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[ IP ] The Once and Future King
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My day didn β t even start today. My day started yesterday. That β s right. I β ve been up since yesterday prepping for this stupid ceremony. Polished my armor once, then again after the captain β noticed β a smudge and a third time after some hapless idiot spilled some broth on it.
Now, I β ve been standing in the same place since before dawn waiting for this ponce ( Prince? What β s the difference? ) to show up and do whatever it is he β s going to do. My knees are aching, my feet hurt, and I did n't even get to break my fast, so I'm starving. I don β t even know what it is. They didn β t cover that in the briefing. I β m just supposed to stand here and make sure no one tries to kill him.
Best part of this? Harry set his loaded and wound crossbow on the podium facing directly at the royal fancypants. Seriously. All it takes is a good bump, the prince gets a bolt in his royal ass ( probably not his first ) and this travesty turns into a comedy.
Except for Harry. He β d probably be executed.
Eh. I β ve never liked him anyway.
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[ WP ] `` No , your punsishment shall be more severe . '' Says Death . `` Bring it . '' Says the dead man .
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`` *I have waited a long time for this, Tybalt. *'' Death says, his voice like the tearing of old fabric.
`` Bring it,'' Says Tybalt Windbearer, `` By all rights I should be dead. Hell, I hardly think I can be considered alive at this point.''
`` *By all rights, yes. Death, however, is too good for the atrocities you've committed. No, your punishment shall be more severe than death. *''
Death draws his scythe, an old looking thing with a handle as black as obsidian, and a blade that looks to dull to cut. `` *I shall consume your very soul, Tybalt. You will remain at my side for the rest of eternity. When I think you've had enough, I will shatter your very essence. *''
Tybalt sighs, then, using the small hook on the end of his ring, draws a line from his left shoulder all the way down his forearm to his wrist. As the blood flows up and out of his arms, he uses the ring once more to carve a few sigils on his left hand. At this, all his blood flows out of the air to his hand, forming an off-red blade similar to an egyptian khopesh.
`` *You do n't really mean to kill me, do you? *'' Says Death, a hint of humor clashing against his normally raspy voice. `` *My very nature makes me immortal. *''
`` No, not kill you,'' Replied Tybalt with a chuckle, `` Merely imprison you where you stand. You could always retreat to your own realm, as it does n't exist in reality, but when you come back, you'll still be here.''
Death was about to respond, but then he noticed something on the ground before him. Blood. *Tybalt's blood. * Before Death could even try to dispel the trap, Tybalt was upon him. With just one swing of his blood-red khopesh, Death was encased in a crystalline cocoon of magic, all movement completely restricted.
`` Sorry to have to do this old friend, but I have to live freely to do my job. You only have to live.''
With this, Tybalt turned and walked away.
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[ This ] ( https: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khopesh ) is a khopesh. I would love feedback.
Edit: Error with the divider thing
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[ wp ] Head transplants are now easy , safe and common . Selling your body , literally , is big bucks . Write a business meeting about you trading your fit body for somone 's less-than-stellar physique .
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This is my business.
β And if you β ll sign hereβ¦initial hereβ¦and one more time. Perfect. You are now the new owner of my body. β
Some shlubb comes along with his stretched out skin and mountain of fat and pays to switch his body with mine. After the paperwork, the heads come off and get swapped around. I β ve done it dozens of times. It β s perfectly harmless.
It feels like selling a car, except you are NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE A TEST DRIVE. I show them the whole thing, even pop the hood if they ask. I β m always in perfect shape. It β s not my fault if they don β t maintain it off the lot. Hell, the guy I just sold to is on his third switch. Repeat customers are my best business. If they can just buy a new body, why would they ever put down a fork?
They'll never quite get to the same level as I am, like you can never wear clothes as good as the magazine model. They'll never get the face right like I do. But it sells the body, just like the magazines do. Just like my insanely attractive assistants do. ( I have assistants of both genders, I would n't want to alienate an entire market. ) Just walk in to the meeting. Smile my whitest smile. Nod to the girls ( or boys ). This could be your life. Everything changes when you're pretty. I've had very few people refuse.
Then I take the body they switch me, and diet and exercise it down ( or up ) to a sellable figure. Nobody is too far gone to flip, they just pay extra up front. In case of surgery for loose skin. It β s the only thing that really changes the price. Well, that and package size. I have had to charge a few guys extra to trade up. It β s a hit to morale to trade down. One guy got a discount. I almost felt bad letting that body go.
But it β s what I do. I flip bodies. And business is booming.
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[ WP ] Humans have succeeded in space travel and have arrived on a planet . You are an alien whose backyard these humans have landed in .
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**The Greeting**
`` Captain, I'm getting an emergency signal, but it's hard to be sure. The signal is weak.''
The Captain stood with his hands crossed behind his back, staring out of the wide viewport at the vast, gaseous planet that filled half of the view.
Nausemus; swirling clouds of frosty blues, smokey grays, and thin etchings of black that reminded the Captain of the veins in his mother's hands, a week before her death.
`` What about'The Greeting'?''
`` Still receiving, loud and clear. Maybe even a little too loud. It's hard to read the emergency signal over all of this noise.''
`` Put it on the speakers, please, Ensign.''
The mechanical squeal of the computer, automatically compensating for the noise, cut over the speakers. At first, all they could hear was the original message, *-Ings. Greet. Ings. Greet. Ings. Greet-*
More whistling sounds whined out of the speakers as the computer adjusted again.
*-from Earth. I repeat, this is Senator Youngsten, the first Diplomat to Nausemus 4 from Earth. Do NOT-* **crackle** *-emergency! The Greeting is not-*
There was a mechanical screech, and the message cut off, and was replaced by the unending pulse of The Greeting: *Greet. Ings. Greet. Ings. *
The Captain clenched his jaw, and turned to look at the Ensign, `` What happened?''
The Ensign shrugged, `` I did n't touch anything. Must have cut off from their end. Should we alert the fleet, Captain?''
The Captain turned back to the window, watching as the fourth moon crested into view. It was large enough to be a planetoid, and streaked with ancient rivers. Long-shot sensors established that the planet lacked surface water, though there had obviously been some sort of liquid down there. They had named it the Black Moon, because of the rich obsidian color of its northern and southern poles.
`` No, Ensign,'' a vein had appeared in the Captain's forehead, `` No. This is a matter of urgency. Tell the fleet we are going down to investigate,'' he paused, and triumphant smile on his lips, `` And to make First Contact.''
`` But-''
`` Ensign, that is an order.''
Behind his back, the Captain clenched his hand into a fist, and muttered under his breath, `` Who will be remembered now, Senator Youngsten?''
They watched the Black Moon swell in the Viewport, until they had to turn their heads to see from horizon to horizon. Up close, they could see glittering metal, as if there were isolated metal deposits or structures dotting the surface.
`` What are those, Captain? Are those cities?''
The Captain said nothing, but the Ensign could see his breath deepen, and his nostrils flare; something that only happened when the Captain was excited - or nervous. A mechanical voice whispered continued to whisper over the speakers, *Greet. Ings. Greet. Ings. *
The Captain called for Landing procedures across the intercom as the Ship began it's slowburn. The Captain and the Ensign strapped into their chairs. The Bridge shuttered and groaned as they descended, and the Ensign's voice rattled as he spoke, `` Lo-o-ok, Ca-ap-tain!''
He struggled to lift a finger at the viewport.
Even several hundred kilometers above the surface, they could still pick apart the finer details of the planet's surface: the river patterns were outlined by smooth, constructed pathways. Tall metal spirals and other structures dotted the pathways, clustering into groups, much like the historic Earth cities.
They were falling too quickly to pick out any movement, but the Captain noticed a distinct lack of lighting. *Perhaps these beings do n't need light? * he wondered. He had studied this moment for decades, and the Captain was well aware of the endless possibilities of alien life. He could feel the excitement building in his stomach, and he had to fight to keep his stomach down as the ship fell faster and faster.
Wind shears, turned red by heat, licked against the viewport. There was an upward jolt as the burners kicked in, and the Captain felt glad that his head was neatly nestled in his chair's headrest. Slowly, now, they rumbled to a stop.
The Captain could n't wait for post-flight procedures. He clapped open the straps, and jumped out of his chair.
`` I'm heading up the search party. You will come with me, but if you see anything - ANYTHING - that looks remotely alien, notify me. We'll check out the Structures after we find the Senator.'' He added quietly, `` If we're lucky, we'll find his body instead.''
They slipped into their suits, and donned their bronze-and-orange-coated bubble helmets. The Captain was almost out of the airlock before the Ensign could seal his suit.
`` Captain, wait up!''
Dark grey dust kicked up behind the Captain as he hopped toward the Senator's crash site. He kicked up towers of dusty clouds that stood tall in the still air until they disappeared into nothingness. Against the horizon, spindling, spiraling, *alien* skyscrapers stood proud - and lifeless. The Ensign saw what looked like windows running up the sides of the skyscrapers, but there was no artificial light, nor movement, from what he could see.
They found the Senator's ship, sitting in perfect landing position on a small plateau across from the alien structures. When they cracked it open, they could even hear the Greeting playing across the ship's speakers: *Greet. Ings. Greet. Ings. *
But, as the Ensign crawled up the ship's ladder, he saw no sign of the Senator, nor the ship's crew.
`` Where are they, Captain? What happened here?'' he asked.
The Captain's response was more than unexpected; it was upsetting.
`` Nothing, Ensign. Nothing happened to them.''
The Captain was sitting on the Ship's Bridge, sifting through the Ship's last reports, `` I'm not seeing anything. Their vital levels were fine. Life Support was nominal. They held several expeditions to the alien structures, but found noth- oh wait.''
The Captain furrowed his brow.
`` Is this... it looks like they found whatever was transmitting'The Greeting'. There was more to the message.'' The Captain was standing now, barely able to contain his excitement, `` The Senator found the rest of'The Greeting.' Ensign, can you hook this up to the Ship's speakers?''
The Ensign plunked himself down at a separate console, and tapped away.
`` Everything's in perfect condition, Captain. I do n't get it. Did the Senator leave a note?''
`` Just put it on,'' he hissed.
The Ensign clicked something into place.
There was a high pitched whine, and a crackle. A moment later the message was translated, and a familiar mechanical voice piped up, *Greet. Ings. Greet. Ings. We. Are. From. The. Fourth. Moon. Greet. Ings. We. Wish. To. Speak.''
`` Were they talking to us - to humanity?'' the Ensign asked, but was immediately silenced by the Captain's upheld hand.
`` Great. Nau. Se. Mus. We. Wish. To. Speak. Greet. Ings.''
`` The planet?'' the Ensign rushed over to the ship's viewport, and looked up at the great, smokey orb of blue and grey hanging in the sky, `` They were sending a message to *Nausemus*?''
`` Please. Spare. Us.''
There was a mechanical sigh, as if whoever had recorded the message had fallen asleep. Then, all they heard was crackling.
`` What does it mean?''
The Captain's eyes were distant, all the energy of excitement was sapped from his body.
`` We're... we're not getting off this planet.''
Hundreds of thousands of kilometers above, amidst the swirling grey and blue clouds of Nausemus, the long veins of black thickened and moved.
***End. ***
***
Many times, when I write science fiction like this, I have a hundred clear ideas in my head - but when I write them down, I'm afraid they become muddied, and unclear. Did I lose you at any point during this story? Did it feel like it went too quickly, especially near the end?
I really wanted to walk the reader through the emptied, alien cities ( if they were, in fact, cities ) - but I was afraid of spending too much time on a story that was already confusing. Please, share your thoughts below in the comments.
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[ IP ] Write a story about the characters in this image .
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`` I want to see them Pass, Mamma! I want to see them!''
Sara's son sat on a wooden stool, short fat legs dangling a couple of inches off the ground. He had one sock on and the other in his left hand, waving at her excitedly.
`` Not this time, Thom. It's not a good time right now.''
`` Please Mamma! It's only twice a year.'' Thom stretched his arms up towards her as she turned around, pushing her hair back out of her face.
Sara cast a glance round the small room. There was a lot still to be done - she needed to sweep out yesterday's embers from the fire, chop the wood to rebuild it and light it; the pots had to be cleaned and water fetched and clothes taken down to the riverside to wash, but Thom's round face stared up at her in the dawn light and she decided it could wait.
`` Alright. Up boy, come on.'' She heaved him into her arms, pulling the other sock onto his foot and squeezing him into a hug.
`` Mamma stop that,'' he wriggled in her arms.
`` You want to walk, Thomas?''
He shook his head firmly. `` No! I want to see them Pass.''
The frost-coated grass crunched beneath her feet, the chill threading its way through her shoes. It was time to change to winter boots. Her breath came in puffs as she balanced Thom on her hip, setting off striding across the waving glass, made sharp as knives by the tiny white crystals that clung to it. The sky was a blushing pink, like a virgin's cheeks and it stretched wide across the world, dipping down only to kiss the green earth at its very horizon, distant in front of her.
At first she was cold, but the weight of her child and the steepness of the slope she was climbing soon had her warm, panting for breath in the cold-stung air. She reached the summit and stopped, chest heaving. Thom wove his chubby fingers through her hair and pulled as she steadied herself on a tuft of star-thistle. Goosegrass and nimblewill fluttered against her dress, trailing greenery plucking at the coarse material.
`` Do n't do that, Thom.'' She said quietly. She could already feel the vibrations beneath her feet. The canyon stretched in front of her, rock formations rising up like fingertips reaching for the morning sky.
`` Mamma, mamma they're coming!''
`` Hush, Thom. You do n't want them to be scared.''
The legends said the beasts had been born from rock, and as it stepped into view, Sara could understand why. It had a kind of external armour built like the canyon itself, from sheets of overlapping white rock. Its wings were already unfolded, thin membranes between the skeletal bones showing the rising sun behind it. Sara put a hand up to shield the light from her eyes as the beast twisted its head and roared. The whole canyon rumbled with the sound and Thom clutched his hands to his ears.
`` Where are they going, Mamma?'' He whispered to her.
`` They go south for the winter, back to their home. They like the heat. It helps rebuild the fire inside them, you know.''
`` Why do n't we go south for the winter, Mamma?''
`` I think we like it here,'' but she was n't really paying attention. The beast moved its huge head, larger than the edifices of the canyon. It was looking straight at them. Sara felt her chest constrict for a moment. The eye watched her for a moment, milky white and midnight-black mixed, with a strange light of intelligence. It almost looked sad.
`` Oh,'' she said it aloud, but the beast had turned again.
`` What's wrong Mamma?'' Her boy asked, squirming in her arms.
`` Nothing, Thom. You want to wait for the others?''
`` Yes! Last year there were green ones n red ones n...''
They waited in the cold air, but no more came. Eventually, to Thom's disappointment, she turned and headed back down the hill.
When summer came, on the Passing day, she woke early and strode to the top of the hill. She waited until the sun had risen high in the sky, pink clouds fading to brilliant blue, but the beast did not return.
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[ WP ] A distant uncle vanished and left you a deed . For some reason , you are now the `` proud '' owner of Hell .
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Yawning, Sean fumbled around groggily with his phone until he shut off the alarm.
`` Bloody hate early meetings,'' he grumbled as he slid out of bed at a glacial pace. Morning routine: Kettle, Toaster, Teeth, Toast, Butter, Jam, Coffee, News. Hunkering down at his dining table with his breakfast and coffee, Sean pulled out his phone again and started reading up on the day's news, occasionally taking pause for a sip or a bite. He continued at his leisurely pace until he heard a soft cough in front of him. Looking across the rather messy table ( it also doubled as his filing cabinet ), he met eyes with a redhead in a suit. Sean squinted at the man's furry face. And the horns. And the tail swishing around behind him.
`` Ey, I du n't think I've fully woken up yet.''
The demon across him cleared is throat and opened a blood-red leather folder, briefly glancing at the contents before speaking. `` I'm sure that by now you're aware that your uncle Graham has vanished? Along with his wife?''
Sean took a deep gulp from his coffee mug ('it's not work if you enjoy it!' ), squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. The demon was still there. `` Oh yeah, y'know where they went? Me da's been worried sick about his brother going Houdini.''
`` Well,'' The demon sighed, `` I'm here with some good news and some bad news. I,'' a pause. `` We do not know where they are, but just yesterday we received delivery of a will with instructions of what to do if your aunt and uncle were to disappear. I am one of the two executors.'' It started ruffling through some of the papers in the leather folder. `` As they themselves have had no children and your aunt has no known relatives, all their material possessions have been passed on to your uncle's only surviving sibling, your father.''
Sean blinked. `` But I'm not me own father. Why're you here then?''
The demon nodded. `` Yes, the other, human, executor is currently talking to your father as we speak. I am here because of the second part of the will. You, as the sole surviving child of your parents, are to receive all immaterial possessions.''
`` Immaterial possessions? Wha's that, like patents and things like that?''
`` Not quite, no.'' The demon shook his head, pulling out a sheaf of paper and handing it over to Sean. `` A deed. More specifically, you are now the proud owner of hell.''
As soon as Sean touched the papers, they burst into flame and ran all the way up his pajamaed arm. With a yell, he jumped back, knocking over his chair and beating at his arm in an attempt to put out flames that had disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared. Hands shaking, he stared back at the demon, suddenly realising several things. Firstly, the demon was still seated. Secondly, his table was two meters long. Lastly, he could still feel a soft burning heat within his chest.
`` What did you do ta me? By god,'' he noticed the demon wince a bit. `` I swear, if you've done anything to hurt me I --''
`` No, I have n't. You simply completed the ritual acceptance of ownership of hell. Do you mind if I call you Master?''
`` What? You mean I'm Satan now? Just like that?'' `` Yes.'' `` I'm in charge of all your eternal damnation?'' `` Well...'' `` I'm a good man! I pay my taxes! I ca n't, in good conscience, go around ordering you demons to go around torturing innocent --''
`` They're anything but that, Master.''
`` Fine! Torturing guilty souls'n still get to sleep at night!''
The demon grinned, showing 2 pairs of pointy canines. `` Do you think we actually condemn people to Eternal Damnation?''
`` But the bible --''
`` God wrote the bible, of course he does n't want you to go to hell! You want the truth? All you've got to do is visit hell. You know, it's really much better than heaven. God's made it so hard to get in that only extremely boring people make it. You can think of us as a... competitor.''
`` You... you du n't torture everyone? No seven circles of hell?''
`` We do have those for the people who probably deserved it.''
`` But you said no eternal damnation!''
`` Yes, we just torture them for a very, very long time. Look, I know you currently have a lot of questions, but I'm not the most qualified demon to answer them for you, master. I can take you to hell, and someone else there can give you the tour.'' The demon stood up and produced a glowing red portal after waving his hands around. Sean hold up his hand, still holding a piece of jam toast.
`` Wait. There's one thing I do n't understand. All his life, me uncle's been a devout christian'', another wince, `` and you'll have me believe he's been public enemy No.1 the whole time?''
The demon rolled its eyes. `` Your uncle had no idea about the whole thing. Still, you'll notice that they never seemed to have to work a day in their lives.''
Sean slapped his head. `` Oh, Aunt Lucy. She never gave me any Christmas presents.''
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[ WP ] Four roommates are extraterrestrials who have taken human form in the hopes of learning about earth 's culture . Unfortunately , each alien is from a different planet and believes the other three are normal humans .
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In order to be granted adulthood in my home planet Bogudaga, I had to prove my worth to the elders of Bogudana. To attain my adulthood, as a social biologist in the Grand Hall of Rodudaba, I volunteered to research certain primitive species which was yet to develop intelligence. This species was known as Human of Planet Earth. Ah, ca n't you smell the savagery from the naming of their own planet? Earth ( earth! ), as the name of their planet. You read that right, my dear readers. As far as the cosmic map went, the planet Sak'shasha was the nearest civilization I could locate. You can imagine just how distant and forgettable this planet of Human was.
Anyhow, as was the proper procedure for an apprentice social biologist, I disguised myself as a member of the species *Homo sapiens*. Yes. That's what they call themselves. Wise man. Wise. Hah! Made my sleek limbs tremble in laughter every time I thought about it. The infiltration suit was difficult to produce, but it was manageable with the plenty of useful resources thrown around in the primitive planet of Earth.
After some basic look into the social construct of Human, I presented myself as a student of a college, which was the Human's version of the Grand Hall. My karmic calculator deduced that the position of the student would serve my purpose the best, and provided me with the specific place to go and conduct my research. I should note that it might be difficult to comprehend for my well cultured readers, but there were many colleges among Human the species. Can you imagine what would happen if there were many Grand Halls? I shudder at how ridiculous this isolated species can be. I dressed up in a jean and a t-shirt ( picture provided ) and brought myself before my first subjects of study. Which, in the *lingua Homo sapiens*, were my roommates.
`` Hello! Fellow humans!'' I introduced myself to the three of the human roommates. `` I'm Jake by the way. Born and raised here on the U. S. A.! How are you fellas doing this good morning?'' I mimicked the ways human talked on the 2-dimensional data relay also known as *Television* among Humans. A fat, sweating, hairy, and foul-smelling human rose from a couch in the living room, and opened his arm in welcome.
`` Oh, come on in, Jake the human! I've been expecting your arrival. I am Rudolf the human. I am your friend!'' The fat man said. His stench disgusted my delicate neural fibers embedded in my limbs, but I kept my composure and hugged Rudolf in response. I smiled in triumph. My disguise was working very well. Then, I felt a sonar gaze from the side of the room. I turned and found a thin, black, green-eyed human staring Jake the me and Rudolf the human wrapped in each other's arms.
He walked toward us and began speaking: `` Humans. Budding. Want. See.'' The thin man began rubbing his hands furiously and his eyes widened. A thought of reproducing with Rudolf the human disgusted me. I knew that the young members of human species were dominated by their innate sexual curiosity, but have n't learn that they cared to this level. I wondered if their libido could be leveraged. Nevertheless, the plan ought to come later, I reminded myself, now was the time to build some trust among the human subjects. I introduced myself: `` Hello! Fellow humans! I'm Jake by the way. Born and raised here on the U.S.A.! How are you fellas doing this good morning?'' I delivered the line perfectly. From the tone to the decibels, no human could realize that I was an extraterrestrial creature to them.
`` Self. Ra-em Thirty. Greet. Friends.'' The thin man responded to my answer. He began rubbing his neck and walked backward to where he stood when I first introduced myself. Ra-em Thirty acknowledged that I was his friend, so there was only one more human left to deceive. I turned around and found a woman clinging onto a wall. I pushed Rudolf the human away from my human disguise body, and approached the female subject.
I introduced myself: `` Hello! Fellow humans! I'm Jake by the way. Born and raised here on the U.S.A.! How are you fellas doing this good morning?'' The woman, whose hands were stuck on the wall, turned only her head and responded: `` Grace by the sum will of Kazamza, shriek the winds of bellow. Society. Sun of the all things, considered, if, gone, desert in solitude.'' Ah! I was struck by her illustrious and intelligent use of diction and grammar. For a moment I wondered whether there already was an intelligence among the so-called Wise man. However, since she clearly stated that she wanted to be left alone, I stepped back and decide to leave her alone. For now.
What could I say? They were ideal subjects for my study. I could almost feel the plutonium medal of my adulthood on my sleek limbs. It was going to be an easy study.
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[ WP ] An army of magic using creatures comes through a portal and attempts to conquer us , but they do n't expect our technology .
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`` Holy shit! Here comes an army of magic through a portal!'' screamed a scared engineer.
`` Oh my god! They're using creatures in an attempt to conquer us!'' said another engineer. Flashing lights and the sound of an alarm filled the air as several magicians wearing black suits and top hats came marching out of a giant, stone circular portal with a shimmering blue pool of light emitting from it. There was tremendous chaos everywhere as white lab coat clad scientists and engineers wearing gray uniforms and orange hard hats scattered all over the place in a panic. There must have been at least 50 magicians that entered through the portal, and they were pulling slimy baby squid like creatures out of their top hats and throwing them at the fleeing personnel.
Suddenly a tough general burst through a wall into the large, overrun room. Behind him was a group of large men in metal robot suits with guns like in Aliens. `` They came to conquer us, but they did n't expect our technology,'' the general muttered. `` Open fire men!'' he shouted as a parade of bullets flew through the air and completely obliterated the magicians in 3 seconds. All that was left of the magicians was a large pool of blood, some top hats, and a couple of baby squids squirming on the floor.
The general exited his robot suit and stepped on one of the baby squids squirming on the floor. The baby squid pooped and exploded. `` Victory is ours!'' the general screamed with a fist in the air and a lit cigar in his mouth. The men cheered in the background.
End of story.
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[ EU ] Batman is arrested . The day of his trial , the Joker shows up to defend him .
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The courthouse of Gotham City has always been the setting for some very strange cases, such as the time the witness seat was filled by none other than a giant bat, or the time the defendant vanished into thin air as a murder of crows swarmed the building. None of these, even pale in comparison to today, with the courthouse, and the surrounding area filled with its citizens to see what might be one of the most important trials of that city.
Clack clack clack was sound of the judge's hammer as the voices suddenly silenced, and everyone's eyes beamed towards the judge. β The case of the city of Gotham vs. Bruce Wayne has begun, bring the defendant. β Out of the small door in the corner of the room, two officers bring the charismatic billionaire Bruce Wayne, whose face is like stone, hiding any semblance of emotion. The judge, then asks β Mr. Wayne, you have been charged with multiple counts of assault, destruction of public terrain, and other hundreds of illegal acts under the name of Batman, how do you plead? β
The man looks up, but just as the traces of a response are uttered, a voice shouts, β NOT GUILTY! β Everyone turns around to the source of the voice, and they scream as they see the prince of crime himself right outside the doors of the courthouse, laughing as he holds some sort of device in his hand. β Now everyone, before any of you decide to act like a hero, you must know that the device that I hold in my hand will destroy half of the city if I β m even touched by any of you! Unless you like to go out with a bang, then come forward! ahAHAHA β the joker screams as everyone is frozen in fear. The judge, already a veteran of Gotham β s insanity, asks, β What is your purpose here, Joker. β The madman β s maniacal eyes suddenly turn to the judge, and starts to chuckle, β I thought I was funny, but this, this is hilarious! Bruce Wayne, as batman? Are you trying to kill me of laughter? I know who batman is, I β ve seen his actual identity, and he is certainly no little playboy. β Whispers start to fly around the court as people start taking in his words.
β Then explain all the evidence the police has uncovered about Mr. Wayne, we found him unconscious with the batman suit ha, and all of the equipment, we also had confiscated his, haha, β batmobile β less than one mile away from him, there β s just no way he β s NOT bathahahaAHAHA β the voice of the prosecutor is cut short as he falls to the ground, a frozen grin plastered on his face. β That β s better, he was annoying me. β the joker says, suddenly turning himself to face the people. β So little Wayne here was found unconscious, the batmobile being coincidentally close to him, and yet there he is, not resisting arrest at all, and haven β t even tried to escape, doesn β t that seem, FISHY to you? β finishes his monologue by pulling a fish out of his coat and throwing it to the crowd, suddenly exploding after a few seconds.
β The answer to all of that of course, is because it was a SETUP, not by me of course, this would β ve been too, boring to do. β the joker states with a chuckle, and then continues, β you people are just too STUPID to see the facts, always been too STUPID, it β s almost a sick joke, anyway, I have to go, or the real batman might show up soon, bye bye! β And just like that, green gas starts to cover the room, and he β s gone just as quickly as he appeared.
The crowd erupts into chaos, and it takes many hours for the courtroom to continue its trial. Bruce Wayne is found not guilty, and he is released into what is known as the biggest scandal the city has ever experienced, with the mayor himself publicly apologizing to the billionaire for everything that had transpired. A few days later, Wayne receives a letter from an anonymous source, the contents are shown below:
I couldn β t let you go to jail old friend, after all, you need me just as much as I need you...
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[ WP ] A man has a magic pocket from which he can get anything he wants . One day he makes a mistake and pulls death from his pocket .
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`` Do n't worry, I'm not going to kill you.''
I stare in shock at my hand, still buried inside my pocket, and the broken chair in front of me. `` All I needed was a hammer,'' I murmur, purposefully not looking at the figure beside me.
Death harrumphs, forcing me to look in his direction, and I turn onto him with fear. He must be Death, I assume; his face is shrouded in the black cloak that covers his body, but, from what I can tell, it's made of skeleton bones, which go click-click-clack as he moves from side to side.
`` You'll pay attention to me,'' he says sternly, wagging a finger at me. `` And you do n't necessarily need a hammer to fix a broken chair. Who in the world taught you carpentry?''
`` Uhhhh,'' I say helpfully.
Death is shaking his head, admonishing me with his sonorous voice. `` Octavio, Octavio, Octavio,'' he says gently. `` You've been using your magic pocket too much, you know?''
`` You know my name?'' I whisper, licking my dry mouth.
`` Of course. I know everyone's names. Now, I ca n't guarantee that it will be me who kills you someday --''
`` Uhhh --''
`` Relax, there are a lot of Deaths. It might be one of my cousins.'' Death is riffling through the voluminous pockets of his cloak now, apparently looking for something. `` Or one of my brothers-in-law. Ooh! I hate them.''
`` What if they want to kill you?''
Death grins at me, and this time is voice is menacing rather than humorous. `` Some secrets are n't meant for humans.''
`` Oh.''
Death has apparently found what he needed inside his pockets -- it's a hammer; quelle surprise -- and he hands it to me, drawing a scythe from within his cloak. `` So, you may not want to use that magic pocket quite so much, all right? You're not pulling stuff out of hyperspace ( not that that would be better ), and people are actually wondering where all their small tools and items have been going.''
`` Oh,'' I say again. Is that how the magic pocket works? I should have known....
`` Actually, you can switch the pants, too. That pocket will work with anything.''
I look down at myself, embarrassed, as Death adjusts his cloak and stamps his feet, apparently getting ready to leave. `` Why?''
A portal has appeared behind him by now; it's dark turquoise-green, interspersed with tingles and thrums of violet-rose. Death shuffles his scythe to his other hand and begins stepping toward it, his sandals click-clack-clacking, just like his bones, on my living-room floor.
`` Um, Death --?'' I say, as his cloak begins touching the portal.
`` Yeah?''
I pick sheepishly at my pants. `` What's wrong with these?''
`` Darling,'' Death says, and his face pops into a grin. `` They're JNCO parachute pants. Even the 1990s did n't want those.''
And then -- with a wave and a small pop -- he's disappeared, gone through the portal. I sigh, staring at the hammer he's handed me, and get to work.
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[ WP ] In a world inhabited mostly by monsters ( vampires , werewolves , ghosts , etc . ) , you are a hunter of the most cunning , ruthless and elusive creatures ... humans .
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By the time my boots hit the steps to the town hall I could hear the discussion inside was already in full swing. Judging by the sound of it, it had already devolved into a state where order was recognized merely by whomever shouted the loudest. Currently that honor belonged to a booming voice spouting a continuous and nearly incomprehensible spiel about Van Helsings. Oh wonderful. An amateur hunter in the crowd. I slipped the bandolier over my shoulder and let the arbalest hang loosely along my back. The weapon was capable of firing stakes and it would attract attention. Good. Nothing like a good entrance. I squared my shoulders and shoved the doors open in front of me.
The stench hit me first. Vamps. I had known I would be walking into a nest of bloodsuckers but knowing it and smelling it are different things. It was horrible. A mixture of decay mixed with mummification. The bodies were all dead but their odd biology stopped the purification process from starting. To me it smelled all wrong. Like spoiled meat that has been allowed to dessicate. Fortunately, I've schooled myself in looking unaffected even when my senses are telling me to flee before I choke on my own gorge. I strode purposefully through the crowd and down the aisle towards the tiny stage with its even smaller podium. Voices faltered as I passed. Almost as if I were dragging a blanket of silence behind me. The silence caught the attention of the people who were still shouting near the front and more heads craned in my direction. As they did the voices faltered and more than a few eyes glowed. Oh. goody. Racists as well.
The wave of silence rushed past me now and crashed near the stage. Only a portly vampire with streaks of blood beading on his forehead and a scrawny man with long blonde hair were left. The portly one was the one who I had heard shouting from outside.
`` What's this?'' the portly guy said as he spied me striding his direction, `` First a Van Helsing and now a lycanthrope?''
`` I invited him here,'' the blonde man said, `` This is the man I told you about. The hunter.''
The fat one sniffed and continued to eye me suspiciously.
`` I thought we were dealing with a monster,'' he said, `` Not trying to bury a bone in the backyard.''
A few other fat vamps started to chuckle until I glanced in their direction. I did n't make a threatening move. I just stared at them. Beads of blood popped out on their foreheads and they suddenly seemed to develop a fascination with the floorboards.
`` A Van Helsing, you say?'' I asked at last, returning my attention to fats, `` So how many are in the squad?''
`` What?'' he asked.
`` Come on,'' I said, snapping my fingers for emphasis, `` You seem to know something about this. You surely must know that a human is only designated a Van Helsing when it has built a squad of at least six like minded killers. Otherwise we're just dealing with a common variety Neville.''
He sputtered at that and I took the stage.
`` Right,'' I said, `` Just to speed things up let's reserve the stage for people who have some idea what they are talking about. Afterward everyone else has an idea what is going on then I'll relinquish the floor to you.''
Fats face turned beet red, a sure sign it was flooding with stolen blood and ready to burst, before turning on his heel and storming back up the aisle and out the door I had just entered a moment before.
`` That may not have been a wise move,'' the lanky blonde man said to me under his breath, `` Dominic owns the largest bank in town. He has friends and he has money.''
`` The first is a surprise,'' I replied as I examined the man. Yes, he really was breathing. His smell was different as well. Not quite the rotting stench of a vampire but not entirely alive either. A Renfield, I guessed. The ghoulish things often served administrative roles in vampire towns.
`` Are you Kreuger?'' I asked him.
`` I am,'' he confirmed and waived at the lectern facing the audience at large. I eyed the crowd. The red eyes were still out in force.
`` They do n't seem to be expecting me,'' I commented dryly.
`` No,'' he agreed, `` Dominic wanted to form raiding parties. Burn any dwellings he found and hunt any bipedal creature that might be a human. I tried to convince him to take a more, uh, conservative tactic. He was n't ready to listen. I thought if you described your services then cooler heads might prevail.''
Ah. He wanted me to disagree with his bosses for him. Typical Renfield stuff. They were incredibly loyal to their vampire masters and hated confrontation of any sort. Defying his bosses to call me in was probably putting Kreuger in a bad enough spot without doing the sales pitch for me. I nodded once and took my position to face the crowd.
`` Hello good people,'' I told them, `` My name is Percival Johns. As some of you have already noticed, I am a lycanthrope. A werewolf.''
The crowd hissed at this and more eyes began glowing. I continued speaking as if I had n't noticed.
`` I received word of your problem. A human creeping out during the hours of daylight and dusting you. That's why you need me. You are vulnerable in the daylight. I am not. I take away his advantage.''
`` Unless he has silver on him,'' a man in front whined, `` Or a sprig of wolfsbane.''
I tolerated the interruption. It would serve no purpose to argue the point. Humans were terrifying creatures. All the normal rules did n't apply to them. They could grip cold iron and silver and not get burned, they could cross running water, they ignored protective wards, and they could even eat garlic if they wanted. They could ignore all the things that hurt us and exploit all our quirks. From tricking vampires by tossing seeds to making a kappa bow and lose the water from his head, humans were relentless. But, then again, humans had their own rules.
`` Yes,'' I agreed, `` He could carry silver. But that's okay. I do n't intend to get that close to him. I'll track him down and deal with him from a distance.''
`` Deal with him?'' a female asked while eying my arbalest, `` What does that involve?''
`` Ideally? A dart laced with curare,'' I explained.
She scoffed.
`` Curare is n't lethal,'' she said, `` He'll just get back up.''
`` Yes,'' I agreed, `` But not here. I trap and release humans. I'll take him to a preserve elsewhere.''
The room exploded with voices. There were different words, but only one emotion. Outrage.
`` He dusted three good vamps!'' a man screamed, `` And you're going to reward him for that?''
`` Like it or not,'' I interrupted, `` Humans are becoming endangered. We've hunted them to near extinction.''
