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[ WP ] A story about rooms .
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Their modest lawn did little to downplay the extravagance of their home which easily dwarfed its neighbors dozens of feet away. A new minivan pulled into the driveway and the doors quickly flung open. Mr. Haschwitz, his wife, and their four children climbed out and walked towards the door. Rummaging through his pockets, he found a small key tucked between the folds of his wallet that matched the lock on the front door. The children giggled and fought as their parents stopped breathing for just a moment, the moment in which the key slid into the lock and the door gave way with a slight turn.
Before their parents could step inside, the children ran screaming and yelling through the door, their tiny hands forming fake pistols and airplane wings. Behind the children the two adults followed, begging their kids to be careful and quiet as they stared at the colossal stacks of boxes awaiting them. Early morning quickly faded to late night as the children lay exhausted upon the couch, their minds occupied by a haphazardly installed television and a movie that they had seen countless times. Though they had not completely finished unpacking the boxes, Jim and Tara thought it would be best to set the rest aside for the next day. Meeting in the living room, they found the exhausted younglings collapsed into a pile. Gathering them up, they whisked them to the hallway where the grand unveiling would take place. There were few things the children enjoyed more than a choice and this would be their biggest choice yet.
“ Okay kids, remember how we said that you had a really important job to do? ” their mother began. “ Well, it's finally time for you to do your part. ”
“ You guys have been so quiet the past couple hours and let us get everything ready so, we have a treat for you ” their father continued. “ Tell me, what do you think is different about this house? ”
“ It's not our house ” one of the children quickly replied to the slight amusement of her parents.
“ Well, it is now ” her father replied.
“ What makes you think that it's not our house? ” the mother questioned, hoping that it would lead them in the right direction.
“ My room and my stuff is n't here ” she responded, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“ What if I told you that you could have any of these rooms here? All that you would have to do is just pick one? ” Mr. Haschwitz queried. “ *And* you do n't even have to share. ”
Their faces lit up as though they had just been told that Christmas was coming early or that it would even come twice this year. Three of the children quickly sprinted up the stairs as another, the smallest, clung to the bannister. The trio above ran from room to room, finding that there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a closet and an empty room that looked bare and bland. The three argued amongst themselves over the sizes of the rooms and who deserved the largest, a conversation that ultimately came down to their age and authority.
The first room, closest to the stairs, was claimed immediately by the eldest child. It boasted an old shag carpet, fancifully painted walls and a hidden space within the closet that made him feel like a spy or a hero with secrets to keep. One room had an abstract wallpaper that was rather unpleasing to look at, but it held a window that overlooked the entire yard and a smaller patch of soft carpet that tickled their toes. This was enough to increase the value of the room in their minds though there was a room greater and a room that offered far less. The greater of the remaining rooms had wooden floors that were just slick enough to slide across, a slight ledge built into the wall where one of them could rest, direct access to the bathroom, and it was of a reasonable size to boot. The least of these rooms, in their humble opinions, had no neat features, the walls were a stale white and the wooden flooring lacked wear. It was the largest and most boring room that they had ever had the displeasure to set foot into.
Squabbling once more, the children soon divided the rooms amongst themselves, leaving the least favorable for their younger brother who waited downstairs. Their mother and father eventually coaxed the boy to join the group and look at whatever room they had left. As his elders snickered, the boy walked into the large, plain room. He looked around wide-eyed, imagining all the things that he could do in such a space. Turning to his mother and father, who had quickly caught on to his siblings scheme, he asked if he could draw upon the walls. Looking at one another, the two nodded as the other children looked on in surprise. They agreed that he could do such a thing if he would only wait for them to prepare the walls first. The boy jumped up and down excitedly, running from end to end. The eldest child had a floor with full carpeting and a hidden space, one had a window to the world outside, another had direct access to the bathroom, and the last had a room that was only as lousy as his imagination.
-203
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[ WP ] As you play your guitar in a quiet park , you hear a beautiful sad voice singing along perfectly with your music , they introduce themselves as Lucifer
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I woke up that day, much as I had any other day. It started out no more special than any other day of my mundane life. My smartphone went off buzzing loudly in my ear as I reached out instinctive turning off the first of many alarm notifications that would follow. My first thought being the same as it had been every morning for as long back as I could remember.
“ Is today going to be different? ”
Not a question anymore because after asking myself the same question every single day for the last twenty years. I have come to realize that the answer is.
“ No today will not be different. ”
I will get up brushing my teeth, convincing myself that I will run a nonexistent run later in the day. Before I flip through my white under shirts, attempting to figure out which one is better. Even though my shirts are like my days, the same thing over and over and over again.
My soul yearns for something different but I am trapped sinking further into the quicksand of everyday life. I ’ ll go to work at a dead end job where I will be surpassed by younger yet to realize the futile of life version of myself. Mundane might as well be my name now.
I watch others that seem to take pleasure in watching a funny cat video for the hundredth time ’ pretending as if it is just as cute the first time as it was the hundredth time. I fantasize that the next time someone attempts to some me another cat video, I am going to take their phone and shove it down their throat.
I was about to walk out the door with those thoughts running through my head when I stopped. What if today, I did something different? What if today really was different?
I ripped off my work shirt, and deciding to be bold, I pulled out a red shirt. Grabbing my guitar as I make for the door, in a hurry so that I wouldn ’ t change my mind once again. I didn ’ t even know where I was going and I felt such a thrill at that thought.
When I first walked out of my front door the sun was shining brightly overhead. I drove around until I saw a park that I had never really noticed before. Parking I looked up now seeing angry black thunder clouds rolling in. I thought to myself, I am not going to let that detour me now. Moving into the park, I followed an over grown but once well-traveled trail. I walked for what couldn ’ t have been longer than twenty minutes. With wildly crooked grown trees with long slender branches almost looking like hands erupting from the ground.
Finally I came upon a small clearing with fallen tree in the center. The tree was black from rot and decay as it laid on its side. The stump was pristine looking and I squatted down planting myself upon it. I pulled my guitar out of its case. My fingers eagerly finding the strings, greeting them like long forgotten friends in a slow and soft melody.
I closed my eyes as my fingers worked up and the strings creating a song full of regret and lost loves.
“ I lost myself… But now I am found. ” A whispered raspy voice came from inside the clearing. I wasn ’ t sure I had heard the voice it was so soft at first I thought I had simply imagined it. My eyes shoot open and my hands stopped their gloomy motions. Before me stood a man, he was thin wiry with slicked back jet black hear. A pointed goatee, and he was wearing a button up black suit. What stood out most though was his eyes, they were a deep crimson red color. I jumped as lightening flashed overhead brightly behind him.
“ Who are you? ” I managed to slip a few words out.
“ Why did you stop playing? ” His words escaped his mouth laced with a smoothness, I had only ever hear about, never seen. I just stared at him not really sure how to respond to his question.
“ I. ” My voice cracked as I attempted to speak.
“ Never you mind that my dear friend. For I have come to give you something which you desire above all else. ” His smile was that of a used car salesman eagerly greeting his future costumer.
“ Friend? I don ’ t have friends? Desire? I don ’ t desire anything. ” I was getting annoyed with this fool now.
“ Oh you know me, better than you care to admit. I know what you desire deep down in the darkest recess of your heart. And I am in a unique position to be able to give it to you. ” He reached out his hands placing them on mine in a gesture of reassurance.
“ But… ” He cut me off before I could proceed with my thought. He knelt down so that our eyes were level with each other. Then he moved his hands to either side of my face holding me firmly in place so that I was looking into his eyes.
I saw my salvation in his blood red eyes. I realized that I had been up to this point was nothing but a lie. For I was meant for far greater things and this lovely, lovely man was going to allow me to fulfill my potential.
“ Look into my eyes. I know what you desire, I know the dark thoughts you have kept hidden from others. I know what you crave and I give you permission, go now, begin your work. ” A feeling washed over me unlike anything else that I had ever felt. I didn ’ t walk away from that encounter, I ran excited, for my life was going to be different now.
****NEWS ALERT****
Police are calling the series of murders the most brutal ever committed. At this time there are thirteen victims and no suspects. The only link between the murders is that the killer writes in blood on the wall.
“ I was lost… But now I am found. ”
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[ WP ] Write a story where the `` good guy '' and `` bad guy '' gradually switch roles .
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`` Jack Hansode, please step forward.'' The psychiatrist said to the deranged man in a straight jacket. This was the life of doctor Jensen for a good portion of his life He has been seeing the same patient for the past three decades due to the Doctor Jensen's high success rate of reforming mentally unstable criminals, and the one in front of him was the most persistent he had ever seen. Thirty years ago, at the age of 17, Jack's mind snapped, and he decided to take his father's hunting rifle and started shooting at people in his fathers workplace. It was Doctor Jensen's job to fix him, and to send him back into society.
`` Hello Jack, I am back. And how is your day today?''
``...''
`` You know, giving me the silent treatment will go nowhere. Please, open up to me. I want to be your friend, to understand you. Just let me in please.''
`` I know what you are doing. What you are all doing. I would rather die than submit to you.''
`` Hm? What am I doing Jack? Please, tell me, what it is in your mind.''
`` Do n't play innocent! This world, this society is a god damn sham! Everybody was changed by you! They are no longer humans, just dolls repeating the same actions everyday. I noticed how everyone who went to see you lost all emotion, and kept referring others to see you. I will admit, initially I thought I was the one going insane, so I took a gamble. The shooting was an experiment I did, to see how people would react to change. A rational person would scream, run, or attack me. Those freaks did nothing of the sort, and they just stood there, watching me while they were being mowed down.''
`` Yes, is n't it wonderful? The people of this city are finally at perfection! I added in a non violence order to each of them as well. Now, no one will feel anger, sadness, jealousy, or pain! It is the first step in a utopia!''
`` You disgust me. Here is a brilliant man who was able to comprehend the human mind down to the last nerve ending, and you used that information to destroy it. Without all those'flaws'' there can not be progress either. I swear that I will end you before you end humanity.''
`` I do not know if you will uphold thay vow. After I am done studying you, I will have the means to create a utopia. Guards, take him away.''
`` Damn you!'' The patient shouted, as he was being dragged away.
`` One day, I will comprehend his mind, and to him, this will be reflected upon as a rebellious period.'' Jensen thought, as he saw another person to be accepted into his utopia walk in.
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[ WP ] When someone dies , they get one last phone call to the living world .
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God damn it Freddy.
Why did you have to call me?
I know we have been best friends since kindergarden. You came right up to me and asked what I had on my shirt, flicking me on the nose when I foolishly looked down. We have been together for most of our lives, you even convinced me to rent a place with you when we finally got into college.
You were always fun to be around. You always knew what to say, always knew how to make the best out of any situation. You were one of the most clever guys I knew and probably will ever know.
I ca n't believe it happened. You left to go to some party, to go hang out with some friends while I was stuck at the house studying.
You call me in the middle of the night, except it is n't exactly you. Something is different, something is... wrong.
You explain to me what happend, how that drunk asshole crashed right into your car and walked away without a scratch while you were trapped inside, bleeding, until finally death came for you.
Out of anyone in the world why the fuck did you have to call *me*? I am doing exactly as you told me to do. I went onto your computer, and went directly into your documents.
You said there is a folder in there called `` Tax Refund Information'', and inside that the folder that I needed to select the one labeled `` 2013''.
Inside the folder you said there would be another folder, an invisible folder, which there was. You told me that was your `` stash'' and that I needed to delete it. Delete it to make sure no one would ever find it. You even warned me not to look inside.
I could n't help myself... *I had to know* what it is that you could n't even show your friend. *Your best fucking friend in the whole fucking world. *
Inside you had a single file. Just a simple video file simply labeled `` My Will''.
I *had* to click it, despite you telling me not to. I had to know what it was, despite you telling me to simply delete it. I had to see with my own eyes what you left behind.
[ God damn it Freddy. I should have known better. ] ( http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=dQw4w9WgXcQ )
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[ WP ] It ’ s your birthday and just before you blew out the candles on the cake you made a wish . To be able to do magic .
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It was my twenty-first birthday. It was a dumb tradition in my family, but hey, nothing wrong with seeing your family smile, and the cards stuffed with money definitely helped. Yours truly sat front and center in the dinner table, the birthday song being sung loudly, and off key, as the cake was placed in front of me. I decided that this year, I'd do something a little different.
I had n't made a wish in a very long time, so why not give it a go? My life was going well enough, why not try to make it just a little better? I'll tell you what I wished, it was something I guarantee you'd wish for as well.
*I wish I could use magic. *
Nobody expected the flames of the candles to jump four feet. Nobody expected the ice in their drinks to suddenly encase their hands. I certainly did n't expect the flames that came out of my mouth.
Needless to say, the party was over.
I chalked it up to too many drinks at the party, or that my breath was *just that flammable*. Until I went to work, anyway. My coworkers liked to prank me. Most of the time they'd just hide my keyboard, or move my chair away from the cubicle. No big deal, I just go get them back, or get a new one.
Not today. Today, it was post-it notes. Freakin' post-it notes! The audacity of these people! Simultaneous shouts sounded out through the office. Apparently all of my coworker's coffee mugs `` levitated, then dumped their contents'' onto their heads. I was the only one who's hair did n't reek of caffeine.
Coming home that day was atrocious. Stuck on the freeway, with nowhere to go. Perfect place for a car to die, right?
Right?
I sighed and opened the hood. I was n't a car person, not by a long shot. Time to call the tow truck. I had pulled over to the shoulder and, of course, *now* traffic wants to move. Halfway through waiting for the tow-truck, it became clear to me. *I could do magic. * *I* levitated the coffee mugs, *I* shot fire out of my mouth. As I was coming to this realization, I noticed a truck to my left.
It was doing about 90, and I did n't have time. I blinked.
There was n't any sound except an eerily familiar hum. I cracked an eye open, and my room greeted my hesitant gaze. How the hell did I get here?
Oh, right. Magic.
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[ WP ] You possess the very rare quality of being able to survive anywhere . Scientists have decided to send you into a black hole and , because you 're a badass , you agree .
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I had no idea what to expect. What if I get stuck somewhere? What if I can never make it back to Earth? Questions were racing my mind as my ship was nearing the black hole.
I'm starting to think that accepting this was not such a good idea.
`` Bravo, Bravo, you're 500 meters away from the hole, deploy, Over''
`` Bravo to Control, deploying, over.''
This was it. Hopefully these scientists knew what they were doing because I certainly did n't.
I press the big red button that has'deploy' written over it and pull the big leaver to confirm my commands.
`` Deploying in 3... 2... 1...''
The robot in my capsule said as I was launched 200 meters forward into the darkness of space, than I started feeling a strong gravitational pull towards complete blackness. No stars, no planets, no galaxies, this was it.
As I started getting pulled in I feel more and more nauseous. I felt my body stretching and shaking. As I was getting closer and closer the gravity of the black hole pulled me faster and faster. I hear'd complete mumbling behind strong static in my ear buds. I've lost contact with control.
Everything became blurry and I started getting tunneled vision as I was going speeds I previously thought impossible. I went faster and faster until I finally stopped.
I took me a few seconds to regain my senses but as I did I noticed I was in a peculiar looking room.
I turned around to see a man standing over me. As I stared at him my vision became clearer and clearer, only to see...
Matthew McConaughey
`` I've been expecting you.''
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[ TT ] The last library on Earth was a monolithic tower , stretching a mile up into the grey overcast sky ; cared for by silent machines of spinning brass and iron .
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It was evening in the tower, the sunlight coming through the windows shining a rusty amber. A scribe by the name of Paul moved to sort a recent acquisition from the badlands of Weston Park. This book, like many others before it, was to be interred in the diary section. Although most found the section to be the least prestigious and avoided working there if they could, Scribe Paul often came here willingly. In between tending to his duties, he often found it of value to ponder through the scrawled handwriting of many generations past. There was something enchanting about reading over the thoughts of a people he knew nothing about, who lived a life he would never be able to experience.
As he felt the rough, worn binding of the book in his hands, the sound of rough-shod shoes on metal grating came from around the corner of a bookshelf. As a shriveled old figure came around the corner, clad in green-fringed and well-worn robes, idle curiosity turned to rapt attention. With diary still in hand, he bowed deeply.
“ Senior Librarian, I did not expect someone to visit this section. My apologies, I have let my charges grow dusty. If you would wait but a moment ” he said, turning his head to search for the same oil-stained rag he used to clean everything
The shriveled figure held out an open palm. “ That's quite alright. I know that most days you are in here by yourself, so you can hardly be expected to do more than you already have. I have come for a different reason. Do you understand what we do, scribe? ”
“ We are the librarians. We fight to defend what is ours. By the salt and the oil, we see that it is preserved for a future generation. ”
“ And what does that mean? ”
“... I do n't understand, Senior Librarian. ”
“ Focus on the specifics. What you have quoted is, indeed, our mission. So what must you do to be faithful to our mission? ”
There was a creaking from overhead as something, somewhere switched gears. The bare light bulb above their heads flickered for a moment. Neither the elderly librarian nor the scribe batted an eye. This was how it ought to be. The shifting rumble made a little collected bit of soot drop on the elder ’ s shoulder. He brushed it off with a handkerchief.
“ Well, scribe? ”
“ Well, as I was going to say, sir- ”
“ Let's not waste time with honorifics. Simply tell me how you would interpret the words. ”
“ Our order is here to be Humanity's last Vanguard of knowledge. We preserve the written word, these condensed sums of information, so that when the time comes- ”
“ ‘ When the time comes, when the time comes ’. I do not begrudge you your misconception. We Elders should have stamped it out years ago. Though I suppose it is easier to forget here, as you are so far from the logic engines at the center of this Tower; the very heart of this Library. ”
“ I do not understand. ”
The Elder Librarians laugh was more of a wheeze than a cackle. Scribe Paul stepped forward to help support the Senior Librarian, though he was waved off. “ You were never meant to. Something of our old Romantic failings. When we chose to instruct the next generation, we chose to emphasize the words that were more, eh, palatable. ”
“ So what do you mean? Are we truly doomed, then? Will the time... ”
The senior librarian friend. “ I do n't know. It's a terrible thing not knowing. But the point you should be made aware of is that there must first be a future generation. None of this ‘ falling on your own sword ’ nonsense. ”
“ Are you asking me to forsake our vows, Senior Librarian? ”
“ No, never. ” He shook his head, smiling a wry smile. “ I would never ask you to do something you swore not to. ”
“ But you are doing that now, sir. ”
“ Yes. If that's the way you want to see it. ”
“... What is it that I must do? ”
“ You will be supplied with several carts and several other scribes within a week. It is your duty to prepare the books here for shipping to make their job easier. ”
“ Where are they being sent? ”
“ You will go with them. ”
“ To where, sir? ”
“ To the furnace room. ”
Paul grew pale.
“ Yes. I wo n't lie to you; it is exactly what you think it is. The furnace of the logic engines is growing cold. Now you understand my desire for secrecy, to come to you directly for this? Those engines are the only thing keeping not only this library, but this entire tower alive. The librarians that live to see that happening will truly be the last of our order. ”
“ Surely there is- ”
“ No! This is exactly what I meant by Romantic failings. All of us here would love to believe that there is still a little coal left, or some lumber. It is all gone, though. We have removed the wood from the tree, and the home, and this store, and from the walls of every building and the piers on every shore. We either do this, or there will be nothing left to inherit this library's knowledge. ”
“... Has this happened before? ”
“ A few times. Those still old enough to remember do not talk of it. It is necessary to use the sections of the library the logic machines do not directly curate. Otherwise, they get... testy. ” The senior librarian seemed to shift uncomfortably.
“ I ask that you give me some measure of… solace before I do what you ask. ”
“ Of course, of course. It is important that we do whatever we can to remain heartened in these trying times. ” With that, the senior librarian turned to walk away.
It was only then that Paul noticed that his thumb was pressing quite tightly into the binding of the most recent diary. He walked over to a table beneath the nearest window and set it down. From up here, the terrain somewhat blended together. A molten, melted medley of greys and reds painted the ground, indistinct. “ Is there truly nothing left? ” Paul asked aloud to no one but himself.
“ Oh, one more thing: if you should give in to despair, then I will be sure to pass on the mention that you wished to be cremated. Everyone must pull their weight in these trying times, you know. ”
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[ WP ] You are the world 's first Pictomancer , with the ability to touch a picture and make it into reality .
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His cheek was warm under the touch of my fingers, and I drew breath sharply at the realization. After so long, he was here in front of me, living and breathing and as beautiful in the flesh as I'd imagined. I knew he would n't last - the most complex never did - but minutes together was better than a lifetime apart. Against the drab colours of reality he seemed so bright and vibrant, too perfect for this world. I cupped his cheek, his gaze resting on me with uncertainty and confusion. I'd always loved those eyes, as blue and beautiful as the late spring sky.
`` I love you,'' my voice trembled and I realised he would probably not understand my tongue, but the relief of finally saying it caused the worlds to spill thick and fast. `` I've loved you for as long as I can fathom. You do n't know me, you do n't know this world, and you never will,'' I paused as his gloved hand touched mine, and from the gentle light that began to radiate from him I knew our time was running short. Pulling his face in close, my voice dropped low and wavered with tears. `` But I want you to know you are brave, you are loved, and you are never alone,'' my words dissolved softly into sobbing, as the only thing I'd ever wanted began to fade back out of my reality.
I knelt down and picked up the box from the floor, tracing the artwork on the old cardboard lovingly with my fingers as if it was the finest painting in the world. I had the gift to make anything I wanted, but it would never take me there. Sighing and wiping my eyes I replaced the box back on the shelf next to its brethen, where it would stay until I could summon the energy to do it all again.
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[ WP ] A woman comes into the same diner every morning , orders the same meal , and always leaves without eating a bite .
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`` Table 16, skinny, usual order chef.''
The waitress relayed the same phrase to the kitchen everyday for the past 7 months.
`` Order up.''
The chef passed the plate of brown toast and a glass of tap water through the hatch with a sigh. It was n't an exciting breakfast to make and he knew it would only go in with the scraps anyway but he obliged still every day. At least he could find solace in that it was n't a complete waste of a meal, besides, it was a good way of using up the stale bread - not as if she'd notice eh?
The waitress laid the solemn looking breakfast in front of the lady and went back to the till to voyeur from a safe distance.
The lady methodically cut the toast in 16 equal pieces, a usual part of the ritual it would seem. Pushed the plate away from herself and gazed out of the window. Her movements and expression did n't give away much but there was a melancholy aura around her. She took a sip of water, gulping hesitantly as if the motion of swallowing hurt.
She looked back at her plate and reached her hand towards a fraction of the toast, as if she was really going to go for it but pulled back at the last second. Another part of the'ritual'. Shaking her head, she stood up, holding her hand against her body and walked out, head down, avoiding the waitress at the counter.
`` Did she go for it this time?'' The chef called through the hatchet, hearing the door ring as the lady left.
The waitress pulled herself away from the counter and turned back to the kitchen.
`` Naw, I really thought she was going to try today though.''
Edit: removed `` Of course at first it was `` Brown toast and tap water please chef'' but as the routine developed the working staff at the diner became familiar and the'skinny lady's' habits became ingrained to the working morning.'' after'for the past 7 months'
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[ OT ] Want to be read ? Post your best story here then come back and comment or critique on at least one other story .
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Prompt: You are a doctor that found a way to stop your aging process, to keep suspicion to a minimum you start and end the lives of different aliases as you need them. One day someone says they recognize you from 300 years earlier.
`` I know you.'' I immediately dismiss it, not even breaking stride, moving efficiently through the wounded in the tent making notes about the treatment each patient needs. I sighed and stopped by the bed of a civilian that had lost part of his leg. The heat inside the tent was oppressive, seeping into my bones, causing my knees to ache. I was overdue for my tonic again, I knew in another three hours the pain would become unbearable again. `` It is you!'' The voice pierced through my thoughts and forced me to come back to where I was. I turned around slowly searching for the delusional soul that was being so persistent. My eyes slid towards the soldier lying in front of me, bullet hole where his heart should be. I absently rubbed my knee as I stared at him thinking of how I should have been able to save him even if it was only for a few minutes. I realize my mind is wandering again, another withdraw symptom, I really needed my next dose so I could focus on trying to help these people. `` You're overdue for your dose, are n't you?'' The voice was suddenly hot in my ear. `` Any longer and you wo n't be able to help anyone.'' He said casually. Instantly my mind began racing, no one could know that... except for.. NO. Impossible. I killed them all, I left no trace, I made sure- `` Three hundred years, and I've finally found you. The chancellor will be most pleased I found you, Janice.''
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[ WP ] You are notified that in 24 hours , every human will try to kill you for 1 hour . Your preparation starts now .
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`` I made you some sandwiches for your trip honey''.
`` Thanks, Mom'', I replied, knowing full well they'd go in the trash once I'd started out. `` Frank and I are going to pick up Jillian before we head down to the city, Should be back around 1 AM''.
`` That had better be midnight, Mister. You've still got a curfew, you know.''
It was two days before my eighteenth birthday, for christ's sake, and I had n't even gotten a girlfriend yet. But no matter, when your number comes up, your number comes up. Mine came up an hour ago while I was in the shower. I lept out, soap covered, to answer my ringing phone; hoping it was that girl Gwen from the party last night.
I'd been so eager to talk to her that I barely noticed the words `` Number Blocked'' on the screen when I answered. `` Kyle James Wenclet, You have been chosen as the participant in this year's Stockton Lottery. You have twenty four hours to prepare. Your pass phrase is ******** and will be required for verification.''
With that, I'd rinsed off in the shower, and started packing. The next twenty five hours would determine the rest of my life.
There was only one survivor in recent memory, and of course we'd all heard her story. Upon getting her call, Susan Parker had stolen her fathers yacht, and sent it full throttle out into the Pacific. Then she rented a hot air balloon, shot the guide, and drifted for the next three days before crashing into a barn in northern Washington.
She'd survived, but what good was surviving if you were doing thirty years for murder?
I was n't going that way. It had taken me just over an hour to pack and leave messages on the networks. I told everybody my parents were taking me to San Diego for my birthday, and that I'd be out of town for the next three days.
In reality I was n't even leaving the county. We'd grown up amongst the redwoods, and had always joked that if you climbed one, you'd be invisible by the time you got to the top.
True or not, twenty three hours from now I was going to find out.
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[ WP ] You live in a world without object permance .
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Alice sighed as she watched the installation men install her fridge and mini-bar. If she hadn ’ t agreed to entertain her new work colleagues none of this would be here. There was no point buying expensive items when they would disappear on you. The lucky ones opted for insurance on some items but it was always such a hassle trying to replace everything. At least anything living didn ’ t disappear, it would have made dating a lot harder, not that Alice had had much luck anyway. Still, perhaps tonight would be a different. Alice thanked the installers and gave them each a canary as payment. Alice then stocked the fridge and mini-bar and hoped by the end of the night it would all be used.
-040
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[ WP ] In the future , children have stopped being able to die until they reach 25 years old . No one knows why . At first , it 's seen as a blessing , but as the world adapts to it , the most sinister implications of this fact begin to unfold .
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On the tv, more news from Africa: borders crumbling, infrastructure burning, thousands fleeing to the EU, where confused nations shored up defenses on their Southern borders. Warlords in Congo and Sierra Leone were unstoppable overnight, using child soldiers to steamroll national armies. At first the battles seemed like flukes, but as military response ramped up and news outlets started covering the fighting, it became clear: *kids were n't dying*. Hopped up on drugs, huffing gasoline, god knows what, still fanatically loyal to the men who they probably thought had given them immortality -- I mean, jesus, they were still kids -- legions of tiny conquerers, growing terrifyingly experienced in warfare, took mile after mile, and no one knew how or when it would stop. The maniacs who made children into soldiers in the first place probably were n't going to be easy to reason with, and the rest of the world was n't ready to send soldiers to kill -- well, try to kill -- children.
In the inner cities it was getting bad too. Street gangs suddenly run completely by 17 and 18 year olds. Nightmare images uploaded to social media: groups of kids, some look as young as 12, shoot themselves in the head. Blood sprays. unphased, they reach with tiny fingers into their skulls and pull the bullets out, flashing gang signs. South central and Compton had become military states, barely contained by hastily-constructed fences and military patrols, a couple bodies every night, not there in the morning. Richer areas were suddenly swarming with displaced families, and middle class kids who never really had to resort to crime were beginning, more slowly, to see the appeal. Rogue bands of teenage bankrobbers, content for the moment to raid liquor stores for booze and pharmacies for drugs, reveling in their newfound power.
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[ WP ] We 've all seen modern and futuristic post apocalyptic stories before . Write one in a fantasy world .
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I know it's extremely short but I did n't have much time on my hands. Hope you enjoy it.
The dwarf, tall for his kind, trod briskly over the harsh, exposed, landscape. Normally, he would be comforted, surrounded by the bare limestone. Before he wouldn ’ t have hurried over the landscape for fear of being spotted from above. Dwarves, being small, and inhabiting, for the most part, the deepest reaches of the darkest caverns, had resisted the coming of the strange new creatures better than most of the races.
But even cave-dwelling dwarves have to eat, and it was becoming harder and harder to find new caves when the supplies of fungi and the humongous bats that were considered a delicacy in dwarven society dried up. So Frederic was searching for food. Most of the fauna had long since been hunted to extinction, but luckily dwarves could eat almost anything- another reason they had survived when the elves had insisted on persisting with their vegetarianism, and the humans their gluten free diets.
Unfortunately, the barren karst landscape was home to little more than a handful of exotic flowers and a few dispersed tufts of grass. Glancing anxiously at the clouded sky, Frederic increased his pace, the sheltered forest rapidly approaching. Without warning, his foot slipped into a small crevice in between the slabs of stone. The dwarf barely managed not to cry out as he heard a sickening crack coming from his ankle. He held out his hands to break his fall, scraping them across the porous rock. Carefully extricating his ankle from the crack, he inspected the damage. It was definitely broken, but that wasn ’ t the worst thing. It likely would have been his demise in any case, but the crimson blood dripping from his palms had sealed his fate.
Frederic, desperate, began a futile effort to drag his crippled body the remaining hundred metres to the relative shelter of the trees, at the edge of the rocks, but there was no doubt in his mind that they could already smell him. They were always hungry, these nightmarish creatures, originating from exotic lands, far beyond the northern mountains that marked the edge of the known world.
He ceased his escape attempt, as he heard the deep flapping of wings which signalled their approach and closed his eyes.
The dragons would feast tonight.
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[ WP ] You slowly start to realize that all of your friends are undercover agents tasked with keeping you alive . Then , at your birthday party , with every friend surrounding you , the people trying to kill you finally find you .
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As my breath drew shallow, the lights dimmed and I stopped, on the thirtieth candle. I brought my head up and looked around at everyone, waiting for me to finish the task. No one seemed to notice the lights had dimmed and now, I was n't sure they even had. But it looked darker. Everything did. Twenty-nine extinguished birthday candles did n't do that.
`` One more.''
`` Yep,'' I said with a rasp. Teddy leaned into my view and looked me straight in the eyes asking if I was alright. I nodded and inhaled. *One more. * Inhaled. *One more. * Inhaled. *One fucking more. *
I could n't inhale. My throat was shut, my eyesight blurred, getting darker. Everyone was leaning over the table now, and Teddy had come around to where I was sitting, putting his arm around my chest and asking again if I was alright. I felt my neck tighten as I tried to nod and transitioned to a violent shake of the head.
`` I need you to stay calm, buddy. I'm just gon na lay you down. Help me out, Gretch.'' I felt Gretchen's hands quickly grab my ankles and together her and Teddy started slipping me under the table while I heard through the static in my head somebody say, `` I'll call 911!''
`` No!'' Teddy snapped. `` No, it's fine, just everybody head home. We'll call an ambulance if he does n't get better but this has happened before. He'll be brand new in the morning, but he has mild fits time and again.''
*Liar. * I've never felt this before in my life. I've never-
As my eyes had just about submerged beneath the line of the table, I saw the last candle go out. That's when I heard nothing and nothing until Gretchen finished pulling me beneath the table and Teddy stood up, saying quiet and stern, `` Everybody get the fuck out. Now.''
Teddy was my best friend. Him, Gretchen, Jake and my sister Julie had been the only family I'd had for the past decade. So there was n't much question from anyone else when it came to Teddy giving orders. Especially when he was pulling a revolver out of his waistband.
*What the fuck. *
Silence. Darkness.
Screams. Light.
Air.
Gretchen was over me saying, `` Do not move until I tell you to.''
I watched her crawl from under the table and had to look around the syringe that was sticking out of my chest to see what happened next. With a sweep of her legs she took down Mike, a coworker of mine, a gun falling from his hand and sliding across the floor. There was no hesitation in Gretchen then to straddle Mike, pull out a hunting knife strapped around her calf, and plunge it into Mike's bare throat.
I saw Gretchen look above the table, scream, `` Jake, he's under here!'' and immediately felt myself getting lifted from underneath the arms. I found my footing but my legs were shaking.
I had just enough time to look around the room and see pools and rivers of blood. Mike was at the other end of the table, still writhing while his body emptied and his lungs filled. There was Georgia in the corner, leaning against a wall, leaking from her stomach. Trent had fallen over the couch in the living room, red running from his temple and soaking into my new beige couch. I turned around, trying to shake Jake off of me until I noticed that he was in the middle of strangling Frank on the ground while Frank, turning blue, reached into his jacket pocket, found a snub-nose, and pressed it against Jake's chest. Jake did n't like that, apparently, as he gripped Frank's neck harder with one hand, put his other hand on Frank's chin, and-
*SNAP! *
Teddy, Gretchen and Jake all stood up, looked at me, looked at each other, asked each other if everybody else got out safe, nodded in sync, and walked to the back door, Jake putting my arm around his shoulders.
We were safely in the back yard as I heard screams and sirens out front in the distance. The four of us stood looking at my house and watched it quickly engulf in flames. I still had n't had time to ask a simple, `` What?'' Teddy knew it was coming so instead said, `` We'll explain as soon as we can. For now, trust us.''
The house was fully in flames, orange brushes painting the black winter sky.
Jake put a hand on my shoulder and with his regular twisted humor, smiled and said, `` Blow it out. Make a wish.''
