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[ WP ] Mars , 2486 A.D . The Curiosity Rover sings Happy Birthday for the 474th time , but this time , it is n't singing alone .	`` What is it?'' The two explorers gazed at the metal contraption, completely unaware of what it might just be. The youngest, Zen, turned to his older counterpart, Flooru, awaiting a response to his question. `` I have no clue'' was all that Flooru replied. The red desert stretched out infinitely in front of them, void of any signs of life. It's brutal and barren landscape was only broken by the sight of the unknown object, and the sleek white ship that the explorers had arrived in. In the quite of the still air, Zen reflected on the journey that had led him to where he was standing, on the surface of a dusty empty planet. Just three years ago, Zen was deep into the middle of his studies. Like many of his species, he yearned to adventure into the great unknown in search of new unseen elements of the galaxy. It had been many centuries since his species needed to bother themselves in gathering and producing resources, a problem solved by compete automation. Now, Zen's species had the luxury to spend there long lives pursuing whatever they desired, so the expanse of the universe seemed a perfect choice for one to pour many of their years into. It was this life of adventure Zen craved. Flooru's movement towards the unknown object snapped Zen out of his daze. `` What are you doing?'' he inquired, not sure if approaching the object was the best course of action. `` What if it's hostile?'' `` I scanned it already'' Flooru replied. `` There are no signs of any weapons or defence mechanisms. I do n't believe it to be hostile'' `` It appears mechanical in nature, have you scanned it for an energy source?'' Zen suggestion, he felt, was likely unessesary. After all, Flooru had spent 40 years adventuring across systems, there was little that surprised him any more. `` Of course'' Zen said with a tint of annoyance in his voice. `` The device uses a small and primitive nuclear power source, however note that it still retains slight electrical charge. I suspect that the society that created this contraption are a pre-war civilisation, `` Flooru continued, `` And likely the same society that created the Signal.'' The Signal, of course, was what had brought Zen and Flooru to this system. Zen had, during his studies, detected a signal originating from a planet approximately 400 light years away. It was artificial in nature, and after examination Zen concluded that it was a call sent out into the universe by a civilisation, possible to evoke a response from another planet. Thrilled with his new found discovery, and eager to prove his worth as an Explorer, he enlisted the help of a teacher, Flooru, who had found interest in Zen's work. Together, they journeying to the system were the Signal originated. What they had found was disappointing. Preliminary scans showed that none of the planetry bodies contained signs of life. However, scans indicated that there was evidence of a past civilisation. On their way to the third planet to the star, were Zen belived the Signal had originated, they had paused to examine a very faint signal, which had of course been the contraption they stood in front of. `` Considering the apparent age of the contraption,'' Zen remarked, `` I am surprised that it retains any charge at all.'' `` Yes'', Flooru sounded impressed, `` whoever built this device, may not have been as primative as we originally concluded.'' Suddenly, Zen's scanner started to beep. He looked down at the readings. Suddenly, he raised to look at Flooru. `` It's powering back up!'' From the outside, the only indication that the contraption had awoken, was the faint glow of red light. But then, as Zen and Flooru watched on, the contraption began to sing. `` Happy Birthday to you... `` Zen could not understand what it was saying, but it was obvious it was some sort of language, being communicated in a musical pattern. It was, to say the least, a bizzar spectacle. After a short while, the sound ceased. The red light turned off, and the contraption powered down. Zen scanned the object again. `` Power level is at 0 %'' he read of the scanners display. `` It's gone.'' Flooru turned to Zen. `` Interestingly enough, my scans indicate that the machine was program to preform that action once every cycle of the third planet around the star. It is possible that what we just displayed, was an act of celebration.'' As both the explorers headed back towards their ship, Zen could not help but feel empathetic towards the contraption. After all, there was no evidence that the machine in its current state could have detected the arrival of the two new visitors. Zen also knew that the creators of the machine, the civilisation of the third planet, where not around to hear the celebration either. Judging by the massive amounts of radiation in the planets atmosphere, which had been detected by the explorers as they arrived in the system, the planet had been uninhabited for centuries. Zen sighed. It was not unusual for his kind to stumble upon destroyed civilisations. But Zen had been there in the final moments of the contraptions life, and that would stick with him forever. For he had heard the last song of the human race.
[ WP ] Aliens land on our planet . They acknowledge humans , but are more interested in another more primitive life on Earth..	I remember watching them online, the day the aliens came. Two years before, we starting receiving transmissions from them. At first, it was just some confirmation that we were being heard, an assurance that our messages were n't going straight to voice-mail. The next couple of days were a blur, there were celebrations on the streets, there was actually some meaningful talk of peace in the Middle East, North Korea even began talks with South Korea. Many expected the aliens to be vary cryptic and mysterious about their intentions with Earth, but as it turns out it they were very forthcoming, it seemed more like a formality than anything really. There was never a mysterious, ominous date broadcast to us, they simply told us that they would be arriving about fifty miles out from New York in two years of our time. Hell, there was n't really any mystery about what they would look like either, they sent us pictures of them, their ships, their cities, even some anatomical diagrams. For the next two years, the world went into overdrive preparing for the arrival of the first extraterrestrials. Unemployment plummeted, happiness soared. Of course there were some people who resented the aliens, a lot of religious institutions scrambled to explain sudden appearance of the aliens. Conspiracy theorists went off their collective rockers. The point I've been trying to get out is that it was not simply a deal of epic proportions, it was biblical. Looking back, I'm not sure why we expected them to reciprocate the feeling. I mean even just rereading their messages and reviewing the videos it seems kind of obvious now. When the aliens actually landed, they were greeted by some of the most prominent world leaders. Long, inspiration speeches were given, music was played, it was inspirational really. I'm not too proud to admit that I cried and I'm sure many share the sentiment. Through the whole thing though, one could n't help but notice that the aliens looked bored. Like that they had heard the same thing countless times. At last, when everything was over, a buffet was brought out for the congregation. World class chefs had come together to prepare a mouth watering melody of foods from all regions of the world. When the food came out, that's when the aliens started to perk out. A few of them split off from the main group and wandered over to the potato salad. Gordon Ramsey began to explain to them what each of the foods were and how they might taste to the aliens. One of the aliens reached down and picked up a raw potato with its long slender fingers. It raised it in the air and all the other aliens began to nod. One of the aliens picked up the tray of salad and another picked up a few raw potatoes. Then they just boarded their ships and left. To this day we have n't heard a thing from them. Scientists think that it's because the soil on the soil on their planet might be poor and they were looking for versatile food. I suppose the actual reason does n't matter too much. For many the lesson was that if everyone set aside their differences for a common goal, we could achieve the long sought after goal of world peace. For me though, I just like to think that whenever I have some fries or a baked potato or something, maybe someone or something out there, far far away, is enjoying the same thing.
[ WP ] Space Wizards .	`` Just think about this, Colin. Wizards - in space.'' Max was adamant that this idea was a Hollywood blockbuster. Max was adamant that any idea that dropped out of his mouth was a goddamn pearl, that the Queen of England would be honoured to let that pearl shine in her crown. `` And we'll get Professor Brian Cox to do some narration for the movie, I'm guessing'', said Colin halfheartedly. Max whisked around during his unintelligible rant, which had become background noise to Colin after all these years. `` That's fucking genius, Colin my fucking genius. People fucking love Coxy, he's made space popular again, he's made space hip again, and you know what this movie's gon na be? Fucking popular and fucking hip.'' Sometimes, Colin felt like he was fishing in a swamp. A swamp of unknown. A swamp that went against all the merits of logic and good taste. He would cast a line with some usual bait, lets say an earthworm, and usually get nothing. He'd sit there for goddamn hours and get squat. But sometimes, Colin would cast in bait he thought was worthless, like a tin can or a bit of fluff attached to a hook, and reel in a motherfucking 50in salmon that would cost him £200 at the fishmonger's. That's what talking with Max was like. `` And we're gon na make this some Douglas Adams bullshit, like comedy in space - with magic.'' That could work, thought Colin. He went into pensive mode, which was beyond Max's intellectual capability to understand, and considered radio to be a good testing ground for a script with this idea. `` Max, we need to test this out on radio before it's pitched as a show.'' `` How we gon na get Brian Cox?'' `` He does radio, Max. He'll be okay with this. He's a guy that likes a good laugh. You seen him on QI?'' `` Whaddabbout the big screens, Colin? That's where the money is-'' `` Max, we need to prove that it works somewhere else before Hollywood is even going to look at it. Radio is the best testing ground for that, and then TV, then the silver screen.'' Max sat down, which was a surprise, and started some quiet thinking, which was another surprise. Colin was vaguely hopeful that this would lead to somewhere, somewhere decent. Somewhere that thought wow Colin, your practicality really marries well with my half-assed ideas that I do n't bother finishing and realistically would be no more than post-it notes stuck on the fridge, and for someone who does n't even know his ass from his elbow, I'm lucky I even managed to get where I am today and it's all thanks you to seeing something worthwhile in me. But then Max opened his mouth again. `` What if-'' You could only laugh at ideas so much in one day. Colin got tired of his job sometimes.
[ WP ] The Rapture happens while you are skydiving . ( Un ) fortunately for you , your tandem instructor is one of the chosen ones .	`` Remember! No matter what happens, do n't panic!'' That was the first rule of skydiving, according to my instructor. Do n't panic. Panic was the enemy. It would eat away at your mind, make you make mistakes. And mistakes at 13,000 feet could easily turn deadly. Personally, I thought that line would be best if left in a Douglas Adams book. I was n't here to have a nice, relaxing evening. I was here to fly, and if I was n't panicking there would be no point. I wanted to panic. And I would n't be much of an adrenaline junkie if I did n't. Even so, I shot him a thumbs up. Even as close as we were, tied together by our harnesses, the only way I could hear him over the prop was if he yelled in my ear. There was no way for me to argue with him even if I wanted to - not that an argument right now would be of any use. He already knew exactly how I felt before we even left the ground. Not that he agreed, but at least he had the sense to not butt heads with me. He never would have won anyway. Luckily, the thumbs up was more than enough. `` Ready?'' He shouted, and I nodded back. The door of the plane rattled open, exposing a rectangle of blue emptiness and increasing the noise of wind a hundred fold. As it locked into place, I could feel the blood start to pump harder in my veins. Here it comes. I thought, and grinned as my heart pumped the liquid fear to ever corner of my body, making it shake and tingle with delight. THIS is why I put up with all of his crap, all of the safety manuals and lectures, and all of the damn forms. THIS was living. And no one was going to take that away from me. My instructor put his hand into my field of view, three fingers raised. I do n't need your bloody countdown. I screamed internally. Just JUMP! Three... Two... And I had had enough. As his second finger fell, I threw the both of us out of the plane and into empty air. My instructor yelled and swatted my shoulder, but I barely felt the blow. FREE! I thought, world tumbling around me in a whirlwind of ground, cloud, and sky. I laughed, thinking of the string of profanities that my instructor was probably issuing as he struggled to straighten us out. If he knew any, that was. The goody two-shoes. He yelled something in my ear, but whatever he said was whipped away by the wind. Oh well, not my problem. It was his job to make sure we both lived through this. After all, our fates were tied. Again, he yelled, and this time I heard a fragment of what he said. `` D... see... l...?'' `` WHAT?'' I called back at him `` Do you see that light?'' He practically screamed in my ear. `` WHAT LIGHT?'' I yelled back. Suddenly, I realized that my harness was fluttering behind me oddly. Thinking that something had come loose, I twisted back, hoping to yell at my instructor to fix it up. But to my amazement, he was gone. `` What the fuck!?'' His harness was still there, clipped in as before. And his parachute, clothes, and goggles were still wedged inside. But his body had totally gone, leaving his wind-breaking jumpsuit to flutter fruitlessly against the gale. Oh, nice. Real funny, guy. Leave the newbie all on his own to figure shit out. I glanced in every direction, but no matter where I looked he was nowhere to be found. Not that I really wanted to see a naked man floating by... but hey. He was kind of my lifeline. `` Jesus Christ.'' I swore, clumsily pulling his harness closer to my frame. Ok. What do I need to do. Memories of half-forgotten classes flitted behind my eyes, but my fear soon shoved away any chance I had at remembering them. That bastard... he is probably laughing at me right now, wherever he went. With arms that felt like lead, I pulled my limbs through the open holes of his harness so that the parachute roughly lined up with my back. How long do I have to wait? I thought, gulping. I looked at my wrist, but the glare from the sun made my altimeter impossible to read. Every second, the ground grew closer and closer, and every second my fear grew greater and greater. I held it even closer to my face, trying to get a read. Wait... is that... beeping? In a panic, I ripped the cord on my back. the parachute erupted behind me like a sail. Suddenly, it unfurled, flicking me like a whip at the end of my make shift harness. I let out a cry as it tore at my shoulders, pulling them roughly out of their sockets even as the parachute slowed me to more life-friendly speeds. I groaned, the noise oddly loud in the quite left behind by the absence of wind. `` Well. That hurt.'' Despite my injuries, I felt myself begin to grin. What a rush! I had never experienced anything like that before in my life! Absently, I wondered how long it would take my arms to heal, and how long it would be before I could try skydiving again. This time, without being strapped to a nag. A buzzing sound from above wrenched me back to reality. `` What the hell... is that the plane!?'' The lump of metal flew through the sky haphazardly, listing in an enormous circle as it careened toward the ground. It almost looked like no one was steering the plane at all. `` What the hell is that pilot doing!? He should watch out, that could kill someone!'' Cold fear - quite unlike the rush I was so fond of - began to well up in the pit of my stomach as I watched it circle. It was away, above me and facing away, but if it kept going on it's current course... `` No... way...'' THUD. *** What is the difference between a bad golfer and a bad skydiver? One goes `` WHACK... dang!'' and the other goes `` DANG... WHACK!'' CC appreciated, and if you enjoyed the read check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs!
[ WP ] There is only 10 billion souls available for humanity . Everyone has one . The population reaches 10 billion . The next baby is born ...	They say that mankind was never meant to exceed ten billion. It happened in 2016- newborn babies stopped crying. In fact, babies born after what came to be known as `` the incident'' would never cry. They would never laugh either. They would never smile, or frown, or react with anything other than cold, emotionless logic. They were soulless. They say it was expected that humanity was n't really expected to exceed one billion, let alone ten. Society changed. Scientists were confused about what these emotionless children were, there was nothing wrong with them- the emotional centers of their brains were perfectly healthy, yet they were never activated. But it soon became apparent what was wrong to many- they simply had no souls. There were debates over weather they were even self aware. The most chilling thing about these children was that they were remorseless- thievery, violence, even murder. Parents could no longer just be disappointed in their kids, they had to actually punish them. Even then, they went right back on doing whatever it was. They say humanity has gotten too big for it's britches. That they needed to stop. Eventually some people stopped having kids. The population slowly began to dip as humans stopped being replaced. Just as we had reached 10 billion, then 11 billion, then 12, 13, and 14 billion in the past ten or so years, we fell back to 13, then 12, then 11 billion. The damage had been done, and the world now had a population of truly soulless teenagers, although some joked that nothing had changed. Interestingly, the soulless kids still had an interest in sex. More important to them than pleasure, however, was children. They mentioned humanity must be kept alive. I think they are only partly right. The first incident was in China. A gang of soulless teenagers had started a riot. The strange thing was that the riots were over nothing, and more importantly that the soulless ones focused on killing. This would serve as a pattern as theses soulless children reached peak health, started killing indiscriminately all around them. The governments did n't know what to do- society was collapsing. A person can, and eventually will, be taken down. A gang can be purged, a bunch of kids scared off. Even a huge organization, a country, can be fought against. But when mankind's adversary is every human younger than twenty six no one knows what to do. And civilization crumbled. I think the limit was chosen as a limiter. When humanity got to big it was the job of the soulless to drag us back down. I see them destroy the remains of everything humanity has built up- cleaning radiation, demolishing monuments and cities. A thought keeps me up at night- how many times have we done this before? But the fact is, come a few hundred, a few thousand, maybe a hundred thousand years, we will do it again.
[ WP ] ''There is someone typing on my keyboard every night . ''	Ghost At The Machine The soft whir of the hard drive did n't, at first, strike Milly as odd. After a moment, she realized the computer should have been in sleep mode that late at night. Maybe the cat had been up at the keyboard? But now she was feeling a little paranoid, as she wondered if she had in fact closed out her applications, and switched on the monitor power to check. The text editor was open to her latest chapter in progress. So, she had n't saved and closed out? She shook her head sleepily. That was not why she had come out to check on the computer. Firmly, she murmured to herself, `` Must have been a dream. I thought I heard typing.'' She blinked and did a slight double take. At the end of her current progress, there was a new line of text. It read, simply, That was me. She started, puzzling over the odd, mismatched line of text, and quickly backspaced it out, saving the document. She was about to close the application, when she found herself distracted, reading her last few lines of text. `` Oh no, dammit,'' she told herself firmly, `` You need sleep. Let it go. You can rewrite tomorrow.'' `` Honey, is everything OK?'' She jumped, but it was only Dan. `` Sorry. Do n't tell me: You had an idea, and it just could n't wait, right?'' He sighed, but it was not a terribly exasperated sigh. More of a fond sigh than anything. He knew full well the obsession could take her at any moment, and he was resigned to it in an almost bemused way. `` No,'' she insisted, turning back to look at him standing there in the doorway. `` I thought I heard something. That's all. Must have left the editor open when I went to bed. `` `` Heard what?'' `` Typing. I heard typing.'' She turned back to the computer, about to finish her earlier thought and just close down for the night. But she froze halfway there as she saw that the mystery line of text was back. This time in bold print. That was me. `` OK, that's enough of that!'' she told the computer, backspaced out the text once more, and saved again, just to be on the safe side. How did the text reappear? Oh, no. Please do n't let it be a virus. Maybe she should run the antivirus overnight. Let it quarantine whatever it found and hope it did n't find anything in her latest work that had n't been backed up yet. `` What is it?'' Dan asked. `` Probably nothing. Computer's acting up. I think I'm going to start a scan and let it run overnight.'' She closed the editor, opened the antivirus and set in motion a full scan. She stood, walked over and kissed her long suffering husband on the cheek. `` There,'' she said. Just then, their daughter Kira stumbled in. `` Honey, what are you doing up?'' `` I thought I heard something,'' Kira told her simply, but Milly saw she was looking straight at the computer, with a puzzled look. Milly turned in time to see it for herself this time. This time, there was no confusion. The text editor was open once more. Text was appearing at the first empty line, and it there was no mistaking the rise and fall of the individual keys on the keyboard, as words appeared, this time in all caps... THAT WAS ME!
[ WP ] Write about someone who sells dreams in a world where dreams are forbidden or extinct	`` I want my money back,'' said Jenny as she handed the dream device to Tom. `` This stuff is too... weird. Its like being on drugs.'' Tom chuckled, `` Well, dreams are odd things,'' he said taking back the device and inspecting the box. `` I mean, my dead grandmother came by flying on a pegasus, then I was back in high school except I was naked, oh and finally I had a long horrific episode of someone trying to kill me,'' she said throwing her hands in the air. Tom took her credit card and ran it through his register. `` In the dream world we call those nightmares. Sometimes people get them. They're not pleasant, I admit. There's a warning in the manual about them,'' he said with a smile. Jenny raised her eyebrow and said, `` Its one thing to read about them and a whole other to experience them! My god, it was terrible. I've been in jumpy all day because of them.'' Tom looked around, then whispered to Jenny, `` Honestly, even I do n't use these damn things. My boss wants me to tell everyone how great they are, but they're kinda stupid. There's a reason why we do n't dream anymore. They were just making everyone crazy. I figure if I want some experience like this I'll just meditate. Just seems more... civilized. But there are good times too. I kissed my high school sweetheart again. My childhood dog visited and played with me. I've relived my first date with my wife dozens of times. I even talked to god. Once in a while I'm a hero who saves people. But, yeah, I had to quit, it was too much for me. I'm not really an adventurous person.'' Jenny smile and said, `` On second thought, why do n't I keep it for another week. Maybe I'm being too rash.'' Tom said, `` Sure, I'll cancel the return,'' as he pressed some keys on his register. Jenny walked out saying, `` Thanks, I'll let you know how it goes.'' Tom waved and smiled at her, `` Sweet dreams!'' Tom sat back and sighed. His phone rang. Tom answered, `` Yes... yes, it was a return. I gave her that bullshit'kissed my sweetheart and childhood dog' speech. Totally fell for it,'' he laughed. `` If she wants crazy visions all night that's her problem. Christ, I do n't believe we still sell these madness devices. I really do n't.''
[ WP ] A suicidal man discovers he is Immortal .	I set the phone back on the receiver, her answering machine still ringing around in my head. She was last on my list- there was no one left to turn to, no one left to get help from. And today, I felt like I needed it more than ever. But the decision came easily. It had always been sitting in the back of my mind, and today it just sort of clicked. There was n't any drama- I just decided today would be the day I stopped living. I quickly tied the rope up, designing a noose with strangely calm hands. It's not like I had practiced it, yet it still felt natural. Why was I so okay with that? I climbed onto the chair, placing the noose over my head. It was n't as heavy as it was in my hands- in fact, by sitting on my shoulders, I felt other weights get carried away. Freedom. Finally. I kicked the chair out from under me, feeling my body drop slightly. The noose tightened around my neck, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain, the choking, then the blackness. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes again, wondering if I had ended up in Heaven or Hell or whatever. If I had somehow missed dying. But I was still hanging in my room, looking at the wall. There was no pain, no tightness, nothing. The worst was the rope scratching against my throat, making it itch. I felt dismay pang around my chest for the first time all day. No. No. I reached up, trying to weave my fingers into the noose, but I had tied it tightly, and I realized it would be extremely difficult, even impossible, to get off. I struggled to undo the rope, but it was n't happening. I was stuck here, hanging, swinging ever so slightly. And I was very much alive. I stopped struggling, feeling weary. My muscles began to burn with the strain of hanging there, the blood rushing to my feet. My situation slowly dawned on me. I'm stuck here. It'll be days until someone finds me, and then I'll have to face everyone. To live with this shame. The man who tried to kill himself and failed. I kept hanging, my new hell settling back down on my shoulders.
[ WP ] You 're in God High School , and you 're failing in Creation class . The other students keep sabotaging your Edens , making your Adams and Eves commit suicide . But you 're getting even ...	God always had a wicked vengeful streak. He was constantly furrowing his brow, leaning back in his chair, mumbling about all the despicable, deplorable acts he wanted to commit. Really now. When Gabe had come up with bears, the first thing the big man did was slap the angel on the shoulder and wonder aloud what would happen if he put the chubby, damp looking, pawed creature into a ring with 42 children. He was n't exactly the pinnacle of appropriate reactive behaviour. So no, Lucy did n't buy into the whole new age'and if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well' attitude everyone had started sagely nodding about. `` Are you sure about this?'' Zadkiel asked idly, peeking up over his own model while Lucy worked. `` Sure?'' Lucy said furiously, leaning forward, `` Am I sure? They yelled'All flesh is corrupt!' and threw my Eden into a pond.'' `` Yeah.'' Zadkiel replied quickly, `` yeah, I know, but-'' `` They're calling it the Lost City of Gaylantis.'' `` Your Adam and Eve did get along suspiciously well, mate.'' `` And for the last freaking time, I can not for the life of me see why that would mean - you know what? It does n't matter.'' Lucy adjusted in his seat. `` I know you mean well, Zad. You always do. Mercy is your thing - I get it. But there comes a time you've just got to take a stand. Now, are you with me, or not?'' Zadkiel sighed and backed down with a nod. Lucy got to colouring with a toothpick. If he'd has his way, it would've been bright orange with sickly purple spots. The only reason he'd given it such a bland palette was because he needed it to slide through convergence and submission unnoticed. He wanted the first time it was noticed to be because it was reported on by humans. That way, no one could make it preemptively extinct. After some delicate shading here and there, he looked back to admire his creation. The bastardized duck was truely a sight to behold. It was flat looking, but bloated and swollen in the middle. He'd modeled it after reanimated roadkill. It had webbed feet, a dopey, unrefined tail and beady, vaguely evil looking eyes. He'd given it electroreception, and venom. Venom, like a snake, or some of those magnificent jungle flowers that'd some seniors managed to get passed the week before. Best of all - he'd made it totally defunct. The thing had all kinds of non-functioning organs it did n't need. If there was anything God hated, it was an unused mechanic. Lucy wanted it to be the freakiest, most pointless, most embarrassing creation to ever be produced. And he felt like he'd succeeded. He stood over the unattended models, a shiver of glee pulsating from him, and dropped the first into Michael's - the ultimate teacher's pet - model. He watched the miniature, as it wiggled around on it's belly, and flopped pathetically towards a patch of water. He quickly snatched up another one to drop into the next model. `` Woah, woah,'' Zad said, hand shooting out to grab Lucy's wrist. `` If you put them in all the Edens, even God wo n't have time to make make the fix before convergence.'' `` Duh, that's kind of the point - I want it slipping through, even if they notice it and try go extinction on the little guy.'' Zad looked on helplessly as Lucy dropped multiple sexes of each of the creature into all the models. When he was done he was in such hysterics that students from walking past the classroom kept poking their heads in to see what was going on. One by one, the rest of the class siphoned in, casting suspicious glances Lucy's way, and checking on their models. Zad looked positively miserable. `` What did he do this time?'' Jophiel mouthed to him, as class began to start. He just shook his head, and held a finger to his lips to encourage her silence. Lucy watched them, grinning like a cheshire cat - and he would know, he'd submitted the concept to Human Creative Thoughts, Processes & Ideas room two weeks earlier and gotten a B+ for his troubles. Suddenly, right before class began, the loudspeaker sounded, a booming voice echoing off the walls. `` Lucifer, in my office. Now.'' There was a chorus of giggles from the rest of the choir. `` Shit, I told you he'd know. He always knows.'' Zad chewed his lower lip, `` you do n't think you're gon na get... you know, 'expelled'?'' `` Nah,'' Lucy said, gathering up his things, still buzzed from the high his interference had given him. `` God loves me, he would n't do that.'' `` Lucifer...'' `` Do n't worry so much, Zad,'' Lucy said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the classroom, heading towards the principal's office, seemingly without a care in the world. `` I'll catch you later on.'' A/N: That was fun! Sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for the prompt.: )
[ EU ] You are the English government 's top assassin . Your specialty is a superhuman clumsiness that you 've learned over the years to weaponize . Your name is Bean . Mister Bean .	He wiped a tear away from his eye as he patted Teddy on the head. He tucked him in and gave him a small kiss, before turning on his heels and leaving the small London flat. The mission would n't wait, and hopefully, he would be back. After his vacation to France, the English government had recruited him for his knack at infiltration. Code name, Johnny English. This time, his job was to infiltrate a nuclear weapons facility in a nearby country. Management was suspected of selling components to third party organizations, potentially terrorist cells. His mission was to destroy their operation. Orientation was fairly uneventful. As a new employee, he was trained on the emergency procedures. This would be his exit plan. Making his way to the materials room, he found an empty computer. No one was around. Taking a flash drive, he began to download all of the files that he could. A cough from behind grabbed his attention. The man looked to be a lower level employee. He flashed his id badge, a carefully constructed, nearly identical lookalike, made with paper and the blue pen he kept on him at all times, even though it was known to leak. The man seemed confused. Grabbing the flash drive, he ran down the hallway. Coming to the employee break room, he ducked inside. The man ran past him, continuing down the hallway. Pausing for a short break, he snacked on some Fruzzi yogurt. Feeling refreshed, he snuck down to the main server room. It was n't guarded, but there were several electronic lock mechanisms. Luckily, he had the best lockpick of all. Sneaking over to the keypad, his nose began to tickle. He sneezed directly onto it, and it fried, discharging small sizzles of electricity into the air. The door slid open and he stepped inside. He disarmed the next locks in the same manner, using his hankerchief after the last had been opened. Slipping the now used hankie in his pocket, he glanced around, searching for some clue as to what to do next. The main server room was blue, and blinking from the lights of electrical equipment. Walking over to the servers, he looked for the power source. Pulling out a hard candy, he unwrapped the foil. He was trying to be quiet, but the crinkle crinkle noise was deafening in the small space. As he stuck the foil into the power supply, all of the servers began to hum dramatically, and sparks began to fly out of the bottom. As he heard loud pops from all of the machines, an alarm went off somewhere in the building. Knowing that enemies would be converging upon his location, he stood against the wall, and pulled out his leaky pen. He shook the blue ink all over his suit, and it served as camouflage against the walls. Guards came, but saw only the damage he had wrought. They left, yelling about getting the boss. He followed close behind, ducking out of sight when needed. Once he made it to the outside of the building, to a remote location at the back, he yelled into his walkie talkie. `` Whistler's Mother, Whistler's Mother.'' The chop, chop of helicopter blades whirred above him, and his shoe caught trying to get into the chopper. Managing to pull himself in, as he flew away in the extraction helicopter, he waved out the window, the American hello he had learned many years ago.
[ WP ] You wake up one morning to find that you have written a disturbing note to yourself , and you do n't remember how , when , or why .	I stared at the paper for longer than I can remember, the minutes just passing by as my mind raced with questions. Why did I write that? What did it mean? I read it again, trying to decipher the meaning, but failed once more. I must have written it, that's my handwriting, but I had no memory at all. What had I done the night before? Why could n't I remember? It did n't matter. The memory was gone, and all I could do was work with what I had. I looked on the back of the paper to see if there was anything else, but it was blank, so I returned to the note and re-read it once again. 28 West Lake Drive In the garden, next to the shed. Body is there. I did n't know at the time where that was. Well, I did n't think that I knew, but I must have to have written the note. It was definitely my writing. That was when I decided that the only way to find out what was going on was to find 28 West Lake Drive, and see what was in the garden by the shed. I found out where it was, and decided to walk there to think it through further. It was less than an hour by foot from my house. Standing outside, I remember the immense sense of foreboding that I had, more then just unnerving, but a real terror that went right through me. I almost turned back, but I needed to find out what was going on. I went up to knock on the door, but as I did so I saw that the door was already slightly open. I peered in through the crack, and I heard the faint sound of music coming from inside. It was some kind of classical piece, but I did n't recognise it. I then pushed open the door slowly. `` Hello?'' I sounded so meek in that moment, my voice cracking slightly. I was so very, very scared. There was no answer, so I checked behind to make sure no one was watching and entered, closing the door. That's when I saw why the door was open, the door had been kicked out, tearing the lock from the doorframe. Still, I pushed it to as best I could and then turned to survey the interior. Apart from the door, nothing else seemed to be damaged or misplaced. It was very clean, and there was n't much to look at as it was very sparsely decorated, only a few paintings on the wall and some very basic furniture. The music seemed to be coming from upstairs. I did n't care to go up there. Besides, the garden was where I was headed. I passed a dining room and lounge, entered the kitchen and went out the backdoor. Still nothing of any interest, other than how no one was here. The garden itself was very basic, just like the house, with a meagre arrangement of plants around the rim of a perfectly mowed lawn. The shed looked new, like it had n't seen much rain or weathering, and still had a slight glossy shine to it. I initially went to open the shed, but I noticed next to it was a trowel, laid upon some freshly disturbed dirt. I have to admit, I was very happy to not a see grave-sized hole, especially when it had said'body' in the note. This looked like it was about two-feet long and a foot wide. Having gone this far, the only way forward was to find out what was buried there, so I dug. I dug as quickly as I could, not paying any attention to the mess I was making over myself, and how I would be walking back home covered in dirt. If I'd known then what was buried, I perhaps would have been more careful not to draw attention to myself. I eventually dug out what seemed to be a shoe box. I was still quite confused, and dug out around it so I could lift it out. I knelt in the dirt with it just in front of me and laid the trowel down. I took a deep breath and opened the box.
