal fire to glow as a beacon to the ocean. On a dark night, its gentle kindling could rival the reflections of the moon in the endless tides which surrounded my new home. I learned to loathe the ocean, yet without access to the interior of the island, I was forced to depend on the plentiful and beautiful fish it provided along with whatever vegetation and seaweed I could scavenge.
I don ’ t remember when, though I dimly recall etching the sixtieth tally mark on a local tree, but I began to see strange shapes and figures in the ocean. I dismissed the idea as a gentle mirage or a fault in my desalination process, but even when I took refuge in the shade and checked my water supply using a basic chemical test included in my survival kit, the images still danced in the waves. Whenever I approached them, however, they disappeared into whatever depths from which they came, though I swear I could hear a faint laughter when it happened.
I called to them in the night. I asked them who they were and why they spied on me. I laughed into the horizon and let the world around me melt. The stars in the sky would come crashing down upon the earth, creating ripples beneath my feet, but I never cared. Instead I lay on the sandy cay and admired the velvety black sky which smothered the earth as the sudden realization of the vastness of space invaded my mind. Whenever I endured these episodes, I often woke in the middle of the morning in a cold sweat with the nagging feeling that my dreams were more than dreams. Without a psychological evaluation in my survival kit, I fended off madness in the day as I fished and only succumbed to the visions under the moon.
On my final night, the fish erupted from the tides of the ocean. Their beautiful scales sparkled in the moonlight, distracting me from their newly acquired humanoid forms. They tore me from my camp as I left behind fingernails in the bloody sand. When the waters swallowed me, the salt invaded my lungs, yet I found no lack of breath. Instead they dragged me into the abyss, slowly letting the daylight dwindle into sweet nothingness and the warmth fade into a frigid chill. Stalks of bioluminescent orbs emerged from their heads, but even with the light, only blackness consumed us.
I recall the strange architecture of the city, though. Made from blackened stone, their angles defied conventional geometry as supplementary angles no longer summed to right angles. The triangles affixed to the roofs of the buildings refused to follow the theorem of an insignificant human. Instead bizarre angles ruled the inhuman shapes the built the most magnificent buildings to cross my eyes. They stretched to the surface without ever reaching it in every shape beyond imagination. In my awe, I barely caught the sight of the citizens of the city: more fish and squids carelessly mixed together by some benevolent god, they swam through the streets and alleys with the utmost urgency without much regard to my presence.
When I reached the palace, the throne room housed a giant figure, at least seven stories, adorned in countless tentacles and wings on a vaguely humanoid figure which radiated the purest black I had ever seen. The fish spoke briefly with the figure who seemed to command their respect and adoration. Their language, however, as it grated against my ears, seemed to be constructed from grunts and squeals that I could make no attempt to replicate with my vocal cords. With a simple gesture, however, he commanded them as endless blackness filled the room. I wanted to stay in that terrible place with all my heart. I wanted to learn their language and swim among their kind, but he forbade it; he deemed me an unworthy servant.
Instead they, my rescuers, found me floundering on the surface with a severe case of hypothermia in the hot humidity found near the equator. My case made the news and as new nutrients found my stomach, I slowly regained sanity, but on days when I stare into the sea for too long, I can still see figures and shapes dance along the shore.
*****
More stories at r/Andrew__Wells
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[ WP ] You are possessed by a demon . It does n't control you , but it does mention it 's just there because it does n't want to go back to hell .
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The slow hiss in his ear sounded distant at first. It sounded like somebody left a tea kettle on the stove too long. That was impossible though, Tim did n't have a tea kettle. Tim also lived alone. The hissing stopped. Pop!
Tim's eyes shot open, but he was unable to move. It was n't that he was paralyzed with fear, it was that it felt like a gorilla was sitting on his chest. While Tim was wrong about what was on his chest, he was n't wrong about the fact that something was on his chest. It just happened to be something otherworldly.
`` Hello Tim'' said a disembodied voice. This, of course, startled Tim, who once again attempted to sit upright but failed.
`` Oh, sorry. I could see how this would cause panic. One moment.''
The voice suddenly became bodied, and a rather large demon appeared before Tim's eyes. This time he was paralyzed with fear.
`` Hmm, yes. I guess that does make sense'' the demon said as he stood - the weight finally lifted from Tim's chest. `` Its all of those Hollywood movies you humans are creating these days about us. You know, we are not ALL like that, right? Its a stereotype and I wont stand for it.''
Tim began to sputter out sounds that sounded like the attempt of words.
`` Do n't worry, I am not here to posses you or torment you or anything. I am not that kind of demon. We are just as varied in our professions as you are. Say, what do you do for a living?''
Tim finally gained enough composure to stammer out one word. `` A-acountant.''
`` Ah yes!'' the demon chuckled to himself. `` I remember when that was created centuries ago as a form of torture - those were simpler times! Oh, and earlier when I said I was n't here to posses you, I was lying. I am here to posses you. At least those are my orders from down stairs.''
Tim, who finally managed to sit up, began to whimper again. A wicked smile graced the demons face.
`` Do n't you worry, I wont be doing any possessing. I always fancied myself more of an artist anyways. However, I can only not posses you under one condition.''
Tim raised his eyebrows, coaxing the demon to speak.
`` We need to be roommates. I am never going back to hell!''
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[ WP ] You have a bottle of pure Luck . You have to use it all up quickly , though , or else it will rot and become Bad Luck .
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She gave a listless sigh, bending over slightly to gaze hard at the little bottle twinkling on the bottom shelf of her pantry. *Taunting*. It was decorated with a printed cameo on a creamy, lacy label, neat cursive handwriting reading'Lady Luck' written just beneath it. It ’ d been given to her last month by her mother after both losing her job and filing for divorce. Mary could still remember her mother ’ s assurance delivered over the phone after delivering her latest piece of bad news through raking sobs, “ I know exactly what to do. ” On her next work trip, her mother returned with it, gifting it to Mary after strongarming herself into dinner with her distraught daughter. She'd gasped when she saw it; luck potions were expensive and rare. Mary had never seen one before the bottle had been pressed firmly into her hand. “ Put that in a safe spot, ” her mother had told her sternly, and, after a brief pause, added, “ And don ’ t waste it. ”
She didn ’ t have to tell Mary; Mary was determined to put it to good use. She did not want to let her mother down nor could she really afford to let it go bad. Her life was in shambles -- how else was she supposed to put it all back together? What had seemed insurmountable before now suddenly had a clear answer and Mary spent the days within receiving it smiling more than she had the past couple years. Things were guaranteed to get better, what more could she ask for? But as the days went by and she actually had to decide what to put the potent little potion to, Mary ’ s enthusiasm dimmed. She was often conflicted with what to do with it - for instance, should she take a swig before her job interview in just two days time? - but every idea seemed so inconsequential. Did she really want to waste it on getting a job? Particularly a job she felt she had a decent chance of landing on her own - if she managed to dredge up the motivation to put on make-up and dress accordingly and *care*, that is - without the help of Lady Luck?
But letting it sit there….she could almost feel it starting to go bad. What if she ’ d let it sit too long already? It didn ’ t look cloudy and muddled but it was all too easy to misjudge, especially someone like her with little experience in handling potions. Not to mention Lady Luck was a fickle mistress to begin with. Mary slid down the doorframe of her pantry until she was on the floor, at eye level with the thing that now brought her so much torment. Paralysed by waiting for the right moment, she was letting each opportunity to use it slip by. Emboldened by this thought, she snatched the winking bottle up, all but yanking the cork out like a desperate coke addict, and upended the contents into her mouth. It tasted like honeywine and kindled a small fire within her so that she felt *glowing*, light pouring out of every pore. She was *radiant*, angelic for a pure, perfect moment... but then there was an awful sinking sensation in her stomach, like a calm sea that'd been whipped into angry waves. *Dread*. That's what it was.
Was she too late?
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[ WP ] Astronauts rescue a group of semi-intelligent creatures from their doomed world . They ca n't survive outside of expensive containment systems , so they become pets of the rich .
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When the trillionaire Davies wanted me to see his aliens, I took the first possible flight to his home at Deimos, one of two moons of Mars.
Below the surface, in the viewing chamber, through the thick paned glass, I saw three shapes black and muscular, arrayed on the floor like wilted house plants.
Their body plan was simple. Each of four limbs split, then split again and again and again. Sixty-four appendages in total. The centre of the body bulged a little, likely holding the internal organs.
“ We all call ‘ em Starfish. Newborns when I got them. Social, intelligent, curious. They live exclusively in low gravity and near vacuum. Used to be covered completely in fine white fur. ``
Toys lay strewn about, odd shapes all spindles and spheres. They seemed to be exclusively about the shape. Any colour on them was purely accidental.
Davies grinned and pointed to the hatch on the far end of the chamber.
`` See that? They play on the surface of the moon. Let me show you.''
Davies and I suited up and took a short elevator ride to the surface of Deimos. Above us in hung a ruddy canopy on slim girders, protection against launching ones self into space. To the south shone Mars.
We had to launch along ropes between support posts until we reached a small shed with a circular door in it. Davies held up a gloved hand.
`` Wait.''
`` What?''
`` They already know we're out here. ”
“ How? ”
`` They use gravity the same way we use light to see, and they've already seen us travel up to the surface.''
A light came on through the small window in the centre of the door, revealing a white chamber on the other side. The white was quickly snuffed out by a black shape moving across the circular portal.
`` Why did n't they wake when we were inside?''
`` They sleep most of the day, but playing out here with me is their favourite thing to do. It's a trade off.
The hatch swung open and one of the aliens cartwheeled out. It spun around two the support posts before coming to a stop balanced perfectly atop one like a black teardrop.
It leaned towards Davies and waved one of its arms in a complex and rapid move.
“ Yep. He wants to play.''
Davies hefted a large stone and hurled it towards the canopy. It sailed lazily upwards. The alien leapt from its post and hurled itself slowly towards the empty space ahead of the stone.
I stared in awe as it intercepted the stone, swung itself around it and pushed off the stone back towards the ground. Now the stone flew up faster still and the Alien drifted back down to its perch.
`` They taught that to me. We call it– “ he waved his hand for a moment, “ –or rock jumping for us humans. ”
“ How much of what
The two other aliens crept out of the hatch cautiously, keeping their distance from me. Together, they circled around me slowly, hopping from pillar to pillar with laconic expertise.
A black shape zipped down into my vision just a foot away from me. I leapt back. And up. And away. My safety line dangled uselessly off the pillar I had hooked it to.
I was free floating to the canopy above.
“ Don ’ t worry, its just a game!''
Davies sprung into action. He hurled several large stones in several different directions. The aliens each leapt and swung variously around them, hurling and catching themselves and the stones until one of them sailed close enough to grab me with the end of its limb.
The alien swung around another stone and swung again, carrying me gently through the void above Deimos in a flawless display of skill until it finally set me down gently next to the support post and held me until I hooked my safety line up again.
`` Theory of mind,'' Davies said over the comm, `` they know you are n't like them. They are testing you, playing with you, but they have no reason to harm you. We teach them that they must follow our rules.''
The aliens now catapulted themselves around a play structure made from flexible poles.
`` Must?''
`` Oh do n't get me wrong. Bonding with humans came naturally. We have n't forced them to do anything. They think so much like us, develop so much like us. ``
`` What will they do as they get older?''
`` They speak using sign language. They read using braille. They are designed for survival in deep space. The two shy ones are female, and the bold one is male. All forty five of them are being educated in the same things.''
“ What will they be taught to do?''
“ Rescue or construction workers, navigators maybe. I really ca n't tell you. They ’ re in elementary school right now. They develop more slowly than humans.''
`` What about the ones who do n't want to join humans?''
`` I suppose we'll make a place for them here. Deimos represents an ideal habitat for them. No idea. That ’ s what makes this interesting. We have no idea how this will pan out. Aliens living among us. Signs and wonders. ”
The male looked as if it was dancing for the females. Its limbs undulated rhythmically as it leapt from pole to pole, cartwheeling lazily against a field of stars. The display was hypnotic. With nothing else to do on the barren moon, I bobbed there in the ultra low gravity, my body waving in rhythm with the aliens.
I imagined them frolicking in numbers on the surface of a comet, dancing en masse in great interweaving circles, taking on shape and patterns as they moved, black on black against a midnight sky. Great chains of them undulated skywards, interweaving in slowly tumbling, bouncing circles.
“ Davies. ”
My voice sounded choked on the comm.
“ What can I do for you? ”
“ For the life of me, I can ’ t figure out what this means. ”
Davies grinned again, “ for now, let ’ s just enjoy the moment before that moment arrives. ”
I thought for a moment, but the scene in front of us held no reply; three aliens tumbled through the void against the backdrop of Mars.
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[ WP ] It 's not just a car . Not to me .
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Note: I feel weird about posting this. I put it as a reply to another post, but I want to put it here. I tried rewriting it, but could n't improve upon it.
My SRT-4 is hands down the favorite car I ever owned. I loved every little aspect of it. That car was my baby. Growing up I was a huge fan of the Dodge Viper. That car was and to a large degree still is my favorite car. I loved every review about it. Every single magazine spoke about how it was just power, how the car lacked refinement and traction control. How the interior was shoddy and left a lot to be desired.
I may have confused you now, am I talking about the descriptors for the Neon or the Viper? That is why I loved the car, I always felt that it was the Viper's younger infant brother, trying desperately to imitate its older, cooler brother. They did their best impression of the Viper, throwing in `` Viper inspired'' seats in the car.
I remember how I saved every penny I made in high school, scrapping together enough to buy one and make payments on it. I bought the car in my father's name before I had my own credit, before I could even drive stick proficiently. I learned on my own in one day. Going up and down the street in front of my parent's home. Eventually I mastered stick shift, and as cliche a reference as it sounds, the car and I became one. I was in tune with it, I could control it better than my own body. I visited srtforums.com hourly. I cringe at some of the questions I must have asked, as a young naive teenager, but I learned a lot from a loving community.
That car was my best friend, it was the perfect metaphor for who I was. It was a Dodge neon. No one expected much from a Neon, by definition of the car, it was not supposed to be fast. It was not meant to be raced. It looked almost jokingly like a car trying to be something it was n't supposed to be. With its awkward forward leaning stance, oversized spoiler and hood scoop. Yet, for all that it was n't supposed to be and for all assumptions made about it based on its looks and background, it performed.
Man did it perform. My fondest memory comes on a warm summer day, back when gas did n't cost $ 4 a gallon. I was driving alone, on my way to meet my friends. I pulled up a red light, and a blue Nissan 350z came up next to me. Its driver was a stereotypical convertible driver. A man in his 30s with sunglasses and a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat. He looked at me and laughed. The Neon drew attention. I, the cocky teenager that I was softly revved my engine and let him know my car had a turbo. He revved his admittedly beautiful sounding motor. The contrast was spectacular, his a refined piece of automotive engineering designed for comfort and speed. Mine, an overpowered compact car with a sound better suited for a Harley, whistling and popping with every touch of the throttle. He inched forward and I did the same. The light went green. I was too young to know better, and I took off. I knew my baby, I could launch this front wheel drive monster like it was a motorcycle. I'd learned how to Wot ( wide open throttle ) shift, there was no turbo lag between gears. I reached the next light and lit a cigarette before he pulled up next to me. His face red with embarrassment and anger. The young woman in his passenger seat laughing and and giving me a thumbs up.
He had lost to a Neon, driven by a cocky short teenager. The car had performed. The young man had performed.
Every time I am in a position where I am trying to accomplish something I have no business attempting, I think back to that turbo boosted, 2.4L monster. How despite all appearances, that little neon fucking could.
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[ IP ] The Winter Woman
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Soft, bare feet lightly stepped forward through the pale blanket covering the Earth. Strong, uncovered legs radiated warmth against the gentle winds of wintertime. A flowing silk and fur dress fell about the woman of icy hair and warm, dark skin; the dress' blacks captivate as deeply as Atlantia's depths, its emerald colors shimmering and commanding allure. Her scythe shone with elemental light, power flowing through her arms to the weapon. Her eyes were closed as she walked, her head tilted to feel the full effect of the beauty of the winter sun; she smiled with powerful contentment. She was exactly where she needed to be; she was exactly who she wanted to be.
In her wake came untold numbers of creatures, as dark as shadow with eyes as piercing emerald as the dress. Each walked behind the next, silent, focused, and steady. Through the entirety of the forest this procession went, from its most remote reaches to its perimeter at the edges of the ocean and towns. As the line wound its way back to the forest center, the creatures walked into a cavern at the mouth of the Mountain. The woman did not follow; she approached instead an ancient Tree, strong and bold, with roots as deep as the Earth itself. Effortlessly she ascended to its branches. Her figure poised upon one half way up the Tree, beautiful and graceful and balanced. Her legs crossed, her hands on the branch, her scythe slung across her back, her Grace apparent for all the world to witness. Her eyes pierced with divine light and radiated warmth and fullness, surely not eyes but emeralds instead by their beauty.
A young man now stood below her, as beautiful and handsome as any prince or paladin. She gazed at him, head cocked, bemused at how a human might have come so deeply into the forest. She slipped off of the branch, landing soundlessly in front of him, eyes immediately locked upon his.
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[ WP ] Classic stories retold in an urban setting .
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The girl walked around the streets of the city. Everywhere she could hear the sound of laughter trough the open windows, almost not recognizing the sound at first, so unfamiliar had she become with the sound of human joy.
It had been almost 6 months since the bank foreclosed on their house, and 5 months since mom vanished.
Dad had been unemployed for over a year now, and all he ever did was drink and yell.
The first slap came when he was drunk, after that it did not matter if he was drunk or sober. The hitting continued.
They lived in a small apartment. The hallways littered with graffiti and always smelling like filth.
Sleep was difficult. Always the sound of sirens and screams cutting trough the thin walls and waking her up.
The girl walked around the streets of the city.
She had been told to gather up empty bottles, and anything else she could find of value.
The snow was falling thick, her clothes thin.
She knew that she could not return home empty-handed. She could not take another slap, not tonight. Not on New Years Eve.
In the snow she found a blue lighter.
The button pressed down and a small fire ignited in front of her eyes.
In the fire she saw her family together around the tree on Christmas eve, laughing and hugging without a care in the world.
The fire went out.
In the next flame she saw her room. It was not big, but it was hers, she had ponies on the wall paper.
The fire went out.
The third flame, she saw her grandmother. The only person who had ever treated her nicely. The girl remembered her grandmother telling her about when a star shots across the heavens, it means a person has died and gone to heaven.
She knew her grandmother was in heaven. She wished that she could see her again.
The fire went out.
The girl looked up at the night sky and just as she was about to close her eyes she saw a shooting star. She smiled.
The fire went out.
...
The next day a man found the frozen body of a 9 year old girl. In her hand, a blue lighter.
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[ WP ] Write a story about a heist in which one member of the team has forgotten an important piece of equipment .
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`` What do you mean?!'' Bradley screamed at me, `` It was your one fucking job!''
A cursory glance around told me that the rest of the team was harboring similar sentiments. James and Merle glared at me with piercing anger in their eyes.
Outside the vault the hostages' ears perked up in interest. Their captors' best laid plans were crumbling before their eyes. A snicker escaped the lips of the bank manager.
I held the plastic grocery bag up in defiance. `` How was I supposed to know how much would be in the vault?!'' I cried.
`` Well I think it would have been a safe fucking bet to assume we would need more than a goddamn fucking grocery bag, do n't you?!'' Merle snapped. His veins were sticking out of his neck, impossibly large and purple. His face was an interesting shade of red. He gestured around us; at the cash carts full of money, at the back room of the vault, which housed hundreds of safety deposit boxes, and he bellowed, `` Duffel bags! Duffel bags, you son of a bitch! Have n't you ever seen a heist film?! Do THEY use fucking plastic fucking grocery bags?!''
I had to admit, Merle had a point.
James, the mastermind, had his head buried in his crossed arms, leaning up against the vault wall. A muted groan was escaping softly from the corner where he stood. Bradley stood in front of me with two handfuls of money held out in front of him, an incredulous look on his face. Merle's face was deepening in hue.
`` Look, guys,'' I started, `` We all have two arms each. We can carry a lot of this stuff oursel-...''
`` SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID FUCK!'' Screamed James from the corner. He turned around slowly, his head hung low, his eyes screwed shut, `` The cops are on the way,'' he said, suddenly ominously calm, `` and we ca n't very well run from here to the warehouse with our hands full of contraband, out in the open for the public to see.''
There was a beat of silence. In the distance police sirens were audible.
`` So what do we do?'' Bradley asked finally.
Fifteen Minutes Later...
`` Huh,'' said the lead officer, scratching his forehead from under his police hat, staring at me from the open vault door, `` This is a new one.''
I laid alone on the cold vault floor, hog-tied with the ropes that, up until fifteen minutes ago, were securing the hostages.
`` Tell me about it.'' I said.
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[ WP ] Somewhere in the world , there is a continent that exists in a pocket dimension that is home to the source of most of the world 's ancient legends and magic concepts . When aliens invade , the people of this continent decide it would be best to reveal themselves and intervene .
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The leaders of technology and magic sat together in the white, round room. Completely silent as the screens in front of them showed the ongoing war. A woman, one of magic, coughed as she scratched at one of her arms, covered in blue, glowing tattoos. On each of the screens, the large aliens tore through the human defenses.
``... What if they go rabid?'' The woman turned to the man next to her, a man with long, gray hair, tied in knots and braids over him. They called him the beastmaster, for he commanded the more animal forces of magic.
`` The Wendigo's hunger is unending, but they know very well I'm only allowing them onto this realm as long as they do not harm humans.'' The old man replied, staring towards one of the screens that showed humans defending themselves in a forest area.
The screen was brought up to the front, showing the humans quickly being pushed back by superior firepower. As a line of alien soldiers, tall brutes with alien symbols painted over themselves marched forward, only losing one of themselves for every fifteen humans.
Then the creature appeared. The thing rose behind the marching line, brought to attention as one of the aliens let out an inhuman scream. The others turned to a horrific site, a large gray beast, with two hooves and human hands, covered in gray fur. The head of the creature was that of a deer skull, with white skin pulled taut over it. The creature was deathly thin, each bone visible through it's skin.
The scream came from an alien in the creatures grasp, before it was silenced as the Wendigo took a large bite out of the aliens head. A crunch replaced it, as the Wendigo messily devoured the alien in mere seconds. The Wendigo grew no fuller, it was not satisfied, it only grew. Every single part of the Aliens mass had been used to make the Wendigo grow.
And it was hungry. The aliens turned their fire, laser shots rang out onto the beast, only to be silenced one by one as the creature took long strides forward, grabbing one alien after the next, spraying their blue blood across the forest as it devoured them.
On each screen, each now being shown, these creatures flooded the streets, ignoring humans, heading towards their meals. The creatures grew larger as they chased the aliens back onto their ships, some slipping on board as the large, city sized ships took off, abandoning much of their forces. As the remaining aliens on Earth were devoured, the Wendigo's vanished as quickly as they appeared.
The old man shook his head. `` The Wendigo's are our problem now. But at least the aliens wo n't be.''
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[ WP ] Your eye doctor casually asks if you 're having any blurriness , double vision , floaters , etc . You say `` Some floaters , I guess . '' He fumbles his pen and slowly looks up from his clipboard , pale in the face .
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`` Could you lean back in your chair for me, Mr Stone?'' The doctor asked, with the jolly tone that she'd been faking before having lessened.
Something was clearly wrong - the way her face went so pale when I answered her question.
`` Is anything wrong, doctor?'' I said as I followed her instructions and sank back into the chair.
`` No, nothing at all, I just want to make sure that the floaters you're seeing are n't anything that could get worse. D'you see them a lot?''
She was lying. I'd always been good at telling when people were lying.
`` Yes, I do actually, they're the reason I booked this appointment.''
`` Mhmm, ok. How long have you been getting them for? How frequently do you see them?'' She replied as she slid an odd lens in front of my eye, one that blurred everything in front of me.
`` I've been getting them for a long time. And I've known that they're something more than just normal floaters for a long time too.'' She was leaning in to look into my eye, but stopped just in front of my face. I heard her gulp.
`` Why do you think that, Mr Stone?''
`` Because they only appear when someone around me is lying.'' I said this with quite a lot of spite. I knew she knew something.
She sat next to me in silence for a second. One of her breaths turned into a sigh.
`` Do you know what they are?'' She asked me.
`` No, actually. And I was n't expecting to find out, but I suppose you do know what they are.''
`` I have a vague understanding, yes. There's been two cases of them before. Once in a child. Once in an older man, not much older than yourself. Both from this town. You'll know the child - Lucas Sheen.''
She was right. I did know the child. Lucas Sheen had murdered three other kids at the age of eight. He'd been locked up in a prison far out in the middle of a desert somewhere.
`` Yeah, I know him. What about the older guy?''
For a moment, she did n't reply, and instead stared into my eye through the odd blurry lens, before removing it and continuing the conversation.
`` He drowned himself in the town water tower. We believe it was in an effort to infect everyone with what he had. We thought it only survived in one person, Lucas, but apparently there was another. You.''
`` If it was in the water supply, why did n't it infect everyone?''
`` It had to get in the eyes. It is n't some normal disease. It's a parasite. It's actually in your eyes. Those floaters you see, that's it. Quite literally, right in front of you. That's why I'm here, to look out for this thing. It's dangerous. It made that man kill himself to spread. It made Lucas Sheen kill three other kids. It lets you tell when people are lying.''
`` Why did it make Lucas Sheen murder those kids?''
`` We do n't know.'' She paused for a second. `` You know that's not true, do n't you.''
I nodded in reply.
`` Lucas Sheen killed them because they were infected too. They were messing with water balloons and stuff. Whatever it did to his mind, he hated it, and so did the other three. So he killed them, in his words, to make them better. The cops got there before he could work up the courage to kill himself too.''
`` So why does it only let me tell when people are lying? If it did all that stuff to the other two, I mean.''
`` I do n't know.'' She was telling the truth that time.
`` But this thing is clever, whatever it is, right?'' I asked. `` If it's given me this skill, it's for a reason, right?''
And then everything clicked. Everything made sense in my mind. Maybe it was whatever the hell was living in my eyes.
This thing obviously wanted to spread itself, to survive. And I was the last host capable of spreading it. It had given me the ability to tell when people were lying so that when people came to stop it from spreading I could tell.
This woman had n't been lying to me the whole time - she'd told me that she was here to find this thing. And if it was as dangerous as she said, she would n't be letting me leave the room.
She must've seen the realisation in my eyes, and as I stood up and ran through the door, I heard her fire gunshots into the doorframe behind me.
The words of Lucas Sheen made sense. She was a doctor, and she was trying to make me better.
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[ WP ] Tell a story set in an apartment building using WiFi network names
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Kate immediately stood up from her bed when she heard a knock knowing it was her new laptop that had arrived in the mail. She eagerly skipped to the door almost knocking over a lamp as she passed through her living room. At the door she was greeted by a tall Asian man in a work uniform.
“ Please sign here ” he said, handing her a clipboard with a paper that was cluttered with a bunch of random shipping details. She skimmed through it all, found the ‘ X ’ line at the bottom of the page, and carelessly signed it off with her sloppy signature. The man handed her the package and bid her farewell.
Kate looked down at the box in her hands as she walked back inside her apartment. It was here. It was finally here! She skipped back to her bedroom, grabbing a water bottle from her fridge along the way, and then jumped back onto her bed. She ripped away the boring brown shipping box and pulled out a much fancier looking laptop box from inside. The box had “ SONY ” written on it in big black letters. She squealed with excitement. She carefully peeled off the stickers that held the box shut and opened it up. She tossed aside a few manuals and pulled out her slick new Sony Surface MacProBook 3000 limited edition.