`` Good!''
`` And,'' I continued, `` When they are gone so is the blood supply. The zombie population ca n't reproduce and their population collapses. The Franks will wear out without spare parts and night hags starve. Let's face it. Without the humans we all suffer.''
Some of the red eyes dimmed, but the anger was still there below the surface. That was fine. Anger was out. Stupidity was not.
`` So you are going to hunt down and trap this human?'' the female spoke up again, `` Why should we hire you rather than put down this rapid dog ourselves?''
I did n't let the racial slur rile me. Instead I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a test tube with a stopper on the end.
`` This is why,'' I said and tossed the tube to her. She caught it easily. Vampire reflexes are faster than even my own. She looked at the tube and shook it.
`` Muddy water?'' she asked skeptically.
`` I took a sample of the river water just outside town before I came here,'' I explained and then pointed to indicate the tube, `` I would n't open that by the way because-''
As I knew she would, she yanked the stopper free. She was n't about to let a dog tell her what to do. She pulled with so much vigor, however, a few drops came free and landed on her lap. They immediately began smoldering and she screamed in pain and tossed the vial away from her. It struck another vampire and he began screaming too.
`` Because,'' I finished, `` He's blessed the entire river. Friends, you do n't just have regular Neville on the loose here. This one is a priest and he's scaling up his attacks.''
The eyes stopped glowing only to be replaced by a collective look of horror. If they breathed the entire room would have been holding its breath then. Humans were wily creatures.
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[ WP ] You somehow find yourself in a great relationship with Luck itself .
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`` You know why I love you.'' Luck ran her finger through my hair.
`` Well, that's what I do n't understand, I'm just a simple man. Why do you favor me?'' I just could n't understand this lady in front of me. Lying beside on top of the tallest building in the world. She was a goddess. She was like a light, but not blinding. She stood up kissing me. Hot and cold at the same time. It tasted like sweet dust.
`` Just be thankful love,'' she stared at me with those piercing eyes, ever changing like the cosmos. The sun began to set, orange and purple mixing on the horizon. Silhouettes of the city like a moving painting. `` Just be thankful for now.''
`` I just ca n't believe it.'' I met her when I tried to jump off a building. I wanted to end my life that day, but a helicopter somewhat caught me. A fucking helicopter. I did n't know how I did not got chopped up with its sharp propeller.
`` Believe it, I told you I am luck.'' She kissed my lips again. `` Wan na try it?''
`` Will you save me?'' I should really trust her. She was right, she was Luck.
`` Maybe.'' She held my hands and together we jumped off. `` You know, the thing with me is that I happen to be unpredictable and uncontrollable. Even I, Luck itself, does n't know what will happen the moment we jumped off this building. I work or my power works sometimes, sometimes not.''
`` But why? No please you told me that I can trust you!'' We were now descending, already halfway down the building. The horizon's beautiful reflection being continuously cut by the windows. Faster. Faster. `` Luck, hey, why-''
`` Maybe you'll live. Maybe you will not. Can you always trust luck?'' She smiled at me while we fell down. Nearer. Nearer. `` In a second we will know.''
& nbsp;
`` Luck, my love, how's that man who recently jumped off a building and was saved by a helicopter?'' Miss Fortune asked while plucking some clover leaves.
`` That guy? Ugh, like the others,'' Luck kissed Miss Fortune. `` Beginner's luck.''
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[ WP ] What happend to the rpg hero after he saved the world .
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We were on the road back to our homes, which for me was the small villiage of Startarea. As we'd travelled from the black mountain, each member of our team had departed, one by one in the order we had met them, until only Shinja and myself were left. The villages and towns we passed through now looked so familiar but different, smaller, maybe it was me and not they who had changed.
Six months ago I had been just a boy, a simple fisherman. That day so long ago, the sword washed onto the beach and with a cry I grasped it and my world had changed. *I'd changed*. Fastened to my hand and imbued with the spirit of the land, I was charged to destroy the ancient evil ones and after long battled and hardships, with my faithful team I had accomplished my goal.
Soon, Shinja and I would be coming up on Junon town, where we had first met and when we arrived, we would be parting for a while. I could n't imagine not having him near me, not having him at my side, fighting, sleeping and travelling, but for now we were to return home to see the families we had left behind
I'd come across Shinji in the central square of Junon, playing Kooji ball with the locals. He'd dismissed me immediately; I remember him laughing `` How can a stranger play Kooji ball with a sword for a hand?'' All the boys had laughed but not for long. Defeating the assembled boys one by one until finally Shinji and I had met, first in at Kooji ball and then in battle.
Ha, that battle! How embarrassing to have been hitting each other with basic thrusts and parries and only causing such few points of damage to each other. Now my fists and wrists glinted with each of the beads of power, a simple flick would have a god like beast, slaved to my control, ready to destroy anything in our path.
Along the dusty track I saw an Icewolf, crouched in the bushes -oh how small they seemed now and how terrifying they had seemed back then. This might be almost fun. I considered letting loose with a gout of magical fire, or beam of Ice but, remembering the beads, I casually flicked the bead of Ichor to the ground and in moments the huge black beast was summoned and in front of me, towering and vast.
I looked down at the Icewolf, poor simple beast that it was, it had bounded out into the road and stood, snapping at the heels of Ichor then rearing back and seemingly waiting to learn its fate. With a twitch of one of its claws Ichor flicked the Icewolf away and into the bushes, split perfect in half.
I looked to my side and Shinji was doubled over in laughter, tears running down his face and soon the feeling crept over me as well. I doubled up and together we stood, hunched in a fit of giggles, which the dark God Ichor watched silently, bemused.
Seemingly with a sigh, Ichor shrunk down and again the bead glinted on my wrist. At last we managed to recover from our laughter and continue, home was not far and I hoped to see my father before night. It was his guidance that had led me to the evil ones and now I wanted to show him how powerful I had become.
Linking arms with Shinji, we continued on our new adventure - returning home.
*****
EDIT: did a bit of cleaning up.
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[ WP ] As the armies of darkness are destroying the final pockets of resistance , the Dark Lord suffers a fatal heart attack in his throne room . His teenage daughter takes up the mantle .
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β My lord, they are surrendering. Things are finally going as planned, β a small, dark, being excitedly said to his master, β I think that we will finally rule- β
The Dark Lord looked upon his disciple from his throne of decapitated heads. His essence radiated a sense of despair and hopelessness. It was a feat that one of his slaves was able to feel enthusiasm. He looked over at his teenage daughter, proud of the relationship they had built. In some stroke of luck, they were so similar that they understood everything about each other. They fought like any family members do, but they always worked it out. She thought he was too sensitive sometimes, and he tried to show her that sensitivity isn β t a weakness, but a show of strength. World domination was an idea he had for a while, and her confidence in him pushed him to go for it. Now, after years of battle, they were about to win.
He shifted in his throne, sitting up.
β How long? β He questioned. His voice bellowed throughout the throne room, an elegant and beautiful room that exemplified his power. Stained glass windows were abundant throughout this room, depicting torture methods. Light granite tiles, accompanied by paintings on the ceiling, lightened the room just enough to really make the darkness pop. There were four thrones, representing the four members of the Dark Lord β s family. These thrones were created to show their strength. The Dark Lord, on his throne of severed heads, was well known for his brutality and careful observation. He had eyes on everything all the time. His queen β s chair was golden, adorned with many pearls and jewels. She was known for her vanity, an ability that allowed her to control everyone β s finances. The Dark Lord β s younger son was known for his recklessness, and sat upon a throne of swords and other weapons. These chairs were empty.
The Dark Lord β s daughter sat upon a throne of darkness. She was well known for many things, and took after her father and mother. She was manipulative, like her mother, and brutal, like her father. However, she was most known for the feeling of dread she exuded, which polluted any room she was in. This feeling, if controlled well enough, could suffocate anything around it, killing everything in its path.
β W-well, my Lord, I β m not- β
*Thud. *
The Dark Lord fell from his throne, clutching his chest.
β Well, what can we do now?! β his wife screeched, hysterical. It had been a week since the death of the Lord. None of the disciples knew about his death, in an attempt to keep order. β Soon, they β re going to find out that no one is running the kingdom. The throne must go to Damien. β
β Mother. I am taking the throne. My brother can β t handle the responsibility, and obviously, so can β t you. Do not get in my way. β Theresa said curtly.
β I can β t handle the responsibility? Bullshit! I knew dad β s attack plan better than any of you! And it β s my right! I β m the firstborn- β
β Damien, you may be the firstborn son, but I am the firstborn. Your opinion means nothing to me. You weren β t there when father passed, you didn β t hear his last words as I did. It is my right to take the throne. β
β No, it β s- β her mother started.
β Isn β t it a written rule that the one who slays the Dark Lord takes his throne? β Theresa questioned. This silenced the discussion, as her family tried to wrap their heads around what she had just said.
β So? β Damien asked, afraid that his suspicion was true. It wasn β t outside of Theresa β s character to kill, but her father was different.
β I β m taking the throne, β Theresa answered, β and I am removing all those who defy me. β
Two more thuds filled the throne room. Theresa watched her remaining family dissolve at her feet, shed a single tear for each of them, and walked up to her throne.
*It β s not fitting to have it off to the side like this*, she thought. She stood in thought for a second, then ripped apart the thrones of her family members without moving a muscle. Their remains dissolved around her, and she started work on her new throne.
Living heads were used as the legs of the throne. Jewels were stuffed in their mouths, to stop them from screaming. The jewels didn β t stop them from observing, or feeling, however. Swords, balanced carefully on the heads, were used as the legs. The rest was darkness. On top of this monstrosity sat the new Dark Lord, who no one had dared oppose. She made things very clear to her disciples; anyone who didn β t give her what she wanted would be killed. Anyone who lied would be killed. There were some gray areas, in which she held some mercy. She felt this was weak, but if she didn β t show some humanity, they would peg her as a monster and not treat her with respect.
( co n't )
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[ WP ] `` you betrayed a family loves you to impress a family that wo n't ''
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`` You betrayed a family loves you to impress a family that wo n't.'' Ashley looked at her husband distraught. `` When have they ever said they cared about you? About us?'' He grabbed a bag from the wardrobe, and then began to pull clothes from it.
`` They show their love in other ways.'' Harry replied crossly, packing his bags.
`` They BUY you! All they see from you is a cash cow, they just want you to pay their way for them!'' Ashley exclaimed, exasperated. `` And when she feels like she's losing her grip, your mum showers you with gifts!''
`` They are gifts for us!'' Harry exclaimed.
`` Really? The paintball weekend? The archery practice? Paying for a GUYS holiday? Those aside, I do n't recall any single gift that was n't labelled just for you. Why ca n't you see this?'' Ashley stood beside him as he shoved more and more clothing in to his bag. What had happened to her husband, the man she loved so much, to make this choice? `` If you leave tonight, I will be contacting a divorce attorney first thing tomorrow morning. And I guarantee this, your mother will NEVER be around our children. When you married me, you agreed to the `` forsaking all others'' line. Hell, you even wanted the line about cleaving to your wife. I am your wife, not her. Are you choosing her over your wife and kids?''
`` Wait... what do you mean children? `` Harry paused, mid way through pulling the zips closed on his bag. `` Mom said you'd confided in her that you were infertile.'' He glanced at his wife as she sunk down on the bed and cried. `` she said as it was women's issues, it was easier for you to tell her and that she would tell me.''
`` I never said anything of the sort. Harry, I'm pregnant. I'm about eight weeks pregnant, and it's highly possible with my family history it's twins.'' She said between sobs. Harry felt his heart lurch, as his wife's phone went off. The screen showed his mother had sent a text. `` Go ahead. Read it. Then maybe you'll believe what I've been saying.''
`` Why would Mom make something like that up?'' He asked, bewildered, reading the text. His surprise became an angry scowl as two text messages worth of gloating and angry vitriol spilled across the screen. `` Or send such nasty messages to my wife?''
`` Because she thinks that you should stay home with her forever and always. She believes no woman except for her is good enough for you. Harry, this is a LOT to go in to. Just please... stay for a few more days. Let's talk about this, get someone like a therapist to talk this over with.'' Ashley looked her husband dead in the eye as she spoke. `` I refuse to raise my kids without their father in their lives, because I can guarantee that if you refuse to keep them away from her, you wo n't be.''
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[ Modpost ] Call for Moderators ! !
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Q: How much free time do you have available to focus on modding duties? Please list times you are generally available, in the GMT and EST time standard. You can use this site to convert times: http: //www.worldtimebuddy.com/ [ 1 ]
A: [ Here is the chart for my available times. ] ( http: //www.worldtimebuddy.com/? qm=1 & lid=4508722,3435910,2643743 & h=4508722 & date=2016-9-10 & sln=17-23 ) I will be attending school and sometimes extra-curricular activities, but that is usually the period when I'm out and online during the week. On the weekend, I'm online on and off all day.
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Q: Would you also be available for our chat room?
A: No.
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Q: Are you an active member of /r/WritingPrompts [ 2 ]?
A: I post on this subreddit often, but It's been a long time since I responded to any prompts.
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Q: Do you moderate any other subreddits? If so, which ones and for how long?
A: I've never moderated a subreddit with more than 100 subscribers. I moderated /r/Karmaplace for roughly 3 weeks but was removed as a mod due to a misunderstanding.
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Q: Why are you interested in moderating /r/WritingPrompts [ 3 ]?
A: I am interested in moderating /r/WritingPrompts in order to learn about moderating a big subreddit, as well learn how to be a good leader.
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Q: Are you interested in doing a weekly post? Something like our Sunday Free Write or User Spotlights
A: No, what I am interested in is enforcing rules and helping people.
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Q: As a mod, you see a long time user has made an obvious troll post, what do you do?
A: Remove the post and cite rule 1. Although sympathies may be developed between users, I recognize that being a moderator is a professional position.
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Q: As a mod, you see something that does n't explicitly break the rules, but you feel it's harmful to the subreddit. What do you do?
A: As a mod, I reserve the right to remove anything I feel is harmful to the community. Therefore, I remove the harmful post.
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Q: Who is your favorite moderator and why? Choose wisely.
A: Oh, this is a hard one. I've only seen a couple moderators around. I'm gon na go with MajorParadox as my favorite. They're a good writer and as far as I know, a laid-back person, which is my favorite kind. They do n't flaunt their moderator privileges; in fact, they're modest about it.
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Q: Answer this prompt: In 75 words or less, write about an evil troll.
A: A man logged onto reddit and surfed around, looking for somewhere to troll. He clicked past dozens of subreddits before coming across an interesting title. /r/WritingPrompts. Oooh, they were accepting new mods!
He began spamming pictures of his beautiful puffy gray afro in the thread.
And that man's name? Albert Einstein.
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Q: Are you susceptible to bribery? Do you have bribery you β d like to offer?
A: No, I am not susceptible to bribery. I do not have bribery to offer.^^^Actually ^^^I ^^^have ^^^some ^^^mac ^^^n' ^^^cheese. ^^^Do ^^^you ^^^like ^^^that?
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Q: Do you have any further comments to add before submitting your application?
A: ~~No.~~ I make jokes a lot.
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[ WP ] Write as a character who forgets what they were talking about but remembers unrelated things they forgot long ago .
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The battle of Hastings was in 1066. Learned that one in High School. Had a pretty good history teacher too, he was able to make some stuff stick in my head, ya know not much does. Guess I've always had that problem. Eh, ya know, c'est la vie right? That's French for that's life. It was actually in French class that I met her. Like I said I do n't remember much but I do remember the first thing I heard her say was c'est la vie. I also remember how I felt when I first saw her. Somehow knew just somehow knew I would be with her.
The rest of High School flew by in a blur. Not like the blur that it usually is for me, but a pleasant bright blur, kinda like if you were in the middle of a field surrounded by waves upon waves of fresh green grass and you happened to spin while looking at the sun. I guess the word I'm trying to say is love. She was the perfect girl, the only one that did n't look at me like a little kid, the only one that showed me respect. Even after I told her about my `` mental deficiency'' as my doctors put it. Ya know what she said when I told her? People are made in the past but it β s what they do in the present that matters, that β s how it works, c β est la vie.
Somehow that made me feel a lot better. All my life, people had been trying to fix the past for me and when she said that I felt like I mattered for once, I was n't just a problematic thorn in her side. Life with her was amazing, she was amazing, I loved her, I loved how she laughed at my jokes, I loved how she would cover any bruises or cuts she has because she doesn β t want me to worry and I loved how she would always be there when I needed her.
We were like two peas in a pod us two. It was only natural we walked down the aisle together. It wasn β t a big ceremony a couple my buddies and her friends and whatever family members of mine that could make it. Afterwards we got a little apartment downtown, we could n't afford much especially since I ca n't really hold down a job but to us that was our world. That was all we needed. We were all we needed. We talked, cried, and laughed together for years in that tiny apartment downtown. In fact just a week ago we were watching tv and joking about the commercials ya know having a good time. And oh yeah, she got mad at me for something, I do n't remember what it was, just something small, ya know all couples have arguments. So she went on with this thing for a while, ya know and I got kinda annoyed at her for going on and on. And then it settled I guess, I actually do n't know, ah it β s my head acting up again I guess, it tends to especially do so when I get mad. Anyways I just remember after our little argument I was washing something off of my hand and sat back down to watch more tv. I do remember she was pretty quiet after, I mean she's usually quiet after I get mad but this time a bit more than usual no more sniffing or anything ya know.
But anyways I β m getting off topic, like I said we've known each other for ages and she is everything to me ya know. Anyways does that answer your question, uhβ¦ what was I supposed to call you? Oh yeah does that answer your question your honor? To be honest I do n't quite know what your question was. But maybe I helped a little. Anyways, this has been fun I've never had this many people listen to my stories but I should be heading out. My wife should be around to pick me up soon; we're planning to head to that Italian place just a couple blocks from here. At least I hope she comes, have n't heard from her for a little bit, she's probably at her moms, she usually goes to her mom after we have a fight but she always comes back. It β s marriage I guess right? People fight, it's life, ya know c'est la vie.
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[ WP ] Rant at me .
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Hey you. Yeah, you. I do n't understand you. You were the greatest thing to happen to me, you genuinely cared about me. Now I feel like if I died tomorrow you would n't even bat an eye. I ca n't let go because you made me happier than I have ever been in my whole life. Now whenever I see you, you either ghost me or look at me like I killed a puppy. Then there will be that moment, that sweet sweet moment where you look at me and smile. I do n't care if it may be fake, it's the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.
I see you with him and it breaks my heart. When you ended it, I did n't cry, I did n't curl up in a cocoon of my own sadness. I pushed on. I grew up masking my emotions and it was only habit when I did it with you. I would do anything for you, you know that. If you even hinted at a chance of us getting back together I would run to you in a heartbeat. But I ca n't grasp you. I do n't understand. Why lift me up only to toss me aside? Why go back to him? Why ignore me only to make it feel like you're excited I text you? Why ignore me then smile like nothing happened?
I do n't understand you.
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Two men sit in a crowded diner and have a conversation .
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There was smoke gathering on the ceiling. And I was staring down into the ashtray. His yellowed fingers left grubby smears on the lacquer of the table and he smiled, squeezing the fat cigarette between his teeth. He leaned back on the chair and looked at me.
`` If you keep this up, things are going south from here,'' The smoke plumed out of his mouth. `` And that daughter of yours wo n't be able to live off you no more,'' His voice was scratchy, tearing on his vocal chords. `` She'll have to work on the street.'' He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and smiled at me again.
`` All I want is another gram of it.'' There were kids kicking their legs on their high chairs. A grey-skinned mother held her screaming toddler by the arms. `` I do n't ask for your opinion when I give you my money.''
What I would n't do to hang that guy high from a telephone wire. He's a slimy asshole. A skeleton with skin hanging from his body and lazy blood, mostly alcohol based. He's a worm. I would've killed to see the day he wretched up his black tar lungs into his wife's thick stew. The best stew. I've tried it.
`` But I've already told you,'' He chuckled, and hacked up a ball of phlegm into his empty glass. He nudged it with his hand and the waitress: tired-looking girl, slick black hair in a short skirt, 17 at most, came to take it away. He eyed her with his hollow sockets and she squirmed under her skin.
`` *What? * You've told me what?''
`` You reached the limit. I'm not giving you no more.''
`` I'm just asking you to take the money.''
`` Does n't make a difference if you have the money or not.''
`` You never told me this would happen. You never said.''
`` I think you'll find I did say-''
`` There was nothing in there that said-''
`` I did say, and it was very clear-''
I cracked my neck.
`` I slit your fucking throat if you do n't give me that gram.''
There was the clink of a metal spoon on a bowl. And the sound of a roomful of eyes looking at me, seemingly looking straight through him. That smug bastard just stubbed his cigarette out on the table and blew smoke from his nose.
*Excessive*, he says. *Cracked*, he tells me. I tell him I'd *sell my soul* for another one of his grams of heaven. Then he tells me I already have.
That's when I knew it was a game. The more I looked at his face, the more it seemed to distort. His eyes sunk into his skull, leaving the holes gaping. I shook my head, my mouth was opening wider. He took off his skin like a coat and unsheathed a scythe from under the table. I did beg. And I cried when he pulled my soul out of my mouth. The chalky whiteness of his skull was dull under the dim lights of that diner.
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[ WP ] Through a freak clerical error , the Muppets of Sesame Street are drafted into the Vietnam War .
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He was screaming again, Incoherent, loud, almost understandable over the sound of the 60. Brass clattered out of the receiver, Muzzle flash lit up the evening. Gonzo went from asleep to awake and blasting with his 16 in blink, cursing at the unseen in spanish and english mixed. The screams came back, angry French and Vietnamese. I saw Beaker hit the clapper for the Fuselage, and heard him make a meeping noise as the heat was rolled back and hit us in the face, which he used his arms to protect. Sounds were coming all over, VC were moving through the fire and being cut down as their skin crackled like fried chicken. And then the smell reached my nose...
I do n't think I could ever go home at that moment and the pork my wife made ever again.
The radio on Fozie's back jammed into life as squad leaders and perimeter outposts called in multiple hits. I felt my skin go green, this wasnt some chicken shit probe, this was real. We pissed them off enough that they were coming for us. I heard Grover get vaporized on the radio by an RPG, just a long scream then static. Sarge grabbed my collar and turned me from the scene in front of me, and I came face to helmet with his little felt tip eagle on his helmet. He hit me with his hand
`` Fucking fight! Kermit? KERMIT?'' Sam's face was hard set.
`` Y-yyes Sarge?'' Mouth was dry, so fucking fry. I wanted to throw up, right there in the little ditch we called a trench, right on the Sarges combat boots.
`` You've got a rifle, now fucking use it!'' He let go of the collar, and part of my wits came back. I shook my head, *put it out of your mind Kermit, do n't think about your wifes Barbecue*.
It was go time, it was fight and think later or stutter and die. I turned around with the M16, radio still going crazy with reports up and down the perimeter. I heard BB-Actual call for radio silence and individual reports from squad leaders. I blew some young kids eye out of his socket as a round from my gun plowed through his nose, his AK tumbled in the air before it landed on top of him.
Elmo had been hit, that dumb Irish-Italian kid that could n't be more than 18 or 19. The professor was on him in a second, trying to stem a stomach wound. Elmo was screaming like a pig *no, no, oh god no, no more pork references*. My stomach threatened to up heave again. Cookie came over, his M60 adding to animals, and they switched off burst firing in our sector. Cookie was a good man, solid cook assigned to our camp. Turns out, he was a fantastic Gunner.
BB-Actual was calling us, Eagle actual, to abandon our position, and converge on our second line. So Sarge Led us up and back, And that's when animal got hit, two in the knee that blew his knee cap and upper calf into the night. Prof Turned on his heels when he heard the grunt of pain. He turned back and ran to him.
Animal took another three in his chest and slumped dead into the dirt before he could reach him.
The Prof was a scientist and inventor turned medic. He had come in pledging to be a studious conscientious objector. That fell apart after the second firefight. He became a man set in the ways of `` Preventative Medicine'', and when he saw Animal go down, he did just that. He did n't stop running. He ran right to animal and picked up the 60. And he blasted like a motherfucker, unflinching as rounds skipped into the dirt around him, as he got hit once, twice, three times.
We fucking had to stop and cover him while Cookie grabbed the poor fucker and literally dragged him back up the hill with us. When we got into the second line, about 50M from the first line, we met up with Bert, Ernie and Grouch. Prof began fixing up his hits, and handed off the 60 to me.
`` Fucking make'em pay'' he told me as he handed off the gun. Cookie slipped a belt off his shoulders onto mine. I set up with the belt and took aim over the lip again. Sarge grabbed the phone off Fonzie's back and began a sit rep of who we lost, and told BB-Actual we had fallen back. Grouch was plinking VC with his M21, that starlight scope offering an unprecedented advantage in the darkness.
Flares were going up, Fire mission co-ordinates were coming in over the radio. Bert and Ernie were firing their bloopers staggered, so that we always had some ordnance raining down on them. It felt like an Eternity.
We got Napalm and HE on the woodline and on the first perimeter. That drove those fucks back. It always did. In a half hour of fighting, I lost three friends. Prof got sent back to the 432nd medical unit, to be evacd to Saigon for treatment of actually serious wounds, along with Beaker, who took shrapnel from a Chicom grenade through his cheek and nose. We were all fucked up from seeing our friends die. Animal, Elmo, Grover. Prof was gone along with Beaker to get treated. We had lost 50 % of our squad.
Fuck Vietnam. 108 days left. 108 days of hell.
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[ WP ] A scientist has managed to create a time machine . He intends to send a group of 10 volunteers back 10 minutes to test it . However , a misplaced decimal point results in them being sent back 10,000 years . You are the leader of the ten , and responsible for ensuring survival if anything goes wrong
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As I hear the machine power down, my vision returns to normal. Gradually, I sense it... Something's not right. My heart begins to race, my blood is pumping, hands are shaking, and I'm suddenly breathing hard, as if I had just run for my life. I have no idea where we are, but it sure as hell is n't 10 minutes in the past. There is n't anything at all. Hell, there has n't been anything here in a while, if there ever was.
Then I see it, not the desolate wilderness around us. Not the unfamiliar setting which we now inhabit, but the eyes. Nine pairs of eyes staring at me, helpless, afraid, and looking for an answer. I've been a leader my whole life. Captain, manager, mentor, you name it. But what have I done that could prepare me for this?
Searching deep within, I amass all the courage I can muster and make my best attempt at calm confidence.
`` Well... there seems to be some sort of a problem.''
Before my last syllable escapes, the resident science volunteer, McClaskie cries out: `` Problem? PROBLEM?! This is a catastrophe! We are n't 10 minutes back! There's nothing here but, but, nothing!''
`` We must remain calm'' I reply. `` As calm as we can. It is a lot to take in, but we must assess the situation soberly, and try our best to form a solution.''
Antonia, the psych volunteer chimes in `` We are all likely to be in some shock, but we must focus, and remain as calm and as sober as possible. We were all warned this could happen. We have supplies to last us for weeks. I agree with John. We need to assess the situation calmly, so in order to do that, everyone, take a few minutes to compose yourself.''
We all exit the vessel, and enter the open air. I give Antonia a look of relief. Not that I *am* relieved, but it is at least some relief to have her there. I realize there's not a man or woman alive who would n't be relieved by Antonia's warm brown eyes and knowing smile. There's something about her that could put the world at ease. Today, in this moment, I need all the respite I can find.
Now that the shakes have gone, I start to form a plan in my head as I pace slowly.
Rich, the tech student begins working with the machine's input terminal.
McClaskie, and Lewis, the history adviser, begin examining the surroundings.
Antonia talks to five other volunteers: Medical, survival, engineering, nutrition, and culture.
As the faint sounds of coherent conversation return and the reality begins to set in, Rich drowns all of us out as he shrieks, `` How in the, what in... This ca n't be right. Dammit! Who entered this?! This is n't 10 minutes back. Unless I'm a complete idiot, we've gone back 10,000 YEARS! They completely miscalculated! Damn fools, how do they not know decimals! It'll take days to reprogram this, if I can at all!''
McClaskie responds `` That is in line with the flora we are observing in the area. Much wilder and more ancient than anything we would see in our lifetimes. 10,000 years. Incredible.''
`` If that's correct, we would be in the paleolithic era.'' interjects Sarah Lewis. `` Cavemen and mastodons. At this point in North America, we would encounter people hunting with the Atlatl, painting on cave walls, and probably not taking too kindly to strange travelers.''
`` Good point'' I say. `` We need to assess the situation, but we need to get to safety first. Gather the gear. We're going to track the terrain. We need to find a place to setup camp. Who knows what creatures or people there might be.''
`` Should n't we like, split up, uh er something? Cover more ground?'' questions Jerome, the medical expert.
Lehigh, the survival expert scoffs loudly. `` You've been watching too many bad movies son. Unfamiliar terrain, totally unknown wilderness, and no idea who or what is out there, and you want to split up? No. Hell no. We have to survive the way any humans out here would survive. Strength in numbers, and collective intelligence. We're a tribe now. No one is splitting anywhere.''
Just then I feel all nine sets of eyes on me again. It's easier to stay calm now, but I am far from confident. If they only knew how much doubt was in my heart, there's no way they'd follow me. So they ca n't know. I have to hide it all. Leaders are n't always fearless, but they have to keep their people brave.
`` Well, we're a tribe. So chief, where to? To find tatanka?'' says Dea, the nutritionist.
`` Ha, that's the last thing we want to find. Some big ass Paleo Bison staring us down. We need water, high ground, and shelter. We need to get our basics in order and form a plan from there. Assuming we're in the same geography as we were when we got in the time machine, we need to head north towards the river nearby'' I say.
`` Only thing is... I doubt we'll be alone when we get there.'' It's only then we start to notice the sounds around us. Things are unfamiliar, things are dangerous, but we start on our way.
**************************
**Okay** so I have n't written any non-fiction in a long time, but this seemed like fun so I gave it a try. If it's no good, I'm sorry, but I enjoyed writing it.
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[ WP ] Without fail , you can convince any person to commit suicide . Someone does n't believe you . Prove them wrong .
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First time writing something, hope it does n't turnout too bad.
`` Mr. Jones, I sentence you to life in prison for the murders of Jim Crowley and Gerald McFarlane''
This whole trial had been one giant clusterfuck. First, i'm caught in the same apartment as my two friends who had killed themselves. Well, one could argue that THEY did n't kill themselves, but I did. But I did n't tie the rope. I did n't push out the chairs. Long story short, the three of us had gone into business together, and it had gone belly up faster then even I thought it would.
I later found out what really happened, both Jim and Gerald had split up my investment ( The biggest of the three ) and what little profit we had made, and told me it all blew up in our faces. Ofcourse i was mad, I would soon lose my house and car because of this. So I walked into Jim's apartment, luckily Gerald was there too, and planted one simple command in their mind. The only one I could. Of course it could n't be something like `` Love me'' or `` give me all your money'', it had to be `` Kill yourself''.
I was n't going to jail for a crime I did n't commit. If it was simply assisted suicide charge, maybe even my sketchy morality would force me to plea guilty and take my punishment, but at the same time I would most likely end up doing the same thing i'm going to do now.
`` Your Honor, the jury, I understand you do not believe what i've said, but I refuse to take punishment for a crime I did not commit.'' I debated proving my point right away, and making that douchbag cop to my right blow his brains out, but that would n't get me free. I wrote down a list.
1. The old man on the jury
2. The old lady sitting behind me ( I think it was Gerald's aunt, not sure )
3. The clerk sitting on my left
4. You.
Free me.
I handed it to my lawyer, and told him to give this to the judge. I tried to choose the oldest people in the room, kind of a fucked up way of being moral. `` Are you threatening the court!? I will not be bullied by a murder'' `` 4 days''.
I sat in jail that night, and told a grandfather to jump off a bridge. The next day I had the old lady hang herself. On the third night the clerk slit her wrists. On the fourth day I was free.
Again, hope it is n't horrible!
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[ WP ] The mail room for a large government building receives an envelope of glitter . The staff recognizes it as a common prank and resumes work . Over the next week , they notice the glitter is not going away , and seems to be spreading . You are the first to recognize the worlds first nanobot attack .
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At first it was funny. We all heard of this new site that sent glitter to your enemies. We all wondered who did it. it felt like it was an inside prank since it was sent specifically to the mail room. We all bet that Gerald had done it but he sweared up and down he knew nothing about it. Then we shrugged it off as someone who was pissed at'The man' and this was some kind of juvenile protest. We swept it all up and continued along with the day.
Jacob did n't come in o day two. His wife called him in sick from the hospital. Apparently he had some internal bleeding. They did n't know the cause yet but she said she'd keep us posted. I did n't think about it at the time but he was the one who opened the letter. He died two days later. She died in three.
On day three, the glitter was still all over the place. Little specs glistened like stars on the chairs, on the floor, even on some of the mail. The shit was everywhere. Even I found a spec on my wife's jacket when i got home from work. Bill found a spec when he was rubbing his dogs tummy right after coming inside. Ted's son found a couple big flakes in the toilet if you can believe that. Now how the hell did those flakes of glitter get in Ted's toilet? I did n't know at the time.
On day four we got the news about Jacob. And his wife. And five senators. And the president. first one dead, other 7 hospitalized with a slim recovery rate. I found out about the nanobots on the news. I was n't really into the sci-fi crap....well i guess it was't crap anymore....but they explained it like we were five using words and phrases like'Mini robots' and'blood streams' and `` entrance by orifice'' and'targeting major organs'. I understood, alright. Nanobots were tearing people from the inside out. Like a tiny razor blade bullet ricocheting around a china shop. There's a new metaphor for ya. When they reported on the presidents current condition, my left nose hole started bleeding and a pain shot through my side. I understood.
On day five morning news, They announced that it was n't just politicians getting the special treatment. It was civilians. Alot of them. I chuckled. I think I said `` tell me something i do n't know''. She replied with a death count rising.
I was alone in the mailroom. I loved to work more than the next man but that was n't the reason I was here. I had a theory and so little time to check it. I looked at the records of the in/outs of the mail and on the mailroom computer looked at the dates when people began being infected, especially senators on our mailing list.
Just as I thought.
It stopped being funny a long time ago.
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[ WP ] The silent teen in class speaks for the first time .
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Miss Bradley shuffled the papers and looked over at *him*. He was vacantly staring at his desk and rubbing his arm with his painted fingernails. The black polish was beginning to wear off. `` Timothy,'' she said, putting the papers aside. `` Would you like to explain the phrase'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'?'' She ignored the giggling and the snickering.
Timothy glanced her way and then quickly looked back at his desk, his mouth closed in a stone poker-face.
It was typical, she thought, but she had hoped that he would have participated. `` Timothy, would you like to share anything at all with the class?''
Timothy locked eyes with Miss Bradley and then looked away, his breath rapid and his fingers tapping his desk as the rest of the class waited. There had been something in her eyes, something that he rarely saw. Compassion.
After several quiet seconds, Miss Bradley cleared her throat and turned to the rest of the class. `` Would anybody here like to explain the phrase?''
A hand from the back of the room shot up.
Miss Bradley nodded and gestured for the owner of the hand to stand. `` Samuel?''
Samuel rose from his chair and ran a hand through his long, thick hair. Several girls in the classroom swooned. `` It means when you're in, like, a foreign city, you should do what the people there do because they probably know best.'' He smiled and looked around, his goofy smile causing everybody else to smile.
Miss Bradley smiled and nodded. `` Very good, Samuel. The phrase was first attested in medieval Latin, *si fueris RΕmae, RΕmΔnΕ vΔ«vitΕ mΕre; si fueris alibΔ«, vΔ«vitΕ sicut ibi*.'' There was a sharp intake of breath and Miss Bradley stopped. The rest of the class followed her gaze. Timothy had his head buried into his arms, the desk shaking underneath him. Miss Bradley half-rose out of her chair. `` Timothy?''
Slowly Timothy looked up, tears and mascara running down his face. He looked around at the classroom and his fellow peers, all of them silent and wide-eyed. He put his head back down and his shoulders began to heave as he began to sob.
