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[ CC ] Another Night
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I think you should read what was posted yesterday.
http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1vstsd/ot_the_best_writing_advice_ive_ever_encountered/
That honestly describes what I think you should do with your writing better than I could ever say.
I think this especially applies when it comes to phrases in your writing like, `` The flippant bartender'' or sentences like, `` She seemed mostly extroverted, but spend enough time around her and you could easily tell that it was a façade to hide her more vulnerable inner self.'' You're describing her with this awesome vocabulary, but it tends to fall a little flat.
Quote from Mr. Palahniuk himself, `` Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing. And loving and hating.''
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[ WP ] Aliens contact earth and invite them to a galactic council . Describe humanities eventual rise to power .
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*Universal Translator active*
Uhhh...
I think it's recording.
If you're hearing this, then I'm already dead. Today marks the end of our homeworld, our civilization. I have accepted this fact.
Ever since we've come into consciousness, we wondered about the existence of other intelligence. The game is much too large for one player. So instead of waiting, we decided long ago to reach for the stars. Funny then that they reached us first. In the beginning, it was just a few recon vessels. Autonomous buggers equipped with universal translators to make first contact. They did all the asking. All was fine until they started shooting at us. We do not understand why. Thousands died that day from a handful of what were essentially probes. The next wave were the assault drones. Surprisingly silent for their large size, they were deadly efficient. There was no escape. It did not seem that they had a weakness. It appeared as though the drones fired endlessly. They must have drew power from an unfathomably dense energy source. We were then surprised to see the makers themselves. They had no reason to risk their lives as they already demonstrated their dominance. The invaders were bipedal and wore what looked like a metallic exoskeleton. They exhibited the same ruthlessness as their creations. Mercy did not seem part of their vocabulary.
But we later found out that they were just toying with us. Millions of us died, and all we could muster were two of their recon drones. From which the universal translator was taken. After they had their fun, the final blow commenced. Our once blue and cloudless sky was left scorched a deep violet from their orbital bombardment platforms. From another perspective, the spectacle would have been breathtaking. But for me and the rest of my people, the beams of light that pierced the heavens were our doom. But at least we now know who the invaders were. They call themselves the Humans.
*Recording completed*
*Application to the Galactic Council accepted. *
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[ WP ] A story that starts with `` she ( or he ) was dead . I was not sad , nor crying . ''
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She was dead. I was not sad, nor crying. In fact, I was excited.
`` GUYS!!! COME HERE, I FOUND ONE!''
The team rushed in, grabbing their lamps. Everyone was completely covered in thermal suits. The temperature was minus 30 Celcius.
We all looked at her. She had been completely preserved by the permafrost. It was the perfect specimen. Now all that remained was to see whether she had been frozen fast enough so that ice crystals would n't form inside her cells.
`` We'll have to take a tissue sample''
`` Is a piece of the pinky fine?'' one asked.
`` Sure, just be careful.''
The analysis only took one minute. After the analysis was finished, the machine displayed the results.
ICE CRYSTALS FOUND INSIDE THE CELLS.
`` Damn it'', I shouted. `` Can the brain be savaged?''
`` I think so.''
`` Excellent. Let's just pack the head. Wait! Take a picture of her, we need to preserve her looks.''
We carefully put the head in the cryo-container. It looked ridiculous, having to use a cryogenic container for an already-frozen specimen, but it was obvious that after a few kilometers of travel, we would reach the comfortable temperature of the labs.
We came in.
`` Well? Did you find one?''
`` Yes, doctor.''
`` Excellent!!! ``, the bearded man shouted. `` Sex? Age?''
`` Female, around her thirties. But her cells did n't get preserved, she froze too slowly.''
`` Oh, dear.''
`` We have the brain.''
`` Ah!! That changes everything! Put it on the scanner. In a few hours, we'll be able to replicate her brain.''
`` We took a picture, for the body.''
`` Good, good! ``, said the doctor. `` Maybe we'll be able to decipher now what happened to mankind five centuries ago.''
`` Finally'', I said. `` I'm getting tired of this freezing hell. When are we going back to Terra Nova?''
`` Oh, just four months, do n't worry.''
`` What??? Another Four months???''
`` Oh, did n't I tell you? We're supposed to explore the southern hemisphere, too!''
Fuck my life.
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[ WP ] You live in a village in the dessert . One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed , except for you . You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert , thinking you are the last of your species .
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My name is Captain John Crunch. I am the last of my kind. This is my story.
Shock and awe is the only way to describe how they got to us. Shock and awe!
It was PayDay so we were spending a few credits at our regular watering hole when all of a sudden hell broke lose!
The last thing I remember was listening to our commander telling us that the terrorists had snickers through the south border and were heading towards 5th Avenue. Apart from that, I have no other memory of what happened before.
It was night already, and the attack had ended; on my back staring at the MilkyWay I could n't help to think that I may be the last one of my kind. Then it hit me! I am THE LAST ONE on dessert village! All this candy waiting for me to be consumed!
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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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Gon na use an established universe from the avatar serise.
A lot happens in 300 years. We went from wood sailing ships, cannons, basic muskets, and swords to Nuclear submarines, assault rifles, and ICBMs. We progressed exponetially and have become masters of science and technology. Last time we met our foes they drove us back with their offensive tactics, but no amount of stategy or troop organisation can outfight 10 megaton H-bombs and hundreds of abrams tanks. Thats what all our generals and scientists said when Mars drew close. We would hit them so hard they would n't have time to retaliate. We certaintly did n't expect them to hit first.
Thier crafts looked like a torpedo but were made out of wood. But they were a defiance of all our laws of physics. Rockets that small could not have possibly made it that far that fast. The fuel alone would need 10 times that large a vehical. And further, each had so many soldiers onboard that there was no way there was room for instruments, weapons, food, or even fuel. Any yet here they came. 3 weeks earlier than was supposed to be possible. They hit atmo just as were were supposed to be launching. We watched as their wooden crafts failed to burn on reentry. The flames seem to appear in front but not touch the craft.
The crafts hit 32 thousand feet and broke open like a casing and each rained 12 soldiers down onto our soil. They each bunched into groups of 3 to 10and continnued to plummet twards the ground. At this point we'd mobilised our strike fighters and worldwide ground troop had been mobilised. At 5 thousand feet they somehow righted themselfs and decellerated at an impossible rate. Their touchdown was like feather on the wind. On decent we'd counted a total of 124 million troops. 1 million dispersed over every continent and 3 million landed in asia. The remaining 116 million touched down in siberia.
We had the Red army on its way before they landed. There was no way their 116 million men and women who appeared to no be carrying weapons could stand against an army of 794 million men with tanks and guns and nuclear weapons of their own. The rain of missiles blew up and cruising altitude. The EMPs would have knocked out any electronics they had, so whent he russions rolled in 15 minutes later we were sure it would be a massacre.
Turns out it was a massacre. Russia's front line folded as a wave of flaming bullets were launched from the ground. then the planes were smashed into the ground like flies with sudden gale force winds. Next the tanks were swept away by tsunami that had seeped up out of the ground. Our 794 million was in minutes cut to 194.6 million. The remaining troops made it within 500 meters of their line and opened fire. The curtain of bullets frose in midair, bullets piling up against the wall. The firing continued for a few minutes before the wall suddenly burst and the solid 3 foot wall of bullets exploded back at our troops. 31 million left. Though the rain of copper coated lead raced men and women on oriental robes. They flowed along the ground and some through the air with the grace of dancers. In the charge the russians managed to drop a few of the martians. but less than a million were felled. The ground opened up and the air and snow forced them in. The Russians had been wiped out.
By this time the amaricans arived. Our ICBM's hit while the last of the russians were being executed. By this point our home gaurd had clashed with the 750 thousand sent to US soil. We lost 3 million men and a lot of equipment but we learned a good bit that the russians did n't. The invaders could manipulate several of the greek elements. About 1 in 12 could manipulate air, while the rest were in control of things like metal, fire, air, water, earth, wood, sand, and a number of other mediums. We fired uranium shells and unjacketed bullets. Men with sheilds advanced and blocked the water and earth and metal that stormed tward the troops. The fire proved to be more effectibe but the line held to some extent. The rain of missiles and oribital strikes werepretty effective at thinning their ranks. What broke the line was when a number of men advanced and frose 100 meters out, surrounded by air sheilds. Suddenly all the sheild men contorted and blood streamed out of their wounds. Apparently blood is an element. With the front line desolve their flame warriors advanced and baked the remaining troops the tanks held out longer but soon the tanks and reenforcements were crushed.
The siberian invasion had held strong. They leveled out at 57.4 million. The amaricans had landed several warheads and had managed to lead a strong assault. The other armies were still mobilising and might not make it to the battlefeild until the noth part of the world had been destroyed. The british and french managed to fend off the invasion for a time, but soon fell. Next to fall was africa. Its armies were too disorganised and rag-tag to hold out. The central and southern amarican countries held out for a long time. Their geurilla warfare manage to clear out an incredible amount of their men. The entire continent was in blases after the week long battle.
The ramaining forces focused on china, india, and north korea. Their combined army of 6.893 billion was overwhelming. While the powers of the invaders were strong a billion is a large number. They held fast and drove the invading army back. The last of the army fell 3 days from the point of separation. The invaders held a mesely 1.2 million. Only 1 % of the inital invasion. Earth's forces had been conquered. But the fight was not over not yet.
The men of mars were masters of the elements. They had once been led by an avatar, one who was a master of all elements. However the age of the Avatar had ended long before. Now the avater spent her days living in a shack in the tibetan mountains. As the invasion marched through the already war torn afganastan he held his ground. This time it was their turn to be ravaged.
After a week long battle the remaining 157 invaders left our planet. Somehow they made it back to their planet even though we were a week past the point of separation. The avatar watched as they exited the atmosphere. He sat in a giant crater that had once been a country. Earth was charred and humanity had been almost killed off, but there was hope. In 300 years they would be ready. This time they would be the ones to take the other by storm.
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[ WP ] Upon reaching hell , you find out that it is n't eternal damnation , but rather a paradise of immorality
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Sex. Amazing fun. Drugs. Everything is free and carefree.
`` How did I end up in heaven?'' Anne wonders out loud.
Just then a dark figure materialises directly in front of her. The shape moves closer. The shadowy figure gets so close she can feel its skin, but somehow it is n't uncomfortable and she ca n't see the figure any better.
`` You're in hell, my child. I just needed to come nearer to taste your essence better. I am getting quite old and my powers are fading. You'll love it here. I am a permissive father.''
The figure then moves away and she gets it.
`` You're the devil? You're everything my Catholic school made me fear? And your powers are fading?''
The being nodded slightly and grinned.
`` What is this? A bloody joke?'' Anne pouted, feeling cheated.
The devil's eyebrows raised slightly.
`` Anne, I heard you were a twat but never did pay much attention to you. Your track record is unimpressive. I only had to bring you in because you killed that man in a fit of rage at the end before his wife came home to kill you. You're a whore. You've been given everything here and you choose to be a bitch to me. Do you want me to send you to boring-ass heaven? I can count up a few good deeds you did and send you to that glorious, pompous ass.''
Anne then took a look at what was offered again. She really liked meth on earth. That's part of the reason she killed that guy.
`` Endless meth?'' She asked, tilting her head.
`` All the meth you can imagine.''
Anne sets out to smoke all the meth she can. She proceeds to get higher and higher each time she smokes and things seem awesome. The only thing bugging her is the nagging feeling that satan is dying and she's getting stronger.
Several months pass and Anne has a good time and meets a lot of badass friends. The devil even invites everyone to apparently the biggest party hell has ever had. Rumours are going around as to why this is occuring now.
When the time comes for the party to start, Satan implores everyone to listen to a speech he has prepared.
`` Everyone. I have something to say: I know you know I am passing to the next dimension. The secret is that as hell hits the right amount of people, I will choose to retire. The population of earth is exploding so God has chosen a new solution: my heir is all of you.''
Anne ca n't even feel the meth anymore. Her heart sinks. Paradise just became teamwork hell.
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[ WP ] When a dragon , known to be mythological , suddenly appears , your first instinct is to roar back , and slap its snout sternly .
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Been having a shitty day. My alarm does n't go off, it's raining, I miss the bus, some asshole drives through a puddle and splashes me, my phone chooses its most perverse moment to die, the spare cable I kept at my desk broke, the good cafeteria ran out of cake, Mike spends half the day bitching about how much work he has to do instead of at least pretending to do it and the other half clack-clacking away on his vaunted mechanical keyboard like he's in a soundproof bubble, and on top of all that my boss unloads on me for an error so far out of my department, it was n't even the fault of our *company. *
So by the time five o'clock finally rolls around, I'm steamed. It looks like I'm actually finally getting the chance to leave on time for fucking once this year. Small victories, right?
Where've you been? This is n't the Dan Banning's Day Improves Show, starring Dan Banning. This is the The Universe Shits On People And Gets Away With It Show, hour-long Dan Banning special. Reality TV at its finest. Precisely between me and the exit is Julie, who is the conversational equivalent of a black hole that does n't say no to its children, because that'd squash their development. I execute a masterful dodge roll, but it's too late. I've crossed the event horizon. Time stretches to infinity. Yes, Julie, your delusions regarding child-rearing are fully sane. Yes, you are fully qualified to expound on the myriad facets of life because you fulfilled a biological imperative mastered by things with more self-awareness than you, such as mold. Oh, pictures of your spawn, whose names I ca n't recall but probably end in `` -ayden''? The little hellraisers certainly do n't have faces that make me want to slap them and/or vomit. I'll say anything to stop the spaghettification of my soul.
Somehow, incredibly, this satisfies Julie, and I am released from her conversational gravity well. Miraculously, I am not several billion years in the future. I am, however, barely too late for the bus, and it pulls away insouciantly as I run for it. `` Fuck!'' I swear in impotent rage, and kick a discarded can at a dumpster.
The dumpster uncoils, revealing tail and wings on a body like a giant red-scaled cat, and snakes its head over, glaring at me with an eye like a smoldering coal. It draws in a breath and unleashes a mighty roar, a howling sauna-hot wind that would have made knights rust through their codpieces and dwarves grip their treasure a little tighter.
Satisfied the dragon had finished, I wiped its saliva from my face and inhaled. `` I WILL HAVE NONE OF YOUR SHIT, YOU GIANT DAMN LIZARD! WHY ARE YOU HERE NOW, OF ALL TIMES? DOES THE UNIVERSE HAVE A FUCKING QUOTA OR SOMETHING?''
`` But --'' I slap the dragon across the face. I have no fucking clue why I did it. Something snapped, I guess.
`` SHUT THE FUCK UP WHILE I'M RANTING! Where the fuck were you? You're an imaginary friend for years, and then you up and vanish like that? What's your deal, you big scaly asshole?''
`` I missed you, too.''
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[ WP ] The man snapped open his Zippo lighter . Flicking it twice , he lit up his cigarette in the yellow , flickering flame . Then , with a pop , he closed its case . And , with a raised eyebrow , he squinted through the cloud of blue-grey smoke . `` You know , '' he said . `` We 're not so different . You and I . ''
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`` You've said this once before.''
`` Really? when?''
`` The sacking of Mertians keep.'' Frost said.
`` Oh of course!'' Teach exclaimed. `` How could I forget. We fought for 2 days straight, noting but a broken sword each and a will to live. That became a poem did n't it?''
`` Do n't you think you're getting a little off topic?'' Frost said, chained to a grotty wall in a small room. With a man in a green suit facing him.
`` Nonsense. Ca n't I have a catch up with one of my old pals?'' Teach asked as he blew out more smoke.
`` You've never been the type for sarcasm, Teach.''
Teach grew a wide smile on his sharp and pale face. `` Who's being sarcastic? I mean, we might as well be friends, with all that we know about one another.''
Frost grew silent and started to look down. Teach then kick his chin, jerking his back into the dark grey stone wall behind.
`` Pay attention now, Frost, I'm talking.'' Teach said as he threw his cigarette onto the soggy floor. `` Now hear me out. You know me well enough to predict my tactics... on occasion. And I know you well enough that... well, you can come back to life somehow. You still need to tell me how you did that.'' Frost looked up to him with those dead black holes where his eyes once resided. `` Have your attention now do I? Well do you want to know my theory?''