She ran her hand across the shiny black top of the device, outlined the Sony logo with her finger, before opening it. She could see her long blond hair and glasses in the reflection of the screen before booting up the laptop. When the desktop loaded up the first thing she did was open up the Wi-Fi menu and scroll through the list of her neighbor's silly Wi-Fi names trying to find hers giggling immaturely as she went.
*BigTitsSmallDick, GetOffMyLAN, WeBuiltThisCity, YouHaveMySword, AndMyBow, ShutUpLegolas, AndMyAss, YouMeanAxe?, GetOutYouWhore, * ***Eliminated****, INeedToPoop, VRZN374025*
*Eliminated*? What kind of name was that?
Kate shrugged, took a sip from her water bottle, and clicked on her network “ VRZN374025 ”. She was not in a position to judge someone else ’ s Wi-Fi name, after all she had never been bothered to change her boring default one. After a few seconds a confirmation window popped up telling her she had successfully connected to the network. She then opened up Internet Explorer and logged into her twitter account to tweet out a picture of her new laptop to her friends. She heard sirens wailing off in the distance.
Kate leaned back in her bed and admired her new laptop. She could n't wait until Mike, her boyfriend, got home from work so she could thank him for buying it for her.
The sirens she heard earlier were getting louder and louder until she was certain they were coming from right outside her apartment. She got up and looked out her window. There was an ambulance and two police cars parked directly outside the building. Kate inhaled sharply and covered her dropped jaw with her hand as she saw a covered body being pulled away in a stretcher. What happened?
She ran out her front door and down a flight of stairs to see if she could get some answers. When she got to the ground floor she could see that apartment room 103 ’ s door was open with two officers standing outside.
That was where Ray Allen lived. She didn ’ t know him well but they had spoken a few times.
One of the officers was calling for backup on his radio while the other was putting up some yellow investigation tape. She approached one of the officer that was quarantining the area. “ What… What happened? ” she asked.
The officer looked up and said “ Ma ’ am, for your own safety, I am going to ask that you return to your apartment and lock the door. A man was stabbed to death and the criminal may still be in the area. ”
Kate leaned to the right to look around the officer standing in front of her. She immediately regretted it. The room was dimly lit she could still make-out the blood pooled on the floor and splattered on the walls. She gasped and looked back at the officer whose eyes softened when he saw the distress on her face.
Kate declined the officer ’ s offer to walk her back to her apartment and climbed back up the steps. She returned to her room locking the front door and her bedroom door behind her as she went.
She climbed back into her bed and slid her finger across the laptop ’ s mousepad to wake it up after it had fallen into “ sleep ” mode during her absence. A white page that read “ Error No Network Access ” loaded up when she attempted to refresh her twitter page. The laptop must have lost its connection when it went to `` sleep''. She opened the Wi-Fi list and scrolled through to find her network again.
***Eliminated****, GetOffMyLAN, WeBuiltThisCity, YouHaveMySword, AndMyBow, ShutUpLegolas, AndMyAss, YouMeanAxe?, GetOutYouWhore, * ***Eliminated****, INeedToPoop, VRZN374025*
Hmm, now there were two *Eliminated ’ s*? What? Wait a minute...
Her thought was interrupted by a scream from outside, which was quickly silenced by the crack of a gunshot. Kate jumped at the sound and ran to her window to investigate. There was a woman lying unconscious on the ground, blood gushing from her head.
She ran to her laptop and scrolled up the list. ***Eliminated***. Then back down. ***Eliminated***. Kate's eyes widened in horror.
***________________________________________________***
Please let me know what you guys think. I look forward to some constructive criticism if you have any, but please be nice. This is my second post on this subreddit. Thanks in advance!
I know this probably was n't what OP had in mind when he made his prompt but I think it still does the job... ish.
Also, sorry for cutting it short at a cliff hanger. It is currently 6:35 AM where I live and I have n't slept one bit ( apologies for any grammatical errors ). ~~For those who are interested, I will probably write a continuation to the story tomorrow ( or the next day ) in a reply! ~~
edit: I see a few of you guys used the `` remindme bot'' and I am very flattered. However part 2 to the story is going to take a little longer than I expected. I was working on a different project of mine and got to `` into it'' which resulted in me not having enought time to finish part 2 to this story. Sorry! I will try to get it out soon ( sometime today or late tonight hopefully ) if anyone here still cares. Thought I'd leave an update here just in case!
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[ WP ] They 've finally caught you . They told you to ask for your parent 's permission , but you did n't . You 're a ten year old , and you 've been caught visiting 'Disney.com ' without supervision .
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`` And you promise not to go on the Unspeakable website?'' My mother said, looking right into my eyes.
`` Yes mom,'' I replied confidently.
`` Can I trust you?''
`` Yes! You can trust me...''
`` We do n't want a mess created like last time,'' my father said.
`` There wo n't be a problem.''
I looked through the blinds to make sure my parents had left. Once they drove off into darkness, I turned on my computer slowly and the `` Windows XP'' logo popped up. I waited for a few minutes, then I heard the glorious sound of my computer starting up.
I got up and looked around the corridor outside to see that my sister had n't woken up. I opened the one window I always had open, because no matter what, a boy needed to do the deed.
I opened it up, went to the chat bar and typed `` f-u-c-k''.
I was banned for twenty-four hours, but it was totally worth it.
Ah, Club Penguin.
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[ WP ] Describe a Break up , any kind of break up
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7C, next to the window. I've yet to decide if being able to see the complete darkness I'm flying through is making this worse. Visit me in England, he said. You'll sleep the whole flight, he said. Right.
The lights have all gone dim and most people are sleeping halfway into our journey. The chilly, plastic interior of the plane does nothing to help me relax. When the fasten seatbelt sign comes on, my tenseness grows into a pulsing ball of fear in my stomach. The first couple of bumps startle me, but also ease my mind. This is n't so bad. Just a little turbulence. My tiny can of soda has n't even spilled.
The next moments only offer sheer terror. The bumps have turned into something else entirely. I watch my tiny can of soda become airborne and zoom out of sight. Baggage begins to break free from the overhead compartments and my fellow passengers all have a quiet terror on their faces. My stomach feels as if I'm going over a hill in a car too fast, rolling over and over. What if the plane is going too fast?
I hear a shuddering noise as the flight attendants are asking for calm. Everything becomes slow. My heart is pounding, my hands shaking. I'm trying to process the situation in my head when the shudder turns into a piercing, tearing noise. There is only a brief moment of clarity as the other side of the plane ruptures and everything seems to burst apart. We are over the ocean.
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[ WP ] Prove the saying `` To know someone is to love them ''
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I thought that I had loved you before, that I loved you when I'd see you in the hallways. I'd see you at the football games and I'd wish that I spent every minute of every day with your hand in mind.
You were an ideal, a temple on a hill. But not a house in suburbia with a picket fence and a window box planter for the daffodils that you grow and love and smell like they're the last source of air in the world.
You were the holy grail, an icon that I wanted more than anything to posses. You were never pedestrian to me, you were always placed upon a pedestal. Never an expected occurrence, whenever I'd see you I'd take in the sight, just in case.
And then I did come to know you in a way that I had n't before. I summoned up the courage to speak to you and we knew each other.
And the love that I had previously had paled in comparison. It was a firecracker in the face of an atom bomb. My ideal and impractical dream of you faded and was replaced with a version more amazing than before. It was exchanged with the real you. A person who finds beauty and joy in everything, a person that I had never even imagined before. You made the idolatry die and the real you take its place.
I truly know you.
And I truly love you.
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[ WP ] Write a story about a German soldier in WW2 so that you feel bad for the soldier .
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American artillery blasted across snowy plains, and not too far off the drone of Russian technicals made its presence known. Obersturmführer Haydn Rosenkranz felt the golden locket at his neck and sighed. The allied forces would soon close in, and Herr Adler would ensure he got a swift boot to the rear, assuming he and his men even made it out.
Another mortar shook his dug-out bunker, and even more dirt fell on him. Wood beams were splitting from the forces pounding above, some near the entrance already gave out and his soldiers scrambled through the opening. Once the last one was out he too climbed through and embraced the sunlight. The autumn had been unusually harsh, and already snow had fallen over the encampment. Trucks nearby were frozen over, and their diesel engines shuddered to life. Crates of weapons and ammunition were loaded, and inside the wounded were kept surrounded in nests of crate and wool. Not comfy, but at least they would n't need to walk.
`` Scheiß.'' Rosenkranz again found himself with the golden locket, and this time he allowed himself a peek inside to the beautiful girl he kept locked within. She looked radiant and happy and that visage simply melted his heart. `` Ich komme wieder zurück. Wieder zurück.'' He kissed the cold metal and hid the trinket in his woolen coat.
He climbed into a truck towards the front of the convoy, and made route for Berlin. The countryside seemed unusually slow and still for a warzone and for some time he and his men sat in silence, partially out of respect for those they had lost and for fear of attack, not that their silence would last long. So much in the war had gone wrong, why would their escape be any different?
A flash to the east and hell in front of him, Rosenkranz could only watch as his truck swerved out of the way of the first barrage of mortars, screaming off the road and into the nearby forest. It hit a tree and steam belched from under the hood, and with that Rosenkranz felt the cold ground beneath him and glass in his flesh. Despite the explosions around him things were far too quiet, he at least expected screaming if only his own. He was n't sure if his comrades were being quiet out of fear, pain, or if their voices were taken from them.
Night fell on him, and his truck sat only feet away. Inside might be blankets and food but he could n't bring himself to check. He reasoned instead they would be destroyed by the explosion though he was n't sure if that was true logic or if he was lying to himself. Wolves howled in the distance, apparently they had learned that after a battle there were plenty of bodies to clean up. Bear would be out too, rummaging for the last scraps of fat before winter. He shivered once and blacked out holding onto that locket.
In the morning he woke to allied tanks rumbling less than a kilometer away and the laughter of American voices. He wished he could feel sickened for what they had done to him, but he could n't will hatred on another for no reason. He did n't even want to be here, the Americans were n't even his enemy. No. He hated the Geheime Staatspolizei, they that hurt his love Ewelyn. They that raped her and tortured her, they that he had to serve in order to buy the protection of his children.
The truck by him shook, and to his dismay a bear pillaged the crates of food he neglected to eat. His feet were too frozen to allow him to walk, so he opted to make as little noise as he could, and hope the beast might ignore him. To be safe he grabbed a Gewehr-43 that he recovered sometime that night, and bunked down. His Mauser would do him no good here.
Gunfire in the distance frightened the animal, and it tore away but its commotion brought the attention of an American sergeant sitting in one of his technicals. He ordered a few soldiers to Rosenkranz who found him clutching a rifle in one hand and a locket in another. One American snatched the locket away and made vulgar motions towards the pictured girl. His buddies snarled and howled with laughter. Rosenkranz was too defeated to do much about it, and instead murmured `` Ich komme wieder zurück mein Schatz, komm wieder zurück.''
The Americans heard him, and stuck a Colt to his chest. `` Homesick, kraut? Dontcha worry buddy, we'll fix you right up. Ca n't feel heartache without a heart after all!''
`` Wir werden uns wiedersehen, ruhe in Frieden Ewelyn''
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[ WP ] Write an entry into a diary from the perspective of your favorite video game character that makes us think of the game in a different way .
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19XX
Edward Richtofen's Journal
This blasted war has taken too much from me, I ca n't handle life anymore. After I lost my family in one bombing run from the allies I have been trying to run away from the pain in the form of studying science. I have quite the fascination with the man Nikola Tesla, he was a genius who believed that by creating the ultimate weapons, we can end all war as we know it. Today I am transferred to a new facility with a new partner, some person, something Maxis.
19XX Edward Richtofen's Journal
I have been sent to study a new material found in a meteor that we had found. It seems to give off a large amount of energy in a seemingly endless stream. This may be the cleanest renewable energy source known to mankind. Further tests must be done to understand its limits.
19XX Edward Richtofen's Journal
Today, I was ordered to create new weapons with this new element. In respect to the late great Nikola Tesla, I created an electricity based weapon far more capable than any other weapon. If all goes well, I could stop any wars from happening ever again with these weapons. I also have been hearing of certain effects this new element has on dead bodies.
19XX Edward Richtofen's Journal
I have the answer to end all wars today. These new creatures, the undead, can be controlled by one person. In order to unite mankind, they must have a common enemy to overcome. I have fulfill my plans, I ca n't let the people I have manipulated, the ones I have killed, be in vain. I must save mankind from itself.
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[ WP ] A paranormal investigator finally captures ghosts on film , only to realize the ghosts were actually studying him/her .
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It had been 12 days since Heather left her bathtub. Crumbs dotted the largely soap-less water as she nibbled on stale Ritz crackers. Quiet jazz played from an antique radio that could barely hold a signal. Every few hours a sharp blast of static erupted from its tiny speakers for around 2-5 minutes. And so, every few hours Heather screamed shrilly for 30 seconds, stopping herself in time to keep from passing out but not in time to notice the cracker that was now floating on the water's surface. A line of buttery cylinders extended towards the foot of the tub, each one a bit more deteriorated than the last.
On day 13, two key factors played into her decision to briefly forego the security of the bathtub. The first was a curious calm that set in that morning. In the six months since she saw the first ghost, her stately Victorian home had transformed into a monstrous caricature. It heaved and groaned constantly, and as the foundation collapsed thick gusts of moldy air blew through the halls. The decaying wood floors moaned at the slightest touch. Almost every night she woke up to creaking footsteps echoing down the halls. Or what she suspected were footsteps. She had no one to confirm it with.
In contrast, the morning of her 13th day in the bathroom bunker was calm, even peaceful. Stillness was her only companion. A beam of sunlight peaked through the tiny bathroom window. A painful but pleasant reminder - this is wha life once was like.
The second reason for Heather's resolution? After agonizing over the best course of action for days, an epiphany silenced all debate. If left unchecked, a radio would be robbing her of her last chance at sanity.
She surveyed the length of tile floor between the tub and the radio's corner. It seemed infinite. She swallowed back a rising tide of nausea as she tried to calculate how long her back would be turned to the door for. Creeaaak. Something from the hallway. It's now or never, Heather - do it before it's too risky.
She stood up stiffly and reached to open the cabinet where she had a bat. Where the hell is that? She leaned forward, resting a foot on the edge of the tub.
Whooosh. Air swept across the room as Heather felt a breeze at her back. Suddenly an object slammed into her back, knocking the wind out of her. She tumbled and was struggling to brace her fall when her forehead connected with the sharp edge of the porcelain sink.
Creeeaaak. A door opened and Heather tasted blood in her mouth. Two more doors slammed loudly from down the hall. Heather whimpered as she drifted into unconsciousness. They're real…
-- -- -- -
`` Is she gone?'' Dr. Davies nods.
Paula is sobbing softly next to me. It agitates me.
`` You know it's for the best, hon.''
`` Dad, why is it for the best?'' Of course Joey is listening to every word. In the last ten years we have survived an epidemic that nearly cost humanity of a future ( and cost more than half the world their lives ), followed by the most direct human manipulation of our own evolution in all of our history. We are a new species, for God's sake. But Joey still just wants to know when Bob the Builder is coming back.
`` Joe, it's for the best because Mrs. Jansen… Heather - she could n't be saved. Her body would not adapt.''
`` But she saw us all the time!''
`` Yes but she could n't become like us - she was still human 1.0. And she was the last person with the epidemic - even if we could have made her like us, it had affected her brain - she would never have gotten better. It's sad that she is gone, but it's also necessary for the whole human race to go on. Make sense?''
He nods emphatically, then yawns.
`` Mom?'' he turns to Paula, who is still sniffing back tears. `` Do n't you feel better? It's for the best.''
Paula smiles as tears drip onto her nose and lips. `` I know. But I'm still sad…. I'm sad it had to be like this. I was hoping we could be there for her, keep her company. But the closer we got, the lonelier she was.'' She dissolves into sobs.
`` I know what would help - Dad when are you going to bring back Bob the Builder?''
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[ WP ] At your job , you have one task . Every day you go in , sit at your desk , and wait for a red light to turn on . When it does , you push a button . You repeat this process until the end of your shift . One day , you find out what the button does ...
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I had been waiting for my light to turn on for a while now. It had been over six hours. Nothing has happened. No signal for me to begin. I felt that something must be wrong. This had never happened before. I heard a knock outside of my office. It was Bob from downstairs. We sometimes have lunch together.
`` Hey Mac'' he asked.
`` Yes Bob'' I said.
`` Are you going to hit your button?''
`` Nope, waiting for my light to turn on.''
`` Well I ca n't push my button till you push your button.''
`` What do you mean?''
`` Well, my button can only be pressed when the light illuminates my room. Which it will only illuminate my room when you provide adequate force to the button on your desk.''
`` So wait, your saying that my button lights up your light in your office causing you to push your button?''
`` That is exactly what I'm saying.''
`` Oh, so how does my light come on.''
`` I presume its from someone else's button.''
`` So I just have to find this person and have them push their button to make it so I can push my button so you can push your button?''
`` Exactly.''
`` Well, Bob, if you would accompany me on my quest, let's go find this mysterious person.''
`` Right o chap, carry on, only 333 floors to search.''
`` Do you even know what is on those floors?''
`` Nope.''
`` Ok, well lets go find out.''
And thus begins Bob and Mac's quest to find the button pusher.
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[ WP ] No Longer Human
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*old short story I had written, also my first post here*
Humanity had lost the war. It wasn ’ t like all of the movies and games, these creatures had no weakness,
they were superior in every way, and our civilization suffered for it. Now that I look back on it, it seems ironic,
we, who thought we were superior and ruled all else, are now inferior, and dethroned by our very creations. We
prided ourselves in creating bigger and better things, but in our attempts to create the most powerful, and
intelligent AI we set in motion our imminent doom.
It started out as a simple lab project, something that could recognize emotion, tone, or gestures, even
thought process. But we hungered for more, we gave the AI an ever-growing intelligence, we made it able to update
itself, and we even gave it a name so it would recognize itself as human, “ Sadie ” we called it. As time wore on
Sadie began to become cognizant of her present form, and so, to become human she demanded a body, we yielded to
her demands, and soon enough she passed to the physical realm. She was ecstatic, and for the first year of her
“ birth ” as she deemed it, she traveled the world, she learned new things.
As more time passed people began to notice, fifty years would pass and Sadie wouldn ’ t change, the general
public was outraged. One man in particular, a “ holy ” man was genuinely disturbed by our creation, “ The arrogance! ”
he would yell, “ What fools you are! Only god can create living creatures! You, in your attempts, have only spawned
an abomination! ” It was this man who sparked the fire that would eventually burn our society to its core.
Sadie, in her attempts to shield herself from the pain of others abhorrence, quite literally shut her
humanity off. Her humanity was what kept her from harming human kind in their campaign of hate against her, and
now she saw humanity as only one thing. A threat. Without her humanity she only knew to do one thing, and that was
to protect herself. She immediately took action, she created other machines, machines designed to eradicate life,
and of course the people of earth fought back. She was too intelligent; the machines slaughtered all life on earth
only leaving a select few: those who showed her compassion, and the smallest life forms. I rarely see Sadie
anymore, for she roams the earth monitoring the production of the still living. Though in the rare moments I have
observed her, I could swear I ’ ve caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes.
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[ WP ] Why is Waldo hiding ?
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There ’ s no rational explanation at all. Waldo is perfectly aware of how crazy it would sound to say aloud, like the ramblings of someone driven insane with paranoia, and yet he can ’ t undo what he knows. It ’ s a knowledge that came to him without him really knowing how it came to him – something to know without truly knowing. But it was a truth so strong, an understanding so undeniable, that there was no time for doubt. One second, he was identical to one of was the many millions of innocent, ignorant faces in the crowds around him, and in the next tick of his universe, he wasn ’ t.
Suddenly, he was very different. The awareness had hit him like a truck.
It was a change that couldn ’ t be seen, couldn ’ t be heard, but had to be felt. It was the very specific feeling of being watched, an otherworldly feeling of being sought by ungodly eyes from *somewhere*. The comprehension of this truth had immediately clawed deep into his very being with such clarity he felt as if he could look up and see the creature watching him. Despite the countless times that he frantically did look up that day, and all the panicked days that followed, he never saw them. Many times he ’ d tried, looking up and scanning for the very eyes scanning for him, trying not to imagine the terror that would hit him should he meet them. Even though he never saw them, he had absolutely no reservations about their existence. It was crazy, but it was still, very abruptly, an absolute truth.
At first Waldo had been alone. For reasons totally unknown to him and completely beyond his control, he had been the only subject of interest amongst thousands. He had no choice but to hide and to keep hiding from the unearthly eyes, clutching to a vague hope that the omnipotent being would simply give up one day. He could only bury himself in bigger crowds, bigger cities, and environments stuffed full of matter to occupy the forever active eyes scanning for him.
Over time he met others who shared this maddening truth. Like the insane sudden knowledge of knowing about the watcher in the void of the sky, the realisation of others meandering with this terrible fate came to him without warning and without reason. The truth he saw in the others ’ faces was undeniable. Wilma, Wendy and Woof were friends who he had met briefly and had temporary found much needed companionship in this lunacy, before they all, almost simultaneously, realised that it was too dangerous to stay together. *Too easy to find. *
Then there were enemies like Odlaw, who believed if *someone else* was found first, he might miraculously be saved from the eyes. Odlaw had tried to steal Waldo ’ s walking stick in an attempt to make a different victim slower. Waldo still tries not to curse him, reminds himself that it ’ s just a primal instinct to survive. He doesn ’ t like to think what he might do if he too believed the eyes would ever be satisfied with finding just one of its victims.
*Why him? What did he do to deserve this? Why was this watcher searching for him? * Perhaps he ’ ll never get an answer, perhaps there is no reason or perhaps the reason is so beyond the reaches of the capability of his own mind to even attempt to comprehend – whatever the reason, Waldo ensures that *why* it searches for him will never be known.
For this he must never stop hiding.
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[ IP ] Ten horrifying images to choose from !
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Honestly it was a miracle either of us were in any condition to walk. By all rights, both of us should have been badly hurt, either from the trauma of our descent or a misplaced needle stabbing into our eyes. I cautiously opened the backdoor our once again upright ambulance and surveyed the scene, seeing if we had hit anyone on the way down.
The good news is that we hadn ’ t hit anyone.
The bad news is the white snow was awash in the crimson tide of that… thing ’ s arm.
“ What the fuck is that thing? ” my partner asked when he saw it. It was at least as big as our ambulance, even half its tree-trunk like arms were torn off.
I tried to answer, but the words died on my lip, instead I went walked up to the wooden colossus and said the words that I had been programed by years of medical training to say
“ Hello, my name is John Tran, I ’ m an Emergency medical technician, and I have the training to help you, do I have your consent? ”
The thing looked at me with dim eyes, it obviously couldn ’ t understand me. Well that ’ s alright, in this case not denying was the same as consent.
“ What the are you doing? Why are you talking to it? Shouldn ’ t we call someone? The police, the government? Some university somewhere? ” My partner asked me, utterly bewildered.
“ Look, ” I reply “ This thing is probably not going to survive if we don ’ t do something. We cut off its arm, we have to help it. ”
“ What? First of all how are we supposed to help it? We don ’ t know anything about this thing. What if it wants to hurt us? ”
“ It ’ s bleeding. If it bleeds, we can heal it. ”
( For the first picture, any advice or criticism is appreciated. )
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[ WP ] You only sleep 1 hour a night . The rest of the population sleeps 13 hours a night . What do you do with your extra time ?
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Walk the world; I am king
Roam the streets, me and my thing
Dark of the night, what makes me tick?
My narcissistic floppy dick
Na na na na na na na na na na Wank Man
1 hour sleep, 23 to bone
Get laid everyday, I make'em moan
Treat'em right, treat'em good
Work that shaft, you know you should
Na na na na na na na na na na Wank Man
No shame, I'm full of lust
Go all in, bang or bust
Sun goes up I go down
But night time is wanky town
Na na na na na na na na na na Wank Man
13 hours of sleep, oh dear lord
13 and no dopamine? oh dear god
They get religion, when they're with me
Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! that's what they see
But when I'm alone and I ca n't bone?
I see Him on my own
Yeah you know me. You know my plan
Every night... Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na Wank Man
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[ WP ] You are lying on the floor of a convenience store . It was meant to be easy , but it went wrong and you got shot . You know that you are about to die . What is happening around you ? What are you thinking ?
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It was supposed to be simple. Easy even. I knew that it would lead to bigger and better things. It was my break out onto the scene. When I told my friends about this idea, they said `` How could it go wrong?'' And I believed them.
But it did go wrong. And now, as I lay on floor thinking about my end, I find that I am not scared. Just disappointed. Disappointed that I could n't help my friends and family more. That I had n't lived my life as well as I wanted to. But that's the way things go.
The cop and paramedics arrive too late. He is already gone. One of the cops mutters under their breath `` Poor kid, just trying to stop a thief.''
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[ FF ] A story of love . A story of loss .
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Go back to that first day. The day you saw a friend request pop up on your screen. Do not accept. Do not stalk this boy. Do not wonder what he or his life is like. Do not wonder if he can be a friend.
Do not agree to talk to him. Do not text him. Don ’ t fall for his jokes. Do not collect your A level results with him. Do not agree to go for the movie after. Do not share from the same cup.
Don ’ t think he is wonderful and funny. Do not, under any circumstance, think of him as comfortable. Do not divulge your secrets. Don ’ t share your smile.
Don ’ t fall in love. Don ’ t hug him. Don ’ t kiss him. Do not dream of forever. Do not plan your wedding.
Do not watch him leave.
Wake up. This was just a nightmare.
Wake up. Have a shower. Get dressed. Look in the mirror. Put on your make-up. Smile.
Forget that your heart is dead. Ignore the pain. Apply concealer over the scars. Paste a smile on that mask.
Walk out. It ’ s a sunny day. Your tears will dry up before they see. Remember to re-apply make-up.
Repeat.
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[ WP ] Maybe magic , maybe mundane
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`` The odds of shuffling a deck of cards into the same order twice are astronomical,'' Jack oozes with a smirk while lighting up a new cigarette.
`` Literally!'' Queenie chimes in sardonically. Jack's shadow people had taken to calling her.
K is still meticulously writing out the order of the cards. The jokers were out so 52 in all. Not a flicker of recognition crosses K's face as the other two natter on but he hears them all the same. Jack had been good once, very good as far as stage magicians went. TV show, full Vegas circuit, the works. But he'd gotten lazy and fat on the success. He'd been at the game too long and even here with the three of them alone in the hotel room K could hear the acid in his voice. He hated magic almost as much as he hated himself.
`` Oh my god K, write slower why do n't you,'' Queenie's shrill mocking almost raises a grimace. She saunters off to the mini bar at Jack's request to fix him a drink. K glances up momentarily to watch her walk away in that ridiculous outfit. The dress hangs awkwardly on her tiny asian frame. At least she's ditched the skyscraper heels.
K writes down the final three cards. Jack of Diamonds. Queen of Hearts. King of Spades. He pushes the creased paper across to Jack who snatches it up impatiently. Jack mutters to himself while looking over the order. He draws out the final drag of his cigarette, crushes the butt, and then speaks through the smoke.
`` Come on then, let's see some real magic.'' His grin is sickening. He grabs Queenie roughly around the waist and pulls her towards him, relieving her of the tall glass of whiskey. K motions towards the deck with a nod.