`` A wish wo n't cut it. Make a prayer.'' I turned to the quiet voice behind me to see my sister holding a container of kerosene. She had told me she was n't going to make it tonight. And she turned up just in time. She always loved surprising me.
She turned to the woods behind my house and started running. The others followed.
Gretchen turned back when she did n't hear me running behind her. `` Good call,'' she said, pulling the forgotten syringe from my chest and holding it up. `` Probably best not to run with this.''
`` Yeah,'' I said, just for the sake of speaking as she grabbed my hand and dragged me running into the woods. `` It's dark in there.''
`` Honey,'' Gretchen said, barely winded. `` You'll soon come to learn, you've been in darkness your whole life.''
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[ WP ] Flirting with death has gotten you somewhere ! You and death are meeting up for your first date .
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It was a thick and humid night in Boston. The neon signs of various bars cast pink halos on passersby, illuminating the vapor in the air and providing the only light between the orange rays of street lights. Kira walked alone down the narrow street, boxed in on all sides by groups of young people laughing and jostling their way toward the next bar on their itinerary. Gripping the wrinkled slip of paper with sweaty fingers, she read the address of the bar for the hundredth time. She spotted the number on the face of a building and veered to the right, edging through the crowd to reach it. Her chest swarmed with anxiety as she examined the place.
It was a two-story building with a pub in the basement and an office on the ground floor. A dimly-lit staircase lead down to the entrance of the pub, which according to the sign on the door was called O'Ryan's. Able to see only by the light of the neon sign proclaiming the place open, Kira made her way down step-by-step. At the bottom, she peered into the front window. It was a somewhat typical place in Southie, Irish owned and wreaking of the 80s. The worn, wooden interior was dimly lit, but there was light enough to make out the figures of the patrons enjoying drink and company at the tables. In the far left corner was a solitary sillhouette at a table for two. Her heart dropped. Steeling herself, Kira entered the pub.
The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses tickled her ears as she made her way to the corner table, knees weak with nerves. Staring straight downward, she placed the slip of paper on the table, pulled out the empty chair, and sat.
`` Hey,'' came the meek voice of the seated man.
Kira looked up at him, seeing his face for the first time. He was a young white man of average build, with short, wavy brown hair. His blue eyes darted around the room as though he expected to be jumped at any moment. He wore a green band tee and sat with a totally rigid spine. Overall, Kira thought his demeanor was not dissimilar to that of a caged animal.
`` H-hey,'' she stammered, looking back down at the table.
The young man said nothing in reply, but sipped his drink and continued to scan the room. Kira could n't look at him, and certainly could n't speak to him. She listened to the conversations of the patrons around them for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and managed to look him in the eye.
`` Can you show me some proof?'' The question left her mouth almost involuntarily.
As she continued to look at his eyes, she realized that his pupils were slightly too big, and the rings around his irises slightly too thick. Transfixed by that realization, she almost did n't notice him reaching toward her. Frightened of his touch, she pulled her hands back toward her body. He held his hand in the air, inches from her.
`` It's the only way I can prove who I am,'' he said flatly, eyes fixed squarely on her.
`` Will it hurt?'' She fixed her eyes on the beaten wood of the table.
`` I do n't know,'' he shrugged. `` I've never died.'' The faintest trace of a cruel smile stretched his upper lip, but his eyes remained cold.
`` I'm... having second thoughts,'' she murmered, staring at her downturned hands.
`` Well, uh... think of it another way,'' the young man stammered. `` We'll meet again someday. Maybe soon, you know. Maybe you're walking to work and some stuff falls on you. I do n't know.''
Kira scanned his face for any sign of irony, but there was none. It seemed that death was not a skilled orator. As she looked at him, her nervousness faded somewhat.
`` I think I'm going home,'' she said, standing and straightening her skirt.
As she took her first steps away, she heard the young man's voice.
`` You forgot this,'' he said, holding up the slip of paper.
As Kira took it from him, her finger brushed against the cold skin of his hand. She thought she saw the faintest glimmer in his eye as her knees buckled.
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[ WP ] You find the settings to the universe , but you accidentally change the language .
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After the link finished loading, Jim sees his entire browser is replace by some kind of software-setting options.
`` So this time I did n't actually get rick-rolled, huh?''
He notice on the top of the page, there is the word `` Universe'', and the rest of the website is just filled with typical game-settings like options.
`` So I guess this is a simulator or something...'' He think to himself as he browse though the options.
*size*
*difficulty*
*language*
*numbers of lifeforms*
Jim decided to clicked on the Numbers of Lifeforms button to see what the site is actually about, but anciently misclicked language.
`` Oh.'' The new page loaded, and a world map appear. Nations are divided into different colors and data showing the percentage usage of language in each of them.
`` English 80 %, Spanish 12.4 %, other Indo-European 3.7 %, Asian and Pacific island languages 3 %, other languages 0.9 %''
Jim decided to try the simulator so he changed it to `` Chinese 100 % other languages 0 %''
As he clicked confirm, a strong light came out of the monitor blinds him and quickly fade away.
`` What the...'' The entire settings is now replaced by Chinese, he did n't understand a single word.'' Really? I just changed that to the simulator setting not the input setting, this thing is broken as hell.''
He clicked on Facebook tab in the browser to tell his friend that send him the link the site is buggy. What he saw was Facebook In Chinese.
`` What the actual...'' He browse though the chat, luckily language changed does not change the buttons' function. He saw everyone in the chat have Chinese name, and all chat history is in Chinese, even the one he typed, but he never know any Chinese he entire life.
Jim send a message to his friend:
**Jim: ** Man what the fuck is that site, did you hack me?
After a few seconds, a reply came
**Friend: ** 大哥你几时去学了英文了，小弟看不懂啊
**Jim: ** What the fuck man stop this shit its not funny
**Friend: ** 卧槽你到底在说啥呀
Jim decided to go back to the `` Universe Setting'' tab, at this point, he is furious of this prank because he just notice everything on his desktop turned Chinese.
He clicked USA on the map and select language, the problem is, he does n't know what `` English'' in Chinese is. So he just clicked on something that says:'' 印尼语'' and clicked okay.
The light appears and faded away.
Jim look back to Facebook. Nope, it was not English, though it is indeed a language in alphabets, maybe Spanish?
He shut down the computer. He is pissed off and go to the kitchen to grab a bite. When he past by the living room he saw his mom watching TV... In Spanish.
`` Mom, what are you doing?'' He asked confusing.
`` Hah? Apa kamu cakap?'' His mom said, which to him made no sense.
`` Wow, mom, I did n't know you speak Spanish this fluently, when did you learned it?''
`` Saya tak tau kamu cakap apa la.'' He mom says.
`` You too mom? Did Bryan tell you to pull this prank too?''
`` Jim, kamu cakap apa, jike kamu tidak berasa baik pergi rehat.''
`` Yeah, mom, whatever that means.'' He proceed to goes to the kitchen.
He open the fridge and grabbed a kit-kat, he notice that the description on the warping is not English...
He look at the magazines on the tables... those are not English either...
What the actual...
He run and lock himself in his room, trying to think of what happened.
He looked out the window and stare at the billboard across the street, hoping to find a sense of comfort in this insane scenario.
It was a Trump's campaign ad. Only the words `` Make America Great Again'' is gone, and now replaced by `` Jadikan America Kuat Sekali''
`` Holy shit'' He thinks to himself. And he knew what he was going to change next.
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[ WP ] You are blind your whole life , and when the doctors finally give you eyesight , you see nothing in the mirror .
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His dreams feel of dust and pain and smooth skin, whispers behind the ear, scaring him, and he's falling, and he ca n't feel or hear or do anything, and then he hears laughter.
The balloon flies away, the thin string cutting into still-soft-baby-hands. He reaches after the string but it does not come back. He calls, but it does not come back. He asks his mother where it went, and his mother tries to explain the sky.
He does not understand, so he cries.
His father walks away, the remnants of a bruise still throbbing against his too-long arm. He does not reach for his father. He does not call. His father still does not come back. He asks his mother where he went, but his mother is silent.
He does not understand, so he does not cry.
The feel of lips against his face, cheap perfume, smoky hallways, embarrassment, laughter. The man talks to him. The mans touches him. It hurts, but he does not speak out because speaking out does not make the balloon come back.
Helplessness, inability to decide, inability to have decisions, or choices, or anything except bitter emotions and jealousy for everyone else who can reach higher and grasp the string but he can not hear it or feel it or taste it and damn it, *see* it, see it just see it why ca n't he see it?
See it.
Anything to see it.
Smell of antiseptic, pain, more pain, unconsciousness but always nothing, warnings and more warnings, people who do nothing but warn and warn and warn of the dangers and pain and risks but those have been his only companions, the only balloons who never left.
He opens his eyes. Forms and shapes and blobs and colors and everything he never imagined, for he could not imagine sight anymore than a flower could imagine the stars. He reaches out to the mirror and touches it but he sees nothing, for he is already dead.
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[ CW ] Write a scifi-horror-romance that fits the title `` Fettuccine Alfredo For One '' and includes the line `` No amount of hail damage could stop this train . ''
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Timeline Experiment: 13456 Aka Leafy Green
Operation Code name'Fettuccine Alfredo For One ’
Recording From: Luca Del Giuseppe
Year 1953
My name is Luca Del Giuseppe. I ’ m a hard boiled detective from da bronx. I've seen shit, lotta shit. But I ai n't seen nothin like dis.
Whole cities in chaos. Crime spiked all over. It stared with mass muggings, then battery, then rioting, then rape, then people murdering each other in the streets just for kicks, and worst of all women are now having premarital sex.
A small time mafia don named Fettuccine started getting supply from mysterious man going by the named Alfredo. They started to push da drug everywhere, bars, gas stations, alleyways, even fucking pre schools. Now they're the two biggest kingpins in da city. Da drug goes by many names Mary Jane, weed, refer, shwagg, but I think its most accurate name is One. All it takes is one injection of Marijuana to fuck you's up permanently.
Turns out Alfredo was a communist infiltrator from Outer Mongolian Empire. America was the only ting standing in there way of total world domination. One is the quickest way to collapse dis country. Shoulda known when da greaser started screaming about seizin means of production.
Da police in my department dont do nothin about one. There getting pay offs from Fettuccine or there addicted to dat shit as well. I saws my lieutenant snorting a full blunt da bathroom.
No ones safe. Anyone could be a pusher. You's neighbors, friends, family all could go psycho at any time. Saw a 8 year old kid massacre his entire family when we left the station.
Im sick of dis town. I should leave bronx while I still can. But if I do n't do dis its going to spread across the country. I got ta do it for my folks. I got ta do it for Vicky. Vicky lived in manhattan all her life but she loved dis damn city. She was one of da first to start reporting on the crisis. She wanted to leave to when it gots bad, but her ma and pop refuse to leave Manhattan. If I do n't stop dis train Fettuccines going to be able to spread his operation to Manhattan the only Burrow that has n't succumb to dis madness.
Vicky and I run towards da front of the train. I pry open da door to see da driver huffing a can of marijuana while quoting da communist manifesto. He immediately
snaps charging at me with his switch blade. I shoot him right between his two blood ed eyes. It was to late for him.
I take control of compartment. The window crashes open, vicky screams. I see part two of Alfredo ’ s plan come into play. He ’ s testing his weather machine. Hail lots of it da size of base balls. Bastards going to kill thousands poor folks fleeing from the psychos fleeing to manhattan in da streets. I see da break its chained up. I realizes something no amount of hail damage is going to stop dis train. No amount of effort from anyone in da compartment will stop it not wid out a hacksaw or a crows bar.
Then I sees the train drivers bong. Me and Vicky gots one shot at this. “ We needs to drink it, its da only way. ” I sez to her. We splits it. Its caustic but I already feel strength coursing through my veins. Vicky and I pulls the leaver. I feels it strain and I hear it snap. Both of us go slam into the cabin.
I awake. Im perfectly fine. We did it we stopped the train from getting to Manhattan. I didn ’ t goes psycho. But I sees Vicky. She aint moving. I tries to shake her. After more then two She finally looks up towards me. Her eyes blood shot redder then roses. I cries. `` Its going to be okays Vicky. ”
Then she says… she says “ Dude that was like far out. ”
Her italian accent destroyed, even if she didn ’ t go psycho she would never be da same... Im going to make Alfredo and Fettuccine pay for dis if its the last thing I do.
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[ OT ] Character Feelings Chart
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While this is helpful to give writers ideas, it should be noted that it's not always best to say something like `` he was nervous.'' You can have a passage like this:
> He was nervous. He'd never gone skydiving before. What if the parachute did n't open and he died?
Or you can do something like this:
> He shuffled around in the small hold of the plane until one of the instructors finally told him to `` please sit down, sir.'' He'd already chewed his nails down to the quick, so now he was tapping his fingers against his knee, adjusting the zipper on the jumpsuit, triple-checking the parachute; anything to keep his mind off the near future: plummeting head-first from thirty-thousand feet, with the ground rushing up and no protection except a flimsy sheet that might not even work. He never should have let Ellen talk him into going skydiving. Sure it might cure his fear of heights -- by reducing him to nothing more than a splatter of blood and guts on the pavement, a victim of faulty equipment.
Sure, it takes more words, but it's often more effective to describe a character's actions in relation to their emotions than to simply say `` He was elated.'' Even something as simple as `` A huge grin broke across his face'' can communicate the same thing without serving it to the reader on a silver platter. This is n't saying that you need to be mysterious, it's simply saying that you do n't need to directly tell the reader `` Look at my character, see how he feels!''
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[ WP ] Time travellers have shown up throughout my life , but always stay a distance away . All I know is that I keep getting my picture taken by random people .
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When the first one showed up in the background of a birthday photo, my mom grabbed my hand.
`` Just ignore her, sweetie. It's a wonderful picture.''
Admittedly, I was a little confused. So someone had photo-bombed a random picture in the middle of a very busy park. Is n't that just what people did? I was newly thirteen, and I had photo-bombed plenty of pictures myself. I kept all of the best ones in my phone, a running tally of enjoyable moments.
`` It's just a photo-bomb, Mom. It's funny.'' My mom gave me a strangely watery look.
`` Funny,'' she said softly. Slowly she released my hand. Wiping her eyes quickly, she turned to the masterpiece encased in plastic she had been carefully cradling.
`` Cake?'' she smiled.
I was thirteen and a half the next time. My mom had gone out for groceries, Dad was working a Saturday shift, and I was at home, watching my little brother. Bored, I decided to do what any thirteen-year old boy might. I loaded my foam dart gun with every intention of targeting my neighbor's cat. Creeping around the side of the house, eyes trained on the part of the fence where the cat normally napped, I barely even noticed an older man with a camera standing behind the shed. That is, until he went on to make a lot of noise by tripping over our wood pile, camera outstretched. I have never moved faster, sprinting the distance from the side yard to the front door. Phone in hand, I dialed 9-1-1 with the speed and accuracy of a prank-calling master. Which I was. When the police arrived, there was no evidence he had ever been there, but my mom just stared at me, a worried look lining her brow and pain darkening her eyes. I wondered then what she might know that I did n't.
As the years flowed by, more and more of them appeared, recording devices in hand. Always at some inconspicuous moment, always hidden in the background, but always there. I had asked my mother more than once who they were, but all she could do was smile sadly and shake her head. The police department had long ago tired of my phone calls about unverifiable strangers.
The last one showed her face on my twenty-third birthday. But unlike the others, she walked right up to me and sat down. Her dress was clearly out of place, and her familiar face held a warning.
`` So are you ready to tell me?'' I asked my mother. Just as she had ten years before, she grabbed my hand.
`` It has been thirty years since you first noticed them,'' she said softly. `` The time-travelers.''
The incredulous thoughts in my head must have spread to my face. She took note and continued, `` To you, it has been ten years. For me, it has been much longer. Today is an important day, a turning point in time. Many have come to witness the events which lead to it.''
`` What is so special about today?'' I asked, `` Why me?''
`` Today you die.'' She said simply. `` And with you, the last hope for humanity.''
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[ WP ] Write something using only dialogue . Do n't even say who is saying what , make the reader figure that out .
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`` I have never lied to you. Listen to me. Your plan is quite cunning, and far more elegant than anything I have in mind. I must refuse.''
`` Father!''
`` I promised I would never let my children into this... world I have made. My prison. Your mother, Prophets' grace, would never forgive me.''
`` Your world *is* my world, father. I live in your shadow.''
`` I understand. Now understand me: since I entrapped myself in politics I have done everything to ensure you will never suffer by my legacy.''
`` No-one will look at me and see Jana, but Janos! I am doomed to be the Regent's Daughter whatever you do. You can not keep me shut away from the court and your enemies, and hope they wo n't hate me.''
`` God willing, my other preparations will be enough.''
`` You always say such things! I think I know what - have you bought the debts of your worst enemies, to hold destitution over them as my shield for when you are dead? Father, you have done such things for years. There is hardly a nobleman in the realm who does not owe you money. One day they will no longer tolerate it. *'Our enemies have nothing but fear left - it would be better to say they have nothing left to lose.'*''
`` Is that-''
`` Ancora, his last *omilia e pakis*.''
`` I... I thought you gave up learning Antique.''
`` It was something. Something of Eraz. He would not want our lessons to go to waste.''
`` I-''
`` You never asked.''
`` Jana-''
`` Father, I loved them as much as you do;'*and loving equally, I know your pain. But take heart, for that only means we understand one another better and can do no worse than share our grief.'*''
`` Erasto, too? Come here, my child... When did you grow up? How did I miss it, by God?''
`` You have been grieving, as have I. You always say forgiveness is underrated; usually, it is you forgiving your enemies. Now I forgive you.''
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[ WP ] Four people who have never played an RPG are thrown into a real-life dungeon crawl .
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`` Um... hey... are you awake?'' Gilbert was shaken roughly. He cracked open one gummy eye. Bernie's pale moon of a face swam into focus. Bernie, the outcast from the class next door. Bernie always in some hoodie from some band you'd never heard of. He was wearing a hoodie now. Or was he? The material seemed softer and more supple, swaddling the chubby young man, making him look like a black caterpillar, strange bulges oozing out along his bulk.
`` The fuck are you wearing?'' Gilbert got up, straining at the weight. `` What the fuck am I wearing?'' His spine drooped with the weight of his clothes, an ill fitting ensemble of heavy plates of metal. He stood up, his knees creaking, the armour giving off a tin can percussion symphony. A sword was propped up by the wall next to him, the hilt reaching above his waist. An oversized shield sat by it, the flickering light of the torches on the wall dancing on its bronzed surface.
`` Ah, sleeping beauty awakes.'' Adrian. Tall, well-muscled. Star quarterback and pussy magnet. Adrian, the sporting Adonis of our school. Adrian... wearing a dress?
`` It's a robe, dipshit. If you laugh, I'll pop out your eyeballs and piss on your brain.''
`` Matches the hat, sweetheart.'' Gilbert looked to the source of the voice. He found Sabrina in the corner, shoulders hunched forward, her arms blocking the view of her pale body. She sang alto for the choir, big girl, big voice. Now she was squeezed into some sort of metal bikini with the tip of a bow and a quiver full of arrows peaking over her shoulder.
`` I do n't get why the Incredible Hulk over there gets to wear a dress, and I'm stuck in a cross between a Victoria's Secrets catalogue and a pair of saucepans. God, this thing is chaffing like you could n't believe.''
`` Does anybody remember how we got here? What the hell are we supposed to do?''
Gilbert hefted the sword experimentally. The tip wiggled in the air as his arm quivered with exertion.
`` No freaking clue. Best we know, we all woke up here. Last thing, we each of us remember is going to bed and now we're all geared up like we're in Diablo or something.'' Bernie adjusted something on his face. Gilbert managed to make out a thin pair of spectacles, reminding him slightly of that picture he'd seen of Google Glass some time back. `` These help me see in the dark. Ca n't pass it to any one else. Stops working. He unhooked a wicked looking dagger from his belt. `` Seems like we're in some sort of game.''
`` How come Mr Chess Club gets to be the knight and I'm wearing a dress?'' complained Adrian, picking up a gnarled staff.
`` That's President of our school's Starcraft league to you. I wished I'd been better at role playing games. I'm more of an RTS kind of person,'' Gilbert said.
`` English please.'' Sabrian stood up, wobbling dangerously. `` I'm going to need something else to wear soon. It's chilly in here.''
`` Now, that we're all awake, we could just try and bust down the door and figure out where we are. It's been locked all this time.'' Adrian gave the door a tug. It yielded without complaint. The corridor beyond it was lit by a row of torches, the twisting flames cast the long stretch into dance of shadows.
`` Thank, muscles. I've got this.'' Bernie took a step forward into the corridor and vanished. Sabrina gave a little squeak of dismay.
`` What?'' Bernie asked, his face suddenly looming out of the dark.
`` You disappeared!'' she squealed. Except not really, the more he moved, the more the outline of his form came into focus out of the dancing shadows.
`` Funny, maybe it's the clothes. Wait, what's that?'' The corridor was filled with the sound of something heavy dragging on the floor. `` I do n't believe this, are you guys seeing this?'' Bernie asked.
It was only a moment later that the source of the noise pulled itself into the light. A towering horror of yellowing bone, one massive skeletal fist wrapped around a club which trailed behind it.
`` Fuck me, a skeleton?'' Adrian fiddled at his staff. `` There's a dial here. There's something that looks like a fire. A snowflake. Bolt of lightning...''
`` Get out of the way, Bernie!'' Sabrina's voice rang out. She'd brought her bow to bear on the skeleton, the frame creaking as she drew the arrow back. Bernie stumbled back into the room, bent double with his hands on the back of his neck. Sabrina loosed the arrow. It flew straight and true. Straight and through the rib cage of the thing before us. `` Oh balls,'' she cursed.
`` Okay, let's see how this thing works.'' Adrian pointed the tip of the staff at the approaching skeleton and thumbed some unseen button. A great gout of fire leapt from the tip of the staff and covered the skeleton. The brute moved forward unscathed, its bones flashing with flame.
`` Nice move, dipshit. Now it's a flaming skeleton.'' Gilbert hefted his shield up with one hand and the long sword in the other. `` If you're so clever, you go deal with him,'' the bigger youth said, pushing Gilbert out the doorway. Gilbert scuttled backwards. `` Why me?'' he whined.
`` You've got the shield, asswipe.''
`` Yeah, just poke him with the pointy bit.''
Gilbert advanced to meet the behemoth. `` I'm sure we can talk this out, mister.'' The skeleton's only response was to heft its club into the air. Gilbert managed to mutter an expletive and brace himself against his shield before the blow swatted him against the corridor. The air whooshed from his lips and the sword clattered to the floor. He had the presence of mind to duck before the next blow took a chunk of masonry out of the wall where his head had been seconds before.
Gilbert crawled backwards on his hands and knees. The thing lumbered forward. `` Guys!'' he yelled. `` Guys!''
`` I ca n't get a clear shot if you do n't get out of the way.'' Adrian replied.
`` Fuck!'' Gilbert yelled, the head of the club traced a graceful arc through the air and thudded on the ground between his legs. He doubled his efforts. The next blow would surely have him. The skeleton drew its club back for a killing blow. The tip paused at its apex, nearly brushing the roof. Paused and paused some more. Slowly, with the speed and certainty of a toppling building, the creature collapsed, each joint folding in upon itself lifelessly. All except the skull of the beast, which hung, impaled on the point of a wicked looking dagger.
`` Booya, motherfucker!'' Bernie crowed.
Gilbert sighed. This was going to be a long day.
-- -
Tired. Had fun writing this and putting people in uncomfortable roles. Let me know if you guys want more. I can top it up with more tropes and such!
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[ WP ] After a freak accident , you 've split into two versions of yourself . One good , the other evil . For some reason you two are able to cooperate quite easily .
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It was supposed to be a punishment. In exchange for getting out of jail early, I agreed to participate in an experiment. Something went wrong. They explained it to me a hundred times, but I never fully understood what happened. It ended up being more strange than anything. When I got to meet him, he seemed perfectly normal.
“ So wait, ” I said. “ Am I supposed to be the evil one, or are you? ”
“ Uhh, I don ’ t know, ” the other me said. “ If we were truly evil, would we believe that we were evil, or would we think that we were good?
“ Well, what do you believe in? ” I said. “ Like, what party seems the best to you? ”
“ Republican, ” he said.
“ I ’ m a Democrat, ” I said.
“ I… I don ’ t think that makes either one of us evil, ” he said. “ I mean, to some people maybe, but that doesn ’ t seem that bad to me. Hey, wait, what party did we like before? ”
Neither of us could figure it out, but we have a lovely lunch together discussing all the details of our differences. We disagreed on absolutely everything. It was amazing. He was a thoroughly pleasant and intelligent person. So I began to suspect that I might be the evil one, but then he said that he was worried that he was evil. Then the bill came.
“ How much should we tip? ” I said. “ It is our bank account after all. ”
“ Nothing, the service was crap, ” he said.
“ I thought it was excellent, ” I said. “ I was going to give 20 %. ”
“ Logically, if one of us is good and one of us is evil, then doing something half way between the two can ’ t be bad, ” he said.
“ But how is tipping someone evil? ” I said.
“ Maybe they ’ re a terrible person and really bad at their job, and you ’ re supporting someone when you shouldn ’ t, ” he said. “ On the other hand, maybe I ’ m wrong and they ’ re a wonderful person. ”
“ Okay, ” I said. “ Ten percent? ”
“ Sounds about right, ” he said.
When we got back to our apartment, I was worried about how the living situation would turn out. I desperately wanted to keep the apartment. I would have done anything to keep it. He stopped me when we got in the door
“ Now, I just want you to know that you should think of this as your apartment, ” he said. “ I wouldn ’ t feel right fighting over it or anything. This stuff is all yours as far as I ’ m concerned. I ’ ll sleep on the couch, and you can take the bed. I ’ ll get my own apartment when I can. ”
Then I was convinced that I must be the evil one. I had been willing to do anything for the apartment when he wasn ’ t concerned with it at all. I felt so bad about it that I insisted that he take the job.
“ Seriously? ” he said. “ Are you sure? You have to pay for this place still. ”
“ It ’ s alright, ” I said. “ I ’ m taking the apartment, so it only seems fair. I never really liked that job anyway. It ’ ll be good to start some place new. ”
“ Oh thank god, ” he said. “ I loved that job. ”
We thought he ’ d move out inside of a month, but we lived together so well that we saw no reason for it. When he wanted to eat, I was full, when I wanted to use the computer, he wanted to go outside, when I needed the car, he was staying in. He was the perfect roommate. After six months, we were looking to move into a bigger place. Then he got sick, really sick.
After an enormous number of tests, we found out that it was a result of the experiment. His body ( unlike mine ) wasn ’ t a good clone of the original. It was shutting down, and there was nothing we could do.
I stayed with him and took care of him as he got so sick that he could barely leave the bathroom. When I was full, I made him food. When I wanted to use the computer, I took him outside. He became so weak that he could only walk outside with my support. Eventually, he slept on the bathroom floor because he could n't make it from the bed to the bathroom without passing out.
I called the ambulance one day when I couldn ’ t wake him up. I stayed in the hospital bed next to him. He never did wake up again after that morning. He went quietly, thank god.
I don ’ t know if either of us were evil, and I suppose I ’ ll never know now. But if I had to choose, it has to be me.
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[ WP ] In a world where intelligence is much favoured over physical ability , describe your first day at school
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I spent longer sitting in my car than I knew I should. The warning bell for first period had n't rung yet, but the doors had been open for minutes and despite my locker being on the far side of the school, I found myself stalling. It's not that I'm one of those stereotypical kids that'hates' school, but the more I become honest with what makes me happy as a person, the more oppressing this school seems to be.
However, I'm pretty sure that my philosophizing was n't going to get me exempt from a tardy, so with a sigh I shifted out of my car, mimicking the sound of the rusty shocks as it adjusted to the lack of my weight. Anything that would drown out the loud blaring of classical music that the'cool seniors' with an open first period blasted from their cars.
Inside was n't much better. A sea was made by throngs of moppy, unwashed hair and bowl cuts accented by the crisp letterman jackets worn so proudly by the new wave of upperclassmen. I did my best to ignore those I could, but when you stand a head taller than most and weigh as much as two of them, it's not easy to lose yourself in a crowd.
`` Uh oh, the barbarians are invading again!'' Someone said to their group of friends loud enough for me to hear, right on cue. A disdainful sideways glance revealed it to be Alistair Abernathy, of course. Who could forget those designer glasses with frames that magnified his eyes to point of making him look alien. Combined with the paleness of skin, he had the carefully crafted image like the cover of a fashion magazine. The weaselly bastard had been admiring the smell of his own farts ever since he'd won State at both chess and debate last year. I did n't dare say it, but when eighty percent of the schools extra-curricular budget went to STEM clubs, *someone* from this school had better win.
`` What's the matter? Did the Iriqouis Confederation push back the invasion of your family into Vineland again?!'' Alistair followed up with, stepping forward to taunt me, even if he had to stand back a few feet to be able crane his head up to look at me. Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I'm sure it was a reference to some obscure story he'd studied up on for Trivia season in an effort to insult my muscle mass. It was so tempting to lash back with something like a shove, or even just challenge him to running down the hallway, but I knew there was n't a point. He would n't be able to appreciate just how much stronger I was than him. Besides the point, out of that gawking sneer of his I could see that over the summer his parents had bought him a pair of the new designer braces. You know, those hilariously overpriced brands that have stores in the mall with two of the geekiest kids they can find to stand outside it like living mannequins. A kid with that kind of money also had parents on the Alumni board, and that meant no trip to the principles office was going to go in my favor.
`` As if you know what fighting is like,'' I lamely replied, regretting the moment I dignified his remark. A chorus of'ooohs' erupted from his entourage, and I could see frustration knit into his thick black brows.
`` Oh, you want to go, bro?'' He retorted, aggressively using his asthma inhaler in a posturing pose. `` You want to debate me? You, me, after school by the parking lot. No moderators, bitch!'' Again his pasty horde echoed sounds of encouragements and more references I did n't understand.
There was nothing to gain from this. Even if I could somehow whip out some quote or fact about history that could leave him speechless, all the witnesses would have changed the story into how he dismantled my argument by third period. Hefting my backpack that was surely as heavy as Alistair himself, I made my escape, but it felt like I was still carrying him around with me long after his taunts had faded into the background.
To my horror, First Period was not going to shape the year any better for me. I had deliberately picked Gym as my first period class; I enjoyed getting a bit of energy to carry with me through the day, and then I'd be ready for Wrestling Club after school no worse for wear. I was even feeling good about myself as I overheard nervous whispers from kids in the locker room, trying to assemble what meager knowledge they had about pull-ups and proper throwing form to at least pass the class. That little bit of confidence made me not care that the school gym had n't been updated since the school was opened 50 years ago, but we seemed to have a new theater being built every four years.
... That was, until I met the new gym teacher. Gone was Mr. Woodrow, an awkward but athletic man that enthusiastically challenged my physical limits the first two years of school. That had kind of been my one respite from all of this. But now, standing before me, was a guy that looked like he'd never even seen a pair of cleats before. He did n't have to get two sentences in to his speech about his goals for the class before I knew what was up. This guy was clearly here to be a Drama teacher, but you ca n't be a Director for the school unless you teach a class, so they just pawned him off on Gym. Unbelievable. Not even an hour into my first day, and I had to wonder what I'd be doing with myself. I mean last year the Wrestling Club had to have hand-made uniforms donated by someone's mom, and we could n't afford to make the field-trip to last years competition, since non-school sanctioned subjects do n't get any financing.
`` I guess we all ca n't be Rocket-Model Building Club,'' I heard someone scoff next to me. I did n't recognize her voice at first, and realized as soon as I looked at her that she must be new here... if not new to how things work in high school. It's weird, I know that the standard model of beauty are mousy features and asian-looking accessories, but I found something so beautiful about how composed she was. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, one meant only to keep the hair out of her face and reduce strain if pulled upon. This only accented the straight posture of her tall, toned body. I awkwardly forced myself to stop staring at her scraped fingers and chapped lips to give a knowing smile back.
Maybe the year wo n't be so bad after all.
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[ WP ] A Society living deep within the earth . Resources are running low . So in a desperate attempt to save the society they send a man to the surface for the first time in 200 Years . You are that man .
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200 years its been. 200 since any human has seen the surface. Long dead has been the last human to gaze upon the `` sunrise'' or `` sunset''.
There had been no discussion, i was chosen by the elders, barely into my 20s i was scared beyond measure, but they needed me to be strong, supplies were dwindling and we needed to act fast. Old books spoke of a sanctuary, an oasis of sort 100 miles north of here where the fog couldnt penetrate, where we could grow food on the surface and water sprung far and high from geysers.
As i apporach the cave thatll lead me to the surface, im full of mixed emotions... What if the surface is still covered by the deadly fog, what if it is completely gone?... I steeled my temper and moved forward, dragging every step. At the end of the tunnel i see light, i start sweating.. My footsteps become heavier as i get closer, i put my mask on, hoping itll keep the nasty mist away. Fighting for every step i reach the edge of the cave..... And nothing could have prepared me for what i saw.... I had to turn back, the elders needed to know immediately. I turn quick as a fox and begin my descent when i froze..... `` Collapse the tunnel'' i yell at the top of my lungs. I knew they couldnt hear me.... But i had to try. `` COLLAPSE THE TUN.....'' the words cut off in my mouth as i taste blood.... And then darkness...
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[ wp ] Create a monster . Explain it , write a story or a scene or even just a small bio , but create a monster .
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What I'm I?
I am surrounded by things that are unfamiliar to me, but they look at me as if I am the one that does n't belong. They are covered in fur and have sharp fangs and claws while I do not. They walk on four legs. I only walk on two. There are many of them and they circle me cautiously as if I was going to attack them. They can growl and snare like me, but it is more natural for them.
One of them stops and challenges me. I grip the sharp stick in my hand and hold my ground. It is more than just instinct, I know what is coming. They are afraid of me. They want to kill me. Why? I do not know.
