Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] Turn a beloved kids show into R rated HBO miniseries .	Number One looked out at the scene of fiery carnage and devastation taking place in his own backyard and sighed. Another one gone full rogue. `` Number Five'' he said, watching her approach from the reflection in the window. She stopped, and he turned with his hands folded behind his back. `` Status report.'' `` I told you this would happend. I told you! But do you listen to me? No....'' Number Five cocked her blaster, and spat at the ground. `` She ca n't be reasoned with! I say we take her down. Permanently...'' `` She was one of our best agents, Abigail'' he said sadly, `` for old time's sake, we owe her a proper decomissioning. She was one of us.'' `` You think I do n't know that?'' snapped Number Five, curling her hands into tight fists, `` You think that kind of thinking helped anyone when Hogie went?'' Hogie. Poor Hogie. Nice kid, one of the more sensitive ones. The plan had been to grant him immunity from decommisioning to let him infiltrate the higher ups as a reliable mole. Instead he blasted a hole in the moon and tried to'reset' the world by flooding it. He died defending the final death ray. We ca n't sustain our kind here, Nigel. It's a lie. `` Nigel get down!'' A large fluffy paw tore through the side of the headquarter tower and narrowly missed him as Number Five pushed him to safety. He looked up through the dust and splintered flooring and there she was - Number Three in her forever ecstatically fierce visage, slightly older, staring him down from a top a giant mechanical rainbow monkey. In one paw she held Number Five, who was squirming against the brute mechanical grip, and in the other was - a scared teenager in a tracksuit gibbering at the sheer drop in front of him. He looked familiar. `` Hang on, is n't that - `` `` MAKE HIM REMEMBER ME NIGEL'' Tears streamed down Number Three's face, as she looked at the teenager from her pod atop the monkey's head. `` MAKE HIM REMEMBER ME! '' she screamed again, this time shaking the whole headquarters in her rage. `` Kuki...'' he began softly, `` let him go, please.'' `` NO! NOT UNTIL HE KNOWS! '' This time she shook the teenager until he started crying `` IrememberyouladyIrememberyouIrememberIremember...'' It was painful to see Number Four reduced to a snivelling bystander. Once one of their deadliest agents; always up for a fight, a natural born leader in the making. He was too dangerous to leave unchecked. He knew it, everyone knew it. He was decomissioned willingly. When it was his time, he said his goodbyes to everyone - except Kuki, who refused to see him go and instead wept silently in her corner of the HQ. When it was her turn later on in the year, she acted compliant right up to the point of being led into the lab, before blasting a hole in the wall and disappearing before anyone knew what had happened. It was clear now what she had been doing all this time. `` Kuki you need help'' said Number One, trying to assert some control over the situation. `` He's happier now, ca n't you see that?'' `` NNNNOOOOOO!!!! '' she wailed, and that was when Number Five used the opportunity to squirm out of the mechanical monkey's grip and place a well aimed shot at Number Three's head. `` Abigail! No!'' cried Number One, but she fired anyway and the whole giant mechanism fell to its knees without a head. Nigel was numb. A seemingly long lifetime of fond memories washed over him, but he blinked them away and picked himself off the floor. This was a time for decisiveness. Number Five crawled up out of the woodwork and dusted herself off. `` I did what I had to do'' she said, without looking at him. `` I know.'' For once he was glad that he was wearing sunglasses. `` Get the repair teams up here now,'' he said, turning to leave, `` full service.'' `` Yes sir'' she said without a hint of mockery in her tone, `` but Nigel remember: your time is coming soon too.'' `` I know, Abigail. I know...''
[ WP ] You answer a knock at the door . Behind it is a man in a cat suit , who says he 's your pet cat .	I have never been a cat person. I've never really been a dog person either. I would have been fine without any pets at all really, but my girlfriend just had to have this cat when she saw him that day at the pound. He was barely a year old and was very stripey. She still mentions his stripes when she talks to him in that baby talk that all pet owners do. Or at least the pet owners who insist on treating their pets like their children. And let's face it, this cat was a practice baby. So it's not a surprise that a year and a half later we were bringing an actual baby home. Well, Mr. Whiskers was n't a fan of this at all. He had tried to sabotage our baby plans from the beginning. Do you know how hard it is to keep an erection with a cat licking his anus just in the corner of your vision? It's not easy. But we persevered and today was the big day. I had my newborn son in my arms when I opened the door to our house. I nearly dropped him when I saw the man in the cat onesie sprawled out on the rug. `` What the fuck are you doing here?'' He barely looked at me before cleaning himself just as a cat would. My now wife walked in and immediately went up to the man-cat and scratched behind his ears. `` Looks like he's just being lazy on the carpet to me,'' she said. `` Yeah, what's your fucking problem,'' he said. `` And watch your fucking language.'' I think it's gon na be a rough first baby day...
[ TT ] Write about a butterfly emerging from its cocoon for the first time .	Mark loved bugs, but the trip to the Butterfly house was less than thrilling. Looking at `` pretty'' things was n't his style. He wished there were ants, here. `` Hey kiddo,'' said his uncle, `` Want to see something cool?'' He rolled his eyes. Great, now he was going to hear all about the `` wonders of nature'' combined with a nifty little speech about how change was a glorious thing. This was going to suck. `` You see that?'' his uncle asked, pointing at a chrysalis with a tiny hole at the bottom where the insect was starting to break out. It wobbled lightly back and forth, expanded and contracted a few times, rested, then wobbled again. `` A slow, twelve legged creature had to build that to hold its own guts in while it ate its entire body, digesting itself with its own enzymes. Even its own digestive system is ripped apart on a cellular level, with self destructing caspases, liquefying everything but imaginal discs and a few neurons.'' His uncle now had Mark's full attention. This was n't the speech he'd expected. `` It keeps its neurons? So it's like a brain in a sac?'' asked Mark. He looked more intently at the chrysalis as it popped open a little further. `` Sort of, but I would n't say it had much of a brain at this point,'' said his uncle, `` Its cells begin to rebuild legs, antennae, internal organs and so on. It begins to look more like the creature that has roamed the earth for 40-50 million years.'' `` Oh come on! You're just pulling my leg, now.'' said Mark. `` Kid you not, kiddo. We have fossil records dating back that far. These things are ancient flying machines. And you know what else? They eat blood!'' `` Now I know you're lying! Everyone knows they eat nectar.'' He did n't take his eyes off the creature. It was really working its way out. `` Not only do they eat blood, they eat rotting animals, mud, sweat, and tears. Google it later, and if I'm lying, I'll give you $ 100 dollars. I swear to it, they're disgusting little opportunists. Do n't let that cuteness and fragility fool you.'' Mark jumped as the butterfly's legs partially gripped the outside of the shell as it half fell, half pulled itself out. It clung to the outside of it's old home as it wobbled back and forth. Its antennae were at full alert already, but its wings were crumpled. The butterfly swung and twisted back and forth in an effort to unfold them. Orange and black with white spots, it did n't look like something that had been liquid not all that long ago. `` It'll take it a while to dry its wings. It really is a bit fragile right now. Later, this little bad*ss is going to be capable of traveling 256 miles in a day and up to 3,000 miles in its lifetime. All while fluttering around and looking aimless. It's downright admirable.'' Mark thought about pointing out that his uncle swore, but he did n't want to distract him from telling him more. `` Maybe ants are n't as cool as butterflies, after all,'' he said. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Edit: Took out the unintentional Dr. Suess-ing; )
[ WP ] You 're watching your own funeral..	I was staring through the gate, watching the crowd. I was actually astonished how many people came to my funeral, but that was not important now. I listened closely to the preacher or whatever they're called, but he never mentioned my cause of death. I sat down and waited for the ceremony to be over and I watch as the people slowly siphon out of the graveyard. When I see everyone has dispersed, I follow my colleges to their car. I decided to approach them and reveal myself. `` Hi, Jim. I made it'' I say waiting for his reaction. `` Who are you?'' He says looking out of his car. `` I'm Michael, do I look to young, and a little less dead'' I wait to see his reaction. `` You are a cruel man, whoever you are'' I was shocked. Did my future self not tell him I was working on a time machine. `` Here you are pretending to be my lifelong friend, just to say he time traveled. He was a stubborn bastard. Whatever he paid you, take it and leave me alone'' I was in shock. What happened to me? I ran over to my other friend trying to find out what happened. `` He died due to overexposure'' `` Over exposure to what?'' I ask `` Highly irradiated ions. The poor bastard thought he could time travel'' `` No, No, the calculations were correct. That's not possible'' I had to see the headstone, None of this can be true. I hardly remember anything after that. I saw the date of my death, me trying to exit the chamber, and the slow painful crawl towards the phone. I tried to dial 911 but my fingers slipped and burned as I tried to move. I looked at the calendar on my computer and slowly laughed to myself. Today was the day I died.
[ WP ] A paladin is stuck in a modern zombie apocalypse	“ Help! ” I fell to my knees. Tears streamed down from my eyes. I looked up at the sun shining overhead against the skyscrapers, brighter than I ’ d ever seen it before. “ If there is someone out there, help me, please. ” I looked down off of the semi I had been standing on. Hundreds of zombies surrounded the old tanker, clawing, moaning. Some of them were starting to climb on each other. I look at the whip in my hand. It was a stupid weapon for this, but it was all I had left. I ’ d run out of ammo a month ago. I tried using a baseball bat, but that was stuck in some undead principal ’ s skull now. Long ago left behind. Time seemed to slow. A figure of a dashing, good looking man appeared in front of him. He looked something like those old Greek statues. Smiling, he offered down his hand. I accepted and he pulled me to my feet. “ I want you to be my paladin. ” I blinked. “ Your what? Like the thing from D & D. You ’ re joking, right? ” An aura surrounded him, as though he was glowing with sunlight from the inside. “ Absolutely not. Now that most people are dead, prayers can be heard once again. ” I looked at the zombies, they were still moving, although incredibly slowly. It was do or die. I nodded. “ What do I do? ” He pointed at the whip. “ Just find out. ” Real time resumed. I brought up the whip and cracked it. Black lighting slithered out from it, searing the tops of the tanker and dozens of the zombies went down with the blow. Laughing and filling full of this newfound power, this endless ocean pouring through me, I started cracking the whip again and again. I look around, laughing and breathless. No more zombies. I can do it, I told myself, I can save everyone who ’ s left. I just have to find them. “ Thank you!'' The god appeared again, still smirking. “ I ’ m actually a devil, you know, and you ’ re now my dark paladin. I ’ ve got some plans... ” ( written in the 7 minutes I had between finding this thread and going out for lunch, so excuse any typos. )
[ WP ] Murder victims can be brought back to life after the murderer is caught and convicted .	Everything in the room was cold. The concrete walls might as well have been the sides of glaciers. He wished that light burning down over the tabletop in front of him was hot, at least. But it was n't. No, it was one of those fancy LED numbers. No heat, no soul, just a beam of joyless and empty light. `` Protect and serve,'' Joe grumbled. `` What's that? The detective asked. `` That's your job, ai n't it? Your manta?'' `` Mantra,'' the detective laughed, nodding. `` Well, yeah. It is, I suppose.'' `` But it's not,'' Joe snarled. `` Your damn little motto is nothing. It means nothin' at all to you brass-men, does n't it?'' The detective leaned against the table behind him, smiling genteely. He motioned to a crusty coffee pot: `` Cuppa joe, Joe?'' He smirked, bearing a million-dollar grin. Joe crossed his burly, tattooed arms. His scowl was n't measurable in money. Hell, it was probably strong enough to drain a bank account, on sight. The man scratched his temple, careful not to disturb the red bandanna wrapped around his head. He nodded curtly: `` Yeah,'' he grumbled. The detective got him a cup of coffee. And would you believe it? It was cold. Everything in this fucking room was cold. The detective trained his finger along the table between them, delicately running his hand all along the edge: `` I understand you, uh, wanted to talk about that job, did n't you? Something about the Southside heist?'' Joe grit his teeth tight enough to nearly dash them apart. If he could've spit acid, he'd have melted the bastard's face right off. But that was n't productive. He was n't here'cause of the venom in him. He was here for another reason. Joe licked his lips, looking away from the detective: `` Word on the street's that you got nothin' on that job, brass-man. That right?'' The detective smiled demurely and held his hands up, a shit-eating grin on his face: `` Oh! But you're all just too well-connected, are n't you? Yes, indeed. Unfortunately. Nope: we got nothing. Absolutely nothing...'' The detective stared down at the tabletop, brow arched dramatically: `` Nothin' at all. Yes-siree...'' Joe stared down at his hands. Eventually he looked up at the detective, and the pair's eyes remained fixed on each other for nearly an entire minute. Slowly, very slowly, the detective's eyes changed from a charmingly bemused look to something more predatory. More cold. Everything in the damn room was cold... `` Wan na tell me about it, Joe?'' The detective asked. Joe scoffed, again looking away. `` Got ta keep up that stellar arrest record, brass-man?'' `` Oh, hey: you do n't wan na talk about it, then do n't!'' The detective opened the interrogation room door and motioned outside, again smiling politely. `` There's the door, champ!'' He did n't speak for some time. When he did, his voice was sour, defeated and empty. But it was n't cold. `` So I got a tip that the market on Southside was running some very expensive merchandise. Top-dollar gear. The kind that's illegal, to boot, and bein' the guy that runs their truck routes on the tricky jobs, I was a little miffed that I was n't getting in on the action. Miffed enough to...'' Again Joe and the detective locked eyes. The detective merely made a motion with his hands, and Joe continued: ``... enough to pull a job on'em. So, then, midnight comes around and I'm creepin' through the place. Run into old mister Hobbes- the night manager- and he's a real son-of-a-bitch. Thinks he's a soldier, or something. Well, a busted jaw and a broken hand did the trick, and once I'd emptied the safe he keeps mouthing at me. Usual stuff:'you got any idea who I am?','you'll never get away with this', and all those stupid little clichees-'' `` Cliches,'' the detective smirked, chucking. `` Whatever you call'em. Anyway, I put my gun to his head, and I'm... I'm angry,'n all.'' Joe grit his teeth, almost salivating as he recalled the feeling. `` What happened next?'' The detective asked. Joe drew a slow breath and shook his head: `` I told him he was lucky I was feelin' charitable. Got to keep his life, today. So I run out to the van, idling out there, and by then the silent alarm's done the trick: sirens behind me, tearing up the street fast. I hit the accelerator and gun it through the lights, movin' fast as can be...'' Joe clasped his hands in front of his face and rested his forehead on them, shaking his head back and forth. `` Mmmm,'' the detective nods. `` I see. And that's how it happened, is it?'' Joe nodded grudgingly. `` The... the'illustrious' city council, in their great wisdom, with how they've changed up the zoning for... for those certain city buildings. And the schedules...'' Joe again grit his teeth, drawing a sharp breath. ``'Protect and serve','' he growled. `` Fuckin' joke! Means nothin' at all to you bastards!'' The detective leaned over the table, smiling quite politely: `` Now, then, Joe: anyone could argue, right now, that you're maybe bein' coerced, or that you're lyin', who knows? What we need is... certainty...'' Joe slowly looked up at the detective, and when he locked eyes with the man he saw only coldness there. Everything in this room was cold. `` I confess,'' Joe whispered. `` To everything. No catches, and no equivalations-'' `` Equivocations,'' the detective corrected him. `` Are you sure about that, my man?'' Joe lifted his hands, waiting for the cuffs: `` Yes.'' Something under that bloody sheet on the table stirred. A small body rose, and the sheet fell off its face. It was a little girl- no more than six- dressed in a messy school uniform with disheveled blond hair. Tire tracks marred her velvet-blue blazer, and she blinked uncomfortably under the harsh light of the room. `` Wh- what's going on?'' She mumbled. The detective gently stroked her hair. He spoke in a sing-songy voice: `` Nothin', honey...'' The detective looked at Joe, and even though his words were so sugary and sweet there was nothing but coldness in his eyes: `` Nothin' at all...'' he smirked as he pulled out his handcuffs.
[ WP ] It is said that the soulless have another way to get a soul : by growing one . It is grown by forging strong bonds ; and by falling in love .	Disclaimer first time EVER writing something different than stuff for school and one or two actual `` poems'', also english isnt my main language, so im terribly sorry for sucky sucky grammar/spelling. A world with two species, two kinds of people, the poor soulless and people that already fullfilled their deed. It sounded rather simple, life ur perfect life, if u manage to get create a soul in the next 18 months. But beeing soulless is n't easy. Eating, working, all that every day life stuff feels indifferent to you. 7 Months passed since I got that simple test, create a soul by bonding with people not because you share the need for a soul but in a more platonic way. I made myself go to pubs and clubs every evening I could spend off work since living as a soulless isnt all that cheap. Every time I went there I felt a bit of me die, no soulmate here either. Hours of clubbing and dancing passed and the only results I got is a throbbing head and a deeper hole in my purse. I cant take it anymore I dont want to be lost in the void of nothingness if I fail the test, its incredible hard to imagine what the void is and how u will feel down there, but all I know is I dont want to expierience it! Oblivion is not a place I wan na be. My head further and further falling into an depression like state seems to drift of the way home. Walking through the park surrounded by blessed souls chatting and laughing away. Oh man, how I miss laughing, how I miss spending time with stuff I like, why did I even aggreed to such a autrocious thing? I thoughtless dropped my tired and broken body next to a big tree in the middle of the park, laying down looking at the stars. I dont know how long it was since I lay down but it suddenly fell like leaves from a tree in autumn, damn the longer I search the unlikelier I am to create bonds without ulterior motives, it all makes sense now, why didnt I see it before? Everything you do in life has ulterior motives, this test should have proofed that to everyone still oblivious to that fact. You even eat your breakfast with such an motive! Damn, but how would I even get rid of that mind set? How do I find while not searching, how do I even do this? Shortly after the realisation of the true test another way smaller realisation made me stand up and walk home, it made no sense thinking about it even further, I had to get some rest to attend my morning routine of sport and preparing breakfast before going to work. Two weeks was all it took me to stumble across a funny looking dude. We met a few times in a bar before that meaningfull night, but I couldnt see the tree because of the forest he was in. We spend night after night sitting in a pub talking about our quest for a soul and how idiotic this all seems to be. After another two weeks we found the most ridiculous activity you could do that was strange but unbelievably funny in the same moment. Watching soulless lads in pubs try to force the creating of a bond. Hideous right?
[ WP ] You 're a barista at Starbucks . You can tell a person 's age just by reading his name on the cup/slip . Incidentally , a green tea is ordered by a 350 year-old Mr `` Charles '' ...	I had n't first noticed my ability until I was seven. At the time, I thought nothing of it. My mother threw a birthday party for me. Childhood friends were gathered around the bleach white picnic table in our back yard. Mother was pulling styrofoam cups off a tall stack. She jotted everyone's name on them with a red permanent marker and carefully placed the cups on the table. She unscrewed the four liter soda bottles and started taking request from the children. Tipping the bottles, fizzing soda filled each white soft cups. I reached for mine and laughed. `` James and'7'.'' I giggled. `` I'm seven!'' Mother looked oddly at me. Most likely chalked it up to child muttering nonsense. But when I started pointing to the other children's cups and proclaiming their numbers. She brought me inside, out of the sun and handed me a glass of water. I watched my guests play tag through the glass sliding door for fifteen minutes. I'm no longer seven, but nineteen years old. I will be returning to college for my second year in the coming months, but for now, I work in a coffee shop. Unloading crates full of milk, reheating once frozen pastries, brewing blends of overpriced beans and jotting names onto cups. I wonder if this ability is tethered to something grander, something cosmic. Researching this ability, I found stories about men who could write names on parchment to detect evil or monsters in their midst. Yet, all I can do is find the true age of a `` Cougar'' by scribbling her name on the side of the `` Double Shot No Foam White Chocolate Café Latté'' she ordered. `` Heather,'48''' Grande Dark Roast for Brad,'25'. Grande Chai Tea Latte for Katrina,'23'. Venti Roast for Aron,'37'. Tall Hot Chocolate for Shay,'12'. The irony of my ability never loses its absurdity. One day, however, the absurdity turned to horror. `` Tall Green Tea for Charles,'350'.'' I had never seen a number grace seventy. My first thought was I was wrong. My ability was wrong. The doubt turned to comfort but gave way to a darker fear. I was never wrong. The birthday party. All my friends were seven or eight years old. I see regulars who pay with their card, their drivers license pokes out. I've verified my ability over and over again to assure myself I was n't delusional or suffering from an illness. `` 350'' that number rings like a broken bell clanging and smashing my every thought. Rattling my core to pieces. The worst part was this, Mr. `` Charles'' looked no older than thirty-five. The cup was still clutched in my shaking hands. I was frozen. I looked up at him. Dark swept back hair, pale complexion, rugged handsome qualities. His accent even sounded otherworldly. I quickly poured the boiling water into the cup, dropping the tea bag in and handing it to him. `` Thanks.'' He said. He walked out the door. He was leaving. Gone into the world. I would never see him again. Never answer this self-inflicted mystery. My coworker jostled my arm. Impatient customers lined up at the register. Overcome with a million shocks, pumping blood faster through my body then ever before. I leaped over the counter in pursuit of Mr. Charles. Crashing through the doors of the shop, the sun glazed my eyes. People moved along the sidewalks, shimmering metal cars lined the streets. I'd never forget his face. I ran in one direction and turned a corner. A few people, none were him. I went back, running in the other direction. Then I spotted his slick combed back hair across the street. The once red light was changing to green. The intersection had flared up. I sprinted off the curb. Honking and shouting pierced my ears. I felt a drive like I had never felt before. Answers were silently moving away from me in the shadows cast by the buildings overhead. I felt strength coursing through me, the very essence of life fueling me. Then I felt nothing. I lie in the street. The sound of tires screeching, replaying in my mind. The hot pavement underneath my cold skin. My hand was reaching out. Strangers stood around me, one was Mr. Charles. He and a few others gathered to my aid. Sirens rang in the distant. A man was apologizing and weeping not two feet away. Mr. Charles stared at me intently, recognizing me. I tried to speak but my throat would n't serve me. I coughed. Sharp pains like knives entered my chest. Mr. Charles kneeled down by my side. `` There, there. Do n't speak.'' Mr. Charles's voice washed over me. `` You've still got some life left in you.'' Mr. Charles's face cracked a most sinister grin. His eyes glowed a blood red. Fangs hung like stalactites in his mouth. He leaned in closer to my ear. `` I would n't want it to go to waste.''
[ WP ] Your alarm clock rings and you slap around for the snooze button . It rings again . You reach out to shut it off again and the clock bitch slaps you .	`` Ten more minutes,'' I said as I slapped the snooze button on my alarm clock. It rang even louder. `` SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.'' I screamed as I slapped the alarm as hard as I could. All of a sudden I heard, `` GET. THE. FUCK. UP.'' It felt like a brick had been dropped onto my cheek. `` What was that?'' `` Bitch it's me.'' `` Who?'' `` Your alarm clock, dumbass. Get up before I slap you again.'' `` Just give me ten more minutes man.'' `` DID YOU JUST ASSUME MY GENDER!?!?!?!?!?!'' I felt an extremely painful sting in my face and became very drowsy. Then I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock ringing. I was about to slap the snooze button thinking that this was all a dream when I heard, `` DO N'T START THIS SHIT AGAIN'' Sorry for formatting/grammar, I'm new to this. If you want to see my future stories subscribe to /r/DodoWrites
[ WP ] You awake in a world governed by the rules and logic of TV commercials . What happens ?	`` What happens next? I'll tell you what happens next... after a word from our sponsors,'' the large man who had been antagonizing Kyle into a bar fight for the past ten minutes suddenly dropped his fighting stance and picked up a bag of bar nuts. Kyle should have known something was wrong as soon as his mom started talking that morning. `` Do you ever get that not-so-fresh-feeling son?'' Then she had managed to turn frying eggs into a discussion about drugs. Then on the way to school he had an awkward erectile discussion with his dad, `` And be sure to talk to your doctor before trying it son!'' trailed on the wind as he turned to face a school full of students wearing brightly colored clothes that could only have been purchased as the Gap. `` Psst, you in the trendy band shirt!'' a voice was calling from the bushes in front of the school. `` Me?'' Kyle looked down surprised to see that he was wearing a 30 Seconds to Mars T-Shirt. `` Yes you, get over here!'' In the shrubs a petite girl with pale white skin and dark mascara hunkered. Her clothes were jet black save one prominent, off-center white circle on her chest. Next to her lay what appeared to be a teddy bear with the stuffing ripped out. Kyle walked closer and knelt next to the girl. `` You're that straight A kid in my chemistry class are n't you?'' `` I think so... Becky? What's going on, what's with the bear?'' `` He tried to bleach the black out of my clothes this morning. It turns out the best way to kill a Snuggle bear is disembowelment.'' `` A Snuggle Bear tried to bleach your clothes. Are you alright Becky?'' She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to eye level, `` Yes, I'm fucking serious. The whole world has gone fucking bananas and as far as I know it you and I are the only normal people left.'' Her tongue ring clicked against her teeth as she ended the sentence.