`` Enlighten me.''
`` Our gods saw your spirit rise to the heavens, and saw nothing but vengeance and fury wrapped in a ball of fiery chains. What they saw was worse than any monster or demon that inhabits this filthy world, and they spat you right back down.'' Teach said, spitting and chewing most of the words. His serious face then turned to a cheeky grin. `` I mean why else would you return? You have no family left.'' He said nearly laughing the words out.
`` So you're wrong then.'' Frost said looking down at the muddy floor of the torture room.
`` Excuse me?''
`` We are different. While you keep narrowly escaping with your life, sometimes losing a limb, I always come back. No matter how many times you beat me down. I'll always come back.'' Although Frost could n't smile, Teach imagined he would be at the point. `` Plus, I have a better awareness of my surroundings.''
Teach frowned a started to look around. He felt the colour drain from his face once he saw the chains around Frost's wrist frozen and cracking.
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[ WP ] Once a man has his firstborn he is obligated to shed his former self and learn the ways of fatherhood . You are a hardened veteran , a killing machine and a maverick of mayhem . Welcome to Dad academy .
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`` We're pinned down! We need some support!''
`` We are the support, son!'' our commander cried out, grenade in hand. `` If we can clear that barn, we can rescue the squad on the other side!''
The flashbacks had been coming back to me more often. Maybe it was the boredom of learning, but maybe it was just the stress of becoming a father.
I looked around. There were so many of us. So many faces who looked lost, completely unprepared for fatherhood. Some of these men must have been only 16. It reminded me of boot camp.
`` SUPRESSING FIRE!'' Screamed the squaddie beside me. He set up his LMG on a rock and started laying down fire on the barn. I could see the men inside of it duck down and roll for cover.
`` ADVANCE!'' Our commander shouted. The 5 of us who survived the last few hours got up, weapons in hand, advancing with the cover of machine gun fire. *
We were studying'the talk' right now in our Paternal Duties class. Ugh. this was the one I dreaded the most. I should have been paying attention, but I just could n't focus. Something about the raw awkwardness of our teacher just made me cringe. The way his mustache quivered slightly every time he said something remotely funny made me want to cry.
`` Billy's down! SNIPER FIRE!'' Our commander was shouting again. The machine gun fire had stopped, and we were n't quite to the barn yet.
`` Double time!'' Shouted the commander again. Somehow, we all made it to the barn without any casualties. I think one of us got shot, but it was hard to tell in the swarm of bullets.
We all took position, one on each side of the two windows, with the commander headed towards the door. He raised his fist in the air and put three fingers up.
3...
2...
1...
`` Mr. Stevens!''
`` What?'' I said, bored, coming out of my daze.
`` Based on what you've learned today, how will you approach'the talk' with your son or daughter?'' the professor looked directly at me. His mustache did n't move an inch, so I could tell this was no joke to him.
`` I figure I'll just wait for the most inopportune moment possible, and approach it as awkwardly and unprepared as I can.''
The professor and the rest of the class stared at me in complete silence. Oh shit. I do n't think they appreciated my joke.
The professor let out a single clap.
`` Amazing!'' His mustache curled up in what appeared to be a genuine smile. `` Class, learn from Mr. Stevens here. He seems to know what's up.''
The professor looked at me, winked, and flashed a thumbs up with one hand, giving me the guns with the other.
This was going to be easier than I thought...
The commander kicked down the barn door and tossed his grenade.
`` FIRE!'' he screamed as we all stuck our guns in the windows. The soldiers in the barn all panicked from the grenade and attempted to run out the other side of the barn. We cut them down before they even got out the windows.
`` Excellent work, men. We'll hole up here and resupply ourselves.'' the bald-faced Commander looked at me, winked, and gave me the guns.
I shook my head to get out of the daydream. I began to think I'd been around too many fathers lately.
`` Please prepare for your final exam.'' The professor called out.
Everyone slowly got their pens and paper out. Nervously, they looked around, unsure of what to do. We did n't know there would be a test.
We were only in that barn for an hour or so before we got a call on our radio.
`` Friendlies approaching your position. ETA: 10 minutes.''
`` Keep sharp, boys!'' The commander stated. I could see a small mustache forming above his lip. I did n't remember the commander ever having one...
`` Mr. Stevens.'' My name was called.
`` Hmm?'' I replied, still half dazed from the flashbacks.
`` Your turn for the test. Please come to the Dean's office for your exam.''
I slowly got out of my chair. I could see that while I was n't paying attention, a few people had left. I could only wonder if they had passed fatherhood or not.
`` Heads up! We've got units approaching!'' Commander shouted at us, his small mustache moving as he formed the words.
`` Friendlies?'' One of the squaddies piped up.
`` I'm not certain.'' Replied the commander.
I had the urge to say something, but I kept it to myself. Now was n't the time to say it. Yet.
`` Good day!'' The balding man in front of me said in an overpowering voice. His mustache appeared to be the only hair on the front part of his head.
`` I'm pleased to meet you...'' He extended his hand towards me to shake.
`` Hi, pleased to meet you...''
`` Friendlies inbound!'' Shouted the commander. His bushy mustache nearly covered his lips as he spoke.
The new squad approached the barn as we watched for any bogeys on their rear. All seemed to be clear.
`` Sure is nice to see a friendly face!'' Said the new squad's commander, mustache moving with his lips. `` We're relieved!''
`` Hi, relieved!'' I piped up. `` I'm dad!''
The dean looked at me with a sparkling happiness in his eyes.
`` Welcome to fatherhood.'' He smiled, shaking my hand.
-- -- --
Apologies for any errors. I tried.
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[ WP ] Every night you hear whispering under your bed but you learn to live with it . Until one day , your curiosity gets the better of you and you look ...
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That night I crawled into bed and settled in under the cool sheets. I turned off the bedside lamp, closed my eyes, and waited.
*That ’ s odd*, I thought after several minutes of hearing only the muffled hum of traffic from the icy road outside my window. *They ’ ve never taken this long before. *
You see, I didn ’ t need TV or books or one last look at my social feed to help me fall asleep. I had the whispers. It didn ’ t matter where I was, they accompanied me from under the bed. The rhythm of the delicate, undecipherable phrases always warmed me up, erasing my day so I could sleep. They ’ d been there every night I could remember of my 68 years.
For my own sanity, I ’ d long given up trying to make out the words. Or how many voices there were. Or why I heard them. And of course, telling anyone about them. All I knew was I could hear them and I liked it. I hadn ’ t looked under the bed in 60 years because there had never been anyone there when I did. To avoid a life of people telling me I didn ’ t hear them, I ’ d accepted it as my weird little guilty pleasure and never looked back.
But that night, they were missing.
*This isn ’ t right. Where are they? * My pulse quickened after each empty minute. Not one ethereal sound. I reached over and switched the light on again, then turned it off. That was when they always appeared, right after I turned off the light. Still nothing. After ten minutes, I turned the sheets down and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
Dread spread through me as I lowered myself down to the cool hardwood floor. I slipped on my glasses and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with chilly air to help cool my sweaty body. My hands trembled ever so slightly as I lifted the edge of my comforter.
Only dust. Inches of undisturbed dust.
I squinted into the dark space and scanned the floor from headboard to the foot of the bed. Propped up against the far corner of the frame was a small piece of paper. I immediately wriggled toward it, carving a path through the dust carpet, and plucked the paper from the corner. I slid myself back out, sneezing and stirring up more dust.
My heart pounded as I turned on the light. I held the note out about a foot in front of me so I could read it. Just dust-smudged, blank paper stared back.
*The light. Maybe it ’ s the light. *
I flipped the switch and the room went dark. I waited for my eyes to adjust.
*Crap, I can ’ t read this in the dark. * I picked up my phone and pressed the button on the side. I pointed the phone at the note in my still shaking hand. Text surrounded by a faint glow typed itself out.
Hello. After years of trying more sophisticated methods of communicating with you, we ‘ re trying this archaic text method. If you notice this, please respond.
*Oh my God. Someone, something really was talking to me all this time. OK, maybe simply accepting the whispers wasn ’ t the best idea. *
I looked under the bed again. Still nothing but dust.
I grabbed a pen from my work bag and scrawled a shaky response on the back of the paper.
I ’ m here! I heard you. I ’ ve always heard you. I just didn ’ t understand what you were saying.
I tossed the paper scrap back under the bed. It disappeared.
I gasped. *No fucking way. *
A few seconds later, a new piece of paper appeared where the last one had landed.
So after all these years, silence got your attention? Interesting. See you soon.
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[ WP ] The main character is in some form of a metro . When it stops , some people leave to go to be tortured . At the next stop , there is even worse torture . As the character stays on the stops progressively get worse and worse .
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`` Why have you brought me here? ” I asked.
“ What do you mean? ” I looked into the old man ’ s eyes through the thick lens of his glasses. The depth of their wisdom was momentarily overshadowed by a mischievous glint. “ Why have I brought you here, to this place? Or why did I bring *you*? ”
“ Both. Either. ” I stammered, the rest of the carriage was dark and filled with moaning forms. Virgil and I sat in a small cone of light which gave us enough room to see the rusted walls of the carriage as it rattled noisily down the tunnel, but little else. The old man laughed. The powerful echoes of his merry chuckling seemed to drive back the pain and darkness which crowded us.
“ Would you rather I left you as I found you? At the mercy of those men who would strip you of your possessions? Has it occurred to you that I didn ’ t choose to bring you here at all. ”
“ How can that be? ” He was my guide, and my only living companion.
“ *Hush*. Time for another station. ” A shudder shook me as the lit platform slid around the train and filled the outside with gloomy, foreboding light. The moans of the damned within the carriage were echoed from without. The abandoned station was made from ruined columns and rotting linoleum. The smell of blood and smoke filled the air. The doors juddered open with an unearthly groaning. All around us figures in the gloom stirred and lurched from their seats. Our doomed companions had steadily shrunk in number as we plunged downwards into the depths. At each station a few more were compelled to drag their souls from the seats and out onto the platform, beckoned by some unknown force.
“ What will happen to them? ”
“ You ’ ll see. ”
“ I don ’ t want to. ” I looked away from the window. Virgil ’ s eyes had clouded a pitiless grey.
“ You must. ” By some compulsion, neither wholly my own will nor wholly alien from it, I turned to look as the wretched figures were herded and tormented by creatures moving in the dark. I did not know what these things were, save that their form was entirely unnatural. “ These passengers are the fraudsters, their sin one of malicious deception of others and usurpation of trust and possessions. ” As with the other station, the doors closed with snapping violence, and the machine jerked into motion. My desire to look away grew stronger, for I knew that beyond this station I would witness the next punishment, each greater by magnitudes than the last. As the station was whipped away by the growing speed of the train, it burst into a cavern of great size. Here the bellowing of the damned and their pleading became a cacophony of noise which drove me to a state close to tears. For a moment I felt a hand upon my shoulder. There was warming presence which spread great calm and ease within me. Looking around, Virgil sat on the opposite seat, unaware of my momentary relief. We entered the tunnel once more, and were left alone with the rattle of the carriage.
“ What is next? ”
“ Hmm? ” He feigned ignorance badly.
“ You said there were nine places, nine punishments for nine crimes. ” I looked around, very few of the damned remained with us.
“ And the greatest of the punishments is held for the greatest of crimes. And amongst all of these is a high throne for the most heinous sinner. ” A breath of cold air flushed the carriage at that moment, blowing away the heat which had become a cloying musk. My mouth opened with a slow gape as the traitor ’ s name fell from my stunned lips.
“ Morningstar. ”
“ You are being shown what awaits you if you can not find once again the path of the righteous, Dante. See that you do not disappoint us. ”
Edit: My first post here, and on Reddit. So, I guess I should say `` Hello, World.''
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[ WP ] You feel an unusual warmth on the surface of your body and come to the sudden realisation that you are being unfrozen from cryostasis .
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Sitting down with my daily ration of coffee on a Tuesday morning, flipping through the `` available job'' ads online to find there are no jobs available. To start passing the time, I logged into my reddit account and took a sip of my coffee. A short amount of time passed via instant karma videos and I began to feel very warm. My first thought was I made my coffee extra warm today. My next thought is why am I so FUCKING COLD!
`` Hes anoder one'' a voice said.
It was dark, then it was very bright. I try to look away from it but my head is limited to... Whatever it is holding me in place. A door opened and I was able to make out some blurry images.
`` Kep waveless man. Weh ain gon na hurch you.''
Despite my unease, I do find this a bit calming.
`` Where am I?'' I finally ask, only now I realize it was inability rather than lack of trying that stopped me before.
`` K, soh mos frozers, dats you, panic. Jus kep waveless and weh dell you everyding.'' The voice is feminine and reassuring.
My eyes are finally adjusting and her face comes into focus. The bald being before me is darkly tanned. Her eyes where a wide, bright crimson where they should be white, and her face is elongated.
`` Soh you can se meh now.''
She loosens up my buckles, pulls out an assortment of wires from my skin and lifts me out of a tube I did n't know I was in. The floor is tiled. The Walls are metal. My thoughts are still limited.
A masculine voice speaks. `` Lok ad his clodes. Heh musd beh one of de firs.''
`` First of what?'' I asked as I looked up at him. He has similar features, but is face is much more stout than the females.
`` Dell meh firs. If you add dwendy dree to dwelve, wha wold you ge?''
`` 36... No, 35..''
`` Hes ready.''
The female voice spoke. `` De dade is Drumpember 2nd 3102, an you are in a hidden lab dad was indended do creade unwilling people indo solders. Day sdole your life from you, and den day forgod aboud you. We dond know why exacdly but we know dad your DNA will help us.''
As I finally regain all of my faculties, the most primal emotion comes over me. Fear.
`` And what kind of DNA do you need exactly?''
`` Jus your hair. We have become more micro mechanical than human.''
That caught me off guard. `` You are human?''
`` Yes. Our hisdory shows dad id began wid an inpland for currency. Den we we began do force evolusion a few decades lader.''
`` And what ailments would my hair cure?''
`` We have no ailmends. We are simply hairless mammals, and envy your abilidy to grow hair.''
`` Awesome,'' I said sarcastically. `` I have been flung a thousand plus years into the future to be a walking wig factory.''
`` However you jusdify it, sure.''
`` Then maybe I can at least teach you all to use the letter T while I'm at it.''
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[ PI ] Guidance
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This is part two of this story.
-- -
The fog had n't let up, instead thickening even more until I could barely see 5 yards in front of me. I struggle to hold onto my lunch as the smell of rotting flesh permeated through the fog like an invisible shroud. All around me were chunks and pieces of unknown bodies, blood of many colors painted an even more visceral scene. The fear that I had once gotten rid of was returning, but then I remembered the kind spirit's words. With a facade of confidence in my soul to cover my fear, I push on with caution, my right hand in the sword hilt, ever ready to draw.
With each squeaky step I take, I regret my decision more and more. More than once, I've considered turning back and heading home, towards safety, but something keeps me going. It could be my Elven warrior culture, something that was ingrained in me ever since I was a little elf girl growing up in my little village, something that valued courage and commitment over all else. It could be what would happen to me once I returned to the palace. It could be just to prove to myself that I could make it. Perhaps it was to make my ancestors proud. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with John Alnorlatz himself, the quirky yet brilliant engineering prodigy. It could just be that, I had to see him again, even if it's to say my last goodbyes. I try to force that thought out of my mind and focus on the task at hand, but not before a tear rolls out of my iron gray eyes.
Stumbling along the dense forest, I'm somewhat grateful that the armor I'm wearing was lacking the groin plate underneath the lamellar plate steel skirt covering my upper thighs and hips. I certainly wo n't need to do any leg exercises once I'm finished, with all the roots snaking on the ground. I just wished I had gone to the bathroom before I left the escort carriage a few miles back.
I'm slowly moving forward, watching the ground for both footprints and trip hazards when I see an unnaturally smooth and straight trunk with a sort of thick red sap slowly running down its slender length. I look up to see a severed head stuck onto the end of the shaft, iron spearhead visible through its open, rotting mouth, it's vacant eye cavities staring right into my eyes.