It lunges. I react. Its claws dig into my skin. I am pinned under it and my hands are washed in blood. The weapon in my hand has plunged deep into its body. It becomes lifeless and heavy on top of me. I must have stuck its heart. The life in its eyes is gone.
I have won. I have survived. The others have run away in fear. I will wear its claws around my neck as a trophy. I will wear its skin for protection. I will make more deadly wepons, because... I am a monster.
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[ WP ] The characters of a chess set go to a house party…
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`` Raven, pass me an ale, would ya?'' Karl the Knight called over to his towering friend standing at the end of the bar, stock still and statuesque as ever. Sliding over to the right, Raven the Rook silently passed his friend a frosty one and smiled. The two had been friends for years, and while Raven was n't exactly much of a talker and Karl could be a bit of a jackass, the two understood each other regardless. From across the room, Barry Bishop scowled with disdain. `` Alcohol is for the weak-willed and faithless. You two are no true sons of The Lord.''
`` Dude, pot calling MAJOR kettle here.'' A voice interjected. `` I saw you throwing em' back like there was no tomorrow at the Christmas party last year, and Bacardi sure as hell ai n't the blood of Christ.'' Patrick laughed, marching over in a straight line along with his eight siblings who could hardly contain their mirth at this statement. `` He's right you know.'' Brendan, Barry's little brother, called. `` You got royally hammered. Literally, since Quinn hit you over the head with one after you drunkenly kissed Kendrick.''
`` That explains the major memory loss. And thank God for that.'' Barry shivered at the thought then sighed with defeat and reached for his familiar bottled friend as Regina, Raven's sister, patted him on the head with sympathy while Kara sipped her wine. Quinn, meanwhile, was eyeing everyone like a hawk, sitting on Kendrick's lap and threatening to disembowel anyone who approached her King. Kendrick honestly did n't care. He too engrossed in his game of Clash of Clans on his phone to care about much of anything. `` All's right with the world. Would n't you agree Rave?'' Karl smiled.
`` I would n't say that.'' Raven whispered and pointed. The whites were here...
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[ IP ] And so the hero rests
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She laid motionless, a woman of white hair the hue of freshly fallen snow, armor that showcased the workings of the finest of craftsmen, and a fresh pool of blood that coated the top of her forehead; the crimson matter leaking just near her cheek. She lay peacefully in the hands of the colossal statue of the Battleborn; the hall of her ancestors. Referred to as the people of grit, the relentless warriors; those brought to the halls of Battleborn, or came of their own volition, had to be deemed worthy by the spirits, and as the two travelers took their time to enter the massive crystalline halls, they couldn ’ t help but to keep their focus locked on the serene, unmoved woman.
“ Is this truly her then? ” Joshton The Third queried unconvinced, “ This is Lillith the Untouchable? ”
The old man named Volon the Wise clenched his staff tight with anticipation, nodding with a sincere focus, “ She looks as she did those many years ago. ”
“ Four thousand years? ” he looked at Volon skeptically, “ How is that remotely possible Volon? You yourself are a man with an incredible life span, and even you age. ” He smirked, “ unless you were born an old wearied man. ” He managed a humored grin from the old man, but his disbelief was still very great. Joshton had seen many bizarre things during his travels with Volon; the volcano Dragon, the Grumpy Cyclops of the Northern Valley, the deadly Fox people of the Woeful forest, but he couldn ’ t help but keep a critical eye as he looked at her; she who was so important, if she were who Volon claimed she was. He shook his head, “ She looks as if she has just fought a battle recently. ”
Volon smirked with nostalgia, hugging his wooden staff close to his cheek, “ You misunderstand the power of this place boy. It follows its own set of rules; you wouldn ’ t have even been able to enter had I not been with you. This place will do incredible things for a person….if deemed worthy enough. ” He pointed his staff with a fond smile towards her, “ Lillith the Untouchable was unlike any person I ’ ve ever known. I was but five when I first saw her. I remember the ferocity of her gaze, her focused stubbornness, her burning resolve; she saved an entire kingdom Joshton, towards the end, with just her sheer will; it was truly something to behold. ”
Joshton raised his brow curiously; the old man had a visage of wonder, which intrigued him as he calmly place his palm near the handle of his sword, readjusting himself uncomfortably in his armor of a special metal and animal furs, “ You say she ’ s so amazing Volon, and that she did so much to protect our land, yet we ’ re here; the creatures she fought off are back, stronger than ever it seems. ”
“ Or we ’ ve just gotten weaker. ” He teased. The creatures we ’ re simply known as The Grey Ones; manlike beasts from an unknown realm. Joshton had heard the stories of them as a boy, but never in his existence conceived of them as potentially real, let alone as a threat that would return to wreak havoc on the lands of the Prosperous Forbearers. The Forbearers dismissed the notion of Kings and Queens after a long fought battle with the other factions that felt otherwise. It was a land forged through blood and sweat for all people. In that time there were of course ups and downs in the great Forbearer Nation, including an impending civil war on the Eastern fronts. With the return of the Grey Ones, a desperation had temporarily united them all, desperation had brought Joshton to the most respected man in the land; Volon, and now desperation brought him here, to the sleeping warrior, who lay gently as if in a serene dream state.
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[ WP ] You wake up in a bright white room with no doors what do you do ?
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The hissing white light overloads my sore eyes. Water trickles down my cheeks as I struggle to comprehend his white light. `` Uhn..'' Grunting, my eyes fluttering open slowly. Finally, my eyes adjusted to the light engulfing me. However, I was n't greeted with my dull bedroom walls. No. I was engulfed in white. Everything was snow white: the floor, the ceiling, the bed and the two lamps hanging from the sky. My instincts instantly kicked in, sending me into panic mode. If I was n't in my room, where was I?
My body jumped off the bed and I instantly scanned the room. First, what was unusual here. Well, besides everything being so damn white I do n't notice anything particularly weird. But wait... there's no windows. And... just dandy. No doors. `` Lovely.'' I heavily sighed, popping my hip as I continued to check the room. Next, escape routes. Well, no doors and windows mean easy escapes wo n't be feasible. `` Air vents?'' I muttered. Scrolling my eyes up filled me with melancholy. `` Of course; high ceilings.'' Where ever I am... they were prepared. Whoever put me here does n't want me out of here.
I cautiously took many steps towards the wall. `` Maybe these are thin...'' It was my only option at this point. I sure as hell was n't going to let myself stay in this white place. My knuckle tapped on the wall. It did n't feel particularly thick. Pressing my ear on the wall, I knocked again. `` Oh...?'' My lips curled into a devious grin. Here's my exit route. I go around the room, redoing my wall checks. There was one wall that sounded much weaker than the other. Although it felt thin, there was no way my limbs could break it. I work on stealth, not strength.
Heading back to the bed, I place a gentle hand on the white bed frame. < i > Wiggle, wiggle < /i >. My eyes flashed open as I glanced at my hand. The bed frame was really loose..almost like it was intentionally broken. Maybe this was a trap. Use the bed frame, smash that wall, escape. What if whoever put me in here planned for me to figure that out. Speaking of that, how was I put in here? They could n't have just built this room around me.
Taking a step back, I finally glance at my feet. There was a line on the white carpet. It was certainly not a natural line. Kneeling on the ground, I shove my shoulder into the bed, inching it a little ways a way. The more I moved the bed, the more of the line I could see. Once I moved the bed far enough away, I could see a square line in the carpet. `` Bingo.'' Ripping off the frame on the bed, I crawl over to the square. Feeling around, there was a small dent in the square. Shoving the bed frame in the dent, I pushed with as much might as I could muster. What do you know, it popped open like a bottle of champagne.
Inside the hole was just darkness, but it was my only chance... my only chance to escape.
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[ WP ] Write out the most recent dream/nightmare you had . Embellish it or flesh it out if you have to , just get it out there !
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Bad things always happen at night. Cadence knew this from instinct the same way she knew when to avoid daddy when he started to talk and smell funny. She tried to ignore the blue lights flickering outside of her window. They made the cruel shadows on the walls of her bedroom dance in terrible ways and she could see them even with her eyes squeezed shut. Imagining they were nothing more menacing than Christmas lights, she tightened the blankets around her and tried to go back to sleep. It did n't last long.
She did n't realize she had fallen asleep until she felt something pulling at her blankets. She did n't fight him. Fighting only made it worse. Better to close your eyes and just let it happen. Pretend to be asleep and he ’ d do his best to keep it that way. Her eyes snapped open when tiny hands slid under her and picked her up off the bed. In the hard light of the hallway, she thought it might ’ ve been her mother, but she hadn ’ t been home in a couple of days. Besides, wasn ’ t this daddy ’ s game?
When her eyes adjusted, she saw the hands were connected to a dark skinned lady with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Cadence could tell she was a kind lady since she smiled like the sun and smelled like a field of wildflowers. She didn ’ t recognize her, but Cadence wanted to trust her and did.
“ My name ’ s Eleanor, but you can call me Ellie. What ’ s your name sugar? ” She said.
The way she talked made Cadence think of syrup poured on top of a stack of pancakes a mile high. The image made her stomach growl.
“ I ’ m hungry, but that ’ s not my name. ” Cadence said, burying her face into Ellie ’ s shoulder. She inhaled deeply.
“ I ’ ve got some snacks in the car. ” Ellie said. “ But I need you to be brave for me, ok? We ’ re going for a little ride. I have some friends I want you to meet. They ’ re nice people and they have a son your age. Does that sound good? ”
Cadence nodded. Snacks were good and if daddy didn ’ t mind Ellie being inside the house then it must ’ ve been ok. Daddy didn ’ t like anyone, including the mailman. Her heart shuddered at the excitement of it all, but a small part of her knew that this was just another form of trouble. Her suspicions were confirmed when Ellie carried her past her Uncle Jack who was sitting on the sofa in front of two police men. The sight of her Uncle didn ’ t surprise her since she would often wake up to find him napping on the sofa instead of her father. His fists opened and closed when he saw her, as if he wanted to grab onto something and squeeze, but he kept his hands in his lap.
“ Can I at least say goodbye? ” Uncle Jack stood up, lunging past the two Officers.
Ellie whisked her outside and into the hot night, while behind them she could hear the sounds of something breaking. She knew the boys would be fighting. It was something she had grown used to when Uncle Jack got after her daddy. Her mommy called Uncle Jack a bulldog with a beard; all muscle and fight with no sense. Her daddy she called a mutt, the kind you ’ d find huddle behind a dumpster covered in mange and piss. Cadence couldn ’ t see it, but she knew how much Uncle Jack loved to fight.
“ I ’ ll find you little mouse. ” He screamed from the living room. “ Ain ’ t nobody going to tear this family apart… ”
The inside of the car was chilled enough that goose bumps formed and the hairs on her arms stood upright. The leather was soft against her skin and the snacks Ellie promised were contained within a brown paper bag. She tore into the fruit snacks first while Ellie buckled her seatbelt and hardly noticed as they sped down the dirt path towards the city. She was asleep before she could finish the first half of her sandwich.
Cadence ’ s eyes fluttered open when Ellie set her down on the soft bed. Beyond the break in the doorway, streaming in light from the hallway, she could see a pair of faces that were unfamiliar to her. The walls of the room were clean, painted a soft yellow, and decorated with images of dinosaurs and the moon. She imagined a little boy was sleeping somewhere and remembered what Ellie said about visiting some friends.
“ I ’ m scared. ” She whispered. “ When can I go home? ”
Ellie smiled and smoothed the hair from her face. “ It won ’ t be but a moment, sweetheart. Do you know where your mommy or daddy went? Did they tell you where they were going? ”
Cadence shook her head. “ Why can ’ t I go with Uncle Jack? ”
Ellie thought about this and then shook her head. “ It ’ s complicated, Cadence. I can ’ t leave you at home all alone and we need some time before we figure things out. I promise I ’ ll come back and check up on you, ok? Get some sleep and tomorrow you can meet Theodore. ”
She nodded, pulling the blankets tight against her chin and squeezed her eyes shut.
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[ WP ] [ TT ] You and your friends found out that you are all immortal . Ever since then practical jokes you pull on each other got a little more ... dangerous .
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`` Mr. Thompson, I'm not sure you understand the gravity of what I just told you.''
I wipe the tears from my eyes, and try to relax. I take a few deep breaths and regain my eye contact.
`` I have to admit Mr Thompson, I do n't regularly give patients this news very often, but I've never seen quite this reaction.''
I ca n't maintain it, I erupt with laughter once more. The absurdity of it all. The lengths she went to, it's unbelievable.
`` You do understand the news I just gave you right?''
I just speak through the laughter and tears.
`` Yeah....uh, full blown aids, no cure....life changing illness....should-should inform my sexual partners... oh god Doc I ca n't take it.''
I try to regain my composure unsuccessfully. Finally I just get up and leave. I have a long journey home, and revenge to plan. Oh, Sarah is gon na get it for this one. I KNEW there was a reason she asked if we could be friends with benefits.
It takes about half of the two hour trip to stop laughing. It would have been less time, but I caught a case of the giggles when I caused a pile-up in an intersection due to my brakes no longer working. I wonder who did that one?
I walk the last few blocks to my house scheming. I figured I'd just hoof it, it's easier than staying and explaining things to the cops.
I've always been a clever guy, but it's going to take something truly amazing to top giving someone aids... I mean just in the prep work alone! Oh, I'll get them back, starting with Sarah!
-- -- -- -- --
`` Sarah, Sarah! Look at this!''
She walks over to her younger brother wondering what lame discovery he has made this time. She starts hearing an unusual sound as she gets near. Is that a humming? No, more like a buzzing.
`` Timmy? Where are you buddy?''
She walks outside into the backyard seeing her little brother by the tool shed. The sound is coming from inside.
`` Timmy, you should go inside.''
Reluctantly he listens. When he is out of harms way she opens the door. Immediately she is engulfed in a cloud of bees. Before the discovery she would have been terrified, considering how deathly allergic her family has historically been when bees are involved. But as her throat swells shut, all she can do is laugh.
-- -- -- -- -- -
`` So, what a week it's been.''
I look to my left, and ca n't help but laugh uncontrollably.
`` Sarah! Jesus, you should at least go to the doctor for the swelling!''
`` Fck ugh bthrd!''
Her tongue is swollen in place and ca n't even move. That's not nearly as bad as James though. I look over at him and completely lose my shit. Things have really started escalating ever since we realized that our limbs will actually grow back.
James, what's left of him any way, made the mistake of saying he was conquering his fear of heights by going skydiving. My brake lines were n't the only cable that was cut this week. Who would have thought that limbs could actually pop off the body from an impact from 15,000 feet.
I raise my glass.
`` To a hell of a week!''
We toast. And now I wait until the rat poison and laxatives kick in. That's going to be a hilarious combo.
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[ WP ] Lucifer tries to rent an AirBNB in an alternate Hell . Super-powered time travelers wearing numbered hats try to stop him .
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The phone on Lucifer's desk rang and rang. He tried to reach it, but his hand was slapped away by one of the many humans crowding his office.
`` Slow down, Satan!'' said the woman. `` You ca n't rent that place!''
`` That's right!'' said someone else. `` It only has one window!''
`` Yeah! And the water pressure in the shower is terrible!''
Hitler pushed himself to the front of the group. `` Mein Got, Zatan, it is ein pig-sty! If you try to rent zat place, I will give all your demons a pencil mustache with mein uberpower!''
`` That would look terrible!'' crowed someone in the back.
Lucifer groaned, holding his head in his hands. `` You guys,'' he rumbled, `` I'm only renting it to *aliens... *''
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[ FF ] `` It was the last time I spoke to him . ''
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`` Well Doctor? Is the patient ready? They are n't paying you that substantial sum to stand around.'' The man in the dark suit was impatient, even more so then his employers. `` He's ready, I just need to get one last thing.'' I dug around in the recesses of my scrubs and found the spool of clear wire. `` Are we sure this is necessary? I've heard this man, was even his friend, he really did not seem to be a threat.'' The man in the dark suit extracted a manilla file from the depths of his jacket and held it to the me. `` He was a journalist, which is a hard enough job in these parts. But he started to talk. He talked out, he did n't like the Establishment. Started stirring resentment. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, well...'' The man in the dark suit lingered, moving his hand over the patients mouth. `` Try talking with your mouth stitched shut. Then a pen is all he's got to attack. He will be an example.'' He slapped the patient, stirring him. `` That's what you get for stirring up the scum.'' I prepared his needle, sterilizing it, getting the wire ready. The patient looked the me right in the eye. `` You bastard. They need you to do their dirty work. To shut up those still exercising'free speech'. Just remember what I've told everyone. Or there will be hell to pay.'' The man with the dark suit pulled a syringe off the doctor's operating table and jabbed it into the patient's neck. `` Lets get started.'' The man in the dark suit picked up his needle, handing it to me. As I started I realized. This was the last time anyone spoke to him. It was the last time I spoke to him.
First time posting here-hopefully its good.
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[ WP ] New intelligent life is found in nature on a frequent basis , your job is to eliminate this threat to human supremacy .
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He gazed at the screen of his hand-held, scrutinizing the tree bark's mottled surface. As he scanned, he fiddled with the hand-held's knobs and buttons. Yes, here. And more over there. Microscopic markings. These were trade symbols, he knew, and they were one of the most developed written languages he'd seen in his 18 year career.
He knew that he would see these pictograms again in his dreams. They would join the nightly rotation of images: burning teepees, stone tools crushed beneath relentless tank treads, and of course, the bodies piled high in their great diversity.
He rose and turned to where the men in the white environmental suits stood waiting. He gestured at the white pines around him.
`` All of it.''
One of them, the man with red stripes encircling his biceps, approached, `` Sir? What's the ER?''
`` This is a Class 4 society Lieutenant, despite their microscopic size. They've been particularly skittish, so lets make the Extermination Radius 30 klicks. Center the blast on that first copse to the south. The one with the signs of agriculture. We'll be back in a month's time to run through our checkup protocols.''
The destruction of each new terrestrial intelligence haunted him, but it was the price he had to pay. It was the price they all had to pay. Humanity could not endure another crisis on the scale of the Dolphin Conflict.
Later, in the helicopter, he looked out the viewport at the snow capped mountains, and tried to ignore the red glimmer of firelight reflecting off the trees below.
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[ WP ] A genie just granted you your wish to be able to speak every language and you find that in your brain there is a language which belongs to aliens .
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I felt the genie's warm magic surround me, I felt my brain stimulate, and my eyes widen as if I'd just inhaled pure cocaine caffeine. `` It is done'' exclaimed the genie in his loud punchy voice. He shrunk down into the lamp in a purple puff of smoke. I felt awake, I felt alive.
I did n't think about all the new languages I knew at first. I thought of the possibilities this gift could give me. I could work at the UN as a translator, no problem. I could become famous, no problem. I become flustered with excitement, barely containing my grin. I had n't moved from the spot where the wish had been granted. I just did n't know what to do with myself.
I lowered my head with a big smile on my face and started sifting through my brain. It was strange, like I could open up an index and just search for the language. And there they were. I looked for all the standard languages you'd want to know. French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese. I knew all of them. I started thinking of more and more obscure languages. Uzbek, Bantu, Papua. I knew them all. It did n't even feel strange to hear a language in my head that i'd never heard even on TV before, it just felt natural. Now onto dead languages I thought. Latin, Mayan, Coptic. All of them I could revive right here, and right now. It was as if I was opening up a pantheon of knowledge in the library of my head. I was exploring new corridors, new avenues. I now know languages that twins in India use as short hand. I knew languages that people had developed with their dogs. I knew languages that were n't even non-fiction.
And then I realized. Inside the pantheon of my mind, I was in only in a very secluded part of it. The thousands of languages I thought I wanted to know were just an atom on the tip of the iceberg. My mind felt like it was exploding. I pushed past the limited section of my pantheon, and then I saw it. My mind suddenly opened, as if it had shed light on a great interstellar ballroom of knowledge. We are not alone. Trillions of languages flew through my thoughts, each more fantastic than the last. Some languages I could n't even speak with my primitive vocal chords, some languages were n't even based on sound. Some were telepathy, some were forms of signing, some were currents of electricity, the forms of communication between these creatures were endless.
In knowing their languages I also knew their entire vocabulary. I knew of places, locations, famous characters, I knew how primitive or advanced they were, if they were warlike of peaceful. Billions upon billions of significant locations, events, and beings spread across the infinite expanse of space. I knew where they all are, where they happened, when they happened and why they happened. I was now an ambassador for every alien species in the universe on Earth without them even knowing it. I had near infinite knowledge of near infinite species, and I had been granted the skill to use it.
I fell to my knees in the cool dusty cave, with sweat pouring down my face. The light in my mind had now illuminated my consciousness to every language in the universe. I felt the swelling go down as I comprehended this. I pushed myself back to my feet, looked toward the entrance of the cave and whispered to myself.
`` I've got a lot of work to do...''
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[ WP ] Write a classic fairy tale where the Knight saves the Princess . No strange twists or subversions . Just focus on telling a good story .
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Once upon a time, there lived a boy who was a close friend to the princess of a rival town.
They, despite the many warnings made by their fathers, were close to one another, often seen sneaking pieces of raided pies from the marketplace vendors and chasing each other in the meadows that rested between the two towns.
For many years, the townspeople tolerated their friendship, many secretly hoping that it would lead to a truce between each other.
However, on the boy's fifteenth birthday, the uneasy peace between the rivaling factions was shattered as rumors of the princess being kidnapped spread and sparked an almost palatable bloodlust in the girl's people.
Started by a rejected suitor, the rumor forced the princess into hiding, as nothing would stop the villagers from battle, even after the many years of hope made by her friendship with the boy.
As she fled town, the princess saw her people lining up along the meadows, pitchforks and torches in their hands and unbridled rage in their faces. That day saw many lost lives and homes as they tore across the land, ravaging the soil and fields.
The boy, miraculously surviving the carnage, also fled, seeking shelter in ancient ruins that were mysteriously shunned by both villages.
Along the dusty, crumbling walls, he studied the drawings and runes carved from centuries ago, not noticing sacred magicks flowing into him from thin air.
Decades pass as the villages continue warring, the boy's town nearly destroyed. The boy had grown up, though the knowledge and power he had gained from the ruins had aged him much further.
Returning to a skeleton of his once proud land, he searched for any sign of the princess, desperate for a familiar sight after many years away from what was once his precious life.
Despite his efforts, he was left with the sobbing of his defeated people and the ever burning husks of houses that were scattered around him.
Undaunted by the horrid sights, he marched towards her town, revenge oddly not flickering in his mind.
Nearly speared by the town guards, he was stopped at the gates, a grim look beginning to spread across his face.
`` Where is she?'' he asked. The guards laughed, then told him to leave. `` She was kidnapped by your kind boy. Why would she be here?''
Irritated, the boy whisked them away, blue mist streaming from his fingertips seemingly grabbing the guards and carrying them off.
In the princess's home, her father was pacing across the room, incredibly nervous due to her extended `` disappearance'', not knowing a beast had slain her escorts and taken her back to its lair. `` My dear, where are you?'' he mumbled.
The boy burst through the door, not giving the leader a moment's thought as he confronted him. `` Where is the princess?''
`` I have not a clue you foolish brat. And you were lucky to have survived.''
`` That may be sire. But I am back now. What are *you* doing?'' the leader was struck. Here he was worried sick about his daughter, and this cur was lecturing him. But the he also had a point.
`` I'm not doing anything at all dog. It is not like you have any reason to care about her. Look at what my people done to your sorry kind.'' `` That is besides the point. I do not care for you or my people or anyone else right now. All I care about right now is your daughter. Please, help me sire.''
Again, the leader was taken aback. Intelligent and straight to the point, this was not the thieving boy he observed years ago.
`` As I've said before, I do not know where she is. I sent her off faraway to hide in the forests, but I have not yet heard from my servants. I trust that you will find her?''
`` I will.''
The boy calmly stepped out of the house, and journeyed towards the forest. Now worried sick about her, he defeated the monsters that attacked him every step of the way, either restraining them in the trees they jumped out from or transforming them into tiny critters that angrily nipped at his feet.
Stories of his battles spread around the forest, and eventually the beast that had kidnapped the princess sought him, angry that he had invaded his land.
The boy, like with all the others, asked the beast where he kept the princess.
The beast replied, `` I ate her. Why, may I ask?'' undaunted by the boy's skinny appearance. If this was what it had been hearing so much about, the beast wanted it to fight with full force.
The boy snapped in an instant, calling forth a hazy blade of red that he gripped in his hands. Charging the beast, he began carving up its skin, nearly deaf to its cries and pleas for mercy.
As he prepared to stab the blade through its heart, the beast stared him down, and through bated panting whispered, `` She's alive boy. I kept her in my home. Do not kill me, and I will lead you to her.''
The beast lead him through the ever darkening forest into the near twilight swamp where his lair resided.
`` Here boy. Just look into the cave from here and you'll see her alive and well.''
Peering into the beast's lair, the boy felt its claws cutting through the air behind him.
`` Traitor.'' the boy ducked down, and whispered for his sword. Different from his earlier one, it shined in a darkness that seemed to suck in the little light around him. He charged the beast yet again, than pierced through its beating heart.
He watched the life fade from its eyes, and now guilty, slowly rested the body against the side of the cave wall.
Making his way inside, the boy saw her. She looked just like she had years before. `` Princess, I'm here now.'' `` Oh, my dear friend, I'm so happy you came here.'' She embraced him, but just as quickly pulled back. `` But, what happened to the beast that had kidnapped me?''
Looking down, he told her. With a sad smile, she embraced him again. `` My dear, what's done is done. Your heart was in the right place, and I would have done the same.'' He looked up, seeing tears forming in her eyes.
`` Besides, it is not your fault for the war. I'm so sorry for what I've caused...'' Sobbing, she sank to the ground. The boy comforted her, and later returned her to her home. Safe at last, the princess ceased the onslaught between the villages and fostered peace between the previous enemies. And they all lived happily ever after.
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[ WP ] Get me hooked in 150 words
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It begins with a tremor. Not a large one, not yet, but enough to make a few of us stumble. My crew crouch low to regain their balance.
Next comes the hiss of scale on gold. The tension in the air is palpable now. It hangs thick and threatens to suffocate us, but we stave it off with brazen excitement. We know the risks. But we also know the riches.
The hiss intensifies before reaching a climax, and all of a sudden, there is a cacophony of sound – a metallic symphony as piles of gold tumble out of the way. It ’ s music to my ears. Of all Treasure Hunters, we are the best paid because we have the balls to take on the biggest.
Shield in one hand and spade in the other, I face down the hulking darkness that rises up slowly before us. They call us the Dragon Raiders. The craziest treasure crew in the world.
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[ WP ] For as long as you can recall , you have always had this unexplainable feeling of having some greater purpose in your life . Today , you discover what that purpose is .
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John woke up, a day like any other.
6:45 AM, his eyelids heavy, mouth dry, knees wobbly. Always a heavy sleeper, John.
He stumbled to the kitchen and washed his face in the sink, had some orange juice, some Muesli with skim milk ( believer in low fat, this guy ) and a banana.
He started looking for his car keys, last night nothing but a blur in his mind. What happened? He finally found the keys inside the top drawer, which was strange, since he was a methodical man and always left the keys inside his tweed coat, which always hung on his coatrack. He hated tweed, he just used the coat, a family heirloom, to keep his keys in. He was weird like that, John, some would call him a little nutty.
He went down the stairs and, in his grogginess, he slipped. He fell, and fell, and fell, for what felt like an eternity. When he finally got down to the ground, he felt smaller, lighter, and... furrier. Also squeakier.
For some strange reason, John had turned into a squirrel. From then on, as the most intelligent squirrel on earth, he mobilized and managed several important victories for the benefit of his kind, and became a liaison between humans and squirrels, a meaty, awww-inducing bridge between two different species, the missing link. Nuts were never scarce, trees were more abundant than ever, and, in time, he finally got his wings and got promoted to flying squirrel.
Finally, John was home.
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[ WP ] `` The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he ’ s in prison . ''
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Dave sat alone in his apartment drinking his morning cup of coffee and eating a bowl of cereal. He glanced up at the clock and noticed that it was time to drive to work. His commute took roughly half an hour due to traffic and he arrived at his office building at just past 8 o'clock. As he sat in his cubicle creating slide shows for meetings and spreadsheets of data he began, briefly, to daydream about what it would be like to try surfing, or maybe spend a day relaxing on the beach.'That would be quite nice', he though to himself.
Dave had never been to the beach even once, regardless of the fact that his city was on the coast, and he'd heard there was a very nice beach not far away. He just never felt like he had the *time*. There is always work to be done, and he must do a good job so that he can earn enough to pay his bills, and pay back his debts. Dave imagined the sand between his toes and the hot sun on his face. He imagined what waves hitting the beach would probably sound like. Dave's supervisor stopped by to ask how the slides were coming. Dave's meeting began in an hour, so he had to finish in preparation. The daydream was soon forgotten.
He glanced up at the clock and noticed that it was time to drive to home. His commute took roughly half an hour due to traffic and he arrived at his apartment building at just past 8 o'clock. Dave sat alone and enjoyed is evening meal. Dave went to bed.
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[ WP ] You are given the opportunity to pick the exact time and date that you 're going to die , as well as the cause of your death . You 've decided to tell your family what you chose
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You are given the opportunity to pick the exact time and date that you're going to die, as well as the cause of your death. You've decided to tell your family what you chose
The fireplace crackles slightly as amber shifts among a collapsed piece of wood. A family sits in front of the fireplace. The father, Richard, elderly in appearance yet young at heart, looks over a newspaper dated 18th of February, 1833. His grey hair is bunched in the back of his head, a five o'clock shadow making way upon his face. `` Hmph.. trouble in Spain again'' he sighs to himself. His wife, Maria, the second wife, leisurely knits in a corner in a rocking chair and tuts in confirmation. Her swollen stomach evidence of the fruitful consummation of the marriage 4 months prior. His youngest son, Richard Jr, sits in front of the fireplace between the two. He stares at the embers and recants in his mind again the events of the morning.
> - * -
Heading to school, a privileged affair by far thanks to his father, he paired up walking there with a group of boys who went to work for the chimney sweepers. The usual bunch, Tim, John, Joe and little Joe. They were always up for good laughs. Little Joe was the eldest and soon too old to be helping the chimney sweeper due to his size. He was simply growing too quickly and the chances of him getting stuck in the chimneys was getting too high. `` Hey Richard! ``, little Joe shouted across the street and Richard waved back, waiting for two carriages to pass by before crossing, dodging the horse shit on his way. They shook hands, emulating what they saw the men do. Richard was the eldest, 4 years older than little Joe, and the sweeper boys looked up to him. They liked to accompany Richard to school and be seen by the newspaper boys, couriers and other riff-raff walking about. it made the boys feel better, like they belonged in Richard's social class as well, that fine, well-fed middle class. `` How ya doin' then Richard? Havin' a good day, yeah?'' and Richard nodded `` Yeah, bloody cold though'innit'', and all the boys nodded and gave their approvals. `` What you learnin' in school today, Richard? ``, Tim asked. `` Ah, boring stuff. ya know. Latin, it's absolute shite'', and Tim sighed `` I wished I could learn some latin. What you think you will learn today? ``, Tim asked again and skipped in front of the gang. `` Probably something about Caesar'', Richard answered `` Who is that? ``, Joe asked `` Some kind of King or something, back in the day'' `` Like, few years back?'' `` A lot of years back. I'd say hundreds even'', Richard answered and Joe whistled. `` Could n't imagine that, hundred years back. Not even hundred in front. I bet things wo n't change much in 100, eh? Have n't changed much the last 100, I betcha'' and they walked on silently until they took their turns to their work and Richard took his turn to the left to get to the grammar school.
``'Aight, see you lads after school eh?'' and the boys nodded and scurried off, shouting out to each other goodbye. As Richard turned away from the crossroads, he bumped into an elderly gentleman and fell down on his ass. `` Oy, watch it boy!'' the gentleman shouted. He rapped his cane on the ground and his peacoat and top hat made him look even taller, even more imposing. He carried a broad moustache on his upper lip which is far as Richard got before bowing his head. `` So sorry, sir! Absolutely sorry! ``, Richard mumbled and gathered his hat. He tried to hurry past to forget the embarrassing ordeal but the man grabbed his arm mid-stride. `` Wait'', the gentleman spoke, softly even. Richard turned, his head down and took off his hat in his hands `` So sorry, sir. I did n't mean to- I mean, I was just-'' `` Shut up'' the old man said and got closer to Richard. He took Richard's chin in his hands and peered into Richard's eyes. The old man had two coloured eyes: one green, green as the leaves on a blossoming tree; and another blue, blue as the bluest sky in the deepest of summers. Finely taken care of eyebrows adorned the man's forehead and a bit of hair looked through his hat. He seemed a bit younger than Richard initially assumed. Richard's brown eyes were simple as can be by comparison. Richard was overcome by fear and stepped back after a few seconds. The old gentleman spoke `` My boy, I can see a light in your eyes. A light, very, very bright'', and Richard was confused `` Sorry?'' he said again, perplexed as what to do.
`` Boy, I can offer you something no one else can and I can see that this opportunity would only be well placed in your hands. Mind, would you have a few minutes to spare? ``, but Richard was hesitant, already taking a few steps back `` Sorry, sir, I did not mean to harm you and I think this was relatively harmless and I really need to get to school. You see my father-'' `` Boy, this is the best opportunity you will get in your lifetime'', the old man interrupted him and stepped closer `` I will give you the opportunity to change the fate of the world as we know it'', and Richard stopped moving back. Changing the whole world? How? He could be like Caesar. A man above all other men. Remembered through all the ages. He thought of the implications for split seconds before the gentleman walked towards him, then past him and into an alley, wordlessly. Richard followed suit. The man was fast for his age, as the cane hit the cold hard cobblestone. Richard continued behind him closely, so as not to lose him, as they took turn after turn through the alleys of the city. Door closed as the old man passed them and as they carried on, Richard noticed the man's bent posture, began to straighten. He became faster even. Richard had to slightly jog to keep up, but made sure not to lose the man. One last turn they took and crossed a road. The man rushed straight into the road, narrowly avoiding a carriage. Richard stopped to not be run over. `` Oy watch it ya idiot!'' the carriage driver shouted but the gentleman paid no attention.
