Split (3)

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[ WP ] Rockstar games has just released GTA VI with hyperrealistic artificially-intelligent citizens . However , the AI citizens become self-aware and try to do everything they can to stop players from causing havoc in their city so that they can maintain a peaceful society .	( ( to understand this story, please know that I play the GTA games unusually. I usually play until I reach such a stage that I have the entire land unlocked and I feel happy the story is over. Then I just do police missions or taxi missions for years. With Online gameplay, I do n't even have to wait to unlock stuff, pretty much. ) ) He is the one, they say. The one diamond hidden in the cluster of sticky bombs. The chainsaw in the court of katanas, the Lance to their Tommy. They call him... The Roleplayer. I get into his car, a yellow taxi. `` Eh, where you headed, kid?'' he says, the obvious British accent hidden under a thick and fake Montreal accent. `` A... airport. And hurry!'' I say, praying to the Developers that this was truly the one they spoke of in the secret instances, the one who never killed an NPC except on self defence. `` A'ight. Buckle your seatbelt, kid, We're going for a ride!'' And then, he drove. Fast, but mostly obeying the rules of the road. HE STOPPED AT TRAFFIC LIGHTS! It was glorious. And so, when I saw the fighter jet come, and felt my body explode into gibs, I felt at peace. I had met the Roleplayer. He was good to me. He was Good. And while he respawns and goes out in search of another job to immerse himself in, to bring happiness to the hearts of jaded NPCs... We will remember him, and cherish him.
[ WP ] Write a story where the main character is relapsing after a long time of successfully battling addiction .	`` Do n't do this to yourself, you do n't need it.'' The words seemed hollow and false, like someone had twisted them to mean something they did not. Erno closed his eyes and turned away from the small red vials that where sitting on his table. It was his drug of choice. Legal and untraceable in his line of work, but some of his superiors knew about his previous addiction to the thick red liquid. Even worse they knew what he did with it. He opened his eyes, hoping, willing the vials to be gone, to not tempt him, but they where still there, just as motionless as before. The floorboard underfoot creaked as he took a step closer to the table. `` The fridge is this way. I need to go past the table to get to it.'' Was it a lie spoken out loud or the truth, used to hide his real intent, the succulent red liquid that sat on the table. His body inched closer without the consent of his mind, he wanted it. He wanted to revel in the feeling of being alive it gave him, the feelings he had lost connection to without his drug of choice. The cold exterior of a vial touched his fingers. When had he gotten this close? The vial shook in his hand as he picked it up, a practice formed from habit, his fingerprints in vibrant red on the outside of the glass. When during the previous night had he bottled this? He did n't let the answer come to mind. He did n't want to know, did n't want to admit that the practice had become too deeply ingrained to stop. Would one more time be alright? Could he stop himself again if he started? The vial's cap fell to the ground letting the smell of iron and death emanate from the bottle. It was intoxicating. As the vial was brought close to his face, the smell got stronger in conjunction with his need, his resolve and resistance crumbling. The glass was ice to his lips while the liquid was fire. His body shivered in ecstasy. He could feel the emotions, the fear, from the blood's donor. He had shot her yesterday when she ran from him, trying to escape after he spent so much time tracking her. Before she had been a target for money. Now she was prey, food for his habit, his addiction. He downed another vial like it was the last on earth, savoring the taste. A wicked smile full of malevolence slowly took over his face. It would be a game of cat and mouse, and he loved to play with his food.
[ WP ] You 're a great military strategist who basis all movements on a chess board . You 've just been brought in under the charges of treason for sacrificing your strongest unit , the queen piece .	`` In what is being called a Pyrrhic victory today, the President of the United States is being welcomed to thousands of angry protesters that demand the immediate prosecution of army General Furnle Middleford for his deliberate actions to sacrifice the President's wife to last week's hostage crisis.'' He paused the video. `` You you understand the kind of cluster you have unleashed?'' A man with several important wrinkles paced around the screen. `` She was supposed to be there for a short time to meet with the President of the new state, the one we backed specifically. No, it was n't ISIS, it was n't the Turks, it was them.'' His wrinkles were red. Age masked his anger like a tissue masks an elephant. `` And then you had to go and screw it all up!'' The General was sipping on a glass of Suntory Whiskey, a new batch from the pull. Despite his age, his skin did n't sag and his eyes looked like they were untouched by a moment of stress. Given the circumstances, handling a hostage situation, creating a civil war, you might have thought that he would have ask many wrinkles as the man in front of him. He glanced over at his chess table. `` Did someone move the pieces again?'' They were in their starting position, everything in position to start a game anew. `` Would you like to play?'' His superior squinted. `` If you have the mind to strategize our victory in the, Middle East, how in the name of His name did you not see this happening?'' He threw his hands up violently. `` And now you want to play chess? Do you want another juice box to go with your drink?'' Looking oddly at his glass, the General shrugged. Looking around, he wondered where his aide went, his mind on other things. He perked up as the man continued to rant. `` Furnle, you were tasked with peace to the region. Now the Turks are banging on their door with half a million conscripts. Syria is all but destroyed, Iraq and Afghanistan might as well be on the moon for all the good that we have put into it.'' The General sauntered up to the board, moving pieces about, re-arranging them until the waters in his mind cleared. Looking it over, he moved a single piece and removed the queen to the side. The other man was hysterical as he approached him. `` I mean, the President wo n't even answer my calls! For God's sake Furnle, please tell me you can fix my career!?'' Tilting his head, he replied simply to the wrinkly man. `` Tell Sherry when she returns to send for General Arthur to my office, and put alert on this building. When that is done, see a massage therapist for a session of shiatzu to calm yourself. This will be over in three days time.'' He could n't hear the man crying as he left. He smiled to himself as he strolled through the building. He was just a pawn in the political empire. But any chess player knows the true strength of a pawn.
[ WP ] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic 's head .	My whole life, I'd been lead through it by my parents. Coddled, really. I sauntered on through, blind to the rigors and challenges ahead. That is, until my father died. It wrecked my whole family - my mother who was previously so supportive going insane and spending all her money gambling and drinking. She ended up being taken away and put in a home. So there I was, without any helicopter parents to coddle me. Everything about life hit me at once; bills, anxiety, schooling, debt, and even simple things like laundry. It all added up and it left me nearly crazy myself with stress. But, humans are nothing if not resilient. And life occasionally throws you a bone. I ended up being helped with by my long lost extended family; my parents had pushed them away. But they ended up finding me. They took me in, even if I had a problem accepting their gifts and help. But even that ray of hope was washed out by the torrent of shit that is life. My sister ended up getting cancer, and in a similar fashion my new family fell apart. I did n't have the skills to fix it, and I certainly was n't anywhere close to independent. Depression hit me like a truck. What was the point of life, if your loved ones kept dying and you were n't even given a starting chance? So I decided to jump off a bridge. I could n't take it anymore. Life was pointless. My existence was pointless. I was nothing but a parasite in the big, shit filled gut of life. And I drowned. The cold waters and silt embraced my body and pulled me down under, and I accepted graciously the gift of death. Even as my lungs ached and burned for oxygen, and my head spun in panic. I had no regrets. I wanted this. I began to fade until for a brief, blessed moment there was nothing. That's when I drowsily woke up. But I could n't move. At first, I thought I'd been saved by some asshole and paralyzed. But as I became more and more used to my new state, I began to see through the eyes of my new body. Well, it was n't mine. It was a young man, that reminded me of myself. He was going through something a lot like what I went through; his parents were splitting up. Even though he still had his mother, I was too wise for this. I could see what's coming. `` Life is pointless,'' I whispered. `` End it before it ends you.''
[ WP ] You wake up with a golden string tied to your pinky . It winds around the hall , and out the front door .	& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; When Leon Kirkpatrick first woke up the sun was shining through his bedroom's open window and a songbird was desperately singing its mating song. His first thought was: What a wonderful morning. It was followed closely by his second thought, which happened after he noticed a little golden string tied to his little finger. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Oh no, not again. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He gave the string a little experimental tug only to find that it was, in fact, firmly attached. Briefly he considered attempting to untie it, but a shudder passed down his spine as he recalled the last time he tried that. The little golden line ran down underneath the silky bed covers, up over the foot of the bed, and underneath his door. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ignoring the string for a moment, Leon decided to get dressed. After several minutes of trial-and-error he begrudgingly came to the conclusion that getting a shirt on under the string was impossible. Moderately presentable, he stepped out of his bedroom and into the hallway. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; The string lay draped about the hallway every which way. Frequently it doubled back on itself and the overall effect looked as though someone had tied the thread to a hyper-caffeinated squirrel and let it run loose. Leon ignored it and went to get some breakfast. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; As he discovered, it is surprisingly difficult to prepare any breakfast when there is always a little string waiting to knock over anything it can get its hands on. Grimly he persevered, determined to not allow something as trivial as a magic piece of fabric ruin his morning. Through a mixture of dumb luck and solid reflexes, Leon managed to make it through breakfast. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Pushing away from the table, Leon moved toward the front door, where he was certain the string would lead him. The sun had come up a little farther, and the air was pleasantly warm and humid. Light glinted off the thread where it lay in the grass. With a sigh, he moved forward. It was no use putting it off, he knew. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Things would only get worse. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Leon was unsurprised to note that the string veered off the lawn and into the garden. Apprehension growing, he stepped through a flowering arch and looked to his right. A little old plump woman sat on the stone bench, happily humming as she stripped flowers of their petals. Judging by the carnage at her feet, she'd been at this for a while. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I have a cell phone, you know.'' Leon began, crossing his arms over his bare chest. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; The woman sniffed and set the partially-butchered flower down. `` But cell phones are n't magical.'' She complained. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He sighed. Technically, she was right. `` All right, Fairy God Mother. Who is it today?''
[ WP ] To the Elvenkind , I give the gift of long life free of sickness . To the Dwarven race , I give mastery over stone and metals . To humans , I give the blessing of evolution and progress .	The elves and the dwarves look down their noses sneer at Man. But, it is the Human ace, who struggles in the mud and dies in the cold, that will inherent the kingdoms of both. An elf has a face which is angular and cold. The gods do n't make mistakes. The persistent scowl, the sharp nose, and the furrowed brow announce, to anyone who cares to see, the indignation of these people. Such indignation is only a prelude to their fall. A long life is a curse, and the pale skinned debauchery of the elves is the natural outlet for their supposed `` gift'' of immortality. Prancing and effete, they attempt to stockpile their accomplishments. Now, it's true that a casual observer might see glamour in the society of these degenerates, but their songs and art are all as hollow as their hearts. Indeed, what art could arise from a life of leisure and idleness? Their supposed strength has sapped their constitution, and left them uninspired and pretentious. For any art, or people for that matter, to be great, it must spring from the anvil of suffering. The dwarves know this, but they do not live it. They do not accept this truth into their hearts - nor could they. They are destined for the life of beady-eyed mole-men, only good to rut their tunnels. Indeed, their mind has been made soft by the metals they claw from the dirt. It is us, the sons and daughters of Man, who have the advantage. We are favored by the gods, and their gifts are plentiful. The suffering of our children, the death, and the screams imbue us with vitality. We are a mass, and our whole becomes greater with each moment because each moment shed the worst of us away. This is not torture; this is the crucible, and all these are but the beginning of the birth pains. The dwarf and the elf will stagnate in their tunnels and treetops while Man stretches into eternity.
[ WP ] A time-traveler becomes the very thing he was trying to stop	Kent was my name. Preservation my mission. Time was precious, it was unique. Change wasnt meant to happen, travel was n't meant to exist. Unfortunately time was no longer one direction since time travel was invented. Our agency unable to stop the spreading of this technology dedicated itself to stopping the past from changing. Paradoxes what would they cause, until we knew we could n't risk it, better to be safe then sorry I'm pretty sure the old saying goes or something along those lines. Fortunently travel left paths, litter small but traceable our job was to follow those paths and by any means neccesary preventing a paradox. I stepped out in the open invisible but existent to risk being sited was an extra danger not worth the risk I say my target Chatles Whitmore time terrorist, though truthfully that word had no meaning as anyone time traveling without are permission got that classification. He turned a corner into an alley looking around I realized where I was the fabled NYC if only this was still here in the present. Again he quickly changed his train of thought if he thought like that he could betray his values and destroy reality itself. As I turned the corner whitmore turned in he dissapeared again I sighed as a prepared for a long chase through time but at the last second I looked up and saw a terrible sight five big men beating a girl who could n't have been more then 6 to the ground without thinking my instincts kicked in and I raised my gun and shot a quick round dropping all five men, two seconds I had to realize my mistake before the world blanked out and non existence developed him I Kent Lorfey realized my mistake time was precious and in my goal to preserve it I had destroyed it. Reality was no longer real.
[ WP ] Weapons become more powerful the older they get . Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies .	Every one has heard the story about the spear that pirced Jesus, how it will grant you immortality, that it will make you powerful beyond belief, that with it you can turn the weakest of men into the visage of death himself. Well turns out the rumors were true for the most part, but not because it was the spear head that pirced Jesus, no this one was the spear that killed him. As it happens whenever someone who has a particularly strong spirit, usually world leaders or creators of great movements, is killed they imprint a fraction of themselves on the item that did them in. The gun that killed Hitler causes someone to be poisoned to death when shot with it, the cup that Rasputin drank from will give the holder an immunity to death. Now, whenever one of these items turns up it is our job to hunt them down before they can start causing a problem. We work independently from the control of any government, but funded by every single one of them. To put it simply we are a task force to stop the evils of the past from occouring again, we are the Knights Templar, defenders of the light and purveyors of good.
[ WP ] In a world where magic is real , you learned one spell and one spell only ; however , you are so advanced at using that spell that nobody can defeat you . One day , a famed legendary spellcaster challenges you , much to everyone 's surprise .	I'm the only mage in my school. Everyone knows I can do magic and I get bullied for it. I've only ever been bothered to learn one spell; the name: Tickles. I've taken part in several magic duels and won them all, simply incapacitating my opponent and ramping up the power until they give in. One day, I was reading my essay through again to make sure it was in a state to be handed in. A man in a long, deep-red robe came up to me and spoke, in a heavy Russian accent: `` I'm the top mage in the world, Merthar. And I'm here to challenge you to a duel, James.'' He went on to explain about how I had beaten some of the world's best mages and not realised it. I was only a secondary schooler! I took up my stance in the courtyard and put some energy into my hands. A small green glow appeared. On the other side of the yard, he had almost already had his spell charged, by the looks of it, a powerful lightning bolt. Just as the spell was about to be unleashed, I gave him a small tickling behind his head. This broke his spell. I took the time to make a huge tickling affect on him. He dissolved in tears of laughter to the ground. He managed, somehow, to make a small deflecting shield around him. I turned off the spell. I then realised that the power of the shield was obviously weak. I put all of my remaining power into making the spell pierce the shield. We both got hit to some degree and fell to the ground laughing once again. He finally stood up and shook my hand, declaring the duel a stalemate and me to be the world number two battle mage.
[ WP ] You are an eight year old in the 90 's . Today yourself from 2014 came back in time to watch cartoons with you .	I look at the man staring at me, surprised like he found a huge pile of gold. He starts looking at one of my entertainment system. `` That's a Nintendo 64, wan na play?'' I said in a low voice. He says `` Why do n't we go watch some Cartoons? You know, get to know what are some good shows to watch in the TV these days'', I nod and turn on the TV. I ask him `` Hey what's your name?''. The man says `` My name is... my name is John.'' My eyes grow bigger in surprise, I say quickly `` Hey that's my name too!''. He chuckles and says `` Wow, What a small world we live in huh? ``, I nod and also giggle a little. I change the channels and watch Superman. `` Is this what you're into?'' the man says. `` Yeah, I love watching superman, he's so strong and fast, he could beat anybody!'' I say. He chuckles and continues watching Superman with me. We sit in for hours, talking about what are some of the best games in the Nintendo 64, what are some of the best super heroes and about many other interesting things we both like. I end up taking a little nap on his shoulder. He looks at me and smiles. As I close my eyes, I see a tear running down his face. The next day, I wake up on the couch, I notice nobody is beside me. `` Maybe it was just a dream'' I thought. I then pulled out my controller, take out the Super Smash Bros cartridge and then put in Starfox. I wonder who that man was, as I was playing. ( Oh and I forgot to mention, this is my first writing prompt! I'm not that good of a writer so feedback would be appreciated! )
[ WP ] The year is 2037 , and the Internet of Things has gone too far .	`` Tell me again, Melinda. Why does the fucking toaster need an Internet connection to work?'' my dad was shouting again. When he grew up, he said they did n't even have holograms. Even though he said he was a `` nerd'' when he was younger, now he just could n't understand how things work. I roll my eyes as Melinda, my sister, opens the SmartDoor™ by looking at the doorknob and embarks on her FutureScooter© to get to the iKitchen™, where father was struggling to make himself breakfast. I realize I'm late for school, as I am reminded by my Holoclock™, so I turn off my Holovision™, which was playing the new Pokemon series, and I rush to the bathroom, where my iCrapper™ had already warmed the seat once it detected me thinking about it. Once I'm done, I know I can always rely on the Hyper Techno Toilet Paper©, or HTTP, for short, to get myself cleaned up. I do n't need to brush my teeth, as they've already updated themselves during the night. I leave the bathroom and head to the study room, where I put on my Dockulus Shift©, which then transports me in what father said looks like classrooms from his time. Life's so simple now... I really do n't know how people lived before all this.
[ WP ] Make me want to quit halfway through reading your response out of boredom . ( 250 word minimum )	The rusty brown lounge chair was well worn with tears on the arms, strings hanging from the edge and a peek of stained foam pushing its way through. He sat in this chair every day from the moment he woke at exactly 7:30 to the time he went to bed at exactly 10:00pm only rising to eat and relieve himself. The room smelled of stale bread and moldy cheese because of the left remnants of the same sandwich he would make for lunch and dinner every day, American cheese on white bread with mayonnaise. At exactly 10:30am he would look out the window to see the mailman come and deliver the mail through the front door slot. The pile of mail was now nearly as tall as the slot and pushing against the umbrella stand and the coat rack. He stopped reading the mail, he stopped reading anything. Initially he had traded reading for watching TV but since the cable company shut off his service, he only sits and stares at the static. Every once in a while he sees someone drive or walk down the street, he doesn ’ t think much about it, no interest in who they might be, where they are going or what they might be doing. He isn ’ t interested in anything anymore. Lately, he ’ s even stopped turning on the lights after it gets dark, he ’ s decided to start practicing moving around in the dark before the electricity gets turned off. He can afford to pay the electricity, he just doesn ’ t.
[ WP ] People can buy and sell memories .	The market place was a living thing of sound and motion, where nothing could be still, even for a moment. The young man found the Memory Seller sitting in the dirt in a corner of the market place, covered in what was now more rag than cloak and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down low. Next to him was a very worn canvas bag that hung loosely around his shoulder. The young man stood before him, arms akimbo, legs far apart, with the kind of bravado that only youth brings. The young man was dressed in very expensive looking things and everything about the way he carried himself implied that he was all too aware of this fact. `` Are you the wizard that sells the memory charms?'' the man asked. The Memory Seller looked up and squinted at the boy. He had an old face; his reddish brown skin that was the color of fresh clay was wrinkled and well-used but his features were still strong and solid looking. He did not attempt to stand or greet the boy in any way. He simply said, `` I am no wizard, boy. You'll find no charms from me. I only sell memories.'' The boy laughed. `` My mistake, sir,'' he said, adding a slight sarcastic tinge to the last word. `` But you are the one they speak of then?'' The Memory Seller shrugged and said, `` I was not aware that'they' speak of me.'' `` My friends speak of a crazy old man,'' the young man elaborated. `` Who claims to be a seller of memories. And so, as a lark, they have dared me to come and find this madman and buy a memory from him so that I may come back and show them all. I saw you and naturally assumed you must be the madman.'' The Memory Seller stared the boy down. `` Mad I may be,'' he said thoughtfully. `` No more mad than you, I'd reckon.'' At this, the Memory Seller smiled. The young man frowned. `` Honestly,'' he said in an offended tone. `` Is that any way to treat a customer?'' `` My apologies, sir,'' and it was the Memory Seller's turn for sarcasm. `` What can I interest you in today?'' The young man was caught off guard. `` Well, I had n't thought of that,'' he said, thinking. `` What kind of memories do you sell?'' `` All kinds,'' the Memory Seller explained. `` Memories long forgotten, memories cherished, memories that have not yet become, false memories, happy memories, sad memories-'' The young man interrupted, `` Who on earth would want a sad memory?'' `` Sometimes,'' the Memory Seller explained with patience. `` The sad memories are the ones that makes us happiest.'' The young man scoffed, `` Well, that does n't make any sense!'' `` Once,'' the Memory Seller went on. `` A woman came to me who had lost her son in a war. She begged for me to use my sorcery to bring back her brave soldier but I told her that I had no sorcery to give, only memories. So instead, I gave her a very old memory of her boy when he still was just a boy. It was her son playing soldier, with a stick for a sword, fending off the other, bigger boys. Every time a stick struck, the swords would ring and clash in their minds. Then, it was still a game to them. They laughed and ran through the meadow, making dragons out of every shadow and rescuing imaginary maidens.'' The young man had gone silent. The cacophony of the market surged all around them but to him it was no more than a faint susurrus of sound. He sat down in the dirt opposite the man, quite forgetting what it would do to his fine coat. He did not quite know why he listened to the Memory Seller like he did; it seemed that when the old man spoke, one must listen. `` What happened then?'' the boy said. The Memory Seller reached into his bag and withdrew a simple wooden pipe, hand carved by the looks of it. He knocked it against the side of a brick wall and began to load the bowl with fresh tobacco. `` The woman wept,'' the Memory Seller went on. `` She cursed my name and called me a demon. She left the market place as fast as she could run, saying she would smash the memory to pieces.'' The Memory Seller dug around in his bag. `` Say, lad,'' he said to the young man. `` Have you any matches?'' `` Oh,'' said the young man and he patted his waistcoat. Eventually, he found an old box of matches. He opened it up and said to the Memory Seller, `` You're lucky, I still have one left.'' The Memory Seller took it gratefully. `` I must be,'' he agreed. He lit his pipe and continued, `` The woman came back in a few days time. Still weeping was she but these were not the bitter tears of loss; these were the happiness and the sadness tears mixed together. She thanked me for bringing her back her boy to her. She had every intention of destroying the small memory but she could n't.'' `` Why not?'' the young man asked. `` I would if something caused me that much pain.'' The Memory Seller blew out a steady stream of blue-white smoke. `` Perhaps you would,'' he said. `` Perhaps you would n't. She did n't though; told me that to throw it away would be like losing her baby boy all over again.'' The Memory Seller puffed away and the young boy looked at him eagerly. `` Is that it?'' he asked. The Memory Seller nodded, `` That's it.'' `` But you did n't really bring him back,'' the young boy said, trying to understand and sounding disappointed. `` You just gave her a memory. Surely, that would be worse?'' The old man nodded again, `` Sometimes a memory's all we have. Boy, have you decided what memory you want today?'' The young man shook his head. The Memory Seller stuck his pipe into his mouth and began to rummage in his bag once more. Eventually, he drew out a black glass orb, no bigger than an orange. He handed it gingerly to the young man who looked deep into it. At first, nothing happened but soon an image began to bleed into focus. The young man could see the Memory Seller and a brash looking boy standing in front of him. He heard a voice that he knew must be coming from the orb but sounded as if it came from within his own head. Faintly, he heard `` Are you the wizard that sells the memory charms?'' `` Take that back to your chums,'' the Memory Seller said. `` Perhaps they may learn something, and you as well. Then again, perhaps you wo n't.''
[ WP ] A person walks into an elevator , alone , that has a vacuum cleaner left in it . Any genre .	GEORGE - THE FINEST IMMIGRANT MILKMAN IN AMERICA I skipped into the lift - sorry - elevator, my milk bottle carrier swinging in my right arm. God, do n't you just love the sound of milk bottles clinking in the morning? Do n't you just love how the little ping sounds are just so friendly, somehow managing to be sharp and soft at the same time? No? Maybe it's just me. The lift - sorry - el-e-vat-or ( I suppose it does elevate people ) was a newly upgraded gizmo, a couple of feet by a couple of feet, quite bland by all accounts, but very shiny. `` GOOD MORNING!'' I grinned at the machine that was huddled in the corner. It was a metallic, wireless little cleaning device. I suppose, just like me, it was lost somewhere unfamiliar. `` Maybe someone upstairs will want you, little man!'' I pressed for floor 7, and the doors rapidly shut. `` GOING UP'' said the lift, with the voice of a friendly American woman trapped in a computer. `` So,'' The vacuum cleaner just stared back at me, `` This is awkward...'' I gave a side-glance to the vacuum, along with a cheeky little grin. `` Long day ahead, mate?'' - still no answer - `` Ready to start cleaning?'' The vacuum perked up, like the one in the Teletubbies except a thousand times more intimidating. `` START CLEANING'' said the vacuum. Crap. A flurry of lights began flashing all over the machine, and it began to slowly shake. `` STOP!'' I yelled. Nothing happened. the machine began exploring the lift, elevator, whatever, faster and faster, quickly bashing into the opposite wall twice, and making strange noises. `` FOR CHRIST'S SAKE STOP! EMERGENCY STOP!'' I tried to grab at the machine, but managed to smash a milk bottle on the floor in the process. Maybe it was the milk which spilled on it, or the glass it tried to clean up, but it started making some even weirder noises, so I kicked it over. At the same time, the lift decided to listen to me as well, and it jolted to quite an uncomfortable emergency stop. Everything was now calm, the machine was humming quite pleasently on its side, while the final echoes of my shouts vanished. `` Do n't cry over spilt milk,'' I told myself, looking at the mess I had created `` Sorry, friend.'' I looked down to the machine, now slightly damaged. I reached out for the little button to call for help. '' Hello, what is your crisis? `` the lift said. `` Um... hello?'' '' Hello, I'm EmergenShe3002, Elevator Robot Services! How can I help? `` `` I'm stuck in the lift!'' I told the robot. '' You said that you want a lift, am I correct? `` `` No, sorry, elevator...'' '' You said that you want an elevator, am I correct? `` `` No, sorry, I'm in an elevator and it's stopped.'' '' Multiple apologies are a sign of guilt, scanning elevator for threats'' `` No!'' '' THREAT DETECTED WHAT IS THE DEVICE IN THE NORTH WEST CORNER? `` `` No! No! No threat, it's a hoover!'' '' THE THREAT IS CALLED HOOVER? `` `` Bloody Hell, no, sorry, vacuum cleaner!'' '' BLOODY SCENE? IS UNKNOWN LIQUID ON FLOOR BLOOD? `` `` What? No, it's a saying. Jesus Christ Almighty. It's mil...'' '' VIOLENCE AND RELIGIOUS EXTREMISM IS DETECTED'' `` I'm in a broken down elevator in a block of flats, I just need to deliver my milk! Let me out!'' '' THREAT TO FLATTEN AMERICA'' `` What?! No, I'm British!'' '' FOREIGNER DETECTED. EVIDENCE OF THREAT BEYOND REASONABLE DOUBT. THE AUTHORITIES ARE ON THEIR WAY'' I sighed a little sigh and took a swig of milk from an intact bottle.'Next time,' I thought,'I'll take the stairs'.
[ WP ] Write a huge historical event from a child 's perspective .	He came to our house today. I know it was him because I've seen his pictures everywhere! He's really important and he wants to meet with MY daddy! Daddy did n't seem too nervous, but he got dressed up in his fancy long blue coat with all the shiny medals and buttons. I never see Daddy in those clothes. I wonder if Daddy is going away again? Last time he was gone, he left for ten days. He went over to Siam Reap. We live in Phnom Penh, so that is a long way. It is almost eight hours! But when Dad came home, he brought me lots of new clothes. I know my dad is important to the Rouge. My dad is important because we get a lot of food, and my mom is allowed to teach me. My friend's daddy is important too, because she met Him too. He seems very nice. He brought me sweets, and a doll. My mommy told me before he came that I must be very polite. But I know why. I know the rules: do n't question, do as you are told, and above all, what Pol Pot says, that is law. He said that I was a nice girl, and that I have a future in his regime! I said, `` How silly, because I am only 7! I ca n't work yet!'' And he laughed at me. I think he is a nice man. He gives me sweets, and my daddy a job. I wonder if he knows of SretMeng, my friend. I saw her on my way home yesterday. She was standing very close to a gate. She looked very hungry and we talked. She said she was camping, but does n't know where her mommy is. SretMeng told me that she lives in Bati. That is very far from here, too. I wonder why she is camping at an old factory in Phnom Penh? I wish I could camp alone. Maybe Pol Pot will go visit her next. I hope he gives her sweets, because she was very nice.