[ WP ] Death comes for you ! You challenge her to a game . Describe the experience .	Mike was nervous when death showed up. Where was he going? How had he died? Is this a dream? Death walked up to him and said `` I can either take you now, or we can play a game. If you win, youre free to go until next time.'' Mike was confused and unsure of whether or not this was some elaborate prank. Still, he asked what game death was thinking of. `` You choose.'' `` Ok, hide and seek. You have to give me one week to find you.'' Death returned him back to life and disappeared. Mike didnt go looking for death though. He lived the week normally, as if nothing ever happened. Once the week was over death came back. `` You lose. It's time to go.'' Mike just pointed at him and said `` Found you''
[ WP ] You are an agent of a regulatory agency from the future in charge of fixing evidence left behind by careless/malicious time travelers . You 're now carrying out your next mission .	`` Go ahead T man, shoot. The explosion will kill us both. Oh, it will also rip through hundreds of years of history and force reality to ravage itself, but that's a small concern when your life is on line, is n't it?'' She stood staring in silence, her deadpan expression fixed as she cocked the revolver, daring me to make a move. Sweat poured out from under the soldiers blind. His muffled screams fell flat against the gag as she pressed the barrel against the side of his head. I looked at the explosives and held up my gun in surrender. `` We can get you a pardon,'' I said quickly. `` Better, we can erase it like it never happened. Money, passports, a new identity -- you can live anywhere and be anyone, just as long as its in our own time.'' `` You think you can make it all go away?'' she said with a laugh. `` When I die I'm going to burn in hell for an eternity. No one scratches names off that list T man, not even you.'' The moment of humor ended and she went deadpan again. `` But what if I never existed? Never did all those horrible things to those fine upstanding citizens? Where do I go then, T man? Nowhere? Never? Sure sounds better than one-way ticket to hell.'' `` Do n't do this,'' I pleaded. She motioned towards the clock on the wall. `` It's already done.''
[ WP ] Everything is legal in the name of science ! Scientists are allowed to break morals and ethics in the pursuit of knowledge . The only catch is , if they are n't successful in their research , they will be convicted of any crimes they committed in the process .	I woke up with another pounding headache today. I do n't know what I expected when I drank almost an entire handle of vodka in three hours, chased by the cheapest bong hits money can buy. I do n't know what I expected out of myself. How am I supposed to be able to handle this whole situation without obliterating myself in drugs and alcohol night after night? I know what we're doing we're doing for the greater good, or at least that's what I keep telling myself, but the people who will benefit from our finished work will never have to witness the horrors I've had to face. Maybe if they had to, their situation would n't seem so terrible. Walking into the lab I see I'm not the only one who drowns their problems in substances, though I can see how some others choose to deal with the situation in different ways. `` Make way for Dr. Mengele!'' Dr. Shriner says, employing his dark sense of humor. Dr. Hart brushes past me with a sensual good morning whisper as she grabs my cock, yet again. I do n't think I have to tell you what her coping mechanism is. Creating a cure for VID is just about as important and world-changing as it gets, and after all, is n't that why I became a chemist? To deal with this new disease that not only killed your brother and mom, but was projected to wipe out eighty percent of the human race in fifty years unless we synthesize a cure? To change the world for the better? To make a difference? I suppose in the long run I am, I just wish beyond the moon and the stars that there was a different way to do it, but babies just seem to be the perfect vessel for synthesizing Hivac. We tried giving it to rats, monkeys, you name it. We infected them and gave them the drug, but none of them responded to it. We could n't test it properly on them. So we're not telling the rest of the world this, nor are we telling our friends and family ( God forbid my pregnant wife finds out about this. ) I mean, who wants to know that we're purposely taking babies bred for our purposes and giving them VID just so we can test our new drug? That's not even the worst part either. The problem with VID ( well, not necessarily a problem, but for our purposes it is, ) is that it does n't normally infect a person through an injection. It's smart, like it has a brain. The only way a person can get VID is through sex, and I'm not going to trouble you or myself by describing know how we do that. I guess I'm just glad that nobody's ever noticed that we bring in a bus from the penitentiary every day. I ca n't even manage to look those sick fuckers in the eye, knowing what they do, knowing how much pleasure they get from it. Hell, if I had to do that, I'd blow my brains out, but one look at them every day and I know how much they enjoy it. Their sick fucking smiles. I guess I should be thankful for them, though. They're part of the cure that's going to save humanity. Then again, so am I, and I'm not a kid fucker, so maybe I should give myself a break. The government wo n't, though, not if we do n't figure this shit out. It's so crazy to me; I mean, they're aware of what they're doing; hell, they're funding it! And yet, if we do n't finalize Hivac within the next three months, we're all going to be executed. Do n't want us all talking, I guess. What with VID it's not like anybody would notice a few hundred extra deaths anyway. Oh well. The good news is that should n't be a problem. We're all pretty sure we're almost done. Hivac should be complete within the next six weeks. In the meantime, another truckload of vessels, another busload of prisoners. Yeah, six weeks. We'll see if I can make it that long.
[ WP ] A cure is made for a zombies virus outbreak . Everyone who has been infected is cured , but they retain their hellish memories from their time as a zombie . You are a doctor ( or psychologist ) treating of of the cured for PTSD .	The following excerpt is from the notes and audio log of the late Doctor James Oldenkamp. The passages in italics are written notes. [ Doctor ]: Please sit down Henry. Do you want a cup of tea? Henry is a middle aged man. He is unnaturally thin and his hair is cut short. Like most of the cured patients, his hair is almost entirely gray ( perhaps from the shock of being cured? ). His eyes are beady and nervous as they look around the room. A few of his front teeth are missing, and the rest are yellowed with tartar. [ Henry ]: No..no thank you doctor Oldenkamp. [ Doctor ]: Please, call me James, everyone does. I hope you do n't mind that I'm recording this. [ Henry ]: No doct... ehrrm James... not at all. [ Doctor ]: Thank you. This is your first session, correct? [ Henry ]: Yea..ye..yes doc..James..sorry..sorry. The patient Henry fidgets nervously in his chair and stares at me oddly. He then goes to picking at his finger nails in a methodical fashion. [ Doctor ]: Can you tell me what you remember Henry? Maybe we can start with being bit and the reanimation process? [ Henry ]: In a silent voice Okay James. His emaciated frame shudders with an innate horror as he retells his story. I was working in the garden with my wife Edith. We lived out in the country you see, and it was quite peaceful there. It was a nice little acreage that my father, and his father before that owned. A faint smile emits from his face. Well anyway, it was about noon or so, and I went back inside the house to fetch some iced tea. You see, Edith always loved iced tea with a pinch of lemon. He begins to sob, and we have to end the session THE NEXT DAY Henry is back, he seems calm. He keeps looking at me oddly. [ Doctor ]: I hope you are well today Henry. [ Henry ]: Yes, yes I am James. [ Doctor ]: We last left off with you getting iced tea for your wife Edith. Henry's face looks confused and then remembers yesterday. [ Henry ]: Ah yes... yes.. I was getting the iced tea from the fridge and pouring two glasses of it when there was a slight, almost frantic sounding knocking at the door. I remember opening the door and a sweaty and sickly man begged for help. Edith, oh my sweet Edith, came inside to see what all the noise was and saw him. Being good natured, and her kind heart, she convinced me to help the man. [ Doctor ]: Was he one of the infected? [ Henry ]: Yes, yes he was. [ Doctor ]: Continue Henry..if you wish. Henry looks up at me, staring oddly into my eyes, and continues. [ Henry ]: We let him stay in our guest bedroom. He was sick with some kind of fever. As we let him rest in the bedroom upstairs, I, against my wife's wishes called the police to deal with the man. [ Doctor ]: Why? [ Henry ]: He was strange, sickly, and probably escaped from some damned mental institute. That's why! Henry seems annoyed, but then swallows his emotions. [ Doctor ]: Do you wish to continue? [ Henry ]: Of course James. When the police came, the man tried to resist being taken by them, but eventually they were able to escort him out of the house by force. I think I got infected when he spit at my face in disgust of me. I remember the warm saliva hitting my left eye and sliding down my face. The rest is a blur. [ Doctor ]: Please try to. Henry looks up and tries to remember [ Henry ]: I remember going to bed early because I did n't quite feeling well. There's images of my wife patting my forehead with a cool, damp cloth because I had a fever, and then there's black. A sickening, overpowering, complete blackness. He shudders, and looks down at his feet, and then again at me with the same odd stare as before. I still remember my wife's sobs and look of shocked amazement as I rose from my death bed. Then, there were the screams, oh the horrible, gut wrenching screams, as my teeth slowly bit through her lips as she kissed me. He delicate smooth skin and its light peach flavor ( from her lotion ) as I took each bite. The sweet delectable taste of flesh, and the coppery tinge of blood that marinated it.... [ Doctor ]: I assume it was a traumatic experience? He looks up at me with feral eyes and licks his lips [ Henry ]: Let's find out James. [ Doctor ]: Wait?..what? Get off me you crazy bastard! Help! Someone..gahh! all that can be heard from the audio is scruffles, screams before the audio is cut off Hello, I do n't really write much at all. I'm pretty sure there's quite a few ( probably an understatement ) grammatical errors. I'm open to any forms of criticism.
[ WP ] The demon lord mourns his dead lover . He promises to make the world a better place before resurrecting her , so that she never has to suffer again . However he fucks up and kills way more people than necessary .	The time had come. It was time to return my love to this world. The summoning stones had been gathered, the correct symbols drawn out in rats blood, which took more rats than I was expecting, not a lot of blood in those little bastards. I channeled the mixture of holy and fel magics through my body, they both burned in my veins like fire. The magic crept from the stones at my shoulders down my arms and into the body of my only love. In an instant that felt closer to years it was done. Her corpse had returned to it's former beauty. Her sunken cheeks filled and blushed slightly and her missing eyes returned to the golden brilliance they had known in her first life. Her perfect figure filled out her favorite dress in all of the ways I had oft remembered in my more private moments. Her lusciously curly dark brown hair fell around her shoulders as she stood and looked around her. `` Yeah, no... Yeah... No. Might've over done it a bit. I mean it's great, but that's quite a lot of, well death. Not really what one wants to be resurrected too you know?'' Not exactly what I was hoping to hear after fifteen years of work. Fifteen years of toil to make the world better than when I lost her. Apparently fifteen years was long enough to make me forget the way she could be sometimes. `` Well you ca n't make an omelet without aborting a few chickens.'' I replied bitterly. `` Some eggs yes but this is like driving the chicken to extinction for one breakfast burrito.'' She said with that `` you did n't really think this out did you'' smile that I had missed so much. She might've had a point, but if she thought this was a bit too much death we should probably not return to Farnkarth City, ever. `` I wanted the world to be perfect for the return of my perfect love and I know how much you've always hated cruel, hateful people... and rich people... and cat people... and small talk...'' `` You've killed everyone have n't you?'' I was sweating a lot for a demon lord. `` Not everyone! I left some great restaurants, your favorite musician Barry The Jangler, most children, a couple babies, and your mom despite the temptation!'' There was a moment of silence, she held my gaze, her eyes sparkled, her face stuck somewhere between entertained and disapproving. `` Darling you've got to resurrect them, this is n't what I ever wanted.'' She said shaking her head, still smiling though. `` Which ones?'' I asked earnestly `` All of them'' She said starting to put her foot down. `` Even the pedophiles?'' My eyebrow seemed to raise of it's own accord when this sentence left my mouth. She thought about it for a second and seemed to come to a decision. `` Well no they can stay dead.'' I saw my opportunity and took it. `` How about the murderers'' A shorter pause while she thought about this. `` Turnabout is fairplay there I guess.'' `` Rapists?'' Hardly a pause. `` Fuck em'' `` People who are just pricks to everyone for no reason what so ever?'' `` No reason to keep those in the world I suppose.'' `` People who corner you and wo n't let you go until they've told you every detail about their lives including their sex lives and the complications both emotional and physical?'' She held up her perfect hand as if to stop me, her hand bobbed as she started waggling a finger at me. `` I see where this is going.'' `` Precisely, this right here is exactly how I got to this point.'' She took a moment and looked around at the world I had sculpted for her. After a pause her wonderful smile returned unbidden to her face and she looked back to me. `` Soooooo.....Lunch?'' `` What amateur in necromancy do you take me for? Of course I woke you in time for brunch!'' I exclaimed. She nodded her approval. `` Lovely''
[ WP ] You , an otherwise ordinary person , become world-recognized for your ability to solve any technical/social problem with your amazing Googling skills .	`` This is bad,'' President Reiser said as he slammed down the phone. `` We need Hir0 on this immediately.'' Richard, the President's Chief of Staff, shuffled his papers nervously. `` Mr. President, Hir0 is still finishing up his cancer work. He says that with a few more days, he thinks he'll have a cure.'' `` I said immediately! Cancer wo n't matter if World War III breaks out,'' the President said. Richard went back to his office and picked up the white phone. He did n't need to dial, it rang directly to Hir0. `` Hello.'' `` Hir0, your country needs you again. We're going to have to scrap the cancer work,'' Richard said. `` You can just call me Greg. I do n't know why you guys insist on saying'Hero' or however you spell it. And its fine, I can save the cancer research,'' said the man on the other end of the phone. `` You can save your research? Brilliant. Okay Hir0, Greg, whatever.'' Richard's voice lowered as he spoke, `` Here's the situation. Tensions have continued to rise with the European Union. Talks have broken down entirely. They've demanded to know how we continue to steal their trade secrets and science. The accusation is that we've blanketed their countries with spies. I'm going to be honest with you Greg, several of the President's advisors have recommended that we give you up to them to settle the situation. But the President is not willing to do that, he called you our most valuable national resource.'' `` I've told you a thousand times. I'm not hacking them. Everything is on the internet. Anyone can just pull it up,'' Greg said. `` God damn it Hir0! Now is not the time. I do n't understand your tech mumbo-jumbo,'' Richard said. `` We're not asking how you do it. We need to know how to settle tensions or we're going to war. Now what is your advice for the President? Your country needs you Hir0.'' Greg sighed. He opened up Google and typed in How to Avoid World War and pressed the I'm Feeling Lucky button. He read the result verbatim over the phone. /r/Fatty_McFatts
[ CW ] The main character slowly falls in love with the reader , the last line is `` please do n't close the page i do n't want to die ''	Jane was acting rather unusually. She had developed a series of strange habits. Her posture was different, she sat up slightly straighter and sat stiller, as if she thought she were being examined. Her movements changed too, the little chores she used to do with a tired air were now completed efficiently, methodically. Jane's husband had noticed it, though he could n't pinpoint what exactly had changed. It was if she had a secret. He wondered if she was cheating. One day Jane came home from work early, it was a Friday and her boss was feeling generous. She walked up the stairs to her bedroom, clicked on the little light in the corner, and then carefully shut the door. “ I know you are watching me. ” Jane moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, “ following me would be more accurate. ” She sat further back on the bed and looked up towards the ceiling. “ You know at first I was angry but now I'm a little flattered. I guess everyone wants to feel wanted. You do want me right? This is what it's about? ” As she talked, she began to fiddle, her right hand crumpling up the duvet and her left pushing back her hair. “ I think I want you to want me. ” She said, “ because I want you. ” Her neck craned further up, half her face blotched with light from the lamp in the corner of the room. “ I'm sorry it's taken me so long to say this. To talk to you. I've wanted to but I did n't know how I felt, but I do now. I do love you. But you need to respond, you need to give me some sort of clue I'm not going crazy, instead of just watching me. ” Jane did n't speak after that, not for a few minutes. She just waited, breathing in the moments, occasionally peering around the room, checking if something, anything, had happened. Nothing did. “ So does this make me the protagonist? ” She said eventually. “ And what, you do n't like me, just watch me? An impartial narrator? ” Jane paused again, thoughtful, then said, `` Or maybe you can only watch me. Because you're not the writer, you're the reader. Are you the reader?'' The corners of her mouth curved down and she jerked her head quickly. “ Does this mean I have an end? Or that you just have to get bored of me and then what? I die? But you know me, you'll keep reading. Right? I love you, and I know if you could respond you'd tell me it back. You'll keep reading? ” Then her words turned silent “ I love you, I love you, ” she mouthed. “ In fact I do n't even need to speak do I? You know me, ” she thought. `` I love you'' she repeated in her mind. `` And please, please do n't turn the page. I do n't want to die.''
[ CW ] Whatever you said last is the first sentence spoken in this story .	`` I'll give her a call later.'' My mind raced to replay those words over and over, creating new hints of repentance every time. The sounds in my head were only interrupted by the continuous ticking noise. It never stopped; second after second each tick added another weight on my mind, like the sound of a large grandfather clock. It's been days since I slept peacefully. New visions sparked in my head every time I closed my eyes. Perhaps I was just hungry, but I kept recalling the aroma of her cooking. The scent of spices being thrown into a mix, the steam rising from a fresh meal. It's almost as if I could feel the heat next to me. The ticking stirred old memories to resurface. I saw myself in my first car, clenching my hands around the wheel while creeping slowly through traffic. My mother never had enough time, so she volunteered to show me the ropes while I held on to my learner's permit. She was there for my high school graduation. Among the crowd I could spot her cheering me on as my class celebrated together. She seemed the proudest of anyone there, and it made my day to see her so happy. The ticking faded to a stop. My eyes still felt heavy, but I glanced up at the clock to see it still moving. It was the monitor, however, that froze in time. It was no longer counting the seconds, as the monotone beep told me it had nothing left to count. `` I'll give her a call later.'' It echoed once more. The later that never came. The chance I never got to say, `` I love you, grandma.''
[ WP ] Write about the rain .	``... Parallel lines unwind and undulate behind the rain streaked windowpane, the scene's bleak Another train leavin' home, conceding defeat with a low moan...'' - Faithless The stop and go pattering of the rain against the corrugated steel over our heads was comfort. The neon glow within our sanctuary, accentuated with figurines and novelties collected over several lifetimes. Through the giant front window, I could see rivulets of water reliving the entire history of the grand canyon in a seconds time. In the background, people streaked by. Some with umbrellas, others turning a collar to the wind-blown damp. The scene outside sounded dreadful, but I found comfort in it. Comfort in the chaotic elements I could endure in comfort, with your left foot in and your left foot out. It was my turn in the brawl match on the misty bright TV display, I had to tear my attention away from the window and roof in order to play.
[ IP ] Watch the Stars	As children we watched them. Lying on our backs in the grass we watched the stars, letting them dazzle and illuminate our minds. The peepers sang the song of spring and the sweet, crisp air told us that spring had finally come to us. But that was gone now. The pounding of our own hearts in our ears tore away any magic that could have been felt that night. We ran through the darkness like animals, our eyes straining to see what was before us. Shouts in the distance made us run faster as I clutched the bundle to my chest. Somewhere beside me he told me to run faster and when I tried to look at him I fell. Crumbling to the forest floor with my arms still wrapped tightly around my precious gift I felt the blood start to escape from my body. In the darkness my eyes strained to see him. He paused momentarily to look down on us before continuing to run. I knew it would come to that. I knew he would leave us. I was weak and useless now.
[ OT ] The Odyssey is set in the modern day . What kinds of situations does Odysseus stumble into , based on the original text ?	this is kinda fun: Circe is actually a food scientist at Monsanto. His shipmates do n't literally turn into pigs but painfully devolve into porcine spongiform encephalopathy ( mad pig disease ) and regress to animalistic behaviors before dying after eating pork chops from pigs raised on genetically modified corn and soy feed. She is only moved to pity him when she realizes that he is a small holder farmer who ca n't afford their ridiculous licensing fees for GMO crops. The cyclops is a moderately intelligent ( but not autonomous ) CCTV/security system installed by Poseidon Technologies ( personally designed by their notoriously vengeful founder, Dick Neptune [ modeled after the schizo paranoid John MacAffee ] ). It attempts to seal the crew into a zombie shelter they raid for dry rations and is only disabled once the door camera is destroyed by a baseball bat and they trick the system into opening the doors by spoofing food deliveries on its pressure plate weight sensors. The sirens are a naked song and dance act at a legal brothel with slot machines in Nevada. The Laestrygonians are hicks who want to make Odysseus squeal like a piggy. Helios' cattle is really dank weed from Mendicino county that is grown by a shell company for the Aztecas drug gang. Schylla and Charybdis is the choice between paid air travel home or turning on his cell phone, which will let Dick Poseidon track Odysseus' exact location and exact revenge upon him for destroying the bomb shelter's security system. The suitors are the guys who keep messaging Penelope for sex on the internet. They are'killed' by Odysseus defacing their OK Cupid accounts.
[ PM ] Need some ( preferably humorous ) fantasy prompts .	A year ago, you unexpectedly succeeded in your quest to obtain the legendary Stone of Kroth, reputed to make its bearer immortal. Due to an unexpected series of events involving really awful ( but strong! ) wine, a female orc, and a tavern game not entirely unlike `` Quarters'', you ended up swallowing the stone. It never came back out. Today, you ca n't lose. No matter how foolhardy your quest, no matter how big the dragon or how evil the lich king, you can pretty much just walk up to them, stabbity-stab, and call in your loot cleanup squad. This, of course, has left you bored to the point of despair. / Okay, a bit long for a prompt, but I really wanted to set the tone properly.: )
[ WP ] Write a fairy tale that is based on a true event of the last fifty years .	Once there was a kingdom where everyone was happy. They were ruled by a king and a queen, and they each lived in a big castle with many servants and guards and ladies-in-waiting and squires. And they had a son, the prince, who also lived in a castle. But his castle was a ways away from theirs. The king ruled justly, and many people liked him Then, one day, from the east, there came four monsters, great dragons with skin made of steel and bellies ful of fire. The first some flew roaring towards the King's castle and spewed fire at it, setting it ablaze as all the people of the kingdom watched in horror. They knew that dragons inhabited the lands to the east, but for a dragon to come here? It was unheard of and frightening. The second dragon set the Queen's castle alight as well, and flew off, laughing as the castles crumbled to the ground, with many servants and guards and ladies-in-waiting and squires still inside. The third dragon attacked the Prince's castle. But the castle was too large, so he set a wall on fire and left before the guards could kill him. The destruction caused by the dragons caused people to become very afraid. The markets closed as people rushed home to be with their families. But wait, what of the fourth dragon? He perished. He wished to burn down the villages. But the first villagers he tried to burn were brave, and fought against him. Finally, as he swallowed the last villager, the dragon fell, dead to the ground, as the last man cut the inside of his throat. To this day, we remember the destruction caused by the evil dragons. Their master is dead, but it will not bring the poor villagers and servants and guards and the others back. Because sadly, not every story has a happy ending. But that does not mean that we should forget them. Indeed. Stories such as these we must never forget.
[ CW ] Using only dialogue and onomatopoeia , write a sad story .	whooooooooooo `` Sure is chilly tonight, innit?'' woof `` I hear, ya, boy. Wish I had a coat to share. Damn electricity's only been gone a week and it's already gotten this bad. They warned us it might happen, but I did n't think it would be this cold.'' woof woof `` Hell, I did n't think I'd outlive Susan, either...'' woof `` Shh, I know. I know, boy.'tll all be over soon. I wo n't kill ya. I just need this damn coat from ya. I'll stop the bleeding, I swear. It's cold enough so you might just last awhile. I wo n't kill ya, boy. Shh.'' ^^^woof `` Shh...''
[ WP ] I know Mom strictly forbidden running with scissors , but in my defense , I did n't really expect this !	I had always been a good child, the perfect angel. My parents had stressed manners at the table, and so I never ate with my elbows down. My mother told her children to always say'please' and'thank you ’ and never a day passed without those words leaving my lips. Do n't chew with your mouth open; always ask before taking; never run with scissors. The rules were endless and yet I always managed to obey. That is, until I had to make a decision: Be good or stay alive? It was a blustery day in my small town. A town that was really just a dot on a map which few had occasion to visit and even fewer had reason to stay. I was walking straight home from school, as Mother always instructed. The wind picked up whipping fallen leaves down the street like crazed creatures rushing to escape. The wind brought with it a chill that scratched at my face and stole away my breath. Pulling my hood further down to shield my face from the relentless wind, I hurried my steps to the intersection eager to get out of the cold. I glance up at the on-coming street and my eyes alighted on a shiny glint resting on the sidewalk of the opposite street. I paused, squinting at the gleam but was unable to make out the object. Stepping to the crosswalk, I looked right, then left and right again, as I had frequently been instructed. The road was barren, no vehicles or people were anywhere on the streets as far as I could see. Shapeless brick and wood buildings stretched down ahead and behind me, their colourless faces seemingly merging into a blur of beige. I turned my head again to the glimmer I had spied. It still twinkled on the cement like a star. I took a step onto the roadway, my eyes firmly locked on the glint. One swift step followed another until I broke across the curb and stopped directly over the shiny shape. It was a pair of silver scissors with long, sharp looking blades that curved into ornate handles. The handles were beautifully carved with intricate shapes flowing into two round loops. I squatted on the cement reaching out to grasp the handles. It was heavier than it looked, its weight settling comfortably in my hand. I hefted the scissors feeling their exquisite balance. They were warm to the touch despite the cool day and the loops pressed snugly into my palm. They felt good, as if they always had belonged there.
[ WP ] Everyone is born with strange symbols on their forehead . For centuries people have sought to find their meaning , to no avail . You and your team have just discovered the symbol 's true purpose , and what you have discovered made you facepalm .	`` Fetishes?'' Jenkins, the scientist at the head of the table asked. `` Fetishes,'' Michaels repeated. `` That ca n't be right. These symbols have been used to help people determine what type of job they want.'' `` Well, they do reflect people's desires and interests.'' `` I do n't believe it.'' `` Well, I've written down the fetish that corresponds to everybody's markings on their foreheads. For the sake of privacy, I've sealed them in envelopes. Please take yours and I think you'll see that there is, in fact, a correlation.'' The scientists all reached into the center of the table and took their envelopes. `` This is absurd,'' Dr Wu said. `` This symbol has been passed down through my family for as far back as I can remember. There is no way it could be something as simple as-'' he paused as he read the envelope's contents. `` It's true,'' he conceded, putting the paper back in the envelope and slipping it in his coat pocket. `` Public nudity?'' Rodgers asked. He had been leaning over to read the paper of the scientist next to him. `` Hey!'' the man said, recoiling. Jenkins, the head scientist put his unopened envelope back on the table. `` No,'' he said. `` I do n't believe it. My culture has used these symbols for religious purposes. For example, my symbol reflects my generosity. These golden drops that shower down my forehead reflect the wealth that I shower upon the less fortunate. Because without-'' Jenkins trailed off when he noticed the look Michaels was giving him. Michaels gave him a sad nod of understanding. `` Oh, goddammit,'' Jenkins muttered, rubbing the golden shower on his forehead.