Richard hurried across the street after the man who disappeared after a turn into an alley to the left. Richard ran towards it and before him was a doorway. Richard awkwardly ambled through it. `` Close the door!'' the man shouted from within and Richard did so. The heavy door creaked to a close and the lock clicked. The hallway was dark, with a table on one side with various papers on top of it. They seemed mathematical `` Come in! Here!'' the man shouted from a room or two farther. Richard walked through the hallway past one door and took a peak. It contained various glassware that Richard had never seen before. Some sort of tubes connected from one to the other. Some concoction of various colours was making hissing sounds by itself as water drops slowly dripped into it. Richard decided not to linger too long, who knows what this man was capable of. A voice in his head screaming `` Go to school!'' which clearly sounded like his father. Yet, another voice inside of him said `` Listen to the man'' and it was timid, his own, but stronger. It came from within him.
Richard entered the room where the man stood in front of a large table, similar to the other room, but it was neater and finely arranged. The man had thrown his peacoat into a corner, the top hat rested on a recliner in a corner. Upon the wall were various bookcases filled with books and plants and apparently also a skull. A man's skull? Richard's eyes stayed fixated upon it. The man looked over his shoulder then followed Richard's eyes. `` Pan troglodyte skull, simple specimen really, nothing out of the ordinary. Come closer now'' he urged Richard towards him with a wave of his hand, a glass vial of sorts in his hand with a yellow substance. Richard stood next to him and saw him mix the vials together. A small purple cloud came out of it and the two vials were empty, Richard did not see what the man held in his other hand. `` My boy, my name is Archibald Brimmer. Sir, technically, but I lost that title. Politics, I tell you. ``, Archibald shrugged. He was wearing a spotless suit and through the doorway was a kitchen as far as Richard could tell. Richard asked `` My name is Richard, sir. I must ask: why have you brought me here?'' and Archibald smiled `` My boy!'' he opened his arms turning to Richard and smiled.
`` My boy, my boy!'' then clasped his hands together and walked around the table, looking towards the window which was flanked by the bookcases filled with oddities and many, many books. `` The vial before you, holds an opportunity, but also a risk, that I am too afraid to take myself. You are my test subject so to speak and I offer you two things before you object: firstly, I offer you my estate, my riches, all that belongs to me and ever will. Secondly, the condition for the first thing to come true, is that you drink what is in that vial. ``, Archibald turned to Richard, his outline visible against the window but the brightness of outside obscuring any detail. He appeared ominous and dark now, mysterious. Richard was enticed by the idea. Richard took a step towards the vial and leered into it. It was purple.
`` My boy'', Archibald continued, in a lower voice as prior `` that vial will give you the opportunity to choose the time of your demise, and exactly how it will happen. There is no limit to when or how. You choose. You alone. All of your aging will be slowed to the point of near nothingness depending on how you choose, or it can be hurried to such a degree that...'' Archibald stopped and turned. He was looking out of the window and leaned on it with one hand `` Choose wisely. If you do this, the entire world can be yours. All of it. You can be bigger than Napoleon. Stronger than Genghis Khan. You could be the next Caesar'', and with those words Archibald remained silent. Richard's heart leaped at the last word. The next Caesar... `` I'll do it!'' Richard yelped, his voice cracking slightly. He was excited. Archibald suppressed his elation and hoped this subject would be successful. This one should bear fruit.
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[ WP ] The year is 2040 , and you are the last smoker alive . The `` Quit Smoking '' ads get personal .
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They always set their steps on different cobblestones, pass through alleys of different shades of black, and pride themselves of climbing up to different doors. But when you put your feets right behind theirs, it's always the same sight. The same billboards. The same looks. The same day in the jungle.
Always a different legend they're trying to write with their own corrupted sense of grandiosity, but you always read the same chronicle once you can squeeze a read of the journals and a cigarette after a harsh day.
''TWO MEN ARRESTED FOR GRAND THEFT...
MURDERER OF THE BAKER'S STREET FOUND...
SUSPECT OF THE BURGLARIES APPREHENDED...''
Worse part is finally cathing them. When you're still a little boy taking care of his gun like it's his pristine pride, you keep your straight-face but love the pumping rush. When the feeling dulls, you can only look at them through your tired eyes utter the same words as the previous guy. Pleading to not be sent to the yard. And like a litle child, when the tears have no effect, the tantrum starts. You're grabbing them by the handcuffs and their face almost split in disgust. Suddenly, you're now the bad guy for making them suffer the smell.
''Bloody chimney sweeper, I'd cut your lung open if I was free but I'll be happy knowin' you'll do it yourself!''
''I'm only doing my part in this little city'' as I always told thoses elitist-smeller.''You make my pay, I make the tobacco shop's down the street.'' When they get tired of talking you escort them towards the yard and rejoice at the thought of the walk of shame;
You may have caught someone who, just the other day, was stealing from the same person that look at you with judging stares, but today, you're the criminal. You may be one of the last good cops from an era long forgotten, and yet, they only pity for the poor man who did not deserve to be cuffed to me. The walls that once insulted policemen in graffitis, now still insults you in a more choking way.
Who can breath in this city without being lost in dark clouds? Thoses folks who fake coughs when you walk past them and feels as if they done something great are the firsts to burn down from the needs of their lives. The children's begin their finger-pointing lesson when they see the ashes I leave behind, and always get the same answers from their mother.
It's always the same.
Once you walk back home, in the same modest apartment, with only the cold, blue, light of a television to welcome you; you feel as if you're just another men living with the thoughts of what could have been. Talking to a chair, where sat a man that once shared the same value as you. Swept away, like all old cats of the city.
The city is always the same. The peoples are replaced, the criminals simply ca n't quit but I ca n't blame them because neither can I.
'' Arnold, do they sell Camel up there?''
Edit: English is not my 1st language; got to fix the mistake I'm able to see.
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You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... .
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I do n't really like to speak about my earlier works. They were so... imperfect. You have to understand, this was before my transformation. Before I became the great man I am today. I was still finding my way, testing limits. Seeing what I could do. I was sloppy back then. Kind of makes you wonder why it took you all so long to catch on... but that's another matter.
My first was back in 1987. When I first took him, I really was not sure what I wanted to do with him. He was a little boy, a sweet little thing, who lived down the road a ways. I was still living in my old place out in Chesapeake. Anyways, I had been watching this boy for a few weeks. I have always been a creature of habit, so every day I would sit and read near the park down the road. And every day there he was. His mother was a real piece of work. A true southern belle bitch. You know the type. They like to dress real nice and pretend they are all civilized and cultured, then they go home at night, drink a bottle of whiskey, and beat the shit out of their kids. Well anyways, this little boy shows up one day. He's got these marks on his arm, four dark purple lines just above the elbow. I know those marks well. He's wincing a little as he digs in the sand, obviously sore from the beating his mama gave him. And I think back to how I was back then. How scared I was when my mother came after me. How terrible it felt to be that weak. And in that moment, I realized I hated that little boy. That weak, pitiful little bastard. He turned to look and see where his mom was, checking to make sure she was near by. Jesus, he was worried she had gone away and left him. Disgusting. He wanted her there, he *wanted* those bruises because he thinks they mean his mama loves him. Of course, she's not paying any attention to the little shit, so I just walk over and pick him up. I give him a look that says, `` you better be quite, or you'll get some.'' It's a look he knows, something he understands. So he just lets me carry him off. I did n't plan it, I was n't ready. I did n't even look around to see if I had been noticed. I just up and left. I did him with a rope. It was the only thing I had lying around that felt right. Everything else just... well it just did n't seem perfect. If I'd been more organized, more like I am today, it would have gone more smoothly. It could have been perfect.
Like I said. I do n't like talking about my early work. Ask me something else.
Why? What a stupid question. Have n't you been listening? The little shit deserved it. They all did. They were just asking for it, the helpless little bastards. Every time I do my work, the world gets stronger. I get stronger. That's why. I do it because they do n't deserve to live.
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[ IP ] Quest of the Black Cat
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Alex would be home in thirty minutes. Tiger yawned and stretched his legs out on the white kitchen floor, unenthusiastic about the return of the young, freckly scholar. He was tired of the new mix. There was barely any meat in it.
'Stupid Alex, why does he buy the new mix? Why does n't he buy the old mix? The old mix was better, it had more meat. *At least* eight pieces, sometimes even *ten*', he muttered to himself.
He looked out the window at the winter night. The snow sparkled white, reflecting the pale streetlight. He thought about meat. He would go for any meat, any meat in the world. Tuna would be nice, but where would he get it?
He pondered.
'Rats! I could get rats!'. He rose up from his tired pose, ecstatic.'There's not much time though, Alex would freak out if I was n't here.'
He looked at the clock.
'Twenty minutes, I could make it', he bravely exclaimed.
He leaped onto the red-checkered kitchentable, then bit the wooden window frame, checking if it was open. It seemed to be closed. He went to the window next to it, stepping over the salt shaker.
'Eureka!'
The fresh air hit his face, brushing through his fur.
He jumped out onto a cold pile of illuminated snow. His paws sank a bit.
'Ahhh, the old hunting ground', he recalled.
Tiger peered out onto the dark street, gazing over the parked cars and the crystalized sidewalks.
He saw nothing yet.
'I better move'
He started getting hungry. He walked down the street, past the houses; The Camerons, The Wilsons, The Franklins, The Zhens. Tiger hated the Franklin cat, Spotty. He once stole a rat from him the previous summer. It was a large and juicy rat. He had it under his cool paw and Alex called for him from the window. He had to leave, but when he did so, Spotty took over his prey like a hyena. You do n't take another cat's rat! It's common courtesy.'You do n't see good manners anymore', he thought at the time.
Suddenly, he spotted a dark shadow under a bush. It moved and so did Tiger, sprinting after the creature. They went over the low fence into a garden, then out into the street again. The snow got in his face, annoying him. He got closer to it. It was a rat! Definitely a rat! A ball of warm, furry deliciousness. He was close enough to make a jump now. He leaped for it, but as he did a wall of white appeared before him.
The rat was gone. Tiger got his face full of snow. Where did the stupid thing go??
He pulled off snow with his paw and looked around at the pile of snow. He looked down and saw a hole. It must have ran through it.
'I could go over instead, it ca n't have gotten that far', he told himself, full of confidence as he started to walk up the icy pile.
'Turn around and go home!'
Tiger jumped back, startled. It was another voice. He looked up.
Above him stood a large cat, black and strong, dressed in a solemn cape, a wooden stick was firmly strangled in its paw, he towered in the cold darkness. Beneath him, figures started appearing, one by one they came out, until they were a troop. They were rats, fifty atleast.
'Dude! There's like fifty rats behind you'
'I know. Now go home'
'You ca n't hog'em all, you do n't need that many!'
He looked again and there it was! The stupid rat he'd chased before.
Tiger moved up the pile again and jumped at it. He felt something hard on his head and fell down. It was the black cat.
'What're you doing?!'
He felt his head, it hurt from the blow.
'Good stick, huh?', the black cat admired it as he held it up.
'Why?!'
'These are not your snacks, little cat, they..'
'The name's Tiger!'
'A tiger?'
The black cat laughed, the rats uttering a squealing laugh in chorus after him.
Stupid rats, he thought.
'Very well, but these are my friends, not your snacks. I am the defender of rats, The Black Shadow they call me. Whenever they need me, I am there, and I do not eat them'
He was one of those progressive cats, those vegetarians.
'Hey! Just because you do n't want'em, does n't mean I ca n't eat'em! Go and eat a carrot!'
'You'll have to get past me if you want a meal'
Tiger moved up again, this time jumping at the black cat. The black cat was quick, quicker than him.
He landed on his face again and promptly wiped it off, turning around for another attempt.
The black cat moved back into the shadow as the rats started moving forward in unison towards Tiger. He could take one rat, maybe even three or four, but not fifty. He turned away and started sprinting away from the icy rodent-palace.
He ran over the low fence, then back out again to confuse them. Across the Wilsons, over the Cameron-lawn, sprinting faster and faster in the chilly night.
One of them got hold of his leg with its large teeth.
'Stupid bloodthirsty rats!'
He pushed his legs back like a horse and it fell off in mid-sprint, flying through the night.
Tiger was close now.
He got to the hunting grounds, jumped up into the house and shut the window.
He looked out at the starry night.
The rats were gone.
'Hey, there you are!'
Behind him was Alex, the freckly scholar.
Tiger looked out again to assure himself, nothing there but the empty night.
'I got your favourite, I know how picky you are'
Tiger looked down. A bowl of the old mix sitting on the kitchen floor.
Ten pieces of meat.
Good old mix.
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[ WP ] A high schol student has just witnessed an atrocious crime . How does the rest of his day play out ?
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The man was running. Running and running as fast as he could. The lady he had raped and stabbed lay on her side by some garbage cans...
Ryan had seen all this by the entrance of the alley. It had all happened so fast - one moment there were muffled screams, the next Ryan could see the man pounding away, and the next... A spurt of blood. He shuddered.
Call 911? Ryan looked around. A few others around him were already on the phone, and he heard one of them say `` ambulance''.
Ah well. Ryan shrugged and moved away, resuming his walk home.
It would make for a great snapchat story.
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[ WP ] Every day the main character wakes up a year has passed
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( ( This is where I comment to answer the prompt, right? Just making sure: please tell me if I'm doing something horrendously wrong and I'll correct it if I can. Obligatory apology because I'm somewhat of a neophyte to this corner of the interwebs. ( ( Edit for formatting: sorry about that. ) ). ) )
( ( Warning: this might not be completely historically accurate, which is why I'm vague on a lot of things but I'm not writing a whole novel so I really did n't feel the need to research a ton of history. ) )
Whatever cruel deity had granted me this curse must have had a bitter sense of irony.
Perhaps time passed differently for different people. Perhaps I was n't the only one to take the quick way through the millennial fabric. Maybe I'd been destined for this, or maybe I'd unknowingly angered some vicious god. ( I only had the vaguest idea of gods, snatched from street preachers and the windows of churches long gone. Even earlier than that, the people had always been putting trust in something they could n't see. I did n't always understand their languages, but through every age, their faces stayed the same as their eyes turned upward to the sky in the most bitter, ardent prayer I'd ever seen. )
But most of the time, I did n't like to think of my curse as bestowed upon me by someone else. I was all alone, and I had been since as long as I could remember.
It had only been recently that I had realized something was n't right. I'd never assumed that other people did n't think like me, that other people did n't wake up to a changed world.
It had been easy to ignore at first: At first I'd always been cold and alone and shivering when I woke up. The cold never ended. It was the only constant in my life. But I was alone, constantly alone. Food was hard to come by, but I never died. Some days I woke up covered in snow, but I never grew sick. Those were my early years ( or should I say, my early centuries ). I did n't remember much of it. I was just an infant at first, I suppose. Perhaps I should have died, but I never did.
For years, I was alone. I was completely alone. Then, for months, there had been people: the first people I'd ever seen. They had welcomed me, and rejoiced my awakening at each new day. It seemed a sort of ceremony, almost a ritual, as I awoke each day. Nobody else had the village elders surround them, chanting softly as I rose to greet the day. I never questioned it, because I was a child and this was my life: I had never known anything else.
But they were never the same. Rarely did the same person exist for more than a month. The change was most obvious in the small children. They would be infants, held close to their mothers: the next day they would toddle around the small community: a few days later, they were my age: within a week they would be nearly grown, and my old acquaintances would have children of their own. Always, they regarded me with a reverence they did not show to their peers. I was not part of their family. I did not have the skills to help with the village, nor was I part of the bonds they forged as a community. I barely even knew their language, but I saw the reverence in their eyes, the way they worshiped things they did not understand. One of those things, I began to realize, was me.
Sleeping girl, they called me, in their own language, which I picked up in bits and pieces. Sleeping girl awoken. But I never aged as they did. As much as the village spoke of the miracle of seasons, the weather never grew any warmer.
Eventually, new people came. New, strange people, with grossly pale skin and different clothing. I only heard of them, at first. Some days, I would catch glimpses of them. The village elders ( whose childhoods I could remember vividly ) never let me get close to them. I was kept away from them. The ceremonies surrounding my daily awakening became rushed and worried. The adults spoke of the strange men in hushed tones. In every aspect, their actions towards the men ( for there were never women with them ) conveyed what I could only fathom as friendship: despite my estrangement from any sort of society, I saw through this.
One day I woke up and the village was gone. Charred remnants of my former home had almost finished decomposing into the soil.
It had only been my home for what I did not understand was only a year of my time: three and a half centuries of culture had been wiped away by the strange men.
New villages popped up around me, too quickly: I would wake up, shivering, and there would be new building: old trees had become stumps. I had no constant but the bitter cold, but this I barely noticed: it was a discomfort I could n't remember not feeling. Every day was a new struggle: my body told me that I was hungry: I ate. People helped me sometimes: tried to communicate: I could n't.
Some days, I sat in the forest on the edge of the ever-expanding village full of strangely pale people.
The weeks lengthened into months: not that I knew what that meant. Time did n't pass properly for me. I was now older: my reflection in ice looked different: always the same face, but slightly harder now. Other people did n't have the same stringy, matted hair as I did: their faces were not caked in dirt: the problem had worsened since my old village had burned: they had always kept me clean.
More time passed, and more people arrived. A war broke out, and then another. I did n't understand the concept of war. They only lasted a week or two in my time. But here was where I learned the concept of death, of murder. Murder was a foreign concept to me: that men ( always men, never girls like me: I had a vague understanding of gender but never of gender roles ) would try and make each other die before their time. I had often witnessed burial rituals in my ( year, centuries ) in the village. It was a natural part of life: it was the end: everything had an end. To end someone's life prematurely... that was a crime the likes of which I could not fathom.
I wondered if I had an end.
Time passed. Children whose birth I had watched became stones in the ground. Not once did I question my existence, although sometimes I did grow lonely. And with each passing day, the air grew grayer with smoke and the shouts of people became louder and louder. I slept on street corners and in alleys.
One day, violence broke out in the street and a stray bullet pierced my body. The guns were a troubling new development: they were loud and scary, and I stayed away from them when I saw them. But it went into my body, rapping through the rags I had donned when people had begun to shy from my nakedness. Gasping in pain, I sunk onto the ground and clutched my stomach as blood seeped through my hands. My vision blurred: I was slipping away from the world.
In those moments, everything seemed crystal clear: my life was my story, and it was the only story I had, and I was dying, here I was, my story was ending, my story was ending...
I woke up, and it was snowing.
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[ WP ] In a world where prosthetics are quickly eclipsing natural body parts in ability , you are the first to willingly amputate your limbs .
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“ Chop it off ”
The three doctors and the nurse stood in silent disbelief, slowing looking over at each other and then back at the patient on the examination chair. The patient was draped in a blue gown, which deeply contrasted the red splotches which started appearing on his face after 20 minutes of arguing with the medical professionals.
“ Chop it off I say ”, the patient continued, “ Chop it off at let ’ s be done with it. ”
“ Sir, we can ’ t do that ”, the young nurse piped in.
She was still quite frazzled from when the patient first arrived. Though no stranger to disfigured limbs, the nurse couldn ’ t even began to fathom the stated request of the patient. The nurse had immediately ran out of the room without completing the necessary paperwork and grabbed the doctor. After a short period of getting nowhere with the patient, the doctor then requested the help of another doctor, who then requested the help of a third. So now stood four medical professionals, wondering whether to kick the patient out or send him for psychiatric help.
“ Sure you can ”, the patient responded, “ You ’ re the best prosthetic doctors that money can buy… If you can ’ t fulfill my request, then I don ’ t see who can. ”
`` That ’ s exactly the issue… uhm… Mr. Jenkins? ” the large bearded doctor stated while he read the patient files on hand and adjusted his glasses, “ There is literally nobody who could fulfill this request… I mean given the need for FDA approval alone would just… ”
“ I ’ m sure we could figure something out ”, Mr. Jenkins replied, “ I ’ d pay top dollar for all of you to perform the operation in a less regulated country… hell, we could go to Somalia for all I care. ”
“ Sir, we can ’ t simply move our operations to another country for you ”, an older woman doctor replied.
“ If it ’ s an issue of money, then I can surely afford it ”, Mr. Jenkins replied, “ … Come on now, aren ’ t you supposed to be researchers of some kind? Interested in pushing the bounds of possibility? ”
The doctors fell silent again. Exchanges were traded again. No one could think of an immediate response again. They kept falling into this same pattern over and over. They would bring up a few objections, and Mr. Jenkins would quickly shoot them down. Usually they would have demanded his removal and not humored a person so willfully rejecting their advice, but this case was just so darn interesting. Almost as if everyone present wanted to see the request through, but understood the social and professional ramifications if they did.
The doctor who had originally greeted the patient after the nurse came to him in near tears, sat down in a swiveling stool used by the medical staff during examinations and glided his way closer to Mr. Jenkins. Initially he sat with both elbows resting upon his thighs, avoiding eye contact with the patient despite the close proximity. Then he threw his shoulder back up right and made piercing eye contact with Mr. Jenkins, as if waiting to see if he ’ d flinch.
“ The patients we see don ’ t come here by choice Mr. Jenkins ”, the doctor said with a genuine pain, “ They ’ re here out of necessity… because there exist no other choice. ”
Mr. Jenkins readjusted in the examination chair, the rough paper pulled over the upholstery before every visit could be heard crinkling under his sudden movement. The doctor scooted ever closer despite already being at the edge of the seat. He wasn ’ t going to let Mr. Jenkins get away without an honest answer and bruise to the ego.
“ You come in here with such a ridiculous request ”, the doctor continued, “ As if… you live in some Sci-fi world were humans can just be upgraded into some cyborg… it ’ s quite frankly disgusting. ”
The doctor remained leaning towards Mr. Jenkins for a few moments, not letting the moment evaporate between them too qucikly before sitting back in the stool once more. The shoulders of Mr. Jenkins collapsed from the tensed up position they sat in before and deep breath of air left his lips. He sat with his head hung for a while, not looking up at the four people still awaiting his response.
Then he snapped his head up, “ But we DO live in that world! I ’ ve seen… we ’ ve all seen it. ”
His head rotated back and forth like a sprinkler head between the various faces.
“ Tell me it isn ’ t true ”, Mr. Jenkins continued, “ You saw the Paralympics this past year… they broke every record currently held within the regular competitions, and yet you tell me we can ’ t be upgraded like cyborgs. ”
“ Mr. Jenkins! ” the doctor upon the stool rebutted, “ None of those people were a part of those games willingly… sure they outperformed there fully-body abled counterparts, but surely they would wish to still have their organic limbs in place. ”
“ Then what about Franz Henderson from Switzerland? ” questioned Mr. Jenkins, “ They say he ’ s going to lose his gold medal for making unnecessary alterations to various body parts… they say there are several more where that came from too… I hear there ’ s going to be a whole lot of athletes stripped of medals this year. Where are their doctors? Why didn ’ t they object? Just because they were servicing athletes? ”
The statement was bold, yet true. Everyone was painfully aware that doctors around the world, from Russia to China, America to Brazil, everyone was cheating. Don ’ t even get started on the recent military applications of this technology, it weakened everyone ’ s constitution thinking of it. Mr. Jenkins may not be the ‘ first ’ to willingly be modified, but he ’ d be the first openly documented case of someone doing so. All other cases involved excuses or cover-ups, but Mr. Jenkins would make headlines. He would alter the world.
No one said a word. This time exchanges were given with slight nods of approval. The room was still silent, but this time it was an air of approval rather than a tense displeasure.
The doctor on the stool turned toward his colleges and back to Mr. Jenkins, “ Okay… we ’ ll get you that new prosthetic penis, Mr. Jenkins. ”
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[ TT ] The Dwarves of Kul-Ulûg have dug deep and greedily in to the mountain depths . Too deep .
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In the depths of the earth, the bowels of stone and ore, that is where the dwarves live. The mine, mine and mine and mine, chipping at rock with picks and tools, reaching for the precious metals that lie within.
They have a legend, or a fable, or perhaps simply just an old wives tale, about the strange world they live in.
*There is a place, deep underground, deeper than the farthest dwarf has dug, where the gold runs like honey, melted into sparkling rivers. And high above, where dwarves can hardly bear to roam, is where the snowy mountains stay. Only our home keeps them apart, the miles of rocks between the heat and the ice. We must never let them touch, those two, or the world will be torn asunder by their greeting. *
Most dwarves simply smiled and nodded through these stories, all the while thinking that it simply was n't possible to have rivers of gold. The precious metal was something to work for, strive to find, not simply scooped up in a cup and carried away. Most dwarves laugh at the idea that it might be true, all while dreaming of the sparkling depths.
Most dwarves would n't actually attempt to find the world beneath their feet.
But Kru-vel was not a normal dwarf. He dug, he and his friends, straight down, looking for the endless rivers of gold promised by the story. He kept it a secret, or he surely would have been stopped. Nobody knew who he was, what he was doing, or even how far he had progressed.
But all the world saw when he finally found it.
We avoid those mountains now. No longer snowy, no longer majestic. Now it simply consists of a black stain of rock, smooth as ice and sharp as knives. No animals, no plants, no settlers or even thieves reside among the expanse of death.
There were sparkling rivers, down in the belly of the earth.
But they were not made of gold.
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[ WP ] You wake up and the real.worls has become an anime . You hate anime , but your best friend is a colossal weeb .
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( Hey original poster, do you remember your first anime? What's your favorite? I remember mine. Sadly, my obsession of it caused me to do some very regrettable things. I even discovered it during adolescence where all those hormones would cause me to do some crazy things. Heck I even tried making an Accelerator shirt to wear to class this one time. I told myself *Nobody watches index, they'll just think I'm a genius for coming up with a genius design* Heck, I remember back when Dissappearence of Haruhi Suzumiya aired I went around my school and posted flyers for a `` literature club'' as a sort of prank/allusion. I honestly doubted no one would get the reference. I was wrong. But nowadays, it seems the obsession wore off. To this day, I still think going to the convenience store after dark for some coffee and hanging around the front sounds like a good idea. Though, I still want to try BOSS coffee. )
Still in bed. The world is a bit dark. Might as well get some more sleep....
Suddenly, I hear a faint singing in the distance. What the hell is that music!!? Those damn neighbor kids and their pop music these days. Augh...
Before I know it the friggin' sun is blaring through my window!
I look around. The world is so bright and shimmering with optimism. Did I go to a party last night? Am I still high? Wait! I do n't even smoke!
Where am I? Suddenly, there's a knocking on the door. `` Onii-chaaan~ Are you ready for school?'' the voice asks.
`` Who the hell are you and who gave you the keys to my apartment?'' I reply sternly.
The door opens, to reveal a crimson haired lad with oddly large eyes. `` It's me, your best friend Oliver or you can call me by my Japanese name Tatsuma! Hurry up and get dressed or we'll be late for class!''
What the hell. Is this another one of Oliver's shenanigans?
I walk outside my room fully dressed in this blue blazer uniform.
`` Here! We're late!!! You are gon na need this!''
Oliver hands me this odd piece of toast.
`` Time to get going!'' Oliver commanded.
`` What do you want me to do with this?'' I ask puzzled.
`` It's breakfast!'' Ollie replies.
`` Uhhh... lets just go to class before we get detention or something.'' I said
Before I know it, we start racing down through the city. Oliver has that piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Aaaaand there's some sort of music playing in the distance.
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[ WP ] A young girl catches a serial killer red-handed . She enthusiastically and genuinely wants him to murder her too , out of an interest with the macabre and general boredom with life . But she 's not ''his type '' . Tell us about an unlikely friendship .
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Hello, Lakae! I hope you love this little horror piece. May your night be sleepless!
This was it. Elaine had found him, the man who murdered her father. Never had she forgotten that day, a year ago, that the little twelve year old girl had watched her father's extraordinarily, exorbitantly brutal murder. The things the murderer had done would be impossible for a normal person to watch, so extraordinarily repulsive that it would cause almost anyone to question their sanity. But not little Elaine. Oh, no, Elaine had relished the gore. Her father had always loved and cared for her, but Elaine loved no one but sweet, sweet horror. She had watched with hungry eyes the murder of her foolish father. She recorded his screams of agony, and savored the memories of blood spraying, of his hot, fresh flesh being ripped off. She licked her lips when she fondly remembered his face, filled with such exquisite horror, such lavish pain that it sent shivers of joy down to her core. Throughout her mundane, numb live, she had never felt anything like that night. Now she stood before the monstrous man, with a fresh victim struggling against her restraints at his side.
This was where she made her strange request. She fell down on her knees, and began, `` I was there when you murdered my father, a mister Steven Haggart. I vividly remember your gruesome, and torturous methods. Please, mister, could you repeat the same process upon me?'' This request was nothing like he had expected. He lowered the knife, and rolled his hand. The girl nodded, and explained, `` I remember his face, vibrantly filled with pain and fear. How tasteful it was!'' She closed her eyes, put her hands up to her chest, and continued with a happy tone, `` Such fear and pain, so full of life right before death! I've always lived in a daze, numb state, devoid of feeling, until that night.'' She opened her eyes, and began crawling towards the murderer. Elaine began to speak louder, `` That feeling, from watching his death, was the most alive I've ever felt. I want to feel it again, I want my life not to end in sadness, but choking with vibrant pain, relishing intense fear that, for once, makes me feel alive! Please, oh glorious killer, bring me my vibrant death!''
It was at this point that the murder took off his mask, and revealed himself to be a middle aged man, with a scarred face. He knelt down to the ecstatic girl before him. Her little body was covered in scars, presumably self-inflicted, to get that little burst of blissful pain. His face just inches away from her radiant, eager face, he broke her heart, `` I'm sorry, honey, but you're not my type.'' Her face was shattered, her hopes of murder destroyed, but he decided to give her a wonderful offer, an offer that she would n't refuse.
It was years later that the police caught the father-'daughter' duo, the serial killers of hundreds. Now at the age of 18, she was given the death penalty, but she seemed oddly pleased by this. Her guards were extra-careful, convinced that the happiness of the 18 year old psychopath meant a plan, that she had a clever, complicated plan to escape, but they were dead wrong. She was smiling as she walked up to the electric chair, and showed her radiant face to her disgusted audience. As she was strapped in, the straps firmly dooming her to her inevitable death, her last sabotage was soon evident. Inspectors soon found that she had managed to lower the voltage, not to safe levels, but to just barely lethal levels. This caused her death to be long, and filled her little body from head to toe with indescribable pain, he mind was ablaze with no thoughts other than that of fear and pain, and this was exactly as she wanted.
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[ WP ] One day everyone notices the words `` Human Update 1.1 progress 1 % '' in the corner of their eye .
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I do n't understand why this should concern me, but it does. The ticking down of the meter makes me shiver with conern and curiosity. Many other people feel the same way, but there is no way of using this to aid anyone. The countdown does n't have to end, at least that is what I have heard from many other people. The bar could be thought of as a placebo, set there to ensure nothing. However, I ca n't help but get nauseous when I see the time tick on for every conscious second. Drawing conclusions from things like this is something I do n't actively think about, but I do get the occasional urge to figure this out. I hope we will finally be free of concern, fear, and anxiety after this counter reaches 100 % just like the saying says: `` Out with the old and in with the new''.
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[ WP ] The discovery that our universe is just a computer simulation .
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So it's a simulation. So what?
Free will turned out to be an illusion but that does n't change the fact that it still feels like I have free will.
It does n't matter if this world is actually real. It feels real to me and that's good enough.
Works still a bitch though.
______
As a side note I love the idea that the whole universe is a simulation. A small interesting tidbit is that if our universe is a simulation than chances are the universe which is simulating us is also a simulation. That universe is also a simulation and so on.
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[ WP ] Two planets come within range of eachother every 300 years . There is always an ensuing war that lasts the 5 days that the planets are close enough . Each side can only guess at what new technology the other has built since the last time .
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`` This is Admiral Haviik, reporting in, reporting in.''
Technician First-Class Rindin pushed himself off his chair. He reached, with trembling fingers, for the headset. Looking behind him, he saw the heads of the Head Council.
They nodded.
He cleared his throat, and put the headset over his ears.
`` Come in, Haviik. Come in. Your transmission is expanding very clearly.''
A half-second of static on the air.
`` Uh... yes... Central Command?''
`` State your message, Haviik.''
Rindin looked at the ticking timer. Three minutes to contact- if the Seers were correct.
`` Haviik, time is of-''
`` They fly, Central. They fly with buildings.''
The room stood silent for a moment. Finally, one of the Head Councilmen took at step towards a shivering Rindin and whispered something in his ear. Rindin nervously nodded.
`` I... yes... they... excuse me?''
`` What we have, Central, all of what we have- the guns, they met with cannons. The cars, they met with armored tanks. Now, our Airbirds- they meet with flying fortresses.''
Rindin swallowed, blocking the headset's microphone with a sweating palm. `` You s-sure this will work, Hea-''
The Elder looked straight into Rindin's eyes. `` Child. Calm yourself.''
Rindin swallowed, feeling the pulses of the Elder's psychic tricks flowing through his body. He pushed down whatever qualms he had, and lifted his hand off the headset.
`` P-proceed... Haviik. The Watchers with you.''
`` Aye, Central. Airmen!''
Rindin heard the flappings of the Airbirds jumping from the platforms around the planet.
`` Watcher-wings with you! Central!'' Rindin heard Haviik's voice become clearer and louder for an instant as Haviik spoke directly into the platform's radio. `` Watchers be with me?''
Rindin swallowed hard, pushing back the tears from his eyes. He took a look behind him.
The Elder smiled.
Rindin turned back.
`` Watchers be with you.''
Rindin heard the high-pitched battle-yells of the First Bird brigade descend from the heavens. They faded, echoing through the thick atmosphere of the planet. Rindin coughed. Haviik had forgotten to turn off his microphone.
`` Per... permission, Council, to cut communications?''
The Elder stroked his white beard with wrinkled fingers. `` Permission granted.''
Rindin pushed a button on the radio, and the room fell into silence.
`` Well,'' one Head Councilman grunted after a while, `` how long are we going to keep this up?''