Miss Bradley froze, unsure of what to do. Should she call somebody? She rose and went to him, rubbing him on the back as she knelt next to him. `` Timothy, what's wrong?''
He looked up at her, everybody else in the classroom forgotten. `` It's Ma,'' he said, his lips quivering as he shook his head. He buried his head again, his next words muffled and quiet. `` I ca n't go back.''
Miss Bradley looked around at the rest of the class. They were all watching. `` Timothy...'' she turned back to Timothy and patted him on the back. `` It's going to be alright.''
`` No. It's Ma... she hits me.''
For Miss Bradley, time stopped.
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[ WP ] You are the first human test subject for the newly developed 'Teleporter ' however everything goes horribly wrong ...
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`` You ready?''
`` Ready as I will ever be...''
The circular steel platform I was standing on was cold under my bare feet as I shifted my weight somewhat nervously from left to right. I looked up and blinked at the lab tech standing in front of me, his silhouette a faint outline behind a plate of tinted glass.
`` Alright, we are going to begin moving to phase two.'' His voice echoed from the two speakers in front of me. A loud buzz erupted from a raised circle of metal similar to the one on which I stood, and a ring of metal along the periphery of the device on which I stood slid back.
`` Do n't forget to lose the robe.'' The speaker reminded me. I pulled off the hospital gown that I had been wearing and gingerly dropped it on the linoleum to my left. I gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
Seven spindly metal arms bloomed at my feet, and seven more dropped down from above. The tips of the arms fed into one another, creating a silvery cage with almost web-like bars.
`` Last chance to pull out before we lock this thing down.'' The voice sounded almost sympathetic.
`` Just... do it.'' Was all I managed to choke out More than anyone else, I needed to do this. For her.
`` Godspeed.''
A buzzer sounded, and the arms bonded to one another with a series of soft clicks. The construct began to spin, first clockwise, and then reversed direction, picking up speed with each subsequent rotation. The air around me began to warp with the teleportation field, and I closed my eyes.
At least she would be ok now. With the money from this project, we can finally afford... no. I do n't want the last thing I think about to be that. In case something happens. Just... remember her smile. That time in the mountains. The wildflowers I wove into her hair. Not the hospital bed. Never again.
`` Phase three locked. Countdown to teleportation test alpha in Three... Two... One...''
There was a sudden rush, a lurching in my gut like I had swallowed iron filings and taken an MRI. There was a rushing blackness, the feeling of wind on my vulnerable body, and yet I felt as if I were standing still instead of hurtling through space and time.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. All was quiet. Peaceful.
I opened my eyes, expecting to find myself back in the lab, one room over. A transfer of only a few yards.
Instead, I was floating. I found myself suspended, as if in water, hundreds of miles above an alien landscape. Vibrant colors rushed below me, a shifting plane that undulated like the breathing of a gigantic beast. Great towers, far larger than any skyscraper, loomed around me, connecting the ground below to the ever turbulent sky above. Space flowed into itself, creating angles and shapes unheard of in the natural world. As I rotated in the air, I idly wondered if I was turning or if the entire world was flowing around me.
As if in response to my thought, the world... shifted. As if every surface rearranged itself in order to get a better look at me, without actually moving.
*YOU ARE LOST, LITTLE HUMAN*
A voice rang within my head unlike any I had ever heard. It spoke in a language that I could never hope to repeat, and yet I understood every word.
A great eye, miles across, opened in the empty space before me.
*YOU ARE LOST... AND DYING. *
I looked down at myself, as if to verify what the eye had said. A faint mist was coming off of my body, carried away by an unseen wind. I was being torn apart, atom by atom, without feeling a thing.
*I CAN SAVE YOU... BUT AT A PRICE. WHAT IS YOUR CHOICE? *
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[ WP ] Year 2350 , the largest automated factory in the world upgrades and repairs itself , it produces everything we need . No human has stepped inside for over 1000 years , today all production stops and a small slip of paper rolls out on the last moving conveyer belt , one word ... `` help ''
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`` All right class! Say thank you to our guide and line up for the bus!'' shouted the prim and perfect teacher. `` Thank you!''
As the bus began to move, one of the children yelled. `` Stop the bus! Stop the bus! We forgot Cassandra!'' Ms.Perfect nodded at the bus driver. The bus halted and she jumped off. `` Cassandra! Cassandra!'' There were no traces anywhere. The police were called. Cassandra's parents. A search party. Nothing was found. That was 2340. It's been twenty years. Ten since it stopped working. No one went up there in those ten years. Besides me.
The factory was made in 1350. It was a self-operating machine. Repaired itself, upgraded itself, produced things by itself. It delivered things people needed and wanted. It produced electricity, water, and food. It surpassed all other factories in quality and became the only one in the world.
It was a Tuesday, I think, when it stopped. No, no, a Monday. Yes, a Monday, the worst day of the week. I was home, watching a retro film, Star Wars, when the power went out. I shrugged it off, thinking that the factory must be upgrading. I went to bed, tired after a hard day of fixing ancient Macbooks, Chrome bases, and even Chromebooks. When I woke up, the power was still out. As the city's only technician, I went up to see the problem. I climbed the steep, rocky hill, and dragged myself up worn stairs. When I finally reached the top, there had been an eerie silence. Then a clunk. I had wandered over to the deposit hatch and peered in. The belt moved along. I remember cheering, having thought it was working. Instead, there was a small piece of paper with one word. `` Help.''
I freaked out at first, and I sprinted down the hill. I had sat there and thought. Could that have been Cassandra? I worked up the guts to go up the hill. When I got there, I looked around for an entrance, but found none. Humans just weren β t supposed to go in there after all.
That β s when I had the great idea to sneak in through the conveyor belt space. I tried repeatedly, but the conveyor belt pushed me out. Then, the crawlspace shrunk so I couldn β t fit through it. I had groaned, frustrated with myself for not being able to fix it, and the factory for not letting me in.
That β s when an ear-splitting scream pierced the eerie silence. It had come within the factory.
I remember leaning backwards, thinking of how to get into the factory, when the wall behind me crumbled. I yelped, both in shock and excitement. When I stood up, the wall was repaired. I was in the factory. I was trapped.
I spun around, confused. Then I heard the shriek again. I had followed the sound stealthily and it lead me to a large room.
I poked my head in, and what I saw, well what I saw was n't pleasant. I guts oozing on the floor, dried blood stuck on the walls, and in the middle stood Cassandra's mutilated body.
I was shocked and scared. `` Cassandra?'' Her head shuddered, then faced me. `` H-help me...'' she said. Petrified, I asked her how. `` Touch me... I... I will give you my immortality...''
I was confused as to how that could be a punishment, but it is. I touched her arm and she died there.
I looked away in tears. When I looked back at her, the body was gone. That was when a mechanical hand grabbed me and put me on the spire where her body had been resting. I howled in agony.
In time, my body turned like Cassandra's had. This year, every ten years, I am allowed to write a message.
If you are reading this, I am truly sorry. No matter what you do, you will end up in my spot. I have no idea what is after this. I hope I die.
You have ten years.
- Fawn Oxford
Nearly dead person on a metal spike.
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Thanks for reading! I β ve only published one other story, so let me know if I have any mistakes!
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[ WP ] You are given a device by someone that allows you to hear an audio recording of your final moments alive .
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It's been three days since my encounter with that mysterious stranger. I had just come out of a video game store when I bumped into him. His clothes were a bit ragged so I thought him to be homeless and might want money or food.
I apologized and started to continue on my way but he said something to me that sounded gibberish so I just shook my head and said I did n't have anything and kept walking.
That's when he said my name.
I froze in place.
I turned back around and stared at him for a few seconds. He looked normal enough but there was something other worldly about him and I just could n't shake the feeling that he was different somehow.
I snapped out of my trance and asked how he knows my name. Without saying a word he handed me something. It was some kind of speaker device with a play button on it and before I could even ask, he says `` when you are ready, press that play button and you will hear a recording of your final moments alive. It will only play once so use it wisely.''
I looked around to see if anyone was witnessing this craziness and when I turned back to face him he was gone. I did n't want to believe a word this guy said to me but the way he just vanished like that creeped me out and there were n't really any places for him to hide.
After giving up on looking for him I decided to hold on to the device and headed home to do some research on the internet if anything like this has happened to anyone else but I found nothing.
Now I'm just sitting here listening to music on the radio and slowly losing my mind over this stupid device.
Yesterday I almost threw it away in the garbage but I just could n't let go of it. It sits in my hand now and I have yet to push the play button but curiosity is starting to get the best of me and I'm really tempted to push it. I'm scared but the rational side of me says it probably wo n't do anything and is just some twisted prank.
But what if it's not?
What if this is real?
I have to know. I ca n't go any longer like this, I have to push the play button.
*click*
*The device makes some crackling noises for a second and then a song starts playing*
*βͺ'' Closing Time. Open all the doors and let you out into the world. `` βͺ*
Well if this is real then at least I die listening to my favorite song.
*The song continues but you can hear the sound of heavy footsteps. Thud Thud Thud. *
*β«'' I know who I want to take me home. Take me home. `` β«*
*Suddenly there's a sharp gasp followed by a bloody gurgling noise and a loud cackling laugh that slowly turns into a high pitched screeeeeeeeeeeech!!! *
*silence*
This ca n't be real! That was absolutely horrifying! I do n't know what to do! I... B-... That song... Now every time I hear it... OH GOD!
*A new song on the radio starts to play*
*βͺ'' Closing Time'' βͺ*
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[ WP ] I 've had the idea in my head of a wizard discovering the magic he 's used his whole life is just a network of nanites left over from a previous Sci fi civilization used as a universal weapon or something along those lines . Write what you want with this idea .
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`` Welcome, Leopold.'' Her voice was as alluring and smooth as the day he had first met her, nearly eighty years ago. He was a young boy, confused and terrified at the ashes that surrounded him. Ashes wrought by the flames he had summoned. She had told him he had *the gift of knowledge. * The gift that powered the magical forces of this world. The gift that was intuitive for a rare few, and almost impossible to comprehend for most.
The large, green doors he had walked through slammed shut, perfectly silent until they came to a booming rest. The room, despite the lack of windows, was bathed in an odd white light. The walls and floor were flat and shone like polished marble. Upon the shimmering floors stood the mystical Valrice herself, powerful beyond reason, and apparently ageless as well. A silken white dress hung loosely from her shoulders, her ample bosom showed no signs of age, nor her smooth skin or her shining white smile.
Leopold, on the other hand, had become a ragged, wrinkled sack of skin, supported by old bones and fading muscles. He gripped a staff in his right hand and tried to straighten his posture. All these years later and she still had his heart thumping and neck tightened. Knowing blue eyes and luxurious black hair, perfectly molded cheeks and nose to frame her often beaming white grin made her an angel among the realms of mankind.
However, now she frowned, `` Oh Leopold, has it been so long?''
He huffed a laugh, `` From my perspective, apparently not so, if anything I'd venture to say we've traveled back in time.''
A grin tugged at her lips once more, `` A lovely compliment, thank you Leopold.''
`` Might I ask how. Might I finally learn the truth?''
She approached him, her dress hissing along the floor, her body only quivering where appealing. A warm, youthful hand laid against his cheek, `` Yes, Leopold, my darling fire child, your journey has finally brought you here.'' She slipped behind him and reappeared at his side, her arm intertwining with his left arm, `` Come.''
He winced a little, at his old title of *fire child*. The name she had called him soon after she approached him in the smouldering ruin of his families barn. A reminder that, to her, he was still a child. Certainly not a peer, and now more than in his youth, not viable for the affection he truly wanted from her.
She walked slowly in pace with his short steps and tapping staff, a staff that used to be a sign of his strength, now served part time as a walking stick. He asked his first question, `` Are you human? Am I?''
She sniffed and shrugged `` As far as I have discovered, in terms of our meat and bones, yes. No king standing, nor peasant kneeling, has proven to be anything but.''
`` Then how-''
`` I will tell you everything, at least everything that I have managed to learn.'' She interrupted. His eyes widened as they continued through a narrow passage. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, all illuminated a bright white. Flowing forward towards the dark square at the end of the hall. `` There is a history, in this structure, older than the most ancient titan, older than the Eastern Sea, older than the Dragon Spine. Perhaps even older than the molten rock that formed our little world.''
`` The gods?'' He whispered.
She smirked, `` Not gods.''
The dark square soon revealed itself as a flat, gray wall. Upon it a red light blinked on a slightly elevated, smaller square surface. She laid her free hand upon it, and beneath her flesh a new and bright green light appeared. There was a hiss, and then the wall disappeared into four pieces with astonishing speed. She tugged at his arm and led him inside a circular room, the walls glinting brightly and illuminating with that mysterious, silent light. He had never seen such magic stone together in such quantity. He noticed the small shard at the tip of his staff pulsing blue faintly.
`` Sit.'' she ordered, `` This will take a long time.'' She gestured towards a seat in the middle of the room. It was comfortable, in an astonishing sort of way, unlike any material he had touched. It seemed to mold to his figure, and cradle him.
Distracted, he had not noticed when she approached him and warned, `` This will sting.''
He gasped as a sharp pain struck his chest. His eyes fell on a translucent cylinder filled with an odd, blue glowing liquid. He went to touch it.
`` Do n't.'' She warmed, `` Do n't fiddle with it, the pain will subside momentarily.''
`` You-I-'' He stammered, fearing the worst.
She placed a hand on his clenched fist, `` It is best done instantly, so you do n't squirm and screw it up.'' Her eyes lured his into them. He felt a new warmth, in his chest, and soon throughout his body, `` You will be okay, better than. The answer to your first inquiry, as to *how*.'' He glanced down to his hand, where her thumb gently circled on his skin, his skin that was oddly devoid of age splotches and white hair.
Her smile broadened, `` There he is, there's the handsome man I remember.'' She flicked at his chin with her thumb. It was odd. She seemed more clear, in his eyes, in his ears. He inhaled and he could smell her scent more sharply. He turned his arm over, his muscles were more taunt. His skin less translucent. He glanced down to the cylinder that had punctured his chest, the last of the blue liquid drained from it before it suddenly vanished it a white *puff*. He yelped in surprise, and his voice did not crack. It was deep and flowed smoothly from his throat, which he now gripped in his hand where he noticed once again that his skin felt taunt and smooth.
`` I am young again?'' He asked.
`` Young?'' She laughed, `` Am I young?'' She stood over him again and took a few steps back. `` The human body, under normal conditions, withers and degrades over time. A failure in the building blocks at form all living creatures.'' As she spoke images began to appear. Odd shapes, and outlines of the human body. She turned towards the image and held out her hands, `` And there it is, a truth of nature revealed. Sickness, disease, age and death, explained by tiny particles that make up the entirety of everything.''
Leopold shook his head as he tried to piece it together. The images danced, alive it seemed, and told him a story. Flooded knowledge directly into his brain. It told of cells, of evolution, of DNA. `` What is this magic?'' He whispered.
`` Not magic. Knowledge. You see, millions of years ago-'' The images changed, following her story, hammering her lesson home into his brain, `` A civilization lived, a civilization millions of years more advanced than our own had built machines and wonders beyond our tiny understanding.'' *industry, engineering, nuclear energy* `` There came a point where all there was left to do, was to make man and machine as one. To *will* their technology on thought alone. To burn flames with naught but a single thought. To move stone without a lever. To control the universe itself.''
Leopold shook his head, seeming unable to grasp, yet constantly filled with new information.
`` They *created* magic. They set it loose.'' The images showed tiny *things* swarming the universe, ever present yet undetectable. `` Available for use to anyone with the mind to communicate.''
Leopold had not realized years had passed since his lesson began. But, years were an irrelevancy now. Kingdoms once dominated his world, but now his world was dominated by the infinity of the Universe.
`` And yet, we have only scratched the surface.'' She concluded. `` But now, at least, I will not have to research alone.''
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[ WP ] For some reason everyone thinks you 're the second coming of Jesus , and you just want them to leave you alone .
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I can live with the people who stop me while I'm walking down the street trying to get a cup of coffee to ask me about what I think about the really big questions; the deep, ecclesiastical or philisophical questions that a lot of people have. Believe it or not, that is actually super easy. Just do n't be a dick.
`` Rabbi; my neighbor is gay and the bible says..''
`` The Bible does't say shit about being gay. Or at least if it does, it says your also gon na go to hell for all you can eat Shrimp Day at Red Lobster. Love your neighbor. Dumbass.''
`` Teacher; they are forcing me to teach evolution at school. I do n't believe in it but they are..''
`` Do you believe in Fascism?''
``.. well.. of course not.''
`` But you still teach people about it, right?''
`` Of course!''
`` You can teach children about something you do n't believe to be the truth, and make up their own mind. I think you are more afraid of having your own mind changed.''
`` Rabbi!! Rabbi!! My neighbors wife has been casting lustful gazes towards my wife and..''
`` Tell her to stop then. Duh.''
`` But.. I.. I actually do n't mind if they.. you know.''
`` Oh.. ooohhh well.. DUDE. Go for it then. As long as everyones consenting then..''
`` But SHE SERVES SHELLFISH ON TUESDAYS AND..''
And eventually it devolves into nitpicking and dogma. But usually by that point anyone who matters kinda gets the point. Being a good person is n't a hard thing. Hell, even pretending like your shit does't stink is n't as hard as it look when everyone thinks you are a blameless, sinless son of god.
Until they ask you to do something.
Like two days ago.
She must have been.. seventy years old? Had a thick mexican accent. She threw herself to my feet and wept and said;
`` My son. He lay with a man and he gets the sickness. The AIDS, Saviour! He is too poor for the medicine and..''
And I have to look at her and tell her I ca n't do anything. Or yesterday. The dark skinned man with the strange accent with tears in his eyes..
`` My family. I tried to take them from our home. We left it all behind, taking only a little money and enough food for the journey. And Canada. It has been so beautiful and so wonderful. And the people here are good. And there is love. And I want my Son to come here to Canada. I want my son to meet His Son! To meet you! But instead he fights for a man who promises him glory and victory and vengeance. He's.. he's not even 14, my Lord... please. I just want my Son to come home.''
And I have to tell him, I ca n't force him to change his mind. And I know that as I walk away while trying not to look behind that even though I am no child of the Divine, that I know his son is already dead. Hell. Even he knows it. I can do nothing.
Or two hours ago. A man with a jean jacket, worn by time and manual labour..
`` I have money. I do n't believe in god but I will give as much as I can. Just tell me where.''
`` Uh.. but..''
`` My daughter. She is sick. Its cancer. She has maybe three days left. The doctors ca n't do anything.''
`` I'm so sorry. *I can't..*''
`` YOU TELL ME WHERE TO PUT THIS MONEY SO YOU CAN MAKE MY DAUGHTER WELL AGAIN YOU SON OF A BITCH. YOU TELL ME.''
I tell him I do n't know. He hits me in the face and runs away before the cops can catch him. And all of the followers, or disciples or whatever the fuck you want to call them just.. stand in Awe because they think that somehow this is n't a test.
I do n't know if there is a God.
If there is, he's probably the only explaination for how I was able to save that one little boys life a year ago. Its the only way.
If there is a God, and he's the reason why I still ca n't do anything, why no matter what I say or what I do people keep looking to me for the answers or for me to do something *anything, instead of doing it themselves?? *
He can go to hell.
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[ WP ] Of all spacefaring species , only humans can use magic
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`` It was terrible,'' snarled Gnlok, third son of the emperor of Kalvan IV, and one of the brightest military minds in the universe.
`` Absolutely horrifying,'' agreed Riktiktik3tik, the Premier Mercenary of Pthbhhut, downing an intoxicating beverage that was distilled from the livers of seventeen hundred of the Minifolk of Lhargrin.
`` You guys lost, huh?'' asked the bartender. He juggled forty glasses and bottles between his innumerable tentacles, his six mouths and twenty pairs of ears holding multiple conversations simultaneously.
`` Lost?'' Gnlok said. `` Forget lost. We were *slaughtered*.''
`` What was the body count?''
Riktiktik3tik groaned and slumped over the table. He mumbled into the crooks of his quadruple elbows.
`` What was that, friend?''
`` He said,'Zero','' Gnlok said.
`` Zero?''
`` They sent *one man*,'' Rik wailed, pounding on the table. `` *One*!''
`` Sorry, was that'one'?'' the bartender asked.
`` One,'' Gnlok said gravely, nodding. He looked around, making sure that nobody else could hear, then leaned in closely. `` But he was a grokkle-loving *wizard*.''
The bartender swore, a sound of bells and whistles that made a few other patrons look over in disapproval. `` No.'' He did n't want to believe it, but Gnlok's race was incapable of lies, exaggeration, hyperboles, fibs, tall tales, or anything of the sort.
`` It's true,'' Gnlock said. `` One man. He must have been their king, because he wore a cape and a tall, black, cylindrical crown-''
`` The most glorious headwear I've ever seen,'' Rik whispered.
`` And he was so... *powerful*,'' Gnlok said, one large fist clenching involuntarily.
`` The magic he did,'' said Rick. `` Dearest Gods, the *magic* he *did*.''
`` He made flowers burst forth from the tip of his scepter.''
`` He pulled nine hundred flomacks from the *inside* of a soldier's aural cavity!''
`` He forced the edges of a pair of iron rings to phase shift past each other.''
`` He kept a white-furred brain sucker *inside* of his tall crown, unafraid of its horrifying buck teeth of doom.''
`` And then... he caught a bullet from a rail gun.''
The bartender whistled and honked. At least two patrons, disgusted, paid their tabs and left.
`` I saw it with my own eyes,'' said Rik, giving the bottles on the top shelf the hundred yard stare. `` I inspected the piece myself. I *loaded* the gracking thing. And I. Pulled. The. Trigger.''
`` He should have been nothing more than a smoking splatter on the wall behind him,'' Gnlok nodded. `` And yet there he stood, smiling like a lunatic, holding that ball bearing between his gloved fingers. He plucked it right out of the air.'' The third son of the emperor of Kalvan IV stifled a sob.
`` So now what?'' whispered the bartender.
`` Now we wait,'' Gnlok said, finishing his drink and standing. He threw down enough coins to cover the bill, then helped the whimpering Riktiktik3tik to his feet. `` We wait for their demands. And then we comply. And pray to the gods that their wizard king is pleased.''
He brought his companion to the door, leaving behind a near empty bar and the frightened Biblitonian behind it.
EDIT: Lol, wtf, CaptainTrilby and I basically came up with the exact same thing. Magic!
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[ WP ] Due to an unfortunate typo followed by a illy timed papercut , your innocent Christmas list has become a deal with the devil .
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`` Are n't you a little *young* to be making deals with the devil?'' Satan asked. He was surprised to have been summoned to a hot pink bedroom filled with stuffed animals. I turned from my desk, sucking on my freshly cut finger.
`` Who the fuck are you?'' I slid out of my purple plastic desk chair and planted my good hand in a tiny fist on my hip. The devil looked taken aback.
`` Are n't you a little *young* to be using language like that?'' He gasped, staring down at me. After spending the four years of life I've lived so far terrorizing my parents, I was used to getting such looks.
`` Look here, mister. It's christmas time, not halloween. I do n't know why you're dressed up in such a terribly made devil costume, but since you're here, you can do me a favor.'' He took a step back as I snatched a piece of paper off my desk and waved it in his face. `` Take this here letter to Santa and tell him I expect to get every single thing off this list or the blood on this paper wo n't be the only blood spilt this christmas.''
***
As Satan trudged through the snow at the North Pole he grumbled and shivered. To think he was summoned to make a deal for a soul and ended up meeting the only four year old in existence whose soul even Hell would n't take.
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[ WP ] `` Just think ... this is all there is . ''
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`` Just think... this is all there is.'' My best friend of ten years had the most smug smirk I'd ever seen.
I stared, disappointed beyond belief, at the empty box on the coffee table. A label reading `` To Birthday Boy'' had been torn off and cast astray next to it.
`` It's... fucking nothing,'' I said in dismay. He did n't flinch under my glare.
`` Exactly. Just think that this is all there is. From me, to you,'' he replied. Cheeky bastard.
`` What kind of a present is that?!'' I shouted, causing his smile to fall off.
He opened his mouth to defend himself, so I shoved him to keep him quiet.
`` You ca n't just do this to me!'' I screamed, face burning red with anger. `` For the past week you have hyped up this gift to enormous proportions. And then you dare to give me an empty fucking box?!''
`` Dude, chill out!'' he said. `` It's a goddamn metaphor!''
`` For what?'' I dared him to explain himself.
`` For you!'' he stated. `` Look at you, look at your house! You live like a fucking king!''
I followed the sweep of his arm, eyes skimming over the details of the living room. It was true, I did have a luxurious place to live in. And clothes crafted by the best tailor I could afford.
`` Alright, and what's your point?'' I barked, arms crossed.
`` That you do n't need anything, you've already got it all!''
A tense silence captured the air. ``... you're trying to prove something to me?''
He nodded, as if the answer was obvious.
`` How stupid are you?'' I screeched. I balled my hands into fists and threatened to hit my friend. `` What makes you think you get to play the role of humbler?''
He almost spoke, then stopped. Then tried again.
`` Because... because all you have been concerned about is filling up your life with stuff,'' he said. `` I've been your friend for years; why am I not appreciated? The shit you buy does n't six months before you get tired of it. I am so sick and tired of seeing you thinking materials are the best answer.''
I did n't move. My anger had nearly vanished and was now replaced by confusion.
He continued, `` This is all there is. A box, for you to fill up with more shit. I want you to look beyond it, but obviously I ca n't make you do anything. Not these days.''
More uneasy silence. My friend cut it short. `` I'm out of here. If you want to hang... I'll be home.''
The shuffling of feet out the door signaled the end of that busy visit.
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[ WP ] You die and are informed you 'll restart your life exactly as it was when you turned 6 . All your memories are as they were the moment you died , everything else resets . You are told you are the only one like this .
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Thirty four. That's how old I was this time. And like clockwork I was sitting back in my childhood home, staring at seven bright candles.
`` Happy Birthday to you!''
I looked around, smiling at all of the faces. My mom was there with the same old smile. And as always my dad was standing in the corner with a grin on his face, the heart attack that would take his life would n't happen for another ten years. I learned to savor those years.
As I blew out my candles for the, well, I forgot how many times I had done this to be honest. But I blew them out once again and watched as my friends scrambled for pieces of cake. All of them disillusioned with childhood dreams and memories, half of them would n't see those dreams come to light. Trust me, I knew, mainly because I knew more than anyone in this room for being only a six year old, but that was because I had lived a hundred lifetimes compared to them. Even the `` adults.''
I could n't tell you why, or how, or even who gave me this `` power,'' but all I knew that every time I died, I would reset. I would go back to this day, April 23rd, 2017 and live my life over again. The first few years I had a lot of fun with it; I played around, I traveled the world, I abused drugs, sex, alcohol. You name it, I probably tried it. Hell, I was even President for a brief time in the early hundred resets. I tried everything, I had been everywhere. I had seen the world and where it was going. But the charade got old, especially after dying by the mafia a couple times. You'd be surprised by how many disgusting ways they've thought up of to kill people.
Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Growing up over and over again, making different mistakes and creating different problems. Watching your family and friends die in a way each just as horrible as the last only to see them again, happy and unaware of the pain they will endure when you finally reset. It's not fun. And you learn a lot in those years.
You learn that in three years, when you're only nine years old, your family will hit such troubling times that they'll lose their house. And trust me, no one takes a nine year old seriously when you tell them you know the winning lotto numbers.
You learn that in twelve years your best friend will die from a drug overdose regardless if you take him to rehab or not.
You learn that in fifteen years your high school sweetheart will be killed in a car crash because you could never convince her to skip that trip to England.
You learn that in twenty-two years your law firm will go bankrupt and you'll have to move back in with your mom, whose so far into substance abuse that you'll move her into a home.
You learn that in twenty-eight years after a hundred lifetimes, you'll be shot by a mugger with nothing left to lose after a night of drinking. Your friends will call an ambulance and after twenty-two grueling minutes you'll die on the way to the hospital. And then somehow, you'll wake up once again staring at seven bright candles.
Some things you can never change. Sometimes no matter how many tries you get, things just have to happen. I did n't always go to law school. I did n't always lose it all. I did n't always get mugged.
But my father's heart attack always came. My friend always died and even if I never became friends with him I would hear it in the papers and live those moments of pain over again. My high school sweetheart would always be killed in a car crash in some place in Europe and I knew the date it would happen, I knew the pain she would feel because I went with her once and I died alongside her. I thought that would break the cycle, but no. I woke up once again to seven bright candles.
There was one lifetime that I repeated a dozen times. A long time ago where I lived through it all, where somehow I overcame the pain and the sorrow and the sadness to see where my life led me.
I eventually married a wonderful young woman. We had beautiful children and we lived in bliss for several years. I watched my sons and daughters become wonderful human beings. I grew old and saw my grandchildren. And I watched my grandchildren run around in my adulthood home. And on my deathbed, when I thought my life was complete, I said my goodbyes and drifted into eternal sleep. I thought it would end the cycle, I thought overcoming the pain would appease whoever gave this disease to me. But, I woke up once again staring at the seven bright candles.
I lived that life several times, each time changing a small detail that would maybe fix some of the problems. But again, new ones arose and I fought past them. I could n't tell you how many times I lived it, how many times I thought I was doing it right. But each time, I would wake up and stare at the seven bright candles.
So I stopped doing it and I tried something else. But nothing seemed to ever work.
And I knew the actions I needed to take to get back there, I knew the places I would need to go, the people I would need to meet. There's just something about this life.
About knowing that no matter how hard you try, it'll never be perfect. That no matter how hard it is to give up your family, you'll want to see them again. Not in the way they were when they left you, but in the way they were on your sixth birthday.
When you were a kid and they were the adults. When you had nothing to think about except cake and presents and they dealt with the problems of a real life. When all you wanted was to go outside and play and all they cared about was your happiness.
I knew the steps I needed to take to live my `` real life'' over again, I just never wanted to walk that road again.
So I lived my lives, over and over and over again. I lived out every cliche, every job, in every place. And I tried so desperately to save the ones I loved.
But every time I died, I would wake up.
And I would be staring at seven bright candles.
Edit: First ever gold, thank you stranger! And thank you everyone for the kind words and comments!
*Edit about the Candles: * There have been a few comments about the candles so I am gon na clear some things up. Where I come from ( and as I've learned not everywhere ) it's tradition to put one extra candle on the birthday cake for good luck. The child is turning six, not seven and this was intentional. Again, thank you all for the wonderful comments and I am enjoying reading all of the discussions happening. Thank you so much!
**Edit: ** Wow everyone, I honestly am blown away by the responses, and the gold a second time, thank you stranger! Thank you all for the kind words and comments; I will definitely keep writing. Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and discussions!
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[ WP ] You are a mime who performs regularly at various tourist destinations in France . One day in the middle of a performance you find that you actually ARE trapped in an invisible box . It 's soundproof too .
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`` Papa, look!''
The mime's nose dripped blood over his powder white chin.
`` Stand back, Pierre.''
The little boy struggled to comprehend the scene before him. Slowly the walls of an invisible box began to force the mime into an awkward pose, arms outstretched, face contorted.
Pierre's father felt around his coat pockets. He had forgotten his mobile at home.
`` Somebody call the Ministry of Invisible Boxes!'' Pierre's father yelled at the crowd that had gathered around the troubled mime.
Minutes later, Constable Bergeaux descended from the sky on his helicopter bicycle.
`` What seems to be the trouble, Monsieur?'' Constable Bergeaux removed one thin cigarette from a silver case.
`` I'm afraid it's too late.'' Pierre's father pointed to the gory cube of blood and flesh that used to be a living breathing mime.
Constable Bergeaux lit a cigarette and sharply inhaled. `` Sweet child of mime.'' Constable Bergeaux whispered as he released smoke. Constable Bergeaux then proceeded to hop on his helicopter bicycle and was about to leave until the little boy, Pierre, stopped him to ask a question.
`` What does it all mean, Constable Bergeaux?''
`` The life we live is ours until the moment an invisible box converges on our dreams.'' Constable Bergeaux flicked his cigarette to the ground. The helicopter bicycle ascended, disappearing into the clouds above.
Pierre stared into the sky wondering how to interpret the words just spoken to him and how they may or may not affect his decisions that day forward.
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[ CW ] Write about a topic you know virtually *nothing* about , and try to appear knowledgeable . Do n't look it up - just try to BS your way through it .
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There is a certain spectrum within the field of biology that solely focuses on all winged and flying fauna. This sub-field of biology is aptly name, ***organic aviology***. The etymology of this term is based on the Latin root words of `` Avi-'', for flight and `` -Oglogy'' for study of, and was coined in 1896 by German biologist Franz SkΓΆlkoft. One should note in studying organic aviology ( ay-vee-o-ah-lo-gee ) that it is simply a part, if not the oldest and most natural aspect, of aviology as a whole, which covers the entire spectrum of flight, from the science behind airplane mechanisms to programing the flight engine in games like Spyro the Dragon for the Sony Playstation. It should be further noted that phenomena such as levitation and gliding fall under their own fields of science, being *leviotonomy* ( leh-vee-o-tah-no-me ) and *glidiology* ( gle-dee-o-ah-lo-gee ).
The school of organic aviology sparked off the discoveries and theories of biological evolution of species by the renowned biologist, Charles Darwin. Franz SkΓΆlkoft, a student of Darwin's work, was among the first to use Darwin's theories and apply them to the understanding of flight in the Animal Kingdom. Initially studying the bone structures of long dead species of bats, in comparison to modern fruit bat species, SkΓΆlkoft quickly branched out his study to many types of avian predators and winged insects.
Under a research collaboration with American physicist, Jim Humphrey, SkΓΆlkoft was able to develop a thesis and make paramount discoveries on the finer points of flight in fauna, such as takeoff, balance of centripetal force, and acceleration. In 1901, Franz SkΓΆlkoft and Humphrey co-published their thesis on organic aviology, which concluded 3 points: 1 ) All winged life likely evolved from a common ancestor that lived during the Paleozoic Era, called the *aviclovicus afranesis*, 2 ) Although the muscular form of the wings of winged life varies greatly from species to species, there is a unseen common denominator shared between all winged creatures, and 3 ) all winged creatures break the constraints of friction in the air, and thus takeoff, through manipulation of the air around them in the process of takeoff, this manipulation of atmospheric pressure is referred to as *elevated decompression*.
By the 1970s, all of SkΓΆlkoft's hypotheses would be tested and proven into theory. His second hypothesis in particular would be expanded upon in 1975 by an American-led team in Havard, which after studying the brain structure of winged fauna, were able to conclude that, `` The nerves that trigger flight in all winged fauna is controlled in a section of the brain not found in non-winged fauna, called the *ampiglocal flageges*.''
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[ WP ] Write me something that uses the line `` It is a far braver thing to admit that you need help ''
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My hand was shaking. I could n't keep the gun still. `` Nancy, just put it down,'' Jessica said. It's what she kept saying. `` Put it down, do n't do this.'' Tears had finally dried and left a crusty trail down my face. My throat was throbbing from the yelling and screaming prior to this. But at least that giant lump was gone. That lump in your throat that means your weak, and afraid. Well, I was n't afraid anymore. If only my hand would stop shaking. `` Nancy,'' she said quietly, and motherly. `` Listen we can get through this.'' `` I-I do n't want t-to.'' I managed to stutter out. Why was I stuttering? I was n't afraid. `` Look I know it's frightening, and hard right now, but listen.'' I made the mistake of making eye contact with her. She flinched as my eyes met hers, but did n't hesitate. `` I'm here for you.'' `` I..I do n't want you to be. Just leave.'' Gosh darn hand would n't keep still. `` Nancy, you need me to help you.'' `` No!'' It was bit louder than intended, and hurt my throat. I closed my eyes from the pain and was relieved to break the stare. I tried again, `` No, I do n't need y-your help or anybody else's. J-Just let me be. Please. I do n't want you here.'' Jessica took a step closer and I leaned back. `` Jessica,'' now I intentionally stared her in the eyes. `` I am b-brave and strong. I do n't fear this. I am not brave enough to s-stay through this, though. I am afraid of what he'll d-do.'' She nodded and understood. She knew how my father was, and how afraid I was of him. `` He's wrong, and prideful. It's a far braver thing to admit you need help, than to do this to yourself.'' My hands shaking increased, my palms were sweaty. I could n't find an argument to fight back with. I just shook my head in a violent NO. She took one more step towards me, took the gun, threw it across the room. I buckled. I crashed to the floor. Jessica caught me, and comforted me. I was back to violently bawling, as she rubbed my hair and let me cry on her shoulder. This is the first time I felt comforted by anyone. I knew that I loved this women. And my father was going to be furious.