[ WP ] You go to a hospital to get your DNA and memory archived . After a day of tests and scans , you are drugged for the final neural scan . Twenty years later you wake up as an exact copy of yourself and your memories . You are a clone . What happened ? How do you feel ?	`` Easy,'' he said. Everything felt stiff as I woke up from the scan. `` Hell of a sedative,'' I muttered. Or, I tried to, anyway. It came out much more slurred than that. Everything hurt, but at least I was awake again. The nurse raised my hospital bed into a sitting position. `` How do you feel?'' he asked. I strained to open my eyes. The room was dim. Much fancier than the one I'd fallen asleep in, though. With some effort, I got the words out. `` Everything hurts.'' He nodded. `` I've heard that tends to happen,'' he said. He offered me a squeeze bottle with what looked like a thick white paste inside. `` Drink up.'' I reached out to take the bottle from him. My arms felt strange. Maybe it was the sedative wearing off, maybe it was the light. They looked different, somehow. Putting the straw in my mouth, I took a sip. Swallowing the goo, it tasted vaguely like banana. I never liked banana before, but this just hit the spot. I realised I was incredibly thirsty, and ended up drinking the whole bottle. The nurse smiled and took the empty bottle back. `` Good, you've got an appetite,'' he said, as he got up. `` Is that sitting okay in there?'' I considered my stomach. It felt like the first thing I'd eaten in years. I nodded. `` Good. I'll be back in a bit. In the meantime, your book's on the nightstand next to you,'' he said, as he indicated to the Kazuo Ishiguro novel I'd brought with me. I reached over to pick it up. Flipping it to the bookmark, the book felt a bit stiff. Must be the sedative wearing off, I decided, and turned the light up a little brighter, so that I could read. That's when I noticed. Four years earlier I'd put my fist into a mirror. My girlfriend had just broken up with me for someone else. I'd told her we could have an open relationship if that's what she wanted, that she did n't have to just date one person. Exclusivity was for suckers and religious zealots. But she left me anyway. And when I went into the school bathroom so that no one could see me cry, I could n't help myself. I smashed the mirror. I still do n't know why I did it. My parents paid to have the scars covered with plastic surgery. No one questioned the bandages, because they just thought the wounds were still healing, so I did n't have to explain it till they came off. But they'd had to leave one at the base of my thumb. It ran too close to the vein, they said, and would have been too dangerous to repair. Maybe I'd consider a cosmetic tattoo after the surgery healed. I never did. My parents wanted to pretend it had never happened, but I wanted never to forget how hurt I had been, and how stupid I'd been to take out my pain on something that was n't a punching bag. But the scar was gone. When the nurse returned with the social worker, I threw the book at his head. `` You could n't just fucking tell me I'm a clone?'' I shouted. The social worker hung back. `` Hi Tonya,'' he said. `` I guess we should have in your case. Sorry about that. Someone must have overlooked that during the physical examination; scars are pretty easy to copy now. I do n't suppose you'd like it replaced?'' I stared daggers at him. `` Blow me. I'd know.'' `` Touché,'' he said. `` Well, I for one am really sorry we missed that. The usual protocol is that I'd break the news, so that you do n't have to figure it out for yourself.'' `` Well done,'' I muttered. `` Can I sit?'' I crossed my arms in front of my chest. `` Go ahead,'' I said. `` It's a free country. Or is it? How the fuck do I know any more? What have I missed?'' The social worker clicked his pen and wrote something on his tablet quickly. `` Let's see... the Republicans are in power, the Soviet Union reformed.. Football's on Friday night now. Your last memory would have been from the early 2030s, so, let's see. Most computer technology should be at least somewhat recognisable to you. You should n't have much trouble acclimating.'' I looked at him, trying to decide whether to ask the one question that was nagging at the back of my mind. I had to know. `` Why am I here?'' The social worker sighed. `` Your original died two years ago,'' he eventually said. `` You remember the gene markers you had that indicated a elevated risk of congestive heart failure; that would have been only a year or so ago by your memory. Her number came up, and when your old doctor noticed the plaque starting to build on her heart walls already in her early forties, you were created. You were n't supposed to be woken up, but they also had to wait until the growth enhancement wore off before they could perform the surgery.'' `` I was going to save her life at the expense of my own?'' He nodded. `` It was one of the clauses written into the Human Cloning Act of 2043,'' he explained, `` a clone is not recognised as a legal person until they exit the growth pod. Once your heart was the right size, it'd be harvested to replace your original's, and you'd be put on pulmonary support in case she needed organs. We applied some epigenetic engineering to disarm those gene markers, so she'd never have to worry about it again. But her heart gave out ahead of schedule. Heart attack, she was dead before she hit the ground.'' `` That's a terrible law,'' I said, eventually. The social worker nodded. `` I agree. Unfortunately, no one consulted me.'' `` I ca n't believe I'd go for that,'' I realised. `` What happened to me?''
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 31 : Breaking Your Barriers # 5 : Future Tense	I will be born. You will ride along inside of me, curled beneath my solar plexus. The doctors will cut my umbilical cord and hand me to my mother. I will be, from the world's perspective, a solitary human. One single entity unto myself. They wo n't know what I carry within, what curls its tendrils through the gaps between my ribs. There wo n't be any medical tests to sniff you out. When I go see the school counselors ( in 3rd, 6th, 10th, and 12th grades ), you will answer their questions for me. Calm. Reasonable. You wo n't be run of the mill depression. I'll try to call you by that name, to shape you into something I can understand. Eventually I'll come to realize that the hold you have on me is deeper than suffering. It will be love. You will grow to love the fleshy confines of me. Experiences will pass through me, into you, and you'll grow fat, like a tapeworm. I will be your world, your mother, your feeder, and your food. I'll try to overwhelm you with drugs. I'll try to burn you out with adrenaline. Once, in my second year of college, I'll fall in love. His name will be Danny, Oh Danny Boy, and for three months, the sheer crush of sticky-sweet oxytocin and the warm, savory rush of serotonin will be enough to gag you. You will sulk in the cavity beneath my heart until, one day, you wo n't be able to take it anymore, and you'll burst from my mouth in a flock of words like ink and acid. And Danny Boy, he'll look at me with hurt and confusion, wondering what creature is glaring pure hate at him through my eyes. But I wo n't have an explanation for him. And even if I somehow find the words to describe you, you will always be a part of me. You will always be the hate that dresses itself in my voice. You will always be the love that makes its filthy den in the warren of my guts. I will grow old with you, and you alone. My body will become a slack, sagging shape covered in sunspots. But you will live like a king inside of me, pacing the empty halls of my soul, jealously guarding the bountiful nothing you will have cultivated there. When I growl half-formed profanities at the T.V., you will sing along as though my incoherent hate is a beloved drinking song. We will live in one of the most seismically active regions in the world. An earthquake will shake everything apart, all the things we love to hate together. We will watch, from our squalid apartment across the bay from the city, as the miserable hive of humanity falls. And I will think: how unfair it is, that with one quiver of the Earth's flank, so much evil can drown in shattered glass and twisted steel. But no force of motion, of love, of violence can tear you from me. Except one. The roof of our cheap, flimsy apartment will cave unceremoniously in on itself. I will be crushed, almost as an afterthought. You will crawl from the wreckage of me, and for the first time in nearly seventy years, you will feel vulnerable. You will be helpless, in a way; no matter how much you may love me, instinct will compel you to forget me, to find the next little innocent, wriggling body to usurp and terraform. I will die, and you will be born.
[ WP ] Day 71 after the Miasma incident	There were only two of us left. The rest had all gotten sick and died from the gas. “ Miasma gas ” is what it was officially known as named for the word describing an “ Unhealthy smell ”. And that is how the gas worked, first you smelled the gas, then you became sick, than you died. It was just me and Lenny left. Lenny was 5 ’ 3, weighed 160IB and was only 16 years old. He was hardly an ideal comrade for the apocalypse, but he followed orders and got the job done. It had been 76 days since the outbreak and we had already ran clean out of food, and lost the two other members of our group. “ I miss Terry ” sobbed Lenny “ Your just saying that because Terry shared his food with your fat ass. ” I laughed, Lenny just gave me that “ whatever asshole ” look that kids give their parents when they are asked to go clean their room. I opened my backpack placing my gasmask and 4 filters onto the table, Lenny did the same. “ Well guess we should eat while we still have clean air ” Lenny ’ s eyes lit up at the sound of food. I removed two cans of beans from my bag and popped them open with my knife. “ we don ’ t have a fire so guess were eaten em cold ” I told Lenny “ makes you miss Sarah and her shitty cooking. ” “ You ’ re just saying that cus she fucked you ” I gave Lenny the same look I had given him in a hundred times. The “ shut your damn mouth or you die ” look. It shut him up and we sat eating our beans in silence. Then I smelled it, and the portable AQI turned from yellow to dark red confirming my suspicion. “ LENNY MASK UP INCOMING MIASMA! ” I grabbed my mask and popped in a filter; Lenny reached for his and accidentally knocked his filters onto the ground. The air went from clear to foggy green in an instant and Lenny was still struggling to pick up the filters. I practically tackled him shoving one of my filters into his mask. We were safe so long as he had n't breathed in too much Miasma. An hour went by, and the poison fog had blown past us. AQI marked the air as yellow again. It was a beautiful spring day with the exception of the green death clouds. Lenny pulled off his mask and began violently coughing. I rushed over to him. “ Speak to me Lenny! Did you breathe in the gas!'' He shook his head no, and then said “ its m…'cough' myy.'cough''cough' my asthma, Just my asthma. ” He laughed and continued coughing I smiled at him, pulling out my handgun; he was still smiling when I shot him in the head. Better to die like that, than to have Miasma rot your lungs.
[ WP ] An alien race discovers Earth in 2018 and wants to land and make peaceful contact . However , Donald Trump is president .	First contact went smoothly... at least for the Democratic party. `` Military strength, money, and yelling. That's how we get stuff done. You ca n't try to negotiate, you think they will listen to you? There is really only one question that ever needs answering, and that's who has a bigger gun. `` Which is why we need nukes. Bomb the Russians, the middle east, hell, we can use them to guard the Mexical boarder. Place it on top of that wall they built for us. We need a stronger militaty to-'' Crash The ceiling shattered, sending lighting equipment and pieces of wood flying in every direction. A silver-blue vessel descended into the Trump Stadium. Attempting to be seen by thousands of supporters, it projects a hologram almost a hundred meters in diameter. `` Ladies and gentlemen of the United States of America, I am Glex. My people have been studying you from afar, and you are a strange race. We analyzed your airways, watched how you communicate. First contact is delecate, and we must ensure it is done properly. In what our analysts agree is the customary greeting, I am going to blow you all up because you are different from me.'' It took a misunderstanding leading to a few thousand deaths to really get the US to rethink their views. Trump could not be impreached under the Trump act, although the Make America Great act allows anyone to be drafted, reguardless off disability, age or other factors. Trump was drafted, and he was a cook upon the USS Tolerance, a revamped fishing boat with a single mounted machine gun and some plexy glass armor covering most of the boat's hull. After air lifting all other crew while Trump was asleep, the vessel was'misplaced' near Pakistan. A search and resque was unsuccessful after 5 minutes of searching. Satellite searching was outlawed by the Trump act under the clause preventing the government from spying on him. Bernie Sanders was quickly elected after running a one week campaign using the slogan `` I knew Trump was crazy.''
[ IP ] Noctua steals the Moon	Julian exhaled heavily, breathing the smoke out as the wind breezed through the trees. Leaves rustled, traffic bustled and the city was at its usual height of activity around this time of night. He checked his watch `` Should be about the right time'' he said aloud. `` Right time for what?'' asked a girl. She was shorter than him and about 20 years his junior. Thin as a rail with a shock of red hair going through her otherwise dark features. Wearing the official garb of an apprentice she tentatively shifted her weight from one foot to the other trying to keep warm in the cool breeze. `` Noctua, an old friend'' he said, pausing for a moment `` Well I say'old friend'. I actually mean'someone who taught me a good few lessons over the years'. We did n't necessarily leave on the best of terms but I'd like to hope that she could see past that little uh... disagreement we had''. His green eyes raised to the sky as the cloudless night sparkled with shining stars. He took a final drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the palm of his hand. The runes on his skin flaring as the heat was sapped away and dissipated around his person. He flicked the remains into a nearby trash-can, his eyes never leaving the orb of light in the sky. `` I know you're there'' he called out `` Noctua please I do n't want this to go down like last time''. The girl gave him an odd look, her master and friend leading her out to the park at this time of night alone and now he was calling out to something either she could n't see or something that did n't exist. Following his gaze she looked up to the moon. It was still for a moment before it moved. Her eyes widened as the stars shifted and seemed to part away from the sky itself. `` Julian'' a voice whispered on the wind as a pair of stars twinkled brighter than the rest. The wind picked up, the branches on the trees creaking louder as leaves flapped and broke away from their parent twigs. Celestial bodies seemed to move of their own accord at a terrifying speed, shifting and warping as the heavens seemed to part and Lucielle had to brace herself against the gale to maintain her balance. Julian seemed unruffled. `` How long has it been?'' the voice breathed `` ten? fifteen years? I have orbited this earth many times and you exist in such a short span''. A hint of a smirk creased the corner of Julians mouth as he watched stars stretch, light warp and a clawed foot clasp about the moon itself. A disorganized shape slowly beginning to distinguish itself from the darkness. Illuminated by the moon clutched in its clawed grasp. `` It's been too long old friend'' he smiled `` it's good to see you again''. `` And you'' whispered the shape. Lucielles eyes went wide, a creature, a being that seemed so impossibly huge it held onto the moon itself as if it were nothing but an amusing bauble with the other foot planted on the earth. `` You look good all things considered'' Julian said, the bright pair of stars seemed to wink out for a second before shining brighter still. The wind seemed to flutter for a moment and the voice returned with a hint of sarcasm `` Last time I took you under my wing things went so well for me''. Julian scratched the back of his head sheepishly `` Yeah well'' he coughed awkwardly `` I did n't exactly expect mother earth to take quite so much ire when I borrowed the tablet of ages for a little bit of research''. The trees sighed as leaves flitted from their branches. The two points of light seeming to brighten as they came closer, Lucielle could have sworn she saw the claws about the moon tense for a moment and she felt terrifyingly small. `` You...'' the being hissed ``... broke the tablet, it lies as a shattered remnant in Hephaestus' workshop!''. Julian cringed as the words bracketed him and dug his hands into his pockets as his head dropped to his feet. `` Well... I mean I did n't really mean for that to happen'' he admitted ruefully. `` Look I just came to ask for a favor, please just hear me out for a moment'' he said trying to diplomatically change the topic. Everything seemed very quiet for a moment as the seconds stretched to a point where Lucielle could have sworn they'd frozen. `` Fine'' the stars winked again as the claw relaxed `` What is your proposal?''. Julian looked back up to the moon, to Noctua `` I have an apprentice and I'd like for you to help her, she's reasonably new but she knows some of the basics. I'd like you to help her as you did me''. The stars shifted and seemed to inspect Lucielle for a moment. Light from a being older than earth itself searching her through. A great weight seemed to bear down on her and she staggered for a moment. Her arm reaching out to the waist high wall next to her. `` Fine'' the being finally relented `` Child, I am not familiar with the customs of your kind despite the years of your sorts religion, worship and cultist behavior. But I'll do my best to teach you of the element circles''. Julian sighed heavily `` Thank you'' he said under his breath seemingly like he'd managed to avoid being made to disappear. `` This is a favour you owe me Julian, I will be calling it in at some point'' the wind said as the stars gaze returned to him. `` Yeah'' he uncomfortably agreed. `` I believe our business here is concluded'' the voice said after a few further moments of scrutinizing. `` Julian... I'd like to see you again sometime'' the wind sighed `` I'd at least like to know how my apprentice is doing''. Julian took seemed somewhat startled by this notion `` Uh... yeah I'll... try to keep you updated'' he awkwardly managed as the stars shifted again. Light blurring as they returned to the whole and the wind dying down. `` I'll see you again child'' whispered on the wind as the claw loosened about the moon, mighty claws shifting into the blackness of space as the being became one with the void once more. `` Well!'' Julian managed in faux enthusiasm `` That went well I think!'' he smiled. `` Lets go and grab a bite shall we?''. Lucielle looked up into his green eyes, trying to comprehend the brief exchange that had just occurred between a seemingly terrifying celestial creature and the man that she originally thought was a little off the deep end in the madness pond. `` Y-yeah'' she said, stunned into silence before managing to blurt out `` What did you just get me into?''. `` Oh that?'' Julian replied `` Oh y'know just... a small contract with the the moon guardian. Some call her the'Moon Thief', others know her as a'Moon Guardian'. She's a good..uh..space owl I guess but she's a better teacher. Now lets go and get a bite to eat shall we?''. Lucielle stared at the ground as she walked, space owls, element circles and what was that about Hephaestus? This all seemed a bit much. Concluding to try to take things one step at a time and just... try not to think about them too much.
[ WP ] `` One small step for man ... one giant -- - What the hell is the hammer and sickle doing here ''	The moon had called to Katja the way it calls to moths and wolves. It occupied her mind, it seemed to mark her as its own, she was born with pale white hair and eyes grey like a lunar maria. As a child, her village sat upon the gently murmuring sunset bank of the Volga river, where soft grass swayed in the quick winds of the open steppes. She would watch the moon with her brother, he died in an eastern war that was illegal to speak of, and sometimes they would sneak vodka from their father's cabinet and share the secrets that solely siblings know, the truths and lies you can only give to someone whose blood is the same as your own. Nights spent with their hands folded behind their heads, listening to the river, sleeping in the grass. Fyodor was named after their grandfather, a man who swore that even the worst of times now were better than the best of times under the Czar, when they still worked until their hands bled, but the cruel whips of the wealthy made sure their backs bled, too. `` We were not serfs, they said. But we were not different. Before the revolution, I was lucky to eat a loaf of bread per week. Now, I can have an egg each day if I want!'' the old man would say, holding up his breakfast. It was n't until two months after the family had heard of Fyodor's death that Katja finally allowed herself to unbox his belongings. He had shared a room with their grandfather and underneath his thin bed he had kept boxes of books, items he had recovered and borrowed and stolen. They were books about the stars, about the science needed to move beyond the strangle of earth's hold, they were written by men with forbidden names like Von Braun and Meyer. The books became Katja's life and when the annual aptitude tests were given to the students, Katja's scores were the best in her oblast. Her mind combined with her strength, she had farmer's shoulder's and a farmer's back, meant that she was soon taking tests in gray rooms in Moscow, watched by men wearing plain green military suits, running and writing and reading and building circuit boards from memory and completing long equations entirely in her head. There were others, of course. Some of them were selected to go up and they did not come back down, their last words were shouted cursing the untested science and hubris of their nation. Their deaths were kept secret, like Fyodor's, the government reported that they had died in accidents while piloting test aircraft, they were fallen falcons, not phantom cosmonauts. Yuri, a short man with a welcoming smile, survived and so his story was told. Valentina was the first woman to return, and Katja put a postcard of her on her locker. Katja's name was the one that was selected to fly to the moon. A final reminder of the true equality of Soviet society, where any woman was just as qualified as any man. There were others with her, one man to pilot their return craft and another man to walk the surface with her. A lunar lander is a complicated object, a delicate behemoth with a thousand parts that must all act in unison to return to orbit safely. A surprise bump on the way down or even a screw turned one half turn too loose will guarantee its failure.
[ WP ] A man finds playing cards throughout his life , the arrival of each card preceding a near-death experience . Throughout his life , the cards count down from the 10 , 9 , 8 , ( etc ) of spades , each near-death experience more harrowing . Describe the day he finds the ace .	`` Deuces are wild. But, nothing beats an ace. You would n't believe me if I told you. It's just in the nature of the experience and how do we know anything without the experience?'' I said to the man across the table. I knew what I was expecting, I just did n't know when to expect it. The board displayed a king, jack and a 10. Two spades and a heart. I peaked at my cards queen-ten of spades. `` Perfect, I have 14 outs to the best hand... I'm feeling lucky. Let's trap this guy.'' I thought. `` Check'', I mumbled. `` Raise, five hundred.'' He quickly blurted out. I pretended to look confused humming and groaning. `` Re-raise, all in.'' I said as I slowly pushed my tumbling stack into the pile. `` Call!'' He instantly shouted from across the table. I tried to lock eyes with him but the darkness through his large glasses was alluring. He quickly flipped over king jack for the best hand. But, I knew I was in it for the long run. The dealer flipped over the next card showing another jack. `` Shit...'' I mumbled while cringing. `` OK, now all those outs I had mean almost nothing. I ca n't win... There's only one card in the entire deck that could help me win this hand. A royal flush could help me... But, there is only one card in the deck...'' My eyes widened as the truth of my thoughts begin settling. I looked up at my opponent only to see a sharp grin. The dealer flipped the final card. Time stood still as my fate started to seal. The ace of spades hit the felt simultaneously as my final tear of glory. I felt a familar collapse into paralysis while having one more look at my opponent's cackling, dark face. The sharp grin of laughter and beady black eyes increased in size until the blackness of his eyes swallowed my vision. Through the pit of darkness a kelidoscope of color was fast approaching. A seemingly infinite and undefined shape of shapes made of a vast shimmering plethora of colors. Pure, orgasmic, pulsating light from the ether was merging into the nothingness that was my consciousness. Immense uncoditional love opened up into the entirety of what I was. I knew everything was alright now and nothing else mattered. Then, finally and completely, I rested into the void with one final thought. `` Deuces are wild, but nothing beats an ace.'' ( Did this on my cell, excuse all errors please just wanted to be creative and tell a story.: ) )
( WP ) Final diary entry of a person wrongly accused of a crime receiving death penalty .	Funny, innit, how life works itself out sometimes. Between you, me, and the Lord on high I am in this matter an innocent man, and I can prove it, too. Hai n't no jury that'd hear it though. Sure as shootin' I was with her that night. We made love, too, tender love, my first time to boot. And not that rotten stuff you see on the computer or the dirty movies. If it were n't the real thing then I do n't know my behind from a hole in the ground. We'd been dancing around it for months, her and I. I was the fastest worker you ever did see on those nights when I knew I'd see her. Used to be I'd work slow, but not too slow so as not to raise any suspicion. But they cottoned on to me anyway and said they'd dock my pay or worse so I stopped that right quick. Ai n't no place in this world for a man without work. Sure enough, first night done I were walking home. I cut through the Abbot's field like I always done. It was the surest way to get home before dark, when the coyotes come out. I stayed close to the treeline because it bordered on the Emerson's land, and Mister Emerson, why he'd shoot you first and then ask who you were. When I came back out to the road, that was where I saw her first. The most beautiful colored girl you ever did see. My heart raced quick when she came by me and started talking. Lynette, she said her name was, voice like honey to my ears. I started taking that way home every night, just to chance on seeing Lynette. Always seemed like she was waiting too, and it were n't long till we were talking about love. But here, it could never happen. What would everyone think, what with her being a young colored girl? We talked about running away, just as soon as I saved up enough money to buy us a house in the north, where they were more tolerable to people like us who loved outside their own kind. I never pressured her, at least not more than any man pressures any girl, I suppose. She were n't yet of age and I was by a few years, but we loved each other just the same. We made plans to sneak out to the creek. It was a special night, and we laid out some blankets under the stars and I told her that I finally had the money we needed, and I asked her to be my bride and gave her a ring, my grandmother's ring that fitted her perfect. She was so excited, and that's where we made our love for real, that night. But someone seen us. We went our separate ways that night, me back to my house and her to hers. Her path took her through Emerson's, and when I got home my house looked like it was robbed and my rifle missing. I went straight away to the Emerson's next door. Sure enough, he had my gun and it was hot, been used. Told me he seen me with Lynette and there was another round waiting for me if I lied. He asked what the nature of my relationship with the young girl was and I told him everything. He gave my gun back and said do n't worry boy, everything will be right. I woke up the next morning with sheriff Abner at my door, asking where I been the night before. He eyed my gun, and I said I was looking for a coyote I seen around the place. I could n't let Lynette be in trouble, see, and she would be if anyone knew she was with me. Being with an older white man would get you killed if not by the law, then by the town. He said he knew the real story, and put me in cuffs there on my porch, and that was the last I saw of my freedom. At the trial, Mister Emerson said he seen me in his woods with Lynette, heard her screaming and that I forced myself on her, and that when she would n't stop I held my gun to her and that when I was done, I dressed myself and shot her dead. I told the judge to find the blankets by the creek. They were n't there. Mister Emerson said he went to her right away, tried to help. Coroner said they found my seed inside Lynette, and she'd been beaten, forced into doing unspeakable things. Curious, they did n't find no one else's. Police said my gun had been fired, and matched the bullet they found in Lynette. For the jury it was open and shut, and I had no evidence to offer to the contrary, and here I sit, awaiting to die because love made me feel alive, and hate made somebody do the worst thing mankind can do. I know it were n't me, and I could n't prove it at the trial, but I think I can now. Our town coroner is Mister Emerson. That charlatan and devil faked the report, and done all those things to my Lynette his self. How do I know? The ring, the one I gave to Lynette. I seen it the other day, when Mister Emerson come to the prison with his wife, saying to me that this is what love looks like, when the colors match, and anything else ai n't right, it's the devil's work, it's a shame and a crime to love them, animals he called them. And I could n't help but see, on his wife's right hand, an old ring, with an opal in the center, an unusual ring that poor folk would have worn back when, just like my grandmother's. If you find that ring, on her hand, with the name of the man my grandmother loved on the band, then you'll know that he took it from my love, from Lynette, when he raped and killed her. I believe God is just, and I ai n't lived a saint's life. I've stolen, cursed, drank too much, and missed church on Sunday. I know I deserve my death a thousand times over but for the grace of the Lord, and if He has chosen this time, then that is what will be. But I will not be remembered this way, as this criminal. My God will see justice carried, and trusting Him has given me peace. I look forward to my death, to be reunited with my dearest love, my Lynette, where in heaven we can love in everlasting joy.
[ WP ] The world 's largest secret is that nobody actually likes sports and pretends to only to keep up appearances . You are an investigative reporter , about to crack the story . Deliver your manifesto .	The reporter gives a satisfied sigh. His masterpiece is ready. He decides to give it one last read when his train of thought is derailed by a mighty crash. `` Wh-..?'' There's a hole where his front door used to be. Splinters decorate the blue armor of the immense figure taking up most of his hall. Angry eyes glare at him from behind metal bars. The monster lowers its head, charges, and lunges. The reporter screams. Then it all goes dark. Slowly, the world returns to him, though not his sight. His arms are twisted behind his back and he can ’ t move, largely on account of being tied to a chair. He tries to scream but the gag puts a quick stop to it. “ Jolly good, you ’ re awake ” Somebody pulls the blindfold off his eyes. Once he gets used to the light, he sees four figures. The enormous armored monster is there, one meaty hand on his shoulder. Opposite him is a black man, impossibly tall and towering. He grins evilly when he sees the reporter looking. In front of him are two men, both white, both in slacks, unbuttoned long-sleeved shirts, and caps. One is standing back with a neutral expression, the other rolling up his sleeves. He ’ s the one speaking. “ Now, I hope you understand this isn ’ t personal, of course. We just… have some secrets that need to stay secret. ” He rubs his immaculately shaved chin in thought, then turns to the other man, the one with the bags. “ I ’ ll think I ’ ll use a nine iron for this one. ” The reporter gives muffled screams of protest. It ’ s no use. The man swings. Crack. -- -- _-104 \| [ more ] ( /r/vonBoomslang ) _
[ WP ] You are the god of dice . Steve plays a lot of dice games . You hate Steve .	`` You win again, sir! You're on a real streak! Congratulations!'' The attendant at the craps table beamed in the direction of the uncommonly-lucky player. Turning around and faking a cough he whispered into his collar, `` ^Can ^I ^get ^a ^pit ^boss ^over ^here ^again, ^this ^guy ^in ^the ^body-cast ^has ^been ^on ^a ^streak ^for ^the ^last ^hour ^since ^the ^last ^boss ^was ^on ^shift. ^Something's ^up ^here! ^Thanks.'' The attendant turned back around to the player and beamed again, hoping he was n't under suspicion by his superiors for this guy's winning streak. Nobody at the table noticed the table attendant as they were too busy cheering on the player they called Lucky Steve as he got them another round of drinks. If you looked at Steve, he looked the farthest thing from lucky: he was in a body-cast and was rolled up to the table on a hand-truck like a one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. His unbroken arm was in a splint as he had strained his wrist when he was playing at a different casino two nights ago, the night before he got hit by a bus after winning over a half-million dollars another casino. ________________________________________________________________ `` This is such bullshit! Seriously! Dave, come over here, man, look at this! I sprain the wrist of his dice-hand and he continues on and wins over a quarter-mil; the next night he wins over a half-mil and so I hit the sonuvabitch with a bus. Tonight, TONIGHT!!, they cart his ass in on a dolly like he's a water-cooler and he's up over six hundred grand AND STILL PLAYING! The guy can only move his sprained wrist and he's draped in women like we're draped in robes. What the hell do I have to do to get him to stop?!?! I ca n't put him in any more pain because he's drinking on top of the Vicodin his doctors prescribed, so he's probably just shy of drooling right now, and he's still winning!! ARRRGHGHHHHHH!'' `` Damn Jeff, that is rough man; everyone has an off night though, that's just how it is in this business. Hey, let me take your mind off of that guy for a second and come see this card counter I'm messing with; guy's a math professor at MIT and a pro at card counting and he's been at this table for four hours. I'm throwing off the cards so the count is off by one and this guy's about to go full-Beautiful Mind over here. Seriously, come check this out!'' Jeff was livid at what his companion said. `` An off night?!?! We're the gods of dice and cards, for Christ's sake! We make the off nights, not have them ourselves! Seriously, I-'' `` Hey, did n't want to interrupt, I thought I heard someone say my name,'' Jesus said, as he poked his head into their office. `` Whoa, Jeff, you ok, man? You look a bit stressed out.'' He walked into the office with a concerned look on his face. `` He's done everything short of kill this craps player and the guy keeps winning more as Jeff keeps doing more to get him away from the table. He even hit him with a bus,'' Dave replied while still looking at his viewing pool at his desk. The blackjack player was pulling at his hair harder and more frequently. Jesus nodded in sympathy. `` Look Jeff, everyone has an off night, it happens to the best of us.'' Dave looked up and spread his hands, `` I said the same thing, man, but he's too caught up in this.'' Jeff facepalmed and looked back at Jesus. `` Really, Jesus? An off night; we're gods, we do n't have off nights. You of all people should know this!'' `` Jeff, you better slow that roll right quick,'' Jesus warned, pointing a finger at Jeff. `` Is being crucified not having an off night? Is having to move a stone blocking the entrance to the cave I was in with my hands after crucifixion not having an off night? Hmm? Also, if that is n't enough, you try dealing with all of the BS that comes along with working for your dad and hearing how you got to where you are only because of ties to the big guy upstairs. Psshhh.'' Jesus shook his head and walked to the door, pausing before he closed it behind him: `` Oh yeah, guys, need those TPS reports by Friday morning, no excuses. Have a good night guys; Dave, do n't think I have n't noticed that blackjack player you're messing with, either. We have a whole line jammed with his prayers and wishes; even Buddha is getting a bit agitated at the traffic from that guy. Ha! Later guys! Jeff, chin up, man!'' Jeff looked up from his desk and spoke to no one in particular, `` My numbers are already shit for this month and this dipshit Steve is going to sink me even deeper. No bonus, no vacation with Anne, just more 'I understand's and sighs. Ugh.'' Dave walked over to Jeff from his desk, the blackjack player he was tormenting is now a sobbing, flailing mess and being escorted away from the blackjack table by casino security as he was screaming simple addition problems to the rest of the casino's visitors. He set a hand on Jeff's shoulder. `` Look, you can always go for the nuclear option if this is that important to you; it's just one guy, man.'' He genuinely felt sorry for Jeff; he was a hard worker, a family man, and never gave less than 110 % to his job. `` As much as I want to, killing this Steve asshole would only make me look worse; management would see the request and its FAST-TRACK tag, they'd look at my numbers before they approve it, and it'd just be confirmation I'm slipping.'' Jeff lay his head back down on his desk. `` I'm in a rut, it's the same bits over and over: sprain, carpal tunnel, broken wrist; wash, rinse, repeat.'' ________________________________________________________________ Continued in Part2 below:
[ CW ] Write a story beginning and ending with , `` The dreams in which I 'm dying are the best I 've ever had . ''	`` The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had'' It almost made me chuckle as I scribbled these words into my diary. My depression was getting so bad it was comical. Nothing made me happy. Nothing. My only sliver of fun or joy was writing in this stupid fucking moleskin that bitch bought me on vacation last year. `` Babe look! They have one with my initials and one with yours!'' Yeah, thats right. We had matching moleskin diaries. I promised myself I would fill up all the pages, even though simply looking at the thing made me sick. It made me think of her, and even worse, it made me think of him. My best friend. Well, my former best friend. Cunts both of them. I also promised myself I'd never pick up the phone if either of them tried to call me. I stayed true to that for the most part. It seemed like they both tried to call me out of sympathy about once a week. Then it happened. He called me at 2am. The buzzing of my phone on the nightstand startled me awake. I knew something was wrong. I had to answer. `` She killed herself. She fucking killer herself, oh my god I just found her hangi-'' I hung up. I quickly threw on some clothes and drove to their apartment, the one her and I had shared for 4 years. He greeted me at the door, I brushed passed him and ran upstairs. There she was, swaying back and forth next to the bed I bought, hanging from one of his belts tied around her neck. She looked peaceful, almost happy. Then I saw the note, addressed to me. `` Take my moleskin, read all of it. I never stopped loving you.'' I grabbed her matching moleskin from her nightstand and took off without saying a word to him. I spent all night reading it. She was worse than I am. She said cheating on me was the worst mistake she ever made. He hit her, hard. They both took up drinking as a painkiller. And then I got to the end.... `` I'm ending my life tonight. I ca n't do it anymore. I ca n't live when the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.''