`` Keep what up?'' the Elder responded, not looking at the Councilman, but rather to a panel on the wall.
`` Do you know how many good men were on that platform? How many dollars of funding we sent to the Airbird flight school? How many years of experience thrown into the grinders of the Ak-vari fleet? How ma-''
`` I know how many,'' the Elder whispered, moving towards the panel on the wall. He lifted a hand, and the panel fell, as if pulled by an invisible puppeteer. `` Not enough. That's how many.'' He reached into the wall and took out holo-panel, aged from the years it had spent inside the wall of the bunker.
`` Not enough. Hmph. Well, we'll see what will happen when I become Elder,'' the Councilman scoffed. `` This war has gone on long enough. All we need is a few days' worth of negotiations, and we can stop sending young men, such as, for example, Technician First-classmen's kinsmen, out onto Ak-vari to die for a victory they'll never achieve.''
The Elder stared at the holo-panel, he eyes scanning it for any deformities. He smiled. Just as new as the day they dug it up from the ground a thousand years earlier. The Predecessors had done their job well.
`` That is,'' the Elder said, `` what the naive and inexperienced say.''
`` I am everything but naive and-''
`` Calm.''
The Councilman stepped forward to throw more words forward, but his mouth would not open.
`` When the time is right,'' the Elder said, pushing a button on the panel, `` you will see.''
The Councilman grunted as he was pushed aside by the Elder and his fellow Councilmen. Shooting a look up into the sky, where the holograph of their planet floated a second earlier, he scoffed again.
`` Now, Councilman Vikaris,'' the Elder said to one of his Councilmen as he exited the room, `` Tell me of our progress on the planetary cannon.''
Down below, where the holograph of the planet once stood, the war raged, the Ak-vari claiming a victory they had been claiming for a thousand years, but never once won.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Long Live the King and Queen Edition !
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Hello all. Back again this week for my fifth posting. This prompt is fairly recent, and really allowed me to be very creative. Thanks again for reading, and please leave feedback and criticism. As always, I am excited to read what others have posted. Thanks again, and keep writing!
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*Lucid Reality [ WP ] WRITING PROMPT ( Lucid Dreaming ) *
We were serene under the moonlight, the stars our only distraction, the crickets playing a symphony for two. The grass was soft and cool, the blankets plush and warm. She rested her head across my chest, her blonde hair splayed about over my left arm. My right arm was wrapped around her shoulders, my hand resting on her stomach, drawing small pictures of affection across her skin.
In the silence of the night my heart burned with excitement, and the area screamed with sunlight. She was the source of light for my world, her blonde hair casting waves of golden brilliance, her eyes emanating the purest of blues. Her lips gave the roses their color, and her words their beauty. Her laugh caused spring, and her smile the golden days of summer. Autumn sprang forth from her cool breath, and winter was brought upon the softest of her tears, falling slowly and calmly like the first snow. No words could describe her, no authors could capture her beauty even in a novel-length description. Painters failed to produce anything seemingly close to a representation, and sculptors had not the material to create her likeness. She was the very definition of the word perfection, the virtue of heaven.
I sighed very deeply, breaking the silence and rhythmic breathing of the moment. With a soft swish she craned her head up towards me and smiled, puzzled at my sudden outburst. I however, merely gazed into her eyes, silently conveying my love and compassion. “ I am so lucky, have I ever told you that? ” I whispered while grasping her hand with my own, drawing her in closer. She giggled slightly in appreciation and I kissed her, taking a long draught of her lips, drinking in her affection and perfection.
We released from the kiss and she slowly dragged her nose across mine, resting her head more permanently buried in my neck and shoulder. I rolled ever so slightly onto my hip, releasing my left arm from it ’ s position until it was wrapped lovingly around her back, placing her in a loving embrace.
For weeks my heart had been her canvas, where she lovingly etched words of affection and pictures of perfection, until there was scarcely room for much else. But that is the nature of a new heart, a blank page, unblemished and unmarked by the past. It is given then to a person, as I did with her, and marked up constantly and permanently. I took pen to her heart too, and etched upon it the vows of my love, the poem of my dreams, the story of my emotions. To her I gave it all, for this one moment of perfection, which could never be taken away.
My alarm was harsh that morning. I woke in my bed, the girl next to me only a pillow, the words on my heart sore and burning. She was still gone, nothing more than a figment of my imagination, a fantasy that I could only visit in my dreams. Never will I get to see out my dream in reality. Never will I get to hold her like I want to, like I need to, as she has moved on. Love is a canvas, filled with pen and etched with the phrases of desire, which burn, mock, taunt and enrage all the more when the author is gone. My poem is there though too, etched into her heart, in the little space she had left for me. Just like all the others though, it probably goes unread, every single day.
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[ WP ] A 10 year old child can see and interact with a number of ghosts who accompany and guide the kid . The problem is , they 're all ghosts of famous warriors and generals ; Genghis Khan , Julius Caesar , Oda Nobunaga , Erwin Rommel etc . The advice they give is ... very uncommon for a 10 year old .
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`` I'm not sure guys. I think that is crossing the line.''
They had a small discussion where their voices did n't carry to his ears then one of the old Asian guys knelt down to look him eye to eye.
`` We've discussed it Paul. You remember how we talked about only have one go around the sun, one life to live. This is it buddy. Tomorrow today will be yesterday.''
Paul nodded slowly.
`` Besides,'' one of the older white guys said, `` What is the worse thing that can happen?''
`` She might... She might laugh at me.''
`` She might.'' Someone agreed.
`` We can go to the pond afterward.'' Someone else said.
`` Are n't I asking her to go to the pond?'' Paul asked.
`` Yup.'' - `` Yes'' - `` I thought so.''
`` So she says no we still go to the pond. No problems.''
`` No problems.'' Paul said. He smiled.
Five minutes later the guys were cheering and clapping when she said yes. They faded away as they did when he was with other people.
When they reached the pond Andy was there with Nick and Carl.
Paul stopped short.
`` We can leave.'' She said pulling him backward.
`` Hey snot ball!'' Andy called out when he saw Paul. He was two years older and a bully.
The guys were there instantly.
`` What should we do?'' One of the older guys asked.
`` Leave peacefully.'' Paul said echoing their constant advice when it came to Andy.
`` Just once...''
`` What Paul. You want to hurt him. We talked about this. What comes of violence?''
`` More violence.''
`` If we've we learned anything from passing through the veil it that there is always another way.''
`` Sara will think I'm a coward.''
One of the older men knelt down, `` It's possible. Dose that mean you should n't do the right thing?''
`` No.'' Paul said slowly.
`` Come on then. There is always the playground.''
Out loud Paul turned to Sara and suggested the playground, they turned around.
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[ WP ] Every horrible fanfiction is playing out in the real world , all at once .
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`` Did you see that terrible article about the steam mills?'' Joan asked, tightening the leather straps across her corsette.
`` No, what happened? Something get a little hot and bothered?'' Bob giggled as he skipped along.
`` They exploded and created radioactive superhumans. Steam Man was one, naturally as what happens with every new event all the new creations have a solid three days of sex with each other under poor disguises of story. I mean, just say you want to hide away and use your'new package'- it's fine, I understand,'' Joan's heeled clacked against the cement.
`` That's not what really bothers me about our world- no, what bothers me is that these fat lazy picture book readers get laid constantly. The more acne the better or some shit! I mean, all these super well endowned on the top girls just melt for these sloppy pizza grease slugs. I do n't get it, ever since I fled the Jedi academy for being too pretty I just have felt lost,'' Bob's head hung watching the cement change from line to solid.
`` Well, I am constantly compelled to sleep with any poor sap I can find. Unless they're attractive- I'll take the pizza guy in the corner on his laptop anyday. Hell, I had one last night and we rode on the backs of dragons- some princess or something rode the other one. He kept saying he was'the third head of the dragon' and I could n't really argue.
`` Who writes this shit? I just do n't understand, it's been worse ever since the computers became cheaper, oh well, guess I'll have to settle for my hard life,'' Bob kicked a pebble as his bleach blonde hair waved down over his blue eyes. His chiseled chin, it was only going to get stranger when the new branch of steampunk comes out.
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[ WP ] All the subreddits are Superheroes with superpowers based on their content . They get into a fight .
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It happened. The Civil War happened. [ Captain Marvel ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/Marvel ) would have said `` I told you'', if it was n't for the blood gushing from his throat, a *gift* by [ Detective C ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/DCcomics ). [ Akira ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/DragonBall ) looked at him in disgust, while the body fell from the window of the fifteenth story of the Reddit League headquarters.
`` You killed Stan! ``, he said. There were only two occasions in which a superhero was referred by his *real* name: when he was in his civilian clothes, and when he was dead. **Stan was never in civilian clothes. **
`` You really want to challenge me, Akira?'' Detective looked at him full of hate, while cleaning his black cape. Akira's orange Gi was going to be red.
Thing is, they were n't fighting for any reason. At least, not for any *apparent* reason. It was [ The Mastermind ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/whowouldwin ) who planned it all. He was tired of all these `` Who's stronger? ``, `` Can Akira kill [ Average Salesman ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/salesman )? ``, `` If [ Third Impact ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/evangelion ) fought [ The Living Empire ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/commonwealth ), would he survive?''. Not that he did n't want to know this. But he hated the fact that a verdict was never given. He wanted to *know*.
Stan ( as he's now dead, there's no need to use his superhero name anymore ) had almost stopped it from happening. He was the first to die. All the hate he could instill, was instilled into him, and Detective killed him. A single thought, and now Detective was fighting Akira.
It was n't long before the other heroes arrived. A class Sei, [ The Jester ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/funny ), arrived in time to be killed in the commotion ( The power to always make the right joke is n't so useful in battle ). Then, three class Quattro, [ Giorgio ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/StardustCrusaders ), [ Stereotyping ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts ) and [ Tyler ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/FightClub ) arrived.
Mastermind moved a hand. Stereotyping attacked Akira, seeing with his Alien eyes that Detective's danger number was too high. Giorgio hit Stereotyping with a punch. The alien hero could n't see from where it came, but Giorgio could perfectly see the yellow, humanoid creature **stand**ing beside him. `` *Muda Muda*, motherfucker''. Stereotipying started slowly falling on the ground, his flesh lacerated by copious mangas trying to get out of his body, coughing blood on his own office suit. `` And remember to read the manga!''. Giorgio sent a kiss, then proceeded to put his green lipstick back on and check if the star tattoo on his shirtless shoulder had been ruined by the `` fight''. Seeing he was still fabulous, he jumped back into the fight.
By then, Tyler had got invisible and was outside the building. He was completely immune to everything, no one could even speak about him. Still, he was almost hit by a bullet. A *golden* bullet, no less. He turned around, just to see the face of a young Gentleman who looked like he came out of some Steampunk book.
`` My name is [ Sir Reddit ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Lounge ). It's a pleasure to meet you!''. He tipped his hat.
`` Shut up and fight! I do n't care if you can see me, I can kill you anytime! ``, Tyler shouted, not caring the fact that he was talking with the founder of the Reddit League.
`` I'm sorry I ca n't fight with you right now. But, if you take an appointment, I'll be pleasured to meet you tomorrow for a gentleman duel''.
Damn, that Sir Reddit was so gentleman-ish he could n't say `` No''. But he still wanted to ask a question.
`` Why did you fucking shoot me? Are you stupid?''. Yes, gentleman stuff was n't his thing.
`` I would have avoided it, if you were visible, sir. But seeing someone invisible come out of your building is the sort of thing that needs shooting before thinking. I'm happy this came to a nonviolent conclusion''.
`` There's a damn Civil War going on inside and you are here randomly shooting people?'' Sir Reddit looked a bit bored.
`` It's just a fight. What's the worst that could happen?''
Inside, the battle got really **intense**. Other heroes got into the fight. [ Master Race ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/pcmasterrace ) ( A class **Due** hero ) was detexturing anyone, glitching people out of reality. [ Moe ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/anime ) was watching them, popcorns in hand. The power to subtitle reality is n't so useful. [ Fanboy ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/apple ) was busy downloading his updates off the internet, and could n't actually fight.
Outside, the genius detective, master of coding and mistery, [ Gab N ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/steamsaledetectives ) survived Mastermind's mind control. He was gon na solve the mistery.
___________________________________________________
Wanted to leave it open, but I liked the concept, so in the future I could make a full story about it.
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[ WP ] Various mages are entered into a sport where they must create a golem and battle their enemies ' golems to win . You are one of those mages .
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The pits were as noisy as ever, a sea of garbled yells that fought for dominance with each other. Yet I sat silent, unmoving on the surface, a bastion of calm. FUCK my mind screamed. I forgot to write out a scroll of control. What in the ever loving shit was I supposed to do without that? I'd brought a very expensive statue to a golem fight. Esraeth was going to have my head on a pike, no! Think, there had to be something.
I looked over my design again. Three thousand Drachzi, my wages six times over, worth of materials. The outside was banded plating, steel forged and slotted together, underneath the flesh was clay from the river bank, possibly the cheapest and most vital part. It was all formed into a rough humanoid shape, and in the back of it's `` head'' sat a painfully empty compartment.
`` No more drinking before an event'' I muttered to myself my face in my hands.
`` Hey Yusong, whats with the face?'' I looked up at the source of the voice calling my name and found myself looking at a short blonde woman. She wore an emerald green robe with an ornamental jade piece in her hair that matched her pale green eyes.
`` No need to make fun Lissa you know I was born this way.''
`` Hahaha no but more than usual, cloudy head?''
I wiped my eyes of moisture, `` You know me, ever the drinker.''
`` You know if you stopped doing that you might actually win one of these things, your latest is even more impressive than the last but your control is frankly lacking. If you on-''
`` only applied myself yeah got it, well if we are done lecturing me'' I stood with a flourish billowing out my purple tail coat, `` i'm off''. I left without her saying another word rounding the corner to a wash room and locking the door behind me. `` My control huh, me, I'm whats holding me back... I'M WHATS HOLDING ME BACK. I've got it'' A smile splashed across my face and I rapidly approached the mirror on the wall.
I took a large lump of clay out of my bag, spare from the construction process and drew a large circle round my head on the mirror. Various runes were written inside and outside the line. Naming the base elements with their alchemical symbols outside the ring and the symbols for aether and energy inside. One in one out going round the loop till I had written as much detail about the world I wished to expel and the world I wished to include to form a gate to Magano. Now all I needed was a name.
`` Blerzeble? Nope uhhhh fuck. Aeswin, Tiador, Erinath, Azerzel, Anuthis, Haerin, Grewit. You're kidding none of these? I can draw a path to the fucking spirit plane in under a minute but I ca n't remember the name of the great spirit Bartimaeus?''
`` YOU HAVE SPOKEN MY NAME, FOR WHAT REASON MORTAL'' I jumped away from my own reflection. My once pale face and brown eyes now a charred black and glowing red, like the embers of a fire. Though I knew my expression was of fear the reflection of me wore a wry grin, smug, satisfied that I'd flinched in terror. `` You are right to fear me''
I cleared my throat, `` not scared actually just a little startled uh, like what you've done with, well me.''
`` Your whimsy does little to disguise your nervousness, even through this pane of glass I can taste it''
`` Well, little gross but okay. Moving on. I need something, a spirit of your host. One that can fight and follow orders.'' I cleared my head of unnecessary emotions and put on my best business face, or at least I hoped it was, I could n't quite see'' my'' reflection at the moment. Instead I saw contemplation, my own twisted face, twisted in thought.
`` And what do I get mortal?'' The inevitable question.
My soul? NOPE. Uhhhhhhhh think Yusong, think. `` A golem''
``... A golem?''
`` What you do n't like golems?'' Annoyance crept into my voice, how dare this entity mock my craft.
`` What need have I fo-''
`` Oh boy look I can make the Golem of holy material, filled with scripture. Imagine that a weapon against your rivals. A force they could n't touch? Come on.'' I pleaded with my darkened self.
`` DEAL'' The noise erupted from the very walls of the room and I put my finger to my lips
`` Shhh sh shhhhh'' We arent exactly hidden in here.
`` *Deal*'' Came the whispered response. I pushed my hand into the mirror and watched as it morphed through and I felt a clammy wet clawed appendage grip my hand shaking. I pulled my hand out and in it was a small stone. Perfectly smooth and a deep crimson. The spirit of a warrior who said those damn stupid words. I sell my soul.
The face in the mirror was my own and I set about cleaning the mess I'd made up. I did n't have long my first round fight would be in roughly half an hour. I had to commune with this spirit and explain the ins and outs of this whole thing. If I pulled this off I'd win for sure. If not, probably burned at the stake.
... Crap had I thought this through?
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[ WP ] In a telepathic society that functions similarly to that of an ant colony , a child is born without telepathy . Now older , the child has done something that causes people to finally realize he/she no longer has a place in their society and is banished .
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Jack Rickson jumped into the window of the building out of the plummeting hellicopter. He did a sweet roll to his feet and stood in the circle of bad guys.
`` Jack rickson! ``, The leader of the group said before his skull exploded in a hail of gunfire. In moments the entire group was dead.
Jack knew he did n't have much time, he had to get to the center of the building and ascend the inner fire wall like Neo did in the matrix, except he was going up not down. He used C4 to blow a wall down and started climbing the center of the building to the pinacle, where there were no windows or doors. It was a myth, but he had to know for sure, was his father up there?
When he was about half way up the climb he heard a low rumbling sound below him. NO! It could n't be. Obama could n't know he was here. He climbed faster as he heard a rapid shuffling sound that certainly appeared to be getting closer.
Suddenly an explosion blasted his face into seventeen pieces and his broken body collapsed down the the center of the building.
It was a trap.
`` Ha ha ha'', Obama laughed as he caught the foolish mans destroyed body and began to feast.
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[ WP ] A large group of scientists and researchers have presented to the world hundreds of medical advances , cures for depression , cancer , altzimers , methods of genetic manipulation . The catch is they were all found through complete suspension of ethics .
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`` Come on give us a smile,'' The once recognizable mass of blistered flesh made its best attempt not sag too greatly in the presence of the healer. Healers, those who turned there back on conventional medicine, were responsible for the greatest advances medical science in over a century. Those who originally disparaged their ways could not argue with the consistent results.
`` Very good Robert. As a reward I've brought you a new test,'' The healer snapped on a pair of gloves and pulled a vial from the cooler. Robert flinched at the sight of the medicine, but the straps on his chair prevent him recoiling. He could hardly remember his thoughts when he volunteered for the program. Five years off his sentence. Helping cure disease. It was an opportunity to make amends.
`` Robert. You do know the benefits of this research, do n't you?'' the healer chimed in again now drawing the fluid into a syringe. Robert made an audible cough, but could muster no more than that. “ You ’ re in the ranks of Curie or Bogdanov,'' He tapped the syringe for little more than dramatic effect, `` No progress comes without some tragedy.''
`` Robert your contributions could provide a cure,'' The healer approached with the solution, `` Do n't you believe this is valuable? You not I, are a creator of life.'' The healer poked the needle into Robert's arm.
The syringe did n't hurt, not much hurt Robert anymore.
The healer disposed of the needle and left without another word. Robert ’ s contribution later lead to a treatment for lymphoma.
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[ WP ] North Korea finally declares war on us . ( nukes optional )
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Kim Jong Un sits flipping through the channels and stops on Bill OReilley railing about North Korea. Something snaps in him and he rises, finger pointing to the heavens and yells `` Enough! We attack now. Get me the generals!''
As he walks the hall to the meeting room, his top advisor walks up to him and whispers: `` The Chinese ambassador would like a word.'' Kim nods to the ambassador and starts to say something. A flash then darkness.
The sun rises and Kim Jong Un slips from bed, shakes his head `` What was... `` He shrugs and continues to the baths. He reaches into his pocket and finds a note, two neatly scribed Chinese characters: `` last warning.''
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[ WP ] You are at a party , and your friend introduces you to a new hallucinogen . When you take it , time freezes , and the personification of your sanity enters the room , panicked .
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Forty-five minutes or so after Danny hands me the pill, things start kicking off nicely. It's all physical, like a warm blanket. Your mind feels refreshed, like it drank a tall glass of water on a hot summer day. Nothing flashy, yet, but it seems promising. I've known Danny since we were in high school, and college did nothing to sober him up. So when he told me `` It'll make you stop taking all other drugs.'' I figured it was hyperbole and he only meant it'd knock my ass out for the night. I feel like I should text Carol and let her know I might be home later than I thought.
Before I can, someone drops the music and everyone goes silent as if on cue. I look up from gazing at my infinitely interesting feet to meet the first pair of eyes I see. And they look like Carol's. But she's not here. She's back home, most likely asleep or taking the puppy out for a midnight walk. But it sure does look like Carol, or a twin who's seen a couple more bad years than she did. The Carol-twin is pacing through the crowded room, eyes bulging with desperation and panic, staring right into mine.
`` Buh-babe?'' I force out. `` What are you doing here?'' I barely finish the sentence and the Carol-twin has her hands around my arms, pulling me up from my seat and yelling into my face.
`` WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, JACK?'' she screams at the top of her lungs. In her panicked voice, it does n't sound like rhetoric.
`` WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?'' I yell back in confusion and fright. Every one at the party must have their eyes fixed on us and whatever scene we're about to perform. And that's when I notice... no one's moving.
`` Holy... what?'' I whisper, looking through the room to see smiles, dancing, drinking, laughing, all fixed in place like an unnaturally convincing painting. The Carol-twin tightens her grip on my arm and brings my attention back to her. This is all happening too fast.
`` HELP ME, JACK! I'm scared...'' she continues, her voice breaking into despair. `` I think you're shutting me out and I do n't know what to do. Qu'est que tu vas faire si tu ne m'as plus avec toi!? There are too many thoughts and not enough time for me to sort through them! Every one seems as unimportant as the last and I'M STARTING TO LOSE IT!'' she finishes with a shriek.
`` I... I DO N'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!'' I answer back, my heart beating like a Mastodon drum fill.
`` You pulled me out and cast me aside! The drugs, Jack! You know it's wearing you thin! You ca n't be doing this forever! YOU NEED ME! I need a massage! Lower back!''
I look at her puzzled. Before I can even say anything she winces in frustration and says `` SEE!? I ca n't even hold onto what I'm saying before you jam something else out with no relevance! I JUST WANT A FUCKING GOOD TIME WITH NO ONE TO JUDGE ME!'' she continues as if completely unaware of slipping again. `` FUCK!''
`` Listen.'' I interject. `` This is just the trip. I'm alright. It's fine. Who are you?''
She cries and finally lets go of my arms. `` Sober up... go back home to Carol... or I'm gon na disappear. And then I do n't know what will happen to you.'' she says and storms off. The door slams and the party grinds to a halt. People vanish from their positions only to rearrange themselves everywhere. I'm feeling more confused and out of place than I did just seconds ago, until I see Danny staring at me from the exact same spot on the couch he was sitting in when he made me try this shit 45 minutes ago.
`` Feeling better, buddy?'' He says with a stupid grin on his face.
`` Huh... I guess? What the fuck just happened?'' I ask.
`` Well, about 3 hours ago the drug must've kicked into overdrive and you timed out.'' he replies.
`` Timed out? You mean how everything froze in place?''
`` That's what happens man... then you get to talk to your real SELF and it tells you what you need to know. Was n't it great? You were in the middle of the room, half-yelling at something invisible all night. From time to time you'd bend over and kiss the rug while balancing on one leg, then saying `` lower back''. I took pictures! Come sit.''
I pause...
`` No thanks, man. I think I need to go home.''
... And hold Carol tight, then quit the drugs. Danny was right about that one...
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[ WP ] You are a soldier . You were drafted to a battle field , you watched all of your friends and hundreds of soldiers killed in the worst ways possible . You awaken your powers through despair . Choose your life and power .
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I never asked for any of this. This is n't fair. I'm only twenty. I ca n't even drink dammit this is n't fair.
I should have listened to my mom. She told me not to sign up for the war. She told me there were other options for a girl. After all the draft was n't mandatory for us. But after Chris had been drafted, I knew I had to be beside him. He had been my best friend after all, and we did everything together.
Yet here he was, bleeding out in my lap. Shrapnel piercing across his chest like some sort of voodoo doll. His eyes were wild with pain as the blood gushed from his wounds. I clamped my hands down trying to stop the flow, but it only drenched my hands and continued to seep out.
`` It's only a scratch, you're going to be fine Chris,'' I said through gritted teeth. I threw off my gun and set it to my side as I pulled off my pack and got out my first aid kit. But Chris was the medic, and he was in no place to give me directions at the moment.
Bandages, antiseptic, gauze. Where did I start?
I turned to Chris for any help... and froze. His eyes were glazed over, staring wide-eyed at me but empty of any life.
`` Chris... Chris!'' I cried, slamming my hands down on his chest. The blood had stopped gushing, and his chest no longer rose and fell with sputtering breaths.
`` You ca n't leave me,'' I cried, slumping forward onto his blood soaked chest. Chris was my best friend, through life and death. When our entire hick town had ostracized me for my lack of a father, Chris had been the only one to invite me to play. To study with me, to go shopping with me, to talk through my problems with. He had turned me into somewhat of a normal person and allowed me to grow out of my shell before high school.
And now he was dead.
`` DAMN IT!''
I slammed my hands onto his chest again and again, begging for it to rise with breath of any kind. My palms started to hurt from the impact, burning hotter and hotter.
It was actually starting to hurt, but I kept hitting. Then I smelt the smoke.
Startled I pulled away and saw the small sparks of fire strewn across Chris' chest.
I cursed loudly and tried to pat them out, only for the sparks to grow into a full blown blaze and crawl up my arm.
I shrieked in fear but quickly realized I felt no pain... no burning or anything. If anything, the fire felt comforting, and never moved higher up my arm than I wished. Even as I thought about it, the fire moved back down to my fingertips and lingered there. Licking at my palms like a loving dog.
I watched the fire, transfixed at its glow over my skin. I thought it may be a trick of the light, but it was the same fire that was now consuming Chris' broken body.
`` Found one!''
I was startled by the cries to my right and vaguely saw the uniform of the enemy army. A man with a cruel smile stalked towards me, drawing a knife once he saw I was unarmed.
`` A girl huh? Looks like your boyfriends dead, what are you going to do now honey? Come with me, I'll take real good care of you...''
`` Get away from me!'' I cried, throwing out my palm as I patted the ground around me for my gun.
The man went up into flames instantly. his shrieks piercing the air and calling the attention of the surrounding soldiers. But I could care less as I his body crumble to ashes before me-weak to the white hot flames.
More soldiers started to funnel into my hiding spot, and each one met the same fate. They came in droves, attempting to destroy me. Guns melted to their hands when they drew them. Knives were useless as they could n't get close enough. Even a small cannon could n't get through the wall of fire around me.
From the blood and carnage around me, I was truly born. A weapon of fire and ash, and I would destroy them all.
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[ WP ] A large subterranean temple is discovered on the equator with a complex mechanism at work inside and experts agree on only three things : It 's been running for millennia without maintenance , the markings and glyphs in the temple have never been seen before , and it 's counting down .
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The machine was silent. That was the most jarring thing about it. The gears turned and caught, stopped and started in silence. None of the scientists observing it knew how this was possible. It was n't a big machine, no larger than a modern refrigerator. But the clockwork of it was exquisite, the cogs and gears machined to perfection. Every piece of the machine was etched with runes. Strangely, the runes seemed to spin and twist as the eye passed over them. If the eye stopped on a still gear, the runes would lazily spin as one looked upon them. No one could look at the machine for long before having headaches. One researcher had to be flown to Rio de Janeiro for a migraine that blinded the poor woman.
Many thought we should move it, take it to a lab to be studied. Many more thought we should destroy it. Still more wanted it to be left alone, reburied and forgotten again. The researchers came to the conclusion that it was counting down, but no one knew how they knew.
`` It just came to me. I was asleep then sat bolt upright and screamed'it's counting down!' I scared my roommate out of his skin with that one haha''
The runes adapted to us. As they watched it, all the researchers saw the change, it was so quick a few missed it because they were blinking at the time. The entire machine stopped for less than a heartbeat, then continued with one minor difference. The runes could be read. It adapted itself to your dominate language. The alphabet appeared as the runes. They still moved and danced under your vision, but it was letters and numbers you could understand.
When this news broke the world gasped and every country, those who did n't already have a scientist there, sent their best in hopes of breaking the code first. They were frantic in their translations, most of them meaning nothing, just garbled letters and numbers. Then, in the early morning light one researcher falling asleep at the desk broke the code.
'Eat at Joe's'
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[ WP ] The man in the basement should n't be there -and he has seen you .
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I live in a safe, suburban neighborhood -- emphasis on the safe. That was the whole thing about moving here, taking the job: I wanted to make sure my kids went to a good, Christian school, and one that they could walk home from without being afraid. When you're a single dad, you try to make the best for your kids.
Well, they're gone now, all grown up and off to college. That thought nearly terrifies me as much as living in a perfectly quiet house in a perfectly quiet neighborhood.
To alleviate the tension of pure silence, I bought a dog about a year ago. You could say he has some potty problems, so he stays downstairs in the basement.
He's a pretty simple dog: He never really raises a fuss unless he spots a squirrel from the single, dingy window downstairs.
So when he spends an entire afternoon, evening, and night of yipping and scratching at the wall, I become concerned. This happened last night, and so after the entire day of listening to that nonsense, I felt enough was enough at one in the morning.
I walked out of bed, turned on all of the lights along the way ( let's not forget why I bought the dog in the first place ), and finally reach the basement door. That's when I hear a bump downstairs -- not a dog-is-moving-around-scratching-a-bunch-of-shit-bump, but a bump of a foot hitting the cement floor. My breath stops.
I slowly open the door, goosebumps ripping from my skin. My heart is racing, and I can already feel a bead of sweat forming on my forehead. Light pours into the basement and my dog is sitting at the top of the steps, now at my feet. He runs between my legs and up into the kitchen. Now I am alone.
Some protection dog, huh?
`` Is there anybody down there?'' I call out. Silence.
The same silence I've been listening to for a year.
`` Yes.''
The response nearly made me pass out. I slammed the door shut as hard as I could, locked the door, and ran to find my dog upstairs. I grab him by the collar, snag my cell phone off of the counter, and we both go out the front door.
I did n't see the man for long. I could only see the whites of his eyes as the police lights illuminated the outside of my house with crimson and blue, peering out from the dingy window I mentioned before.
He was yelling, screaming, filled with unbearable hatred; in that moment, he was the dog, and we were the squirrel.
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[ WP ] Scientists have discovered immortality , and only a few people choose not to accept it . You are the last of these people , and you are on your deathbed , trying to explain the concept of death to your young son .
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I did n't remember how long I had dipped out of consciousness, only that it was long enough for Michael, my tall, handsome, wonderful son, to leave the room, get food, and come back. I felt my eyes open and roll around, taking in the machines, the medical staff in the hall, the anti-death protesters outside. *Olanna will have to fight through that crowd. * My head moved down slightly, to look at my feet under the covers. They were there, both laying down, one to each side. I could n't feel them, but I could make them move up and down slightly. My eyes rolled over to my hand. The veins on the back of it were a deep, deep blue. The skin was sallow and dry. I saw some of my hair laying down across my shoulder as my eyes walked up my arm. It was neither grey nor white, but somewhere in between. My salon lady, Gretel, had tried to do things with it, but it had been years since she had a client who aged.
Michael came back into the room, finishing chewing something. Our eyes met.'Mom.''Hi Michael. I'm sorry I went away again. I know it's very taxing on you.' Michael moved as if to speak, but then simply turned and circled around the bed until he was sitting in the chair. His bright smile, his orange-flecked eyes, his mocha skin, his long hair pulled back. He looked just like his father, my Alan. The only person in our state besides me to refuse to accept the immortality treatments. He passed 3 years ago. Or was it 4?'Mom, the doctors are really worried. They're not sure they'll know what to do when you finally go.''Michael,' I smiled,'I do n't give a rat's ass what their worries are. I'm soon to leave this world, and I could not be more ready.'
Outside, the sirens came rolling in: an ambulance accompanied by police to get through the mob of people protesting me, me, an 84-year-old woman who just wanted to die in peace. In the hall, a passing nurse looked in long enough to form an opinion to share at the nurses' station later. Her smile was feignful.
A beeping sound. Michael looked at his phone as my eyes rolled around again to find him. He looked up.'Olanna's downstairs but they do n't believe she's your daughter. I'll go get her.' I worried he might not be back in time: I could feel my hands slipping away and my torso growing light.'Michael. I know this is hard for you...''Mom, do n't.''No, you'll let me or I'll kick the shit out of you.' We both smiled. His face was marked with aqueous eyes and quivering lips.'I know you never understood this choice. It was n't what you think. Your father and all those other chose so they could protest immortality. That whole town in Bulgaria did it. They even named their townsquare after your father. I did n't do it for that.' A coughing fit fell upon me, and Michael put a hand on my chest like the doctors' recommended to ease the pain. It really did nothing for me, but I was happy it made him feel better.
'Michael. I'm not leaving you because I hate you. I'm not leaving you because I care about the cause. I'm letting myself die because I watched my mother die. I watched her slowly roll over and sleep, then sleep less, then be still. I watched her die and in that moment, I did n't feel sadness. I felt so proud. I felt her pride. I felt her pride of me. I know that the last thought she thought was of me, my sister, and my father.' Michael's lips stayed quivering as his eyes over-flowed and streams poured down his cheeks.'That was an amazing gift. To know I was somebody's last thought.' I started to cough again, but pushed through it.'Michael, the last thing I will think of. The last thought to cross my mind. The last memory to make me feel. The last of anything I do, will be a thought of you and Olanna and your father.''I should go get Olanna.''Yes, you should. But kiss me first.' Michael leaned over and kissed my lips. His were salty from the tears and unsteady from the thought of his mother being the last human to willfully die from aging.