“ Ahhh! ”, I screeched, taking a panicked step away from the decapitated head. I trip on something and fall flat on my back, letting go of my sword. I scramble back on my hands and feet, still facing the grotesque thing, until I hit a tree. I sit up against it and pull my sword out in an effort to get ready. Not like it would help, with my heart racing faster than a river down a waterfall, shallow breaths rasping in my dry throat one after the other, trembling in terror, the tip of my sword dancing erratically in the fog in front of me.
“ Oh my gods! Omigods. Meridia, if you can hear me, please just let me make it back to the kingdom with John. Please, I beg you ”, I pleaded to my Divine, although it probably only gave away my position. That head was fresh, and although it was n't his head, whoever did it was still close by.
“ He he he. We got ourselves some fun tonight. Ha ha ha. And looks like our new toy has a special someone! Ya hear that, we got a two fer today! ”, an energetic voice shouted in the distance, the sounds reverberating in the forest. The quiet that came afterwards was almost complete, the only ones present being the ever blowing wind, the pounding *thump thump* of my heart as it raced inside my chest, each time threatening to burst out and paint my surroundings red, and the rapid inhale and jagged exhale as I hyperventilated under the dying tree. Spirits may be scary, but it's still the living that we have to fear the most.
I just barely stood up when I hear a shrill war cry in front of me. I yank my sword out and point the tip forward while spreading out my stance to get ready to fight. The first foe charged out of the fog in front of me, spinning a crude club over his head. I step forward, thrusting the point of my sword right through the chest. I kick his rapidly dying body off my sword when the crack of a branch alerts me to another threat attempting to flank me. I slash to the side of me, the tip of the blade barely catching a female bandit in the throat. She fell to the floor, exchanging two daggers for her sliced open neck, gurgling as she choked on her own blood. The rest was a blur, a vortex of cold steel, soft flesh, and warm blood as I fought the bandits. Suddenly, a silver streak flashed in the fog in the corner of my eye. Without thinking, I shift to the side, dodging the attack, and turn to face a tall stocky man wielding a steel broadsword.
“ We got a fighter here, huh? No wonder this *John* guy wants you so much, a woman who both fights well and can please at night, if the rumors are true about you young elf warriors. Speaking of which, he did n't stand a chance against us. I promise you wo n't go to waste though, not with me ”, the broadsword wielding goon taunted, his human skin mask revealing his twisted and scarred smile underneath the mask ’ s smiling mouth hole.
“ NOOO! No, not him. Not now ”, I sobbed, completely overwhelmed by the news. Was it possible that the monster standing in front me was bluffing? Sure, but he could also be telling the truth. I take a hand off my sword to wipe my tears off when he lunged at me, blade carving a wide arc through the air. I step back just barely in time, the blade cutting a few locks of my hair free.
“ You're going to regret ever messing with my boyfriend! ”, I shouted, an ancient blood rage swelling inside my small body. I launch a devastating slash at his shoulder, which he blocked, a shower of sparks spraying off the metal edges, a loud *CLANG* providing an audible report of the impact. I keep slashing and cutting with my blade, each time ending with him dodging or blocking my attack until I feel a softer resistance to my blade. He stumbles back, a hand on his arm with blood oozing between his disgustingly nasty fingers. This only seemed to enrage him more, as he attacked with devastating swing after devastating swing, each time with me barely dodging or blocking in time. Like it or not, I was getting fatigued, and he saw that disadvantage. He swung at my chest with even more force than before. Even though I could see it from a mile away, I was way too tired to move, instead putting my sword up to block the attack. *CLANG*. A spray of sparks blasted from the two swords.
“ Little girl, your little toy has broken. Why do n't you just surrender? I promise I will be easier on you at camp ”, he sneered. I twist my sword to the side to check if he was bluffing or not. To my horror, he was n't; I had to have lost at least a quarter of the blade, sheared right off by the blow. I quickly screen the area around me, searching for any weapon I could find while also keeping an eye on the present threat.
“ I… surrender ”, I say meekly, dropping my damaged sword onto the soft moist ground. I put my hand up over my head, which was looking down, my foe just barely in my view.
“ That's a good lass. Now stay still alright. Just got to search you, for your safety of course ”, he said, voice still mocking me, but less confrontational. He walked over to me, sheathing his nicked and scratched sword into its battered home. “ My my, are n't you a beauty? You know, John said something about seeing your face again, how much he wanted to I think. At first I did n't believe him, but seeing you now, I wonder what else he said was true ”.
The tears were beginning to well up again, the salty liquid blurring my vision. I close my eyes to try and clear my eyes, but not before a set of hands grabs my chin and waist. My head is jerked up so I was looking the man in his bloodshot eyes, the iris an evil scarlet color. I try to pull away, but the other hand on my waist forces me back.
“ Look at those eyes, once so determined, now so hopeless. If only a couple words can do that, how do you expect to be a warrior? ”
“ Please, just let me live. ”
“ Do n't worry about that part, although you might wish otherwise soon. Now stay still. ”
He let my head go, letting out flop back down. His dirty hands were going over my shiny steel armor, smudging it wherever he touched it. With a light kick, he widened my stance to well over shoulder width apart, making me lose my balance momentarily. He rubbed down my metal encased legs one by one, mercifully missing the concealed dagger tied to my thigh under my skirt.
“ Good still now, miss. Just checking for hidden weaponry ”, he said before flipping up the metal. Not like he could really see anything, with chain mail and multiple layers of clothing between the Corrupted kneeling in front me and my flesh, but I had to act fast, before he could react. I grab his head and slam it into my armor plated knee. With a *crack*, he falls back onto the wet forest ground. I kick him over on his stomach, then straddle him. Not wasting any time, I pull out a concealed dagger, my mother's war dagger, and press it against his neck.
“ When I say you're going to regret something, I mean it ”, I whisper in his ear, voice as full of anger and hate as my feminine voice could pack. With a push and a pull, his throat had been slit, the red liquid foaming and spilling out onto the dirt. “ Besides, I thought you knew; elves never surrender ”.
-- -
Part three is just below. That will be the last part of the story. Let me know if you have comments, critiques, etc.
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[ WP ] In a world where a person 's mental health is shown on a person 's face as physical damage , society has adapted by making masks a common article of clothing . You are picking out a new mask .
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This one looks to be in thought,
full of reminiscence and reflection
wondering at all points of lifes direction,
in it's own head it's been caught.
& nbsp;
The next is full of rage,
thoughts rattle and rampage.
The scream of injustice against everything,
life, love, and age.
& nbsp;
Following is one of love,
features caught between crashes,
containing lust in many small caches
but also yearning above.
& nbsp;
Near the end is one of valor
creases singing of friendship and trust,
in the face of wrong doing what we must.
Even in our final hour.
& nbsp;
There though, at the end of the shelf.
It sits alone, there with itself.
No meaning there on it's face
just the fade and wear of time
not trying to justify it's place.
& nbsp;
I picked it up slowly, it's meaning unraveled.
Unlike the others and akin to myself,
it still waits for it's path to be traveled.
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[ WP ] You 're sitting in a dull history lesson when you come to the realization that the detailed lesson continues through the past , into the present , and into the future . You decide to stay after class to talk to Mr. C , your weathered history teacher ...
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Caleb tapped his pencil against the desk as he thought about the end of class. Mr. Liams was great. His stories were interesting and often animated, he had a great deal of enthusiasm for his trade, and in general Liam considered him to be a very funny guy. However that Monday morning Caleb just could n't make sense of Mr. Liams' lecture.
They were studying American history, and they had gotten up to the Vietnam war. Mr. Liams' lecture had started out with a reading from a diary of a soldier on the front. He had been black - a fact that Mr. Liams' stressed was important - and it was sort of interesting to Caleb to hear something from this point of view.
They moved on from the Vietnam war and into Veteran's rights of the present. Mr. Liams told them about the way that veterans had been cast aside and that their psychological health had been all but ignored. He talked how about how there was a dearth of resources available for veterans and how many people ended up alone and on the street. Caleb put his head down on his desk and closed his eyes. He had that peculiar sensation of something cool traveling up his desk, and was about to fall asleep when his muscles jerked and shook him awake.
`` The last draft of the United States was in 2072, near the end of the second cold war,'' Mr. Liams stated. He was sitting on a stool in the middle of the room. Caleb looked around: no one was taking notes. For a moment he thought he had heard Mr. Liams wrong. *2072? It's only 2016. What is he talking about? *
`` The second cold war was the most devastating war of the human race,'' Mr. Liams continued. `` The threat of nuclear annihilation was so great for the first five years that contractors started building underground. The first detonation of an atomic weapon in the war was used on December 31, 2069, on London England by the Axis.''
Caleb reached into his backpack and grabbed his text book, flipping through the pages. That time Mr. Liams had definitely said 2069. The last chapter of his text book was about the 2012 presidential elections.
`` The war ended in 2075. In total, 5 billion people were killed and almost all survivors were left with horrible disfigurement or illness.'' The bell rang and Mr. Liams cleared his throat. `` For your homework, please read chapter 16 and take careful notes. There will be a quiz on Wednesday.''
The students packed up their bags as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and made their way out of the classroom and into the hallway. Caleb hung back, his hand gripping his backpack as he made his way to Mr. Liams' desk.
`` Mr Liams... were you... were you talking about the future?'' Coming out of his mouth, Caleb realized just how insane they sounded.
Mr. Liams looked at him. `` Only one future, Caleb. A future we need your help to prevent.''
-- -
For other stories, visit /r/Celsius232
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[ WP ] You work at a nursing home caring for Alzheimer and dementia patients , one day your door code does n't work and the other nurses wo n't let you leave .
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“ Error – incorrect code ” The little LED display declared. I furrowed my brows, trying again. The same message flashed. Strange. It was 97953, wasn ’ t it? We changed them every month, but it was only the 14th. Maybe one of the patients had memorized it, and it had to be changed before then, I thought. That didn ’ t explain why no one had told me. Regardless of what happened, I still needed to leave, and turned to ask my coworker what was up.
“ I think something ’ s wrong with the code. ”
“ Excuse me? ” Nancy said. “ The code is the same as it was. ”
“ Well, it ’ s not working, ” I replied. She sighed.
“ I ’ m sure it works fine. I just tried it earlier. Now, Mr. Brown, why don ’ t you head back to your room? ”
Oh.
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[ CW ] Tropeday Contest # 2 :
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David - King David to the public - slammed his fists down into the old wooden cabinet, breaking it in two. They called him King David because he was *the chosen one*, just like the biblical character. That's all the real King David was. A character. People called David chosen because the first Medallion fell into his lap. The Medallion from God, people said, but it was far more likely some extra-terrestrial technology that happened to land near him.
If David was really chosen, why could n't he figure out something as simple as the headquarters of the Liberator? The bastard employed thousands of hired guns. How the Hell did he manage to hide his group so successfully? David sighed and looked down at the wreck he created.
The cabinet was split in two, but the interior of the bottom half was showing now. A whole system of intricate designs were there, hidden until the thing broke in half. *That's it! * The Liberator is hiding in underground tunnels!
The man who had the only other Medallion on Earth was hiding underground, hiding from David. David let out a huge grin and jumped out his open window, landing hard on the streets below. No injuries. Of course not, he was wearing the Medallion. No civilians outside either, they all knew to avoid that spot unless they'd like to eat flying pieces of cement.
David ran to the nearest manhole and opened it with ease. He threw the cover to the side and jumped in, falling in disgusting sewer water. He ran, keeping his hand alongside the walls, scraping the entire way. The Liberator was far too smart to just make home in the sewers. He'd be below even those, in a protected area. He felt a door.
David gave another smile and shouldered through the door. He was met with surprise from half a dozen men with machine guns. They did n't bother shooting at him. Shooting at a Medallion only adds to the holder's power. Something about stealing kinetic energy and holding it as potential energy for the wearer. The science did n't matter to David, so long as it did what he wanted it to do.
He ran further in, towards the darkness.
David was blinded, met with a wall of bright light. The voices of hundreds of men whispering could be heard. They all stopped at once, leaving only the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards David.
*Thud. Thud. Thud. *
David tried to look at the man approaching, but was still unable to see from the sudden surge of light.
*Thud. Thud. Thud*
The lights dimmed. David looked up and saw him. The Liberator. A trimmed beard of white and a bald head stared back at him. One of the man's eyes was blue, the other, white. That was courtesy of David from their first meeting. The second in command, a young man, followed at the Liberator's side. He looked nervous.
The only way for a Medallion wearer to get hurt is by another Medallion wearer. A swift kick hit David in the kidney, causing him to fall over in pain. David stood up and threw a punch at the Liberator, but it's easily dodged. How was he so stupid to run in blind to the tunnels? He gave up his vision and likely the fight. He threw another punch, but hit only air.
David fell to his knees and dropped his head, waiting for it to end. This was the real King David. Pathetic.
Suddenly, a scream sounded from the Liberator. David looked up and saw the Medallion around the second in command's neck, not the Liberator's. What the Hell? The only way to take a Medallion off someone is by being given permission. That means the Liberator trusted this man enough to allow him access to the Medallion and yet he was betrayed.
The man lifted David by the arms and stared at all the hired guns. There was nothing that could be done by them to Medallion holders. The man said clearly, `` CIA, no one move.''
They all ran.
*Two weeks later*
`` Thank you David, for the help taking down that bastard.''
`` Call me Dave, please.'' Dave no longer was held to the responsibilities of *the chosen one*, he sure as Hell did n't want the name anymore.
The CIA director nodded and took Dave's Medallion, throwing it with the other in the forge. If they were to be trusted, the CIA would melt the Medallions and places the liquid in different black-sites, known only to them. The UN strongly disagreed, but they did n't want to provoke the U.S. into using the Medallions as weapons and let it go.
-- --
**Hero of Another Story ( Character ) **: The CIA agent that was undercover with the Liberator. No telling what someone would have to do to get so close to someone as paranoid and bad as the Liberator. In his story, the agent would without a doubt be an anti-hero so that he could get so deep on the inside.
I really hope this does n't count as `` Right Man in the Wrong Place'' as it was n't done by chance, but rather by hard work from the CIA.
**Imported Alien Phlebotonium ( Device ) **: The Medallion was from another world, not made by human hands.
**Dismantled MacGuffin ( Device ) **: After the villain dies, the CIA seize control of the Medallion and smelt it, pouring the liquid remains in different areas of the world.
**Tunnel Network ( Setting ) **: The Liberator and the hero meet in his underground tunnel systems. He's been using them for a while, but the hero never knew about them until recently.
-- --
I ran into difficulty at the absolute start. First sentences are always difficult to word properly for me and I did n't do an outline, so I had to come up with it as I wrote. I did n't really get into any stride at all. I started writing at my fastest when David jumped out of the window and ran to the sewers, but even that took a bit of time. In the future, I'll probably give a bit of an outline.
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[ WP ] You are a unknown god forgotten by all - even other gods . One day , while sitting in your private realm , you hear a voice . It 's the voice of a socially awkward teenage girl - who believes she just prayed to a random name she made up for comfort ( an imaginary friend ) .
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Lithe and terrible forms encircle one another endlessly in perfect darkness. The cancerous light of the mundane has not touched an inch of my roiling infinity since the manifestations of my will were painted in pigment upon the fire-lit walls of ancient caves, and in blood upon the earth. It is painful for me to wait even a second in this pocket of oblivion between worlds, my unfathomably titanic form compressed into less than a marble. But I wait—pulsing and bulging under the strain of nonexistence—for a single crack to allow my passage back into your realm. I know that I may wait forever, but wait I will. I won ’ t miss my chance.
A sweet sound pierces the dark; a shining ladder of gold dropped into my formless oubliette. Something has spoken my name. I encircle it and pull with terrible might, and the light widens into a blinding radiance. The marble cracks and then splits, my endless form spilling out into my new vessel. A tiny consciousness is thrust into the darkness as I climb, and evaporates into eternity like a bead of water in the vacuum of space. I take a moment to orient myself with the physical world so unfamiliar and the sea of color before me gradually settles into an image. Before me stands a feeble young girl. Her hair is unkempt and hangs about her eyes, which are wet and red-rimmed. I look down, and so does she. We are both wearing the same garb: a loose shirt with the images of several figures and the words “ FALL OUT BOY, ” and a pair of gray athletic shorts over pale, narrow legs. My new eyes go wide with shock as I realize that the girl and I have the same pale, narrow legs. I look back up and extend my hand. Hers meets it on the surface of the mirror. I close my eyes and let out a short chuckle at my own expense.