[ WP ] All religions in the world are correct and every God/Gods exist . They have a meeting every millennium with the next one happening now . What are some of the issues this time ?	`` Now that all gods are present, let us begin our 2937th meeting. For our first issue is on Allah's believers. According to everyone, they keep up their act, they will be heading to a bad place when they die, but everyone is fighting on who gets to punish them.'' `` I say I should get them!'' `` Why do you believe you should get them Satan?'' `` Well, first of all, they killed a BUNCH of Christians, and right now the big man has my balls in a vice. He is threatening if there is no burning believers down there in his hell, he is planning on respawning Jesus to start a new crusade. Frankly, I think he just wants to mock those guys for thinking they had the only correct religion.'' `` Alright then, your rebuttal Allah?'' `` You are not getting my believers! They were with MY religion, so it is my say. No matter what they did, they are mine to see fit. I will not step down from this, and I will not let anybody have them. If you want me to punish them, then I will do it, but that's it.'' `` Satan? What do you think?'' `` Eh, we will let him have them. But we get to have the people they killed watch him get tortured.'' `` You have a deal Satan.'' `` Alright, now that is out of the way, we would like to welcome some new gods to our domain. Though we had a strict selection process in the past, now we have vote to let in one new god for this century. Our choices include the flying spaghetti monster, Slenderman, and... The hell? Is this a horse? Uh, and Fluttershy? I will never get these damn mortals. Anyway, cast your vote for the new god now.''
[ WP ] Aliens came to Earth as peacemakers . They stayed , as slaves .	When they arrived, Russia had nearly started World War III. With NATO encroaching on their lands and China controlling a reformed, puppet, militarized North Korea, they were cornered. Countries all over the world began pouring money into anti-missile systems. There was no doubt that this war would go nuclear. Of course, the U.S. had the most money. It seems like yesterday... I established my company two decades ago, following a promising breakthrough in energy absorption. After a decade, I had made it: a material that could absorb any amount of any energy. I was so close -- all I needed was a way to contain the material without it absorbing the heat of everything around it, instantly bringing the nearby area close to absolute zero. Years passed as I gradually realized that I could not succeed, my fortune spent on an impossibility, my company ruined. Meanwhile, just as mutually assured destruction seemed inevitable, they arrived. Appearing in a shining, sleek ship, they brought a message of peace. Representatives from around the world were invited on board to settle disputes. I sent myself far into debt squeezing a ticket out of some government official. As soon as I saw their energy shields, I knew. They had spent too long in peace and harmony and such fantasies. It was an easy matter to steal a spare shield generator from the cargo room in the bottom of one of their ships. Within weeks, I had finished it. The feds bought up my company. Not willing to risk MAD, the anti-nuke defense system was stealthily erected. Then we immediately announced a simple ultimatum: if everyone dismantled their militaries, we would not obliterate them. The aliens were to hand over all their weaponry, and their ships, or we would launch every nuke we had. As advanced as they were, a single ship could n't stop every nuke we launched. They had extraordinary abilities, but were too trusting. They handed everything over, believing that they had achieved their goal: peace on Earth. Most countries dismantled their armies, as instructed -- what else could they do? But intelligence reports found evidence that Russia had n't done as it had claimed. They could n't be trusted. We needed to make an example of someone anyway. Soon I will see our new alien `` citizens''. I'm not sure what they are, but I know I'll find some use for them.
[ WP ] You have loved a girl for 4 years ... .	Disclaimer: English is n't my native language. I'll be glad to correct any errors if you point them out! The alarm goes off. My eyes open immediately. Usually this takes a few whacks at the snooze button before I even check the time. But not today. I ’ m wide awake. Not that I managed to get a good night ’ s sleep anyway. My mouth feels dry and my stomach a bottomless pit. I turn to my left. She ’ s right next to me. “ Time to get up ”. She mumbles. “ You don ’ t want to be late for your flight. “ “ What time is it? ” “ It ’ s 4 AM ” I switch on the bedside lamp. She squints and rubs her eyes. It ’ s been 4 years to the day. I move towards her and kiss her on her lips. She seems surprised. She ’ d been trying to knock some spontaneous romance into me with disappointing results. She smiles.I wrap my arms around her.We hold each other close. No one speaks. I can smell the remains of the nightly make up-ritual. The cleanser.the moisturizer. The body cream. God knows what else. She smells like a fruit salad. Inside I hope that the smell stays in the sheets. The clock ticks life away. The alarm goes off. The beast lets me know that it ’ s not dead, merely sleeping. Another whack. We get up. The next half-hour is a whirlwind of organized chaos as we get ready to leave. Even at this time she can ’ t help being a woman. THE woman. “ Where ’ s my lipstick? ” “ Why didn ’ t you do the dishes yesterday “ “ Look the other way while I get dressed. ” “ There ’ s chicken in the fridge for later. “ “ Remember to do the laundry today. “ We get in the taxi. One of her sappy love songs comes up on the radio. We look at each other and laugh. We talk about mundane things. The weather. The apartment. The traffic. At this point I don ’ t care what we talk about. Inside I ’ m desperately trying to pick out the nuances of her voice and play it back inside my head to make sure I ’ m getting it right. We reach the airport. The check in lines seems shorter than usual. The airline staff is more efficient today. Yay. We manage to get the boarding passes in less than 20 minutes. Some minor drama over excess baggage, resolved amicably. My phone vibrates. A message form the company reminding me that my appointment is scheduled for 8AM.I smile wryly. How thoughtful of them. She ’ s going on about something. I see her lips move. I ’ m desperately trying to remember each detail about her. Her hair - shoulder length, shampooed, smelling of some exotic fruit that ’ s provided it with 12 essential nutrients. Her blouse – white, overpriced from that trendy new store. But she got a good deal on it so that ’ s ok. Her shoes, Thank God she did n't wear those monstrous heels today. My heart sinks. I hold her hand. The excess baggage, missing eye-shadow, mismatched socks no longer matter as her voice drops off. ‘ I wish it didn ’ t have to end like this ” He eyes swell up, she ’ s breathing a little harder, she coughs and moves her hair away from her face as a tear stars rolling down her cheek. Her mascara is smudged. I hope she does n't worry about that. I move closer. I can smell her perfume. Her favorite. A million memories come streaming through. The first kiss. The pointless conversations. A walk on the beach. The Rockefeller center. We move towards each other I put my arms around her waist and her lips come close to mine. We kiss. Not a kiss of passion. A remorseful kiss of resignation. We look into each other ’ s eyes. I ’ d like to imagine that I was staring into her soul. Another Boarding announcement “ I guess this is Good-bye “ “ I guess it is. Thanks for the memories. I can never forget “ I smile “ Neither can I ” She begins to move towards the counter the agent checks her ticket and passport. She goes through. She turns around. 15 feet, a sad looking counter, a middle aged female agent and fate is all that separates us. She waves. I wave back to her and mouth the words “ good-bye ” to her. I turn around and walk towards the exits. It ’ s 7AM. I grab a taxi and head to my appointment. The freeway looks busy. A million people A million memories. One less by the end of the day I suppose. I walk up to the front desk. All paperwork in place I ’ m led inside the procedure room. Do I have any questions? “ The procedure, it ’ s permanent right? ” “ Oh, it removes the memories, but the emotional residue is unpredictable. “ They begin to administer the sedation as music starts playing over the speakers. The doctor seems to be a pink Floyd fan As I doze off, I can make out the lyrics to the song. “ And no one sings me lullabies and no one makes me close my eyes so I throw the windows wide and call to you across the sky''
[ WP ] There is something about this water .	`` There's something about this water,'' I said. Sally rubbed her wedding ring absently with her other hand. `` Is there, dear?'' she asked. `` Yesh,'' I said. `` Itsh... it tashtes.'' `` Does it?'' she asked. She cocked her head to one side. She plucked her knife and fork delicately and cut a thin strip of steak. `` You're slurring, dear. Are you OK?'' I shook my head. `` Yeah,'' I said, fighting back some momentary dizziness. `` Yeah, I'm fine. Are you enjoying the sht... the shhtea -'' She laughed, coldly. `` Perhaps you have a dry mouth,'' she said. `` Have another drink.'' I looked at the water. It perhaps was cloudy in the water. And eyes? The... is opacity a word? `` Well?'' I asked out loud. `` Ish it?'' A blank smile that wrote nothing on her face but expectation. `` Darling, you're making no sense.'' I slapped myself in the face. The clouds at the corner of my vision receded. `` The water,'' I said. `` You've done something.'' She placed her fork down deliberately on the table. `` I did,'' she said. `` You wo n't be humiliating me with that teenage slut any more.'' The clouds started to encroach on my vision again. I remembered the other thing that the thing was going to cause a complications with and I was glad we did n't have a cat because you hear stories about people with cats when they... `` fuck,'' I managed. The words in my head blurred and cleared; blurred and cleared. `` This is bad,'' I said. She laughed again, raising her perfect chin high as she did. `` Not for me,'' she said. `` Yesh,'' I slurred. `` Yesh, for you.'' She looked at her steak. `` You did n't,'' she said. `` You would n't do that.'' Her nose started to bleed. I laughed, twisting the skin on my hand to clear the clouds one last time. `` What a fucking marriage,'' I said. `` I'm glad we do n't have a cat,'' she said, before she fell face first into her dinner.
[ CW ] You are a medieval character that is going insane . Make your writing stranger every paragraph .	I should not have eaten that strange mushroom I found on my way to see King Henry. Not only was the taste quite unpleasant but I feel... different. It is as if I am starting to see myself in the third person, as if my brain has a whole other body and it is looking at me and talking to me. It is quite a peculiar feeling! You– I mean I was so hungry and yo– I just was going to eat a little taste, but even though the mushroom tasted good I should've just let it be. Mushrooom, mushhrrooom, mushroom, what a weird word do n't you think? Yes it is quite a bizarre word. I mean that odd little thing is not a mush or a room... why it's neither..ha ha ha ha haaa. You are sooo quiet, but even if you did talk I could hear you not cause of the clinky clinky... he he you are wearing the clinky clinky! Where is more roommush I more must consume to quench my desire, oh this is but the only thing I aspire... for... ho ho ho you make bad rhymes! Halt! Ye rushmoom you come against me armed with no arms, only your little top hat, but your hat insults me. Who turned out the cannnnddddlllee.
[ FF ] Describe 100 years of a character 's life in 10 words . Then describe the last 10 seconds of their life in 100 words .	Unfortunately, nobody would. She never made it off the streets. Their kicks and stomping went on long enough that her bones felt like water, and she could n't feel anything else except dulled impact. Her good eye went dark, and she started to wish she'd just said yes to them. All she could do was listen, but then it sounded like someone was pounding on a metal door from far away. No more impact. Then a tugging sensation on her shoulder while a different voice told her to stay with them. She hoped the doctors would be able to fix her eyesight so she could see what that person looked like.
[ WP ] You have a special bag . Whenever you reach into it , you pull out something you will need soon , but do n't necessarily know you need yet . However , the things you are pulling out of the bag have been very strange recently .	Ever since Frank had found the red suede satchel in the second hand shop, it had given useful objects. Little things - a snack bar, the correct screwdriver for a job that needed doing. Sometimes there would be an ingredient he had forgotten to buy that was needed for the dinner. One memorable occasion he had left his passport at the house, and did n't have time to go back and get it. So he checked the suede bag and lo! There was the passport. But that was the height of it's use to him. Convenient little things. Usually the things that came out of the bag were fairly self explanatory, and if he did n't already know what they were for, he'd discover within a few minutes. But over the course of one evening maddeningly confusing things started arriving, like ghosts visiting Ebenezer Scrooge. First came wet wipes. Not something he ever really needed or used. Oh well, he thought reasonably, I'm probably going to spill something in the car and need to mop it up. So he kept them with him. Then a few minutes later a fireguard. This was particularly confusing to poor Frank; he had a gas fire. It's not as if sparks were going to jump out and set anything on alight. Paranoid, Frank dragged the heavy fireguard in front of the fire. Then, after an hour, came the teddy bear. Seriously concerned at this stage, Frank knew that something was going to happen. He opened the belly of the teddy bear with a knife. He'd seen people do that on the tv and thought perhaps there were drugs or money hidden inside. When this yielded no results, he panicked. Uncertain of what his future held, he started throwing things into a suitcase. Money, a change of clothes, his passport. He heard hurried footsteps on the stairs outside my apartment. Thumpa thumpa thumpa! Went the footsteps ( and his heart replied with a similar rhythm ). He grabbed his suitcase and the red suede bag. Frank considered bringing the fire guard, but there was no way he could realistically haul it while running away. Then he realised! The door! He was to barricade the door with it! He had started towards the fire guard, when the satchel became heavy again. Stopping, he pulled out what was inside. This was the height of ridicule. What on earth is he supposed to do with a bag of disposable nappies? Franks girlfriend Marie burst in with the biggest smile on her face, and big news ready to leap from her tongue.
[ WP ] A minor metahuman uses his solitary , noncombat superpower to secretly make the lives of others better .	This particular Starbucks was absolutely perfect. There were a bunch of kids wrapped in digital cocoons; laptops open, earbuds in, completely tuned out. Jim smiled to himself, careful not to do more than glance. Okay, that one is writing a paper of some kind... no good. Reading something for some kind of class, it looks like... nope. Ah! Facebook! And just scrolling through and hitting refresh. Perfect. Jim opened his thoughts, and plucked three minutes from the kid. Three minutes of focus, of attention, of life that were just being spent on nothing... that three minutes had a greater purpose today. 180 glowing seconds flickered across his skin, spiraling invisibly up his arms. The kid kept scrolling through his facebook feed, but after three minutes he would shake his head and wonder what he had just read. `` Um... Jim? White chocolate mocha?'' Jim grabbed his coffee, giving the barista a big smile that matched his hospital ID badge. There were several difficult surgeries on his schedule today, and as a hospital technician he knew exactly how far 180 seconds could go. When seconds counted, Jim could always help with the math.
[ WP ] You drug someone in a bar , to try to steal their organs ... And then discover they have none .	If you are reading this, you're probably police or an investigator some sort. I am a dead man. Do n't bother looking for me or her. My name was Chey Chheang. I took kidneys for people who deserved it from people who did n't need it. She stumbled alone into the club, jittery, not talking properly like she already was on drugs. I took the bait. Used less drugs than usual. I remember thinking that she was lighter than most people were as I carried her back to the hotel. She is empty. Nothing inside but darkness I cut her stomach open but nothing inside. Her skin opened under my knife curled outwards like lips. Her face mouth eyes look like meat but when my knife cut her open I felt nothing. And when her eyeballs opened and her lips parted and she said hollow she felt so hollow and could I please fill her up and she brought me here and left and momma i love you sis im sorry i have to go first dont go to the sewers she hates the light and so empty she
[ WP ] Your consciousness has been transported back in time . You wake up as the eight-year-old you and you must relive your life from this point .	I wake up with a start and almost hit my head on the ceiling. I look around, wondering where I was, and what had woke me. I had had lucid dreams before, but this one was... different. Typically, those hyper-real dreams involved little to no emotion on my part. Now, I was still emotionally raw. I had made it out. I had finally moved on, gotten my own place, lay down next to my perfect boyfriend, happy and safe for what felt like the first time in my life. Only to wake up. I start to cry. I try to calm myself, reassure myself. It ca n't be THAT bad, right? No one can know what the future will be like. After all, it was only a dream... My tears stop. I freeze as I hear that dreaded noise. That almost-stomping from the room above mine, heading down the stairs, and right into my room. Instinct kicks in and I try to hide under the covers, but to no avail. She does n't need to reach me. She already knows how to make sure I do what she wants. `` GET UP, YOU LAZY BRAT!'' I reluctantly sit up. I only make it half way down the bunk bed ladder before she grabs me. She shoves me into the bathroom, ordering me to relieve myself. I do so quietly, not protesting, knowing what awaits me if I do. `` GET DRESSED AND START YOUR MATH! YOU CAN GET BREAKFAST LATER!'' I pull out my book and start my mental math exercises. I hear my sister being pulled out of bed, crying because she did n't get enough sleep. A few slaps emanate from the room, and all is quiet again, except for the dreadful stomping. As my mother turns the bathroom fan on to shower, I find myself standing up and walking away from the books. I go to the phone, an old corded style hanging in the kitchen. My sister walks in and asks what I'm doing. I do n't respond. I simply dial the emergency number and wait. `` Hello, you have reached 911, please state your emergency.'' The next thing I remember is my mother being placed into a police car. I try to look away, but the stretcher I am on has my head secured. She had heard me on the phone, and tried to take it from me. I remember her hand meeting my face, and my head then hitting the corner of the door frame. My sister is still crying, asking how I could have them take Mommy away. I do n't answer. I just know that it is better this way... I fall asleep, and dream of the life I had always wanted.
[ WP ] [ EU ] Doctor Who meets up with Sherlock Holmes and they have to work together to defeat the Doctor 's worst enemies . ( The Daleks , Cyber men , Weeping Angels )	`` Sorry, what did you say your name was again?'' the old man said to me, his voice struck with a thick Scottish accent. But I could tell he was n't actually from Scotland. So he had picked the accent up from somewhere; a way to hide himself. He was running from the truth. The slightly dishevelled nature of his clothes suggested he was a traveller. He had found his way far and wide. I could see it in his eyes. The weariness of a life lived. The girl next to him, Clara I believe he had called her, had adopted a similar expression of confusion, and the two of them watched me closely, waiting for me to speak in turn. `` Sherlock Holmes,'' I replied, and watched the man's brow crease in consternation. He did n't believe me. `` No, what's your real name?'' he pressed. `` Sherlock Holmes,'' I repeated, giving him a faint smile. The two of them looked at each other questioningly, as if they doubted my statement. Eventually the man shrugged facially, his archbrows arching upwards in acceptance. `` Now tell me,'' I began, `` what was that back there? You seem to know a lot about it.'' `` They're called the Daleks,'' the man said, his brows furrowing again, and I could sense a deep hatred emanating from him. Whatever these Daleks were, they struck a chord of fear within him. He knows them well, a voice nagged in the back of my mind. These robots had killed my John, leaving him nothing more than a pile of charred flesh. But I had to not let my emotions show if I were to bring those responsible to justice. `` So those robots,'' I started, but was swiftly interrupted by the man. `` They're not robots. There's a living creature inside there.'' I raised an eyebrow. A man controlling them? But he seemed to sense my questioning look, and continued. `` Not any kind of creature you'd know, of course. Call them aliens if you will. A genetically engineered lifeform, programmed only to hate all other life in the universe.'' `` Alright then,'' I said, choosing to indulge him for the time being, unsure of his true motives. But at the same time, he seemed to engender some kind of trust, `` So what happens next? How do we stop them?'' `` I need to get to my TARDIS.'' TARDIS? Was that his base of operations then? Some sort of device for defeating them? Somehow I sensed it was more than that. When he named it, it was not without a sense of fondness, almost a longing. We were running then, chasing down corridor after corridor, until we reached a wooden box. A police telephone box from the 1960s. How strange. But the man ran right up to it and fumbled with the lock, every now and then casting a nervous glance over his shoulder, and I found myself checking my own space behind me, anxious that something might suddenly appear. The man paused as the lock clicked open, and he beckoned me inside. Even I could not comprehend the cavernous space that lay beyond. On the exterior, it could have been no more than a metre wide and two tall, but inside, the dimensions were staggering. Corridors stretched away from the central control room. It was entirely impossible. These two were clearly not of this world, as they moved without hesitation through this extra-dimensional space. It was bigger on the inside. It was entirely impossible. `` That's not possible,'' I found myself stammering, this experience having broken my usually immaculate composition. `` Now tell me Mr Holmes,'' the man said, `` Where did you come from?'' So he wanted to play games? The game is afoot, sir.
[ WP ] you 're stuck between two realities . One where you 're the last surviving human of the zombie apocalypse , the other you 're on the run from the law for murder , your victims are the zombies in the other reality .	He rubs his hands quickly together, exhaling air from his body he had held in to warm it up. The brief respite from the cold dulls the stinging in his hands. Hank sat in a small rickety chair, the kind that seems to be required in every cabin in these mountains. He sets his head back against the wall, scraggly wisps of hair touching the sides of his face, pondering what to do next. The steady rhythm of red and blue flashing through the window of the cabin is almost soothing, he thinks, staring at the undulating waves of light. They were hypnotizing... falling in a trance, trying to escape his current predicament. Sometimes, it was so difficult to tell the difference between both worlds. He had n't realized he was back in the living world when he had pulled the trigger. A burst of static jolts Hank out of his reverie. He stands up straight but stays away from peeking outside the windows. A voice booms. `` Hello sir, we know you're in there.'' Hello sir. Hello. He was in the dead world. He knew instantaneously. Even though the flashing lights were still there, something had imperceptibility shifted. He readied the shotgun laying on his lap, picking it up and cocking it. He was hyper-alert, hyper-aware, tuned to the smallest iota of his plane of reality. A window smashes in, a zombie's face appearing like an apparition. Hank jumps up and away from the chair, leveling the shotgun right at the zombie. The way the zombie's face was illuminated by the setting sun and neverending flashes of blue and red gave it an ethereal quality. It turned its head slowly to him, and he could see its jaw working. /Hello/, the zombie rasps in its slow, deliberate speech. Lunging forward, it plunging an arm in through the window, shattering yet more glass. Hank fired. `` Sir, it's over. We have you surrounded. Come out.'' Hank whirled around in the direction of the noise, his grip on the shotgun loosening, shaking. He takes a few deep breaths until his hands steady once more. Advancing to the front door, Hank puts his back to the wall and inches over to a window to peek outside. Dressed in full uniform, the police officer outside with a walkie-talkie fed through a speaker lifts his eyebrows in recognition, sighting Hank in the window. `` Hello,'' the cop said, Hank's mind flashing back to the zombie he had just killed. /Hello./ They were one and the same. Hank looks around as much as he could from his vantage point, but could n't see much else. There's a smattering of police cars, one of which the cop is standing behind. Other cops were arrayed around him or stationed at their cars, some with guns pointed at the cabin. He stooped down and crawled to the window on the other side of the front door, raising his eyes just enough to gain an angle of sight. Over to the right, he saw someone lurking on the porch off on the side, just barely out of view if not for the angle he had. Past him, the closest police car to the house, parked just past the porch with its lights going. The sun dived closer to the horizon. Hank's attention was momentarily taken away to register the dimming light. He turned back. The police car was now halfway up the porch, its front end busted through the supports holding the porch up on that side. A hand plunges through the window, scraping, grabbing at Hank. A fistful of clothes. Hank screams, punching wildly at the hand that's got a firm grip on his jacket. His shotgun is accidentally thrown to the side, and a boot kicks it halfway across the cabin. Frantically clawing, sobbing all the while, Hank has enough peace of mind to unzip the jacket and scurry away. The jacket disappears. Tearing is heard. A second later, a gutteral, raspy bark of anger. Seated and facing the window, Hank scrabbles backwards until he makes contact with the gun. He swings it around just as the zombie fills the entire window, the lights illuminating his face showing a dark-skinned person with a tell-tale scar on its face, a line stretching from one side of his nose down and around his mouth like a crescent. He ca n't tell if the scar is new or old. He fires. `` Tell the guy at the end of the porch to back away!'' Hank screams in a start, surprising even himself. Silence reigns all around. Then he hears light footfalls on the porch. He peeks in the window, and sees the cop that was hidden by the cabin back out and down from the porch. Their eyes lock, and Hank sees deep into the soul of the African-American police cop with a telltale scar on his face. Icicles seize Hank's heart. `` What is going on!?'' he asks himself, more out of fear than any real line of inquiry. He thought he was crazy enough thinking that the zombie's voice and talking cop were the same, but this confirmed it. The same people trying to kill him in the dead world were the same trying to capture him in the living. He's tired. He's so tired. He ca n't think. Hank puts his head in his hands, fighting back the urge to break out in tears. He misses a shadow crossing the front door of the cabin. In his stifled gasping, he misses the small creak in the rear of the cabin. `` Hands in the air!'' A voice commands. Hank starts, ripping his head from his hand and turning to look around. `` Eyes forward!'' The voice snaps. Hank obeys robotically, his vantage point locking his eyes onto the police car outside, still illuminating the cabin with red and blue. Sapped of all emotion, unable to tell the difference between what is real and not. And now he'll pay for it by being locked away in jail for the rest of his life. But maybe that will save him... jails can be safe in the dead world. It only stands to reason. Isolates you from other zombies. And when he's ready, he'll leave the jail in the dead world and get somewhere safe before he flashes back to the living world. Hank sags with relief, raising his arms in the air, now knowing he has a way out from this hell. A few paces later, a hand seizes one arm and snaps a handcuff onto it. His other arm is brought down and clasped together with his other arm. The faceless cop steps back. `` Suspect is secure, sir.'' Hank's head turns back to try to get a glimpse of the cop, but he ca n't turn back around far enough.. Static crackles back out of the cop's radio. Defeated, Hank swings back around and looks out the window. The police car is on the porch. Hank's stomach plunges. His eyes go wide. His heart starts beating rapidly. He begins to rise from the floor. Teeth sink into his neck. The red and blue lights never stop.