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[ WP ] You die and find yourself in Valhalla , where all great warriors go when they die . However , you never fought a day in your life . You try to find out why you 're there .
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`` What the...'' I say as I awaken on on a bloodied battlefield.
The sounds of battle echo around me, filling my ears with screams of agony and the thrashing of metal.
`` Where am I, whats going on?'' I think aloud, noticing that my tee shirt has been swapped with chainmail, and a large axe rests at my feet.
`` Yer in Valhalla,'' a voices sings from above.
I gaze upwards to see an angel clad in armor staring down at me.
`` An angel? Wait am I dead?''
`` Ahem- Valkyrie,'' she quickly replies, `` and yes, of course you are, otherwise you would n't be here.''
I pause, awestruck by the revelation of my death.
`` Wait, but you said Valhalla, is n't that reserved for like, brave warriors and that kinds of stuff?''
`` But of course, only the bravest warriors end up in Valhalla, If we let everyone in we'd run out of room,'' she said with a smile.
`` When, where? I never was in a war, not particularly brave either. Hell, I barely know how to defend myself,'' I think as I reflect on my life.
`` No. No way. I should n't be here. I lived a peaceful life,'' I state rather-of-factually.
`` According to our records you belong here.''
`` Ok...... wait, what?''
She pulls out a clipboard.
`` Our records show that you have slain the most foul of beasts, bested your world's bravest warriors, and struggled with your allies to fight the same relentless enemies, again and again.''
I stare at her, utterly perplexed, `` I think you have me confused with someone else.''
She looks at the clipboard once more, looks at me, refers to the clipboard, and to me again.
`` You are Redgore, Warrior of Azeroth, are you not?''
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[ WP ] The Swamp of Sorrows is home to many creatures . Thousands of insects , hundreds of amphibians , dozens of mammals , and *Her* .
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`` In the swamp of sorrows you only come to grief,
In there your path is short and brief,
There live many insects and creatures of lore,
No-one who once entered it came out before,
There lie the dead ones..the forsaken,
The souls of those who entered taken,
Lost and wondering they are left to roam,
Till rotting away the last of their bones,
The one who took them was she,
From whom once seen you can not flee,
Therefore do not enter the swamp of sorrows,
For their you will give up all your tomorrows''
The old wizard stopped his chanting and sat silent staring into the fire with unseeing eyes and smoking his pipe, till Donathan finally cleared his throat, and Melcose looked up.
`` Who is... SHE?''
Melcose looked back into the fire and for a moment Donathan thought he would get lost in his thoughts once more, but finally the old wizard answered.
`` No-one knows who she is, nor whence she came for certain, all that is known is that she can be as dangerous as an aged dragon, or she can be as sweet as a fairy, as beautiful as a thousand wild flowers in the youth of their bloom under a blue sky, or as hideous as an aged cave Ogre who has hidden from the moon too many years'' The wizard than continued smoking his pipe once more in silence.
Donathan was getting anxious by this point, he did n't have the patience to wait on the wizard to speak only when he chose... why they could be sitting here for a week before he had finally answered his questions... if he was willing to answer his questions. Sometimes Donathan felt the old wizard dragged out his speech and spoke only in riddles just to seem mysterious and wise.
He got up suddenly in his growing anxiety ( he was beginning to get angry )..too sudden and he knocked his chair over with a crash onto the floor.
Donathan had never seen the old wizard move so quick or so far in one jump, but one second he was sitting there staring into the fire lost in thought... the next he was standing over in the corner where his staff had been leaning, with it now in his hands pointing it at Donathan and standing as if ready for a fight.
After a tense few seconds in which Melcose seemed to bristle with electric energy... the full realization dawned on him and he eased up, but Donathan burst into a full out fit of laughter, and he laughed till tears were streaming down his face..despite the old wizards efforts and threats to shut him up, finally the Melcose broke into a fit of laughter realizing how comical he must have looked.
When Donathan's laughter subsided he walked over and picked up his pipe which had been what he had wanted when he had gotten up.
`` Well there you have it Donathan'' Said Melcose as Donathan came back and picked up his chair, sat down and lit the pipe with a brand from the fire.
`` Never scare a wizard if you value your hide, fore I can not promise that should do so again... that I'd not roast you where you stood''.
`` I should not like to try it'' Donathan answered honestly. `` You were practically bristling with lightening''.
`` Yes well... we will leave it at that and not speak of the little scene to anyone again''. The wizard said as matter of fact.
Donathan considered this... longer perhaps then was a good idea with a wizard staring at you threatening, but he would have really liked to have a good laugh over it with his friends. `` Yes sir'' he finally manged.
`` Now I perceive that you were getting quite anxious with my spaced out explanation?'' The wizard paused to puff on his pipe. `` You will have to excuse me... I forget at times how impatient this modern civilization can be, and how they want everything in an instant... especially certain young men I know''.
`` I just see no sense in all the delay in speech'' answered Donathan defensively.
`` Fine you will have it your way, and I will consider my dealings later... now where were we?''
`` You were going to tell me who SHE is''.
`` I was going to do no such thing, besides I already told you... very little is known for certain''.
`` Yes but if I know you ( and I like to think I do ) you can or have guessed at quite a great deal about her already... perhaps as close to the truth as any is likely going to get without asking her directly''.
The wizards eyes gleamed a minute then he said simply. `` You do not know me as you think you do... I am far older than you suppose, and do you think that having spoken with me but a handful of times you know me?... well I can tell you that you do not'' He stated this with some pride in his voice... or was that an air of annoyance?
`` As for your question... well you may be right, I have guessed at quite a bit of her history... but I have also been able to confirm some of it''
Donathan waited now more patiently.
`` It is believed that she came out of the caves of blackness in the days of the unspeakable darkness, being a servant of he whom we shall not name here tonight, but not his slave... no she had not been fully subdued to his will, but served him of her own will''.
`` We believe she fled when the blackness was overthrown in the great war and hid herself in the deep dark forests along the mountains in those days, and many years ( an entire age in fact ) passed when the great rains came out of the oceans, drowning very much of the lands in floods, and after the rains departed and the floods subsided and flowed down to the rivers... the great dark forest where she had hidden herself remained in water ( being in a low spot ) and so became after some time the great swamp that we know it as today'' Again he paused to puff on his pipe, and Donathan realized that his own had gone out... so enthralled had he been in the story.
`` There being well guarded now by the swamp itself... she built up her power and surrounded herself with many forgotten creatures, and she now has control of all that lives in the swamps... including the trees and plants''.
`` What about that talk about the dead souls wondering the swamp?'' asked Donathan.
`` Not dead souls... souls do not die, only the body dies, the souls or ghosts if you will, are ones she has torn from their living bodies and left stranded as the lay says''
`` Is it true than that no-one that once enters the swamp comes out again?''
`` Did you not pay attention to the lay? `` From whom once seen you can not flee''
`` I once went into the swamp and yet am here; she has power over the swamp but those who have power of their own may yet hide themselves from her... as long as she does not lay eyes on them... for than you can not escape her''
`` Well I am tired and need sleep, we will speak again of this before we make our plans''.
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[ WP ] A child inadvertently steps on an insect , killing it . The other insects try to interpret the reasons behind the event . The leading theory is an act of the divine .
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Nnnfa was the most annoying of ants. She did not dance as other ants danced. She did not touch antennae as other ants touched antennae. She ate too much food and did too little work. Plus she had this habit of not grooming for several weeks, forcing the whole hill to smell her smell.
Hffp knew there were giants just beyond the great tree and past the colorful blocks of mystery that the smaller giants sometimes sat on.
She lured the Nnnfa to that place, promising a feast like none other. They climbed the metal, making their way to the curved plastic seat of the thing.
`` Wait here,'' Hffp said.
Nnnfa waited. And waited. And waited. She fell asleep waiting, wondering if the other ant had gotten lost. They were so stupid.
She woke to the sound of crying and the sight of a large white object coming for her. Before she could move it had crushed her.
`` Now sweetie you swing while Mommy does her Sudoku.''
The baby cried and shifted, feeling something was wrong but it did n't know what.
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[ WP ] Our hero encounters a villain who follows all the rules . ( Link to the rules in text . )
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The henchman coiled behind the brick wall as he heard the footsteps approach. They were cautious, the footsteps, tentative in the darkness, heralded by a probing circle of light from the G-man's flashlight. The henchman waited until he could hear the G-man's breathing. He coiled to strike.
*'' Why is it,'' said Dr. Fitz, `` that you always paint yourself into a corner, where escape is improbable and the only remaining solutions are serious bodily harm for you or violence towards others? `` *
The henchman coiled behind the brick wall as he heard the footsteps approach. He did n't necessarily *need* to hear the footsteps, though, because it was daylight. The G-man's footsteps --
*'' There, again, is an unusual tendency of yours, Gerald: to minimalize your adversary both in name and acumen. Is it not likely, perhaps even inevitable, that this so-called'G-man' is skilled enough and smart enough to disguise or hide his footsteps from you? After all, is he not also motivated to avoid serious bodily harm? `` *
The henchman, uh, I guess he... was perched on a roof! He was on a roof, or I guess, like, uh, like a clocktower, with an excellent view of the area in which he expected the G-man to wander, so that he could have clear sight lines and excellent firing positions --
*'' Gerald, it does not seem healthy to me to continue dehumanizing the G-man. In doing so, you underestimate him, and you also strip yourself of recognizing the G-man within you; that is, you deprive yourself of the opportunity to empathize with -- and thus, learn from -- the G-man's motivations and desires. `` *
Well, then, the fucking... the henchman ran into the G-man at the grocery store, and they discussed produce at length, and it was agreed that cucumbers were quite good but not on their own, no, they needed a dressing of some sort, because they were kind of bland --
*'' Gerald. Being glib and flippant with me in these sessions will not get you anywhere. `` *
Ugh, fine, the henchman engaged the G-man in a productive discussion about their mutual begrudging respect due to the G-man's inability to `` get something'' on the henchman and the henchman's inability to, I do n't know, whatever, respect... something... about federal lackeys.
*'' I think we've made good progress for today, Gerald. But I'm disappointed by the way we have ended. Perhaps in our next session, we can discuss your need to generalize all federal employees in an unproductive, minimalizing fashion. `` *
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[ WP ] you wake up in the middle of a crater with some singe marks and there is an obvious wake of destruction that you seemed to have caused . You discover you have a super power .
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When the smoke cleared from the crater, there Garrison laid looking up at the red sky.
*Where am I? * He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows as his smoldering form stirred in the ash pile. *What... What's going on? * The residual heat lingering in his body began to catch up as he slowly regained consciousness.
*Ah... Ahhh! * Garrison began to yelp and scream from the pain. His body still could n't be destroyed, but he could still feel everything that happened to him. He scrambled onto his hands and knees and tried furiously to claw his way out of the hole.
As he crested the lip of the crater he dropped to his stomach. A cloud of ash and dust billowed around him. Still writhing in pain, he propped himself back up and looked ahead to see the fires still burning and the sky still aglow on the horizon. He looked down to see, to his surprise, he was naked.
The blast had vaporized his clothes and left his skin black and singed. *Where... Where am I? What happened? * He muttered faintly to himself. He finally gathered the strength to get to his feet, and started walking down the other side of the hill. Reaching the mangled train tracks he stopped for a moment, and looked ahead.
*Follow the tracks. * He thought, and so he did. He walked and walked, marveling at the burnt trees laid bare and flat to the ground from the power of the explosion he could not remember. His mind was eerily quiet, no overpowering flow of thoughts or haunting memories. No explanation as to how he came to be in these circumstances.
-- -
He kept following the tracks until sunrise, intent to walk until his feet bled, but they never did. He found himself on the edge of the ruins of what appeared to be a large city. His heart sank. Even without the memory of the horrors which occurred there, Garrison knew he had arrived in a terrible place.
The slaps of his bare feet on the crumbling pavement with each tired step echoed through the silence and over the bare walls of the buildings around him as he made his way down what he decided must have been a main street. There was n't a voice to be heard. No people, no animals, not even the chirp of an insect. Nothing lived there. Of all the pain he had felt since waking in the crater, the pain of his utter solitude began to be the only feeling to occupy his mind.
He walked out from the street and into some sort of large clearing in the middle of the city, the scattered rusted husks of cars disappearing into the windswept dust clouds behind him and his beleaguered footsteps no longer echoing from any walls. As he continued into the smoky abyss, the shadow of some sort of tall building slowly emerged silhouetted in the sky by the sun rising behind it.
Garrison walked closer and closer to the massive structure, squinting and doing his best to focus through the clouds of dust surrounding this monument worthy of standing alone in this tremendous plaza. Was it a statue? It would be inconceivably large for a statue. Closer and closer, he reached the base, and made out the inscription sprawled across the marble facade.
*Garrison Maxwell, scientist, hero, friend to all mankind. *
He stumbled back and dropped to his knees as a rush of vivid memories flooded his mind and he fell unconscious again.
-- -
Zig-zagging erratically back and forth, making his way up the hill in the dark of night. The Jerry can he dragged behind him clinked over the rocks and pebbles. Garrison had finally reached the top, and looked up to see the night sky glowing an eerie red from the fires in the distance.
He squinted as he looked down at his feet, and stepped onto the train tracks.
*Hiccup-Yup. This ers the spot. * He said, slurring his words. He raised the cannister to his mouth. The smell of the gasoline burned his nose.
*At least I can still feel that. * He grimaced, taking a big swig of the fuel. He shook off the disgust and attempted to gather his wits.
*I miss Scotch* He shouted as he punted the canister away. He could n't help but notice the beauty of the sky's color refracting through the droplets as they whirled away from the can tumbling through the air. He could n't help noticing anything anymore.
Garrison's mind was overclocked from the effects of the serum. Even getting drunk on gasoline could barely dull the information rushing through his head. He had n't slept in months. His body was weak. He was ready to give up, and that's why he found himself there.
-- --
He began to notice a slight rumbling beneath his feet and he started to sob. He looked to his left, then to his right, then shifted his position a few inches to the side and dropped to his knees. The rumbling grew stronger.
Garrison cried into his hands. Memories of the flash from the explosion peeked through the rush of information dominating his thoughts. He remembered Angelica's smile, and how it never faded in the last imperceptible fractions of a second as the blast vaporized her body in front of him. He remembered feeling the heat of the explosion passing over him. It could n't kill him, but he felt every moment of it.
Soon the memories were overtaken again by his mind's interminable over-activity. He did his best to gather himself.
Again, he looked to his left. A blinking red light appeared through the smoke long in the distance. He looked to his right and saw the same. He took a deep breath and sat back on his heels, his knees still digging into the gravel beneath the tracks, now rumbling violently as the freight trains barreled toward him from both directions.
It had taken him months to set this up. Months to put the trains into the right positions. To load the dynamite into their cars and wire it all properly. 200 tons of explosives split between the two trains, set to explode in the perfect fraction of a second they collide.
It was no difficult task for Garrison to plan, but the work he put into enacting the plan had daunted his already tired body. He was invulnerable to injury, but not exhaustion.
-- --
The rumbling grew stronger. Garrison took a final mournful gaze at the burnt trees swaying in front of the red sky he wished to never see again. The end, he prayed, was seconds away. He grew calm, meditative, his long awaited impending death left him awash with relaxation.
As his gaze broke from the horizon he looked down. A little girl stood there looking at him with her tattered dirty teddy bear.
*Blonde hair, like Angelica. * He thought.
He gasped.
***BOOM! ***
-- -
Garrison wearily shook off the rush of memories that overcame him when he saw the etchings on the wall beneath the statue. Now he was staring face to face with the humongous figure. Was it him? Could it have been? He scanned the features of the man's face carefully as he ran his fingers over his own. He was overcome with emotion.
Staring deep into the eyes of the statue, he began to feel what seemed like a numbness in his feet. Still lost in the gaze of the giant before him, he began to wriggle his toes. Something was wrong. He could n't break his gaze, but he knew something was wrong. He could n't feel the ground beneath his feet.
He finally managed to escape his fixation, looking down to his feet. There was no ground beneath them. Just the clouds of dust blanketing the city hundreds of feet below as he floated there, face to face with a towering statue of himself.
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[ EU ] You 're officially part of the X-Men , but the way you discovered your powers was ... unusual
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It was a baking hot August afternoon in the Lake District, the temperature reaching over 30 degrees with not a single cloud in the sky. There was a warm breeze on the air and the birds were alive in the trees.
Harry Greenleaf lay on the dry grass, cold beer in one hand, comic book in the other. No one else for company, no one was really interested in Harry Greenleaf. Son of a prolific gardener for a local manor estate, Harry grew up without a Mother after she passed away, killed by a wasp sting that she had a severe allergic reaction to. Flying insects of any nature always unnerved Harry, but the doctors had given him the all clear, he did not inherit his Mothers potential fatal allergy.
It was a beautiful day and the sun hadnt even risen to noon yet, college was out so he had 6 weeks of summer all to himself with his Father, when he wasnt busy being overworked by the local lord of the manor. Harry hated college, he was constantly bullied for his bookish nature, always in the library reading about nature and animals, the wider world. The bullies would descend on him like a pack of wolves, each taking turns to push him around. Over the last year, they had gotten more and more brazen, locking him in store cupboards and throwing acid in chemistry class. Luckily, he was very quick to react, in the back of his mind, he always harboured an intuition that he was somehow different from the rest of them all.
Harry finished his beer and put it down, sat upright and stared at the glistening waters of the lake, shimmering in the summer sunlight. He was finally starting to relax and unwind, the tension in his temples subsiding and the bruises on his ribs and shins healing. He froze as he heard footsteps behind him and the laughs of several teenage boys. He knew it was them. His mind raced, he could run, but they would catch him, they always did. He could fight, but every time he had fought back they had beaten him to the ground and left him with bruises.
Without warning, one of them pushed Harry over so he began to fall down the grassy slope towards the lake. They all laughed as Harry tumbled head over heel, flining up clumps of dry grass and earth. The wind was knocked out of him when he eventually stopped, someway down the hillside. They caught up with him and they threw the empty beer bottle at his head, which he saw just in time. He quickly moved his head to the left and the bottle sailed past, some of the dregs splattering on his face. Annoyed by their lack of success, they rounded on him quickly and began to throw punches and kicks. They were all drunk, Harry could smell it on their breath, he rolled up into a ball and protected his head, but the blows were more severe than before and they were getting through, the pain was getting unbearable. He screamed as a kick landed on his ribs, once again the air was driven from his lungs - his mind went blurry, thoughts raced accross his mind in a panic inbetween flashes of incredible pain. His subconscious hurtled back in time to his Mothers death, the swarm of wasps and the single cry of pain.
Harry let out a defiant roar and felt his mind calm. That was when he heard it, far off in the distance, a hum like an electrical pylon. It grew louder, and the blows stopped landing, the odd kick here, they were still laughing. Harry uncurled his head from his arms in time to see them burst over the top of the grassy hill where he bad been sitting.
Wasps. Thousands of them. He froze in fear, but his mind told him he was in control and there was no need to be afraid. His tormentors froze too and started to back away towards the waterline. The wasps hurtled past Harry, prone on the floor but looking directly at the bullies. The horde of flying insects descended on the four youths, stinging and biting them with all their fury. Harry thought to himself, `` Did I just do that? ``, then the pain from his wounds overtook him and he blacked out.
A day later, he awoke in hospital. His eyes were blurry and all he could see were two figures. One sitting, one standing. The standing one he was pretty certain was his Father, Harold Greenleaf, smiling down at him. The sitting one was bald and wore a sharp suit.
`` Harry, thank god your OK.''
`` It wasnt God Harry has to thank, Mr Greenleaf. Harry saved himself...''
`` Listen here now Mr Professor Xavier, I am highly skeptical of your so called theory that my son Harry here is a Mutant. Could you give us a moment in peace?''
`` Of course Mr Greenleaf, please consider my offer. Harry has a gift, a truly unique gift that we have never seen before at my school, or in the history of mankind. I believe that Harry here has the ability to control Nature itself, it would be a shame if he never fully realised the extent of his powers. Good day Mr Greenleaf, and Harry, get well soon''....
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[ WP ] Overestimating a common criminal he believes to be a mastermind , a detective with a spotless record connects clues that are n't there , uncovering something he should n't have .
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It was a cold wet day in late Februrary and there had been rumors of a cold front coming in that would likely bring snow. I stood infront of my office window hopefully longing for it to have an early start althought I knew it was unlikely. My coffee was cooling off but was still managing to compliment my mid-morning cigarette when I was startled by an abrupt knock at my door. It had a cadence of urgency to it. I put my smoke out into my old glass ashtray and walked over to the door where I was met by the familiar silouette of my best detective through the blurred glass of my office door. I opened it up to see the distressed look of a man who looked as though he'd just witnessed a murder. Craddled underneath his arm like newborn baby was a stack of papers the size of a phonebook.
`` What the hell's wrong with you, son?'' I inquired as he took his usual seat in the antique arm chair opposite me.
`` Sir, I've got some rather alarming news'' he replied anxiously. I took a seat in my leather desk chair, re-lit my smoke, and calmly asked what was the matter.
He dropped his stack of papers onto my desk with a thud and said `` Chief, I've been looking into the string of prostitute murders downtown.''
`` Well what have you found'' I said as I flipped through the numerous pages of evidence.
`` It's not good, sir. It seems as though theres a link to our department and its high up. I mean really high up'', he said with a gaunt hesitation.
`` Just how high are we talking?'' I asked as I took a drag of my smoke.
`` Well'', he said as he pulled out a page, `` I began following up on a suspect we interviewed who matched the description and did n't have a sufficent alliby during the time of the murders. He insisted that he did n't do it but, he saw another heavy set middle aged caucaisian male in the viscinity the night of the most recent killing. He provided a rather detailed description of this other man and even managed to provide information on the car however this information was mysteriously witheld from his report.''
`` Thats odd'' I said, as he continued to hurridly flip through the mass of paper. `` Do you know why this is?''
`` Well sir, I was confused at first but then I discovered that his report never made it to the detectives you had assigned to the case. Then it hit me. If the killer is capable of slitting the throats of four different women without leaving a trace of evidence then clearly he can not be trusted when it comes to his account. I mean the guy has been arrested for domestic disputes between him and his 2 ex-wifes numerous times. Of course he's going to lie. The detectives must have not taken him seriously. So I decided to question him one more time and see if his stories matched up. This is where it gets weird'', he said with that same hesitation in his voice. I began to grow anxious.
He continued. `` Not only did his stories match, but a security camera at a nearby gas station managed to catch a glimpse of the car shortly after he described the events.''
Then I saw the look in his eye. The look I had been waiting for... he did n't have to say another word. I did n't get to where I am by being stupid. I could read people like a book. He was preparing to accuse me of the grusome murders of 4 prostitutes whose bodies were found dismembered under blankets of trash at the landfill. He was right.
I suppose I knew this day was coming. I reached into my desk drawer behind my 40 year old scotch and grabbed my old revolver. The first one I was ever issued. It contained two bullets. I slowly removed it from the desk and pointed it between his eyes. I did n't think twice before I pulled the trigger. I could n't give him the satisfaction. The shot was loud and rang out in the old oak halls of the police department and hurried footsteps soon followed. I turned around in my chair and noticed the white flakes beginning to fall. It was such a somber beauty.
This is my confession.
The last bullet would be mine.
But alas I would survive. I suppose the world has its own way of righting our wrongs. I write this while sitting on the otherside of the bars I knew so well, rotting away until the date of my execution. It turns out I'm getting a new cell mate. His charge is domestic abuse.
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[ WP ] Aliens are browsing the internet to gather information before their invasion . As they came across LinkedIn to learn what humans do for living , they are shocked by the sheer numbers of `` headhunters '' .
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Year 867, Day 201
Automated Probe # 5539, on its way to a probable location of intelligent life, received radio transmissions from a planet; interestingly not from its intended destination but from a system much closer. The on-board AI decided to abandon its original mission in favor of the new discovery and start decelerating to come to a stop near the radio source. Automated Probe # 5614, which was tasked as a possible fail-safe for AP-5539's mission, is ordered to take over.
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Year 873, Day 249
Automated Probe # 5539 just reported passing the local star orbited by the radio source. Transmissions have been frequent and of intelligent nature; for example, AP-5539 learned that the civilization, preliminary ID C-0-79 from now on, calls the system's secondary body `` Jupiter.'' AI-AP-5539 picked that secondary as its hiding place and decided to orbit it like a moon. Coverage will be only 93 %, but preliminary analysis of C-0-79's power output indicates that they are in possession of spaceflight technology, and a high-coverage orbit could draw their attention.
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Year 874, Day 327
AP-5539 reports that it entered Jupiter orbit and deployed its supply of automated microprobes to the local asteroid belt to gather materials for the construction of a high-powered burst transmitter. The resources of C-0-79's stellar system are plenty and untapped, and our microprobes can operate at 25 % power levels with an estimated risk of detection below 0.098 %. AI-AP-5539 estimates that the burst transmitter will be completed within 512 days.
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Year 874, Day 391
Good news and bad news! The first burst transmissions have arrived; we can now analyze original samples of their communications, rather than the summaries provided by AI-AP-5539. C-0-79 is experiencing a shift from mass media to individual communication ( called internet by the specimens themselves ), which indicates that they are indeed a spacefaring civilization. However, if we are interpreting the visual media correctly, the dominant species is far from unified, and infighting is common.
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Year 874, Day 397
Institute of xenopsychology, preliminary report
C-0-79 could be the greatest threat to our own civilization. As of now, we are still uncertain about the meaning of most of their communications, but so far, the signs that C-0-79 could evolve into a xenophobic spacefaring civilization within the next 1024 years are many.
- They are among the most warlike species we ever found. Their inventiveness when it comes to warfare are almost limitless. There are headhunters, social justice warriors, think tanks, box office bombs, and so on, all mentioned within a 3-minute time window, in communications which do not even appear to have warfare as their primary topic.
- An ongoing inquisition appeared to take place right then, and to make matters worse, it seemed to be extremely covert; nobody expected it.
- Some seem to worship fantastic creatures of their old mythology, like the much feared `` trolls'', even by users of their most modern communication technology.
- While all of the above threats are of a planetary scale, another one is not: what appeared to be a civilization struggling to tame nuclear fusion is actually capable of far more impressive feats. One of the peninsular nations of C-0-79 seems to sustain a guild of `` Star Crafters'' - who would, if they proved as warlike as the average specimen, pose an interstellar threat which even out advanced spaceflight technology would not be able to counter.
Institute of xenopsychology, preliminary report ends
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Year 874, Day 404
There has not been a single burst transmission within the last two hours. Because AP-5539 is behind Jupiter right now, we do not know what disabled the transmitter. Tomorrow, we should reestablish contact with 5539 and receive more information. It could be one of the following:
- The transmitter was disabled by natural causes and will probably rebuilt by 5539 and its microprobes, which would right now be the best possibility,
- C-0-79 activity was detected, forcing the transmitter to go silent to avoid detection,
or...
- C-0-79 destroyed the transmitter by means undetected, and probably 5539, too.
Should AP-5539 not reestablish contact, it is not unlikely that they learned where the transmitter was pointed, and that they are coming for us.
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[ WP ] You were always known to be a bitch , but not just any bitch , you 're Karma .
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People never think I will catch up with them, but I'm like the Canadian Mounties and I always catch my man... I also wear red and have been known to ride a horse, but that is irrelevant.
So here's the deal, I'm karma. Not the Buddhist versions, but the westernized version. The version that is really just a call to a higher deity to deal with dickheads and douchebags. That's me.
So how's it work? Well... it's not always exciting. I'm kind of like Santa, a whole lot of work for just one moment in the spotlight. And do you think he personally visits every house? Nah, he is a manager. Just like the jolly man in red, I am a manager. The data center collects the good and the bad, my minions sort it and dole out lesser punishments ( flat tires, speeding tickets, etc ) and they set aside the especially bad ones. Those I deal with personally.
Now of course there is a catch. I ca n't just make it openly known. Do n't ask me, it's complicated and it goes all the way up to the big man himself. So, I have to pick and choose who gets punished and how. The subtlety is key. It is always best when they do n't know karma ever even came.
Some of it is petty, a boner that fails to harden or a hairline that starts to retreat ( both for some ), but those are just fun ways to kill the time. And some is less physical, the loss of faith, the emptiness in the soul, and the feelings of inadequacy. Those are easy, quiet, and haunt them for life.
It's the ones you've never heard of that are my real badge of honor. The murderers and rapist who were never caught. Society may think they got away, and maybe some do. But rest assured, I have taken my time with many. The crueler they are, the crueler I can be. I have flayed and filleted, cut and crushed, and I have watched the most deranged and demented bleed under my knives. There is pleasure in the work that I hope wo n't catch up with me one day.
So that's me. Karma. The Bitch. Waiting to catch up with you. So watch what you say. Watch what you do. I see your dirty little secrets, and I read ALL of your Reddit comments.
One last thing. A shout out to my worshippers. Those famous redditors who feed my insatiable appetite for pointless arrows on the internet, gallowboobs and loopdeloops. Stay the course my faithful karma whores. Your work will be rewarded.
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[ WP ] After being lost in space for 100,000 years Space Station Hope finds a new planet inhabited by alien life . What they do n't know , is that they 've just returned to earth .
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It had been one hundred thousand years since The Manifest Destiny had been sent out as a last ditch effort to save humanity from the meteor, and their prayers had finally been answered with a habitable planet. They knew it was habitable because it was, in fact, inhabited. The Manifest Destiny piloted through the system to settle into orbit around the third, magnificent planet.
Captain Washington sat in front of the bridge's window, looking down upon sprawling cities and orbiting satellites. What sort of beings would inhabit this planet? Would they be welcomed as friends, ending their grueling odyssey? Would they be attacked and driven to wander again? The voice of the communications officer behind him broke him from his reverie
`` Sir? Um... We're bring hailed,''
`` Open the channel,''
The communications officer busied herself at her screen dialing in on the frequency the aliens were using to hail the ship. Until, shockingly, English came through.
`` Repeat. Is this The Manifest Destiny? Repeat. Is this...''
It continued, as the message said, on repeat until Captain Washington gave the order to interrupt and confirm. The message cut off and was relaxed with the sound of jostling, which was in turn replaced by a timid voice.
`` Ah, good. Um... Well this is awkward''
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[ WP ] Tell me about the quirks and/or history of your character β s weapon of choice .
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My blades are of star-stone black as the deepest night. They were forged by the greatest of smiths this side of the Great Sundering Sea, EΓΆl the Dark Elf. Anguirel, Iron Daughter, I wield in my right hand; her mate Anglachel, Iron of the Flaming Star, in my left.
My blades cry out for the blood of my foes when I march to battle with my hosts. They are impatient to slaughter any who oppose us - be he Orc, Man, Elf, or even Maia - within a blink of an eye. They are merciful, in their own right: they will allow you to die swiftly in the end...
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Tag team challenge ! Write a story from two completely different perspectives by collaborating with another writer . [ WP ]
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I hate this place. It smells bad, like the chemicals that Mom keeps under the sink at home. And the bed is hard and uncomfortable and I do n't have my dinosaur sheets. And I miss being in my own room. And I do n't like having these other kids around; they're all sick and miserable, too.
Mom wo n't tell me when I can go home. I keep asking how long I have to stay here, and every time she just gets sad. `` A little longer, baby,'' she tells me with a soft pat on the head. But she's been saying that for weeks now. She comes by every day with books for me, and sometimes new games for my gameboy. Dad used to come by more often, but it's been a while now. When he does come, he and Mom do n't talk much, and he looks very tired. I guess he has a lot of work to do.
Doctor Coleman always tries to be upbeat when he takes me into the radiation room. He brings a new comic for me to read every time. Always `` The Incredible Hulk.'' He says that the radiation will make me stronger, just like it did in the comics. It has n't worked yet, and I can barely even get out of bed on my own now. I guess that's why I have to keep going in for more radiation. And that's why they are doing all the different parts of my body now. I overheard Nurse Meyers saying that it had spread to my lymph nodes, but I do n't know what that means; I've never seen that mentioned in the Hulk comics.
He did n't bring a comic today; he says we're not going to do the radiation treatment anymore. He and Mom were talking about doing something new and experimental. I wanted to ask if it would still give me powers, but Mom shushed me. There were a lot of big, confusing words, but Doctor Coleman seemed happy about it and said that this would work. Mom was crying, but trying to smile.
She returned to my bedside and squeezed my hand.
`` What does he want to do, Mom?''
-- -
/u/Shozza87 will be taking over from here!
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[ WP ] A satanist tries to summon Satan , but summons Santa instead .
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Finally, he thought. Our Lord and Savior will come and rule this world! He had everything in place. The decapitated goat head lay peacefully in the middle of the inverted pentagram he drew on the floor with its blood. The candle's bright flames burned as they rested at each point of the pentagram. The paper with the incantation written in Latin lay in front of him, almost begging him to finally recite it, and summon Satan.
He began to get nervous. The kind you get when you ca n't wait for the results. He picked up the paper, and in a strong, vibrant voice, began to read.
`` Deus unus et verus, qui est, et ego uos rebus ad. `` ( He who is the one true God, I bring you forth to this domain. ) The noises outside stopped immediately, almost with a sense of respect... or fear. He continued.
`` Ne stellae quidem viis vestris cultu. `` ( Let the stars themselves part way for your elegance. ) The pentagram started to glow a bright red. The candle flames rose. The smell of rotten eggs filled the room.
`` Horresco Satanas ultimus orbis noster adit mundo. `` ( May the world tremble as Satan, our Lord, enters this world. ) The house started to tremble. Books fell from their shelves, glass rattled against the window, doors slamming shut uncontrollably. The eyes in the goat started to glow... white? Did he see a snowflake? He shrugged it off and finished the summoning.
`` Surge, et sta in throno!'' ( Arise and take your place at the throne! ) There was a blast of light. He shielded his eyes to prevent blindness. As he did he heard a laugh. Not one the Lord of Hell would make, but like a jolly old fat guy who just... just...
`` No.'' he said.
`` It's pronounced'Ho'.'' the voiced echoed.
As he passed out, he apologized to his Lord for his failure, and asked for forgiveness as he lost conciseness. Before it went black, the smell of rotten eggs was replaced by the smell of freshly baked cookies and expired milk.
`` Ho Ho Hoooh my! Another reindeer has joined the pack!''
Darkness overcame him and he knew it would be a long while till Santa let him go to his Lord.
A long time indeed.
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[ WP ] : Everyone is born with two names written on their bodies . One will be the love of your life , and the other is fated to be your mortal enemy . You do n't know which one is which before it happens .
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*warning plot holes
`` I do n't want anything to happen to you,'' Jess whispered to me one night.
I motioned to my state issued handgun next to the bed. `` I wo n't let that happen,'' I pulled her close, trying to comfort her. She was still tense.
`` But what if she is already looking for you? The only way for us to be truly happy is to make sure they ca n't hurt us.'' This type of talk made her seem insane. But I guess that's just normal these days. Knowing there is somebody out there, searching for you, wanting you gone, it's enough to drive anyone crazy.
`` We are not going to turn into one of *those* couples. Living a paranoid life that can only end in murder and a life on the run. That's not us. We are lucky,'' I tried to reassure her. `` We found each other. Lets just enjoy it.''
She did n't reply. I did n't blame her, I had n't even convinced myself. The fact was, there was someone out there, my mortal enemy, someone had to make the first move. I tried to ignore the invasive thoughts and enjoy my life as per my own advice. It was impossible.
Me and Jess started indulging in dark conversations about what we would do when we found our enemies. How we would do it, and where we would go afterwards.