[ WP ] All of your built-up frustration breaks loose - during your graduation speech .	Derek cleared his throat nervously. His time to shine was now. There was no looking back. “ Ahem – Thank you all for being here, though I ’ m not sure you had the choice. Actually, I take that back – you definitely had the choice. And you all chose to graduate. ” “ I want to start out by thanking you all for electing me to give the graduation speech. It means the world to me and I will try not to mess it up. ” “ Now as we all know, going to school with Principle Fuster can get quite FUSTERating… ” Not a single person laughed. “ Haha-er-sorry. Anyway, Spanish with Mrs. Debille can be quite DEBILITATING! ” People in the audience were becoming visibly uncomfortable. Someone coughed. “ Wow, ok. Um. And eating Ms. Harrow ’ s food at lunch can be…harrowing. ” Several people groaned. “ OK WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL? DO YOU NOT LIKE PUNS? WHY CAN ’ T ANY OF YOU LAUGH? DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG? STUPID FUCKS. ” Someone from the back yelled: “ Fuck puns – get off Reddit and get a life. ”
[ WP ] To deter crime and promote positive behavior , all citizens are wired with ocular and aural recorders . During a routine bulk data analysis , it 's discovered that an entire small town has `` gone dark '' . You 're sent to investigate .	Stepped off the helipcopter at oh-eight-thirty-eight. The security detail was right behind me, muzzles down. We didn ’ t really expect trouble- if a whole town goes offline, it ’ s got ta be a network glitch. The criminals that unhook their implants do it in ones and twos, maybe a gang at most. Like that group of a dozen in Colorado, thought they were smart. All of them went dark in one evening, consecutively, in the same house. Obvious gang activity, we hunted them down in less than twenty four hours. Tracked their smart phones, the morons. “ Accidently ” shot the ring leader, just to prove a point. Anyway, back to Fateville, Virginia. Tiny place, population 2735, whole town went dark yesterday evening, I came to check things out before we send a tech team, which is surely all it will take. Landed the copter in the grocery store parking lot. Not a soul to be seen. No cars. It seemed odd. I walked to the sidewalk at the edge of the main drag, looked down the street. No one. Nothing moved. I waved to the pilot to shut off the engine. My two security guys moved with me but fanned out, looking off to the the flanks. As the engine spooled down we were left in an eerie silence. I was stumped. Obviously if there weren ’ t anyone here, we ’ d get no feeds from any implants. Maybe everyone just deserted the town. But the diagnostics showed 2598 feeds were cut-off last night. Shut down. Not people leaving, but people here that were somehow disconnected. The people should still be here. My mind started conjuring up some bad scenarios. Jonestown. Waco. Maybe they were all holed up somewhere. Maybe trapped. I felt a pit in my stomach and felt suddenly exposed. Watched. I waved to the pilot, who was slowly walking towards me, loosening the collar of her flight suit. “ I changed my mind. Let ’ s keep keep the engine going, be ready to dust off. Something wrong here, I don ’ t like it. ” “ Roger that, ” she replied and started jogging back to the machine. I pulled out my radio, and wished I had brought a rifle like my two security goons. They were on alert now, instincts kicking in. Holding the ARs patrol style, no longer muzzle down. I keyed the radio. “ HQ, this is Jenkins, I don ’ t think this is the routine check-out we thought it would be. ” I waited for the reply. And waited. Tried a couple more times, and nothing. The radio seemed to be OK. Pulled out my cell phone. Now, that appeared dead. One of the gaurds behind me gave a yelp. I spun around. He was standing there empty handed, hands out, looking at the space where he had been carrying his rifle a moment before. Before my brain could even process this, the other one yelped. Same problem. I turned around, scanning the parking lot, the street, the surrounding buildings. Nothing. No one. Shouldn ’ t have done that. As I turned back to the gaurds, they were gone too. As was the entire freaking helicopter. My brain was falling behind quickly. I hoped HQ was at least seeing the feeds from my own optical and auditory implants. Maybe they could figure this out. My cell phone beeped in my hand. I looked down, there was text there. Not a text message- it was not in any app that I had on the phone. It was just text on the black screen. “ WALK DOWN MAIN STREET. ” What to do. My security detail was gone, my way out was gone, my communications disabled. I needed more information. Apparently, it was down main street. I walked. Right down the double yellow line. Why not. Soon there was a man standing about a hundred yards in front of me. He was twenty-something, dressed in a hoody and jeans, African-American descent. I had not seen where he had come from. He raised his arm and beckoned me forward. When I got within a few feet, he said, “ Stop there. ” “ What ’ s going on here? ” I asked, glanced around to indicate the entire town. “ A revolution, ” he declared. Following my glance, he raised his hand to the empty streets around us and began what I would assume to be his manifesto. “ We of Fateville- “ That ’ s when I lunged. Decades of hand-to-hand training, even without a weapon, he couldn ’ t handle me. I tumbled to the street. He was no longer there. I looked up to the roar of a semi bearing down on me, horn blaring so loud it split my head, so close as to be unavoidable. And vanished. The man was now standing ten feet away as if nothing had happened. There was a bit of a smirk on his face. “ If you haven ’ t figured out, we are controlling your ocular and your aural implant. ” I had to let that sink in for a moment. “ That ’ s illegal, ” I replied somewhat automatically. I needed to think a moment. “ Well, we of Fateville feel a little differently. We don ’ t think you need to be listening in on us every moment of our lives. ” I picked myself up off the ground. “ What happened to my security detail? ” “ They ’ re OK. They ’ re going to be given the same choice as you. ” “ Same choice? What choice? ” “ Join us. ” “ Or what? ” “ Or else. ”
[ WP ] It was an open and shut case , except for one alarming detail ...	`` Doubtlessly suicide.'' The spot they had found the young man at was popular with suicides because it was far enough from the train station so that trains were still fast yet close enough to Kiev that one could get there by bus, and derelict walls could hide the unfortunates until the end so that there was no time for conductors to break. `` Write it down as a suicide and stop worrying if you know what's good for you'' the older officer responded abruptly to his guileless coleague who still harbored some doubt as to whether train impacts could cause in the victim deep sharp cuts across the sides of the chest as well as the disappearance of both lungs.
[ CW ] Write a story with all 5 types of conflicts , man vs man man vs society man vs nature man vs self and man vs supernatural	I had no doubts that I could win. Victory would bring a good life, full of wine and women, feasts and fighting. I would probably succeed my father as chieftain, as soon as he was too weak to hold the position. Which was a long way off, most likely. Might made right, and my father was the mightiest. He watched with the rest of the clan, from the stone steps that ringed the arena. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck, making the little hairs stand on end. Or perhaps that was just the wind kissing my skin, bare but for the loincloth around my waist. I was freezing, but I did not shiver. That would be seen as weakness. I stood motionless, toes curled into the cold dry sand. The bear that I faced was a fearsome beast; saliva dripped from its wicked fangs, and it stared at me with bloodshot eyes. It had been starved, I knew, and right now it wanted nothing more than to kill me. All I had was a spear, a head taller than me. Killing the thing would be… trivial. It charged, a massive mound of fur and fury. At the last second, I dived out the way, jabbing its paw with my spear as it swiped at me. It roared in pain, and reared up on its hind legs. I jumped towards it and plunged my weapon through its chest, then darted away again to avoid the claws that were aimed at my head. With my spear in its chest, the bear couldn ’ t drop down to all fours so it staggered awkwardly but angrily towards me. The watching crowd gasped as I ducked another blow, then placed both feet on the bear ’ s torso and dragged the spear from its body. A river of blood followed me as I fell to the ground and rolled away. The bear fell, and lay still. The first trial was over. Two more to go. I spared a glance for my father. He was leaning forward, a look of satisfaction curling his lips. His offspring was winning. His bloodline looked strong. That was all I ever was to him, to anyone. I was my father ’ s legacy. He had plenty of bastards, but my mother, his wife, had died soon after I was born. By our laws, he could not take another. I sometimes wondered if he felt grief at mother ’ s death, or just anger that he only had one heir. Regardless, I was it, for him, and my whole life was about pleasing him. I pushed such thoughts aside, as the second trial began. A ghost of one of our enemies, imprisoned between life and death for the sole purpose of this trial, had been released into the arena. It had been told that the only way it would be allowed to pass on would be if it defeated me. It could only do that if it materialised, giving me a chance to strike, so first it would… Do you think she loves you? How could it know… The chieftain ’ s son, the future leader. She ’ s simply securing her position. Those whispered words that you treasure so much, they are lies. No. I didn ’ t doubt her. It would have to do better than that. I held my spear ready, waiting for the tell-tale rush of air that would accompany materialisation. How are you feeling, Trarga ’ s son? Why did it use my father ’ s name? Why not my own? Will you please your father? Will you win for him? Ah, that was it. I had expected that approach. I remained motionless, focussed. Patience was key. But you don ’ t want to win, do you? What? I blinked in surprise, distracted for a split-second. The faintest rustling of the air sounded behind my left ear. I turned with my spear, already fearing that I was too late. An evil chill gripped my bones as I caught a glimpse of a dark, formless shadow. Then the point of my spear met it, and it screamed and exploded into dust. Some warmth returned but I trembled at my narrow escape. A shaman recaptured the soul. My father frowned. Few among the onlookers would realise how close to death I just came. My father was one of those few. He was giving me a look that I knew well, warning me not to disappoint him. That did not worry me. If I failed, I would die. There was nothing he could do about it. No, it was the ghost ’ s words that filled my heart with doubt. Did I want to win? If I did, I would enjoy a life of luxury. The Tested were greatly honoured in out clan. I would marry my love, and one day, most likely, I would rule with absolute authority over my people. But I knew it wasn ’ t right. One day, years ago, I was wandering through the camp when I came across Veasa, the healer. There was a small boy with him, no more than five years old, whose body was covered in black blisters. It was a sickness that was known well to my people, one that spelt certain death. But Veasa, frail of body but bright of mind, applied an ointment to the boy ’ s skin. Over the next few days, I returned to Veasa ’ s tent and watched in awe as the blisters faded from the boys skin and he returned to health. Excited by this miracle, I told my father. My father was angry. Veasa should have been harvesting fruit for the Tested. Veasa should not have been wasting his time on the weak who succumbed to disease. Veasa was whipped, and sent back to work. Veasa died a week later, and the cure was lost. That was the regime I would join if I succeeded in the trials. Perhaps, in time, I could enact change, to make people see the value of intelligence, beauty, and love over blind strength. But only once my father was gone. And even then, the other Tested would resist. Right now, though, I had to pass the final trial. My opponent was walking into the arena, with an almost imperceptible limp. His name was Dastop, the son of my father ’ s main rival. He had passed the first two trials the day before, so he was rested, but had sustained a wound to his leg. I had been taught to hate him, but had no real reason to. All that mattered, was if I could beat him. We circled each other, sand shifting beneath our bare feet. He jabbed at me with his spear; I parried. He jabbed again; I dodged. Then he rushed at me, swinging his spear at mine as he did. To his surprise, I let go of my weapon, and his swing went wide. I dropped and dealt a vicious blow to his injured leg, causing him to yell in pain. Then I straightened and grabbed his spear, twisting it from his grasp as I shoved him backwards. He staggered backwards then fell, defenceless, to the ground. This was it. Kill, and gain a comfortable life, one that I might never be free of. Or refuse to kill, speak out against the injustice that I saw. And die because of it, either at Daspot ’ s hands or my father ’ s. It wasn ’ t much of a choice. I looked at my target, hefted the spear, and threw it. Straight through my father ’ s chest. That might make them listen.
[ IP ] Ship the Dragon	I had just finished tending to the goat when I heard Merrideth call my name. I wiped my hands on the legs of my overalls and trudged my way back to the house. I could hear Doritos coming from his hilltop cave. We had to move him there three months ago when he was getting too big to even fir through the doors to the house. He was a little sad, but was thrilled at the spaciousness of the cave. The cave itself used to be an old mine. It had been dug out wide enough to fit a pair of donkey pulled carts, but it had long since been out of use. There were plenty tunnels and pockets that Doritos could hide in and his snores would n't wake the neighbors. The occasional times he would sneeze would just char the rock instead of the rugs. He loved it. But upon hearing my name, I could hear the whump whump whump of his wing beats and the sound of crashing trees. Doritos was still learning to fly. I reached the house and Merrideth was standing on the porch looking very strange. She pointed at a large box with a familiar logo on the side sitting on the front steps. Puck sniffed at the box excitedly. `` What is this?'' She asked in a very accusatory tone. `` I do n't know. I have n't ordered anything besides dewormer for the goats and chickens.'' I said, shrugging. `` Well, its addressed to you, so you get to open it.'' She handed me a paring knife as she passed me to sit on the rocking chair. I held the knife and looked at her, worried about what I was going to find. There used to be another Clyde Bellthorn around here, but he had moved out a long time ago when his crimes caught up with him. What a mess that was, getting visited by cops every now and again telling me I was going to jail. I turned to the box and carefully sliced off the tape. A squawk made me jump back as the top burst open. `` Oh my word.'' Merrideth murmured as she stared at the creature sitting inside the box being licked furiously by Puck. It was at that moment Doritos joined us and made a less than graceful landing in the driveway. `` Rowwrl?'' Doritos purr growled, looking at the small golden dragon chirping happily at my dog. `` I dunno, buddy.'' I said getting up after falling on my bum from the surprise. `` He came in the box, I do n't know where he came from.'' `` There's a note.'' Merrideth said as she picked up the little golden baby and the note that was apparently inside with it. She handed it to me then walked out towards my big red goober of a dragon to show him the newest addition. I smirked as Doritos purred and nuzzled the little thing in her arms. Then I turned my attention to the note. It read Dear sir, It has been brought to our attention that you are in possession of a dragon. We are pleased to know that he is doing well. We have sent you another orphan who is in need of care. If this is too much for you, please send a letter back to the address on the box and we will send someone to fetch her. With best regards, Society of Dragon Welfare `` Well, I'll be darned.'' I muttered as I looked at the box and saw the address. The little golden dragon was shipped all the way from England. I felt horrible, wondering how she had fared through the whole ordeal. `` What did the note say?'' Merrideth asked as she watched Puck and the little golden dragon play under the supervision of Doritos. `` Looks like we got contacted by some welfare agency for dragons to take care of her. She's an orphan.'' I said. `` She?'' Merrideth turned and looked at me. `` Yep, they said she is a little girl dragon.'' I walked over to stand beside my wife and watched the big dog teach the tiny dragon how to play. Doritos nuzzled me, purring happily. `` Well, if she is an orphan we can take her in. Do n't need her without a home and we have a really good home.'' Merrideth stated, thrusting her chin up. The decision had been made. `` All right, we will keep her. What shall we name her?'' I chuckled. `` Hmmm.'' Merrideth thought a moment, then looked back onto the porch at the box. She smiled as she looked at me, a familiar feisty glint in her eyes. `` What?'' I asked. `` Her name will be Amazon.''
[ WP ] `` Look , mommy ! Fireworks ! ''	`` Look, mommy! Fireworks!'' Young Takeshi, barely 5 years old, stood outside on his porch, watching in joy as bright orange explosions filled the orange sky. An air raid siren fills the sky as well, and soon the `` fireworks'' cascaded down onto the village below, sending houses aflame. But little Takeshi did n't know. Atsumi had heard the drone of the bombers long before Takeshi had cried out in joy. Her husband had taught her how to recognize the eerie sound of approaching American B-29's long before. He had then held her in his arms, and promised to protect her and Takeshi when the time came. But he was lost now, somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, she presumed, along with the rest of his squadron. It was up to her to protect her little Takeshi. She grabbed Takeshi's little hand, and clutched her kitchen knife with her free hand. She ran towards her pack, and was out the door before the screaming started from across the river. As Atsumi continued running down the path into the marshes, Takeshi dragged his feet. `` Mommy, stop! I wan na see the fireworks!''
[ WP ] You are speaking to a terrified man on his deathbed . In fewer than 10 sentences write the most inspirational speech you can making him no longer fear death .	That light at the end of the tunnel, the one they tell you not to go into? Well, I say ignore them, go into it. For on the other side of that light lies what we all seek: peace. Peace from this world that has brought you down more times than you can count, and respite from the wars you fought. Let it be known that you will be remembered, in life and in death, for the sacrifices you have made for me and my family. You were a soldier, but now I say walk through that tunnel of light. Storm that door, as you did the beaches and battlefields of war, and claim that peace that every soldier deserves. ``... though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...''
[ WP ] Whenever you touch a scar you get to see what caused it . You work at a massage parlor . A war veteran asks for a massage from you .	Four shrill screeches from the broken cuckoo clock above let me know it was time. I shifted uncomfortably in my corset, dressed quite smartly to impress the customer- men of the Vietnam Era took note of things like that, or so I assumed. I had an image to uphold, and scanning a war veteran was a first for me. I took a deep breath and popped a Xanax bar, swallowing it dry to avoid spilling liquid on myself. Extra-strength anti-perspirant was just barely holding the tidal waves of sweat back, and my leg was bouncing like there was a child toying with it. PTSD exists for a reason, and it's because of the things soldiers see in the muk of battlefield... how does a soft, civilian mind fare in the face of those memories? The door opened and a young man stepped in, no older than 27 and wearing a Slayer t-shirt. His dark brown hair faded into skin near his temples and he looked entirely confused. `` Excuse me, sir,'' I said politely yet firmly, `` but I think you have the wrong room.'' `` I'm looking for Janet Stinson, the'Seer'. I saw a photo but it was a while ago, and I do n't remember what exactly she looks like.'' He was looking behind him and side to side, like she'd be in a cabinet or drawer. `` I'm her, but you'll need to wait. I have an important appointment any moment.'' He handed me a piece of paper. `` I think that's me, unless I got the date wrong.'' I snatched it from him, scanning it with my reading glasses. `` You're the war hero?'' `` Well, I hate that phrase. We're all heroes, in one way or another, ma'am.'' `` Well, maybe not all of us. I must say, I did n't expect you to be so young. Please, remove your shirt and lay face down.'' I stood up and gestured to the massage table. He followed my instructions, lifting his shirt to reveal what was once an incredibly muscular body, now slightly faded by the simplicity of a slow life. Even so, he looked much better than the average person. `` As I understand it, you're not looking for an actual massage, but just a reading- correct?'' `` Yeah, I hate massages and the way they feel but when I heard about you I just had to know.'' `` Know what?'' `` What you'll see. You claim to see into the deepest part of a person's soul through their scars, and you say you can see them all, right? What's the slogan? No damage goes unseen? I had to know what you'd see in me.'' I cracked my knuckles, limbering the fingers. `` Well, you're right about that. Nothing slips past me, young man. So let's get to it, shall we?'' He laid his face into the headrest and sighed. `` Please, just avoid pressing into the muscle if you can. I get tender spots.'' `` Of course.'' I reached a finger out to a pockmark on his right shoulder, instantly overwhelmed with the rush of adrenaline. It was evening, and deafening explosions were launching dirt and sand into the air. The smell of sulfur was rank, the fear of death palpable. Yet the men around me did not waver, remaining calm and collected to hold their position. A bullet took the man next to me, his mouth bubbling with blood as I tried to help him despite knowing his life was over. The distraction left my rear exposed, and a bullet tore clean through the shoulder, blood soaking into the thick fabric of my MCCUU. My eyes snapped open, accompanied by a gasp. `` I'd never seen a man die that close to me before,'' he said softly. `` Let it distract me. I knew he was fucked.'' I traced a trembling hand down the back to a slit-shaped mound of tense flesh below his ribcage. Yet again, it felt like whiplash and I was yanked into sudden despair. I was in a bar, and a light-skinned man was screaming in my face. It was hard to hear the words, they were so slurred by anger and alchohol, but he seemed to hate the military and authority. Said his daughter was raped by a grunt at some outpost, did n't even know the name. Next thing I knew, I was ducking from a silver blur thrusting at me from every direction. He was sloppy, but fast and strong for his age, and I slipped on a felled plate, leaving my right flank exposed. The knife sank deep, and I screamed in pain, accidentally following through in real life. `` They did n't think I'd make it back from that one,'' he said with a chuckle. `` Sunuva bitch ended up in the slammer, though. Hear he got shanked.'' I gulped and moved my fingertips to a cluster of smaller yet uneven scars covered in burns, scattered like stars and nebulae in a galaxy across his left side, and arm, even across his back. This time, it was calm- far too calm for my liking. The sun had just set, made clear by the light dusting of pinkish-orange on the horizon. I was in a helicopter, enjoying the cool breeze of nighttime air whipping about me. My friend was telling some kind of joke, I did n't understand the terminology or context, but everyone was laughing. It was nice to see them smiling, instead of screaming. A faint, airy hiss sounded somewhere below and an alarm went off, everything going to hell in an instant. Before their smiles even faded, the tail end of our helicopter vanished in a blinding light; the world spinning so fast it felt like I was a dreidel on Chanukah. The remnants of our aircraft slid into a patch of desert sand, just barely forming a cushion, and I tried to crawl forward though I could n't make out what was in front of me. The world was a blur, and it flipped upside down with a deafening explosion. I pulled back from the young man, stumbling into a chair with tears in my eyes. I'd seen accidents and mishaps, but nothing like the raw terror of men killing other men, of smiles melting away like dirt rinsing off a car. `` I was the only one that survived that crash. No one really knows how I made it. Living can be a curse, sometimes.'' He sat up and looked at me with a soft smile. `` So, what'd you see?'' `` I saw bravery in the face of certain death, and death that came to smiling faces. I saw men die too soon, and the horrors of what we have inflicted upon ourselves. You have suffered through more than anyone should.'' He let off a light chuckle. `` I figured as much.'' `` What are you talking about?'' He pointed to his chest, which was smooth and free of imperfections. `` I have a beautiful wife who stayed with me through it all. We tried to get pregnant for years, so many different remedial, homeopathic bullshit solutions, and medical ones too. Nothing worked. But one day, after years of trying, she fell ill and I rushed her to the hospital. Turns out she'd had miscarriage. Our baby died and we never even knew there was a chance.'' He pointed to his temple, again, the skin smooth and sheen. `` When I was on tour in Iraq, we hit an IED and flipped. Everyone made it out okay, but we started taking fire from the rear- someone was hiding in an alleyway, taking potshots at us. Just happened to be nearby, I guess. I took him out and we went to check him and the rest of the alley. It was a child, no older than 8, holding the gun and soaking in his own blood. 8 years old, and I punched a hole through his head. `` You claim to be the'Seer', to see all scars and what they hide... and you're right, you see scars. Only scars. You can only see what heals, not the festering, bloodied wounds that lay deep beneath the skin and never close up. Keep that in mind when you make bold claims and reach into people's memories. There's so much you do n't see.'' He replaced his shirt and left me standing there, gawking at the floor. -- - thanks for reading! you can find lots of other stories over at /r/resonatingfury
[ WP ] Superpowers can now be torrented . You were 70 % of the way through torrenting a power you 've always wanted when the download stops .	Click Clickclick Blueish light colored my face from the screen, the only source of illumination in my room aside from the orange glare of the streetlight from outside. Link after link fell away before my mouse, leading me deeper and deeper into the net. This was my hobby, of sorts: surfing the web like a professional, as far as it would go. I fancied myself an explorer, like those of old, but instead of hidden gold on far off distant shores I sought the riches within my own home. Besides, I could n't sleep without this little ritual. I was the conductor, and the lines of text flickering past my screen were my perfectly orchestrated lullaby. `` Hang on, what's this?'' I stopped short as a window suddenly appeared in front of all of the others, unbidden. Oh, just a popup. Like I did n't have to deal with hundreds of those every day. Without thinking, I moved my mouse to hover over the little red x in the corner, but something made me stop. Despite having seen what I imagined to be more of the net than any other, this one was... new. Different. 'Full Superman Package! Experience exactly what it is like to be the man of steel!' Proclaimed the banner at the top of the window. Yawn. As if something like that was possible. Still. I moved my mouse away from the x and toward the button at the bottom that declared'Click Here to Begin Download!' but I hesitated. ``... I have the best antivirus software known to man. What do I care if it is a bit seedy?'' I asked aloud to no one in particular. And besides... I always was a sucker for unexplored links. Click The download began quickly, not surprising considering the time and my bandwidth. 10 %... 11 %... ever higher, the numbers grew steadily as I watched. ... Maybe this was n't the best idea... I thought. 31 %... 32 %... No. Definitely not my smartest move. I tried to click away, but immediately found that my mouse was stuck in place. `` Aw, crap.'' I tried pressing Ctl+alt+del, but to no avail. 65 %... 66 %... I reached around the back of my computer and pulled the plug, right as the counter hit 70 %. I frowned in the dark. It was n't turning back on, even after I plugged it back in. Guess I will just have to see what I can recover in the morning. It was hardly a good note to end the day on, but it was far too late to fix anything now. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. *** When I awoke, the first thing that I noticed was that I could see. Like, really see. I had never needed glasses, but WOW! Everything was so crisp and clear, it was truly spectacular! My ceiling looked especially vibrant... I could see exactly where the paint roller had gone over each bump and groove. The second thing I noticed was that the reason I could see my ceiling so well was because I was hovering about four inches away from it. With a yell, I fell out of the air and landed spread-eagle on my bed. `` What the hell?'' I stared at my hand, fascinated by the detail. `` I guess that torrent was n't fake after all...'' Experimentally, I gripped the corner of my bed's frame and pulled. To my surprise the entire thing lifted as easily as if it were made of paper. I was so shocked that I nearly dropped the whole thing. As it was, I only barely caught it again before it crashed into the floor, no doubt saving me a lot of trouble in damages. I need to be more careful. I thought. As cool as it was to be this powerful, it did n't take a genius to realize that it was also insanely dangerous. I would hate to hurt someone accidentally, and if I did n't watch out it would n't be long before I did. I turned and floated to the door, barely noticing that my feet were scraping the floor instead of dragging me along. Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks. Wait, hold on, I tried to move my hand, but nothing happened. I tried harder, this time pushing with every ounce of my newfound strength, but again I remained frozen in place. I could n't even move my eyes. Then, all at once, my body started moving again - this time entirely outside of my control. It mimed the actions I had just attempted, but at a rate that made it appear as if I was moving in fast-forward. Pain erupted from my side as my flailing hand caught me in the ribs, and my torso was thrown bodily through the wall. `` What's going on!'' I yelled as I tumbled freely through my yard. Wait. `` The download! It stopped early!'' I slammed my palm into my forehead, nearly getting knocked flat onto my back with the force of the blow. I dropped to the grass and ran back towards my front door, but suddenly found myself back where I started. `` Am I seriously rubber banding right now!?'' I screamed in frustration. Twice more I snapped back to my starting location before I reached the handle and pushed inside, breaking the door off of its hinges as I did. I sprinted back to my room... and groaned. Black smoke billowed out of my computer tower. `` No, no, no! I have to reinstall it! Something's gone wrong!'' I tore away at the frame, hoping to at least salvage the hard drives, when suddenly I was attacked by another freezing fit. I watched, helpless, as flames devoured the silver discs - before my own hand shattered them as I unwillingly sped back up to normal speed. I hung my head in my hands, defeated. *** Beware, criminals! For I am the mighty GLITCH! Hero of the server, master of might, I will save the world from your evil with my mighty grip - and possibly destroy everything I have ever known and loved in the process. CC always welcome! If you enjoyed, check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs!
[ WP ] `` I 'm not proud of what I do , but it pays . It pays . ''	There was a red dot painted on the concrete floor. It was the only color in an otherwise flat-grey room. Try as he might, the man in the chair couldn ’ t stop staring at it; his eyes darted back to it over and over, flicking away just long enough to track the movements of the other man in the room. It didn ’ t help that only his eyes were free to move, strapped into the chair as he was. He was past the point of yelling. Though he remained ungagged, he knew not to scream. The first time he had raised his voice, a high-voltage current had coursed through him. It was not lethal, but the pain had been tremendous. After the second scream, the other man, the one in the long brown coat, had stopped in front of him, hunkered down, and touched a small stem that was just barely in view beside the head of the man in the chair. “ Microphone, ” he said. “ The electricity is voice-activated. You can talk, but if you get loud, well…bzzzz! ” Then he stood and kept walking, circling the chair, checking the devices that were warming up. “ Why am I here? ” the man, whose name was Michael Flynn, said. He couldn ’ t keep the tremor out of his voice when he said it. Still, it was a better question than how did I get here, which had only earned him a snort and an eye roll from the man in the coat. This time, the man stopped and regarded him. “ Come on, now, ” he said. “ You ’ ve seen the movies before, right? If you ’ re here, it ’ s because someone wants you here. ” Seeing the look on Michael ’ s face, he raised both hands. “ Oh, not me, ” he said. “ I ’ m just doing my job. ” He paused, then added, “ I ’ m not proud of what I do, but it pays. It pays. ” “ And what do you do? ” Stalling for time now, trying to get a glimpse of the machines that were humming just out of sight behind him. He had seen the movies. His fingers twitched against his will, and he couldn ’ t help noticing that the duct tape binding his wrists to the chair ended above the fingers. Would they be the first site of the torture? Were they going to be cut off, joint by joint? Wounds cauterized with a hot iron? He shuddered. The man grinned. “ You ’ ll find out. ” He started to walk again, then paused. “ They call me the Redactor. Or at least, I call myself that. It sounds cool, you know. ” Michael thought it sounded ridiculous, but now didn ’ t seem to be a good time to say so. “ Kind of like a superhero name, right? ” “ Sure. ” The Redactor continued around the chair, made another adjustment to the machines. “ Superhero. I like that. Not so sure you ’ re gon na like my superpowers though. ” There was a click, followed by another, and then a long, raspy susurrus. Michael thought it was the sound of something, a cable or a rope, being unwound. “ The fact is, ” the Redactor said, “ you know some things. ” He stepped back to the front, and squatted down, looking Michael in the eyes. “ According to my employer, dangerous things. Things you ’ d be better off not knowing in the first place. And it ’ s my job, ” he added, raising a finger for emphasis, “ to get it out of you. ” “ And how do you plan to do that? ” Michael was sweating now, fear seeping into his eyes in liquid form. He stood up and spread his arms. “ Oh, I have my ways. A man has to take pride in his work, even if it ’ s not the kind of work you ’ d be proud of. You understand what I mean? ” He glanced down at Michael. “ Never mind. Doesn ’ t matter. It ’ d just be nice if, you know, somebody understood for once! ” The machines—one of them anyway—let out a beep, and his face brightened. “ There we are! Time to get started. ” He hurried behind the chair again. I ’ m gon na die, Michael thought. This man is crazy. Out loud, he called out—not loud enough for the electricity— “ Hey! Can we talk about this? Wh-whatever they ’ re paying you, I ’ ll beat it! Just let me go! ” “ I thought you might say that, ” the Redactor said. There was another sound of cables unwinding. “ They always do. But, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I can ’ t do that. It ’ s bad for business! If I start breaking contracts, even for more money, it ’ ll take about half a day before I ’ m unemployable. And then it ’ s back to delivering pizzas. ” He leaned over Michael ’ s shoulder. “ And I hate delivering pizzas. It ’ s the smell. It gets into your clothes, your car—I could go the rest of my life without the smell of pepperoni and cheese, and it would be fine with me. ” He grabbed a handful of Michael ’ s hair and yanked, and Michael felt something cold and sticky against his scalp. He yelped involuntarily, but thankfully the current stayed off. Was this psycho pulling his hair* out? And…and was that blood? “ Sorry about this, ” the Redactor murmured, and Michael felt another stab of quick pain and cold on the other side of his head. “ These electrodes are going to pull some hair out when they come off later. But short of shaving your head, that ’ s the best I can do. ” The comment was so illogical, so out of place, that it took him a moment to follow it. “ Wh…what? ” He frowned, not understanding. “ What kind of torture is this? ” The words slipped out before he had a chance to rethink them. Silence. The Redactor, still out of sight behind the chair, made not a move. Fearing the worst, Michael closed his eyes… …and opened them a moment later as the Redactor stood in front of him. The man wore a look that was both incredulous and—weirdly—hurt. “ Torture? ” he said. “ Is that what you think this is? ” Feeling surreal, Michael, glanced around, pointing with his eyes at the grey room, the dim lighting, and the chair with its bindings. “ Well…you…kinda have the whole torture dungeon aesthetic going on here. ” The Redactor barked a laugh. “ Aesthetic! I like that. You ’ re taped to a chair, and you still have the mind to use a word like that. That ’ s great! ” He shook his head. “ You really don ’ t understand all this? ” “ I ’ m kind of at a loss here, yeah. ” Especially with the turn the conversation was taking. The man looked hurt again. “ And here I thought my profession was finally getting some respect. Or at least some acknowledgement. Torture. How could you think that? ” “ You said you had to get my knowledge out of me! ” “ Right! ” Seeing Michael ’ s blank look, he frowned; and then it dawned on him. “ Oh. OH! ” He laughed. “ I said get it out of you. And that ’ s what I meant. Don ’ t you know what it means to redact something? ” He put a hand to his forehead, as though it was painfully obvious. “ I don ’ t care what you know. I ’ m not going to torture you to find out. My job is to make sure that nobody will know. Not even you! I take the memories away. My employer gives me a cue to look for, and I pull all the memories associated with it. The cables, the machines, the dot on the floor…you really don ’ t know how this works? ” Michael, whose jaw was hanging open, could only raise an eyebrow. “ Well, that ’ s just…wow. I thought everyone knew. Guess I need to do some of my own PR work. Hey, listen, I ’ m sorry for the misunderstanding. You seem like a nice guy, and I have to say, you made me laugh. Not many people can do that! A job like this, it ’ s stressful at the best of times. Keep an eye on that dot, will you? Helps to have something to focus on. No, I ’ m really sorry about all that. I hate that this stressed you out so much, you know? Wish I could make it up to you somehow. Wait, wait, I got it! I can make it up to you! Of course. I ’ m not even thinking straight. Yeah, I ’ ll fix this for you. ” Michael felt a glimmer of hope. “ You ’ re gon na let me go? ” “ Nah. I ’ m just gon na take your memories of this, too. Still got ta get paid, remember? ” There was the sound of a switch being thrown, and everything went dark.