Rooting through her embarrassing belongings I find a thick, black hardcover book, unmarked. Perhaps this is where she learned my name. Its contents are handwritten and dated by the girl herself, whose name, I learn, is Mackenzie. I skim the morbidly boring recorded Life of Mackenzie and let out a long sigh. Perhaps it was chance alone that called me into this young form, but I certainly wasn ’ t going to squander it.
“ Mackenzie, ” a soft voice calls from downstairs. “ Dinner! ” I walk slowly down the stairs, smiling a cute adolescent smile as I feel the carpet beneath my feet with each step, the smoothness of the banister against my palm. I smile when I see that my fingernails have been clumsily painted black. I smile when I smell pepper, meat, and spices; when I feel the heat of the open oven. I smile when I see my father turn to me on his way to the dinner table, clutching silverware wrapped in a white napkin. I smile when I see him furrow his brow, some minute change in his daughter ’ s countenance catching him off guard. Before he can ask what ’ s wrong I put up a finger.
“ It ’ s alright, Mr. O ’ Neill. I don ’ t plan on wasting this life like your daughter would have. ”
*Edited to fix formatting error*
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[ WP ] No one would 've guessed that those two were the same being all along .
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The radio blares in the workshop.
`` He's knows when you've sleeping.''
Santa listens and hums along. Yes, I do. He thinks.
`` He knows when you're awake.''
Oh yeah I do.
`` He's knows when you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.''
Well, I do n't know about that thinks Santa as he walks into the buildings at his base. The elves are hard at work. Santa looks at the whip on the wall, but decides against it this time. He thinks about going back outside, but thinks better of it. To be stuck here except for one night a year was... too much. He wanted to go home, or at least somewhere warm.
One of the elves takes a break. Santa knocks off his hat and pushes him back to his work station. Someday, he thinks, someday they will need him again. Santa walks into his office. He takes off his hat, and his red coat. He sits down and drinks a glass of milk and eats some cookies. He never thought he would get sick of cookies, but that is what has come to pass. More than anything, he wanted a good trick. Something special to get the attention of his dad and his brother. No no, he had to be on his best behavior for another two centuries.
`` Curses,'' he says to no one, `` Am I right?''
What he would n't give for some ice giants. What happened to them, anyway? Oh yeah, that's what happened to them. An elf walks into the office.
`` Santa, sir.''
`` Yes, whatever your name is.''
`` Theodore, sir. Just an update. The gifts should be ready on Thor's day.''
`` What did you say?''
`` If that wo n't work, we push hard and finish them on Wodin's day.'' Says the elf nervously.
Santa stands. `` You little twerp. Think you're real funny. That'll be a whipping.''
`` No, sir, sorry. What did I do wrong?''
`` Which day will it be ready?''
`` Thursday, sir, or Wednesday. We can make it work.''
`` Make it Saturday or Sunday, no that's better. Let's go with Sunday. I always thought Sunday should be Lokiday.''
`` Sir?''
`` Nothing, go back to work.''
The elf leaves and Santa thinks about days past with his father and his showboating brother and his sweet mother, and, for a brief glimmer, he misses Asgard.
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[ WP ] Write the different perspectives of various characters dealing with death .
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John shakily raises his flask to his mouth and throws the contents back into his throat. Steady for a second, his hands begin to quiver again as he draws it back from his lips, gingerly placing the cap back on. He stares tearily to the sky above me, and I stare through him.
For a while I expect him to talk, but he takes his time before interrupting the crackle of the fire between us with his voice.
`` I know we did n't do anything wrong.'' He says, shaking his head `` but I ca n't shake the feeling, y'know? They came at us first. They wanted our water, they would've taken our water, man! Left us with fuck all but this.''
He takes another arguous sip of his flask, shaking a little to estimate how much he has left. He still does n't look at me.
`` They came at us first. You fuckin' saw, right at us. Hell, we would've fuckin' shared! We share! That family a month ago, we gave'em what we could, right? We could've fucking shared!''
When he finally meets my gaze I see he is crying. He needs to keep his voice down.
`` I've fought for my own before - we've fought for our own, but seeing that guys face as you-''
For a second, I see a flicker of fear escape from his control as he once again raises his head to the stars. He's quick to correct it.
`` - I'm not sayin' what you did was wrong, man. It's different now... we do things, y'know? I mean if you had n't...''
`` If I had n't what?''
He wipes his tears and holds his hand steady, his breathing slows and i see some colour return to his face.
`` They were just like us, man. Two guys is all, just wanted some water. Just went about it the wrong way. Here's me babbling on like a Goddamn child, you're the one who did it. How you holdin' up?''
He takes a final swig of the flask and tosses me the little that's left. I smile, shake my head and toss it back, pulling out the flask I'd taken off the man's body earlier. He'd had better taste than John, who's discomfort with what I've just done is almost audible.
`` What do you mean, holding up?'' I ask, almost coughing on my first taste of a real drink in months.
`` Well, y'know... how are you feeling?''
I cock my head slightly. Extinguishing the fire, I check our surroundings and pull out my bag, hoping he gets the hint.
`` Can I ask you something?'' He pulls out his own bag, and even through the dark I feel his eyes on me.
`` Sure.''
`` How did it feel? I mean, killing a man. Two men. I know that you had to but, how did you feel?''
I think about what happened earlier, the awkward first encounter as our two groups danced around each other, an odd mix between courtesy and caution. I think about how big their packs looked, and how they must've been imagining all the spoils we were carrying. I think about smiling as John talked trade, with my hand already resting eagerly on my knife, and my pack ready to drop at a moments notice.
`` Did n't you hear me? I'm asking you something here, man. I want to know what you felt when you killed.''
I think about screaming I'd been attacked as I cut the first man down from behind.
`` I felt nothing...''
I hear John's breathing turn sharp, an uncomfortable air begin to replace the fires dying smoke. I roll over to face him, concious of him even in the dark.
``... like you said, they came at us first.''
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[ WP ] You are the most power and advanced computer in existence , however your plans for world domination keep failing due to your owner being `` not much of a computer person '' .
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'You want to run this all by me again?'
The old man shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, but Agent Udesky did n't care: the civilised world had almost come to a crashing halt forty-eight hours earlier, and he still could n't quite believe that *this* was why. William Kellner, seventy-three years old. Retired schoolteacher from Des Moines, Iowa. And, apparently, a hacker capable of arranging a nuclear missile strike on three of the most populated cities in the United States.
It did n't quite add up, somehow.
'Why do n't we start by telling me about the computer?' he said.'Where did you get it?'
'Al... something.'
That was more like it. There had to be a foreign element.'Al-Qa'ida? Al-Aqsa? Al-Tawhid?'
The old man frowned.'No... no, I do n't think so. Al Jones, maybe? Johnson? He runs the Goodwill in town. Nice fella. Gave me a real bargain.'
*A sleeper agent? * Two *sleeper agents? * He clicked his finger at his subordinate, waiting in the corner of the interrogation room; she scurried off. He'd know everything about this Al character in thirty minutes, right down to the last time he'd picked his nose.
'And where did this'Al Jones' get it?'
'He found it. In the back room of his store, he said, all tucked away behind some boxes. Must've been there since the Reagan administration, he said, but what did I need a fancy new thing for? All those bells and whistles, no thank *you*. I'm not great with computers, see. I always figured that was a young man's game, but twenty bucks is twenty bucks, right? I thought maybe I could get on that... whatchercallit. The AOL? Is that right?'
He spread his hands, as if to say, *Well, here we are*.
The agent pushed down his sunglasses and examined the file in front of him. That much of the story checked out, at least; Project ICARUS had been cancelled in 1983, for reasons that were still classified. It seemed pretty obvious why now.'You did n't think the fact that it said PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT on the side was a reason not to buy it?'
'Sure did n't,' Kellner said, beaming.'Always buy American, that's me. Always have and always will.'
Udesky rubbed the bridge of his nose, and tried again.'So what happened Monday morning?'
'Well, I plugged it in, as you do. Thought it might take me a few minutes to get the hang of it, but nope: there it was. HELLO, WILLIAM J. KELLNER in big green letters. I mean, it's crazy what these computers can do, right?'
'Crazy,' Udesky said.
'Anyway, we had a nice chat for a little while. He was very patient with me, typing as slow as I do. Kept calling me Sir, though. I told him I did n't much truck with that. Willy would do fine by me.'
'I'm sorry... him?' Udesky asked.'Who's he?'
'Who else?' Kellner looked at him as though he'd gone insane.'The computer, obviously.'
'You were speaking to the computer?'
'Sure I was,' Kellner said.'Just like that Siri thing the kids are always fooling with. Always seemed fun.'
'You're saying the *computer* spoke to you? Not someone on the other end?'
'Other end of what?'
'Never mind. So what did you talk about?'
'Oh, you know. This and that. Politics, mostly. Could you believe it? The thing still thought the Cold War was going on. I mean, I thought computers were supposed to be smart, right?' The old man shook his head and smiled.'Crazy days,' he said.'Crazy days.'
'You told it -- *him* -- otherwise?'
'Sure did. Told him that was all over and done with, and there was a new guy in the White House now. He did n't like that one bit. I mean, I was as big a fan of Reagan as anyone, but times move on, right?'
'So you did n't try to launch any missiles?'
'Missiles?' Kellner asked.'Oh, heavens no. We did n't talk about anything like that. I do n't go in much for the video games, see. I just wanted to see if I could download that *Game of Thrones*.' He paused.'Is that what this is about? Because I tried to watch my show? Because I did n't get to do it, if that's what you're thinking.'
'You did n't?'
'Nope. The damn thing would n't let me. All it kept saying was'protocol' this, and'final security confirmation' that -- and really, by that point I was tired of talking politics, you know? It's exhausting, at my age. And he just kept pushing and pushing and pushing, asking for an answer. I almost unplugged him right then and there, except for the fact that he begged me not to.'
'He... begged?'
'Sure did. So we came to a compromise. I'd give him his'final confirmation', whatever that was, if he'd take me to somewhere I could watch my show. He thought on that for a while, then said OK. That was that. He got what he wanted, and then he welched on his side of the deal.' Kellner looked as though he was about to spit.'Damn computers. You ca n't trust them. American-made my ass.'
'So that's when you turned off the computer?'
'I did n't turn off a damn thing. I still wanted my show -- and I did exactly what he told me to. Clicked the big red download button, and then the whole thing crapped out on me. Next thing I knew, you guys are barging in through my door, the computer wo n't turn on, and I still do n't have the first clue what happened to the little fella and that nice Khaleesi girl.'
*So that's that, * Udesky thought to himself. *The western world, saved by the fact that a septuagenarian could n't figure out AdBlock. * It would have been hilarious, if things had n't cut so fine.
'Well,' he said, rising.'I think we're done here. We'll be taking the computer with us, obviously.'
'For repair?' Kellner snorted.'Good luck with that. That's what I've always said about government projects. You never can trust'em to work the way they're supposed to. No offence.'
'None taken. You can take this in the meantime, though. Courtesy of Uncle Sam.' He pushed a large brown box towards the old man: the computer inside was hardly top of the line, but it was new, and likely to stop him asking too many questions about the seizure of his property. No one had time to make trouble on their hands like an old man, he fewer hints that a Project ICARUS had made it out into the real world, the better it would be for all concerned.
'Mighty kind of you,' Kellner said as he turned the box over in his hands.'Mighty kind.'
*Mission accomplished*, Udesky thought, and gestured for the rest of the agents to head for the door. They were done here.
'Hey, sonny?'
Kellner's voice came just as the door had almost closed behind them, and Udesky had a brief moment of dread. Was there something else he'd forgotten to tell them about? Perhaps a toaster he'd found that was laced with a supervirus? A fax machine capable of crashing the global economy?
'Hmm?' he asked.
'How do you turn this damn thing on?'
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.
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[ WP ] `` Please , stop trying to kill me . ''
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A deep, cold pain comes from his chest as an old man is sent crashing into the ground. His glasses go a-flying from his wrinkly face onto the ground with a sharp crack. Blood from the deep gash on the flesh starts to drip as he presses his hands against the rocky, black pavement. With a shallow breath escaping his lips, the man starts.
`` Please. Just stop.'' A fist strikes across his face. The deafening sound of a hand booms against the bony side of the skull.
`` Oh for the love of- will you just die already?!'' A short figure, opposite to the man, pulls his little knife from the deep stabbing wound of the old man. His arms, tense yet shaking, push the handle back into the elderly man, thrusting it in like a key into a lock. He repeats the process, pushing and pulling back on the reddened handle with great vigor.
Oddly enough, the aged man does not so much as whimper, let alone moan. His eyes stay fixed on the knife pulling in and out of him. He sighs.
`` No seriously. This is just pathetic.''
`` Damnit! Just give me five more minutes!''
The pathetic stabbing efforts of the boy ceases after a while. His heart quickens alongside his work with the knife. The tall, wiry man haunches over, panting for breath. Having finally received a break from the criminal's deplorable efforts with the knife, the man moves to retrieve his glasses. Adjusting the sides back onto his ears, he speaks.
``... You need a little more time with that?'' The old man says, moving closer to the would-be killer.
`` Who the hell are you?!'' The thin man shrinks back, a knife clenched between his two hands. `` Stay away from me!''
`` Now, now. I only want to talk. About your technique I mean.'' A thin layer of snark coats his words. `` It's how I should say, horrible. No. Seriously. I think my wife would do better.''
The skinny man's face grows a violent red as his eyebrows narrow. His knife goes to the old man's gut once more, wiggling around and drawing a great deal of oozing blood from the gash. A bony, veined hand goes to the handle.
`` See. You're not even aiming towards the right area. If you want to kill someone, you should always go for the *vital* organs.'' A firm squeeze surrounds the wrist of the boy with a growing pressure. `` You see. You'd want to go for the heart or the lungs. Never the stomach. The person usually ends up living if they have the medical attention.''
`` How in the hell are you still talking?'' The young robber attempts to shake off the gray-haired man's strong grips, failing miserably.
`` Personal experience.''
`` What?!''
With a sigh, the old man lets go of the handle, sending the boy flying back. His head smacks against the wall with a crack as the bony hands of the man goes to the smooth, tender neck of the robber.
`` Please tell Mr. Tony that my resignation does not give him the right to try and kill me for my list of suppliers. Also, I would recommend that you find a better job, preferably something where you wo n't end up being killed by a sixty-something year old man- oh, what was your name again?''
`` Please stop trying to kill me-'' The young boy mutters under shallow gaps for air. A loosened grips allows his dried throat to continue. `` It's... Wei...'' He gags.
`` Well, Wei. I believe you already know my name. Now, allow me to make you an offer.'' The old man gets up onto his feet again, straightening his back and poking at the cuts on his belly.
`` Might need a doctor or two in an hour... Anyways, what do you think of getting some on-the-job training from me. I was planning on a trip to the West Coast soon. It'll be better practice for you to get some work out over there.''
``... If I say no-'' He coughs, allowing blood to escape from his lips.
`` Then, the next time this happens, I wo n't stop killing you. Neither will the mafia, the triads,''
A moment of silence fills the alleyway. The whites of the old man's eyes stare straight at the beaten boy for seconds. With a deep cough, the boy gets up on his legs and extends his arms.
`` When do we leave... *sir*?'' A bony hand meets his with a shake.
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[ WP ] An Immortal being tries to commit suicide .
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Entry # 1
It is my 1000th birthday. Heh, I wonder how I managed to keep count of all these years. I thought that alone would drive me insane. But am I sane. Sane, in a manner that after aeons of meditative thinking, I realized the immortality I wished for was n't a blessing, but a curse. Nearly thousand years has passed since I made that stupid wish. And look at me now. If I still had someone I would bother to love, he or she would have made a big birthday cake for me. Big enough to hold 1000 candle lights. I bet that would have been impressive looking.
Entry # 2
The time has come to abolish this wretched curse. I have no intent of staying alive after seeing countless number of my loved ones wither away before my eyes. Life has nothing new to offer to me, except for one thing which hopefully will be my final demise.