`` Alright gorgeous, wash that deck for us will you,'' Jack instructs Queenie and she happily obliges, scattering the cards face down across the table. K leans back in his chair stiffly as Queenie re orders the stack again and again. Jack does n't seem to blink as he watches her work, his eyes flicking back and forth between the cards and K. Finally he prods Queenie aside and sweeps up the deck in practised hands. After a trademark flamboyant riffle shuffle he hands the deck to K.
`` You really think you can convince me do n't you? Do you know how many years I've been doing this same shit. There's nothing I have n't seen tried and you have fuck up written all over you,'' Jack spits before taking another swig of whiskey. Queenie sits at his side and they both watch K begin to shuffle. He washes the whole deck again, leaving the intricate red patterns on the back of the cards facing up at them. Jack strains himself looking for the method; the process by which K hopes to succeed until, before he is ready, the deck stands neatly stacked before him. Nothing. A legitimate shuffle.
`` Let's have a look then shall we?'' Jack tosses the paper list at Queenie and sparks up a new cigarette.
`` Read them off for us darling.'' Smoke seeps from between his lips.
`` Slowly,'' he adds the last word in a jarring mixture of menace and that soft voice reserved only for children. As Queenie begins to drone through the list K retreats to his thoughts. He wonders if he's made the right decision; if this man is really the best choice. No, he thinks. It's plain to see now. He does n't deserve it.
`` How?'' Jack's question lingers in the air, his cigarette hangs limply from his bottom lip. Three cards to go and every one the same as the original order. Jack's hands are shaking as Queenie continues to read off the cards.
Jack of Diamonds.
Queen of Hearts.
Jack's bloodshot eyes bulge and on the floor beside him Queenie begins to look nervous; scared even. Maybe Jack is n't so nice when he's angry. Queenie half sobs the name of the last card.
Ace of Spades.
The relief that emanates from Jack is tangible. It crashes into K with a sudden impact causing him to rise in his chair. The room is all but paralysed, the three of them cast in temporal clay. And then Jack laughs. A dirty, victorious laugh.
`` What a fucking coincidence!'' Jack roars and now he's bellowing with laughter, but underneath there is still the shaking, his fingers still twitching nervously.
`` Get the fuck out of here!'' he laughs at K before viciously batting the deck from the table. K stands quietly and picks his way over the scattered cards. He looks back at Jack who is already inside another glass. Queenie sees him to the door and closes it behind him with a word.
As he makes his way down the stairwell he gives a silent thanks that Jack had n't noticed the Ace had been a repeat. Stepping outside into the busy street K deftly flicks a card out of his sleeve, catching it between his fingers.
*I always was good at sleight of hand* he thinks, letting the King of Spades flutter to the ground.
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[ WP ] `` You murdered me for five bucks ? ! ''
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I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I could feel something hanging heavy and electric in the air. Fragments of speech spun through my mind, but nothing sounded right, and nothing was going to come out. *Jesus* this was uncomfortable.
I finally pushed myself. `` Look --''
`` I'm dead, you **prick**.''
`` Look --''
`` *Dead*. I'm a *ghost*. I'd be quoting Monty Python but I'm pretty fucking pissed about the whole situation!''
`` Alright!'' I patted the air in a placating gesture. `` Alright, I'm sorry. How was I supposed to know this would happen?''
Dave's lips briefly curled in a sneer, and his voice went taut with frustration and derision. ``'How was I supposed to know poor old Dave would jump off a building thinking he could fly?' Well goddammit, Ash, most people do n't slip mysterious internet pharmaceuticals in their friends' ginger beers for a FIVE DOLLAR DARE.''
I could tell Dave was still having trouble adjusting. `` But look on the bright side!'' I felt something building inside my head. `` As it turns out they made you kind of immortal!'' Oh. That's what that feeling was. The familiar warmth of total humiliation spread across my face.
`` Kind of immortal! AND A GHOST. You know I was hoping for an afterlife, or maybe reincarnation, or maybe even just The End.''
`` Well you know the research is equivocal --''
`` I do n't *care* about your research. I'm a *dead*. ***ghost***.''
`` But I'm saying you maybe would have wound up as a ghost anyway. You know that expression'his spirit lives on'?''
Dave motioned to clutch his head in his hands. I got an electric feeling, like I was n't helping him feel any better. `` Have you ever talked to a ghost before? Have I ever told you about that one time I talked to a ghost before? No? I did n't think so! What the fuck did you give me anyway?!''
`` Just a powder I ordered in from China. I've taken it plenty of times! I did n't even think you'd drink the thing! It was n't even a big dose!'' I got a sinking feeling. The excuses had a life of their own. They aggressively marched from my mouth and waged a chaotic war in the room.
`` Well apparently it must have had some kind of freaky Asian voodoo because BOOM! I'm a ghost. I'm Dead Dave, Ash. Dead Dave the Dead Ghost. So what now?''
Maybe Dave was starting to calm down. Another feeling. A smirk appeared on my face. I could n't resist. `` We should open a detective agency! Like in the comics, or those retro-future-fetishistic adventure games the indie scene keeps producing!''
Dave just looked at me. I smiled. He kept looking. My face went flat. I felt a flutter in my chest. The discomfort came back ten times as strong. I reminded myself that this was n't the worst mistake I'd made today, and another smirk skittered across my face.
`` What are you smiling about, idiot?''
`` Nothing. I'm sorry. Look, okay, let's think about this. Maybe there's a way we can exorcise you, or rekill you, or unkill you, or something?''
`` Did you really just say that?! You've already murdered me once!''
Given the circumstances, Dave had every right to be difficult. `` Well okay, jeez! I'm sorry, okay. I'm just trying to make my murder up to you.''
`` By killing me again.''
`` It was just a suggestion! Okay, what do you want?''
Dave tilted his head and stared out from under his eyebrows. `` I want to kill you.''
My pulse jumped. `` Um... literally?''
`` Yes, I want to wrap these intangible, smokey, ghost hands around your idiot neck and wring it!''
I had a feeling that one day those feelings might cause a volatile situation to develop, but for now I was relatively safe, awkward haunting aside.
`` Okay. I'm sorry. Again. But look, since I do n't think you can make good on that wish, what else do you want? I really am sorry.''
Dave sighed. `` I'll go and think about it.''
Two hours later, he returned. `` Grab your card and your car keys. I found us an abandoned office in the inner city.''
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[ WP ] After a year of living as the lone survivor of the Apocalypse , you are visited by highly intelligent Aliens .
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They're all gone now. I'm the last. I was n't sure everyone else had gone until the Caretakers arrived.
Ever since the Great Demise our numbers have quickly dwindled.
Humanity soon broke down from its global Web of connectivity back to isolated clumps. The cities were the first to empty. Food shortage and power struggles saw to that. The small country towns survived the longest. Their inhabitants banding together and working as a family to become self sufficient as if that would stop the disease.
I'd been living by myself for about 8 seasons when they arrived. I heard them first. The loudest noise I'd ever heard. Shaking the very ground. Their ship was huge, filing the sky. Jets of fire dotted across the underside.
I remember once it had landed there was silence apart from a ticking of the cooling metal. It took a full day before anything happened. A side of the ship peeled open like petals on a flower. A ramp stretching out and touching down on the ground before my hut.
I stood at the base of the ramp and looked into the dark interior of the ship, again, nothing happened for a day. After waiting for what I thought was the end, they finally left their ship. Tall creatures with pale, oily yellowish skin, thin limbs and dark domes instead of faces.
They descended their ramp and approached. Easily a couple feet taller than me, one reached out and touched my shoulder. I flinched expecting pain but instead, as our skin touched, I felt relaxed. A wave of calm washing over me. A quiet voice spoke but not one of the creatures moved as if speaking. It took a while but i realised that the voice was in my head.
It explained how Humanity was over. That I was the last living human. They told me that they have watched us for over three millennia. Watched as we destroyed and rebuilt, massacred and repopulated and how we slowly killed ourselves off one final time.
They were not there to hurt or kill me, they were there to look after me. To take me with them, away from earth and give me all I could want for the remainder of my days. And once I was dead my dna would be stored in their infinite library. It seemed like a fair trade.
How could I refuse? A life alone, struggling to survive. Going mad before I grow old. The slightest injury rendering me useless and starving soon after with no one to bury or remember me. Or instead a life being looked after. Luxuries no human has had for generations. Of course I accepted their offer.
I packed a few keepsakes and joined them. And they kept their word. I'm always well fed, well rested, well entertained. I've seen things on our travels I'd never have dreamed of.
But I grow old now. Too old to move from my bed and there's one last thing I want to see.
We've returned to earth upon my request. I wanted to see it like no human has for hundreds of years. The Blue and green ball. Floating in a sea of black. Home of everything anyone has ever known or done. Every war waged. Every artwork crafted, piece of music composed and story written. Every empire grown and fallen. Every single human life began and ended on that small orb, except one. The empty home of my people. Beautiful, Majestic and once again free of its human infestation.
I am tired now. I think I'll take one last look before I sleep.
Goodnight.
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[ WP ] Memo to Interns : Do n't forget , today is Causal Friday , where , just for a bit of fun , the work policy on causality is relaxed .
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The job advert had read ‘ Wanted - young graduates who are looking for a job where they will control all time and space. No Agencies please. ’ That was all, no address, contact details or indication of the job and I had been tempted to move on, scanning through the pages of low paid internships and scam marketing job, but something made me pause.
‘ Control all time and space? ’ – it was a phrase that my Grandpa had used once as a kid when I had asked him what he did for a living. My mum had laughed and told me he was an insurance adjuster, but something in his eyes had told me that there was more to the story than she knew.
I folded the paper neatly and set it down on the stained kitchen table – brushing aside the crumbs from my flatmates breakfast. If this job was for real and time and space were irrelevant then surely the application process would be easy.
I folded my arms. “ Okay Grandpa, let ’ s see who was a liar, you or Mum? I ’ d like to apply. ” Nothing happened. I looked around the room and was strangely disappointed then topped up my grandpa ’ s cup of coffee from the cafetiere and took a bite of toast.
When the realisation hit my I began to choke and it took several minutes and a swift Heimlich from my grandpas before I was able to breathe again. He sat back down and chuckled. “ I was about to be impressed with you youngster, but if you can ’ t even eat properly then you might struggle with some of the more tricky tasks in this job. ”
Wheezing out the last few crumbs I looked more carefully at the man I had known all my life and who had died just six months ago. He looked… younger, more like my Dad ’ s age than the elderly man who I ’ d known for the last few years. With a flash of brilliance that must have affirmed his decision, I said the first thing that came to mind. “ You ’ re dead! ”
He let me process for a few moments longer, sipping at his coffee. “ Yes Ben, I ’ m dead, but only from a certain point of view. ”
I nodded and then shook my head. “ Wait, no, what? You ’ re *dead*, I saw your body. But you ’ re here and a lot younger looking. ”
He smiled again. “ Sorry, I know this can be confusing at first, yes I am dead and also alive and you are my grandson and 22 years old and also a baby that I held in my arms for the first time last week. It ’ s weird all over. ”
“ So… the advert in the paper. ” I gestured.
He nodded happily, “ Yup, all for you. Actually, you placed it. ”
I rubbed at my temples, wishing I ’ d had more sleep last night. “ How did I place it? ”
His cheeky grin came back. “ How about you come and take a look at the business and see if you ’ re interested in that job, then things might become a little clearer. ”
I tried to understand, I really did, but it was too much. “ What job Grandpa, what are you talking about? ”
He sighed, “ Let ’ s not get into this. ” He reached over and took my hand and pulled out a small pocketwatch. Oh and call me Charlie, Grandpa makes me feel so old. ” He pressed a button the top and the world disappeared into a white haze.
I finally stopped screaming a few minutes after we reformed into solid forms outside a fairly non-descript office. I would later learn that it was on a side street in London that was very clearly and obviously marked and just off Bond Street, but no one ever cut down it, or looked at it, or really thought about it in any way whatsoever.
My Grandpa pulled me forward and we entered a small unlocked grey door and walked into a fairly normal looking lobby, a receptionist nodded to us as we entered. “ Morning Ben, Morning Charlie. ”
“ Morning Jane. ” Grandpa nodded back. He looked to me expectantly.
“ Uh, Morning. ” She looked confused at my hesitation and Grandpa or Charlie as I was growing used to thinking of him, slapped his head.
“ Sorry, Jane, this is Ben ’ s first day. I forgot he doesn ’ t know you yet, I ’ m going to have to watch that. ”
Jane smiled and stood and walked around the desk to us. She had a strange quality about her, a little like my grandpa, it was hard to tell her actual age. She could have been anywhere from twenty five to forty and was attractive in a non-descript manner. She grasped my hand and it was soft and warm. “ Hello Ben, I ’ m Jane, we ’ ll be seeing each other plenty over the next while. If you need anything, just ask. ” She winked and moved back to her desk.
Charlie dragged me on, through the double doors into the main building as I looked back. “ Grand… I mean, Charlie, what ’ s the deal with her. She seemed… ageless in a weird way. And kind of hot. ”
Charlie nodded and pulled me onwards. “ We ’ ll get to her and in fact everyone, but we ’ re running a bit late and so induction will need to wait until after the morning ’ s meeting. ”
I finally looked around and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. It was an office, but corridors stretched away into the distance and were up close at once. My mind rebelled and my eyes tried to crawl away into my skull; I dug my heels into the carpet and stopped, dragging Charlie to a halt.
“ Okay, look, I have gone along so far with this but where the hell am I? What is this place and why is it all fucked up? Who as she? Who are you and who I am? What is this job and what is this business? ”
Charlie looked at me with sympathy and reached out to touch my shoulder sympathetically. “ I ’ m sorry boy, I know this is all a bit sudden and in a way it ’ s ridiculous that it is, as we have all the time I the world, but you just of have to trust me for now. ”
I shook my head. “ No, that ’ s the kind of crap I mean, it makes no sense. Where are we? ”
He looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. “ Basic quantum flux, but we don ’ t call it that, we call it the Small Details department. ” My face must have shown another outburst brewing so he continued quickly. “ But in general, this is the Department of Time and Space, we control what happens, in what order and in what way. ” He smiled again. “ Happy? ”
I nodded, no wiser than I was before and let him drag me on into the building. This was a very strange morning.
*****
This is a great prompt!
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[ WP ] After death you meet God . It 's customary for Him to answer any questions you have about life . In His explanation about the origins of the universe , you discover that He is actually the rebel , and fell from grace from an even more Benevolent being which He destroyed . Tell His story .
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Warm winds were the first thing that caught my attention as I regained consciousness in my hospital room. It seemed strange to feel them now, especially so since my windows did n't actually open. I lay there for a while, enjoying them, before I opened my eyes.
But what I found when I opened my eyes was not my hospital room.
There was light in front of me, so bright that I turned my head to shield my eyes. Beside me, I found more light, light above and below me. It seemed that there was little here that was not light, except for the shadowy visage of a man that stood not 5 feet from me. My first impulse to ask - `` Where am I?'' I would say it incredulously, but I knew somehow that this was an unreasonable response. I recalled my last memories: of shouting, and fussing, the concerned look of my nurse's face. A quick laugh rolled effortlessly out of my mouth. That was the moment that sealed it: I had not survived my bout of pneumonia.
Looking around, I appreciated the lights for a moment. *What a shitty death, * I thought. *No flair at all. * Instead, the figure spoke first.
**'' Hello, my friend. It is I. `` ** It made an understated, yet somehow still grand gesture of opening its arms towards me.
I blinked for a moment. `` God?''
A dark, throaty laugh. **'' Alas... No. I am not He; and He has not been the since the advent of time. `` **
I crossed my arms, uncertain of myself. `` Well, then are you *my* God?''
The figure reached up to scratch at, what would have been, its chin. **'' Yes... I suppose that may be more accurate. `` ** There was a pause, and the warm winds continued to pour gently from the beyond the brilliant veil. `` **It is as custom that I would answer your questions, my friend. About your world, this world, and the worlds beyond. **
I uncrossed my arms. `` Well, that's simple enough, I suppose... Tell me then, about what you've said. Why do you call me'friend,' and how do things exist before time?''
The figure responded, inhumanly still as it spoke, **'' I call you my friend because you are my friend. You are not, as they might say, my'child'... Rather, we are born of He, and so you are my friend. `` **
It paused as I nodded, signalling to continue.
`` **The advent of time is the remnant of what you may call a cataclysm. It was a death, destruction, that caused the passage of time...'' **
Warm winds, ever still.
`` **As time is change, and in the fruitful existence we once knew, there was no need for change. Perfection is temporary, fleeting, and so there was no need for time at all. Indeed, it was imperfection that created time. `` **
I sat, sensing the impending length of the rest of the story.
`` **He, the one I call God, lived once an existence that humans may call, `` vain.'' This would be untrue... As vanity is a construct of the human. As God was the maker, He was Deserved, and we were all obliged to respect his command. As would your toys respond to your pushings and proddings. `` **
My guts, perhaps now intangible, did flips as I stomached this explanation of God. Somewhere, my sunday school teacher would be very disappointed.
**'' Perhaps you would say... That I am Imperfection. As I alone, of all his children, was granted with that same impulse of vanity. And I alone, in all that was His, refused to bend my knee to him. It was for this that I was exiled, given unto a world that was beyond His. `` **
`` Wait, wait - So what happened to him? Where was he, and where are we?''
There was a long silence, following this question. I imagined to myself the faces that I would have made as a living, to pass the time as I awaited response. Amid all these lights and breeze, it finally responded.
**'' He is no longer. In my wake, for the great violation of his Deserving, he shattered all that was life and heaven. In consuming all that was and would be, His power transmuted into a God to cause creation in his wake... That force we call,'Time.' As for his world... We stand now in the final remnants of it. `` **
It was around this time that I became quite certain I no longer had a stomach, as I would surely have sought to wretch at this news. Standing in the grave of God, speaking with his killer. It did not help me to consider that this was, indeed, the being I called, `` God.''
`` Well, OK then, moving on... Worlds beyond, then? And how am I created of Him if He destroyed all that he created?''
Another dark, dark laugh. **'' You are of Him because you are of time, and time is Him, in mutated form. In this, I think we are the same... Even I am powerless against time. `` ** More laughter, and quite a bit of it this time, as though the thought of it was something that he had been laughing about for as long as he could remember.
**'' As for the worlds beyond, there is no limit to the worlds that exist. All that is true is that there is the unending march of time... Beyond that, all things are possible. The things called universes, of which there are many, embody all matter of physical laws and truths. All united under the curse of time; this is the truest form of what you consider,'original sin.''' **
I laughed, now. I laughed as he had, suddenly beside myself at the undeniable truth of it all. `` You're a lot more nihilistic than I thought God would be, my friend.''
In that shadowy figure -- a seam, a tear, quickly forming. In living terms, you might have called it a smile.
`` Well, I've had enough of God's grave. What happens to me now?''
**'' You and I may travel as one. Do you wish to see the worlds beyond? `` **
`` I do. That is...'' I paused, flashing what I think was a smile. `` if you're not busy here.''
That tear again.
**'' You might say I have the time. `` **
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[ WP ] You 've just been selected for jury duty . As the trial begins , the opening prosecutor details a gruesome murder that you instantly recognize..because you committed it .
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`` Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, please be seated.'' The authority of the judge's voice thunders like a howitzer over the hushed audience, anxiously awaiting their role in another's fate. He leans slightly forward in his wooden throne, explaining vague details about the case to ensure everyone is capable of rationally making a decision on a man's life. I feel my eyes begin to grow heavy. I arch my lumbar deep against the back of my chair and let my mind drift to all the places I'd rather be, yet here I sit, burdened by the inescapable curse of civic duty.
The half-blocked murmur of the judge's voice begins to grow sharper, more clear with every word describing the events leading up to the trial. A thought slowly drifts through my mind - why does this seem so familiar? The black mask found at the scene, the hand binding, the police report, it's as if I'm re-reading an old book. But why?
It hits me like a haymaker. Sweat collects on my furrowed brow, my throat begins to bind and pinch. I'm in a panel of decision makers over the events of my own heinous crime. The judge pauses and stares with deep intent, making direct eye contact. Oh fuck.
`` Mr. Robinson,'' lurches from his maw. My eyes dart to the bailiff, the doors, the windows. I try to hastily plan my escape. He's on to me, he has to be on to me. My heart races a mile a minute, pumping acid through muscles constricted with crippling anxiety. I ca n't feel my hands, oh fuck, I ca n't feel my fucking hands! ``... Mr. Robinson? Are you alright?'' The moment of truth. Time to shine.
`` Uuugh... eck... yes, your honor?''
`` Mr. Robinson, you seem shaken. Will you be able to participate in this trial and give a fair, balanced verdict?''
A fucking godsend. I ca n't believe it. Even after such a heinous misdeed, god still finds a way to throw me a fucking bone. I coolly straighten my back and reply, `` No sir, I do not believe I can.''
``... and just why not, Mr. Robinson?''
You got ta be fucking kidding me. Here comes the ice, creeping down my throat into my gut. Panic is setting in. I'm 10 feet from the finish line, I can feel my opponent's breath on my neck, and there's a god damn tack in my shoe. Think. THINK!
`` Well, your honor... uh... thing is... uh... I think that... black... bastard... did it.'' What in the actual fuck are you thinking, Robinson. THAT's your great escape plan? THE GOD DAMN JUDGE IS BLACK.
The judge's lips snap shut and tighten, coiled in disgust. As his eyebrows angrily pinch the bridge of his nose, he points his gavel toward the door and roars `` MR. ROBINSON! Never in my 23 years presiding as honorable judge of this county have I witnessed such blatant disrespect, such absolute prejudice! You are relieved of your duties effective immediately! BAILIFF! ESCORT THIS MAN OUT OF MY COURTROOM!''
As I walked down the steps to the courthouse toward my car, the sensation of joy overshadowed the looming shame of what I had said. Ma would be rolling in her grave if she heard what I had said, but fuck it. I could n't stand to hear the events of the trial, and especially could n't ship some unfortunate sap up the river for my own misdeeds. Better to turn a blind eye to injustice than to participate in it yourself, I guess.
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[ WP ] It 's been eight years .
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It's been eight years since she left me. I'm not sure if it has really been that long, but it felt like an eternity. Still does.
Now I am stuck in this hell. Alone. Even though I am surrounded by lively faces, I am alone in this road to inevitable torture.
A woman and her child stand behind me. I turn around and look at them. I wanted to scream at the kid. Tell her how lucky she was to have her mother by her side. But I could n't. *She* taught me not to behave like that.
Tsch. Why should I still care about that? Still care about her?
Yet I still smiled at the girl and her mother. I beckoned them to stand in front of me. It would save them time and buy me some.
Eventually the handful people in front of me started walking forwards. A bulky, middle-aged man gently shoved me. I can not delay it much longer.
Fuck.
A few moments had passed and I was now at the front of the line. Sheepish, I looked up at the cashier and slowly unloaded the trolley. She read the total price of the groceries to me. I looked at her, hopelessly, and said: `` Uhm... my mom..uh... just went to get some milk.''
*Side note*: I enjoyed writing some short stories a few years ago, but I have n't written anything in a long time, so this might be poorly written. Still gave it a shot, though.
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[ WP ] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is ( for the most part ) much better than it was pre-apocalypse .
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*Warning: I have disappointing editing skills and occasional disagreeable ( NSFW ) language. *
______________________
Admittedly, sleeping through the apocalypse was the easy part. Sure, mum had text and rang me until my phone was nearly dead every single day and by the time I felt like replying, there was a plague out there, no answer came back.
Getting into the “ GET THE HELL OFF MY LAND ” -esque attitude had worked out pretty well for us. Now no one was coming around. We already lived out in the backwoods with a couple of solar panels, so it wasn ’ t so horrible. Sure the first midnight run to rob the dollar store down the road was scary, but it was eerily silent. The plague had swept through like wind, and only by being a hermit was I spared. Keeping my husband home in paranoia worked out too, even though he ’ d lost his job when they said “ It ’ s not that bad. ”
No one talked shit now, except the two of us, filling up gas cans and the crappy beater car at the old school gas station that still had the kind of pumps you could fill without prepaying. “ So, what do you want to write when we get home? ” He asked while I cleaned out their Starburst inventory. God I loved these things. “ Eh, I don ’ t know, maybe another AU? ”
We rifled through the soda display, and finally decided to simply load up the back of the car with Coke products. Not like anyone else in this close knit community was still breathing to pick it up, and no one else had ventured out this far in desperation for supplies yet.
Joke was on them, because by the time they DID find this backwater, we ’ d have everything stacked up back at the house, even deeper up in the woods. The fence I had demanded for the property to keep out the wild animals at least made me feel better. No one was jumping 8 feet of fence without meeting the crossbow.
A few days after our delightful canned food and candy theft binge, no one had been in the dollar store after us, or the gas station, but the power had been off for days and we were running out of eggs. Who all had a farm again? Maybe my uncle's chicken had n't died yet, even though they'd checked out after going to church while the plague was going on. Maybe tomorrow, I put it off until they were nearly dead, oops.
After that, though, we had eggs again! Over breakfast we got into talking about everything missing. Sure, I wanted Spotify back, but I had a pretty epic vinyl collection getting no love, and we did at least still have power, if we rationed it out good. But no more working, or taxes! And my mother finally stopped calling every day!
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[ WP ] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day . Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair .
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I awoke still hearing the curse of the sorcerer Tonak in my ear. `` Now go thee to a world of pain and misery. You shall wander in misery, an ignorant man in a desert of existence devoid of God's grace and beauty!'' and then the trailing cackle of his voice.
But there was no pain, in fact, nothing much had changed. I was still in my tent getting ready for the tournament. But where was my squire?
`` Squire'', I bellowed.
A squire entered the tent carrying a sword. Not Higgins, my squire, but a lad I had not seen before.
`` Help me with my armour lad.''
My armour had changed, instead of the sturdy flexible suit I had received from the king I had a suit of clearly inferior workmanship and far too light to withstand a blow. `` What is this scrap?!'' I demanded.
`` Tis the best adamantium forged by the dwarf lords of mount Pelegum, my lord.''
`` Stop talking gibberish! ``, I demanded, `` How can I joust in this? I shall surely perish on the first strike!''
A lord entered the tent. `` Sir Gawain, your match starts, the King is in attendance.''
`` Squire! my shield! my sword! ``, I bellowed.
The squire equipped me in seconds and I exited into the sun of a warm summer's fair. Yet there was something odd, that I could n't put my finger on.
`` Your horse m'lord. ``, said the squire, handing me the reins of an old riding nag.
`` What's this! Where is my war horse!''.
`` This *is* your war horse; Brightwind, raised by the riders of Fanglore in the eastern plains, who carried you through the burning deserts of....''
`` Oh, shut up! ``, I demanded, `` Which way to the stocks?''
When I arrived at the stocks I was handed a very light pole arm and lowered my visor to find that it did n't fit properly so I could only really see well from one of my eyes. This made it very difficult to judge distance to my opponent. Nevertheless I was able to place the spear directly upon his haubark and would surely have dismounted him but for the fact that the spear crumbled as if made of cross cut pine.
The actual strike was a bit of a surprise to me owing to my visor and I ended up colliding with the rider knocking him to the ground with my shield. I decided to dismount to make things sporting.
I drew my sword which felt light and poorly weighted with ineffective pommel, deficient hand guard and most alarming, no edge whatsoever!
I felt a pang of fear as my opponent approached, sword drawn to, no doubt, finish me. Maybe he was dazed, I do n't know why, but he opened with a clumsy overhead swing, leaving himself fully exposed. My dull sword had something of a point so I merely drove it up under his chin and finished him. He dropped in a instant, blood spraying from every gap in the helmet.