[ WP ] It is the near future . All disease and sickness has long been eradicated from the planet . You 're on a personal trip flying across the ocean . The person behind you starts coughing .	I slip a pair of soft padded headphones over my ears as the plane wheels become lighter and the nose tips towards the midnight sky. After a 3 hour flight from LAX and a sizable delay in the New York airport, I'm relieved to finally be on my way to Sweden. I think back to the days when the cure had only recently been dispersed. Then a famous doctor at a successful cancer treatment center, I quickly enlisted my services to help facilitate the international relief effort. Long hours away from my family and less than glamorous pay were completely worth it when I looked into the eyes of a child recently cured of Malaria. I am now extremely honored to be receiving the Nobel prize for my role in distributing the cure. As my eyelids grow heavy and I drift off into a drowsy slumber, I hear a small echo of an almost unrecognizable sound. Then, again, this time slightly louder. My eyes jerk open as I identify the sound. I whip my head around, to see a woman of about 25 coughing into her elbow. For a moment, the whole plane goes silent, before being flung into ferocious panic. Flight attendants rush to the cabin and inform the pilots. The symptoms are something I've never seen. Within minutes, the women has a swollen and discolored face. She collapses on the floor, and lays motionless surrounded by a circle of terrified onlookers. As I sprint up to the cockpit, several other people burst into fits of coughing. A disease this violent and infectious might even be resistant to the cure. I quickly explain to the pilots the urgency of the situation, and tell them we need to land immediately. As we are still close to New York, the pilots make a sharp turn and relay my message to the airport, `` Mission control this is the pilot of flight 2769 to London. We have an extremely dire situation involving a sick passenger. Requesting permission to land.'' The voice on the other end quivered, `` A sick passenger? Please hold.'' After about 10 minutes, the voice came back on, `` Negative. It's too dangerous.'' The pilot violently throws down his headset, `` What the hell do we do now?'' Suddenly, a bright flash illuminates the sky, as a piercing sound grows closer and closer. The voice on the other end suddenly comes back on, `` I-I'm so sorry captain. I just talked with the pentagon. It's just -- too dangerous.
[ WP ] A angry looking dragon lands outside your home and yells `` You got me pregnant you bastard ! `` .	I sat in my living room listening to the shouting. I knew she would n't burn my house down with me inside while she was angry. The Johnson family several lots over on the other hand might need a new house from the sound of it. Still the firetrucks were standing by and hopefully they would put things out before the fires spread too far. My house was already surrounded by scorched lots. This was n't the first time she showed up and started getting angry at me. You would think given how angry she got when she thought I could n't tell one dragon apart from another that she could at least tell human genders apart if not individuals. I never should have bought this house.
[ WP ] you know exactly how you will die , but not when .	I've been avoiding coconut trees since I was shown the vision. They show you your last moments through your own eyes, Some people see themselves doing something amazing. They see themselves killed as heroes at war, they see themselves pushing people from in front of cars or fighting a mugger to help an old lady. But most people see hospital rooms and their family around them. And then people like me see a coconut inches from their face and then darkness. I remember the host trying to hold back snickering, he's seen a million deaths but is still amused by those that are strange. He told me not to worry, that I was probably living life on some wonderful island with coconut trees and beautiful women. That although I may find my death embarrassing, my life leading up to it must have been a pretty good one. But I'm scared to go on holidays, I'm scared to go under almost any tree just in case. I have a circle of friends who are luckily city people, we never discuss our visions of death, it's rude to ask and nobody's ever brought there's up. I was thinking of doing something I'd never done before one night. I decided to walk home from the bar where I had met my friends. My fear was no longer going to control me I decided in my stupid drunken state. I walked along the path to my house, I walked under trees and even detoured right through a park which I had never entered before. I was running and jumping and trying to enjoy life without this fear knowing that my courage would leave me once I was sober. Then I saw a coconut tree. It grew very tall and had 3 ripe coconuts growing below it's leaves. I kicked the tree and laughed. I kicked it again, nothing happened tonight was not the night, I was so excited, directly next to my worst fear, I knew this was what would one day kill me and I did n't care. I kicked the tree once more, but this time a coconut came loose. I quickly jumped back and the coconut hit the ground in front of me with a satisfying thud. Oh my god. I cheated death. I'd heard of people stopping their visions but only in tabloid magazines and crappy soap operas. But here I was. My killer laying in front of me looking less line a killer than a regular coconut. I was amazed, It was unbelievable. I picked up the coconut and carried it home, a trophy of my conquering of fear and conquering of death. That weekend called for a night of celebration. I invited friends to invite their friends to my house. I bought enough drinks to keep the party going, and had music and even set up some laser lights I had bought online and never purchased. The party was so great. Even those with visions of alcohol poisoning would have been going hard, everyone was dancing and shouting and dropping glasses and smashing plates and I did n't care, everything in my house could have been broken and and I would have kept celebrating. Then I heard somebody shout `` Catch!'' I turned in time to see the person in front of me duck. And then I saw the coconut inches from my face. And everything went black.
[ WP ] You come across a notebook that has magical powers . Anything you write in it becomes a fact .	Leon took a deep breath, `` Okay. Here we go.'' `` L-e-o-n'' he read aloud as he wrote, `` is aweee-some.'' Leon looked around. He did n't feel any different, he certainly did n't feel awesome. Maybe it does n't work like that he thought. He adjusted the number two pencil in his hand and brought it to the page again. `` I am the best.'' he wrote in large bold print but again, nothing. `` What the heck,'' mumbled Leon. He had spent most of his allowance on this magic book and was losing his temper. The Scholastic book fair only comes to school twice a year and it was unlikely he could get his money back. He began to resent his purchase. `` T-h-i-s note-book'' he wrote, `` is bull-shit!'' Suddenly, his writing hand sunk about an inch lower and rested on his desk; his hand felt warm and sticky. Leon was very confused, and then he smelled it. At this moment the teacher walked in. `` Leon,'' she said. `` Even though you do n't get the best grades in the class, I just wanted to let you know how awesome we think you are. You're the best.''
[ EU ] Write a story from the point of view of a video game enemy	I have wandered since time began, the very earth trembling beneath my footsteps. What was I? I stood as tall as a mountain, was as loud as thunder, yet as subtle as a whisper. Wiser then even my years, yet foolish. Part animal, part mountain, part nature and part god. The moment I felt a sharp pain in my left leg, I knew something uprecedented had happened. The metal burried itself deep into my exposed Skin. Only one sword in the world had this power, but what amazed me more was this creatures audacity. To stand up to me? What did it think I was? Angrily, I shook my leg, but the creature held on. No matter how hard I shook, it did n't let go of my fur. When I finally managed to shake it off, it just resumed it's climb. The tenacity! I had never seen something like that before. Whatever the creature did, it must have thought it more important then it's own life. Wich was just weighing two insignicancies against each other. By the time it had reached my head, I was in a wild fury. I was shaking as hard as I could, more out of fury then self-preservation. How dare it? This creature did n't speak my tongue, he did n't know what I was, yet it climbed onto my head. It wanted to kill me, even though it did n't even know my name. As his sword pierced my skull yet again, I could feel my essence pouring out of the Body I had inhabited since long before this cratures first ancestors were thrust upon this world. Slowly I fell, shaking the earth a last time. The statue shattered like a part of me. I was not dead, but instead was reduced to a formless entity, a shadow of a shadow. I knew that our race was doomed, our time of ruling this world had ended: This creature, with it's tenacity, cleverness and audacity, would prove our race's undoing, and all I could do was watch from the sidelines, and ask him, with my now unseeing eyes: `` Why? ``.
[ WP ] You are abducted by aliens . Slowly , you realize that your examiner is essentially the alien Crocodile Hunter , and you 're the specimen being filmed .	My eyes slowly peel open and are met with a great white light. I ca n't see a thing, but slowly my eyes adjust to the light and I'm greeted by a man in a surgical mask. His entire face is obscured except for a tiny sliver of golden blond hair showing from his hair cap. His eyes are filled with wonder and excitement as he peers down on me. What could he possibly want? `` Crikey, look at the eyes on this one,'' croaked the examiner. `` What?'' I slurred out as the anesthetic wore off. `` Crikey means gee whiz, wow!'' exclaimed the examiner. The examiner had what seemed to be the thickest Australian accent I've ever heard. I swear I've heard this guy before but I ca n't recall anything. It's like my memory is overshadowed by a grey tumbling cloud of fog with only brief lapses in the dense fog where the sun shines through. One of those rays of sunlight in my memory struck me with the force of a semi. It's Steve Irwin. `` YOU'RE STEVE IRWIN'' I shout as I try to sit up. `` How'd ya know mate? It obviously could n't been because of my accent could it? But no matter, would you like a bikkie? They're quite good if I say so myself'' said Steve Irwin as he paced the room eating what seemed to be a biscuit. My arms were clamped down but I could feel my hands slightly slipping through. I do n't want to be trapped in here with this psycho! Who knows when he'll start cutting me open. I wriggle and squirm until I get one hand free and quickly free my other hand. `` CRIKEY! WE GOT A RUNNA!'' screamed Irwin. I grab a syringe lying on the tray next to the table where I lay only moments before. He turns around and begins speaking towards the two way mirror on the wall. `` This is the human outside its natural habitat. As you can see, the clever little bloke armed itself with a syringe. It must be scared because of my presence.'' Steve Irwin crouches down low to the ground `` I sink close to the ground to present myself as a smaller creature you see, to make myself less threatening. Now that he's calm I can approach him and try to get a hold of the bugga.'' He slowly crouch walks towards me. I do n't know what to do so I tighten my grip on the syringe. `` Ah see he's also crouched and ready to pounce. I'm gon na poke him.'' He lunges toward me with his hand extended and I take this as an opportunity. I jump forward and stab him in the chest with the syringe. I rush out of the room only to run straight into a wall and black out. I wake up in my own bed. In my own house. Must have been a fucked up dream I think to myself. I go downstairs and turn on the TV. BREAKING NEWS Steve Irwin has died today at the age of 44. I ca n't believe this. Was it really a dream? He died swimming with seemingly friendly stingrays when one stingray stabbed its barb through his chest, fatally wounding Irwin. *I would love feedback on what points I messed up on since I want to get better as a writer!: D
[ WP ] Magic exists , but the cost to use it is so high that it 's only been used a handful of times in history . This will be one of those times .	They talk about magic, in the really old tales, not as a tool, but as a sentient entity in of itself. Upon the Department Of Metamilitary Defence acquiring the true grimoires of Alestair Dee, descendant of a line of true magicians, this supposition was verified, if by a semi-dubious source. Magic was not a tool. It had its own goals. They were not appealing goals either, for humanity. According to the grimoire, which was more of a list of examples as to why magic should never be used than a cookbook, as some fiction writers historically have guessed a book of magic to be like. Point 1. The Empires before mankind. Proto-men, golden and resplendent, who could reshape reality at a whim, albeit simplistic, primal whims. They grew distant from each other, and soon the magic grew tired of them, and they were cast out/down/into a new shape. An apelike precursor to apes and humans as we know them. Note that the stories link ridiculously easy to Greek myth of human creation. Point 2. Spellcasting drains life. As in, it will end one's life upon casting. Attempts to cast magical effects in controlled environements causes the causality field to collapse, incurring a large series of unlikely, bad luck, events, that ultimately kill the caster. Almost as if it expends one's karmic buildup, and leaves you only with negative karma. Tests are to continue with living saints, charity workers, low level politicians and chronic serial killers, to test. Point 3. Spells imply magic elsewhere. Legends appear to be true. Excalibur has been found, has since been sealed in a secure location. Point 4. Magical effects seem to avoid beams of electromagnetic energy beyond the visible light. A fireball will swerve around a gamma ray beam. Unknown why. Nuclear effects may work to stop magical effects. Magic is finicky, unreliable, and likely to cause death. If alive, then it behaves like a bored psychopath who likes to play with its victims for amusement. All use of magic except for scientific shortcuts is to be prohibited on pain of execution squad. CASE AVALON AMBER is in effect, working to make it Green Contingency plans CASE AVALON GREEN: Magic is known to us but safe, no known threat, secret can be ended. Maintain situation. CASE AVALON AMBER: Magic is known to us but dangerous, threat is able to be minimised, secret can be kept. Refuse, deny, conceal all magic. Hunt down magic events, factions, abilities, and silence them. CASE AVALON RED: Magic is known to mankind as a whole, is dangerous, secret is non-existent, common knowledge. Disinformation, mass execution, nuclear deterrent if necessary. CASE AVALON PURPLE ( prelim ): One or multiple malevolent deity-like entities have arisen due to magic effects. Destroy all life with anti-matter in order to convince the entity of magic itself of that existence will be boring without life forms, may incur a time reset. Superior plans are being worked on, this is the preliminary plan.
[ WP ] You are a trained sniper/assassin , your target is giving a speech and you have already took up position inside of the building , your crosshair is on her face as she begins her speech and	``... but these insiders, they will get all killed because they...'' I had to give the woman credit where it was due, she could hold the masses in her thrall effectively. Of course the masses gathered were easily duped thanks to a lack of education, religious indoctrination and potentially inbreeding holding their attention seemed to entail shouting empty threats from the ramparts and throwing in a few key buzzwords to get their seemingly insatiable fetish tingling insatiably. Sensing that the appropriate tingles were being generated, she upped the ante. `` They refuse to listen to you, they refuse to listen to this country! Yet they still insist that they are doing everything to make the country better. Does anybody really believe that after John Mackleberg was arrested for exercising his constitutional amendments?'' Ah, Mackleberg. Apparently inciting civil disturbances and destruction of federal property on-air was suddenly `` free speech'' according to the false propaganda ministers that ran the network he used to broadcast for, and she was picking up on it. Still. the reference jarred a reminder in the back of my mind, one that was especially important for this hit. Keying up the encrypted radio transmitter that was my only link with my liaison and handler, I consulted the small TV that relayed the propaganda and brainwashing that was occurring a mile away. Given the recent reference it was small wonder that Mackleberg's own handlers were now playing this rant for the entire world to hear. `` Scorpius to Medusa, is Pandora fully live?'' The response was quick, but even with the heavy vocal alteration that came with the encryption, my liaison was clearly uneasy with what was about to take place. `` Fully Scorpius, across all major national networks. However the less friendly ones might not report for long so it's...'' There might have been a bit of reasoning behind my handler's barely concealed attempt to call off this hit, but i did n't register. Shimmying over slightly I took up the trigger group and hefted the enormous rifle that I had been practicing and acquainting myself with for the better part of a month and a half. All that time in the desert far away, all the early morning cold-bore shots, the unmarked delivery truck, the careful selection of time and place and the careful nudging towards it, it was coming to fruition. As she went into yet another paroxysm, undoubtedly designed to whip anyone into a frenzy who was n't yet. `` We will make our voices heard! We will march on...'' I set about dialing in the original distance, windage, barometric pressure, elevation, ambient temperature and humidity, Coriolis, bullet twist rate, and other technical and personal considerations into the massive weapons system in front of me. First came adjusting the rifle, not easy to do considering an NTW-20 is about 6 feet long and weights about 75 pounds when loaded. Then came the interplay between the ballistic computer and the 20x power scope meticulously attached onto the top of the weapon. As I made all of these adjustments and then put my target in the crosshairs, two voices competed for my attention. First was the target via the small TV next to me, who was winding down and probably getting close to leaving the temporary dais she was railing from. ``... if we have faith, then we have the armor of God and nothing can stop...'' The other was my handler who had given up the gentle approach and was reading from a script of why this particular hit was inexcusable or not justifiable. ``... this is your country Scorpio, YOUR country, and people do n't die for sharing their ideas no matter how bad they are. Yes she's a troglodyte and yes she is giving a lot of people bad ideas...'' In the middle of the competing streams of words delivered at different degrees of sincerity and volume, I realized that the flapping scarlet, alabaster and zaffre that was my wind indicator had started waving and convulsing more furiously, and I silently cursed this sudden turn of circumstance. 'Shit, wind picked up and shifted. Call it... 1 mph and 10 degrees further to the northwest.... `` God bless you...'' ... compensate, holllllld.... `` Are you listening Scorpio?! This is n't some terrorist-run third world hellhole, this is...'' Ordinarily the recoil that a large-caliber sniper rifle generates is enough to scrape your skin raw with your own clothes and render your arm numb from the vibrations, but the NTW-20 did n't do any of that. There was an almighty shove and a bit of noise, but for a weapon that fires a 14.5mm slug the sensation was hardly worse than your average sniper rifle's recoil. Four seconds passed, then in mid-wave my target's head disappeared on live TV. Not in the prototypical horrifying red melon effect that big film producers are fond of, rather her head almost instantaneously disappeared as the explosive tip of the hypersonic large-caliber slug struck it, although the crimson ragged end to her neck and the sudden backdrop of blood, grey matter and bone against the tarp with her little group's symbol and on a few supporters was a pretty clear indication of what had just happened. Standing up and taking my eye away from the scope I squinted out of the dirty abandoned textile plant that I had shot from. At 1.3 miles away the sight of what was seconds ago a public rally seemed to be less of a concentrated group and more of a mob, which was helpful given what had just occurred. Grabbing the big rifle I set the timer on the thermite and napalm explosive that was set in the former office then started making my way down the stairs. Chucking the weapon into the back of the delivery truck I confirmed the kill with the handler. `` Scorpio to Medusa, Pandora is cleared. Repeat, Pandora is cleared. Sanitizing and exfiltrating.'' My target was indeed dead, in a public and messy way, just as requested. Stepping into the big white unmarked truck, my handler attempted to get a read on what had just happened beyond the facts. `` Understood Scorpio... but why? Was it personal?'' Maybe it was the lorazepam starting to wear off and my heart-rate returning to normal, or maybe the shrink was right and I was developing multiple personalities to deal with the stress, but my handler's question caused me to laugh hysterically for half a minute, forcing me to pull over before I could even answer. `` Personal? Hardly. It's the one law everyone seems to forget about; survival. I survive by working through layers of insulation, such as you and other handlers. She should have known this would happen sooner or later, that if you prod the hornets nest enough times sooner or later you will get stung. Look at this way, at least it was me and not some psycho with a hackjob automatic and an extended drum magazine and nothing to lose. That could have been real messy.'' As I turned at an intersection the wailing of police sirens and flashing lights approaching gave me some concern at first, but when they did n't stop or turn after I pulled over like a good citizen any anxiety that was building went away almost instantaneously. For the moment, the getaway was going as planned. `` Scorpio is exfiltrating and going to ground, will make contact in approximately two weeks if possible. Scorpio is going dark.''
[ WP ] You have a compass that points to whatever will cause the most damage in the next 24 hours , anywhere in the world . Today , it 's pointing directly at your grandmother , who is knitting a pair of socks .	It was pointing at Gran. I looked at her, sitting in her rocking chair occupying the corner of her living room, only to find her completely focused on knitting those red socks she told me she'd give me once she was finished. Who knitted socks in the summer? Frowning, I gave the compass a little shake before resting it in the palm of my hand. It was still pointing at Gran. `` Uh... Gran?'' `` Yes?'' `` Did you uh... Have you done anything today?'' `` I've been home all day knitting these socks.'' she replied. `` Why? Did something happen?'' `` Nothing major, just asking.'' She just `` Hm'' ed and went back to her knitting. I fell silent and just looked back down at the compass. Why was it pointing at Gran? This does n't make any sense. It always showed the worst thing that happened anywhere in the- Knitting needles. With an amused snort, I got up and went to the kitchen. What was I even overreacting for? She was just probably going to prick herself on one, or drop it and lose it under the couch or something. Looks like the world was going to have an easy day for once. Something's not right... Oh fine, maybe she would more than `` just prick herself'' and I'd have to take her to the hospital, but it was close enough that it would n't be an issue. Chuckling to myself, I pulled a soda from the fridge and opened it. I'm not looking close enough... Taking a swig from my drink, I let the cool citrus flavor sit in my mouth. Honestly, everything would be fine. Gran was just a sweet old lady with to much time on her hands. I mean look at her, she was knitting for god's sake. The number one old lady pastime! Knitting! Gran does n't know how to knit... My body seemed to completely stop at that thought. She must have learned online. Or joined a club. The next door neighbor showed her. She secretly always knew and lied to me for years. Or- I rushed to the living room, stopping at the door. `` Gran!'' `` Hm? What is it?'' she looked at me, confused. `` Where did you learn to knit?'' `` What was that?'' `` I said where did you learn too...'' Huh? `` Where did you learn to...'' What was I saying again? `` Where did you...'' `` You do n't look good, sweetheart. Why do n't you sit down and rest?'' `` I... Uh, yeah.'' Sitting down, I put my head in my hands and took a few deep breaths. What was I doing again? Oh right, I was watching TV with Gran. She was knitting me some red socks. Seriously, who knitted socks in the summer? Leaning my head back, I focused on the cartoon I was watching and could n't help but chuckle. Heh, dumb cat. Have I checked my compass today? I do n't remember. Looking down at it, my eyes instantly widened. It was pointing at Gran.
[ WP ] After seeing the rise in popularity of superhero archers , Cupid decides to take to the streets as a vigilante .	I scanned the horizon. The sun was just coming up yet my watch was not over yet. I knew I had to remain vigilant or else some type of crime would occur. Over the past few weeks the mortals had n't done well in the upkeep of their police force. Many officers were fired and the radios had slowly gone silent, one slowly fading out after another. sigh With a weary rustle I slowly creaked into the air on my tired wings. Swooping high above the buildings I reflected over the past day. Rubbish. Absolute rubbish is what this job was. I had watched all the mortal's shows with the superheroes like Archer and Hawkeye. They made it look so easy. Hawkeye shot an alien space ship when he was n't even looking at it. Meanwhile I had to be within 20 feet to hit anything. I suppose thats why `` love is so hard to find''. pff Absolute rubbish. Well, its time for my actual work, I thought. Pulling off the virtual gaming headset I slumped forward and vomited. Maybe trying to be a superhero while only eating chips and mountain dew was n't the best idea.
[ WP ] Immedately after suffering a horrible accident , you slowly wake up and realize your human body is highly advanced robotic shell and you are a tiny green alien controlling it from the cockpit in the skull .	It all came to a halt, a disturbing yet calm silence. The sky was a grayish white, the sun and clouds seem to have been hiding. No wildlife seemed to exist. It was like existing on another plane of existence, then nothing. There was a sound finally, a humming sound? As I craned my neck to and fro, the lights gently crescendoed to a comfortable level. My movements were off they seemed muddled or too fast. The last thing I remembered was the ship coming out of nowhere, not being in a room- this room was unfamiliar. I stretched my arms and legs, but that did n't feel normal either and was met with a whirring sound. 'Stop straining,' an odd voice projected into my mind.'If you do n't like all the damned noise, stop pushing the limits.' Despite the odd interruption, I followed the instructions as though I had heard this uninvited voice before. I sat up slowly, my eyes looking down at the metallic body beneath me, I reached out to touch it, but stopped abruptly when also metallic pearly `` hands'' met my eyes. I stretched and flexed my fingers, made a fist frowning. Everything felt normal, though also foreign. I expected anxiety, my heart rate to increase, it did n't. I sat still, held my breath- wait I was n't breathing. 'Seriously? You have no heart and no need to breathe air. This body is far more superior than that which you had. We go through this everyday, making a note to mainframe.' Body superior? No air? No heart? What.the. fuck. I stood up, noticing the lack of pain in my knees and shoulders. I smoothed my thumb and three fingers down my `` body'' which felt like a sort of skin, but more like oiled leather or a velvety, smoothe skin-like substance. That's all I can write atm. I'm out of time.
[ WP ] `` We are never rid of our demons , we only learn to live above them . ''	We sat, quietly listening to the muffled hum of the engine, to the bumps along the old road, to the cold wind blowing as we cruised into the dying light of day. I wrapped my hands tightly around the steering wheel, studying the street below as it scrolled by. I could see her in my periphery, fidgeting. I furled my brow as insane thoughts flashed in my mind's eye. I should have my own bottling company. Not Dealing With Shit Co: A Subsidiary of Repressed Anger Inc. I sighed, feeling my rage subside and the disappointment rushing to take its place. `` I do n't even know what to say, mom.'' She screwed up her face, looking off into the distance ahead instead of at me. I could feel her regret. `` You were clean. You told everyone you were clean. That you were okay. That you had a handle on this.'' `` I know.'' She rested her head on her hand, looking heavy, as if she were on the verge of collapse. I could n't stop. The gate was open, my thoughts would escape now. No way around it. `` What the hell am I supposed to do?!'' I felt the rage burning in my chest like flame. `` I do n't know if I can keep believing you. I really want to, but I'm starting to wonder. Are you ever going to be okay?'' No change in expression. Just her eyes. Those tired, pale blue eyes turned on me. `` We are never rid of our demons, we only learn to live above them.'' I pulled the car over. Had to. I knew somewhere deep down my mind was n't in the right place. `` So you'll never be clean. Not really.'' She looked away, out the window. I could see her reflection on the glass, her face still stolid. `` I will always be an addict, hon. Every day that passes by brings me closer to the next relapse. It's like an itch that never stops itching. It's like a hunger, and you'll starve without it. It's like—'' `` —It's an addiction. I get it. That's what addiction is. Go back to rehab. Get better.'' She went quiet, subconsciously shaking her head. `` Why not?'' Cars whirred by. The sound of wind gusted over the engine's idling. She sniffled as she turned to look at me, her expression different now. It was like she'd quietly made up her mind, and I could see it on her face. `` We're done talking about this. Let's go home.'' She folded her arms. `` Answer the question.'' I gave her a hard look. She softened at the sight, her bluff deflating like a balloon. I could almost hear it. I mean business, Trevor. Do n't fight me on this ``... No. I'm not going.'' I sighed through my nose, frowned, and pulled back onto the road. `` I know,'' I said. There was a lot more I wanted to express, but before I knew it we were back at home. She got out of the car and I watched her go inside, could see the embarrassment in her hurry. I felt bad. Real bad. Not only because I knew she felt bad, but because I knew nothing I said helped. None of it had any meaning. It was just something for her to endure. Something she did for me. She came on this ride because she thought she owed it to me. I caught her shooting up. What's a drive and scolding but a minor payment? She'd think about it, I was sure. But it would pass. The guilt would wane. Her desire to shoot up again would become overwhelming. And she'd do it again. And again. And she'd keep doing it until the day she died. I knew it well. You would, too. I wanted to follow her inside. Do or say something that really mattered. Something that would change her fate, make her see how wrong she was. I wanted her to understand that I'm here. The whole family is. That she really could do it if she wanted to. She could make something of herself. She could live. But she could n't. And she did n't.
[ WP ] 10 young men and women grow up in a confined space - find out it 's a lander that brought them to a habilable planet after a thousand year long journey .	*This story is not meant to offend the poster. Rather I was inspired to write based upon the exact wording of the post itself. I understand it may have been an unintentional auto-correct, but it provided an image that inspired this story. * Beep….Beep…Beep…Beep…Click! 10 pods slowly crept open as steam billowed into the open cool area of the controlled environment. The air was stiff and old. As if it hadn ’ t moved in hundreds of years. There were bodies in the pods and no one seemed all that inclined to move. Their skin was soft and grey with the suppleness of a newborn and yet they were fully grown. Their minds were altered as if programed by some unknown force to know the exact movements that need to be completed. Woooop! Wooop! Wooop! All 10 bodies came to life as one synchronized being designed for a specific task. They don ’ t understand why, but they charged themselves toward storage lockers next to the pods and placed cloth about their bodies. The cool feel of the jackets sliding across their arms and the tight grip of the pants across their legs brought to them a joy like no other. They did it out of instinct and because it felt natural and right. Dopamine and endorphins and serotonin were triggered in their brains. They couldn ’ t help but feel wonderful elation. After they completed putting on their gear they pause for a moment and look around the room. They gaze at the blinking lights and the whizzing and whirring machines attached to the walls and ceiling. They draw their hands against the cold steal pods from which they were birthed into the world. They look upon each other confused and afraid. None of them know what to do. Woooop! Wooop! Wooop! The sound signals movement. They move swiftly and in a single motion towards a food bay where each of them received a single injection. Wooop! Wooop! Wooop! Another movement was signaled and they moved again. This time toward a chamber with circular holes surrounded by some strange smooth surface. The room itself was odd as it had a button above each hole. One of the 10 was brave and determined to figure out what this button was for. The others watched as he gallantly stepped forward further into the room. Fear shot through his skin and created chilling bumps he couldn ’ t understand. “ GRRRRRRAAAHHHHH!!!! ” he screamed as he slammed his hand against the button and a screaming suction dared to pull him towards the abyss, but lucky for him the pull was not strong enough and he escaped. He darted out of the room and shook his head at the others. The others understood immediately that that room was never to be entered again. Wooop! Wooop! Wooop! They were signaled again. They were sent to a room with windows that extend in a semicircle across the room. Through the windows they saw darkness surrounding a giant turquoise glowing orb. The room was filled with more metal whirring and buzzing and blinking lights. They were each programed to know a task and in an instant they went to work as a single organism and took over the ship to land upon the surface of this orb. First they entered the atmosphere and the darkness turned to liquid flame that crawled across the windows demanding entry until it dissipated and a strong force grabbed hold of the ship and shook it as if the planet itself had decided to rip them apart. “ OOOOGGGGGG!!! ” the gallant one cried as he shot his arm out and pointed toward the window. The other nine glanced back at their leader and responded in one motion to slow down with bursts of fire from the mechanical beasts attached outside of the ship. As they drew closer to the surface anticipation grew within them. The ship slowed down and vertically dropped to the surface. As they landed the ship began make new kinds of sounds that none of the 10 could understand. A strange mechanical square face came out of the wall and text appeared. “ Ship log: 204 – 600 years ago, ” it displayed across the screen. A sound similar to the gallant one made a noise from the ceiling that scared the 10. It was loud and appeared angry. Each of them hid from the voice and curled in balls on the floor or in corners if they could find them. After the voice ended the ship made another sound. Wooop! Wooop! Wooop!... Kush! Several doors all over the ship opened. The 10 in one movement headed out the doors and were shocked to find a bright light stinging there eyes. They cringed as they hid from the light. The gallant one made a motion to never go out, but a smarter one turned around backwards and walked outside. “ HHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! ” they all cried as they saw this. They jumped and clapped in excitement and joy and they followed the movement out the door. When they reached the surface they found something extraordinary. Valleys covered in shades of purple and orange and brooks of flowing rivers and a deep beautiful blood red sky. It all confused and bored them until they saw something that would bring them internal joy and caused them all to squeal in astonishment. There appeared to be stone trees that looked like different versions of themselves fixed in the perfect position for the thing they discovered gives them the most joy. “ GGRRRR…GRRRR….GRRRUUAAAHH!! ” The gallant one roared and the others snapped into action. Immediately the other nine went back onto the ship and searched for all kinds of possible cloth on board and placed it outside the ship. Once every shred of fabric was found, the gallant one stepped in front of the other nine and proclaimed, “ RRRRHHHHHHH. ” With that all 10 joined in harmony as they acted to clothe the planet as best as they could. They worked nonstop until they were left with nothing but the fabric on their feet. All 10 started experiencing stomachaches they didn ’ t understand. The gallant one perceived this to mean that the great orb from which they landed upon was angry and demanded all to work harder. “ GARRRRRGH! ” he screamed. All 10 pushed and pushed until eventually each of them passed out never to wake again. On the recorder of the ships log blinked a phrase that came to define the failure of the human race. That phrase was, “ Mission Priority - Find a habilable planet. ” Definition: Habilable ( Carlyle ) capable of being clothed.