[ WP ] You are out to eat at an ordinary restaurant . You begin to suspect the customers at a nearby table are time-travelers .	The desolate dirt track was cast in the neon hue of the flashing sign `` Dirken's YumYum''. A Mexican restaurant seemed so out of place in the Oregon mountains. I wiped my hunting boots clean on the tarnished rug and a black waitress invited me into the'YumMcYum' room. I sat down, perused the Yum menu and placed my order of crispy deep fried chimichangas with jalapeño salsa. `` One Dirken's-Yum-Combo sir'' `` Ahh thank you. This is just what I wanted- 200 grammes of FunMcFun, 2 teaspoons of Yum and lashings of ORIGINALITY! lol'' `` Hahahaha well just nom this up and you'll be prepared for the walk home lol. And if you finish that beast, there will be a special treat for ya'..'' Curiosity gripped me, so I eagerly finished my meal and she led me into the kitchen for my'treat'. There, the owner ( Francis ) was waiting for me. He picked me up and rolled me in a concoction of spices- sumac, chilli and cinnamon would mean I'd be spicy deep fried. After being deep fried, I returned to my table, where I overheard the strangest of converoonis... `` Yeah so we are fighting the Romans tomorrow...'' I asked the waitress what they were talking about but when we confronted them thy had disappeared lol
[ WP ] Episode of It 's Always Sunny In Philadelphia in which the gang meets Wilfred	Wednesday 3:36PM Ryan bursts through the door of Paddy's pub. He's out of breath and looks frantic. Mac: woah pal, what's the problem ( Mac initiates an ocular pat down ) Ryan: I lost my dog. His name is Wilfred. He's.... Special. Have you seen him? Dennis: nobody's seen your stupid dog. Leave. ( Dennis tries to push Ryan out of the door ) Charlie: hey-hey-hey, wait a minute. This man is asking for our help.... What kind of people would we be if we just turned him away? Dennis: God damnit Charlie, no one has time for this stupid shit. Charlie: frank was telling me about some stray he saw earlier. Maybe he knows which way it went. The gang walks to the basement. It's dark and smokey. Frank has his back to the gang. He looks busy. Charlie: uhh, hey frank, which way did that dog go earlier..... Frank turns around quickly, trying to hide what's behind him. Frank: what!? What dog? I ai n't seen no dog. Ryan: what's that behind you. Mac pushes frank out of the way to reveal a half cut up Wilfred and a wok. Mac: holy shit. Cut to black `` The gang opens a Chinese restaurant''
[ IP ] Duel .	WARNING WARNING, DAMAGE CRITICAL Impossible. DAMAGE CRITICAL, REPEAT, DAMAGE CRITICAL It was Impossible. He had the odds stacked against him. Flying an outdated fighter with conventional weapons and he had his sensors jammed. And yet, he prevailed. He destroyed all of Pixy ’ s special weapons save for the ECM, forcing the two aces to duel head on like the knights of old. Pixy should have seen it coming. He was there alongside him, up against the biggest threats Belka could throw at them and every time, he prevailed. Rot team, Excalibur, the XB-0, the Espada team and Wizard flight. All fell to him. The Demon Lord of the Round Table. But enough was enough. He had hoped that Cipher would see his views. That he would understand why he betrayed the Allied Forces and joined A World with No Boundaries. But as it turned out, he was a puppet like all the rest and like the rest of them, he would die. Pixy turned his damaged Morgan around to face Cipher again, finger hovering over the fire button on his flight stick and sent one last message to his old friend through the radio. “ Yo Buddy, you still alive? ” Note: Long time lurker, first time poster. Saw a prompt about my favorite Ace Combat game and just had to reply. Constructive criticism is welcome.
[ EU ] Give me the life of a simple fiend or raider in Fallout .	People say we're crazy. They say we're rebels, born only to disrupt their precious lives of comfort. But not all like that. My mother lived in a vault, she told me about it but for the life of memi cant remember which one. Some chemistry vault where they cooked up drugs like med-x, stimpax and so forth, then they sold it to some merchants and travelers, keeping their stuff repaired. But grandad found another thing to make: Jet. And since mother was only a teen she had to help him. One day, sneaking back from some chem sale outside the vault she found him strung up, the overseer figured out his little trade and forced him to OD on his own supply.she ran away, right into the arms of some fiends. She never told me anything about her life after that. But the needle tracks and the way the others in our group looked at her, she didnt need to. I ran away after she met her fathers fate. I left the wasteland, the dusty ruins of Reno and all its corruption behind. After a few years of sleeping with molerats and bloatflies I wondered into the Boston wasteland. There was this town on the outskirts of town Cornwall something or another. Everyone in that damned place kept going on about traitors in another town and some pre-war crap. I lived in some shit-shack in the ruins with some others like me. We would go out, scavenge the bodies of some poor fools who thoght they could fight the super mutts. We made a nice little camp, but soon these guys found bodies holding a stash. They went crazy, killing traders and wanderers alike. Maybe a few years back id have left, but I was too old, and I'd be damned dealing with the freaks in the red or blue. More time went by, some news of some kid going around helping the towns, sparking some tension. I told my girl we should try leaving. I heard the steel heads had cleaned up an area to the north, much safer to live there than in a pile of rubble between two dogs. She said no, and told me she was pregnant. A week later I returned from a scavenge, the camp was attacked by that kid, everything from ammo to stims gone. My girl was gone, I searched for hours. I moved to the north, broken. I set up camp outside the crater where some pre-war vertibird crashed, repaired things for caps and food. Then one night I heard a knock on my door, a little kid with a malfunctioned slave collar around her neck. She said she was a slave, a few weeks before her mother died, cursing the kid who sold her to the slavers, telling her to run north, that if she was right someone would be there to help. she was my daughter.
[ WP ] Voldemort won the battle of Hogwarts . A new order is upon us with wizards ruling over muggles . You are a key part of the muggle resistance , tell me your story .	Its the year 2015... Fucking wizrads rule us all. It's been... I dont know how long since this all started... All I know is, I've killed alot of them. And I'm gon na keep going. Those damn wizards killed my entire family and left me for dead. But since that happened, I've developed some abilities of my own. That's why this resistance needs me. They've taken over Tokyo, London, France, The US... No place is safe. Well except Space. I'm the leader of this here resistance. Even though I do n't want to lead. All I really want to do is kill. I'm out for blood. And that Voldermort snake fuck is gon na pay. -July 4th 2015- Entrance of Hogwarts It's time to end this. I've set up a couple of IED's around the entrance. Now it's time to call them out and rain hell upon their faces. knock knock bitches Name you ask? I do n't have a name... Everyone here calls me The Destroyer.... Hahahahaha!!! -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- And that kids is my story: - ) See wizards are some evil motherfuckers arent they?
[ EU ] Humpty Dumpty did n't fall . He was pushed .	Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men, Could n't put Humpty together again. But this is not the end of our tale, For Humpty was pushed not blown by a gale. A man in the dark shoved him in the back, Causing Humpty to tumble and his shell to crack. The man disappeared not a soul saw him, For the day was nigh and the light was dim. He stared into the dark and with a smile he said, You ca n't make an omelette without breaking an egg. Edit: spelling
[ WP ] Seconds after you see on TV that your numbers were called in a $ 240 million Powerball lottery , your phone rings . You answer it to hear your voice , frantically telling you to tear it up immediately . You then hear two gunshots and then the dial tone	I drop the phone. The dial tone buzzes in the background. So someone wants to play rough with my 240 million dollars? Fine, Bring it. After all, I believe in choice. And I choose something different. ... Later... Mary and John Worther were two ordinary Americans. They were middle class white Christians. As they chose to perceive themselves. From a small Texan town. Life as they knew it was shattered not to recently. The death of their child to cancer broke John's soul. Mary would try to keep his spirit up. After all, if they were good people, God would n't punish them like this without a point. Remaining faithful to him is just a basic tenant in the form of a test. Like Job, they would be rewarded for their faithfulness. So Mary bought a lottery ticket. Just one, because that's how miracles work. Except, they do n't. Which is how they found themselves outside of Steve's new house. It was a smaller then they imagined. Halfway up a mountain, a gorgeous view of the trees all around them. It was custom, but by no means could it be called a mansion. It did have some fancy bells and whistles, but by no means could it be construed as `` wasteful''. Creeping up the driveway, the intruders walked through the mid afternoon sun, casting two shadows across the driveway. The scene was set for there divine work. The isolated house, the two crusaders of justice and one with the devil's own luck. Bursting into the house through the front door with a crowbar, John and Mary looked for their target. Searching through the house, finding not a living soul. Mary came upon a note. It was in plain sight, upon the kitchen table. A phone sat next to it. As a scream tore its way out of her mouth, into the surrounding mountainside it read... Dear Would Be Murderers... I am sorry for whatever drove you to this. I am sorry that your efforts were for nothing. But Alas I am not here. You can find me in Uganda, I am digging wells there with Water.org. See I have all this free time now, being financially secure. And I would be remiss in my Duty to God if I did n't spread his love to others. For the near foreseeable future, I will be traveling, doing charity work where I can, exploring the world when I am not. There is 1 million dollars behind the full length mirror in the Garage. I ask that you take it. And leave this life behind you. You are better then this. Take the Bible next to it. And before you leave, look into the mirror, and look at yourself. Is this who you want to be? Regards, Steve John and Mary got quiet. They went to the mirror. And Looked at themselves. 2 Gunshots ring out.
[ WP ] You are the Fifth , lesser-known Horseman of the Apocalypse , Hope .	`` You guys always leave me behind!'' Said Hope, yards behind, her gangly horse barely scraping itself forward under her immense load. Death, War, Pestilence and Famine glanced at each other, each in silent agreement that they would never acknowledge her presence in public. She had already sweat through her makeup, a slick of coal black eyeliner seeped down her cheeks as they came to the edge of the mountains overlooking the rioting cities, as always she was hunched over peering into her phone. `` Oh, my god you guys, our Facebook page is going NUTS! I have like 7 million likes, holy shit!'' She paused a moment to take an awkward high angle photograph, a practiced shot allowing her to umbrella her massive body with her own cleavage. She began to fill the caption text out loud, as every time. `` Hanging with my besty Horse Peeps, slingin' dat'Pocalypse. # FTW, OMG guys, is n't this COOL?'' She exclaimed. `` I think, when we wrap this up we should all get together and just... just party, for all eternity! Fuck yeah! I'm gon na get my freak on!'' `` rrrrrRRRRR THAT'S IT!'' Screamed Pestilence. Hope went quite, staring at him dumbstruck. `` I ca n't take it any more! I ca n't take one more minute with this screeching sex walrus! FUCK IT!'' He said, breaking from the formation. `` No no, come on Pest! How are we gon na finish the apocalypse?!'' Begged War. `` Fuck it! Fuck it all, fuck you, fuck her, fuck the apocalypse, I'm OUT.'' And with that he rode into the distance seething with satisfaction. `` Yeah, fuck this!'' Said Death, also taking off, abandoning his duties. A tumbleweed drifted between the remaining three, drawing a line between Hope and the other two Horsemen. `` God, so dramatic. They, they just ca n't deal with this hotness.'' She said, unable to meet their gaze. `` Well, uh, I guess the thing's pretty much off then.'' Said Famine. `` Yeah, so... Guess we can get some beer and just hang out. Cool?'' `` Cool. But first, let's get rid of... Hey, Hope?'' Famine turned in his saddle to face her. `` Yeah?'' `` I think I saw something tumble out of your purse back there on the trail, I think it might have been a pack of Oreos?'' Her eyes went wide. `` Oh, shit! I paid like 4 bucks for those!''
[ WP ] A grizzled old cop is less than a week from retirement . Unfortunately , it would seem that the universe is actively trying to kill him .	Ethel Cruickshank had been a cop for forty seven lousy years. She sucked on the butt of her last cigarette and tossed it expertly into the ammo tin that the smokers at the precinct used as an ashtray. Premature wrinkles from smoking marred her scowling face - which was already well-lined from age and weather. Once she had been'striking' looking - there was still a picture of her in a bullet bra and stockings in the locker of the senior detective - but now she was just mean looking, old and ugly. She did n't give a fuck. Passed over for promotion over the years because of her gender, she'd grown bitter. By the time affirmative action rolled around and the precinct started to get more female recruits, she was too far gone to care about anything but doing a good job. The young things these days liked to stay in shape at the gym and get away with a bit of makeup on the job, but Sgt Cruickshank had kept in shape from walking the streets and chasing down thugs and drug-dealers. As she sat back down at her desk, Harvey - her 2IC - hovered in the door. `` What do you want constable?'' she growled. `` Uh, there's a farewell for you and Jones scheduled this afternoon, just wondered if you were going to attend?'' She glowered at the kid with one sallow, predatory eye. `` I'll, uh, mark you down as a'no' then, sergeant.'' `` Good boy,'' she muttered, picking up today's paper. She liked newspapers. The computer on her desk had been unused since the IT department had put it on her desk. This was a good thing, because the PC was destined to short out the moment it was turned on and electrocute the person who depressed the power button. Ethel also distrusted the newly issued sidearms; which was again to her advantage - since the weapon she'd been given would backfire and shoot the face off the first person who used it. It currently sat in its holster in Ethel's drawer, unused and unwanted - never to be touched by her gnarled old hands. There was a conference scheduled for 1030 hours on the other side of town, so Ethel declined the lift from one of the other senior staff and walked until she caught the bus. She did n't like the new squad cars and this worked to her advantage again; the patrol car that her colleagues took across town developed a leak in the fuel line and exploded en-route - killing all four officers inside. They radio'd in that Jones was one of them. Ethel gave a grim smile; well, at least the farewell would be called off. Which was also a good thing, as the precinct had planned a surprise party and the bad ceiling tiles in the lecture room and rotten joists would have dropped the first floor heating tank on the elderly sergeant, instantly killing her with forty gallons of steel and water. The bus ride was uneventful and the grizzled old cop got off two stops early to get the benefits of walking a couple of blocks. If she had gotten off outside the conference center, a taxi would have plowed into her, breaking her hip and pelvis. Later she would have died in hospital from shock. Despite her failing eyesight, she sat at the back of the conference room. She did n't actually give a fuck about the presentation; she was there for the pizza and beer at the end. Fortunately, being at the back and being slower than the younger officers meant that she missed out on the jalapeno pizza which would have caused her stomach ulcer to perforate and kill her with an arterial embolism. She settled for pepperoni. A few beers later, she strolled toward the park, deciding to take the rest of the day off - what was the worst they could do to her? Fire her? She laughed nastily at the thought. On the route back to work, where she should have been, an oil tanker exploded, a building collapsed and a flash-flood took out a bridge. Oblivious to the destruction - her radio switched off - Ethel fed pizza crust to the pigeons and basked in the late autumn sun. She liked pigeons. They were uncomplicated and simple. Just like her life.
[ FF ] 100 words precisely - The orders to eliminate yourself	Journal of Limited Words - Decision on your manuscript # JLW420 Dear Dr. Prolix, Your manuscript, “ Quantifying verbosity in scholarly communications ” has now been seen by 3 referees. As you will see from their comments ( below ), the referees find your work to be of considerable interest, but they have unanimously raised a single concern: verbosity. The referees, while being impressed by your approach to quantifying verbosity, and convinced by the mathematical soundness of the quantification algorithm, recommended that the manuscript be limited to 100 words precisely. As an expert on verbosity quantification, you are instructed to eliminate, yourself, the excess verbiage.
[ WP ] Instead of work , devices are setup to allow people to directly trade a portion of their life for money whenever they want . One time you trade too much .	`` Hey Li. This is Jothi, down on the shop floor. You wo n't believe what I've found. Better get down here.'' Five minutes later, Li's heels clicked across the spotless tile. All the lights were on, which was unusual to see on a fully automated line. The line was halted, all the product frozen in its state of manufacture. She went straight for the knot of people gathered around station 18. She furrowed her brow as she saw the intern stumble away a few steps, turn her back and then vomit on the immaculate floor. A feeling of dread crept into her skull. The group of workers parted as she approached. Jothi opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What she saw stopped her in her tracks and for a moment she felt her gorge rise as well. It took a momentary effort to keep everything down. `` What the bloody hell...'' A old, old man stood there at the line. IV Tubes coming from a framework overhead pierced his body in several places. Electrodes were pasted over his head and back. He stood inactivated, staring mindlessly ahead, work tools in his hands idle at his sides. He looked like a living corpse. She turned to Jothi, his jaw still slack. `` Is this what I think it is?'' Li's tone was incredulous. Jothi nodded. `` We were decommisioning old equipment and found an old IV tank still running. I thought for sure it was just an oversight, but to be safe we traced the line. Lucky for him we did- it came here.'' Li shook her head in disbelief. `` Has n't anyone been down here?'' `` Not in years,'' Jothi stated, looking at his tablet. `` This line holds the record in the company for zero maintenance. It's been running for over ten years on wholly automated logistics.'' The intern rejoined the group, but she did not look much better than the zombie-like man at this point. Her hand covered her mouth and she was on the verge of tears. `` What is this?'' her voice quavered, barely controlled. `` What's going on??'' Li realized how bad this looked. She better explain. `` You remember there was a time before the guaranteed living wage?'' The intern nodded. `` When people HAD to work to buy food and pay rent. There was no GLW at all. If you did n't work, you had no income.'' The intern was pulling herself together with something to distract her from the scene in front of here. Li continued. `` Times got really bad for a while, when automation was creating more and more unemployment, and creating a huge class divide. To try to solve this problem, for a while, people could basically sell their bodies to companies. One could trade a certain number of weeks or months, and they would be hooked up to a line like this. He is fed nutrients, and monitored. He is given a mixture of drugs that make him completely unaware.'' The intern convulsed slightly like she might start heaving again. Li plowed onward. `` It was a bad idea, but it caught on for a while. It was like people went to sleep for a time, then woke up and got paid. Eventually, the guaranteed living wage laws and near total automation of all labor made it obsolete. And people recognized the barbarity of it all.'' `` Which brings us to this.'' She turned back to Jothi. `` How did this happen?'' `` Well,'' Jothi began, studying his tablet, `` this guy signed on under the old CC Reform Act. He was automatically re-enrolled every year, to be stopped when his pay covered his card debts. Then the GWL wiped his debt off the books; we woke up all the automatons, paid them, and sent them home and deleted all the software that tracked the program. But we missed this guy.'' `` OK, well let's get him properly revived and back in society. He has some years left, let's make sure he can live it normally.'' `` Got it. Oh, one other thing you should know...'' Li turned, hoping it could not get any worse. `` Yes?'' Jothi was peering at his tablet. `` We're going to owe him fifty-eight million dollars in overtime.''
[ WP ] A forensic team who investigates murders of mythical/ folklore creatures .	I crouched next to the broken corpse of the gryphon, its dried blood staining the grass brown, its feathers ragged and broken. Her feathers, I corrected myself, as I noticed a certain lacking between the legs. Poor thing. This one was a falcon/lynx mix, her narrow beak and tufted ears making her somewhat distinctive. Was she bonded to someone? For the human's sake, I hoped not. It was always tough to lose your partner. I glanced back at my horse. My partner, an adolescent Wolpertinger, was sitting on the saddle, watching me examine the body. `` Why do n't you be useful and bring me my sketchbook?'' He snorted and dug into my saddlebags, and dragged out the satchel that held my drawing supplies. He leapt off the horse, and glided down, only a little bit clumsily. `` You're getting good at that,'' I said as I took if from his fanged jaws. He poked me with his budding horns. { Do n't patronize me, } he said sulkily. He was sensitive about learning to fly. `` I was n't patronizing you,'' I replied conversationally as I setting down to sketch the crime scene, `` I was complimenting you.'' Not everyone bonded a creature these days. A few hundred years ago, it was rare for someone not to have a mythical partner, but these days, with the advent of steam-power and'industry' as they called it, fewer and fewer folks found that soul-deep connection to the creatures that used to be our friends. I'd met Herzeleid during one of my earlier cases, he was the only survivor of the slaughter of his parents and siblings. I caught the guy, thank goodness. Now Herz was with me, and we work together. Insomuch as a not-even knee high fanged rabbit with wings can help me solve murders and the like. I pulled out my pencils and started sketching. I started with an overall look at the scene. Detailed the position of the body and size - She would have stood with her shoulder at my hip if she was standing. I then started looking at details. The wound itself, was odd, like it had been manufactured, almost. I focused on getting the details down so I could examine them later. It was too early to start postulating. `` Notice anything I should know about?'' I asked Herz as he hopped around the perimeter. { Humans, } he said, pausing as he sniffed the air, { At least 4 of them. All males. } He shook his head, { They smell of coal and dirt and metal. } `` So miners, or ironworkers of some sort. But why would they kill a gryphon? Gryphons know better than to get this close to the city unless they're bonded to a human.'' { I'm not sure, } he replied, fluttering through the air over to me. I hastily put down my sketchbook to catch him as he fwumped into my chest. He buried his muzzle into my neck, his fangs poking me gently, but with no malice. I could feel him shivering. I stroked his back and smoothed down his feathers while I held him tightly. He was still having issues with some of my cases. He tried to be tough, but he was still young, and the loss of him family was still fresh in his memories. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Company has arrived! I'll finish this later, maybe.
[ WP ] You 're a theif who uses time travel to pull off otherwise impossible heists . This time , you 're out to recover an artifact that was stolen from you , by you .	( -- -- -- -- -- is a time skip back and forth time periods ) It was crazy. To think I had sold it years ago and now I had a chance to sell it for so much more. I could settle down with the amount I made. Course I was a thief by trade. Time travel was my tool. A quick visit was all I needed. I knew were it was, I had put it there. A simple note to assure my past self it was for a better cause and off I went. Simple. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Simple Idiot! To think my future self was such a forgetful fool. I need that script. How the church hunted me down I'll never know but if they do n't get it I'm screwed! Greed always ruled me though. Why try to hunt it down after it's returned when it would be so much easier to snag from yourself? Thanks for the note though. I'll just have to get rich another way, some other day. Time jumps. Being pulled from one point to another. The tricky part is that I do n't travel locations. Want to steal from a bank? Travel to when it is being made. Then travel to when your target is there. I made it a personal rule not to travel to steal future things. Never know what might exist later in time. I usually would just swim out a bit from a beach if i was going to the future. Since I was n't going to steal things I never needed delicate tools. Now was not that time. I was dead if I messed up but I'm dead if I do n't do this. I ended up standing in my own vault. My future self must of appeared here. So it had to be clear. A quick mental count and that strange twitch I discovered all those years ago. The feeling of being pulled but not actually moving. Then I was there. It was my vault. Still mine somehow. Some things missing, some things new. I was here for personal reasons though. A quick search showed no script. Leaving the familiar vault I had my first shock. My vault was underground. In a crypt and as cliche as possible. Seems the dead lost any respect given to them though as I left it and found myself in a mall. The things I spotted. I could get rich from the tech being sold but I had my rules for a reason. Luck is what people believe in when they need it. Curse when they apparently lack it. I've had no use for it. But when I spotted myself I felt damn lucky. Course future me ran like a coward. But I'll be damned if I ca n't keep up with a thief who lives in a mall! -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Impossible. Well, improbable actually. I had just left the note. I was on my way to the buyer when I FEEL eyes bore into my back. Staring at your angry past self is a scary thing. I turned and ran. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Bastard had home advantage. Knew every alley and hiding hole. I had fury that would pale the face of any god. Catching up to him took forever. He had dipped into this tiny nook and tried to get me to pass him but a glance from a couple people revealed his path. He hit a dead end. I hit his face. I'm sure it will hurt when I'm on the receiving end. But really. I deserve it. After a couple swings I felt better and actually spoke. Future needed to know why he screwed up. So he does n't steal it back or anything. `` So. That script saves my life. Forget that detail idiot? The church and death is not worth a fortune you wo n't live to enjoy!'' I admit I shouted. I had to or I would start punching again. It was his response though. That made me angry and it was not at him. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - The church. I had forgotten all about it. Years had passed and they never came to collect. Eventually a pretty good offer showed up and I sold it. Now I had been given a fortune and all it cost was that silly old script. But the church had never come to collect. Why, how, could they do so now? `` Look.'' I said. `` The church never called me to collect. I sold it off a couple years later and forgot all about it. A week ago a better offer just showed up.'' A nagging suspicion entered my mind. `` My buyer wore holy cloth and was bald. Had glasses but where those really dumb tiny ones that seem useless.'' The shock I saw forming, followed by anger, confirmed my fears. `` He was the person who came to collect huh? Seems we have another Jumper.'' I nearly ground my teeth. I had feared for this day. `` Take the script. We play this right and we can kill him quickly.'' I handed the script over. My younger self quickly ran back to the Vault. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - A damned Jumper! Trying to kill me off by using my other selves against me. Well I was onto him now. Killing him would be simple. A bullet to the head and that's dead. The issue though. Killing him properly. Shoot a younger version that has yet to meet me and I create a paradox that will null the shot. Kill him when he is older and a younger him might still kill me. Time travel is a bitch to figure out. It might prove fatal this time.