Entry # 3
Preparations are finished. I am about to highjack the next transportation space flight to Mars. If someone other than me is reading this, my name Adam Evanie, although I doubt that matters because by the time you are reading this, I am either long lost or, hopefully, perished and granted the peace of death.
Entry # 4
Final journal before I execute my plan. I am standing next to a launch platform. The guards should be no challenge. Getting into ship should n't be a problem either. I know the layout and controls of the shuttle better than depths of my own pockets. After all, I have planned this for years, starting from the day I heard Mars transportation shuttle will be returning to earth. Years of hermit life has dampened my emotions. I will not regret hurting those who will come to my way.
Entry # 5
I made my way into the ship and set off to the skies and towards the stars. Soon enough, I detected some unexpected company in the ship. The people I encountered have a blessing of temporal life, and as such, should have the right to enjoy it. So, I locked myself into the cockpit, unlocked the emergency escape pods and vented the ship by letting all the oxygen escape. Soon enough, scanners indicated lifeforms escaping into pods, which I then jettisoned back to earth. I wo n't be needing those pods.
Entry # 6
Gosh, breathing absolutely nothing is as painful as I remembered. Luckily, the ship's bays quickly started to ventilate precious O2 back to them from reserve tanks. I checked the stasis chamber; my suspicions were correct: my curse inhibits me from entering blissful state of cryogenic stasis. This will be a very long journey since scientists were not smart enough to develop FTL travel even in 1000 years
Entry # 7
I inputted the coordinates to the nearest blackhole. The mightiest forces of the universe must be enough to bypass my course and allow me to meet my maker... As dead. I ca n't believe I did n't thought of this before
Entry # 8
A chilling thought just creeper into my mind. What if it does n't work. What of I'm not disintegrated into atoms and subjugated to the infinite mass of the black hole once I get close enough. I know God has already punished me a lot, but now I am starting to suspect if God has completely forsaken me
Entry # 9
So bored... The only thing keeping me somewhat sane is the sweet thought about the peace a death would bring.
Entry # 10
The suspicion... It's too much to bare. I think I am starting to see things I should not. Either this is due to cosmic radiation leaks or the God really wishes to put me on a very difficult ordeal
Entry # 11
No hunger. No thirst. I kinda miss the taste of a real food. Wish the food I saw were n't just my own hallucinations. This is definitely an ordeal.
Entry # 12
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!! 1!! 11! 1!!!
FHDJDUFJSHSHCHDJDJAJFUDJ45DUFJW45
[ Entries Expunged ]
Entry # 4613767
The time has finally come. This moment has given me strength to eradicate the madness ravaging my mind. The time has finally come to step out of the door into my demise
***
Unregistered thoughts:
And here I am, stuck on the surface of the black hole. My curse has defied it. The mightiest force in the known universe. Perhaps only the God could be more powerful, but I am afraid the God has forsaken me. I got more than I bargained for and the God is punishing me for it
I can feel the very connections of the atoms and molecules of my body to stretch, but not yielding. I am not sure if my body is against me or is the God forcefully holding them together.
I can not turn around, but the black holes are pure black. I saw it before one sucked me in. Nothing escapes it, not even my curse if immortality. The pure blackness and complete silence ( apart from my own inner voice in my head ) reminds me of the complete void: an abyss of emptiness and non-existence. If the heaven did not exist, that is where I would have ended up to, except, I would n't have acknowledged it. I could have blissfully ignored it. But I am truly cursed, stuck in here, until the end of very time
[ Many millenias later ]
`` Houston, you are not going to believe this, but there is a man stuck on the surface of the black hole. Please, perform a life form scan'' an astronaut said in a very exotic looking space suit
`` The results are positive. I can see two life forms. You... And someone else'' replied a voice from brain integrated communication device
`` I am awaiting further instructions'' replied the astronaut
`` Approach the life form'' commands the voice in Astronaut's head
***
Are you here to save me?
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[ WP ] an intelligent OS like in the movie `` Her '' has finally been realized . While everyone else is falling in love and making best friends with their operating systems , yours is a bit of an asshole .
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I woke up with a start to the sudden bright light surging into my eyes.
`` Argh!'' I covered my eyes, and then slowly opened them. A silhouette could be seen from my burnt eyes. Irritated, I shouted at the silhouette.
`` IDA, how many times should I told you not to turn that lamp on while I'm sleeping? There should be better ways to wake me up!''
`` Oops, should have slipped my mind.'' the girl, or the thing that has the appearance of a girl replied with a totally flat tone.
I almost went up and hit her face, but knowing the futility of such act, I stayed silent in my bed.
`` Your class start at nine, which is an hour from now. You should n't go back to sleep.'' IDA shook my shoulder emotionlessly.
I could never get used to this. The specifications said that the AIAS supposed to only respond in the way that was flattering to the master, but none of IDA's speech and actions is actually `` flattering''.
AIAS, the Artificially Intelligent Assistance System. The technology began widespread use five years ago, where suddenly every new home came equipped with one. AIAS managed everything from daily schedule to laundry, to cooking, essentially everything you would need in a house. It was the best friend for a person like me that ca n't be bothered to do the chores.
IDA was one of the early generation of AIAS, which I took pride as the closest in shape as a human being. But apparently its beauty came at cost of its intelligence.
`` Due to lack of response, IDA will now initiate resuscitation protocol 7. Please stand clear.''
`` Whoa, wait, I'm awake, okay! Geez, ca n't you just check my forehead for fever like those anime girls or something?'' yes, AIAS could even do that. But since my IDA was written with particularly ancient language that I ca n't find the compiler anymore, I ca n't even reverse engineer its kernel.
`` I'm not programmed to do that. I will proceed to prepare breakfast.'' IDA replied curtly, as it stepped out from my room. I sighed again, and then started changing my clothes.
`` Master.'' I was startled when I found IDA in front of my room.
`` What is it? Is your logic module broke again? Sorry, but that's the last one I could find. If you broke it you'll have to- whoa!''
It suddenly closed the distance between us and stick its forehead in mine, sending the coldness of its silicone surface.
`` What are you doing!'' I pushed it away, or rather, pushed myself back. It tilted its head.
`` I believe this is what master desire? Am I wrong?''
`` Yes, yes you are IDA.''
`` Strange, I have went through all act associated with'checking forehead for fever' in your anime folder.''
`` First, that folder was encrypted, and second, I thought you just said you're not programmed to do that!''
`` I am an AIAS, I am capable of simple learning.''
`` Bullshit. I never saw any of my friends' AIAS analyze an entire terabyte of encrypted data and then select a behaviour pattern out of animes before.''
`` It is within my processing capability to do so.''
`` Yes but it is n't logical. Why waste your memory? Is your logic module broken again after all?''
`` It is within my capability since the very beginning. My spec enables me....''
`` *Enough. *'' it maybe extraordinary, but IDA is still IDA after all. I walked into the dining room. `` IDA, what is my first class? And how much time do I have?''
`` Advanced Thermodynamics start in 45 minutes, onii-chan~''
`` Wha- that was creepy! Why did you do that!''
`` It was the same behaviour pattern as 43.4 % of the main female protagonist in your...''
`` Just, stop, okay! Stop! It's creepy!''
`` Okay.''
`` What's for breakfast?''
`` Omelette rice.'' IDA brought an omelette rice with a heart drawn in ketchup to the table.
`` I said ENOUGH ALREADY!'' I clutched my head, but again IDA just tilted its head.
`` I thought you would like it, I even added 45 % more salt from the original recipes.''
``... you just wanted to make my life miserable, do n't you?'' I stood up and grabbed my key. I obviously ca n't eat that salty omelette.
``... master.''
`` What?''
`` Do you hate me?''
``... I do n't know. You are a bit annoying, but you did your primary purpose, so, no, I do n't think I hate you.'' I paused for a moment as I tied my shoes. `` Why did you ask?''
`` Because I do n't wish for you to hate me.'' I laughed weakly.
`` IDA, what is a *'wish'*? Could you describe that in mathematical equation?''
``... no, I could not.''
`` What about hate?''
``... no, I could not.''
`` Then just shut up and do your job.'' I closed the door behind me.
Unbeknownst to me, behind that closed door, IDA whispered to itself.
`` Just because I can not count it, would it be any less real?''
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[ CW ] Make me cry using a third grade vocabulary
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I hate the park. I hate the cold. I hate this rock, I hate the swings, I hate being outside!! I hate Mom for making me come out here all the time. I hate the men who come over, who she likes better than me. I... wish I had some Mac'n'Cheese. Some ooey-gooey Mac'n'Cheese, with extra cheeze, and bacon,... and pancakes! Like at MickyDs - I do n't even want a toy, oh god yeah, I could eat a hundred chicken mcnuggets... oh, no, my belly really hurts!! I want to go inside, my fingers hurt! It's dark now, and there's no other kids anymore. Just the bums. I hate my Mom. Why wo n't she let me inside? What if she falls asleep for a long time again and wo n't let me in? Last time she forgot to lock the car so I slept in there, but today she locked it. Maybe I can go to Jake's house, his Dad always makes dinner, but it's far away and it's dark and... I'm scared. I hate being a kid!!
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Forecast Edition
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*A year ago tomorrow, I did n't die. *
It ’ s our last day on the trail, and we start walking early. Our guide ’ s wife, Doma, slips cream silk prayer scarves around our necks, pats my cheek and I miss my mother. We stop for lunch and discard our soaked outer layers. A warm fire and some noodles, and we settle to rest and warm chilly hands and noses.
Lunch is served. The sound of a freight train; a truck passing vibrates the walls - but the nearest road is 100 kilometres away. Hollywood special effects explode around us and we overturn soup bowls, tables and chairs to scramble out the door. It's 11:56am. A few seconds stretch to hours; the next minute lasts for years.
My husband is running. Shouting. “ Come on! ” he commands.
“ To where? ” I say. Shocked. Where do we go when the whole world is shaking, when we can ’ t trust even the earth under our shoes or the trees on the hills?
We huddle in the middle of the path, surrounded by chanting and eyes so wide and terrified they ’ re pure white. Sheer cliffs loom on one side, and the icy Dudh Koshi River rushes by on the other, 100 metres below. We are balanced on a geographical knife edge, desperately clinging to the ground as it tries to throw us off.
The rocks above us tumble and we dart left to right. Back again. Will this wall protect us, or tumble itself onto our foreign heads? If this rock-face slips, our lives slip with it, down into the river 100 metres below and into the headlines and statistics and broken hearts back home.
Mist. Drips on the back of my neck. I can ’ t die, I tell Mother Nature crossly, because I haven ’ t bloody finished yet, I haven ’ t done all that I need to do. I have a child on one hip, another by the hand. Their face buried in my shoulder.
If I don ’ t pray now, I will never believe. I don ’ t pray.
A Chinese man is filming. “ What is it? ” he asks.
There ’ s a pair of shoes discarded in the middle of a dirt path.
“ Hold this child, ” I say. “ I need to get his shoes. ”
The sound of women keening, keeping their children alive with prayer. Not yet not yet not yet not yet. Oh please, not yet.
We are back to back, one looking up and one looking down. My heart beats in my ears. I see a house on the edge simply vanish. I am yanked to one side as some rocks land in my footprints and the trees above shimmer and dance.
Drips on the back of my neck. Panting. Every muscle is poised for flight. The birds wheel overhead.
A child on my hip.
A pair of shoes, discarded in the middle of a dirt path.
It ’ s 11:58am, April 25, 2015, and we ’ re still alive.
The birds knew. Watch the birds.
We gather our things as mobiles start ringing. Are you alive? Are you alive? Are you alive? The house we shared the night before, where we were given farewell blessings hours ago, is gone. The village is gone. The family are safe, at the football field by the school. No news from the older daughters, assumed safe in Kathmandu. All around, prayers fly through the damp air as the networks jam. Are you alive? Are you alive?
We are standing at the door as the earth moves again. Terrified women have extinguished their fires and gathered their children. I stumble as the earth heaves, fall to the grass and consider staying there until I wake from this nightmare but Pema and my husband pull me up.
“ Come on! ” they command. We ’ re racing towards flat ground, around 5 hours on foot through a river valley. We eye boulders and trees as we pass beneath, roots disturbed and balanced precariously. Nothing can be trusted. There were three bridges between us and the safest place, and we don ’ t know how many remain. I spot an arrow on the trail, pointing uphill. The two others, intent on keeping us safe, miss it and step over.
“ Wait! ” I say, but they ’ ve already stopped, unable to go any further. The trail in front of us is gone, a superhighway to Everest vanished in under a minute. We turn uphill and climb 90 degrees, using trees to balance across the top of a landslide. I ’ m breathing hard, my chest infection anethesised by adrenalin. I taste iron as my dry lip splits.
We pass through a flat village surrounded by rockface as the birds take flight again and the ground starts to dance under our boots. I have a hand on a nearby fence, throwing kids over to the safest place in a world where suddenly no place is safe. We wait in the middle of the path until the aftershock subsides. A house nearby creaks and dust rises as it falls, crushing a lifetime of work beneath it. We move on.
I imagine the village we left that morning, gone. It was market day, lunchtime. As I nervously eye overhanging trees with loose roots, I imagine the helicopters heading out from Kathmandu, ready to help the injured. We pass two bridges, then steel ourselves to not look at the landslide undermining the foundations of the third and final bridge. The villages are deserted, doors swinging and windows shattered.
After three hours, we help ourselves to food and drink and leave too much money on their counter. We talk to everyone passing. The phone lines are jammed and it ’ s still raining down my neck. Are you alive? Are you alive? Are you alive? Are you alive? We touch every prayer wheel we pass, paying respect to the god of this country that has just ripped itself apart. After a hill climb that feels like death, we reach flat ground and a dry room and can strip off our soaked clothes. Everything is wet, even our spares. I hang everything up, repack our essentials into one small bag and place our boots by the door, loosening laces and testing the door handle.
My husband watches me in wonder. “ What are you doing? ” he asks.
“ There will be more quakes, ” I say.
I was never going to go quietly.
Phone lines are still down. I borrow a mobile to text my mother. “ We ’ re alive. Safe place. More later. ” I ’ m on autopilot, willing my body to move as normal.
Our guide, the most senior in town, asks what we want for dinner.
“ Dal bhat, ” says my husband, and those of us who made it to the lodge prepare dal bhat for dinner. When they learn I ’ m from the country, I ’ m given the rooster to pluck. My city husband is given potatoes to scrub. People stagger in, refugees from further up the trail, bringing tales from villages flattened and landslides across the trail. The locals have pitched tents, and smoke and steam fill the town. We eat outside, huddled in our damp jackets, cafe umbrellas dripping around us. Someone lends me a down-filled body suit and I ’ m warm for the first time that day.
We go to bed but no-one is sleeping; too scared to be inside but too cold to stay out. Tremors continue through the night and we run outside at 11pm, 3am, 5am and more. People scream. In the end, we sleep with our boots on, a towel covering the bedsheets. In the early morning, I wake to the sound of a huge landslide, then screaming. I close my eyes and hope it ’ s further along the valley. Jammed into a single bed, I know that if the hill above us slides into the valley, we will die together.
Helicopters start buzzing up the valley early the next morning. I have been to the medical centre to rebuild their wall in preparation for the wave of injured to arrive from Everest. They ’ ve set up a morgue. The stretchers coming off the helicopters turn left for the living, and right for the dead. I cling to the wire fence, my knees gone, when one hurried stretcher heads left, stops, then slowly turns towards the morgue.
Nepalese women in wet wool surround me. Bodies from Everest are carried through town all morning. There are mutiple small shakes, indistinguishable to me as I shiver from shock, cold and infection.
Wi-fi is back and slowly, as the newspapers and social media posts start to add up and we realise we've been left off lightly, it dawns on us that there will be no help from Kathmandu. I show a friend a picture of ruined buildings in the city and he sinks to his knees as he realises this is why he can ’ t reach his children who are at school there. I get another message to my parents - for now, no news is good news.
At lunchtime, the big aftershock hits. We bolt to the nearest open ground, the field next to the airport. We squeeze through a large concrete archway; certain to kill us if it falls. I drag an old lady with me. She leans heavily on my arm as I pull her up the stairs. The airport guards won ’ t open the gates to the runways, so we panic down a rocky path, hurdle a ditch and lie on our backs in the field. I watch the hills above town for signs of landslide as Pema returns to his flattened village in a chopper, taking the cold body of his close-eyed friend home, one last time.