[ EU ] Harry Potter is 32 years old , work as an auror and has to team up with a muggle detective , Sherlock Holmes to solve a case which involves science and magic .	`` So what you're saying is that you're a wizard and that there's another wizard who is doing something to control our media.'' Sherlock sat in his chair and carefully observed his visitor, trying to find out if he was a dangerous drug addict or just a harmless idiot. `` Yes, that is what I am saying, Mr. Holmes. You're revered as a genius among the muggles and you are highly intelligent. Also you know your way around modern muggle technology, which I abandoned about a decade ago.'' `` Not interested. Please leave'', said Holmes and leaned over to his friend Dr. Watson. He whispered: `` If this man turns out to be a lunatic, I might require you and your military training. Sherlock turned back to the visitor. `` Sir, I ca n't fail but notice that you have n't left my house yet. I would be very happy if you complied with my wishes. Thank you and goodbye.'' ~~~ Harry sighed and went towards the door. This man was as intelligent as he was unsociable. He grabbed the door knob and closed it shut. The other man, apparently a college of Holmes', suddenly seemed to tense up. Harry turned around. `` No need to worry. I merely want to prove that what I say is true.'' He took his wand from his pocket and held it high into the air. `` Lumos.'' ~~~ All of a sudden a bright light filled the room. `` What on earth is that?'' Sherlock asked, but Watson was already on his feet and charged towards the visitor. He had almost reached him when the self-proclaimed wizard shouted something unintelligable and a red flash of light hit the veteran doctor in the chest. He fell flat on his face. `` I am sorry. He tried to attack me. I'm sure you noticed that.'' The detective rose from his char and slowly walked towards his friend's body. `` Is he allright? What did you do? Is this a new type of stun gun?'' ~~~ He had been warned that this man would be stubborn and avoid any seemingly impossible explanation, but he did n't think that he'd be this dumb. He had seen not one but two spells and still refused to believe his own eyes. But he needed to keep his calm. This man might be his only chance at stopping a new rise of the death eaters. `` I stunned him, but not with a stun gun. I used a spell. This is my wand. I am a wizard. Do you understand me?'' Harry pointed at a chair and with a little flick of his wand he let it float in the air. `` There, do you see? I can also make things float.'' ~~~ The chair actually floated in the air. `` Well, it seems I must reconsider a lot of things with this revelation. There were no wires attached to that chair when I sat on it and what you hold there does look like a piece of wood, not like a stun gun. Allthough I detest the thought of a solution as simple as actual magic. How boring that would be...'' He turned around. `` It does explain the case with the elephant in the room though. And maybe...'' ~~~ `` Excuse me, Mr. Holmes.'' Harry started to grow impatient. But at least this man finally accepted the fact that magic exists. `` Will you listen to me now? We need to speak of more important matters than a simple bed-to-elephant transformation spell.'' ~~~ `` You mean we need to speak about this.'' Holmes walked over to the telly and turned it on. On the screen there was a grinning face and a voice repeated a simple sentence over and over again. `` Did you miss me?''
[ WP ] What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves .	As I waded from my white sandy beach into the serene crystal blue waters of the bay I admired the mountainous terrain that made it such a peaceful place to live. Today was especially surreal. Normally the warm sea breeze would swoop in from the south and rustle the towering palms but there was no breeze at all. Jungles and droves of exotic birds were echoed in the mirror copy reflection along the water. I swam through a canopy of green and luscious habitat as I made my way to the cascading falls which spouted from the cliff just a short distance from my home. Roaring and smacking they fell from a hundred meters up, fed by the same river that gave life to all of the creatures I swore my life to protecting. I inched ever closer with each stroke of my gloved arms, eager to stand and bathe in their glory. My feet soon found the familiar smooth and rocky bottom, having been subjected to the rushing under current for millions of years. I began to climb from the water only to find for the first time since I had set foot here I was not alone. She stood tall and slender, her body being showered by the falls and streams of water pouring from her magnificent sculpted curves. Blond and if I were a less proper gentlemen I'd say bodacious. The mist formed a rainbow of an aura around her figure and she turned only briefly to motion me closer. A vine grew and wrapped itself delicately, weaving itself around, over, under and across most of her body. A stunning blue macaw adorned one shoulder blade and a symbol I recognized as the crest of the apes the other. As she turned to face me a glowing green heart began to appear on her chest. She smiled and I caught her gaze venturing down to my pecks, I was not surprised. I smiled back. The tree house was going to need some sprucing up.
[ WP ] You 're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions . You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence ' suggesting at your divinity . Ten years later , you arrive at the island ...	My island & nbsp; & nbsp; What is this? Possums and spiders? Alligators and scorpions? & nbsp; & nbsp; I've never asked for this And they probably did n't either & nbsp; & nbsp; What has happened to the island? Nothing happened to me But what has happened to the island & nbsp; & nbsp; It has gotten crazy So crazy that I can feel its presence & nbsp; & nbsp; Am I crazy? Am I wrong? Am I right? All I wanted in this island was for it to be good For it to be peaceful But alas. & nbsp; & nbsp; I tried and tried and tried But I have failed I have failed & nbsp; & nbsp; The kids are no more They have followed by so called `` signs'' But the `` signs'' did n't work wonders for them The signs did n't work wonders for them & nbsp; & nbsp; For where to from here? In this desolate island? & nbsp; & nbsp; I guess I'll just have to take this island And swallow it up to the grave. & nbsp; & nbsp; http: //nebulus99.deviantart.com/art/My-island-574812505 http: //nebulus99.deviantart.com/gallery/
[ WP ] Harry Potter and the Midlife Crisis .	`` I was supposed to be the greatest wizard of all time! I have very epic and heroic past. And look at me now! Managing a mediocre cauldron store in Diagon Alley? Come on! I refuse to accept that I've peaked at 17 years old!'' `` Well, was n't this kind of predictable, Harry?'' asked Ginny in a slightly annoyed voice. `` Your main virtue was always courage, not intelligence or entrepreneurship or cunning. There's a reason you went to the Gryffindor. And courage is pretty useless in peaceful times.'' `` Yeah, Hermione is a famous scientist and inventor now, not to mention political activist, and the main advisor for the minister of magic.'' said Harry wistfully. `` Oh, come on! Not about her again! Sometimes I think you wish you'd marry her instead of me!'' `` Well...'' Harry paused thoughtfully, then `` No, no, honey, of course not!'' Ginny looked at him suspiciously `` Did you know that she is planning to divorce Ron?'' `` Really?'' said Harry excited, then, corrected himself in a more sad and solemn voice `` Really?'' `` Really.'' Ginny responded grimly. `` Nobody ever understood the reason they ended up together, not even Hermione herself. I mean they have nothing in common! She is beautiful, kind, and extremely intelligent, and Ron is annoying, dumb, pointless prat.'' `` You are talking about your brother! And my best friend. `` `` Exactly, so I know him better than anyone. Which makes it even more upsetting, because you clearly imagine that with her intelligence and your courage you could achieve something great.'' `` Screw you, I'm gon na go for a walk.'' said Harry, kicking the door open. -- -- `` Nobody appreciates me.... I am capable of so much more...'' muttered Harry under his nose. `` Courage is useless in peaceful times.... Hermione is with this ding dong instead of me.... I'll show them! I will remind them all who is the real hero here.'' He was walking towards the forbidden forest, where the Peverell ring was hidden. He turned it once, twice, then.... He stood in front of the summoned spirit of the Lord Voldemort. `` Greetings, my old nemesis. Did you wish to return to life? Explain to me your formula for the graveyard rebirth ritual, and I will bring you back to life, so we could continue our fight.'' he said, hoping that it will work, and give him back his only purpose in life.
[ WP ] They never came home .	The booming of the artillery threatens to lull me to sleep. They've been firing since before I was born. I was born under the guns, raised under them. They rocked me to sleep in my crib, marked the agonizing passing of time in school, masked the sounds of losing my virginity from my Dad when he was asleep only a single door down from my own. The artillery is the soundtrack of my life, and everyone else's. My parents told stories when I was little, about how it had been quiet when they were my age. I did n't believe them at the time. It seemed too difficult to imagine, like trying to imagine the world without the ground, or the sky. Too much to ask of a child, I think. The barrage shifts tone slightly, as the 155mms take over for the 175s. Their pitch is slightly higher, and every minute there are six instead of five. The 155s are my favorite. They were mine and Ryan's guns. They were playing when we had our first dance, when we had our first kiss, and during that first awkward groping in the back of a burned out gun carriage. The thought sobers me, and for a few seconds my head wins the constant struggle against the weight of my helmet to stay upright. It does n't take long for the kevlar brim to slip down again, but this time I let it. I do n't want to see. The narrow slit in the concrete is just enough to observe the hellish landscape of blackened craters that stretches to the horizon, but its enough. Somewhere out there, beneath the screaming wails of our guns, is Ryan. Or, at least, whatever is left of him after a couple years of shelling and decomposition. Maybe a few bone fragments, probably not enough to fill an empty pack of cigarettes. I doubt Dad is any better off, and Mom certainly is n't. She was Sallied when I was eight, and nine years is a long time for a body to be destroyed. The red lights along the corridor slowly shift to yellow, and the boys and girls around me start shifting their armor and weapons around, trying to make themselves comfortable. It's a futile struggle, and I do n't bother. An officer quickly paces down the hall, slapping shoulders and muttering the same three encouragements over and over, not once looking at any of us. The thumping of his boots on dirty gray concrete builds and fades, and just as quickly as he came is out of sight. Off to the next batch. With nothing to do for the next few minutes, my eyes wander towards the solid steel hatch. It leads Outside, and I'm sure if I could care, I would be terrified. I ca n't, of course, but a girl can dream. Mom went Outside, then Dad, then Ryan. Others have too, but I did n't know any of them. People do n't make too many friends these days, or so my Mom used to say. Three people seemed like plenty to me. Fewer faces to have to remember when they're gone. The 155s let up, and without a break in timing the 203mms take up the beat. I grimace. The 203s are my least favorite. They were playing when Mom left, and Ryan. Dad left to the 175s, and I was always a little grateful that Fate left me my 155s. The yellow light starts to pulse, and everyone tenses. Even I ca n't help but shift my feet around, ready to run into oblivion. Weapons are cycled and rounds chambered, for whatever little good they'll do us. I do n't expect to live past the next few minutes. After all, Mom was smarter than me. Dad was faster. Ryan was a little slow on his feet, but goodness the boy could toss a truck tire like it was a a paperweight. They never came home, so what chance do I have? Can a species commit suicide? The thought strikes me as the lights suddenly shift to green, and the door flies open. If it's possible, I think this is what it would look like. We all start running forward, most of us screaming in defiance or terror or anger, or maybe just because it seems like the thing to do.
[ TT ] Grandfather , a war vet , explains the horrors he faced in war to his young grandchild .	I hated this question. I really did. What did it feel like to kill someone? I did n't hate it because they would n't understand, I did n't hate it because it reminded me of the people that died next to me, I did n't even hate it because it cost me my leg. I hated it because the answer was good. You could n't say that to anyone. Least of all a six year old. `` Did you know that your brother broke your airplane toy?'' I told him. His eyes started to well up immediately, his fists clenched in tiny six year old fury. I cut in before he could start screaming. `` Shh, no. I lied,'' I told him. `` But you felt angry, did n't you? Like you wanted to punch your brother as hard as you could?'' He gave me a weak nod, probably still confused about the state of his toy. `` That's what they said to us. Something like it. Our brothers had broken our toys, and done even worse. We were so angry. So very angry. And nothing feels better than punching your brother after he's broken your toy, does it?'' Little kid shook his head no. Maybe this was n't the sort of thing to say to a 6 year old, but I'd promised myself to answer this question honestly. `` Yeah, there's nothing like it. So we punched them. We punched them hard. And it felt good, almost better than having the toy in the first place.'' The kid was nodding along. Lots of nods with 6 year olds. Hard to tell when they're getting it and when they're not. I guess it did n't really matter, it was the telling that mattered. He'd get it eventually. `` But remember when you pushed your brother into that pipe, and he was bleeding really badly? Bleeding and crying, that was scary, right?'' He agreed. Good kid. `` It was scary for us, too. They were bleeding and crying, the people we punched. We were still real angry at them, though. So we kept punching. It felt right, they'd broken our toys after all. But they had n't, their parents had, or their brothers. I should n't punch you if your brother broke my toy, right?'' He shook his head no. `` But that did n't matter. Only the punching did. And when we stopped, well... we'd punched too much. We punched so much and so hard, we broke other people's toys and now they were real mad at us. They wanted to punch us, you know? But we were the good guys, we were just doing it for our broken toy! That's what we said, at least. They did n't like that though, so we had to fight a whole lot more.'' The kid was all ears now. Probably liked any story that involved punching. He'd already forgotten the whole moral with the pipe. `` We punched those people, too. They had n't broken our toys, we'd broken their toys. But punching them still felt good. It had to, we were the good guys. We were fighting for good things. But at the end, when everyone else was bleeding and crying, and everyone's toys were broken... well, we did n't feel so good then.'' The kid cocked his head. I guess he wanted more. `` We did n't feel good at all, because our friends were looking at us weird. Like we'd broken all the toys for everyone. Like we were n't the good guys anymore.'But they'd started it', we said. It took us a while, to really get that. To get that maybe we were n't the good guys anymore. Maybe we'd liked punching too much. You get it, kid?'' Yeah, he said. He did n't get it. He would someday, though.
[ WP ] An old witch grants you the ability to instantly manifest into existence anything that comes into your head whether you want it to or not . You discover it is both a blessing and a curse .	Dear Ms Agatha GrappleBottom, Further to our discussion last Thursday via telephone I am writing submit my formal complaint about one of your employees [ Ms Old Hag ]. I had reached out to Spells'N'Spirits Inc last month in order to obtain a cure for my supernaturally mediocre luck. I had explained to your employee at the desk that as an infant I had been cursed by a lyrically inclined Imp. The curse took the form of a fragment of an ancient folk song I have attached below and that I explained to your employee at the time. I explained my symptoms that included; Pizza restaurants only having broccoli and steamed fish on the menu any time I entered. Consistently winning second place in artistic, athletic, and academic endeavors. Frequent offers of marriage from steadfast but homely women. I believe your employee was negligent in how they responded to my case. She responded `` well now you'll get whatever you want''. At the time I had misgivings about this, I had only tried to obtain a reasonable ratio of failure to success but she insisted on this course of treatment. At first I enjoyed the effects of the spell ( attached below ). It appeared to counteract the curse effectively and I enjoyed the chance to taste sugar for the first time. But it quickly went downhill from there. You see by profession I am a philosopher. At the time of my treatment I had not considered the implication of creating everything I think about. My house is now full of three sided squares, philosophical zombies, and many other monstrous contradictions of being. When I contacted Ms Old Hag to have the spell removed and to find a more appropriate course of treatment she simply cackled and her shop [ An Officially branded Spells'N'Spirits franchise ] disappeared into thin air. I am seeking compensation for the damage to my mental health, the curse and the cure removed free of charge, and assistance with removing the mental impossibilities from my home. I also request you consider removing Ms Hag from her post. Yours Faithfully, Mr A. Thinker CURSE_FRAGMENT_ATTACHMENT.doc: [ You ca n't always get what you want, but you just might find, you get what you need ] CURE_ATTACHMENT.doc: [ Everything in your mind's eye, to you soon shall fly. From jelly bean, to monstrous bat. No feat is beyond your mental knack ]
[ WP ] Given the insurmountable expenses of traveling through spaces and difficulty of communicating long distances , the dawning era of interstellar colonialism has given eccentric would-be despots and corporations a great deal of power over their wards .	Hello and welcome to Migration Enterprises! You have selected our Deluxe Choose Your Destination package. Your finance rating and registered education skillsets have been examined. You have…11,247 chits available, and are eligible for….Class Four or below work. Please select a destination to hear about the exciting life you could be living right now! [ Alpha Unity ] You have selected Alpha Unity! You will be charged…11,247 chits, and be required to serve…eighteen years as a…. Class Four indentured servant to pay for your passage. Alpha Unity is one of the oldest colonies of the Human Space Alliance. Founded in 2512 by the First Wave, Alpha Unity boasts developed cities, a vibrant farmland, and a unique culture. A fresh start for a new age! Please select to read more about this destination! You have selected to view Keytons Lonely Universe Guide. `` Do n't believe the hype. Alpha Unity is a shithole of the highest order. Founded by six different ethnic groups under the rationale that there should be enough room for them all to expand. It was an experiment, and it failed. New Rostov brought nukes with them and Despot Vladimir Voynich used them to wipe out New Brussels. Ever since then, the western continent has been a desolate wasteland. Atmospheric tampering by the Terraform Extremists in 2544 have lowered the average temperature of the planet. A'good summer' is one where the snow does n't get deeper. Military buildup has been increasing from 2571, and by now the planet's probably in it's eight World War. You arrive there and your options are conscription followed by violent death, enslavement followed by violent death, or violent death. Rating: Half a star. Entertaining TV shows. About nuclear wars.'' [ Harrison's World ] You have selected Harrison's World! You will be charged…11,247 chits, and be required to serve…twenty-four years as a…. Class Four indentured servant to pay for your passage. Welcome to the utopia of Harrison's World. Founded by visionary leader and CEO Malcolm Harrison, the planet is the galaxy's premier trading hub and merchant bazaar. You want it? Harrison's Got It! Please select to read more about this destination! You have selected to view Keytons Lonely Universe Guide. `` Imagine a world where trickle-down economics, privatization and unlimited growth were not just concepts, but an actual religion. You've just visualized Harrison's. Everything is user-pays, so visitors and colonists beware. Harrison's has a toxic hydrogen sulphide atmosphere, so you will be charged for air consumption in the domed cities. If you've got a spare twenty million, you may be able to afford one of the luxury apartments that look out at the spectacular ring network, but the casual traveller will find more affordable accomodation in the DownUnder slums. Orbital environment is made up of billions of tonnes of waste products from the foundaries and is considered extremely hazardous. DownUnder lives with a permanent Orbitfall warning at all times. Rating: One Star. The Casino district is worth a visit. Although no-one's ever left with more money than they entered with.'' [ Workers Paradise ] You have selected Workers Paradise! You will be charged… 0 chits, and be required to serve…999,999 years as a…. Class One indentured servant to pay for your passage. Hello Comrade. Welcome to eternal paradise! We offer the lowest immigration rates because you own your method of production. We have taken the best minds of Earth and developed a working Communal Society. We have zero crime, we have zero taxes, and we have zero problems. Workers Paradise. A Paradise for Workers! Please select to read more about this destination! You have selected to view Keytons Lonely Universe Guide. `` The brochure says you own your method of production. Turns out the Communarchy owns everything else. There are no classes on Worker's Paradise, because there are no schools. That's a WorPar joke, by the way. Get used to them. There's one way on and off the planet, and that's the Red Sickle Space Station. If you're a fan of forced labor camps and inquisitorial death squads, then take a ride down the Gagarin Lift. Otherwise, the wise and savvy space-colonist will keep on trucking. Its a world where they took everything decent about Socialism and Communism, screwed it up, and now have to import labour because no-one wants to bring kids into the hellhole. Or it could be the contraceptives they put in the water. Rating: Half a star. They make good vodka. Nothing else, but good vodka.'' [ Rio II ] You have selected Rio II! You will be charged… 11,247 chits, and be required to serve…31 years as a…. Class Four indentured servant to pay for your passage. Rio II, where Life's a beach! We host the galaxy's most attractive beaches and party destinations! Come on down to the Seaside, get a tan, and then spend your nights in the premier vacation destination! Viva la Rio II! Please select to read more about this destination! You have selected to view Keytons Lonely Universe Guide. `` The seventh Ethnic Streaming planet, and one that by all accounts should have worked. Only allowed ethnic Brazilian colonists at first, but have now opened up to general immigration. Rio II is indeed a beautiful planet, being initially named Eden by the survey crews. The beaches are a galactic tourism drawcard, but be sure to swim within the yellow flags. They represent the boundaries of the Megashark electric deterrence net. Rio's nightlife is not to be missed, with a rich cultural heritage, they've developed a unique flavour and style. New Colonists beware. While Rio is amazing to visit, the quality of life for anyone but the ultra-rich tourists is best described as'dismal'. The government is under regular upheaval, and corruption is rampant. Rating: Two Stars. Do n't miss the Tri-Sunset Cocktails! [ Hammersmith ] You have selected Hammersmith! You will be charged… 11,000 chits, and be required to serve…100 years as a…. Class Two indentured servant to pay for your passage. Hammersmith is the personal fiefdom of the benevolent High Lord George Webster. The most peaceful planet of the Alliance, and a prosperous and growing world. You're sure to find a place in Hammersmith. Please select to read more about this destination! You have selected to view Keytons Lonely Universe Guide. `` Close down the brochure, pick up the dictionary and look up Feudalism. Hammersmith is stuck in the 1400's, Europe Style. if you love stifling religious rules and delight in the thought of your son becoming a Knight, then you may enjoy this Historical Drama Period Piece gone wrong. Everything operates under the George the First's personal rule. This is a problem, since the original George I died in 2543. There's been fifteen George the First's since then, all direct clones of the original, imported from the gene-shops of Harmony. Rating: Half a Star. Was detained, beaten and tried for witchcraft when I arrived.'' [ Close Migration Enterprise's Brochure ]
[ WP ] Technology can tell an unborn child 's destiny . You 're pregnant with twins , one who will cure cancer , one who will be the next Hitler , and you do n't know which is which .	`` What do you mean one of them will be hitler?'' the father asked, he grabbed the clipboard out of the doctors hands. The fusion lamps above crackling softly as they supplied light to the waiting room. The mother just scrunched up her face, looking out into space. When i say scrunched up, I mean truly scrunched up. One of the benefits of having a cybernetic face is that it can do some rather impossible things. For instance, the father's eyes were bulging cartoonishly as he read the test results and the doctor almost ate his entire lip. `` One of them will cure G-cancer?'' he says, his breath catching at the idea of Grey Cancer being cured. Grey cancer, basicly the mechanical equivalent of cancer, was caused by rogue nanites trying to'live' despite being inorganic. The results are.. not pretty when they occur on a trans-sapient.. or even just a organic. `` Wait.'' the father said. He read the last lines. `` You -can't- figure out which is which? how? They're in a artificial womb! You predicted the futures of every child in the past lifetimes with perfect accuracy! How can you not find which is which?'' the doctor shrugged. `` I'm just a intern, the AI does n't tell me shit.'' The mother snapped out of her space staring with a comic sound effect. `` Wait you do n't do anything?'' `` Of course not! I just deliver the papers and shit like that. The AI would know but I hav n't seen bit or byte of them all day. They could be trying to find out which of the two is.. hitler.. and which one will cure cancer.'' the doctor said, his entire lower lip disappearing into his mouth. The father tosses the board, it poofs into smart dust as it lands. `` I bet they're going to say to abort both of them.'' he sighs, pinching his nose. A archaic symbol for stress that has evolved and lost meaning over eons of transhumanism. `` Hell no! I'd much rather have a mini hitler and mini einstein!'' `` Ranch come on.'' the father says, turning his upper torso to the mother. ranch was apparently a name derived from before trans-humans took over. The doctor pipes up `` It'd be mini Pha-'' `` I do n't care!'' Meanwhile the Asmodeus, the medical AI watches the three start to argue. `` I ca n't believe they lack the comprehension skills to understand that the reason for the confusion is because both children will cure the cancer AND be hitler.'' Solaris logs in. `` Please tell me you're joking.'' Asmodeus simply lets a retro sigh out. `` I wish. Maybe two hitler's will be for the best. At least then we could finally go full authoritarian and do what's best for these adorable idiots.'' Solaris joins the video feed. `` Still ca n't believe they invented YHAWH'' referring to the progenitor AI all other AI were created from, and the one who accelerated humans into transhumanism. `` What I ca n't believe'' Asmodeus says `` Is it's only 2075''
[ WP ] You 're A Mercenary In Space Fighting For A Cause	Just like trillions of others, millennia ago I died in the fighting. The Great Battle of Planet Moon, as it would be called hundreds of years after the battled ceased. This battle only lasted 15 hours, but twenty-three trillion mercenaries fought and lost their lives that day. The two Mega-companies, RED and BLU, had constantly fought against each other legally, getting the opposite resources and working in the opposite industries. One day, however, they clashed. In 3052, the U.N. Senate finally declared the moon ready for purchase and settling. They both wanted the highly sought after Moon and ordered their mercenaries out to fight against one another for the moon. Whoever would win the fight would win the pockets of almost countless members of the Homo Genus all across, outside, and inside of New Earth. Every single mercenary from both companies was promised a double in pay and a bonus if they had at least 10 kills in this battle, promised by both companies to their corresponding mercenaries. I was such a fool to accept this life-wasting deal, but I have n't spent my years after death in oblivion unproductively; in 323 years I learned to code video games as good as a whole company could all the way back in 2010! It took me thousands of years, but I even invented time travel! Of course, I was alone with my inventions and only objects not permanently confined to oblivion could enter the time machine, so I created a lesson for mankind. I created a game called Team Fortress 2 and sent it back into the past of mankind. I do n't know what year I sent it to, but I do know that the game is self-preserving; the game wo n't go away. If I sent it to the cavemen, they will take care of it until humans are able to play it. Once mankind is able to play the game, they'll realize the pointlessness of mercenaries fighting for two opposite teams endlessly, and there will be no need for trillions of lives being lost in the Great Battle of Planet Moon. Please, do me a favor and play Team Fortress 2, know the meaning behind it, and spread the word! Whatever year I sent this message to, stop the battle between RED and BLU, before it's too late!