[ WP ] You have been bitten by a zombie and locked yourself in your room . Write a letter about your experience to whoever finds you , with the language getting worse as the virus progresses .	( Please excuse my writing, I'm merely just a teenager so feel free to correct my errors ) Day 1. Monster. The corrupt. Abominations of earth... Zⓞⓜⓑⓘⓔⓢ. Call it whatever, but it still strikes fear into your heart. Where they came from is unknown. At first it started off with fatal illnesses sweeping across countries. But then, oblivious to the society because of the media cover up, these sick humans started craving flesh. Authorities could n't control them. Soon they broke the chains of oppression and fed off civilians leaving all nations around the world on the fringes of destruction. And now I was bitten today. The inch, a painful and cruel reminder of my impending death. Week 1. I was thrown in an abyss of space. Where time seemed almost endless. Darkness was my friend pulling me to play even when I so desperately struggled to stay conscious. And every time I hit the light, I write something more before I am taken. My mind was numb. My soul was numb. But my body... My body felt. Every spasm of pain surged through my body like a lightning bolt. Sweat, bile and tears were like my sweater on a cold winter for it covered me. But not comfortably. No. Comfortably -- comfortable rather ( for context ) had gone from the day I received the bite. I feel so weak. Week 2. My breath is Usain Bolt. It's been running a mile per second. I know... I know I'm turning. I feel so... So.. So....... Mom... ... Mom... Mommy... I feel... I feel.. I. I feel... I
[ WP ] Hell is real , and everyone goes there when they die .	The short, hunched over creatures with wrinkled grey skin and black beady eyes scamper forward dragging me deeper into hell. I had gotten into a car accident, that was all, nothing very exciting or dramatic just something simple. Soon I would be added to another number for some statistic that would be used by some high school kid doing a research project. Hell was far more gruesome than I had imagined. My flesh seared as hell fire danced from both sides of the path I was walking on and yet I felt a profound coldness that was within me that ached almost as bad as the fires burned. I did n't understand why I was here. Sure I did some bad things in my life, but I genuinely thought that overall I was a good person. I never missed Sunday mass, I took care of my kids well and made sure they had all they needed and on Saturdays I went with my church downtown to help feed the homeless. What did I do that warranted my being here? Well whatever it was I'm sure it was well deserved. God makes no mistakes. Finally the two scrawny demons that chill my heart tie the ends of the rusty chains they had been holding into metal loops in the ground. Before me is a large creature with the skull of a horned cattle for a head. His eyes are the empty sockets of the skull and for a moment I wonder if he can see. He's draped in a black robe like a judge in a court and stands behind a tall wooden podium. I feel the chains tighten and the force of them draws me hard onto my knees. The cuffs around my wrist and ankle seem to somehow tighten. I can feel the rusted metal bite deeply into my skin and I wince at the pain. `` Let's see Terry Langly. Correct?'' The dark creature behind the podium asks with a demonic voice though his mandible never parts from the rest of his skull. I nod slowly full of fear. `` Let's see... I suppose we'll put you in the fifth circle of hell, have n't had anyone there in a while.'' The fifth! , I think to myself. What did I do to deserve the fifth circle of hell? I knew from my readings that there were only seven circles of hell and the farther you went the worse your punishment. `` I'm sorry, but would you mine telling me what I did to deserve this? I know I was n't the perfect husband or father butI ca n't recall anything that I feel warrants the fifth circle of hell.'' The dark creature in the Cimmerian robes gives an audible sigh as if he's done this for all eternity, which he probably has, and says monotonically, `` All men go to hell, all women go to hell, and all children go to Hell. It's a fact of death. Nothing you do will prevent you from escaping Hell.'' `` But why?'' I ask deeply disturbed by this information. `` I was a good man,'' I say slightly more convinced of this. Once again the creature sighs and says, `` Ever since the fall of Adam and Eve God decided that banishing the two from the garden of Eve was not a suitable enough punishment so he condemned all their children to Hell while they sit alone in Heaven to watch their children's eternal screams.'' The words he said were so preposterous that I could n't believe it I knew God was a just and forgiving thing. One that loved all his children. When I told this to the demon he sighed again, probably having gone through the entire sequence for too many years, yet he answered my please anyways, `` God died thousands of years ago. Lucifer rose up after all the prophets had died and killed God, or rather imprisoned him,'' he added seeing that I was about to protest. `` God made a terrible mistake and the prince of darkness had him incapacitated before he could change his ruling.'' The creature sounded exasperated by the speech e gave, which seemed to have been memorized. `` So what's the point?'' I asked. `` If we're all going to Hell what's the point of life? Why do anything good? Why do anything well?'' The creature replied without missing a beat, `` To evade Hell for as long as possible.'' Then a terrible thought came over me. Something so fearful I sobbed as I spoke, `` What about my two daughters and my wife? They're innocent people and more pure than me. I swear it! Please you have to believe me. I'll do anything just make sure they never come here. I'll take all their torment and then some if you let them go.'' I pleaded my sobs choking me slightly. `` I'm sorry but all eternal punishments must be paid by all people of life.'' He said apathetically. `` My two daughters!'' I moaned. `` They do n't deserve it!'' I struggled to stand but the chains kept me from doing so and I could feel the blood dripping down onto the heat infested floor and sizzle. My parents are in Hell, I realized. Everyone I know, everyone I love, everyone's going to Hell. `` Will I at least see any of them?'' I ask looking for a ray of hope. The creature lets loose a horrendous noise which must have been a chuckle, `` This is Hell! Of course you ca n't see them!'' After a moment I ask one last question, `` Why the fifth? If all men go to Hell why did I get the fifth?'' `` It's all randomized depending on your arrival,'' he says clearly annoyed, `` And since you've taken up so much of my time I'll ensure that both your daughters, Mary Langly and Eve Langly, as well as your wife Teresa Langly are sentenced to the seventh!'' I weep and claw myself uselessly towards him as the floor I'm confined to moves steadily downwards. `` Do you know what they do to people in the seventh?'' I hear his voice echo, `` They rape them! They butcher them! They're eaten alive, burned, drowned in boiling tar, and so much more!'' I vomit as the images of these things happening to my loving family enters my head. And find myself praying to God until I realize that he's gone as well. I'm in hell and I've just condemned my family to punishments worse than mine. ** ** Meanwhile after Terry Langly has descended down to the fifth circle of hell the creature thinks to himself, `` How unfortunate. He forgot all that he did all those years ago. I almost pity him. The Zodiac killer forgot who he was and as a result his punishment, in addition to torture, was the complete obliteration of everything he held dear to him after he lost his memory and reformed himself.''
[ CC ] The One With Valhalla	> He had hit a dead end last night as he was trying to finish writing Chapter 7, in which ... > Andrew sighed. He was 21, a college student with a massive debt [? ] , skinny jeans, and hair that made people mistake him for the twin brother of Kurt Cobain. He got up and went to the counter. This reads pretty well the first time over, but on second look there really is n't any connection between these three sentences. Also, telling us outright he's a college student seems kind of forced. If it's important, maybe it could be implied indirectly elsewhere? > he returned to his spot and sat down `` sat there for a second'' is awkward: it suggests we've been taken to the point when he gets back up, but we're not there yet in the next sentence. > He got up again and moved the chair ~~slightly further~~ into the shade~~, then sat down~~. The strikethrough is unnecessary detail and slows the story down ( we can assume he sat down again ). > Sarah still had the emotional range of a wombat. Andrew was not sure what the emotional range of a wombat was exactly, but he was fairly certain that, even if he knew, it wouldn ’ t impress him all too much. This is good! Very Douglas Adams ( if you do n't know it, you should read The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul -- it's got Norse gods in it: ) ). > His phone rang. > He picked it up and answered the call. For a short while, all he did was answer in one-syllable words, then, finally, he put the phone down and stared at the wall. I'm a bit confused by this bit. I thought this is when he was told about the cancer, but it's implied in the very first sentence that he already knows he is going to die. Otherwise, is this relevant at all? I think some little action here is good, but I just ca n't figure this out. Also, I think it's better if it is something he already knows. It's harder to decide whether his reactions make sense if he has literally just got the news. I like him knowing and trying to carry on with his shitty novel but just getting to the point where it's all too much. > The sun [... ] quickly shifted its attention to his t-shirt. I like this sentence, but I ca n't visualize the sun moving this quickly. > The words were ringing in his ears, like old church bells. He was going to die. Great! > if he had treatment. `` was subjected to'' seems really off, like he'd have no choice. > He turned into a small alley and sat down on the sidewalk. At this point I wondered where his laptop was. Could you have him picking it up when he leaves the coffee shop, maybe putting it down now? > He thought about death. Andrew had never believed in Heaven in a traditional sense. He had, however, been a self-proclaimed follower of the Norse mythology. It was hip at the time. Worked well at parties. Andrew thought about the parties. That seemed so long ago. > He thought about religion and the fact that he was soon to die. The fact that his parents were originally from Denmark allowed him to constantly compare it to US in order to criticize certain aspects of the latter, while never actually having to visit Copenhagen himself. It also helped with choosing a form of neopaganism that was starting to gain popularity among a certain type of crowd. > He thought about things, Valhalla among them. Stupid as it was, he found himself wishing it was real [ or `` wishing the stories about it were true'' ] . Hell, anything would be better than the emptiness of non-existence. There's an awful lot of `` He thought'' s here, and you have fallen into telling. Could you describe a few snapshots of his memories? > ~~He sat there for a bit more before finally getting up.~~ One thing Andrew was certain about was that he wasn ’ t going to wait for the cancer to kill him. ~~Then he thought about his iced tea. He missed the tea.~~ The action in the first sentence is really vague and unnecessary. I do n't get the connection to the tea or why he misses it when he could just buy a new one ( which he does n't ). > The sun had gotten tired of pursuing him and bid him farewell while Andrew was still wandering the streets. A few ideas had formed in his dizzy and wild-haired head during that time You've suddenly jumped into the future but are describing what had been the story's present. This is sort of jarring. > too horribly out of touch with reality Not sure precisely what this means... > He then stopped. > Andrew thought about Valhalla for a moment. [... ] > He then thought about suicide and its ramifications. The police would be called. His dead body would be mourned. You do n't need to tell us he stopped; just have him stop! Two more `` thought about'' s. `` for a moment'' again takes us to the end of an action before it's actually finished. More `` telling'' about what would happen. Could you describe the police/mourning scenes ( His mother, wearing black, would wring her hands... -type stuff )? > a flock of birds flew over the ~~statue of the~~ Little Mermaid [ this just seems more natural phrasing ] , leading to much speculation throughout the country. I do n't get the bit about speculation. > Andrew was walking under the sun that now had a distinctly European appearance. He had managed to sneak into the country by means that he himself found quite fantastical. What's more, he was carrying a big iron hammer he had picked up at a shop back home. What is `` a distinctly European appearance''? This ca n't be visualized by the reader. Also, it's clear he's traveled, but I have no idea where he is; the previous paragraph mentioned Eastern Europe and conflict, but also Copenhagen. Maybe swap these around so we go from mention of Eastern Europe to Andrew being in Europe? Finally, I just ca n't buy the sneaking into the country thing. Glossing over it seems like a cop-out so you do n't have to address how unrealistic this is. Can we have a hint? Also, how did he manage to get the hammer there? Ca n't he just have bought it once he arrived? > that the hospital had made [... ] misdiagnosing a harmless malady as bone cancer. ... > a disappointed look Can you describe this? Or generally give more detail to put us in the scene? `` They nodded in unison, and Dr Smith left the room with a frown and a furrowed brow. He picked up the phone....'' Similarly, > He walked into the village right as the truce was being signed. Andrew realized that there was no time to lose. He ran and screamed at the top of his lungs. is all telling. Can you put us there and describe the scene? Overall, I really liked this story. You give a great sense of the character and it ends up somewhere quirky rather than melodramatic. I think the misdiagnosis thing works well, even if it is a bit cliched. I do n't know if you know about the whole telling vs showing thing, but it makes the difference between a good storyline and actually putting the reader into the story. Telling is like you've written a movie synopsis but have n't made the film. Put a camera/microphone into the story and describe what it picks up.
[ WP ] You understand why the love of your life is leaving .	It was impossible for me to love any more than I do. She continued to pack her things up, it was like she could n't even see me any more. I'll still watch her though angry, sad or whatever she was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. The house feels so empty now with most of her things boxxed up. She had gotten rid of my junk yesterday, who could really blame her given the situation. My brother is helping her, its nice that they get along so well, considering the difficult time. She was crying again, I wanted to reach out and comfort her. I know I ca n't. It would only make things worse. She's going to leave and there is nothing I can do to stop her. There's nothing I should do to stop her, the living need to move on.
[ WP ] Scientists discover that plants do feel pain . A world crisis occurs as vegans begin to starve to death .	There are actually people who only eat things that have fallen from plants, like apples that fell from trees. So hypothetically, we would still be able to eat. But I'll write a story anyway, assuming there is a problem with that for some reason. Also, plants do n't have a central nervous system so they do n't have nerves or a brain to perceive pain. Vegans began to starve after it was discovered that plants feel pain. Some continued with their same old diets, but many chose to starve. Humans can live for weeks without food fortunately, but still require water, which was n't an issue. Many vegans began trying to find ways to reduce their consumption and create the most nutrient efficient diets that would allow for the least amount of food to be eaten with the most nutrition derived. After a year, many had died, but in the process, an optimal diet had been created. Not only that, but variations of the diet had been created for all different kinds of climates where only certain foods were available. New agricultural techniques were created to optimize crop output without the use of genetically modified organisms. People in places of starvation had more food available to them. New methods of growing food in laboratories had been created, and this led to not only food being produced, but the expansion of ability to create organisms and parts of organisms like limbs and organs in laboratories. 3D food printers were created and capable of growing cells and printing them out into new kinds of food. Like a forest that burns down, the ashes laid the foundation for the new to take the place of the old.
[ CW ] Without referring to the sun , bananas , taxis or flowers , describe yellow .	`` Well, it's the color of the... no, ca n't use that word. Okay, you know, that thing that comes out daily?'' `` The moon?'' `` No, not the moon! Daily! Dayly.'' `` The moon rises every day, just at night.'' `` Well this does n't! It's during the day!'' `` Unless we're talking about gophers, I have no idea what you mean.'' `` Okay, fine. It's the color of those little fruits.'' `` Apples?'' `` What kind of apples have you been eating?'' `` The wrong kind, apparently. Still, there are lots of fruits. Kiwi, apples, tomatoes allegedly....'' `` None of those! Okay, okay, fine. It's um... hey, you know when you come to the city and you're looking for a certain kind of car to drive you around?'' `` Uber?'' `` No, not Uber! I'm talking about a very specific-'' `` Oh, Lyft!'' `` No, dammit! Ugh, wait, okay, I can do this. Imagine a field, just full of plants. Lots of plants, right? Now, just tell me what color comes to mind, under a nice bright day, when you think of this field.'' `` Green.'' `` I should have seen that coming. Okay, not green.'' `` This is going nowhere. Seriously, I give up.'' `` Argh! I'm talking about the sky, blueberries, my car, the sky again, I'm describing Blue, you idiot!'' `` Really? Sounded a lot more like yellow to me.''
[ WP ] Take anything that is simple and exists today . Something that nobody ever gives a second thought about . Make a conspiracy theory out of it .	There is n't a lot of time, so allow me to get straight to the point here. You're in danger. Yes, you. You're reading this right now because you are in absolute, mortal peril and you have no idea. Well, probably. By now, it seems like everyone has one of those smart phones or tablets or even laptops with fingerprint readers. Super convenient security, right? Sure, sure. That's the selling point, of course, but it's not the real purpose of the things. Oh yeah they're going to tell you that it makes all your data safe as houses, and I'm sure it does. After all, they definitely know exactly who that fingerprint belongs to. It's really hard to mismatch blood samples, you know? Oh. Yeah. I forgot to mention. That's how they work, in reality. Not some crazy bullshit about snapping tiny, high resolution photos of your thumb or blasting all the fine contours of your fingertips with lasers. No way, that's just some sci-fi writer's wet dream, bought and paid for by the big tech companies to cover the truth. Every time you press your finger to that reader, you're handing over a tiny sample of your blood to your corporate overlords. Every. Time. They use it to verify your identity and let you into your phone or unlock your tablet, obviously. But if you believe that's where it ends, then I've got a sweet deal on some oceanfront property in Colorado to sell you. It's a small sample, totally negligible; you never feel it, and your body does n't even know it's gone. Just a tiny little droplet, vacuumed out of your finger and into a reservoir hiding deep in your device's guts. Oh do n't act like you're surprised. The signs have been all around us for years. They can fit a whole computer inside a watch, but when it's a phone, it needs all that extra space? And when's the last time you opened up your own device to do a little user maintenance? If you're even lucky enough to be able to crack the hood on one of these things, all the parts are so discretely sealed and glued shut that you'll never be able to see what's in there. And possibly the most sinister of it all: the upgrade. Every year a shiny new version of the same device rolls of the assembly line, and then we all queue up neatly outside the stores to trade in our old ones for the new. They collect, and we return, like the good little cogs that we are in their infernal machine. None of this is by accident, my friend. They are simply the first stages of a plan. I do n't yet have all the answers. It could be a massive clone and replace operation. It could be used as feed for the aliens they've kept hidden from us. It could even just be your average, run of the mill youthful energy transfer for the rich. I have n't uncovered that part just yet, but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty: It's not for our benefit. -- - http: //www.pretentiouslyfatuous.website/twenty-seven/
[ WP ] In a post apocalyptic world , teachers have been forced to use teenagers old notebooks in place of textbooks	I wonder what she was like - high-school senior Lucia Fuente. Lucia Fuente, who were you? with your eloquent round letters and your strangely beautiful windswept women drawn in the margins of your notebooks? The textbooks have all disintegrated. A blight in the clay in the original pulp, the paper too thick. Only Anglosphere-printed novels and notebooks have survived, fiction and fiction, inaccuracies of dreamers and children. Except for Lucia Fuente - behold her, beautiful, bent assiduously in her desk while a teacher in unmatching 21st century clothes goes on and on. On and on. Lucia Fuente, why so determined? why so unflinching when all around you was pleasant adolescent sex-gossip and posturing? The world's first true Artificial Intelligence has committed suicide. How ironic. We believe it caused the book-blight, too - its digital tentacles were not enough, the internet, the world-wide connections. No, it decided, even the textbooks. It took all fact and knowledge. We are left alone in dark ages. But Lucia Fuente, how appropriately named! Your notebooks are indeed a source of light. Calculus. Modern Physics. History. And your intimate gorgeous journals and sketches. I guard you in the lock-box in my rusting hover-house, and I teach you to the school-children of our last floating city. Alas, that we had the internet in our heads - we were turned off, too. We re-awakened only by the force of biology, only human again, apes. But we pieced our world together, from novels and notebooks, comparison, scholarship. We learned to read from a kindergartner's drawings. We re-built libraries. And when I found your notebooks, Lucia Fuente, in the lock-box in my rusting hover-house, I took your name. I doodle your doodles, and I think your thoughts. I wonder who you were - high-school senior Lucia Fuente.
[ WP ] You are an IT Engineer . The aliens have tasked you with connecting their internet to ours .	Chief Network Engineer Khazrad na'Gruag flared his brilliantly pigmented crests, the sharp, spiny points rising over his head as he glared at the insolent Human. `` Small and squishy, are n't you'' his translator spat, its tinny autospeech echoing in the server room. `` Why do n't you worm under the serverbank and scrape the dust out with your noodly little arms?'' The offending human, Ryan Fairbanks, Senior Internet Engineer of the IETF, refused to move. `` I asked how your packet headers were formatted.'' `` And I said to R-T-F-M, and G-T-F-O!'' With a sharp click, Khazrad turned on one long-clawed toe and stalked away. `` Allen!'' Ryan shouted. `` Allen, get back here! He wo n't eat you, you know.'' Allen, a thin, nervous man sent along as network assistant, scurried into the room, gasping in horror. `` You ca n't say things like that! It's…impolite…'' He trailed off under Ryan's exasperated gaze. `` Somehow, I do n't think this guy cares too much about manners. Who taught him to say that anyway?'' `` Ah, not me, um…maybe…they were going over the transmission protocol yesterday, ah, must have been Elena.'' Allen looked nervously at the hulking alien, crouched over a console on the far side of the room. `` Yes, he can hear us,'' Ryan muttered. `` Did they agree on a format?'' `` They were close enough that we, um, decided to accept theirs. Did – did you set an encoding standard?'' `` Tasha's team did. And Randall's been reworking NAT. Give them all one Earth IP, for now anyway, and treat their global net as a very large local. Any word on the cable adapters?'' `` Ah, they should be here soon, I think,'' Allen pulled out his phone to check. `` Oh, and, ah, Tasha says you can…er, test the wireless now.'' `` Great. Khazrad!'' Ryan shouted across the room. `` On Earth, we transmit at two-point-four gigahertz. What frequency do you use?'' `` You will meet us?'' `` We have the equipment!'' Allen scurried around him, plugging in cables and flipping switches as they set up the wireless receiver. `` Two-point-seven. Sending test now.'' `` Wait–'' A jumble of data flickered across the screen as, in a final flurry of panicked adjustments, Allen brought the receiver online. `` Khazrad!'' Ryan shouted. `` Sending packets now. We're receiving, but this is n't the encoding Grajakh and Tasha developed!'' A dull, frustrated thud shook the room. `` Fuck!'' Khazrad shouted, his gravelly voice echoing like a thunderclap indoors. Ryan shook his head in despair. `` Who taught him…'' `` Ah, Elena, probably…'' Without warning, the stream of meaningless data stopped. The floor shook as Khazrad stomped behind his console. `` System's fucked!'' he bellowed. `` What did you garzhakh humans do?'' With a frightened yelp, Allen hurried out. Ryan sighed, mentally preparing for another shouting argument. Until they got this working, it was going to be a very long week.
[ WP ] In the year 2XXX , humanity had spread across the galaxy , meeting hundreds of alien species , and subsequently enslaving them . After a brutal war for independence , these aliens form a council with delegates from each species . Their first decision ? Deciding the fate of the last human : an infant .	`` We ca n't just leave it here''. The wind whipped sand and dust around the clean up team. `` It's a human, the last human, after what they have done I see no reason to save this one'', the captain knew he could n't kill the child and he would n't ask his team to, but he was n't going to let it live. `` Now move out. We have our mission.'' The team returned to formation and started moving away from the child as it started crying. The captain paused `` I ca n't leave it there'' he whispered. `` I'm going back for the child, wait here''. He ran around the corner. The team muttered among themselves, most believed it was better to let the human die, but some thought otherwise maybe this one could be raised better. BANG the crying stopped..... ( first thing I have written in a long time, go easy on me. Also sorry for the text wall will reforms when on a computer )
[ WP ] Santa and other holiday mascots run out of money and have to fund their adventures with less than legitimate funds	The terrorists were going to win, Santa could n't believe his eyes. He had started with trafficking cocaine for Mexican cartels. After the president's latest round of budget cuts, he was unable to retain the workforce he had in Santa's Factory. This got him in deep water with the Union, and he needed a cash influx fast. It was barely May, so he had to get creative.It had been difficult convincing the Don, but he was able to prove NORAD was n't actually tracking him each December 24th, and he would be able to cross the border undetected. The money this brought in was more than enough to keep operations at the pole running smoothly. Of course, you can never get in just a little, and soon things were spiraling out of control for Claus. He had enlisted the Easter Bunny and Jackie O'Lantern into his operation, but they were getting greedy. They were found dead, an old, dirty quarter beneath their heads. Afterwards Santa only used the elves for his cartel business. But business was booming, and the cartel had introduced Santa to a whole new world of underworld figures. Despite having the Naughty List, Santa had never thought to index it by misdeed, and so had difficulty finding proper villains when he was first delving into the underworld. He preferred working with the Russians, they were reliable. Either they would show up with the money, or they were dead and he would make an arrangement with the new boss. From the Russians Santa bought the dwindling remains of their Cold War stockpiles and sold them to the Middle East. This was the beginning of the end. During his time in the Black Market, Santa always thought of himself as a transporter, never a trafficker. Even when he was n't facilitating sales, he always had a buyer lined up before he purchased something. He never held goods, just moved them. As such he never thought of himself as being involved in any of the conflicts he aided. He was a neutral third party. What Santa forgot was that he was a religious icon. He had shown the warlord the stingrays and aks, and was current; y displaying a pistol for his personal use. The man asked he could shoot it, and Santa obliged. `` That is very brave of you, to allow me a weapon.'' `` I mean to allow you many weapons before I leave.'' `` But still, in this war between my people and your crusaders, for you to come here and hand me a loaded weapon, it is either courageous or foolish, no?'' `` I'm in no war, nor am I a crusader, I serve all the world's children.'' `` No, I think you are Jesus's magic elf who haunts the winter sky, you are dangerous.'' The warlord raised the pistol to fire. In an instant it would be over, the terrorist would have his weapons and Santa would be dead, inconceivable. But before it was fired, the pistol dropped to the ground, it; s holder falling close behind. As the panicked look crossed their faces, his bodyguards reached for their guns. The third one got a hand on his, but all of them joined their boss, crumpled on the ground. A man emerged, he walked over to Santa and set down his pack, removing a book and a small pouch. He handed the book to a relieved Santa, and walked to the bodies. From the pant's pocket of each man he removed a shiny coin. From his pouch removed a tarnished coin, and placed one beneath each man's head. He came back to Santa who had opened the book, revealing coin collecting slots. The man inserted his newly acquired coins and appreciated his collection for a moment, then closed the book. On the cover it read'Canines, Bicuspids, Molars, and More...'
[ WP ] A British aircraft carrier from current times finds it has traveled backward in time to 1775 and meets the current British fleet headed toward America	Facing defeat at the hands of the Argentinian Navy, the Royal Navy enlists hackers to `` hack a US Navy aircraft carrier'', based on the fact that the UK ACTUALLY HAS NO ACTIVE aircraft carriers... However upon the hacking, and overruning of the US carrier, the ship is thrown back in time, manned by British sailors and officers, but still flying US flags and insignia on the ship and aircraft. The few ships that do not mutiny or become insane and derelict limp back to London, where King George unilaterally decides to abdicate, while parliament orders the new US flag to immediately be flown over London, and sends message of immediate surrender to the colonies. The carrier is only around for a total of two days before re-materializing in the south atlantic to watch the decimation of those Royal Navy ships at the hands of fusion-powered Nazi weapons... weapons operated by Germans speaking with Brooklyn accents....
Write the most ordinary scene ever , but describe it in the most original/crazy way possible .	I sit here now. stuffed to the brim with others my age. Grueling over toils. Racking our minds for solutions. solutions as to how to escape. we are told we must do our share of the work. we are told its ok to do it wrong, but if we were to, we would be punished. Punished not by our supervisor....nooo....its more disgusting than that. if we were to do it wrong we would be graded, and thus judged amongst the others. we were always told privately of how we did it, but it mattered not as the look on our faces would give away our plight. as each day festered on, we would wait for those few minutes when we would be let outside to smell air. proper air. air that is n't ripe with the sweat and flesh of others. but we were never free at that point. we were always encased in fences. our supervisors would stroll amongst us to ensure none of us ran away. we were given tools to entertain ourselves, but never to keep. we never get to keep anything. we enter with what we have on ourselves, and leave with the same. sometimes we get souvenirs, but most of us lose them with time. this used to be voluntarily, but ever since equality came into play, we are all now forced to participate in these lewd games. only the priveleged were allowed to remain at home. the rest of us toil, compared and contrasted amongst each other, to see who will prevail. This will determine our future for decades to come. its a sad thought to think back to.
[ WP ] You discover that when you make your kid sister laugh , she can see visions from the future . The harder you make her laugh , the clearer her visions become .	This house used to be filled with joy. I swear the paneling has to have soaked up years of Katie's laughter. I should put that in the listing if I ever get around to clearing out the rest of Dad's junk. The neighbors swear she has n't been the same since the accident took our parents, but they could n't be more wrong. I do n't blame them, memory is a tricky thing. Those first few weeks on our own were tough, but we had each other, and Katie's made of sterner stuff than most people. I made a lot of impossibly stupid jokes then, but she always loved my particular brand of stupidity. From the outside, it must have looked like I was helping her cope, but in all honesty, making her smile was the only thing that kept me going. We grew into our new roles of father-brother and daughter-sister. As she grew up a bit, my humor had to grow up a bit as well, but I never struggled to get at least a chuckle. Those moments put an undefinable lightness in my heart and kept me from being crushed by the weight of my responsibility, until a full-body laugh was interrupted by an ear splitting scream that brought her to knees and nearly stopped my heart. She somehow immediately knew that the flashes in her mind were the future. Through our normal interactions over the next few days, we figured out the detail of her visions were tied into the strength of her laughter: a quiet chortle bringing a single image or two, an outright rib tickler hitting all of her senses with a premonition that could last upwards of a full minute. I never pressed her to tell me what she saw, but, from the way the color left her skin after each vision, I gathered that the future was grim. She offered a few details on her own: a blackened sky with splashes of orange on the horizon, flesh melting off the bone, some creature with too many eyes. I should try to change it. That's what you're supposed to do when you receive omens of a “ dark future yet to pass, ” is n't it? If I could get a good enough laugh out of her, we might be able to get enough detail to make a difference, maybe get someone important to really listen. But I've seen what the visions do to Katie, and I could n't put her through that. That's too high a price to save the world.
[ WP ] Coin that when given makes a person do anything the giver asks . ( rules in comments )	A coin, that when given to someone, causes them to do whatever you tell them to do to the best of their abilities. I didn ’ t believe it until it happened to me, but the coin worked. And, alas, I found out that you can not use it on those who have already given it someone else. Years passed as I held onto this magical coin, trying to figure out what should be done with it. Although I could get almost anything I wanted with it, the one who would receive it could possibly abuse its power, so I decided it would be my job to guard it, to let its power die with me and to never be given to another person again. But as time would tell, my plans would fall apart. It was another couple years until the night that I gave the coin away. I had gotten drunk and foolish, having just been fired from my job. I stashed the coin in my pocket, intending to use it to get my revenge. Before my old manager even knew what was going on, I put the coin in his hand and told him to get me back my job and then to do something so embarrassing that he would ensure that he was blacklisted from ever getting a management job again. I never expected that he ’ d just laugh and toss the coin back to me. “ I told my wife to fall and stay forever in love with me, ” my manager said. I walked away, disgusted that someone would have done such a thing. I stared at the coin and thought about all the horrible things it must have been responsible for. I remembered how it felt to be under its control. It wasn ’ t a pleasant feeling. And so I shoved the coin in my jean ’ s pocket and went home. When I woke up, I saw my wife lifting my jeans from the floor, emptying my pockets and catching the coin. We had been talking the night before, and the words left my mouth before I realized that I ’ d inadvertently just given her the coin. “ You should be true to yourself and do what makes you happy, ” I said with a yawn. My wife ’ s eyes went cold all of a sudden. I got up to follow her, but by the time I found her in the kitchen, she had already slit her throat. I never even knew she felt that way. Perhaps even she didn ’ t know. But with that last mistake, as I held her rotting corpse, the coin ’ s power died, no one for her to be able to give it to. The coin was destroyed. My mission finished. I was no longer needed to guard the coin. And so I called up the ambulance for my wife, reached in the dresser drawer, and stuck the gun in my mouth. -313
[ CW ] Write at least 500 words about someone getting up to open the window .	My eyes open slowly, as though they were resisting the action. The blaring of the alarm at my side is a dull whisper compared to the ache in my head. My hand lazily rises, reaching for the alarm clock without me ever looking at it. First I miss, knocking over a small stack of papers on my nightstand, but then I hit the snooze button. I turn my head to look at the time. Seven in the morning. It's a Monday. I'll get up, dress myself inadequately, and forget to eat breakfast. Then, I'll head to my car, where I'll fumble with the ignition for an embarrassingly long amount of time. I will drive five miles per hour beneath the speed limit, because of the four separate occasions I received a ticket going at the speed limit, and I'll get to work ten minutes late. I'll spend the day doing menial, repetitive work, to the point where the minutes blend into the hours blend into the days, and the next thing I know, I will be fumbling with the ignition to drive home. I will get caught in traffic, and I will nearly fall asleep at the wheel because of boredom. I'll get home, overcook something for dinner, finish half of it and throw the rest away, and then fall asleep. Four agonizing years, it's been like this. With a sigh, I lean forward, ignoring the creaking of my back and my bed. I look to my left, to look out the window, only to find it closed. With a grunt, I turn, grasping the headboard of the bed to help me rise. I walk slowly to the window, and I attempt to pull the cord to open it. Of course, I pull the wrong cord first. Rolling my eyes, I pull the other one. In an instant, the room is flooded with light. The dark green of the trees outside is a stark, but pleasant contrast to the light of the sun. On a whim, I lean down a bit, pulling the cords to lift the blinds up, and then lift the window itself, opening my room to the elements. I am assaulted by the sounds of the birds singing their good mornings, and the smell of the morning dew dripping off of the blades of grass. The frown on my face loosens and vanishes, and my eyes close to take in the warmth of the sun and the sounds and the smells of the world. I open my eyes once more when I feel hands drape around my shoulders. `` Something wrong?'' A pleasant voice, full of care and warmth, asks me. A smile begins to grace my face. `` Not anymore, love.'' I turn towards her, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her in close. Life has its monotonous moments, and mistakes are made, bad habits are formed. There will always be something more to it, though. A wonder and awe found in the small things. The warmth of the sun, the morning dew, the birds of morning. Those blinds made my life full of darkness... But there was always light there. I just had to open the window.