-- --
Olanna and Michael came into my room. I had fought to stay there until I saw them. My children. My tall, stunning, wise daughter. My strong, striking, big-hearted son. I saw them and I felt a smile grow across my face like one I had never felt before. I looked at them, standing there, frozen, save for their faces which quaked with fear and confusion and resentment and anger and love and sadness and grief and guilt. I looked at them and I re-remembered why I did this for them.'I love you, Michael. I love you, Olanna.' I felt my body fall away from me. Just as it did, Olanna's hand held mine and her lips kissed my knuckles. The lightness of having no body was ecstasy. The eyes closed. The breath slowed. The heart beat less and less. The tears stopped. The smile
-- --
Michael stood at the podium outside the hospital. The press had to know what it was like to say goodbye to the last human who would die of old age. He moved to speak, but turned away. Olanna stepped in to rescue her brother.'Our mother, Alice St. Croix, died 20 minutes ago, her hand in mine. My brother explained to me why she chose to die. It was not part of a campaign. It was not part of commentary on the world we live in. It was the greatest and best gift we were ever given.' Olanna paused and looked back at her brother, before turning to the microphones again.'It was a great gift she gave us. One I will give to my children too some day.' The crowd fell still. The air was alive with confusion.'I have decided to opt out of immortality. I will not be receiving the gift like I am supposed to in a few weeks. I owe it to my mother to give my children the amazing gift I, and my brother, have received. Thank you.'
In the ensuing mayhem, 13 people were trampled to death, 24 received disfiguring or debilitating wounds, 5 lost limbs or digits, and 1 was sexually assaulted by an opportunist who lingered at large crowds just for such an event. Olanna and Michael stood in their mother's former hospital room and watched the riot out the window. Olanna embraced Michael and said,'Michael, was dad right? Was this not the world we should want? Will this be the end of us?''I do n't know Olanna, but I'm just grateful you set the example for me to follow.' Olanna flipped her head up to meet Michael's gaze.'If mom and you are brave enough to give such a gift, why should n't I be?'
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[ WP ] You must kill a designated target once per week to stay alive .
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My phone vibrated on my dining room table, followed by the beeping of an alarm. 12 AM, target time. I sighed, downed my drink and checked out the poor sod I was told to kill. He would n't see it coming, though nobody ever does.
I was hoping for one of those sick fucks up in parliament, but of course it was just the face and name of some average joe, a shmuck just like me. The politicians were never a target.
They were the ones, after all, who came up with this stupid dictatorship I and 5 million others live in. Originally, it was made to control the population, but I see hundreds, if not thousands of house'for sale' every day with more increasing as each hour passes. It's more of a blood sport now.
We had no idea that electing her as president would fuck it all to hell. We were all fooled, blinded by the political correctness and campaigns against the billionaire. We're stupid.
I have her to blame, too. My child was left in pieces, my wife left to rot and I ca n't even remember their fucking names. It's been six weeks.
It's 5am now, nothing I'm not used to, and I'm sitting on my bed crying a river, drowning in self-pity, even though it's my fault. I was the one who killed them.
That god damn Hilary did this to me. It's 8am and here I am staring out my window with bags under my eyes staring death in the face for a sixth time.
Well, you know what they say. What goes around comes aro
EDIT: Fifth to sixth time
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[ WP ] You all of a sudden have been gifted with the power to read minds . At first , confusion . That turned into happiness ... .. for awhile . Then a series of events caused you to hate it . So much that it causes you to take your life .
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I know I'm not a nice person.
It's not like I'm terrible. I'm not hiding any deep, dark secrets. I've never killed or raped anybody or anything like that. I have n't even thrown a punch since I was in sixth grade.
But I'm not nice. I look at people and I ca n't stand the tiny little shows of ignorance I witness day in and day out. The fat lady who does n't even try to walk faster while I wait for her at a cross walk. The old woman at the grocery store who does n't think to even begin filling out her check until all her items have been scanned. The family at the next table who let their little brat throw whole chicken nuggets and a fork onto the floor and leave without picking them up.
It's a paradox, though. As much as people frustrate me - their thoughtlessness, their selfishness, their general obliviousness - I also feel like they are better, because they, at least, are nice. They're not bothered by the state of human behavior. They accept faults in others.
I was at the grocery store the first time it happened. The old lady had finally left and I was paying with my credit card. I swiped it through the scanner and I heard someone speak.
*'' Oh my God. Hit the stupid button, you idiot. `` *
I glanced around, but there was no one there but the cashier. It had sounded far away, the sound echoing at its edges. I shook my head and dismissed it as a momentary lapse of sanity. Then I realized my mistake. The card scanner was asking if I wanted any cash back.
I hurried through the transaction and the cashier told me to have a nice day, but her smile was fake, and her voice - her voice was the same one I had heard telling me to press the button. But I was sure she had n't actually said it.
On the way home, I tried to forget about it. I had to be imagining things - there was no logical explanation for what had happened, so it must not have happened at all.
`` Hey, welcome home,'' my girlfriend said the moment our front door cracked open. `` How was your day?''
Over top of her words, I heard someone say *'' Oh, he's home already. `` * It was a quieter, happier voice that sounded just like my girlfriend's. I shut my eyes tight. `` Uhm, sorry, what?''
`` I said, how was your day?'' *'' What's wrong with him? `` *
`` Fine.''
*'' Oh, great. Another evening of fascinating conversation. `` *
I watched her. I was certain her mouth had n't moved just now, but it sounded just like her. `` Did you say something?''
She shook her head, looking at me like I was crazy. I probably was.
`` Hey, I think I'm gon na go out tonight. I just need... I just need some air,'' I said.
*'' Great. Have n't seen you all week, but by all means, go get some air. Great. `` *
`` I'll, uhm... see you later,'' I said. My hand was already on the doorknob again.
And that was what started me on the road to where I am now. I lived under the delusion that I was different from other people, that I was worse in some way. I thought I was harsh, critical, judgmental. But then I listened, because I could n't stop listening. And as I walked around aimlessly downtown, I learned what people are like.
*'' Ugh, walk faster, asshole. `` *
*'' Why ca n't these people ever look up from their phones? `` *
*'' Who told her those shorts were a good idea? `` *
*'' You're not fooling anyone with that dye job. `` *
*'' God, look how big that car is. Someone's compensating for something...'' *
And some of it was about me. Nothing was left unanalyzed. The strangers around me thought I was in the way, that I looked angry for no reason, that I had a bad haircut, that my pants did n't fit right.
And then I realized. I was no different from everyone else. I was just worse at hiding it.
I hated everybody else, but to everybody else, *I* was everybody else.
Everybody hates everybody.
And I ca n't live in a world where everybody is just like me.
Because in the end, I hate myself the most.
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[ WP ] You are a mighty wizard with powers beyond belief , you are sheer invincible and right now you 're losing to a child in a card game .
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The sunset stains fading wallpaper in viscous yellow. Motes of dust twist in solution. Beneath a fly-spotted windowpane a metal screen pixelizes the uncut yard and grates apart the humid breeze as it flows cool into the hallway. Dirty feet crush blades of grass into paint for soles and knees and hands. A soccer ball rolls through grass half its height.
The road slips by and off past the grain field and carries with it two motorcycles. Riders dressed in crash helmets and t-shirts scare up the blackbirds in the grain. They dive and swoop as one until the noise fades.
A house built by a father's father. A house chipped and scratched and worn at all corners, windowsills buzzing with lost flies. Dead ones lie curled on the cracked white paint. The bricks outside soak up the last heat of the day. The air is sweet with dust tractor exhaust. The field to the north lies bare, hay baled and in the mow. Two diesel engines sit cooling in a corrugated steel shed. Blood light drains from the sky. A boy is told it's time for chores.
The moon peeks over the hundreds of new houses where the forest used to be. Calves bay for pails of milk and scoops of grain. A small bandit secretly climbs the wooden beams between freshly stacked bales, unseen by the boy as he startles a napping heifer, setting the rusty staunchion chains jingling. An rattling exhaust fan set in a window frame hums a monotone lullaby for the young animals sleeping in wrought iron pens.
An empty brown bottle sits on the squeaky picnic table and foam collects at the bottom. The old calloused hands throw a new log into the fire, knocking loose a thousands embers that float up and extinguish in the dark. The boy lies on the tabletop, in the light of the lantern, staring at his cards. He takes his turn and puts down his last cards, winning the game. He hoots and does a silly, stupid dance while his father twists open a new bottle and flicks the cap into the flames, speaking.
There is school tomorrow. He does n't mention the meeting with the bank.
The boy is suddenly back at the table, shuffling the cards for a new deal.
Now, his father says.
There's lots of time, the boy replies, handing half the deck to his father. He puts down two cards and lies about them being aces. Then he sees a shooting star and yells out, his face wide with excitement.
His father has to take a long drink before speaking again. Perhaps just a little longer.
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[ WP ] A source of limitless power is uncovered . It 's human blood .
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`` You know what we're going to have to do to them. Are you prepared for that?''
``... We have no choice.''
`` You did n't answer my question. Are you prepared for what we are going to have to do?''
``... Yes.''
`` You do n't seem sure.''
`` I'm sorry, but... We're talking about all of them, every single one on the whole damn planet masticated.''
`` You're right, we do n't have a choice. It's... unfortunate, but it's the only way to stabilize the central singularity. At the current rate of decay, we only have two generations of habitability in the super-cluster left. I'm including you in the envoy because you're the one who sniffed this Earth out on our oscilloscopes. Do n't make me regret it.''
`` Yes sir.''
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[ WP ] Write the opening or a scene from Hollywood 's newest dark gritty reboot ... of Harry Potter
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CUE SINISTER THEME
FADE IN
EXT. THE DURSLEY HOUSE - NIGHT
*We see an exterior view of a conservative house in an English village. Dim light shines from between cracks in the ground floor curtains. A female voice can be heard speaking. *
**PETUNIA: ** ( *O.S. * ) Vernon. *Vernon*. Vernon, wake up. The boy is at it again.
*An impatient male voice responds. The camera slowly moves closer to the house. *
**VERNON: ** ( *O.S. * ) Hang it all. That's the last straw. So help me, it's off to Saint Brutus's come the new school year.
*The sound of heavy footsteps becomes audible as the camera grows still closer to the house. *
FADE TO
INT. THE DURSLEY HOUSE - THE CELLAR
*We see a dark cellar. Meticulously arranged boxes and bits of furniture almost seem to have the appearance of being medieval torture devices. A shuddering figure, covered in threadbare blankets, sits in the center of the room, quietly sobbing. Muffled voices can be heard from upstairs, along with the sound of several locks being opened. *
**VERNON: ** ( *O.S. * ) I've been more than reasonable. I've been *very* charitable. I simply wo n't have it any more.
**PETUNIA: ** ( *O.S. * ) Be careful, Vernon.
*A fat, mustached man descends the stairs. This is VERNON DURSLEY. He is holding a thick leather belt in one hand, which he displays pointedly as he approaches the quivering pile in the center of the cellar. *
**VERNON: ** ( *Menacingly* ) Be *quiet*, boy! You're disturbing your aunt with all of your... *sniveling*.
*The bundle of blankets seems to shrink inward. Its sobbing increases. *
**VERNON: ** ( *CONT'D* ) That does it. Tonight, you're getting the *buckle* end.
*VERNON raises his hand, ready to bring the belt down. *
**HARRY: ** ( *O.S. * ) *Incarcerato! *
*Straps of decaying ( yet still solid ) cloth suddenly snatch VERNON's hand from above. Spike-covered, vine-like tendrils of an unidentified black material snake their way around his arm and down his body, yanking him upward into a spread-eagle pose. *
**VERNON: ** ( *Scared* ) W-what...
*The pile of blankets collapses. Faint wisps of green smoke rise from it. From out of the darkness, a lithe figure flashes forward, an eerily glowing knife clutched in one hand. This is HARRY POTTER, a magically gifted psychopath. *
**HARRY: ** ( *Whispering* ) Bleed for me, Uncle.
*HARRY slashes the knife across VERNON's ample gut. Blood and intestines spew forth, covering HARRY's face. He closes his eyes and smiles... and when he reopens them, his irises have started to glow with a green light. *
**PETUNIA: ** ( *O.S. * ) Vernon? What's going on down there?
*HARRY looks VERNON in the eyes. *
**HARRY: ** ( *With VERNON's voice* ) I'm teaching him a lesson, Petunia.
*VERNON appears to pass out. *
**HARRY: ** ( *CONT'D* ) Come down and see.
*The sound of footsteps becomes audible. HARRY looks at himself in the mirrored surface of his knife. A scar is visible on his forehead in the reflection... and it seems to move like a snake anticipating a meal. *
FADE TO
OPENING CREDITS
`` **HORCRUX**''
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[ WP ] Space is n't just expanding , it 's fleeing .
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[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 7, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
A bearded man sat in front of the crisp, high-definition camera. He adjusted his square glasses and scratched his ginger beard. His eyes looked at something above the camera. `` Video log number one. This is Doctor Damon speaking to ASAI. We just left the solar system, so I guess this video wo n't be transmitted until our return trip.'' Damon chuckled. `` At least I sent the earlier two to my family. This one is n't professional either, but at least you guys will find it more useful. Hydroponics is in top working conditions, and we've got enough gases to run a dozen generation ships. The cloning labs work too, in case of accidents. But hey, we've seen enough movies, right? I do n't think the ship will be beset by evil aliens. Yet.'' he grinned.
[ CLASSIFIED INFORMATION ]
PROJECT KHAOS
ASSOCIATED PERSONNELS:
CRAWFORD, MILES: OVERSEER, PERSONNEL
BUCKLEY, CHRISTIAN: TECHNICIAN
PAULSON, JAMES: TECHNICIAN
MARTIN, JOHN: ENVIRONMENT SPECIALIST
O'NEAL, GWYNETH: PHYSICIAN
ANDERSON, JACK: COUNSELOR
SMITH, PAULINE: RESEARCHER
DAMON, KENNEDY: RESEARCHER
MISSION STATEMENT: Collection of data on the centre of the universe. Due to the sensitivity of the equipment, human personnels are required.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 21 DEATH REPORT ]
Name: JACK
Surname: ANDERSON
Cause of Death: Deliberately leaving the airlock without protective equipment. Due to possible mental illness, subject will not be cloned onboard.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 8, AUDIO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
The droning white noise sounded... different. More chaotic than the usual white noise one can hear on television.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 9, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Dr. Damon grinned. `` Video log two. Things are looking promising so far! Me and Smith recorded a couple samples of the radio noises that our equipment get here. We are n't getting distress calls from alien civilizations, sadly. Or if we are, it's too garbled. The thing is, about ten percent of that white noise is accounted by the microwave that used to be the Big Bang's light. We can hear the Big Bang on Earth, too, but it's getting clearer here. Hopefully, at our current speed of hundred c, we will be seeing the actual light.''
He paused dramatically.
`` We will be seeing the Big Bang!''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 22, INTERROGATION TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Miles Crawford: This is Miles Crawford, Personnel Overseer. With me is Mr. Buckley and Mr. Paulson. Now, what do you know about the incident? How was Mr. Anderson able to leave the ship?
Chris Buckley: I I do n't know sir.
James Paulson: Only me and Chris had the authorizations to override the safety. He must have the suit beacon.
Miles Crawford: So you are saying that Mr. Anderson deliberately fooled the sensors... To kill himself?
James Paulson: Exactly. I ca n't see how else. Of course, I was off duty so I did n't see him leaving.
Chris Buckley: He... just exploded when the airlock opened.
Miles Crawford: Jesus. That sounds like a mess. Subject is likely to have committed suicide, then.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 27, ENCRYPTED JOURNAL, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
-- garbled -- ( Language ) OF THE GODS. WE ARE GOING IN THE -- garbled -- MUST ESCAPE.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 29, WOODEN FIGURINE, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
It looks like one of those fat Venus clay sculptures found on Earth. It has large breasts and is spherical from the figure's massive girth. The diameter is around 5 cm.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 15, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Damon is writing something on the desk in front of the camera. `` Smith was showing the white noises around. Our newer ones are... special, so she's a bit upset that nobody but me is impressed. But hey, we are the only physicists on board.'' he chuckled. `` It's like that woman wants them to see the glowing phosphorus in a jar of pee. She'll probably want them to read over the data we collect from our quantum experiments once we turn off the FTL drive too, I'll bet.''
He appears to be in deep thought as he writes more. `` Oh, right. This is video log five.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 12, AUDIO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
White noises. It sounded like the earlier one. The sound has a peculiar quality to it, however, as if the medium is failing to convey it correctly.
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 17, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Damon sits in front of the camera, beaming excitedly.
“ Video log seven! We ’ re getting closer to the center of creation! I mean, obviously we can ’ t get too close or else the radiation would mess us up pretty badly. So far, every time we stop to collect cosmic noises, it ’ s still pretty dark out. It ’ s brighter then Earth, though. There ’ s loads of stars here, but they ’ re normal stars, not primordial light. Get this, though, the ones we are approaching are blue, and the ones we pass are red. Looks like the stars are going on the opposite direction to us. I wonder why. Must be the dark matter doing weird sciencey stuffs. ”
“ What, just because I ’ m a physicist doesn ’ t mean I know everything! ”
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 20, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Damon sits with a mug of coffee. “ I saw it! We saw it! The ancient stars are around us! Now, this is a lot more exciting than radio noises!
We ’ re stopping soon. We can ’ t get too near the center, the density of high-energy particles is increasing, and it might be reaching lethal level if we got too close. So, here we are, ”
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 24, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
“ Anderson just blew himself up. ” Damon nursed his head. “ What the heck. Crawford is real pissed. He thinks somebody murdered him. Maybe me and Smith were too occupied with our research to know if there was any politics bullshit going on.
You'd probably expect things to go to hell first, but for the record, no, things are in top condition. Crawford has n't shot anyone yet. Martin has n't gone insane and sabotaged our life support. The engineers... Well you get the idea.
Smith has been erratic, though. Not the'insane serial killer' sort of erratic, at least. She thinks there's something with the radio noises though. Okay, I might be underestimating how batshit she is becoming.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 25, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Dr. Damon has n't shaved for a while. It was n't obvious in the earlier video, but now it is.
`` Yeah, there's some weird shit going on with the radio noises. Seems like you can only truly hear it when you're listening to live feed, but I'm recording these anyways. By the way, O'Neal somehow talked Crawford into letting her clone Anderson. Apparently, he's as baffled by his own actions as others. Crawford sent a dozen drones stalking him wherever he goes, but that's understandable.
Martin carved a fat woman figurine with our spare wood. I do n't judge a man's hobby, but something about it give me the creeps.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 26, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
`` Smith shot herself. She's not getting cloned. No.''
Dr. Damon covered his ears and groaned.
`` I feel like I can still hear the goddamn radio noises. The drones are still busy doing quantum experiments, so we ca n't be leaving for a good 4 months, and we're falling apart already? Give me a break.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 28, PAPER NOTE, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Gone fishing. - John
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 30, ANNOUNCEMENT TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
`` I'm putting the ship on lockdown. Nobody is going near the airlocks except the engineers. Anderson and Martin can stay dead. You are n't even supposed to go near the airlocks. And no, O'Neal, I'm not cloning him. I do n't care that he manages our life support. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 45, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Dr. Damon had shaved his beard off.
`` Video log fifteen. Looks like Crawford locking down the ship worked. Two months to go. Here's hoping life support does n't randomly fail.
Hope I did n't jinx it.
Anyways, it's boring as hell. I might as well start interpreting the data the drones collected.''
`` The noise is still ringing. I'm not sure if others hear it.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 52, ANNOUNCEMENT TRANSCRIPT, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
`` Does anyone else hear the buzzing noise? The engineers checked the ship and apparently it was n't the ship. Do n't ask me how that even works. Must be particles bouncing on the metal, but that's not a scientific guess.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 54, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
Dr. Damon gave the camera a thousand miles stare.
`` Sentient life was not as rare as we thought. When a system is complex enough, consciousness occurs.''
[ RETRIEVED OBJECT # 57, VIDEO, DATE CLASSIFIED ]
An empty bottle of pills sat on the table.
`` Space did n't listen to them. The thing that sits in that galaxy, and neither will I. Smith knew she would be safe in oblivion. The mission will be finished soon, anyways. I hope Crawford does n't snap first. I would warn them, but I do n't know if they will believe me.''
He wheezed, his eyelids fluttering.
`` Space is n't just expanding, it's fleeing.''
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[ WP ] A rare recessive gene mutation grants foresight . The few born with it quickly shoot to rolls as world leaders and religious heads . The rest of the population lives in fear . A woman has just given birth to her first child and he is already showing the symptoms .
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The baby came out healthy. Doctor ’ s weren ’ t surprised. The mother and father were both carriers of the Oracle Gene. It had already been known the baby would have Foresight.
The mother wasn ’ t allowed to hold her child once. Doctors gave her heavy sedatives during early contractions. She was unconscious for the entire birth.
After the nurses had cleaned the child, taken its measurements and determined it was healthy they handed it over to the Department for Protection of Extraordinary Individuals. The men took the child, deposited a large sum of money in the parents ’ bank account and left for the DPEI ’ s care facilities.
The child, officially named Subject 757 but colloquially called Delphi, excelled at her studies. Teacher s marveled at the child ’ s aptitude. At seven months old she was already learning with children several years her elder.
Delphi knew the lesson plans ahead of time. She read ahead and mastered the lessons years ahead of time. While her physical traits developed at a normal pace her mental capacities developed faster than expected.
The Director of the DPEI took a personal interest in Delphi. Her Foresight seemed to be more sensitive than even her teachers ’. She started to pull out books that were to be used for her training ten years in the future. After she learned how to talk she began to tell other student ’ s their future paths. It disturbed the others the most when Delphi would be tell them the exact date of their death ’ s. Some predictions were fifty years out. The Director wrote down every prediction in order to see how accurate she was.
After Delphi ’ s third birthday the Director held a meeting with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He put an SD card on the Chairman ’ s desk. “ This is everything we know about Subject 757, ” he said.
The Chairman picked up the card. “ She is accurate? ”
“ A prediction rate of 99.7 % percent. She has shown sensitivity to the future almost never seen before. I ’ m worried about her path, ” said the Director as she sat down across the desk from the Chairman.
“ What does your own Foresight show? ”
“ She will continue learning and serving with us until the age of sixteen. Anything beyond that is too foggy to draw reliable conclusions from, ” said the Director.
“ We must make sure that she doesn ’ t stray. With the wrong people she could be very dangerous. ”
The Director nodded. “ Indeed. Subject 757 is a valuable asset. She is our top priority. ”
The child saw all of this in the womb. She turned over. Her plans for the future had already begun. She needed to stay one step ahead of the DPEI if she was to elude their grasp later in life.
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[ WP ] God , Batman , Lucifer , humans with numbers , Hitler , time travel , etc . Pack as many /r/writingprompts tropes as you can into one story .
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For many years we wondered what the numbers had meant, they had appeared around the same time Scientists had discovered that God actually exists, which for them was a little embarrassing.
The announcement started with them sheepishly looking at their feet and mumbling into the microphone. Something about the God Particle being literal and the big man laughing at them. Anyway it was the following day that we all noticed the numbers. Most people had very low numbers less than 10 a few even had 0, but some people had huge numbers. There was a orphan boy in Gotham with something like 1,000,000 as his number. As for me, mine was 2.
Society eventually returned to normal as people realized the numbers would n't change no matter what you did and that even though God existed he did n't really care about you individually. It was n't until shortly after the day I reached 18 and was to be assigned my job for life by the machine, I prayed to God for superhero like that Bruce kid from Gotham got, that I started to figure out something.
I got assigned to be a technician at a new research lab and found that surprisingly a lot of my coworkers had larger numbers. The work was top secret but I had the clearance due to the job I was given and as they gave me the tour I could n't help but double take at one particular object. It was a Space-Time distortion field generator aka Time Machine.
It had been given to us by the race of aliens who had been secretly living with us for thousands of years, another thing my clearance gave me access too. It was only a week into my new Job when I first got the use the time machine. It was to be announced publicly in a months time and the staff were just doing some last minute things to prepare.
As I prepared to used it my coworkers warned me. Using the time machine will cause short term memory loss. The exact time of which was the time having used the time machine. So although you could travel to whenever you wanted you would n't remember that. The only proof might be some historic or future artifact or item you bring back with you which can be accurately dated to have been from that time-frame.
I returned from whenever it was I traveled to feeling a little tired. I had nothing on me and did n't realize that the memory loss would also effect the time just before when I entered the actual destination. There was a few laughs from my coworkers at my confusion but they explained its best to write down on a piece of paper the destination before you travel there so when you came back you could use the note to know where you went.
I laughed and walked over to the desk to grab my pen and paper, when in through the door busts the caped crusader himself, Batman, running frantically to the Time Machine and slamming the door closed, and a short time later exiting with a confused look. He nodded to me `` New here I see.'' before sprinting out the door.
There was a could of sighs from my Coworkers after he had left before they spoke to me. `` He does that all the time. Someone asks him to go back in time and save somebody and in he runs, does what he needs to do and returns. Same as everyone else, clueless to what he actually did.'' It was only cool the first few times.
I shook my head in disbelief as I decided to write down the things I would like to do. First would be `` Kill Hitler'', then `` Convince myself to ask Stephanie out'', `` See Dinosaurs'' ( Although I would n't remember it at least I know I did ) and finally `` See myself in 20 years time.'' Happy with that I walked to the machine prepared to complete the list.
I completed that list fairly quickly, at least I think I did, it was hard to tell when all you can do is enter the machine come out and then check off what happened. I could n't be sure I killed Hitler ( nothing had changed when I checked, he still existed ) and the others did n't change either. Although when I decided to ask Steph if I ever asked her out she said no and she was waiting until I got some weirdo to ask her out for me.
After that I kinda got bored of the time machine, over the next few weeks a couple of other new recruits got their chance, some of the time my coworkers would play a game where they pretended the person had never entered the time machine each time they exited using the memory loss to allow them back in. I wonder if they had done that to me, but somehow I did n't think so.
So anyway back to the numbers. I figured them out when I decided to ask Batman what he was travelling back in time for as well as when I worked out what I did the first time I used the time machine. I had been talking to a couple of the newer staff and had seen their lists, almost all of them were fairly similar, missed out love, cool historical events. It was only when a recruit with a 0 above his head appeared and I saw his list was missing something. It prompted me to start asking around and now everytime Batman runs into the office to use the time machine I would ask quickly. `` What are going back in time for, this trip?'' and each and every time he said the same thing.
`` To kill Hitler''
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[ WP ] You 've been riding a lift down for hours . It 's not stuck , it just keeps going down .
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I ’ ve become used to darkness. You have to be in this business. Twenty three hours down. Twenty three hours back up. You don ’ t ask questions so I don ’ t. Never once have I been tempted to open the chest. It ’ s a point of pride you see. Where most men would see unending temptation I see a test.
You start to see weird things in the dark; sensory deprivation. The amphetamines don ’ t help either but there is no other way a human can stay awake this long. The ones that make it learn to deal with it, the ones that don ’ t crack. When the lift reaches the bottom of the shaft a man in a hazmat suit loads the chest on. I don ’ t know why I don ’ t get a hazmat suit. I don ’ t ask questions. They gave me very little, just a denim jumpsuit and a hammer to smack the gears with when they jam. I don ’ t like that part. It ’ s scary, even to me.
I ’ ve done this trip fifteen times. It ’ s good pay for basically no work. I just stand around for two days. Every trip has been uneventful… except this one. This one has been different. I can ’ t tell whether it ’ s the dark or the pills or maybe I ’ m finally losing it but I swear that chest keeps moving. I must be losing it. That ’ s the only logical explanation. Hell, I ’ m talking to myself right now.
Maybe one little peak won ’ t matter. It can ’ t hurt anything right? After all, I ’ ve been good all this time-There! …it just moved again! It ’ s not my mind, that chest is moving! And now there ’ s a light… a faint, soft, ruby light. It ’ s comforting; makes me forget where I really am. The glow is growing. The lid is open just a crack and the light is coming from it. The lid is opening more and now there is another voice besides mine. M̧̡͈̗̪̤͙̲̔͊ͦ͘ͅǫ̴̬̭̳̮͉̟ͧ̍ͨ̊̇ͮ̇̅r̸̜̦̂̊̽͆̉̏̏͞t̸͉̓̏̉͑͞a̴̦̲̦̣̬̙̩̱ͩ́ḽ̷̻̳̱͋̎̾̔ͮ́, ̩͔̻̰͙͕̗̎͌̓̄͑͊̅̓͟ ̵̶̱̪̯̦͇̋͋̽̊ͯ̄I͇̤̦̹̗̮̭͖͂͊͆͒̀ ̡͔̗̀ͩ͠ͅͅç̗͙͍̹͚ͯ̓ͯ͌͑ͩ̉̈́o̴̰̣͓̟̱̤̱͒̊ͭ̇ͬm̡̆͐ͣ͂͛̈́͏̪̫͉͍͕m̨̭̪̦͗ͭ̉̕͝ͅà͎͉̰̱̿̔̉͒̇ͬ͋̐n̸̘̝̺̠͎̬̥̹͆͗ͩͬd̷̸̸͇͖̯̊̓ ̶̞̦͙̉͊ͤ͟y̶̦̝̣̟̣̅̄̄̎ǫ͔̼̥̹͍̘̙̂͒̎̽ͥ͒̒͛͠u̖̜͉̣̗̼̮̙͐̿͂́̆͆ͣ̆͡! ͖̪͊̿ It is deep in the center of my mind and I can not get it out no matter how much I shake. Y̸̛̫͚̺̤͖̮̖̮͊̒ͮ̅́o̡̡̘̫͔̖̭̩̼͎͕̊ͦ̓̿u̢̪͓͚̩͇̣̫̠ͭ̌͟ ̷̧̮̭̳̯̮̩̼̓̿ͯ̋ͤ̽̒̂͆ĉ̛̠̫ͭ̑̆ȧ̉ͩͯͤ̈̎̉҉̴͇̪̭n̘̝̈́ͮ̄ͤ̇ͨ͢͞ṅ̸̦͕̗̳͖̖̜̞̙͒̔̔o̠̫̩͉̗͒̓̒̽ţ̪͑̈ͮ́͘ ̴͓̟̞̳̫̠͒ͭͦͧ͑̈̉ͬd̶̨̯̱̬̬̫͕̥̔͌̔ͅë͈̣͓̞͉͎̗̲̱́ͨͨ̄f̡̖̥̓ͪ̒̂͠ŷ̞̦͚͓͉͈̫̩͒̍̉͋̍ͪͯͧ͢ ̨̡͓͍͔̹̄̎͒ͧ̔̏m̵̶̥̣̪̦̻͎ͭ̔̍̓͒͑̋ͧͅy̰͙͖̙̝͚̼̠̆̒̏͒͂̅̄̈́ ̗̱̻̺́͆̋ͫ͑̿w̪͙̥͒̔̆̾͐ͭͤ̓ͭiͥ͊̓ͬ̂͌̍͝͏͇̹l̵̲̰͉̔̅́͟͢l͚̯̋ͩͦ͑́̍͌ͥ̃͘͜.̡̫̱̟ͣ̆̅̏͗ The lid is open wide now and the light is pulsing; throbbing like a beating heart. A͙̦͍͉̮̰̯̭̮̅͑̽ͫ͐ͤ̍̚͡ļ̢̺͙̥͋͒͌̔ͅl̴̢͎͓ͪ ̗ͭ͑̄̒̎w̨͕̮̱͚̫̥̩̻ͪ̃̀i̷͈̥̫̺͍ͫͮ̓́̆̓ͭ̆l̝̝̙͓̖ͩͦ̄ͮ̇l̸͔̰̻͉̳̮̗̳͑̂͌̈́͗̋̀́͑̕ ̢̟̣̗͙̳͛͂́ͥ́ḃ̨̎͐̓҉̬͖̺̥̣̲̼̱͔o̥̜̯͕ͯ͐ͭ͆w̡̦͍̻̙ͥ͗ͩ̀ ̹͓̥̲͈̲͉̤̃̍͛̍̽́͒ͩ͝ͅd̴̨̥̗̞͙̺̯̿̏̈̒̀ͭ̉̂̉̀o͍͚͕̞̤͖̰̒ͮ͊͗͌̔ͮ̚͜w̦͇̝̤̞̖͚͚͙̽͑̑ṇ͉̩̪̖̦̱̩̿̂̇̇́͘̕ ̵̢̱̟͇͇̥̦̥̏ͩ̋ͭ̆ͥ̀ḃ͒ͪ̒̊̚͏͇͖̗e̲͖̼͈̟̘͕̩̗̋͊ͯ͛͒f̼͓̲̞͛̿̋͌ͯ̀ō̵̄̐̊̂͏̻̭̙͓̖̣̲r̵̗̮̝͕̹̙̪͉ͤ̍̿̀͠ḙ̭̤̖̗̬̼̠͒̂͒͆ͬ͌ͫ͜ ̪͕̲̔ͮ̽̈̾ͩm̴̢̮̘̰̻ͧe̟̪͖̹͙̻ͦͩ̈́ͩͭͮ̓̕.̶̰̥̟ͧ̉͋͗͌ I can not take it anymore. Ľ̴͇͊͗͂ͦ͘ė̡̦̦͔̫̺̼̰͇̏ṫ̷̹̱̥͓̗̝̣͎͗ͪ̽̎̾̊͊͜ ̶̼̦̩͍̲͚̬̂ḡ̣̻͉͈̮͔̬̪͋͊ͪ͝ö̝̺̲̮̹̝̼ͯͤ ̴͉̪͔͓̙̫̫̱̆͂̏ͨ̋͗a͆̎ͥ͑҉̷̵̩n̠͔͛̾̌͑̆͐̿͜͜d͎͙̽̔ͤ͗̾͡ ̢͓̯͂ͮ̊̆g̳͍ͫ̋͋́̍͋ï̧̘̱̮̖̪̰̓̉ͣ́ͫ͝ͅv̧͇̩ͣ͑͛ͅę͎̖̥͍̖̭̹͛̔͗ͯͧ̈́ͯ̚̕ ̶̗͔̻̒́̈͐ͨ́̚i̟̩̻̗̗̳̟͒̌͆͟͡ͅn̟̹̪ͪ̆̓͆͘͘.̣̰̱̦͍̖̣ͩ̾͊͡͡ ̘̹̩͖͙̓̌̔́͠N̩̪̭͎͎̑ͩ̕͡o͕̺͚͎͓̜̿ͮ̌ͤn̬̭͓̪̗͕̥̔̾e͇̙̹͙͔̻͔͗͐̀͞ ̧̘̜͚͔̥̰̮̋͛̊ͮͤͩą̫̖͔̝̗͖̎̽r̸̖͖͈̩ͫ͆̽̓͆̇̊̕ẹ̵͈̓̾ͤ͛ ̞̖͇̝̓̅̄ͤ̈́̓̌̏͗s̍ͨ͌̒ͥ̽̾̔̚҉̡̳̤̟͖ť̙̙͐́͜ŗ̝̘̮̱̲̱͆̔̆͊͊ͯͩ̌ǫ̝̰̙̻̰͂̈ͪ͜͝n̴̯͓̬͉̥͓̆̇͂ͫg̸̣͖͌ͮ̐ͦ ̨̟̼̘͈̞͚ͩͮ̓ͬ́̚ͅẽ̼̝̤̖̳̠̲͉̚͢n̅͒҉̢̙̳̮̠͙̟o̴͉̜̠̮͈̹̯̗͂̾̐̾͒́u͕̥̗͍̳ͭ̑ͤ̔̅́g̊ͫ͏̶͎̬̕ḥ̫̹̙̰̠̻́ͮ̊̀ͣ̽͋̚ ̴̰̘̦͖͌ͧͤ̑͒̚͢ͅt̫̐͑ͮ̀o͕͇͈̖̙͐̈͂ͯ̈ͤ͟ ̨̧̿͑̍͑͊͏̱r̵͚̜̯̖̬̝͚̣ͥͯ̋ͧ̾̒͂̚ͅe̡͙̹̎̃s̵͙̾ͪ̊̆̈́̊̓̊́͢i̯͖ͬͣ͑ṡ̞͓͓̥̐̓̈́ͦ͛͟͞t̤̮͕̭̝ͬͨ̅ͣ̈́ͪͫ ̯̠̮̻̥̘̱͗̒ͨ́̅̚͢͡m̴̡̹̒ͪ̏ͥ͂ͨ̚̚e̡̱̠̙̺̭̯̮͓̾́ͅ! ̭̹̍̔͗̅̐̐ͧ The hammer- Hammer to the temple and it will be over. Just need to make sure I swing hard. Ą̱̹̓͒̎ļ̵̰͂ͨ̑ͫ̔ͭ͆ͤͅľ̨̯̹͔͋ͯ́̏̈͠ ̛̗̺̂̌͌̑͊̕w̔ͫ̐ͨ̽̚҉̙ͅi͌̓ͣ͒̉̌̚͜͏̱̱͖͖̟l̸̡̬̳̹͕̥̻̹ͭ̑ͦ̈́ḽ̛̲̦́ͯ̓̕͜ ͮͣ҉̠͈̞̘s̛̱̱̜̆͌͒̀u̠̘̥̯ͣ́̈́̏̂̽b͕̱͛́m͕̰͓͓ͣ̊̒ͫͩ́͐͘i̽ͤ̒͛҉̢͚̭͇̲̺̲̤̰t̷͉̣̻̙͎̻̞̺ͤ̂̏̄͊͐͛̑̿! ͇͓̰̼̞͗͆͟
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[ WP ] Exactly a year from now nobody will know who you are .