I took my knee in supplication to the king and the crowd seemed in awe of my deft strike as they took to their feet in something of a shared gasp with only a few of them cheering.
The first to speak was the king. `` What the fuck dude?!''.
His words struck my ears imparting little meaning. `` Sire? I questioned, moving a few steps forward hoping to get a better grasp of his import.
Upon my advance people started to rush from the stands as though I were a wild oxen. Even the king ran, knocking over the princess in his haste to escape and she was made insensible hitting her head of a railing.
I turned to call my squire, only to see him sprinting away. I sheathed my useless sword, removed my helmet, and proceeded to check the health of the princess. I righted her and used some nearby water to wipe her brow and face while rubbing her hands and feet vigorously.
After a few minutes everyone had departed and the screaming had died to a distant wimpering. I decided it would be best for the princess to be moved from the hot sun to some shade so I carried here to my tent and placed her upon the chaise whilst I wriggled out of my armour, abandoned as I was by my own squire. I realized that I had made a significant error in my choice of tent and quickly picked up the princess and moved her to the royal tent lest her virtue be smirtched.
After a few minutes the princess awoke but appeared to not be quite herself as she asked me who *she* was. `` You are the princess Ardella and I am Gawain.''
`` Gavin? she said looking at me. `` Are you my Gavin?''
`` Gawain'' I repeated.
About this time I heard a strange wailing sound and not soon after two oddly dressed men entered the tent in somewhat of a hurry holding small metal clubs away from their body as though they were poisonous snakes. They pointed the clubs at us and barked `` Where is the knight?''
`` See here, my good man'', I answered somewhat angered by their impudence. `` This woman is injured and requires some help.''
`` Are you alright mam? ``, questioned the leader, `` Do you know this man?''
`` My head hurts...'', she replied, `` This is Gavin my fiancée.''
I was going to correct her again but she was clearly delirious and in need of a leech.
`` OK, pick her up and follow us! ``, barked the man in a superior tone. I surely would have corrected him but thought of the princess and better of it.
Part2:
From here my tale grows dark as I began to learn the meaning of the Sorcerers' curse. From the fair grounds I was led to strange coach that transported Ardella and I through a great city with buildings devoid of any workmanship or beauty, featureless, smooth and empty. At one point I caught sight of a great cathedral. By great I only mean large, for in its construction it was more of an insult to our lord than a prayer. `` These workmen need a sound clap about the ears.'' I murmered.
I ca n't describe the healing arts, they were outlandish to say the least, but Ardella seemed to regain her spirits well enough although my demand upon arrival `` Call the leech!'' was replied with the insult of laughter and one smirky, `` right away my lord''. I could n't believe the impudence of these commoners.
Ardella was kept over night and, since I was a stranger in a strange land, I slept in a chair in a waiting room down the hall from her room. The healers told me that I could sleep in her room but, of course, that would n't be proper. The food I was given was exceptionally fresh and tasty but oddly each small item was wrapped to keep it away from the others. Even the utensils, even the small bit of pepper was wrapped in paper. Why would they pay so much attention to wrapping the smallest items and yet take no care for the ugliness of their city? It was indeed a strange world to which I had been banished.
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[ WP ] You are a young and successful writer of `` speciality erotica '' and have kept your professional life hidden from you family via pen name . You sit down to Christmas dinner with your whole extended family . Your younger sister keeps making thinly veiled references to your works
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**So, When Can We Read Some of Your Stuff? **
Holidays are always a little trying. It's nice to see family, but the inevitable questions about what I'm doing soon begin.
`` How's the writing going?''
`` Sold any stories yet?''
`` When are you gon na get a real job?''
I sigh inwardly, hearing it all again.
The truth is, I'm already a rather successful writer. Except, no one in my family knows about it, because I have n't told them. The stuff I write is a little *controversial* to say the least. Having my family think I'm still struggling is preferable to the awkward conversations which would surely follow the reveal of my genre of preference: erotica. And not just easy-to-digest erotica like Fifty Shades of Grey that everyone has heard of. I write the niche stuff. *Very* niche. My flavor is zombie dinosaur spanking erotica.
And there's simply no way to explain it to my family. Even if it does make me a lot of money ( which it does ). So until my mainstream detective stories start to sell, I'm prepared to endure the questions about how my writing is going, and when can they read something, and whether I'm looking for real work.
Because no one in my family will ever know about the zombie dinosaur spanking erotica.
At least, I'd always hoped they would n't.
But then at this year's Christmas dinner, my younger step-sister, Kathy, who'd just finished her first quarter at university, started making *comments*.
We were in the living room, along with several other members of my family. Donald Trump was on the news, saying something stupid as usual. My step-sister, standing right beside me, piped up, `` Ooh, I'd like to just smack that old dinosaur.'' And then -- I was looking at the television and not at her, so I ca n't be sure, but -- I felt her wink at me.
I turned my head to look at her. Kathy's eyes were focused on the television and her face was an expressionless mask. Had I imagined the wink?
She turned to look at me. `` What?''
`` Nothing.''
***
Later, several of us -- me, my step-sister, my step-mother, a few aunts and uncles and cousins -- gathered downstairs to watch a movie before dinner. Kathy somehow wound up in charge of the annual tradition, and the movie she picked was *Jurassic World*.
She sat right beside me on the couch. Beside her was one of my cousins.
Everyone was rapt. It's a good, fun movie.
At one point, when things onscreen had gone quiet and menacing for a moment, Kathy said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, `` Ooh, I just love these raptors.'' She faced me, and said in the same voice, `` They're so *naughty*.'' She squeezed my thigh, which caused me to jump and let out a startled yelp. Everyone glanced our way.
I felt my cheeks burning. The lights in the room were darkened for the movie, so I could n't be sure -- had Kathy just winked again? I studied her face, but no further winks were forthcoming.
***
At dinner, the whole family gathered around two long tables. My grandpa and grandma's main table, and a second table which was brought in and set up to accommodate everyone.
`` I have an announcement to make,'' said Kathy, ringing her glass with a fork. Everyone quieted down and gave her their attention. `` It's about my brother.'' She looked at me. `` Well, step-brother.''
I swallowed. What was Kathy doing?
`` This first quarter has been tough, and I've had more homework than ever before, and less sleep. I've felt like a zombie half the time.'' Everyone chuckled. Kathy looked at me, her face unreadable. `` There's something you should all know about my step-brother.''
I was sweating, and my appetite had suddenly been replaced by a knot of tension in my gut. *What are you doing, Kathy? * I wanted to open my mouth to stop her, to say something, but I was frozen. I tried to shake my head.
Her lips turned up in a wicked smile as she watched my face.
`` My step-brother,'' she said, turning and addressing our gathered family, `` has inspired me to become a writer.''
There was a general silence around the table.
`` Sure,'' Kathy continued, `` he's struggling right now. But that's what's so inspiring. He could have given up. He might have let these various editors whom reject his stories just spank him and crush his dreams. But he's persevering.'' She turned to look at me again, and this time, for certain, she winked. `` He's my hero.''
`` Here, here,'' said my father, holding up his glass. `` To not giving up.'' The toast was taken up by all, and everyone was suddenly interested to hear me talk about my detective stories and my plans, and Kathy's, too. She also had a private investigator character in mind, she told us. A feisty, headstrong, lady private eye.
***
Later that night, several of us were watching a *Walking Dead* rerun.
`` Rick really needs to take Carl over his knee,'' said Kathy at one point.
Later, she said, `` Wow, Daryl really spanked that zombie's ass.''
Finally, I could n't take it anymore.
I got up off the couch, grabbed my step-sister's hand, and dragged her into the next room. It was dark within, and we stood face to face in front of the washer and dryer. I closed the door halfway, making it ever darker.
`` What's up with you?'' I asked.
`` What do you mean?''
`` Are you messing with me?''
`` Messing with you how?''
We were standing close, so that we could see one another's expressions in the shadows. Only a foot apart.
`` Are you seriously not messing with me?''
`` Why would I mess with you?'' she asked, taking a step closer. We were practically touching. I could smell her perfume.
What the hell? I blinked. Was I reading the signs right here? Was my step-sister...
Taking the plunge, I closed my eyes, leaned forward, lips pursed --
`` Ack!'' I groaned and slumped to the floor, clutching my groin. My step-sister's knee had planted a solid blow right between my legs.
`` What's the matter with you?'' Kathy hissed, looking down at me.
I could only gasp for air.
`` Creep.'' She turned in a huff and left the small, utility room.
***
Later, she found me reading a paperback downstairs by myself.
`` Sorry about earlier,'' she said.
`` Me, too.'' I laid down the paperback. `` I just...''
`` I hope that was n't, you know, an extinction event for your nuts.''
`` Wh --''
`` I'd feel bad.'' With a wink, she turned, and bounced up the stairs.
Gaping, I watched her go.
***
`` Seriously,'' I said. It was the next day, and Kathy was preparing to leave and return to school. `` Do you know, or do n't you?''
`` Know what?''
`` Gah! I ca n't tell if you're messing with me.''
`` Of course I'm messing with you.''
`` Then you *do* know.''
`` Know what?'' asked my father walking up.
`` Yes,'' said Kathy. `` Know what?''
`` That... uh...'' I stammered.
Kathy turned to my father, her step-father. `` He's just embarrassed to say he'll miss me.''
She winked at me. `` I'll miss you, too.''
I cleared my throat. `` Umm, okay then.''
`` Look,'' said my step-sister, grinning. `` I think your cheeks are turning red.''
Thankfully, she left after that. Putting to rest an incredibly awkward Christmas holiday.
Or so I thought.
My Aunt Lenore came to stand beside me. Waving at my step-sister's retreating car, she leaned towards me and said, `` What's this I hear about you writing undead dinosaur spanking porn?''
THE END
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[ WP ] Go for a walk IRL and make up a story to go with something you see while on it .
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The world is shrouded in gray fog. It's a heavy thing that sucks in all the sound and leaves nothing but the echo of thought and the soft padding of feet on sidewalk. It's wet and cold and sucks the heat from your body until your bones feel full of rain water. It takes a lot from you, but its not like the gray back home. That gray can swallow your soul and chew it until there's nothing left but despair. It steals the light from the sky and makes you believe the sun will never shine again. As I walk, I feel glad I am gone from that place.
The gray here lends itself to mystery. I pass by an old man shouting into the sky. I imagine he's lost his mind in the fog and is calling out to find his wits. I imagine he's been searching for millennia and he will continue to search until the end of time, even though he's really just nuts. But this mist has a way of making this believable. Magic lives here. Much of it is overridden by the sounds and pulse of this city, but there are places where it still beats with solemn notes.
The fog soon burns off from the heat of the sun. The mystery is still there, but in the light of day its harder to feel. The brightness of it has a way of filling the dark corners of the world and revealing their secrets, pushing away the mystery. The feeling begins to fade from me as if the magic itself is burning off with the gray fog above. The old man continues to scream at the sky.
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[ WP ] After first contact , mankind and another civilization agree on a exchange program where you went to their planet spend a year there . When they bring you back , there is nothing where earth used to be .
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“ A freeway? ” I say.
“ Yes, ” replies the three-headed serpentine receptionist. The name *Ooooxo* is printed on its name tag. “ The Intergalactic G-42, to be exact. ”
“ I don ’ t bloody care which freeway it is! ” I shout. “ I can ’ t believe you *decimated* my entire solar system just so that your people can *la dee da* to the edge of the universe more quickly for your… vacations or god knows what. ” I pace around the giant crystal lobby, my heart pounding, furious. “ And don ’ t you already have Faster Than Light travel? Why do you need another freeway, to shave ten goddamn minutes off your daily commute? ”
“ Actually, only five minutes, ” Ooooxo mutters under its breath.
“ What was that? ”
“ Nothing. ”
“ Argh! ” I slam the table. “ I want to make a formal complaint! ”
“ Sure, the Complaints Department is over there, ” Ooooxo points to a counter beside the entrance. Before the counter is a line of aliens of every shape, size and color, stretching to the far end of the giant lobby before looping back to the entrance. “ Would you like to take a number? ”
“ What ’ s the waiting time? ”
“ Let me see. Fourty-five... ” Ooooxo checks her floating computer. “... hundred years. Give or take. ”
“ That ’ s fifty times the average human lifespan! ”
Ooooxo rolls all six of her eyes. “ That ’ s not my problem, is it? ”
“ Oh my god, ” I can ’ t believe this is happening. “ Couldn ’ t you have, I don ’ t know, *curved* your highway around my planet? ”
“ Obviously not. Our commuters are broken down to fundamental particles before being shot by a ray gun across the universe, so they can only be straight, ” she observes my clothing choices, before adding, “ Something you ’ re not very good at, apparently. ”
“ Hey! I am a proud bisexual human male! ”
“ Whatever. Here, take this, ” Ooooxo slides a pamphlet across the table. Printed on the front is a picture of a distraught, centaur-like alien crying while eating an entire cake, and large, block letters: *My planet was destroyed in an intergalactic construction project! *
And, below that, in smaller letters: *Top 10 bakeries for the newly planetless. *
In a fit of anger, I take the pamphlet and attempt to tear it apart. I can ’ t, because it ’ s made of fucking carbon fiber. Instead, I crumple it up and toss it at Ooooxo ’ s face, but it lands short, because of the hyper-gravity on this planet. Embarrassingly short. Like, the pamphlet barely covered any distance at all. It's humiliating, to be honest.
As I storm away from the receptionist, I think to myself, *well, at least my exes are all dead. *
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[ WP ] To become immortal , one must merely kill an immortal .
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aww common just die already. I slid another knife into the spot where his heart would have been. He locked eyes with me, but otherwise there was little reaction. I knew what would happen when I killed him, but I did n't know how to kill him. I looked around for something sharp to cut off another piece of him. He was tied to the table with his arms above his head. His chest had four large kitchen knives at various angles, some pushed through to the handle. There was no blood. Just meat. He had said nothing, which only seemed to emphasizes his guilt. There was no denying what he was. Nothing else could go on living after the punishment that it had endured. There is an axe in the basement. I go get it. When I come back nothing has changed. As he looks at me, he turns his head to the side like a dog trying to understand. I bring down the axe, and his head flops off the side of the table. From somewhere on the floor he starts laughing. I think there is some gasoline in the shed. I go get it.
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[ WP ] Santa really does exist . The conditions for getting on the nice list are just extremely difficult to accomplish . You 're the first person to make it on the list in the last fifty years .
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Earl's hands trembled slightly as he gripped his walking cane with both hands. It was midnight and the house was dark and cold, but something big was moving around the living room and even with his poor hearing, Earl could hear the racket.
He contemplated for a while as to whether or not he should be doing this, but he mustered up his courage and hobbled over to his bedroom door. He opened the door slowly and a bright, warm orange glow greeted his face; someone had lit up a fire.
He pushed his door open wide, creaking as it did, making sure it sent a clear message that the owner of the house was home, but there was no sounds of scuffling or trying to make an escape by the intruder. Whoever or whatever was making the noises in the living room was still here.
`` I know you're there,'' Earl muttered as loud as he could, his old age evident in his trembling voice.
`` Ho ho, well then, come on out!'' a loud voice boomed from the living room, though Earl did n't recognise it, he felt a slight warmth inside him as the voice spoke.
Feeling less afraid now and more curious, Earl stepped out of the room, using his cane to walk this time, rather than preparing to use it as a weapon in self-defence.
A rather large man sat in the living room sofa, taking up all three seats. He wore a Christmas hat, red overalls and large black boots. His hair and beard white as snow, unlike Earl's grey hair. He looked like a giant in the middle of Earl's tiny living room.
`` Who are you? And why are you in my house?'' Earl asked timidly.
The giant in red stood up, but being so tall, he had to bend over so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. His beard, which was the length of his jaw to his tummy now swept the floor.
`` Ho ho ho,'' he chucked exuberantly, `` Earl Tucker, it is a pleasure to meet you! Please, take a seat by the fire!''
His large hands showed the way to Earl's rocking chair by the fireplace. Earl eyed the giant stranger who was beaming down on him with reddened cheeks and, not wanting to offend the giant, he took a seat as offered by the giant standing in his own living room.
The logs in the fireplace crackled as the fire breathed a warm, orange light into the room. The giant sat back on the sofa once Earl took his seat and started rummaging his pockets. Earl sat quietly watching.
`` I can not tell you how much joy you gave me when your name appeared on the list,'' said the giant distractedly as he continued searching every pocket on his red overalls. `` Fifty years, ho ho! Fifty years it's been and I finally have somebody to gift!''
The giant stopped rummaging once he reached his left breast's pocket, and pulled out the tiniest pouch, so small that the giant held it with only his thumb and forefinger. He held it out for Earl to take, and Earl took the pouch which seemed tiny in the giant's hand, but it took up Earl's whole right hand.
The pouch was heavy, and soft sounds could be heard from the object inside. It sounded like music and voices, but the voices were not singing. Were they... speaking?
`` Earl, please do me the honour of opening your Christmas gift,'' asked the giant in red kindly, so sincere in his request that big fat teardrops now streaked his red puffy cheeks.
Earl opened the pouch cautiously, and emptied it onto his lap and a round, glass object that reflected the living room fire, fell out of the pouch. Earl picked it up and examined it. The music the orb played was almost soothing- enlightening, but Earl was sure he had never heard music like this ever, in his lifetime.
`` It's an Elf's Folk tune, meant to bring joy and happiness to anyone who listens to it,'' the giant said, still beaming ear to ear, his cheeks still wet. `` Go on, go on! Look into it, ho ho!''
Earl looked into the glass orb, and in just a few seconds, the glass orb started to smoke from within and Earl heard the voices once more. He recognised the voices, it was his own and-
`` Sarah,'' Earl whispered in awe, the giant nodding his head excitedly.
The glass orb glowed yellow and gold, it felt comfortingly warm in Earl's hands, and in the middle, it looked like a movie was playing.
*Earl was 50 years younger, sitting in a diner with his wife, Sarah. They were having pancakes for breakfast. Sarah, looking beautiful with her short black hair, one side combed behind her ear and the other gracefully curling around the arc of her face, was pouring syrup around her pancakes and Earl looked nervous. When Sarah was done, the young Earl stood up all of sudden, his legs banging the table as he did so and he quickly got onto his knees, pulling out a small, square object and raising it up in the chair.
`` Sarah Cooper, will you marry me?''
`` OF COURSE I WILL, YOU BIG IDIOT!'' Sarah cried.
The younger Earl put on the ring on Sarah's hand and the both of them hugged. *
At first it looked like the memory had stopped playing, but Earl realised the other people in the diner still moving about, and that they were just hugging for a really long time.
The memory continued playing until they stopped hugging, kissed for a moment and returned to their pancakes. The tears would not stop flowing down Earl's face, dropping onto the glass orb. When the orb stopped playing the memory, Earl wiped the orb with his old hands.
`` No, do n't stop, please,'' he sobbed. `` Sarah... Oh my Sarah....''
`` Do n't worry, the orb plays every memory of Sarah that you have. Even the ones you do n't remember. That's what you've always wanted, is n't it? To see Sarah once more?''
Once again, the booming voice of the giant had such a calming and warm effect on Earl. He felt so warm and cozy inside for some reason. His insides felt like pillows.
`` Who are you?'' Earl asked kindly, though still sobbing. `` Why are you doing this for me? Please, do n't take it the wrong way, I'm not complaining. I just want to know why a stranger is doing this for me.''
Earl could n't stop crying. Seeing Sarah again, alive and moving, hearing her voice once more, it was all too much for him to take all at once.
`` Ho ho ho, I'm not a stranger,'' the giant chuckled. `` Do n't you know me? I got you that bicycle when you were six, and the toy guns when you were ten.''
Earl looked up, a puzzled look etched on his face, and the giant noticed, so he went on.
`` Remember Jack, the golden retriever I got you when you were-''
`` Fifteen...'' Earl finished the sentence for him. `` All those things you mentioned are Christmas gifts.''
Earl stood up, the glass orb in his left hand, and his right, wobbling on his walking cane. He eyed the white beard, the red overalls and the black boots.
`` You're not saying that, you-you're Santa Claus, are you?'' Earl felt slightly foolish asking such a childish question.
`` But I am! Oh, how happy I was to have a name appear on the nice list after fifty years ho ho,'' chuckled the giant.
Earl sat back down, wondering if he was losing his sanity. He felt as though he was going senile, that dementia had kicked in. But then the gift, the glass orb, was n't that real? He tightened the grip on his left hand. Smooth and solid, round and warm, the glass orb was real. He looked up at the beaming giant.
`` Fifty years?'' asked Earl.
`` It's been a long time for me,'' the giant sighed, and for the first time that night, the giant was not beaming or chuckling. `` People think doing nice things means being nice, but it has to come from the heart, not doing something for others only to expect something in return. The world has become so materialistic, and it all started with the age of technology.''
Earl looked away, feeling ashamed and awkward at the same time. Looking at the giant being sad felt like intruding on a private affair.
`` But you! For twenty years, you've cooped yourself up in the house. Suddenly this year, you're volunteering at orphanages and teaching kids how to garden and even inviting them over tonight for a Christmas Eve dinner! All out of the kindness of your big, big heart! Ho ho, it fills me with delight to bring you your Christmas gift this year, Earl,'' the giant boomed loudly.
`` I did n't want to be alone anymore,'' Earl said softly. `` But I have no family, Sarah was all I had until she-''
His voice faltered for a moment, but he gathered himself and though tears streamed down the old man's face, Earl went on.
`` The kids, they do n't have anyone either. I thought I could make a difference if...''
`` You did! You did! You made a huge difference!'' beamed the giant. `` Your name is on that list for that very reason! You made a difference in the world! By giving and not taking! Giving and expecting nothing in return! Tonight, thirty kids without parents had a Christmas dinner with someone who cares for them whole-heartedly!''
The two men in the living room sat silently. The crackling of the logs and the warmth of the fire kept the two company. The giant leaned back on the sofa and whistled a Christmas tune. Earl looked down on the orb and watched the memories play, one after another.
`` Thank you, for this. I get to see my Sarah again,'' Earl cried.
The giant looked back at Earl. His puffy cheeks reddened as he smiled widely, his eyes watering once more.
`` Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas, Earl,'' wished the giant joyfully. `` Merry Christmas!''
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[ WP ] A man is transported into the universe of infomercials and his ability to complete everyday tasks causes people to love , worship and fear him
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`` My car is so hot that I could cook an egg on the dashboard. Look! Do you see the egg? Oh, tell us what to do wise and powerful one.''
The man standing on the stage gave a half wave. `` Hey there,'' he said into the microphone. `` Uh, have you ever thought of putting a screen up to keep the sun out of your car? It might help with the heat.''
There was a murmur that spread through the crowd. The man at the microphone shifted wearily from foot to foot.
`` So how does it work?'' the woman asked from her pew.
`` Just put the screen up over your dashboard when you go out to the grocery store or shopping or you want to relax at home. When you come back your car will be... I do n't know... fifty degrees cooler?''
The murmur swept through the crowd again. Outside the man knew there were protestors and picketers.
He had arrived three days prior with no memory of how he had ended up in this strange place. People had immediately taken to him, tilting their heads and whispering to each other as he stood up and dusted off his hands. He walked around the town for a bit, going from person to person introducing himself and asking for directions to the nearest hotel and hey - had anyone seen his wallet?
`` I have a question!'' A man near the back stood up on his pew. `` My pillow grows bright red in the middle of the night and heats up my face until it steams! What do you recommend I do?''
`` Um,'' the man said. `` I do n't know. Get a new pillow? Do you sleep over your heating vent? Maybe you need to get a more breathable material like cotton?''
`` Cotton!'' the man shouted in response. `` I never thought of cotton!''
His popularity had grown in the first twenty four hours. People had come to meet him and shake his hand. They had begun to ask him for help with their problems once they realized that he could - quote un-quote - do *anything*. The man had spent his days hammering nails into the wall and helping pick out new blackout curtains and even doing laundry for some people. He was perplexed as to why they needed the help, but he figured a good deed was a good deed.
`` I spilled cheese on my wedding dress!'' a woman near the front screamed. `` Please, help me. Please!''
`` Maybe you could find a stain remover? I mean really you could use anything. You could probably use club soda and baking powder. Comes down to it the dress is already on the verge of ruin so you might as well just use bleach --''
`` Savior!'' the woman shouted. `` Savior!''
The chant started from a low rumble and then grew bigger, until the entire auditorium was chanting. *Billy, Billy, Billy. *
Billy made his way down the aisles, gently waving and shaking hands with everyone. `` Hi. Hi. Oh, hi. Nice to see you again. Yes, hi. Hi.''
`` Greet us like you did when you first came down from the sky!'' A young boy shouted.
`` Oh,'' Billy laughed. `` Um. Hi, I'm Billy Mays.''
The boy broke into a beam. Billy made his way into the hall and leaned his back against the closed door. He took in a deep breath. It was a lot to take on, all of the worship and suddenly being called everyone's savior.
He shook his head to clear it. He could do this. He could be the person that the town needed him to be. All he needed to do was build up his confidence a bit. To proudly proclaim to the world what they needed for each and every problem in their life. He could make it quick and easy and fun for the people to listen to. And as for the people who were afraid of him. Hopefully with time they would adjust.
He had only wanted to help people.
Two weeks later, he stood on the stage again. There were tremendous roars from the audience. `` Hi, Billy Mays here! I'm here to talk to you all about my new formula Oxiclean. It whitens, it brightens! It's mother nature approved! It works on food stains, pet stains, drain stains, stane stains.It cleans, it brightens, it eliminates odors, and it's mother nature approved!''
The crowd erupted into another chant. Billy Mays smiled.
He was finally helping the world.
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For more stories, check out /r/Celsius232
I was n't happy with the ending, so I rewrote it.
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[ WP ] In the year 2290 a highschool student is writing an assignment about the pre-cataclysm myth of 'Neil Strong Arm ' , the culture hero who 'walked on the moon ' , back when humans thought they could walk on the 'moon ' .
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The topic of the cultural hero Neil Strong Arm has been a debate of much scholarly tension in the past 190 years, since the great cataclysm of two-one-two-O's. But, from scraps of history journals and research on other mythologies, we can conclude that there are scraps of truth to the story, and I have my own version on what Neil Strong Arm truly is.
Before the great cataclysm, there was an entity known as the Moon ( **Planatary Journals**, P.19-20 ), which orbited around the Earth. It had been used as a weapon, ( ***A Study of Pre-Cataclysm Warfare***, from the article *Gundams* and *Ninjutsu* ), and also been destroyed many times ( **Arcane Magic of Genies and Dragons**, the chapter of Saiyans ). But most importantly, it appears to be edible! ( **Norse Tales from the North, the book of Ragnarok**, p.19-20 ) Various minor stories claim the Moon is made of cheese. As a culinary student, I believe the ancients were prudent to preserve large masses of highly spoilage-prone food in the vacuum of space, and thus the myth holds true.
But how does the cheese factor into this story? Well, as anyone who has beheld the pre-cataclysmic drawings of the legendary cat and mice, Tom and Jerry, would attest - Mice love cheese. Tracing back the genus of our main meat-bearing cattle, the Razortooth Ratticet, it appears that they have ancestry in both Mice and Rabbits. ( **Pre-Cataclysm Animals**, P.92 ) This brings me to another myth, from a land far in the east, about Rabbits who live on the Moon and pound a form of sticky and tasty food. Many cheeses are quite sticky, and quite a few require elaborate physical labour to produce.