[ WP ] How strongly can you make someone hate a character ?	My bitch is such a cunt sometimes. I was about to start going down on the girl and she said not tonight, she was tired and needed to sleep. Well bitch, I have needs too so I go down on her anyway. She said she wanted me to stop, but I knew she liked it. I finished up and went to sleep. Like a week later I was sitting around waiting for the bitch to get home from work, it was already 7:04 and she usually gets home at 7. What the fuck was taking her so long? She comes in crying, and I'm like, gtfo I've been waiting for you all fuckin day, I do n't need to deal with this bullshit now. Well the whore says she's pregnant, and I'm like it's your own damn fault you are n't on the pill, you know I do n't like the way condoms feel! She comes over and wipes her nasty wet face all over my shirt! I slap the bitch and now she's yelling at me. Fuck my life!
[ WP ] Two constraints : 1 . It 's raining 2 . There are only two characters . Go	Beyond the lip of the bus shelter roof the rain was unrelenting. Beyond the rain was the sea; grey and topped with angry white, wind whipped, rain spattered. Inside the shelter Jane sat at one end of the bench and Paul at the other. He sighed, turned to her. `` Do n't you bloody dare'' she said. She drew her coat closer, tighter around her. She'd tried to leave, had been driven back by the sudden furious downpour, sat in her corner with the empty diet coke bottle and the `` Sens 4 Jaffa'' graffiti with her hair plastered to her skull. `` But...'' She turned, baleful eyes beneath that slicked fringe, and bared her teeth. `` Shut it. Do you hear that?'' The pause was filled with the pounding of the rain. `` That is the only sound I want to hear.'' Paul was pale, wide eyed, stricken. He shifted and writhed as if constricted, stared at the ground. There was nowhere to go except into the rain. He turned to look at her. `` I'm sorry'' he said `` I know it was wrong. I let myself get carried away. I wish I could pretend it did n't happen or that I was n't in control. I was really, really stupid.'' The rain intensified. Jane shivered and tried to curl up on the bench, but could n't. `` I'm seeing Darren'' she said `` He'll bloody kill you if he finds out.'' Paul nodded, and something in him made him say `` He'll kill you too when he finds out you kissed me.'' `` I did not bloody kiss you. You kissed me.'' Paul stood. He was trembling. Nerves? Anger? Both. `` Oh yeah, that was me,'' he said `` standing there saying about how I'd had such a lovely day and you were just the best friend who always understood you, looked out for you, cared about you. Oh no, wait, That was you.'' `` You stuck your hand up my top'' she said. No heat, no anger, just flat. There was no getting away from it, no avoiding it. Paul deflated. `` Yeah, I did. And I should n't have.'' `` No you should not have.'' `` Look, I was an idiot.'' `` You stuck your hand up my top on the sea front at Eastbourne. In broad daylight. After an otherwise very pleasant kiss.'' Jane stood and faced him, even though he was trying very hard to be somewhere else. `` I said I'm an idiot.'' `` The worst of it is, it was a nice kiss'' said Jane in a very small voice. Paul felt like he'd been struck by lightning. `` I mean,'' she continued `` we've been friends for years and I'd never thought about it until today, but it turns out you've got a very nice kiss. I'm partial to that, I am.'' Paul stared, words deserting him even as he tried to say them. She'd never thought about it. He always had. He closed his eyes, took a breath. `` Can you forgive me?'' The rain slowed, stopped. Jane looked out at the sky and sniffed. `` Not yet'' she said. She stepped out of the bus shelter and looked back at him. `` Maybe next week. Maybe.'' Paul sat in the shelter, picking at the flaking green paint and staring at the ground, listening as she walked away, wondering what forgiveness might be like.
[ WP ] You wake up to find that Australia has gone missing .	Bleary eyed I fumbled for the alarm on my phone, stabbing at the tiny spot that said snooze. I finally hit it and fell back into bed.. What time it is? She mutters from under the blanket. Too early. I know I ’ m not getting any more sleep so pick up my phone again, its dim light somehow overpowering in the dark room and I open up the news. Blinking away the sleep I look at the top headline twice before it sinks in. Hey love? I say. Yeah? You won ’ t believe what the news says. Apparently the government has shut the borders to stop the asylum seekers. Reckons that ASIO has come up with some new tech to just kind of.. disappear us. Pfft. As if. Yeah, sounds like bullshit to me too. I click on Facebook and it comes up. I open up the profile of a friend who lives in the US and see her profile status. “ WTF - where is Australia! ” Wow, I think, they are really serious about this prank. I type a message on her wall reassuring her we are still there. Smiley face. I hit send. Nothing happens. The message disappears, but no matter how I scroll I can ’ t find it on her wall. Curious, I open reddit. I try and sign into my profile but when I do all it says is incorrect password. I try my alt account as well, but nothing. I try creating a new profile, but all that happens is it goes back to the front page. Huh. I sit up. This can ’ t be right, I say. I check Google news again and now I see them, all the headlines about Australia having disappeared.. I check /r/worldnews and its all thats on the front page.. Australia missing? Thats ridiculous… I wander out to the lounge room and put on the television. Theres the morning show alright, Karl making a goose out of himself. But this time its the prime minister sitting with him! I turn up the volume. “ ….so as we have a mandate from the people we decided to take action. Unprecedented and strong action. With help from our friends in CSIRO we have erected a barrier around the country that makes us unable to be seen or communicated with. We know there will be many who see this as a step too far. Those people who oppose us will be listened to carefully, and then sent to Tasmania where they can live with the rest of the hippies. You people wanted to stop others coming here, and this is the best way. Welcome to the New Australia. ”
[ WP ] You are a librarian in the Hall of Memory , where the memories of every human that ever lived are kept . Today someone comes in with a strange request ...	“ Excuse me. ” Charles looked up from the screen he was studying to see a dark cloaked man had entered the Hall. He was brushing water from his shoulders and wiping his feet on the large welcome mat just inside the large bronze doors. As the man removed his cloak and folded it across his left arm Charles saw a mesh of scars traced across the man ’ s bald head. The scars snaked around his temples and down his cheeks, disappearing past the collar of his shirt towards parts unknown. The man was not terribly tall, slightly pudgy, wearing a simple black dress shirt with slacks, and when he spoke Charles could see the shine of metal caps where various teeth has been pulled and replaced. “ I ’ m sorry to bother you this late at night, ” said the man as he finished brushing water off of himself “ but is this The Hall of Remembrance? ” The man stepped forward hesitantly and to Charles seemed as though he was preparing to bolt if his question was answered incorrectly. It was well past normal operating hours in the Hall, but Charles had not wanted to brave the weather and so had been waiting at the front desk for the storm to pass. He had apparently forgotten to lock the doors. “ Yes sir, ” replied Charles in the monotone voice of a retail worker trying to dissuade a customer from any other potential questions, “ this is The Hall of Remembrance. Unfortunately sir we… ” “ Excellent. ” said the man as he quick stepped towards the front desk Charles was occupying. The man was clearly uninterested in anything else Charles had to say. “ I need to see a set of memories. I have a list here. All from the same person but in differing time periods. I ’ ve also included an approximation of how long of a memory I need to see. I believe that would be everything you need to fulfill my request. ” The man reached into his right back pocket and produced a small folded sheet of notebook paper which he placed upon the front desk. Charles was slightly taken aback. The man had cut him off which was very rude and very unlike normal visitors to the Hall. Rememberancers were normally treated with respect by the college students researching term papers and the middle aged attempting to complete family trees. “ I ’ m sorry sir, but the Hall of Remembrance is closed for the day. ” intoned Charles as he pushed the paper back towards the man with the cloak. “ Perhaps you could return tomorrow? We open again at eight. ” “ I ’ m sorry as well. ” the man said quickly, once again cutting Charles off. “ But I ’ m afraid I can ’ t wait until tomorrow. Something is happening, it will continue to happen, and then a lot of things will stop happening all at once. That is unless you allow me to see the memories that I am requesting. Then it might be different. ” Charles ’ s eyes went wide and he suddenly realized what he was dealing with. “ Oh dear I ’ m sorry sir I didn ’ t realize you were with law enforcement. Normally you all come in waving your badge around and demanding to see the Chief. I would be more than happy to fulfill your request; let me just take a look at this. ” Charles reached out for the paper and delicately opened it. On the paper were written a name and three dates. The name was a woman ’ s name he didn ’ t recognize but the dates were very recent; one from a year and a half ago, another from six months back, and a final day from last week. Charles looked up at the man and blinked rapidly in confusion. “ I ’ m sorry sir but was this woman murdered recently? To have a date from last week this must be a very fresh case. ” “ She ’ s not dead. ” replied the man. As he said it, his cracked and scarred cheeks lifted slightly in a small grin as though that fact pleased him. “ Oh. ” said Charles as he once again attempted to gather his bearings in this situation. “ Well then can I please see your court order releasing the memories of a still living person? You know that any attempt to view the memories of the still living is highly regulated and without official release from the court of memories no Remembrancer can allow access to current storage. So if I could just see your official request… ” Charles trailed off slowly. He found himself very uncomfortable and was babbling. Accessing the memories of the living was only reserved for the direst of circumstances. Even Remembrancers did not look into current storage unless a specific request came in. A person couldn ’ t even request their own memories to be accessed without going through seven different layers of bureaucracy and by the time that had happened they had normally remembered where they left their keys. The man sighed heavily as he looked at Charles with growing exasperation. “ I don ’ t have a court order and I am not law enforcement Mr….. ” he looked at Charles quizzically prompting him to reply, “ Charles Baylan: Junior Remembrancer Third Grade. ” “ Baylan. ” the man finished as he placed his cloak on the desk in front of him. “ I ’ m afraid I find myself in a bit of a quandary Mr. Baylan. I am well aware of the rules of this place and know the importance that your order places on the memories of the living. I respect your sense of duty. I have such a sense myself, but I ’ m afraid my duty and my fears are currently clashing. You see, ” the man expounded as his stepped backwards a few paces, putting some distance between him and the desk. He then placed his hands in his pants pockets and continued, “ I know what must be done and I am aware of what the costs will be. Yet still I distress because I lack a crucial piece of information. It is information contained in the memories of that woman from those listed times and I must see it. I need you to let me see it Mr. Baylan. ” Charles mouth had fallen open slightly during this speech from the man. In his ten years as a Remembrancer he has heard of three instances where people had come in and demanded to see the memories of another living person. Myth and fear normally kept the rabble away from the doors of the Hall. The myth of what happened to anyone who attempted to access current records without permission and fear of the legal punishment for even asking to do so. Charles never expected he would one day have to deal with such a request. He wished that another Remembrancer was nearby to assist, but he was the only one watching this entrance tonight. He also desperately wished he had locked the doors. “ Sir, ” said Charles after a taking a moment to collect himself. “ I must inform you that what you are requesting is a serious crime, punishable by complete removal of all memories belonging to you from the Hall. Once you are dead you will have never existed. I am asking you to please reconsider that request before I am forced to call the authorities. ” Charles was gripping the shelf just under the desk tightly. It was a valiant attempt to keep from trembling in fear and rage at the request. The man looked at Charles for a moment, squinting at the Rembrancer as though examining a spider or other small crawly creature. After a moment of consideration the man sighed. He shook his head. He pulled a pistol from his pocket. And then he pointed it at Charles ’ s head. “ I ’ m very sorry Mr. Baylan but I ’ m afraid I must insist. You see, it ’ s absolutely in everyone ’ s best interest for me to see these memories. And please know that when I said everyone I mean everyone. I ’ m not just referring to you and the tragic fate that will befall you if you deny me. I ’ m talking about every person in current storage and every person in your archives. If you don ’ t let me see those memories Mr. Baylan, then the explosives that my men have placed around the city, including under the foundation of this building and the backup archives that only the highest levels of your order know about, will be detonated. Not everyone living will die Mr. Baylan, but I promise you that everyone who has died will share the fate you just threatened me with. ” Charles's mouth had gone completely dry. His hands holding the shelf were no longer capable of keeping him from trembling. He was faced with unimaginable terror from the following; the idea of his own death, the idea of the deaths of thousands if not millions of souls around the city, the erasure of every person who had ever lived, and the fact that if he didn ’ t help the man then the blood would be on his hands. Even if the man was bluffing about there being explosives the threat of damaging the archives and current storage was so nightmarish that it was taking every ounce of his self-control to not simply grab his Go-By and give the man exactly what he wanted. But if he did not at least attempt to stop the man, what defense would he be able to give to the elders if this ended up being a hoax? They would most certainly strip him of his titles and remove him from the order completely. And so Charles gathered his strength and asked a question, “ Why do you need to see these memories? ” The man paused and his gun dropped slightly. A look of pain and regret passed over his face before he shook it off and aimed the gun at Charles once more. “ She saw something in me. She said it gave her hope for the future. I want to see what she saw. I want to see myself through her eyes. If there ’ s another way to go…I think her memories can show me the path. ” Charles looked passed the barrel of the weapon pointed at him and to the man holding it. He looked deep into the dark brown eyes that were emotionless, hateful, and angry. And Charles saw something else. A small speck of something he couldn ’ t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was hope or something akin to it. Hope was what Charles needed in this moment. “ Ok then. ” Charles said as he released the shelf suddenly, grabbed his Go-By in two suddenly steady hands, and began to request access to current storage from the mainframe. “ If that ’ s what we need to do to save everyone…then let ’ s get to work. ” The man smiled and waited to see.
[ WP ] A drug has been outlawed decades ago that has a fifty-fifty shot at making you incredibly intelligent , or completely insane . You hold the last pill in existence .	I ca n't believe I finally found it. Blazitra. I knew my grandfather had illegally bought and sold them before he died. And here it was sitting in the oval container in front of me. The last pill that could make me - a bumbling idiot - as smart as the Einsteins and Teslas. I picked up the small, fiery-red pill, and walked into the kitchen to grab a drink, making sure to keep my focus on the precious pill that stared up at me from my palm. In my daze of happiness, I forgot about the suitcase I had hastily thrown on the floor upon returning from vacation, eager to search for the pill I had realized must be hidden amongst my grandfather's vast ovaltine collection. I kicked the edge of it in full stride and lost control of the little pill as I staggered to regain my balance. I stared in horror as it fell into the sink, and went straight down the drain. I entered panic mode as I racked my dumb brain to come up with options. Considering I knew nothing about plumbing, I decided to call my friend Joe, who owned a local plumbing company. `` Hey Joe, I lost the last pill of my prescription down the drain, and was wondering if you could come over and help me get it out.'' `` Sure thing,'' he replied. `` I'll be there in 15.'' 15 minutes later there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Joe, a staunch liberal, with a pistol in his hand aimed at my chest. `` Hey Joe, what are you doing with a gun in your hand?'' I queried. His voice unwavering, he stated `` You know I caught her messin''round with another man.'' BANG BANG. I jerked my head up from the kitchen floor. I looked around, but could n't find the source of the ear-shattering bangs. My kitchen looked different. Instead of the gorgeous granite counter top, my eyes met a white, plastic sink and cupboard. `` Where am I?'' I asked aloud. My head throbbed from hitting the floor. I tried to raise my hand to feel the damage, but felt restrained. As I looked down to the straitjacket tightly hugging my arms to my chest, it all came back to me. I had taken the pill. Over 4 years ago. And I'd be locked in this cell for the rest of my life.
[ WP ] A group of time travelers return from the age of the dinosaurs . Unknowingly , they also brought back an ancient , species jumping , highly infectious virus .	Ground Zero: The group's technician shows signs of infection in the post-check reports. The doctors prescribe him to a set of standard antibodies for the inane symptoms, but it quickly begins developing, eating away at him without his knowledge. Month 1: the technician is dead and the body is home to flies, who contract the virus. The flies proceed to sit on food, other animals and people, which results in a slow spread of a future epidemic. Month 2: the first few animals detected with strange signs of disease and rabid disposition are put down. the media downplays it as a random rabies outbreak that was contained. Month 3: the first humans with the virus are found. Repeated tests of early victims only shows signs of the generic flu, but it quickly matures within its host and causes a violent reaction. Month 4: Week 5, the virus fully matures within all existing hosts and is rapidly expanding. All efforts to understand what the virus is fail, and efforts to develop prototype antibodies are rapidly falling apart. Approximately 100,000 people are dead and several times more infected. Month 5: All known infected areas are quarantined in hopes to contain the outbreak, and all regions with report of infection have immediately had their transport and freight networks cancelled until further notice. However, it is already too late. Month 6: Most countries start showing reports of infected people. Major transport and trade networks are cancelled for fear of further spreading the network. Death toll rises to 300 million worldwide. Month 7: Trade collapse has resulted in world economy collapsing. Desperate to salvage what's left of the world, the UN issues orders to burn all infected zones and to kill any infected person on sight. Martial law is enacted in every country. Month 8: Death toll rises to 3.7 billion as most major fauna are extinct. Most of the US has been wiped out and Europe suffers a similar fate, with a large section of the continent completely void of any signs of animal or human life. Asia suffers significantly as smaller regions like Indonesia and Korea have been reported to have been wiped out, with Japan, India and Chine reporting massive casualties. Month 9: Virus begin showing signs of receding as the Summer heat sets in in most countries. Month 10: the virus outbreak has mostly been contained as a result of destruction of quarantine zones and extermination of all known infected. Month 11: the virus is no longer in power, as the remnants of Earth's native species begin attempts to repopulate a damaged world.
[ WP ] You discovered that an ice cream shop is having a `` Make your own ice cream with any flavour you want '' . How do you proceed your order ?	It's been a really long day. Work sucked, my commute is an hour and a half each way, and I'm just tired all the time. Today I wanted to try something new on the way home, I deserve to spoil myself just this once since my finances are finally in check. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. On the way home yesterday I saw a new ice cream place on a few blocks away from home. Not your usual franchise either, so maybe they'll serve more than those cheap fucks. It's hot as hell outside, so I could n't wait to get there. As I walk through the door I can see that there is no one in line, thank god. They server greets me, `` Good Afternoon! We've got a special going on like no other! Today you can make your own ice cream with any flavor you want! Literally anything at all! You name it and we'll make it! What will it be?'' `` I'll just have some Vanilla in a Dixie cup'', I sheepishly reply. `` Sir I do n't think you understand, you can have anything! Steak, Beer, Spare Ribs, Twizzlers, anything at all today!'' `` Yeah no that's cool and all, I just would like Vanilla.'' I notice that there's now someone behind me, they seem agitated. I try not to completely turn around due to my anxiety, but luckily the server has my order ready and I book it out of there. I finally taste a spoonful and you know what? It's pretty damn good. I have very plain tastes and I ca n't seem to grasp all of the different types of ice cream people like. There's nothing wrong with Vanilla, why mess with a good thing? As I've been contemplating society's wrong choices in my head, I have failed to notice that the guy from the shop is still a few steps behind me, and I've been walking for three blocks. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but he's breathing heavily and even in the city this stuff gets to me. I make an unnecessary loop around the block and he's still behind me. Fuck. I chuck my ice cream to the sidewalk and I just sprint. If he's really up to something I'm gon na know now. The second I pick up the pace the man lets out the most uncomfortable shriek I have ever heard in my life. As I turn my head to see what is wrong with this guy I see it. His eyes. They're fucking light green. Just who the hell is this guy? If I die right now who the hell is going to take care of my dog? Now he's running and catching up very, very quickly. `` Hey buddy, you might want to duck.'' Is the last thing I expected to hear. As I've been looking at this freakishly grotesque menace behind me, I failed to pay attention to a figure in front of me. This woman with long blonde hair and the most cliche trench coat I've ever seen is holding a pistol. I dive forward as I hear the pop. Guess which clumsy idiot hit his head on the way down? When I wake up, there's a crowd of 5 or 6 people around me. They say I just was walking down the street and tripped. There's no way that's true, but I know it's better to act normal than attract any unwanted attention.
[ OT ] Wednesday Workshop Q & A # 1	I started writing a story about a year and a half ago now with a concept I really like and I have a plan of where I want to take the story, but about 10,000 words in I got caught up on some details with the setting, and could n't figure out how to get from where I am in the story to where I want to be. I have n't touched the story in about 8 months or more months. So my question is, should I give up on the current setting and story and start over with a more clear idea; should I skip to where I want to be and fill in the blanks after, or should I just keep feeling like I'm beating my head off of a wall until the wall gives in and I have an idea of where to take the story? I realize that it all depends on the writer, but I really want to finish the story, I just do n't know hot to get there.
[ WP ] You slayed the six demon lords who savaged the kingdom for a hundred years and married the last princess . After 20 years of just rule a new hero emerges to remove you , the tyrant . But you have no idea why ...	I had to cut this a bit short, sorry if it feels rushed.: ( *** Six Demon Lords slain. The last princess wed. Twenty years of a just, peaceful rule. And yet I hear murmurs. Through the streets they trickle, like rainwater through cobblestone. At first, I paid no mind. My people were fed. They were clothed, and housed. Justice, when needed, was swift and fair. Still, these rumors persisted. Vague. But they persisted. Leleena sits beside me on her throne made of rosewood, her small, delicate hands busy with needlework. As is often the case when she is immersed in a project, the tip of her tongue peeks through the parting of her lips. Briefly, I'm reminded of the young girl I took as my bride. Innocent and carefree, and with a stubborn streak that even now I find trouble containing. Suddenly, a man steps into the throne room. He is thin, and his clothes ragged. His hands are clenched beneath his chin, and he's wringing them nervously. I can almost feel him shaking. `` Your name?'' I ask as I shift in my throne, uncrossing my legs to spread them comfortably and wide. `` Gibs, Your Grace.'' His voice is meek. He avoids eye contact. The name, though, is familiar. I rub my chin and lean forward. `` You're the man who stole that livestock.'' ``... I was wr-wrongly accused, My Lord.'' `` You confessed.'' I pause and turn to my wife, who I now notice has abandoned her needlework. I have no desire for her to muddy her hands in these dealings. `` Leleena, there is no need for you to trouble yourself with this matter,'' I say to her, quietly. She does not budge, and in fact offers no response other than to straighten her posture and relax her hands in her lap. Already sensing my defeat, I sigh heavily and turn my attention back to Gibs. `` Under duress-'' `` You're suggesting that you confessed to a crime you did not commit?'' `` I had no choice, My King.'' `` I do not punish innocent men, Gibs. A fact I am sure you are well aware of. So why, knowing that, would you confess?'' `` You are a kind and just ruler, My Lord, but the men at your employ....'' `` You now suggest my men are untrustworthy?'' `` Commander Leer-'' `` I am well aware of the accusations against the Commander, Gibs.'' I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze. `` What use has he to abuse his power, as is so frequently suggested?'' Gibs stutters and mutters a short sentence I can not hear. I can almost smell his sweat. `` Speak up, please. You have no need to fear speaking your mind.'' ``... There are many reasons, Your Grace.'' `` For which there is no proof.'' Gibs lowers his head. `` I was kept in a cell without water or food.... For a week, my King. My body still aches from the dark magics-'' `` Enough! Countless times I have heard these things, and just as many times there has been no proof!'' I slam my fist on the armrest of my throne, and Gibs steps back. `` I refuse to have the name of an innocent man tarnished.'' `` I'm innoc-'' `` Your sentence begins tomorrow, at dawn. Not only have you confessed, but you are contributing to the lies spreading throughout the kingdom, and the unrest that is building. For twenty years, there has been peace, and it is because of lies like this that good people turn sour against their King.'' Gibs takes another step back and slouches his back. The crackling of muffled sobs promises tears soon to follow, but I ca n't allow myself to be swayed. The rumors of the Commander's corruption have threatened the peoples' trust in me enough. I begin to fear rebellion where it is not needed. `` Come, Gibs,'' Leleena says finally as she rises to her feet, her needlework tucked beneath her left arm. I reach out to her as she steps down, and her hand briefly grazes against mine. `` Even a guilty man deserves one last hot meal.'' `` Leleena,'' I call out to her. She turns to me for a moment, offering a kind smile, and leads Gibs into the hallway toward the kitchen. Her close, tight-knit entourage follows closely behind. Sometimes I believe her to be too sweet. *** As I sit at my dining table in my chambers, a chicken, still steaming, rests on a wide plate of soft, colourful vegetables. I've already burned my mouth on it once - one of its legs, to be exact, which now waits on the floor for one of the dogs. Leleena steps into the room and quietly closes the door behind her. I gesture to the plate I've put together for her, and the vase of fresh, wild roses next to her full glass of wine. `` Thank you,'' she says as she approaches me from behind. She leans down to wrap her arms loosely around my neck, and I place a greasy kiss upon her cheek. `` Did Gibs give you trouble?'' `` Hmm, no. Not unless you count delaying my dinner.'' She smiles widely and leans back up. I feel a pinch against the back of my neck, and she pauses to fuss with my hair. `` My necklace got caught in your hair,'' she says with a quiet laugh. I lean my head back to look up at her, and she leans down to kiss my forehead. `` Must be the fifth time this week,'' I joke. `` Seventh, I think.'' My vision blurs, but only for a moment. I squint my eyes. `` Long day.'' `` It has been, has n't it?'' Leleena sits in her chair and plucks a soft pink petal from her glass. The candlelight seems brighter now.... Too bright, and it bathes her in a holy glow. Her colours bleed like ink in water. I rub my eyes. ``... Too long. I think I'll have dinner later, and go to bed now.'' ``... You wo n't make it.'' I hear her say. I think I hear her say. My thoughts swim, and then beach. I ca n't make sense of the words in my head. Fish stranded on sand. Try as I might to make it for the ocean- Clumsily, I push my chair back, away from the table. I move to stand, but my trembling legs immediately give in and I tumble like a ragdoll to the floor. Leleena crouches beside me, black hair like smoke, and clutches my right hand in both of hers. `` You-?'' `` I'm sorry,'' she says. Her words feel full, and overflow to spill onto the floor. `` Wh-why?'' She smiles sadly. Her eyes, wet like oceans, carve rivers down her cheeks to drip fire onto my face. I feel her hand against my forehead, like silk, smoothing my hair back. `` You're the source, my love. I'm so sorry. There was no other way. You're the source, and this is the only way to stop him. Please forgive me.'' Her face is framed in crimson, her honey eyes in ember glow. `` I love you.''
[ IP ] What have we done ? What are we doing ? Why ca n't we stop ?	`` For Starters, you're an idiot. I do n't what possessed you to go scuba diving at 3 in the morning, but now I have to stitch up your calf and get some starfish out of your pants. I mean, how stupid do you have to be for me to drive out 30 miles through the country roads where the fucking coyotes are chasing people like a toddler and candied popcorn. God, you'd think for once that you could handle yourself. I mean you only had three drinks right? Three Drinks! It should n't even get a four year old drunk. All right, stop sobbing, we're done here. When we get home, you're taking some aspirin and going to sleep.'' John turns to Steve as the both of them sit drinking a few beers on the bench, `` This is the last time we let Nick trip acid with us. He's talking to a conch shell and I'm pretty sure he scared off a dolphin.'' Steve turns back to John, emptying out the last couple of sips from his beer, `` Who the fuck are you?''
[ WP ] You are the son of a notorious gang leader . The gang operates behind the scenes of a crappy pizza place front . You are expected to follow in your father 's footsteps , but you 're afraid to tell him that you do n't want to because you absolutely love cooking pizza .	`` Ah, another beautiful pizza for another beautiful customer!'' I grabbed the worn, wooden handle of the pizza peel and flipped it around in my hands. `` Today's the day. Today I'm going to tell Father.'' Delicate aromas fragranced the air with a luscious mixture of mozzarella cheese and basil while the mouthwatering linguica and Italian sausage cooked to perfection. My favorite part? -- The crust. Thick like a beautiful Italian woman, but it's got edge like a chicago style girl to seal the deal. An absolute masterpiece! I loved it. Everything in this place. It was a hole in the wall that needed work, sure, but it was unique. Sensational if you asked me. The flaws that my Father saw in the shop only added to the delicate caricatures that bring me inspiration. Maybe if Father saw my joy and passion he would change his mind and let me run the shop one day. I mean, I've turned this place from a scraggly pile of filth to a pretty reputable spot for the locals to dine. He should be proud of his youngest son... should n't he? The sensor above the front door chimed as it opened, and someone tapped the bell on the front counter. `` Sorry! Be there in a minute!'' I scraped the pizza peel under the fresh, cooked pizza that trailed out of the oven, and slid it into the pizza box on the cut station. After four quick swishes and the box being set on the warmer, it was ready for pick up. I found the blind spot at the cutting station impersonal for gaining customers, but father was stingy with his money. He said to'make due with what you got', so I did, but I would love to be able to see my customers and the smile I put on their faces. `` Are you here to pick up, or place an order?'' I said. I placed the pizza peel in its holster and swerved around the corner of the cut station to greet the customer. When I looked up from cracked tile floor at my feet, I met the barrel of a shotgun and a man who wore a Bill Clinton mask. `` Your Father owes us more money than he can repay,'' the man's voice was muffled behind the mask. `` So we're taking the most valuable things in his life-'' He pumped the shotgun in his hands. `` Starting with you.'' * * * ^^^/r/EdenRenellaJones
[ CW ] Tell a very long story in one gigantic run on sentence .	I was running late for work, missed the bus, so I had to take my old and almost pitiful excuse for a car for a ride, it wasn ’ t the best car around but it was a car that could be used in a pinch like this, but I realized that it was out of fuel when it let out a sad THOOUGH through the exhaust, the smoke cleared a path to the garage, where my old and way to small bike was, I never really used this, but is was now or never, grabbed the bike and went to the end of my road, where the sign that said. I'm almost out of breath from reading this.