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I was always a quiet kid, I had but one friend growing up. I was 12 and he was the first friend I had ever made. We ’ d known each other less than a week, but we were inseparable. We went to the same school and played together at recess, he was the first person to ever be kind to me. I think he was the first person even know my name.
There was but one other person in my life, my mother. She was beautiful in her youth, but she had become very sickly as she grew older. She loved me more than you could ever imagine, as a child I often wondered why. I couldn ’ t understand her devotion to me, but I loved her for it. She was my only family member, and at that point, my only friend. She was the only one who would talk to me, it seemed no one but else even noticed me.
I was in middle school, I always sat in the back of the class and I ate my lunch in the corner of the library hidden from view. I hurried home after school, always looking forward to talking to my mother. I had become accustomed to the long days of silence and loneliness, but as I got older, I longed for a friend.
After school I often ran past the withered white fence at the back of the yard, and through the tall uncut grass into the woods. I loved these woods, they were so familiar, the fallen leaves were my stage and the trees were my audience as I pranced and sang into the cool autumn air. I skipped along through the woods, and suddenly came to a stop. There was a boy up ahead, staring at me. There was something funny about him, he didn ’ t look like me and yet he was more like me than anyone I had ever seen. His clothes looked odd and were worn and tattered, but he smiled at me beneath his baggy newsboy cap. I stood there stunned at first, I couldn ’ t remember the last time someone had looked at me that way. It was always a passive glance in my direction as if on accident. He however looked at me in a way that only my mother had, he seemed to understand me.
I looked down as I heard his footsteps approaching, my shyness and cowardice once again shining through. I glanced up from beneath my ball cap, we met eyes and I forced out a smile. I wanted to run, to escape the first real social interaction I had experienced in all my life. And then he spoke.
“ Hello, Freddy ”
I was shocked, how could he know my name? No one knew my name. Who was this boy?
I replied shortly, “ Hi. ”
He spoke as he motioned for me to follow him, “ We ’ re the same you know, you and me. ”
“ Oh? ”
He was leading me back down the path I had come, back towards my home.
“ Yes, I know what you are. Do you know what I am? ”
“ No I ’ m afraid I don ’ t. ” I was even more curious now, who this boy could be.
“ I ’ m not here, just like you aren ’ t. ”
I was stunned by his statement, but struggled to understand what he meant.
“ What do you mean? ” I asked.
He spoke to me as if he had known me all my life, just as my mother had always done. He spoke to me like a friend.
“ Well you see, you and me, well we ’ re dead. ”
I stopped walking, but couldn ’ t bring myself to reply.
“ Yep, I died when I was 11, you died when you were just a baby, sorry ‘ bout that bud. Bad luck, I guess. ”
“ But I ’ m 12 now, how could I have died? I have a mother, I have a home. I go to school! ”
“ Yeah sure, I know. ” He replied coolly. “ You have a mother, that ’ s for sure. That ’ s why you ’ re here, even though you ’ re dead. ” “ Ya know, because your mother wants you to be here just like mine does. ”
I stopped walking and sat down against a tree, things started to connect and I began to realize this little boy might be right.
“ You see, your mom wanted you to live real bad, you ’ re daddy never knew about you and you were the only family she had. But you were a poor sick little baby just like how your mom is so sick now. You died of your sickness. Just a little baby, real sad. ”
I was silent for a minute, then I managed to ask, “ How did you die? ”
“ Hit by an automobile. ”
“ Oh, I ’ m sorry. ”
“ Ah it ’ s okay, I had a pretty good life. ”
“ So what happens to us when our mom ’ s die? If we really are only here because they are imagining us. ”
“ Well when your mom dies, you die again I ’ m afraid. ”
“ How do you know all this? ” I asked, almost angrily.
“ Well I ’ m here because you needed a friend. ” He answered quickly, avoiding my question.
I still struggled to understand all this, and decided against prodding the boy further. At least I had a friend now, a friend who knew me. We ran off into the woods and played until it was dark, as every kid should. We were the best of friends for a whole year, playing every night, telling stories to each other, the whole deal. To us it was all real and wonderful, but it had to come to an end. My mother grew very sick at the end of that year, and with her death, I had to leave my friend behind in the woods. I had lived two short lives, with but two friends. Friends who had known me once but knew me no more.
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I am dying and you are a first responder . I will die , what do you say for me as last words ?
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Another call to a single car accident on the slick, wet highway. The victim is probably another teenager taking out his daddy's overpowered car. Inexperience does in so many of the kids I see in my line of duty. I did n't sign up for watching kids die when I went through my medic training, but it is what it is.
Arriving on scene, I see an empty upside-down car laying in the ditch. Two car seats, but they were both empty, buckles unfastened. This usually means the children were n't in the car to begin with. I exhale deeply, a sigh of relief. Teenagers are one thing, but children are my worst fear every time I arrive on scene.
It's dark and the rain is coming down too hard for me to see clearly, but I can hear a muffled noise coming beside the car, along the side of the ditch where the grass line begins. Hoping across the over-flowing ditch, I can finally see a man laying face-up, 10 feet away from the car. He is in a white collared shirt which is now pink. Tinged with blood.
`` Sir. My name is Alice. I'm a paramedic, do n't move!'' I greet him kindly, but firm. The worst thing for a potential cervical fracture is having the patient jerk their head towards you. I approached him, listening for a response. I could see his eyes were open, but he was n't responding verbally.
I dropped my medic bag beside his shoulder, and dropped to my knees above his head and mustered my warmest and softest voice, `` It will all be okay. You're safe. I'm here with you and I'm not leaving your side. More help is on the way.'' I smiled down on him as I anchored my elbows to my knees and grasped his head between my hands, holding him still and awaiting a verbal response.
`` You have...'' He breathed shallowly, `` A kind smile.'' His lips upturned for a split second, mimicking a smile.
`` Hey, do n't you go anywhere.'' I teased him. Keeping the mood light is the best way I know to keep them from panicking.
He is conscious, he has a good airway, what else... I look down his body, not yet ready to release his head just yet. His neck is intact; his shoulders look unharmed; his chest and partway down his belly was unharmed. His pelvis was flattened and his legs were no longer where they should have been. I could n't see his legs anywhere. I could see that the puddle of water I was kneeling in was n't rain water, after all. It was his blood and more was pouring out of him.
`` You have kids? Two?'' I try to keep a conversation going with him to keep his mind of other things. His pupils were no longer brisk in their response to the low light whenever his eyes strained themselves open. Not a good sign.
`` Yes.'' His eyes rolled into the back of his head in between words. `` Girls,'' he continued between gasps for breaths. `` I love them.''
Those two girls will soon be without a father. This I knew. This man was dying beneath my arms, yet he was trusting me with his life. I'm giving him false hope and I would n't have it any other way.
`` You tell that to them next time you see them, okay? I'm here with you. You're safe. Everything will be fine.'' I lied through my smile, my voice unwavering.
His lips were pale and he was now shivering. `` Legs.'' His voice was a mere whisper now. `` I ca n't feel them.'' He laboured out his words.
`` Can you feel me?'' I rubbed my thumbs against his cheeks and gave him a smile. His lips reacted in another quick smile and he slipped into nothingness.
This is it. He's getting close. I'm about to lose another one. `` Of course you can.'' I smiled again, and reassured him, though I was really just reassuring myself, `` it's going to be just fine. You are safe. I am here. I'm not leaving.''
His eyes opened once more and a smile jutted across his face. His eyes rolled up slightly, his pupils grew, and his jaw relaxed. It was over.
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[ WP ] Write a college essay that starts with , `` Sometimes , I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle ... ''
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Sometimes, I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle. It's incredibly frustrating, being able to so clearly imagine myself laying prone behind my Barrett 50cal, yet realizing that there is no ladder to reach the rooftop. What a prime spot this rooftop would be; a 360* view of the whole area. Surprisingly, its lack of access is what makes this particular rooftop ideal. If someone were atop it, there would be no clear way to remove them, forcefully or otherwise. The obvious deficiency of an easy path is daunting, though I am not one to be discouraged. I have been faced with many hardships, but I respond to them in kind; I face them. When the going gets tough, it's not about changing tactics. There's no need to run around with an AR15. Being tough does n't win. Cleverness and guile is what brings about victory. So I whip out my grenade launcher, shoot an explosive onto the floor up against the building, and time my jump perfectly to ride the shockwave onto the roof. I pull out my oversized sniper rifle with incredibly unrealistic and futuristic attachments, then begin racking up headshots against the opposing team.
If I put this much thought and effort into how I play Call of Duty, imagine the effort I'll bring into my university studies.
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[ WP ] Write a story that uses as many movie titles in it as possible , each in a way that fits the story .
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45 Years.
That's how long it has been since I last saw that Trainwreck.
She was a Spectre of her old self, back when she lived in Brooklyn she had so much more... Joy.
Inside out she was incredible.
However, the Fences she put up between us made us Passengers on a sinking ship.
The break up was Titanic.
I knew Jackie did n't want me back, I knew she was a Gone Girl, but I still thought our love was Interstellar, that it had Gravity, that it was Unbroken.
I did n't see the Fault in Our Stars.
The Arrival of her new boyfriend killed me.
His name was Noah.
He said he was 21, from Jump Street across town.
I did n't want to play the Intimidation Game, so I decided to let her go.
The Walk home was the death of me.
I tried to be Brave, but i knew I could n't pick myself Up.
I spent the last 45 years Up In The Air, but now I had come to my Final Destination.
Jackie stood before me. Older, but I now realized why I was Enchanted.
She was a Wonder Women. She said softly
`` I always put You Before Me''
and as she said that she took out a piece of paper from the back of her Pocket.
As I read it I started crying in realization.
`` You need a cure for wellness.''
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[ WP ] Terrific is the defiant child of Terrible and Horrific , who refuses to follow in family tradition .
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__29th of September, 1963__
The Nurse came out of the room. Horrible and Horrifying were waiting for the big news.
`` It's a boy. Everything went well. No problems whatsoever!'' Said the Nurse.
`` Yay, Horrible! You have a little brother!'' said Aunt Horrifying.
__2nd of October, year 1963__
`` Horrible, come here, Terrific wants to see you!'' said Horrific. Horrific had his arm around Terrible, who was cradeling Terrific.
`` One day he'll turn out to be a great terror, just like his mum!'' Said Horrific.
`` Oh, dont say that. Trust me, he's horrendous!' said Terrible. They smiled at eachother, whilst Horrible tried to bite his little brother.
`` Well done Horrible, but do that to other people.''
A scar appeared in Terribles arm, and he started crying.
`` We'll have to get that sorted out'' Horrible murmured.
__7th of June 1973__
`` Terrific! Wan na play some fright?'' shouted Horrifying.
`` Yes please Aunt Horri!''
`` Terrific!'' Shouted Terrifying, terrifyingly.
`` Oh... I mean, Hell Yeah Aunt Ugly...'' said Terrific.
`` God, why do n't you send him back to the hell hole hospital!'' Said Horrible. They all laughed, except for Terrific. He slouched back upstairs - too upset to play fright.
`` What's wrong with that boy...'' Said Horrifying.
`` I think it's that'Kindness' friend he keeps visiting.'' said Horrible.
`` Yeah weird family...'' Said Terrible.
__31st of October 1978__
`` TERRIFIC, ME AND DEVASTATING ARE GON NA GO LOOTING, YOU COMING YA PIECE OF CRAP?''
`` N-n-no, stay aw-w-way from me...'' Whimpered Terrific, cowering in the corner of his room.
`` You're brothers a wimp Horrible! We need ta teach him a lesson!'' said Devastating. Terrific had always hated his family, and their friends. Why did they have to be so... Terrifyingly Horrific? The only people he liked were Kindness, and her parents, Happiness and Kindhearted.
__1st of November 1978__
`` You really need to get a better brother.'' Said Kindness. She was helping patch Terrific up, after what Devastating did to him.
`` They're terrible.''
`` They're Terribles.''
__March 13th 1982__
`` Why ca n't you be like your brother? Horrible has hurt 74 people, stolen from 92, and killed 3. What have you done?'' Shouted Horrific. He kicked Terrific.
`` Given candy to a baby!'' He kicked him again.
`` Nurtured an injured bird!'' He kicked him again.
`` You're no son of mine. Get out of my house.''
`` I. Do n't. Want. To. Hurt. People!'' Terrific shouted.
`` Did n't you hear Dad? Get out!'' Said Horrible.
`` Fuck you Horrible!'' Shouted Terrific. He snapped. He punched Horrible straight in the gut, then kicked him to the floor. It was maniacle. Terrifying and Horrific could only watch as one son murdered the other.
Terrific realised what he had done. He broke down.
`` You. Killed. Him. You killed your own brother.'' Terrific looked at the scar on his arm.
`` He deserved it.''
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[ WP ] A $ 1mil bounty has been placed on your head worldwide for the next 24 hours . Anyone is free to claim it .
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`` Surprised you have n't left already.''
`` Hm?''
I span around in my swivel chair, taking a drag on my cigarette.
`` You have n't heard?'' my partner replied, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged, and he flipped on the tv where a bright looking redhead was reading from her notes.
``... light of the recent situation, the govenrment has offered a One Million Dollar bounty, Dead or Alive.''
I snorted. `` Pff, I would n't go underground for anything less than 50 Million.''
`` You know we've eaten nothing but instant noodles for a month because of your antics? We ca n't get a job for love nor money. I'm considering turning your head in myself.''
I took another drag and put my feet up onto the console.
`` You ca n't beat me at poker, how are you gon na outshoot me in a gunfight'' I replied, waving my pistol lazily.
`` I guess you're right.'' He replied. I flicked my cigarette butt into an overflowing ashtray, to a disapproving look.
`` What?''
`` I've told you about smoking in here. You'll clog the filters.''
`` You can put it on my obituary. Now let's get this bucket of bolts into the air before we're overrun with wannabe bounty hunters.''
I kicked the console, booting the ship into life
`` Oh, and next time, make sure I've got the right bountyhead before I bag him. I'll get a reputation.''
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[ CW ] Write a story that starts or ends with `` the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog '' .
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The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog, down the wooden steps and out onto the dirt path. The dog lets out a single miserable bark as its prey goes out of reach, before curling back up on the porch. From the house the farmer emerges shouting something unintelligible at either the fox or the dog.
The fox is already halfway to the barn before the farmer even has his gun drawn. He could ’ ve made it further if it wasn ’ t for the piece of cloth he was tangled up in. An odd pink garment, larger than the fox was long, it had three holes, one large, two smaller. He ’ d somehow managed to get his head through the large hole and out a small one, whilst his foot was stuck through the other.
A gunshot goes off, followed by swearing from the farmer. The nimble fox darts into the barn, through a gap in the wall it knows well. The garment snags a splinter of wood, barring the foxes entry. This didn ’ t go unnoticed from the farmer, who runs closer for a better shot.
The little fox ’ s feet claw against the hard dirt as it struggles to push through. The faint sound of the gun reloading can be heard through the barn walls. The cloth gives way as another gunshot goes off. The fox skids into the safety of the dark barn. It listens to the muffled swearing from the farmer on the other side of the wall. The fox would wait a few days before venturing into the farmers things again, that was for sure.
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[ CW ] In 500 words , give or take 50 , create a compelling scene using at least 4 of the listed words
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Ben ’ s hypothesis is that, given time, he will become see-through, transparent, unseen.
He sits with his back against a pillar, in two pants, a hoodie, and three layers of jackets, facing away from the oncoming trains. The view he gets is of stairs leading down to the subway platform, of people being sucked up and spit down in a never-ending stream of urban fornication. Sometimes Ben thinks he spots a face he used to know, in his other life, the one where he had a last name and a home. When that happens, he ducks his face towards his knees, pulls his blanket closer, and pretends to be asleep.
It ’ s been getting harder to catch a stranger ’ s eye these days, to say, “ Hey, I haven ’ t eaten in a couple days, do you have any change? ” He used to be a trigger for privileged conscience, at least. He would get guilty shrugs, mumbled “ sorrys, ” or shifty eyes that met, then flinched and flicked away. Now people just look past him, above him, around him, like he ’ s a blind spot that doesn ’ t exist. He ’ s white noise on a channel that everyone skips. He ’ s bad signal that no one receives. People don ’ t even knock over his paper cup, anymore. He never thought he would miss that.
He tried busking, once, taking a dollar in nickels and dimes to the corner store a block away. It sold candy and cigarettes and touristic tat to the menagerie of out-of-towners, here to see New York, the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps. There was a bin of plastic Kazoos, three for $ 2.50, cheerful bits of cheap neon plastic, made in China. Ben bought one for 99 cents, then spent a week locked in a fruitless charette with the shifting crowds, trying to hit on some song that would garner attention. By then he ’ d stopped holding out for charity, stopped caring about hunger - for food, anyway. He just wanted to see if anyone would engage. The gambit failed; his wheezing, half-hummed tunes scored cursory looks, but no more.
Ben is sure that someday soon, he will fade past trivial, past invisible, to simply-not-there. He checks every morning to see if he can look through his hands, then touches his face to try and remember the color of his eyes and hair. He leans back against the pillar to test if he will dissolve and pass through. He thinks that maybe when it happens, it will be all at once, and his clothes will crumple down into a lonely heap, formless without the scaffolding of the mass he used to be. It would be nice to get out of this limbo. In the meantime, the wait is excruciating.
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[ FF ] Life as a cat is hard to adjust to , and has few pleasant moments .
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Life as a cat is hard to adjust to, and has few pleasant moments. There is, however, a certain zen-like clarity that comes with being a cat. A way of thinking and behaving that I'd only ever dreamed of attaining in my old life. And I was n't much of a dreamer.
I never liked cats in my old life. I was terrified of them. An irrational fear of course, as it turns out. I see that now, being one of them. Terrified I was, nevertheless. The sinewy stretching, the predatory stalking of everything, and the eyes. Dear Lord the eyes. The way they watched everything. Unblinking; emotionless; hypnotic. Christ, I get creeped out just thinking about it now. Even more so when I consider what I've become.
When I woke up as a cat I... well, to say that I lost it would be an understatement. I knew what I was before I became a cat. My life had meaning and purpose. Direction. But one day, I was a cat, and all that had gone. And sometimes I think that's the worst thing about becoming a cat. I did n't just wake up in a cat's body. I woke up with a cat's *mind*.
From the first moment upon waking, after I'd gotten over the initial shock, I began to assess my situation. Life as a cat may be different, but it did n't have to be difficult. I'm a born survivor you see. My entire life I've moved around from one home to the next, so I've learned how to quickly adapt and fit in as best I can, no matter where I am. I tried to view becoming a cat through the same pragmatic prism; simply the latest in a long line of life disjoints that I would just have to adapt to, but I gradually became aware that my instincts, my nature, my very *being* was being overridden by that of a cat's.
This was n't just a case of moving home for the umpteenth time; this was a case of my soul being overwritten by an alien invader. I would lose my mind, one belief at a time and worse; the longer it went on, the less I would care about my old life. I thought of Marie and the life we had planned together. The veritable litter of children we would have ( and had in fact began to start, our first was due soon ), our home, and how even the possibility of that life had been stolen from me. Despite myself, I began to cry. I was shocked at how, instead of my familiar stoic cry, I began to yowl and wail like a... well, like a cat. I was picked up by an alien hand that I clawed and scratched at until I was set back down. A bowl of milk was placed in front of me and being thirsty, confused and disoriented, and seeing as how this was the first familiar thing I'd seen, I began to drink. The hand began to stroke my back and although it was irritating, I was so intent on drinking all of the milk in the bowl that I ignored it. Indeed, the longer it went on, the more comforting it became. My back involuntarily arched to meet it and I became aware of a deep, pleasurable rumble in my throat.
Once I realised that I was purring, my mind snapped back to the harsh reality of the life I now found myself in, and I looked around with what felt like shame. Shame that I'd been placated so easily and completely. With a litheness that was driven by anger, I flipped round and scratched and bit at the hand. I did n't mean for it to be as hard as it was, but I was still getting used to my newfound agility and reflexes. The owner of the hand gave a grunt of pain and slapped me aside. I twisted and landed firmly on my feet and crouched, waiting to see what would happen next. The owner of the hand stomped off and I was left to explore my new home.
Things were familiar, and yet different. I was seeing the world for the first time. Trees, houses, the outside and indoor world all held new scents, sensations, dangers and comforts. New experiences, and yet somehow old at the same time. Over the next few days and weeks, I fell into a routine. I would explore the house I now called home and I would explore the outside world, only coming back to the house when I wanted food and warmth. I came to understand that I was the property of the owner of the hand, and that it would feed me as and when I so desired. More than that; it seemed that the more I ignored the hand, the more it wished to please me. Catering to my every whim and only administering the mildest of punishment when I overstepped some behavioural boundary. Life as a cat was good. So good in fact that I'd all but forgotten my old life.
Then came the day where everything changed.
The hand which I had so disdainfully become accustomed to, grabbed me roughly one morning, awakening me from a deep and pleasant slumber. With treacherous callousness, it gripped me tightly and threw me into a room in the house which I had explored thoroughly and had found to be wholly unremarkable. The door closed behind me and I understood instantly that I was in the room to perform some sort of task. I waited patiently, giving myself a bath when suddenly, I caught a new scent in the air. New and yet familiar. I knew this scent, and I knew what was expected of me. *Mouse!!! *
The word was emblazoned across my minds eye in letters 10 feet tall, drowning out everything else. I saw with a clarity and single-mindedness that I had never experienced before, what I was here to do. My senses heightened and engulfed by a new, frightening primordial instinct, I began to hunt for my prey. There was a vestige of my old life that remained. Some ghost of who I had been before that tried to hold me back, to prevent me from killing. I viewed this aspect of my old self with a species of bemused contempt and willfully ignored it. The scent was closer.
Behind a stack of old magazines tucked in the corner of the room I found the source of the scent. *Mouse!! *
Holding myself back from pouncing immediately, I waited, crouching, offering no escape to what I suddenly saw was not just a single mouse, but a new litter of baby mice. The voice which I had been ignoring clamoured loudly in my mind, frantic with warning. I ignored it. *This* was why I was here. The thrill of life was not in the exploration of places, or in the prideful disdain of the hand that fed me, but in the hunt. The careful and deliberate stalking and destruction of my prey. The knowledge that I had the power of life and death over another living creature. I readied myself to spring upon the female mouse and her litter, the voice in my head screeching at me to stop, but again I shut it out, casting aside the last remnants of my old life. *This* was my life now. I sprang on the host before me and massacred them all, quickly and mercilessly, terror emanating off every single one as I ended their short lives. The adult I saved for last, ensuring that she could see the destruction of her family. Instinct.
My tail swished in the air as I pounced. Mid-air, a flash of realisation came to me, a spark of remembrance that ignited an entire forest of memory in my head. I tried to stop myself, but my new instinct had already taken over and I was unable to stop myself from ripping the female apart in an attack that was as violent and bloodthirsty as it was brief.
I looked at the remains of the mice before me, adult and children, and it was only then that the true horror of what I had done began to sink in. My old life came rushing back to me, memory upon memory crashing in my head along with a sickening, terrifying horror at what I'd just done. In my old life, I had been a mouse.
I sat back on my haunches and cried. A mewling, screeching sound that suddenly sounded more foreign and horrific than anything I had ever heard.
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Two careers considered completely disparate by your culture are treated as a single job path in the culture of a distant civilization .
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I woke up with a headache and saw the three eyed thing smiling at me.
`` Hah,'' I said, bringing my hand up to my face. I could n't remember the last time I had a lucid dream.
`` Welcome to the Galactic Trading Floor! I am your rep, Zizi!''
`` Zizi.''
`` Yup!''
I willed myself to summon Elizabeth Hurley before me. Zizi continued smiling at me with its three eyes.
`` Your rotation lasts 24 hours, so I hope you feel rested. Perhaps an Earth donut and Earth coffee?''
`` Hah. That's funny,'' I said. `` Listen Zizi, just let me finish my Earth dream with Earth Elizabeth Hurley so I can wake up well rested so I can go to my Earth job and earn my Earth money.''
Zizi nodded. `` Everything you said made sense except the Earth dream part.''
`` Oh god.''
I looked to my right and saw a man dressed with baggy jeans and a stained white collared shirt. He was cowering in the corner. He noticed me and when our eyes connected I saw raw, detailed emotion that slowly transferred its way to me.
`` Mis-Mister Jones?''
`` Yes.'' I had no idea who he was.
I looked at Zizi, who was very real, with its green skin, four arms, three eyes, and fifty legs arranged like a millipedes.
And I screamed.
***
`` But you signed the Galactic Knowledge Exchange paperwork,'' said Zizi. `` This is your rotation and you're wasting time. I'm sure your protege does n't appreciate this.''
My `` protege'' was still terrified in the corner.
`` I do n't remember signing anything.''
Zizi pulled up a video deck. There I was, all suited up with my purple tie, as I now noticed I was still wearing.
`` Buy, buy, buy!'' I was screaming.
A human that looked just unhuman enough to make me raise an eyebrow tapped my shoulder just as I had started saying `` Sell, sell, sell!''
`` You have been identified as the best trader on the planet Earth and have been invited as part of the Galactic Knowledge Exchange to show the galaxy your trading skills and hopefully learn something from the other best traders in the galaxy. Please sign here if you accept.''
He had said this in one breath.
`` Make it a pumpkin skim latte! No foam this time or you're fired! Buy, sell, buy!''
And I signed it.
`` Oh dear,'' I said as the video feed shut off.
Zizi nodded. `` Well, you may begin! You have 23.4 hours left.''
The giant screen flashed away and was replaced with a listing of what I soon recognized to be elements from the periodic table. All of them, to be exact, with ticker feeds of information rattling off regarding each one.
`` Uhm... I'm not a commodities trader. And we do n't really trade these on Earth.''
Zizi scratched its head with all its arms. `` But you said so yourself that its not the product you're selling, it's how you sell it. Last christmas you got drunk and said it repeatedly to your timid dinner guests while your wife had her hand over her eyes in embarrassment. Here, I have a video feed of that...''
`` No. No,'' I interrupted. `` I have been known to say that. It's just... I kind of would say it just to be the superior alpha jerk, not necessarily because it was true.''
`` But you're the best Earth trader,'' said Zizi. `` Go do your thing.''
`` OK. Helium. Used in birthday balloons. Price appears to be in the lower part of the pricing cycle. Helium looks...'' I looked to Zizi, who had raised its three eyebrows. `` Helium looks... good.''
And I bought some helium.
`` Iron. Who does n't love them some Fe. Iron miner strikes might cause a chain reaction? Let's make some magnets.''
And I bought iron.
`` Uranium. Increasing energy demand. Let's get some fission going. Let's power a few cities.''
And I bought some Uranium.
Zizi cleared its throat. It sounded like it had many throats. `` Our viewers are asking why you are n't involving your protege.''
I looked at the poor man whose face I kinda recognized.
`` I'm Gus. The janitor?'' said Gus the janitor. `` I've been clearing your garbage can four times a day for the last fifteen years.''
`` Ah yes,'' I said. `` Good old Gus.''
I lowered my voice and leaned into Zizi. `` I do n't really have any garbage so I ca n't really involve him in anything. Maybe you could get me some Earth snacks and then he could provide me with his Earth help?''
`` But he's your Earth janitor,'' said Zizi.
`` I know,'' I said, completely aware that we were in the middle of a huge miss-communication.
`` Uhm,'' I started. `` So, Gus, what do you think of that, uhm... carbon?''
Gus placed his hands on his mouth and shivered.
Zizi looked a little upset.
`` You know, carbon... diamonds and pencils and stuff,'' I said.
`` Carbon is....'' said Gus, then inspired himself from the fifteen years he had known me. `` Buy! Buy! Buy!''
`` Of course! Buy!'' I echoed.
Zizi smiled and applauded with all its arms. A number to the side spiked up. Zizi saw I had noticed. `` That's your viewership. They like a good show,'' said Zizi with a triple wink.
`` Come here Gus,'' I said as I put my arm around him. `` We have some buying and selling to do.''
Zizi looked into what must have been a camera. `` Will the pair be successful? Will Gus have what it takes to get promoted to Earth trader? Stay tuned!''
`` Buy! Sell! Buy!'' we said at the same time.
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[ WP ] You are scientist studying the zombie virus , when you come across something strange . The virus is also affecting the brains of those who are not yet dead .
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The year is Zed-23, over two decades after Patient Zero.
Humanity is finally holding on and by the grace of whatever deity or simply statistical chance, survived the 90 % casualty rate in the first 5 years.
We learned. Through the sacrifice of others, careful observation, constant vigilance, and sheer blind luck, we survived. We developed the tactics and the careful, deliberate survival mechanics to finally stem the hemorrhage of human life to our undead counterparts.
Jonas Parker, lead of Zed-virus research team, enters my office. We're lucky he survived - he's one of the few minds that the whole of remaining humanity relies on for a long term cure. `` We might have found an explanation for the mortality rate increase.''
Although we drove an icepick to halt the fall of humankind into the avalanche of Zed, three years ago, we noticed an uptick in the death rate among our scouting parties, a stomach-dropping slip of the pick. Two years ago, every division had recorded an increase in mortality due to Z-related accidents and carelessness. In the post-Zed world, carelessness means death.
`` Go ahead.'' I sit forward in the metal folding chair, and fold my hands on my desk.
Jonas takes a seat across and leans back; the sleepless nights and the pressure for a cure weigh heavily and his hair seems to gray more each time I see him. `` You know Daraprim? The malaria and toxoplasmosis drug?''
`` Yes, I understand we have a stockpile of it?''
`` Right, despite the best efforts of a greedscum pharmexec to throttle distribution in the pre-Zed era, we ended up producing sufficient generic reserves pre-Zed, and were able to preserve most of the stockpile when scavenging.''
Greedscum are dealt with harshly in post-Zed. After the first few years of infighting and self-destruction, we learned the hard lesson that in order to survive, we have to cooperate. Selfish, greedy behavior that fucks over your fellow human gets you a bullet in the head and everyone moves on without you.
`` Toxoplasma gondii is the parasite that causes toxoplasmosis. The funny thing about it is that the parasite alters the infected host's behavior. In mice, it causes decrease in motor function and an increase in risk-taking, extroversion behavior around cats. Basically the parasite cause mice to no longer fear cats, permanently. Of course, this causes the infected mice to be far more prone to predation by cats, which furthers the lifecycle of the parasite where it could reproduce only in the cat digestive system. There was preliminary research done pre-Zed that found that the behavior alteration even affected humans.''
Jonas lays out a series of charts on the desk, graphs displaying the trend of mortality increase across the human survivors.
`` See here, the scout division was the first to uptick, and we noticed increasingly risky behavior and attitudes among the scouts. We thought this was due to overconfidence as a result of beginning to turn the tide against the Zed. You and I have our doubts about that.''