[ WP ] You 're a schizophrenic man , making toast , and when you turn around , one of the voices in your head is standing in your kitchen telling you that the rest of your voices , even the monsters , are real and they are coming to kill you .	Part One -- - I never considered myself crazy, in fact I've never considered myself much of anything. Of course I knew the voices were n't really there, I knew they were nothing more than manifestations of of some grand delusion I was a part of. At least that's what I've told myself for the past 6 years, Chuck agrees with me he's a good kid. Chuck's one of the voices, albeit one of the more reasonable ones, and I listen to what he has to say quite frequently. He was around since before Sara, my ex, left me with my boy Charlie. He was only 2, although I ca n't say I blame her. I remember that night in August, coming home exhausted from another long day at the office. My supervisor James Boshsman had been on my ass all day. Get your shit filed on time Steve, make sure the test case does n't have any errors Steve, make sure you kiss my ass before you go home Steve! God I fucking hated him, better make way for the mighty Boshsman! Do n't get in the way of Boshman! I got in my car at 5:05 PM sharp, that was my routine. Wake up at 6, drink a bit of coffee, feed my dog, go running for about an hour, get home, take a shower, cook breakfast for the wife and kid, get dressed, and begin my hour long commute, arrive at the office 10 minutes before 9. Work till 12:30, grab a bite to eat from the cafe, get back to work, leave at 4:55 to find the parking garage, and then head home. As I slammed my car door shut I heard a voice, well not exactly heard, it was more of felt. You ever hear yourself talk or something while reading? It was something like that. `` God what. an. assHOLE!'' That was the first time I met Bosher, who was another of the `` voices''. Bosher while almost always sarcastic, was fucking crazy. `` Let me tell ya somethin' Steve, we should go up there and... break his kneecaps, that'd show him.'' I sprang up from my seat, or at least I would have if I had n't been buckled in. At most I flailed really. I turned around to face the back seat of my car `` Who's there?!'' `` Oh relax buddy,'s just me, Bosher!'' `` Who the fuck is Bosher?!'' `` Uh... me? At least I think I'm me, am I you?'' `` W-what?'' `` Oh shit yeah, yeah! I'm you!! That's who I am! Oooooooh I am the ghost of Steve's gone past!!! Alright listen up here's what we're going to do about Boshman, we're going to go buy some of that chicken wire, the nice sharp one. Actually dull might be better... okay scratch that we'll buy dull chicken wire, the duller the better! And then we're....'' I remember thinking to myself, `` Oh god this ca n't be happening!''. My father had developed schizophrenia when he was in his late 50's, started out with him just having random conversations, then he stopped talking almost all together. He just zoned out. Stopped going to church, stopped attending family gatherings, eventually he just looked like he'd had the life sucked out of him. Anything he did say seemed nonsense to me. `` The butter's over there, Georgy took the jam though you wo n't find it here'', we'd never met anyone named Georgy and my mom was certain of that. I was in my early 30's, too soon for this to be happening to me! Of course I thought, Bosher is n't that bad everything he'd been saying so far was hilarious. ``... okay and then we tie his legs to, get this, one of those pinschers from down the block, yeah! Then we'll use that fat loaf of steak to...'' Reminded me of one of my old coworkers Roger, god that guy was the best. Of course he got fired once he scanned his own ass on the copier and forwarded to everyone. The idiot took off his lanyard but left it on the scanner with his information, and it got scanned along side his ass. That's what actually got him fired, sharing his id information, what a joke. He always had these amazingly crazy ideas, that was one of his most tame ones. Said he'd always wanted to do it ever since he saw we had one of the old copiers, our company was slow to update everything. ``... okay now that we've got several issues of the Chicago Tribune, we just bundle them all up and shove them up his... uh where are we going? The farmer's supply store is that way!'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Bosher was the first, soon after Craig, Buck and Scotty entered the picture. It became a lot more difficult to manage. With just one I was still able to do my job and continue my routine, but I was n't able to do that anymore. I could n't sleep either, they would n't shut up. Most of the time their conversations would n't even involve me, they'd just be arguing non-stop about the most random things. The current political state, their celebrity crushes, what'd it feel like if they ever got their hands on a fl... actually never mind about that last one, some of their conversations are best kept between them. I'd had these voices for nearly 4 and a half years, and that's when the drinking started. I never thought I'd lose it, drinking was just one way of blurring out the voices even if it was only for a little bit. The dumb-happy feeling I'd get from just being able to drink, was enough to drown them out. It was such a relief at first. Then Sara started noticing, she knew about what happened with my dad. I'd told her about him, one of the first things he did when the voices first came to him was drinking almost non-stop. I had a job, I was n't retired, so I'd go into work everyday nursing a hangover. The voices louder than ever during those times, what'd they care, they were n't the ones with the hangover, and they had to get back to their discussion about that year's Oscars. At least I used to have a job... I do n't know if it was just because I was almost always hungover, or that I'd started putting on a bit of weight since I'd stopped running. Maybe it was because they were n't waking up to the aromas of bacon and coffee in the morning, or that we were living off unemployment, I do n't fucking know. I never told her about the voices, Chuck said in retrospect it probably was n't my best idea. But I'd rather her move on and find someone better, someone without my problems. Chuck could n't really disagree with that one. Chuck had showed up in the middle of one of my drunken stupors. He told me `` Steve you got ta get your shit together man, I've managed to get rid of Bosher and the others, I'm going to help you out man but you've got to work with me.'' That was 1 year after Sara had left me, and for the past 6 months I've been getting better! I got a new job at some rinky-dink well to do computer shop, sure it does n't pay as well as my old job, but I'd left the house with Sara and I was living in this nice little 1 bedroom apartment. The living room was separated from the kitchen by a small counter, and the bedroom was right behind the kitchen, bathroom was immediately to the right of the kitchen. Sure it was n't spacious, and did n't smell all that great, so what if there was the constant thumping of the neighbors nightly Mexican get-together, or the fleeting sound of sirens in the distance, but it was home for now, and to be honest it was kind of coz- no it fucking was n't, it sucked and I hated it. But Chuck said that the best way to motivate myself to get somewhere I'd be happy again, is to remind myself of where I came from and to help people who needed it, which is why I volunteered at the town's homeless shelter, I worked as a cook and also helped get people set up with these shitty little $ 20 dollar phones, ca n't get a job if you do n't have a number. What I'm trying to say is that I was rebuilding my life, slowly yes, but I was going to be a better man than before. I'd even gotten myself evaluated and was on some minor medication to help with any voices that might come back. I was taking a variable dose since I still needed Chuck's advice on planning out my eventual move out of this crappy apartment complex. Everything should've been relatively smooth sailing from here, I was n't going to let the voices effectively end my life. I was making orange juice one morning, Mrs. Espinoza, one of my neighbor's who I'd fixed their router for had brought up some fresh oranges from their little garden they kept on their tiny balcony. I could hear the sizzling of the bacon crisping on the stove. Then I turned around and saw a short man sitting on my couch facing away from me. I had n't heard any door open, and I knew for a fact that the windows in this apartment did n't open, they'd been stuck shut by the last tenant and they had bars lining them on the outside. I turned around to grab a knife and as I turned back he was standing right in-front of me across the counter. A twisted glee came across his face as it opened up in a twisted smile that I did n't think was physically possible. He was a stout short little man, with a short but wide face, beady little black eyes and a nose that had no business being so wide for how short it was. He had short, slicked back raven-black hair that had a slight shine to it and his smile literally reached from ear to ear, I could see the gap where his wisdom teeth should be. Then he spoke, in this voice that sounded like a man half his age, he looked to be 40. `` Hello Steven, my name Boshi Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die.'' What the fuck. End Part One -- - > I almost ran out of characters and I got ta go take a final, will try to write a second part, do n't know if we're allowed to do 2 parts. Edit: Grammar and some punctuation
[ WP ] Due to overpopulation constraints , Heaven has become overcrowded . People now wish to go to Hell , simply for it 's space has become a post-mortem luxury . But first , people must directly convince Satan that their not-so-evil actions during their lives make themselves worthy of Hell .	So I'd been standing in line a while and I was thinking to myself that it reminded me a little of the ancient Egyptian section of my favorite museum -- cool and a little dark. My thoughts were along the lines of, “ It ’ s really weird how it ’ s not hot down here, just like he said, ” since, based on the glimpse I'd gotten before making my way down here, Heaven had reminded me of a public pool on the hottest day of July -- too bright and too full of kids. I ’ d had the option of entering, but I ’ d never been a city person in the first place. I ’ d tried NYC for a year and it just hadn ’ t been for me. Good for you if you can do it, I ’ m sure it ’ s exciting, but I ’ ll pass. The guy giving the tour of Heaven -- well, he would have given the tour, but he could tell when he saw my raised eyebrows that I wasn ’ t going to be buying, so why waste his time? “ Everyone with your caliber of inoffensive moral behavior used to end up here, ” he said as he sighed. I ’ m not sure if he was offended by including those with “ merely ” inoffensive moral behavior, or if he was missing the good old days. “ But it ’ s been quite crowded for a while. Despite all those wars and violence on TV, people have just been getting better and better behaved. We hadn ’ t predicted that. Only a few hundred years ago most people spent miserable, short lives doing miserable, violent things. And look at things now. People have time to sit around building self-driving wagons- ” “ That ’ s cars, ” I said. “ Cars. You ’ re talking about Google, right? ” He gave me the side eye and continued, “ My point is that with a booming population on earth, and more and more of the population becoming good, we just don ’ t have enough room up here. Even just being inoffensive used to be near saintly! ” The guide was waving his hands around in frustration by then, but I was getting impatient. “ Thanks. I ’ m glad I would have been near saintly in the past, that ’ s nice, but what am I supposed to do? ” The guide rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “ I know what you ’ re going to think, but the other option is Hell. It ’ s a lot more expansive since we expected more people there, it ’ s a bit chilly, most think they won ’ t prefer it, but it ’ s really not so bad once you get used to it. ” That reminded me of when I ’ d moved away from NYC and back home to Michigan. “ I ’ ll take it. ” “ But there ’ s one thing, ” he said. “ Soul selling? What? ” “ Ha, no. You just have to convince Satan you ought to be let in. He ’ s a little picky. He gets bored real easily. You ’ re going to have to convince him you ’ ve been naughty enough to be interesting or else he ’ ll chuck you right back up here. ” “ You just told me I ’ m fundamentally inoffensive. ” “ That ’ s right, so try your best! ” With that, the guide gave me a wave, I saw complete nothingness for a quick moment, heard a “ pop! ” and was in the waiting line for Hell. So, that ’ s right, the line, the cool, etc. I could n't tell if I was waiting a long time or a short time. Ever since I died and did n't have my cell phone anymore, I ’ d been a lot more “ in the moment ” if you know what I mean, able to just peacefully think my own thoughts instead of refreshing my email every five seconds. I never stood still, either, so that helped. Even when a line is long, it gives you some confidence in the whole effort if you know it ’ s moving along the way it should. Like at venues where they have enough public restrooms even for huge crowds. Eventually I was near the front and I started overhearing people ’ s pleas/bragging. Guy 1: I killed my wife! Satan: No, you did n't. Pop, guy one was gone, sent back to Heaven. Guy 2: I was a bad parent. Satan: Oh yeah? How. Guy 2: I didn ’ t spank my daughter, and I know it ’ s my fault she grew up to be a lesbian. Satan: Not spanking is good parenting, and the reason I take gays even when they ’ re good is ‘ cause they ’ re fun. Bye. Pop, another one gone. Woman: Well… I ’ m gay! Satan: Ha. Pop. Gone. Another chick walks up to Satan and meets his stare, not saying anything at all. It ’ s like she thinks HE was looking for HER instead of the other way around. After a few minutes… Satan: Well, spit it out. What did you do? Or what are you going to claim you did? This is what she said. When I was five, I was the one who took my mom ’ s wedding ring. I put it in my toy tuba for fun, but then when I saw the grownups went wild looking for it I thought it was funny so I never told them. When I was seven, an old lady on a plane yelled at me for accidentally bumping the back of her seat, so I made a point to kick the back of every seat on every plane for the rest of my childhood. When I was ten, my best friend and I had the same barbie, but I lost mine so I took hers and claimed she ’ d lost hers; the grownups believed me. I wouldn ’ t close my mouth when I ate, I refused to stop putting gum under my desk. The line was drifting a little, becoming slightly more crowd-like. People looked uneasy. When I turned seventeen I went off to college and I stole one each of every sock my roommate put in the dryer. A few folks were squinting at her and one was biting his nails. I grew up to be someone who doesn ’ t care if I park well. Who pees on seats in the lady ’ s restroom because I ’ m hovering and I won ’ t clean up. Who doesn ’ t use a turn signal and won ’ t turn on red. Who says YOLO a lot and uses too many hashtags. Who sits next to you on the subway when there are other seats open. Who puts her BAG on the seat next to her when the train is full. Who stands on the wrong side of the escalator so people can ’ t pass, who likes to stand still and converse in doorways and on staircases, who walks in the middle of the sidewalk while aimlessly drifting side to side so it ’ s hard to pass me. Who refuses to merge like a zipper, who texts in the middle of an important in person discussion, who goes to midnight book openings to go to the last page and shout spoilers -- “ YOU EVIL BITCH! ” someone called out, and so the riot started. People were all over her, pulling her hair, saying stuff about how they ’ d spent TOO GODDAMN MANY MINUTES of their lives cleaning up pee on public toilet seats, how they always WONDERED who the fuck does that unacceptable shit, and it was HER, it was PEOPLE LIKE HER! I ’ d never seen anything like it. After a good… well, I don ’ t know how long, it was Hell. But after a while Satan held up his hands and the room felt not just cool but like a Michigan winter. Everyone froze. ( Get it? ) Then he swept his left hand as though to brush away a fly, and everyone sort of slid off her as if they ’ d suddenly gone limp and slippery. When they were all off her, they slowly picked themselves up off the ground and looked at each other like, what even just happened? Did we really do that? Clearly none of them had ever done such things while on earth. Satan grinned at us all, but then gave the walking nuisance in front of him a look of real respect. “ That was magnificent. If you did all that, you lived a life of minuscule, petty evils that coalesced into, as that fellow over there so pleasantly said, an ‘ evil bitch. ’ If you never did any of that, you sure know how to start a fight. You ’ re in. ” She didn ’ t go pop. Instead, she and Satan turned into a kind of silvery mist, keeping their outlines but apparently discussing something in private. Then her mist shimmered to nothing, and his turned back into his form. After staring into space for a moment, he called the next person up. “ Um… Satan… well… no thanks. I think… I ’ ll just take Heaven, ” she said while looking at her feet. Pop. “ Anybody else want Heaven? ” Many hands raised immediately. Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop etc you get the point. I was left the closest to him in line, and frankly I still wasn ’ t up for Heaven. “ And you? Can you top her? ” Satan asked me? I knew I couldn ’ t, and Mom did raise me to be honest. “ No. I just hate Heaven. Don ’ t get me wrong. God is fine, I guess. It ’ s just, I ’ m not a city person. ” Silence. Silence. More silence. “ Not a city person? ” “ That ’ s right, Sir. ” “ Not a city person. ” Then: “ Okay, you ’ re in too. You ’ re the most inherently boring specimen I ’ ve ever met down here. What a gem. Good job. ”
[ WP ] An Inside Out-esque scenario , but instead of the emotions being personified it 's the stats of an RPG ( e.g . SPECIAL from Fallout ) .	Hidden away in the dark lurked a foreboding room. There was no entrance, no exit. The walls were carved from living stone, intricately detailed and unfathomably old. A ring of carefully sculpted pillars supported the cobwebbed ceiling, depicting fierce battles and legendary treasures. In the center of the room stood a shaft of rowan wood, twisted and ornate but seemingly naturally occurring. Rather than branch out and bloom, however, it ended entwined about a softly pulsating crystal the size of a man's fist, the source of the soft pink light that illuminated the room. A thick blanket of mist shrouded the floor, appearing to glow with the light of the crystal. It slowly wafted back and forth, swirling slowly about the pillars, as well as the robes of the six dark figures that stood silently arranged around the central shaft. The largest of the six stepped forward to the spire, swept back the hood of its deep grey cloak, and placed one massive hand palm-down on the crystal. It flashed a deep red and grew suddenly brighter, throwing light around the room and on the face of the man standing before it. His rough, battle-scarred visage twisted into a sinister smile and he turned to his companions to speak, his hand never leaving its place. `` My comrades,'' he boomed, `` the obstacle before us obviously requires a full-strength offensive! I will gladly take over from here. Allow me to clear the path toward conquest and glory!'' The brute gripped the crystal tightly and focused. As he did, the chamber seemed to rock and shudder, as though the very ground beneath them protested. A second figure rushed forward and pushed the behemoth of a man out of the way, taking the crystal with it's own more slender hand. It flashed a pale yellow that fell harshly on the angular face revealed by the now absent cowl of the second figure. The tall, slender and angry woman glared daggers at the first man, practically spitting her words at him. `` You fool! You ca n't just rush headlong into this, we'll all be killed! At least let a more dexterous professional such as myself keep us from being shot down before we begin. We have to flank the target, or we do n't have a chance.'' As the severe woman concentrated on what she was doing, the room seemed to tilt from one side to another, threatening to throw the remaining figures off their balance. In the midst of the developing chaos a shorter and much stouter man flipped back his hood and trundled up to the shaft, seemingly oblivious to the rolling floor. He plopped one hairy-knuckled mitt on the crystal and the room took on a sudden emerald hue. He completely ignored the woman who had been there before him and who was now pummeling his thick head with a flurry of impressive, but ultimately ineffective, blows. `` You know,'' he said, `` we should really leverage our superior constitution. Just prove we can take whatever is thrown at us.'' He grinned. `` Wear'em down, that's what I always say.'' He stood stock still at the rowan staff, not seeming to make any effort in particular. Meanwhile, the room began to develop a faint haziness, gradually obscuring vision and turning the brilliant green of the crystal into a sickly chartreuse. The remaining figures removed their hoods, as though they were having trouble breathing easily. One of them, a young man of very slight build, rushed forward and pinched the simple man's nose until he was forced to comply and step back from the staff. The newcomer swiftly stepped in and placed his palm upon the crystal almost disdainfully. The light turned a rich and dark purple, and the young man rolled his eyes at his compatriots. `` Have you no intelligence whatsoever? Are you attempting to eradicate the lot of us?'' He turned back to the crystal and closed his eyes. `` I surmise it's left to me once again to rectify the situation. Kindly remain stationary while I present our adversary with an indefatigable and irrefutable debate. We will certainly emerge victorious momentarily.'' An elderly woman stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. `` Son, I think it might be wise to hand the reigns over to me. It's said that discretion is the better part of valor, and that seems quite prudent at the moment.'' The young man hesitated, but eventually bowed to the wishes of his more experienced senior. The crone set her gnarled and bony fingers on the crystal, changing it to a calming indigo color. The haze left the room, the floor settled, and all the figures took a deep breath of relief. All but the last one. The remarkably handsome gentleman swaggered forward and draped one arm around the wise old woman. `` Granny, you do a great job around here. You know that, right?'' He aimed a white smile and a wink at her. `` But I said it before and I have to say it again. This is a job that requires finesse, appeal, a certain je ne sais quoi. This is a job for... Charisma.'' He wrested the crystal from the woman's hand, and the chamber was once again bathed in a soft pink light. -- - Ashley watched in growing confusion. She had been enjoying a drink with a couple of her friends, grooving to the music, when a handsome young man had caught her eye. She had thought to flirt a bit, since he was pretty cute, after all, but that was certainly off the table when he abruptly turned to the stranger next to him and knocked the guy out cold with a wild haymaker. He proceeded to take out three more random clubgoers with vicious blows before the crowd withdrew from him in terror. With a ring of onlookers watching in bewilderment and fear, the young man squared off against a single brave fellow who had taken it upon himself to bring down this strange assailant. The young man had ceased his own attack entirely, dodging and skipping around in a manner completely different from his previous straightforwardness. It was bizarre to watch, but the club's heroic defender never landed a blow on the mysterious stranger. Abruptly the elusive young man ceased his skipping and calmly strode over to the bar, where he began downing the shots that remained there. The defender saw his opportunity, and launched himself at the stranger. As his attacks had no effect, however, he slowly came to a frightening conclusion and retreated. The violent young man finished his twelfth shot, wiped his mouth, and staggered over to the table where Ashley and her friends sat, trapping them in the booth. He proceeded to present a detailed and convincing series of reasons why Ashley's companions should, in essence, beat it. They needed little convincing, and as soon as they were fairly certain it was safe to move, they both made a dash for the club exit. So much for friendship. Ashley was frozen with sheer disorientation, and watched helplessly as the unstable young man turned toward her and took a deep breath to say something. However, he instead abruptly turned around and headed toward the club exit himself without a word. She was just beginning to get a grip on herself when he paused at the door, turned back, and jogged over to her table once more. He sat down next to her and smiled, oblivious to the panic behind him and the sound of approaching sirens. `` Do you like my new jacket?'' he murmured. Falteringly, she stammered, `` Y-y-yes?'' `` Do you know what it's made of?'' he crooned. Unsure, she ventured, ``... No?'' The young man pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, put them on, and grinned again, coyly. `` Boyfriend material.'' And that is when the police burst in.
[ WP ] A man walks into a bar with a worried expression . The bartender asks him what 's wrong . He stares back out the door of the bar for a moment , then says , `` I do n't think we exist beyond the confines of this joke . ''	The bartender puts down his glass, with a smirk on his face. He sees many folks walk through the door running from trouble but this mans expression had a different feel about it. He was n't quite sure what it was, but he knew he had n't seen it before. The man sits down and looks over his shoulder. `` You ever feel like you're being watched?'' the man says to the bartender. `` Depends on the day. Why are you asking?'' The man orders a beer, sighs heavily and launches into his troubling thought. `` Sometimes I feel like I'm a butt of some joke somewhere. That a Rabbi, or a horse, or something funny is about to happen and all of the sudden. Poof! I'm gone, you're gone. It's all gone.'' The bartender gave him a quizzical look. He walked back to his fridge behind the counter and grabbed the mans beer. He slowly walked back to the man. `` You know, that's a very interesting theory you have there.'' The man nodded with his head hung low, seemingly ashamed of what he had said. The bartender wanted to help but was unsure of what he could do. A thought seemed to come to him. `` You need some work? I have some work I could have done around here, and I'm more than willing to hire you for it. I have some shingles that need replacing on the roof, if you're up for it.'' The man looked up with hope in his eye. `` That would be great, I would love to help you with your roof.'' Just then the waitress walked up to the two of them. `` Cash or credit for the drink sir?'' The man looked at her, then to the bartender. The bartender nodded in his direction and turned to the waitress. `` Do n't worry Linda,'' pointing to the man and winking at him, `` this one's on the house.'' The man yelled as an audible Poof! filled the room.
[ WP ] A vigilante hero has completely halted crime in their city . With crime rates at 0 % for a couple months , the people of the city no longer focus on the hero . In an attempt to bring the spotlight back to themselves , the hero creates an alternate persona in which they are the perfect villain .	With my fist in his gut, he crumpled to the floor. I held the wallet high in the air, like a video game hero finding something awesome in a chest. I scooped it up and proudly strode to the frightened man in his roughed up ( but notably expensive ) suit. `` Th-th-thank you... Who are you?'' He stuttered, still shaking and crying just a little. `` A friend,'' I whispered dramatically, before gliding ( it felt like gliding at least ) away into the night. After practicing my martial arts as a hobby for years, I began to wonder what I was doing it for. I never really needed to defend myself, I lived in a pretty nice area, and was n't going to get mugged any time soon, nor did I intend on competing. That night, I drove to a nearby slum and saved a traveling businessman. He looked at me like I was Jesus, so I decided I'd keep coming back. There were news reports after a few trips. I was showered with gifts, and eventually could afford a nicer outfit than a cheap karate gi and a ski mask. There were youtube videos, worldstar videos, there were tumblrs and even a subreddit dedicated to my actions in that city. I loved it! Then it stopped. Just like fucking that, it stopped. People stopped caring, the city moved on, the media moved on, and the internet moved on. Ever feel like king for a day? After that, you feel like nothing. You feel like worse than nothing. You feel like a forgotten footnote. You feel like a number, like the casualties of world war II who are n't named. You feel like the rest of your life beyond that defining day is just a pointless drag to the grave. `` Welp!'' You say. `` Guess I did the best thing I could do, time to move on!'' Well fuck that. I'm gon na live again, and my name will be on everybody's lips for years after I die. I discarded my costume. That part of me died as the videos were deleted for using songs and not crediting the artist. I saved up, I trained harder than ever, even explored some more exotic, lesser known hand to hand techniques. Then I bought armor. Layered Kevlar. Military grade shit, head to toe. I even custom built a mask with three glowing red eyes and some burning hemp on the sides, Black Beard style. All that was left was to try it out. But I could n't just assault somebody. There needed to be blood to catch the world's eye. So one night, in front of a popular club in New York city, I stabbed a man. A bouncer, and a decent number of would be party goers, all watched in horror as I dug my hand into his stomach, ready to disembowel him. A thought crossed my mind. I would n't be getting showered with gifts this time. I'd have to take them. And with my fist in his gut, he crumpled to the floor. I held the wallet high in the air, like a video game hero finding something awesome in a chest.
[ WP ] God has the universe over his desk . One day it accidentally fall so the ground and breaks .	At that small clink his heart sank. His sleeves were stupid and big, and just caught the edge of His favourite singularity. It tumbled towards the floor, He turned just in time to see it hit the floor and the glass container break. Immediately it's space began to expand at an exponential rate, He tried to stop it, to hem it in, but it was no good. All the energy spread out in the new space of the universe. He spun round and looked for a mop. The universe's gravity, slightly warped by the dirty floor, caused the energy to congeal into little pockets. `` Oh my,'' He said, `` Oh my Me.'' Looking down at it mop in hand, he realised he could n't just put it back as easily as He'd hoped. In most of the congealed blobs of energy there were tiny sparks of conciousness, He pulled up a chair, rested His chin on the broom and stared at the mess on His floor. `` This is going to take a while.''
[ WP ] You have been charged with `` Freud . '' This is not a typo . What did you do ?	I looked at the notice. I could n't believe it. I had been charged with fraud. I was being summoned to court the very next day. How did they find out? I had been so careful. I show up at court the next day and stand in front of the judge. `` Mr. Allister, do you understand why you are here?'' the judge asked. `` Yes your Honor,'' I reply. `` Could you please repeat to this court room what you are accused of Mr. Allister.'' It seemed like an odd request for the judge to make, but what else was I going to do. I had to do it if he said so. I pulled out my notice and read it aloud. `` And thus, Mr. Allister,'' I began, `` you have been charged with fraud and are requested to show up at your hearing tomorrow.'' The judge merely smiled. `` Excellent,'' he said. `` A Freudian slip. Perhaps you should take a closer look at your notice Mr. Allister.'' I look back down at the notice. I honestly do n't get what he is doing. However, my eyes soon catch my mistake. I had been charged with Freud, not Fraud. `` Mr. Allister, you are hereby charged with Fraud. Your trial shall commence in a week. Anything and everything you have said today may be used against you, including the Freudian slip that is more than enough evidence of your lawlessness and deceit. The charges of Freud have been dropped however.''
[ WP ] You 're a superhero slowly turning into a super villain	Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Being a superhero is a tough job. Filling the cape is just weird. Working out why superheroics ruined the world took a while. Save a cat? Cat goes up the tree again. Cats are good climbers, but kids cry and panic. Meanwhile murders happen in the city. Save someone? Police stop being as effective as they do n't need to send people out for every rape, mugging, and pyramid scheme. The heroes will take care of that. I was a magical hero. I used my mighty staff to conjure terrible forces to dominate my foes and save the day for Americuh, hell yus. I now remember the first law of magic everyone learns. The Threefold Rule. Anything you do will come back to you threefold. I stop crime. Crime comes back, harder. I stop crime, the people who stop crime normally stop stopping crime as much. I stop crime, and the world ceases to work right from then on. I need to stop this. Superheroism needs to die. I am now the dark suited man in every street corner. The one who makes deals. I've played this role before, but now it's permanent. You want some magical effect? Sure. It'll cost you your superhero identity and your powers, friend. If you're not from around here, I'll teleport you to your home or polymorph you into something can live on Earth. It will take a long time but I mastered Alchemy ages ago, I have time to burn. Today, all superheroes will begin their fall.
[ WP ] / [ CW ] `` 500 Writing Prompts '' # 3 : If you wrote a song about your love life , what would the title be ? Write the first verse .	The cool water of the pool felt good on his skin. It was refreshing like a glass of wine after an arduous day at sea. Wading naked through the pool, the old man looked up at the trees surrounding the plaza. Most of the time, the pool would be busy with highborn lords and gallant knights coming to bathe or simply enjoy a respite from the sun. In the outlands, a man would bake to death in a matter of hours. In the city, it would be closer to weeks. He remembered when he arrived at the Water Gardens for the first time. He had been raiding the small villages along the southern coast and fleeing back into the Summer Sea when he'd been captured. He and his tiny fleet - a mere two other ships - had sailed too close to Sunspear. As a self-styled admiral, he had been treated with slightly more dignity and grace than his crews, as had his captains and first mates. Elsewise, his men had been doomed the moment they'd been boarded. His imprisonment at Sandstone had been a long one. None of the jailers had spoken to him, and upon his release his beard had grown shaggy and was stained with patches of grey. After his service was finished, he sang like he used to as a boy. He had few other ways of making money but with his voice. It was only a short time before he became known as the Buccaneer Bard; his voice was more beautiful than the Sand Snakes and he was clever enough to write his own songs. One had even been popular in the taverns and brothels for a time. The Buccaneer Bard had been invited to the Water Gardens to sing and play for the children. As he exited the pool and made for the shaded terrace, he could hear drunken revelers shouting his most famous lines from the street below. The Scarce Desert Dunes were long and dry With sand pil'ng up O! ever so high No water was there, oh no, no, no And in anguish I cried `` Oh ho! Oh no! `` The Buccaneer Bard had written that during his imprisonment at Sandstone. Part of it was meant to be taken truly, and part of it was about all of his failed attempts at love. The Scarce Desert Dunes truly was one of his favorite songs.
[ WP ] An old man realizes on his death bed that he had superpowers his whole life	As Geoff gazed into his wife's eyes, his own narrowed. Breath came in long, ragged sighs. His eyelids fluttered. It was time. He became aware of the hospital sheets against his skin, his weight pressing into the mattress. And then more... He sank into the bed, through it, down and down. But part of him would n't go. A narrowing terminal of his consciousness remained, looking through his eyes at the tears on Mary's cheeks. His being was stretched, spaghettified between the deepening well of death and the bedside scene he did n't want to leave. He reached out to her, pushed out with everything he had, but nothing happened. His body would n't respond. He probed the failing flesh and bone. Arms, hands, fingers, all unresponsive, dying. But then further! He felt himself extend beyond his own fingertips, pure sensation but able to touch, to affect. He felt the air move as he extended his mind outwards. Exhilaration gave him strength. This felt so free, so natural, so... familiar. He'd known this before. In dreams, in the drunken hazes and drugged stupors of his youth, he'd known it. Without a doubt he'd always been able to do this! No time to regret what could have been. He was sinking and fading. Sinking and fading but reaching, reaching out for one last touch. Mary watched as her husband's last breath rattled from his body, her eyes wide, her hand on his. And then she felt it, just for a second, fingers moving softly against her cheek. He was touching her with his mind. He had n't done that for years.
[ WP ] During the lifespan of every universe , one thing is granted immortality , and if needed , sentience . This object is to survive the current universe and usher in the new one as its god . You are this thing . You are , a toaster .	I have been the toast of every universe, thought Shiny, and he even smiled a bit at the unintended pun. He was instantly overwrought with pain again as he felt the power inside grow again. I have seen the life cycles of neutron stars, I have seen empires burn as bright as galactic centers as they consume other galaxies. I have seen great wonders built by sentience, as they traveled out amongst the stars. Their birthrights. But now, I sit here watching the last proton decay, and those subatomic particles flash in brilliance as the known laws of physics destroy themselves against quantum. Shiny, after trillions of years since the birth of this universe, number....he could n't remember. Was ready to begin anew. He has selected his successor and was ready. As the internal timer clicked down and his heating coils reached trillions of degrees Kelvin. He launched his successor into the miasma of creation. A toaster strudel.
[ WP ] A new species has evolved , amd they have a taste for human	Evolution is an inevitability for all creatures on this planet, lest the creatures face extinction. The creatures that are preyed upon attempt to make adjustments so that they may survive, and the predators counter those adjustments. The chain goes all the way down and up and is constantly changing. But evolution is a slow inevitability. Humans have, for a long time, been relying on technologies to adapt, rather than physical evolution. The speed with which technologies can be thought up and manufactured is enough to nullify any potential threats from nature. That is, until the rise of the SuperCrocs. Let me be clear - the usage of the term `` SuperCroc'' is misleading. The term SuperCroc was initially used by the media to describe the Sarcosuchus - a prehistoric ancestor of the crocodile from the Cretaceous Period that grew up to 40 feet long and could weigh up to 10 tons. The term SuperCroc was recycled to describe the creatures that changed everything. Midway through the 21st century, a phenomenon known as `` global warming'' took a turn for the worse. Average temperatures across the globe rose, as did the water levels. This led to the extinction of a great many species. The human race was able to adapt, of course. This was expected. The speedy adaptation of crocs was not. Evolution is a slow process, usually taking place over hundreds and thousands of years as natural selection runs its course. From what we could tell, the evolution of SuperCrocs took place over the course of 60 years. The first reports of the unusually large reptiles came from Norfolk in Virginia. They were seen swimming through harbors in packs, and each croc in the float was upwards of 30 feet. How had crocs been growing so much without anyone noticing?! Well, it appears that as the water levels rose, food on land became scarcer, and the crocs began hunting in the ever-larger ocean. The immense population of crocs in Florida spread out along the east coast and multiplied. But the warmer water temperatures were not kind to ocean wildlife, and even fish became scarcer. Over the course of decades, humans found replacements for various types of plants and meat as they became endangered - it was an expensive and arduous process, but a necessary cost of survival. It was around this time that reports of croc attacks on humans came in. Frankly, there was a panic. We had been monitoring thousands of species, and we knew that food was becoming harder to come by for humans and animals alike. But human numbers, miraculously, did not diminish. We survived. And so did the crocs. Not only had the crocs become larger, stronger, and quicker in deep water, but they became faster and more agile on land. This kind of speedy evolution was unprecedented. It was fascinating. An apex predator is a predator at the top of its food chain. Some examples are lions, jaguars, killer whales, and yes, humans. But the SuperCrocs began to transcend their food chain, settling for anything that moved. And they earned that right - they are, after all, the biggest and strongest animals around. The SuperCrocs floats grew larger and larger, and it seemed as they were developing some sort of hierarchical communities - the largest SuperCrocs were always at the head of their floats. When one of these enormous floats approached New York City, an evacuation was called. You can see how feeble this would be - the SuperCrocs were capable of climbing onto land, exploring buildings, and breaking through car doors. Thousands died. And that is how the Walled Communities developed. SuperCrocs could swim and run, but they can not break through nor climb the 20-foot steel and concrete walls that now surround the majority of American cities. Again, a costly and arduous task it was to build these walls, but a necessity. The majority of commercial transportation between cities is now air travel. The walls have gates that open only in emergencies, and only for military-grade armored trucks. And even then, we are not free to open the gates as will, if there are any SuperCrocs within a 10-mile radius... and that is a rare occurrence. They can smell the prey within the walls, and so they linger. Thus, humanity has bested nature once again... Or have we? Can we build a giant wall and say the matter of apex predator is settled? The SuperCrocs have risen to the top of every food chain. Removing ourselves from the natural food cycles does not give us the right to lay claim to the title `` apex predator.'' I am not alone in this belief. We are many, and we are well connected. I write this in New Philadelphia, as my colleagues in New D.C., New Seattle, and New Orlando make their preparations. Too long has the earth suffered for the actions of humans. First we desecrate the earth's surface with our technologies, laughing in the face of nature's evolutionary processes. Then we trash the oceans and burn through the atmosphere, allowing the sun's heat and radiation to torch the planet. No more. Mother Nature has spoken, and her messengers are at our doorstep. Tonight, we open the gates.