[ WP ] There has been a zombie apocalypse and the human race has lost , you are the last remaining non-infected human on earth .	This world is dead. The cities, the countryside, the sewers; they still bustled like they did before walking corpses became a thing. I crawl through a stinking pipe, layered with sewage and god-knows-what else, holding my swollen stomach, my little miracle almost ready to see the home it never had. Every day I lose hope. Everyone I meet is either eaten or trying to eat me. The last time I had seen another breathing human... I've stopped counting the days. The loneliness has n't gotten to me yet though. Those pains went numb a long time ago. I manage to sneak past some dead that were crushed by some ceiling and avoid their rotten arms as I enter a maintainment room and lock the door behind me. Safe. As I allow myself a sigh of relief, stabbing pains shoot through my abdomen. Dammit. Not now. I struggled through the contractions and the hours by telling myself one thing. Breathe. I wished to hear anything other than my own breathing. A voice, dead moaning, anything. I was tempted a few times to scream my anguish, pain and fear away. I could n't. Not with my baby. My thoughts drifted towards the life I had before. Friends, family, my husband. We had a plan to go caravanning a week before everything went to hell. I imagined how everyone would have wanted to see the baby, how the rest of our lives would turn out. We never imagined this. I've seen people, people I was close with, be eaten alive, shot, drowned, you name it. Childbirth still seemed, and was, the most painful thing a woman can experience. I cradled my baby girl in my arms. She looked so beautiful. I cleaned her and wrapped her up myself. However, it was far too late for her. I even doubted that she would make it in a hospital. She was so tiny, so cold. The concrete floor I sat on was cold, the wall was cold. Hell, even the pool of blood I sat in was cold. This was it, I tell myself. I am alone. As I feel like I ca n't get any lower, with everyone that I loved, hated and did n't know is dead, I do n't die here from an infection. I die here because I've given up.
[ EU ] Describe a scene from a movie or TV show from the point of view of the Inside-Out emotions living in his or her head	'Anger, stop hitting the button!' Fear yelled as he and Joy tried to pull the red Emotion away from the console.'You're going to do something really stupid!' 'She's the one being silly!' Anger yelled.'Why ca n't she see that?!' 'He's sad as well as angry,' Sadness said meekly.'Ca n't you just let someone else take over so we can sort this out and not cause a mess?' 'Oh, please,' Disgust sneered.'Like he's going to make the best choice...' 'SHOVE OFF!' Anger yelled as he pushed the other emotions away and causing Disgust to land on a button on the console. Seconds later, the entire room was violently shaken as the lights all went out, the emotions being violently thrown around the room. When it all stopped, they were groaning as Fear was running around. 'What did she do that for?' Sadness began to cry. 'Way. To. Go,' Disgust said coldly as she stormed past Anger.'You've ruined the poor boy's life.' 'What makes you say that?' Anger furiously demanded. It was then that Disgust held him around the neck and lifted him upward so he was directly in her face. 'Because the button you forced me to press was the Impulse Choice button,' Disgust sneered.'The button which forces an appropriate action based on which Emotion presses it, and I do n't think that Lily will ever forgive Severus for calling her a Mudblood, will she?'
[ WP ] You have just received the Ring of Greater Summoning . However you do not live in a fantasy world and you 're just a dentist .	Dentists get high. And drunk. We have access and our jobs suck. Something about looking into a persons throat all day just drives us to the intoxicants. Last Tuesday, I was drunk at a flea market. It was about 10 AM. I was really hitting it hard, really trying to spend all the petty cash. I saw this wonky ring with a really cool tooth embedded in it. It looked like a silver cap with jade or something in it. Five bucks. What the hell. I sprang for the vanity plate on the Jaguar that says'DENTITE''. Yeah, I'm that kind of dentist. I pay the guy and stick it in my pocket. He's got the most terrible mouth I've ever seen. Every incisor, bicuspid, and canine looked like shit. Total shit. That's my professional opinion. The man had shit mouth. And terrible fashion. All silk wraps and a weird hat. Then I realize I'm running late so I try to get an Uber. The Jaguar was double parked in a handicapped zone, but I did a cost benefit analysis and getting it towed would be cheaper than another DUI. For some reason no stoned Millennial was around to pick me up in their leased Prius, so at this point I'm thinking fuck it. I'll just blame my receptionist and offer ten bucks off my clients next unnecessary cleaning. Whatever, right? I do n't really know what happened next. I reached into my pocket trying to grab my wallet to see if I had any credit cards that I had n't maxed out to maybe get a little special K off of Miguel when that ring slipped on my finger. Just then, my friend Wolfy calls me. His ringtone is a howl. It's hilarious. All of a sudden there is all this dark purple smoke and I hear a laugh more maniacal and evil than my ex-mother in laws.. And there's this giant wolf.. More like a Dire Wolf. Yeah I watch Game of Thrones. Well it starts ripping apart people all over the damn Flea Market. I mean it probably ripped through two mothers, three baby-carriages, and that weirdo who sold me the ring. I'm like, okay, what next, a fucking dragon? Would n't you know it?! So now I'm here sitting in this bar surrounded by worms and talking to you, Giant Shit Golem.
[ WP ] You are a dyslexomancer , with the unique class ability 'Mispel magic ' .	For a moment, it looked like part of the show. The falconer had gingerly removed the hood from the falcon on his arm, which had given him a level glare ( the only expression falcons are capable of ) and stubbornly ignored his orders to fly. When the falconer tried to shake it free, the bird gave a blood-curdling scream and leapt to claw his eyes out. The first person to react was the wizard's apprentice in the front row. While her master was focusing his mind, pondering how the falcon might be turned into clay or talc, she threw her hand out towards the angry bird - and suddenly, the bird vanished, and the falconer was hit in the face by a loaf of bread covered in thick blue-green mold. That earned her some appreciative applause from the onlookers. The wizard noticed a few of them with confused or thoughtful looks. Probably those who knew some of the principles of anagramism themselves, who could turn a leaf into a flea as a party trick, and who might have realised something was strange about what they'd just seen. The wizard smiled and waved, and then quickly steered the girl out of the crowd as soon as most of the attention was off her. In the corridor they had enough privacy to talk. `` Minevra. What exactly did you do just now?'' `` I... I'm sorry if I should n't have. I wanted to get rid of the bird and it just came into my head-'' `` I'm not angry, Minevra. I want to know what you actually did. I'm thinking it over and I ca n't find a sensible way to make the rearrangement you made, especially considering you could barely turn a reed into a deer last week. Was there some mental block you overcame? What was that just now?'' `` It was just an anagram. Like you taught me. ANGRY FALCON into CYAN LOAF.'' The wizard mentally counted the letters. Then did it again. `` Well. That explains some of it.'' he muttered to himself. `` Minevra, listen to me. Everything in the universe is made up of letters, and anagramism is the application of intelligence to rearrange the letters composing an object, understand? But that's all that's possible, only rearrangement. Creating, destroying, or transforming letters - not the words they make, but the letters themselves - is impossible. It's a physical law, or so we thought.'' `` You think I did something like that?'' `` Yes, to all appearances you've just annihilated three letters out of existence. The consequences of this could be huge, if you can learn to master it. I do n't understand how it's possible, but you've violated Conservation of N-R-G.''
[ IP ] Master and Commander	There were many tales about the young princess. Many songs had been written about her raven black hair and her red lips. Some of the less classy bards even sang about the curves of her young body. And now he finally got to meet her. While her appearances was as the songs had promised, her temper was not. She had always been described as outgoing and full of live. The woman seated in front of him was the polar opposite. “ Cold ” was the first word that sprang to his mind. Her mere presence seemed to cool the already freezing cell even further. She spoke without any emotion, her heavy accent making it hard for a peasant born like him to understand a word. That however was n't really a problem. She would never address him directly. Talking to traitors and peasants was far beneath her highness. Instead her lacquey asked the questions, poking him with his staff whenever he did n't answer within seconds. During the entire ordeal the princess had seemed bored out of her mind. He wondered why she was here in the first place. Maybe she had done something that had upset her father and he had forced her to go down to the dungeon and sit through boring interrogations. He felt the corners of his mouth rise slightly. The lacquey beat him again, seemingly afraid that he could start smiling at the princess. During the next question the facial expression of the princess switched from bored to curious. It was a very subtle change, but her eyes gave her away. “ What is the aim of your rebellion against the crown and his highness the king? Be specific what is it you try to accomplish? ” He would have scratched his had, if his hands had not been restrained behind his back. “ Do n't you know that already? ” A particularly nasty strike from the staff left deep cut on his right temple. “ One more insubordination and you will meat the torturer ”, the lacquey barked, spit flying out of his mouth. “ Answer his question. ” The princess had leaned forward in her chair, dark brown eyes fixed on him. Her accent was gone the moment she had spoken to him and not the lacquey. Before I could say anything she had raised a finger: “ Do not lie to me. ” Her voice was almost a whisper but the words carried weight. He swallowed. “ Democracy. ” The lacquey recoiled in shock and even the high princess seemed surprised. “ Where did you hear of this word, do you know what it means? ” He nodded. “ I saw it in an old book. The title was'basic law'. It means that the folk rules. That there are no kings and that everyone is equal and free. ” Her highness laid back again. Than the unthinkable happened. She laughed. It was a high pitched sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. The lacquey looked like he wished for magical so he could melt into the stone wall. Once the princes had calmed again she exclaimed: “ You are wrong! You are so wrong. That is not the meaning of the word democracy. You think that everyone is equal in a democracy? There is no such system, there has never been and there can never be. It is impossible. You can only threat them as equals, by giving everyone the same rights. Yet that still does not make them equals. A old man who lost both his legs is not equal to a young man who is healthy. A woman who has carried children is not equal to a girl who has yet to bleed. If you threat everyone equal you threat everyone injustly. ” She paused seemingly thinking about her next point. “ You think there are no kings in a democracy, yet there are. They have different names but the still are above the people, even if they are chosen differently. Instead of letting the strongest lead, democracies let the people decide. The people vote for who has the most charisma. If these people are weak, than the entire system is weak. If they are weak than they are easily afraid. If they are afraid, they are prone to make rushed decisions. ” She sighed. “ Once, a long time ago, there were many democracies on this world. They disagreed on minor differences, yet because of their fear they turned small and easily solvable problems into unbreakable barriers between their nations. When these systems collapsed the did not simply go down. They fought. With each other, with themselves, the fought just to make a point. Their fight was short and devastating. You want to learn something about democracy? Do n't read old books, telling you about their supposed glory. Go out into the wild. Go into the red forests. Face the monsters inside them. Fell the toxic rain on your skin. That is the heritage of democracy! ” Her voice had risen on the last sentence. When she spoke again it was back to it's old calm “ They stole our land and you want to let them steal the future too. ” She looked directly into his eyes. “ What you did was high treasons. You will be executed by the next morning. ” With this she stood and left. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Edit: Corrected some errors. Tales in line one was written `` tails''. Sorry to disappoint the tail lovers amoung you.: ( First, my views do not align with those of the characters in this story. Second, this is not supposed to be based on real life events ( even if I put in some terms you can find in our world'basic law' and'red forest' ). Think of it as a fantasy world if you wish. I am still learning english so please feel free to point out any errors I made! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.
[ WP ] You are a time traveler . And you just discovered that homeless people across every generation are time travelers too .	The monitor in front of Sir Illiam Todd glowed a dull green. It was the only source of light in the small, metallic pod that Sir Illiam currently stood in. The glow illuminated Todd ’ s angular face, and the black suit of nobility that adorned his body. The regalia for his mistress, the Queen of Octavion, was emblazoned on his breast pocket. All around Todd, circuits and wiring crisscrossed the metal pod. All manner of technology and scientific marvel was housed in this small sphere. Sir Illiam ’ s face was stern, a slight frown set upon his lips. His attention was consumed with the terminal in front of him. Sir Illiam Todd truly was the last of the pioneers, adventuring into the greatest unknown. He was the first man to attempt time travel, all in the name of his glorious Queen and her fiefdom. If his mission proved successful, it would bring untold glory to his mistress and her lands. There was no room for error. Todd walked a tight path atop a mountain ’ s peak, and any hesitation could send him plummeting down to his demise. His hands flew across the controls in front and to the sides of him. After numerous tinkerings, Sir Illiam ’ s deep, baritone voice rang out. “ Launch sequence finished. Preparing to make the first jump. ” A small speaker squeaked in the far corner of the sphere. “ Roger that. We wish you the best. Jump in five … four … three … “ Sweat began to pool on Sir Illiam Todd ’ s brow. He had spent years honing his mind and body for this. There was no backing out. He was at the peak of his performance. “ Two … ” No hesitation! No Regret! No hesitation! No Regret! These words rang out in Sir Illiam Todd ’ s head, the personal mantra that he had drilled into himself over the course of a lifetime dedicated to serving his Queen. “ One … best of luck! ” Came the squeaking voice of the control room. A violent quake seized the metallic pod. It shook violently, and Sir Illiam felt like he ’ d just been tossed through the air. He staggered back, his legs bracing against the steady building of force that dragged on his body. Rivets rattled and metal struts stretched and bent at will. A horrible screeching sound filled the pod as metal tore against metal. Illiam ground his teeth. He screwed his eyes shut. His body felt heavier and heavier as some unknown force bore its weight down on him. A pressure began to build behind his eyes. Sir Illiam wanted to scream out, but he resisted. He was a man of nobility, a guard for the regalia, he refused to bend his will to anything that may accost him. Just when Sir Illiam reached his breaking point, just as the pain and fear that enveloped his body began to introduce thoughts of suicide and escape, the pressure disappeared. The metallic pod encasing Sir Illiam Todd gave a few more whimpers of pain and stress, before coming to an sudden halt. Sir Illiam took a shaky breath, and took stock of his surroundings. The monitor in front of him had gone dark. Most of the electronics were fried. This was worrisome. It seemed that there would be no communication with the control room. With a frown, Todd found the manual crank to the pod ’ s door. With several strenuous cranks, accompanied by a storm of swearing and strained grunts, the pod ’ s door slowly opened. A shock of bright sunlight broke into the darkness of the pod. Illiam squinted his eyes. He shied away from the light, his eyes slowly adjusting. Slowly, ever so slowly and gingerly, Sir Illiam Todd emerged from the pod. His hand was held protectively over his face as he emerged from the pod. A sense of trepidation for the unknown filled the noble. He stepped onto a soft patch of grass. Sir Illiam Todd raised his eyes, and looked around in wonder. He was standing in the middle of a verdant valley. A series of rolling hills flanked him on either side. Trees of all nature filled the area in patches. Bright rays of sunlight fell down onto green grass, and reflected off a babbling creek running past several yards away. Sir Illiam looked behind him. The metallic pod stood behind him. It wast in a small crater, a thin trail of smoke trailed out from behind it. Unfortunately, it appeared that the pod had been damaged by the trip. Everything inside was dead, cutting off communication from home-base. Even the sensors that indicated which timeline he had landed in were fried. It seemed that Sir Illiam Todd was truly trapped, at least for now. A stern look overtook the noble ’ s face. He was prepared for this, and confident that he would succeed, and make it back home. This confidence came more from the hubris of being nobility, rather than from any source of true confidence. Sir Illiam ’ s eyes travelled along the thin rise of the smoke from the pod into the clouds above. His eyes widened. In the sky, far off into the distance, a massive castle made of stone floated in the sky. Large towers, and numerous buttresses assembled to create an intricate mass of stone and metal that sat aloft above the valley. Sir Illiam didn ’ t know where he was, but he had a guess that his salvation possibly hid somewhere within that castle. He strode off in the castle ’ s direction, deciding that there was no time to dilly dally. Illiam had barely made it a hundred yards before a voice spoke out to him. The voice was slurred, and rough. It sounded like gravel had been lodged in the man ’ s throat. “ Spare some change. ” The voice grumbled out. Sir Illiam ’ s eyes snapped towards the voice ’ s owner. Off to the side, leaning against a nearby tree, a homeless man sat, a cup for change sat in front of him, nestled among the grass and the pine needles. A wave of shock flowed over Illiam Todd as he recognized the beggar. The man was unmistakeable. He was indeed the filthy piece of garbage that liked to beg on the Illyiad street platform. It was apparent, from the mile long stare and greasy hair, to the name ‘ Crusty Carl ’ bedazzled on his trousers. Sir Illiam stepped back in shock. “ How have you gotten here?! ” He asked in alarm. Crusty Carl looked up. Through his bleary and bloodshot eyes, he recognized Sir Illiam Todd. Well, he didn ’ t recognize the man specifically, but the regalia emblazoned on his breast pocket. Any of the denizens of the Queen ’ s domain would. “ Ay It ’ s you! It ’ s a blood damned noble! ” Crusty Carl cried out in surprise. His gravely voice strained against his throat. “ You lot ain ’ t supposed to be here! ” Sir Illiam Todd strode over to the homeless man in surprise. If this piece of trash had found its way here, then that must mean there was another way to go home. “ What are you doing here? Answer me! How did you get here? ” Todd asked in fury. Cursty Carl took a swing from a brown bottle before answering. “ I ’ m a time traveller. Same as my papi, and my papi ’ s papi. ” Sir Illiam Todd stared in disbelief. “ Impossible, purely impossible! ” Crusty Carl gave a lazy smile. “ It ’ s true. Don ’ t believe me. Why don ’ t you go up to my papi ’ s papi ’ s papi ’ s castle up there. ” Carl replied, nodding towards the floating castle in the sky before taking another swig of his bottle. Sir Illiam Todd glared at the peculiar man, before turning his nose and walking away. There was no way that a homeless pile of scum and filth was a time traveller. That honor had been awarded to him, Sir Illiam Todd, the Queen ’ s greatest servant. Todd strode towards the castle, indifference and arrogance surrounding him. He would enter that castle, and claim it for his beloved queen! -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Months later, and Crusty Carl was back at his favorite begging spot under the tree. He didn ’ t get much money here, but it was a nice change of pace from the filth filled streets of Octavion. Sir Illiam Todd ’ s time travel sphere still sat in its crater. It was no longer smoking, and rust and nature were beginning to take their hold on the pod of metal. A rustling in the trees caught Carl ’ s attention. He turned his head. Sir Illiam Todd was headed in his direction. The man was bedraggled, and clearly road worn. His clothes were torn and dirty. His hair long and unkempt. Without a word, He walked up and sat down next to Crusty Carl. “ Ya find the castle? ” Carl asked. “ Yes. Yes I did. ” “ Ya realize what happens when ya try to time travel? ” “ Yes. Yes I did. ” “ Ya want a lil drink. It ’ s what helped me when I first found out. ” Illiam Todd nodded slowly. Carl handed him his newest brown bottle, still about half full, surprisingly. “ Ya know, I used to be called Admiral Carl Wellington. Crusty Carl sounded more telling though when I realized it. ” “ Will I ever be able to return to my original timeline? ” Todd asked in desperation between sips of Carl ’ s foul liquor. Crusty Carl let out a laugh. “ It ’ s been fifteen years and I haven ’ t been able to find mine yet. Just drink up and forget about it. Eventually you ’ ll find a few that you like enough. Just make sure one of the timelines you settle on has liquor. It helps ease the pain. ” Tense Todd nodded sadly. He stared into the brown bottle, before taking another swing. One of many to come.
[ WP ] Two childhood friends grow up in a dystopian society , one chooses to support the corrupt regime while the other joins the resistance .	`` So, you're the one who's gon na arrest me, huh?'' `` Looks it.'' `` And what exactly have I been charged with?'' `` Gathering in a public place. Organising an illegal union. Inciting public disorder. Conspiracy to overthrow the Throne.'' `` I tried to help the miners get together so they could stop the Guildhall's oremongers from throwing away their lives carelessly into the pit. The same pit Teacher Lloyd died, when he was exiled into the colonies.'' `` You can explain before a court.'' `` They have families! What the fuck happened to you, man? They send women and children down into those tunnels!'' `` It's not my place to question.'' `` Think! What authority do you serve? Who are these people? Why do you serve them? I remember the days we used to go fishing by the lake, going to the leisure hall to play with the ancient artefacts, our fierce debates late at night in the Halls of Correct Thinking. You're better than this!'' `` I am not better than anyone, or anything. I just have my part to play. You would do well to learn the same.'' `` You gave up.'' `` I did. Would you prefer death? Because that's where you're headed at the rate you're going.'' `` We have an obligation to take it down! We were lucky! We were born into the elite, we had it better simply because our parents were high ranking Cadres. We have the power to start a revolution.'' `` And betray the ideals of our parents?'' `` Our parents were brainwashed! You have been brainwashed!'' `` You insult me, my friend.'' `` So what now? You bring me in, and they'll torture me. You're going to let that happen to your friend?'' `` You could make it easier for yourself by giving up your accomplices.'' `` You and I both know that's a lie.'' ``...'' `` You ca n't even look at me. Disgusting.'' `` What would you have me do?'' `` I'll not snitch, you know that.'' `` I do.'' `` So just end it here for me, right now. I'd rather not suffer. Say I was resisting. Do n't worry, I'll make it look so, just tell me when. You can do that for me, right, old friend?''
[ WP ] Write a story that is secretly an advertisement .	I quietly watched her from the table across the Subway restaurant as the rain pattered outside the clear glass window behind me. `` How could someone be so... so... '' I thought, as I watched her take another bite of her meatball sub, careful to not let any of the sauce drip on the table. `` ... graceful...? '' Her eyes always averted, constantly gazing around the tidy restaurant, but never once looking straight ahead across the empty booths to me. I breathed deeply, but I could feel my chest quiver with each breath in. `` What is this feeling? '' I thought. `` I'm not supposed to feel this way... '' I looked down at my legs as I tried to catch my breath, but not a moment passed before I felt her watchful gaze upon me. Nervously, I pulled up my eyes to be met with her own; they saw through me with the kindest gaze I've ever seen, as her lips turned up in a soft smile. She stood up and walked over to me, my ears growing redder with each passing step. `` Hi, Anna!'' `` H... hi...'' I stuttered, trying my hardest not to blush. `` I'm Juliet. I think we're in the same class together?'' Her soft voice made my face grow flush with embarrassment. `` Um... yeah, I think so.'' `` Can I eat with you?'' `` Oh, okay...'' She smiled as she set down her sub. `` So what did you get?'' `` The sweet onion teriyaki.'' `` Can I have a bite?'' I nodded awkwardly before handing it over. Unexpectedly, she leaned in and took a hearty chomp from the corner while it was still in my hands. Shocked, I immediately dropped it, letting the contents of the sub splash everywhere on the table. `` Oh my God!'' I exclaimed immediately, as I watched her eyes become wide with surprise. `` I'm so sorry...'' She hid her mouth behind her hand as she tried to not to laugh and chew at the same time. `` It's okay!'' she comforted me. `` I'll go grab us some napkins.'' After she left the table, I pulled the collar of my sweatshirt over my face. `` I ca n't believe this is happening...''
[ WP ] Late in WWII , Germany launched a submarine carrying a top secret device they believed would turn the tide of the war . A day later , contact with the sub was lost and all crew were presumed dead . Now , nearly 100 years later , the sub has been found .	Berlin had been razed, the glory of the Reich lay in scattered ruins, the inexhaustible stream of Red Army soldiers clambouring over the toppled monuments, the rubble of grand buildings, their shadows glimpsed through reek and flame. Donitz had just moments, mere moments to ensure the first act of his new office was complete. The Fuhrer's immolated remains had n't even cooled, but it was he, the klein gefrieter who had impressed upon Donitz the reason why the Admiral was to succeed him in leading Germany through this war, this war beyond retribution. It was due to the fact that it was his program, his part in the Vergeltungswaffen program that he be given such a high honour; if it could be called such. While the SS desperately burned their files and discarded their uniforms to hide their crimes, and the Luftwaffe smashed their models and tore up designs for even more powerful rockets than they had unleashed, Donitz entered a tiny cupboard of a room, just large enough to house a high frequency radio. He pressed one of two signal buttons, waited thirty seconds and then pulled the fuze which would ignite the two pounds of thermite attached to the transmitter. Ironically, the signal also keyed timed fuzes of incendiary explosive, set aboard twenty specially equipped U-boats. Once alight, these charges melted through the steel hull, allowing the seawater to flood in and consign these machines to the depths of beyond. Except, except for one. The relay had malfunctioned, the signal had n't reached. A tiny fault in the electrics had preserved one boat, which lay idle, and would continue, waiting for a separate signal to activate its mission. It was prepared for a long wait, this was part of its design; to lay dormant until it was needed. In the years, and decades to follow it continued its silent vigil, unknown, under the surface mere miles from a land thought to have been beyond invasion. While this sentry stood ready, it's mechanical brain attuned for the right sequence of clicks on a particular wavelength, they slept. Packed in cold, surrounded by dry ice and hermetically sealed in the torpedo tubes, they could sleep forever. If it were n't for an unwitting ham radio operator, they might have. Long after the war had gone beyond a living memory, the ballast tanks of U-972 purged, its automatic conn bringing it to the surface at a surprisingly steep angle, almost vertical. Outer doors open and flooded, each of the six tubes fired in sequence, launching their capsules in a high arc, parachutes blooming at just the right time to check a ballistic descent. The six man team of the Uberkommando were at last free and beginning to awake; for them it would seem no time had passed. They were at last free to carry out their mission, to stop the atomic bomb. They were a hundred years too late...
[ WP ] Actors can not leave character at all until the film in which they play is released in cinemas . Describe an actor 's life .	`` So, what can you tell me about yourself?'' That's the line I had in the background of my first movie role. I know I was only an extra, but I got $ 500 at the time, and in 1976 that was a pretty good deal for a day's work. And for a kid from Minnesota who spent three years after high school working at the local paint supply store, it was the first step in becoming the superstar I knew I was destined to become. I caught the bug in 10th grade when I got the role of Caliban in our production of The Tempest. The school paper called my performance `` the highlight of the show, and the introduction of a bright new star here at Blackduck High School ( Go Drakes! )'' Next year I was Biff Loman, but my breakout role came when I got the lead as Tony in West Side Story senior year. I was hooked. There was something about looking out at the crowd and watching them all watching me that was intoxicating. Community college and working at the paint store was always just a short term step, I always knew that in my heart. But after almost three years, I knew I was letting my dreams fade away. I'm not proud of it, but I needed a way out. So every day at the store I would skim just a little out of the register. Never more than ten bucks in a day. And three months later, I had saved up enough for a bus ticket and two months rent in a small apartment about an hour outside of Hollywood by bus. It was n't much, but luck was on my side from almost the start. Within a week I had a chance meeting with a fellow actor at a laundromat and we hit it off. He knew about a big time move that needed some extras. It was a one-and-done job, but it was the break I was looking for, it just had to be. I got to the set an hour ahead of time and I was seated with about 20 other actors. The assistant director was very direct, which I loved. We were going to be split into groups of two and each seated at tables in the background of a restaurant scene. We all came up with simple line of dialogue we would just say quietly to each other back and forth. No one was going to hear us with no microphones anywhere near by, so a lot of the people were just using pure gibberish. I wanted to take it seriously, and the actress I was paired with was quite attractive, so I figured my character ( I decided his name was Billy, I have no idea why ) was on a date with her, so I came up with `` So, what can you tell me about yourself?'' The lead actors came in and I was floored - one of my favorite directors, John Huston, was actually an actor in this film! But I was a professional, so I focused on my `` date'' and for the next 30 minutes over close to a dozen takes I said my single line to her over and over. `` Cut, thank you folks'' was called, and that was that. I collected my check, and we all went to check on the Release Schedule. Like anyone thinking about acting, I knew all about the strange `` Hollywood Curse'' as it was called when it first manifested back in the 1940s. According to the schedule there was only one more week of shooting, and then three weeks of post-production until the premiere. Per the guild rules I would receive another $ 200 every week until release to cover my expenses since it would be tough to find work. Because for the next four weeks, I was a smitten kid on a first date, and all I could say was `` So, what can you tell me about yourself?'' The price of fame, right? It was a price I was more than willing to pay. Actors has come up with a system to help - we all had business cards: `` Actor, stuck in post-production, please be understanding.'' And all around the Hollywood area people were more than accommodating, and it was bearable. But I'm still paying that price. Coming up on 40 years later, and I can not escape. Those four weeks dragged into months, and then years. Orson Wells, perfectionist extraordinaire, he just could n't finish the film. Hundreds of extra and many big name stars tried to organize protests, but it's tough to rally for a cause when you're stuck in a role. When Wells died in 1985, that's when the hopelessness really took over. Those of us who had managed to hold onto our sanity were pushed over the edge. My flatmate hung himself - I'm still not quite sure how, I guess his character would have done the same. By Christmas of 1986 there were only three of us left alive, the others just gave up and ended their suffering. But not me. Billy, he was too desperate to find love, and he'd never when consider suicide. My method preparation for this stupid background role had trapped me. Any time I came close to attempting suicide I'd find myself running up to the closest woman and saying `` So, tell me about yourself.'' And then when they would smile and politely tell me something, I'd ask the same question like a mindless robot, chasing them away with a mixture of confusion and fear. They passed the Wells Act in 1986, the one decent piece of legislation that former actor Reagan managed to pull off. It required that a movie be required to have a World Premiere no later than 1 week after production wrapped. Trial and error proved that it was the release that mattered, even of a rough cut, and everyone would be free. But it was too late for me. With the Wells Act the memory of our nightmare faded into the realm of urban legend. By 1990 I was the last surviving member of the cast. I keep hearing rumors, and supposedly there may even be a `` kicked start'' to raise money for a restoration and release but I have no idea what that means, and frankly I do n't believe it. No friends, no love... Christ I even had to give away my dog because you try screaming `` So, what can you tell me about yourself?'' out of your front door late at night. I've spent 40 years in this living hell and all I care about at this point is the release of death. And when I so die I hope there's a cinema in heaven or hell or wherever I end up. If there is, I know that The Other Side of the Wind will be showing, and there's a front row seat waiting for me. And I hope that Wells is there. Because as I tighten my hands around his throat, hands that will stay there for all of eternity if I can manage it, I want to look him in the eyes and ask him one simple question, over and over and over. `` So, what can you tell me about yourself?''
[ WP ] Think of how you would describe your personal philosophy of what is good and evil and is the meaning of life , in your own words . And establish a dystopian society has embraced this description of what they ought to do as their societies most important philosophical and cultural keystone .	The detractor was brought to the Hall of Appropriate culture. The judge of the Relevant and the Frivolous looked at the detractor with complete and utter hatred. `` So, Sandis, what do we have this time? Again vandalism? Oh, no, violation against clarity of language rules. From what I understood, you wrote deliberately obtuse things in deprecated and obsolete language and refused to re-work it to match guidelines of clarity? Is that right?'' `` It was poetry!'' `` That last word has been deprecated. And there is a good reason for it!'' `` Then provide an adequate current term for me to use.'' `` We did: violation of language clarity rules. Do you consider yourself guilty of it?'' `` If poetry is a crime, then I am guilty.'' `` That makes it easier. It is indeed a crime. Our society is built on clear communication, being deliberately unclear is seen as both an act of manipulation and deceit. You behave as if you can behave as if the obsolete times were not obsolete. You can not. We have been lenient for too long with you. I know that you think if you try enough of the violation of clarity of expression thing, you will make people change. I have bad news for you: People were disgusted. I owe it these people to stop being lenient to an obsolete person!'' The trail was short and the guilty person was punished swiftly. The person who deemed himself an artist, a painter and a poet was put into chains. He was forced to pay his debt to society for his vandalism and unclear speech: he had to work, muzzled and by his clothing declared a manipulative entity, in a sweatshop, making the uniforms that were now mandatory to wear every day.