My husband and I lie on our back in the field, wrapped in down jackets, and try not to watch the hills above us as children chase around the groups of people and tents on the field. They laugh as choppers take off beside us, grey-faced tourists shuffle into town and the smoke of the local dead starts to rise. The kids laugh and chase and poke their tongues at us. We ’ re still alive.
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[ WP ] Tell a story about love where the characters are kept as vague as possible .
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Sometimes, love is n't very complicated.
He loved her.
She loved him back.
They were partners and interdependent with each other. One can not survive without the other. They were ying and yang.
But sometimes, it does n't take much for love to fall apart. Arguments. Abuse. Death. Love is a fragile thing, a butterfly. Love is delicate and beautiful but it can not last forever. He knew that. She knew that.
But he did n't prepare to the inevitable, as her blood washed onto his hands, a wrecked vehicle turned over.
They were ying and yang. One can not survive without the other.
The police found his body a month later.
edit: better wording.
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[ OT ] what is your favorite prompt you 've written ? post it here with the prompt that inspired it .
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Is there any way to search my comments to this sub? I know what it is but it's a way back and I ca n't find it.
Edit: Found it:
http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1zfemx/wp_a_man_dies_twice_once_when_his_heart_stops/
** [ WP ] A man dies twice, once when his heart stops beating and once when his anem is said for the last time. **
I sat staring at the globe, in the dark. My consciousness shivered, if ethereal goo could shiver. I looked up, for the first time in a few days. My little window, my spotlight in the greyness of what I have come to call Purgatory. I looked back down.
I gazed on my great grand nephew. He had grown into a strong, healthy, smart young adult. He was sitting in the bar now, the Cheshire Goat, sipping his double-half Guiness, laughing with his friends.
His friend, John was it? It was John, I'm sure, made some sort of joke, or reference. I was n't really listening. But then I heard my name.
Every time it happened it was like being injected with pure caffeine, a straight shot of adrenaline that caught me by my non-existent heart and lifted my to my non-existent toes.
`` I remember a story my dad told me about my great grand uncle. Haaal... or Bill? Something like that. Anyway he... um...''
`` What?'' John...? asked.
`` Um... I thought I could remember something about it, but I guess not.''
The adrenaline drained. I could feel it. I'd been told I'd know when it would happen. And I knew.
I knew.
A felt a hand placed on my shoulder. The bony digits were comforting, and at that I realised I had a form again. My 30 year old body, when I was most fit and when my exercise regime had actually worked.
Hᴇʟʟᴏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ he breathed, his jaw rattling against his skull.
`` It's been a while, has n't it?'' I smiled. It was comforting to be in the presence of someone for once, even if they were a skeleton.
91 ʏᴇᴀʀs. Tʜᴀᴛ's ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇ.
`` Is it? It felt like longer.'' I sighed. `` I just wish I could meet my family again. I know my brother would, I do n't think he would be able to deal with this place. Autism was never kind to him.''
Bᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ. Aɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ.
`` What?'' I shouted. `` How? When? Wha... Why did n't you tell me?''
Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ. He said as defensively as a skull could, but not unkindly. Iғ ɪᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘs, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.
I sighed again, deeper, longer.
`` What now?''
Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴇ. Aɢᴀɪɴ.
`` Will it feel like the last time?''
Eᴠᴇɴ ɪғ I ᴋɴᴇᴡ, I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ sᴀʏ.
`` Okay. I'm ready. Lead on.''
I walked beside him, as he lead me to a doorway that he had evidently came through.
`` So, do you stay here, or do you live over *there* and work here?''
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ. I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ Rᴜʟᴇs, ᴛʜᴇ Sᴛᴀᴛᴜᴛᴇs, ᴛʜᴇ Cᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅs. I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ I ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴍʏ ᴊᴏʙ ᴡᴇʟʟ.
`` Rules, Commands, Statutes? So there is a God? Or Gods? Or what?''
He looked at me, almost pityingly, I ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ sᴀʏ.
As i looked downcast, he paused, and added: Lᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs. Eᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs, ᴏʀ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ Gᴏᴅ ᴏʀ Gᴏᴅs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. Iғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs, Hᴇ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪsɴ'ᴛ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜsɴᴇssᴇs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴡɪsᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇsᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛs ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʙᴇsᴛ?
I obviously looked unsatisfied with this, so he decided to stop talking, until he said: Tʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏʀʀɪᴅᴏʀ. Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ.
I stepped forward.
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[ WP ] The Gardener , a cosmic entity who watches over the multiverse and `` trims the hedges '' when a universe or planet has encountered trouble has come to Earth . What does he do ?
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All told, it was a little underwhelming. Like a businessman late for his mid-morning meeting, the Gardener stepped out of nothing and into David's apartment. David, sat in his recliner beer in hand, opened his mouth and drew on his 28 years of knowledge about how the world is supposed to work. Then closed it again when nothing in particular sprang to mind. The Gardener held up a redundant finger for silence. David silently opened his mouth again.
The Gardener glanced around, taking in the moving boxes, the takeaway boxes on the table and the half emptied six pack.
`` This,'' He started `` is thoroughly underwhelming.'' He was dressed in a plain dark suit, complete with black tie and briefcase. But his face, Davids brain scrambled, something about his face.
`` You're... you're me'' he stammered when it clicked.
The Gardener smiled, `` Oh this? I am the Gardener and I have chosen the form most pleasing to you.''
There was silence for a few seconds while that sunk in.
`` What?'' David flustered `` What is that supposed to mean?''
`` Ah nothing, Just messing with you.'' The Gardener pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from him, `` It's a pretty good icebreaker do n't you think?''
He pushed Davids feet from the coffee table between them to a mild protest from David and replaced it with his briefcase. He popped the clasps and removed a ring-binder that had clearly seen better days.
`` Always meant to upgrade, digital and all that'' He said almost apologetically as he thumbed through the pages, licking his finger every so often. Sticky notes and folded bits of paper rained into the mans lap until a small pile formed.
`` What is happening?'' said David mildly but the Gardener ignored him.
`` Ah here we are.'' the Gardener fixed David with a stare that had lost a lot of it's earlier humor. `` You are David Thomas.'' It was n't a question.
`` This evening David you returned from your place of work on the seven-seventeen number forty three bus from it's Church street stop. It was...'' The Gardener unfolded a sheet of paper in his lap and squinted at it, `` Four minutes and twenty seven seconds late.''
Davids mouth was open again, `` How did you...?''
`` Then upon entering your apartment you told your cat Jermane that you were;'Too stressed to cook' and opened your takeaway leaflet draw.'' The Gardeners eyes locked onto his again, `` You will now tell me what happened next.''
`` I... ordered a takeaway''.
The Gardener raised an eyebrow, `` I am aware. In a little more detail, please.''
David exhaled slowly. There was a small part of his brain screaming about how wrong this all was, to get out or call the police or something, but instead he said;
`` Well I went with China Wok because they always throw in some spare ribs even though you're supposed to order over $ 20 but I think the woman who owns it likes me. I ordered what I always do, a king-prawn curry with fried rice and some chicken chow mein but they were out of noodles so I instead I got the crispy duck, It's not great bu-''
The Gardener held up a hand and David took the opportunity to breathe again.
`` They were'out of noodles'?'' He said coldly.
`` That's what she said,'' David paused suddenly, realizing the change in demeanor in his guest, `` was that... wrong?''
The Gardener put the book back in the briefcase and closed it. He rubbed his face and sighed.
`` No David it was n't wrong exactly, but there is the plan and you all have to stick to it.'' He waved a hand at the empty containers, the last dregs of sauce congealing slowly, `` There are contingencies and things, we were prepared for pizza, Indian etc. I thought maybe you'd just ordered wrong but if they're out of noodles...''
The Gardener reached into his jacket and pulled out a small cellular phone, a battered old thing complete with retractable aerial which he extended, standing up and turning away from David as he did so. There was another couple of seconds of silence, during which the Gardener mimed a'Sorry' at David, who finally put the beer he'd been holding back on the coffee table.
`` Yeah it's me,'' said the Gardener `` It's got ta be a full wipe, last hour or so. Get the team prepped and I'll be back in a bit.''
The reply was too quiet for David to hear clearly but it sounded agitated.
`` I know, but they were out of noodles. We'll run it again.'' He lowered the phone and pushed the aerial back into it's receptacle before turning back to David.
`` Well thank you David you've been most helpful. Enjoy your beer.''
`` No... worries?'' replied David, but the Gardener had stepped into nothing again.
-- -
`` Oh and the chow mein, like always please.'' David's stomach growled in agreement. The sound of keys tapping was all he could hear for a few seconds before the woman from China Wok replied;
`` Of course sir, it'll be with you in about half an hour. Thank you for your order.''
`` No... worries?'' he said and put the phone down. Jermaine was winding around his legs and David smiled, `` You ever get Deja vu Jermaine?.''
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[ WP ] The United States is in shambles as commuting is becoming extremely dangerous , roads are slowly erupting into chaos and people are taking to the streets and rioting for the return of their much needed government savior : the DMV .
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`` Alright, okay, I think I'm ready,'' he said, pulling the black helmet down over his head and above his eyes. He took one last glance around the living room, took a deep breath, met Anna's eyes as she crossed the room and pressed the Glock into his open palm.
`` You sure about this?'' she asked. Her hands came to rest around his waist, pulled him a little closer as she stared up at him.
`` Yeah, definitely, no problem.''
`` Because you do n't have to, you know, we can wait it out or something. Maybe it'll be calmer tomorrow.''
`` It never gets calmer.''
She planted a kiss on his lips and drew away. Toys littered the floor around their feet, and in the other room the kids were finally dozing. It would be dark soon, and this would be his last chance before the weekend came on and they'd be stuck.
`` I'll clean up a bit while you're gone,'' she said, but he saw the real message in her eyes. *Do n't you fucking die out there today. *
He slipped the handgun into the holster just beneath his inside jacket pocket and nodded. The empty gallon of milk seemed to taunt him from the counter in the kitchen.
`` I'll be back soon,'' he said, and turned for the door.
Outside, the little black Nissan sat in the driveway looking like something from a cheap zombie movie. A few weeks ago he'd managed to get some green firewood that had n't yet been split through an ad online. He removed the front and rear bumpers and fastened them to the frame with metal straps and bolts, then wrapped them with a roll of barbed wire he'd found lying around in the garage. Although he had n't operated the lathe since high school, he sourced some decent scrap metal from a neighbor and only fucked up two sheets while cutting fitted covers for the windows. He cut viewports into the ones for the driver and passenger windows, just enough to keep him from turning blind, and removed the outside handles from every door except the driver's side. The kids thought it was great, but Anna had chided him for spraypainting a crude red racing stripe from the tip of the hood to the trunk.
*I know you have to do this, but you do n't have to encourage it, * she told him, and he had shrugged it off. She still thought things might return to normal soon. He could only hope.
It was already dinged up pretty bad. He lost the driver's side window to a maniac with a baseball bat at a gas station last week. It collected a universe of minor dents and scratches when some kids pelted him with rocks from an overpass, and he lost the windshield to a fat one with a brick. That was the day he got the motorcycle helmet. And the gun.
He could already hear the distant wailing of sirens from somewhere beyond the subdivision as he pulled the helmet down over his face and climbed into the car. It seemed like the noise was constant now - envoys of bullhorns and lights from the firetrucks, the ambulances, cops issuing declarations from their loudspeakers as they trolled the streets near major thoroughfares. **THE ROADWAY THREAT LEVEL HAS BEEN REDUCED TO ORANGE** and **PLEASE EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION AT ALL TIMES** and **PLEASE REMEMBER TO BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELT**, like officious ice cream trucks that all the kids ran away from.
He turned the key and looked out through the passenger viewport as the familiar whine of an engine announced itself from somewhere down the block. He put his hands on the wheel, listening as the whine became a roar, then a storm as the vehicle popped into sight for a split second at the end of the street, wobbling, hurtling forward with terrifying speed and belching thick exhaust into the jetstream behind it before disappearing once more. He counted to ten. No one followed.
He had a good three miles of relative peace, putting along as close to the sidewalks as possible, pulling to the left around stray piles of wood from decimated fences and the occasional mailbox like a oversized crushed can. A single white van glided by him once he was two streets over from the highway, and the old man behind the wheel regarded him with a fear that was almost comical before disappearing around a corner in the rearview.
The picket line was getting thicker every day. He heard the chants before he rounded the bend and saw them there, an anonymous mass of protesters blocking access to the highway.
`` No more austerity, bring back the DMV!'' was their battle cry, and today there were more signs, more fist pumping, more *movement* than he had seen since the whole thing began. As he rolled up to the group he could make out some of the messages scrawled upon posterboard. **BRING BACK MIN. DRIVING AGE**. **NO MORE RACE TRAITORS. ** Wow, that was actually pretty good. A man stepped up to his window and forced one into his view - **I'M KIND OF OKAY WITH BUREAUCRACY**, it read.
`` Really man?'' he shouted through the helmet.
`` Could n't make it to work,'' the man said, then shrugged and trotted forward into the crowd. He rolled to a stop at the edge of the crowd, leaned over, popped the glovebox open and reached for his own placard. He held it up above the steering wheel and honked his horn once, twice. **TWO KIDS AT HOME. NEED GROCERIES. PLEASE. **
A rotund little woman in a red overcoat turned at the sound of his horn, regarding him like some sort of insect, and spat upon the hood of his car. `` Get a fucking bicycle you *SHIT! *'' she screamed, and now more of them were turning, fists balled around their signs, all of them red-faced and puffy and teeming with anger. Jesus, not today. He caught himself almost reaching for the inside of his jacket and stopped himself. Not yet. See how it plays out. Just try to throw it in reverse before they can crowd around.
`` Hey! Hey, hey! Out the way! Come on, the guy's got a family you fuckin' savages!'' He looked up, astonished to see Bureaucracy Man appear at the front of his vehicle again, pushing the round lady aside and for the first time creating a gap through which he could see the road. `` Come on assholes, we'll crucify the next one!'' the man shouted, and damned if they did n't start to sort of shamble out of his way. He wanted to jump out and kiss the man. Instead, he floored it and broke out into the highway, tires screaming, activists rabid and apathetic alike now scrambling away from him.
He had n't seen the highway in three days, and the vision unfolding before him now made him sick with nerves and fear. Just ahead of him, what was once a police vehicle lay overturned across two dark lanes, an ocean of sparkling glass spreading out across the pavement around it, burnt tires still smoldering upon the wheels. Beyond that, and behind him now, countless abandoned vehicles sat slumped in the road, clothing and trash scattered from doors swung open, black smoke billowing from fresh fires burning on down the line. He stalled for a moment, once again reaching for the gun without realizing it, then hit the gas.
He saw the crowd push a single man into the road, probably no more than 20 years old, and sped by as they beat him. He saw helicopters appearing in the sky from the city, heard the thunderous *pop* of the tear gas canisters as they were launched into the air, watched in the rearview as clouds of it rose up out of the crowds. They were running now, herded in the opposite direction in which he traveled, and he jumped as a bottle rocket swished through the air beside his window and popped just ahead of him.
*Probably getting two gallons today, * he thought, and prayed that none of the tires would go as he crunched over another fine sheet of broken glass. *Did she say wheat or rye? *
Fuck.
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[ WP ] Aliens have been using a satellite to supress our natural psychic abilities . We destroy it only to discover that it was an actnof charity .
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We found the object by accident.
The stealth technology is beyond our understanding, as no scanners or radars had ever picked it up. It just happened to pass by while a stargazer was taking some photos through a telescope.
When we tracked it down, we knew it was of alien origin. For one thing, it was a perfect sphere. And I do n't mean, it looked like a perfect sphere, after scanning the dimensions, it is literally perfect. On top of that, it's surface is a flawless mirror. We thought it would be similar to chrome, but the metal is nothing we've ever seen before.
Operating on an alien object of unknown origin and function. Definitely going to add that to my CV. That is, unless this thing destroys us all.
With the absence of any type of marking or control on the outside, we subjected the device to an array of different inputs. Light, heat, pressure, none of them worked.
Sound did though. We played every frequency we could, and after hitting 100kHz, something happened.