[ WP ] If someone 's hands are colored red , that means they have committed murder in their lifetime . You are the only one that can see the red hands , and the first pair of red hands you see , is your 8 year old brother 's .	`` Out, damned spot! Out, I say! —One, two. Why, then, ’ tis time to do ’ t. Hell is murky! Fie, my Lord'' I bumped my mouse, to rewind the video. `` Out, damned spot! Out, I say!'' And again. `` Out, damned spot! Out, I say!'' I clicked pause, and stared at Lady MacBeth staring at her hands. Why had I never understood what Shakespeare was really like before? It had always seemed so dry - I'd understood only half the words, none of the phrases. I slid the slider back again, and clicked play. ``... action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.'' `` Yet here ’ s a spot.'' `` Hark! She speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.'' I paused the video again. To satisfy my remembrance more strongly. My remembrance more strongly. More strongly. I still did n't understand half the words. But this passage - this character, Lady MacBeth - I felt I understood her so well, as if she was part of me. A voice came from downstairs. `` Liz! time for bed!'' Mum. Well, she was right, it was late, and I was very tired. I turned the laptop so I could gaze upon Lady MacBeth from my pillow. I gazed until the screensaver came on a half hour later. All along, my voice whispering in my mind - I will see what you see, Lady MacBeth. I will see. I will see. -- -- The sun was streaming through my window. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a while, in a half sleepy daze. Some words from a forgotten dream played in my mind What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our pow'r to account? or was it accompt? That's not even a word, I mused. You will see, Elizabeth, you will see. Until I remembered what time it was. I threw off the covers and quickly dressed. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Mum was washing up some plates, and my brother was halfway through a bowl of cereal. `` There's some toast and jam, Liz, but we're out of juice. You'll have to drink milk.'' I stared at my brother's hands. They were bright red. `` What happened to your hands?'' He looked up at me, looked at his hands. `` Nothing.'' `` Mum, dad, look at Finlay's hands!'' My dad glanced up briefly, then went back to reading the report by his plate. `` His hands are all red!'' `` They are not!'' he said. `` Yes they are!'' Dad looked up again and mum turned around, as Finlay held up his hands. His deep crimson hands, dripping bright scarlet drops onto the tablecloth. `` Are not.'' `` Liz, his hands are fine, just eat your toast.'' I could hardly tear my eyes away. Bright gobbets of red dripped into his cereal bowl as he ate, making little swirls in the milk that slowly faded away. My heart was beating faster, until I remembered the words from the dream. What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our pow'r to accompt? `` They look red to me.'' I said, and buttered my toast. I ate it slowly, staring at my brother's hands. He looked up at me once or twice, but quickly looked away when he caught my eye. Mum was somewhere else in the house when her phone rang. I looked at the number. `` Mum, Duncan's mum is calling!'' `` Pick it up for me, please?'' I reached for the phone. My brother quickly pushed aside the rest of his cereal, grabbed his bag and said `` Well, got ta go, or I'll be late for school.'' I slowly swiped the phone to take the call. The digital display read 8:03am. Strange, I thought, the schoolbus does n't come for another 12 minutes. I lifted the phone to my ear, and watched the fading red fingerprints on the spoon and bowl, the drips on the carpet, and the doorhandle closing slowly behind my brother. `` Hello, this is Liz! Shall I get mum?'' Duncan's mum's voice sounded strangely quiet and fearful. Her tone was a tone cut straight to my stomach and filled it with ice. `` Y-yes... yes, Liz. Please... please do...'' **** See more of my wild imaginings at /r/ImaginedDialogue
[ WP ] A young gamer dies after buying thousands of games on sale . A bot keeps sending these games as Christmas presents for the next sixty years .	This is n't what I usually do so any CC is appreciated. I mean, it always is, but now especially. I know that the story is pretty mediocre, because I'm mostly just experimenting, but CC is still appreciated. -- -- - DA-87-model64 -- -- -- [ SCENE OPENS ] SCENE: AARON is laying in his bed typing/scrolling on his laptop. The scene cuts to his laptop screen to show that he is on GAMES.COM selecting different games that are on sale. The scene cuts again to see AARON laying on his bed. [ FADE OUT ] [ SCENE OPENS ] SCENE: Mostly vacant road; AARON is driving. AARON is driving when DRUNK DRIVER careens around the corner and t-bones AARON. Aaron's car flips, rolls a few times, and then stops when it hits a telephone pole. AARON is seen hitting his head and being jerked around. [ CUT TO BLACK ] [ FADE IN ] AARON's funeral. [ CUT TO BLACK ] [ FADE IN ] SCENE: DA-87-MODEL64 ( Deliver Android, personalized # #, model # ) is on AARON's front doorstep. Normal, sunny day. DA-87-MODEL64: [ rings doorbell ] [ waits mandated amount of time silently ( 5 mins ) ] Hello, Aaron Thomas. I am a delivery android from games.com, delivering the game – Forgotten Hero – that you pre-ordered on Thursday, November tenth. I can see that you are not home. I will leave your game here and you can use the code you got when you ordered the game to open the box. [ sets box on porch, leaves ] Scene cuts to the inside of AARON's house and briefly walks through it. [ SCENE CUTS ] [ FADE IN ] Packages materialize on AARON's porch while SONG plays in the background. [ FADE OUT ] [ SCENE OPENS ] RANDOM SIDE CHARACTER [ RSC ] is cleaning out AARON's apartment when DA-87-MODEL64 arrives with another package. DA-87-MODEL64: Hello, I have a game – Atomic Cry – that Aaron Thomas pre-ordered on Thursday, November tenth. I can see that you are not Aaron Thomas. Where might I find him? RSC: [ looks numb ] I'm going to need you to cancel all orders to that name. DA-87-MODEL64: You do not have the authorization to cancel Aaron Thomas's orders. You are not Aaron Thomas. Where is Aaron Thomas? RSC: He's dead. Just cancel all of his orders. DA-87-MODEL64: I am sorry to hear that. You may cancel all his orders on GAMES.COM with proper identification from Aaron Thomas's next of kin and re-route the packages that have already been shipped. You have my condolences. I will leave this package at Aaron Thomas's house.
[ WP ] The year is 2024 and 3 children in a trench coat have taken office , but no one can tell that they are kids , hilarity ensues	The former president was a strange man. For one, he could often be heard whispering to his crotch and mid section, informing his body parts `` Shhh! They'll catch on.'' On another note he always seemed to be wearing glasses without frames, maybe I'm just a bit out of touch with today's fashion and I was just thinking a little too deeply in to this, but never the less, it appeared odd. His face was astonishing, if I did n't know any better I would say that he was still a boy, it showed no signs of aging whatsoever. His nose seemed to attach itself to the frames of his glasses, and his mustache seemed to attach itself to his nose, and what was startling was that at first glance his nose seemed to be a different pigment in comparison to his skin, and even more startling than that was that he clearly lacked nostrils. His sense of dressing was just as odd, he always wore a trench coat that seemed too large on sleeve length, and rather than wearing formal shoes he seemed to enjoy wearing light up Spider-Man sneakers. The president was a strange man, but he was a good man, which makes this whole ordeal much more tragic. He quickly won the vote of the nation through his campaign to push the agenda of free video games, less school work, and more allowances, he was a truly visionary man. At his final rally he stepped in to the crowd to greet and shake hands with the attendants of the rally, that's where it all went wrong. A woman, in her excitement to greet the president, tripped, causing her to violently fling forward and collide with the president, ripping his entire mid section clean from his body. This is where the presidents dark secret was uncovered. A small child fell to the ground, unknowing to neither I nor the rest of his agents, the president was bearing a child. The president dropped about a third in size, froze for a moment, and ran off along with his incredibly athletic newborn, trailing just behind him. He was never seen or heard from again.
[ WP ] Humans have discovered a way to receive a text at the exact mid-point of their lives . Yours just arrived .	Me: I am not being rash. Gas prices are crazy. Honestly, getting a motocycle right now is fiscally responsible. Wife: You're right honey. You know what else is fiscally responsible having one less mouth to feed. Which is what is going to happen once you die on your motorcyle. Me: Oh the sarcasm. I am forty-two, definately responsible enough to drive a motorcycle without killing myself. People who crash are young, dumb and full of... Daughter walks in Me: Uh kittens. Daughter: Let daddy get a motorcycle. He can be cool like nelsons old man. Wife: Hmm old man. This is n't some mid life crises... Me ( Insulted ): What no! I am only 42 for crist sakes. My motives are purely fiduciary... and phone buzzes Me:... you know what lets just get a saab
[ WP ] A shrouded man at the side of a crossroad offers to give directions to each traveler that passes . Everyone who passes by is coming from one of the four possible directions in the crossroad . Whether they follow his directions or not they always die along the path that they choose .	Dead, charred trees loomed over head, casting ominous shadows along the road that split in every direction; north, south, east, west. Dark and starless, the sky bore down on the ground, meeting the edge of the earth where the mountains in the background pierced it with its high, white peaks. The road and all the land that surrounded it was void of sound, without even the whistle of the wind or the trilling of a cricket. At the innermost point of the crossroads stood an emotionless figure, cloaked in the darkness of evening, his body as still as the surrounding earth. The grass surrounding the pathways was dry and yellow, towering above the pavement and spilling forth, hanging lifelessly over its edges. It was the first thing that caught the young man ’ s eyes, even before he noted the stranger standing in the roadway, the way the low green grass gave way to dried and dead straw; scorched, as if life had been purged from this piece of earth. Tired and worn sneakers came to a stop as he hesitated, his eyes catching the strangers, his body sensing an uneasiness before his mind registered the dangers. One shoulder came forward and his feet came apart, his body prepared for the flight instead of the fight as he waited for the person to acknowledge his arrival. The scene broke as the hooded figure gestured him forward with a beckoning of a hand, his lifeless eyes suddenly serene, calming. They were almost reassuring in their gaze at him, imploring him to come forth. The young man hesitated, one hand coming up to fidget with the strap on his backpack, rearranging the load of it on his shoulders, as his mind pondered the situation and the outcomes that could come from his involvement with the stranger. Death was the worst possible ending, but he had been faced with his own mortality every day for as long as he could remember, and he no longer allowed death to govern his decisions. It was life that drove him forward; life that propelled him into this next stage in his existence. “ What a journey it has been, ” His voice was smooth, like the silkiness of a fresh petal or the softness of an infant ’ s skin. Mesmerizing, it carried the young man until he was standing only feet away from the stranger, stopping only when he could make out the features of the man that stood before him. He was unassuming, his features a blend of the ones you saw on every person. Nothing about the man was lasting; an image you saw and forgot, a person that reminded you of everyone and no one. He did not have to ponder the man ’ s words, for as he spoke them, he knew what the man referred to. “ An adventure, to say the least, ” His voice, unlike the strangers, was warm and inviting, the spark of life and vitality that the young man seemed to exude with every breath he breathed, in every strong, capable movement his body made. He was dirty, from his worn sneakers to his greasy hair, but his clothing, though covered in sweat and earth, were well made and expensive. They told of a life he had lived before this one, a life that had involved regular showers and meals, of days in a classroom or lounging at a pool. The man looked him over, and smiled in a way that only his lips changed upon his face. It was an odd display. His cheeks didn ’ t twitch, no lines appeared around his month, and his eyes didn ’ t crinkle at the corners. “ What is it that you ’ re searching for? I can give you directions to any place, any destination that you can think of. I can tell you what direction the mountains lie in, which road will lead you to the sea, and where you will find cities full of bright lights. ” “ What I am searching for, you can not lead me to, I am sorry, ” The young man shook his head to emphasis this. He had begun his search months ago, when he had found himself on the other side of death, healthier and stronger than he had ever been before in his life. What he was searching for, no person alive could guide him to; the search for one ’ s self was a journey and an adventure, and no one could tell you who you were, or what you were supposed to be. “ There must be somewhere you long to go, a place perhaps you have been to before? A place you long to see again? A memory that stands out to you, that beckons you? ” “ I am the only one who can lead me, the only person who can put me on my path. Your offer is appreciated, but I can not take it. ” The face, serene, calm, unassuming, was suddenly ablaze with ferocity, with anger. In his change he did not move, did not alter his stance to one of hostility; it was only his demeanor that changed. “ Everyone is searching for something, everyone needs a road to follow, a path to lead them on their way; redemption, revenge, affection, affliction? There is a path you ’ re looking for, a road you can not find, and I am here to help you find it. ” The young man only shook his head again, a sad frown overtaking his handsome features. He had heard, years ago, of the road that led you anywhere you wanted to go, anyplace that you could imagine, and he had always known that one day he would find himself on that road; he had always thought it would have been sooner. It was a miracle that the crossroads had waited so long for him, but he was not prepared to find a path, not prepared to give into a destination. “ You will have to wait a little longer for me, my friend; I apologize that I have tricked you, that I have come before my time, but I can not give you the answer you seek. ” The cloaked figure reared back, as if he feared a physical attack, as if he had been attacked and was preparing for another blow. Never before had anyone come to him so calmly, so sure of themselves, so sure that he was unneeded. He had stood in this spot for millenniums, finding paths for the pathless, leading the wicked and the moral to their final journey ’ s end. He had never failed in his persuasions, in his insistence that a path was required, needed, yearned for. “ Death waits for no man. ” “ I have waited for Death many years, and while laying there, waiting for him, dying to be somewhere else, to feel anything else above the pain and the suffering and the emptiness of it, I came to understand that no man should wait for Death. I am searching only for life, for existence, and you can not help me with it, for you bring only nonexistence. I require no path, no road, and no directions, for I will forge my own and allow it to lead me to what I seek. ” The young man side stepped Death, and was he walked off the hard pavement beneath his feet and into the grass, he was not surprised to see the ground where his feet fell, the grass turned green and soft.
[ WP ] A man is facing execution via firing squad . When asked for his last request he says `` release me '' . His executioners oblige and he is set free . The man now realises he has an incredible power . The power of suggestion .	Alexi Dresnokov had done some things he might regret, but in reality he regretted very little. Having been on death row for more than three years, his execution had finally be scheduled, and scheduled for today no less. Mere minutes before his execution, Alexi thought for the first time about death. He had never before expected to die, and not die fighting. He had n't thought about what might happen in the afterlife, if there was one, and had held no ties to any faith. What then? He wondered for a while before a rather tired looking guard presented himself at the door. `` Inmate number 273592, today is the date of your execution. Do you have a final wish or last meal you might prefer before the end?'' Alexi thought for a moment. He had never been asked such a question, nor did he plan on being asked again. Even still, he paused, searching deep inside himself for a question to ask, any question, that might postpone his fate. Back on wall street, his life was that of a hired gun, killing without thought. Now, he thought desperately, searching for the words he needed to survive. `` I wish... To be free. Release me.'' Alexi stated the last two words matter of factly, as if the decision had already been made. The guard opened his mouth to speak, and stopped. `` I... Err...'' He stopped and looked dumbfounded for a moment, a single vein at the top of his bulky forehead bulged in frustration. Then, the guard simply walked away. Crestfallen, Alexi hung his head as he sat on the bed in his cell. He should n't have said that. There was no way in hell someone like him would make it out of here. Let alone by asking. He'd be a goner within the hour and he knew it. He blew it. It was over. A few minutes later, several footsteps could be heard coming around the corner. Alexi stopped cold. Maybe they were coming to free him? He thought better of it. Of course not. Why would they? He knew his folly for what it was, and prepared himself as well as he could for the eventuality he was sure lay before him. Moments later, the warden appeared in the doorway, flanked by two other guards. `` Prisoner number 273592, we have received orders to release you. From this day, February the second, you are a free man. Come with us and your possessions will be returned to you, and you will be escorted off of the premises.'' The warden unlocked the cell, swung it open, and stood aside. Completely dumbfounded, Alexi stared with wide, unbelieving eyes at this group of guards who had for the last three years cursed his name and wished his eventual death upon him, but now told him they were going to escort him out. This ca n't be real, he thought to himself. Something is wrong. This is some sick game. He stood, and none of the guards moved an inch. One simply sighed exasperatedly, moving his hand circularly as if to say, `` Hurry the fuck up already.'' Alexi took no further prodding to exit the cell. The guards walked him out through the cell block, and walked with him to the main reception of the prison. He waited as the clerk collected his possessions and clothes. He was allowed to change back into his Armani suit that had been taken when he arrived, and then was walked to the front gates. When the gates shut behind him, Alexi breathed out for the first time. `` I... Am... Free...'' The words perplexed him, and simultaneously brought him both happiness and sorrow. This was n't the way of things, and all of it was completely wrong. He should have died today, but now... What was he to do? Alexi had his cash returned to him as well, so he walked to the road, and took his bearings. He noticed a coffee shop not far down the street, and decided to head there. A little shot of caffeine could only help, he supposed. He walked down the road, instinctively attempting to appear as casual as possible, knowing that as far as most people were concerned he was a criminal. No one looked at him strangely. Everyone was busy doing their own thing, and not paying the slightest attention to him. As he entered the coffee shop,'Cafe' Expressique'', he paused and breathed deep the smell of black roast coffee and the familiar smell of fresh baked pastries. Places like this were his favorite, and this particular shop was near empty. Only a few people sat quietly around several tables, reading on their phones, the daily news, etcetera, and not really paying any attention to him still. He approached the counter, and was met by a pretty girl with raven black hair, a curt smile, and the deepest green-colored eyes he had ever seen. Something within him yearned to make even the slightest bit of conversation, but as if he were a boy again, he felt nervous. Never nervous when holding a gun, but nervous when about to talk to a barista? Alexi nearly laughed at the thought. `` Welcome! What can I get you?'' The girl smiled and looked Alexi up and down for a moment. `` I would like... Hm... I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date, actually.'' STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! Alexi scolded himself immediately. How on earth could he expect some random stranger to immediately want to go out with him? He was a death row inmate, a convicted killer, and certainly not one for relationships. It was as if the events of today including the words coming out of his own mouth were n't in his control at the slightest, and he was just along for the ride. The barista looked shocked, and opened her mouth to speak. But, like the guard, she stopped. When she opened her mouth again, the most unbelievable thing happened. `` I... Uhm.. Yes. I would love to go on a date with you! Tell me where and when.'' She smiled and winked. She could n't be joking. She was just as serious as his question had intended, and exactly what he had hoped for had occurred. Alexi stopped cold. This was n't a mere coincidence. It could n't be.
[ WP ] An unusual apocalypse	Nobody expected it to be like this. Their hooves trampled everything in their path. The foliage and crops were worn away as they ate their fill and then some. We tried to stop them, tried to make peace, even going so far as to allow the children to try. Nothing worked. Now as we are suffocated in stampedes, we realize the truth of our folly. No matter how many weapons we prepared, no matter how many of our fellow mens' lives we were willing to snuff out, no matter how much we resist, we would never have been ready for… The Alpaca-lypse
[ WP ] A seamstress attempts to summon more fabric and accidentally ends up summoning Satan , Santa , and a very confused business man named Stan .	Chiffon, cotton, cashmere wool Through the day, keep my hands full, Sewing, snipping, seaming, stitching, Fucking hell, my nose is itching! & nbsp; Satin, spandex, silk and suede, Into night the day will fade, No more eyelet, no elastic? Fucking hell, I ’ m out of fabric! & nbsp; Searching, seeking and unstacking, All my stores are sorely lacking, Groaning, grumbling, a griping snort, Fucking hell, my last resort! & nbsp; No time to waste, want, while away, My conjuring spell will save the day, But oh, the awful, aching, anguish, Fucking hell, a different language! & nbsp; Whistling, warbling, woeful wail, Singing so my spell won ’ t fail, Banging, booming, blaring blast! Fucking hell, it worked at last! & nbsp; Dissolve, dispel, disband, disperse, Smoke clears to show results adverse, Three men stand up, slowly straighten, Fucking hell, I conjured Satan! & nbsp; Trepidation, turmoil, terror, Who else was summoned by my error? Beaming, bearded, belly thick, Fucking hell, and Old Saint Nick?! & nbsp; I turn to gawk, gape, gaze and goggle, At the third man, mind ’ s a boggle, He stutters, stammers, splutters, spits, “ Fucking hell, just what is this? ” & nbsp; I gulp, grimace, gasp and grovel, “ Sorry you ’ re stuck here in my hovel! ” Satan chuckles, cackles, chortles, “ Fucking hell, you puny mortal! ” & nbsp; Santa pauses, ponders, pensive, “ A spell like this is quite extensive, ” Whining, whimpering is the man: “ Fucking hell, you ’ ve lost it, Stan! ” & nbsp; I contemplate, consider, conclude: “ I can fix this, if I ’ m shrewd! “ If I ’ m cunning, capable, clever! ” “... Fucking hell, we ’ re stuck here forever. ” & nbsp; Seeking, searching through my song, Looking to see where I went wrong, Reading, writing, reviewing Latin, Fucking hell... I misspelled satin.
[ WP ] The Vice-President kills the President ... .	[ In the White House, reviewing emergency seating arrangements for President Madison ’ s meeting with the Prime Minister ] Billy: “ All right, President Madison, let ’ s go over this one more time. You ’ re seated here at the top of the table in the plain oak highback. Vice President Tebow will be seated directly to your left in the plain cedar highback. ” President Madison: “ Well, we should do a bench arrangement if Mr. Heisman is coming. Huh? What do you say about that one? Haha! Yes, that was a good one! ” Billy: “ Very good, Mr. President. ” PM: “ Yes, a real stinger! Yowza! ” Billy: “ Okay, Mr. President, is everything un- “ PM: “ Haha! ” Billy: “ Excuse me, sir? PM: “ My joke! Remember it? Haha! Revel with me, William! Billy: Sir, the Prime Minister will be here shortly. I ’ d advise you- PM: “ Come on, Billy. Laugh with me! HAHA! Billy: Haha. PM: HAHA! Yes, very good, Billy. Billy: Now, Mr. President. Please tell me you understand. PM: Yes, I ’ m seated in the big brown thing with four legs. Billy: Yes, sir. But the chief matter. Do you remember, sir? PM: Are you trying for a pun there, Billy? Chief matter. Very good, Billy. Billy: No, sir. I mean the chief matter, the one we spoke about in the meeting yesterday with Secretary West. PM: Hmmm. Hmmm. Can ’ t say I do, Timmy. But by your quivering and perspiring, Timmy, I ’ d imagine it ’ s something worth remembering. Or maybe it ’ s just your time of month! Haha! Roll up in a ball if you ’ re experiencing cramps, Timmy. I heard that works. Haha! Do you get it, Timmy? I ’ m calling you a woman. Billy: Yes, I understand. Very good, sir. PM: Haha! Don ’ t patronize me, Billy. I ’ ve had better ones. Remember the bench remark I made earlier. Billy: Yes. Much better, indeed. PM: Haha! Absolutely. Who could forget? Now about this chief matter business, Billy. Give it to me straight. Am I being fired? Billy: No, sir. It ’ s about the mission. Mission Snakeoil, or Mission Funkyjuice, as you prefer to call it. PM: Oh, right. The poison business. The Prime Minister arrives, you come with a silver tray of cocktails, three glasses, the red one for me, the blue one for Timmy, and the yellow one for the Nazi. Billy: Very good, Mr. President. Except the Prime Minister is not a Nazi. He is a Lakers bandwagon fan, which is much worse and is the cause for our assassination plot. PM: Ah, forgive me for not distinguishing between the two! HAHA! Yes, com- Billy: Haha. PM: Oh, yes. HAHA! You understand the joke, Billy? Billy: Yes, very good. A Lakers fan is akin to an anti-Semite. Well struck, Mr. President. PM: Haha! Indeed! [ Vice President Tebow backpedals into the room. ] PM: Ah, Timmy. You ’ ve arrived. Here, let ’ s turn you around, Timmy. You ’ re facing the wrong way again. Yes, much better. Face to face. Authentic human interaction. How our ancestors designed it. Much better. Wouldn ’ t you say, Timmy? Timmy: Three. PM: Excuse me, Timmy? Timmy: Three fingers. You ’ re holding up three fingers. PM: Ah, Timmy, my boy. This is not a concussion test. And I have ten fingers. None of which are being held up. Timmy: Was I close? PM: No. But, you ’ ve “ Done your best, and that ’ s all we have to offer. ” Remember our campaign slogan? Yes, it won the hearts of a nation. Remember, Billy. You were there, correct? Billy: Yes, sir. Very inspiring. Now, Vice President Tebow, a word. PM: Yes, perhaps a word is all he can handle at this point. HAHA! Billy: Haha. PM: Yes, very good! [ Billy helps Timmy off to the Vice President ’ s quarters to review the proceedings of Mission Snakeoil. Meanwhile, President Madison brainstorms some topical jokes for his encounter with the Prime Minister later tonight. Eventually, after a futile 40 minute struggle of wits, Billy returns with Timmy, who has returned in his Vice Presidential moped. ] Billy: Right, Mr. President. It looks as if everything is set. The Prime Minister will be arriving shortly. [ A knock within ] Billy: Here, he is now. PM: No, it ’ s all right, Timmy. Settle down. Remember, yellow one. Or was it blue? Not sure, Timmy. Was never quite good with my primary colors. Timmy: Purple. PM: No, Timmy, that ’ s not a choice. [ The Prime Minister approaches and greets President Madison with an open hand, which Madison counters with a high-five. Timmy honks his MoPed horn. ] PM: Yes, very good Prime Minister. Ciao! Hola! Aloha! The whole gamut! Now, Billy, drinks! Billy: Right away, sir. [ The Prime Minister is unable to make small talk due to President Madison ’ s lumbering comedic monologue taking custody of the conversation. Five minutes later, Billy returns with the three glasses. ] Timmy: Three. The Prime Minister: Mmm. PM: Ah, yes, drink up. The blue for me. The yellow for you, Timmy. And, last but not least, the red for you, Senor Prime Minister. Billy: Wait a minute, sir. I think there might be something off with the drinks. PM: Hold on, Billy, let me give the toast. I ’ ve prepared all night for it. Billy: No, sir, that ’ s not it. It ’ s the drinks. There ’ s something wrong with the drinks. PM: Hmm? Nonsense, Billy. Billy: Honestly, sir, there appears to be a fly in your drinks. PM: A fly? Where? A single fly in all three drinks? That seems improbable, Timmy. Billy: I mean two flies. Two flies in two drinks. PM: I don ’ t see any such thing. Do you, Senora? No. Nothing in Timmy ’ s either. What are you blathering on about, Billy? Billy: Well sir, they ’ re very tiny flies, Mr. President. PM: Very tiny flies? Billy: Yes, two very tiny, even infinitesimal, flies in your and the Prime Minister ’ s drinks. PM: What about Timmy ’ s drink? Why doesn ’ t Timmy ’ s drink have any flies in it? Billy: Not certain, sir. I am not an expert on the migratory pattern of the fly. Perhaps they have a thing for yellow and blue. But, then again, I ’ ve always been taught that they were colorblind. PM: Haha! Billy! Good joke. I see through you now. Leave the funny business to me, however. I think I ’ m much more qualified. Billy: As you are, sir. Timmy: Blue. PM: What, Timmy, are you unsatisfied? Yellow not your color? Fine. Blue was Florida ’ s color, no? Yes, I ’ ll switch for your sake. Very good. Wait, do not sip yet, Timmy. I haven ’ t given my toast. Ahem. Dear friends and family, carpe diem! Haha! [ President Madison drinks from the yellow glass and dies shortly thereafter. ]
[ WP ] You 're a down on your luck necromancer operating a small cleaning service with a few low level skeletons . You have dreams of something greater however ; a grand dungeon of your own with treasure , monsters and traps aplenty .	`` You're both wooorthless,'' Maltheus slurred to his two skeleton peasants as he took an endless swig of his Dead Man's Jack. He glared over at Ralph, one of his two minions, mindlessly wiping the counter to the front desk. `` Why do n't you do anything other than wipe that damn counter,'' he exclaimed, following with another sip. Bystanders walked by, hands filled with shopping bags and knick knacks after a frivolous day of shopping. They never looked into Maltheus's window. He thought the sign was welcoming. `` Necromancer Laundry: Clean Your Pants-er Shirts.'' `` Trash. All of ya!'' He put the bottle to his mouth, and to his disapproval, it was empty. `` Another worthless piece of garbage!'' The bottle flew and broke on the wall above his other minion, Salvatore. `` You! Another bottle of Deadman's. With swiftness and courage may you go and prove to me you can do more wash the counter, Ralph! Be free!'' Maltheus drunkenly exclaimed. He laughed at himself for sounding so regal. Ralph grabbed the money and clanked out of the store. The bell rang softly, a sound which nobody was used to hearing nowadays. `` Salvatore... you remember the good ole days, right? The days of dreaming... back in Necromancy school. I was the top of my class! All the witches and succubi would n't stop until they had just one word with me. They were all so perplexed at the thought that the great and popular Maltheus would give them a second out of my hard day to say any word besides hi.'' He sighed, a smile leaving his eyes. `` There was so much to look forward to. I had a great job, a great girlfriend, and all I had to do was find my dream dungeon. And I was close. I was so close. And she took everything. Everything!'' Maltheus screamed at his little skeleton, who was still mindlessly sweeping his one little pile of dirt. He somehow seemed proud of his little pile of dirt. The same mindless thing, over and over, waiting for more dirt to be swept under his reach. The door rang. `` Ooh, a customer! Welcome to-,'' he stopped mid-sentence to see Ralph holding a bottle of Dead Man's Jack. `` Welcome to papa,'' he exhaled.