[ WP ] A fantasy-rpg protagonist suddenly finds himself in the middle of a 64-player Battlefield 4 game .	I feel.. different. I woke up from sleep amidst a battle, in new clothes, in a different world. All my powers are now gone, leaving me weak, scared.. Here, they battle using rods with a handle which fire different projectiles at huge speed, `` guns'' they call them. They also manage to fly, using some kind of winged apparatus, from which they release bombs. People fight from armored vehicles, to protect themselves. It seems as if that everything on this world has the purpose of killing and doing harm to other. I could not explain to myself how these things worked, except for pure magic. From the moment I came there has been constant battle, people dying, explosions. There is no peace. I seem to be only one here that confused, everyone else has a clear purpose: that of killing each and every person of the opposing side. Although our team is united, I do not understand how they could all be so determined to kill, without a cause apparently.. Is this what they call hell? I always used my powers for the good, never to harm. I trained hard, and all for the purpose of doing good. But the Gods are not satisfied of my work, so they sent me here. Is this just another challenge that I must get through, to prove my will and strength? I do as others now, I kill every person that is on the opposing side. I will get through this, the Gods are just challenging my perseverance..
[ WP ] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain 's armies decades ago . You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism .	I give to you a story in eleventy-one words... ‘ How could you let him go to the rally? ’ ‘ Let him? He ’ s a man; he does what he wants. ’ ‘ A man? He ’ s sixteen, a boy. ’ ‘ When the government set age limits for our kind, boys became men. ’ ‘ They ’ ll kill him! ’ ‘ Maybe. But the predictions… ’ ‘ Don ’ t! ’ ‘ People flock to him. They follow him. They safeguard him. He is theirs as much as he is ours. ’ ‘ No! He is mine! My boy! ’ ‘ What do you propose? Restrain him? He won ’ t listen. ’ She bowed her head. ‘ I ’ m scared too; I want to protect him. Yet, something tells me he ’ s meant to protect us. ’ He paused. ‘ I believe in him. And I will follow him. ’
[ WP ] All voting is now done via a smartphone app , rendering all congressmen obsolete . Bills and presidents are now voted on directly by citizens . Your phone buzzes an alert at 3am and wo n't stop . This must be an important one .	VZZZZZZ VZZ VZZZ VZZZZ VZ VZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ VZZVZZ VZZZZZ VZZ VZZZZZ VZZZZZZ VZZZZ VZZZZZZZZZZ VZ VZ Most Votes would conform to your phone's alert settings, but this one was overriding with some annoying, syncopated pattern with the occasional hideously harsh beeping noise. The government must really have needed everyone's attention. ALERT! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY POLL. THERMONUCLEAR ICBMS HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED BY THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EN ROUTE TO THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS. THERE IS NO TIME TO EVACUATE. THE MISSILES WILL ARRIVE IN 15 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A TEST. I gazed in horror at my phone. Everyone had always said America was backwards and behind the times, especially when they would n't even adopt mobile voting. But this... This was like a living nightmare. Nobody seriously believed America would break out their stockpile of fusion bombs. I glanced at the list, and sure enough, my city was among the targets. WE ARE CURRENTLY ATTEMPTING TO CONTACT THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FOR NEGOTIATION. WE ARE CURRENTLY ATTEMPTING TO DESTROY OR DISABLE THE MISSILES IN FLIGHT. IT IS HIGHLY IMPROBABLE THAT EITHER OF THESE WILL HAVE ANY SUCCESS. I looked at the choices. RETALIATE: Launch all thermonuclear weapons toward major cities of the United States of America. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action will render the USA incapable of further nuclear aggression, but it will likely snowball into a global thermonuclear war, which will result in nuclear winter and the end of human civilization. STAND DOWN: Order all armed forces to do nothing and lock out missile control centers. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action prevents the escalation of thermonuclear conflict; if other nations stand by their treaties and alliances, America will be the target of a series of nuclear strikes by the EU, Russia, China, and Japan. Global thermonuclear war is still a possibility, though less probable than in the event of retaliation. DO NOTHING: Allow automated thermonuclear protocols to be enacted, autonomously launching a salvo of thermonuclear ICBMS toward the capitols of every nation capable of nuclear fission. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action will undoubtedly result in global thermonuclear war, nuclear winter, and the collapse of human civilization. THERE IS NO OPTION NOT TO VOTE. A VOTE OF NOTHING IS A VOTE FOR GLOBAL ANNIHILATION. IF YOU DO NOT VOTE WITHIN _10_ MINUTES AFTER READING THIS, A HALF-VOTE IN YOUR NAME WILL BE CAST FOR `` STAND DOWN''. -- - Edit: If enough people are interested, I might be convinced to demonstrate the results of each vote. Edit 2: Alright, there they are. These probably are n't terribly accurate for the modern world, but a world with mobile voting is either a decade or so into the future or a different timeline altogether.
[ WP ] Halloween is over . The monsters are sad .	It was around 6 pm and the two were packed, dressed up and mostly ready to go. Leo's little brother, dressed as an alien and visibly irritated, was dangerously approaching the age of finding the whole trick r treat thing stupid and leaning towards egging houses or else with the rest of his peers. Leo, dressed as a werewolf, had been pretending to hate taking his little brother out for candy for the last couple of years, in reality only he enjoyed it but needed a kid beside him or risk looking like a 16 year old dork or even a creep. Leo got his mother's ear for the past week, telling her that his brother should n't roam around, since kids just lose their shit on October 31st. ''Like you knew!'', his brother shouted, as a couple of his classmates passing by took a photo of him in his ridiculous alien costume while laughing.''You have never'lost your shit' on Halloween. All you do is trick r treat like a little kid''. ''I'm done'', he said as he was ripping off his alien apparel. He took off. Leo howled, Halloween was over.
[ WP ] You 're a retired Pokemon trainer . One night after a few drinks , you wonder what would happen if you used a Pokeball on a human .	I was only 9 years old when my journey to become the very best came to a sudden end. After capturing all the pokemon in my local town, beating seven out of the eight offical gyms in the region, and leveling up a legendary team; not to mention taking down several minor criminal organizations, I was done. I'd had my five minutes of fame, or rather, my five months. I was ready to take the hard earned pokemon dollars ( ₱ ) I'd accumlated over that time, find a wife, settle down, and start making babies. However, I had a couple decades ahead of me before I needed to focus on all of that. I still had time to live a bachelors life. Winter was coming, and I needed to find a place to rent, something I'd never had to worry about during the summer of my Pokemon adventure. When I was a trainer, it never seemed like it rained or that the Sun ever set. Now that I was unemployed, it seemed like it was always raining, and the Sun set too fast. My own mother had disowned me after I had come back home after only five months on the route. `` You're a disgrace to this familys name!'' she cried. `` Who ever heard of a pokemon trainer as young as yourself retiring? Usually they wait until they're at least 10, and at most, 11.'' In that way, I lost my regular joint to crash. My mother had always told me I was welcome home at any time on my journey, and on the blue moon occasion that I did return, she would always greet me with a full smile and a warm meal. Now, I was all alone, by myself, behind the counter of a bar I did n't even know existed until that afternoon. Since pokemon training is a profession exclusive to minors and licensed practitioners, bar's were always hidden away from routes a trainer could potentially take. After I quit, it did n't take me too long before I discovered them. Now here I was, sipping away at my bottomless vodka, waiting for nothing in particular. `` Alfred,'' I said, in my drunk stupor, `` what do you think would happen if someone used a pokeball on a human?'' Despite my slurred speach, Alfred was able to make out my crude words. He was my only friend, being the one who served me the drinks. `` Ya' know, if you're really curious kid, I could tell ya.'' Alfred yawned. Immediately, I sat up on my stool. `` You know?'' I asked, surprised. `` Of course!'' Alfred said. `` I was young like yourself once, you know.'' I studied his face, hard. Alfred and I had only known each other for a few weeks at most, but I felt like I knew him better than my own father. I could n't believe he'd been a Pokemon trainer in a past life. `` Really?'' I asked him. I was dying to know now. It was no small question I had just asked him. It seemed every trainer had asked themselves this question at some point in their Pokemon quest, but none of them had the guts to test it. `` Yup.'' Alfred said, then lowered his voice. He did a full sweep of the empty bar with his eyes, checking the alleyway outside to see that we were all alone. `` Listen, I've never told anyone, but since we're friend's I'll suppose the secrets safe with you.'' He leaned over and wispered in my ear. My pupils dilated, my heart started beating faster, and I broke out in a cold sweat. `` Alfred,'' I said, rising to my feet. `` My job as a Pokemon trainer is n't over yet. I've got a Pokemon to catch!'' As I ran out the door, I could hear his response ringing out through the night. `` Good luck kid! I knew I could trust you!''
[ EU ] Frank Underwood crosses paths with Walter White .	& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I do rather hate the West. The heat here is dry, barren, and the people unwashed, far removed from the Capitol. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; It's too nice. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; But, if you move further South, where the heat broils, things start to become familiar. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I take it you are the one called Heisenberg?'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Representative.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Like good, cold, hard business. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' A pleasure.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Cut the crap. We're here to talk.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I like him. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Now, Mr. Heisenberg, you may or may not know how popular your little blue crystal is with the sludge on the Hill. Pervasive as there is red and white.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' You're not here to buy meth.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' You're right. I'm here to propose an alliance.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I have all I need here, what can you give me?'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Not a flinch. A true businessman. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' The DEA turning its nose away. Smaller appropriations for the border. Free reign.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Seems rather generous for a two-bit congressman.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; A tough sell. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' The People demand order on the border, Mr. Heisenberg, and while the hippies in Colorado smoke in joy, there is still a war afoot on drugs. As the biggest game this side of the desert, I need you to keep things quiet for a while. Your protection, should you agree to this deal, would be written into law, your tax dollars finally put to work. Generosity for generosity.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I could blackmail you for this, Rep. But I am guessing you know that.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He would be king at poker. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I do n't, but the NSA do. As miserable Congress may be, I assure you that the instruments of this government are already set to topple your burgeoning empire as surely as you could shoot me with that there gun in your pocket.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Then as condition, I need your word that I can deem whatever necessary for protection.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' As representative of The People, that is my job. Anything for you. Your men. Your family.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; We're finally shaking hands. Good. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Your daughter.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ah, there goes his hand. That's what a man's face looks like when he realizes he's in no partnership. When two power brokers meet, it best to not give anything away. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Get the fuck out of here.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; As I said, they got nice people here.
[ Image Prompt ] The tear in the sky	Nobody really knows how it started. At first it was a mere a speck in the vast blue sky, but it grew. It grew fast. The headlines exploded with stories about this anomaly,'The Tear in the Sky' was what they most commonly called it. Everywhere you went people were talking about it, putting in their two cents on what they though it was. Religious figures addressed it as a sign of the forthcoming judgement day... of course. They never missed an opportunity to instill the fear of God into their believers. Astrophysicists initially speculated it to be an effect of intense radiation from some far off supernova, but something told me this was... different. All of the eyes of the world were focused on the Tear in the Sky. It was strange. Around the time the speck was first noticed, when it started gaining traction in the media, every person I came across had a distinct lack of motivation. All the energy in the world seemed to be diffusing through the tear. It was more than strange... unnatural. I set out to research the matter, which was unusually difficult as everybody I contacted was seemingly apathetic towards anything other than the tear. With perseverance, however, what I found made me panic. A record number of sick days being taken, worldwide. A record number of suicides, worldwide. A record number of missing persons. World. Fucking. Wide. The gears of society had ground to a halt. The worst part? Nobody cared. The small few that did, those who tried to speak out, were drowned out by the inordinate talk of the tear. I needed to find somebody to talk to about this for fear of losing my mind. I picked up my phone and called Ben, my best friend since we were kids, he'd be able to think rationally and help me create a plan of action. No answer. I tried Nick. No answer. James? No answer. Shit. I knew that I had to make sure they were alright, it was unlike them to be out of reach from their phones. I quickly threw on a jacket, grabbed my car keys and ran outside to my car. Once outside, I heard no birds chirping, no sound of cars in the distance, just unearthly silence. I noticed Steve, my neighbour, out in the street stood deathly still and looking to the sky. That's when I saw it. Something slowly emerging from the tear. Something big. Mere seconds after I saw it, the silence was broken by a deafeningly loud low-pitched sound like a horn on an enormous ship, coming from the sky. Then the invasion began.
[ WP ] Your friend is a superhero . Your friend is also very , very drunk . You now have to try and stop him from revealing his secret identity .	“ I ’ m not drunk yet you dumbfuck, I just like sitting on the ground, ” she protested. “ Jeez! I haven ’ t said anything, ” replied Creg. “ Yeah yeah… but you thought it, you sneaky… you, ” said Sarah, closing an eye and shaking an erect finger in front of his face. “ I ’ m sorry Creg, she ’ s a little on edge tonight, don ’ t mind her, ” I intervened, grabbing here by the armpits and leading her away. “ Hellooo you! ” she turned her head to me, “ wan na see somthin cool? ” “ No I don ’ t, and you should be careful about what you ’ re telling people ” “ Oh relaaax, I ’ m in control ” she replied, “ ayoo you! wan na see something cool? ” she yelled through the room to a group of men playing pool nearby. “ Yeah baby, show me your trick and I ’ ll show you mine later ” said one of them while playing suggestively with the cue. “ Ugh! I know I won ’ t save YOU if you ’ re ever in danger ” she said more to me than to them, before finishing her forth drink and sitting at the bar next to me. “ I ’ m tired man, tired of keeping it a secret! I want some recognition, ” she started, “ hey, another please ”. “ I know. ” “ I want to blow people ’ s mind like I blew yours years back! I can do some pretty cool stuff y ’ know ” she said with a smile and a stress on the letter “ t ”. “ I know. ” That ’ s when I heard screaming behind my back. And from what I gathered from the scene, it seemed as though the man playing pool earlier had received ball number 8 right on his. Squatted down, his hands between his legs, and threatening the guy holding the cue, it was quite comical. When I turned back around, Sarah had a smile on her face. “ Nicely done, ” I congratulated her. She smiled through her glass of whisky, then started to laugh and spilled her drink on her chin and shirt. “ Not that skilled, huh? ” I teased her. “ I ’ m serious man, I, I, I want people to know! I want to amaze them, and I want to be able to say “ No douchbag, I won ’ t date ya ‘ cause I already know how vile you are ” rather than making excuses ”. She paused briefly. “ And I could be a star, people would ask me for selfies and autographs and I would be stalked by paparazzi b-b-but I would send them flying in the air when I would prefer privacy ” “ You really have some interesting life goals. ” “ I want to be admired, and maybe doctors can study me and I could learn how to share my powers, then I could give you some ” she said turning to me and grabbing my forearm, “ and we could be the Menstruating Heroesses –yeah, I just invented that, or whatever you want to name our gang. ” “ We ’ re a gang now? ” “ We aren ’ t, but we could be. I ’ d love to be in a gang with you. We would party like no one has ever done it before. And by the way I ’ m developing a new power: I create new words bitchacha ” she said while getting up, throwing out her chest and lifting her hands in the air. “ Ayo, bartender, wan na see hikes wan na see somefin cool? ” I hoped he didn ’ t hear her, but he approached us smiling, rearranging his hair behind his ear. “ She ’ s going to show you her magical power of throwing up on people, you shouldn ’ t encourage her ” I interrupted, trying to get him disinterested. “ Wouldn ’ t be the first time. ” He replied, still smiling. “ Aaaw, he likes you! ” said Sarah, putting her elbows on the bar and her chin in her two hands, while looking successively at him then at me. “ I ’ m sorry man, she ’ s hammered ” I said getting up. “ Aaaw, he ’ s thinking about kissing you neck, then... ” she tried before I dragged her out of the bar. “ He was cute, ” she protested. “ You ’ re a dumbass, you know that? ” “ Meh, ” she replied, while stopping a taxi that was passing by. We climbed in the car and I gave the driver my address. Sarah put her head on my shoulder and started to calm down. “ I love you, y ’ know? ” “ I know. ” “ Ai man, do you wan na see somthin cool? ” she said to the driver before passing out.
[ WP ] You are the best assassin out there , you never get caught or leave any trace behind you and people respect you for that , In truth , you never killed anyone , any target you set your eyes on just die by accident or natural cause .	`` You're an ambitious man. With a mark like this, you should move up in the world.'' I said to my newest customer. We sat in a dingy pub on my side of town, the atmosphere always sets the rich customers on edge, gives them a sense of caution. I do n't like being too frilly with my business associates. I work in a dark profession, and they have dark desires. Once I fulfill those desires, then our contract is complete. No more, no less. Because of this system, I have yet to reveal the reason to my expertise to anybody. My name is not important, I am simply the world's most successful assassin. I know this, not only because I've never been caught, but because the kingsmen do n't think I exist. On occasion, they hear snippets and whispers in the taverns of a killer in the city, but no more. Rumors of a beast who is made of shadows and tales told in hushed tones of a man who will kill a king for enough gold. And as luck would have it, that's exactly what I'm doing. The man I'm sitting across from was a wealthy noble, standard stuff: second son of a lord, and hellbent on obtaining the throne. The only difference was that this man was Lord Bayront, and he has been very successful at staking his claim to the crown. There were only two people between him and the throne: The king himself, and Lord Bayronts brother. And in exchange for enough gold to make the Solnari Traders drool, I was tasked with removing both of them from the equation. `` I've heard that you are reliable and discreet with your... line of work,'' Bayront said, after giving me his proposal. `` The very best, and that is what I need.'' I nodded of course, this was my own reputation after all. There was only one problem: I'd never killed a man in my life. Strange thing for an assasin to say, do n't you think? Ever since I started in this business, anybody I've wanted dead simply... Died. The first time this happened, somebody gave me twenty coppers to kill his wifes lover. I was hiding outside their window, waiting for my time to shove a knife in his throat, when he suddenly tripped and smashed his head against the window sill. I waited, confused at what happened, and giddy at my fortune. I quietly loped along the streets back to the man and collected my hard earned bounty. Each mark after this has met subsequently suspicious, but perfectly explainable ends. A banker who slipped in the tub, a stingy prostitute who liked choking a little too much, and a Lord's hound master with a particularly famished set of hunting dogs. As the years progressed, my pockets grew deeper, and my clientelle diversified. I was moving up in the world, and my assignments showed this. A Lords belligerent son, The duke of Wrenhaven, and the Portmaster of the Capitol city of Runaar. Each mark seemed to die rather unexpectedly, be it a heart attack, or a bad piece of mutton. And after years of working in my field, I sat here with this paragon of Lordship, plotting the death of his brother and king. `` You understand the price of what you're asking?'' I said. Bayront replied by placing a heavy leather bag in front of me, a soft clink on the table indicating its contents. `` I think this should suffice.'' Bayront said, eyes showing pain at parting with that amount of money. After looking through the bag, making sure that everything was there, I stood up, and began to leave. `` Thank you for your business, Lord Bayront. and I wish you the sincerest condolences about your brother.''
[ WP ] The Mansion	`` Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man, no time to talk!'' Peter Hernandez felt no shame as he sauntered down Peak's Avenue singing and dancing to his favorite jig. Hip action was extreme and several small children became frightened enough to run home and ask to be confined to their rooms. But Mr. Hernandez did n't care. This was the route that he took each morning from his socially acceptable apartment to his dead end but no less enjoyable job as a dental hygienist four blocks away, and he had not changed this path since before the millennium. Something else hat had not changed since N'SYNC was popular was an ornate yet modern-style mansion located exactly halfway between Peter's work and apartment. In the decade since he had moved to the area Mr. Hernandez had not once seen the gate or garage door open. No workers were ever seen, yet there was never a morning where the grass had not been cut or the snow had not been cleared. The sun always seemed to smile off of the windows and marble architecture. More strangely, no one seemed to know who lived there. Its occupants, if it were occupied, had never been seen around town. Every inquiry made as to the legal owners revealed only that it was the property of the Vermont Philosopher's Society, which was additionally strange since it was located in Oregon. But Peter Hernandez had no particular curiosity about the house. Certainly he was aware of all the speculation that came up during slow evenings at Lila's Bar, but it never occupied his thoughts otherwise. His brain was usually too filled with thoughts of upcoming book club meetings, Fall Out Boy's latest album, and the tight little blonde who worked at the bakery next to the dental office. That day, however, those things would lose their priority. As he strolled down the sidewalk listening to his portable music player Peter fell flat on his face, foiled by a squirrel who had tripped him while dashing out from the bushes which separated the street from the iron fence surrounding the mysterious mansion. As he regained his feet he noticed something which he would have otherwise been oblivious to. The front door was open. A curious sensation filled Mr. Hernandez's heart and feet; he tingled with the excitement of having a story which might finally impress that blonde while concurrently being scared out his fucking mind at what he may find. He had heard the speculations that it may be occupied by a coven of vampires, or ghosts, or homosexuals, or even witches; and though they were intended to be entertaining and not taken seriously he could not shake them from his mind. Nevertheless, that blonde was attractive enough to motivate his nerves so he opened the surprisingly unlocked gateway and walked up the path to the front door. He stepped inside. The inside of the house was just as ornate and unnaturally preserved at the outside. All of the lights were on, and incandescent light refracted through multi-colored crystals on the central chandelier. The furniture and decorations were indicative of no style in particular. A large wooden statue of a Native American chief juxtaposed a framed tabloid cover featuring Taylor Swift's affection for Taylor Lautner, and both were near an old painting of a European king and a jade ornament from ancient China. Objects equally as curious as these adorned every applicable space in the atrium and the living area beyond, though it did not seem cluttered. As Peter Hernandez moved though the house, peering into bathrooms, bedrooms, and even a ballet studio, he encountered no one or any evidence that anyone actually lived in the house, despite the pantry being full of steak sauce and the refrigerator being full of various meats and animal products. As he remarked to himself, the amount of bacon was staggering. He had almost finished searching the entire house after twenty minutes, discovering nothing about the owners, when he came upon a final door. For the first time since entering the building it was dark. The door opened to a set of stairs that led down to a basement. There was no visible light switch, something which he had been unable to find anywhere in the mansion, leaving him to suppose that they were hidden for aesthetic purposes. After retrieving a flashlight that he noticed in the kitchen, Peter cautiously proceeded down the stairs. By the time that he reached the bottom almost no light from the doorway was left, meaning that he had only the flashlight for illumination. Unlike the rest of the house the basement was n't decorated with reminders of the world's histories and cultures. It was barren, though well cared for. Three passageways led away from the initial room, but there was no light to indicate what lay at the end of each. A strange sensation had taken hold in Mr. Hernandez's stomach which had nothing to do with his recurring intake of bad Thai food. Choosing at random, he took the middle path. The darkness was deafening, and Peter kept spinning around to check if anyone was following him more times than he would have liked to admit. As he walked the passage seemed to grow wider and perpendicular hallways began to intersect his chosen route more and more frequently. At last, after several minutes of walking he came to a large iron door. Feeling more terrified and more recklessly curious than he had felt at any other point in his life he opened it. No sooner had the door cracked open when he felt strong hands grab him from behind and force him quickly through the door. As he fell to the ground he heard the door close with a terrible finality. Without the adrenaline which was now gushing though his body Peter would have been unable to force himself up and to ignore the throbbing pain in his back, knees, and right shoulder. However, doing so did nothing to alleviate his fear. He found himself standing in a room lit by hundreds of candles and surrounded by a dozen figures in sleek black robes and hoods. No one said anything as Peter's heart raced and he raised his fists up, preparing to defend himself should they attack. One of the cloaked people lowered their hood and revealed her face. Peter nearly fell over; her paleness and terrible beauty seemed to radiate control over him. The flickering candlelight revealed he eyes to be jet black. Her voice possessed a supernatural hissing quality. `` Do not fear, human. Your time has come. Through the ages we have been called many things: wizards, vampires,'' She bared her teeth, showing enlarged canines. `` alchemists, immortals, even gods. But we are so much more. Are you a Christian, human?'' Peter nodded his head slowly. He could barely move, and certainly could not speak. The woman continued. `` Then you should know that Lucifer and your precious Trinity are dead, overcome by the same daemons that they had led into decay. We are the angels of God and the legions of Satan broke free. However, we do not yet have strength enough to conquer this world. For that we need soul-matter.'' Mr. Hernandez found that it was hard to breathe and that his legs did not seem to work. `` But we can not simply take it. It must pass willing through the veil for one of us to seize it. And unfortunately for you you have done just that. When you opened the iron door you crossed over onto the other side of the coin'' Peter tried to brace himself in defiance but the daemon crossed the distance between them but with a thought. There was nothing that he could do. ``... and I am hungry.''
[ WP ] You randomly get transported to another planet and find the locals are plotting to attack you , but are cautious as they do n't know who you are . You realize that whenever you say someone 's first and last name from earth , they are transported and appear beside you .	`` Jesus Christ!'' I exclaim in surprise. Dozens of people suddenly materialize around me. Many of them are very hefty-looking Cubans. Some of them are carrying weapons. Well then. `` Jesus?'' I ask with trepidation. All of them nod their heads and confirm. I give it a shot. I have one hope. `` John Smith! John Johnson! Jim Johnson! Dwayne Johnson!'' I yelled out as I blurted out names that occurred to me. Common names, and also names of famous bodybuilders and buff actors. My best friend also ended up there, along with twenty other people who had his same name. Hundreds of people showed up, almost all of them being confused as hell. The people who were approaching me at first already buggered off. Maybe Stephen Hawking can figure out where the hell we all are.
[ EU ] Deadpool breaks the fourth wall and says `` Hey , I could use some help here ! '' You nod in agreement . Deadpool says `` 'Bout time I got your attention . ''	I quickly hit the B on my keyboard to bodyslide back to Avengers Tower, and spent the next hour examining and replacing most of his gear. In addition to respeccing his power points according to a raid build I found on the Marvel Heroes forum, I gave him a Cosmic Grim Reaper medallion, a better-rolled Advanced Metasensory Array, an insignia with some great critical and brutal damage on it, and a `` balloons on brutal strike'' visual element for his costume. `` How's that?'' I asked. `` Better,'' he replied. `` The balloons are a nice touch.'' `` Well then, let's try it out,'' I nodded, hitting B again to transport back to the Cosmic Odin's Palace terminal, for yet another run on Kurse. `` You know, you probably play this game too much,'' Deadpool informed me as he decapitated a dark elf. `` Yeah, I'm aware.''
[ WP ] A man can revive a life as many times as he 's taken one . Caught committing one act , he ends up committing the other .	I'm crying before I even open my eyes. Shooting pain from my leg jerks its way up my back, making me convulse. Making sense of the situation, I open my eyes and, instinctively, first look at what's causing the pain. I lift the deflating airbag to reveal that the car has engulfed my legs. I look over my shoulder to my younger brother, sat behind the wheel. He stares me dead in the eyes. A post from the fence he had driven into, runs from the pierced windshield, through the airbag, and into his torso. `` I'm going to die,'' he says. He reaches an arm behind my head, and rests it over my shoulder, comforting me. `` I'm trapped- my leg is trapped- what do we do?'' I say, panicking. He continues to stare at me. Thinking clearer, I try to comfort him, `` It's not your fault you crashed. I should n't have taken you for a driving lesson and allowed you to go that fast. We're- echk'' I yelp as he swiftly moves his arm from my shoulder towards him, squeezing my neck, choking me. Growing up, we used to find dead insects, beetles and spiders and things. I used to watch in astonishment as he crushed the insects around the dead bug, and how it would always jump to life and scurry away. When he was thirteen, I took him out with my air rifle, and we walked to some roadkill I had spotted earlier that day. We climbed into the roadside ditch, and brushed aside reeds until we spotted a frog or toad or newt, which I let him shoot with my air rifle. It took us a long time and many dead frogs, but eventually the tire marks disappeared off the roadkill, we saw it get to its feet, shake itself, and hop away. These were the memories going through my mind as I tried to kick my crushed legs in panic, clawing at my brother's arm. I could n't turn my head to look at him, and he did n't make a sound, but I knew he thought if he killed me, the post protruding from his diaphragm would disappear and he could climb out of the car unscathed. The way he stared at me, moments earlier, when I turned to him after the crash: it was n't a look of regret for what he was about to do. Nor was it a look of farewell, as he knew these would be our final moments together. It was a look of hunger.
[ WP ] A man is born without the need to sleep . What does he do with all his spare time while the rest of the world is asleep ?	Curious. That is the nature of humanity. People are curious, and I am curious about them. How can they lay motionless for so many consecutive hours? There is so much to do in this life, but everyone chooses to pretend as if they're dead for eight hours a night, or day, or whenever, honestly. The time is irrelevant; sleep is inefficient. It is lazy. But what about dreams? they ask me. Dreams are where you can live out a life you would n't otherwise be able to live. Dreams are fascinating, terrifying, and inspiring. Dreams are where our imaginations are not constrained by the confines of reality -- they are where space and time are nonsensical, and you can have a banana for an uncle, but it would still make sense, because it's a dream! I admit, this dreaming thing is the most curious of all things to me. Reality is all that I know. I have walked from shore to shore, and swam from beach to beach. In the night time, I have raced the yellows in my Maserati, which I was able to purchase after my insight into stock and option trading -- something I professed over the course of a few nights. I have written sonnets to the sunset, and odes to the sunrise. I have been told that I am a true virtuoso at many musical crafts, but it is only because I do not waste time `` sleeping.'' But dream... That is something I've not done. To a man who has done everything, there is little mystery that I experience anymore. If sleep is the cousin of death, then is suicide the permanent form of a sleeping pill? I do wish to dream. I do wish to dream...