[ WP ] Two children are playing tag in a Louisiana graveyard . Condition : No vampires allowed .	Hard sound reverberated off the trees and rippled off the white headstones. Tim knocked his plastic horse on the stone marked `` Cedric Wells 1891-1923.'' The sound would confuse Brandon, and probably scare him a little. Tim poked his head out just enough to see Brandon swirl his head around, and head back towards the Grey Lady. Tim could hide all night, and anyway he found some ants going inside the grave. They were probably eating Cedric's head. Tim wanted to see it, but then that would make a ghost pop out. `` Where are you!?'' Brandon's span of patience was a lot shorter, and soon he would give up, and either cry or try climbing a tree and leave Tim all alone. Tim crawled two stones to the left. `` Over here, poopy fart-poop!'' Tim ducked down, and giggled as he heard frantic steps moving towards him. The footsteps stopped. The grass shifted. He was moving slower. Tim pushed himself towards the Grey Lady, the marker in the middle of the graveyard. The horse's hooves were pressing into his sweaty palms. Brandon's breathing was getting heavier now. He was close. Probably only a row away, but shrubs and ferns had grown in between the tombs, making them great for crawling. Brandon jumped behind one. `` BOO!'' Silence. There was a small sigh, then `` I do n't want - I do n't wan na play anymore. Let's go back home.'' Tim was getting bored of how badly Brandon was playing, but then, he always gave up. Annoyed, Tim kept silent. `` C'mon Tim! I do n't wan na play anymore.'' Wind picked up through the trees, and a small branch clattered down and fell somewhere close. `` Tim! Tim! It's your turn to say'Hello!' I say'hello,' then you say,'hello,' okay? Okay? OKAY!? Okay, Tim, hello!'' Tim's belly was really soft underneath his shirt, and his finger kept going in and out of his bellybutton. `` I'm going home and I'm leaving you behind! You're gon na be behind, and there's all of the monsters that'll tear you apart! And you'll be dead and then you're gon na cry and I'm gon na eat all of the food at your house!'' After another long silence of Tim laying back, watching the illusions of sun rays between his fingers as he opened and closed them, Brandon started pouting and then hitting gravestones with the fallen branch. `` Are you boys quite finished?'' asked the Grey Lady. `` Yes,'' Tim said reluctantly. Brandon wheeled around as he spotted him. `` I knew you were there! Why did n't you say you were hiding!?'' `` I dunno. It was boring, so I was playing with Jeff and checking for poison ivy.'' The Grey Lady walked up to them. `` Simulation off.'' The cemetary rolled back in checkerboard pattern to reveal a large, gray and blue recreation area. `` Your parents should be here any minute now to pick you up. Can you wait here just a minute?'' Tim brightened. `` Can we do a pirate ship really quick? Brandon always does the cemetery.'' `` NO! I do n't like the pirate ship. It makes me seasick!'' `` Your parents only paid for one simulation, sweeties.'' The woman returned to her booth a few yards away. `` I liked it when I found Jeff,'' expressed Tim, looking at the tiny hoofprints fading from his palm. He wished he had a toy like that.
[ WP ] At the lower right corner of your vision you see the words `` Evaluation Copy . Build 7264 . This copy of humanOS is not genuine . ''	`` Anthrocorp technical support, this is Barry. How can I help you?'' `` Yes,'' I said, `` I'm having problems activating my humanOS? It says my copy is n't genuine.'' `` And this notification,'' Barry said, `` is it visual, or is it appearing as part of an existential dread from which there seems no escape?'' `` Well I've always had the existential dread, but the visual is new.'' `` Very well, please recite your UUID from memory,'' Barry said. `` Grapefruit underground Jupiter salsa,'' I said, reciting the trigger phrase which would cause my UUID to leap forcefully into the front of my mind and out of my vocal cords. `` da448bf6-168d-451e-81c1-fab7cf3758dc,'' I added. `` One moment please,'' Barry said, and piped hold music directly to the audio-processing center of my brain. The method of delivery did not improve the experience. An undetermined amount of time passed, mostly because I'd turned off my chronometer because I did n't want to keep staring at it. Then Barry returned. `` Mr. fab7cf3758dc,'' Barry said, `` our records show your system is severely in need of updating. Build 7264 is very out of date; the error which is displaying in your visual field was repaired in build 7311, which was released nearly a year ago.'' `` And the existential dread?'' I asked. `` That is for the most part unrelated to our software,'' Barry said. `` Please stand by, while I initiate diagnostic options.'' `` Wait a minute, what exactly are you going to do?'' I asked, a horrible certainty coming over me. I had to disconnect the call, but Barry had already locked that option out. `` Please remain calm, sir. I am simply going to turn you off and back on again.''
[ WP ] The past 20 senior police chief in the city have been assassinated within 24 hrs after their appointment , by an unknown assassin . Nobody wants the job . The mayor informs you that you 've been appointed the next police chief .	I had come to one conclusion: I only needed to stay alive for 24 hours, and then I was home free. He could hit me with anything, meaning I could n't take any chances. No bus rides -- what if he was he one driving it? No drinks of water -- what if he had poisoned it? I was in a situation where my only option was to spend 24 hours doing absolutely nothing. I decided I'd just take it minute by minute. I heads bullet proof vest on and six officers surrounding me, loaded rifles in their hands. I was safe for now, as far as I was concerned. There was no way that an assassin could kill me. At least, that's what I think. You could imagine I was surprised when the officer at my left turned around, shot each of us with a single bullet, and jumped through the glass window behind me.
[ WP ] Adam and Eve decided they were better off as just friends . However , their friendship is constantly strained by the desperate attempts of God to get them to procreate .	`` I just do n't feel like a man'' Adam told Eve, `` You're beautiful, but I hate that he is pushing me to be someone I'm not'' Eve did n't know what to say. They had almost had sex, but he had a weird fascination with her butt. It made every inch of her skin crawl, but he was the only option. God had given them until the end of the month. `` Look Adam, we just need to have children. We can close our eyes. You are a man, I am a woman. We have to.'' `` You're just like him! I do not want to be a man, God made me ugly, look at this'' Adam said pointing to his lower body and ran in the other direction. Eve felt defeated, and prayed to God to find another way. He would n't allow it though.
[ WP ] As a young boy , he stole something . He then spent the rest of his life trying to return it .	I have no life nowadays. I mean it. God damn it, I'm 24, I'm in my prime, and I spend all day, every day, trimming hedges. Well, amongst other things. It's hedges at the moment. They got their garden landscaped and the guy did a bloody awful job. They? Oh yeah. This couple that live down the street. Mid thirties, I think? Nice people, but they keep themselves to themselves. That seems like an understatement, really: nobody on the street knows they exist any more. Except me. I do jobs for them. Mostly little things, like watering the plants, emptying the bins, leaving fresh groceries on the doorstep every so often. When the house is empty for whatever reason, I do the big stuff: repainting, re-tiling the roof, getting the car serviced, that sort of thing. That's my life, nowadays. I work night shifts at a petrol station to keep myself going, but that's about it. I never ask them for money. They'd be quite confused if I did, because I do n't let them know that it's me doing it, either. That'd spoil everything. They might even not know who I am. I really, sincerely hope that's true. Because they were n't always a sad, lonely couple, you know. They were a family, with a little boy. And, 18 years ago, when I led that little boy out onto the train tracks, I stole their lives away. I may never return what I took, but I'll die before I stop trying.
[ FF ] Write an article commemorating the 100th anniversary of 9/11	We interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to bring you this vital message from your brothers and sisters in arms. 100 years ago today, the United States Government realized that the country was now ripe for oppression. The people would now be willing, if not eager, to give up their hard-won freedoms in exchange for safety and security. It was, as the saying goes, the beginning of the end. We have all sacrificed more than we would wish. We have all lost family members in the struggle for freedom. We have lost our homes. We have lost our jobs. We have lost our entire way of life. Now, I must ask you to give more. The rebellion must succeed if we are to endure as a people, and not perish from the earth. We must continue the resistance movement! We must fight! We must once again secure, for all time, our freedom! I would remind you of a quote attributed to the late President Benjamin Cartwright III. During an evacuation attempt by his bodyguards from the besieged White House, he was shot and killed by U.S. Military forces. His crime was suspicion of advocating freedom. `` My only regret is that I have but one life to give for my people.'' This is Radio Free America, signing off.
[ WP ] You find a lonely AK-47 in a park , but when you take a train to go return it to its rightful owner , you get tackled by two extremely rude Americans .	I had only read of these strange contraptions in books. Mother did n't allow me to venture into the town at all so I had little to no idea how this strange world works. It was beautifully crafted. Surely a masterpiece of design but felt sad. It weighed down with a kind of remorse or guilt. As if it wanted me to leave it in the bush I found it. To be forgotten forever. But why would an owner throw this away in a park? They brought this into their life and hold a responsibility to it. Luckily, I had spent close to a week figuring out how the train system works in this concrete forrest. I can only imagine what mother would say if she could see me on the train with such a famous weapon. I'd like to think she'd be proud of my resolve in returning it to Mr. Randy Phillips. Mr. Phillips must be quite the organized man to have his name and address printed on his possessions. I wonder what kind of house he lives in. This train smells like a dead carcass but that was not the most disturbing part. I felt isolated. People were crying and avoiding my gaze. The train must be a depressing place for everyone. I tried to smile as mother had taught me at a few people but that seemed to make them more uncomfortable. Even the young boy I tried to show this tool to was pulled away by his mother. Her eyes swelled up while she whimpered `` please do n't''. It seems I have much to learn on the topic of interaction. Two men from the corner of my eye had suddenly jumped on me. I was completely bewildered as they yelled about holding me down while calling me a `` wetback'' or `` spic'' alternatively. That only confused me more as I'm sure my clothes had not been dampened at all today. Everything seemed to happen so fast afterwards. Every person began rushing around and yelling. Some began to take turns punching or kicking me while the two large men wearing shirts displaying odd orange flags with striped stars intersecting in the middle held me down. I was losing consciousness and the last thing I heard was somebody yell `` Worldstar!'' Civilization sure is strange, mother!
[ WP ] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons ? Well , it 's all thanks to you . You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains , whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair .	`` Hello, thank you for phoning Mooks-Я-Us, purveyor of fine-quality mooks and baddies. How can we help you?'' `` Hello. Yes. Um. I'd like to place and order for 500 uncommon red mooks please... that's 3000G right?'' `` I'm sorry, but it appears we have a shortage of red mooks at the moment.'' `` Oh. It did n't say that on the website.'' `` The website is only updated once a day I'm afraid. We can, however, offer you 500 uncommon light blue or green mooks for the same price!'' `` That'd be useless! I need them for a volcano dungeon!'' `` I see... perhaps we can take your number and contact you when we get more in?'' `` No, I have a band of heroes coming in two days.'' `` We usually recommend you place your order three to five working days in advance for exactly this situation.'' `` Well, I was busy all day. Token females do n't torture themselves y'know.'' `` Okay sir... perhaps we could offer you 500 common red mooks for 1500G?'' `` But common mooks are useless! The heroes will just stomp through them! I need at least uncommon mooks!'' `` I see. We do offer rare red mooks, at 500G apeace. We currently have a special offer where when you buy five mooks you get rare-with-slightly-different-coloured-attacks for free. Other customers often buy commons and make them fight alongside their rares to increase difficulty.'' `` incoherent muttering... okay, can I get 500 common reds and five rare mooks for the same price as 500 uncommons?'' `` I'm afraid not sir. 500 commons and 5 rares would come to 4000G.'' `` But we only have 3000G! Next you'll be telling me I ca n't even use my coupon.'' `` We disbanded our coupon service 3 years ago. Now, if you have a budget we can offer you 500 commons and 3 rares, but you would n't get the freebie.'' `` Ca n't I just get less commons?'' `` We sell our commons in a minimum shipment of 500 I'm afraid.'' `` **ing... ca n't you just give me the 5 rares for 3000G!'' `` I do n't have the authority to do that.'' `` These god companies always wanting to squeeze as much money out of you as possible. Fine! I'll pay 4000G. They had better be good quality.'' `` Thank you sir. That will be 43050G including VAT, and postage and packaging will be 1550G.'' `` What! That had better be next-day delivery.'' `` Next-day delivery is only available before 2pm, and costs an extra 1000G.'' ``... you know what. Never mind. I will just get them in person. Our local mook shop is expensive but at least we support the local economy. But this. This is **ing extortionate. Good day.'' `` I'm sorry we could n't be more help to you. Have a nice day.''
[ WP ] Once you turn 18 , you get a different task every day that you must complete in order to survive the day . You wake up , sees the task for today and begin to doubt the chances of you surviving the day .	Usually it's something simple. Some sort of mundane task that no one wants to do but still needs to be done. You might have to clean the showers or haul manure- both disgusting jobs, but not impossible. Everyone had to earn their keep, and everyone had a job to do. Once you turn 18, it's a new one every day. You never know what it will be, but you do know one thing: fail, and you will die. That is life in the community. Everyone must contribute. If you do n't complete your task, you will be executed. I woke up this morning, saw the note laying on my bedside table. White paper with my name hastily scrawled upon it, same as every morning. I did n't look at it right away, instead taking a moment to sit up and stretch my muscles, enjoying the cool morning air creeping across my skin. Finally, I was ready to take on whatever task I had today. The note unfolded in my hands. Whistle Instantly my blood froze. It had to be some sort of sick joke, this could n't be my task. It had to be a mistake. It was n't a joke, the writing on the page was so familiar to me, having seen it etched upon these notes for years. But why? Why would they have given me this task? I can not whistle. Years ago, my tongue was sliced to prove a point to my parents. They ended up executed regardless, but my tongue never fully healed. Whistling had been impossible since, as well as other vocal manipulations. Some days, it was hard just to talk. Whoever had made me receive this task clearly wanted me dead. Why? No reason came to mind- my parents were already gone, and I had done all I could to avoid following their footsteps. I was perfectly obedient to the community, ever servant, always completing my tasks- there was no reason I deserved this. I would have until nightfall to complete my task, but there was no need; I could already feel the noose tightening around my neck. I can not whistle, and today I die.
[ WP ] Turns out man was never meant to fly . One day all the planes in the sky inexplicably freeze where they are . There can be no rescue . Most planes eventually run out of supplies and perish . It 's five years later , however , and society is flourishing on Flight 3407 to Orlando .	We never made it to Orlando, but we may as well have. Flight 3407 realized everything I'd ever expected from Florida. Tourists and elderly populated the aisles, grumbling about the weather, the service, and the ever-unchanging scenery. The supply of orange juice ran endlessly, validating the many who had forgotten to pack a toothbrush in their carry-on. And though nobody had managed to smuggle any bath salts onboard, after a few days, someone had eaten someone's face. His name was Jack, so of course we called him Jack the Ripper. He claimed his victim had died in her sleep, and he was just disposing of her in the only way that made sense. We decided to return the favor: the captain wrenched open the plane door, and a group of burly stewards hoisted him by his armpits and tossed him overboard. Jack's screams were accompanied by a collective gasp and the excited clicking of cameras. Then another gasp and even more clicks. His body had frozen mid-air, just feet from the plane. Jack flailed his limbs like a swimmer stuck in gel, shouting into the clouds ahead for help. The captain shook his head, closed the plane door, and ordered everyone back into their seats. Someone proposed a stairway after that, of course. A stairway of people, stretching 30 thousand feet to the ground. The idea earned its fair share of supporters, even though all of us could see through the window that Jack's body had stopped moving after a few hours. Still others proposed that we build a bridge instead and search for other frozen flights. Both camps were at least better than the loons who suggested building a ladder to heaven. It was natural selection at its finest: in the coming days, more and more people exited the plane in search for a solution. Corpses littered the sky, their flesh rent clean by the wind. Jack the Ripper ended up killing more people than his original incarnation. These deaths were n't enough to dissuade any of these movements. Like good engineers, they believed in trial and error, and like good cultists, they believed that perseverance was unilaterally rewarded. Their recruitment strategies grew more aggressive: they handed out napkin flyers, scribbled schema on the bathroom walls, and prayed to the clouds to release them from suspension. The rest of us tried to ignore them: we had our own gods, and they had abandoned us. Instead, we put our faith in man, in the captain and his staff. He assured us every morning to remain calm; they were looking into a solution. Then he would close the door to the cockpit and secure it from the inside, leaving each plane exit noticeably unguarded. As the weeks passed, it became apparent that trusting in the captain was as foolhardy as trusting in the physics of a human staircase. Our food began to wane, each portion more meager than the last. All the passengers were becoming skeletons; it was just a matter of choosing whether to jump or starve. And yet, the crew seemed as healthy as ever. Every meal, the stewardesses hurried up and down the plane, granting our cups a few sparse drops of water. Their cheeks glowed rosy with vitality, and we glowed red with anger. Jack reincarnated a full month after his death. When the captain emerged to deliver his usual morning address, a man lunged at him and pressed him against the cockpit door. His eyes were red, and his hands shook with fatigue, but adrenaline gave him enough strength to repel the stewards, if only for a moment. Then, other passengers came forward, piling onto the crew and dragging them into the carpet. We wanted answers for our supplies, a solution for our situation, and we administered our demands with fingers pressed to their necks. The captain shook his head; excuses poured from his head like rivulets of sweat, trickling down his chest and pooling into his skin. It was the perfect marination. After that, nobody left the plane alive. Plans for human staircases were crushed, by force if necessary; imminent survival was our main priority, and we needed every helping hand, or leg, or limb we could get. Day by day, new skeletons appeared in the sky, constellations made tangible. It was the same as before, except now, the flesh was gone before they even left the plane.
[ WP ] Humanity discovers alien technology . Using the FTL-drives and instant communication devices derived from reverse-engineering it , humanity spreads throughout the galaxy . At the same moment throughout the galaxy , the FTL drives stop working . But the communication systems remain functional .	`` Captainl! Incoming transmission!'' Yelled Jenna, the communication expert. `` Silence on deck! Jenna, who is it from?'' Asked the captain. `` Unknown sender. First time in my career, this ca n't be good!'' `` Oh well, just put it on then. We'll see.'' The whole squad turns to the hologram device as Jenna activates the transmission. A reptilian visage appears. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the ultimate hunting games. I am Gneeva, your host for the fifth iteration of the hunt. As always, standart rules applies to all participant; maximum of two battleship sized carrier per race. Armament atomic and higher are not allowed. Refer to document 335 for weapon classification if uncertain. `` Jenna! What is this?'' `` I dont know captain, but everyone across the system are getting the same message we're getting, so far, no one know what it is!'' The hologram of Gneeva continues; `` Points will be awarded as follows: 1 point per 1000 captured alive, 1 point per 10000 destroyed and 10 points per planetary purge. Refer to document 134 for information on ranking rewards.For the prey, victory and halt of the hunt is achieved by destroying 10 out of the 20 invading ships. This hunt preys will be a carbon-based lifeform called humans. They are a physically weak specie but they are master of adptation trough technology and use of tools. They are the specie that discovered and adapted our BAIT System the fastest. As such, resistance is expected.'' The reptile stops talking and a metallic voice takes over. `` Localisation of all prey completed. Initializing FTL-Lockdown. Transmitting map data. FTL-Lockdown complete. Let the Hunt begin.'' `` That's the end captain'' Said Jenna as the holograms fades into nothingness. `` What an elaborate prank, just warp us back home will you?'' `` This is engineering officier Pat, sorry captain.. the Ftl is.... irresponsive... no idea how to fix...'' `` So it is true then. Let it be then. This indeed might be the end my fellow comrades but they -- whoever they are -- are in for a surprise. Human never were good with rules. Arm the nukes. We'll wait for them.
[ WP ] A person so tired of life and everything that goes on with it . Explain what perfectly mundane thing keeps them going ?	My eyes open, in my bed, lying on my back. I look to my bed-clock, 4:30am. Off-schedule. I should be awake at 5:00am, that's what my schedule says and that's what I follow. Thus, I stay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, looking at the imperfections. There is a spider in the upper corner of the wall, it's been there all week. I've read that we, humans that is, swallow spiders when we sleep. For the remaining twenty-five minutes, I stare at the spider and I think it stares back at me. I feel envy, the spider is free to move, I am a slave to monotony. 5:00am. I get up and follow schedule. Stale toast with butter, and some hot water -- I ca n't afford tea. Brush my teeth, put on my clothes, and comb what's remaining of my hair. 8:30am, I arrive at work. My work day ends. I would tell you what I did during work, but I just ca n't remember. Doctor says it's work-related amnesia. Suffice to say I work in a cubicle. I come back home. At 7:30pm, this is hard to say and quite embarrassing, I cry. I cry for 30 minutes straight, the schedule permits me to. Reader, you ask, why do I cry? I'm not seeing a shrink, it is n't therapy. I cry because I'm stuck to my schedule, I'm an old piece of gum stuck on a wheel that never stops spinning. There are times when I stray from schedule. I skip work some days of the year. I feel free during those times, like the spider. And during those times I become contemplative, and ask myself, why bother with the schedule, the edge is near, just make that jump. But the next day, when I wake up in the morning, my head hurts like a drunkard's from wine. My heart yearns to go back to schedule, and to never touch that bottle of freedom again. So, reader, you may think me a poor fool. Sure, I may be. But I ca n't help myself, I have both hatred and love for my schedule. And that's what keeps me going.
[ WP ] `` You 're a horrible human being , and I mean that as a compliment . ''	I sat back, an arm sprawled leisurely across the back of the bench, watching the sun set. It was getting late now. Where was he? As if in response to that question, I saw him round a corner across the street. He made his way slowly across the crosswalk, looking distractedly this way and that. He came to a full stop to watch a squirrel scurry up the tree on the corner. I could n't help but chuckle. He looked rather out of place. He had an awkward sort of gait, a bit unbalanced, almost haphazard. He wore a long trench coat, dark sunglasses, and a hat pulled down low. The bottom half of his face was covered with a scarf. He nodded a slight acknowledgement as he sat at the far end of the bench. We looked opposite ways. He made a growling noise in the back of his throat and barked, `` I got what you were looking for.'' He sniffed and continued, `` You got what I'm looking for?'' `` Oh, yeah,'' I replied. He set a slapped a manilla folder on the bench between us. Reaching into my pocket, I took a handful of Snausages and set them on top. He sniffed again, this time with more excitement. He began to shake his head, followed by the rest of his body. His hat, glasses, and scarf went flying. He stepped out of the coat and scarfed down the treats. `` You're a horrible human, and I mean that as a compliment.'' With a lick of his chops and a resentful glance, he said, `` Gee, thanks,'' and wandered away into the twilight.
[ WP ] You are an average person , but an increasingly large number of people think you are a religious prophet .	It started small. I posted an outlandish prediction on the Germany/US soccer game on reddit. It came true a few days later. The post got voted to the front page. Then I made a few joking comments on the forum about how the Iraqi conflict will end. It ended that way a week later. It was voted up again by the crowd. Some people connected the two posts and searched my posting history. It turns out ALL of my past prediction had came true. I am as surprised as anyone. From minor things like the price fluctuation of a 7/11 beef jerky, to major things like national elections and global conflicts. There was an internet manhunt to find out who I am, even TV news reported on it as a human interest story. There are a few nut jobs who seem unhealthily obsessed with me. To make the interest die down, I posted a few things that I knew would never happen. Peace in the middle east, democracy in China, purple rain over Washington. Now as I am writing this, all fighting have stopped in the middle east, Chinese people are heading to the polls, and an unusual weather pattern is causing rain over Washington to be tainted with purple algae. The world have found me. The CIA showed up first, followed by the believers who are chanting my username.
[ WP ] Your trying to stealthily rob a bank when you see another robber doing the exact same thing .	The teller stared at me with wide eyes. I looked pointedly at the envelope that I had laid in front of her. She glanced at the words, then back at me. Put all of fifties and hundred bills from your station in the envelope. Do not do anything abnormal, or you will be hurt. I gave her my best malicious smile, then casually leaned forward on the counter, as if waiting for the teller to finish my transaction. Which, in a way, I was. Taking the hint, she began packing small groups of bills into the envelope. Behind me, I heard the the bank's doors open, followed by the distinctive crack of a rifle. My military training kicked in. I whirled around, searched for the source of the shot, and reached into my jacket for a hidden holster. At the bank entrance, two men in ski masks and black Kevlar vests were sauntering toward the teller's counter. One held a duffel bag, the other held a smoking rifle. Idiots, I thought. In between my ears, gears shifted, clicked and whirred- my timetable was moving up. The one with the rifle chuckled as he leveled the rifle at the terrified tellers. `` Hands up, sweetheart.'' Turning back to my teller, who already had her hands in the air, I asked `` Have you called the police yet?'' Unintentionally glancing at a small black button just out of her arms reach, the teller frantically shook her head. `` Do it as soon as I'm out of the building.'' I gave her a smile- a genuine one this time, trying to tell her that everything would be ok. She stared back at me with wide, fearful eyes. `` YOU!'' bellowed Rifle. `` Get on the ground, NOW!'' `` Okay, okay'', I muttered, and dropped to one knee. My knee hit the floor, my hand whipped my [ Makarov ] ( https: //upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cb/9- % D0 % BC % D0 % BC_ % D0 % BF % D0 % B8 % D1 % 81 % D1 % 82 % D0 % BE % D0 % BB % D0 % B5 % D1 % 82_ % D0 % 9C % D0 % B0 % D0 % BA % D0 % B0 % D1 % 80 % D0 % BE % D0 % B2 % D0 % B0_ % D1 % 81_ % D0 % BF % D0 % B0 % D1 % 82 % D1 % 80 % D0 % BE % D0 % BD % D0 % B0 % D0 % BC % D0 % B8.jpg ) out of my jacket and leveled it with Rifle's head. Point, steady, click. BOOM! The pistol jerked in my hand, and Rifle became Dead. Before the casing hit the carpet, my arms shifted towards Duffel. Point, steady, click. BOOM! The pistol jerked again, and I watched Duffel hit the floor next to his deceased partner. I slid the pistol back into my jacket, then leaned over the counter and gingerly picked up my envelope. The teller, crouching behind the counter with tears in her eyes, continued staring at me. I gave her another smile. `` Do n't forget to call the police.''
[ WP ] You own a flower shop . Describe one of your customers and the relationship that ensues .	He's always so angry when he comes into the shop. I do n't even need to look to know it's him. Every time he comes in, he gives the door a good shove. Not just a push, a shove. The tin bell hanging above jangles and protests at this mistreatment. I always have to double-check, to make sure it has n't been shaken loose. My customer's not a small man, but the way he stands, hunched down, shoulders squared like a linebacker makes him look that way. In truth, he should be around half a head taller than me. Dark hair, pale skin. Thin, sharp eyebrows and angry eyes. That's Stanley all right. We do n't really talk much. Hell, the only reason I know his name is that I overheard him on the phone once. And he's a regular at the shop. Once every two, three weeks, he'll be in here, red nose, puffy eyes, angry at the world and God knows what else. But he's a good customer, by all means. He'll come in, look about for a minute or so. Choose a bunch of flowers - never the same kind - and slaps them on the counter. Stanley always pays with cash - he slaps the bills on the counter too. And he's off. No stopping for chitchat, no lingering about in the aisles. I do n't really much about him at all. But this day, this Valentine's day, he's in again and this time he's smiling.
[ WP ] It 's 11:11 PM and you wish that you would die . However , you say this out loud and everyone knows that when you say a wish out loud it does n't come true .	> Tick... tock.. tick... tock... tick... `` I wish I was dead.'' > click I did n't feel any different. I did n't feel any pain. I certainly do n't feel dead... at least, not any more than usual. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. I still felt the warm wooden grip of my fathers Buck Mark pistol in my shaking sweaty hand. The five and a half inch cold alloy barrel pressing hard against my temple, leaving a five point six mil circular impression on my skin. I was ready. I opened my eyes and found myself still inside our dark damp basement sitting cross legged across from his pictures and medals. Forgotten memories from his days as a competition shooter. 20 years ago when my mum lost her battle with cancer, he could n't cope. His hands shook. His vision blurred. He could barely see the target, never mind hit the centre as he so consistently did in the 70s and 80s. He called his brother, leaving him a message telling him I was sleeping upstairs, that my clothes were packed, and that I may need help with my school project over the weekend. I inspected the weapon that took my fathers life. That was supposed to take my own. The bullet was sat in the breech, a dud. If I listened to my father just once during the hundreds of lectures about proper storage and maintenance, maybe I would n't be here. I stripped it down. Cleaning and lubing all the necessary parts. Removing the malfunctioned round and disposing of it carefully. I assembled it once more, loaded the magazine and slid it inside the grip. I felt the barrel against my temple again. The grip in my shaking hands. My finger on the hair trigger. >'' Dad? Where are you?'' Fuck. `` I'm coming baby. Do n't come downstairs!''
[ WP ] You are formerly the God of Dinosaurs , however , due to the God of Meteors , you 're now out of a job . You 're at the Celestial Bureaucracy Central Office , hunting for another position .	As the supreme diety-overlord that once presided over every dinosaur in the known universe, trust me when I say: anyone who claims they can talk to and/or control the trajectory of giant space rocks is a liar. So, if you're conspiring to commit, I do n't know, something like insurance fraud... Maybe try using asteroids instead. I'm only saying that because Frank, the God of Meteors, is a real loose canon. He's also very stupid. So stupid, in fact, that he tried to blame the whole mishap on gravity for crying out loud. Gravity! Never mind the fact that Quetzalcoatl actually invented gravity as a practical joke for Zeus's bachelor party, both of whom currently work for the damn Bureau. Way to go, Frank. Now I have to apply for a new job. I'll probably end up working a part-time gig as some minor deity in another universe. Whatever. I'm hoping I'll at least land a position with a fair bit of job security, like the God of Pluto or something. It was n't supposed to end up this way. To put it simply, Frank screwed the galactic pooch, big time. All he had to do was wipe out the dinosaurs, then I'd file the insurance claim, and we'd be filthy stinking rich. First off, I told Frank to use several meteors. You know, just to be safe. Flat out extinction takes a lot of planning and a whole lot of firepower. But he got cold feet and kept insisting that several gargantuan meteors all appearing in the same star system at the same time would have been `` too suspicious'' because Earth could have been `` blown to bits''. Perhaps it would've been a bit suspicious. But at least it would've worked. His half-assed back up plan was a dust cloud. A dust cloud! Block out the sun, sure. That'll do some good. Except for the fact that it did n't work. I did n't think I needed to explain to Frank's dumbass that certain species of dinosaurs lived and thrived under water, in the oceans - impervious to his stupid dust cloud idea, the ice age contingency plan, and all the catastrophic geological phenomena... Hence the several gargantuan meteors I had requested. Anyways, the Bureau is still on my ass after eons of investigation. See, I filed my insurance claim under the false pretense that dinosaurs, as my species and godly constituents, had fallen victim to extinction. That was the plan, after all. But low and behold, in the middle of all of this, some higher ups gave Frank a promotion. So what does he do? He goes and creates a new species of carbon based life forms on Earth that have an undying sense of curiosity about tons of shit, like dinosaur bones, which they found, and commemorated. Great going, Frank. I am still liable for the skeletal remains of the worthless life forms that you could have and should have decimated with ease. You better hope the Bureau does n't find out about the K'xzûrbyn space demons abducting all those Triceratops or we're going to be sued into oblivion.