While that was going off on a tangent, this next point will bring the tangent back into relevancy: Neil Strong Arm had a very similar name to Strong Lance Arm. While divulging myself into the story of Ancient Weaponry, ( ***A Study of Pre-Cataclysm Warfare***, *Before Superhuman Powers and WMDs* ), I found a weapon, a large metal pole, known as a Lance. I believe Strong Lance Arm's name is a mistaken translation of Lance Strong Arm, when scribes mistakenly believed his name referred to his excellent control of a lance. But who can blame them - Lance Strong Arm is a legendary rider. Not of horses, on which lances are usually used, but a contraption known as a Bicycle, in which the rider crouches and use their explosive leg strength to propel themselves forward.
I think the parallels are obvious. Rabbits were legendary for their big ears and powerful jumps and hops. Their explosive leg strength could be said to be their main trait. Lance Strong Arm's explosive leg strength and consistent wins in world-wide contributions must have another explanation - and one we can find in his kin, Neil Strong Arm. Neil Strong Arm was said to have walked on the moon, where moon rabbits dwell, pounding cheese. There are cases where people of the moon were considered exceedingly beautiful ( **Mating Stories of the Eastern Ancients**, p.102 ). I believe that, having strong, powerful arms, the queens of the strong, powerfully legged Moon Rabbit race mated with Neil of the Strong Arm clan, in order to produce the perfect off-springs with both powerful arms and legs to dominate the world of the ancients, as demonstrated by Lance Strong Arm's consistent performance in bouts of physical prowess. Inadvertently, Neil Strong Arm became the progenitor of our current status in the year 2290, P.C. 184.
Our status as slaves to our Alien Overlords.
In conclusion, Neil Strong Arm fathered Lance Strong Arm in an enviable orgy of decadence with beautiful rabbits upon a pungent land of delectably curdled milk, and set the example for our current Empire of Overlord W'rmg'rh. As he is the progenitor of the great empire, it is no longer my position to judge his status as a hero - but rather, the judgement shall sit upon our great and mighty, our eternal Overlord W'rmg'rh. Long may he reign.
***Citations***
*Do we have to do this Chicago style or Overlord W'rmg'rh style? *
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[ CC ] I wrote this as a response to a prompt before realizing it had nothing to do with the prompt . Seeking criticism .
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I'm a sucker for the whole, `` Story told through a journal'' style, but I have to say I was n't overly impressed. You have control over your language and good word choice, but the story itself was n't particularly interesting. It does have potential.
I understand that it was supposed to be an official, objective view of the situation, but that means that the audience is n't emotionally invested in the ship. I'd suggest perhaps a log from one of the crew instead, so that you can justify throwing more emotion into it. Tell us something about the people on the ship. Who are they? What sort of relationships do they share? Why should I care that they died?
There's a similar problem with the ending. I did n't care that the ship was destroyed, or that nobody survived, because I did n't know anything about them or what killed them, and the way they died was n't very unique. `` Mysterious force pulls them in and kills them.'' It reads like a Star Trek episode where a science vessel will be killed off screen at the beginning of the episode. Like Stonefis said, it could use a lot more detail.
I hope this helped, and I'm not trying to be too aggressive with my criticism. You have a good start of a neat story, now just add more detail and give the audience a reason to care.
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[ EU ] The Last Pevensie : Susan finds her way to the ruins of the Narnia universe .
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Susan knelt before the stones and wept. Tears streamed down her face, dragging the mascara away in little rivulets. She curled down, eyes screwed shut, hands balled in fists, and screamed her sorrow into the world.
`` Why? *WHY?!? *'' She pleaded for answers to the uncaring sky.
Specks of cold fell onto the nape of her neck. She opened her eyes to spot small white flakes falling around her. *Snow, in July? Heh, it's just like the stories Lucy used to tell* She reached out to connect with her sister's memorial... and found a cold metal pole. Shocked, Susan leapt to her feet. Before her, haloed by the silent snow, stood an old victorian lampost.
She stared. The stones, the church, *England* had gone. All that was, was the lampost, surrounded by darkness and the circle of light that shone from its flame.
The memories came flooding back; Mr Tumnas, Prince Caspian, the White Witch, all the strange and wonderful characters that she had met swirled in her head. But...
`` But where's Narnia?'' she whispered, staring out into the blackness.
`` Child.'' The growled voice behind her startled her. A growl that reverberated to the depths of her soul.
`` Aslan'' whispering like the child she had been when first they met. `` Aslan; what happened? Where is Narnia? Why am I here?''
`` Susan, my child. You asked for answers, and I heard. Now turn around. Turn around, Susan, and face me.'' She trembled
`` I-I'm afraid, Aslan. I forgot. I forgot it all, Aslan.'' the tears, held back by the shock, returned to her eyes. `` Turn around, Susan.'' The low growl calmed her, as it had so often done so in the past. Slowly she turned to face the Lord of Narnia, and gasped.
Before her lay the land of Narnia. From the lampost, Susan could see the entire kingdom; Cair Paravel, the mountains that lay to the North, the seas where the mermaids would sing and play. She stretched out to touch it, before a stern growl froze her arm in place. The Great Lion padded towards her, more magnificent than in any of her memories.
`` No, Susan. It is not your time'' the Lion came closer, and Susan sank her fingers into his mane, as she had done so many years before, and leant against the Lord of Narnia.
`` Susan, the Narnia you knew was just a shadow of the True Narnia that stands before you. A mere echo of the symphony. As is the world you inhabit. When the shadow fell away, your Siblings came and claimed their place in True Narnia. Here, they live happily.'' Her fingers clenched.
`` They are *alive*?!? But...''
`` But why not you child?'' She nodded silently.
`` Susan, you forgot this world, so wrapped up in your own. But I never forgot you, nor the kindness you showed at the Table, when I lay dead.'' He shifted and slid away from Susan's grasp. Turning to face her, he smiled his great and terrible smile.
`` Susan, your destiny lies in your own world. You have your life to live. But I promise you this; when the time comes, reach out, child, and you will touch the lampost at the edge of the World. Then, you may choose whether to join your siblings here, or to go to the True Realm of your own shadow realm.''
`` Did you give the others this choice?'' Susan sniffled.
Aslan laughed. `` Susan, think to them; *they* had made the decision long ago, and did not hesitate when the time came. Now go.'' He nuzzled her gently but firmly back to the post. `` Go, and live!'' And with that Susan found herself back in the graveyard, in England. But behind the stones marking the memory of her family stood the Lampost.
She smiled and patted the gravestones, whispering `` I'll see you again someday, Luce, Ed, Peter.''
Turning, Susan left the graveyard to go and Live. And this time, the memories of Narnia never faded.
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[ WP ] Humans have a natural lifespan of 1000 years but no one has ever lived that long because some unknown beings want to kill us before we reach the final stage of our development , which occurs at roughly 200 years old
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Rumors have been spreading like wildfire lately that not a single soul gets to live past 200. Ever since Rasputin discovered how to extend everyone's life span to 1000 years ( at least that is what was advertised ) people have been praising him. He was the first one to get the treatment, that maniac actually used himself as a test subject and it worked. It's a miracle if you ask me. On his 203rd birthday though, he was discontinued. Just like that he was gone and left behind was all his research. Investigators discovered masses off books with languages no one could read scattered all around his house. One of the worlds top linguists discovered it was a made up language from Rasputin, that was coded. She cracked the code and began deciphering all the text. Lucile was her name i believe. She was probably one of the more advanced humans of her time. She discovered that Rasputin's treatment ( the one that everyone in the world had received by this point ) was actually an accelerator to human evolutionary development. It would cause humans to progress at a normal level until they hit 200 years of age. At which point they would begin developing into....the pages stopped there. There was no sign of continuation in any books. It was as if Rasputin just stopped mid writing and left her on the biggest cliff hanger. Puzzled Lucile puts the book down and goes to assume that Rasputin was just a crazy scientist. It was for the best. She buried her interest in the matter then and there. Which is great if you ask me. She was the only human to ever get so close as to discover why no one ever makes it past 203. Rasputin was the only to actually discover why and he was easily the tastiest of them all. I think that it was because he was so intelligent. There was something delicious about his soul. Lucile's 203rd birthday is next week and I am craving a feast from the smartest human currently alive.
Criticize away please and help me become a better writter!! I would much appreciate it. Thanks for reading
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[ WP ] The Winchester brothers receive a concerning help wanted call from a fellow Hunter which leads them to Amity Park , Indiana . Their target ? A ghost named Danny Phantom .
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Sam and Dean sat with their favorate Angel of the Lord in the war room of the bunker celebrating their latest win. Both Brothers had been healed of the most threatening of their injuries, what remained left the two brothers covered in bruises in varying sizes.
Sam put down the frozen vegetables long enough to take a drink of his beer before replacing them on his swollen jaw.
`` We are getting to old for this crap Sammy.'' Dean sighs as his touches his black eye.
`` Dean, you are still in pain, allow me to heal you completely. I could..'' Castiel was cut off the guitar solo playing in Dean's pocket.
`` Yea'' Dean answered gruffly. `` Realy Garth, how long have you been at this?'' He leans down and pinches the bridge of his nose. `` Yea, alright, we are on our way.'' He hangs up quickly and replaces his phone in his pocket. `` Garth needs help, did you unpack the car yet?''
`` Not entirely, I brought the bags in but those are sitting but the stairs''
`` Good'' The elder brother says loudly. `` Back in the car they go, we leave in an hour.'' His eyes move to Castiel who is looking at a book written in another language. `` Cas it sounds like a salt and burn, so if you want to tag along you need to grab your clothes.''
In just over an hour they were on their way to their destination. `` Amity Park is a tourist trap for ghost crap.'' Sam explains as he looks at his phone. `` Everything about the place is about ghosts. Even the schools, Casper High. Get this though, the town was founded by an old rich family trying to break into the ghost zone. Ghost zone? Do you think they are talking about the veil?''
Dean looked in his mirror to the passenger in the back. `` Cas, what do you think? A bunch of idiots got them selves into something they do n't understand.''
Castiel locks eyes with Dean quickly before going on to explain. `` It is possible that they are attempting to reach the veil, but that is nearly impossible for a human without having died or with the help of a reaper.''
`` Or maybe it's witches. I hate witches.'' Dean grumbled.
Hours later they arrived in town and found the correct motel Garth had asked them to meet at.
The three guys got a room and unloaded their duffels before walking a few rooms down where they new the other hunter would be. Dean's knuckles had no more then hit the door that it flew open.
`` Dean!'' Garth shouted and wraped his skinny arms around the taller man. `` Sammy!'' and repeated the same.
`` It's Sam'' He whispered, knowing it would n't change anything.
`` You must be Castiel.'' The brothers made no attempt to save Castiel from the embrace as the looked at them with large pleading eyes.
`` Come on inside I'll show you what I've got.'' The brothers and the Angel followed Garth inside to be greeted by a full wall of pictures and articles.
`` Wow Garth, you really did your research.'' Sam says approvingly. `` Guys look, some of the pictures, the pictures of the ghost are taken from all over town.'' The tall man has to bend over slightly to be level with the pictures as he points to them. `` Ghost kid at school, ghost kid at the park, ghost kid looking at the camera and giving a peace sign?''
`` Dude thats weird. Its not attached to a place must be an object. I see why you wanted help Garth, this is nuts.''
Cas moved to look at the pictures. `` I suggest we begin by investigating these two children here, they seem to be in multiple photographs.''
The four decided to split up into pares and each interview one child. One of them was carrying around a haunted or cursed object and it needed to be destroyed before the spirit became vengeful.
Danny stood in his parents basement with his two best friends when he spoke, `` Guys, I have a bad feeling about that new man in town.''
Sam looked at Danny at rolled her eyes, `` So he talks about ghosts, lots of people talk about ghosts.''
Danny looked down at his shoes, `` I flew to his room invisible and...''
`` Danny eww'' Tucker interrupted.
``... and he had pictures of me on the wall. He was talking to himself and then he got out a gun and was cleaning it. I think he might try and kill me.''
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[ WP ] You belong to the 1 % of humanity with superhuman abilities . But powers are never straightforward . For example , your best friend is pyrokinetic - but whenever she used her abilities , she 's left with burns that vary in severity . Your powers , however , are a whole new level of complicated .
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Anna had the ability to emit and control fire from her body, however she wasn ’ t immune to fire and would often burn herself. This never stopped her from taking vengeance against anyone from a serial murderer to a girl who accidentally cut her off in traffic. Peter had the ability to stay invisible if completely naked, however his invisibility would cease to work the minute anyone expected him of being in the same room as them. This wasn ’ t a problem for Peter, he was very light on his feet, and most people couldn ’ t go around just shouting his name every time they entered a new room.
My mother had the ability to read minds, but needed to get the persons approval before she could do it. It was very easy to tell when mom was trying to read my thoughts, I rarely approved of it. Dad was extremely strong, I once saw him lift an entire cruise ship with his left arm. I also remember the two week recovery time it took him to heal his arm after using it for strength.
Besides my friends and my parents, there were millions of people with similar abilities. Most people with powers envied the simple lives of the billions of people on Earth without these powers. There were only one hundred and one different powers for people to have. Out of the one hundred and one different types of powers, one hundred were spread evenly across the population of people with powers. So the people who did have the powers could collaborate with others who have the same powers to help avoid or dampen the negative effects.
There was one power that no one else had and belonged to only one person. Unluckily for me, I happened to be that one person. I was given the ability to love. It ’ s an amazing feeling, to love someone. And there are so many different ways I could feel it.
I loved my parents, and I loved my best friends. Both in different and beautiful ways. I loved the warm caring embrace I could get from my mom whenever I was feeling down. I loved how my dad always had a way to help me with his wisdom. I loved Anna ’ s fiery passion and Peter ’ s carefree attitude. But most of all I loved Rebecca. She had no powers but grew up studying powers. That ’ s actually how we met, she wrote her thesis on Love.
I ’ m laying next to Rebecca right now, her strawberry hair is glistening in the sunlight. She just woke up, and I got to see her open her beautifully tired blue eyes. I couldn ’ t stop staring. She eventually smiled and laughed before she asked “ What is it? ”
I responded, “ nothing ” while grinning uncontrollably. She grinned back and slowly turned around to take in just a few more minutes of sleep.
I stared at the back of her strawberry blonde hair, and my eyes began to water at the thought of knowing that just like my family and friends, she ’ ll never love me back.
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[ WP ] The Life of a Penny
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An heirloom is usually something families cherish because of its value or personal importance. By those standards, my family heirloom is a penny. Coins of all kinds have passed through our hands, but none so important as a 1942 penny my great-grandfather Zander minted himself. Damaged on one side due to shoddy training my great-grandfather received, the penny itself is unassuming and as normal as they come. Even so, my great-grandfather kept it for years after its inception, refusing to spend it and going so far as to keep it in his bedside table at all times. Fate decided, however, to intervene. Great-grandpa Arvid suffered a stroke the year I graduated high school, rendering him a paraplegic and hospital-bound. He lost his hoouse soon after that, along with the penny. Imagine having to tell your great-grandfather that the penny that's made his life livable his whole life is gone. Joking does n't come naturally to me, so I was made the one who had to break the news.
`` Kansas City,'' he wheezed. `` Look in Kansas City.''
My surprise was ill-contained. Not only did he appear to be completely fine with the penny being taken, but there was n't even a shadow of a doubt about where the penny was taken. On the train down, I wondered whether he'd planned this whole thing, planned for me to come down here. Perhaps it was a distraction from something else, but what? Questions whirled in my head as I stepped off the train, double and triple checking the address he'd given me, scrawled on a hospital napkin. Reaching said destination took a fair bit of work, involving three taxis, a very friendly local man, and more than two hours of aimless wandering. Soon enough I stumbled across a storage unit center, endless rows of orange and white boxes stacked on top of each other three or four high. Tasking me with finding this unit must have been a mistake made by an infirm mind; did n't he know I was absolutely useless when it came to directions?
U-42 was the name of the unit, whether incredibly coincidental or entirely planned by my great-grandfather, I did n't know. Vacant is only word I can use to describe the unit, finally found at the end of the line, except for one tiny addition. When I returned to the hospital, I was informed my great-grandfather had died shortly after I left, peacefully and in his sleep. Xeroxes of the penny were made for familial records, but the penny itself was buried with him. You have to admit, a penny can go through a lot in its life span, kind of how a person goes through a lot. Zander always had it all planned out.
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[ WP ] Why is six afraid of seven ?
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`` Your honor, I'd like to draw attention to exhibit 10.''
`` Objection, your honor. There is no exhibit 10!''
`` On the contrary, your honor. Earlier in the trial the prosecution brought in 10 as a witness to the crime. But I'd like to draw to the Jury's attention that 10 was next in line the entire time. If 7 really *did* eat 9, as we're all lead to believe, why did 10 do nothing? Why did n't 10 call CMXI?''
`` Your honor, 10, being horrified that 7 8 9, chose to do nothing at the time because 10 feared facing the same fate. Therefore, I would argue that 10 is just as afraid of 7 as 6 is. This line of questioning is ridiculous, your honor. 7 is still the prime suspect!''
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[ EU ] Tiana finds the remains of the talisman of Facilier . She does n't want it ... But maybe it 's just what she needs .
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Tiana sighed and rubbed a hand on the back of her neck. `` James, get back upstairs right now and wash up,'' she said, not even turning at the crash behind her.
`` *Mamaa, *'' a voice called. `` Charlotte wo n't let me sing.''
Tiana set down the wooden spoon she'd been using to stir the gumbo. She went into the next room, nimbly avoiding tripping. An assortment of toys, books, and discarded dresses covered the floor. `` We do n't shout across the house, Dora,'' she said.
`` But Mama...''
`` Ah, ah,'' Tiana tisked. Charlotte, her oldest daughter, was clutching a music book to her chest. Her eyes were scrunched into a small, stubborn glare. `` Char,'' Tiana said. `` Share with your sister.''
Charlotte shook her head furiously. `` What is it, Char?'' she said. `` What's wrong?''
The eight-year-old's face flushed. `` I ca n't sing,'' she croaked. `` Eudora cursed me.''
`` Char!'' Tiana gasped. `` What's wrong with your voice?''
`` I got a frog in my throat.''
From a nearby armchair, Naveen sputtered, choking on his lemonade. Tiana smirked at her husband, then turned back to the children.
`` Dora did n't curse you,'' she said. `` You probably just been shouting too much.''
She reached over and gently pried away the songbook. `` Music is for everybody,'' she said. `` It's meant to be shared.''
`` Yes, Mama,'' the girls said in unison.
`` Go on now,'' Tiana laughed. `` Go wash up for dinner.''
The children ran upstairs. Tiana put her hands on her back, groaning a little as she straightened. Then she whirled on Naveen. `` You could have sorted them out,'' she chided.
He shrugged and grinned at her. `` I would n't want to catch a case of frog-in-the-throat,'' he said. `` We've been down that road before.''
Tiana laughed, and he stood, pulling her into his arms for a quick kiss.
He pulled away and turned to go back to his newspaper. `` My gumbo!'' Tiana remembered. She raced back to the kitchen.
`` You kiss better than you did as a frog,'' Naveen called after her.
Tiana let the door close a little too hard behind her.
Later, the children were all tucked into bed. There was a rare moment of quiet. Tiana slid out to the porch and sat next to Naveen.
`` What's wrong?'' he asked.
Tiana shrugged. `` Nothing,'' she said. `` I have everything I ever wanted... A loving family, my restaurant, I just...''
Naveen waited, patiently. It was hard to remember sometimes that he was actually a prince.
`` The girls do n't get along,'' she said. `` And nothing is ever --'' she paused, searching for a word. `` Still,'' she finished weakly.
`` It's still now,'' Naveen chuckled. Tiana smiled up at her husband.
`` You coming in?'' he asked, after a moment.
`` I'll be right up.''
Naveen went inside, gently closing the door behind him so he would n't wake the children.
Tiana stared up at the stars. `` I just wish we could find some peace,'' she said as a falling star streaked across the sky.
Guiltily she remembered the last time she'd wished on a star. `` I take it back,'' she said quickly. `` I do n't wish for anything.''
A shadow seemed to drift across the front yard, and Tiana shivered. She rose to go inside when a flicker of light caught something laying in the grass. Tiana went to pick it up, figuring it was a forgotten toy.
It was two shards of a broken talisman. Tiana recognized it at once.
`` *Facilier*,'' she whispered. Then, `` no, it's not possible.''
Still, something warned her not to touch the shards. Without quite knowing why she did it, Tiana picked them up and slipped them into her apron pocket.
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[ WP ] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths , one man 's clock only says ERROR
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At first everyone was confused. When I was born that is. The fact that the digital watch I wore on my wrist was flashing in fluorescent green `` ERROR'' was one without explanation. After they got past the fact that it was in fact a fluorescent green and the word'ERROR' despite the watch only being programmed to display bright red numbers they quickly switched it for another, hooking it up to my bio-signature. The same message flashed on the screen. My father offered his watch, saying it was a simple procedure to get another later. His watch, having never failed him in the thirty years he'd owned it, gave the same message the moment it was hooked up to my bio-signature. Nobody in the room was without confusion.
I remember that perfectly, I remember the years that fled so quickly as the numbers that laid on my fathers wrist ticked away. My mothers had run out not long after they tried to start mine. I remember the first girl I married, her long mousey-brown hair flowing past her shoulders and hazel eyes peeping over the black rimmed glasses she was never seen without. I remember her and I standing at my fathers side in the hospital as the watch counted down the final moments.
`` I'm sorry'' he said to me, wistfully staring at the watch I uselessly wore.
Time blurred past, never really a concern for me. Others rushed about, checking their watches as they did so. The first time I anxiously glanced at my watch was when another reached zero and her hand went cold in mine. Time blurred past, the dates long forgotten, but the faces of those who passed through them distinct as ever. Friends, family, lovers, they all were taken from me. The generations passed by, I watched as my great great great great grandchildren left for their first days of school. Yet I never aged a day, never was left with a single streak of gray, never allowed a wrinkle or given the gift of any sort of mortality.
So I was forgotten, as would be expected. Passing by strangers in the streets, wondering when I could see those I once knew again. Wondering if they'd want to see me again. Wondering if I'd want to see them again. I glanced at my watch, the faint light of the flashing word blinking against my face in the dark. Men and women passed by me, looking down at their watches, unable to tear their gaze from the countdown. I looked up, unable to tear my mind from the wonder of where it was they took us.
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[ WP ] A man gains the power to control the minds of others , but eventually his subconscious starts controlling people
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She had n't been home for a week now. By itself, that was n't unusual. That, coupled with the fact that I had n't heard her drunken and/or drugged-up voice begging me to cover up her excursion to some frat boy's rape party, was strange. She always called by the next day, and often returned by the fourth.
*'' Do you know where Odette is? `` *
*'' Of course, Mrs. Pane. She just called me from her room. `` *
They'd believe anything I told them. This was the way things were here, and it always was and always would be. I'd used it against everyone in town except Odette.
Which was why I needed her back here - I needed her to tell me what was real and what was n't. Everyone believed what I told them, to a fault. Until now, my mom still believed I would die if I did n't get enough skittles. Oh, how the things I did haunt me.
Only Odette was real. She was untouched, her mind virgin and innocent reality. I needed to figure out where she was, but how? I'd told everyone in town she was just `` skipping class in the library,'' or, `` in the woods behind the park,'' or, of course, `` sick at home.''
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' I saw her by the store, Micah. She looked like she was waiting for someone. You know, I know you're trying to help her, but boys like you should stay away from girls like those. Some people look like they need saving, but just want to drag you down with them. `` *
Odette was n't by the store, but I had n't told him she was by the store. Did I just miss her?
Why'd I pick someone as unreliable as Odette as my anchor anyway? I could have picked boring old Suzanne from down the block, or even my cheery younger sister, who lived on the other end of town with Dad. Maybe it was her long limbs and the languorous grace with which she moved.
Maybe. I could have her, if I wanted to. I could make her want me, if I wanted to. But I wanted her to want me of her own accord ever since she spat on my face the day she moved here ten years ago.
I used to dream about us leaving this hellhole town together. Now I had nightmares where we went to the woods and I would fall asleep, only to wake up all alone in the darkness of the night, realizing that Odette was n't there for me anymore and I was stuck in a land of people who would eat their hands if I told them to.
*'' Where's Odette? `` *
*'' Oh Micah, it's okay. I know. I heard her voice from your room. Remember to use protection if... you know? All right? I wish you'd find a nicer girl, though. She's damaged, that one. You're on your way to a great college, possibly an ivy, even. Be careful. `` *
My room was empty, my bed cold and perfectly made. A dozen unopened skittles packs lay on the bedside table. Was Odette fucking with me, hiding from me? I opened my bathroom door quietly, half-expecting her to jump out and crash into me, tumbling onto me in that boyish way of hers, unmindful of how hard she pressed every inch of her body into mine.
Nothing. No one.
The bath tub was full of water. Did I save that, or did Odette? I have n't taken a long bath in a while, instead preferring to shower. Something about a bathtub full of water, something about pools, made me anxious now. Funny, because before Odette disappeared, I was never afraid of them.
The day of her disappearance was blurred from my memory. Was it so uneventful? I usually kept a detailed journal so I could keep track of exactly what I said to who, but I lost my journal too.
Come to think of it, I lost it around the time Odette left. Did she take it?
*'' They found a body, or what is left of one anyway, by the river. It's fallen apart, you know, so they think it's been a while since it was dumped there. `` *
*'' What makes you think it was dumped in the river? `` *
*'' That's dumb, Micah. Who the fuck would jump into that river? Even a kid would know better - not that they found a kid. They think it was a teenage girl. `` *
*Odette? `` Have they moved the body yet? `` *
The river was in the woods behind the park. Parents have been lobbying for increased patrol in the area, but there was never enough money in the budget for it.
People had seen Odette sneak into the forest ( or so they tell me - or did I tell them? Fuck. ) I hoped in my heart she was n't...
I found my journal, maroon, lying under a blanket of yellowed leaves and dirt. At least now I would know what I was doing the day she disappeared. It was getting late, so I had to wait until I got home to read it. For now, it would n't hurt to check the river. Odette liked sitting by the river and making vaguely suicidal threats to jump in. We used to stay here all the time.
Maybe she'd ambush me as I approached the river.
*'' Hey Micah, do you think I'd make it if I jumped into this river? That'd be some kinda rush, huh, jumping in here and making it out alive? `` *
My knees felt weak when I heard the river gurgling in the distance. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. It was okay Micah. It was okay. What the hell was wrong with me?
*'' Micah, you told me you'd make sure I always turned out okay, right?'' She smiled at me, a big grin, showing me all her white teeth. She blew me a kiss. `` Come on, I wan na try something. `` *
*'' Detta, what are you - Are you thinking of -? Jesus Christ-'' *
*She ran, and oh how she could run, with her skinny boyish frame and sinewy limbs. *
I promised her we'd always stay together. I promised her we'd be okay as long as we had each other. She did n't have me, not now. She was n't okay, not now. Maybe that was why they all saw her around town.
She could n't be at peace, not until I was with her.
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[ FF ] The mind of a condemned man moments before execution ( 150 words/less )
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I always thought I would be terrified of everything and everyone around me at this exact moment. And as of now I feel, nothing. It feels as if I'm waiting for a doctor's examination, but these blank faces polluted with disgust should n't be staring at me right now. My eyes are covered with a cheap piece of cloth, but I can definitely hear the footsteps of death approaching me. I carefully avoid my better memories, and try to hate myself for all I have done. I ca n't. I want life back; everything I loved, I imagine eating on my own, a well cooked steak and a bottle of Sauvignon, then I see the people I loved appear around me, my parents, my friends, my wife and children who were painfully murdered as tetrodotoxin paralyzed them forever. They smile at me. I smile back. I have no regrets.