[ WP ] 200 years ago a complex was built into the continental shelf that was to be completely self sustaining . 25 years after completion those residing in the complex are shut off from the rest of the world .	When the Chamber opened at the onset of the twenty-second century, the climate was increasing at an alarming rate. What began as a scientific think tank quickly turned into an entirely self-sustaining community. Construction of the Chamber continued into its second decade and became one of the largest and longest underground research centers in known history. By the time of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Chamber's opening, the Director -- along with approval from the entire board -- closed off the Chamber to outside contact, effectively declaring its independence from the European Union and the Kingdom of Britain. Thirteen days later, thanks to the effective devices set up by the first researchers, the Chamber read an increase in cataclysmic events around the globe. The glacier's collapsed, ice caps melted alarmingly fast, and coastal regions were flooded within weeks. By the time of the Chamber's tenth year of isolation, the world was entering a new Ice Age and the Chamber, hidden beneath the now thick layer of ocean, was safe and sound. For a hundred and sixty-five years, the Chamber and the people residing in it, stayed silent. For more than six generations, the world above ravaged itself. Humanity turned against each other for a little bit more food, or fuel, or a car that could get them south. Those unlucky enough to reside on islands ran underground, following the Chamber's example and digging deep into the crust of the Earth. Nations fell, entire civilizations collapsed, people died. In that, small communities rose, people banded together in the Metro systems of London, across the entire British Isles. For six generations, they told tales of the Chamber and their shining example. They told of us a world underground that we could emulate, a world that was like the Old one, without destroying Earth in the process. I was seventeen when the ice cracked. Myself and about a dozen others were out on a hunt, tracking a heard of caribou that made themselves onto land and were about to cross the Old Channel. We had a group amount surrounded, taking our final shots with guns of the old age that needed more and more care as the Earth tried to heal itself. We were learning to live with Nature, rather than to forge a path through it. We were told the stories of the Old Age, of the massive machines and the connection of an entire world. Now that world was an ice sheet and we believed billions had died. That changed when the ice cracked. Out into the channel, right as the rest of the herd disappeared onto the horizon, a black machine plowed through the ice. It landed on the thick sheet and dropped heavily, shaking the legs beneath us. As the leader of the hunting party, the matriarch of this group, I readied my weapon for what was to come. The Chamber was a legend lost to time, but as the machine inched ever closer to us by the rumble of its wheels, I began to believe in more than just legends. It stopped a snowball's throw away and the front portion of it dropped open. My weapon raised, I shouted into the distant, speaking loud and clear, `` Who are you?'' The voice that answered was strong, `` A friend.'' `` By the name of?'' `` Leon. I've come a long way. Me and my people.'' `` You've come from below?'' `` Yes. A way down, from a long time ago.'' `` I am Charlotte.'' `` Yes, I know. Matriarch of your hunting party, and all two hundred of your people back into the Metro.'' I had lost my tongue and my hand shook as the voice grew into a figure, and the figure grew into a crowd of men and women. They were large suits around them, fur and material I did n't recognize. And the man in front, Leon, wore something in front of his eyes. He stopped and we stared at each other. `` I am not your enemy.'' `` You are not my friend either.'' `` Like you, I lead my people. They call me Director, a variation of your own title. I come from an age lost to time. And to the ice.'' My hunting party no longer moved behind me, the meat they cut from the dead caribou freezing in their hands. I stared at the Director for some time, remembering the tales my parents had told me. These men and women, some as pale as we were, looked entirely different. They were larger, more intimidating, but they had no weapons. They knew that too. `` It used to be called the Chamber before the ice froze us beneath the world.'' The story ran through my mind. Leon lied. `` You froze yourself off before the world froze you.'' He smirked, then said, `` Then the stories continue.'' `` Legends until today.'' `` Do legends normally stand in front of you and have a conversation?'' I smiled at then and my gun lowered as his friendliness overcame my instincts. `` We do n't want to hurt you, we simply want to come back. Into the world. Help it get back on it's feet.'' `` The world's a big place. Why start here?'' `` Because here was once the center of a Kingdom. And that Kingdom had an Empire.'' Leon took a step forward, `` And I believe that every Empire needs a Queen.'' I raised an eyebrow at that word, Queen. He noticed. `` The lineage of royalty runs through blood. Your tribe, one of the last remaining of the city we once called London, which housed a Queen, may still have royal blood.'' He smirked, `` A Matriarch may still live in your tribe. And I believe that it is most likely you.'' ____________ Leon became a friend. Then a mentor. Eventually I learned everything there was to know about history from his own historians. I learned of the world before the Ice, moreso than any legend could teach me. Then I learned of the world, of politics, of the connection on a global scale. Then he told me of the Kingdom of Britain, of the Queens who led them for hundreds of years. He took my blood, his people receded into the Ice while he stayed back. They arrived again a few days later, with more men -- men with weapons -- and with more people. They called me Queen, said my blood descended back hundreds of years and for that, for the liquid that made me live, I was to be the next Queen in the line. I was to lead the Empire Leon obsessed about. We joined forces, my tribe with his. United hundreds under the banner he had dug up from the archives. I visited the Chamber, took in it's technology and learned how to use it. I learned how they studied the Earth, how they knew they could come back to us to live on the surface again. I learned how it self-sustained itself, and how, even six generations later, they continued to expand. He offered me sanctuary, a place to begin the Empire again. He offered me his hand in marriage, to be King in title, to solidify the union of the people who survived on Earth, and of the people who were frozen under it. I obliged. Our ceremony was short, sweet, and purposeful. There may have been love, idolization on his part perhaps. I was Queen after all, and his people seemed more obsessed about that fact than my own. I grew older, led tribes across the Isles, brought gifted men and women to the Chamber to learn and grow just as I had. The other frontiers-men, with Chamber-men, began to rebuild the cities. The first time an electric light had lit up the sky in a hundred years. The Chamber grow. The City grew. The Empire grew. Five years later, the Kingdom controls the Isle again. Leon and the Court of Chambermen believe it is head to what is now a frozen tundra and what was then, the rest of the European Union. We have the power, refurbished weapons, a steady supply of men, women, and food. And more than anything, we have machines of the past. Five years later, I lead a war party for the first time in my life. I lead to conquer the rest of the globe. And to finally bring the Earth together. I lead to finally conquer her entirely and unite the lost Empire once more. __________ More at /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs! Thanks for the prompt!
[ WP ] Two teenagers agree to get married if they do n't have a significant other by the time they 're 35 . For the next twenty years , one of them tries to sabotage the other 's relationships .	We had grown up down the block from each other, I always thought of him as a cousin, even though there was no blood relation. He was a couple of years younger then me, so the thought never even crossed my mind. As a pre-teen, he was annoying with too much acne. By the time I was 20 and he was 18, I realized he was man. He had grown taller, his acne cleared, and he had put on some lean muscle. Our familial bond made him easy to talk too. Having a heart to heart one night, we made a pact: If neither of us is married by the time I'm 35, we would get married. But life has a funny way of working out. The very next year, he met her. Miss Perfect. I struggled through college meeting anybody and then she comes along. We hang out as a group and even I ca n't help but love her. She's gorgeous, smart, funny, and incredibly kind. I could see it on his face, he was totally and hopelessly in love. And it shattered my heart. I spent the next year watching their relationship deepen while my own love life failed miserably. Miss Perfect would try to help by setting me up on blind-date after blind-date, but none were as good as he was. Then the worst day of my life, the day he proposed to her. Miss Perfect was over the moon. He was over the moon. I pretended to be over the moon for them. Of course, Miss Perfect asked me to be in her bridal party, `` I ca n't imagine not having you apart of this day!'' The night of her bachelorette party, it finally clicked. I would never have this. No one, besides him, had even ever thought of the idea of marrying me. While all the girls were playing silly drinking games, I kept handing her shot after shot. By the time we finally made it to the club, she could barely stand. While at the club, I worked the room. I found a group of guys and told them she was so unhappy about having to have sex with only one man for the rest of her life. That Miss Perfect had told us she wanted one last crazy hoorah, a gang bang. They were down for it. I slipped them her hotel room key and followed the girls back. Miss Perfect had wanted a room to herself, something about being a light sleeper. I patiently waited in the next room, waiting for the guys to enter, cell phone ready. When I heard the `` party'' start, I busted into her room, cell phone recording and yelling, `` How could you do this to him! He loves you!'' She looked into the camera, tears on her face. The guys were not the ones I invited. It was the bellhop from earlier. Just the two of them. It took me a second to realize Miss Perfect was n't so perfect after all. I immediately called him. He did n't want to believe me. I sent the video. His heart broke. It may take him a while to recover, but we're still on in a few years.
[ TT ] Some heroes refuse the call to action . Your hero laughed at the call , kicked it into the mud , set it on fire and pissed on the ashes ... and yet somehow , still became the hero	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) Faith marched through the encampment with angry tears in her eyes, her doeskin boots sinking into the slurry of mud and horseshit that made up the main thoroughfare through the camp. Men armed with Pre-Arrival weapons and makeshift guns were busy pulling down tents and saddling horses, an aura of desperation hanging about them as they tied down canvas bundles onto wagons and dog drawn carts. Most had gasmasks hanging round their necks or else tucked into a ready satchel. Many had scavenged armor to protect their torsos and limbs, bulletproof vests and bite-proof gauntlets while a few had shirts of chain mail or scale in addition to makeshift shields. They wore the clothes most commonly to be had in this Post-Arrival year of 32: buckskins and wools paired with whatever scavenged and mended Pre-Arrival clothes they could get their hands on. Cotton fabric was increasingly hard to come by. The soldiers ignored her, save for one burly man who shouted for her to clear the way as he urged his team of horses through the sucking mud. Faith did so, her heart breaking at the sight of the underfed, overworking animals pulling the load. A few questions and a young apprentice's pointed finger took her in the right direction, the accents changing until they became familiar to her. Some five more minutes of walking brought her to her destination, the pair of sentries at this portion of the encampment weakly smiling as she passed by. At the center of the camp was a man in his mid-thirties, his dark brown hair going grey prematurely. He wore clothes and kit slightly better than those around him, a skeletal weapon she knew to be a Sten slung over his shoulder. He was speaking to several other officers, a mapcase in his hand as he pointed and spoke in tired but determined tones. `` I want Able Company to head out in two hours, after which Baker and Charlie Companies will follow with the wounded and supplies. Dog will remain here until nightfall and then head out towards Toledo-'' `` Flint, a moment please,'' Faith heard herself ask. The man glanced up surprised, but any emotion was quickly hidden hidden behind a mask of duty. Faith had experience with that. `` Gentlemen,'' Hilary Flint said, an unspoken order to leave Faith and him alone. They filed away, hurrying to their orders. `` Flint what's going on, why are the humans are packing up? The battle has n't even begun.'' Hilary Flint, Brevet Colonel of the 24th Volunteer Battalion nodded gravely. `` Exactly, we're getting out while the going's good. Who knows what'll look like tomorrow.'' Faith stood stunned, trying to believe what she just heard. `` But Flint, my people, we're putting everything we have into this battle; if we lose, we lose everything. Our homes will be defenseless, our fortresses empty of protectors and stores. The lives of thousands of my kin hang in the balance.'' `` Faith, this is n't our fight. We agreed on the idea that the Republic of Michigan would ally with the Northern Houses with the idea that'd just be orc bands we'd be fighting. Not one of your princes mentioned anything about your Dark Kin being here. We're not going to lose what's left of our homes to dragonfire and Blight. I'm sorry, Faith, but I'm not going to lose friends and family in what amounts to a civil war. General Monroe was already given the order. The 1st Brigade is already on the march and the 2nd and 3rd are gon na be out by dusk.'' `` And what about you Flint? Do you agree with it?'' Hilary Flint glanced away, as if searching for an answer in the sky. `` Whether or not I agree does n't matter. I have my orders. I'm sorry.'' With that he turned and marched towards the line of horses, pulling himself into the saddle and riding off towards the command tent in the center of the camp. He was careful not to look back at her.
[ WP ] We find out that wi-fi / cell phone signals have been giving us cancer all along .	32.3000° N, 64.7837°. At least that's what I think are the coordinates. A private, man-made island rests somewhere with approximate relation to Bermuda. The last known GPS data on this island is sketchy at best. And after the epidemic, I lost all hope of being about to track the island with precision. Telecommunications infrastructure is now considered a blight on mankind by most of them. Most of us, I suppose. The fact that gps satellites had no role in the whole matter does n't make a difference. If it emits any kind of radio wave, it must be destroyed. I knew of the plot all along. I'd even been to the island a few times, though I had to take the drugs before the flight in. I was not yet in the inner-circle, but even my position on the periphery of the organization was immensely coveted. My title was Vice-President of Business Development - Emerging Markets, but in reality, I was a glorified account executive. My friends in business school would joke that I was born in an Armani suit. My father loved telling people that I mastered the businessmen's hand shake before I could say his name. Sure, I had the kind of good looks and arrogant charm that get me laid a lot in college. But I knew that I was above my element in this company. Someone mistook me for someone that I was not, and before I knew it, I found myself in the back of a meeting with the most powerful people on earth. The oligopoly of the telecomm industry had been made out to be some sort of axis of evil for years. A cartoonish gang of everything socialists warned you about capitalism. But these people were n't diabolical bad guys. Nor where they mindless profit drones, another cliche worn to death. They were scared rabbits simply trying to bury themselves deeper into the earth to escape their predators. Growth and liability had reached a critical mass that no numbers guy could solve. And underneath it all, these men and women had families of their own to protect, too. We knew of the research early on. For every single public study put on by some underpaid grad student at a public university, we had a hundred experimental groups helmed by the best researchers money could buy. First the issue was deemed `` inconclusive,'' then as the inconvenience began to rise, it became labeled an `` area of interest.'' At around that point, several unrelated projects brought me into another division of the company for awhile. I arrived at my last role with the company around the time that the research was referred to only as it. It was neither a truth or a lie, but it was accepted as a problem for immediate attention. The company procured the island as a means for the task-force to meet in secrecy. Of course, it was never addressed that way, either. My role as a liaison in `` emerging markets'' became one of silencing our out-sourced research partners, particularly those in India and China. Our organization had ways to silence people. It was merely an administrative task to ensure that our methods were carried out to full standards. If there remains a researcher alive that could speak on a single set of data about it, there is no doubt in my mind that doing so is the last thing that individual would be compelled to do. It's almost too obvious to mention that the data from these projects has been wiped and reformatted from existence one hundred times over as well. My last visit to the Island could have been my time to gain acceptance into the inner circle. It had been hinted in how my security was handled. Two steps were cut from my arrival procedure. But then I let it slip. They found out about her. The woman I had been living with for the last few months. A woman they would militarily classify as a civilian. An accountability none were willing to afford. They could have killed me right there. It would have been no more difficult than crushing an ant into the pavement. But it became a loose end on both ends, given my connections to the outside. Banishment was decided upon as the cleanest way to deal with me. A ray of light woke me in my bed the next day as if I had only slept past my alarm on a normal day. And they were right. I had my moment to tell the world. My information was limited, but vast compared to those on the outside. But I never did, and never will. I saw nothing good in my future coming of it, only the good of others. And they knew this. I had persecution on all sides coming my way. I do n't know how many lives I could have saved, or if any of the true inner circle of my former organization would have been brought to justice. But my silence ensured that the island somewhere off the coast of Bermuda remained hidden from the rest of the world. I lost the only living thing that mattered to me a week ago. The only woman I never deserved, but would have given anything for. Even if I had told her about it, I could have never been with her or stop what happened to her. I put an expiration on our relationship the moment I took that flight to the island. The island located somewhere near 32.3000° N, 64.7837°.
[ WP ] First line : `` They say that in the city you 're never more than six feet away from a rat . ''	`` They say that in the city you're never more than six feet away from a rat.'' Notice how it's always `` they'' say? There's never a he said or she said, it's always got to be a `` they''. It's like we're just supposed to believe that somewhere out there, `` they'' know that you can never be six feet away from a rat. Well let me tell ya, you could look a man dead in the eye and still not know if he's telling the truth. I could tell ya that I'm a superhero and you would have no sure, 100 % way of knowing if I was telling the truth. I could look you in the eye and say I was with your mother last night. Sure, you would know that I was probably just making it all up, but with it comes a little twinge of fear that maybe I am telling the truth. Look, the thing that I'm trying to get at here, is the first rule of Law says that; Someone could tell ya that you're never more than six feet away from a rat and they might be the rat.
[ WP ] Write a story that 's just one giant pun .	This one may be a little bit obvious, but it was the first joke to come to mind Setup: It was a tribe on a faraway island. Few dared to travel there. Birth rates were high, but cannibalism was fairly common too. The island dwellers knew some about the outside world, and decided to ask for help from private detectives in lowering their cannibalism rate. Their tribe, their way of life, would be gone in a few years if they kept killing and eating each other. The Crime: One detective was sent out to do fieldwork. He started the case as you do any case, interviewing anyone with information that's willing to give it. That included the 23 remaining islanders. Few had much information. It was a few hours after the interviews started that the PI heard a scream. Soon after, silence. The detective rushed over to find a bloodstained bit of sand, and running along the beach, then turning to the jungle. Another set of footprints simply ran away from the murder site. There were no signs of where the killer took the body after going to the jungle. 14 people were in the main village when the detective was interviewing them, leaving 8 possible murderers, and 1 victim. The Investigation: For the sake of simplicity, and because the detective could n't pronounce their names, he assigned those not at the main village each a number. 1-8 were possible killers, 9 was the victim. Six, a teenager, was curled up in a ball, crying, repeating to himself, `` Mom... why...'' Further investigation revealed nine, the victim, was the mother of six. A few villagers had alibis, but they were n't quite airtight. During the interrogation, The 14 innocent islanders searched the island for any sign of a corpse. One was found about a mile away from the blood splatter. It was inside a cave that no villagers were very familiar with. The only way they found the body was following a trail of blood. When they returned to tell the detective, he questioned the suspects, which denied knowing of the cave. Six finally snapped out of his mumbling and sobbing. He said he was with his mother on the beach, enjoying time together, when a man came out, and swung at nine's mother. The hit was fatal, and the killer swung at six immediately after. He ducked, screamed, and ran away along the beach. Six refused to point out the killer, as he was afraid of being murdered by that person if exposed. Fortunately, seven walked past six, and six ducked back into a ball, then slowly emerged. After thinking for a moment, the detective called out, `` Wait, I think I know who the killer is!'' The villagers looked eagerly, waiting for an explanation. The detective simply said: `` Why was six afraid of seven?''
[ WP ] Tell me a classic `` evil stepmother '' fairy tale ( Cinderella , Hansel and Gretel , etc. ) . Make me sympathize with the stepmother .	Inga stood on the porch, her arms braced against the strong wood railing of the cottage. Despite the heat, she pulled the thin shawl around her as a gust of wind tossed pieces of straw and shattered crops across the house. The crops had never stood a chance, the green tops baked in the sun and cut by the wind the moment they poked above the soil. More dust blew in every day, the ground cracked and broken from the drought. Putting the shawl over her lips, Igna coughed. She wheezed. The dirt scraped her lungs and turned her throat to chalk. Tiny flecks of blood stained the gray shawl as she pulled it away. She touched her lips and stared at the red stain. Despite her attempts to isolate her little family from the sickness, it had infiltrated the woodcutter ’ s cottage. Inga stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind her, banishing the wind and the dust. She stirred the broth over the stove, and tears fell down her cheeks. Her husband had made done well during the drought, trading window shutters and well-fit doors for the food now worth more than gold. Autumn was only a few months away, and with it, the drought would turn, and the trappers would come down from the mountains with food to spare. The family gathered at the table, and Inga smiled as the passed around the bread, making sure to keep her lips tightly closed. She ladled the soup into the bread bowls, and the children ate it happily, their cheeks rosy with food and health the villagers scorned and coveted with their hungry eyes. Inga touched her step-daughter ’ s head gentle as she passed, the corn-colored braids soft to the touch. She settled into her seat and joined her family, but the shawl mocked Inga from is place on the wall. She might not make it through the winter, and, cooped up with her inside the cabin, her husband and the children would be at risk. Inga made up her mind. The berries were coming ripe in the forest, and the tall tries would shield those inside from the wind and the famine and disease. The children could hunt. The children could gather, and, if loaded with furs and blankets, they could survive, and return before the snows fell. It was only a few months, and, by then, Inga would be better, or she would be dead. She met her husband ’ s gaze, and the woodcutter ’ s face darkened with concern. He could tell something was wrong with his wife, and his worry stabbed Inga to the core. It could almost kill him to send his children away, but, their deaths would guarantee it. She would give him the choice tonight: kill her or send his children away. With the plague and the drought, the famine and the villagers growing more desperate every day, there were no other choices. The loss of a wife or the loss of a child would bide them time, the villagers sympathizing with the woodcutter ’ s sorrow instead of hating him for his prosperity. This time tomorrow, someone would be gone. Whether it was Inga herself or Hansel and Gretel, the woodcutter would have to decide. -- - -181
[ WP ] It 's the coldest Christmas Eve in history , and a poor family is out of coal for the furnace . The only child in the family has 24 hours to get on the naughty list .	My family does n't earn much and what little we have goes to putting food in our bellies and a roof over our head. Christmas is the one time of year where I get a gift something that's for me. I spend 364 days a year being the perfect child, I probably make the textbook definition of a good kid look bad. If I were dead, I'd be a Saint. And this year, old Scrooge cut Papa's pay. We could barely afford food and shelter, much less warmth. Father kept apologizing to me, he was sorry that I'd have to lose this Christmas to keep us warm, to get coal. I did n't say a word, I knew it had to be done. But the question still remained unanswered, what single dastardly act can ruin 364 days worth positively amazing behaviour? I racked my 12-Year Old brain. There were no misdeeds I could do at home that would n't affect my family even more. I could n't break the dishes or waste food, everything we had was limited. I could n't steal or ruin someone else's garden, not without risking my parents having to pay for my crime. I was stumped, how was I, a mere child, perform a dastardly deed yet do so without risking anything? I felt helpless, all I had to do was be naughty, yet I could n't. I pondered endlessly all morning, coming to the conclusion, if I could not perform a single great misdeed, how about a dozen smaller ones? After some further deliberation, it was decided that I'll cuss like the saltiest sailor till Santa himself comes to spank me. I sat in front of my frozen hearth, cussing and cussing all that afternoon. The night grew long as I repeated **** * ** ** for the 12,402^ ( Th ) time. There was a sound of bells and a soft thump. And right before me sat a man in a bright red suit. He said, I know what you've been doing, and I ca n't say I'm pleased, but it was for your family so I'll let it slide. Here is your gift and check your stockings. He winked and tapped his nose, zooming up the chimney in a flash. I pushed the gift aside, caring not what lay within and ran to the tattered sock I called my stocking. Within lay a piece of coal and a little note. It read, though small it seems, I can assure you that it's all you'll need. Father was perplexed the next day as the coal burned brighter than anything before it, and never died out.
[ WP ] A new theory of quantum mechanics leads nations to pour trillions into research grants , but scientists quickly resolve all mysteries , effectively completing physics . With limitless resources and no problems left to solve , bored scientists spend their time and money on less practical experiments .	My expirement originally started as a simple expirement to determine when life starts. I used a contraceptive and a time machine to determine the exact moment in time, but something went wrong. I had just finished my third jhenhintenix, and was not in sound mind. I went back in time and inadvertantly Caused my Great grandfather Zaphod the 4th to never meet his wife. All of a sudden a guy appears near me and just calls me a total waste of skin cells. I informed him I used to be president of the galaxy. He just stared at me with eyes that let me know how little he cared. As he finished talking to me, the results of my time paradox kicked in and I slowley faded into nothingness. I guess he was right. I am am Zaphod the nothingth.
[ WP ] You enter a living arrangement where you get to live in a nice house for very little money as long as you do n't open one door in the house . One morning you notice the door has been opened and left cracked .	My heart sunk as I approached the door to investigate. I could feel the sweat on my forehead starting to form. I felt like I was being watched as I inched closer and closer to the door. Every second felt eternal. My heart rate had skyrocketed at this point. As I reached for the handle to the door, I heard a cough behind me. Chills went down my neck. I looked behind to find a man in his pyjamas holding a fresh mug of coffee. He was the agent who sold me this house. Turns out he was living in that room for free all this while.
[ WP ] On his death bed at 217 years old , Old Man Ricketts cheated death again .	`` You ever met Death, boy? You ever talked with him, laughed with him, bargained? I have. This one will be my eighth time meeting the fucker. `` You want to know how I got out of it? Shut up, it was rhetorical, I know you do. Well, my boy, I'm gon na let you in on a little secret. There's more than one being out there. Everything you're told about the One True God is a lie. There's a lot of'em, and all of'em want something. You just got ta find it. The trouble is, I'm running out of Gods to talk to. I'm running out of use for them, because I ca n't do what you young fuckers can. You've got your fitness, I've got my wits, but wits only get you so far. Well this time, I'll be talking to the one who still needs someone like me, and I'm gon na try and get out of it again. Now fuck off and leave me to die in peace. I'll be back before you can arrange my funeral.'' We buried him on a Thursday. He'd had a better innings than anyone ever had on this planet, at 217 years old, he was the record holder by some 80 years. Ricketts was, honestly, the most bitter, resentful and horrible person one could have hoped to meet, but you could n't help but admire him. The long standing line for his attitude was that more than two centuries could make a cynic from the most innocent of people, Ricketts more than most, seeing as he was born a cynic. After our last conversation, my great-great-great uncle had fully expected to come back to this life, had hoped to live out more than his ample years, but after a week, he had n't shown, so we buried him. The nightmares started that night. At first, I was just falling through a black empty space, but somehow everything around me was like sludge - like falling through treacle. I twist, turn, try to get a sight of something, but nothing is forthcoming. This goes on for more than a week, and then it changes. There's a light I can see, but I do n't want to go towards it. There's something that does n't feel right about it. It's unnatural, it does n't belong here, I should n't be seeing it, much less falling towards it. I'm falling, but am I? I'm moving upwards, but it's a force that's pulling me. That's when I hear Ricketts' voice. It covers me, not like a blanket, or anything comforting, but it invades the whole space around me, it probes at my chest, it fills my head. It's not a sound, but I hear it all the same. It's gibberish, I ca n't make out the words, but it's unmistakably him. I wake up in cold sweats every night. I fear sleep, but I always succumb. I've tried everything, tablets, remedies, homemade potions and concoctions brewed up by the worst kind of people. Ricketts knows. He's slowly driving me insane, but I do n't know why. There's no rhyme or reas- I'm looking at myself. My body is frozen, but I am moving. I float around my body, and the sheen of sweat is visible all across my chest and face. My eyes are stuck open, but there's no life in them. Internal panic starts. I do n't know what's happening. This is n't normal. Am I dreaming again? No, I can feel way too much, and there's no falling here. My eyes snap to attention, but they're not my eyes. They look directly at me. `` You're mine now son. Chaos has a job for us. I would say sorry, but I feel better than I have in, oh, about two centuries,'' Ricketts' voice fills what I assume is my spirit, or whatever my current form is, `` but if you'll excuse me, son, I've got a job to do. Chaos does n't like to be kept waiting...'' [ Edit 1 ]: Format and a little spelling.
[ WP ] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall , and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers . He stops , looks directly at you and says , `` You ... You 're interesting . Do your friends know what you are ? '' You have no idea what he means .	'' You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are? `` I looked up from the paper I was reading. The fellow was on fire, not too unusual a thing, but seemed to be speaking normally despite, well, being on fire. I looked down to the floor where he was standing. Thankfully, it was n't combusting. I looked back into the eyes of the angry customer. While there was in fact a literal fire in his eyes, I had seen worse. It was the holiday season. I've already been through Black Friday. I have been working every day for the past month, some of which should've been overtime if my employer were n't a jerk. And as of now, I have no ability to make up a pleasant story - nothing to make even the most disgruntled customer happy. I'd probable be fired soon if my boss would dare hire anyone to replace me. So, honesty as the only option. `` An employee at a discount electronics store who is steadily regretting his decision not to complete his electrical engineering degree?'' The demonic figure somehow glowed in colors I knew fire would n't produce without a few extra chemicals - blues, greens, etc. He frowned violently. He spoke in words not unlike what you might experience if you were to overdrive your computer's fancy speakers: loud, somewhat tinny. '' YOU are the own who will process my return! `` The demon slammed a laptop onto the counter top. It clearly was a model we sold. It was also clearly quite melted or burned in a lot of places. Ugh.... Alright, stick to the script, otherwise the boss will complain to you. `` I might be able to help you. Did you happen to purchase the warranty?'' '' I was given this in exchange for a mortal's soul! `` Oh, hell no. I am not processing a return for a product that was part of a'trade'. This product could be hot. I mean, stolen hot. Not just the literal hot. It is slightly warm to the touch as I push it back to the customer. `` I'm sorry, sir, but unless you have proof of warranty or a receipt, I can not process your return.'' '' This is the last place I could possible exchange it at! I MUST have my exchange! I hate problem customers... `` Listen, sir, I can hook you up with a new laptop, but I ca n't offer any trade in value for this one you're bringing in. It's... literally on fire. I'm going to have to ask you to stop it from smoking right now due to company policy.'' The demon runs his finger over the smoldering laptop and the material solidifies into a disgusting burned plastic. Barring the touch of smoke the stunt he pulled took, it has stopped smoking. '' I agree to your terms, mortal. But I must ask you a question...'' Oh, for pete's sake.... `` Certainly sir. How can I help you?'' '' Do you have a senior citizen's discount? `` Uuugggh.... `` Yes, sir, 10 % off, with proof.'' The demon cackles as he pulls out a purse from who knows where and produces an identification slip from the last century. '' Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha! Victory is mine! `` I examine the slip and nod. I head around the desk to where the laptops are located and gesture for the demon to follow. `` Right on, sir. Let's see what kind of laptop you want today. May I interest you in one of our warranty programs?''
[ WP ] The skies are clear , yet it continues to rain .	The news came out over every medium. It was surprisingly devoid of actual information. The President of the United States addressed not only his citizens, but the whole of us as a planet. He apologized. He would n't say what for. He simply....kept apologizing. And apologizing. And apologizing. Repenting & apologizing to everyone & no one. None of us were comforted. It raised so many questions & answered none. One thing I knew for sure, he was real damn sorry. I had had enough. It was a nice enough day & so I stepped outside to look at my woods & my lake where I taught my daughter to fish. I suppose it came in handy soon enough. I walked toward our boat, laying down in the back. Staring at the sky. I looked to the sky for answers without asking a question. I just kept looking at the sky. Until it opened up. Rain fell from a bright blue sky. Just a drop at a time at first. I had hardly noticed. When it turned to a drizzle, I took note. A cloudless abyss of baby blue above. Rain was falling through it. Weird weather. That's what I told myself. I changed my tune come nightfall. The stars burned bright as ever in the deep country sky. Rain fell from them too. Little pinholes to another world, leaking into ours. Blinking. Burning. Leaking. Drowning our farmstead. That was 3 months ago. I've been sailing between mountaintops made into islands for the last few weeks. Diminishing islands. The rain has stayed steady. I suppose there's a measure of comfort in that. The sky's still blue & the rain still falls. There's always a small animal gathering crowed on the peaks. Retreating. Surviving. Their last refuge. Mine as well, I suppose. I hunt the last creatures of Earth while my daughter fishes. She wants to help. I come back with a few squirrels & birds. Fewer each time. There seem to be less creatures on each peak I find, but we have to keep moving. Perhaps if I find a mountain high enough, I'll find where the rain falls from. Perhaps if I find a mountain high enough, I'll plug those holes in the night sky. So here we are, on the last island I can find between the horizons. Our boat, the last boat, moored to the last tree on the last mountain peak in the sky. I see the whole of it receding into the blue below as it rises to meet the blue above. I hold my daughter in my arms, laying on our backs, watching the rain fall. Watching the rain fall. And the sky is blue. And the rain is black. And I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

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