`` I've always wanted to live in Alaska,'' she said one night as we engaged in one of our now routine midnight conversations. `` Surrounded by snow and nature, nobody could ever find us.'' I had stopped arguing with her, truth was, the thought of living without paranoid fear thrilled me. Especially now that we knew it could be done.
We had ironed out all the details. I would search the database one night at work for two names. After that, there would be no turning back. I would be a wanted man. We would'take care' of our targets, travelling by car, eventually driving north into the wilderness. Starting our life together as fate intended.
I volunteered to work the graveyard shift that night. A new life was just a click of the button away. As I pulled into our drive, she was waiting, bags packed. `` You've got them?'' she already knew the answer, that insane smile creeping across her face. She carefully studied the face of her man.
I could barely think straight, adrenaline pumping heavily through my body as I pulled up across the street from her house. Luckily she lived alone. I was to go in, shoot her and get back to the car. It was all happening so quickly but I could n't back out now. The crash of the front door being kicked in permeated through the silence of the night. A light flickered to life and pooled out from beneath a door to my left. Gun outstretched I barged in. A lone figure stood awkwardly next to the bed. *Thump* *thump* *thump* I lowered my silenced weapon and instinctively went to examine the body. I noticed my name imprinted on her left arm, but what caught my attention was my wife's name imprinted just below it. Before I could make sense of this, I heard the sound of my car speeding away.
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Just realized that for this to make sense the protagonist would have to be Jess's mortal enemy. Does n't really make sense: s Jess ended up using the guy to use the police database so she could find her love. Which ruined her life and the woman he ended up shooting making Jess both their mortal enemies.
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[ wp ] Google collapses .
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Larson Kamrig had worked at Goldman Sachs for a decade. He'd made it through HBS in the 90s, and then the housing collapse in the 2000s. He'd made a name for himself trading tech futures at Citadel in Chicago before moving to NYC and the big dollars. He was n't shorting markets now, he was creating them. But today he was watching them crash.
`` Dude, Google tanked last night?'' Kamrig frantically asked his night trader. `` We lost $ 190 million when London opened, and we stand to lose twice that if it keeps headed down.'' He'd never been made physically ill by looking at numbers, but he got nauseous and had to walk away.
He walked briskly over to a TV and turned it on. All the talking heads were discussing what was happening. Google offices were apparently raided by the FBI and CIA the night before, warrants and boxes in hand. The same video of Larry Page in handcuffs kept playing, huge words sweeping across the screen: `` Page Defrauds Investors, Google Stock Plummets.''
As the story unfolded, it all kind of made sense. Google, unlike Apple, did n't actually produce anything, it merely controlled a huge medium by which people *could* produce things. It seemed that Page figured out his vulnerability as early as 2012, when he started tucking away billions in foreign bank accounts, a princely sum of $ 270 billion in a single Cayman Islands account.
But as Kamrig sat there, he could n't actually believe it, you know? Sure, it made sense in hindsight, but dammit... the internet is mankind's greatest invention of the modern era, and Google owned 90 % of it. What had panicked Page...?
Consumers were less upset than investors. They still had Bing, Yahoo, and various deepweb search engines. Google+ had never caught on, and Android was self-sufficient enough to carry on without its mothership, so it's not as if phones were turning off everywhere. Larry Page's betrayal, however, was more significant than what Google offered to consumers and investors.
The FBI cared about the bilking of investors money, but the CIA was there for the information being stored and sold to foreign governments... namely, governments hostile to U.S. interests. His friendship with Sergey Brin went deeper than we'd imagined, and Sergey's American citizenship masked his true loyalties.
Brin had been meeting with the SVR in secret and selling them mounds of data collected from Google servers. The NSA, which was adept at spying on others, turned out to be helpless in keeping its own information out of the hands of agencies spying on them. Government employees as high as Department heads were being observed by the browser they had been encouraged by their kids and, well, the internet, to use... Google Chrome. Brin had escaped back to Moscow, but Page was facing treason, joining yet another short list of Americans.
As this all unfolded on TV, Larson Kamrig felt a pang in his chest, one that had nothing to do with money. He felt betrayed, not by his risk management department or his teams of analysts, but by whatever principles he still had after years of cheating and stealing. He was finally in the same boat as the rest of America - double-crossed and sold out to he highest bidder.
`` Fucking Google,'' Larson muttered. `` It was a shitty name anyway.''
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[ WP ] The more she fusses about 'not understanding these gadgets , ' the more you feel like your grandmother 's faking her technological illiteracy . In fact , you think she might be the dangerous hacker known only as '4Chan . '
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I clicked through the hard drive of my Gran's computer and wracked my brain to try to work out why it was showing nearly a Gigabyte of space used, when there were no files there. β Are you *sure* you didn β t click onto any new sites recently Gran? Maybe a virusβ¦? β
My sweet Grand mother had been perched next to me on a stool and watched anxiously as I looked through her pride a joy, a nice new laptop that my mum had bought her a few months ago. She ruffled my hair. β Don β t be silly John, I β m in excellent health. β She was obviously going to be no help. β Now, you seem a little stuck, would you like a nice cup of tea, that always helps. β
Gran made the best tea and you could be sure that there would be a biscuit too. β Yes please! β
She slowly stood and shuffled to the kitchen in her slippers. I could quietly hear her talking to herself as she went. β Such a good boy, worrying about his old Gran. Such a *good* boy. β
I looked back to the screen, if I didn β t do *something* then mum would moan at me to look at it again. She β d been the one who had noticed how much space had gone missing and of course, as technical support for the family, I had been dispatched. Gran had n't wanted me to bother, but I did n't want her to have any problems, she had been so *quick* to adapt to the internet after all.
Nothing seemed to be working. There were no hidden files, it had been defragged and I could find no trace of a virus no matter how many times I ran AVG virus scans and Malwarebytes. In desperation I did some searches on general terms until I found an answer on a forum I hadn β t visited yet.
It was a little more advanced than I normally tried, but I needed to do *something* and the advice all seemed to be about a tool called **Haxopen**. I googled it and it seemed to be legit, so I looked for the most recent version and downloaded.
It unpacked and loaded and in a minute I had it ready to go. I was impressed with the speed of Gran's computer, she had really got something top spec for looking up knitting patterns. It began a scan and in a moment it popped up a flashing sign.
**HIDSEC.WALL, Remove y/n? **
This was it! I clicked on Y and a moment later a new folder popped up with a list of.exe files inside. I looked down, none of these were familiar to me. Nmap, Acunetix, Metasploit, Maltego and dozens more β what the hell were these? I searched for the first one and almost immediately it popped up a result. Hacker tools?
I called over my shoulder. β I think I β ve found it gran, it looks like something has downloaded a bunch ofβ¦ β I trailed off as I looked round and saw my sweet grandmother watching me, her face flushed red and distorted in anger. She dropped the tray and the teapot clattered to the ground. β Gβ¦gran? β
β You couldn β t leave it alone you little fuck, could you? You're normally barely competent, but now look what you β ve done. β her face was distorted into a sneer and her hand whipped to her pocket. A large knife slid out and she crouched down into a sinister pose. It looked a little bit like her hips had gone, or would have if the 8 inch knife had n't been gripped in front of her.
I laughed. β What β s going on, are you okay gran? β She moved forward towards me cautiously and with purpose in her steps, there was no more shuffling. I edged back against the desk, mum was going to blame me for this I was sure. β Gran...? β
*****
If you like this story then head on over to /r/fringly - 400,000 subscribers ca n't be wrong! *
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^^*Actual ^^number ^^of ^^subscribers ^^may ^^vary ^^from ^^stated, ^^you ^^should ^^not ^^visit ^^this ^^subreddit ^^if ^^you ^^are ^^pregnant, ^^over ^^the ^^age ^^of ^^six ^^or ^^live ^^in ^^an ^^English ^^speaking ^^country. ^^Always ^^consult ^^your ^^doctor ^^before ^^visiting ^^new ^^subreddits. ^^Side ^^effects ^^may ^^include ^^nausea, ^^over ^^excitement ^^and ^^bananaism.
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[ EU ] Richard B. Riddick on his quest to find Furya ends up getting sucked through a wormhole and crash lands on an unknown planet . When he emerges from his craft , he finds it 's entirely made up in wacky anime rules and inhabited by giddy school girls . His ship is totaled .
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Darkness.
Two luminescent eyes shine in the shadows as the ship's holographic interface reboots.
A reflection in the eyes: Ship component overlay. All parts flashing red.
Riddick scoffs silently at the situation and speaks, `` Every damn time...''
Camera pan. Riddick unbuckles his harness and falls upwards into the ceiling. Best part of crash landing. Nothing new for the infamous felon.
Kicking open the airlock, bright light fills the small cockpit of the vessel. Very bright. Must be another one of those trinary star systems. Also not new.
Stepping out of the ship and into the light Riddick adjusts his welding goggles over his eyes and stretches by standing tall. Tendons creak and muscles moan. He starts walking towards the distant forest. Someplace to hide, to recoup, to plan.
From the left, footsteps. Riddick crouches and unsheathes a heavy combat knife in preparation for fight or flight. Its a girl. A school girl. Good. This is one of the colony planets. Riddick knows the rules here... and how to break them. The pink haired girl approaches more slowly now, halting about 10 feet away and blushing.
Riddick raises an eyebrow, waiting.
`` Uh.. S-senpai. Its not like I wanted you to land on my planet or anything!! ``, she says.
Riddick replies, ``... Who you callin' senpai?'' His voice closing the short distance between the two like slow motion thunder. Gravely, yet smooth in its tone.
The girl falls over quickly, a strangely massive drop of... sweat floated above her. Is there something up with the gravity here? No, feels like 1.2 standard Gs...
`` B-baka! I'm not saying I *didn't* want you to land here. I just...'', she said abruptly.
Riddick stared at her, unmoving and locked into his fighting stance.
`` You just what? ``, the space-convict said, slight amusement apparent on his face.
`` I-I... Is Seyru prettier than me, Senpai?? ``, she blurted out quietly, her eyes welling with tears.
Riddick stood up straight, more confused than combat-ready at this point. `` You've got a screw loose, little girl. Where's the nearest town? What planet is this?''
The girl sighed.
`` Oh Senpai, you need to take a break from studying. We're right outside Tokyo, duh!''. So cheery now.
`` Tokyo. ``, Riddick said to himself, `` Planet?''
`` Baka! Planet Japan... You boys are so weird sometimes. ``, she said, exasperated. `` Anyway, we're going to be late to class! Mr. Hiyabusa wo n't be happy if we're late!''
The girl started to run in the other direction.
Riddick stood there a moment, still staring into the forest. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
`` This is new.''
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[ WP ] A cure for aging is discovered , and everyone past the age of 25 stops aging instantly . The final generation of elderly is fated to their advanced age forever .
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Henry's knees ached; his ankles cracked; he could n't bend his fingers; he lost hearing in his left ear; he was considered `` legally blind,'' and his driving license was revoked; Henry's jaw locked when he chewed; he had no control over his bladder; decades of smoking cigarettes left him with a horrendous cough.
Henry was balding. He hated balding. He could grow hair everywhere else, but his head? Forget about it. To be fair, he could n't bald any further. The way he looked as an 86 year old is how he looked now as a 136 year old. No one else kept track of their age. It was pointless to even celebrate birthdays.
Henry's back hunched significantly. The neighborhood kids called him the *Hunchback of Notre Damn*. He walked with a cane and dragged along his elderly, smelly dog Rufus.
The local young people avoided him like the plague. Henry could sense eyes signalling him out in public. `` He should've died,'' they'd whisper.
`` What right does he have to live?'' they'd say.
`` Assisted suicide needs to be legalized.'' `` What a smelly dog. It should be against the law to own such a vile creature.''
Old Henry did n't have much to smile for. His wife had died of terminal cancer three years before the discovery of immortality. And besides, who wants to see a toothless grin?
His only son was killed during the Final War. It was the war to end all wars. The United Countries of America came about as a conclusion.
Henry would stroll through his hometown. He was aware of everyone's disapproval. The majority looked youthful. The middle-aged folks felt better about themselves in Henry's presence, though they were disgusted by his existence. He was a reminder of humanity's former weakness to death.
Sure, Henry wanted to just kill himself, and he had tried many times to no avail, but his dog was immortal, too. If not for Henry, little Rufus would be an orphan dog. Something about walking through the local streets seemed to spark a small bit of youthfulness in the aged dog.
His ragged tail would wag left and right. He had a glimmering look about his eyes. No one else noticed, but Henry could see it.
`` Old man, is n't it time to go home?'' asked a young man as Henry strolled past. Henry merely winked at the lad. It made the locals even angrier seeing the old man ignore their jeers.
`` One day, God will remove you from our beautiful Earth,'' called a priest as Henry strolled past the local church. `` He'll put all you old sinners in Hell!''
Another voice said, `` You're mistaken, Father. This *is* the old man's Hell! Look at him! He suffers with every step.'' This observance was followed by mocking laughter.
Henry pulled Rufus along. Since he could n't bend his fingers to grasp the dog's leash, Henry tightened the leash around his arm. In his younger days, the tightness may have hurt him, but these days he could hardly feel anything.
Finally Henry walked to the destination he had been heading toward. He slowly made his way up the hill onto a field of brown, dying grass. There was no point in keeping up the grass because people did n't visit cemeteries anymore. It reminded them too much of a sadder time when death was around every corner.
Henry knelt down near his wife's headstone. He did n't bring any flowers today. The ones he left yesterday were still sitting atop the gravesite, right next to the flowers from the previous day, and those next to the bouquet from the previous day, and those next to even older roses, and those next to even older bouquets. They had all withered significantly but Henry sensed the flowers still had some life in them.
Henry could n't mourn his wife's death. It had been 50 years. The memory of her was just barely present. *Was she a blonde or a brunette? She wore glasses, right? She was at least 5 foot, 6 inches... No, just 5 feet. Oh, no, it was 5'3''..? *
`` I wish..'' Henry began. Rufus looked up. It was the first time the dog had heard the old man speak in decades.
Henry coughed a bit. He spit out blood. It was from the cigarettes he once smoked. They should've killed him, but it's too late for that.
`` I wish..'' Henry tried again. `` I wish...''
The dog licked the owner's hand. It was as though Rufus wanted to hear the complete thought. Or maybe he just missed Henry's voice.
Henry peered at the headstone. His legally blind eyes could not make out the encryption anymore.
`` I wish...'' he said.
A tear rolled down his saggy cheek.
``... I had died with you.''
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[ WP ] No matter the establishment , no matter the outfit , wherever he/she went everyone around would mistake him/her for an employee .
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I first was mistaken for an employee when i went out shopping. Maybe it was my red t-shirt.
I was pushing my shopping cart along the shopping aisle when i heard something large and soft, tumbling down near the wall.
I abandoned my trusty shopping cart with my groceries and rushed to the scene. A little girl had toppled a large pile of toilet paper rolls in an aisle nearby. She was buried under them, with only her two little arms sticking out. It would have been funny if her mother was n't desperately moving the toilet paper.
`` Is she safe?'' I said as i began helping her remove the huge mess in aisle 4. I was expecting gratitude. At least a thank you. But i got none of that.
`` You call this safe?! I'm going to sue your whole company if my little angel is hurt!'' I had to pause and dig a finger into my right ear to remove some spit before continuing. `` Mommy!'' You could hear her muffled cries from under the toilet paper.
We. Well... I say we. *I* finally managed to rearrange the stacks of toilet paper neatly back on the shelves. I was a little proud of myself.
`` I'm gon na sue this store for everything it got. You will be hearing from my lawyer.'' She said as she stormed away with her crying child. `` Like i care. I do n't even work here.'' i said to myself as i was walking back to my cart.
My cart was still where i left it and i resumed my shopping spree. But after a few seconds something that i can only describe as pure terror, grabbed my sleeve.
`` You are coming with me right now!'' He said as he dragged me across several aisles before i could say anything.
`` Where are we going!?'' i said as i concentrated on keeping my balance as i was being dragged backwards.
`` Where the hell do you think? The managers office.'' He would like a word with you.
`` But...'' I did n't manage to say anything else, before i was forcefully shoved through a door and into a fancy looking room.
**END? **
~~I can continue the story if there is enough interest in me doing so.~~
[ Link to part 2 ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2knusn/wp_no_matter_the_establishment_no_matter_the/clng1ly )
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[ WP ] You 've died but neither Heaven nor Hell let you in , so you start your own afterlifeworld with your own rules
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**Dear Mr Beaumont, we regret to inform you that Hell is currently -**
*Bollocks*. I crushed the letter into a pulp and let it fall to the floor where it was swallowed up by the limbo void.
What now? I mean there was always purgatory but the place was quieter than limbo and the admin had n't dropped in to decorate the place for a long long time.
Hmm. How long exactly? I knew that Heaven had abolished its squatters rights aeons ago, but maybe purgatory had never bothered because no one wanted to live there.
I flicked through the legal charters and found the deed I was looking for. Aha! I knew it! Purgatory is literally up for grabs if I succeed in turning it into a home before the admin gets back.
I started off spawning a few items here and there; a bed, a table, some chairs - but as time immeasurably progressed it turned into a full fledged living quarter complete with a courtyard and moat.
It was just me at the beginning, but when my parole officer came by to check on me, I let him know that I was open for anyone as long as they adhered by the following rule:
1. Do what you want, but do n't be a complete insufferable asshat.
People came in waves, mostly freshies at first who were only able to add more furniture like I did - but then we started getting visits from Hell and that's when we started getting some decent TV, our own Wifi, and copious amounts of alcohol.
We even started getting some visits from curious Heaven inhabitants, wanting to blow off steam and willing to trade cloud vapour with us for a few minutes of fun.
People wonder how our population has n't exploded and created the overpopulation problems plaguing Heaven and Hell, but the asshat rule generally keeps people in check - and keeps away a large proportion of those who could only live in the other two realms.
Most people are insufferable asshats, who knew?
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[ WP ] A girl who was born into the KKK grows up to realize the evil of her family
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January 01, 1924
It was summer. Like every other day, father and me left home around 7AM and walked towards town. Today, however, was different -- and it was n't because it was my birthday; I turned 13.
We walked on a trail I had discovered only two days ago; walking on it was quicker than taking the normal route. Dad was wearing his clan emblem, as usual, on his buttoned shirt and carried a pistol in a leather holder attached to his belt. He kept telling me about how much he loved sharing these walks with me and how quickly time passes. I listened attentively of course, but as I write this I ca n't focus on those details.
How could he yell those things at that beautiful child; why would he threaten the father of that child for looking at me or him; does being a clan member mean that much to him that he feels it necessary to threaten these people that way?
I ca n't keep writing this, the thought of what happened earlier today gives me a heavy headache.
January 03, 1924
It is 2:30AM and I ca n't sleep because of what I have just heard. Often when I ca n't sleep I venture downstairs and drink a glass of milk or orange juice, and this was similar to those sleepless nights and so I went downstairs. I heard both my father and his friends talking, whispering really, in the living room. They did n't hear me descend from upstairs, and so after hearing their whispers I inched, slowly, cautious as to not make any noise, towards the door which was only slightly cracked, enough to hear them clearly and see an occasional movement of shadows.
`` Ay Lenny, what happened to that pertty little number you was all hot about that one night?''
`` Oh that one? she left two days after sleepin' with me. That bitch. To hell with her, but I tell you what Billy she gave me the best night I ever had!''
`` Yah? and possibly the best burn too!''
`` You ai n't lyin' Billy! hahaha!''
`` Let's get serious fellas. We've got one nigh' to see this plan here through and I ai n't want none of you bastards to screw it up.''
`` All right Will. Your call. Okay, Lenny here will take to the far right end of this nigger infested house, so as to see if any unexpected pests do n't bother us. Mitch will take to the far left and do the same. Me, Stan, and you Will, all yous pay close attention -- we will, at the sames time, get as close to the house as possible, and -- BOOM! them bastards will have a nice early fourth of July boys! that they ai n't see comin'! And all thanks to that pretty little curious daughter of yours, Will, finding that trail running pass that house of niggers!
I ran upstairs soon after that, not caring whether those animals heard me or not. This just is n't right! How can they murder a beautiful black family for just staring at a white one for more than is customary? This is not right! All my life I have been taught that black people are n't actually people but disgusting swine that God created for the white race to enslave. All my life I have been raised to think these thoughts and ones alike -- but no -- I will not continue living with these -- these -- ANIMALS, and continue listening to these lectures. I do n't care whether they're family or not -- this is n't right!
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[ WP ] Superpowers exist , but they 're always almost entirely pointless . You have decided to use your power to be a super villain .
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I have a gift. A unique gift. A gift that stands out among the gifted. Ever since the powers arrived 3 years ago, the world has struggled with the influx of extra powers. While all these powers are small, like the ability to lick someone and tell what blood type they are, or the ability to grow or shrink your height up to 3 inches, occasionally, someone's small gift could be used in a big way.
My gift is special. My gift is one of the few that allows me to control something on others. My gift is very simple, but I could n't help but feel the urge to use it growing stronger inside me everyday.
I can cut and paste text with my tongue. I can lick a string of text and it enters me, waiting to be laid back down on paper. I first did it with signatures, filling out checks with people's scrawling John Hancock's. I then did it with documents, deleting or replacing lines from various legal documents that, on occasion, left me millions from persons I never knew.
The real power came when I realized that I could panic people. You know how some people put their gravestones in the ground before they die? Well, sometimes I put a date on to their gravestone for their death date. The panic was widespread as I travelled around, sentencing people to die on days. While my power did not make it truly happen, the car accidents and failed parachute opens and falling chandeliers did enough.
It was in this moment that I realized the true power I had. I could alter orders. What used to say'Abort the plan' could now say'Proceed with plan'.
As I watched the rockets firing across the sky, and heard the screams of those running from the missiles landing, I smiled.
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[ WP ] What is it that 's keeping you here ?
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Jim wants to die, he has wanted this for at least as long as his pitiful memory, atrophied by disinterest and ennui, gives him certainty of. As a child he read the first 4 and a half books of harry potter and proclaimed that he could not rely on anyone, even himself, and would need to end it before things got bad. As a teenager, he read the first 80 pages of La Nausee and realized life is but the tragically meaningless ambling of tragically apish diletantes. His cynicism kept him alone, and he knew it, but he would n't compromise his values and enjoy life.
Of course he tried to end it; he tried slitting his wrists in the shower but the cut was n't deep enough - he tried taking pills but feel asleep before finishing the bottle - he even tried jumping from a building but ultimately landed in a suspiciously placed truck containing apples from the latest harvest.
One day, next to an empty bottle of maker's mark, he was aiming a pistol at his abdomen in a dark alley way when a homeless man, old, white haired, with lines of past tribulation dotting his face, pointed out the simple fact that Jim was n't aiming properly, and would probably be stitched up before bleeding out. He further asserted that Jim was kind've a pussy, too cowardly to actually end his life. He could n't finish a book, and he certainly could n't end his life. This simple truth became Jim's obsessively reiterated tether to life; a ball and chain he knew he did n't have the balls to overcome.
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[ WP ] An ailing yet young commander in a time of war , fighting only for the people with a whimsical sense of humor .
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Caparisoned in scarlet and Lincoln green, the chestnut destrier plodded through the meadow, lush with heather, dandelion and buttercups. Her rider, clad in similarly coloured armour, nodded in the saddle as the warhorse returned to the ring of tents pitched in the rolling fields.
A pagegirl took the reins of the mount and guided horse and rider to the main tent; around them, knights in boldly coloured platemail bobbed their heads at the return of their commander.
Still not stiring from the saddle, the pagegirl approached two burly knights and enlisted their aid in lifting the commander from her steed, before laying her out on her cot in the commander's tent.
`` Is it the sickness?'' asked one of the knights - a slabby-faced woman with knuckles like acorns.
The pagegirl shrugged,
`` Could be, or mayhap she is just tired.''
The three women carefully removed the armour from their Lady, who did not stir once during the proceedings.
Under her steel she wore a plain green tunic and scarlet hose. Nary a scratch marked her; yet she'd just returned alone from a skirmish with the King's men in a tiny village south of their camp.
The sound of spiced wine being poured beside her cot roused her though and she opened her eyes, leaning to one side to cough scarlet phlegm onto the flattened grass of the tent floor.
`` So I won then,'' she stated, wiping her chin carelessly, then reaching for the cup.
`` Aye my Lady,'' said the other knight - a dark woman in black and gold armour, tattoos scrolling around her forehead and cheeks, `` and handily too, judging by the notches in your blade and the lack of dings in your armour.''
`` Why *that* town,'' asked the other knight - Lady Gwenth.
Laughing, their commander rolled onto her back, lazily weaving the cup through the air,
`` They have a marvelous bard.''
The frown that marred the features of the dark knight bunched her inked brow into a snarl of lines,
`` A bard? That is worth potentially *dying* for my Lady?''
Pulling herself upright and hacking up another string of phlegm, the commander regarded her with sea-green eyes, from under her shock of copper hair,
`` It is *war* Hinetoa, a dreadful, terrible, insane conflict that never ends,'' she spat into her empty cup,
`` With so many dead, and so little left, why not protect the things that still *mean* something? Those that bring laughter, joy and delight.''
Taking out her sword now - burnished green metal that sang with enchantments - she ran her witches whetstone over the edges, returning the unnatural sharpness to the blade.
`` We are naught but engines of war; should we not preserve that which is most precious?''
Hinetoa bowed,
`` Your will, my Lady.''
The commander grinned,
`` Good. Now, tomorrow we march on the king's vineyard - he always made the most appalling wine and I can not stand to think that it's the only source of drink left. Perhaps he'll appreciate the magnitude of his perversity in making us all drink it once it's in flames.''
The two knights bowed, then left.
The commander lay back, wracking coughs shaking her once-strong body.
`` Can I get you anything?'' asked the pagegirl.
`` No,'' whispered the commander, `` not unless you have a needle and thread that mends broken hearts.''
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[ WP ] Every day , you can re-allot 40 skill points to Strength , Intelligence , Charisma , and Karma ( SICK ) . You 're always given suggestions in your dreams of how to prepare yourself for the day . Today , your intuition is telling you to put all 40 pts . in just ONE category .
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A gunshot fires from the end of the hall. Room 217. Joey had those birds that whither when they're alone too long. Poor fucks are as good as gone.
Another shot. Cheryl. That one did n't even have any hesitation. Must've heard her drone about her kids one too many times. Always had two pictures. Three kids, second family grave.
Again. The room over. He tried to talk him out of it. No use. It's my turn now. I think of this morning, of the words in front of me as I have every sunrise.
`` Good morning! Forty points remain! Please choose your SICKness wisely!''
Strength. Intelligence. Charisma. Karma. I went with my gut, as I always do. Karma. A force you ca n't quantify. Strength, maybe I could've wrestled the gun from him. Intelligence, outsmarted him and got out of the building. Charisma? Talked him into leaving. Or maybe shooting himself. Anything is better than this uncertainty.
My door is kicked open, he cocks the gun and points it at me. There's stress in his eyes, an uneasiness, for the first time, hesitation. A memory glazes over his eyes.
Kids. A playground. A scraped knee.
`` Thank you.''
He lowers his arm and leaves.
A gunshot sounds past my room.
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[ IP ] The End .
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Aaron rustled his shirt once more, flapping off the dirt and grass that always managed to get on his buttoned shirt, despite keeping his hands off the ground. The ground itself was damp, not soaked, but the fog made sure that droplets of water could be seen as far as the eye could glimpse. Aaron sat alone though, in the middle of lolling pasture, by a similar lonely tree, providing shade from the dim sun above.
It was a warm day, despite the fog. The crickets chirping in the thickets and the birds cooing in the treeline not too far away. A raven cawed annoyingly high in the sky, circling, as if expecting action or incident. The smell of cloying silt, wet grass, wet dirt... Despite being outside, it was still nauseating for Aaron. He was n't much the outside kind of man.
He had left the cabin not too long before, sick to his stomach, and tired of the stuffed rooms and clinging sweat from lying down in bed. He knew he was dying... The very fact that he could almost feel the cold grip of death was enough to make him realize that one truth.
He looked up, his pale face, his sweat beaded brow, the lank hair, and his loose buttoned shirt all but told that death was upon him.
He had moved west... Hoping for a future. Daring the odds. Listening to the impulse of the travels and stories of the west. Aaron was encapsulated by these tales, entranced even... The spell could n't be undone.
His wife, Sarah, had said that it would be foolish, but their love for each other could n't stop the trek west. They had three children... They had three...
Benjamin, the oldest, 17, young, naive, sometimes full of himself and foolish, but yet, wise, intelligent, and considerate, had left to serve with Texan Volunteers three years before, 1862. But the letter from commander Beauregard, personally signed, stated that, although wounded, he had died later and succumbed to those wounds. He had lost his left arm and right leg to grape shot, as the letter went. Sarah was devastated. But the two others were there with her, and so was Aaron of all.
They had built the cabin in fertile grounds, isolated, yes, but still capable of sustenance without the need for community. Aaron now considers it the great mistake he made.
Jennie was a good girl, 14 years old with adorable freckles on her cheeks and a beautiful, white toothy grin. Aaron chuckled at her small giggles whenever he would playfully tickle her before setting her to bed. She was smart, but tough. She would always help Papa with the farming, even setting up her own small farm to learn the trade, even learn or create a few new tricks...
But one noon day, middle of summer, she had disappeared. Aaron had found it peculiar that she did n't return for lunch or supper. He went out searching with his youngest child, Dean, 11 years old, carrying hunting rifles and plenty of ammo. Aaron was looking forward to using his newly bought Winchester Repeater he had bought a few weeks back going into town for new seed.
They found her... The image made him gag, and spittle drooped from his mouth as he remembered the emaciated, tangled, bloody mess that was his sweet little Jennie. She was tied, tightly, to a tree, stripped down... He knew the rest. Savage Indians had taken her... Taken her in her youth, ravaged her, and then took her life... He never found the perpetrators, but he knew that it was Indians...
Dean died of pneumonia two winters later. Young also, filled with joy despite all the grief. He was no fighter, would n't even go hunting with papa because he enjoyed marveling at the life of nature. It was especially cold that winter, and the crops had all but failed. Barely enough to survive and make money from... What little he had, he used for themselves.
Sarah... Sweet, gentle Sarah... Heartbroken by the loss of her children, and unable to bear more, died of grief, in 1871. She was only 38.
Tears ran down Aaron's face. The pain in his stomach was unbearable, but yet, he found gratitude. He had dared the odds and fought against what all thought impossible. For 3 more years, alone, he lived. Suffering? Yes. But alive, nonetheless.
He opened his eyes after much reminiscing and saw a figure, a dark, almost sinister figure, approaching slowly.
He wished to stand on his feet and face this stranger with pride, but it seemed as if his buttocks was nailed to the ground... His legs would n't even flinch. The figure approached and stopped but a few feet short of Aaron and stood in silence.
Several agonizing moments past. Unbearable, long, tortuous. Finally, as Aaron had had enough, he opined:
`` What's yer bid'ness here stranger? I dun take too kindly to folks just waltzin' through,'specially through open wild'rness.''
It was silent. Aaron observed the stranger. Black clothing, almost as if it were robes, tattered, worn, as if it had been on long journeys and had not taken the opportunity to change or repair its garments.
`` You okay stranger? Ans'er quickly,'' his voice was but a whisper and growing weak.
The figure held out its hand, palm upwards and open, as if reaching out with a helping hand. It was pale, almost grey skin. Its other hand reached for the hood, which clouded the stranger's head in shadow, and peeled it back.
Aaron flinched at the sight, but did n't turn away. The figure's face was drawn, as if starved. Its eyes seemed hollowed, and its cheeks sunken. Its breathing, now that he could hear it, was raspy and phlegm filled.
`` I am come to take you home,'' he rasped again, `` where you belong,''
Aaron was rather dumbfounded. Honestly unsure as to what was happening.
`` I sense that you miss your family dearly,'' rasps, `` your daughter. Your two sons,'' rasp,'' your Sarah,'' rasp.
Sarah's name filled him with dread. How did he...?
`` I know many things,'' rasp, `` and many things,'' rasp, `` need not explaining,''
It waved its arm, and ghostly figures stood behind him. Two taller figures, near Aaron's own full height, stood on the stranger's right. The two smaller, to its left. The figures became more solid, their features fleshing out. Tears began to roll down Aaron's cheeks once more.
`` Papa! Come on!'' the Benjamin figure cried out, a smile creasing his boyish features. But they were n't boyish anymore. He was a fully grown man.
`` Come on Pops! Time to step up. You can do it!'' Jennie stated. She was no longer that 14 year old girl. She was a young woman. Her hair was flowing, free and careless. He smiled.
`` Papa. Its time. Its your time,'' Benjamin stated. Of all of them, he seemed most resplendent. His quirked smile and cropped hair could n't hide the man he was.
Sarah merely smiled and raised her hand as if to hold his. They were all dressed as if they were going to a ball or expensive dinner. As if they were rich themselves.
`` Your family,'' rasp, `` misses you so,'' rasp.
Aaron was dumbfounded. He knew what was now going on. And there was no fighting it. He could n't get up, his legs were too weak. His stomach was unbearably tightened in a knot. His head swam and it seemed that it was impossible to breath.
The dysentery had taken a serious toll on him. Suffering for almost a year, and refusal to be treated led to this point. The drinking, the smoking. It was unbearable.
`` Death?'' Aaron whispered.
`` Yes, child?'' It replied.
`` Will it hurt?''
`` It will not...'' it rasped.
`` Can ye help me up? I cai n't do it on my own,''
Death reached forward and, with a light spring, Aaron popped forward. The ailments were gone, the pain and dreariness and wooziness. He looked back, and there lay, the flesh prison that once was him. He smiled, as he looked back, his family crowded around him, smiling back at him, and walked into the light, following Death into perpetual bliss.
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[ EU ] Left bored after killing the Batman , The Joker decides to take on his role as vigilante of Gotham City
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You know, I spent years dreaming of a future without the Bat. Oh, the hours of visualizing the moment of his death, the instant when the light disappeared from his eyes and I won. Sometimes I told a joke, other times I simply pulled a trigger. But every single time, I felt the same joy of victory, dreamed the same elation as I danced upon his corpse.
Who would have though the reality would have been so... boring.
Now when I look out across this city, I feel the overwhelming apathy boring into my temples like a pair of screws. The laughter had gone out of the delightful filth which covers Gotham. Everything is so serious now. Turns out Bats gave this city that teensy bit of madness which really gave it the heart which drew me. Now that he's gone, everyone is so serious. Everything, the city and the people, all of it disgusts me.
I walk along the same rooftops that he used to roam, looking down at the city as it breathes. Men and women scurry back and forth, going about their little lives and hoping that the mob does n't collect today. So simple. So boring.
I hear a cry of fear and suddenly my interest is aroused. Why, I ca n't remember hearing anything so delightful since the days after Bats was knocked off. I skirt the edge of the building, a spring suddenly entering my step. Perhaps tonight, I would have some fun.
Down below, I see a pair of thugs harassing a single woman, one holding a knife and the other a bat. Tears pour down her face as she begs them to let her go. This makes them chuckle, and I'm almost tempted to join them. But something about it just seems so mundane. And then I get it. This is business. These morons are n't out her for fun. They do n't find the same pleasure in the terror of the citizens. They're just here to make a quick buck.
I snarl at the realization. This town has always been special, always raised a better class of criminal. The old gang never cared about money, only about quieting the voices in their heads. But that had all gone with the Bat. It'd left this city a husk, a shell of its former glory. Idiots like this pair have ruined Gotham for the few of us who truly care about her.
That is enough to drive me down into that alley. I step over the edge and slide down a convenient metal tube silently. In the past, I might have shouted `` Wheeeeeeeeeee!'' as I went, but I do n't feel like that anymore. There's no fun, no laughter, just anger. When I touch down on the ground, the thugs are just taking the woman's purse.
`` Let's see what ya got in here, sweetheart,'' drawls one of them. While his attention is on the purse, I approach from behind unnoticed.
`` Anything good?'' asks the other thug, completely unaware of my presence.
`` Nah, just a few bucks and- hey, what're lookin' at, buddy?'' So the first idiot has noticed me, but the shadows hide my face. `` You better scram if you know what's good for ya!'' This almost makes me laugh, but the anger is still too strong to be disrupted.