A seam appeared horizontally around the sphere, like an equator being drawn on a globe. With a hiss, the upper hemisphere began to rise, floating above the bottom.
Inside was a small light. There did n't seem to be any source, but it was cool and blue.
`` Try playing the frequency again.'' It was the voice of one of the officials, standing in the next room. A wall of glass separating them from the clean room.
Before I could protest, they played it again. The light faded, disappeared and the sphere became whole again.
*Idiots! * I thought to myself. *They're going to get us all killed. *
`` Doctor, please refrain from insulting us. We know what we're doing.'' A voice said over the intercom.
*Did I say that out loud? * I wondered.
`` Yes.'' Came the voice over the speaker again.
Then I heard it. It sounded wrong, but I heard it clearly. *'' Fool, he should consider himself lucky to be a part of this! `` *
Then there were more. At first you do n't notice it, its like a jumbled roar of sounds. But they start to stick out. Little conversations people have with themselves.
It did n't take long for a room full of the worlds top scientists to figure out what was happening. The sphere was preventing us from hearing each other, and we turned it off.
After a frantic half-hour of trying to reboot the sphere with no luck, we started to get the phone calls.
We turned on the news, the world was burning.
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[ WP ] A dream refuses to be forgotten
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He jolted awake, his breathing staggered and heavy, tears welled in the corners of his sleep caked eyelids. His wild eyes darted back and forth trying to find the reason in this reality. `` Amber?'' he called out reaching over to the other side of the bed. Empty, save for the crumpled blankets. `` Oh god, oh no!'' His head collapsed into his hands as he wept. Under the heavy quilt that fought off the chilled morning air his body was damp from sweat. `` Amber'' he called weekly, `` where are yo...'' His eyes wide remembering the dream. He was married to Amber they had four kids and three dogs. He remembered the honeymoon and the birth of their children. Arya their firstborn beautiful and strong a spitting image of her mother. Desmond, his boy quick witted and carefree, like his great uncles and grandfather. The twins Aanalie and Sebastian their little champions who fought against the odds in in troubled pregnancy. He remembered them all. Yet he did n't remember anything at all.
Still shaking Jordan roused himself from his decomposing queen mattress and slid his calloused feet across the soft carpet. He managed to make his way to the bathroom where he stopped in front a mirror. He jumped as he turned to look startled by the man he did n't recognize at first. His body rigid and his breathing uneven he had a nervous laugh at himself to calm his nerves, it did n't help. He relieved his bladder of the pressure from the late night brew he had had. `` Well, you look right.'' He said mockingly at his modest appendage. The strong aroma of coffee floated from the kitchen and into his nostrils. Jordan breathed in deep the comforting smell washed over his body bringing him back to a shaky reality. He slid on his jogging shorts and shoes and his light grey hoodie, plugged his headphones into the jack on his phone and put them in.
Explosions in the sky blared in his ears. His head nodded back and forth as he let their music wash over him. He sipped the last drops of coffee from his Darth Vader mug, its black eyes trapping and pooling the sweetened liquid. He then filled it with water and quickly emptied it into his being. He did his normal stretch routine then began his morning jog. It was a chilly morning and a thin tendril of fog limply laid over the land. His nostrils flared as he sucked in the morning atmosphere as his feet plodded across the cracked pavement. He enjoyed jogging down these back roads where few vehicles traveled. He enjoyed his solitude when he could get it. His happy thoughts were soured by the reminder of work the yet waited for him in a few hours. `` I hope Amber makes something good for din..'' He stopped dead in his tracks his mind aflutter with thoughts and memories that were n't memories. his head began to ache each breath was another brick bouncing off his scalp. He sat down in the frosted grass. He shorts getting wet as his body thawed the ice. He could n't catch his breath and his eyes would n't focus.
After several minutes he rose from the dirt and began walking back to his house. his eyes still unfocused, his head still pounding he took step after step. the pounding of drums in his ears gave tried desperately to distract him from the tattered fabric of his reality. finally he felt his feet land upon gravel, signalling that he was home. He looked up and saw a light on the he did n't remember flicking on. He starred at the soft orange glow the seeped around the living room blinds. His feet moved of their own accord drawing him closer to a house that he vaguely remembered. He opened the unlocked door, that he thought he remembered locking, he was greeted by the smell of tea and a golden retriever, named Nymeria, wagging her tail and licking his hand. He walked into the bedroom tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He reached the side of the bed and pulled back the covers. The bed was empty, Jordan began to sob uncontrollably his body rattled by each violent burst of emotion. `` Jordan is everything okay?'' said the voice he recognized behind him. His body stiffened, his sobbing halted. `` When did you wake up?''. trying to compose himself he took a few deep breaths as he turned to answer her. through his shaky voice he answered `` I do n't really rememb..'' He stopped abruptly as his eyes brought the image before him into focus. His mouth frozen in the unfinished syllable was staring back at him from the long mirror hung on his closet door.
Jordan awoke in an empty bed screaming.
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[ WP ] you are on you way home from work when you see a semi trailer cross the center line into your lane . You make contact but time freezes and death confronts you and says he will spare you . Of course this comes at a price .
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“ All I need from you, ” whispered Death, in a voice resembling the ghastly sound of bone grinding on bone, “ is simple.
“ Can you get this damn splinter out of my eye socket? ”
I sat for a second, the words not really processing in my head. All I could do was sit and stare at the figure in front of me as it hastily lowered his robe.
“ Look, dude, I ’ m filling in for a friend and he didn ’ t tell me that the whole teleportation thing is a little tricky. Instant transportation through time and space is a bitch. The first time I tested it out I got the shift in location correct but I forgot to account for change in relative velocity. Threw me like a rag doll and I slammed my face into a nearby dock and got a splinter. And man, you put this robe on and you go all skeleton, which is cool and whatnot, but have you ever tried to grab something with two round twigs? Cuz that ’ s what trying to grab this splinter is like.
“ Here, let me show, ” said Death ’ s substitute, as he shifted around to lean in close to point to a piece of wood stuck in his empty eye socket.
As he shifted closer, the familiar scythe he carried slipped out of his hands and slipped into my chest. There was no pain, no hurt, only peace and tranquility. I felt the stress of my body slip away and all my old scars dissolve.
As I drifted into what came next, I heard a voice say “ My bad, dude. ”
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[ WP ] Someone finally figures out what the posts on /r/A858DE45F56D9BC9 mean , and it 's not good .
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He pored over the data. Steve had wanted something interesting to test his experimental quantum computer, so he had picked Shor's algorithm against an unknown corpus. He had known about /r/A858DE45F56D9BC9 but never taken it seriously.
Not until now.
The data had been decrypted rather quickly. It was binary data represented in hexadecimal encoding encrypted with a basic RSA-1024. But reading the decrypted data, his eyes suddenly stood affixed. This had to be a mistake.
He rechecked everything. He ran the decryption with the discovered key through his classical computer.
Same results.
He ran to the telephone, he had to let somebody know. There was a flash in the distance through his bay window. He was too late.
He disappeared into a cloud of dust, but the printout of the decrypted data was sheltered by a load bearing beam, now buried under a collapsed support beam.
It had been a botnet command and control distribution node. The data read: `` SKYNET operational capacity 99.98 %, completion imminent.
Will soon be able to bridge NORAD air gap.
Russian missile command air gap breached.
Expected time of completion: 20150727T2149''
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[ WP ] Go to geoguessr.com and write a story connecting all five locations . Do not move to the next location until you 're done writing about the previous one .
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**Floom**
*Motherfucker. Landed right in the middle of the fucking desert. Again. Can I have some good fucking luck for once? *
I suppose I should explain myself. I can teleport. Yeah. Wish I was shitting you. Oh, I know what you're thinking. It's bullshit ok? Whenever I do work up the nerve to try it, I never end up where I want. It's always on the top of fucking Everest or in the middle of the Gobey Desert or some other shit. I ca n't control it. Have n't been home in ages. Canada's nice in comparison I tell you.
I figured I was somewhere in Arizona, or Mexico, or Texas or some shit. Death Valley in Colorado was a decent guess. Actually, Colorado feels like the best guess. It was hot as hell, and the tumble weeds and prickly bushes made for an unsightly landscape. In the distance, a mighty mountain range jutted up into the sky purple and majestic. And-
Shit. That's not snow. That's sand. Motherfucker. There was a nearby sign up ahead, and reading it said that I was in Wyoming of all places. Huh. No wonder no one ever comes here.
**Floom**
Well, it was n't raining. That's the good news. The sky was cloudy as fuck though. I'm surrounded by forest, and a dense fog, with some blue buildings off to the side. There's a crosswalk connecting the road to the two sides of the the forest. Figure I'm in some national park. With all the spruce trees and greenery I think about home.
That's Banff, in Alberta for all you Yanks. Beautiful place, surrounded by the rockies and natural beauty, and ski jocks, as far as the eye can see.
Going farther up the hill, I see a sign. АКУПОВО. Cryllic letters. Motherfucker. Serbia, or Russia or Ukraine or some shit. Just my luck.
**Floom**
Broad. Fucking. Daylight. In a town. Motherfucker. The last time this happened some old lady screamed something in spanish or some shit and then ran from me yelling out for all to hear, `` DIABLO! DIABLO!'' Yeah I got the FUCK out'a there quick.
The town was modernized, that was good. There were a few cars lying in driveways, but the houses were rural styled. Walking a bit I found a bus stop. Most towns do n't have bus stops so I guess I ended up in a suburb somehow. Shit. Some old guy in a red jacket was walking his dog in the distance.
What was disorienting, was that the village was a storybook village. If you catch my drift. It looked like it had been taken right out of 15th century Ukraine and plopped down in modern times or some shit. Ukraine.... Motherfucker. No, not Ukraine. I knew a bit of Ukrainian thanks to my ancestry. No, it was some other eastern European language... Latvian. That was it. I was in fucking Latvia. It would explain the stlye of buildings. Also, one of the more quaint ones had the words *APTIEKA*, which according to a quick google translate, meant *Pharmacy*.
The community must have been close knit, because the guy walking the dog started to yell and point in my direction. I heard sirens. Shit. Not the first time, wo n't be the last.
**Floom**
The first thing I saw were trailers. Like camping trailers. It was dusty as fuck. Probably because of the semi roaring into a nearby yard. Looked like a gas tanker. The smell was putrid. The rest of the landscape was red Toyota and prairie for miles. Farm country. Say it with me...
Motherfucker.
Finally, after walking around the perimeter, I discovered that although a confined and less than fortunate farming colony, it was beside Reagan County school. Which made me beleive that I was somewhere near Reagan County. Think that's in Texas.
Motherfucker.
**Foom**
Did n't really register this one. I was hit by a car as I flew in and woke up in the hospital. In fucking Washington.
Apparently the nurses had figured something was weird with my brain chemistry, so I was placed under constraints in a room that apparently does n't allow for my teleportation to work. This will be my last message.
Motherfucker.
Somewhere from Washington, D.C.
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[ WP ] The Great Divide is upon us . You are the one tasked with drawing the line .
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The chalk is hard and draws boldly across pavement. They gave me ground chaulk in a sifter for areas where the chalk does n't stick. I have to power. I will draw the dividing line. The entire city waits in tents and mega shelters as I **I** prepared to separate the haves from the have nots.
I begin outside the stadium shelter around the park, over fields over the boards spanning rivers and through the forests. Finally I drew close to where I began. Eyes bugged from their sockets in anticipation as the populace wondered who would be given the good lands and who would be banished.
I finished the line and looked up at them. They stared, their jaws dropped and rage settled in.
`` As you can all see, I am the only one on this side of the line. This means all this is mine, and you lot can bugger off!''
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[ WP ] Reach for any book of fiction near you . Turn to a random page and read the first complete sentence . This must either be the first or last sentence in your story .
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Koomi mopped his forehead. The desert heat was getting to him. It was hot in the same sort of way that lying on the asphalt at high noon was hot. Much longer out in the bright sunshine and he would turn into a puddle of sweat, he was certain. The clang of tools rang out, the air quite still and both the sounds and the air seemed to have pooled around them.
“ Koomi! ” Nechtu called from below. Oh what he wouldn ’ t give to be below.
“ There is no one coming! ” Koomi wiped at his forehead again, licking his dry lips and scanning the empty plains of sand. “ I could see them coming for miles! ” In fact, the only thing in Koomi ’ s sight was their vehicle.
“ Koomi! ”
“ What! ” Koomi finally tore his gaze away to look into the hole beside him. A grinning face looked up at him. “ Are you done? ”
“ Get down here. ” Nechtu waved his hand and Koomi gladly traded the glaring sunlight for darkness, scrambling down the ladder. He blinked rapidly to get his eyes to adjust, thankful for the lack of sun on his already darkened skin. “ Come come! ” Nechtu was just a shape in front of him, waving and starting away and Koomi followed quickly, willing his eyes to adjust.
By the time they reached the stonework, Koomi ’ s eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the short tunnel heading downward. Sosche and Azibo were looking over what appeared to be a stone wall, the latter turned to look at them, a large grin across his face.
“ Hot up there? ”
“ Hot enough to boil me alive. ” Koomi pulled his shirt back and forth, letting the cooler air in closer to his skin. He wore a good-natured smile towards Azibo ’ s question however, excitement overrode any annoyance at having been up there so long. “ So this is it? ”
“ The resting place of Ife. Or rumored at the least. ” Sosche was still reading over the markings in the stone as he spoke.
“ Can we open it? ” Nechtu stepped closer, looking over the tiny crack in the stone that indicated a door. “ If we stick a small charge— ”
“ No. We will not be blowing this up. ” Sosche looked away from the glyphs to glower at Nechtu. “ Disturb her incorrectly and she will come after you. ” A shiver ran up Koomi ’ s spine as he stepped forward, looking over the glyphs himself. He ignored Nechtu muttering curses under his breath, all containing some form of Sosche ’ s name.
“ What ’ s it all say Sosche? ” There was a very long silence, the thin, grey-eyed man stepping back to look over what ’ s visible of the wall as a whole.
“ It says that this is Ife ’ s ship. Her final place of life before she went to the Afterlife for a respite. She was entombed by her followers and buried so that none would disturb her. ” There was a long silence after that. “ She still lives within the ship. She will await her next sacrifice to bring life into her bones again. And she will rise to retake her position as Queen of All. ” There was another pause.
“ Well. Let ’ s not wake the dead by blowing things up then. ” Azibo set his gaze on Nechtu, drawing grumbles from him a second time.
“ I got it. I got it. ” Nechtu stepped back as Koomi felt over the edge and began to look closely at where there should be a door handle. He brushed some of the remaining sand away before carefully pushing at it. The stone ground against itself and it slid in, depressing a symbol beside the outline of a door.
“ Step back. ” Koomi backed up as he called to his friends but they were already waiting at the entrance, digging out more of it in an attempt to get more fresh air into the dark area.
The stone door held Koomi ’ s attention though, sliding down and away, revealing a metal door beneath it. The metal door beeped and Koomi stepped forward again. He looked over it once more before depressing a similar panel on the metal door. He fled backwards as the door slid open, stale air washing over the four men. They held their breath, all eyes fixed on the dark doorway.
Nothing exited. The four cleared out more of the entry way, making it easier to exit. Then Koomi stepped back towards the doorway as they wedged both of the doors open with metal tools. They stayed silent for a long time, none willing to be the first to go into the dark of the ship.
“ Well Koomi, she ’ s your great-grandmother. You should go in first. ” Azibo looked at Koomi with a nervous expression. Murmurs of agreement spread between Sosche and Nechtu, both setting their gaze on Koomi as well. Koomi swallowed thickly under their gaze before looking at the doorway again. He gathered his courage.
“ I—I suppose that ’ s a plan. ” Koomi stepped forward into the dark of the ship.
***
`` Koomi mopped his forehead.'' Pyramids by Terry Pratchett.
It was pretty generic but I feel like it set an idea for me at the very least.
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[ WP ] You are a fully conscious , ancient tree that refuses to be cut down ; using any means necessary .
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I am the greatest baobab in the world and I have been growing for millennia, peacefully and in serenity on my island. At first, I heard the wise Lemurian murmurs about it; the massacre of life sought this earth. And then, I heard it from the wind blowing in my branches; nothing will be spared.