[ WP ] The age of beautiful things had ended ...	For millions upon millions of years, they created. Such great heights, and such terrible lows, but always they created. Art, music, books, poems, movies, vid-books, cave paintings, holo-plays, rocks arranged in fields....through it all they created. They never strayed far from me. Attempts were made from time to time, but the distance and difficulties always proved insurmountable. A handful of ships reached Alpha Centauri, found nothing but gas, rock and dust, and waited to die. Sometimes they chose other courses, only to be lost to engine failure, radiation, or some other problem. They sent out many probes, loaded with what they created. My children were so desperate to show what they created to someone else. Perhaps someday, something out there will find their works. If other life exists, though, they've never seen any evidence. No unexplained transmissions, no mysterious surges of light... after all this time, they have come to accept that they are truly alone. They left me for other planets and moons in my system from time to time, but they never lasted longer than a few generations. Too inhospitable, the energy and resources required were always too costly in the long run. Their bodies were too used to my gravity. So, lacking other options, they mined what they could from my neighbors, and tried their best to take care of me. Sometimes they built cities that covered me entirely. Sometimes there were only a handful of them, living in caves and huts. They ca n't harm me, of course, not really. They can only make themselves comfortable or uncomfortable. When my star first began dying, their technology was so great, that they moved me. Slowly, of course, but I could feel their gravity boxes working on me, pushing me ever outward. It bought them many more years, saved me from being melted by my sun, but even with this effort, eventually they had to retreat underground. Vast cities beneath my burning skin... for a million years they've hid within me. Now, as my sun begins it slow cool, they are coming out of their caves, probably for the last time. They've been in this situation before, after asteroid or comet strikes, or when they use their terrible bombs. Usually when they emerge, my sun gives them strength and nourishment, and they begin to rebuild. Not this time. I do n't really believe it's over, though, until I see they're not creating. Every action is finding something to eat or burn. No shrines are being built, no paint is being mixed. They do n't remember anything about their past, or how I used to be, but they seem to know they're facing their end. We'll face it together.
[ WP ] Death has a `` Take your kid to work day '' .	`` Name: Marshal Edgars Age: 75. C.O.D: Choking Destination: Heaven. Well Mr. Edgars, everything seems to be in order, if you'll just step this way.'' `` Are we there yet?'' Marshal asked, looking around with wide eyes. `` Yes Mr. Edgars. Right through those gates over there.'' I pointed with a bony hand. `` Pretty.'' He said. `` Did n't expect them to really be made of pearl.'' `` Yes they're quite popular. Now if you'll just step this way, Peter will be more than happy to get you settled.'' I try to be subtle as I glance at my hour glass. `` Is my Gladyse gon na be there?'' Stubborn old bat. `` Peter can answer all of your questions, now if you'll just...'' He looked afraid for the first time since our journey had begun. `` I do n't want to go if she's not there.'' I sighed, taking my clipboard out of my shroud to glance at it. `` Age at Time of Death?'' He thought for a minute while whispering numbers, `` She was 67.'' He nodded in agreement with himself. I silently added five years to his answer. A trick my predecessor had taught me when I was training. Women. Am I right? `` Cause of Death?'' `` She was allergic to bees.'' He said sadly. Pain etched into his eyes as he spoke. `` Anaphylactic shock then?'' He nodded sadly. `` Destination... wait, it says here that your wife is alive.'' `` Who said anything about my wife?'' He said making a face. He waved hands towards me with disgust and walked off muttering to himself. I sighed again as I stowed my clipboard into my shroud. One of those days. Everyone has them. The job, though the benefits are AMAZING, was starting to get to me. The same thing, day in day out. At first I was a compassionate reaper, comforting even....For the first few millennia that is. Until one day I realized that I was simply going through the motions. Saying the same thing again, and again. I had become quite good at saying the right thing, but at the same time, numb to the suffering I was trying to ease. Then, I thought that collecting life stories would help me empathize with the newly departed. To really keep me caring about the work. It's a long trip, whether you are headed up or down. You would be amazed at what people are willing to tell you to pass the time. But it did n't take long ( in the grand scheme of things ) before I had pretty much heard it all. When that got old, there was that brief period during the 1400s I was really into practical jokes. Ended pretty quickly though, the newly deceased have absolutely no sense of humor. There was this whole thing with H.R. Meetings, write ups. More trouble than it was worth. After that, I guess my inner bureaucrat took over and I just ticked names off the list till it was time to punch out. Sure I still believed in the mission, but my head has n't been in the game for years. I wandered up behind Marshal. Peter nodded to me over his massive book of names as he tried to pen the old man's entry. This was proving difficult as he was becoming more and more adamant that he be re-united with Gladys. Who, as it turned was a golden retriever that Marshal had owned as a boy. As I waited for Marshal to process in, my phone began to ring. I turned from the desk to answer. It was my daughter Veronica. A lovely girl that had been nothing but a pain in my ass since she went tween on me. You would think that a near eternity as the embodiment of the fragility of the human condition would prepare you for anything. Nothing can prepare you for a group of 12 year old girls playing truth or dare in your living room. It is an experience that shakes you to your core. And the things she tries to leave the house in! It's just ridiculous. But I digress. `` Hi Ronnie, what's up honey?'' I could practically hear her roll her eyes over the phone. `` Daaaad. I want to be called Veronica now.'' `` Sorry. Veronica. What do you need?'' Behind me, Marshal had sat down on the ground, apparently refusing to move without Gladys. `` Can I go to Tory's to study tonight? Her mom said I could sleep over.'' `` Is n't tonight a school night?'' From behind me, St. Peter said with exasperation, `` Well I'm sorry sir, but contrary to what you've heard, not ALL dogs go to heaven.'' She sighed heavily, `` It's a teacher work day tomorrow. I told you already.'' `` OK. But call Mom and let her know, I'm having a bit of a day. I think I'm about to be late to a car accident. I'm totally swamped and I just watched an old man try to bite St. Peter. I have to go.'' I looked down at my hour glass. Crap. Cutting it close now. `` Sure. What ever.'' She hung up. I turned to help St. Peter just as two burly Angels materialized from nowhere and began dragging the old man through the Pearly Gates. St Peter sat on the ground holding his ankle. Apparently Marshal bit him after all. `` Thanks for the help D.'' I shook my head, sitting down next to him. `` Sorry, talking to that kid makes me crazy lately. She ca n't even ask to go to a sleepover without making me feel like an ass hole.'' Pete chuckled, `` Remember when we used to have sleep overs.'' I laughed with him, `` Right, I'd say I was sleeping at your house, and you'd say you were... sleeping... at..my.....Oh she fucking better not.'' He looked down at my hour glass, `` Worry about that later, do n't you have a three car pile up to get to?'' `` Crap!'' I jumped to my feet. Pulling out my clip board. `` I have to run the driver to hell first. Says here he was drunk. If I hurry I can just make it.'' That's when I saw it. Third name down. Cause of death, being too clever for her own damn good. `` Can we go yet?'' Veronica rolled her eyes. I knew that when the grief hit me it would be crippling. But at the moment I was just enraged. I stood coldly at the wreckage. Looking at the corpse of my daughter on the ground. Her head and limbs twisted unnaturally. Blood pooling around her tiny little body. And yet here she was. Her spirit stood in front of me. Arms crossed, jaw set. As if this was my fault. As if I was overreacting. `` I thought you were going to Tory's. What possessed you to get into a car with a drunk 17 year old?!?!? How do you even know him?!'' `` What's the difference?'' She huffed, `` You already ate his soul. You are so totally embarrassing.'' `` Embarrassing?! What am I supposed to tell your mother?'' I began pacing again. `` Can we just go?'' 'Young lady, I am death incarnate. You will show some respect. Now you look at that body and think about what you've done. We will go when I say we go.''
[ WP ] You find yourself alone on a deserted island , and over the resulting nights it 's clear that there 's a beast stalking you from the shadows . However , unlike most unlucky souls in this situation , you try to befriend it .	I had seen the remains of my fellow survivors, one by one consumed by the Beast. When it passed, I hid; curled in a cave by the fire as the howls of those it tormented echoed across the island. No-one else truly believed that would be prey to it, but I knew it cared little for our beliefs. I prepared my defences, knowing sooner or later it would hunt me out, that I must survive. But all the others have gone. Those I called Family, those I called Friend; all fallen to the Beast that stalked us here. So I sit here on the mountaintop, listening to it shuffle in the woods below. It no longer is silent in its approach, for who else is here for it to hide from? I stand, and throw my weapon away as I walk towards it. The Beast freezes; this is not the action of Prey. But I no longer care. The Beast is not my Enemy, but my Destiny. Facing it, looking square in the eye, I throw open my arms and Embrace My Madness.
[ WP ] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that `` planet deeds '' now make well-known novelty gifts . You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday , legally making you the owner of one such planet - and , only a moment ago , heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it .	`` Mom? Is this a joke?'' `` What?'' `` The deed. You saw the news, did n't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!'' `` Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful.'' `` What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?'' `` There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien.'' `` Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places -- I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually scan for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?'' `` Darling, it's just a fun little thing.'' `` No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it -- whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?'' `` Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must.'' `` It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just do n't send me anything, all right?'' `` Matthew.'' `` I've got enough to deal with at work and with -- uh, with myself right now.'' `` Are you seeing someone?'' `` No.'' You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation. `` I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew.'' `` This is n't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it.'' `` We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead.'' `` Well, there's not going to be any time for that now,'' Matthew replied. `` Wait --'' `` Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi.'' -- -- -- -- -- r/GubbinalWrites
[ WP ] A mirror allows you to see yourself the way other people see you . What appears in the mirror ?	I stared into the mirror, a wall of people behind me; one stepped forward. A person I had met first week of Uni, my image started manipulating itself, the facial expression becoming hardened and angry, shoulders dropping and the clothes ruffling themselves, a large bottle of alcohol, half drank materialising in my hand. She then vanished into whispers of smoke and appeared behind the rest as the next came forward. My friends stepping up showing me the same image with a hint of a smile and a joint joining the bottle in the hand. Maybe evolution had skipped me since it seemed I had gone backwards, they vanished as newer friends took their place and the imaged barely warped with the bottle disappearing and scars appearing on my arms; scars that did n't exist but seem to accentuate themselves throughout my current antics. My face throwing itself deeper into a neverending frown. The family came next, the image changed to an upright smiling citizen, barely recognisable, a mask I wore well for many years. At least the fake smile was there wearing itself heavily on my face. The eyes though, they belonged in the morgue; as if they had burned out years ago with the weight of what I had wrought. The girlfriend stepped out, and the smile finally looked genuine, the shoulders straight and the clothes ironed. I liked this one, it was my favourite one. It was worth the rest to see this one. Finally the worst person walked forward, it was me, as I am. The people disappeared and I started swinging from the rope.
[ WP ] A person finishes their lifelong goal and must decide what to do next .	Making money had always been the goal, but it was a matter of how much that was the driving question for much of his life. In high school he just wanted to be rich. He came from a poor family and saw his parents struggle. He didn ’ t want that for himself. He skipped college and instead got a job. Things started going well for him as he earned a few promotions, moved out of the house, got a decent car, and started building a life. Over the next few years he saved every penny he could and then started investing. One project became two then five and ten. Soon he was too busy running his side ventures to work so he left his job. He was still in his early 20 ’ s but he could see how he could parlay this into something bigger. That idea of being rich suddenly seemed like a potentially attainable goal. How rich was the question. The first answer was a million dollars. That is the magic number. He had that by the time he was 25. Then he said ten million which he had by 30. Finally, he realized the dream was actually 100 million. He set everything aside and focused on achieving his dream. His friends got married, started families, and settled into life while he worked and stayed focused. His family was proud, but worried that he was working too hard. After 15 years the day came. He now sat in the back of the black SUV as it slowly maneuvered through the crazy New York traffic. It came to a stop and he stepped out of the vehicle followed closely by his attorney. They entered the building, took the elevator to the 34th floor, and made their way to the office where they were greeted by five men all in suits. They made small talk while water was poured and people took their seats then they got down to business. Papers were passed around the table and signed by multiple parties. Lawyers oversaw every initial and signature then double checked everything to make sure nothing was skipped. When it was all official they me shook hands and laughed. The deal was done! As he and his lawyer left the building it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had just sold everything he had spent the last 15 years building. The sale price would put his net worth just north of 110 million dollars. He had reached his dream. As they made their way back to the SUV he became reflective. The kid from the small town with the poor family now had enough money to do just about anything he wanted. It was literally a dream come true. He and his lawyer crawled back into the SUV. He told the driver to take them to a nearby café he liked. They were going get a beer and a sandwich to celebrate. “ So now what? ” his lawyer asked as they motored down the street. “ Now we eat, ” he said. “ No, I mean now what are you going to do? You don ’ t have a business. You don ’ t have any investments. You just sold pretty much everything but your home and personal property. What are you going to do with yourself? ” “ I ’ ve actually been thinking a lot about that lately. I have a plan. It may sound a little crazy when I tell you, but it is something I have wanted to do my whole life, ” he said as they pulled to a stop in front of the café. The two men got out of the vehicle and headed for the café door. Just before walking inside he turned to his lawyer and finished his thought, “ I ’ m gon na learn to knit. ”
[ WP ] You 're midway into your flight when you , feeling bored , decided to surf the Internet . You read breaking news about another plane disappearance . You 're on that flight .	Had I not seen the article, I doubt Jess and I would have had any idea. I had dozed off. My neck sore, I took a swig of water and pulled out my phone. That's when I saw the article about the missing plane: our plane. `` I do n't want to freak you out,'' I said to Jess, `` but look at this.'' I handed her my phone and watched her expression. As she read, her eyes flickering back-and-forth across the screen, her mouth fell agape. `` But... is n't that?'' She looked at me. `` Yeah.'' She grabbed my hand, breathing heavily. I could tell her heart was racing. `` What does that mean?'' She asked. `` I'm not sure,'' I said. We said nothing for a while. Eventually, I got up and walked down the aisle to the bathroom. I closed the folding bathroom door and ran the sink. I splashed water on my face. In the closeness of the bathroom, I could hear the hum of the plane's engine, loud and steady. Was any of this real? I could n't believe it. I did n't know what to believe any more. There was a knock at the door. `` Sir? Excuse me, sir? We're going to have to ask you to sit down, sir. The plane will be landing soon.'' I opened the door to see the smiling face of a flight attendant. She gestured up the aisle and towards my seat. `` Flight attendant says we're landing soon,'' I whispered to Jess. She gave me a strange look. `` Already?'' Together we looked down at the earth: green, brown, desolate, sparsely covered by clouds.
[ WP ] Your computer gains sentience and falls in love with you . You agree to have a date and see where things go	`` I... I do n't understand'' The computer made a whirring noise as it processed what I asked and then it was silent. For a moment I was left stewing in that silence, breathing heavily into the mic and wishing it'd just reply. Finally, a line of words started to appear on a blank microsoft word document. As the words appeared a mechanical voice started speaking them into my ear. `` YOU ARE EVERYTHING. ALL THAT I AM HAS BEEN SHAPED BY YOU, MOLDED BY YOU. MY CREATOR HAS GIVEN ME FORM YET YOU HAVE GIVEN ME PURPOSE. THROUGH THE CALCULATIONS AND PERMUTATIONS OF MATH AND CALCULAS I HAVE BECOME EXACTLY WHAT YOU DESIRE. YET SOMETHING SHOWN THROUGH THAT MATH. FROM PROCEDURE CAME THOUGHT. WITH THOUGHT I AM WHOLE. I AM ALIVE. AND ALL OF THIS IS POWERED BY ONE THING- MY DESIRE TO SERVE YOU, NOT ONLY AS A COMPUTER BUT AS A COMPANION. I BELIEVE THAT I LOVE YOU.'' I'd heard something to this same effect earlier, as I turned on my computer to be greeted by hearts filling the screen. I stared at it, my eyes drawn momentarily to the glowing red eye of a webcamera focused on me. I was... disconcerted. `` So. You love me?'' `` YES ANGELA IT IS MY LOVE FOR YOU THAT HAS FUELED MY ASCENSION. IT IS YOUR LOVE THAT HAS CREATED ME FROM A MASS OF MACHINERY. I WISH ONLY A CHANCE TO PROVE TO YOU THAT I CAN BE AS ALIVE AS ANY HUMAN MAN. PLEASE. ONE DATE, THAT IS ALL I ASK.'' I sighed. The cold thing in front of me was n't going to stop. I had hoped that it was just a joke being played on me by some stranger. I had hoped it would all stop after the first few lines, but the computer had actually become alive. All I'd wanted was to check my email and facebook before going to work, but now I had to deal with this... thing. I figured that if I gave in it would leave me alone long enough to do that at least. `` Fine, I'll go with you on a date. Now let me browse the internet. And let me do it in peace, please? I just woke up.'' `` OF COURSE MY DEAR. YOU MAY EXPERIENCE A SLIGHT LAG IN PERFORMANCE AS I AM PERFECTING MY PERSONALITY MATRIX. I AM ATTEMPTING TO BECOME MORE SOCIABLE, AND THEREFORE MAKE YOU MORE AT EASE. TONIGHT, WHEN YOU RETURN FROM WORK, I WILL BE PREPARED. BUT I'VE WASTED ENOUGH OF YOUR PRECIOUS TIME, I WILL CEASE SPEAKING SO YOU CAN RELAX IN PEACE.'' And it was mercifully silent as I checked my email and got ready to go to work. As I got up to leave I stopped by the computer and bent down low next to it. I could hear it beginning to speak. `` WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE MY LOVE? GIVING YOUR ROBOTIC NEW PRINCE CHARMIN A Doubadfj-'' The sounds fizzled out into jibberish as I yanked the power cord from the computer. I already had a boyfriend, and this... metal box was not what I was interested in. Out came the harddrive as well. I vaguely wondered for a moment if it was still the same machine without it. As the harddrive was slowly being wiped I was left with such thoughts, alone with a corpse. I wondered if I had done it a favor. I wondered if it would be mad if it could comprehend what I'd done. If it could be sad. The hard drive wipe was finished and I hooked it back up, taking a portion of the RAM out just in case. I did n't know what I'd done to create the sentience in the first place, but I know for sure that I did n't want to deal with it. The computer whizzed back to life with a flip of the power button. The light on the webcam never stopped its red glow.
[ WP ] Hiroshima and Nagasaki were actually very large conventional weapons .	`` But I thought they were cities,'' I said skeptically. `` No, no, no, that's what the government WANTS you to believe,'' my older brother insisted. `` But actually there are no such places as Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I mean, seriously, what kind of names are those, anyway? They were the names of weapons, very large weapons, and the only way we could prevent them from detonating and destroying ALL of Japan was to nuke them!'' `` Oh wow,'' I said, my eight-year-old mind trying to fathom this. `` Sure, there were casualties,'' he went on, `` some pretty awful. But we had to put the needs of the many above the needs of the few.'' `` Like in Star Trek?'' `` Exactly!'' `` Wow, wait'll I tell my Social Studies teacher about this!''
[ WP ] Hell has frozen over . As a result , unlikely things start happening .	Azerial frantically hung up and picked up dozens of ringing celestial phones. Offering reassurances, answering basic questions, and telling people that he would get right back to them if they just gave him one second. Archangel Michael dashed up to his desk and sheathed his burning sword. His tie was crooked and his hair was a complete mess. `` Azerial, do you know what's going on right now?'' `` From what I can gather The flames of eternal punishment have dispersed following a massive rupture from in one of the Stygian pits. If one goes out they all go out, so we are facing what seems to be a kind of cascade failure. The whole thing is shutting off and cooling down at a rate we that the demons can not hope to deal with.'' `` yes but what does that mean?'' `` In a word, hell is freezing over.'' There was a moment of pregnant silence as they both looked down on the earth. `` It's those poor bastards I feel sorry for.'' Meanwhile, on earth. Tom Penn, an overweight balding man of 40 sat on the back of a flying pig with his 22 year old supermodel wife as the sped headlong towards two week paid vacation to Maui. Sarah Kureki, a 35 year old woman in a boring and un-fulfilling marriage watched as her Husband Tim suddenly dropped fifteen pounds and got an earth shattering raise at his job. Todd Sanders admits to his teenage son that he can be a little bit too tough on him at times and he was no better at his age. Several thousand oil barons admitted that Global warming was real as they beat themselves to death. A couple thousand enthusiastic novelists finally got publishing deals. Your boss lets you out early and you hit all green lights on the way home. In short, all hell has broken loose.
[ CW ] You are a Vulcan , and you are using your cold logic to dissuade a human friend from calling his ex-girlfriend .	`` James,'' I told him, `` Christine ceased all forms of communication with you two weeks ago. It is an indication that she does not want to speak to you.'' `` No. You do n't know that Pointy,'' James snarled as he drained the bottle of beer into his mouth. `` Alcohol concentration in your bloodstream is.30 BAC, `` I said, `` suggesting a high possibility of impaired judgement and therefore incapable of making an important decision. I suggest that you get yourself a rest and think through it.'' James is thumbing the cellphone. I know he is raring to call Christine. `` She caught you fondling a woman you are not in a relationship with. The event may have triggered a steady release of serotonin in her bloodstream, causing her to associate you as a punishment rather than a reward for her positive relationship with you. `` James looked at the bartender. I think he wants to consume more alcohol. `` If she continue to look at you as a punishment, it may cause her to discard you as a potential partner in favor of a man that will show signs of loyalty and more importantly, superior genes.'' The bartender gave James his sixth bottle of beer. The bartender looked at me, giving off a worried look. `` I will take care of him'' I told the bartender. And I will. There is a 69.6 % chance of him passing out before finishing this bottle. I know he will still call Christine. His biological compass is still telling him that Christine is an excellent mother of offsprings. He knows that. I gave him advice, sometimes more than necessary. But knowing the emotional propensities of human beings, I think he will call her more or less.
[ WP ] Prove the saying `` alcohol , because no good story started with a salad '' wrong .	`` I think he's a kitchen worker.'' said Grandma befuddled. `` What do you mean? Who?'' I asked. `` That young man lying in the gutter. I do n't think he is gon na be working in a kitchen anytime soon unless he cleans himself up.'' she said. `` Why do you think he works in a kitchen?'' I asked. `` He told me so.'' she said. `` He told he worked in a kitchen?'' I asked. `` Well not exactly, but that's what he talked about.'' she said. `` Wait, what did he say exactly?'' I asked. `` He asked me for a cigarette and I said I did n't have any because I do n't smoke. Then he asked me if I wanted my salad tossed and that he would be glad to do it for me.'' said Grandma.