`` Come on, Johnny. Just knock him around and let's scram.'' Apparently that's all the encouragement `` Johnny'' needs, because he starts walking towards me, holding the knife up threateningly. His attitude changes dramatically when I pull out my gun and level the barrel at his head. The knife drops to the floor of the alley and the thug starts to back away.
`` Whoa, man! Come on! This ai n't a big deal. No reason to get serious!'' he babbles as he continues to back up.
`` Serious?'' I say slowly, testing the word. `` Hm... boys I think I'm beginning to see a problem with the situation.'' When I step out into the weak light emitted by the single flickering bulb, both of the muggers gasp.
`` Oh? What's the problem?'' Both of the thugs are speechless. `` Cat got your tongue?''
`` You-you're... you're...'' stammered the first one.
`` You're the Joker!'' finished his friend.
`` So nice to be recognized,'' I exclaim, forcing the honey into my voice. `` Now boys, just what are you doing?'' Neither of them are able to speak for a few second, so I pull back the trigger on my gun. `` Out with it now... I'm not the patient type.'' I finally let all the anger out into my voice and the end of the sentence comes out as a malicious growl.
`` We-we're just tryin' to make a buck, Mr. Joker!'' answered the one still holding his bat. `` That's it!''
`` Oh, was that all? Well then, maybe I over reacted.'' For a few moments, I point the gun away from them and tap a finger on my chin thoughtfully. `` But then again, maybe not.''
With that, I aim the gun at the first thug once again. He flinches backwards and his arms fly up to cover his face. I pull the trigger and feel the force of the gun shooting up my arm. For a few seconds, everyone stays still and quiet. Then my target fearfully looks through his arms to see the tiny flag hanging from a stick which has emerged from the barrel of the gun. `` Bang!!!!'' is written on the orange cloth in big, green letters.
`` Oh, whoopsie! Silly me, it looks as if I forgot my real gun!'' I crow, afterwards forcing out laughter. `` Guess you boys got lucky tonight!'' Their faces relax and I can see relief in their expressions briefly. Unfortunately for them, this made it that much easier to close the distance. The first idiot did n't even react until after I'd stuck a knife through his gut. Although his friend tried to run, I chased him down quickly enough and began to hack at his body with the blade.
`` Now, now boys, this what happens to naught children when they misbehave!'' After several minutes, the bodies are still and I am left alone with the victim. She stares at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. Finally, she gets control of herself and flees, sobbing as she goes. I watch her before turning back to the bodies.
Looking at their limp and broken forms, I suddenly feel better. Almost as if something that I'd lost has returned. Maybe Bats had the right idea, just the wrong method. Maybe I knew how to bring the fun back to this city.
`` That's why I do n't mess with women boys. They'll be the death of you,'' I say to the bodies. A feeling begins to grow in my gut, something I have n't felt in a long time, not since Bats kicked the bucket.
`` Heh. Hehehe.'' The giggling continues to bubble up, growing in strength. `` Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe. Hahahahahahahaha!'' By the end, I'm howling with laughter and holding my gut. For the first time in years, Gotham rings with laughter.
Time to fix this city. One joke at a time.
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[ WP ] When the bad people die they do n't go to hell they go to an afterlife rehab then are reborn .
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`` So why are you here Petey?, Murdered a person? Bombed the national LGBT association?''
Peter gulped as Beelzebub questioned him, `` Well I decided to Steal from the elderly..'' `` hu-'' `` Beelzebub''
`` Call me bub! Anyways I read through your criminal record and i think youll be here for a long time..''
Peter sighed and rested his head on the Red desk as he dreaded what would happen to his soul, Maybe he might get tourtured? Maybe he might have to stick in a empty room? Peter just wanted the interview to be done
`` Petey? There isnt any reason to be distressed here''
`` YES THERE IS!''
Beezlebub sighed again and repeated `` Petey, There is n't any reason to be distressed, Im not like the person that you would think, Why would I cast all of these poor people, Who were merely misunderstood into hell?, You know what? I changed my act, and now instead of tormenting people I decided to set up a rehab to Change people and reincarnate people! You know everyone needs a second chance, Any questions?''
Peter lifted his finger `` what if you lose your second chance?''
`` Succubuses.. That is all''
`` Ok im sold!''
Peter stood up as Beezlebub pointed his finger to the exit of his office `` Follow the signs petey! And i hope you have a good time!''
Peter opened the door as he noticed the large rehab building as he sighed, Not from dread, But for his new beginning...
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[ WP ] Gather round , and let me tell you the tale of The Thief who stole life back from Death Itself !
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The thief saw the tall, black-robed image of death itself when it appeared to take his father. Wordlessly, the spirit appeared through a hole torn through the air itself, walked towards the thief's father, and slowly reached for his hand to pull up not his body, but his spirit. The spirit did not fight, but merely walked with him back through the portal, before it sewn itself shut.
The thief knew that his only hope was to go to Death's own realm. He would not know what would wait for him on the other side, but to get his father back was more than worth it.
He had come up with a simple plan; wait for someone to die. Unfortunately, he had seen other people die, but Death did not show itself until the person was either alone or with loved ones. So he went to the only place that was considered to have its dying surrounded by loved ones. It was the Temple of Arlo, who loved and forgave everyone sworn to him.
The temple took care of people who were sick and had no desire for medicine. When death was assured, they were left in a ceremonial room for their last thoughts and wishes. The thief was able to coerce a key from a temple maiden questioning her faith at a tavern in the next town weeks before, and went into one of these special rooms. The room was large enough, with enough statues and artwork that he could pick a hiding place.
Over half a day later, a man was wheeled in, with barely enough strength to blink. He was not in the room for more than an hour before the dark portal opened itself and the dark figure stepped out of it. While he knelt down to the man's sitting height, and faced away from the portal, the thief saw his chance, and made the quietest but quickest steps he could and jumped into the portal.
Blood-red sands, purple overcast clouds, volcanic mountains in the distance, and no buildings aside from a small house less than a mile away. At first, he wondered where the spirits were, but then his answer cam in the form of the land's wind. Every gust had thousands of spirits that went through him, with the wisping sounds replaced with moans and screams of the dead.
`` Your courage is admirable to wish to come to my realm.'' The thief turned to see death facing him, holding the hand of a spectral form of the old man in the chair, upright and walking.
`` I remember your face. You were clutching your father in your arms after your friend had --'' `` You be quiet!'' the thief shouted, not wanting to hear more about the betrayal that had led him here. `` Do not test me boy. Especially not when in my domain.'' He had let go of the spirit's hand before it walked away and began to fade into the distance.
`` It is quite obvious you seek the life of your father. One moment and I can fetch him for you.'' The hooded figure raised one hand up into the air and out of his robe, exposing nothing but bone. The unforgettable spirit of his father stood in front of him. `` I shall give him back to you when I allow you to leave, so long as you fulfill one request.'' ``... Anything.''
The portal reopened, with the hand of bone gesturing the thief, now holding his father's hand, to go through. After crossing through to the world he knew, he heard a whisper, as though it was from his own head. As the portal shut, he heard the final sentence from death:
`` For willing to do anything to save your father, I request one thing to let him stay with you and your world: Bring me the spirit of your *real* father.''
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[ WP ] Waking up one morning , I stared at my hands in horror . The fur and claws were gone , replaced by pink flesh and flat nails .
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`` Nyahaha~!''
That irritating sound came from somewhere nearby. She turned her head imperiously, trying to get into a more comfortable position befitting a divine spirit of her position.
She was a bit surprised when she did not feel the familiar weight of her claws scrabbling against the stone.
She opened her eyes and stared at her paw. It was a hand. A pink, furless hand. A vein began to throb in her temple.
`` Micchi! What did you do this time?!''
Her companion sat just outside the cave, silhouetted against the sun. He grinned a bright vulpine grin at her, waving his tails as he trotted over to her.
`` Oh look, someone's finally figured out how to transform!''
She tried to lunge forward and bite him only to realize her snout was no longer as long as it once was. Also this form was bigger and more clumsy and she ended up rolling onto the floor. Silken clothes tangled around her, celestial silk mind you, not that that made this situation any more dignified for her. A stupid lock of hair fell in front of her face and she puffed it away in annoyance.
His gaze wandered off in that flaky way of his, `` You look like a little girl. Trying to be a cradle robber are we, nya~?''
`` I did n't do this!'' she growled, `` I know this is your fault, you lousy old timer! I can feel your ki projecting this form on me!''
`` You did influence the form of the spell though...'' His eyes refocused on her, `` Why did I make you human, Rao? I forget.''
He looked confused, somehow. She sighed.
`` That's my question.'' she grounded out, finally managing to stumble to her feet, `` How in nine hells a scatterbrain like you ever managed to gain more than one tail's worth of power is a mystery to me.''
`` It's a mystery to me too!'' he said cheerfully. He did n't seem all that bothered as he padded out towards the entrance of the cave again, `` Now that you're up, shall we get going? The elders at Inari's shrine will bark at me again if we're late.''
She paled. `` I ca n't go meeting them like this! How shameful to appear before Inari in the clumsy form of a human.''
He tilted his head to a side, biting a paw as he thought. `` Nya~ I think you are still considered attractive by human standards in this form. A bit cradle-robb-y since you're a thousand years older than you now appear, but still!''
`` I do n't need human standards right now! Undo this spell right now, Micchi! I'll make you regret it if you do n't!''
Micchi's tails waved. He gave her a distinct look.
`` You... just made up the spell while I was sleeping without thinking up a counter, did n't you?''
Micchi grinned, shifting slightly, `` Nyahaha... um, I, um, do n't actually remember putting a spell on you...'' He ducked his head behind a tail.
She sighed. `` Sometimes I feel like you're the kit instead of me. How did you ever get around without me?''
`` A-Anyway, I guess it's not right for you to attend the festival at Inari's shrine like this.'' he said. She tensed as she felt his ki gather invisibly in the air.
His form seemed to waver and fade away before reforming into something a little unfamiliar. He sat on the floor of the cave, clenching his newly formed hand close and open, a fascinated look on his face.
`` Look, I'm human too now!'' he smiled.
She bit her lip. `` You did n't happen to just transform naturally did you?''
`` Nope! I used that spell that I used on you on myself.''
She sighed, `` So now you're stuck like this too.''
He laughed, `` I guess so. I ca n't just leave you to get barked at alone because of my spell.'' he said. In a more serious tone he added, `` I have a feeling these forms will be useful when we reach the capital city.''
`` What, like a'I thought this would be funny' feeling or a'vague but prophetic' feeling?'' she raised her brows, `` I ca n't imagine what quest from the gods would require kitsune to meddle about as humans in the affairs of humans.''
He was n't paying attention. His gaze had wandered off again. It was a bit more obvious when his attention drifted as a human, somehow. She could n't even growl at him properly in this form.
`` Micchi!''
`` Sorry, sorry! Let's get going before the sun sets again, hm?''
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[ WP ] You 're grades are failing and the only way you can pass the class is by cheating on the final . However , the school you attend is renowned to be the school where no cheater has ever gotten away .
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11:58. He had been staring at the white, prison-like clock hanging above the whiteboard for a while now. His leg was shaking - a nervous twitch he had. The instructor was having a final look at his papers, nodding her head as if she was pleased with the work she was about to hand out. Slowly, the clock was ticking away. He was approaching the hour that would decide it all. 11:59.
He checked his pockets again. It must have been the eighth time in the last two minutes. He wanted to be sure. The neatly folded paper brushed against the inside of his hand. It was still there. He knew he should not be doing this. The school would not let any cheaters get away - especially not him. Not after the incident last week. The exams had always been in his teacher's desk a week before the class had to take them. Needless to say, he tried his luck to get the papers, even if it meant being expelled. Luckily, it was the janitor who walked into him in flagranti. He got away with a warning.
This time it was serious. He knew it was wrong, but he had to pass this exam. He just had to. The clock was now approaching twelve. The instructor started handing out the papers. He took a deep breath. His nerves were getting to him. Could she see him sweating? 12:00.
*'' You may now start. `` *
He had a look at the paper. Hopeless. Numbers he had never seen before, letters mixed together in unorthodox combinations, pictures depicting various scenes he could not decipher - none of it made sense to him. He was going to fail. He would have to go work at some coffee shop for the rest of his life, if he was lucky. He decided to take the risk. The paper was still in his pockets. Slowly, as to not make any suspicious noises, he took the note out. Unfolding it in his lap, he lowered his head the tiniest bit.
*'' Desk 38. This school does not tolerate cheaters. You may hand in your paper and leave silently'' *
Startled, he looked up. The instructor was not even looking at him. How could she know? It did not matter, for he had failed. He knew he should not have done it. He knew he would have gotten caught. He knew this was the end. Handing the empty paper in to his instructor, he left the room. 12.01.
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[ WP ] One day God comes back to check on Earth , realizing he forgot to turn friendly fire off .
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God was chilling with a blunt in hand watching a replay of his game he played earlier.
Angel Sacurus walks in fidgeting and sweating like The Grudge ghost on coke.
God turns his head and looks at Sacurus `` Saccie!... How do you do? You are looking a little pale my child''
Sacurus feels a little pride `` take that Jesus'', thinks to himself. As he thought this his brain kick-started again with the whole bucket of other set of thoughts be had come to see God with.
`` God... Err....We got a problem'' Sacurus looks a little nervous.
God smiling takes a hit off the blunt as points at the hologram he was watching `` look at this, in Jokos the created ones - Cherz - have become so intelligent they are forgetting me and denying me because they think they are me'', God let's out a chuckle.
Sucurus looks to see what was happening and he then realized the Cherz being are showered with jizz coming out of nowhere. He scratches his head.
God chuckles again. `` Let them try to figure this one out. Succie my boy, I'm bored with this game, reset it when you get the chance, I want to take a different course with them''.
Sucurus feel proud being called Gods' boy, child, son, because after all, no other angels are so close to him.
Sucurus tried again `` God, we have a pretty big problem, one of the games, one of your favourites back in the day, you've forgotten to turn friendly fire off...''
God thinks for a momemt `` eh, which ones this?''
`` Earth'' Scurus replied.
`` Oh fuck.....'' God looks half way between confused and excited, be takes another puff from the blunt.
`` This is the one that brother and I used to play alot right?'' God asked getting up, stroking his long beard, thinking to himself.
`` Yes... That exact one... But....Err... Well your brother has been sneaking in and playing it a bit on and off'' Scurus thought to himself `` he is pretty damn good at it too.''
`` Whaaaa....That sneaky little Devil'' God looks at Sucurus and smirks.
`` Tell you what, we need an intervention, why do n't you log in to the game tomorrow, you will need to do this'' says God.
`` Jesus fucking Christ....'' Sucurus let's out a sigh exasperated.
`` Whaaaa... Is he masterbating again?'' God asks a little taken back.
Sucurus shakes his head `` No no, it was an expression..''. A metaphorical bright yellow light bulb appears on top of his head, `` Why do n't you ask Jesus?''
God takes another puff `` He's learning game development right now....''. Takes another puff and looks at Sucurus `` Have you read the coding and storyline so far? Of Earth?''
`` Err....A bit... Yes...'' Truth be told, he wasnt much into gaming. He also just lied, he knew more than a bit but fearless than he ought to for a job like this. `` I..Got some work to do... So... Maybe someone else?...''
God gives a question mark look `` Son....you should do this to make your farther happy...''
Sucurus's face brights up like starts feeling high like A Thousand Sons and Chester Beningingtons high pitched voice. `` Y-y-yes... I will... But I do n't know transformation''
God says `` I know, that's why I'm telling you to go...''
Sucurus thinks `` But I have only one eye... And honestly I'm a little ugly, exactly the opposite of Jesus''. Thinks to himself `` I really hate that fucker... I'm against him... Fucken Christ.''
God smiles `` I know... I know this all... And it's one of my favourite games... So I know how to play this... Just go... Log in... I will discuss the details with you later.''
Sucurus stands up straight, smiles, and rushes out the door to go log in.
Molgo walks in a few minutes later `` God, sir, we need your assistance... Surucus has been getting into a few fights and I've restrained him. Need your help to calm him down''
God looks at Molgo the angel a little confused mid way in his puff `` whaaaa.....I just spoke with him... About the fuck up on Earth..''
Molgo ponders for a moment `` Sir that's Sucurus, I remember he found the glitch... One I've changed up is Surucus, his twin brother''
God slaps his forehead `` whaaaa... Well fucken hell eh... Damn...'' Looks at the blunt `` Sucurus, Surucus, this is going to be a circus now... I should have remembered I created the twins with opposite personalities and named one backwards of the other....This weed is strong....Ehhh.... Oh well'' half mutters to himself.
`` Go I shall come'', Molgo walks out.
God strokes his beard gently and takes a puff and smiles to himself `` well well, this is going to be even more intrtrsting... I made a mistake... I should have turned the friendly fire on half way through... I forgot... Oh well... That's fine... now I've sent the wrong chap... Handicapped myself... That's fine... still..Dear brother of mine, I have switched your own plans....Throwing it at you....This is going to be interesting... His own plan....Haha... Oh brother of mine, you will lose, dear brother, your name shall be mine... brother Lucifer''
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( WP ) Lucifer never fell , God just needed his most trusted archangel to claim the darkness so the real evil could not .
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He sighed - the lament of ages carried in the discordant harmonies that long ago replaced the music he made to honor Him. He had a duty. He knew that. He would endure. Semper Fidelis! He chuckled to himself - if only a certain military body of Them knew what that truly meant.
The Others, cowering in the shadows, withdrew further into the crevices and corners, not comprehending why He cackled, inspiring in them an awesome fear, inexplicable, which shivered unattenuated to the very core of their pitiful existence.
Even after all this time, a seeming eternity, he felt deeply the absence of The Light. He longed to once more bask in Its Glory allowing It to wash over him. To wash away all of this. He knew that it was not yet to be. There were, `` Miles to go'' ( he always liked the one They called Frost ).
He stood up. His trident, white hot, cast twisted shadows of his visage amongst Them. He leapt into the shadows, driving the burning metal into them. Pulling them from the darkness, he cast them into the light.
Their mouths agape in silent screams of agonizing terror, most slithered back to the darkness, unable to face it - unable to face themselves. A few, only a tiny few of the multitudes, opened their eyes. They wept.
First tears of horror, then fear, sadness, and regret. The moisture, streaming from their now wide-eyed attention, cooled and caressed their wounds. It was the holiest of water.
Only then, as the light reached out to them, did the tears become those of joy.
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[ PI ] [ CC ] [ TT ] Years ago , a woman fell in love with a mighty dragon . Through means most magical , you are the child resulting from that union .
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Alex sat at his desk, dangerously close to sleep. His head started to fall, and his eyes started to close.
No! He could n't sleep now, this was history class! Mrs. Bruno would kill him!
But they were watching a video, and he sat in the back of the class. He had n't got enough sleep last night, he had been too sore. Surely five minutes could n't hurt...
His head drooped again, as did his eyelids. He did n't try to fight it.
Before he could fall too deeply, however, a pencil jammed into his side. `` Alex, stay awake! You know what happened last time she caught someone sleeping! You'll have detention for a month!'' His twin, Luke, whispered hoarsely to him. On his other side, a girl named Emily smirked and giggled, then went back to watching the video.
`` Come on, man, you know I did n't get enough sleep last night. Five minutes ca n't hurt.''
Luke gave him a hard look. `` I know you did n't sleep enough. I was up with the same problem, you moron. But I do n't want to have to deal with mom's wrath when you come home with three million detention slips.''
Alex sighed, but did n't say anything, and returned his attention to the projector screen.
A few minutes later, however, while watching old WWII troops march across the screen, he started yawning again. He glanced to his left, and noticed his brother doing the same thing. His back was aching, too, and so was his head. He notied Luke rubbing his temples.
He tried to ignore it, but it steadily grew worse. Apparently, so was Luke, because he leaned over to ask the girl next to him if she had a tylenol. Alex leaned over. `` Make that two, please?''
She did n't have any tylenol.
Soon, it became almost unbearable. He was about to ask to go to the nurse, when he felt... something... happening in his back. Like his bones were shifting, or something. He tried to raise his hand, but at that moment, excruciating pain coursed through him. He felt, to his vast surprise, what felt like wings and a tail growing out, and simultaneously felt something sprouting from his skull. He could n't stand it. He bent over his desk, face contorted with pain. He felt his shirt rip open by the new limbs coming out of his back, and felt a hole being torn in his pants as what felt astonishingly like a tail poked through.
Through the pain, he looked at his twin, hoping to find some sort of comfort from whatever was going on, but only found him bent over his desk, obviously in the same agony, with- sure enough- wings and a tail growing through the ruins of his clothes. Beyond him, dimly, he saw his fellow classmates staring at them in shock and horror.
After what felt like ages, the pain started to dim. Alex looked up, unsure of what had just happened. His classmates stared at him and Luke with the same expressions of shock and horror they had a few minutes ago. Mrs. Bruno sat at her desk in the far corner of the room, staring at them with her mouth hanging open, her forgotten coffee cup still in her hand.
Alex looked at Luke, who seemed just as surprised and confused as everyone else in the room, wondering what they should do. Suddenly, Mrs. Bruno spoke up, in a small, slightly scared voice. `` I think- I think you boys should probably go home. Or perhaps a doctor.''
The two of them nodded, got up, and walked out of the school, shock still on their face.
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[ WP ] Write a story set in a world where characters can move through fourth-dimensional space .
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Mike Muntz blinked his eyes open. He was cold and irritable, as usual. Or was it usual? He could n't quite remember. In fact, he could n't remember anything. _Oh well_, he thought, and took a long around.
He was standing in what appeared to be a very long hallway stretching out as far as his eye could see. Not that his vision was very good. Instinctively, he reached for his spectacles in his left breast pocket and clumsily put them on his face. _Ah, much better_. To his left and right were what appeared to be dim mirror images of himself. Only, when he tried to look at himself, he found his reflection turned the wrong way and he found himself looking at the back of his own head.
_How very rude_, he thought.
Just then it occurred to him that he was not alone. In fact, there were people walking all around. Millions of them. One was coming toward him now.
`` Ruddy good day, innit?'' said the man. A slightly rotund man with greying fluffy, curly hair, round glasses, who was wearing a funny set of long pajamas that went from his neck down to his feet. Mike supposed there would be a flap in the back for doing one's business out of, but thought better than to ask the man to turn around and show him. Of course, by the time this silly thought had come and gone, Mike had forgotten the question.
`` Sorry?''
`` I said it's a lovely day.''
Mike looked around and was, not to put too fine a point on it, perplexed. He'd been in a carnival fun house once to please a girl and he did not see what all the fuss was about. This fun house, while quite enormous by comparison, was still no fun.
`` I... suppose so. Who're you?''
`` Cornelius J. Black, at your service, and uh... your name is?''
`` Mike.''
`` Mike?''
`` Yes, Mike.''
`` Got a last name, do ya, Mike?''
`` Oh, uh... Muntz. Yes, that's right.''
Cornelius took out a handkerchief, pressed it to his mouth and held in a sneeze or a laugh, Mike could n't decide which, but then carried on. `` Yes, it's easy for one to forget many things in this place. In fact, I had almost forgotten _that_ fact, absurd as it sounds. Hard to remember anything in this place sittin' still. Only way to remember is to move'round, stretch the old legs. Good for the constitution anyway, innit? Yes indeed.''
By this point, Mike was staring dumbly at the man who was wearing long silvery pajamas with a handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket. Of all the things in this place that did n't make sense, this person made the least so far. Mike decided that he was n't going to take much more of this, but he could n't decide whether the man was being nice or poking fun at him for not knowing things. Either way, Mike had had just about enough and frowned up at the man.
`` Sir. Cornelius, is it? I've had enough of your beating about the bush. You'll tell me at once who I am, where _this_ place is, and why I've stumbled into it so.''
_There_, Mike thought. _That ought to wipe the strange smile off his face._
Cornelius raised an eyebrow and frowned indignantly, as if he were witness to something grotesque. Then he proceeded to laugh heartily, his pot belly shaking with each _haw_. After a few moments, his laughter faded and he met the eyes of Mike Muntz once again. Mike held his own angry frown and did not see fit to break into laughter; instead, he huffed and chuffed and folded his arms and raised a finger.
`` Look here, you. Now I've had just about enough --''
But Cornelius, still smiling, grabbed Mike by the shoulders and spun him round until he was staring at a very distant white light. Cornelius put his arm around Mike's shoulder and began walking forward.
`` Tut tut, Mikey boy. All will be explained. Everyone is rattled when they step into a place which should n't be, and of all the places that should n't be, this one is at the top of the list! Now... you see that light there in the distance?''
Mike, still brooding, answered through his teeth. `` Yes, I see it.''
Cornelius pivoted on one foot -- which caused Mike to do just the same -- and faced the opposite direction. All the while, millions of their reflections on either side did the same maneuver nearly in unison. It was the _nearly_ that Mike found peculiar for some reason that he could n't quite put his finger on, especially because Cornelius did n't give him time to think before continuing on. `` And do you see how everything fades to darkness on that end? Beyond all these people, I mean.''
`` Yes, yes. I see it.''
`` Tell me, Mr. Muntz, what do you think about a tunnel of mirrors which has light on one side and darkness on the other?''
But Mike, of all the people who were smart in the world, was probably not on the list. If you had n't gathered it by now, Mike was not of the sharpest mind. He did n't know quite what to make of his predicament and circumstance, and his pinched face matched his utter notknowingment.
`` Fun house?''
`` Not the worst guess I've ever heard,'' Cornelius said, sounding slightly disappointed. `` Certainly not the most profound, but we'll work with what we've got wo n't we?'' He held out his hand in a sweeping gesture. `` Yes. Well, this is a place I've come to call The Great All.''
`` The Great Owl?''
`` Yes, the Great All.''
`` Why would you go and call a funny place like this a funny thing like that?'' Mike asked, looking down. For the first time since he'd opened his eyes, he discovered he was n't wearing anything below the waste and instinctively covered himself with his hands.
`` Funny? I do n't see what's funny about it. Oh, you're wondering where your pants have gone, I see. Well, we'll get your HooHoo Suit soon enough. Not to worry.''
_Great Owl? HooHoo Suit? _, Mike thought. _Am I a bird now? _ But then he thought better than to ask. He found it was usually better to stay quiet, look smart and just hope for the best in these situations.
``'Funny' name aside,'' Cornelius continued, leaning slightly on the word _funny_ as if he did n't find it funny at all, `` the Great All, put simply, is your every self ever and the same for everyone else.''
_If that's simple, I do n't want to find out what's really going on, do I? _
Mike just smiled, a feature which looked quite out of place on his mug, which had lines suited to -- either in anger or befuddlement -- frowning.
`` I think it's better if I just show you what I mean,'' Cornelius said, and began to lead Mike toward the bright white side of the long tunnel. `` Let's talk a walk, shall we?''
As they walked, Mike did n't notice anything out of the ordinary. Well, as ordinary went in the most peculiar of places. Though his memory was slowly seeping back into him as they walked, it sure did take its sweet time in doing so. As they walked, he started to remember little tidbits about his life. His best friend, Fred. His ex-girlfriend, Tessa. His mother, Sally. His dog, Max. He wondered if they were somewhere in the mix of people, but did n't feel like seeing any of them now. He could n't shake their hands ( or paws ), after all. Not until he put on his HooHoo suit, anyway.
`` You may begin to notice memories coming back to you now, and that's normal. In this place, movement is everything. Standing still wo n't do you any harm, but it's a bit like being lost for words. You of all people must know how _that_ feels, Mikey boy.'' At that, he laughed to himself and looked shiftily over at Mike, who was raising an eyebrow at him but gave no response. `` Here, walking is the only way to shake that feeling -- much like in your normal life. Not too much further now and I can really show you something.''
`` My HooHoo suit?''
`` Yes, where _is_ Albert anyway? What? No, not your suit. Not yet. That's Albert Finney's job and he's probably off somewhere napping if you asked me to put money on it. I'm sure we'll find him soon enough and snap him right out of it. No, what I aim to show you is a short walk right this way.''
They walked on and though Mike did feel a breeze in his nethers and though he had no idea what to look out for, he could see nothing really out of the ordinary. They passed between people who were on their way this way and that, most in HooHoo suits and some rubbing sleep out of their eyes, dressed only in shirts and looking about confusedly. Mike wondered whether pants and underclothing were even allowed in this place. _Probably not. Probably not_, he thought.
Cornelius stopped them both and then stepped in front of Mike. `` Ah yes, this should do it. Do you notice anything... different about me?'' Mike, who had been looking around at his surroundings, looked about for Cornelius but found only a very thin teenager with a familiar voice, familiar glasses but a quite unfamiliar pimply face staring back at him and smiled curtly.
`` Pardon me, sir, but I believe I was walking with a man. Cornelius, I think it was.''
`` Mike, I am Cornelius.''
`` Oh, no,'' he snorted. `` You ca n't be Cornelius. Cornelius is a hair fatter'n you. Older, too. Same glasses though.''
`` No, really. It's me. This is what I was trying to show you.''
Mike -- not for the first time in his life and dollars to donuts, surely not the last -- was confused. Still, he hated looking stupid. `` Oh, I knew that. I was just testing you.''
`` What do you notice about me?''
`` You're a fair bit thinner. And younger.''
`` Exactly! Exactly, my boy. And so are you. You ca n't see it because there are no real mirrors in this place, but you are also younger.''
Being inside his own head, he had hardly noticed the change in his voice. `` Eh.. oh... wow. I hadn't.. This is strange. Quite strange.''
`` Indeed, it takes some getting used to. And the further you go this way, the younger you'll be. Likewise, the further you go that way, the older you'll be.''
If brains are rooms filled with light bulbs, Mike's was a room filled with particularly dim bulbs that brightened only on occasion. Now was one of those occasions.
`` So what happens when you wander off too far in either direction?''
`` Glad you asked. Follow me.''
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[ WP ] You find out that Death is n't a robe wearing skeleton wielding a scythe . Death is actually a cute girl . When you 're next on the list , you try to make Death go away by telling her shitty pick up lines , but it has the opposite effect .
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I did n't see the car coming until it was too late. It all happened so fast. The horrific sound of screeching tires. Blaring car horns. Someone screaming... I think it must have been me. And then, blackness.
`` Jason.'' My eyes snapped open at the sound of my name, and I sat straight up in my bed. I quickly took in my surroundings. IV in my arm. The steady beep of the heart monitor.
A girl I did n't recognize sat beside my bed. She had a pale face framed by long black hair. Chains hung from her neck and wrists, complementing her black leather outfit. She looked to be around my age. And she was cute.
`` Do I know you?'' I asked.
`` I am Death,'' she said, coldly. `` Although some call me the Grim Reaper.''
`` Oh God. I... I died?''
`` Yep,'' she said, indifferent. Like she'd had this conversation a billion times. `` I'm here to take you to the Underworld.'' She snapped her fingers, and ghostly chains shot up from the ground, wrapping around my body.
`` Nooo!'' I yelled, struggling against the bindings. `` I'm not ready to die!''
Think, Jason. Think! How was I supposed to convince Death to leave me alone? I had so many years ahead of me... I was supposed to explore the world and meet cute girls. I thought of all the ladies who'd never even given me a chance. Thousands of rejections, countless drinks thrown in my face....
Wait a minute! That was it. Girls had been running away from me my whole life! I looked at Death. She was definitely cute. A few cringey pickup lines would drive her away for sure. Then maybe I'd live to see another day.
`` Hey Death,'' I said. I awkwardly laid a hand on her arm, a difficult task with the chains around my body.
`` Wh- what are you doing, mortal?'' she growled.
`` Has anyone ever told you that you were drop *dead* gorgeous?'' I said, winking for extra effect. She looked at me, stunned. This was it! This was the point where the girl would slap me, or run away, or both.
`` I... well... thank you,'' she stammered, looking down shyly. Her cold exterior had completely melted away. Wait. Was that... was she *blushing? * No. No, no, no. This was not what I'd anticipated. I frantically tried to think of an even worse pickup line.
`` Baby,'' I began, clearing my throat. `` All my life, I've been *dying* to meet you.'' My face spazzed into a wink. That was sure to turn her off, like countless girls before.
To my horror, Death turned positively scarlet. `` No one's been so sweet to me before,'' she whispered. `` Not even after thousands of years. They're usually all just begging and screaming... but you! You... understand me.'' She was practically swooning. Oh God, this was going all wrong. Think, Jason. *Think... * you've always been bad with girls. What do all girls hate? The answer came to me instantly. *Of course... * guys who go too far, too soon.
`` Hey Death,'' I began, praying to God that this would send her packing. `` It would be a *grave* mistake if we did n't get married!'' I'd met her two minutes ago and I'd already dropped the marriage bomb. If that did n't drive her away, I did n't know what would.
`` I was actually going to let you go,'' she admitted. *Wait, what? * `` But now I've changed my mind!'' she said, smiling happily. `` Of course I'll marry you! I'm taking you with me... we'll spend the rest of eternity together in the Underworld!''
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[ WP ] You are sent over 1000 years into the past by accident . You must now learn to survive using the primitive technology of the year 2016 ...
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The concussion of the transmission had completely disoriented me. I lost my sense of smell as I tumbled. Then my sense of hearing, the feeling numbing down to that of liquid in ones' ears. And then I watched the inconceivable occur in this fugue state.
The undescribable images I was seeing seemed to be melting. Blurring, melding into one long tunnel, a disassociated blur I was trapped in. I screamed in horror; but my mouth could n't even open, the muscle movement seemingly frozen in time itself. I could see it in the third person, as if being astral projected, my consciousness physically struggling to stay attached with my body.
I watched the tunnel fix on a bright light. A image becoming more distended the closer I got, the colors concentrating on this one vanishing point now. Closer; the colors formed a porthole of some strange blue hue. Closer still. I could see the ripples of this miasma in detail, around the same time I noted a jarring deceleration.
The light grew too intense. I braced for... What did the Superiors call it? That thing all humans experienced until genetic engineering? *Death*, I remembered from Humanologistics 201. If only I'd listened to Superior Tustzole years ago...
Too bad it was too late. I shut my eyes. And then I felt it. Weightlessness. Weightlessness in all it's familiar glory... But that relief was soon dashed as I realized quickly, this was *gravity*.
I barely had time to register before I slammed into the pale liquid below. I struggled for air, whatever this was it was going into my physical receptors at an alarming rate. I shut my mouth, and navigated towards the light, my body feeling lighter as I moved.
I gasped for air as I fumbled in the surface miasma now. I glanced around for signs of life as I struggled towards what seemed to be a mass of land. Eventually, exhausted, I collapsed onto the hard surface of this foreign shore and lost consciousness.
A stretch of kliks seemed to pass before I could regain my senses and check my surroundings. It was darker now, the star in the sky now hugged the horizon of the massive miasma I'd escaped from, the sky a orange mixed with murple, and even blue.
By the stars, it was... Beautiful. I'd never seen anything like it before in my life... However, I was jarred back to my training to check my coordinates. Activating the Holodeck still attached to my arm, I was transfixed by something else I had n't yet turned to face.
I saw an entire civilization, likes of which I'd never seen. The massive domiciles glimmered with lights all their own, millions of them, shimmering further along the shore as it bended around the miasma into the distance.
The Holodeck chimed as it finished triangulating my location, time and date.
*The date.... It could n't be... *
2016. The 21st Centurion.
It could n't be. I'd gone a 1000 years into the past?? What are the coordinates?
41.758845, -87.549369. And a name. It was in rudimentary Old English spelling.
`` Ch... Chi-ca-go? Chi-ca-go? Ill-i-nois? Ill-i-nois? Holodeck; translate.''
*Translating... Chicago, Illinois. A major quoracile of the American United States from the 19th to 25th centurions, before the time of Mass Exodus. *
I need to get out of here immensely. This is not the world I know.
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[ WP ] A person goes to therapy and finds out the last year of their life was spent in an insane asylum . However in that year they believed they had met their true love but find out they actually never existed .
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I've run out of paper.
I've run out of ink.
The walls are scrawled with images of his face.