I nod grimly. The men and women of the Scout Division are some of the most hardened, badass motherfuckers forged in the crucible of post-Zed hell. They survive in the most dangerous role because they are *always* careful and never fuck around. Going Rambo in a scouting mission against a Zed horde might sound cool to the gamer kids who shot virtual Zed for fun before Patient Zero, but out here if you're lucky it gets you killed. If you're unlucky, it gets your whole squad killed.
`` We suspect the Zed-virus is to blame. Repeated testing has found antibodies targeting the Zed virus in survivor hosts. We thought the survivors who get infected we had immunity. But it seems that even though the survivor body can fight it off, it permanently alters their behavior, like a latent toxoplasma gondii infection. Survivors develop a sense of superiority and overconfidence when encountered with Zed, even grizzled veterans who should know better fall victim to unwarranted risk taking.''
Jonas pauses before delivering the next projection.
`` At the current rate of mortality increase, unless we find a cure or vaccine, our survivor numbers will continue to dwindle from the attrition of recklessness until we are wiped out.''
We thought we had won against the virus. Turns out, we had n't yet. Like the addled mice, we were still just carriers for the virus and prey for the Zed hosts.
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[ PI ] Fight on Ceres - FebContest
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I'll go ahead and be honest: I do n't like space stories. I do n't like stories about the rough-and-tumble, renegade criminal with a heart of gold. These are just my preferences, but I wanted to get that out of the way first.
I really enjoyed the reveal about how Malcolm had deduced that the valuable cargo he was being commissioned to deliver was probably a shipment of slaves. You know something is up when he's getting the shit beat out of him and still refuses to take the deal. Up until that point, it sounded like a pretty good ( if shady ) deal! I was like, `` Why would n't this dude just sign the paper?!'' But he knew something that I did n't, and I really liked that the reader has to think about why Malcolm would willingly lose teeth over the matter ( the establishment of `` regen'' technology prevents Malcolm from looking uncharacteristically like a martyr -- he is a criminal, after all -- but the ability to heal quickly had n't been explicitly introduced yet ).
Another thing I liked is that even though Detective Singleton is female, she's not a love interest. That makes sense, of course, because she and Malcolm are on opposite sides of the law, but I'm still glad to see that the story did n't veer into `` star-crossed lovers'' territory or even have a hint of belligerent sexual tension, which it easily could have done. It was clear when Malcolm let her confront Norton by herself that they were just temporary allies.
One minor thing: I noticed the word `` hissed'' a few times, and the character named Hess hissed at least once. Immediately after one of his lines you said, `` hissed Hess,'' which just sounds weird to me. Again, not a major thing.
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[ WP ] `` I always told you something was wrong with that kid ''
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`` Do you want some ice cream, sweetie?'' My Mommy asked me while she wipe the sweat off of my back. There were other kids running around in the park and their parents with them.
But then I saw someone who seemed isolated from the bright park. I stared at the little girl sitting alone on the swing. There was n't anyone accompanying her.
`` Mommy, why is that little girl alone?'' I asked curiously instead and pointed the girl. Now that I looked at her intently, I could see that her white dress was stained and dirty. She does n't have any shoes on.
My Mommy does n't like it when I get my clothes dirty or when I lose my stuff. Maybe she got scolded, that's why she's alone?
Mommy followed my small finger with her gaze, and I caught her eyes flickered uneasily before she pulled me away and gave me a strained smile.
`` Let's get some ice cream and return home, okay?'' She said and dragged me towards the ice cream booth.
I glanced back at the little girl and she was staring back at me, her mouth was slacked and open, and her eyes was dark and scary. I quickly looked away and hugged Mommy.
Daddy fetched us from the park. After they settled me in my chair, Daddy started the car. I was happily licking the ice cream when my Mommy spoke quietly to Daddy.
`` Honey, R-h-e-a told me something again. She saw a g-i-r-l on the s-w-i-n-g but I saw no one. I think she's having these hallucinations about g-h-o-s-t-s again.''
I do n't know how to spell yet, so I ca n't follow their conversation, but when Daddy stared at me through the mirror, I had a hunch that they were talking about me.
`` Let's take her to the shrink already. I always told you something is wrong with that kid.''
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[ WP ] write a letter to a loved one .
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First of all, sorry for my bad English.
My letter.
We met not a long time ago but I think I truly am in love with you. When I first met you I did n't really liked you nor disliked you. You were just normal. Just my schoolmate. But after some time I started to feel something for you. Every time I saw you my heart beat like crazy. I loved talking to you but we did n't talk that much. Somehow I felt that you like me too. Just a little. Maybe it was true. But now I know you like someone else and for a long time. The worst part is you told me yourself. You talked to me like to your friend. Saying you love her so much. To me. My heart felt like it was broking into pieces. How could you? I love you so much, like anyone else I liked. When you told me about her, the only thing I could think about was how lucky she is. I do n't know how to look at you anymore. How to smile like nothing happened. I do n't know how to talk with you normally. But I will try. I will be your friend, your listener, your support. So please do n't leave me and talk to me about her anymore.
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[ WP ] Death has fallen in love with you . However , you 're immortal .
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`` I just want to hold you.'' Death said, the fire weak in his eyes. `` I want you to be mine; my servant.''
`` That's no way to treat a lady.'' Penelope replied, her arms folded across her chest.
`` No one could love you the way I love you. We're both immortal, you see. No human would fall for an old crone like you.''
`` Now *really*, do you think you can woo a woman with words like that?''
`` I'll get you one day. You'll never find a love like mine.'' And with that, Death vanished, leaving a puff of flame behind him.
She swivelled in her chair, dialling a number she seemed to know by heart.
`` Roger! Listen, I've just had the most terrible chat with someone... Yes, another admirer no less... Well how about we give ourselves a little bit of therapy...? Come round at, say, 8...? Oh do n't worry - I'm sure Betty can cook something up for us... Yes, see you then Roger. You take care now.''
Penelope called down to Beatrice, asking her to make dinner for two. She stood slowly, a small smile lifting her lips. She was just about to move a step when the phone rang again.
`` Hello? Yes, speaking...? Roger?! An accident...? Well is he alright? Thank you, I'll... yes, I'll be right there.''
Penelope sank back in her seat, her eyes wide. `` C-cancel the dinner plans, Betty.''
She felt a warmth on the right side of her body. `` I told you you'll never find a love like mine, Penny.'' Death said. His voice was soft; gleeful.
She turned to face him, her eyes almost unseeing.
`` But he was my...'' She faltered.
`` Oh boo hoo! Devil, you women are all the same. Do you know what? I think I only fell for you because you were a challenge. Ugh, you make me look so *bad*.'Oh that Death: he's awful! Taking all the people I love!' Well guess what, lady? I've had it with you and your kind.'' He left, filling the room with coldness. An angry cloud of black smoke remained where he had stood for months after.
Edit: previously submitted this on my old account by accident.
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[ WP ] `` Abandon all hope ye who enter here '' is n't a warning but a detailed description on how to enter Hell . To enter you need to be completely devoid of hope .
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Slowly God took the last few steps and sat down at the throne in the center of the first circle.
The thing was as uncomfortable as it was ugly and he cursed himself for putting it up the last he'd visited with his avatar, to the day five hundred years ago. He'd always had a thing for dramatics and the irony had been to great to *not* do it.
He sighed as he turned his gaze to the scene surrounding him. It still hurt the same as it had the last times he'd been here -it probably would forever- to see all the ones he'd failed.
Row upon row they sat there, naked and motionless in concentric circles around him, staring blankly ahead. A mockery of a court and its king.
His eyes swept over them all, bringing each of them to the forefront of his mind for a few short moments. He knew them all of course -better than they had known themselves perhaps-, knew their names and histories, their faults and virtues, sins and good deeds, losses and victories,... and what finally happened to bring them here.
He'd often contemplated the why's of fit all. Why were the rules of the world the way they were? Was it deliberate cruelty or indifference, or maybe even just simple random chance? Why was it that he could change so many laws, create or destroy as he wished, but these few rules were immutable even to him?
*'A sentient mind can only transcend to another plane if it has hope for the future in the moment of death'*
'Hope' included quite a few things in that context. Hope for an afterlife, hope for no afterlife, hope for the still living loved ones, remaining dreams aching to be fulfilled, deeds to be done, vengeances to be taken. Ironically quite a few otherwise hopeless cases had gone to heaven simply because they passionately cursed God in their last living moments.
But to truly give up at the end, to close the eyes to even the tiniest fleck of light at the end of the dark, cease all dreams for a change to the better meant to end up here.
Instead of born anew their minds were stillborn. Empty husks of essence without soul, breathing but not living. Silent statues of his guild.
He'd tried to heal them of course. To save their souls even afterwards.
He'd studied it for millenia, trying to understand why and how it happened, watching their souls dissolve in all the painful detail, trying to hold it together, begging and pleading...
Nothing helped.
Begging was as pointless as trying to force it. Even with all his power they just seeped trough his fingers and vanished into nothing but impersonal energy.
In the end it was all a problem of free will. The same property that made assortments of flesh and organs into loved companions and friends in an otherwise empty eternity caused him such pain.
When he created the first sapient creature, truly free of will, in the depth of his soul he'd known. All the suffering it'd cause, all the pain and heart ache. He'd heard all the screams of dying children, pleas of despairing parents, mad laughter of committed atrocities, last sighs of souls dying between his cradling fingers.
It had taken a long time for him to go trough with it and create the first free mind. A long time alone in the void, playing with the universe and wondering why he existed. In the end he just could n't bear it anymore and had given in...
With a last look God stood up from his throne and started the walk back past the thousands of rows, the ever growing circles
of bodies, out of his personal hell.
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[ WP ] Standardized tests are mandatory and the bottom 5 % of each grade are culled from society .
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`` T minus 15 hours,'' Will shouted out after checking his watch. We had a bonfire every year the night before the test, just the gang and me. We'd drink, get high, stay up all night because we knew it did n't matter.
We did n't think about the stakes. For the past 4 years, we've all scored in the top 10 %.
Kiaran took a sip of his beer. `` You know -- I think you should be exempt from the test, man. It's not your fault this happened to you.''
`` Yeah, well, it's not the fault of the failures that they're stupid. Can we just -- can we not -- can we not -- not talk about it?''
I could feel one of those panic attacks coming on. Something else maybe. Someone was invading me, putting these thoughts in my brain. Calm down, Kyle, I told myself. Calm down. It's not real, Kyle.
`` You okay man?'' Will asked me. Shit, how could he tell? He was psychic. Actually psychic.
`` Umm... y-yeah. Let's talk about it. Let's talk about me.'' My legs were twitching now. I could n't stop it.
Will put some more kindling on the fire. `` Okay. Um, let's see: you're still going to do great this year. Even with Croowts -- shit dude, I ca n't pronounce it. Can I just call it mad cow? That doctor, he said since you were young, you'd recover within the next year. So you just got ta get through this test.''
`` I do n't think I am. I mean, make it through the -- the. God damn it. What do you call it?''
Will blinked. He did n't like it when I forgot words. It made him nervous. I still had enough sanity left to tell that.
`` The test,'' he said quietly.
I did n't cry when I found out I had it, I think I laughed because of it's ridiculous name. I did n't cry of happiness when the doctor told me they took another test and I'm probably going to make a full recover. I do n't cry much, I never had.
But as cheesy as it sounds, I shed a tear. Maybe a few. `` Yeah, the test. You're right, I'll do fine.''
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[ WP ] Spongebob has been a figment of Partick 's imagination the entire time . He finally figures it out and confronts Squiward , who has been lying about Spongebob 's existence to steal money from them both .
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**Patrick: ** SpongeBob is n't real, Squidward! I know the truth!
**Squidward: ** Umm, uh, well, boy, do n't I wish that were true.
**Patrick: ** It is true! Nobody likes their job that much! He ca n't be real!
**Squidward: ** Go away! I'm trying to play my clarinet, you nincompoop.
**Patrick: ** And what stupid teeth and clothes he had! No one wears clothes like that unless he's actually Ken Jennings, the Jeopardy guy with stupid teeth and clothes and absorbs knowledge like a sponge!
**Squidward: ** Wait, how do you know about Ken Jennings?
**Patrick: ** I COULD HAVE EATEN THAT BIG PINEAPPLE THE WHOLE TIME! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
**Squidward: ** Patrick, you've lost your mind! Get out!
**Patrick: ** I found out my best friend in the world is n't real, and you just want to kick me out. WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU?
**Squidward: ** I was never your friend.
**Patrick: ** You just wanted my money so you could pay for your stupid clarinet lessons.
**Squidward: ** That's not true. I did n't invent SpongeBob to pay for my clarinet lessons. And they're not stupid!
**Patrick: ** You admit it! You lied about SpongeBob the whole time! The whole time!
**Squidward: ** All right! All right! All right! Yes, I admit that SpongeBob was just a *little* white lie so I could make a *little* extra money as a cashier and as a fry cook. And you do n't eat Krabby Patties because SpongeBob makes them good. OH, NO! You eat them because you were too damn stoned to know the difference! Why do you think you eat those disgusting pieces of garbage at 3 AM? I never thought you would actually quit smoking seaweed, but you did. So, what are you going to do, arrest me? That'll never fly in a court of law.
**French Guy: ** SIX HOURS LATER...
**Judge: ** Squidward Tentacles, the jury finds you guilty on the charge of grand larceny. I have sentenced you to work at Children's Hospital where you will dress like a buffoon and like it! I have also sentenced your clarinet to be thrown into Hell where it will never be heard or seen again!
**Squidward: ** Objection!
**Judge: ** Overruled! You have 48 hours to report to the hospital. Court dismissed.
**Squidward: ** Ah, barnacles.
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[ WP ] I 'm tired of fantasy where Elves are 'better than you ' just because they 're elves . Give me some sword & sorcery , fantasy-style , 'Humanity ! F**k yeah ! ' where typical elder fantasy races learn why it 's not wise to mess with 'mere ' humans .
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`` Simply foolish. Why do you bother with such creatures?'' The contempt on the elven mage's features only served to heighten his beauty, albeit coldly.
`` Simple enough, my friend,'' the demon smiled, `` the numbers. They outnumber all of the other races combined.'' It spoke in friendly tones while its eyes seemed to weigh and measure the elf who had it contained in a five pointed trap.
The elf scoffed. `` Quantity over quality? I should have expected such an answer from such a kind as yours. You do have so much in common with the apes.''
-- -
`` Class, pay attention,'' the primly dressed dwarf politely declared while tapping a silver pointer against his lectern. When the class continued to fidget and tug at their beards and whisper, the dwarf quickly reddened. `` Pay attention ye dirty gnomish mushroom slugs!'' The class sat up straighter with that.
The dwarf cleared his throat, returning to his polite tone. `` Now then, the monsters; who can name the biggest threat to the Dwarf Kingdoms?''
Students began calling out names. `` Dragons,'' declared one. `` Cave Wyrms!'' `` Wights!'' `` Goblins,'' called another, gruffly. As the teacher looked to the gruff student to declare his answer correct, a smug but scruffy looking dwarf spoke up. `` Humans.''
`` Humans?'' The teacher looked bewildered for a moment before throwing back his head and laughing. `` Should we fear every badger and mole who digs in the dirt too?''
-- -
Steam hissed around a small, bald figure in dirty coveralls. `` Fool's Gold,'' he cursed at another small figure beside him. `` You forgot to adjust the Calcitrator Gear! Now we've lost all of the pressure.''
`` It was n't me,'' the other gnome squeeked. `` You told the... the big one to do it, remember?'' He covered his own bald head, knowing his boss to have a rather large temper.
The steaming gnome frowned. `` That's right. Well, that's my own fault then, trusting an overworld rock-blind human to do anything right. Remind me to cut his rations for the week.''
-- -
The great orc warlord heaved himself over the wall as his host poured around him. He waved his axe over his head as he stood and let out an encouraging bellow. `` Get me sum o' dem tasty morsels, me friends!'' He drooled copiously and could taste some sweet human youngling flesh already.
His lieutenant, slightly smaller, climbed up beside him. `` Oi, what'bout them seige machines they got up in the middle a'town?''
The warlord laughed in the lesser orc's face, showering it with spittle. `` So we lose a few! They'll lose all a' theirs!'' His face became a parody of seriousness and suspicion, tusks and all. `` You gettin' afraid a' humans?''
`` N-no, boss!'' The smaller orc jumped down to join the fray before he had to answer anymore questions.
-- -
`` We've done it!'' The man smiled broadly, clenching his fists with accomplishment inside the deep pockets of his laboratory coat. `` Contact the High Magister. Get the head of the Alchemy Sciences Advisory on the horn.''
His team of like dressed associates were clapping each other on the back as an assistant prepared to carry out the request. She adjusted her glasses and asked, `` Should I tell them anything about it?''
The man smiled, thinking about how proud his father would have been to see his son win the Golden Scales for Sciences. `` Tell them... tell them we've achieved nuclear fission.''
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[ WP ] `` Out there , in the wilderness , we discovered the bones of a god . ''
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`` I told you, I do n't wan na be here, man.'' Johnathon whined. He swung his arm around his body like a misbehaving child.
Brady and Michael rolled their eyes. `` Man up, Johnny, it's not like you were chased by cannibal clowns, or something.''
Johnathon slapped Brady on the back, not hard enough to entail a slap-back, but just enough to get his point across. A few months ago, Johnathon had been in these very same woods with his family, and according to his story, he had seen something. Obviously people teased him about it, but after seeing how jittery and on-edge he was for the next few weeks, the jokes and sarcastic comments died down. Eventually, he calmed down, too.
____________
Later that evening, once they had arrived at their campsite, and successfully set up the tents after strenuous hours of arguing and swearing, they settled around the fire. Like in the old movies, they found dry sticks around them and roasted marshmallows, clamping the warm, gooey sweets in between some graham crackers and Hershey's chocolate. If Heaven were real, this was certainly it.
Once their stomachs were full, they each leaned into their lawn chairs and stretched out, listening to the gentle *snap, pop, snap, * from the fire.
`` So Johnny,'' Michael began, `` word on the street is you've been in these woods before.''
Johnathom shifted uncomfortably, turning his eyes away from his friends.
`` You said earlier that you did n't want to come back here, but you're here. Is there a reason?''
Brady kept quiet, but cocked one eyebrow. If Michael was a wolf, and Johnathon a sheep, Michael would be cornering Johnathon right about now, baring his teeth for the kill. All Johnathon had to do was answer, and Michael would sink his teeth in.
`` You wo n't believe me.'' He whispered into the ground.
Michael threw his arms in the air. The sheep was a goner. `` Try us.''
Johnathon kept his gaze level to the ground, but he spoke clearly. `` I found the bones of a god.''
Both boys glanced at each other for a moment, and turned back to their friend. `` Pardon?''
`` I said I found the bones of a god.'' He echoed, louder this time. The flame seemed to curl and rise along with his voice, trying to match his intensity in movement.
Brady nodded slowly. `` Yeah, we're sure you did, buddy. Hey, we did n't mean to make you uncomfortable, okay? It looks like it's getting late, maybe we should all turn in for the night.'' Brady jerked his chin towards the tents, glaring right at Michael.
Michael jumped up, becoming a flurry of motion and sounds. `` Yeah, I'm pretty tired. We can go swimming tomorrow, or whatever, but for now, I guess we can sleep. I'll put the fire out.''
Before Michael could even grab the bucket of water they had prepared, Johnathon's hand shot out in a perfectly straight line, his thin fingers wrapping around Michael's wrist like a snake. And his grip was pure iron.
`` I found the bones of a god. I had to come.'' Johnathon was whispering, but his eyes were shouting, for help or as a warning, Michael did n't know. `` He wanted me to come. I found the bones of a god.''
`` Johnathon?'' Michael tried to move his arm away, but his friend only held on tighter.
`` It has been five months. Five months exactly. I had to come.'' His voice had grown monotonous, but it still carried tinges of fear. He was a broken record even though it was only his surface that was scratched.
Brady had come up behind Michael, and had a hand on his shoulder. `` Johnathon, this is n't funny anymore. We're sorry we asked, okay? Just cut it out.''
His gaze flicked to the sky, and then he dropped Michael's arm. Just as the entire forest had been chatting along with them, as soon as they grew silent, so did the shadows in between the trees. Not even a single cricket dared move.
Then, one word, uttered with the smallest amount of breath possible to form one syllable, that carried so much on its shoulders. `` Run.''
______________________________________
Edit: fixed a word
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[ IP ] The Feeder
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**Shaheen of the Desert Sea**
It has come to this, I, the greatest warrior that has ever lived, and that monster, the most fearsome monster to ever rule the desert. They call it *Al-Ankabout Al Akbar* - the Great Spider, the spider as big as mountains that rules the barren desert surrounding the city.
Many travelers and warriors have come across it but none have lived to tell the tale. I will be the first, I must be, for I am Shaheen ibn Ayam of the Desert Sea. A god among men, or so the commoners believe, the only godly thing about me is this trusty weapon in my hand. It's blade, bathed in the venom of desert spiders, forged by the fire of the sun, and it's wood carved from the Tree of Life itself - *Sayf Al-Shams*. A spear given the name of a sword, the desert folk were not known for their clever names. Simple, hardworking people, only thing they respect is strength and honor. I must end the spider's reign and let the sun rule once again.
I charge at the monster's legs but it is quicker than I would have imagined for it's size, but not quick enough, I roll as it shoots it's web at me. The ground it struck was a glowing green but I had no time to contemplate, it raised it's giant legs and stabbed at me. I swung Al-Shams at it but the force sent the spear skidding four hundred feet away.
*Foolish of me, deflecting a monster's attack with a spear! * I had no weapon to defend myself and no option but to run after it. *Four hundred feet. * I can make that in seven seconds, the monster needs two seconds to lift it's legs and half a second to strike. *A god of numbers perhaps but I am no god among men*
I had no time to plan, *Al-Ankabout* shot another venomous web and caught my foot. *Damn it, I was too slow, * I looked up at the monster's face, I did not see it's yellow eyes before. They were glowing at the sight of it's next meal. *Fool, you think the greatest warrior would go down that easily! *
It bent down and spread it's mouth wide open, *the hero never dies*, I grab onto the edge of it's mouth with my left arm and it snaps down at it. The arm is completely torn off, blood gushing onto the floor and onto my face. My robes are drenched in blood, the smell of my own blood awakens him. I can hear him calling me, the beast inside has found his foe.
My eyes turn a livid, dark greyish blue that glows when he smells blood. This battle was not mine to fight, it was his, I can claim no victory here or anywhere had it not been for him. In an instant, he finds the sword and returns to the monster. Stabs at it's legs and swings himself to the top of *Al-Ankabout's* head. His right hand transforms into the claws of a beast and digs into the monster's eyes.
*Al-Ankabout* tries to shake him off but his hand is well rooted into his eyes as he digs into it and shreds away. His one hand acting at the speed of four, that is the power of the *jinn*. Unmatched speed and the strength of a mountain giant, a mere spider can not defeat the power of an untamed spirit. He leaps off it's head and grabs the spear, slashes his leg off, but the monster was still standing. It gathers up it's venom and shoots it rapidly at him. *Al-Shams*, now in the hands of he was covered with his glowing blue fire, he deflects the venom and cuts off the second leg, and cuts of the last two remaining legs in a blink of an eye.
The monster falls to the ground, defeated, he stands infront it, spear in hand. Takes one long look at the beast, his fire glowing against the monster's eyes. With a final leap, he drills the spear into the spider's head and tears it apart. The inside of its head was a pool of green venom, but it had no effect on a *jinn* - his fire reflects earthly damage for he is not of this world.
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[ WP ] Reincarnation is real , and memories are retained . It is illegal to contact anyone from your old life , but a black market exists for exactly that reason ...
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“ There he is. ” Jin pointed toward a group and I squinted at the play yard, half-rising from my position in the back seat to get a better view through the windshield.
“ Which one? ”
“ Overalls and a green shirt. ” I spotted him, an apricot-haired toddler kneeling in the sandbox, hands on hips, head canted in that familiar way as he examined his construction. The hastily-typed email had been a welcome call to arms after almost five years of silence. He had to be careful these days, folks were getting better at identifying Rebounders, restricting their movements, keeping them isolated from their old lives.
But the Boss? The Boss was a pro. This was his third Rebound, his fourth life, and he knew the ins and outs of the Early Detection Tests. His biological family likely had no idea. Poor things.
Jin got out of the car and strolled past the chain link fence. He opened and closed his hands a few times, as though shaking numbness out of his fingers. The kid repeated the gesture. My partner tossed a ball of fast food trash in one of the public bins, patted his spiky hairdo, and returned to the car. After a few moments, the kid went into the preschool building. The supervising teacher paid no heed to the little boy.
I double-checked the carseat beside me as Jin started up the car. I hadn ’ t had to install one before, but it looked right, matched the instructions at least.
Jin pulled the car up in front of the daycare ’ s front doors. With a mighty shove, the little boy opened the doors and dashed toward the car. I swung open the back door as he approached and he vaulted in. I snagged him by both hands and hauled him over me to the carseat, then slammed the door shut.
As we pulled away, I kept a sharp eye out behind us, but all was tranquil at the daycare, for the moment at least.
“ Help me with the buckles, Trip. ” He ’ d already managed to get most of the straps settled on the carseat, but lacked the upper body strength to finish the job. He had a mild lisp, and spoke slowly to compensate, trying to enunciate clearly.
“ Sure thing. ” I leaned over and clicked everything together for him.
“ Get your own buckle on, ” he told me after a moment. The voice was wrong, but that tone, it was all him. I jumped to comply, just as Jin pulled onto the main road. I ’ d forgotten that the Boss was sensitive to vehicle safety; his second death had been a car accident. Stupid, senseless thing. That was right before my time with Reclamation.
Once I was secured, he began speaking. “ Now obviously, I ’ ve been out of touch, ” he looked at the window, his expression too serious, his eyes too old to look at all childish. “ Where do we stand? ”
“ Business has been steady. Work is progressing on the legal front. One state almost repealed the Rebounder laws, but then the KSBK movement undermined it. ” I glanced toward Jin, but he remained expressionless, eyes on the road. I was no good at these things.
Awkwardly, I went on, trying to parrot one of the internal circulars. State of the Organization. “ Rebound Kidnappings still make the news every month or so, still haven ’ t made headway in buying a network, but we ’ re grooming a few anchors on our spin. More support is in the works. Current numbers suggest that we ’ ve almost hit the fifty-percent mark on newborns being Rebound. The first-generation Rebound are hitting their mid-thirties, though, and they ’ re making their presence known. We might see legalized Rebound Wills in the next decade, and from there, maybe we ’ ll be able to bring about legalized contact and visitation rights. ”
“ Good. ” He rested his chin on his hands, then sighed. “ Has it really only been thirty-odd years? ”
“ Three of your four lifetimes, ” I pointed out, then closed my mouth. Jin twisted in his seat to give me a brief look before returning his attention to the road. I could feel shame covering my cheeks. The man in the kid ’ s car seat said nothing. I was a first-timer, I couldn ’ t remember dying and coming back, and here was someone who could remember dying *three* times. The heart attack, the car accident, and the assassination. Like that last one had done more than set him back a little bit.
“ You know, I think the Kisbiks have a point. ” Those were words I ’ d never expected to hear from the Boss, and I looked at him sharply. “ Kids *Should* Be Kids. I … well. You ’ re lucky, Trip. I can ’ t forget what I know. But I wish I could just wipe the slate clean and *be* a kid again. ” He clenched his tiny, adorable fists.
The silence stretched on. I couldn ’ t think of anything to say, still embarrassed at my lapse. After several moment, he spoke again. “ But I can ’ t forget, so I might as well use it. Beats having to start from scratch. Anyhow, being a kid again, it keeps my mind flexible, right? ” I let out the breath I was holding.
After a brief pause, he decided to lighten the mood. “ So how long to the safe house? ”
Thankfully, Jin covered that one. “ Another ten minutes. We prepped the makeover per your specifications. Audrey is standing by, you remember her? We ’ ll do a more complete change once we reach HQ. ”
“ Good. ”
“ And may I say, sir? It ’ s good to have you back. ”
“ It ’ s good to be back, Jin. I ’ m just glad you didn ’ t have to extract me from Asia again. ” He chucked, the sound high and weird from his small frame. “ Still, took me forever to get access this time. I barely had five minutes with Pop ’ s laptop. Gone are the days when parents would just hand their kids a cell or tablet to keep them distracted, more ’ s the pity. ”
I resisted the urge to look behind me again. The Daycare was long out of sight. But somewhere back there, a mother and father would soon learn that their child was a “ victim ” of a Rebounder Kidnapping.
I wonder if they ’ d ever learn that their child was not only a Rebounder, but the founder of Reclamation. They called us terrorists, but even though I feel kind of bad, separating families like this, shouldn ’ t the *former* family have some say? Shouldn ’ t the Rebounders have a say? The Boss might have been born to a man and woman in Suburbia, but he never allowed himself to belong to them. He facilitated his own reclamation. It ’ s hardly kidnapping, right?
Still, I wonder if we ’ re doing the right thing. I ’ m guessing there is no real “ right ” or “ wrong ” here though. Things can ’ t ever be that simple, right?
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[ WP ] After dying , you found yourself staring at a large screen . `` LOBBY . Current players : 7,383,275,800 . Current game time : 1059040375.2 mins . Current spectarors : 21,458,374,931 . Player rank : 2,648,535,901 . Time until next game : 23695624.8 mins ''
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`` Crap,'' I grunted. I was never good at the game, but I had always been determined to at least get better at it. My scenario was much lighter: I was a boy from 1995 who grew with society, then got more and more confused as the game went on and new updates developed. Then the kill- I was hit by a car saving another player. As I sat there cursing to myself a voice spoke.
`` Calm down,'' he said, `` you'll get back in there.''
`` That's going to take another 45 years though!'' I yelled. I hated waiting.
`` Well,'' he said with an attitude, `` it's all part of the Geos Project.''
`` The *what*?'' I asked.
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[ WP ] A father gets sucked into the world of his son 's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive .
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I awoke in front of a bank teller. I was in some sort of alternate middle age world. I heard people yelling, advertising their belongings. I asked the bank teller about my account, and he showed me what seemed to be all of my personal belongings. I had quite a lot of stuff - all neatly organized. I took out all of my money and a cool looking whip, and set off to explore more of this land.
But before I could leave the bank, someone had personally asked to trade with me. I showed him the whip, curious how much he'd offer. He quickly changed his mind though, and asked me if I wanted to fight. He was wearing some sort of leather and had a skull floating over his head. I did n't see any harm, so I agreed.
We went North, and we reached some warning signs, at which point I instinctively stopped following him. I did n't want to show hesitation so I marched on, preparing my fists.
Though the further up we went, the more dangerous it felt. He wanted me to hit him first. Just as I was about to charge, he reached into his backpack, drank some liquid and pulled a bow out. ``?'' Was all he said.
`` Attack me''
Too late now, if he's using a weapon then I'll play fair. I reached for my whip but it would n't budge. `` So...''
`` Hold on,'' I said.
I decided the red sword over the blue - it felt more powerful. No more wasting time. I ran and swug the sword across his chest, and immediately I felt a skull hover over my head, just like his. Under both of ours, we now had a green bar. As my attack went through, so did a fourth of his bar, exposing the red underneath.
He held a glowing bow, and shot two glowing arrows straight to my torso. I winced as my bar depleted to half. I took another swing, but this time his bar remained unchanged. He shot an arrow, this one not glowing, immediately followed by another two arrows that were. My bar was mostly red, with a fourth of my life remaining. I swung, again doing no damage. He shot an arrow, depleting my bar to a fifth. `` No safe,'' he said. He's the one attacking me! I swung once more, lowering his health to just above half. He shot another arrow, leaving me at a tenth of my life. I was prepared to lose, but not without a fight. I swung again, and grinned as his life depleted to a third. I had a hunch to try by the whip again, and this time weilded it with nearly no effort. He shot an arrow, making the green on my bar near impossible to see. I attacked, his bar falling down to a tenth.
He took something out of his bag and ate it. His bar changed! I attacked him again, making his bar look like mine. I just needed one more attack. All he said was, `` gf'' as he expanded his arms, shrank into a purple orb, and disappeared.
I snacked on some pizza on the walk down, not going back there again for a while.
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[ IP ] Ukrainian Priest ( Photo by Associated Press )
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My shield is heavy.
Blood drips from my torn knees but I scarcely notice it. Someone offers a bottle of water and I accept, only to hold it to the lips of a man wounded by gunfire.
`` Spasybi, bat'ko,'' he says with a thin smile of pain and gratitude, I try to convey whatever strength I have left with a hand on his shoulder.
My shield is heavy.
The thought gives me reason to chuckle grimly, for the physical shield wears on my arms but my faith is tried each day as well.
I close my eyes and try to drown out the sound of clashing protests and violence for just a moment, gunfire erupts and there is no more time to dwell on things.
It is time for action.
The gunfire is directed at a phalanx of protesters advancing up a hill, snipers take deadly aim and bullets shred through flesh and bone. Yesterday I watched a medical volunteer, shot through the head, crumple to the ground while trying to help a wounded comrade.
I run to the front of the line, praying that God might grant me the strength to carry on through this day and give whatever is left to those he loves.
With a thud the metal shield I have carried for days hits the earth, providing what little protection that it may for those behind. Above I raise a hand with a cross clutched tight and begin to pray.
Just like the days before I do n't know what to say. Words just come out. We are urged forward and I speak louder. The tide surges once again.
That's when the bullet strikes the shield, pierces the metal and sinks into my arm. Blood pours from the wound but I ignore it. There must be change, there must be justice. There must be protection for these people. That is greater than my life.
They call for me to retreat but I can not.
I heft the shield and move forward a step but no more words will come. Instead air is difficult.
My shield is heavy.
I can feel a wetness spreading down the front of my body. Hands clutch at my robes but I wave them off.
My shield is heavy.
I must leave it behind. The metal crashes to the ground as I stand without it. It grows dark but I know that these men must bear witness to their actions.
I wish I could them it's alright. That I forgive them. There is little room for hate in this world but much for change.
Bloody knees crash to the earth.
My shield is heavy.
A cross tumbles to the dirt and my vision fades.
My shield is heavy.
My faith, my faith is strong.
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