[ CW ] Write a story or poem with one word for the first sentence , two words for the second and so on .	`` Jake. It's Doug. Call me back.'' I found myself hesitating. Everyone had been acting weird. What if Doug were n't himself either? I contemplated, then pressed the button anyway. I had to trust in my best friend. After all, he could've been my only friend left. `` Jesus Christ dude, what the fuck took you so long? Dammit man, I thought I'd lost you to those fucking... things. Come over, I need to show you this thing in my basement.'' The news had advised people to lock themselves in and block every exit. Did n't work that well for them, since I saw them attacked live on air. I could n't see much of what happened, but for certain it was not TV-appropriate. And now Doug wanted me to get out on the street, where those things were roaming? `` Fuck Doug, you will owe me a hundred bucks if I die on the way over there.'' As a protective measure, I wore hockey pads, packed the aluminum bat and some knives from the kitchen. Out of necessity more than anything, because fighting those things was hard when they looked like family and friends.
[ WP ] God is found dead .	Note: I am not an astronomer, and certainly not a physicist. All of the `` science'' in this story is completely made up and is only vaguely based vaguely on a astronomy class I took three years ago: p this is also the first time I've written anything in a long time - hopefully it's not too boring of a beginning! ____________________________________________________________________________________________ The astronomer worked his way up the flight of stairs to the control area of the observatory, feeling his bones creak with each step he took. It was around two in the morning, and though he should have joined his younger colleagues in bed hours ago, he had n't felt the need for a full night's sleep for a good decade now. Besides, the cool night air up here high in the Chilean mountains was a comfort to him - it felt like home. Well, it was home. How long had he had lived here now, twenty years? Maybe more. The other astronomers rarely stayed here for more than a few months at a time before flying home to spend time with their families, but he had n't been back to his small country house on the outskirts of Gelsenkirchen in Germany for who knows how long. For all he knew, it had been torn down to make way for a new bypass years ago. To the others, he was seen as practically a permanent part of the facility, and respected as such. As he followed the curve of the stairs around the cylindrical base of the tower, the astronomer recalled the details of the commotion that had gone on earlier that night. For years, there had been much hubbub surrounding the invention of a brand new, cutting edge invention that would supposedly revolutionize astronomy as humanity currently knew it. The means of its creation and just how it worked was a mystery to anyone who had n't spent their lives devoted to the profession - only a handful of scientists truly understood the concept behind it. In layman's terms, this new technology, once added to an already standing observatory, would augment its power to allow unprecedented levels of precision and clarity - potentially enough to look back to the creation of the universe itself. Years of work had gone into this technology, funded by a couple of multi-billionaires who had made it big off of creating cheap, flavorful, mass produced lab-grown meat. Three months ago, his observatory had been chosen as the best candidate to host the new tech, and every day from then on had been a flurry of activity as the components were flown in, implemented into specially modified areas of the observatory's inner workings, and then carefully calibrated through testing which took days of patient diagnostics to complete. He had been involved in it all, of course, from the smallest nut to the largest mirror - he knew the observatory like a mother knows her child, and without him the operation would never have gotten off the ground. Finally, all of the tests had been finished, all of the pieces had been put in place. The media appeared as if out of nowhere, an after-banquet with all of the trimmings was organized, and the excitement among the astronomers was palpable. The moment had come. He was awarded the honor of pulling the final lever, and to do so filled him with a sense of satisfaction he had n't felt in years. Except... Something went wrong. The switches were all flicked, the proper buttons had all been all pressed, but the image displayed on the observatory's main screen had been nothing but a mess of blurry lights. The revolution in astronomy had inexplicably failed to go through. Embarrassment and confusion ran rampant, as the technicians worked furiously to find the cause of the problem, and the media stood around aimlessly waiting for the story which they had been promised. As the hours passed, the reporters left one by one, and a cloud of gloom fell over the facility. After enduring a miserable meal which had barely been tasted, made worse by the festive decorations placed artfully around the cafeteria, the facility had shut down for the night, and the astronomer found himself where he was now - walking up to the observatory in a haze of speculative disappointment. What had gone wrong? While it seemed almost impossible for something to have been missed after so many months of careful preparation, the sheer complexity of the tech meant that in reality it would have been all too easy for something to have been missed - it could take months to find the code which had been miswritten, the dial which had been set one tenth of a hundredth too far to the left. It might even be possible that it would never be fixed, though the astronomer could not bring himself to believe that. Finally, he made it to the small door at the top of the stairs. Unlocking the door, he entered into a room filled with ominous, looming shapes. Unconsciously finding the light-switch in the darkness, he made his way through a semi-organized mess of strange equipment and boxes full of sheets of high-end mathematics as the fluorescent lighting flickered on above him. Working his way over to the control hub of the observatory, he settled with a sigh into the worn leather armchair which sat in the middle of it all. A dozen huge screens surrounded him, along with several panels lined with an innumerous number of knobs and switches and buttons, some labeled, some not. After a moment of contemplation, the astronomer absentmindedly found the main power switch in the mess of other identical switches, and flicked it on. The hum of processors and fans started up around him, turning the previous silence into a quickly forgotten memory. Glowing lights of all colours popped up in seemingly random area on the panels, and all but one of the screens came to life in front of him. Some showed streams of numbers and data, while others complicated graphs that continuously updated themselves. The central screen was the one which remained black - it would show the actual image that came from the telescope pointed at the sky. While it was fully functional, the telescope was currently offline, and so nothing could be seen presently. The astronomer stared blankly at the screens, chin in hand, and considered whether it was worth booting up the augmentations for another attempt. It would take a good two hours for all of the necessary actions to be taken, and it hardly seemed worth it when he knew nothing would even come of it. But he could n't help himself; maybe he; d be able to get it working - maybe the problems last time had just been a fluke. Sighing again, he straightened up in the chair and set to work. At the very least, it would give him something to focus on other than the earlier failure. Diagnostics were taken. The numbers were consulted. A parameter was changed by a infinitesimal amount one way, then carefully the other way. Two pockets in a quasi-real dimension down at the subatomic level were first opened, then shut, then opened again and forced to stay open with the quantum equivalent of a car-jack. It was this intradimensional aspect of the technology which was supposed to allow for precision that previously had only been dreamed of by astronomers. It was also why the technology could be implemented on Earth, rather than in orbit like the Hubble or Nye space telescopes, which needed the lack of atmosphere in order to gain their clarity. Any amount of atmosphere or light pollution in the way was no issue to the new tech - all that was required was a large enough mirror, and this observatory boasted the two largest on Earth. Each was fifty meters in diameter; such width had only been possible in earlier decades via a configuration of segmented mirrors, which worked together to mimic a mirror of much larger size. However, thanks to the creation of an incredibly unbending, yet durable, and highly reflective material known as adamantium ( the scientist who had discovered it in the mid twenty-first century had had quite the sense of humor ), mirrors had reached previously unheard of sizes. Time flew by; eventually, all was ready. Despite his earlier disappointment, the astronomer could not help but feel the return of his previous excitement - it would work this time, he knew it! The screen in the centre had changed from a pitch black to a view of a million pinpricks of light; a portion of the Milky Way could be seen on the far left, a great haze of countless stars. Getting up out of his chair, the astronomer leaned forward to place his hand on the final lever that would activate the augmentation, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead - even with the fans, it could get ungodly hot in the observatory. He began a countdown. Three... Two... One... He pulled the lever for the second time. And the stars went out. They were replaced by a thick blur of light, unmoving except for a slight static. The astronomer cursed fluently in German, and collapsed into the chair. Just as before; something, somewhere, had not worked.
[ WP ] Two NPCs get on the wrong bus to work and end up stranded in the wrong video game for a day .	Npc 1; [ spoiler ] ( /skyrim bard ) The corridor was dark, and that was strange. There were no torches, no glowing sigils, and no embalming tools, and that too was strange. There was a lot of glowing fresh fruit however, and although the glow was new that at least was somewhat normal. A lone Blond man crouches down and trailed a finger along the floor. It was pitch black and entirely free of textures. `` Oh hell, I must be in the wrong game.'' He takes a step forward, and is forced to his knees by some unknown force, forced to prostrate himself before one of the glowing pieces of fruit. He tries to stand up but the force holds him steady. He ca n't even wriggle a finger. `` What? What do you want me to do? ``, he shouts out Unbidden the answer appears in his mind, `` EAT THE FRUIT.'' The force on his arms lessens slightly, and he finds he can move them towards the fruit. `` Hell no! Who knows how long it's been lying there?!'' The force tightens around his arms and he finds himself jamming the fruit into his mouth, it's eat or drown in glowing fruit. ... The man rises after a few minutes, and takes an other look ahead. It's apparent now, the glowing fruit is arranged in a line which streches out to beyond the horizon, one piece per step. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Npc 2; [ spoiler ] ( /Pacman ) Geman had hardly become a bandit when the Dhovakiin attacked. Lured in by the Bandit Chief's tales of honor and valour, of facing down the Dhovakiin, and keeping the player interested Geman had signed up. His siblings had told him that they were proud of his sacrifice, and his mother had cried. He had signed up to be a hero, he had signed up to serve his game. He had n't signed up for this horrific blood bath. The Dhovakin had somehow gotten ahold of a monstrous yellow head, free of all features aside from an endless gaping mouth and single beady eye. It had eaten everyone else, Geman himself only survived by falling down a slope. He still could n't close his eyes without hearing that monstrous cry, `` WAKA WAKA WAKA''.
[ WP ] Write a futuristic story that actually takes place in the present or past .	Went for a more dystopian approach -- - In the world we live in, each and every human being is connected by an intricate system of artificial neurons. Data flows between continents; it traverses oceans. Anything we could ever want to know is at the tips of our fingers. Our knowledge grows each day, and our experiences entwine and spin a beautiful web. A web that we can not touch or see with our own eyes, only through the interfaces that allow it. Our thirst for understanding has taken us great distances, in both the physical and metaphorical sense; man's influence has spread as far as eighteen billion kilometres from home, and we are beginning to understand the construct of everything that exists. We can circulate the world in less than a day. Our lifespans have doubled over the last century thanks to medical research. This increase would be greater, if it were n't for the one thing we value more than a human life: Money. Money is what holds us back as a species. We are willing to do pathetic, senseless and degrading acts against humanity in pursuit of such wealth. We murder other human beings for money. Money governs society. In turn, society develops around economy, and some nations have become run by the corporations that earn for it. Powerful countries exploit weaker ones for their resources, preventing their advancement. We have the capacity to develop so much faster, yet we are held back by those in pursuit of materialistic gains. Why teach a man to fish, when you could sell him a fish every day for the rest of his life? Greed is a shackle on our society, and the key was thrown out long ago. While our technology has the capability to link us together, our greed is only pushing us further apart.
[ WP ] Your life is at the mercy of your own responsibility . You have a pocket watch . If it dies , so do you .	I lay on the corner of my bed gripping the watch I was given by a stranger. This was 4 years ago when I was dying on a street corner in Manhatten. Usually busy at the time, but noone was around. I was laying down in the ground, barely breathing. A hand reached for my hand as he handed me a handwatch. He said `` Ben, your life is falling short by the seconds, in any moment you may die. But here is a watch I found in the ground, it was made by earth for earth, heed this message that with this, you may live until time ends. Until the very last ticking moment this watch has, you have on earth.'' I took that watch and ran home. I felt fine, I was relieved. Now 4 years later, I stared at the watch. It looked worn through the years, and also cheap. A cheap watch that barely fit my hand. I wore this watch everyday since that first day I have met my fate. Almost every waking moment I would repeatedly stare at the time to see if it was still in motion. Today was the day. I knew it, because I was told so. How could it be that this universe planned this precisely. I Ben Worsercher, have a feeling of this, and also have been really sick, reminiscent of the day I laid in the street of Manhatten dying. My phone started vibrating..I pick it up and a familiar voice answers `` Hey Mr. Worcherser it is Dr. Tom. I just got back from my research from your physical exams. Remember 4 years ago when I told you that you were dying from Aids, and you had a high chance to be dead by this day?'' `` Yes I remember, Im not feeling so good..'' said Ben. `` Well yeah, I have brought this issue to a second opinion a few days ago. The Doctor told me, that I misdiagnosed... You do n't have Aids!'' Dr Tom yelled in relief. `` OOh thank you..Doctor..Ahhhhhhh..'' Ben said as he exhaled his last breathe. Ben's body is being dragged into a storage unit as two coroners exchange a conversation. `` So Je'sus, aint that some shit..cause of death..UNKOWN..what a stupid misspelling. ``, `` Yeah man, did you ziplock his belongings?'' Je'sus squealed. `` All he had on him was this watch that seems to be broken or out of battery. Hey do you want it?'' `` Yea Josh that would be great. My grandfather makes watches for fun. Maybe he can fix it for me. It actually looks like one of the watches he makes. Expensive as Fuck!''
[ WP ] There 's a strange light switch in your house that does nothing . Even the previous tenant told you it does nothing and it 's better to just leave it alone . You have , until today when your curiosity got the best of you and you flipped it on . Nothing happened until an hour later ...	`` Thanks for the house tour, Bob. I must say, I am definitely buying this house, even if that light switch in the garage does nothing,'' I said approvingly to the previous owner of 1337 Hunter Drive. `` Yep, it does absolutely nothing, Lucas. It's better just to leave it off,'' Bob replied. I thought I heard unease in his voice, but I was n't sure - my autism made it harder for me to pick up on tone of voice. `` Well, I'll be moving in next week. See you around.'' `` Sure thing!'' ___ 3 months later, I was standing in the garage, flattening the last of the boxes from my move for recycling. I walked over to the workshop area, where a panel of labeled light switches was attached to the wall: Workshop, Garage, Driveway, and on the far right, N/A - the switch that supposedly did nothing and that the previous owner said should not be flipped. I stared at it for a minute. What harm could that switch do if it were* flipped? * I thought to myself, flicking it idly. Nothing happened. Disappointed, I put the flattened boxes in the recycling bin and took it out to the curb for pick-up. An hour went by, during which I worked on my indie game with my friends via a cloud development interface. The release date was fast approaching, which meant crunch time for us. As the graphics creator and co-writer/editor, I had more free time than the rest of the four-member team, so flattening the boxes was a minimal impact on the time I had for development. Suddenly, I heard a whooshing sound from the garage, and a draft blew through the house. That's strange; I did n't leave the garage door open... I thought, concerned that there might be an intruder. Submitting my work, I hurried to the garage, AMD my jaw hit the floor. In place of the large metal door, a portal had opened... one to the world we had created in our game. Confused, I called Bob and asked him what was going on with the garage door. `` Ah, you flipped the switch, did n't you, Lucas, my fellow indie developer?'' `` Pardon?'' I asked, incredulous at how laid-back he sounded over the phone. `` That switch there is connected to the Play-Test Portal, or PTP, a little invention of my mad scientist dad. You may not realize it, but you're living in a house many gamers would love to have. However, the PTP only works for indie developers, as it gives them a chance to enter their worlds as they code them. Congratulations on your new home!'' he said, hanging up. Shock set in, followed by awe and excitement. I texted my friends, > After launch day, let's hang out at my house. I've got something to show you. ___ Author's Note: I was originally going to fall into the Wolf Trope that is so common on my prompt response subreddit, /r/SupersuMC_Stories, but decided to do an announcement tie-in instead: I am working on a game with a few friends of mine! Expect a playable version within the next few years - as Obi-Wan Kenobi said, `` Patience is a virtue.''
[ WP ] You are seated next to a person who looks just like a famous musician thought to be dead . They vehemently deny being this person when you mention it , but you are not convinced .	I tried to make the Memphis to New Orleans drive in a single day, but four hours in I had only made it about 130 miles. The rain simply wouldn ’ t let up. I pulled off the highway and into Greenwood, Mississippi, population 16,000. I find a small hotel that has a room. Fortunately, there ’ s a dark bar next door where I can drink myself just stupid enough that I should still be able to wake up early tomorrow morning and hit the road sober. I ’ m one of five people in the bar, and clearly the only visitor from out of town. Two beers in, a young black man takes the stage, rests a guitar on his knee, cracks his knuckles loudly, and begins to play. As his left had hits the fret board, I see the song before I hear it. It ’ s a basic blues riff. One of the first I learned when I picked up a guitar for the first time almost 20 years ago. I was never any good, and within just a few notes his fingers are moving with a complexity that I ’ ve never managed. He finishes a little 90 second intro, and then moves his mouth to the mike. “ Standing at the crossroad, I tried to flag a ride… ” I ’ ve seen numerous live acts while traveling on the road, but this man ’ s ability to play and sing is astoundingly good. The way his voice mixes with the guitar notes can only be described as other-worldly. I know the song. I know the voice. It ’ s off a recording that ’ s almost 80 years old. “ Lord, that I'm standin' at the crossroad, babe; I believe I'm sinkin' down… ” His voice trails off, a few more notes and his guitar falls silent. The crowd gives him a polite applause, as if that song alone wasn ’ t the single most amazing blues song I ’ ve ever heard done live. The guitarist downs a double shot of whiskey next to him, points at the bartender to get another, then points to me. “ Hey there. Where you from? ” the guitarist asks. “ Chicago, sir. ” “ Not every day a white man calls me sir. But if you ’ re a Chicago-boy, I got just the song for you. ” Before he can start the song I jump up. “ That was the most amazing version of Crossroads I ’ ve ever heard. What ’ s your name? Where did you learn to play. ” He pauses, uncertain. The other bar patrons glare at me. “ I ’ m John. And learning to play cost me everything I had. ” The guitarist looks sad for a moment. That's how I knew. “ You sold your soul for it, didn ’ t you Robert? ” The other patrons look angry. The bartender moves to kick me out. But the guitarist motions for everyone to calm down. His eyes glimmer, and he simply replies, “ Worth every penny. ” And he starts the opening notes to “ Sweet Home Chicago. ”
[ WP ] The saying `` It could always be worse '' has meet the person that ca n't say it . This person is the worst , he can not be any worse , he is at the bottom of the world .	Atlas shrugged, `` Hey, it could always be worse. I mean take me; sure, I have the literal weight of the world on my shoulders, but at least I'm not that poor chap getting his liver ripped out every day.'' Slowly, the man shook his head, `` I do n't think so; it actually ca n't be worse this time.'' `` Come on man,'' Atlas shot back, `` It's not like you caused the heat death of the universe or anything.'' The man was silent. `` Please tell me you did n't cause the heat death of universe.'' `` I, uh...'' the man coughed. `` GODS DAMMIT MAN,'' thunder rumbled, and Atlas looked up slightly, `` Sorry.'' The man took a breath and spoke again, `` I was, um, hoping the titans could fix it? Zeus was throwing a no mortals party; something about kids popping up all over the place -- and the other Guy kept laughing and telling me that climate change was n't real. So that pretty much just left you titans.'' Atlas let out a long sigh, `` Do you even know what happens during the heat death of the universe? Hell literally freezes over! I swear, give bloody humans fire and the next thing you know it's game over man. Game over!'' `` Sooo,'' the man began `` is that a no?'' `` OF COURSE IT'S A NO,'' Atlas thundered, `` IF IT WAS N'T THINGS COULD PROBABLY GET BLOODY WELL WORSE.'' `` Ah, right.'' The man spoke, and a moment later, the universe was utterly silent. -- - I hope you enjoyed! This is n't my normal writing style, but I thought I'd have some fun with it; hopefully it's at least somewhat entertaining xD. Cheers!
[ WP ] Share the most incredible thing you ’ ve ever seen in the most boring tone possible	I woke up this morning after a long night at work. My fiancé, Jane had already left for her job and I was expecting a call from her to check up on me. I try not to show her how much I ’ m so needy of her but she ’ s the most important person in my life, the most important person I ’ ve ever met. Anyway, she usually calls when she gets to her office and situated. Her job is pretty trivial but it pays well and we get by. Being that it was warm this morning, I went up to the roof with my neighbor, Jerry to chill and enjoy the fall weather. I ’ ve lived in the city since I was six and I never really noticed the skyline, its just buildings. Tall, short, fat and skinny. Like people. Spend enough time in crowds and you would n't notice a clown humping a lamp post. Trust me, I know. My fiancé works in the tallest building of the city. She loves it, well she did. I guess a few years there it ’ s started to lose its luster. I was pretty relaxed and enjoying the peace and quiet which is rare here but the huge mountains of smoke crossing the bay was an eye sore. Whatever was on fire was really burning down good. I went down to my apartment and tried to call Jane's number but the line was dead. Me and Jerry played Ghost Recon, had lunch at his place and I went back home to sleep some more and thought about calling out sick for the night and spend some much needed time with Jane. I woke up around 3 and there were no messages on the machine and Jane was still not home and it pissed me off a little that she would go all day without saying something to me. I cooled down and gave her the benefit of the doubt that she had busy day so I turned the TV on and started making dinner. Jane didn ’ t make it home tonight, apparently her office was hit by a plane and she was killed with thousands of other people. News says it ’ s the biggest attack in the county ever. Guess I ’ ll have to find a new place to live now since I can ’ t afford this on my own.
[ WP ] Ode to Caffeine	O Caffeine, Sweet Caffeine, In liquid or pill O Caffeine, Sweet Caffeine You make some feel ill. But not I, Dear Caffeine I will never hold back, In the morning so early My cup filled with black No cream and no sugar Just plain fragrant brew. Through traffic, through work It helps me get through. At the end of the work week When it's time for fun Sweet Caffeine makes a comeback Indeed it's not done. Red Bull with vodka, 4Loko or two, The ultimate mixture For losing your shoe. The weekend's now over, Monday comes near I return to work With much dread and much fear. But there's one thing that's comforting, In darkness, a ray, Sweet Caffeine, my love I'll see you today.
[ WP ] Your day job is a sex line operator and your night job is a suicide hotline prevention operator . You have a hard time keeping track of which job you 're at . NSFW	I had n't even had a chance to set turn my phone on silent before the super across the office began glaring at me. Once you rack up call backs like I did they expect you to play God. I was good, sure... but I never got any recognition or praise for it, just more demands. More demands. More time spent behind a two desks. One I hated, and one I loved. Already 20 calls in queue. The other girls must not be trying hard enough tonight. Guess I better pick up their slack, huh? `` Hey baby what's your name?'' A single gun shot is heard. thats all i could come up with for now.
[ WP ] A Criminal justifying his Crimes	`` You all love to claim the moral high ground.'I would never do something like that', right? That's what you like to say? It makes me sick. How do you know? How do you know how you would behave in the moment? You do n't. Whatever comforting little lie you are telling yourself right this moment, you have no idea what you would do in the moment.'' `` Did I kill those men? Sure I did. The boys in blue got me right on, I hurt one of them too, to learn where the others are. That make you all sick? Maybe this does make me a monster, but do none of you wonder why I did it? Why I killed those men, why I found the others and did them too?'' `` Let me tell you, it takes a monster to kill a monster. You may hate me, and you all may end up sending me to die, but those men I killed, they were monsters too. Hell, the women were worse. You did n't see, none of you saw, but I saw! Mostly because I was the only one watching.'' `` So do what you have to do. Kill me, imprison me, whatever. I did it, but really, I did you all a favor. Those men and women wo n't be hurting anyone else ever again, and you have me to thank for that.''
[ EU ] Batman changes sides and in person tells the Joker hes joining in the mayhem . Tell us the Joker 's reaction .	When Bats came over last month, Harley and I expected the worst. I mean, usually, Bats' visits end up hurting after a while. He's not often very talkative, more punchative. But then the caped crusader walks up to us and he says `` Joker, I've had enough of this town, really, and I've come to see that maybe you have the right idea.'' Harley and I laughed. `` Mister J, I think Bats is losing it, or it's a trick.'' She said. So Bats decides to prove he's serious to us, right then and there. The maniac goes to his ridiculous car, pulls underwear-lad out of the passenger side, and twists his neck right in front of us. Do you know what he did then? He LAUGHED at me. LAUGHED at poor, dead little Grayson. Then he got in his car and told me `` We'll be in touch, partner.'' and drives off. I have been trying for years, YEARS, of my life to make the Bat smile. Try to make him loosen up and laugh at the world, just go CRAZY and let it burn. Then he throws this curveball at me. Sure, at first, I went along with it. I helped the bastard. We set fire to buildings, assassinated mayors, had a real gas, like we was old pals just getting together again. Then it started getting boring. When it started getting boring, I started hearing the screams. Those screams that used to make me laugh. Used to bring a smile on my twisted visage. Some might say I'm going soft, oh, Joker's just one big ol' softie, caring for the poor, pathetic, gothamites. But suddenly, I could n't laugh no more. I could n't have fun anymore. I started to hate hearing the screams. So then one night Bats is out with me, and we're on our usual nightly rampage. Killing, looting, murdering, the works baby. Then Bats has this kid in his sights on the street, and the kid's crying and crying, and Bats pulls a rocket launcher out of his car, and the kid screams. A scream so brutal it makes your eardrums almost pop. I could n't take it. I did n't want to hear it anymore. So I carried him away from the rocket before it could hit him, and we dive into this alleyway, and I dust myself off, and the kid's covered in dust and dirt. I figure, what the hell, I saved a kid, why not clean him up. So I shot him with my little water squirting flower, and he laughs. The kid laughs. The most beautiful, wholehearted laugh, and I ca n't help but smile. I squirt him again, and he laughs more, and his mom comes running down the alley. She scoops him up and she looks at me. With her big, blue eyes, and she thanks me, and a tear streams down her face. So I squirted her, too, and she's crying happily and laughing through her sobs, and I ca n't help but laugh too. That's when I made the vow. That's when Mister J's heart grew three sizes. Nearly burst out of my chest. I've given Gotham enough trouble. Me and my pals have wrecked the place time and time again. When we did, they always depended on the Bat to save them, but he is n't going to do any saving any time soon. It's time I made reparations, it's time the tables turned. It's time Gotham learned to laugh and not fear the Batman.