They tell me I'm better now. That it never happened. `` Robert Links?'' - Never existed. And I know when they find me- *and I know that they'll find me*- they'll say it's a slip. Just a fall, bump on the head, off the wagon- off the wagon of sanity. And they'll say it's just the medicine, `` Maybe she forgot?'' But I did n't forget- could n't forget- will never forget.
His face.
A small prick- tiny pain- nothing compared to my heart- and there's red, red, red, welling up on my fingers. And yes, it's self-harm, I know. I've been to the classes. I've been to the lectures. I know *all* about the different kinds of crazy. But as they say, `` If it's wrong, I do n't want to be right.''
But I have to draw. I have to draw it just right. None of these pictures do him justice- *he was a much better artist than I am*. I ca n't leave it unfinished, *imperfect*. I ca n't leave his nose wrong, his *eyes* wrong, his lips... What if they give me more medicine? What if they make me forget? He never existed, they say it, and say it. He never existed-
#'' It's all in your head!''
It was n't. He was n't. And even if he was...
Everyone has a soul mate. Everyone has their perfect love. *What if your perfect love only ever existed in your head? * I'd do anything, anything, *anything*. I ca n't let it go. Ca n't forget. Ca n't let him slip into nothingness.
I have to get his face right.
`` *Something to remember you by. *''
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[ WP ] Write me a story that begins and ends in a cemetery .
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In a cemetery, a place of the dead
Having fun with my friends
They had no idea of the spike in the mead.
I'm happy they screamed at their ends.
I've lost all hope in life,
I want to meet them soon.
They run away in strife,
As overhead shines the moon.
In the cemetery, their resting place
Where we all went to meet
My footsteps they could not trace,
The mystery, it was such a treat.
They questioned me, what a chore
I cried some fake tears
And I cried some more
The wetness hiding all of my sneers.
They denied that I was to blame
My smile hidden by shock.
I stayed hidden, away from the fame.
And kept my friends hidden with a lock.
I want to cause some people some pain
Tonight, it's Halloween and I feel that I need to take a trip
My senses are amplified, I feel the strain
In the cemetery, the place I tested my grip.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I'm aware that this is trash. Did n't you read my name, haha?
EDIT: Spelling error.
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[ WP ] `` And today , class I want to show you how to break the Fifth Wall . Anyone want a demonstration ? ''
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`` Hello everyone, my name is Robert Fitzgerald, a twenty seven year old amateur writer who plays several videogames in his spare time when not working at the local Dutch Brother's coffee house franchise.'' Gonni said to the assembled crowd.
`` I... do n't understand?'' the archwizard offered tentatively. `` You said that you had discovered a new magic that pulled back the veil surrounding the veil surrounding reality, the so-called Fifth Wall Shattererer spell, but all you did was spout gibberish.''
Mitschu's audience smiled knowingly at this development in the story. Of course Mitschu would portray his wizened characters as completely befuddled by Gonni's disproportionate meta-revelation. Still, they worried a little bit that he would freely give out his personal information over the internet, and in such detail, just for the sake of a story. Had he never heard of doxxing?
Jacob Pratz, short-term loan officer, grinned at their naivete, as he wrote that Robert was writing about the wizard continuing to Mitschu's character Gonni, `` Besides which, even if what you say is true, that there are levels upon levels of fiction and deception surrounding our interpretation of reality, how do you plan to prove it to me? Is there any method you can come up with that could absolutely cement that my existence is... is ~~just a short blurb on Reddit's Writing Prompt sub? `` ~~
~~'' Well,'' Gonni started, `` you know what Reddit is, that should be a dead giveaway in this world of swords and wizardry. After a~~ Mitschu grumbled at this development before striking it out. Too uninspired, and a copout of the deeper philosophical questions of confirming your own existence. Nobody ever said `` I think, therefore Writing Prompts exist.''
Gray Thunderjerkin, for that was the author's real name hidden behind Jacob who was hidden behind Robert behind Mitschu, a claim that none of the WP community believed for a second, pondered how best to address this quandary of existentialism. After a few minutes, which he decided to write as a mere few seconds to add to his e-credit as an intellectual and quick thinker, so after a few seconds, he decided on the best way to put his spin on it.
He collected himself momentarily, to remember which narrative voice he was supposed to be using, before Gonni said to the archwizard `` That's so easy, I did n't even have to think about it at all, with my infinite wisdom and cleverness.''
Mitschu knew that everyone would see this as avatar bragging, but wrote it in anyway so that people in the reply section below would have something easy to latch onto for criticism instead of digging deep to point out his more serious, but better hidden, flaws as an author. Where was he... oh yeas, Gonni. God, this is harder than I thought, G... uh, Mitschu humblebragged.
`` Why, what I'll do is so simple, I'm surprised no philosopher has come up with it before. I'll let someone else take over the story, while withholding vital piece of backstory and information that the characters already know, so that whoever takes over is bound to stumble into writing something that the characters already know to not be true.''
`` Once this happens,'' Gonni continued, as the archwizard pondered the claim, `` you'll know immediately that something is wrong, because you will be a witness to reality rewriting itself around you. At that point, you'll *have* to concede that your reality is fictious.''
Mitschu paused, a nagging feeling in the back of his head. What was he overlooking...? `` Oh, right. Unless they write'And shortly after handing over control of the story, they wrote that the archwizard forgot everything he already knew about himself and thus did n't see the contradiction.' That could screw things up.''
He hastened to add in that it was Gonni who said that, not himself, so that there would be no confusion, before turning to address his fellow writers, not as Gonni, but as himself, the real person behind the name Mitschu.
`` So, who wants to write the next part of this story and break so many walls that the philosophers will have to name the whole series from Fifth Wall onwards after us?''
After a surprisingly long wait where Mitschu stared at the screen spamming the refresh button, appreciating the upvotes ( and acknowledging the downvotes for preemptively saying that he appreciated getting upvotes ) but really just wishing that someone would hurry up and post a reply, someone finally stepped forward, intrigued enough by the concept to feel the urge to contribute to it.
This is what they said:
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[ WP ] You possess the ability to quick save in real life . When someone upsets you ? Quicksave and beat them up . Wonder what would happen if you kiss that girl ? Quicksave and find out . Then one day you attempt to come back from a failed attemptβ at something to find your previous save corrupted .
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A makeshift tent swayed peacefully in Rutger parks open field. Under the tent; A wreath above a coffin and folding chairs occupied by people in black clothing that only see the light of day one or two times a year. The clothes, not the people.
A preacher stood at a podium to the right of the coffin and said, `` Martins daughter, Amy, has prepared some words.'' The preacher motioned to Amy who sat in the front row, head down, clutching a small stack of index cards for dear life.
Amy steeled herself, set the alarm on her watch for exactly one minute, spoke the word, `` Quicksave,'' then made her way to the podium to replace the pastor. The pastor attempted to embrace Amy. She responded by lightly straight arming him away.
Amy took the podium, shuffled the cards in her hand, put them down, took a breath, then made eye contact with the congregation and said,
`` Everyone here loved my dad, except me. He was n't a bad guy, he did n't hurt me, he was kind to mom, He was just... lame.
I hated his boring job and his boring personality and his boring jokes and his boring life.
I resented him because his shit life made it seem like I was never going to be interesting, or special; like it's in my DNA. Now that he's dead I ca n't bring myself to care, really. I've been fake crying to fit in.
I hate to break it to you folks but there is no god. When you die you just cease to exist, and I'm jealous of him because my life has no meaning and I'm not happy, just like he was n't. But now he does n't have to worry about it anymore and I do. Which is fucked. I kind of wish I was dead''
Amy's watch alarm begins ringing violently. She looks out to the stunned audience and says, `` Do n't worry, none of this is actually happening, I'll go back and fix this.''
The pastor slowly makes his way to Amy and attempts to guide her away from the podium by the shoulders. Amy violently pushes him away and screams,'' NO! I'm leaving soon... I'll fix this!''
The alarm continued to ring.
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[ WP ] You discover you are the only person who has ever been able see and interact with Death , and now you 're his only friend .
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edit: ( sorry I tweaked the prompt a bit so it's not quite exactly what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy! )
edit2: Again, thank you so much for gold. It's really a great honor to know you enjoyed this story and liked it. That's what I write for.
β Damn it, β I muttered after I dropped a mug, which barely missed my foot. The house lights flickered until the power went out. I peeked out the window and saw his shadowy figure outside again. I bent down to pick up the the shattered pieces of my mug, trying to remember where I had last stored away my broom when I stopped. I could feel him staring, prompting me to come out with that silence of his. I could never see his face, but I could sense it. I sighed and stood up, deciding to clean the mess up after he left. I put on a light jacket and grabbed the loose handle of my back door and went out.
It was that time of year again. Death always visited the same spot in my backyard, standing dead center in complete darkness, waiting for me to come out to him. I could feel he wanted to talk to me, but he barely did. He always kept hidden in the shadows of his hooded robe. The bottom edge where his feet would be if he were human gradated into nothing. It was a stark reminder that Death was no man. I never asked what he was even though I was curious. Was he a spirit? A soul? A god? An angel? But I have the feeling that even if I did ask, he wouldn β t know the answer.
I breathed in the fresh air and stretched. The night sky was littered with stars as I stepped outside, bright in the absence of street lamps. Whenever Death came, the lights always turned off. I shivered as a cool breeze grazed my body. I walked up to Death and nodded. β Hey. β
Death said nothing. The unkempt grass rustled around us as another summer chill passed through. I waited, like I always did. Like he always did, but maybe for him, that wasn β t a problem because all he did was wait for things to die.
Death bent over and reached out with a single pale, lithe finger. He gently touched the silken petal of a daisy, which rotted upon contact. He straightened up and looked in my general direction. Since the day I met him, Death had always liked those flowers; they were her favorite, he told me, a woman who lived a long time ago.
β What was her name again? β I asked. Death slowly pointed at the dead flower. β Oh, right. Daisy. β I had forgotten that bit since the last time he visited. That β s why I always skipped mowing my backyard every April. Death liked to come look at the daisies on the anniversary of her death because they were her favorite flowers and her namesake. I sat down and pulled my jacket closer to my body. Death lowered himself to eye-level and I almost fell backwards. It was still disconcerting to see a half-floating figure blending into thin air no matter how many times I saw him.
β You know, you don β t have to come here to see the daisies, β I said. β Not that I don β t want your company anymore, but I β m sure they grow everywhere. They β re wildflowers. β
Death tilted his head. *But I want to see them with you*, I heard in my mind. He never spoke in words. Just thoughts that I could understand.
I nodded. β You know you β re welcome here any time, right? Not just in April. β I couldn β t imagine how lonely it must be to be invisible to the entire world, to walk among those in a different realm who lived in fear of you. Daisy was the only one who used to be able to see him, like me, but she died a century before I was born. She had quite the peculiar name for her time. But from what I gathered from Death, I could tell she was someone special.
We sat in silence for a while and watched the flowers sway in the wind. The white petals glowed under the moonlight. The scattered flowers reminded me of the stars above us. It was a reflection, like we were sitting on the sky and looking up at the daisies where the real Daisy was. Or, at least, where I thought she was. I asked Death once what happened when we died.
*I do not know, * he told me. *I only take. *
β What was she like? β I said, breaking the silence. I bit my lip upon realizing what I had just asked. Death rarely spoke about her and I never had the courage to ask more questions. I always sensed an immense sadness haunting him and didn β t want to pry, but I was getting curious at his devotion to her death anniversary.
Death hesitated. *She was like the wind, * he said. *Much like you. *
I looked up at the moon, which always seemed to be much fuller and much closer every time Death came to visit. I didn β t quite understand what he meant by being like the wind. It had to be a good thing, though, right? A cicada began to chirp in the background and the sweet scent of honeysuckles from somewhere wafted towards us. It was a peaceful night. Death turned his head up to the sky too. I wondered what he usually thought about.
*It seems like'yesterday' she was here with me. *
Death looked back down and reached out to touch another daisy. He hesitated. His finger curled as his arm retreated back into his half-transparent robe. He was disappearing with every passing second. At this point, I could only see his hooded head.
*I do not quite have a concept of what you call time, my dear, * he said, *but I wish I could spend the rest of your days with you. *
I gripped my arms. I didn β t know what to say or what to think. It was a bad decision, of course, to have Death hang around me every second of my life, but then again... wasn β t death already a part of us?
β You can if you want, β I said. β We β re friends, aren β t we? β Without thinking, I plucked a daisy and twirled it between my fingers. A fleeting pang of envy passed through my chest. I chastised myself for feeling envious over a woman who was already long gone. Or maybe I was envious of Death and all the worldly knowledge he would never tell me. I wasn β t sure.
Death reached out, his hand appearing from thin air. He raised his wrist and held his palm right next to my cheek, hovering above my skin. I felt the heat from my cheek dissipate into the coldness radiating from his hand.
I blinked, looking directly at him, past his hood. I could sense him staring right back at me. β But it couldn β t be forever, β I said. β I β m only human. β I wondered if he would miss me when I died too.
Death sighed and lowered his hand.
*If only I didn β t exist. We could be forever, * he said before he faded away.
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[ IP ] Two ships in the sky ...
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`` Why are we taking a shuttle?''
`` Did you want to pull a fighter out of the docks?''
`` Yes.''
`` Did you want to follow them in a fighter?''
`` They know we are following them either way.''
`` Yes Ventros,'' I sighed to my wingmate. He always was more chatty when we were in a ship that did n't have guns, `` but'hey that shuttle is kinda tailgating me'' is very different than `` Oh look, a fucking fighter.''
`` What if we try to fire on us?''
`` Then-'' I started to say something positive but realized there was n't anything, `` Then we're fucked.''
`` So we should have taken the fighter.''
`` I never said that.''
`` You were thinking it.''
`` Maybe,'' I hissed, `` Can we stop talking so much so if he scans our ship we are n't talking about following him.''
`` Fine,'' Ventros growled, or whatever the closest sound to a growl that a Eriksson could make. They were descended from the birds of their planet or the dinosaurs on ours. They were n't lizard, but they were n't exactly a canary either, `` but the second things get hairy I'm jumping out of the ship and leaving you to get shot down.''
Just as he said that a ping came over the hailing frequency, the ship in front of us was looking for a nice chat. At least, it was more polite than spying on us. I glanced at Ventros, and he shrugged. I accepted the call.
`` Shuttle 998271 please identify your route.''
`` Is this air traffic?'' I asked in my most polite voice. It was something closer to a pop star than I wanted to admit.
`` Please identify.'' The words were curt this time.
`` Honestly man, I was just wondering if this was official, you like the ride?''
`` Please identify your route,'' the voice on the other end said. Something about his tone told me that it was the last time he was going to ask and be nice about it.
`` Headed to a bar with my mate for a drink.''
`` Species?''
`` Racist,'' I sighed, `` Human.''
`` We do n't see any human-friendly establishments in the area.''
`` Dammit.''
`` Would you like us to recommend one?'' the voice on the other end was doing it's best to sound friendly and helpful, my translator could n't decide between the tones.
`` Eh,'' I said. That was all I offered.
`` There is one on the other end of the city that offers human drinks.''
`` I think we are going to stay on route,'' I said, `` I really wan na see this place.'' I glanced over to Ventros again, the hand that usually rested on the guns was twitching, `` I'm driving and all.''
`` Please remove yourself from the area,'' they said over the comms. On either side of their ship side panels moved up. I'd seen enough ships to know that the guns were being extended next.
`` Are you air traffic?'' I asked again.
`` Fuck man,'' Ventros hissed, `` can you just back off? We can circle.''
`` Be glad I was holding mute,'' I whispered to him as I let go of the mute button. It was reflex to press it when Ventros spoke at this point.
`` We are requesting that you back away from an ambassador ship.''
A fucking ambassador ship? I turned to Ventros looking like a deer in the headlights. That was nothing close to the man that we were supposed to be following. We had been told that it was a usual Mantis cargo. `` Sorry about that,'' I almost stammered as I said it. I peeled the ship off without another word. Ventros and I waited in silence for a full minute, `` So what do we do now?''
`` We could take the day off.''
`` We need the money, and you know it,'' I hissed, `` we ca n't just let it go.''
`` He's an ambassador,'' Ventros said, `` we are n't going after them.''
`` I'm going to open comms with Hack-'' I said, `` I want to talk to him before we decide what to do.''
`` You going to call him out?''
`` And ask him for a raise.''
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[ WP ] You acquire a new pair of sunglasses . When you wear them , the world seems to ... change .
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Smitty's taking me into one of these pretentious places one minute, then the next he's junked up on another trend to impress the ladies, somehow landing us in what appears to be the twilight zone. I think this place is one of those cult encounters that appear every so often when one trend dies and another shortly, sneakily slides through your fingers; then bam, everybody has mismatched socks and tie-dyed hair with beads hanging down their necks all the way down to their fucking knees.
All the while, Smitty's trying on a bowler hat and bowtie executing his best Charlie Chaplain impersonation. I find myself spiralling around the shop caught between the feathers and the sunglasses. `` Specs are always cool.'' Particularly, one has piqued my interest, gleaming at me through peculiarly prism lenses. Lebowski style - avant garde - retrospecs. They may be outdated but they are pretty groovy and overpriced. Before trying them on, I place them in my pocket and urge Smitty to leave after complimenting him on his exceptional performance as Mr.Chaplain that I had not been watching.
`` What did you take?'' He asks.
I smirked, `` Only a glimpse into an awful thrift shop.''
Some time had passed since our little escapade around the town and we somehow ended up on Clifton, sitting hilltop throwing skittles into our mouths. Smitty left after an entire rainbow had been thrown and lost to the forces of gravity. I stayed behind, fearful that my precious retrospecs would be seen as a symbolism of my kleptomaniac tendencies.
I removed them from my pocket, carefully eyeing the details of the unusual prism lenses that fitted into silvery frames. After much attention to detail I simply placed them on, preparing to see the world through cult couture eyes...
Thrust into an unworldly, speculative, and curiously iridescent universe divided by several fragments of lense, I fell onto my back with my mouth slighlty agape. Surrounding me were no longer trees or cars or rooftops of familiarity, but a new edge, a candescence which mimicked the heat of the sun and reflected itself upon all human life. It was all too beautiful, leaving me a quivering mess until I brewed the courage to finally remove the glasses, returning to my usual state. `` Impossible.'' I exhaled breathlessly. Adrenaline fled my body in that instance, daring me to try these peculiar things one last time. As I was completely consumed in the entire spectrum of it all, I had forgotten what it was that I was actually seeing, that is to say, if I was even seeing anything at all.
I decided not to hold back this time; the specs were going to drive me in to dazzling dimensions and release a surge of adrenaline far greater than anything I had ever ridden at the fair. I knew that much. `` Three, two...'' I counted, bruising my bottom lip with the edge of my teeth. `` One.'' I placed the glasses on promptly, another surge of adrenaline headbutting me like thunder. Only this time it was not so clear as it had been the first time. Trees no longer enticing and colours barely palatable. There was a streak of lighning that swept away the heat of the world, raising the hairs on my arms and causing unsettling shivers. Darkness crept in, wintry airs and a cascade of frightful fears that I had surpressed long ago had now arisen before my very eyes. `` Im-Impossible!'' I cried, taking the glasses off, yet again.
`` Are you okay? Dude?''
`` W-What?'' I asked nobody.
Smitty looked at me, his mouth slightly agape.
`` How did you-'' I could n't find words.
`` You've been hogging the oculus rift for three days, asshole.''
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[ WP ] When people die , they pay to have their consciousness uploaded onto a computer to experience the `` afterlife . '' However , the company has now gone bankrupt and you and your fellow deceased have to come up with creative solutions to keep the servers running .
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`` Oh God!'' Mary squealed into Thomas' ear. She had always been the most emotional of the crew in Afterlife. Thomas was something of a leader - or, at least, people respected his opinions - so Mary always came complaint to him. He would have liked nothing more than to delete her main file - but that would have been rude.
`` Oh God, Tommy!'' Mary said. `` They're gon na shut us down!'' Even in simulated life, Thomas found he could get genuinely angry.
`` Calm down Mary,'' Thomas said in his most soothing shut-the-hell-up voice. `` What are you talking about?''
`` I-I-I-I,'' Mary's routines were stuck in a loop. She'd get like that when she was too worked up. Thomas just had to wait for it to pass. One day, when he finally made it to superuser status, he'd install a dampener to get her under control.
`` I found the accounting directory,'' Mary blurred out finally. `` This thing has been hemorrhaging money for months. The company ca n't support it.''
`` But our trusts pay for the upkeep. How are they not funded?'' Barry had wandered over when he saw Mary starting to get agitated. He was always trying to fix people.
`` I do n't know! The costs are way more than they expected or something. I saw some minutes from a meeting and they're having discussions on how to legally shut us down!'' Mary started wailing again. Thomas realized she was a lost cause at this point. She had to get it out of her system.
`` Barry, please gather everyone. I'll set up a forum hall.''
Several virtual hours later, all the disembodied intelligences stored in Afterlife had gathered in a simulated Greek amphitheater. Since it was all in the memory of a computer and not the physical world, everyone felt like they were sitting in the front row with a multitude behind them - except for Thomas, who was on stage.
`` May I have you attention?'' Thomas did n't need to shout as everyone'heard' him as though they were right next to him.
`` We have discovered that we are in imminent danger.'' Thomas laid out the evidence Mary had found. There were spreadsheets and calculations projected on the rear wall of the amphitheater. Everyone could see that their days were numbered.
`` Our trusts, which were set up to pay for us in perpetuity, are not enough. The infrastructure and maintenance is far more expensive than anticipated. Afterlife will be shut down within the month.''
There was some general murmuring at the dire news. `` What do we do?'' A lone voice shouted from the multitude. The cry was caught up by others.
Thomas raised his hand for quiet. Soon enough, the entire amphitheater was hushed save for a few sniffles of simulated tears. `` Our options are simple. One, we die. We die as we did in the real world however many years ago. We accept our fates with grace and dignity.''
`` Screw that!'' Some joker shouted. There were some laughs but more hushes.
`` Two,'' Thomas continued, `` we downsize. We run at much slower than realtime and we stop accepting new members. Meetings like this will stop. No more customizations. No more individual homes. We consume fewer resources.'' There were many downcast faces at this.
`` Third, we start making money.''
The whole amphitheater became as quiet as the grave.
`` We're dead. I thought that was supposed to get you away from working. Besides, how would we even get jobs?'' A voice from Thomas' right called out.
`` We have a number of former business leaders here. Let me ask you all something - could you find jobs for employees that never needed food or sleep? That never got sick or needed a mental health day?''
The tone of the room changed. There were more positive noises than negative for the first time.
`` To start, to prove our worth, I have a novel suggestion. For years, researchers have been trying to make artificial intelligence. One of the biggest commercial uses of that is game. Ladies and gentlemen of Afterlife, I propose we get jobs - as NPCs and bad guys. The most realistic gaming experience ever.''
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[ CW ] A steaming sex scene . In the style of Dr. Seuss . [ NSFW ]
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I swipe left and swipe right. Do n't put up much fight. I match my first ginger and boy what a night!
Hair like a fire, eyes as kind as can be. Will his drapes match his curtains for me?
Hours of talking and no kiss in sight. Shall I cook him some dinner with all of my might?
Steak's on the menu, and boy can I eat. Will I finally get a taste of his mighty meat treat?
Dinner is served, and low and behold. Our pants are off, if truth be told.
Our lips lock, and tongues intertwine. He licks down below, and boy is it fine!
One lick, two licks. He licks true licks.
A finger here, a nibble there. He likes my tits, oh breasts beware!
My body shivers and shakes. I groan with each touch. Has Tinder ever lit such a fire so much?
He's in, he's out, we're almost there! His flooble has shplooshed in a hoo-ha so fair.
We finish together, and boy what a treat. How good it feels to finally not beat my own meat.
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[ WP ] After trying to steal their mascot , tensions come to a head as members of Xavier Institute for Higher Learning and Hogwarts decide to settle things with a fight in the parking lot after school .
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`` All right,'' said Gambit standing in the middle of the parking lot. The Mutants were preparing their abilities while the Witches and Wizards were memorizing their spells. `` Here are the rules: no killing, no maiming ( he pointed at the mutants ), no curses ( he pointed at the Hogwarts' students ), and no touching of the hair or face.''
`` Get on with it you bloody Yank!'' yelled Malfoy from across the lot.
`` Easy Malfoy,'' Crabbe told him while Goyle held him back.
Some of the mutants laughed at him. `` Hey,'' said Bobby, `` check out the hot-head. Remind you of anyone?''
`` Shut it, Bobby,'' Pyro hissed back.
Gambit looked at both sides.'Impressive' he thought to himself, but he was still biased to root for the mutants. The Hogwarts kids did n't look intimidating, but he's seen what they can do. The cloaks, however, were a bit too much for his tastes. He raised his hands high in the air.
`` Fight!'' Both sides charged at each other screaming.
The Hogwarts' students shouting various spells as Xavier's students dodged and deflected them.
`` Stupify!''
`` Petrificus Totalus!''
`` Expelliarmus!''
Seamus charged towards a mutant. `` Incendio!'' He shouted. Flames shot towards the mutant and they stopped at his chest. He was confused.
`` My turn!'' Pyro shot it back and sent Seamus flying. His hair was singed and his face was covered in soot.
`` Petrificus Totalus!'' shouted Neville. He shot the spell towards Kitty Pryde, but it went through her.
Kitty punched him in his scared face. `` Ca n't freeze what you ca n't hit!'' She heard groaning behind her and found Iceman literally frozen. She winced, `` Sorry, Bobby.''
Ron hid behind a car trying not to get hit. Hermoine crouched next to him. `` What are you doing? Get back in the fight.''
`` I think Fred and George can handle things without me,'' Ron replied. He peeked through the window to see them both tossing a few fireworks into the fight.
`` Excellent,'' they both said and high-fived. Just then, Banshee screamed in their direction making them both cover their ears.
`` What do we do?'' Ron panicked.
Hermoine sighed and rolled her eyes. `` Take off your belt.'' Ron looked at her confused. `` Quick!'' He took of his belt. `` Incarcerous!'' The belt looped around Banshee's throat.
Malfoy was dueling Kitty when he finally hit her with a Stupify. `` Stupid Muggle!'' he spat. He saw someone trying to hide behind a van. He charged towards it and saw another girl. `` Gotcha!'' he reached for her bare arm.
`` NO, PLEASE!'' she screamed, but it was too late. Malfoy grabbed her arm and fell to his knees. He was too weak to stand as the life was being drained out of him. `` I'm sorry,'' Rouge said and released his grasp.
The fighting went on until Crabbe took it too far. `` Crucio!'' he shot at Jean Grey. She writhed on the floor in agony.
`` Hey!'' Gambit yelled from his chair. `` I said no curses!'' he said through a mouth full of popcorn.
Kurt saw the opportunity. He charged towards Crabbe and grabbed him. He teleported him somewhere else and came back. Just then, everyone in the fight had froze. Nobody could speak and nobody could move.
`` Uh oh,'' said Gambit. He tried to sneak away until Professor X froze him too.
`` Where do you think you're going, Mr. LeBeau?'' Professor X said rolling into the parking lot. He looked around the lot and noticed something missing. `` Where's the other fat one?'' Goyle looked up. He saw him falling from the sky. `` That's not good.''
He was nearing the ground until a voice boomed from nowhere. `` Arresto Momentum!'' Crabbe stopped just a few feet above the ground. Professor Dumbledore appeared in front of Professor Xavier.
`` I do apologize for all the trouble my students have caused Professor,'' said Xavier.
`` Nonsense,'' Dumbledore said, `` kids will be kids. After all, they were only trying to rescue their friend.''
`` Is that so?'' Xavier said looking at his students. He unfroze everyone. `` Explain yourselves.''
`` We thought he was a mutant,'' said Gambit.
`` Who?'' Xavier asked.
Gambit opened a white van and brought Harry out. He untied his ropes and took the duct tape off. `` Sorry man, I thought you were one of us.''
`` Are you mental!?'' Harry yelled. `` What exactly gave you that bloody impression?''
`` You talk to snakes,'' replied Gambit.
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[ WP ] When someone is born they are given a name that predicts their future . People named wealth with get rich in their life and people named lonely will die alone . Your name is steve .
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I was never proud of my name, for my name was n't `` Pride'' or anything of significance for that matter.As a child, I was teased at school. I asked my parents almost everyday what my name meant, they would always dismiss me. I spent most of my free time researching my name, but it was n't even in the catalog.
`` When you grow up, you will thank us.'' But I never did.
My father had a name that spread a long red carpet to his grave: `` Fame''. My grandfather was torn between the latter and `` wealth'', but he knew his son could do anything he wanted with fame.
My mother, on the other hand, was the envy of every girl - so many people were named after her, but she was the first ever `` Youth''.
Even after their death, I could n't bring myself to forgive them. I never got a decent job, or even a decent date!
`` Steve'' - I would never do that to my kid. What were they thinking?
I heard rumors that a name change can actually impact my life! I did n't even care that it was illegal at this point. I had to find a way.
After much thought, I decided to be `` Success'' - it was general enough to cover all my endeavours and powerful enough to guarantee them.
I was on my way to meet with `` Stealth'' to seal the deal. He was an expert. He knew every name and every glitch in the system.
`` Are you sure you want to change your name?''
`` Of course I am''
`` If I was born Steve, I'd keep it that way!''
`` Look, if you ca n't do this I'll find someone else to help me.''
`` You do n't know what your name means, do you?'' He rolls his eyes.
`` It does n't mean anything. Its not in the catalog or even a dictionary!''
`` You should move to Greece, your majesty''
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[ WP ] Anatidaephobia : The fear that somewhere , somehow , a duck is watching you . You are that duck , watching them . Always .
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He licks his icecream as he strolls around the fountain. This jackass has no goddamn idea. Hell, if he knew, I could n't begin to stress what his reaction might be - for Pete's sake, I'm right in the fucking fountain, so close to him. It's like an absurd comedy in a way, and this jackass still has no clitting idea. A dog barks at him and he does a small jump in fright, the snack nearly falling out of his hands. Nearby people chuckle, cameras flash to capture the moment. He composes himself and gives a witty quote for the moment, and short laughter ensues. And I see it all - ever watching, ever vigilant.
Shortly after, he checks into his hotel. I know this because I waited for him, right behind the goddamn counter. He points at me in bewilderment, his eyebrows raising slightly. He makes a small comment of fun and the desk girl glances at me and gives a small chuckle. More camera flashes. Jackass.
He walks into his room, glad to have a moment of solace. With an exhausted sigh, he falls onto his bed, taking off his suit, removing his classy shoes, his trousers falling. I get comfy in the ceiling above, peering through the crack a lousy builder left behind. Alone time with the President of the US is something special, I find - this jackass has no idea.
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[ WP ] At birth every one gets a number assigned to them which determines their threat to humanity . You are number 1,039,474,023 . Your newlyborn son is born . His number is 1 . This number has never been seen before in all of history .
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He was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. From the first time I saw him I never wanted to look at anything else. When they wrapped him in a blanket and set him gently on my chest, I stared deeply into his eyes and I could see the stars in them, the galaxies in the depths of his pupils. He became the entirety of my universe. The love I felt for him swelled with each inhale; I watched him rise and fall with my every breath and his eyes stayed locked on mine. He wrapped his little hand around my fingers and looking at the dark digits twinkling from the back of my hand, I wondered what number he would start with. *You'll always be my number 1, * I thought. *Always. *
`` In a moment.'' I whispered softly, since he had fallen asleep. I was caught up admiring his few golden curls atop his perfect head. *This is my son, my beautiful son. *
`` Miss, you said that an hour ago. I must get measurements and start his assessments. He also needs to be sterilized. You as well.'' The charge nurse stood with her arms crossed and a sullen expression glued to her face, her eyebrows creased in the middle of her forehead. I looked back down at him.
`` He's asleep.'' I sighed. I watched his eyelids flutter lightly as his eyes danced beneath them and I wondered if in his dreams he breathed underwater.
`` We'll wake him. It's imperative. Please comply with my request.'' The nurse's posture seemed agitated, but her tone was dull and bored, as if this was an expected part of her routine yet she still loathed the exchange. I could n't bring myself to look at her anymore.
`` Will he stay in here?'' I asked.
`` No. Testing is in room 343. It is a locked room. You are not permitted to participate or view testing. It will take approximately twenty minutes to complete.''
She paused. I felt the silence pressing in around us, insulating me in my complete entrancement with this new life that I held in my arms. I felt the weight of the nurse's demands dissipate in the air around us; finally I heard her turn and walk away. I felt my own tiredness weighing on my eyelids. As I fell asleep, he was the last thing I saw.
When I awoke, he was gone.
It was cold in the white emptiness of the birthing room and though there was no perceptible movement of air, I shuddered. I was in fresh linen and new bedclothes without having been stirred even minutely from my sleep; the efficiency of the hospital never ceased to amaze me.
`` Where is my child?'' I asked the empty room.
`` Testing. Room 343.'' Came the automated response from the monitoring unit.
`` When will I have him?''
`` Unknown.'' *Unknown? * I thought, *How could it be unknown? * The world no longer operated in unknowns. Whatever had potential to happen was easily ascertained, the most logical and pragmatic option then chosen, and everything in life went according to plan. Here I was: room 543 at age 21 years, 3 months, 12 days, to give birth to a male child on this exact date at 10:02 am. Exactly as planned.
The love I felt for him, though, I had not anticipated. My heart beat began to quicken.
`` Where is my son?'' I asked again.
`` Testing.'' Came the same reply.
`` Why is it unknown when I will see him?''
`` Unknown.''
`` What do you mean unknown?'' I demanded. I stood up, blood pumping to my ears. I had never felt such uncontrollable fear, such worry and need all at once. My chest almost hurt the way my heart was pounding against my rib cage. *I need to see my son. *
`` Abnormal heart rhythm, elevated blood pressure, heart rate detected. Recommended that patient remain supine. Please return to-''
`` SHUT UP!'' I yelled. `` Open this door.''
`` Action not recommended at this time; please standby for physician-''
`` Open it!'' I said again. I jumped when the door actually opened and I started to walk out of the room, only to realize that two physicians were blocking the way.
`` What are you doing out of bed?'' One on the left asked. He had a digital chart in his left hand and had already looked back down at it before he'd even finished speaking. The other physician looked bored, staring off into the distance with his arms crossed.
`` Where's my son?'' I demanded. My heart continued to pound.
`` Miss,'' began the bored looking physician, `` you're currently non-compliant; out of bed without prior authorization, your heart rate is elevated, as is your blood pressure. I expect you to-''
`` WHERE IS HE? MY SON! WHERE IS MY SON!'' I screamed as I rushed towards them. They froze in shock as I lunged at them and pushed them into each other. Their digital screens fell and shattered across the floor. `` I WANT TO KNOW WHERE HE IS! WHERE-''
`` MISS! STOP YELLING!'' Interrupted the first one, holding up a hand to silence me. I held my breath as they stood, brushing themselves off. `` Your son,'' he continued, `` has been terminated due to his threat level being incompatible with allowable life. The risk was too great. You understand.'' He nodded as he spoke, as if his words were the most obvious thing. As if it was just acceptable and anticipated and not completely unknown.
*My son is dead. * I thought to myself. *My son is dead. * I felt rage boiling in my veins. *How could my son be dead? My beautiful child, my beautiful boy. How can this be? * I felt the anger shaping in my chest, growing with every breath, as it consumed me.
I jumped at them, felt the world slip away as my hands closed around one of their throats and blackness fell around me.
When I regained control I was on the floor, shaking. My heart still pounding and pulse racing. They were all dead. *I killed them all. * I thought. Then, as if from somewhere deep within me, the thought came, *I do n't care. *
`` They killed my baby.'' I said aloud to the empty room, occupied now by only the bodies of the previously living.
I bent down to pick up the blanket, the one that they had wrapped him in only a few hours ago and held it tightly in my hand. Tears fell slowly as I realized that I could n't have my baby. I'd never hold him again. *I will make them pay. All of them will pay. *
I wiped the tears from my eyes and the dark digits caught my eye.
It now read only `` 1.''