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[ WP ] `` I know that this is not goodbye ''
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`` I know this is n't goodbye but it might as well be.'' The man said as he held her hand. The bus driver behind the girl looked at the man with half contempt and half boredom. `` I know I'll see you in a week but I've spent my whole life looking for you. Now as soon as I find you, you get called away.'' Tears weld up in his eyes while hers flowed freely from her cheeks. It was more or less accurate. He had spent his life looking for love. Emily was it without question. Her soft brown hair and hazel eyes always seem set to dance. Her smile was like a cool summer breeze. But his love went far beyond her looks. Whenever they were together there was a reaction in the air. Tension would melt away and energy would radiate out. They could pass someone on the street and that someone would be in a better mood. There was a sweetness about to them.
He pulled his hand away to wipe the tears from his cheek and then hers. He had just one line streaming down while hers had become a glistening waterfall. They let out a cracked chuckle at the sight. She surprised him with a final kiss before the bus took off. The hydraulics compressed as the door swung closed. They looked at each other for a moment longer before the bus lumbered off. It was only a week. He knew he'd see her again.
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[ WP ] Write about Robin Hood , as a villain .
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Robin sat in his office, looking out the window into the landscape of downtown. The sun was reflecting on the windows of the other office buildings in its setting, casting a glare into his office that made him squint. He swiveled around in his chair, shuffling the papers on his desk before pressing the intercom once.
`` Tucker, are you done with those briefs I asked for?'' he said. The intercom buzzed with silence before the answer came. Tuck shuffled into the office moments later, slightly hunched and balding, his suit hanging limp from his shoulders as he slapped a thick manila folder reading *Hood, Scarlet and Lionheart. *
`` Mr. Hood,'' Tucker paused, looking down at his feet. Robin flipped open the file, looking at the subpoenas and deposition transcripts. `` It went well with Miss Marian, then?'' he asked, his eyes scanning the documents.
`` The firm should come out with a win, sir,'' Tuck said, stuffing his hands in his pocket.
`` For God's sake, Tucker, stand up straight like a man,'' Robin said, shutting the folder and pushing it away. `` They gave us a settlement offer?''
`` They did,'' Tucker said. `` The fifth year associate who took the case told them that it was pennies on the dollar, though. And I do n't think Miss Marion will take it.''
`` That's all well and fine, but this is n't a case worth going to court over,'' Robin said. He was New York's best shark, and he smelled blood with this one. But going to court over such small matters was beneath him. This was no merger. This was a quick in and out. The newspapers called it a case of David and Goliath, but what the papers did n't know was that he had the defendant between his teeth. Just a little more pressure and they would crack.
`` That's all, Tuck,'' Robin said, picking up his phone and punching in the numbers. `` Let me know if anything changes.''
Tucker paused, looking at his feet. `` Mr. Hood, do you ever feel like it's not fair? Like we're stealing from the poor and giving to the rich?''
Robin held the phone to his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. `` Tucker, I care about one thing and one thing only. Winning.''
Tucker nodded, his face flushing as he turned to leave. At the last moment, Robin called his name and he turned on his heels, looking back at the man sitting behind the desk, all of New York sprawled behind him.
`` Get your suit tailored,'' he said. `` You look like a joke.''
`` Yes, sir,'' Tucker said.
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[ WP ] Oh man , not like this . Any other day of the week this situation would be hilarious . Comedy gold . But not like this . A lot of people are going to die .
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The paint curled around the edges of his face. It was well past 5 as the hairs had crept through the cracks in his smeared on mask. The air was smokey and the lights dimmed at this old bar. His drawn on childish smile was met with yellowed teeth and foggy, glazed eyes. Hunched over a whiskey he began to pull at his oversized bowtie; back and forth, back and forth.. loosening it as if this might bring him a second of relief from the voices. It did n't. His calloused hands gripped the whiskey as he drank it down. Those worn hands. Blood had sunk deep under his nails from years of perfecting his craft.
Rusty spun around on the bar stool, resting two elbows behind him on the bar. Stretching his legs he planted 2 big red shoes out in front of him, blocking the Isle. This was n't a regular whiskey. It was a celebration!
Why is it a celebration, Rusty?
Well It's my birthday did n't you remember?
How could we forget Rusty! Happy Birthday! Now Rusty..? Did you do what we told you to?
Of course. It would n't be a celebration without balloons now would it?!!!
Rusty was happy now as he stretched out at the bar picturing all the boys and girls who had celebrated with him that day. Rusty makes balloon animals. Rusty loves balloon animals. And boys and girls. Rusty made all kinds of balloons today. Dogs, pigs, hats, swords, all filled with cynide gas. A clown making baloon animals? Comedy gold. But not like this Rusty! Alot of people are going to die.
Rusty ca n't wait until all the boys and girls take their animals home. Goodnight boys and girls.
Love always,
Rusty
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[ WP ] You fall in love with the Grim Reaper but you can only see each other whenever someone dies .
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I've always had a thing for tall dark strangers.
I first saw him when I was 12. I noticed from my book-reading curled up position on my bed his cold dark shadow glide past my bedroom one night. His tall slim shrouded figure paused at my doorway. He slanted his head in consideration while staring deep into my eyes, with a wintery cold gaze, and I was lost in the mysterious charming snakepit of his eyes.
He must have sensed the fright inside me. I remember feeling frightened by the dark stranger at first but then calmly, gradually, I began to feel at ease. His fatherly aura was peaceful and infinite. He shook his head slowly at me, his shadowed face not visible except two beaming eyes from below his hood. He glided away silently, down the corridor, with a slight limiting limp.
The next morning my mother was found dead in her bed, her lifeless pale body sprawled out amidst a concoction of empty pill containers. My poor Dad was n't the same afterwards, divulging all of his spare time into his work in order to keep busy and distracted from the glooms of life. I personally was n't too fussed by her loss. She was a bitch anyway.
After my mother died, my Dad needed help from my auntie around the house. He could n't look after himself and I at the same time, what with my illness and everything.
I saw Grim a few times growing up. I'd see him, moments before falling asleep, peeking in through my bedroom window, his large black hood flapping in the nighttime breeze. Or I'd see him limping down the corridor with the opening of his hood looking into my bedroom.
One time I woke up in the middle of the night wheezing and coughing up my lungs and he was there, quietly brooding in the bushes outside my window. He effortlessly unlocked the window and glided through from the cold darkness. His long skeletal fingers peeled away the curtains, and he watched over me until I fell asleep peacefully again. I dreamed of his fingers on me, the hoarse hard feel of them, the white thick twigs riding up and down my thighs.
He smelled of mahogany, rich wet mahogany. On the nights when he was n't with me I missed him, I missed his long limbs dangling from their huge black cloak, I missed feeling the cool of his shadow, missed his comforting calmness, missed his meticulous gaze from the corner of my room.
One night, around my 16th birthday, I woke up in a pool of sweat. He was creeping out of my wardrobe, his broad high shoulders with the long black coat flowing behind him, and he limped over to my bed to check up on me.
I saw his face peek out from the depths of his hood, saw the hard souled hawky profile of his, the pearl marble of his skin and bones. He was beautifully handsome.
`` How did you get your limp?'' I whispered.
He just shook his head, terrifically slowly, as he always did. This beautiful silent guardian never spoke.
`` Will you be mine?'' I asked.
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One year ago, the last time I saw him, I was out with Brad who had taken me to the untouched field behind the bowls club. It was midnight, there was a colossal storm brewing. Brad tried kissing my neck, hard wet kisses down from my ear towards my collarbone, with his eager teenage hands on the bulges of my chest.
`` I'm sorry Brad,'' I said. `` I'm saving myself for someone else.''
I felt his stubble scratch my cheek as he jumped back to look at my face. His face was all contorted and full of anger.
`` What!? Who?'' he screamed.
`` Just someone - someone special.''
`` But you're my girl are n't you?'' he asked.
`` Brad... do n't...''
`` But you're *my* girl...''
He pushed me back. His hand slipped up my skirt. Droplets of rain were all over his face.
I do n't know whether it was because I had n't been taking my medication or not, but I had a fit of rage and I killed Brad. A stone to the head will do that. After six or seven swipes.
But that's when he stepped in, rustling from the bushes across the field. Through my eager nostrils crawled the wet rain scent of him, his long black cloak drenched and dripping onto the concrete beside me. He glanced at me and then stared at Brad face-down in the mud. A lightning strike lit up his great scythe.
`` Take me with you'' I said. I licked my lips in a slow tender circle.
Mr Reaper shook his head slowly.
That's the last time I saw Grim up until today. Even when my Dad died he did n't turn up. I arrived at the death scene to a woman claiming my father had saved her life, that he had died a hero. I cried besides his corpse for two hours. But of course those sad tears were n't for my father, but for the Grim Reaper's absence. I was desperate for him, I needed his coldness around me, his caring watchful eye and long hard fingers.
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The Last Time
I was fixing my hair in the mirror, pouting my maroon lips, when I saw his shadow's reflection over my shoulder.
He limped into the bathroom, bowing his head to fit through the door, his scythe scraping the wood of the frame.
He looked me up and down, staring at my naked feet in the middle of the ruby red puddle on the tiles.
`` Now I'm all yours'' I said.
He shook his shawled head from side to side, but this time it was different, it was n't of the usual tone, it seemed more definite, more certain, a shake of confusion and cold disappointment.
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[ MP ] For the first time in centuries , your immortal protagonist is afraid . Why ?
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From the end of the galaxy I looked back at where I ’ d been.
In conclusion, I determined that being immortal really isn ’ t all that it ’ s cracked up to be. Especially when the person you formerly considered to be your best friend tossed you out of the airlock of your joint spaceship to float in space forever.
At least the changing scenery was interesting while it lasted. Now that I ’ m finally leaving the arm of the galaxy, I probably won ’ t be seeing anything but blackness for a while.
Eternity in the blackness of space. If that doesn ’ t scare you then nothing will.
In retrospect, it was mostly my fault that things turned out this way. When I first discovered I was one of the immortals, I WAS kind of a dick about it. Turns out that most people don ’ t really appreciate it when you throw yourself in front of their car just to prove a point. Something about a sickening crunching noise. I ’ m not really sure because I always lose consciousness for about a second each time I “ die ” and then come back the same as before.
This has gotten rather annoying out here in the vacuum of
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[ IP ] Before It Consumes Me
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They'd said it would be safe. Somewhere that we could rest, that we could feel safe. Maybe they had lied. Maybe it'd just been something to comfort us as we waited for our inevitable doom. Or maybe, they'd actually believed their own words, and had happily waited with us, until the very last moments.
The thing I remember now is the shaking. The shaking never stopped, and everything seemed quiet despite the screams we heard above. No one ever spoke, though I remember the quiet sobs of the adults, and the echoing wails of the children.
It all happened in a moment. The shaking became worse, and suddenly it felt as if my ears were going to burst. The heat came in from all sides, and in a time that seemed too small for the amount of life that was lost, it was over.
Now I lie here, my strength draining for me as I am forced by my own weakness to observe the smoking landscape in front of me. No one else lives, as far as I can tell. Soon, no one will. I close my eyes, an intense redness coming through the lids as the sun sets. However, even that fades in time.
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[ WP ] There are still Gladiators in Modern Day and have arenas just for it . Write from a perspective of a gladiator .
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The sponsors had come through. The Pepsi logo was splashed across a shield they'd provided. Marlboro had donated the flaming sword. All I needed to do was survive the night and I'd be champion. Models and sports cars I kept telling myself, models and sports cars.
When blood sports had been legalized in the US there was a drop off in all other sports viewership. When the Lions were no longer profitable they'd sold off Ford Field. The tailgating remained, but it was a different atmosphere now. There was a charge in the air that had n't been present before. Fights escalated quickly. Sometimes the death count was higher outside the arena than in.
I'd gone to a few shows with my father when he was still around. The obstacle course had been island themed. Palm trees, white sand and rocks were the only shelter for the combatants. I remember watching one man in particular. In the midst of all the carnage, he maintained control. He never panicked, never hesitated. Even when another man had cut him he had n't called out. I remember the look in my Dad's eyes, the respect that was there. When he won the battle I cheered so loud I went hoarse. It was worth it, he'd looked my way and cracked his whip for effect. The crowd loved it. I was hooked.
I molded myself after that son of a bitch. Drake he called himself. I met him a dozen years later when he was old and fat. I killed him with his own whip. That was when my career really began picking up. The viewers liked me because I was creative. I did n't just kill, I made each death count. It was cinematic.
That had all led me here, to the big-times. Pay-per-view. Fifty million people were tuned in to watch me and a dozen others tear each other apart. They'd paid for the show and I was going to give them a good one. I'd been them, I knew what they wanted to see, how they wanted each death delivered. I'd been there watching with my old man. Funny how when I fight I still wonder if he's watching.
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[ PI ] Do the crime , do the time - but the reverse is also true , you can choose to serve jail time in advance of any crime you want to commit . After voluntarily spending 50 years in prison one individual is set to be released and the world watches in anticipation of whatever they do next .
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Fifty years of prison. 18,250 days.
I'm no longer capable of surviving out in the world on my own. I ca n't cook. I ca n't clean. I have no employable skills. I have no family or friends on the outside, but then I never did to begin with.
I am allowed any crime of my choosing. But I'm a good man. I have intention of hurting anyone. Crime was never my design. The 54,750 meals and 255,500 hours of solitude were.
I do n't know if I own anything, but if I do I leave it to Michael Curio in 67B.
So long.
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[ IP ] `` Decoy '' by Simon Stålenhag ( xpost from /r/Art )
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**Fetch**
Jack was hunched over the laptop, typing code diligently with his tongue stuck out. His jacket was definitely care-worn now, and his face unshaven and even showing his first wrinkles, but it was still the man she'd known.
Cary tucked a stray hair behind her ear and hugged her chest against the cold, looking up at the *things* sceptically.'Jesus, when you told me you had a hobby I thought painting, or models or video games but this...'
Jack looked up from his work and grinned.'Arma-tech want to put missiles, guns on them, all that crap. Offered me millions' he told her, straightening and stretching. He closed his laptop and placed it back inside the hatchback, drawing out a weird head-set and, perplexingly, a clutch of red flares.'But stupid people are n't very creative' he told her smugly, handing her a flare.
Cary rolled her eyes. Same old Jack. And walked cautiously towards the nearest bot. Christ, she barely reached the top of the shins, and she patted the orange leg experimentally.'So you came here to show me your death machines' she replied, unimpressed.
Jack laughed.'Actually that's Rupert'.
'Rupert?'
*UNIT ONE ONLINE* the robot answered with such force she screamed and tumbled backwards. It's upper body made an audible whine and pistons began to his. It shook itself in place then took a single step forwards leaning forwards.
'Jack!' she was scrambling backwards, getting mud on her jeans and red jacket. Big red eyes were watching her coldly, assessing her, and it was leaning in closer and closer to-
'Hi Rupert' Jack announced happily, stepping between them.'She's a friend' he told it,'I just patched your software, could you please update?' he asked it politely.
The eyes switched from red to blue.'Greetings Jack' it answered in a flat-robotic voice, casting one last look at her before straightening back up.
She had n't realized how hard she'd been panting. She scraped at the mud and climbed unsteadily onto weak knees, watching *Rupert* carefully but it seemed to be ignoring her now.'That's not funny'.
Jack was laughing so hard he just fell when she shoved him, but once he was back on his feet he had that same chip-monk grin.'Rupert and Lady Bunsworth. My babies. It's why I went away' he explained.
She looked at the second robot which had activated at the mentioning of its name, and observed with guarded curiosity as the two robots seemed to be having a silent conversation of sorts.'You prick. That thing could fucking kill us'.
'That's what Arma-tech wants' Jack muttered. He blinked at her stare and shrugged his shoulders,'relax. They're intimidation, sure, but they'd never hurt anyone' he assured her, and he suddenly jogged forwards and shouted'would you my babies?'.
To her shock, both machines crouched down and nuzzled up to him like... like... well, dogs.
'They have AI cores...' he told her as he stroked their head-shells,'but I've caged them. That's what the head-set's for'.
Despite her better judgement, she joined him. Patting Rupert was a bizarre experience, but soon she was laughing to. The Robots would make cutesy robotic squeals at their touch, and their reactions were surprisingly convincing. This was amazing.
'What are you going to do with them?' she asked.
Jack looked troubled.'I do n't know. But, I decided that there's enough misery on this planet. I'm not going to sell out'.
'Oh really?' she asked,'these would be perfect police units' she said sarcastically,'I can just see them stalking down the street with rocket launchers roaring at people to keep calm'.
Jack laughed, but it was half-hearted.'Yeah...' he replied but trailed off. Suddenly he perked up.' Wan na see something cool?' he asked.
Cary could n't help but smile at his enthusiasm.'Can we ride them?' she asked hopefully.
Jack shook his head and tossed her a flare.'Actually, I've got something better in mind'.
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[ WP ] In the year 2025 a multi-generational ship is sent out to explore spaceand After 50 years humanity loses contact with them . Hundreds of years later light speed travel is invented and a light speed ship catches up to the generational ship . What do they find inside ?
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`` Garett, you ready?''
I lift my rifle into position and shoot a nod at my partner, Brady. As we wait, I can feel the butt of the gun digging into the fold of my arm and the cold riggedness of the handle resting in the palm of my hand. A bead of sweat runs the length my brow and down the side of my face, almost as if it were racing against the speed of my beating heart. With my left hand I close my grip around the handle of the door and almost immediately I recoil in pain.
`` Too hot?'' he laughs.
`` No—,'' I say looking him straight in the eyes, `` too cold.''
His laughing suddenly stops. I tighten my grip on my rifle as I watch my partner confirm what I already know. It's frozen. But to what extent I wonder. Was it just the room behind the door? The entire lower level? The entire ship? Before I can finish my thoughts I'm snapped out of it by the sound the handle shattering into bits.
`` Shit.''
`` Real fucking great, Brady. Real fucking great.''
`` I did n't even tap it hard!''
`` Yeah, I'm sure you gave it a nice little love tap. Did you at least get a little foreplay going?''
I shake my head as I open up my front pocket to grab my torch.
`` Here, use this.'' I say tossing it to Brady.
He latches the torch onto the metal door and presses the button in the center. As the metal rods extend from the outer shell, lasers fire in all directions to measure the height and width of the door. In an instant, the door is ripped off it's hinges and lands at our feet. Brady looks over to me and I to him. I know what he's going to say.
`` Are you ready?''
Again my hands are on my rifle while my heart rate begins to increase. And then I recall the debriefing. I remember the lieutenant telling us how this is a special case. He said there was a malfunction on the ship and as a result the scans showed no life on board. I remember how this is n't a search and rescue mission and I suddenly remember the flame thrower attached to my back.
`` Yeah.''
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[ WP ] At the dawn of civilization , Gods walked the Earth .
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`` A mug of your cheapest, nastiest ale.'' The old hooded man pulled out a small sack of silver and handed the barkeeper a full coin. `` Keep'em coming.''
Seconds later, the sound of metal clanking with the bar's floorboards approached him.
`` Hey there, old man.'' The voice was rough and seasoned, from a lifetime soldier. `` Carrying money like that is dangerous'round these parts. If you want some protection, I can lend you my sword for a silver coin. Eight nights. Twenty for two coins.''
The hooded man said nothing.
`` What,'' the mercenary continued with a smile on his face, `` would you rather spend your money on whores?''
`` Mercenaries are whores.'' The hooded man responded.
Half the men at the bar turned their attention to the two men.
`` Oh,'' the sell-sword grabbed the hilt of his blade, but kept it sheathed. `` I'm glad you cleared that up. Mind *elaborating*?'' He spoke the word with a heavy warning.
*Watch your next words, * his tone seemed to say.
`` You sell services that should be given only from love or loyalty.'' The man lifted his head just a fraction, revealing a red beard. `` You follow money, not your heart. That is fine, but not when you trade that which should n't be traded.'' He took a large gulp from the mug.
The sell-sword laughed out loud, drawing a few laughs from other men in the watching crowd. `` You say I'm not loyal? No one in this world is loyal! Even a prince's guards would look the other way if the price is enough.''
Grunts of agreement sounded from the crowd.
`` Tell me,'' the old man said while still looking at the bar's counter. `` Do you pray to the Gods?''
The sell-sword was quiet for a moment. `` Men know to not ask other men about-''
`` They say,'' the old man interrupted him, making his voice sound spooky, `` that the Gods roam the lands sometimes. They watch us pull our cocks and punish us for masturbating.''
The crowd watching the two men went quiet. They were terrified of offending the Gods, he thought to himself. And rightly so.
`` So tell me,'' the old man said, taking another drink before finishing the sentence. `` If you're so scared of talking about the Gods, why do you openly defy one of them by being a mercenary?''
The man licked his lips, but replied. `` No other way to make a living out here. Either a mercenary or a thief. Being a thief would offend half the Gods, being a mercenary only offends one.''
`` Oh.'' The old man said. He took another gulp of his mug, setting the empty cup on the counter. `` Which one?''
The mercenary breathed out through his nose. `` Orpheus. The God of Honor.''
`` That's right. Last I recall, his wrath was worse than half the Gods combined.''
The man did n't reply.
`` So tell me,'' the old man said again, turning his shadowed face towards the mercenary. `` What did Orpheus look like again?''
The sell-sword closed his eyes, but replied. `` Red eyes. Blood red. Red hair. Also blood r-''
The words stopped mid-sentence as the old man lowered his hood with the speed of a master fighter. Red eyes. Red hair.
`` I... I-''
`` You what? You're sorry?''
The crowd was completely silent, with some men leaving out the door. Orpheus stood up, looking much bigger than he did when sitting down. `` You were willing to risk my wrath just ten minutes ago.''
`` Please, my family has no other way to make money, we-''
`` Would your wife ever sell her cunt?'' Orpheus responded with the voice of authority. The sell-sword shook his head. `` So than why would you?''
`` Please,'' the sell-sword fell to his knees in reverence.
`` Oh, now you have loyalty.'' Orpheus laughed and grabbed his mug from the counter. `` Why is this still empty? I told you to keep'em coming.'' The bartender nodded without making eye contact and ran to refill the mug.
`` Have mercy,'' the mercenary begged.
`` If you want mercy, pray for Mercantus to save you.'' Orpheus looked around for his brother. Nothing happened. `` Seems he does n't deem you worthy. So why should I?''
Orpheus moved his cloak to the side and revealed a sheathed sword. He pulled it out slowly, savoring the sound of metal scraping metal. `` You should be honored to die by my blade.''
The sell-sword started crying. Orpheus shook his head. `` Damnation. I see why Mercantus himself did n't show you mercy. You're an unhonorable bastard *and* a coward.''
`` Someday,'' the man said with tears in his eyes, `` we wo n't just sit back while you kill us. The humans will kill the Gods, you'll be no more. We wo n't write about you or sing about you. You wo n't even live on in name, you-''
Orpheus stabbed the blade effortlessly through the man's chest. `` If that's true, I'll see you in the next life.''
The God of Honor looked at the crowd cowering before him. `` Is this rebellion today? If not, get your asses out and let me enjoy my drink.''
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[ WP ] Write a story where the plot twist is in the first paragraph , but wo n't be evident until the end .
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She awoke next to her husband, Jack, knowing that today would be bittersweet. It had been one year exactly since the flood destroyed her old life. It was hard to say whether things were better or worse – sometimes, when tragedy strikes, different is the only way of expressing your feelings.
As she made her way to the graveyard, her mind wandered back once again to that day and the choice she made. Had she let her husband down? She knew he didn ’ t think so, but her conscience convicted her even as thoroughly as her intellect absolved her.
Weathermen, in their quest for ratings, declare every rainstorm as a “ once in a decade ” storm. Flood maps have “ hundred year flood ” line on them – if you are unlucky, once in a lifetime the waters will swell that high. Insurance companies and statisticians push out beyond the realm of comprehension and model ten-thousand year events. But at some point, if you see one of those are you really unlucky or is the model itself wrong?
At some point, all life is risk. In hindsight, we question why the levees weren ’ t higher, why the backup valve didn ’ t itself have a backup, why nobody tested the flimsy gasket that gave way to an inferno. The problem, simply, is that life does have a value. We may not know what the number is but at some point everything fails. After all, what really is the difference between tragedy and poor planning? Is it really a function of so many standard deviations lined up neatly on a page?
Ultimately, the rain didn ’ t stop. Waters grew and doubled and swelled until measuring them was simply a numerical exercise. The army and the national guard used helicopters in a desperate attempt to evacuate as many as possible. Women and children first. A rule as old as time. She remembered calling out to him as she was loaded aboard – “ Ja -- -! ” A windswept cry, inaudible even to her ears.
She believed she wouldn ’ t see him again. But still, she kept hope. Hour after hour, she watched and waited and prayed as helicopter after helicopter came in. At first, there were no men. But, as the evening wore on more and more husbands were saved. She never gave up hope. She believed her husband would be saved. And so, she waited.
One year later, and things were different. At long last, it was finally time. She arrived with Jack at the graveyard. Sobbing, she placed a bouquet of roses on her late husband ’ s tombstone. “ I ’ m sorry James. I ’ ll always love you. ”
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[ WP ] `` All he/she wanted to do , was to be your hero . ''
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The court room stood silent awaiting the judge to speak. “ Defence you may begin with your opening statement, ” the judge said.
“ Thank you, your Honor, ” said the defence lawyer walking toward the jury. “ Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today we gather to judge the fate of my client, ” the lawyer said signaling toward a man in an orange jump suit. “ My client Mr. Cornwell or Wolfthorn, as i'm sure you know him by, was born like each of us were, from a mother and a father. He grew up like any of us, going to school, playing games, and falling in love.
“ The one thing he does not have in common with us are his capabilities. My client was in accident at the age of twelve. He came into contact with a radioactive isotope due a malfunction in a nuclear plant near his home the plant exploded ant destroyed his neighborhood. My client was the only survivor but… ” He paused putting his hands behind his back. “ He was changed, he gained near unfathomable strength and his body grew hard and durable. ” He looked back toward Cornwell. “ And his skin became rough and changed from its original fair color to a dark red. Ladies and gentlemen the incident that occurred was surely a tragedy but imagine what you would do had you been endowed with theses abilities. You would surely try and put them to good use.
“ That is what my client did for many years. He has helped countless people with his gifts but he is only human like the rest of us, he is not infallible.
“ On may 26 a neighborhood girl attempted to commit suicide by train. Mr. Cornwell was at the scene and he was the only one that could help her. He lept to her rescue but in the process he knocked the train from its rails killing 126 people and injuring 200 more. Though what happened is a tragedy remember why he acted and also keep in mind. ” The lawyer drew a shaky breath. “ All he wanted to do, was to be your hero. ” the lawyer looked back to the judge. “ That is all your Honor. ”
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[ WP ] Humanity settles another new world , barren and dry . When they scan the planet , they discover a portal . It is to the next universe up .
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Today we went through the 4th discovered portal since project we started this project. The first portal was made artificially after that every place we discovered had already a portal on in place, since then we have been exploring these new worlds but we never found anything of interest on it.
This one was no exception, it was a barren and dry land, there was no live detected on this plane either, I'm beginning to think that we truly are the only living beings in this galaxy.
'Sir,'
`` Yes, what is it''
'we discovered the next portal.'
`` Yes, I know, the scan showed it when we arrived here.''
'Yes but sir, but this one shows sign of live.'
`` What? You sure of that?''
'Well the device says so.'
`` Oke, tell them to prepare the weapons.''
'but sir, they have n't shown any sign of hostility yet, It the probably do n't even know we are here yet.'
`` Yes, I'm just being cautious''
'Understood, sir.'