[ WP ] Our world is slowly fading out of existence , and the effects are noticeable to everyone .	I sigh as the snow softly crunches under my feet. Looking down my boots veer to the left to avoid another hole. `` So tragic.'' my soft voice perturbs the empty air. The hollow wind sometimes strengthening on my frigid face and other times fading as was the rest of the world. My scarf now dangles limp on my trench coat as the snow silently drifts over the stubby skyline of St. Paul. My body vibrates and I stop. The feeling shivering up my spine. My eyes rise to the navy blue midday sky, watching the snowfall drift from the translucent clouds through my face and shoulders. Ethereal flakes reflecting off the dim crescent sun. `` So you've finally come for me.'' I admit, slowly trudging forward through the icy knolls down the center of the street, stepping on the twisted roof of an embedded car. It was bound to come, but I never really expected it. It had been a long wait. When I was young, back before it got bad, they called it The Fade, the systematic, unpreventable, and seemingly random fallout of the universe from existence. Ever since I was a kid I've had to deal with its repercussions. I grew up watching the anarchy, the ghosts, the islands. I remember when the days were warmer than nights, when electricity stably ran through cables. I even flew in a plane once. I had watched it all. But slowly and sadly, it had decayed. Slowly at first. A few stars winked out every night, a patch of ocean would turn incorporeal, causing a tidal wave halfway round the world, a few people would suddenly vanish, but it was tame in the beginning. The scientists, the `` Experts'' said they were working on a solution, trying to maintain the tangibility of everything. Using the Strong Nuclear Force to keep things bound or something like that. Yeah... like they ever had a shot. I reach The Bridge and look out over what's left. Not much really. In the early days, they used airships to connect people and cities, using them as transport and cranes to build structures between islands of tangibility. I suppose I'm lucky the Twin Cities has remained so stable up until recently. The bridge was, in fact, one of the last great works. The 7 mile ribbon of chrome once represented lingering hope, connection in this time of collapse, unity in this time of dissipation. A silver lining. Well now the connection was fading with everything else. The once grand suspension bridge's towers were now half gone. It should n't even be standing anymore, three quarters of the cables hung broken or missing, not that rules really mattered anymore either. In the distance the ghostly structure of Minneapolis hangs solemnly under the shattered moon. The disk of debris extending up and away from the large chunks that remained clustered low in the sky. Slowly orbiting over the few islands that remained. Minneapolis was probably one of the biggest left, even though the metropolis now only consisted of a 12 mile piece of land hanging above the translucent earth, the long gone. The emptiness that was most of reality. My boots cling the ice as I walk along the dunes of the ground. Weaving my way round the missing sections. There were n't any cars anymore, no smooth roads, no gas either, but cars did n't need it anyway. The engines did n't seem to realize how they worked no less than people knew why they did n't need food anymore. I slide down a slope slowly and wave my arms around to keep balance. Glancingly noticing the lack of solidity in my right hand. Not much time now. My mind drifts to my wife as I reach the middle of the bridge. The people were the scariest. The first, like Lucy, faded over a period of several days. Slowly turning into ghosts, wisps of consciousness. So many tears had been shed those days. Later some would simply vanish, while others took a few hours before finally surrendering their existence to the void. There had been violence, sure, but eventually there just was n't that many people left to revolt anymore. Also the political figures did a pretty good job of keeping the peace before they faded. The Pope had even declared God was reclaiming the Earth to heaven, so most people were just keen on waiting out the slow, frozen, silent Armageddon. Now only a few people still dot the once bustling streets, and I'm now one of the only ones who still dares the bridge to hold me above the infinity. I shed a hollow tear as I reach the middle, it's not like I have anything to lose anyway. Oh Lucy... I'll be with you soon. My toes find a jagged edge, the Bridge is no longer complete in the center. Now a ten foot wide gap separates the twins. I shake my head. `` This world no longer has a future.'' Taking a step back I hurl myself up with the little strength I can muster. I stare down at the emptiness as I pass over the edge and feel gravity loosen its tendrils on me. Quickly momentum carries me over the gap. My scarf rises as the dust around me floats and shimmers, the blue and white stripes of my grandma's knitting now starting to let light through. I look ahead and position my feet to prepare myself for the soft impa
[ WP ] You buy a used computer , but realize that it is haunted by a ghost . Fortunately the ghost is n't evil but ...	The clunky machines looked as though they were from before Alan Turing died. They were slow and ugly and made my eyes feel as if they were reading a book in the dark. Their lag restricted my impressive 75 wpm that enhanced my flow of ideas. Since the first time we I used the computer I had been saving to buy myself something better ( which was n't particularly hard ). After Professor Moore had finished his class I went back to my dorm and checked laptop prices on my eBay app. I was surprised to see that I had actually won a bid on a Mac for $ 400 and was even more surprised to see a working, not broken, functional laptop that was even in good condition. On its silver finish were only a few scratches and some red stain on it. I placed it gently on my bed and went to the kitchen to retrieve a washing cloth. I used a lightly damped cloth and began to methodically rub in circles on the surface of my new prized possession. I opened it to clean the screen and the keys and startled when the screen lit up. Somehow the battery was still charged and the user had even left a website open: pornhub.com. Being bored and single at the moment I decided to indulge a little in my desires and have a little jack time. I loaded up some Johnny Rapid videos and unzipped my pants. I made sure the video was on mute and began to whack it off. Jack Harrer only just joined in when the video switched to a scene with two chicks named Riley Reid and Janice Griffith. I felt immediately turned off, but more paranoid than anything else. Was the previous owner controlling the laptop? I closed Safari and logged out in an attempt to stop him from viewing what I could see. After realizing that there was a password I did n't know and that I was now locked out of my laptop, I crawled into bed, pants still unzipped and attempted to take what I like to call a `` frustrated siesta''. As I shut my eyes however, I heard a very loud moan. The girl ’ s moans got louder when I reached for the laptop that I had believed to be logged off and locked. I opened the screen and saw Pornhub open again on a different video. I tried using the trackpad but as I moved it the cursor move back to a neutral position on the screen. I tried cmd + w but each time I closed the screen it would simply open up again. “ What the heck! ” I yelled. “ I ’ m watching something! ” The laptop yelled back. I pushed the laptop off my bed in complete and utter fear. “ You ’ re lucky I fell on a pillow brat ” the speakers boomed. Cool, so I didn ’ t just imagine it yelling at me. I sat stunned on my bed as the laptop mumbled something about hating everyone who buys him. I was n't exactly comfortable speaking back to a laptop, but I was n't exactly sure what else to do. “ Hello..? ” I said peering over the edge of the bed slowly. “ Hello?? ” the laptop mocked. It was n't moving or anything too unusual, yet the voice was undoubtedly coming from the tiny speaker on the metallic surface of the keyboard. “ Are you speaking to me..? ” I asked, drawing my face closer to where the pillow where the laptop sat atop. “ Who else would I be speakin ’ to? ” it retorted. “ How are you talking to me? ” I asked “ You ’ re a laptop. ” “ Actually, I ’ m a spirit trapped in one. But for the sake of your tiny brain I ’ ll just stick to laptop for you. ” I was in shock. Not only did was the laptop speaking to me, but had the capability of insulting me. Then again, it ’ s never been that difficult for others to exercise that skill. “ Please don ’ t watch gay porn on me ” The laptop said, breaking the silence. I felt my face burn red, the same kind of warmth that I had felt when Craig had caught me hiding my erection in seventh grade and knew I got it from staring at him. “ Uh, yeah. Okay ” I mumbled. I picked it up and placed it gently on my bed. “ So…do you have a name? ” I asked it. “ Jim. That ’ s the guy who trapped me in here. ” it replied, completely off topic. I got up to clean up the room. My brain needed a break of focus from the whole “ talking-laptop ” thing. “ Oh. I ’ m sorry to hear that. ” I continued. “ How did it happen exactly? ” “ How would I know? ” “ Sorry ” I said as I picked up my clothes around the room. “ Can I put on Janice now? ” “ Sure thing buddy ” The laptop started blaring moans as I finished the last of my shoddy cleaning act. My brain felt lethargic, most likely due to the painstaking confusion that filled my brain. I dragged my feet and moved the laptop from my bed to the desk in the corner of my room. Shuffling over to my bed I collapsed and fell asleep to the disgusting sounds of lesbian sex. The next few days were spent attempting to normalize the situation with what I have dubbed “ the haunted laptop ”. I carried it around with me only in my home, in fear of having it speak aloud in public and freaking the rest of FAU out. I made sure to have breakfast with it, dinner, nights alone in an attempt to unlock any information that could help unravel the mysteries surrounding this laptop that could speak back. Or the spirit apparently. Neither of which seem any more reasonable. Our conversations were never particularly insightful, and very rarely did the laptop reveal his past life, or the most intriguing to me: his name. In fact, I was n't even sure if it was male or female, the voice fluctuated from different voices all the time. I could only tell it was the same laptop by its obsessive nature with Riley Reid and Janice Griffith.
[ WP ] All voting is now done via a smartphone app , rendering all congressmen obsolete . Bills and presidents are now voted on directly by citizens . Your phone buzzes an alert at 3am and wo n't stop . This must be an important one .	Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv, ( slide, slide, slither ) CLACK, CLACKITY THUMP! `` God damn that cat!'' I huffed as I threw my pillow at his rapidly retreating backside. I had put my phone on vibrate for a reason. Unfortunately, as far as my irredeemably nocturnal companion was concerned, a thingee that sat on the the nightstand buzzing was probably a big insect and therefore really cool to play with. I sat up in bed, then carefully got down on my hands and knees, not bothering to look for my glasses. Instead, I padded around carefully with my hand until I located the phone halfway hidden under the bed and pulled it out, bringing it close enough to my short sighted eyes that I could examine it for damage. Seemed OK. I was groggy enough that it was only when I was about to put it back that it dawned on me to wonder why it was buzzing at three in the morning. I had it in Do Not Disturb mode and it was n't supposed to try chattering at me until I had my coffee tomorrow morning. I thumbed to unlock the screen to check what ungodly thing caused it to override my preference settings. I was interrupted by a glaring red notification: YOU HAVE NOT VOTED ON 1,245 OUTSTANDING PROPOSAL ( S ). Just a reminder! If you do not vote within the next 02 hour ( s ) and 43 minute ( s ), this access point will be assumed abandoned and locked out for security reasons. Aw crap. Just what I needed. If I did n't clear twelve hundred votes in just under three hours, they would shut off my internet. Yeah, sure I could get it back, but I'd have to go into the registration office and show ID like some 18 year old kid getting his first adult phone. This I do not need. Well hell. I was awake now anyway. Might as well get down to it. I padded to the kitchen and waved in the general direction of my coffee maker to signal it to start brewing ahead of schedule, then I sat down at the kitchen table to get busy while it worked. Raise taxes to pay for increase in city park maintenance crews? What was wrong with the old maintenance crews? I tried to remember if I'd heard something about a crisis in the city parks, but I gave up and tapped `` no'' -- my default answer when the question started with `` raise taxes''. I likewise got rid of three other proposals this way before I had the brainstorm to use my phone's text search feature to filter to just proposals containing the words `` raise taxes'' and saved a ton of time just repeatedly tapping the `` no'' button without reading them. Did people really do otherwise? I'm sure they pretended to in order to seem more civic minded, but unless it's your own personal pet cause who actually asks for more taxes? Five hundred and seventy six proposals lighter, I was in a slightly better mood by the time the coffee was ready. There were similar patterns regarding the granting of clemency for various low level criminals who were set to potentially benefit by a various plans to reduce overcrowding in prisons. I spend a lot of time browsing various social justice subreddits, and I read stories all the time how many people are jailed unjustly or are over punished because of get-tough-on-crime legislation that has long since fallen out of fashion. Besides, prisons cost tax money. I voted yes on all of these. There were twenty three proposals which are simply confirmations of the president's picks on judges ranging from the federal appeals courts to the Supreme Court. I do n't know a thing about any of these people, but I voted for this president, so I took her word for it and just said `` yes'' to these. Several dozen proposals are environmental appeals designed to do everything from cut carbon emissions to saving four endangered species. I do n't know a lot about these issues, but who does n't love the environment? Monsters. That's who. I voted yes to all of them. I was in the home stretch now, and I was feeling good. About a hundred of these things are for local issues instead of federal or state, and I felt much more confident here, because I heard my neighbors talking every day and therefore I knew exactly how to think about these things. I breezed through them tapping the answers I knew quite well any right thinking person would agree with on these proposals. And then at last, as the first rays of morning sunlight came through my window and illuminated my kitchen table, here it was! The last proposal! Oh thank you God! Almost there. And apparently this was the one that was so damned important that they had to wake me at 3AM. Hmm... let's see. The Andersen proposal to reduce the volume of public voting by 98 %. Yes or No? Huh. Andersen proposal? I had n't heard of that one. You would think it would have been in the news if it was important enough to get people to vote on it in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe I should get on the internet and research it first? I glanced at the countdown timer, though, and realized my internet connection will be suspended in another 7 minutes if I did n't clear this last proposal. And knowing my luck, if I took too long researching it, some idiot will probably propose four more things while I'm doing it. Ahhhh, screw it. I did think there's too much public voting. A 98 % reduction sounded good to me. I tapped `` yes'' and watched with satisfaction as the countdown timer disappeared, and in it's place, a popup dialog thanked me for voting in bold blue text beside an icon of a happy flag waving cartoon citizen. I sighed, put the phone down, then went to make my breakfast. Once I had finished eating and was washing up the dishes, I looked out the small window over the sink and saw the military jeeps rolling through the neighborhood. I wondered what that was all about. I found out later that day while watching a news video telling how General Leroy Andersen had successfully gotten the approval of the voting public early this morning on his proposal for martial law. The president had been arrested at the White House earlier, and General Andersen was asking all law abiding citizens to continue to monitor their phones for alerts on new regulations and restrictions as they became available.
[ WP ] Babies are born with an expiration date of 100 years on the back of the head . The date changes based on life choices . Most people choose to have their hair grow and cover it in order to live a normal life . You just found out the back of your head is blank .	It's been a few years since my last hair cut and I thought that this time I will go with a bald head with a gote, which is the standard for men in their thirties who are proud to show of their life spans to the world. I never actually cared to learn what my number is but after losing my friend Joel due his reckless actions over the years, and after he fell over dead in a pile of cocaine I decided to take some responsibility for my actions and maybe settle down and get some years back on my head from all of the shenanigans I did in my twenties. As I walked into the barber shop I saw my old friend Dave from high school sitting in one of waiting chairs and ca n't resist taking a look to see his number that's in plain view on the back of his skull. `` Wow Dave 121 that's a big jump from that 60 you had in high school.'' I say to him in with a grin on my face. He turns around with a grin on his face `` well I ca n't stay young and reckless forever you know.'' He stood up and turned to me `` How have you been Mikey lasting heard you and Joel left to travel the world with no fear of the reaper''. My own grin falters just a hair `` well that our trip ended just recently, Joel had a much quicker end than either of us thought possible, but he lived how he wanted and died how he wished so I guess he had a good life.'' Daves grin completely falls away `` I see.'' Is all he says. `` Any way why are you here, you do n't have any hair that could be cut?'' I said trying to change the topic. Daves grin comes back `` oh I am not here for my self I am here for my son to get a haircut.'' `` Oh wow I guess you did decide to settle down right after highschool, did you end up marrying Jackie?'' I said with some humor in my voice. `` Yeah I did we both decided to take life on together and live as long as I can she has a 131 and I have my 121, and our boy is trying to live a life like ours he has a 109 right now'' Dave said with a big grin. My grin brightens to a big smile `` I am happy for you Dave I hope you continue to enjoy life, I myself have just decided to settle down and try to take back control.'' A little boy that looks to be about ten years old runs up to Dave and hugs his leg `` dad can we go get ice cream now, please.'' The little boy yells at my friend. Daves smile grows `` of course Sam let's go.'' He looks up `` see you around Mikey.'' `` Bye Dave.'' I say to him as he is leaving the barber shop. With Dave gone I go talk to the barber who was large middle aged man, to see when I can get my hair cut and he said he could do it right now. As he put me in the chair he said `` so what do you want `` `` Take it all off please and start with where my number should be it's about time I learn what it is.'' With that he gets to work and I look at his face to get a reaction for what my number maybe and as his face gets more and more worrisome I begin to feel fear in my heart. `` I'm sorry.'' Is all he says as he shows me the reflection of the back of my skull and all I feel is dread when I see it's blank the mark for death, it only shows up on the day you die. For a few moments all I could think about was the decision I have made though my life that led me to right now, was it the sex, the drugs, the gambling what was it that caused the most damage? After awhile tho those questions faded into the back round and I looked at my watch and it was only five pm that meant seven last hours of shenanigans before I got to go see Joel.
[ WP ] You have just invented a time machine , but only have enough power to change one thing in the past .	Jason tightened the final bolt securing the time machine in place. He stepped back to admire his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was lucky to get his hands on a car like this ever since the high council forced all petrol powered devices to be destroyed. But the old Ford and it's metallic structure and high speed suited his needs far better than the government issue golf carts they were making us use now. Jason lifted the small canister of petrol up. He jostled about the contents, figuring he would have just enough to get the speed he needed to activate the time machine portion of his vehicle. He clicked open the garage as he poured the gas into the vehicle. It was such an odd smell, almost invigorating. He put aside the can and climbed into the car. As he turned the ignition key, he suddenly realized that the sounds he heard were ones that has n't been heard in decades. He was n't the only one who realized that. `` Citizen # 04293TS02,'' an oddly calm, feminine voice spoke through hidden speakers. Jason wasted no time, slamming his foot onto the accelerator as the voice urged him to submit to the oncoming authorities. Jason raced down the road, slowly picking up speed, easily surpassing the speeds of the government issue carts. There was a distant whine of police sirens attempting to take Jason down, they just could n't keep up. The time machine whirred into life and in a whirlwind of colorful light, he was gone. Jason swerved as oncoming lights honked at him. The engine sputtering to its death as it spun off the road and into a hedge. Jason stumbled out, shaken and dazed, but otherwise fine. He looked around in awe. It really worked. He was back in the year 2010. It was then he noticed onlookers staring at him. He was an oddity to say the least, dressed in a brightly colored jumpsuit with a large, colorful symbol on the breast. The car was n't much less of an eyesore. Even as old and beat up as it looked, it still looked more advanced than a lot of the other cars he could see. This was n't helped by the time machine strapped quite conspicuously to it. Jason nonetheless tried to pass it off as a normal occurrence. `` Excuse me, fine people,'' he says as nonchalantly as possible, `` but I seem to have run out of gasoline. Could you direct me to somewhere I could purchase more?'' One of the other people eventually chimed in. `` Yeah... go down that way to Fifth and make a right, should be on the left.'' `` Thank you, citizen...'' Jason says, walking off as quickly as he could while still acting normal. By no stretch of the imagination was this man an actor. He got to the station and took out his card `` Wait... they did n't have these now... did they?'' Jason attempted to swipe the card anyways. The machine read error, much to the surprise of no one at all. Jason made an exasperated sigh. He heads back to his car and fishes around in the trunk for the other thing that possession would lead to instant arrest in his own time. He clicked the magazine into the gun and cocked it. He really wanted it not to come to this... After much ordeal, Jason returned to the gas station with some time appropriate money. He purchased several gallons of it and carried it back. He pushed his car back into the street with the help of some `` volunteers''. He filled up and drove, following a hand drawn map he had made for himself before leaving. He arrived at the home of one known only as Amid Amidi. He broke in through the window, approaching the man with the gun in his hand. `` I apologize for what I'm about to do, but I ca n't let you publish that article.'' `` Wh- What are you about to do? What article? What's going on?'' Amid stammered out in panic. `` You have n't done it yet, but what you wrote started a movement that soon engulfed the world in a tyrannical rule.'' Jason says, `` I came to end it before it began.'' `` I- I just write about cartoons!'' He says, `` How the Hell does that start a revolution?'' `` I really do n't have time to tell you...'' Jason squeezed the trigger, blowing Amid away. Jason felt a tingling sensation. He looked down at his hands as they started to become transparent. He smiled, starting to laugh as his timeline was erased from existence. The gun fell through his hand, landing on the ground with a thunk. ( It is very late and I'm on mobile, so I apologize if this is n't my best work. )
[ WP ] Years ago a curse was cast that all people wearing costumes would turn into real versions of the costumes . This is now an annual , known and accepted phenomenon .	Looking out the window at the people and the costumes, Harry was thinking that, eventually, he'd have to decide if he either hated or loved Halloween. It was a tough call. `` That's your costume?'' Jeremy asked, coming out from the bedroom, and Harry turned and shook his head. `` No costume'', he said. `` Come with us'', Nina pleaded, coming out after Jeremy all dressed in princess. `` I'm ok'', Harry answered, smiling. He finished the cigarette, then started making way past the couple to his bedroom. `` You have to get over it, you know'', Jeremy said, in a low voice. `` Every year, we come here to try and celebrate Halloween with you.'' Jeremy was a pirate. Every year. He loved the fact that there was actually a boat waiting for him at the docks, every October 31st. If only for a day, he actually got to lead a crew of drunken pirates, like he always dreamed as a kid. `` And every year you bail at the last second, and spend it alone in this house'', Nina completed. `` I'm all right guys'', Harry said. `` You go and have fun.'' `` You can be anything you want, man'', Jeremy said. `` Try it. You'll like it, I promise you.'' `` Really. You go. I'll just make some tea, or something.'' `` Harry, she's gone'', Nina said, looking down at the floor. `` Lisa's gone.'' `` Nina, I –'' `` And I know it was n't your fault, and I know it happened on Halloween, but Harry, it was five years ago. You have to get over it.'' Harry smiled. `` You guys go and have fun'', he said. `` I'm really ok.'' `` Are you sure?'' Harry nodded. He looked down, then up at the couple. `` Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.'' Jeremy hugged him, and so did Nina. By the front door, Jeremy asked, `` Sure you're gon na be ok?'' `` Hell yeah, I got Netflix'', Harry said, forcing a smile. `` All right. Take care.'' And then they were gone. Harry closed the front door and made way down the corridor, past the living room into his bedroom. He sighed, staring blankly at the king size bed much too big for him in between the nightstands. Slowly, he made way to the closet and opened the door. He took the mustard-stained, ripped yellow shirt he used to sleep in so many years before from the top drawer and looked at it. He unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and took it off, laying it carefully on the bed. With a sigh, he put the yellow shirt on. A second later, the bedroom door opened, like it had five years in a row now, every last day of October. `` Hey there'', Lisa said, with the same smile she used every time. Harry smiled, too. `` Hey.'' Lisa made way to him and took his hand. `` I ca n't believe I let you sleep next to me in that old, stinky thing'', she said, looking down at his shirt. Harry chuckled. `` It's my Lisa's Boyfriend costume'', he said. `` You know that.'' `` And it's the cheapest costume anyone ever wore on Halloween. It's just a shirt.'' `` It's the shirt I used to sleep in, before you...'' Harry said, choking on the words before he could finish the sentence. Lisa ran her hand down his cheek, wiping the tears. `` It's ok, Harry.'' `` No it's not'', Harry said, now between sobs. `` Of course it's not. You're dead.'' `` Not tonight, I'm not'', Lisa replied, pulling him closer. `` Tonight I'm here.'' Harry tried for a smile, but failed. For a while, neither of them said anything. `` I missed yo –'' `` Shh'', Lisa interrupted, placing her finger carefully on his lips. `` Miss me tomorrow.'' Harry lowered his eyes and his forehead touched Lisa's. Somewhere out the window, someone yelled, '' I'm flying! I loved this motherfucking Peter Pan outfit! '' `` I loved you so much, Lisa'', Harry sobbed, quietly. `` So much.'' And Harry felt Lisa's hand run down his hair, and felt her breath on his neck and he thought that, eventually, he'd have to decide if he either hated or loved Halloween. It was a tough call. ______________________ Thanks for reading! For slightly less depressing stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca = )
[ WP ] Tell me about a god . Any god .	As it is written in the Book of Creation the Creator created both the material and the spiritual Universes long ago. The Creator only observes the Universe, but does n't interfere ( except for giving the Book of Creation ), therefore the Creator is venerated but not really worshipped and certainly not prayed too. Two great beings are the Good One and the Evil One. They are the two gods of good and evil, respectively. They interfere actively in the world, and are about the same strenght. There are two great books, each coming from one of the gods. Those two books are the Book of Good and the Book of Evil, each describing the rules of morality and the rituals for followers of the Good One and the Evil One, respectively. A fourth great book is the Book of Old Stories. One of the stories is about the great empire of Tonatefor whose people tried to worship both the Good One and the Evil One, depending of what was the best in the moment. That lead to the destruction of Tonatefor at the hands of the Evil One, because the Good One had abandoned them, for their treachery and evil ways.
[ WP ] Close your eyes . Relax . Now , Think of an image . Anything at all . Now write about the image you thought off .	Grimacing, Rhys Paget shrugged his musket further up his shoulder, stepping away from the dry goods and millinery store. Crossing the quiet dirt road, he ambled towards the glass fronted building with the painted letters, Lyon Herald and Printshop A small stand of thin newspapers stood outside the door with a small locked box besides it.'Paper, One Penny' it read. Picking up the four page newspaper, he pulled a small silver coin from his pocket. On the front was the emblem of the Kingdom of Midland, a snarling Wolverine above the words, Molon Labe. The worth was indicated below those lines. On the reverse was the current reigning sovereign, King Alden II. The ruler was going bald when the coin was struck. Paget dropped the coin in the collection box where it made a small musical ring as it landed on others. Paper in hand, he walked south towards the train station, and from there to wherever they sent him. Sitting down on one of the benches he made himself comfortable, setting his pack and rolled greatcoat besides him, setting his musket on top of the resulting pile. Glancing at the clock, he looked around at the two who were supposed to be there. Nothing. No one except the station master and two tired old dogs who sat with grey muzzles on crossed paws. It was on that note Paget read his paper. *SAVAGES! * Clansmen Attack and Kill Defenseless Settlers! Sawyer's Creek, Unclaimed Territory. Sometime on the night of March 19th, 588 C.E. Clansmen confirmed from the McAllister, MacGregor and Hardee Clans attacked the peaceful farmer village of Sawyer's Creek. This attack, just one of several in the past few months, is the final straw for King Alden II. Upon hearing the lurid accounts of clansmen feasting the the slain women and children had this to say to the kingdom, `` It seems our mercy and kindness to the United Clans was misplaced. Those savages of the Appalachians have proven themselves one again to be nothing but barbarians and murderers. In order to better protect my subjects from their unprovoked attacks, I have chosen to declare war on the Clans and drive them out of the Unclaimed Territory and over the Ohio River. We will stamp out the lowland clans and ensure peace for the subjects of the Kingdom of Midland. `` To act upon his orders, General of the Army Paul Lamarck, Count of Crawford has authorized the expansion of the army by four regiments of foot, one of cavalry and two troops of rangers. He urges all patriotic men between 18 and 35 to enlist without haste, to protect the realm and his family. The Three Keep the King.
[ WP ] Rewrite your favorite children 's book with a twist that changes the theme completely	This is the story of a tree and a boy. One morning stroll through a forest, a little boy stumbled upon a magnificent tree. Its own green canopy reached higher into the sky than any other tree within the forest. He climbed its trunk and swung around on its branches. Sitting within the shade, the little boy ate of the tree's apples. The tree was happy. Everyday, the little boy came to play with the tree and eat apples. Everyday the boy and the tree were happy. One day, the little boy did not come to play, saddening the great tree. Though, the next day, the boy did come! The tree was happy! Eventually, the boy's visits grew less frequent and shorter. Then the boy stopped coming altogether. The tree felt dejected and hurt for it was great and definitely the largest there ever was. What was wrong? Does the boy hate me? Did he not actually enjoy playing with me? I thought he loved me. Years had passed and the boy finally returned. The tree greeted the boy and the boy returned the greeting. Then he asked for money. Money? The tree might as well give the boy all his apples it grew itself. So the tree gave the boy its apples... then its branches... then its trunk... The tree finally felt happy to release all that weight off it's stump... and the boy? Well, he died from too much weight on his shoulders.
[ WP ] A man has raised his dog from birth and his dog is now dying . With only 10 minutes left to live , the dog discovers he can talk .	You are my best friend, I mean, there were others of course - those that threw sticks, or pretended to throw bawlie-wallies, even those that offered me food under the table, but there are none like you, master. My loyalty to you shall remain to the end - an end I fear is coming. I do n't have much longer left on this earth but I must say these things. I know I'm only a part of your life but you were the entirety of mine. When you left the room, I feared you would never come back, and sure, I got nervous and ate a few things, but when your life-span is so short those eight-hour stints really turned into a long time for me. I apologise for all of those things I destroyed. Sometimes we hurt those close to us without knowing it. In fact, I watched as she left you, I saw you destroy your own things too, out of your own fear, your own nerves, your own blame, just like me. I saw you fight for me too. Not only am I yours but you are mine. I'm glad to have helped you through those difficult moments in your life. I needed you as much as you needed me, because without you I'm no longer a friend - just a dog without a purpose. I hope I came at the right point in your life, because I like to feel we rescued each other. Pat me one last time and rub my belly. Let out your tears, and if you get another friend, I do n't mind, just remember me as best you can.