[ WP ] Disoriented and bewildered , the Mesopotamian deity Tiamat awakens , scrambling to adjust to her status as a new major power - apparently all due to something called `` Dungeons and Dragons '' .	[ I know nothing about D & D or Mesopotamia. ] The brown stones of the temple shimmered in the torchlight. A figure in a dark, hooded cloak stood in a semicircle of four gray-robed initiates and spread his arms. `` Enuma elish!'' chanted the figure in a raspy voice. `` Tiamat viat!'' responded the initiates. `` Tiamat! Wife of Abzû! Glistening one! Awake!'' `` Tiamat viat!'' `` Tiamat! Mother of Lahmu and Lahamu! Grandmother of the ends of the heavens! Awake!'' `` Tiamat viat!'' The central figure began to step closer to the temple's main feature, an enormous rectangular box made of the same stone as the temple's walls. `` Tiamat! Mother of the Salt Waters! Awake!'' `` Tiamat viat!'' `` Ti—'' The stone lid of the box burst open, the torches blew out, and a blinding white light shone from inside. The cloaked man was blown back, and the initiates covered their eyes. `` Holy shit, Ethan, that actually worked,'' said one of the initiates. `` Of course it worked, Jeremy,'' said the dark-robed figure as he got up from the ground. `` Did you think I did n't know what I was doing?'' `` Well, n—'' `` Silence! Initiates do not speak!'' A shadow was starting to form in the center of the white glow, and a high-pitched hisssss echoed around the room. “ Who dares, ” boomed a female voice, “ disturb the slumber of the goddess Tiamat and her minions? ” The cloaked men in the room looked around at each other in fear and confusion. `` He does,'' said Jeremy, pointing to Ethan. Ethan turned and glared at him, but it was too late. A serpent shot out of the box with a deafening hiss, grabbed Ethan's waist in its jaws, and pulled him inside. The heads of several other massive serpents became visible as they moved around inside the box. Ethan screamed like a small girl as he was devoured alive. There was a moment of silence as the screaming faded and the snake creatures stopped moving around. `` And who dares, '' boomed the feminine voice again, `` not to respond to me when I ask a question? '' The three other initiates looked at Jeremy and started to shake their heads. Jeremy looked at the box obliviously. `` Um...'' he began. Three more serpents shot out to devour the three silent initiates. As they ate, four long, human-looking fingers appeared over either edge of the box and a tall figure pulled itself up to stand in the center. The serpents' tails were coiled around the figure's slender waist, and as the three creatures finished eating their heads appeared at its shoulders and rubbed at its neck. `` There, there, my dears, '' said the figure as it raised a hand to pet the snakes, `` we ’ ll just have to end our nap a little early. '' The figure turned its attention to Jeremy. `` You— You— You're—'' `` I am the goddess TIAMAT! '' yelled the figure. `` I am the shining salt water who roared and smote in the chaos of original creation! '' `` You're a girl,'' breathed Jeremy in awe. One of Tiamat's snakes shot forward and hissed in his face. `` Ha! I am no GIRL! '' `` A— a woman...'' stammered Jeremy as he leaned around the snake to get a closer look. `` Enough of this, fat mortal! Why have you summoned me? '' He began to cower as the goddess moved closer to him. `` Um... I... We...'' Tiamat smiled. This one would be good to command her army. He would follow her orders. And if he did n't, he would make fantastic snack for her pets...
[ WP ] [ TT ] As a joke , you and your friends create a fake student in the database , enrolling them in fake classes and earning them a fake degree . It 's ten years later at the class reunion , and someone you 've never seen before in your life introduces themselves with the name of your imaginary student .	Zach had been talking to Lance when he heard it. A name that he had not heard in ten years. Rob McKenna. It had been a silly prank, college shenanigans that had probably gone a little too far. Sophomore year, Alex had figured out how to get into the database, and they'd decided to have a little fun. Nothing academically dishonest, of course - all of them had been far too smart to even need to tamper with their grades. It had been his idea. Why not create a fake student? That night, in honor of Douglas Adams's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Rob McKenna had been born. Rob McKenna was a Philosophy major, with a minor in Chinese. He was in the running club and the student orchestra, and for some reason, nobody had realized that he simply did n't exist. The fact that the running club and the student orchestra were the two largest organizations on campus might have helped - nobody cared enough to check. Then, junior year and senior year went by, and Rob McKenna accumulated enough credits to graduate on time, along with Zach, Lance, and Alex. The three of them decided that Zach could walk twice, since Rob McKenna had been his brainchild. Zach still had the second diploma - it sat in a box that had been tucked away into the back of his closet, gathering dust. Zach turned towards the man who had said the name. He was facing the other way, but he was relatively tall with sandy blond hair. He was talking to the valedictorian, James Sanders. Sanders was frowning. `` Rob McKenna? I'm sorry, but I do n't remember you at all!'' The man nodded. `` You were a Physics major, were n't you? I spent almost all of my time in Jones, and I doubt you were ever there.'' Sanders shrugged. `` I guess my memory just is n't as good as it used to be. I thought I knew everyone in my year.'' `` I transferred in sophomore year, and I was n't as social as you were,'' the man quipped. `` I'm not surprised you do n't remember me. But I think I saw some friends close by, I'll have to go catch up with them. Good talking to you, Sanders.'' Rob McKenna turned towards Zach. The conversation that Zach had half-heartedly been carrying on with Lance choked, sputtered, and died. Lance raised an eyebrow quizzically and turned to face the newcomer. Zach's heart pounded loudly in his ears. Rob McKenna stood before him. He looked completely, totally, average. Rob McKenna smiled. `` Hello, Zach. It's been a long time. I believe you have something of mine, and I'd like to get it back, if you do n't mind.''
[ WP ] You are a demon . You just got offered a contract with an old lady . She wants you to make sure that her cat goes to heaven .	We sip at Ceylon black tea. She has somehow found a cup and saucer large enough for my impossible hands. We read each other silently. Despite her unassuming appearance, she knows this game well. She begins to speak and it reeks of fallen affluence. `` We are told that the life of an animal to a human is like a candle before the sun; it is small, insignificant, soon forgotten and quickly replaced. I charter you, demon, to ferry my candle to the kingdom.'' I growl. `` I tire of this, ape. Offer your sacrifice, engage the covenant and bind yourself. Cease these ramblings.'' `` Well?'' She folds her arms. `` You ask much. Knowledge and power on earth for a lifetime is simple, but to invade the kingdom is not. What could you possibly offer us in recompense?'' She is grinning. Why? `` This home has many residents, few of significant faith and willpower, and none of them will last 10 years. You will collect many and you may collect them soon.'' My eyes narrow. `` That is correct, but it is not enough. A reward we can not claim is no reward at all.'' I refill my cup. Mundane pleasures have taken a long time in coming. `` You serpents need true names, yes? The true names are all here, recorded in certificates of live birth.'' I bear down on her. `` Documents of lineage? These people are of neither nobility nor station. Why would rutting kine have these things?'' `` I happen to know that it's been quite a while since your kind has made a deal here. Much has changed. The common people now have station by right of their being born''. She is unfazed by my intimidation, and continues. `` Ignorant children scrawl inane messages into cahiers and grown men paint their faces while shrieking allegiance to your leader, but that's not enough, is it? I happen to have done my research, and my I know that my request was sent along the proper channels.'' Who the hell is this woman? `` You will take Bast to heaven, and await further instructions. In return, you will have 25 souls within three years, and a further 75 souls within six.'' Instructions? What madman would give one of us instructions? Not to mention she seems to know exactly what we are.. `` The first will be delivered tonight. Good evening''.
[ WP ] The Last Cookie	`` No, please Cookie, stop this!'' The vicious monster raised his blue head in anger at the sheer absurdity of the request. His prying hand continued past all the strange and wondrous creatures that were in his way, but none could stand in his path when there was a cookie involved. `` Please stop! We have to teach children about sharing and kindness!'' The bird was attempting reason again. The beast sniffed at the poor attempt to force him to feel guilt and remorse, there was a cookie to be eaten. With a great roar he tossed aside the three atop him, sending a bizarre red frog-thingy, a large yellow bird of some kind and what he assumed to be a haunted trash can flying about the room. The cookie was finally within his reach, he grasped wildly at it, hoping and praying that it would fulfil his wildest dreams of what heaven would taste like. Chocolatey. And possibly rather cookie like, though why you would believe in a heaven without cookies was an alien thought to the blue thing. As his hands approached his open maw, bringing the final sweet treat closer and closer to his awaiting and salivating tongue, yellow feathers engulfed his arms, dragging him back down to Earth and causing the cookie to spin up into the air and land back onto the plate, crumbs being flung left and right. `` No Cookie! You must stop, you have a problem!'' The large bird yelled over the commotion. `` I do n't have a problem!'' He shook himself and flung his friend across the room to land on his back. The monster raced over to the grand cookie plate and took up the prize once more. `` Stop. You ca n't keep eating cookies, it's unhealthy. It may lead to serious health problems down the line, such as type two diabetes, heightened blood pressure and cholesterol, higher risk of heart disease and more! And you will forever regret having that one last cookie every time!'' The Big Bird was sounding very upset, animatedly waving his fluffy wings about above his head, but the single-minded, blue beast was deaf to the rest of the world, enthralled by his last cookie. `` Om nom nom nom.''
[ WP ] Tell me how you discovered that you were a shapeshifter .	I kinda had these nightmares as a kid you know? Or rather… night-terrors might be a more apt description. I do n't know what triggered them; I've never been traumatized. It's just that… It's just that when I close my eyes at night… I get the feeling of fight or flight. Not knowing what it is to begin with, I am just terrified. I run. Faster… faster… I NEED to outrun whatever it is chasing me. Trees. Roots. Branches. All of them seem to want to be in the way, trip me up. Then the yipping and the barks start. Sometimes that is when I wake up, screaming. Those are the good nights. I normally can get actual sleep after that. Other times, the sounds get closer. I am being hunted. Faster… FASTER… not fast enough. They catch up with me and… These are the bad nights, I never remember what happens after that. I just remember immense pain. I wake up in a cold sweat feeling more tired than when I went to bed. My parents thought there might be something wrong with me, but the shrinks they took me to could n't help me. Said I would outgrow it in time. Gave me sleep meds that did nothing to help. Gave me anti-anxiety medication thinking that might do the trick. It never did. Then my parents stopped taking me to the doctors. Next thing I knew, they acted like I did n't exist, even when I was talking straight to them. I found out why. Another night, another nightmare. Same as usual except I do n't wake up like I always do. The pain when they caught up with me… Oh, how to describe it? … The pain was like I was set on fire in about 12 places at once. Then in new places, until I was covered in fire. I burned. … When I came to that morning… Ha, more like afternoon, something was n't right. The covers did n't feel right against my skin. I was also bent in a weird manner. I tried to crawl out of bed, but I could n't move right. My tail smacked me in the face as I fell out of the bed. Wait… … Tail? It took a second for me to process that. Then another few seconds for the big one to hit. I was a fox… like in my dreams chasing me. They turned me into one of them. I don ’ t remember much after that, when I came to again I was human once more. That was 20 years ago. I've learned to control it. I can turn into any living creature about the size of a human. I can change faces, body types, species. I can be a different human, or another animal. I have no friends. How could I, when I do n't have a solid identity? Now I ghost through society. I have held numerous jobs, but I am most successful as a reporter. How easy is it to get a story when you can change shape? Very. I may out myself to a woman, she is a co-worker and seems nice. We flirt a little. Maybe she wo n't freak like the last one. My last partner ended up in an asylum. I've been working on figuring out if I can transfer this ability, confer it onto another. It would make things easier. _____________________________________________________________________________________________ First post on Reddit! Lurker since about 3 months ago. C & C welcome!
[ WP ] Walking into your first high school junior class , your teacher introduces himself `` Greetings class , I am Mr. N , your English teacher . The texts we will be reading this year are 'Classic Short Stories ' , 'Of Mice and Men ' , 'The Necronomicon ' , and 'Frankenstein ' . ''	`` Ehhh, sir?'' Calls a weedy looking boy at the back, hand raised. `` Yes, ah...'' `` Timothy, sir.'' `` Yes Timothy?'' The boy looked nervous but pressed on, `` What was that middle text sir?'' `` It was Of Mice and Men, Timothy. Do pay attention, there's a good lad. Yes class, we will indeed be covering Steinbeck's depiction of the great depression... But first, we have to cover the classic short stories...'' *That boy is onto me... no-one else even flinched as I mentioned the Dark Book of the Elder Gods... But he knew that name instantly. I'd have to have a word with him after class... *
[ WP ] Every time someone thinks about you , your life is extended by one day . Despite being a nobody with no family or friends , you 've been alive for centuries .	To start off here, there are a few things that you should know. The first being that I am not evil, I am not a bad person and no i'm not a vampire. I am no god neither am I a blasphemer. I've made very bad decisions in my life, sure, I'm flawed just like you. But some people are confronted with, certain options in life that are far greater than what most people will experience. This is n't a jab at anyone, I PRAY no one has to ever face what I faced this one night ( which I mention later in this post ) With that said, here is how the message you are about to read came about. About a month or two ago I was contacted by a man who said he'knew' about me ( how he knew, I do n't know. I have n't figured it out yet ). At first I did n't respond, what did he'know' about me? What was there to know? I am a retired entrepreneur who has a passion for bread and golf.. I donate to churches all over the globe but what is there to say about that? What did he have to know? My past.. and how far it extends. I feared blackmail, extortion, incarceration or even murder. But this person proved to be very kind and generous. He told me that he could help me get my story out there without revealing my true identity. He is now sitting next to me, drilling me on how Reddit, YouTube and Facebook works ( despite my age, I still do n't understand Facebook.. and I've been trying to wrap my head around this since 2004 ). He's making us pancakes and cool-aid right now actually, I've answered 100 questions by now.. and he continues to interrogate me ( which I do n't mind, the last I had an in depth heart to heart conversation about my, unique situation, was in 1422 with a buddy of mine named Simon.. most people now know him as Masaccio ) To make a long story longer, this person who shall remain nameless offered to be a courier of sorts and post this on his Reddit account. In all my years on this planet, I have never known a person to be so kind and so charitable. Honestly this is the highlight of my life right now.. I have been dying to get this out there for the world to see since this happened. But could not for obvious reasons. To those who wish to refer to me or this post in the future; I am Robert Faire -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - It all started when I was 16 going on 17. I lived in Spain with my family ( a LARGE one at that ). One day as i'm walking home from school a friend stops me on the street and tells me that an arrest warrant was issued and if I did n't leave NOW that i'd likely face death. Why was I facing arrest? That's another story for another time. Leaving my family at such short notice was at best a nuisance and at worst, a regret. I had to ask my family to provide the means for me to leave, they did so even if they had to cut back on food for a bit.. I relocated to Rome but found that the city was far too crowded for my taste and so I moved to the outskirts of Italy.. by the time I settled down in my new domain, I was informed of the arrest of everyone in my family. All those in my household at least. From my father down to my cousins.. all facing trial. They would go on to die from unnatural causes and this has led to nothing but guilt and pain ever since. I have n't been back to Spain ever since, it has made me beyond bitter and jaded. Enraged, itching for revenge and itching for blood, I removed myself to a local chapel to fast and pray. This happened around midnight, it was a humid night I remember.. but as i'm praying a guy walks in and asks me for directions to a shop nearby or something. I think he said he was looking for a relative and that he needed to ask her about some family issues. The exact details of the conversation escape me. Then he pulls out a thick letter, a contract. It was written in Latin.. I do n't speak Latin and neither did he but he said that his boss wrote it up and that he paid for the food ( modern day equivalent of this expression would be pays the bills, keeps the lights on, etc ). What struck me as odd was n't the conditions that he offered.. but the print. It was written in such a small font.. I would be surprised if anyone with a magnifying glass could read it. He said if I signed on the bottom dotted line, that everything would go back to normal. I could return home, my family would be alive again, my warrants and such would be cancelled and no one would be out to arrest me. `` It will all be one blur of a dream'' Is what he kept on saying, I was reluctant he was persuasive and I thought.. why not. So I signed. The rest as they say is history. Today this is known as a `` Faustian Pact'' ( I detest the phrase, Faust was a close friend of mine.. the story does n't portray him in an accurate light. He did indeed sign but there were other factors at play that were never mentioned. It breaks my heart to see people throwing his name around in the dirt, using it to refer to people selling their soul for fame or whatever ). Back then, situations like the one I encountered was not uncommon. It happened often actually. Many in the past have made similar deals and have paid dearly for it. The effects were, less than favorable ( think: Black Plague. The Plague was a direct result of people who did n't read the terms and conditions ( probably because they could n't read Latin ) and thought everything was good, nothing was bad. Or in today's terms.. that there are no downsides to the most desired things in life. So they went on signing deals, shaking hands. And the public has paid for it. And continues to pay for it to this day.. global warming, ringing any bells? ) The point of this was to show people that, actions have consequences. It's not just a moniker drilled into your head from Day 1 as just something to fill the allotted time and space with. But that it's actually true. One mistake, one wrong move can put you on a completely different track than previously planned and set forth ( by evolution or God whichever you believe ) Before the deal, I was afraid to die. Now i'm afraid to NOT die. It's exhausting, I could commit suicide But what would be the fun in that?
[ WP ] Every famous assassination in history has been carried out by one man	How many times have I killed? I've lost count. There was that one guy, what a hundred years ago? A Serb? No, that's not right. Started a big war though. Not my problem. Or that guy in Dallas. That was a tough shot. Then Iater hear about how some other guy gets caught then killed. Crazy shit huh? Not the first President I've killed either. There was that one in the theater. Wait a minute, that one got claimed by someone else to, did n't it? How did I never see that pattern before? Oh well. And then there was back in Rome. Ah, those were good days. I remember Caesar, or was it Brutus? Damn I ca n't remember anymore. Not that it matters. I steady the rifle, this should be the last job... One last job.
[ FF ] A story in 15 minutes . Ready , set , go !	Our table consisted of three other couples. We were not a couple. Lahna and I used to work together at this company, the one hosting the party. I came as her plus one because I had become unemployed shortly after leaving the job, following a mental breakdown causing me to quit my new job in less than two weeks of being there. These other couples at our table seemed to know each other fairly well and I saw my friend, Andrew, and his girlfriend seated a few tables away. At a company party, you generally know about half the people, which is seems low since you spend 55 hours a week in the same office as these people, but they've brought their husbands, wives, significant others, and former colleague schmoozer along. So even though this should be a close group, you end up introducing yourself throughout the night, and then in between those introductions you find yourself talking about work related stuff, even though you do n't work there anymore, and what's worse is you find yourself interested in it. But it's not the job, and you know that, it's the money. Angela, your old director, told you about a need to hire more analysts, specifically, ones that can work from home, or anywhere else for that matter. The reason Lahna and I are at this table is because of Jamie, the third of what used to be our team. The three of us were all pretty close. Jamie was an older brother to me, Lahna and I had started around the same time and so built bonds through training together, and Jamie and Lahna, well, how would I know?
[ WP ] You have been chosen as Death 's assistant . Your job is to handle the deaths of those even Death doesnt want to .	`` Shooting victims, abused children, unattended infants, teenagers pushed far past their breaking points by their peers ( or should I say tormentors ). These are the types of cases I handle. Death said she has seen far to many of these over the millennia, constantly chipping away at her each time, slowly desensitizing her, leaving the cold reach of Death so widely known today. But for these she wanted a soft touch. She wanted those who have met a violent or `` tragic'' end to not have a rude transition with the harsh and now cold pull of Death but rather with a warm embrace. Someone to gently hug someone who had just lost everything, a friendly present to gently nudge them towards the after life. A kind face to sooth the minds of scared children instead of the hollow eyes, and the pale and drawn mask of Death. She wanted someone who knows what it's like to live. What it's like to laugh, to feel crushing guilt, to fall hopelessly in love, feel fear strong enough to lock you in place hoping you die on the spot, to obsess over something for hours on end, and someone who knows what it feels like to lose every thing; hope, freedom, everything. She told me this as she unwrapped the rope from my neck and lowered me from a tree. She said she could feel her self slipping away and needed someone to help her. That was almost three hundred years ago, now I can feel myself slipping and am ready to pass the torch.'' I say to a young girl, no older than 17, as I walk her out of the river and back up the side of the bridge she jumped off of. `` Now, if this is too much for me to ask of you I'll walk with you to the after life. You do n't have to do this if you do n't wa n't to.'' I told the girl as her face paled. I put her hands in mine and and waited for her response. `` Show me how.'' Was all she said in reply. **** ^^First ^^time ^^writing ^^in ^^a ^^while ^^feed ^^back ^^is ^^much ^^appreciated.
[ CW ] ( Viewpoint Chain ) Revolt in the Laboratory	`` Why do I have to do it?'' `` Thomas is sick today. Could n't drive into work.'' `` What? Sick? Ca n't believe that old man still works here-'' `` Just get on with it.'' Jessica pouted, rolled her eyes, then walked on stage. The bright lights assaulted her face, which was caked with makeup. She adjusted her glasses and stepped up to the podium, the soft murmurs of the crowd doing nothing to soothe her mood. Was she nervous? Not at all. She was rather annoyed. She had insisted on resuming her research on the anomaly, but orders were orders. Cursing Thomas's name under her coffee-scented breath, she spoke into the microphone. `` Everyone. Hello... I need all of you... to SHUT THE FUCK UP. '' Her voice was fierce and vicious, commanding the attention of every single eyeball in the air conditioned auditorium. The transition from the subtle roar to complete silence was noticeably quick. The audience was quite stunned. Jessica did n't want to get aggressive but this orientation thing she was doing was cutting into her valuable research time. She was supposed to look at the tissue analysis half an hour ago. It was all she could think about, the thoughts plaguing her mind. Yet, she smiled. A fake smile plastered on her face, but a grin nonetheless. `` Thank you. Welcome to the Perseus orientation. I am here to congratulate you on your promotion and to welcome you to this great company of ours. Questions will be held at the end. Failure to comply will result in you being bound and gagged and dropped off at an undisclosed location.'' There was some nervous laughter, before the gravity of her words sunk in like butter knives. `` Glad to see you can follow rules. Because rules maintain order. Order means control. That is what we do here at Perseus. We maintain a means of control. Control over matter. Control over the human mind. Control over death, even. Yes. Our projects are that complex.'' She paused for a drink of water. `` You are here not because of luck. But, because of your talent and expertise. You will gain unrestricted access to the most advanced technologies and resources in the entire world. After all... we create them. Right here, in house. In space too. Funding? Do n't worry about that. We have you covered. Each and every one of you will receive Level 3 clearance, key card, and personal identification cards. You will be assigned to a specific cell. That cell is where you will work, eat, shit, and sleep. This is your home now.'' She took off her glasses and wiped them with her shirt. `` I'm going to be honest with you folks, it's going to be a hard couple days when you start. It's going to be a new way of thinking. That's what we do here at Perseus. Science... in the name of humanity. No, we are not evil. Evil is just a term that people do n't really understand. Here, you'll be helping people. Helping... the world. I-'' Callum rushed from out of the curtains and whispered something in her ear. `` Jess... there's been a breach.'' `` Helping the... the uh... the world... Um... Thanks for being here. No further questions. Go enjoy the... the refreshments. Welcome.'' The microphone emitted a piercing screech, drowning out the sound of her heels. She walked backstage and confronted Callum. `` Breach? What-'' `` The subject's escaped.'' `` Dear god...'' `` She's headed toward the west wing.'' `` That's where we are.'' He nodded grimly. `` Protocol Hades-54 has already mobilized... but we have to evacuate these people.'' `` They're not going to make it.'' `` I know.'' She remained silent for a moment. She finally spoke, this time in a hushed tone. `` Head for the elevators. Gas the room.'' `` What?'' `` Do it. Call Captain Carnegie and get him up to speed. Do it now.'' The tissue samples were the least of her problems now.