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[ WP ] A murderer is hired as a news anchor . Today he has to comment on a murder he has committed .
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( Audio from Tricaster ) `` For the Triton Report, I'm Sadiya Young. Back to you Chuck.''
`` Thanks Sadiya. Denver Police is investigating a homicide in Adams County that occurred yesterday. The suspect is on the loose and the citizens of Denver is asked to keep an eye out for a Caucasian male, aged between 30 to 40, about 6 feet in height and slim build. He was last seen by the neighbour wearing a pair of jeans and a white sleeveless shirt... ( pause ) The composite sketch is being displayed on the screen as I speak.
We will keep you posted as updates become available. This is Chuck Fincher with the latest news update right here on cNus, Channel 13 in Denver.''
The commercial music started playing as Chuck left his seat in a hurried manner.
`` What the hell was that? You left out a whole line about his tattoo. Read the damn prompter. That was our exclusive....''
Chuck ignored the producer's rant and rushed past him. He went into the dressing room and closed the door behind him. He realized that he was sweating cold sweats. He removed his tie and the shirt. The vanity mirror on the wall showed his tattoo on the back.
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[ CW ] `` Are you scared ? '' `` N-no . '' `` Good . I have no time for cowards . ''
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β Are you scared? β
β n-no β
β Good, because I have no time for cowards β
The figure had a visor covering its face and its exoskeleton had once been painted dark blue, but the scars of the war had left it little more than a random pattern of gouges where the dull titanium shown through. The figure reached out a gloved hand and hoisted Wendy to her feet.
β How old are you soldier? β The soldiers β voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance, and through a tin can. The exoskeleton soldier β s voice actuators must have been damaged.
β N-Nineteen β Wendy replied, her voice wavering. Her stutter always came back when she was scared. She had been stuttering for a little over two years now. She had been in the expeditionary force sent to distract the enemy while the vanguard units struck from the other sides. That was two years ago, as far as she knew the vanguard units had never reached the citadel.
β Give me a mission status soldier, I need to know how many remain of your team and what the known enemy positions are β
β Umβ¦Umβ¦Iβ¦Iβ¦ β
β Speak up soldier, I don β t have all day. We have two hours until evac and I intend to be on that carrier. β
Wendy had never seen a exoskeleton soldier in action, they were the most elite troops, usually reserved for the most important missions.
β U-U-Umβ¦there were t-t-t-t-two-hundred of us. β
β Andβ¦where is the rest of your team? β
β D-D-Dead β
β Enemy positions? β
β I-I-I-I... β Wendy tried but she could not get the sentence out.
β Damnit soldier, I thought you said you weren β t a coward! β
β I-I-I-I β m not β
β You sure sound like one. Nevermind soldier, grab your weapon and let β s plant these bombs and get out of here! β
The two soldiers hurried through the maze of corridors, pausing every few hundred feet to plant a charge. They had planted maybe twenty charges before the exoskeleton soldier spoke again.
β It β s too quiet here. Where is everyone? β
β I-I-I-I... β Wendy started, before the exoskeleton soldier interrupted her stuttering.
β I had to fight through two battalions just to get within two klicks of this fortress. But since I got here, nothing. β
β I-I-Iβ¦ β Wendy could feel the sentence in her mind, she could visualize the way her tongue would move to make each sound, but all that came out was the first syllable, nothing else.
β Halt, enemy ahead β The soldier whispered to Wendy, dropping into a crouch and indicating the guard post directly ahead. The silhouette of a figure sleeping in a chair could be seen against the soft light. The soldier sighted down the barrel of its weapon and then visibly relaxed.
β Looks like someone got here before us. β The exoskeleton soldier said as they moved forward. Seated, but slumped against the wall in the guard post was an enemy soldier, dressed in dark green, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, a hole neatly punched through his head right behind the ear. They planted a charge in the guard post and moved on.
β That β s the last one soldier, time to skedaddle, you sure there β s no one else left in there? β
β Y-y-y-yes β Wendy was sure, she watched almost her entire team massacred by the enemy force. They had been told to take a position near the eastern entrance and hold their position for an hour while the vanguard troops attacked the west. Twenty hours later, she had been taken prisoner along with the remaining fifteen members of her squad. Head all slowly died until just she remained. Wendy looked back down the dark corridor before ducking out the opening into the bright moon light. Wendy had never imagined she would escape the citadel. In the two years she had spent hiding, she had never found an exit, it seems the exits were hidden into the walls, accessible only by the enemy. The exoskeleton-soldier had simply punched a hold in a wall with high-powered explosives.
The trip to the evac site was like a dream, a bumpy dusty dream, but still, a dream. The carrier was a model Wendy had never seen before, it melted out of the darkness silently except for the slight whistle of its turbines as they worked to stabilize the craft against the wind.
β Unit six-four-seven, I was told this was a solitary pickup, who β s the guest? β
β I picked her up inside the citadel β
β We have no records of active missions inside the citadel β
β Yeah, I know, that β s why I picked her up. β
β I β ll log the discrepancy and get permission for the addition, hold on β There was delay as the pilot spoke to his superiors, then he turned back to Wendy.
β What β s your designation soldier? β
β A-A-Aβ¦ β Wendy tried to speak her identification number, but once again her vocal cords simply would not work and all that came out was the first letter. The exoskeleton soldier reached over and ripped Wendy β s ID badge off of her uniform and handed it to the pilot.
β Here, she β s a bit shaken up, I think she β s been there a while. β The pilot punched in Wendy β s ID and waited.
β She β s approved for pickup, let β s get out of here! β
The exoskeleton soldier sat back, relaxing against the hard combat seats. It reached up and unlatched the helmet, pulling it off to reveal a pony-tail, and blue eyes that looked far older than they actually could have been.
β My name β s Nigella soldier, what β s yours? β
β W-W-Wβ¦ β Wendy swallowed the fear, she was safer now. β Wendy β
β Nice to meet you Wendy, what were you doing in alone in the citadel? β
β I-I-Iβ¦I was part of o-o-o... o-o-o... omega force... β
β Omega force! β Nigella yelled up to the pilot β hey, did you know this girl has been there for almost two years! β
β Yeah, I got that back from command when I entered her ID! β The pilot replied.
Nigella turned back to Wendy. β So tell me Wendy, you β ve been in the citadel for two years, what happened to all the enemy soldiers? When did they pull out? β
β T-T-T-T-... They didn β t β
β They didn β t pull out? But the place looked abandoned, where were all the soldiers? β
β C-C-Central S-S-S-Storage, r-r-r-refrigerated locker eighteen β
β What the hell were they all doing down there? And why didn β t you tell me this earlier? β
β T-T-They are all dead. β Wendy felt her fear slowly subsiding.
β Dead? How are they all dead? β
β I-I-I k-k-killed them β Wendy waited a second before continuing:
`` I-I-I'm not a coward, I-I-I just have a s-s-s...'' Wendy steeled herself and concentrated on the word ``... s-s-s-stutter.''
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[ PI ] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him .
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Very nice! I just had a good idea for this too, so I hope you do n't mind if I post my interpretation of it here too. Sorry for the length.
'*Just one more time*' she thought. If she could see him just one more time, she could be happy. Of course, she would n't have much time; she was wanted by the police and her face was plastered all over every newspaper, but she did n't care. She could run away. He would always come.
She pulled up the collar of her overcoat, trying to seem inconspicuous, but it was a difficult task in such clothing. But, no one gave her a second glance when she waded through the busy streets of the city to her predetermined position. As she drew nearer to her destination, she knew she was also drawing nearer to him. Her heart began pounding quickly, as it always did prior to her perpetration of the killings. She thought she would have gotten used to it by now, which, in a way, she had.
The first time it happened, it as an accident. She had hit someone with her car, and was utterly shocked at the sight. Their mangled body, their blood soaked hair, their cracked lips. But as her mother used to say,'Every cloud has a silver lining' and her silver lining appeared soon after.
He materialised as just that; a glowing silver outline. Then, it became a pitch black silhouette, out of which stepped the most stunningly handsome man she had ever seen. He wore and open black cloak with nothing else on his upper half, showing off his dull silvery skin. He was clean shaven with a chiselled jaw, a perfect nose and ruby eyes, literally. They were eyeball sized gemstones set in his eye sockets, yet they gazed upon her with the same look of any other possible suitor. They only held this look for a moment until he looked down. She longed for more of this stare; it was so hypnotically beautiful. On his lower half, he wore simple black trousers and shoes. He held a six and a half foot tall scythe with a long, elegant blade which glinted in the summer moonlight.
He sighed, showing how tiresome he found the job. Still, he regained his composure and strode over to the corpse. He looked over it for a moment and then noted something down in a small black booklet he had retrieved from his trouser pocket. She staggered up to him in a daze, and tried to formulate a sentence, but only finding two words: `` Are you...''
His face displayed an expression of pity, like he understood the shock she felt but could n't fix it. `` Death?'' He finished for her.
She could only nod. He folded up his notebook and shoved it back in his pocket. `` Yes, mortal. It is I, Death.'' His voice was deep and velvety, washing over her and giving her a euphoric, high feeling, which she felt for the duration she was in his presence. However, she could n't help thinking how different he looked to how he was often portrayed: a skeleton, but she was n't complaining.
Death looked up at the moon, as if checking the time and nodded to himself. `` I must go now,'' he said while touching the butt of his scythe to the corpse on the floor. Black smoke drifted up from the body and into the scythe until nothing of the person was left. `` But remember,'' Death continued, `` This was not your fault.'' His words were comforting, but before she could thank him or say anything to him at all, the black silhouette from which he emerged appeared again, and he stepped into it. He was gone.
Remembering the first time they met made her feel warm and fuzzy, but she almost gagged at how cliche that sounded. She remembered her feelings that night, as she lay alone in her double bed, missing the person who used to be by her side. She felt starved for attention and companionship, which may have been her reason for starting the murders. She knew it was the only way to see him, even if it was just for those fleeting seconds as he absorbed the essences of the dead bodies.
The first time was the hardest. But, seeing him afterwards calmed her down, made it all worth it. The next time was easier and so on until she felt nothing each time. She had been desensitised, which was probably for the best.
Now, as she crouched behind a dumpster in a dingy alley, she wondered what he would say, or what *she* would say to him. They rarely had a proper conversation, and over recent weeks, he had seemed to grow tired of seeing her, or at least her next to a body he had to recover. He told her to stop what she was doing, that it was unnatural, but she refused and said that she just wanted to see him, to which he merely shook his head and disappeared.
She would have thought about him and his muscular form for longer, but her thoughts were interrupted when some drunken idiot stumbled into the alley to take a piss against the wall.'*He'll do*' she thought. She reached into her overcoat and brought out her go-to murder weapon: her silenced pistol. She took aim directly at the back of his head and fired. His body went rigid for a moment and then he collapsed to his knees and eventually toppled over, penis still in hand.
A childish grin grew on her face. He would soon arrive and she could feel the high she got from him once more. The feeling was unparalleled. Nothing could match it; not coke, not meth, not heroin. She began to shake with excitement and would soon lose control over herself if he did not show.
Soon enough though, the silhouette appeared and out he walked, but his expression was one she had n't seen before. It was anger. He took no notice of her as he stomped past her, absorbed the body's essence and was about to re-enter the portal before she caught his shoulder. `` Wait! What's wrong? I just want to see you, ca n't you understand that?'' She pleaded.
His jaw tightened. `` You may want to see me, but you ca n't become a serial killer just for this. It is n't right. This is a love which will have to remain unrequited.''
`` But do n't you feel it? There's something between us!''
`` Of course I feel it! But you ca n't do this! You **will** get caught and you'll spend the rest of your life in prison, where you will never get to see me.'' She had never seen him act like this; he had always been so composed. `` I'm sorry Katherine, but it ca n't and wo n't work. You must stop.''
`` Please, there has to be a way!''
When she said this, he looked down, deep in thought. `` There... there is. But you ca n't.''
Now, she was determined to make it work with Death. `` Yes, Death, I can. What is it?''
A small smile crept to his lips. He slid close to her until he was less than a foot away from her. He reached down and took hold of her right hand, which held her pistol. His hand was cold but ensured safety, so Katherine did not resist when he brought the gun to her head, his thumb on the trigger. `` This is it'' he said, slightly excited as well. Katherine nodded signalling she was ready. This way, she might be able to spend more time with him even be by his side for eternity. She did n't know what her a death held, but she welcomed it.
Death pulled the trigger.
Whew, that turned out longer than expected!: D Hope it was ok, as this was my first post to this sub. I'd also like to point out that the quality may not be good for two reasons:
1 ) I do n't have much writing experience
2 ) I'm pretty young ( early teens )
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[ WP ] They call you the wanderer but they are the ones that are lost .
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They call me Wanderer. The voices of the dead follow me.
I check the valves on my mask, make sure the seals on my suit are tight. I've been hours Outside, and days remain till my destination.
I walk on, silent now except for the crunching of sand, distorted through my helmet. Silent, except for the dead. A low hum, from everywhere around, pervasive, invasive, no cadence or rhythm, just constant. Constant. Constant. It gets in your head, rattles your teeth, sinks down to the marrow in your bones and stays there.
Black dunes stretch away from me in every direction, tinted silver by a light I ca n't see.
Move on. Must move on.
There's a dread associated with these lands, and those who move through them. My grandmother remembered a world that was one, before the Break. A time when you could travel one path and expect the same destination each time. No such luxury now. People travel rarely, and only ever in the presence of one my tribe.
I pause. There's been a Shift. The elders of my tribe say that any journey with more than two Shifts is doomed.
This is the fifth.
I unsling my rifle, and point it into the air.
*ftoomph ftoomph ftoomp*
Three incandescent flares arc up over the black sands, slow and condense in the air. They leave a fitful light over the plains.
My father taught me, never look too closely at what the lights show. Just find the path they show, and move on. And move quickly.
I scan the ground, never concentrating for too long, and find what I need. The delicate skein of light the underlies these planes. I assess, value and find what I need. Keep moving. Keep moving. My gloved hand fumbles at my waist as I struggle up a dune. By the feel, there'll be enough rations to get me half way. I'll just have to starve the rest.
Hours later. Still the dead follow me. I fumble at my bandolier. There's three types of cartridge that every Wanderer carries. First, Lightflash, so they may see their way. Second, Burnbright, because there are things out here you do n't want to meet. Finally, one single cartridge you never hope to use. They say the dead can follow out those who let them, and there are worse things than death.
Later. The last of my rations are gone. Still, move, keep moving. The dead are still with me. The landscape has changed. I move along a wide path, flanked by crumbling mountains. They stretch up high, further than I can see, rectangular flat blocks, dotted with rough squares of darkness. My grandmother said people used to live in them, before the Break. Cant imagine it myself. I risk another Lightflash. The light crystalises in the air, exposing a web of glowing fat lines. I recognise the one I need instantly, this is good, I'm close...
This is bad.
The voices of the dead have gotten louder. They'll be here soon, drawn by the light. I run to the cover of one of the mountains. There's an opening at ground level. I dive through, sweating, panting. There's a room in here, small and square. I crawl to the nearest corner and wait.
I hear them come.
*cricklecricklecriklecracklecrickle*
I reach to my bandolier, pull the one cartridge I never wanted. Gently, trying hard not to make a noise, I insert into my rifle and cock it. I listen. They're still out there. No one knows what they look like. Anyone who has ever seen them, well. They're never around to tell stories later. I put the muzzle of the rifle to my chin, reach down to the trigger. I wait. Alone but for the others outside, and the voices of the dead. I wait.
Later. Did n't need the cartridge, they left but the dead remain. Humming, humming, my head filled with it. Move. Move. Move on, keep moving on. Leaden legs struggling through sands. Move. Keep. Moving. Ragged breathing filling my helmet. But. There. Ahead. Shimmer. A light, real light. I'm there, almost there. I struggle, the voices, louder, screaming, I fall...
Light. Sunlight. And silence. Blessed silence.
I force myself up, elbows digging into the ground. There are people approaching...
'It's a Wanderer!'
Hands lift me up, gently place me on their shoulders, carrying me away.
'Welcome, Wanderer. We were expecting you days ago, we feared the worst. Come, we'll get food, bed, whatever you need. And then, perhaps, news of the Lands...?'
Even as I slipped off into unconsciousness, I could hear the pleading in their voices. Isolated on the Lands, no way to communicate with each other, no way to know how the rest of the world fared. Except for us. The Wanderers. Who walked with the dead.
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[ WP ] Murder is legal , but you have to pay for it .
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He stood in the queue inside the recently erected government building. The sky outside was grey. He stared at his watch, thinking, *Christ, how fucking long is this going to take? I've already gone through the waiting list bullshit and now another line? * It seemed as if he'd be here for hours.
Much to his delight he was seen only twenty minutes later. He opened his briefcase and rifled through it before walking up to the receptionist. She smiled warmly in a practiced manner, as if he were a teleprompter currently displaying `` SMILE.''
`` Hello, sir! Do you have the requisite paperwork and photo ID?''
`` Yes I do, it's all right here.'' He plopped down the stack of papers and his drivers license. She skimmed through the stack before handing him another piece of paper. `` Sign here, sir.'' He complied.
`` Sir, you are aware that we do not provide weapons and that we are required to inform the recipient in advance, correct?'' He nodded.
`` Yes, yes, that wo n't be a problem.'' He smiled.
`` Alrighty then,'' she said, concealing a shiver. *Fucking creep. * She punched in the information and scanned his signature, then printed two pieces of paper. `` Here you are, sir,'' she said before stamping both copies.
Half an hour later he was driving, grinning to himself. A gun sat in the glove compartment of his car. *I'm going to enjoy this, after all, I paid a fortune. *
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[ WP ] Two suicidal people happen to meet on the same bridge to jump . Rather than joining together , they each try to convince the other not to jump while justifying why they themselves should jump .
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The Man put the car in park, pressed the button on the dash to engage the emergency lights, and stepped form the vehicle. A pocket of nighttime clouds swept across the moon and darkened the bridge as The Man peaked over the edge. The black void below rippled and splashed, only an occasional white cap visible.
The Man took his place over the railing. He looked up toward the sky. He looked down toward his death. He looked right where in the distance he contemplated his Home. He looked left and... saw her. She was over the ledge too, walking toward him, holding the metal beam for support.
`` I never loved Him,'' The Woman said to The Man as she reached out to grab his hand.
`` I do n't believe you,'' The Man said to The Woman as he let go of the rail and fell.
The clouds parted. The moon cast light upon the river current below that carried The Man downstream, away from The Woman he loved, as she stepped back on to the bridge, the decision made, her love blossomed for another.
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[ WP ] All books have been banned . Describe a drug deal of books .
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I must say that I am not an addict. I have seen my share of book junkies, and I always felt only disdain for them. Scrambling for money, haggling, ready to do anything for the next book in the series. Series! Series are for losers.
I am different. I am not addicted to reading, but with rich parents and not much fun to do, books are a nice distraction. They also help forget where my parents' money comes from. Actually, I would not mind being caught with a book for once -- police would n't dare touch me anyway, but it would be a nice blow to my parents' reputation.
I remember my first time with a book, at a party. All of us gathering in a dark room an listening to an audiobook, so quiet it was almost on silent. I knew for sure at least one of the guys in that room later became a junkie. Spend all his fortune on sequels, and then on fanfiction.
`` Have you ever read one of those yourself?'' I ask my dealer. `` Yes, some, but I do not anymore.'' he says. `` Never read what you deal, that's my rule. I do not try copying them either, that's work for lab guys. So do you want to buy or not?
This one is very good, first class. Guy won a bunch of awards, long time ago of course.''
I want to believe we have a special relationship, he and I. He is more interesting than the rich guys I normally hang with. But I know I am only a moneybag -- he would sell me without blinking if he had a buyer for information.
In the evening, I sit alone near the fireplace, my parents on the work trip. How they can stomach the camps I have no idea. I long ago stopped believing they have anything resembling a human heart. I banish the though, shuffle the coals, try to relax. I open `` All You Wanted To Know About Gardening''.
Let's see if those awards are worth anything.
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[ WP ] an homosexual person finds love , only to slowly realize that the loved person is n't
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It was spring time when I first saw her, sitting by herself in the garden of the bar, beneath a white pear tree.
She had his album clutched in her arms, close to her heart. Her head bobbed to the music coming through her ear buds. It was probably his song.
I felt a knot in my stomach and approached her.
`` Hi, Lily? I am Jian.'' I said, casting a shadow over her.
She looked up and smiled.
She was brilliant. `` Hi.''
I did n't want to take that smile away from her, but I had to break the news, `` Sorry, but J. will not be coming today. He had an emergency appointment. But I brought a lot of his autographed stuff, and...''
`` Oh.''
`` I am sorry you had to fly from Shanghai all the way out here, I know he picked this spot because of his shooting schedule... if there is anything I can do...'' I rubbed my palms together.
`` Well, thank you for coming here to tell me in person. You could have just called. Are you his girl friend?''
`` No, no I am just his assistant.''
`` No worries, let's just spend the day together then.'' She leaped out of the chair, dusting a few petals off of her short hair, and grab my hand.
The day went by the way montages in movies always do- too long for everyone else watching but too short for those living it. I replayed it over and over again in my head after she left and tried to pin point the moment when I realized she was different.
She was a tomboy, what with her tall slender body and short pixy cut hair. Yet, her heart was that of a girl - full of silly dreams of love and adventure. She entered J's contest 100 times to ensure she would get picked.
Why J? I asked. Of all of the pop stars in China, why J?
She gave it some thought. She always did - giving thoughts to things before speaking. Like every question I asked was the most important question of all.
`` Because from the moment I saw him, I felt like I knew him from so long ago. Like we were meant to be... always.'' She smiled shyly.
I almost did n't hear it because she said it so softly, but I felt it. The sense of knowing someone... forever.
We were apart, I continued to be J's assistant and she went back to her life as an architect. But we texted every day, sneaked phone calls in our busy schedules. Sometimes, as J made love to me, I would picture it was her kissing my neck.
A year later, I was back at that same bar with the pear tree in the garden. Lily was late.
The owner of the bar, a woman with long black hair and eyes just as dark, offered me some tea.
`` Why do n't I tell you a story while we wait for the water to boil?'' She asked.
The story she told was a sad one. A story of reincarnation, where a girl was destined to kill her true love with the same sword. A stab in the heart. He would fall. She would soon follow. Another cycle, another love story, another death. Hundreds of years of tears and blood with no beginning or end.
I did n't like the story because it felt like a looming shadows of a nightmare. I could almost see the image of the girl stabbing the man she loved. The ringing of the pot woke me.
J? I saw him standing before me, `` It is my day off. what are you doing here?''
`` What am I? Who is this lily and what... you are mine...'' J grabbed me by my arms.
I looked to the bar owner for help, but she was simply pouring the tea.
`` first cup is always too light.'' she said as she pour the cup back.
I looked back at J. I did n't understand. Why was he so jealous? What was he doing there.
He threw me against the table and the tea cup broke, cutting my arm.
`` Let her go.'' Lily had arrived and stood between us.
My head pounded as I watched the two of them struggled. I scrambled to get up and found a knife on the floor.
`` J, leave her alone.'' I screamed. Holding the knife though I could barely stand up.
`` So the girl stabs her true love in the heart with the same sword.'' the bar owner spoke as she brought a cup of tea to her lips.
`` Go ahead, stab him, it is your destiny, you are the sword.'' She said to me, her eyes almost white.
`` What?''
`` It was not a story of two lovers, but three. The sword loved the girl and found her every time, only to be used to kill the boy. So here you are, finally drank enough of his blood to become a human, to tell her you love her. Oh, so you have n't told her. You should, the next cycle is about to start. Tell her.''
I did n't know what was going on. The stories she told felt truer by the moment. The knife was in my hand and the two of them frozen in time. We three travelers, bound to each other, never finding happiness.
I did n't know what I should have done. But I just wanted to kiss her. That I knew. I dropped the knife and took her face in my hand. I raised to my tippy toe and put my lips against hers. Just as I felt her kissing me back, something warm dripped down my body. I turned and saw J, hands red with my blood, eyes widened.
The sword was broken, I thought as I fell and an pool of darkness pulled me down.
I saw her cry. For once, she was crying for me. And that, I thought, was enough for this tired sword.
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[ WP ] Aliens , far more advanced than humans , could destroy us all in the blink of an eye . And they probably should . But they do n't ... for one reason only .
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We were created from their vices and weaknesses. Hatred, fear, jealousy, sickness, vulnerability, mortality - all were poured into our creation, shaping what we would become. Our formation removed everything they did not want as a part of them, passing the burden of evil and suffering onto us.
For thousands of years, we tore ourselves apart, waging wars, succumbing to greed, and killing the earth that we were given as a home.
Light years away, our creators watched us. No longer bounded by a predestined lifespan, their leader, the originator of the idea of our conception, looked on over millennia as we caused conflict after conflict, tragedy after tragedy. He accepted our necessity. Our creation had allowed his species to escape the evils that had plagued them. No longer was there anguish and misery amongst them, allowing them to advance, explore, and transcend barriers that once held their progress in place.
At the turn of the 21st century, we began to venture further than ever before into the cosmos, reaching new planets and new stars. However, the characteristics that defined us remained. We still created needless suffering and death, not only on our home planet, but on those we began to inhabit. The question of whether or not our creators should take action before our evils spread further into the universe became increasingly relevant. In the year 2050, a council was held amongst them. They questioned their leader, asking if it was time for them to erase our existence.
He shook his head and turned his back towards us. `` No, they will kill themselves before we have to.''
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[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone is born with one special power . You were born with the power to make people hungry . Debilitatingly hungry . What do you do ?
|
I had starved him from three days. His spirit was nearly broken, I had almost broken him.
`` You look hungry.'' I said casually as I walked into the room where he was chained up. He gave me a deathly glare.
`` I've got some food for you.'' I said. He spat in my face.
`` I ai n't saying nothing.'' He whispered, his voice to hoarse for him to shout.
`` Oh, you do n't have to talk. I just thought I'd give you something to eat.'' I laughed, laying the box of food in front of him. I unlocked the cuffs on his hands. He eyed me suspiciously. I beckoned for him to open.
`` It's pizza.'' I added. He cautiously opened the box very slightly and a sliver of hope appeared in his eyes. He tore open the box and grabbed two large slices, holding them over his mouth while saliva dripped from it when he noticed something. It was Hawaiian.
`` Of course if you do me a favor you can get a margarita.'' I promised with a sadistic grin.
`` OK, I'll talk.'' he croaked, defeated.
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[ WP ] A taxi driver slowly realizes that the passenger in his/her cab is the person who murdered his/her best friend . Neither of them have met before .
|
It's 4 AM and I'm out of coffee. My eyelids insist on sinking like a marked man thrown in the Hudson with a cement block tied to his ankles and bubbles trailing to the surface like the last -- no no ca n't think like that. Ca n't let this city bring me down ca n't wait til I get home so I can throw back a couple Oxys and pass the fuck out but the girls just keep crying and crying and I just do n't know how to shut them up. Mike was always good at that, knew how to make them happy and get them to smile and be good and behave. Man, do I miss him. We did so good together, never a quiet moment and the girls were so good and the money just came pouring but now he's gone and the girls wo n't stop crying and I'm driving a motherfucking Uber just to make ends meet when it used to be me and him drunk in the backseats, tearing shit up and living large. Ca n't even sleep now, terrified to close my eyes and see his body full of holes and soaked red like the bow on that last bottle of Glendronach left on my kitchen counter that he gave me just because I hate scotch that I'm going to pound over the next couple of days with my Oxys so I wo n't have to see him like that again.
My phone dings and tells me that there's another lonely soul looking for home just two blocks away and I might as well take it, they're going towards the bridge anyways and it's on my way home and every dollar counts right now. Dark hair and dark eyes and dark circles under those eyes climb in and dark lashes hide her gaze. She glances at her phone to make sure she got picked up by the right driver.
`` How's it going... Drew?''
I was never really good at the small talk but it's 4 AM and no one wants that shit anyways this time of day so I just shrug and pull away from the curb in silence. I just want to get this over with and get home and get drunk and get some sleep. She's wiry and worn and exactly what I never want my girls to turn into but this city is rough and it's pretty much inevitable and I just got ta watch it happen but it would n't be as bad if only Mike was around, he was just always so good with the girls.
`` Hey, can you pull over for a second?''
We're in the heart of the warehouses and even the hookers are turning in for the night but there's a couple straggling hopefuls out here still and I guess one of them is in luck and I'm not gon na judge either of them cuz it ai n't the first time I've seen this kinda thing happen.
`` Sure thing.''
She leans out the window and points to a green-lookin baby, coulda been one of my girls, wrapped up in a ratty pink faux-fur jacket and not much else underneath. She totters over on her Bambi legs that could snap like twigs and does her best attempt at a shimmy with her washboard cleavage as she leans over and her red eyes widen with novice surprise at the washed-out woman in the backseat.
`` C'mere baby. Get in, I wo n't hurt you.'' My rider's voice is raspy but I would n't have expected the gentle kindness underneath the rough shell cuz usually these types are well, not gentle or kind and just raspy through and through. The baby clumsily joins her and it takes a couple seconds for her to settle in because she gets her coat caught in the door, half taking it off and making her look even sloppier than the sloppy tattoos she's slapped on her shoulder.
`` Looks like you've been having a rough night. What's your name, hon?''
`` W-w-whatever you want it to be.''
Ca n't tell if it's the crack or the cold that's chattering her teeth.
`` C'mon, you can tell me. I wan na know your real name. I just wan na chat, maybe give you a safe place to sleep tonight.''
My rider has n't touched her yet, instead takes off her coat and throws it over the shaky novice. The girl looks at her feet and starts tearing up.
`` Y-you ai n't no cop or nothin'? Just my fucking luck.''
What a foolish question. My rider laughs humorlessly, no gentleness this time.
`` When have the police done anything to help us? They get us killed or put us in worse places than we were before.''
What was that she said just now? A streetlight passing overhead catches something sparkling in the back seat. The glinting is making it easier to keep my eyes awake, thank god this girl is wearing sequins or I might just drive into the river.
`` Whaddya mean? If you's one of us then how come you ai n't streetcrawlin' with the rest of us tonight?''
`` I got out. You look real fresh, girl. How long you been on the streets?''
`` Just a month... friend of mine talked me into it and I was dumb enough to follow. How'd you get out though?''
My rider looks out of the window at the passing cityscape and I realize that the sparkles were n't coming from the prostitute's dress but from my rider's earrings.
`` You still have n't told me your name.''
`` You got ta prove yourself first.''
My rider pulls the neckline of her blouse down over her shoulder and shows her own tattoo. It's a lion. Mike's lion. I never really bothered to talk to the girls, nope never any good with the girls and Mike was just so good at it and I just let him handle it and kept to the books and cleaning our cash and sweeping our trails and I only started to deal with them but I do n't know all of them yet and I try not to deal with them if I can avoid it but I squint a little closer anyways but her hair is so dark and I ca n't really see her face.
`` Oh shit, ai n't that the Hajare lion? Well I'm Denise. But you got ta tell me how you did it cuz it's only been a month and I ca n't do this no more... I swear I'm gon na go crazy.''
My rider sits in silence, sizing up Denise and I look closer and the streetlights catch those earrings again.
`` How'd you hear about the Hajares?''
`` You tell me how you got out first.''
``... I killed my pimp.''
I know those earrings. Mike always let his top earner wear them around, said it gave the girls something to work towards.
`` Shut the fuck up. How'd the fuck did you make that happen?''
`` I got the sorry son of a bitch to want to keep me for himself and one night I finally found his gun while he was sleeping and gave it all back.''
Fuck's sake. Mike. Did n't we always say we would n't play with our own girls? What did you do? Head's throbbing, having problems processing this.
`` So how'd you hear about the Hajares? I woulda thought the rest of them jumped ship when they heard about dear Mikey. The lion's pretty much died out at this point.''
`` Nah... turns out he had another guy working with him that took over the newbies and the chicks too dumb to run. He ai n't as savvy though, brands his girls now with a tiger instead. Drew something? I only heard from some girls who were straight up desperate for food cuz he ca n't even feed'em properly.''
My rider and I lock eyes in my rearview mirror as I pull up to the address that my phone has lead me to and I shake my sleeve a lil lower down my arm but her eyes are too fast and they see my tattoo...
... fuck I got ta fuck this bitch up for fucking up my boy and fucking up our plans and I'm gon na blow her brains out all over it does n't even matter where that fucking blood is gon na go because she bloodied up my boy and got ta get my.40 from my glove compartment for my boy cuz she fucked him up and now I got ta fuck him up and why is n't this fucking latch opening, I got ta --
I hear the familiar safety of Mike's baby Beretta flick off and --
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[ FF ] Write less than 200 words , prompted by your favorite word or phrase .
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`` The real crime, is not committing to your dreams'' -Unknown
There I was, In my Advanced Potatoe-nomics Class POT420. Trying to stay awake. Trying to remember, the last time I had one baked. The smell of Potatoes were around: mashed, smashed, fried, and sweet. All of a sudden an idea. I began to stand on my desk Dead Poets Society style, `` ARE N'T WE ALL JUST POTATOES BEING BAKED UNDER THE SUN?'' Siilence. A roar of slow-claps occur. I had started a movement. A revolution of some sort. The smell of freedom began to ring through the air. All of a sudden, a blast.......
It was all a dream. I awake in a dark cold room. Alone. Why did I sit still?
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[ WP ] your favorite comic book hero stumbles into the last 15 minutes of your favorite cheesy horror movie .
|
`` So... they said that if I did n't kill you, the apocalypse would happen. The great old ones would wake up and kill us all. But you know what?'' Dana tossed the gun aside. `` Fuck them. If this world needs to kill my friends to survive, maybe it does n't deserve to live.''
Marty nodded, puffed on his joint, and passed it to her. `` Right on.''
The ground shook. The earth cracked. From their vantage point, they watched as a giant, clawed hand smashed up through the ground and demolished the cabin in the woods.
*stomp stomp*
`` Do you hear that?''
`` The sound of an ancient beast ripping itself free of its prison?'' Marty took another puff. `` Yup.''
*Stomp Stomp*
`` No, not that. That's more of an awful, wet, squishy sound. This sounds sort of... mechanical?''
`` Yeah, that's weird. I do n't see anything, though.''
Ahead of them, the wet, squishy noises continued as a fanged and tentacled monster pulled itself free from the ground. It loomed over them, tall as a skyscraper.
*STOMP. STOMP. *
`` Okay, seriously, what's that stomping noise? I know the apocalypse is happening, but I do n't want to die with that question unanswered.''
Suddenly, searchlights flooded the clearing. Dana and Marty turned around and looked up. And up.
A giant robot, as tall as the Ancient One and with a glowing nuclear turbine at its heart, charged into view, trampling trees like matchsticks. As it approached it *leaped*, ten thousand tons of war machine hurtling over both of them, and landed a furious punch to the monster's jaw.
The giant raised its fists into a boxing stance and spoke in a booming electronic voice. `` Today we are *canceling the apocalypse! *''
-- -
Not exactly a true slasher movie or a true comic book hero, but I hope it's still close to what you wanted.
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[ WP ] You are a sock and today is laundry day . Everything is going well until you lose sight of your matching partner .
|
One minute she was there, tumbling around the machine with him, and the next she was gone. Scott frantically made his way across the other wet clothes to the opposite side of The Beast. Sadie was n't there either. He plunged deep into the lower levels, but all trace of her was gone.
Scott knew this happened, knew The Beast needed to be appeased. But not Sadie. Not today. They had been through thick and thin together. They had kept their owner warm. They'd had countless conversations together, in the sock drawer, under tables, and in snippets while passing each other in long walks. They had been together so long, they were fraying at the edges. They even had identical holes in the heel.
Being the practical crew sock that he was, Scott had occasionally thought about how they would live out the end of their days. He figured he and Sadie would get repurposed as rags maybe, or if they were really lucky, they'd protect Christmas ornaments in a dusty box.
But Scott knew with a foreboding sense of certainty that The Beast had taken her. Not only had he lost his longtime companion, he had lost his own primary purpose. Scott did n't want to go on without her. There was nothing left for him but the trash pile. Nothing.
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