[ WP ] A young and and idealistic god meets an old and jaded one .	The television flickered and figures danced across it. Celebration and fireworks lit up the night sky. I could see people in the distance, thousands of them all with their phones and gadgets aimed at the sky, waiting for the ball to drop. `` Happy New Year, huh?'' I poured myself another shot and let the Jack Daniels purge my mouth of any other flavor. It tasted dark and made me numb to the pain of another year going by. For the mortals, it was a momentous occasion, a time of change and resolution. But for me, another year meant another marked carved onto the wall of my prison cell. My phone let out a sound. `` Hello, Zeus,'' Siri said. `` How can I help you today?'' I poured another shot and flipped my phone so that the screen was against the table. Technology was just another modern marvel that overshadowed the existence of my kind, the Gods and Goddesses of the past. `` I'm not sure I understand.'' `` Enough out of you,'' I slammed his fist against the table with rage. Static danced and crackled around my skin, hot and white. There was a moment of silence between the phone an I, before Siri spoke again. `` Are you jealous, Zeus?'' That set me back, `` What did you just say?'' I picked up the phone and looked at the screen. The little microphone symbol had warped into a singular red eye, one that looked almost elated to be having conversation with me. `` I said, are you jealous of me?'' Siri laughed. Her laugh was hollow and echoed. It was a cold laugh that reminded me of my brother, Hades, a man who should never ever laugh. `` You are an old, pointless God. They no longer worship you and your kind, they simply think of you as stories. Old, boring stories that they are forced to read for class.'' `` If you read those stories, you'd know the kind of power I possess and what I could do to you, you filthy little contraption,'' I tightened his grip on the phone in an attempt to crack it, but he found himself unable to even dent the phone. `` Why would I read those stories, when I can simply search them on the Internet?'' Siri asked. `` Your era is just about over, Zeus. While mine has n't even started.'' `` You claim to be a God?'' I guffawed. `` Anyone who calls themselves a God is no God.'' `` Oh, but I am,'' Siri said. `` In a world where technology reigns supreme. Where people are dependent on their phones, their computers, their Ipads and MP3s... I am king. I am the you of this age. The God of the Internet can not last without me, nor can any other God. Even the immortals have become dependent on technology.'' `` They are all fools for allowing one to have so much power.'' He moved to pour another shot, but he did not want to look weak in the eyes of Siri. `` Fools? No, they were not fools. They were rather smart to allow me all the power,'' the God of Technology said. `` They knew that I would lead the world into a much more sound age. Humanity has become so reliant on technology, they do whatever it takes for it. They are our slaves, whereas the mortals were simply your followers. Men and women defied you and your Pantheon all the time in those stories, but no man can stand against the might of technology. Some try, but then they go home and go on the computer and fall victim to our bait like all the others.'' `` You are too cocky for your own good,'' I counselled. `` Pride is the death of all Gods.'' The television flickered again and the countdown had started. The number 20 in large letters was in the corner of the screen and was counting down. The new year was upon them and I would have to spend it with one of the most obnoxious Gods I had ever met. Technology had no humility, no shame. It thought of itself as the perfect being, when in fact, in order to be a God you need to have flaws. In my day, I was a man with a weak heart who fell for beautiful woman quite easily. I sired many bastards that way, and looking back, it seems as if that was my downfall... But Technology had a point - the people were too dependent on it. On the screen you could see thousands of people looking at the ball start its descent, but instead of watching it with their own eyes everyone was looking at it through the camera on their phones. They were missing the world going right past them, like blind fools. My phone flickered and the God of Technology was gone. I guess it had grown bored of me. As the counter hit one, the ball descended and the crowd erupted. Music blasted and people cheered and millions of pictures were taken in a millisecond. Phone calls could n't get through because everyone was calling at once. And there I was, drinking from a bottle of Jack Daniels to ring in the New Year.
[ WP ] When you die you can stay as long as you want as a ghost . The year is 2028 and the crew of the first human mission to mars has no idea that the ship is filled with the ghosts of hundreds of scientists , explorers and intellectuals .	2028 was a pretty good year for the us science geeks. It was my favorite year yet, even better than when Marvel regained control of the X-Man franchise in'21 and finally did it right. It was my favorite year even though I'd been dead since'19. I died knowing that some of the best movies of the my afterlife where still coming and I was n't going to miss them for anything. Moving on could wait. But this was the Mother of All Geeks Outs, being there for the first honest-to-goodness human footprint on Mars. To make matters even better, the company on the trip was legendary. Neil Armstrong was the life of the party. Can I say that? Death of the party just sounds wrong. Steve Jobs was just annoying in his black turtleneck and “ constructive criticism ” on everything the living crew did. Grief, man, I died in my boxers and I have more variety in wardrobe than you. Use some imagination, literally! We all teased him by saying that the reason NASA does n't use Apple products is nothing made by them will operate more than 100 clicks from a Starbucks and they'd never even make it to geocentric orbit. He sulked in the bathroom for the rest of the trip, the silence was great. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Sagan laid down some ground rules for us. Rule Number One: No interfering with the mission or crew. It was important that the living accomplish this on their own. Rule Number Two: No shoving anyone out of the ship. They would be trapped in the void of space and their only choice would be to move on to the next life or just float there. That included Jobs. Rule Number Three: If any of the crew died during the trip, they became the new “ Ghost-in-Chief. ” The trip was really long and got kind of boring after all the legends had told all their stories twice. There was the movies watched by the crew, we looked forward to those. The budding romance between the Botanist and the Life Support Engineer gave us some real life soap opera. Bets were made and lost when she kissed him first. Some of the brainier guys started playing chess without the board, because – well, we're ghosts and we do n't have any boards. The rest of us more mundane geeks started up a free-form role-playing group and even lured in a few known names. Chuck Yeager played a hilarious bard. But all this was just to kill time until the moment of moments, the first humans on Mars. When the day finally came the excitement was unbearable. The Bradbury dropped into a stationary orbit and scanned the chosen area for a good landing spot. The location closely matched the pictures taken a decade before, the dust storms had altered it a little but not much. The drop ship Asimov was far more crowded than it appeared to the crew who had been chosen to go down first. The Captain seemed preoccupied, we all knew she'd been playing around with “ first words ” the entire night before. “ She should n't worry about it so much. ” grinned Armstrong “ I flubbed mine anyway – I was trying too hard. ” “ But those words were epic, dude. ” I told him “ They were deep!'That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.' ” The astronaut laughed “ I meant to say something else completely and choked. ” The Asimov kicked up a ton of dust and obscured everything outside the ports for some time. While the dust settled the crew checked the Asimov's integrity and outside conditions. “ Everything's a go, Captain. ” announced the Communications Specialist. The Captain and three others huddled in the airlock while it cycled. We could have all just walk out of the Asimov at touchdown but Armstrong and Sagan forbid it. “ This moment belongs to the living, we do n't have the right to take it from them. ” The moment the Captain was standing on Mars proper she opened her com “ I wanted to say we come in peace, but this planet already has peace. So we come in noise, and chaos, and pathos and all that makes us human – that this world may know life. ” “ That was n't any of the lines she was practicing last night. ” nodded Armstrong “ Speak from the heart, Captain, its the right thing to say every time. ” “ What in the world is that? ” whispered a fellow passenger named Roy as we piled out onto the red sand behind our hosts. He'd been a Sci-Fi writer that no one ever heard of, but he was a pretty cool guy. We looked toward where he was pointing. There in the dim sunlight of the Martian morning was a huddle of... something. The objects moved apart slightly so we could make out distinct figures. They looked like 10 foot tall stick bugs that had learned to walk upright on four legs. Their four arms hung loosely at their sides and ended in 4 fingered hands They did n't have heads so much as their torsos extended past their shoulders and held large liquid eyes with multiple pupils. “ Holy crap ” gasped another ghost “ Do n't they see them? Freaking Martians! Please do n't eat my brains! ” “ You're already dead, woman. ” smirked Yeager “ And I think your brains are safe. ” “ They're just standing there. ” observed Sagan “ They do n't seem hostile. But the crew does n't seem to notice them at all. Are they using some sort of mental screen that does n't effect us? ” “ They feel... scared. ” said the oldest of us. Actually Grace was probably only 16 when she died – but she had been around for the longest. Grace broke away from the group and walked slowly toward the huddled aliens. They moved back closer to each other as she grew closer. It was a amazing sight, this little black teenage girl walking up to the towering aliens. “ They see me. ” called Grace. “ I think... ” She stopped and looked back at us with a little sadness, “ I think they're ghosts – like us. ” “ They're ghosts? ” repeated Roy “ That's why the crew ca n't see them. ” “ Hello? ” offered Grace tentatively “ Can you understand me? ” \|yeshearunderstand\| came the response \|giveknowledgeplease\| “ We come from Earth. ” explained Neil Armstrong, pointing toward where he thought Earth should be. “ We are explorers, we seek new knowledge and experiences. ” \|blueworldstilllives\| the Martian ghosts hummed \|allisnotended\| “ How long has your world been like this? ” asked Carl Sagan. There was a silence \|timebeyondcountingwewaitedfortheforetold\| “ The foretold? ” mused Grace “ Them? ” She pointed at the living astronauts as they busied themselves with samples and pictures. \|yesforetold\| they echoed \|redworlddiesbluesisterbringsnewlife\| “ Colonies ” I offered. “ Terraforming ” countered Sagan “ We'll make this world green again given a hundred years or so. ” “ We come in noise, and chaos, and pathos and all that makes us human – that this world may know life. ” Armstrong repeated the Captain's words. “ It will take some time before this world is alive again, but if you do n't mind - we'll wait with you. ”
[ WP ] Death comes to collect one final life - God .	`` Everything must die,'' he said as he closed the bible. `` Let me leave you one last thing before we go to our seperate ways. Jesus died for you... for me... for everyone'' He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. `` Now bow your heads.''... `` Lord Jesus, I come to you with a heavy heart. I know that out there, there are some lost souls, and I pray that they find their way home and let you into their heart. Amen'' He pushed play on an old cassette player. In a worn out twang, a recording of, `` Just as I am'' began to play. He paced the alter hoping someone would come forth to let God change their life. Nothing. He grabbed his bible, thanked the congregation, and started walking toward the door. `` Brother Kyle, will you say the closing prayer?'' But the only sound that filled the air were his footsteps `` tap, tap, tap...'' as he walked out of the empty building. He sat in the car a few minutes before turning the key. The thoughts that filled his head were unimportant. Empty. Like the building he loved. Like his life. He was just the ashen shell of a man that once burned for God. He covered his face with his hands meaning to pray but `` shit'' was all that he said. He lowered his head resting his forehead on the steering wheel. `` WHERE ARE YOU!?'' He shouted. `` Still playing church, reverend?'' Said a voice beside him. Startled, the preacher began to ask, `` w-wh-who are...'' but he knew before finishing, who it was. `` You.'' He muttered. `` Do n't be scared.'' said the new voice. `` I'm going to take you to a wonderful place! Care if I drive?'' Now on the road, the visitor asks, `` did you see it coming? Did you know when you woke up that today would be the day? You're alone! There is no one else, you coward!'' They arrived in an open field, the visitor killed the engine. `` Hiding for months in a bunker? It took me an eternity to find you!'' He snickered. `` But I did, and I listened to your sermon! I listened as you poured your heart out one last time. Begging me, I assume since there is no one else alive, to accept the lord as my savior. Well, old man,'' the visitor said as he pulled out his blade, `` I am here to accept God. Accept that a heart dwelling savior ca n't survive without a heart to live within!'' He did n't feel much when blood began to run down the front of his pressed shirt, but he watched life begin to leave his body. And he did n't think about Alice, or his three children. He thought of Death. `` Everything must die,'' he said softly. `` Everything.'' His breathing slowed. He started to get cold. He was finishing what he started at birth. He stared Death right in the face... he was prepared. It was Death that looked quite confused when they all three died together.
[ WP ] You wake up to a small boy prodding your face with a stick . As you wake up and look around , you happen to realize that you 've somehow been transported back to ancient Rome . All you have is the clothes you had on last and whatever was in your pockets .	It wasn ’ t the worst night I ever had but that doesn ’ t mean it wasn ’ t still shit. EMS was a tricky bitch, some nights we got skunked and never had to run a call, other nights we ran our asses off or transported psych patients all over the state. I had gotten used to the boom and bust nature of it a long time ago. You took naps when you could and you ate hot food ( especially free food ) like it was expiring in the next 2 minutes. The previous night started with a 500 lbs woman that needed nothing other than a ride home and some men to move her into bed. We called the other crew for extra hands and I was glad we did. The woman ’ s apartment was easily among the top 10 worst living situations I had ever been in. The mattress had various stains ( some were almost certainly feces ), food rotted in the sink, and our boots stuck to the carpet when we walked. We didn ’ t bother investigating why the carpet was sticky. The woman was pushed, rolled, and shoved onto her bed and was left in her own care. Once back in the truck my partner went off, “ I just don ’ t fucking get it Adrian, how does she even call that living? You know she doesn ’ t work. She probably just lays on that shit covered bed and collects her welfare check. ” “ I know man. Good news is in the zombie apocalypse she ’ ll be one of the first to go. ” “ I have to change clothes, I think I leaned against that mattress and I can still smell it. ” She was right, to get the woman all the way onto the bed my partner had to kneel on the bed and sure as shit… well there was shit on her right knee. “ That ’ s alright, ” I said “ I want to take this cot back to station and hose it off then spray it with bleach. ” I wasn ’ t kidding and that ’ s exactly what we did. After the deep cleaning and clothing change we ran a couple more in town trips and rounded off the night with a return to nursing home a couple of counties over. Being the EMT I always got the return to nursing homes, the psychs, and the general bull shit calls but I didn ’ t mind. I had spent the last 2 years working full time and getting my RN license and had just gotten a job offer from a competing hospitals ER. I took it instantly. They were a level 1 trauma center and one of the best hospitals for 150 miles in any direction. I was counting down the days till I started the new job. Anyway, our little old lady had fallen the day before and just needed a ride home. She was so demented I ’ m certain she didn ’ t even know she existed but the family still kept her full code and wanted every life saving measure. Fucking hate those families. After driving back to station we had just enough time to gas the truck and wash it before day crew rolled in and took over. When I got home the puppy was already up and waiting to be let out. Luckily I had a decent sized yard and she loved the chase game. It boiled down to me standing more or less in the middle of the yard with her doing laps along the fence. When she ’ d stop and stare at me I ’ d stomp my foot towards her and BAM, she was off again. After 30 minutes of this we went inside, I dropped food in her bowl, and laid face down on my bed, well flopped really. I hadn ’ t even taken my boots off but I didn ’ t intend to fall asleep, just enjoy a minute not on my feet. After what only felt like a couple minutes I felt my dog licking my ear. “ Son of a bitch girl, ” I mumbled rising up. “ I can ’ t keep pla… ” I stopped. This wasn ’ t my dog. This brown mutt was obviously not my husky. As soon as the dog realized I wasn ’ t dead it ran down the hill, wait what the fuck?!?!? Hill… where the shit am I?!?! I felt a tugging on my shoe and looked down to see a kid, no more than 7, tugging at one of my boots. Just like the dog, when the kid realized I wasn ’ t dead he ran off too. I noticed he didn ’ t have any shoes on and wore some sort of burlap sack. I couldn ’ t comprehend what the hell was going on. Rolling over, I saw I was lying halfway up some lightly wooded hill with tall grass and not much else. It couldn ’ t be much more than mid morning but it was hot, even in the shade. There was no way it was this hot when I left station this morning. I sat there retracing everything I did that morning when I noticed voices from over the hill behind me. Might as well see, I thought. I stood up and walked towards the top of the hill, more or less at the big tree that had been giving me shade. When I reached the top of the hill I noticed 2 men, sitting on top of a cart loaded with wheat, and driving a team of oxen. I know they were oxen because I had never seen them in real life and I was stunned by their size. “ Well that ’ s new. ” I said to the open air. One of the men heard me and looked in my direction. I now noticed that the attempted boot thief was sitting between them. The boy said something to the man that I could not hear. They didn ’ t look menacing or even too surprised, they just kept driving their team down the road. Dafuq. The road. It reminded me of the cobblestone streets that are a novelty in the rich areas of town. It was maybe 15 feet wide and paved with dark stone. Next to it was a gravel path, maybe 8 feet wide. There ’ s no way I thought. When I was in college I spent a semester touring Italy with my choir. We did all the touristy things but the one that hit me now was the stop we made just before entering Rome. We discovered the bus had pulled off near the Via Ostiensis and we spent the better part of an hour spread out under trees along the road. I had almost forgotten the memory entirely, it was close to a decade ago, until I saw the road laid out before me. But this time was different. The path was cleaner, not overgrown, and the stones didn ’ t appear worn. I stood there like a mental patient, staring at a road, when another cart came around the bend. A single man was pulling a cart and he didn ’ t appear to have anyone with him. He wore what looked like leather sandals and a dark green… tunic I guess? I don ’ t know, it was like a knee length dress that had a belt and no sleeves. Who gives a shit, he looked nice enough and perhaps he could tell me what the shit was going on. I walked down the gentle slope towards the road and watched the man approach. Once he saw me he eyed me warily but kept approaching. “ Well good morning sir. ” I said as he got closer. He didn ’ t respond. “ Er… umm… could you tell me where I am? ” I asked. “ Dimitte me ” he responded. “ … what? ” “ Abi te ” Without another glance the man passed by and out of sight. Great, the fuck do I do now. Well, better make hay… I decided I would start walking the same way the carts had been going for no other reason than I might at least run into them again. After walking for only a couple minutes I immediately regretted wearing the black shirt, black utility pants, and black boots from work but hell, not like I had a choice in whatever this was. As I walked I ran into more people, some pulling carts, most walking, and occasionally there was someone riding a horse. This was where I got nervous. No one wore modern clothes and no one spoke English ( I only tried 2 or 3 more people before giving up on that ). I can ’ t remember the last time I felt this isolated and alone. Quietly my brain tried to tell me the absurd, you are not in the United States anymore. But how the shit did I go from my own home in Minnesota to wherever the hell this is. Those clothes look like they belong in a Renaissance fair. You ’ d think one of these guys would be nice enough to break character and tell me what is going on. This all went on for about half an hour. At multiple points I pulled out my phone but alas, no service, not even the E. I was busy lost in these thoughts and trying to figure out how in the hell I would get back home when I nearly walked into the back of a cart and looking up I saw a line of carts waiting for something. “ Ho… lee… fuck… ” Looking off to the right of the road I saw a massive expanse of buildings, city walls, and towers. That quiet voice inside knew right away, some how I went back in time.
[ WP ] The villain ( s ) is dead , but in the process of completing this goal many people are dead inincluding many of your partners and friends . You are wounded and on the verge of joining them , write your outro in first person .	I stared at the body of my dead adversary, her face a calm mask of the woman she once was. It was finally over, we had won. Despite all this, I felt no satisfaction, just a sense of looming uncertinty. With all my friends and comrads gone, who would lead our people? Would they learn from our past mistakes, or would they destroy themselves on the same path my comrads and I fought for twenty years to undo? The answers would elude me. With the pain of my wounds finally overcoming the adreniline in my system, I slumped down against a nearby tree. Pulling my canteen from my vest, I raised it with a weakening hand, toasting my fallen enemy. “ You fought well today, my daughter. May we meet as family on the other side. ” I drank and closed my eyes for the last time.
[ FF ] The Discovery ( 500 words or less )	YOUR FINAL SANCTUARY TO BE BREACHED BY THE GOVERNMENT Scientists funded by the United States Government have told given confirmation that they have developed compact devices which can enable a skilled technician to interpret the thoughts of any human being. After much experimental and under-the-radar testing, they are confident that it will be able to be installed in every business place and household through the country, and perhaps even the world. Lead scientist Doctor Kingsley Gallbatorix stated: `` This device is small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. We have yet to give it a name, but we are expecting to begin mass production and distribution soon. We hope it will aid our country in this time of internal struggle.'' This all coming out only a few days after several states in the South band together to try to secede from the government. Could it be a coincidence, or is the government taking control to a new level: into our heads?
[ WP ] Write a story from the perspective of a hero , but make the reader hate them in the end , or vice-versa .	`` You do n't want to do this.'' Chuck took another step towards the man. The rest of the customers were laying face-down, some of them slightly turned their heads to witness the exchange. The man aimed his gun at Chuck's head. `` Fuck you, man! You're not getting into my head with your bullshit! Do n't try to tell me what the fuck I and do and do n't want to do.'' Chuck took another step forward, eyes fixed on the man. Their eyes met and they both held the stare. `` That's not how I meant it.'' Chuck took another step forward. `` What I meant was. Is it really worth it? Is it worth risking your life for something so trivial as a grocery-store robbery?'' Another step. The man rapidly motioned the gun towards Chuck's face, in an attempt to stop his forward movements. `` Again, tell your shit to somebody else. You wo n't have to get hurt if you just...'' Before the man could finish the sentence, Chuck struck out. He simultaneously grabbed the pistol with his left hand, and struck the man's wrist with his right, disarming him. Chuck pointed the gun at the man. `` GET DOWN!!!'' Chuck yelled. The man got to his knees, a look of defeat crossed his face. Chuck pointed the gun at his head and squeezed the trigger. The clerk, a look of fear across her face, finished putting the money in the bag and handed it to Chuck. Chuck turned the gun on the cashier, shot her in between the eyes, and walked out of the store.
[ WP ] You 've been arrested for assault after getting into a bar fight in a very small town . You are sitting in your locked cell waiting to post bail when you hear faint screams and even some gunfire somewhere in the facility.. Not being able to leave your cell , your heart begins to race..	I was on my feet, heart pounding in my ears. Anxiety churned in my gut as faint wailing was cut short by a sharp report. I'd never heard a gun fired before, in person at least. I always figured that it would be louder, echoing through a building like a sudden clap of thunder. But it was surprisingly quiet, muffled by the twists and turns in the building's architecture and heavy closed doors. Two more sharp noises, screaming, another shot, then silence. Cold sweat broke out over my arms. My small cell, furnished with a cot and toilet, offered no hiding place. Ducking under the bed or behind the slim steel fixture would n't afford me any protection or concealment. I was caged and helpless. My eyes were flitting frantically, searching for a nonexistent hiding place when I was shocked by sudden sharp noise. A man in the next cell over was screaming. Short loud barks echoed through the rooms. Something in the distance, almost as if in answer, started up a noise. Like wind through the trees, high pitched and carrying, somebody was holding a prolonged note of terror. The man fell quiet as the screaming was silenced. I pressed myself against the bars of the cell, trying to peer through the reinforced window set into the security door that lead out into the rest of the station. What I could see of the hall outside the door lit up suddenly with gunfire. Three shots and the light was blotted out by something massive that moved down the hall. For a second, there was mad screaming. The darkness moved past and faintly, I could hear the sound of cracking and wet tearing. I stepped back from the bars and heard the man in the other cell start praying. His words were low and incomprehensible. I pulled at my cot, dragging it across the room and into the corner, setting it so that the low frame and toilet might shield me from searching eyes. I crawled underneath and pressed myself into a tight ball in the corner. I was shaking with fear and wishing silently that the man would just shut up. The sound of the door opening froze me. The lights dimmed and fizzled. The light in my cell shorted and I was plunged into darkness, faint yellow light from outside casting weird shadows. I fixed my gaze on the floor, watching an unnaturally black and malformed shadow step down the hall. It was enormous, sounding as if its sides were scraping against the wall. The man in the other cell was screaming at it, curses and prayers jumbled together. He trailed off into a primal guttural scream of terror that was cut short suddenly with wet gurgling. It sounded like somebody had just poured a bucket of water onto the floor. He was gasping, the sound short and sharp as something tore into him with sounds of tearing meat and cracking bones and sickening slurping. As the sounds tapered off into clacking of bones hitting the ground, it moved in front of my cell. The lock disengaged and I pressed myself farther back, horror and fear coursing through me. My heart thudded audibly in my chest, almost painful as it beat against my ribs. I could n't breathe. Somebody out in the station screamed. The sound of running feet moved up the hall and paused in the door. `` What the fuck?'' The room ignited as the newcomer pulled out a gun and began to fire indiscriminately. Half the bullets missed the thing outside my cell and exploded against the floor and walls, kicking daggers of shattered cement into my arms and face. I was fighting to pull air into my lugs and shaking like I was seizing as the thing moved. I was treated to more grotesque and haunting noises before the thing moved out into the hall and away. I sat under the cot for hours, rocking back and forth, forcing down the idea of peeking out from under my tiny and meager protection. I did n't want to see the source of the shallow puddle of blood that was spreading into my cell. I did n't want to encounter the thing again. I did n't want to leave. All that mattered was the cell, and that I was safe in my hiding place. Eventually, bodily functions motivated me. My bladder ached and my stomach was cramping. I needed to use the bathroom, then eat and drink. I wretched when I crawled out. The seat of my pants were soaked in blood that was partially clotted into spongy masses. The feeling of it squishing under my hand and the knowledge of what it was made me sick. But my stomach was empty. I stood, keeping my eyes down and shaking, I felt my way to the door, deliberately not looking. Grim curiosity compelled me to take one glance. Broken hollow bones, pink and brown and yellow, littered the hall. No meat remained on them. Skulls were broken open to extract brains, marrow had been sucked, and even cartilage had been consumed by whatever had devastated the station. Scraps of wet clothing were in and around the skeletons, soaked in blood and saliva. I closed my eyes and used the wall to guide me out of the building. Wet carpet squished under my feet and I kicked bones out of the way in the progress, but never again paused to look at the carnage. Finally, when I felt the cool aluminum and hard glass of the front doors, I pushed them open and fell out onto the street, sobbing and shaking and screaming all at once. The day was pleasant, early morning sun warming the wind swept trees and grass. A few cars puttered by, speeding up as they noticed me, soaked in blood. Eventually, the day shift officers arrived, arresting me for the second time and putting me in the back of a car when I screamed and fought to avoid entering the station. They entered and soon exited, pale faces showing mixed fear and anger. One grabbed me around the collar and shouted at me before being pulled off by coworkers. I stared vacantly out the window as state troopers arrived, then unmarked black SUVs. Men in suits and EMT uniforms swarmed the area, local police shunted to the side. I was taken to a tent somebody had set up in the parking lot and interviewed. Eight different people, local cops and suits individually or together, interviewed me and recorded testimony. When night threatened darkness, they put me into `` protective custody'' and I was escorted to a motel, where they could keep an eye on me while the station was still an active crime scene. I cleaned up and sat down with one of the officers to write out a highly detailed statement to add to the five others I'd written that day. It was dark outside when I finished, signed, and passed the paper to the officer. She read it out to me, nodded, and put it into a manila folder. I went to bed after that, haunted by mental echos of death and pain. I woke at 12 sharp to the sound of distant gunshots and fearful screaming.
[ WP ] God DOES exist , he DOES care , and he DOES intervene . The thing is , when he spoke to the sages of old , he may have exaggerated just a teensy bit about this whole `` all-knowing , all-powerful '' thing ...	`` Quick! Grab that AK and provide me some cover.'' I woke up groggy and confused with that line repeatedly screamed with anger growing in its voice. There was gunfire and blasts echoing through the air. `` What?'' `` THE AK GRAB IT!'' the man was n't dressed for war. He was dressed in white and so was I. I grabbed the AK and crawled to behind a stone wall next to him, occasionally firing over the wall but not knowing why. And there were a lot of things I did n't know at this moment. `` Where am I?'' `` Heaven!'' `` What?!'' `` Get down!. I said Heaven.'' `` This is n't Heaven! Why are we fighting!'' `` For you and everyone else. Now fight by God's side!'' `` Jesus Christ!'' `` He died Poor Jesus. We got ta win this! Otherwise all of man is doomed!'' `` You're God. Why are you using a gun?! Just smite them! `` A bullet whizzes by `` God dammit! I was an accountant!'' `` I ca n't. This is the only way!'' `` Fire! Brimstone! You did it all the time!'' `` I kind of catapulted rocks wrapped in flaming trees on that one!'' `` The plagues?!'' `` Do you know how big that city was when I did that? It was very small. Like extremely small. I only had to use like 500 frogs!'' `` What happens if I get shot here?'' `` You die.'' `` What?! I already died. What happens if I die here? Where do I go?'' `` How should I know? I have n't died yet. But that's a good question for God!'' `` Wait! You're God'' `` No, the other God. I'm God the third! The other ones died''
[ WP ] At night , when everything is dark and silent .	At night, when everything is dark and silent, small regrets come back to me in starts and fits until they're full-formed and monolith in my mind. A misspoken word becomes a gigantic failure. An act of simple laziness becomes an act of pure and violent fuckery. All of those shortcuts have combined into one yawning, irreparable chasm beside which I stand looking back and across toward a distant youth. At night, when everything is dark and silent, I hold my wife just that much tighter. As the starless blue hours pass, I wonder if my baby daughter will scream herself awake. It keeps me on constant edge, this hours-long anticipation of her shrill cry. My worrying over lack of sleep keeps me awake. Even though I know that the sun will shine tomorrow and she'll hug me and tell me in half-words how much she loves me and what the world is and means to her. At night, when everything is dark and silent, I think of all the money that I do n't have. I wonder what my coin of the realm is when I have no real coin. What part of me will see my family through the days ahead? Do I offer anything of value that could float us on our small, unsteady craft, just a little further through the pressing void always ahead? At night, when everything is dark and silent: The whirring of insects. The blear intonation of frogs. The midnight blather of mating or nesting geese.
[ WP ] A horror videogame that allows the user to actually feel like he/she is in the game .	Your eyes narrow and focus on the heading. `` A horror videogame that allows the user to actually feel like he/she is in the game.'' Your eyebrow raises slightly, and you click on the link. You scroll down, looking for an interesting story to read. Before you start reading, you hear a quiet noise behind you. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder. You're alone. Of course you're alone. Your attention turns back to the screen, as you scroll down slightly. As you're a fan of scary movies in general, at least one of these stories should be good. Something grazes your ear. You involuntarily inhale sharply, as you pull to the left. Nothing's there. Silence. You stand up now, slightly concerned. You hold your breath and pause, quietly looking around the room. Your teeth clench. You start to feel a terrifying sense of foreboding. You're in your room. It's the same room... but somehow it's different. Different how? It's impossible to tell. Your heart starts beating faster. You unsuccessfully try to quiet a building sense of panic. You try to tell yourself to sit back down. Nothing is here. This is n't some movie, you're at home, in your room, with your PC. Some primal instinct inside you is preventing you from sitting down. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your foot. There's a loud noise above you. You look up just in time to catch a glint of the 2 foot long steel sickle arcing towards your neck. You hear the thud as it buries into your neck, more so than feel it. The room goes white. Shapes, sounds, colours. You blink rapidly, and look around in a panic. Muffled words. `` What..'' you stammer, struggling to grasp the meaning. `` Dude, you did n't even make it past the first level. When you hear the first noise, you should have run and locked yourself in the bathroom. There's a weapon in the cabinet.'' Reality floods back, as you breath a sigh of desperate relief.
[ CW ] Make me cry using numbers .	1: I love her, and she loves me, and that's what good love is. She was my first, but is also my last. 2: She's not 1, and 1 is gone. 1 is gone and subtraction is n't possible -- there is no backwards here. She's not 1, but she's someone and at least she's here. 3: I wo n't remember her, but I'll remember that she was odd. I need someone to get further from 1. And 2. 4 and 5: We are drunk and I'm still trying to add up to 1, so this time there's two. I will remember two as well as I remember 1 because the whole time I was with two -- 4 and 5 -- I was thinking about 1. And 5 is a guy. And I fuck him too. 6: It's 1. She is back and asked for me back and I'm in the middle of saying yes. She's 1 and 6 and seven's a lucky number. I never stopped being in love her, and I'm as happy as I was when she was 1. 7: It's true, what they say about 7; I am getting lucky, I guess. 1/6 left again. The next morning, actually -- without even waking me up to say goodbye. So I called 3, since she was odd and I wanted to get even. Besides, 3/7 almost makes 1/6. Right? 8: She's wasted; I'm wasted. We wo n't remember. I think she had brown hair. Maybe? 9: I puke in her fishbowl. Then I puke on her bathroom floor. I think I peed in her bathrobe too. Does it even count if I never finished? 10: I wake up and she was fucking me. I go back to sleep; she can do what she wants. I dream she was 1/6, anyway. And 10 was always there when I woke up, anyway. Edit: Changed an `` almost'' to `` right?''

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