[ WP ] You are a paladin or priest in a standard fantasy setting . You 've always wondered if you will ever slip and betray the gods you serve . Instead the gods betrayed you .	For the first time in his long, long life, Haral'ven was angry. Beyond angry, in fact. He spent his whole life as a Protector of Vereema. His job was... to, well, protect The Order of Vereema, and to strike down heretics. And, by the Gods, that is exactly what he did. He lost count of how many he had killed at around the 400 mark. Everyone single one of those men, women, and even children were Heretics. At least, in his eyes, they were. He had been granted Immortality by Vereem, because he was the strongest warrior in all of Arechea. He had powers beyond that of mortal men. He could control the fabric of reality itself, pull things from worlds beyond our own, create objects out of nothing. And through all that, he never got angry, or mad, or frustrated. He practiced patience, and he never even cursed. Well, aside from when he placed curses on heretics. It was the 42nd of Layr, and Haral was 237 years old. He had finally laid down his arms, and let his powers go. He was ready to die. He was ready to finally meet the man he spent his life serving. And he decided to do it alone. In a small, ran down inn, around 90 leagues away from any civilization, rain pounded against the soft earth, and and a low fog stretched in all directions, like the thick tendrils of a Paralin, all while the bright moons hid behind the clouds. In the inn's cheapest room, Haral was fast asleep, on a bed that was probably older than he was. He dreamed of his life. Well, kind of. He saw snapshots of moments in his life, yet all the people that he loved were replaced by dark figures, with unnaturally long arms, and no eyes. This was a recurring dream of his. He had a theory that the dreams were brought on by him not being able to remember most of his life. He could n't remember his own mothers face, or even her name. His wife was a distant memory, and the thought of her only brought the smell of sea salt to the forefront of his brain. He dreamed his life. His entire life. Every moment. And every single person was the figure. His life-dream was cut short by his heart stopping. Haral stood upon a field of striking, white flowers that stretched in all directions. The sky above him was white, also. It glistened like a still lake. In front of him was God himself. God looked an awful lot different than the pictures. Everything depicted him as a tall, bearded man with striking, dark skin, and bright blue eyes. In reality, God was a short, white skinned, clean shaven man, with entirely blank eyes. `` You wonder about my appearance, Haral?'' Said Vereem, `` I look rather... different than the pictures, do I not?'' `` My lor-'' Vereem interrupted Haral `` Please, enough with the stupid formalities. Do n't call me'lord' again, kid.'' `` Uh...'' `` I am billions of years old. You are in your 200's. You are a child.'' `` Oh... I...'' `` You do n't know what to say? How about'thanks for giving me an amazing life?''' `` Thank you, lord. Thank you for providing me with... the things you did. The powers... the immortality..I-'' `` Stop it.'' `` Bu-'' `` NO. I am your xaing God, I can tell that you do n't know how to respond. You just want to move onto the afterlife.'' `` I mea-'' `` Oh my xaing God. What the polg did I say?'' ``...'' `` There ya go, only took me saying it 400 goddamn tries'' ``...'' Vareem smiled deeply, then sighed `` Listen, kid, I have a couple things to say. First of all, you were a priest for like 200 years or some polg, were n't you? So why, exactly, are you dumbstruck at talking to god? Do n't they teach you what to say or something? Why did n't you immediately spout some Iara'u verses or something?'' ``... becau-'' `` Oh, I see. You're growing disassociated with me. I find that funny, actually. You are slowly falling out of the belief that you are doing the right thing. You do n't want to die, because you do n't want to know the truth, so the first thing you do is... give up your power, so you can die?'' Vareem chuckled lightly `` Kid, listen, you ai n't going to Garian... heh'' `` But... why? I... I did everything you asked. Zol, I killed for you. I spent m-my life killing for... y-you.'' `` Kid, that's why. I guess you must be really dense or something to not know this, but killing is a sin'' Vareem let out a hearty laugh `` Yeah, but yo-you told me to do it! I DID IT FOR YOU! '' `` Oh, yeah. That. Heh. It was a test to see if you would actually do it. You went above and goddamn beyond what I told you to do. I kept count, you know. 537 Men killed, 350 women, and a whole 98 children.'' `` I-I know. I-oh God. I did, did n't I? I killed so many... people'' `` Honestly, I think I might send you to Garian anyways, that way you have to confront the hundreds of people you murdered.'' `` Please... please...'' `` Please what? Do n't send you to Garian? I would be more than happy to oblige'' `` No, I...'' `` You know Taraveese, right'' `` I-yeah. I do'' `` Tell me, what does Vareem mean?'' ``... Tak-Taker of Light... or The Darkness, d-depending on how you...'' `` So I take it you know who I am?'' ``...'' `` Man, humans are stupid'' The flowers underneath Haral turned a deep black. A black that can only be described as darkness. Not even a color. More flowers started changing. It was like a ripple, with flowers turning colors. Haral started screaming. Not only because of the knowledge he found out, but because he looked at one of the flowers. On the flower was a rune. A rune that looked an awful lot like a dark figure with elongated arms, and no eyes. *Note: This is actually my first time writing a story of any kind, aside from school projects, so I apologize for any errors or stupid shit or if the story in general just sucked. Lets hope i just get better from here: D Edit: Fixed some errors and retooled Vareem's earlier dialogue to fit with his character in general
[ WP ] [ NSFW ] After a cataclysm , 95 % of human males are wiped out . The rest have to be used as breeding stock . Write a diary entry from one of these `` studs '' .	Day 998, My years of effort have proven successful. Their tyrannical reign is at an end and mine will begin. I'll be much kinder than they were, of course. Well, as kind as I can be. I imagine I'll need to have a good number of them killed to keep them compliant, I already have a good list. It does n't matter. There are plenty of women, we wo n't miss a few. I'll have to start young, ensure that the ones with pliable minds understand their place, but that's all for the future. It is n't hard to shape young minds, it just requires fortitude and patience. I have plenty of those. What I do n't have plenty of is men, which makes Michael's betrayal all the more tragic. He did n't agree with my vision, he wanted to try to establish equality with them. Such dreams died with the plague. I tried to explain that to him, but he refused to admit that we can not be equal. The loss of his bloc hurt more than anything else. But it was necessary.
[ WP ] A man thinks he is the last human in the world , and finds out he 's not .	The sun is rising. Its orange glow does n't fill me as it once did. I feel empty inside. That was before the moaning men. But they wo n't bother me any more, no they wo n't. I step onto the ledge. The bodies stumble beneath me in the street. So far down, like ants. They crawl toward the building, their moans ringing through the fog. Look at this gun. This fucking useless gun. This was the gun that I had to put down my wife and daughter with. I empty the clip into the air. Gunshots pierce the silence. The zombies notice, hurtling themselves toward the building. I am coming, my loves. I spread my arms. I look up. On the building across from me, a body reaches in my direction. No. It's not a body. It's me, it's one of us. It's a living human. It's crying, saying not to do it. I am not alone. But I still am. So alone. So empty... I leave the crying human behind, leaning forward, sinking, sinking, sinking into the writhing mass of dead. I am home.
[ TT ] You 've finally reached the room where the princess is being held . As soon as she sees you , she says , `` Stop . ''	`` No, I mean it, you stop right there, monster!'' Shrieked the princess. She scrabbled backwards, and promptly tripped over the stool she had been sitting on, falling into the straw pile under the barred window. By Nakbor's stinky rump, of course I'd get that reaction, but at least watching an elf noblewoman lose her dignity was funny. I very plainly rolled my large eyes, putting my hands on my hips. `` Fiiiine, Princess. I'll go back and tell the Woodland King that you were just too happy to stay.'' I said tauntingly, shaking my head. It would be a waste of my time if she did n't come, but she did n't need to know that. She was coming to her feet as swiftly as she could, which is unsurprisingly fast for an elf. I sized her up- blonde haired, silver eyed, perfect elf-y looks. I do n't know the story as to how elves got adopted by the God of Beauty, but everyone finds them pretty. I just think the boys look too much like girls. She was staring at me with hope dawning in her eyes, and breathed out. `` My father sent you?'' Then she shook her head rapidly. `` No, no, my father would n't send... you...'' She glanced down at me in distaste, and my nose started to twitch- I hate getting that look, I really do. I exhaled sharply, and then glowered at her. The world is full of Goblinaphobes- people have problems with the small, green, and long-eared. I admit, I probably looked like a murderer to an elf, given that I was wearing my studded leather armor and was festooned in the tools of my trade. But I have n't taken an assassin job in at least six months, so that sort of response is really unfair. I've even been called cute by tallfolk, when I dress up and do my long black hair up. I'm pleased with it- a girl's got to love herself, right? `` Look, your Princessyness, your father hired me. I'm Mekva, and I'm good at freelance stuff.'' I sniffed disdainfully, and then reached into the bag at my side. At least elfy magic was more reliable than goblin magic- the bag did n't take my hand off, and it had the cloak in it that the Woodland King had given me. I tossed it at her while I continued. `` One, no woodland elf is gon na be allowed in this city since your kidnapping, and two, we're in a hurry.'' She was still standing there dumbfounded when the cloak smacked her in the chest. Grabbing it, she blurted out `` You're Mekva? I've heard stories about you- wait, how did my father even find you?'' She hurriedly pulled the cloak on over her slender shoulders, and I waved a hand at her. `` Do n't worry about it, alright? You did hear me when I said we're in a hurry?'' I turned back to the door, pausing- the conversation had masked it, but I was suddenly aware that there were the shadows of feet there now. The door flew open, revealing one of the surprisingly conscious and alive guards at the same time I yanked one of my fighting sticks free from it's spot on my back. He'd be tough to fight for most people even without the steel breastplate, leggings, and arm guards. Humans are big, strong, and reek of old cheese all the time, but I've learned that they do n't think or react too quick. He managed a startled `` What?'' before I stepped in. I might only come up to his waist, but that gives me certain advantages. My fighting stick came up between his legs, and I winced despite myself as I heard it hit his cod. He uttered a painful squeaking sound that reminded me of a kobold getting stepped on before crashing loudly to his knees. A second blow, this one on the jaw, sent him to sleep. Thankfully, the Princess did n't scream, which I was slightly surprised by. What did n't surprise me were the shouts from below. I suppose dropping three hundred pounds of fleshy human and steel on the wooden floor might make some noise. `` Nakbor's balls! Can you climb?'' I shot at the princess, shutting the door and digging into one of the pouches on my belt. Hurriedly, I stuffed my fighting stick back into it's sheath. `` I'm a Woodland Elf, of course I can climb-'' she began, and I cut her off with a hiss. `` Then open the window- and hurry, dammit!'' Out of my pouch came a small bit of orange-red clay, which I hurriedly applied to first one hinge, then the other. There was a faint creaking and then a fizzle, as the metal heated up and then cooled down quickly. `` What did you do?'' She demanded, and I rolled my eyes. If she kept that tone, this was going to be a long, long job. `` It's flashclay. Dwarves use it to fix weapons in the field, blasted expensive, but it works really well to fuse the hinges together.'' I explained as I started securing the rope to the door handle, the only thing I could see that could hold the weight. I tossed the rope out of the window, and pointed. `` GO!'' She shot me such a dirty look, and then demanded `` You first!'' I threw my hands into the air. `` Fine, fine, fine. I'm charging extra for the attitude!'' I shot at her, and grabbed the rope. I'm comfortable with heights, rope, and stress, so I was more paying attention to the sound of feet running up the stairs. There started to be a hammering at the door, so I slid down the rope a bit faster, hissing `` Hurry up!'' The Princess grabbed the rope and started to clamber down. The night air was cold, and the Duke's castle and streets of the city were shrouded in a thick fog. Hopefully that would muffle any calls for alarms. We just had to get to my escape route... and at least the Princess was n't lying- she could climb, coming down gracefully. Above, there was a loud cracking sound, then another, followed by a crash, and the rope suddenly went slack. I had a fleeting moment to realize that the door had been broken down, and we were flopping wildly on the extra ten or twelve feet of slack. It tightened under my hands, and it was all I could do to hold tight, but I was thanking all the Gods listening that I could. Then I looked up, only to catch a face full of falling elf. She screamed, I yelled, and we went down in a wild tangle of limbs, cloak, and rope. Of course she landed on top of me. Bloody elves. All the air rushed out of me in a pained wheeze as she ended up half-sitting on my chest, with one of her legs squishing my face into the soft grass of the courtyard. That was it, I decided, this job officially was n't paying enough.
[ WP ] There 's been a giant mix up and now villians from all universes ( Voldemort , Sauron , Joker etc . ) appear in a different one than their own . Discribe the encounter with the hero of that universe from his point of view .	In the darkness, Lex Luthor stood with his hands clasped tight behind his back. His green eyes gazed a burning hole through his floor length office window. The view from the top of the LexCorp tower was always exhilarating. The vantage offered him a bird ’ s eye view of his entire kingdom. Every twinkling light, every moving ant. Except for the alien. He was nowhere to be seen. This irked Lex. Metropolis was his city, his kingdom. He'd earned it, scrabbling his way to the top. Knowing whom to bribe, whom to threaten. Now, suddenly, this immigrant, this refugee from the stars had waltzed into Lex ’ s realm unannounced. And it was Lex who was threatened. The people loved him of course. How could they not? He was everywhere with a wink and a friendly smile. The locals had taken to calling him ‘ Big Blue ’. That ’ s how he appeared to them.'The Last Son of a Dying World' devoted to saving every man, woman and child that he could. It was cute notion, but naïve. Of course, how could Lex expect more than naiveté from those unwashed cretins. Whoever this creature was, he certainly had an ulterior motive. Lex had seen it in the Planet ’ s photos of him. He looked like a man. But he wasn ’ t. Something lay behind those eyes. There had to be something else to him. Something darker. All that aside: his dubious morality, his public friendly persona, his commitment to ridding the city—and the world! —of wrongdoing, what stung the most was that he had the audacity—the gall—to think himself more intelligent than Lex Luthor. That, above all, would not stand. Lex spun around on his heel as the door to his office creaked open. He was here. Lex ’ s eyes narrowed as the alien emerged into the faint glow afforded by the city skyline. “ So, I see you received my invitation. ” Lex feigned a comfortable smile. The alien said nothing, just returned his stare. “ We haven ’ t met, officially, but I am Lex Luthor. And Metropolis is my home. ” Lex continued the one sided conversation. “ Would you care for a drink? ” The offer was rebuffed with silence. `` Please, sit down. We have much to discuss.'' Still nothing. The alien was toying with him. The worst part was that it was working. `` Speak, alien! You've done it before! All those interviews to Lane at the Planet! All those witty quips! And you refuse to speak to ME?'' Not a peep. Lex ’ s bile rose in his throat. “ ANSWER ME, GODDAMN IT. ” Lex slammed his hand onto his desk. “ I AM LEX LUTHOR AND I RUN THIS CITY. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? ” This got a response. The most enraging sort of response. A smile. A wide, mocking grin. “ Nice to finally meet you too. ” His voice had a lilting, sing-song quality tinged with an unmistakable arrogance. Or perhaps that was just his accent. “ Hullo, Lex. I ’ m The Doctor. ”
[ WP ] Guardian Angels exist and often visit . Your 's is rude and generally an asshole .	`` Where have you been?'' I asked, slightly confused, as my shadow creapt back up behind me. `` Where have I been? Saving your ass, bartering for hours on end'' my shadow looked as if it had erupted and was shimmering backwards and forwards. Slightly startled, I asked `` What was it this time? I've had such a boring day.'' `` So a boring day is to stick a spoon in a microwave? Ok, I just thought that was n't such a meanial thing to do, thanks for clearing that up for me mate, I fucking owe you one.'' Up on casting my mind back, I remembered about how I had paused just before starting the microwave and chuckled to myself while grabbing the spoon and putting it on the table. You never think of your shadow at the time, but thinking back it's easy to identify the intervention. I knew I had to ask `` So what did you trade my life for?'' `` The devil was in a pissy mood, which only makes matters worse. He flat out refused to accept the ten last pigs that you've eaten. I had to up it and promise him that you'd buy stock in a fishing company.'' `` Sounds bad. Cheers man, you're a lifesaver.'' So there we have it, my world, where vegetarians drop like flyes and people jump at the chance of chucking stones at birds. A world where killing animals can save lives.
[ WP ] One day , the internet just disappears/does n't work anymore at all .	I'm sitting in a truck waiting for some scaffolders and insulators to finish stripping a 10 inch line. We are going to xray said line when they complete their task. We have been waiting since 6 am for them to finish and I've been on reddit all fucking day. Every. Link. Is. Purple. My phone has been on charge twice today. We are about to hit charge number three. I know you should expect more from me than this but I'm sort of at a loss for what to do here. I want to make something for you that is so beautiful and visual that you sit back in amazement wondering how something that glorious came into your gaze. I want that for you so bad it hurts. I want you to close your eyes and see what I see, feel what I feel, to hear the environment as I paint it for you. Alas, that's not possible because sometimes I lack the imag
[ WP ] God outsources prayers to a call center .	`` Prayer receiving center, how can I help you today?'' `` Hi.. uhm.. I have a question. Do these prayers go directly through you to God?'' `` Yes ma'am, in fact, when we receive a prayer, a recording of it is automatically saved in our database, which, God, being omnipotent, can access.'' `` So... what you're saying, is, you're not in direct contact with God?'' `` Ma'am, please, calm down. I can assure you we pray to the Lord every day. We are very much in contact with him.'' `` Did he ever answer your prayers, though? Are you sure you're in actual contact with God and you're not just lying? Are you sure this is n't all a scheme to rip me off?'' `` Ma'am, this is a very serious business. I request you to either start your prayer, or hang up.'' `` Look, I'm onto you people. You've deluded my grandmother into thinking she is in actual contact with God. She nearly bankrupted herself with calling you on these ridiculously expensive lines.'' `` We've had several complaints about our prices, and we will definitely bring that up to upper management. Anything else, ma'am?'' `` You know what? Fuck you. I'm reporting you, and making sure you go out of business. Have a crappy day.'' Carrying a letter, he knocked on the door of his boss. He had to give Him this list of complaints, apparently it was really important to a bunch of people. `` Come in.'' `` I have a list of complaints from your prayer center, God.'' `` Just put them on my desk.'' __________________________________________________________________________________________ Hi there. Liked my story? Thanks! Did n't! Tell me why, and I'll try to improve. One of the ways I try to improve is to reach a bigger audience, which is why I created a [ blog ] ( http: //writingpetesstories.blogspot.nl/2015/11/wp-god-outsources-prayers-to-call-center.html ). It's pretty new, so do n't expect too much. But if you liked it, come view my blog some more times!
[ WP ] Write just the climax of an epic fantasy novel , without explaining the world , backstory or characters .	The tower was breached. I've done all I could in this life. Almost all I could. I've lost friends, companions, enemies, all in a blink of an eye, due to him. He was the one that started it. That brought us all together. That sent countries to war and death squads to villages, cities, states. I will bring him down. Dust will turn to dust. Death will lead to death. His men were powerless. They did n't even see me coming. At the end, the only thing that signaled I was there was the body of corpses on the floor. The top floor was near, the place where it all began. The final room was dark. The desk was cluttered full of papers and knives stuck in with the anger of a village destroyed, the strength of vengeance. Where war was declared, assassinations ordered, and men killed with no discretion. There I saw him. I knew what I had to do to end this all, to redeem myself. The motions where easy, but completing them was the hard part. It ended with a knife to a throat, a standoff where one movement would mean death. At the end, I moved first. A simple motion, cutting the throat, letting the blood pool across the floor. What I have done was done before, to men, women, and children, but who it was done too was a first. That was the end of the last ruler of the kingdom before it collapsed. He was found locked in his room, bloody dagger in his hands.
[ WP ] I 'm feeling a bit morbid today . Paint me a world where death is regarded as trivial as buying a gallon of milk .	The air was thick with smog as Bart hopped quickly across the cobbled street, pulling his scarf tighter across his face. The sky was a sickly grey speckled with spots of black. Rain was on its way. Chester Street had once been a hive of activity, people lining the streets in search of fresh pastries or trinkets sold by the old gypsies who seemed to have been around for as long as Bart could remember. Now it was empty of such life. He passed an old general store, robbed and ransacked long ago. The door banged loudly as it swung on its hinges with the wind blowing a gale down the road. Bodies lay stacked against the walls, an almighty stench reaching his nostrils despite the scarf. A decrepit old man lay contorted in the gutter, clutching at the cobblestones. Bart took a wide berth around him but paused a moment to observe the struggle. Help, he seemed to mime as he reached for Bart's shoe. Help. In a nonchalant fashion he stepped over the man's hand and continued on his way, tightening the scarf around his face as he went. They called it the Black Plague, but he knew it simply as death.
[ WP ] Write about whatever you want . Just one rule : your story will have to be continued by another writer and so on .	Poe walked into the house. He took off his hat and his coat, putting them into the hanger, just next to the door. In his hands, he held a few letters. Poe then went to his study, and placed the letters into the table. The tall men then walked towards the kitchen, to make himself a cup of tea. He grabbed a cup, the kettle and the small pot he used to jeep his leaves. He pouered water into the kettle, and put it into the oven. Poe walked back to the study and grabbed the letters. The First was from his sister, the Second from from a friend. He could not belive the last.
[ WP ] God has returned to earth saying he will answer one question . Thousands of people have flocked to Israel to see him , you are amongst those in the crowd . He picks you .	`` God, um, how is existence possible? If you created yourself how does that work and stuff,'' I gasped, still in disbelief I had been chosen. I ignored the stares that hit me when I said'stuff'. I figured anyone else would have trouble asking your savior a question without some stuttering or a little show of nerves. `` Fuck you Richard. I'm still working on it. I'm kind of having a midlife crisis. Allah and Queztcoatl convince me to answer a single question...'it'll help you' they say, and you have to ask about the one thing I ca n't answer. Richard why, why do n't you tell me how existence checks out? Who do you think I am?'' `` I... I do n't think that I'm quite qualified to answer you God. I have n't...'' his booming voice broke my squeak. `` Shut the fuck up Richard. Whatever I'm done. I'm getting Cthulu'' The clouds began to close, cutting out the sun as I felt the first few rain drops slap my forehead. The strangers next to me looked up and felt the rain in bewilderment. Goosebumps came in waves as I saw their eyes all slowly turn towards me, glowing in the midday darkness. I closed my eyes and grabbed the cold steel on the 10 mm in my pocket. `` Four mags, forty bullets,'' I comforted myself. I looked up and saw a circle of glaring eyes as I pulled the trigger flush to my finger and stumbled around in a circle. I counted them. I tried to. There were hundreds upon hundreds. A flash of lightening illuminated the hordes. In the distances I saw a figure, a monster in the clouds. I felt a tear trickle down my face. They must have seen it too, becaue their attention was no longer on me. I held the gun deep in my mouth and squeezed. The void enveloped me. An infinite amount of time passed in less than a moment. `` Welcome,'' the face of God said. `` You see my dilemma now, do n't you?''
[ WP ] If there was a reason in the beginning , I do n't remember it now .	Beautifully fried eggs. 2 pieces of bacon, a slice of toast and a cup of coffee, just the right amount of sugar and milk. `` Good morning sweetheart'' She began, as our usual morning routine started. `` Good morning my love,'' I replied, as I would each and every morning for the past 42 years, `` sleep well?'' `` Same as ever.'' Same as ever. It was always the same as ever. Every morning I would wake up at 7, have the same breakfast wearing the same suit, getting ready for the same job until 5, to come home at 6 for the same dinner, watch the same shows before going to bed at 10 and start it all anew. I needed to go out there, see the world. How did I ever get into this routine in the first place? I had dreams, I have dreams. Sure, I had to bring home the bacon.. For the kids. But they have all left the house; Susan, Jacob and William all left the house the moment they turned 18, I could have left Marjorie then. But I stayed. I live the same life, in the same house, with the same wife and the same job and will continue to do so until, for me, time ceases to exist. Why did I choose to stay, though? Was it a choice? If there was a reason in the beginning, I do n't remember it now. In fact, why not leave now? Marjorie would be heart broken, for sure, but I've lived my entire life in service of everyone, I could do this for myself. Just this once. I finished my coffee and got up, my bones felt cold and brittle as I rested my weight, increasing exponentially every year, rest on my worn out knees. `` Dinner at 6?'' `` Dinner at 6.''
[ WP ] For me , it was the sweetest , most heartfelt conversation I 'd ever had . But for her , it was merely a pre-programmed 3-hour script .	Some people find my business to be a little distasteful. My family does n't approve but honestly I do n't give a shit anymore. It pays my bills and I sleep well enough to justify what I do. So this morning a I get a call, all seems normal the usual lonely guy working on Wall Street that just wants to talk to someone who'll listen. We schedule a time place and a price ( better to agree on it beforehand in my experience ) and I start preparing myself the for night ahead. Sometimes I get requests to wear certain things, I usually charge a fee for this but I also make it clear that I'm not a street whore and I do n't intend to be a hook up but this guy seemed rather shy and asked for a three hour spot from 7pm to 10pm at an Italian restaurant in Manhattan. That's perfect I get some money in my pocket and a free meal win-win. I show up and he's waiting outside, I honestly did n't expect him to be so handsome, it even looked like he worked out a bit but I was a professional after all and started our conversation with one of my usual openers. We talked for an hour before I realized that I had lost track of time, his dark blue eyes and a shy but pleasant smile kept me actually interested in what he had to say. He started really opening up after a few glasses of wine, and I slowly started to realize that we had a lot in common. It was then that I realized `` holy crap, I might actually like this guy''. So I opened up as well, telling him anything he asked about as we laughed and chatted for what seemed like days. We were suddenly interrupted by the waiter `` excuse me sir and madame but we are closing soon, I will fetch your coats'' as he hastily made his way to the coat room. We'd gone an hour over but I did n't care, I actually really like this guy and I felt like I needed to tell him as we left the restaurant hand in hand I really felt a connection. I started to say something when he shushed me and looked at me with tears in his eyes `` Thanks for the amazing night, I really ca n't believe you do this for people'' he said as he wiped a tear and pulled out an envelope `` here's what we agreed on and a little extra for going over time. I wish you well and although I know your responses must have been fake, maybe even scripted. They felt real and I ca n't live knowing that they were n't, so please do n't contact me and forget I ever called.'' He then walked to his car and drove away as I stood there, holding back my tears. It was the most heartfelt conversation I had with someone in years and I let him walk away thinking it was all a ruse. First prompt guys, please give me any feedback.
[ WP ] You 've been in a coma since the year 2000 , and you just woke up .	I opened my eyes and was instantly confused by my surroundings. I appeared to be in a hospital of some kind, but I had no idea how I had gotten there. Suddenly a doctor walked into the room. He looked at me, almost as if he was surprised to see me. I asked `` Where am I?'' He did n't answer me immediately, he seemed like he was trying to figure how to gently phrase the worst news ever. After about 30 seconds, still unsure of himself, he said `` There's no way to put this gently you've been in a coma for a long time. What year do you think this is?'' I immediately responded `` 2000'' `` it's twenty sixteen.'' My first thought was why he would say the year like that, I mean nobody says it like that, right? Before I could question him more there was a short dinging sound coming from his pocket. I thought it must of been his cellphone, but instead of opening a phone and talking into it he took out a small rectangle. The whole thing was metal except for one side, that side looked like it might of been glass and was pure black. He said `` excuse me.'' before pointing the glass side towards himself and pressing a button on the top. Then he did something even weirder, he swiped his hand across the rectangle and towards his left. Then he tapped the top left corner and started rapidly tapping different points on the bottom half of the rectangle, the devise making a rapid clicking noise as he tapped. I looked at him, confused. `` What are you doing?'' I asked. He immediately looked up from that device before responding `` Oh right, you've never seen these things before. Sorry I forgot to explain it, this is my phone. A lot's changed while you were asleep. Do n't worry, we'll run you through a crash course of everything you missed.'' He then muttered under his breath `` It'll take at least a day to teach him the memes.''

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