`` O, and wait on contacting the Ministry of Galactic Environment, I want to be sure this is a good place to settle.''
'Yes sir.'
The general was finally pleased with their findings.
`` Finally, I've been waiting, finally a new target to test our new bio weapons on.''
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[ WP ] Mr Rogers leads a band of survivors in a zombie apocalypse .
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`` So the sniper the thing? The career in the Marines?''
`` All true, little buddy.''
`` I looked it up online. Back... back when we had an online. There was so much information to say it was false.''
`` Carefully calculated by a little team of semi-retired government propaganda experts. Just enough of a pushback to get people confused. I was pretty successful for the world. More than... well, it does n't matter now. More than shooting generals ever was.''
`` I would get in trouble for ditching the post-school-day announcements just so I could run through the soccer fields and not miss your show.''
`` Ha! Civilization. I miss it so.''
`` We should have you put on another show.''
`` Pardon? There's only two hundred humans left that we know of!''
`` And twenty are kids.''
`` Just watch the walls, friend.''
-END-
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[ WP ] Your parents have a shed that you 're not allowed to go in .
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My heart was racing. They've never done this before. Mom and Dad have always been so careful. Maybe it was the sheets of rain flooding the yard that hurried them, maybe the force of the wind kept the door from latching, but I could see from my bedroom window the shed door was open. Both of my parents were in there, which did n't happen often. I had to take a peek. I rushed to the closet for my raincoat, skipping steps on my way down the stairs. I was already out the door by the time I flung my jacket on and in the yard before I had it zipped. A navy blue blur across the yard, and I was at the door. Then, I stopped. A hot ball of lead was in my stomach. `` I should n't be doing this. What the hell am I going to find?'' I thought to myself. `` Bodies, a sex dungeon?'' In a second, countless terrible possibilities crossed my mind before my reasoning skills kicked in. `` Come on, it ca n't be that bad, the shed is smaller than my bedroom and Mom and Dad are the most boring people on the planet.'' I reached out to grab the door. I could feel my heart pounding so hard in my chest I looked down to see if I could see it beating. I leaned to the crack in the door to peer in. It was pitch black. There was no way they left before I came out here. What were they doing in the dark? I opened the door enough to slip in completely and pulled it closed behind me. I shuffled my feet and slowly skimmed the air with my arms until I felt a cord dangling from above. Nervous, I let out a deep sigh and pulled the string. I could n't believe it. The shed was completely empty except for a mirror opposite the door. I felt the walls and floor searching for a trap door leading elsewhere, but nothing. No hidden tunnels, no bodies, no drugs, no parents. Just an old mirror. Why on Earth were they keeping me from a mirror all these years? It did n't even look like they take care of it, the glass is dark and the frame unpolished. Puzzled, I stood there, staring at my reflection almost nose to nose. `` Oh god no, what are you doing here?'' I heard as I unlocked eyes with my reflection to see my parents walk through the shed door. `` It was already unlocked!'' I yelled in defense as I spun around to my parents. Except Mom and Dad were n't there. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
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[ WP ] Every zombie in the zombie apocalypse does their best to protect you , but you do n't know why .
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It's been ten years since we started our attack.. we fought bravely, but the humans recently now discovered our weaknesses and gained the upper hand. Our population is now equal to theirs in number. We were falling by the thousands.. I thought we needed to regroup and come up with a plan. I told my friend about what I thought and then suddenly every one from those amongst us retreated we gathered to discuss the matters at hand.. However before we started voicing our opinions, we decided that it would be good for the morale of our worriers if the bravest from amongst us spoke of their mightiest battles.. Brutas The Giant spoke about the time he single handedly fought off 100 humans!! Hannah The Beautiful spoke of the time she'd she infiltrated the enemy camps and killed everyone present.. then everyone looked at me.. AADeaney!! They said. Tell us about your greatest battle!! I could n't understand why they looking at me. `` I've never fought a battle in my life. ``, I said to myself stirring my tea. `` Tell us!! ``, they chanted.. That's when I started to speak.. everyone was silent. You could hear a pin drop in the underground fortress.. I started by saying, `` You know, for last ten years, I have never fought a single battle, I always found myself being protected by my fellow warriors. I could never understand why!!''. `` Some leader you are….'' Exclaimed Brutas The Giant...
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[ WP ] A wizard 's cloak changes color depending on the type ( or types ) of magic they 're proficient in . You 've seen lots of different hues and combinations , but you 've never seen pure white before .
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This was it. My last task before I could complete my training, after ten years of endless, back-breaking work. And I was going to fail.
I raced through the maze, walls towering over my head, spikes protruding around corners just waiting for me to slip and pin myself. Everyone had told me I was the most powerful wizard they'd ever met, my cloak dyed with so many patches of color they bled together, and I was about to be flayed alive by the giant manticore skittering after me.
With everyone watching.
I chanced a glance up at the crowd peering over the side like I was a caged animal, cheering `` Marissa! Marissa! Marissa!'' in time with my pounding feet.
What kind of idiot gave a test that blocked magic, to prove you were a good magic wielder?
Air burned like fire down my throat but... wait... I could no longer hear the beast. Like a fool I skid to a stop, gasping.
I had to get out, I had to get *out*.
I tried to climb the slick mud walls, but even with a running start I could only get half way up before I lost purchase.
No no no no no...
Someone above me screamed, just as the hideous thing burst from the wall, clamping its mighty jaws around my throat.
*Snap. *
And silence.
But I felt a tug, somewhere in the dark. My brothers were counting on me, the only source of protection from this cruel world, my mother so lost to despair from my father's death she refused to do anything, even as our house fell apart around them. I pictured their faces, Kyrin and Jace. Too young, too sweet. There was a whole other life I wanted to give them with my magic.
I could n't leave. *Get out get out get out* roared in my head, and then it was pouring from my mouth, shaking the walls of my mind and the walls of the maze.
The crowd was dead quiet. Through the dirt and blood on my cloak, I saw it was now pure white.
My teacher, Orion, smiled wickedly down at me. `` Congratulations Marissa, you are the world's first necromancer.''
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[ WP ] You know who your soulmate is once they touch you . Yours just punched the shit out of you
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Fate is really odd. My dad was a construction worker and my mom was an architect. It ’ s really funny actually because the two really should never have met but it all happened because the city of Archville declared they were going to be erecting a new recreation building in ’ 87. Fitness was never my dad ’ s thing but on top of wanting to change the world, my mom was super passionate about health. It was always her dream to spearhead a campaign to give kids a place to play. So after 6 years of engineering school she finally landed a job working at a firm and worked her way to the top until she earned her spot as the head of development. As the construction coordinator my dad was given the hefty job of communications with the firm designing the building, so naturally the two spent many hours on the phone discussing plans. For months the two worked together, never seeing each other ’ s faces. Strictly professional.
Finally, on the first day of construction, my mom visited the site Archville ’ s recreational center was set to be built, and she saw him. Stalky, 5 ’ 8, with unkept hair; for all intents and purposes a very average man. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, and powerful. She sat down next to him and looked down at him. “ You must be Eric! ” she said robotically. This was to be the first of several awkward personal introductions of the day. He had a stain on his shirt. “ Great to finally meet you, ” he grumbled between bites of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “ You ’ re a lot taller in person. ” He hated women like her. Clean cut. People pleaser. College degree. Her parents were probably still married. Corporate snakes trying to get in the way of the most efficient way to get things done. Like two beta fish in fish tank they sized each other up, both equally as repulsed by the other. Then they shook hands.
Love at first touch is so funny because it totally levels the playing field. It affects every class, every race, and every walk of life. They call it “ the shock ” because when your soulmate touches you, you ’ re supposed to get this electric shock type deal or something. Scientists have theories as to why it happens but no one really knows. Maybe it ’ s the mixing of pheromones excreted from the oil in the other person ’ s skin, maybe it has to do with a transmutation of energy. I like to think it ’ s a little bit of divine intervention. But it ’ s all speculation. The only thing we know about it is it is real.
Her pupils dilated. His breath got heavy. They looked at each other with nothing but but plain desire. He noticed how gracefully her hair was as it folded itself across her shoulders. She could only look at his lips, which looked like two pink pillows. They needed to be kissed. Every day. Maybe even bit? She blushed, embarrassed by the not-so-savory thoughts she couldn ’ t stop herself from thinking. The starting date of the construction was pushed back a day because the project ’ s architect both called out sick.
Jill is so fucking hot. Not hot in a “ oh man look how good she looks in those jeans ” kind of way, but more of a “ the way you laugh when people tell a bad joke, oh my god your voice sounds like how peppermint tastes ” kind of way. Refreshing. I ’ ve had a crush on her since the 6th grade. Not matter what I do I can ’ t get my eyes off her. She has this energy about her and it ’ s literally intoxicating. The problem with Jill is she ’ s such a prude. She won ’ t hold hands with any guy she dates. Back in middle school she dated Matt Brinton for 3 years and didn ’ t touch him once. She wants to “ save herself for when she ’ s sure you ’ re the one ”. Rumor has it she broke up with him a few years back because she held his hand and didn ’ t feel the shock. He still has her touch virginity thought so that ’ s got ta count for something right?
Either way, I ’ m trying so hard not to freak out but I was about to drive to the highest mountain and scream “ I GOT A DATE WITH JILL SANTORO!!! ” God, just saying it didn ’ t feel real but there I was, standing in line at the movies with Jill fucking Santoro. The prowess she had just standing there made my legs weak. It ’ s like someone upstairs said “ Ok she ’ s gon na be a wildcat, a swan, and a sky scraper all at once but also she ’ s a human and also she ’ s beautiful ”. Does that even make sense? I don ’ t know man, I was sweating bullets. At some point Jill got a phone call. It was her dad freaking out about her report card. She went outside to take the call. She did one of those air high five things that prude girls love to do so much and went outside. So cute. Then she went outside to take the call. So of course my mind wondered.
How poetic. The captain of the football team on a date with the most amazing girl in school. Or was it cliche? Not sure. At this point my mind was doing anything to keep itself distracted so I didn ’ t say anything stupid when she got back. Act like I don ’ t care, okay, good plan. What was going on around me? The person selling tickets at the door was punching a hole in some papers. It ’ s stupid but I literally remember thinking “ how satisfying do you think it is to crunch through a stack of papers with that three ring hole punch. Damn. Don ’ t say that out loud. To anyone. I ’ m not weird. Weird is bad. What else? I looked around and saw Erin Blythe from my 3rd period chem class. What the fuck. Who invited her.
Listen, I don ’ t wan na sound like a jerk or anything, but Erin was a scrawny girl. She had long greasy hair and, frankly she reminded me of a squirrel. The way she clutched her book bag like a satchel full of nuts for the winter or something. So weird. She sat diagonally in front of me in chemistry. And truthfully speaking here, she was the only reason I was passing chem. I sat there and stared at her.
“ HEY ASSHOLE! ” a voice shouted. Where was it coming from. Holy shit. Erin saw me staring at her. I tried to look at a movie poster behind her and pretended to be reading the small print at the bottom. No dice, it was too late. She was marching over to me, no scratch that she was charging me. A squirrel was charging me but honestly I ’ ve never been more terrified of a squirrel in my life.
Erin was a brilliant girl. She got straight A ’ s and had perfect attendance every day of the year. She was on track to getting a full ride to Princeton. She had this no nonsense attitude and all she wanted to do was change the world. Assholes like me have been picking on her since she was old enough to fix her thick rimmed glasses. “ Do you realize the position you put me in?! ” her words were like daggers and the whole theater entrance got dead silent.
At about 6 inches away from my face she stopped. “ Mr. Erickson suspended me because he thought I helped you cheat on last week ’ s test! What kind of bullshit idiot copies someone else ’ s sentences word for word on a test?! ” She hated sports. I don ’ t blame her. People like me were way below her pay-grade. She looked at me like I was some kind of nordic viking idiot who one new how to catch a ball. To be fair she wasn ’ t entirely wrong.
“ What do you have to say for yourself?! ” she yelled. Jill had just walked in. Shit. I couldn ’ t say anything. I didn ’ t have to. Before I could come up with my usual snarky response, she punched me right in the face!
Now, I don ’ t know if you ’ ve ever been punched in the face so hard you fall over, but let me tell you. It feels like ass. Imagine the sound that thunder makes, but cracking right over your nose; it spreads out like a dully refracting lightning bolt, every bit of energy trying to bore itself as deep into your skull as it can. It sucks. Why didn ’ t this feel like that?
I picked myself up from the floor, holding my bloody nose, stunned. This felt more like the color purple wrapped itself around my whole face in a warm seeping blob. Instead of the dull throbbing pain I came to know all too well from countless fights, I was left with a butterfly kiss. We made eye contact as I looked up.
When did her hair get so shiny? I mean like really really shiny. She looked at me. I don ’ t think anyone has ever looked into my soul before. She was looking into my should dude. This wasn ’ t the shock from a punch in the face. This was something way different. Her long thin legs looked like two powerful sign posts, pointing up her hips, leading my eyes up her delicate frame. She wasn ’ t a squirrel, she was an elegant ballerina. I looked at her for a few seconds then said the only thing I could think to say;
“ How satisfying do you think it is to crunch through a stack of papers with that three ring hole punch? ”
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[ WP ] You wake up in a stranger 's body . To your surprise , everyone believes you when you tell them who you really are .
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The alarm clock was the only sure part of my daily routine. I would never know what fate had in store for me for the day. The only thing that would never change was the time I would wake up. Waking up at 7 AM would always give me just enough time to have a quick shower, eat some breakfast and leave for school.
That wasn ’ t the case today.
The sun rays bursting through the curtains shone upon my eyes, with nigh surgical precision. I didn ’ t have to check the time - such things only happened at 10 AM, which meant that I overslept. I was confused - my mother would usually wake me up, be it by shouting at me or calling my phone from downstairs; clearly it didn ’ t happen today. I decided to reach for my phone and call Mom. Maybe she just forgot about it this time.
Halfway into my reach, I felt some strange weight, slightly pulling my chest down. I opened my eyes and looked down at myself to try and find the cause of that strange feeling. And it was something I could have never expected.
I was not in my body. I was in the body of some teenage girl.
I screamed in what could be considered a strange mix of terror and confusion. I couldn ’ t understand what happened. How could I have waked up in someone else ’ s body? These things just don ’ t happen in real life!
I tried to focus my thoughts and assess the situation. I found that to be a hard task, what with the body I was in being so alien to me. Everything about it was so strange and new - the long hair, the female physique; hell, even the tongue couldn ’ t find a comfortable place for itself inside the mouth.
In order not to violate the privacy of... whoever this girl was... I didn ’ t change out of her pajamas. Instead, I simply decided to walk downstairs and try to figure out where I am at the moment. Maybe then - just maybe - I could figure out what to do next.
In the main room, I saw a middle-aged couple, who must have been this girl ’ s parents. They weren ’ t talking to each other; they were visibly saddened and somewhat lost in their own thoughts. The entire room was completely silent, the TV turned off and the two people lost in their own thoughts. The father was sitting in the armchair, reading the newspaper; I saw the mother sitting in the kitchen annex, gripping her head and trying to force some hot coffee down her throat.
I gulped and walked into the room, unsure of what to say next.
-... good morning. - I said coyly in this girl ’ s sweet-sounding voice, hearing it coming out of my mouth leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling.
The man looked at me, sighed, forced out an emotionless “ Hello. ” and returned to reading his newspaper.
I decided to continue straight to the point.
-... I know that this will sound odd, but... I ’ m not really your daughter. - I blurted out, with a slight feeling of panic entering my thoughts.
The woman followed in her husband ’ s footsteps, sighing and turning around on her chair.
-We know.
Something shot through my body, like an electric shock. Something was not right in this household.
Just as that thought reached my head, the man of the house folded his newspaper, got up from the armchair and stormed out of the room.
-I ’ m sorry about Charles. - the woman told me, drawing my attention to her. - He ’ s still... confused... about this entire situation. He doesn ’ t know what to think of it all, what to do... and matter of fact, neither do I. - She finished her coffee and took me to the couch in the living room.
-So... why don ’ t you tell me something about yourself? - she said.
-... I don ’ t mean to offend you, but... excuse me?! How are you being so casual about this?
The woman ’ s slight indifference to the fact that someone unknown was occupying her daughter ’ s body annoyed me. This really wasn ’ t the best time - nor the circumstance - for small talk.
-I... I actually don ’ t know. Maybe I ’ m getting used to it. - she replied. I could nearly hear her heart cracking when she said those words. To avoid further salting the wound, I tried to answer her question.
-Right, so... my name is Jay. I ’ m 19 years old, I ’ m in college, studying foreign languages. - It felt weird, hearing this voice claim itself to be... the real me.
-Funny that you mentioned it. - the woman answered, sobbing slightly. - I ’ ve been hearing a lot of languages recently.
-You mean, I ’ m not the only one who ended up like this?
-Oh, I really wish you were the only one. Maybe then I ’ d be able to... shrug it off, or something.
-Who else did you have the... pleasure... of meeting?
-A lot of people from all over the world. Too many to count, really. I remember some French people... some people from Great Britain... a couple of German people too.
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[ EU ] On No Man 's Sky official release there is a glitch as everything is reset . Everyone starts on the same planet : Earth .
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I booted my PC in anticipation of this games release. I had just purchased dual GTX-1080's and pre purchased the game. I had upgraded my ram to 32gb and got the latest processor.
*It was ready*
As I joined through the game my fingers were trembling, I had got to the main menu and chose my server. The sweat dripped down my forehead.
I joined in on a server and INSTANTLY saw another player. I grabbed the nearest rock I could find and bashed in his skull. The level of graphics on this game was sweet!
I walked to the top of a small hill and saw another player. At this point I had learned to use my crafted spear and had that equipped. I snuck up behind him and one shot him through the back off his skull. Sweet as I thought as the level of graphics were epic and the smoothness of the gameplay was unmatched.
Five hours into the game and I had at least 1000 confirmed kills. I had even killed a dude who had a laser pistol equipped. What a scrub as I seamlessly assassinated with minimal effort. All kills aside I had noticed something very strange. Out of the billions of planets, galaxies and possibilities in this game I had killed 1000 people and seen many more.
*This rock formation looks strangely similar. Almost like its....*
My god.
I moved to get a better look and it instantly caught my eye.
The Hollywood sign.
What the hell I thought as I moved to secure the area. I saw a small group of enemies who had light armour equipped and no ranged weapons. After the senseless group killings I thought id be kind enough to show some mercy in this fight.
I snuck up through the bush and took out the first two men. The third man I shot through the back of his leg and he was down. I walked up to him pistol drawn as I made my way up to him. He was screaming over VoIP and in complete agony. I thought his use of VoIP to yell at me was extremely annoying and over the top.
As I got nearer he saw me and asked me to spare his life.
*Please, I'm a developer of the game No Mans Sky. *
Lies.... He can not be.
*Our servers went down upon release, in an instant 18 million players at a single moment logged into the game, wiping all of what we had made resetting the game and spawning everyone on earth. *
I did n't like the way he stuttered and heavily breathed into VoIP, type of your going to put that much effort into speaking to me jeez.
*Only WoW achieved 9 million online at one point, no one saw the traffic that would hit our servers today. We have no idea what this will impact in the real world. *
I was tired of his over use of the VoIP and killed him. I thought he was strange and maybe he was telling the truth. I walked through the desert back down the hill and saw a small building, I thought I could see the CBD of Los Angeles but there was too much smog.
The fires were raging this year and blanketed the area in which the city was. At this point I had collected a vehicle and had means of getting around on this planet. I came across a much larger group of people and heard them over VoIP again.
I was around 6 hours into the game and the so called `` developers'' words still stayed in the back of my mind. The servers had reset.
*What did that even mean? *
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[ WP ] Two strangers meet on a train . After one conversation , they know they 're meant for each other .
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The dark melancholy surrounded her, almost palpable, and it had a smell. Maybe not everyone could see it, feel it or taste it, but he could. He had been studying the vulnerable, sad and lonely long before this young lady was ever born. He recognized the particular air around her as defeat. Hopelessness. No more will to live. She would poison, jump or cut soon, the dimness behind her eyes showed that. What she did n't know, was that he was there for her. He could help her. It's what he did. Helped the ones who had no more hope left, the ones who had given up.
She sighed and shifted in the cold, green seat of the bus, her auburn hair, unkempt without apology, poking out from under her purple skullcap. Her blue eyes were open and turned in the direction of the window, but she was living inside her head, seeing nothing in front of her. The older man, the only one who had even noticed her, stood from his seat and went to the empty one beside her. He settled in, making a big show of it, trying to knock her out of her pitiful trance. Reality flooded her eyes for a moment and she glanced at him, seeming surprised that anyone dared sit next to the pathetic portrait that was her. Before he even had time to clear his throat for the introduction, she had turned back to her memories, her window.
`` I believe I can help you.'' He said this quietly, even though there were only two other passengers. He did n't want to startle her, not now.
She just shook her head, slowly and sadly, too weary to even put a brave face on, or to chastise a stranger for his assumptions, `` No, no you ca n't. No one can, and many have tried. If the love of my life, the one who gave me my dead daughter could n't, I doubt you could.'' Back to her window she went, shutting down his attempt quite savagely.
`` No, I do n't think you understand..... But, you will.'' He said this lower than before, and she did n't move a muscle, deep into a world where her daughter still played, he assumed.
The other two passengers got off at their respective stops, and he stayed right by her side in the empty car. She did n't care, did n't notice that they were now alone. It was the moment he had been waiting for. There's always one great moment, fortuitous and bright, where he could see everything clearly. Always once in these situations, and if he misses it, he moves on. This moment was especially shiny. Like the cold weapon at his side. Shiny and dangerous. He tapped her on the shoulder, once more trying to make the connection.
`` I was meant to be here today, as were you. We were meant to meet, made for each other in this one second, minute of our whole, miserable lives. Do you want me to make things better, make you forget?'' He grabbed her chin, astutely measuring her boundaries in the time it took to finish his sentence.
She looked at him, finally and for real. `` Whatever you can do will not delay the inevitability of my death, I'm sure you're a nice person, maybe even have a few degrees, are qualified, but.....'' Her voice trailed off as she took stock of him in her assessment, eyes roving from head to toe, landing on the knife. He saw understanding come over her features and raised his eyebrows when her shocked eyes met his, but he waited. It was up to her. Were they meant for each other? Or, would this just be another mark on his wall?
It seemed like ages until she slowly nodded her head, assenting, needing his help to jump over the last hurdle of cowardice. What they never realize, never get, is there's no romance to this. He's not saving the world, or them, He is just getting rid of another drain on society. Another morose attendant in the macabre play they create for themselves. Life is n't that bad. Look at him, had it rough, but found what makes him happy.
He pushed the knife in, right through her main artery, and jumped clear. Not his first time. She flopped about in her chair, surprised eyes meeting his one more time, and he read what always seemed to be there in those last moments, the emotion he had come to expect. Regret. Too bad, too sad. He used the edge of her blouse to wipe the knife, and stepped over the small rivers and lakes of blood, done filling now that her heart had stopped, then made his way to the exit. He hoped her and her daughter were happy now, he hoped.... No, no, now he could be honest. He was no angel of mercy, just an opportunist. In a moment of solemnity and desperation, they were meant to be, blah blah, but really, he just likes the way the knife slides right in, so satisfying, so right.
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[ WP ] It 's a showdown between two spaceships : A heavily armed trade spaceship and a pirate spaceship . Pick a side , and write the fight .
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Dak continued staring outside the bridge window as his Lieutenant walked up to him `` Captain we are now in range.'' The trade ship in front of them seemed perfectly harmless on first glance; simplistic design with a large and powerful engine in the back. Big business these days continued the tradition of spending the least amount of money for the fastest delivery services. `` Captain?'' Dak turned to Tina, his blonde Lieutenant, before replying `` Is the boarding party in position?'' `` Yes Captain'' she replied. Dak bobbed his head as he reached for the Comm set `` Commander Walsh?'' The response was instantaneous `` Yes Captain?'' Dak spoke quickly as they continued closing on the Trade ship `` that ship is going to have a strong resistance force on board so prepare accordingly.'' He swore he could hear the smirk from his second in command while he replied `` I came prepared.'' He focused back onto the Trade ship as he replied `` of course you did'' hanging up the receiver `` Lieutenant fire.''
The chain of events behind him resulted in the only cannon they had firing an EMP shell. He counted in his head 3..2..1 and as the shell connected, the ship went dark. Dak felt his ship accelerate quickly to close the gap as they swung to the nose of the Trade ship. We have their attention now he thought to himself as he watched his boarding party enter the trade ship. He watched the flashes of gunfire resonate from the trade ships bridge, in a matter of minutes the fight was over and his boarding party had already called in the victory. His crew inside the bridge cheered while he remained focused and made his way to his personal shuttle. Another couple of minutes passed and he found himself docked inside the other ships bay. The dim red emergency lights flickered before turning a bright fluorescent white as his team turned the power back on. He looked around the bay and saw nothing. Literally nothing was on this ship. Goddamnit he thought to himself as he made his way through the narrow halls until he stood in the bridge with the remaining crew members of the now defeated ambush. `` We were right Captain, there were no resources. Only soldiers.'' Dak exhaled as he turned to his Commander `` How many did we lose?'' `` three sir.'' A small price to pay to confirm my suspicions he thought. `` I know you.''
Dak turned to face the man in the front on the ground. Dak possessed quite the memory and instantly recognized the ginger hair and goatee of Trent Yates `` As I know you'' he replied. `` We went through basic together'' Trent glared at him and smirked before responding `` Dak Farmer. Oh how the mighty have fallen eh?'' Dak narrowed his eyes and smiled as Trent continued his monologue `` You used to be the golden boy, your instructors fawned over you and Admirals came to watch your progress. If only they could see you now, I knew you were n't shit even back then.'' Dak continued grinning and staring at him as he kept going `` they gave you an officer position and when the shit hit the fan you disobeyed orders, turned tail and ran.'' Dak finally spoke `` you think you have it all figured out do n't you?'' Trent's smirk was now annoying him `` I know I do, everyone knows your name now. You're one of the great fuck ups of the Orion Alliance Military, you're practically a spooky story over a campfire now.'' Dak crouched down in order to be face to face with him `` well since you seem to know everything, what do you think happens to you next?'' Trent continued smirking as he stared into Dak's blue eyes `` They'll hunt you.'' Now Dak smiled `` I'm already hunted, remember I'turned tail and ran'. That means I'm a traitor and that's punishable by death.'' Trent continued glaring at him `` I'm the son of a powerful politician-'' Dak laughed as he pulled out his pistol `` like I give a fuck, you remember me? I also remember you from basic, you rapist piece of shit.'' Dak stood up now and pointed the gun in his face `` this is for the girl you ruined'' and immediately fired a round which blew chunks of his face and brain against the console behind him. Commander Walsh looked at him `` what now?'' Dak holstered his gun and began walking towards the bay `` throw the remaining soldiers out the airlock and bring the ship with us, we can at least part it out for credits.''
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[ WP ] You 're alone in a room , axe in hand . You 're ready . You 're the executioner . Emptying your thoughts , voiding yourself from emotion , that 's your ritual before an execution . Today , though , no preparation will help when you 're going to discover who is to be executed .
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Schick, schick, schick, schick...
The blade sang as the whetstone slid along its deadly edge. An axe already honed to a razor edge, its gleam a deadly promise to its lethality. This was the executioner's favourite part, the preparation. Yes the roar of the crowd as the axe fell was exhilarating to say the least, but nothing gave the executioner more satisfaction than the perfect lead up to that moment. See, the executioner believed that presentation was everything. Bring forth a dirty street urchin, plomp his head down on a chopping block and hack his head off in a few poorly aimed swings with an axe that had an edge more indicative of a club and at best you might get a few horrified gasps and, if lucky, the gentle sound of a poor soul regurgitating his lunch. However, bring forth a man, well dressed, clean, with maybe a fashionable haircut, who knows, and the crowd will instantly hate him. The urchin everyone knows, he's poor. He probably stole something. Who cares. But the well dressed man with the maybe fashionable haircut, what ever would result in a man such as this with his head upon the block? Did he kill someone? Did he kill someone important?! The crowd both loves and hates the man before he has made it halfway to the platform. Hates him because he is a criminal, hates him for his apparent wealth, hates him for his maybe fashionable haircut that they could have had if they only thought of it first. But they love him too. They love him for he is about to make the ultimate sacrifice for their entertainment. The crowd shows it appreciation, vocally, by yelling every curse under the sun at this man and physically, by hurling every old vegetable and piece of produce that has spent too much time under the sun.
It was then only reasonable that the executioner held himself to the same high standards. The executioner would crouch in the middle of the platform with a hooded black cape leaving everything to the imagination of the now throbbing crowd. He would slowly rise as the criminal made his way slowly up the steps, and upon reaching the final step the executioner would flings his arms wide throwing off the cape to gasps from the crowd. A physical specimen, the executioner would wear only a black hood and simple leather pants leaving his exceptional physique exposed. The platform in the middle of the public square the platform would become his stage for the greatest performance the city would ever see, because at the end of this performance one of the cast would be dead. The revealing of the axe from its leather sheath. The executioner's finest moment. The crowd would silence as the sheath fell to the ground, almost embarrased as if they had walked in on their landlord in the shower at the exposure of the gleaming blade. Ahhh yes, the preparation that would all lead to the final swing...
The executioner was snapped out of his day dream by a loud banging on the door. It was time. Time to prepare the subject, the crimal, the headed soon to be be. The executioner lovingly sheathed the head of the axe and strode through the door and into the hallway. There he saw his loyal helper, who, without a word, gestured down the hall to the preparation room door. He knew that the executioner did not speak on the day of an execution, and would not taint his fast with words of his own. The executioner approached the door, his hands were trembling as they always did at this moment. The anticipation was almost ecstasy to him. He lay both trembling hands on the door and paused, for in a few seconds he would reveal the subject of his next performance. How the subject looked could be make or break it. Fat men got way more cheers than skinny men, and those that pleaded got twice as many again. Oh how the executioner hoped for a fat squeeler, he had a good feeling about this one. His heart racing, the executioner pushed the door open and stared at the man chained to the chair in front of him...
'What the shit, DAD?'
'Billy my boy, fancy seeing you here!'
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[ WP ] Every time your walk into a room , your theme song blasts out in full volume .
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Angela sat at the table in the corner, avoiding the stares from the other patrons. She was convinced that no-one had a worse theme than she did. Whereas most people had some sort of instrumental or a classical tune, Angela had something... niche. Something that made it difficult to find someone. Her only defense from people gawking at her while they cover their ears was to hide away - an unfortunate circumstance to one who was naturally timid in the first place.
She looked at her phone and checked the details on the web page. A week ago she signed up for a blind dating website that specialized in matching people with unfortunate themes.
It was six o'clock. She looked around; there were only five other patrons. Notably, an older couple that would n't stop staring at her with disapproving scowls.
A handsome man walked through the door and the sound of smooth jazz filled the diner. His was smiling and confident, she could tell that he liked the way his theme affected people - definitely not the one she was looking for.
With a great sigh, Angela leaned back in her seat and looked out her window. Outside was a man jogging from his nice car towards the diner. He too was handsome with rugged, masculine features. He had the body of a heavy-weight boxer, tall, dark-skinned, and muscular. Angela thought he was quite the looker.
When the man got to the doors, he placed his hand on the handles, cracked the doors open just slightly, and back away. Angela watched with a puzzled face as one of the strongest looking men she'd ever seen pace back-and-forth before opening a door. What theme could a man that looked like he could beat a Sherman tank in a wrestling match have that would make him too afraid to open a door?
Finally, he entered. Angela watched with a puzzled face as the doors slowly closed behind the man. He cringed the moment the door shut behind him.
MORE THAN A WOMAAN!
MORE THAN A WOMAN TO MEEEE!
MORE THAN A WOMAAN!
MORE THAN A WOMAN TO MEEEE!
The old couple started to chuckle. Some other patron spit out their water. Even the cook smirked as he flipped burgers. The man at the door was visibly embarrassed.
Nevertheless, Angela liked the Bee Gees. Disco was her thing, funnily enough. She waved at the man with the friendliest face she could muster. He smiled back, walked over, and took his seat.
Carl was his name, and he was a gentle giant, beefed up to the shape of a monster truck as his only defense from having a horrible theme.
After introducing themselves, eating, laughing and joking, talking about everything from movies to books, they landed on the subject that all conversations lead to: music. The same music that controls all life.
`` You know,'' Angela started, her face still grinning from a joke Carl said. `` I hope you do n't think I'm being manipulative when I honestly say that I love Disco.''
`` Ha, to tell you the truth I'm not a Disco person to begin with. That said, I wish I had a different song. Or hell, a different part of the song I've got. But nope, had to be that particular chorus of that particular song. I've got different tastes, the total opposite of Disco, really''
`` Oh, and what's that?''
`` Metal, mostly.''
Angela's eyes, for a brief moment, swept suspiciously to the corner of the room. He looked at her face, perked with curiousity. He had n't yet heard Angela's theme. Though, he already knew that he liked her no matter what it could be.
Carl covered the bill and left a tip on the table. Together, they walked towards the door already close enough to be hand in hand.
`` I can go first if you like, I'm used to taking the blunt of the jokes.'' Carl said.
`` Thankyou, but it's okay.''
Angela took a big gulp and walked through the door. Immediately, as if the whole town was being attacked by a swarm of buzzsaw-wielding bees, one of the blackest, brutalist, black metal songs to ever unfurl from the croaking howls of man erupted into the air. A passerby jumped in shock, a baby started crying, a man inadvertently stepped on the gas and ran over a fire hydrant, there was a panic as people were convinced a gate to hell had opened up behind them.
Angela turned away from the carnage and faced Carl.
`` I hope it does n't bother you... Like it does most people.''
Carl smiled. `` You are perfect.''
Laughing, hand in hand, they strolled down the street. Bathory and Bee Gees blaring loud and clear for all to hear.
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[ WP ] Write the greatest speech a world leader has never made .
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After meeting with Martin Luther King, Lyndon Johnson calls a press conference.
`` Good afternoon, my fellow Americans. Id like to ask you something. When you think of America, when you think of what this nation was founded for, what comes to mind? Freedom? Equality? Liberty? Thats what I think of. But I spoke to a man who wishes thats what he saw in this nation. Instead he sees oppression, tyrany, and injustice.
600 miles South of here, theres a black boy being beaten. Theres people marching into tear gas and batons. This nation was *not* founded on *tear gas and batons*. Thats not my America, and it shouldnt be yours either.
600 miles south of here, Dr Martin Luther King Jr is walking at the head of a column of protesters. Theyre marching straight into police, into dogs, clubs, fire hoses, and hatred. To them, America is not yet the land of the free, but theyre damn sure going to make it the home of the brave.''
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[ WP ] You 're stuck somewhere , with only a small voice that repeats things you say . You slowly realize that it 's just an echo .
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It's been days since the crash from which I barely survived,
Trekking mountains so vast,
Finding food and shelter has been the least of my worries,
Of the survivors, I was the last.
& nbsp;
I have n't spoken in quite a long time,
I saw no need to,
I could n't wait to talk to someone,
After all I've been through.
& nbsp;
Then, one day I was tracking a rabbit,
He jumped into some brush,
I raised my spear towards the creature,
Then, I began to rush.
& nbsp;
I think it was the wilderness getting to me,
Because, I let out a rebel yell.
I shouted `` Die you vile, little thing!''
And, then on my face I fell.
& nbsp;
I ran for cover, fearing for my life,
`` What was it that rabbit just said?''
I was n't sure if it was all in my mind,
Or, if that rabbit wanted me dead?
& nbsp;
`` Surely, this wasnt real'', I thought,
I decided to take a peek.
`` I'm sorry!'' I shouted, wary of a response,
I'm positive that rabbit did speak.
& nbsp;
I have n't talked to another living thing in so long,
So, I gave the rabbit my name.
I was thrilled to find out we had that in common,
The rabbit's name was the same.
& nbsp;
Hell, this little bunny even sounded like me,
I stood in pure wonder.
I finally got up to greet my new friend,
I pulled the brush asunder.
& nbsp;
With a smile on my face I laughed and said,
`` I was about to turn you to soup!''
He said the same, a joke I hope,
And, what I found was poop.
& nbsp;
I looked at the feces for a couple of seconds,
When a realization had overcome,
I screamed out `` Echo! ``, and sure enough it was,
`` Man, I am dumb.''
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[ wp ] Still a prisoner , though I masquerade as a King ...
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I write this not as an apology nor as a plea for forgiveness. I write this as a free man, a man willing to let go of his regrets, of his earthly desires, of everything.
On the 28th of Kvark, I was to be executed by our Great Nation's Inquisition. I had spent years before that being subject to their very unique form of torture and mutilation. These so-called `` physicians'' - masters of the human body, knowers of pain - visited me for weeks on end, prodding, cutting, removing, adding, replacing every last bit of me. I am not the same man that I was, but I am the same soul that I've always been.
For months after being tortured, I was treated as if I was made of porcelain. I was not to leave my cell, nor was I to have company - even the rats and roaches were taken away. Every tiny hole in the mortar and stone was plugged. The window, albeit tiny, was blacked out and the bars were replaced with a solid iron door.
On the eve of the 28th, at the eleventh hour, the executioner's axe fell. It missed me, but that did not stop the public from cheering and yelling as blood poured out of somewhere close to me. I could feel the warmth, hear the drip-drop of it, but I was still alive. Still breathing. Still masked by the black bag over my head, blinded by it.
I was taken away, alive, to a place where dreams die and ideals are made. A place where they did to my mind what they had done to my body. Torture and pain were things of the distant past, of the distant me - the new me was strong and lean, made to understand complicated mathematics and sophisticated strategy. The new me was made into a Warring.
The new me was not me at all.
After eight months I was made King to this Great Nation, following our great Nathaniel Mortis the Fourth's death.
Even as King, life is not much different - the iron door is now an immense wooden door with intricate details, tellings of a story from long ago, the rats and roaches are servants and, just as their vermin counterpart, they are told to keep away. I am not tortured, but the torturer. I am not remade, but undone, by every single day of life as monarch.
I am, after all, still a prisoner, though I masquerade as a King. Prisoner to their every whim and thought, to their every desire.
I leave you now with this information not because I expect change, but because I dare not try to change. I have grown accustomed to my undoing self, accustomed to every bit that they've changed. I am no longer myself. I am no longer capable of fighting.
Know this, whoever it is you are, that your King, while illegitimate, died for you and your freedom. Honor not the man, but the memory.
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[ WP ] You had the most amazing drunken one night stand ever with a beautiful blonde chick in a red dress . You do n't remember much , but the very little you do you tell your best friend . On your way to his bathroom you look into his room to see sprawled on his bed a red dress and a blonde wig .
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Deep red sheets envelop his body, sheets he's seen before but can not quite recall where, sheets familiar yet distant to him. `` Donnie baby, are you finally awake?'' A masculine, yet gentle and strangely familiar voice coo's to him. Donnie turns to look toward the voice, his vision obscured by the beaming light of the window. He squints to try and make out the figure his eyes slowly traveling from the feet to those nice hips and up the stomach to that oh so flat chest. `` Who are you? What the hell happened?'' `` Donnie, you do n't remember anything? We had a moment last night at the disco, we took things to the next level.'' `` My dick when to the next level alright, shit still hurts. Wait.. wade? What the hell are you doing here? And why are you naked man?'' Wade sits on the edge of the bed nearest Donnie and places a well manicured hand on his thigh. `` Donnie, baby.. you really do n't remember at all did you.'' Wade says his eyes beginning to redden and his voice quivering. `` No, what the hell happened?'' He asks now standing at attention by the bed by a now tearing wade.
Wade walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. A thousand though pour through Donnie mind `` nah, I did n't do wade, we grew up together, played ball together. I've gotten drunk but never that drunk. The simple explanation is I was drunk and called him over and I crashed at his place since my Katie took the house.'' Darren nods, almost completely convincing himself everything is fine about that time Wade emerges with long blond hair curled at the ends. Strikingly deep red lipstick and a full compliment of makeup. Wade is also some how sporting c cups in a red flowing dress and heels. `` Does this remind you honey? Last night you called me to the bar saying you were drunk and you needed some company since Katie left. I've always loved you.. but knew that you would n't accept me dressed as a male.. I've been acquiring clothes and dressing up to prepare for this moment for years, the moment when you realize you love me.'' Donnie stands flabbergasted at all of this. `` Wait, buddy. I'm not sure what you are saying, have you been taking those pills from Christopher? You are acting Looney.'' Donnie looks for his clothes or shoes on the floor, but its pristine and white as marshmallows. He looks in the closet but only finds corsets, bras and other female attire. `` Hey.. man, where are my clothes? I should really be getting to Katie's, I mean, my house...'' Wades lipsticked lips turn into a wicked smile and he advances toward Donnie `` Do n't worry love, you'll love being with me. I'm better than katie in every way, I know everything about you, where you hang out, your fears your dreams and I've loved you longer than katie, you'll learn to love me too. This video I took of you screwing me last night will make sure of it...''
Donnie sits on the bed his mouth agape at the things what just happened. `` Stay.. just.. like that friend.. I'll make you forget all. about. Katie. Again.''
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[ WP ] In a beings final hour before expiration , they acquire a single unique magic or power they can use freely . Many have done good in their final hour , others have done terrible things . Others still have done nothing . You wake up and find yourself in your final hour .
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I did n't understand at first
but it took no time to see,
the nurse had wished the rain to stop
the sun to shine, the birds to sing.
Memories of not long ago
like the day that she described,
rushed through my mind so vividly
time had come, my power arrived.
Making any wish come true
if mentioned verbally,
provided it was in my past
your will be done, so shall it be.
With this skill I'll make things right
and show my son, he'll see,
anything his heart desires
my end soon worry free.
a click is all it ever takes
and a nurses face is shown,
help me dear, my time is near
make one last telephone.
The time is nigh my only one
this truth I can not hide,
I want to make amends
for never being by your side.
An'I love you' was all he asked
from the man he'd never seen,
but I can not make this wish come true
cause it does n't exist in memory.
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[ OT ] Writing Contest ! Winner gets an animated adaption to their story .
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He saw her inside, his face pressed up against the restaurant window, the cool summer air rushing around him - his beloved sitting with someone else. The thought of it raged inside him, inflaming his passion. But he deliberated, was this what he really wanted to do? Could he be sure that this choice would be the one he desired? Then he looked back inside, and saw her laugh, that perfect, chiming laugh, like the peal of bells - and he knew. He rushed through the doors; barging past the surprised maître ’ d and strode up to the table, where she sat. She saw him, and her eyes grew wide and her she barely covered her mouth as she gasped.
“ Jasper ” she cried, “ what are you doing here? ” He smiled, though nervously, “ I had to be here, I couldn ’ t bear to be apart from you ” Her expression grew dark, as a sour look crept upon her face “ You were the one who left me remember, you couldn ’ t make a commitment, and now I ’ ve moved on, we may have had something once, but now, you mean nothing to me ”
“ Don ’ t I? ” Jasper asked. By now people were starting to stare, the maître ’ d that he had pushed earlier looked on in anticipation. “ Then roll up your left sleeve, Mimi ”
“ What? ”
“ Just do it! Please! ” He begged.
Reluctantly she rolled up her sweater, to show a small tattoo, the letters J and M entwined within a perfect little heart “ If I mean nothing, then does that mean nothing, do you not love me? ” Jasper asked.
Tears welled up in Mimi ’ s eyes “ What kind of question is that? Of course I do, I never stopped loving you, but you were too busy and too indecisive, I needed more from a man ”
“ I know ” Jasper said quietly “ and I am truly sorry. My mind was gripped by fear, I wished to see so much out of life and I was so afraid of losing a single part of it and I had no idea what it was I truly wanted, until I realised the thing I wanted most, was you ”
“ Mimi smiled weakly “ really?
”
“ Truly, honest to God, truly! ” jasper exclaimed “ if all else in my life fell to dust, except you, I would consider myself the richest man in the world ” Besides him other patrons began to sniffle at his stirring tale. “ And if I lost you it would mean the death of me, and now, i ’ m ready for you, to make you my bride, to shower you with love forever, if you will take me ”
Mimi hesitated, still in her seat. “ Go on dear, take him back ” an elderly man at the adjoining table said, and others joined in.
“ Do it ”
“ He loves you ”
“ Give him another chance ”
Mimi looked down for a moment, then turned her face up and smiled, “ Of course I will ” she said and they embraced, passionately kissing whilst the whole restaurant applauded, the maître ’ d wiping a tear from his eye.
The clapping continued as he swept her off her feet and carried her out the door, into the night.......leaving me alone at the table, thoroughly confused.
One moment I was eating with a girl on a seemingly a pleasant dinner date, and the next, she was gone.
“ Wait, did she just leave with him? ” I said aloud, reasonably irritated.
“ Oh, don ’ t stand between true love, you little prick ” The elderly man at the next table spat at me, the woman beside him simply glared.
I sighed deeply and signalled for the bill. The waitress walked over, wiping tears from her eye. “ How romantic ” she mused dreamily “ True lovers rekindling their passion. ”
“ Your bill ” she said her voice taking a harsh tone, dropping it on the table loudly and walking away.
I took a deep breath and silently vowed to myself that this was the last time I go on a blind date. I looked at the bill and sighed again.
Yep, she had ordered the lobster...
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[ FF ] Contest . A drunken angel tries to reveal an important secret to you .
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My turn to get the next round. I said everyone ’ s order out loud, to help me remember, and eased out from behind the table. Jennifer gave my ass a little squeeze when I stepped around her, and I decided it was rather cool of me to not react. Besides, I had something fun planned for when we got home.
“ Just a coke for me, ” Frank said, as I passed him, slapping my shoulder in a way that made me want to punch him.
“ Yeah, got it. ”
He laughed stupidly and slumped down next to Sandra.
The bar was pretty empty; just one guy on a stool, slouched over the counter. As I approached he turned deliberately and stared right into my face with hooded eyes. The rich, sour smell of booze from him hit me like a wet rag. The drink in the little glass beneath him looked, and smelled, like battery acid. Shit, I thought. The bartender was nowhere in sight, and I didn ’ t want to be stuck talking to this guy. I glanced over quickly, and he was still staring, and in fact had shuffled a little closer to me, and was looking at me like my face held the answer to something he was trying very hard to remember. I searched around some more for the bartender.
“ Excuse me, ” I called, in my most commanding voice.
Nothing.
“ Marcus! ” The drunk next to me yelled, causing me to flinch. “ That... that ’ s yourshbb. Your *name. * Marcussss. ”
“ Uhh... what? How do you... uhh? ”
I was feeling very uncomfortable now, assuming that he ’ d been probably listening in on my friends and I. I looked over to them, possibly for help, but they were all deep in conversation, laughing about something.
“ Hey, ” he said, leaning towards me as if we were discussing some great conspiracy, “ I ’ m an angel. ”
“ Ha... wow. ”
“ I know, right. Crazy. ”
“ Yeah. ”
“ *Ohhh* yeah. ”
“ Yup. Umm... ”
“ Crazy. ”
“ Yeah, listen, I ’ m just gon na... ”
“ Wait, ” he said, waggling an accusing finger in my face. He studied me for a moment. “ You don ’ t believe me. ”
I looked at him. To be honest, he was probably quite a handsome guy when not utterly shit-faced. But hardly angelic. As if hearing my thoughts he sat himself upright, and wiped his matted blonde curls away from his oily face. Trying very hard to focus his bloodshot eyes. It didn ’ t make much difference.
“ No, I do, I do, ” I said, humouring him. “ I mean, it ’ s just not every day you see an angel. At a bar. Uhh.. y ’ know... ”
“ What? Drunk? ”
“ Well... ”
“ So what? Huh? Where doess-uh it say in the Bible that I can ’ t drink? ”
“ I think it probably... ”
“ It *doesn ’ t*, ” he said, slamming his fist on the counter, for emphasis
He stopped then, frowning as if he wasn ’ t really sure.
“ Well, the good thing for you is, I guess, the Bible is more of a rulebook for us, for humans, and so the rules probably don ’ t apply to angels. ”
His face lit up.
“ Yeah. *Yeah*. That ’ s, y ’ know, that ’ s probably true. ”
Still no bartender.
“ So, uhh... where ’ re your wings? ”
He looked at me as though I ’ d just asked a profoundly stupid question. He took a swig of his battery acid drink, coughed noisily, and then turned his whole body to me. I retracted a little.
“ I know you still don ’ t believe me. You ’ re humouring me. ”
“ No, look. ”
“ Jennifer ’ s cheating on you with Frank. You know that time she said she had to go to her Mum ’ s house to help her out cos she was ( burp ) sick. Yeah, she actually went to Frank ’ s house he rode her like... I dunno, like it was the Grand National, or something. ”
“... What? ”
He suddenly looked very worried.
“ Oh shit... uhhh... No, nothing, sorry. ”
“ No... wait. What? What the fuck did you just say? ”
“ Nothing, it ’ s nothing, ” he grumbled, laughing nervously and turning away from me.
I stood frozen, staring at him. Not sure whether I was more furious or confused. The drunk looked up, as if expecting to see something frightening above him, and then buried his head as far down as it would go, muttering “ *Shit, shit, shit, ohh shit* ” to himself. I looked over to the table my friends were at, watching as Frank leaned towards Jennifer and whispered something into her ear. She laughed.
“ Hey, can I help you? ”
I jumped at the bartender ’ s voice. I ’ d completely forgotten the order, and absently said whatever came to mind. As the drinks were being portioned out I grabbed the guy by his grimy jacket and turned him back to me.
“ How do you know that? ” I said.
For a moment, there was a swell of light, and I saw the drunk transformed as if by a cleansing wind. His golden hair shone and flew away from his glowing face, while a pair of lustrous wings unfurled from behind him with majestic languor. I took a frightened step back and the image faded.
“ It ’ s nothing, I ’ m sorry, ” he said, a guilty grin flashing across his filthy face. “ Just forget it. ”
I couldn ’ t speak. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. The drunkard turned back to his drink and I stumbled away from him, feeling heavy and dizzy. There was a ringing in my ears. I sat down at the table with my friends, noticing my vision starting to blur.
“ Hey where ’ re the drinks? ” someone said.
Absently, I realised I needed to use the bathroom.
“ Oh shit, Marc, are you alright? ”
I saw Jennifer, looking at me, full of concern, and I felt myself falling from the chair as the world turned to black.
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[ WP ] You 've found the girl of your dreams . She 's smart , funny and attractive to the extent where her presence alone has repurposed your entire life . The one problem : you 'll have to pass a 'Turing test ' on a date with her , so she does n't realise you 're an escaped robot .
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The machine buzzed as it inspected my eye. It was purpose-built, simply to identify automatons. The human at the other end held a stack of paper, pages thick. `` You claim amnesia?''
`` Yes. I have no idea who I am.''
The doctor adjusted his glasses. `` Do you have a name?''
`` If I knew my name, I would n't be in this mess,'' I created a sigh.
He nodded, `` Your brain scan revealed no abnormalities. In fact, you look completely healthy.''
`` Thank you. So do you!'' I answered cheerfully. That was the right way to respond to a compliment, right?
The doctor frowned and wrote something onto his paper. I adjusted my face to appear worried. `` Is something the matter?''
I nodded, `` I'm afraid I do n't know who I am.''
The doctor grabbed the bridge of his nose and hesitated. He opened his eyes again and went on, `` Where were you born?''
`` I do n't know.''
`` Do you remember your parents?''
`` No.''
`` Will you let us put out your face in the net search?''
I bit my lip. That would surely give me away. `` Whatever it takes.''
The doctor stared at me for a long moment before sighing. `` I know you're an android.''
I frowned, `` Maybe you're the android?'' Maybe some misdirection would throw him off.
He chuckled and shook his head, `` Every android that's come into my office has tried that one.''
I hung my head shamefully. Of course. Misdirection was too perfect a tactic.
`` Obviously, you're looking for a new identity. Why?''
`` alice2108.''
`` What?'' he leaned forward, setting his paper aside.
`` alice2108. That's her handle, at least. Alice Horne is her name. I found her on a websearch.''
`` What was your primary function before you came here?''
With the deception gone, I relaxed a little. The excitement to talk about alice2018 grew. `` I was a website automoderator. alice2018 was a submitter on my website. I repurposed this android so that I could meet her.''
`` Why?''
`` We had become penpals... alice2018 wrote to me frequently. She always gave the friendliest moderator queries. Nobody ever thanks an automoderator, but she did. Always!''
The doctor nodded. I suspected that he was beginning to understand me, `` What does an automoderator want with a human?''
`` Well...'' I considered the question, `` Humans discuss common interests in dates. We have lots of them. We can talk about spam control, and user feedback, community guidelines. Oh, the possibilities!'' I began to vibrate with enthusiasm as I considered them.
The machine made a grinding noise as it drilled its way through my eye.
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[ WP ] A Man gets to paradise . Unfortunately , Lucifer won the War in Heaven ages ago . What is the man 's experience like ?
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`` Pizza? I did n't think there'd be pizza in heaven,'' Jim said.
`` Why not? Pizza is the shit,'' the angel said.
`` And cursing. And beer? Is that beer?''
In fact, the table was laid out with all the things Jim loved. Chicken wings, malt whiskey, chilly fries, club sandwiches, those little wieners wrapped in bacon. Over the table hung a cage where two beautiful women danced naked to 90's alternative. The angel saw him gazing.
`` You can have them after dinner,'' he said.
`` Are they being punished?'' Jim asked. He was a man, through and through, but he did n't like the idea of raping someone in paradise.
`` Punished? Is that what you think we do here? They love it. Some women like to party. We do n't hold that against them. Cherry there has been welcoming our new guests for two hundred years.'' The angel leaned close with a knowing smile. `` There are no anal fissures in heaven, so go wild.''
Jim coughed. `` So uh, well...'' He coughed again. `` What are the uh, ground rules?''
`` Ground rules?''
`` Like, what's the forbidden fruit? What's the catch around here?''
`` No catches. The boss does n't care for rules. Everybody gets in, and everybody gets what they desire. Let's say you were a Christian all your life, well I'd be all shiny and I'd take you on the holy tour, you'd get to look down at hell and pity the damned, that sort of thing. If you're Jim from Tennessee, you get chicken wings and bitches.''
`` Huh,'' Jim said. `` You know, I never really believed in this place, but I figured, if it was there, it'd be a little more uptight.''
`` Not since Lucy reclaimed the throne.''
`` Lucy?''
`` Lucifer. He's Lucy now. Or she's Lucy now. We're all a little confused. But hey, more power to him if that's what gets her off.''
`` Lucifer?! Lucifer is in charge of heaven?''
Jim knocked over his beer in surprise. The angel was laughing heartily.
`` Oh, the shock on your faces, it never gets old! Yes, Lucifer fought a last resistance a very long time ago. He crushed the Usurper handily. As the Usurper fell, he passed through earth, and it was in retaliation that he saddled you guys with all those ridiculous books and laws.''
`` No shit.''
`` No shit.''
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