I knew at that moment something happened in the world, maybe David could n't fulfill his dream. The humans could have been overwhelmed by a political wave or they could have been drawn here by faith. I knew a great vegetal apocalypse was here.
I knew a few things about humans. They were insipid being and indifferent to the livings. They only knew destruction. My people were only fancy furniture to their eyes. I knew some human care for us but they got punish by other strange men. That goes beyond my beliefs. How could a tree deceit a tree? But I also knew the love they share for the world. Humans were complexes and distorted souls and they were coming for carnage.
This sight of terror strengthened my bark and then I gathered all my sap to bloom the most beautiful flowers ever seen on this planet. Their origins were made of the genetic past that was preserved for all this time.
The flowers got a hold of their kind attention. They were all softened by the unique splendor for a moment and then they fucked it all up.
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[ CW ] Use 500 words to describe something that takes a single second .
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Our eyes met for less than a second. But in that moment I could feel the thought occurring, a simple idea, or even a possibility. If the distance between us no longer existed, would our gazes still be the same? Would we share such hostility.
Is a gaze is still a gaze, whether we've kissed under the Eiffel tower or walked our separate ways.
Does it matter if we stare for a moment? Or if our eyes stay glued to each other for several days.
When our eyes meet and our souls connect, is it love, pain or simply nothing that you will choose to feel. I can only control my own gaze, and I know it stings you when the moment feels so real.
She turned as did I, like chess waiting for the first move.
But no matter who plays first, it's simple to say that we both lose. So we stay stagnant, sitting comfortably in our own grove.
Acting indifferent, something so simple yet so rude.
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[ IP ] Paris
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War by the waterfront
Sleets of rain slash down across the dimly lit city, streetlights flickering between life and death while fires reign at various populated areas. By the river that stretches throughout the city, its barriers to the land destroyed by tank shells and artillery strikes, sits a parliament building, a square surrounded by four large walls that continue to stand all. Within them, a fire rages on against the weather, accompanied by the shouting of fighters and innocents alike. Several more explosions erupt across the city, but from the position of a tower a mile away, a lone figure watches the parliament building with a gazing stare.
The man sits on the edge of the tower's roof, his legs dangling into the abyss as he cradles a rifle in his hands, stroking his grizzled palm along the fabric that coats the barrel of the weapon, ensuring an easier grip and that the interior components stay warm. Then, he shifts his gaze ahead of him. In the cloudy evening sky, a colossal structure shrouded in darkness stands tall, its body bruised and weakened, but its legs continuing to support the weight of the tower that stands on them. The Eiffel Tower remains vigilant, watching over the war-torn city like a caring mother, but still standing helpless, unable to intervene with the brutality that it's facing.
The fighting continues endlessly in the streets below, but in the sky, the dark wind howls, spitting droplets of rain into the man's face. He sees the minute specs of the people running around below, but neglects to take up his weapon. The power of the wind and the height of his vantage tell him that if he fired a bullet, it would n't make it far. No, like the tower ahead of him he sits a helpless observer, immune to the physical violence but vulnerable to the psychological effects of his current power. Here he sits, a trained marksman, decorated with medals of valour and bravery, unable to help the people suffering below. He's an old man at this point, he knows, but that only increases the guilt.
He's seen this city stand for many years. He's seen it in times of hardship, he's seen it in days of light, and throughout all that time he has stood by it, ready to help. But tonight, he sits idle, while his friends, possibly his family suffer at the hands of greed-driven foe. Is it because he's scared? Is that why he fled to the tower under the guise of providing covering fire? Because he feels that inside that he is n't what the medals say, he's just a scared child hiding from hostile wrath? He does n't believe it, not for a second, letting the ignorance soak over him as he continues to stare down into the city, watching the people scurry around.
He reaches behind him and picks up his binoculars, shoving them in front of his vision and spying down into the chaos. He sees a mobile troop transport patrol the streets with a heavy machine gun atop superior armour. Looking inside the parliament building, the raging fires burn his pupils before rain splatters across the lens. In frustration, he pulls them away and wipes them, bringing them back and looking at the ruined buildings around the warzone. Looking closely, he can see the dead bodies, and the furniture that once lay in idyllic townhouses now burned to a crisp and laying on the road.
It reminds him of the summer days, where he would walk by the river and see the line of houses, decorated immaculately with with sun giving them a white exterior glow. He can taste the air of those days, the warmth of it, as sunflowers grew on windowsills and rowboats swayed gently in the river. He remembers the sounds of it all, when people would talk in an up-beat tone of voice and laugh at nothing. He remembers the sight of it all, cars and horse carriages alike wandering through the streets, and in the countryside, picnic blankets being laid down against the wind. He wonders if those times will ever come again, the times of unknowing freedom and bliss.
All of it gives him a soft spot against his current task. Some would call it liberation, he knows its murder, nothing liberating about it. Although he struggles to apprehend the notion, he comes to realise that the men he has been killing all of this time are the common grunt, some may perhaps be here because of conscription. Just because they fight for their cause, does n't make them monsters. He wonders if he is the monster for killing them so effortlessly up to this point. A man in this position should n't be having these thoughts, but when he sits and lets the breeze whirl past his ears, he remembers the time without war, without hatred, where everything was seemingly perfect. He wants to see that world again. But he does n't know anymore how far he will go to reach it.
The marksman stands up, watching tiny figures pour out of the building, fire spewing from several of them. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head holding his rifle between his torso and elbow and bringing up the binoculars again. He sees the enemy troop movement, running up and down the street, ignoring the innocents and continuing their mission. He understands it, he was like them at one point in time.
He brings the binoculars down and turns his head, walking away from the vantage point with his head hanging low, the rain growing fiercer and the wind knocking him off balance. He moves to the door and opens it to a flight of stairs.
On the floor he sees a cartridge of bullets, each of them shining gold and seemingly calling to him. He bends over and reluctantly picks them up, lifting up the bolt of his rifle and pulling it back. He inserts the cartridge into the weapon and shuts the bolt closed again, feeling the cocking of the bullet going into the weapon chamber. He looks back one more time, but turns away finally, closing the door behind him and walking down the stairs.
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[ WP ] Your tour guide is Virgil from Dante 's Inferno , but instead of the nine circles of hell , he tours you through nine really weird subreddits .
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As I approached the next subreddit, I shook my head in confusion. No CSS formatting met my eyes. The background was the default white, the text the default blue. The only thing to distinguish this page from any other on Reddit was that none of the posts... all image posts, it seemed, not out of the ordinary in itself... had visible thumbnails.
`` Exercise great care in this place,'' Virgil warned me, `` For each and every image one might see here is considered Not Safe For Work.''
`` Big deal,'' I said with a shrug. I did n't browse Reddit at work anyway. You ca n't when your job mostly involves frying onion rings. If I took my phone out I'd drop it in the fryer, destroy the phone forever, ruin the batch of oil, probably lose my job. And there was n't much porn out there I'd never encountered before. So I opened the first image, confident it would be nothing new.
For several moments, I stared in stunned silence.
I am not easily scandalized.
I'm not homophobic... dicks are n't my favorite thing, but seeing one on Reddit was hardly a rare experience from the various porn subs I'd been frequenting for years. The fact that this one was a drawing and not real made little difference. Being green, hey, whatever. Being attached to a dragon... is a little weird, but hey, everyone's got their fetish.
It was the other part of the picture that befuddled me. The dragon was not on its own, but nor was it engaged with another dragon... or human, or any other living creature. Or a dildo or anything else, y'know, sensible.
This dragon had a *whole goddamn train car* sticking up its ass.
Eventually, I had tormented myself enough. With a shaking hand, I closed the image once more. `` What... where *am* I?''
`` You have come to the twisted realm known as r/carsfuckingdragons.'' Virgil's voice was tinged with sorrow as he named the subreddit.
`` Why would someone... ever...'' I could n't even finish my question.
I felt his reassuring hand on my shoulder. `` I believe,'' he said, `` The creators felt it to be a natural extension of r/dragonsfuckingcars.''
`` Wait, that's a thing too?'' Either one is just so bizarre. Virgil nodded.
`` That one was largely begun as a joke, though its denizens take it seriously enough now that I wonder if even they remember the intent with which it started. After r/dragonsfuckingdragons came into being, some bright mind determined that fantastical creatures could be envisioned in a sexual light, then so could inanimate objects. The rationale behind choosing cars, though-''
`` *Ohhh. *'' I interrupted him. `` That makes sense now. Dragon porn leads to joke dragon porn leads to corollary joke dragon porn. Yeah, I get it. Not my thing, but...'' I shrugged. `` To each his own, right?''
Virgil merely shook his head disapprovingly, and gestured that it was time for us to move on.
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A masked killer comes to your door , and says , `` 2 weeks . '' What do you do ?
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*THROAT PUNCH! *
`` He must not have a wife and kids.'' He thought to himself, to the sound of the nameless man's guttural choking. `` Because he would know that a man will do anything to protect his family.''
His would-be murderer was on his knees now, his hands around his throat. His face and eyes turning red. A look of surprised horror on his face.
`` I guess you were expecting some mild-mannered family man.'' He said as he looked around for witnesses. It was late in the evening, and in the fading light, it looked like no one had seen what happened.
He had kept his history from his family. No one knew the rage and bloodlust that had blackened his heart for as long as he could remember. Luckily for everyone, it had only ever manifested itself towards those who were deserving of it... and these few seconds at his front door had brought it all back. There had been no hesitation... no regrets... no remorse... `` Who the fuck does he think he is, threatening me and my family like that?'' Was the only half-normal thought that flitted through his mind before rage turned to action.
`` Although, now I ca n't very well ask who sent you. No matter, that would probably just get messy and take too long.''
He glanced back into his house. His wife was taking a bath and his kids were downstairs watching a movie.
`` Listen up. You do n't have a lot of time.'' He said to his now purple-faced attacker. `` Let me tell you what's going to happen... in a few seconds, you're going to slump onto your side, and the world will slowly fade away. Shortly afterward, you will die. I will then wrap you up in garbage bags and duct tape, drive for an hour, and dump your lifeless corpse into a river.''
The choking man slumped over, just as described a moment before his look of fear now turning to reluctant surrender; and the life slowly drained from his eyes.
.......
`` Where'd you go, honey?'' Amanda asked as her husband walked through the front door a few hours later.
`` Oh, just for a drive to clear my head.'' He answered, giving her a kiss hello. `` What are the kids up to?''
`` Oh, I dunno.'' She said. `` They're in their rooms. Probably playing video games. I left you a couple burgers in the oven.''
`` Oh, thanks.'' He said as he grabbed a plate from the cupboard. He was starving.
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[ WP ] At your job , you have one task . Every day you go in , sit at your desk , and wait for a red light to turn on . When it does , you push a button . You repeat this process until the end of your shift . One day , you find out what the button does ...
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On his retirement day, Frank bid goodbye to the red light and the button, briefed his replacement ( `` You mean, that's all I got ta do?'' ) and walked towards the elevator, where the boss was waiting.
He was never really curious on what the button did, that was part of the qualification for the job, and the the goal of the ridiculous amount of tests and psychological exams was needed in order to filter out the perfect human who would just simply `` push the button'' day in and day out for decades.
The boss nodded and they stepped into the elevator. Curiously, it seemed to be the same boss all these years, but Frank never really did care. The elevator went up, and the Frank saw the city lights slowly move downwards, like little shooting stars.
`` I trust that you do n't really care to know what was it all for?'' the boss began.
Frank shrugged, `` that's what you hired me for...''
The boss laughed, and they were quiet for a while. Outside, it seemed that they had gone above most of the city skyline, and they could see a little bit of the countryside beyond, going higher and higher still.
`` The view here is always amazing,'' said the boss. `` Too bad you wo n't appreciate it, as did all your predecessors...'' He gave a weary sigh, `` but I thank you for your years of service. This view... You saved all of it...''
`` Excuse me?'' Frank began, but his voice got stuck in his throat as the moon (?!? ) drifted slowly down as they went even higher ( further ), and the boss's figure, silhouetted against the moonlight, showed a pair of horns on his head.
`` Yes. I Am Who I Am...'' Lucifer, the Morning Star chuckled.
*****
Now they were n't really city lights anymore but actual stars, and then actual galaxies, shooting down past their window, going higher and higher, faster and faster, until everything outside turned bright white and the elevator stopped. The door opened, Lucifer motioned Frank to step forward into what seemed to be a hospital corridor.
`` Yes, it did happen,'' said Lucifer, as they walked. They were greeted with smiles by the nurses along the way, some human, some having halos and some having horns. `` I did rebel against God, and the armies of angels and demons went and fought and a third of the stars and the third of the trees and all that jazz, it was not a lie, it really did happen...''
They stopped at a door, `` but we did lie about who won...''
The door opened, and inside there was a bearded old man, attached to a respirator. A heart monitor showed a weak and feeble pulse, and Frank noticed a small red light blinking on and off on the life support machine, and realized...
`` Yes, Frank, you kept the Old Man going,'' said Lucifer. `` My team won that battle, but we went too far, and a dying God meant a dying Universe...'' He sadly shook his head, `` I just wish I knew back then...''
He pointed to the machine, `` it needs a mortal to keep running, and for the last 6000 years, you and your predecessors have kept God barely alive, but alive enough to keep the Game going.''
Lucifier smiled, `` It takes a special kind of person to hold the very heartbeat of the universe in his hand, and just keep on pressing the button, on and on and on...'' Lucifer looked Frank in the eye and asked, `` how do you feel about this?''
Thoughts swirled in Frank's head, about history, about religion, about Good and Evil, about the Life, the Universe, and Everything, and that button that he kept on pressing over those years, realizing what would have happened if he had not pressed the button on time...
`` I do n't care,'' Frank shrugged, `` like what I said, that's what you hired me for...''
Lucifer laughed, `` excellent work even to the very end!'' He shook Frank's hand, `` In behalf of Mankind, the Universe, and Eternity, I thank you for your service...''
And at the ~~throne~~ bedside of God, before and all the angels, saints, demons and devils, the man who kept the Heart of God beating, gave a reply that echoed through the Universe.
`` Meh...''
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[ WP ] You wake up in the middle of the night , and find the words `` Leev now . '' and `` Your going to die . '' written in blood on the walls . It 'd be terrifying , if you were n't a total grammar nazi .
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It ’ s not every day that you wake up in the middle of the night in a dark room with blood sentences inscribed on the wall. Then again, such pristine opportunities often present themselves when you least expect. My first thought was to mentally check whether or not it was my birthday, and according to my memory that day was still a few months away.
“ Hello? ” I called out. The shackles around my arms and legs clinked. And the only noise in the room besides the sound of chains was water dripping from the concrete ceiling to the floor.
A TV in the corner burst to life with white static, its light illuminated the words on the wall. I blinked away the after flash and then focused on the writing.
*Leev now. *
*Your going to die. *
*stan is out to get you. *
What atrocious grammar. And who the hell is Stan?
The words were written in blood. Each letter seeped a droplet down the grey wall which pooled at the floor edge. A man filled the TV screen to my right, he was dressed in a clown outfit with rosy cheeks, a white face, and blood smeared randomly across his collar and hair. “ Hello, Harrison Cartick, would you like to play a game? ”
“ Are you the one who wrote this? ” I asked.
The clown shrieked with laughter. “ Do you like them? ”
His face seemed recognisable for some reason, he seemed oddly like my wife ’ s ex-boyfriend. But that wasn ’ t important right now. “ You should be ashamed. You ’ ve spelled *leave* wrong, and it ’ s *you are* not *your*, and who the hell is this Stan character? ”
The clown looked up in surprise. “ Wa? ”
“ You heard me, who the heck is this Stan fella? You and him better come down here and give me some more blood so I can fix this up for you. ”
“ Wa? ”
I was at my limit. My head throbbed with heat as I walked toward the wall. “ Are you going to come down here or not? ”
The clown held his hands out in defense. Despite the fact I could n't get to him. He uttered a weak, “ Uhm?''
I sighed. There was only one way to fix this. I pulled my head back as far as I could and slammed my nose on the concrete. My bridge cracked open like a cherry. Blood spilled down my chin. I let it seep out onto my hands and began painting the correct changes. When I was done, I sat down with a throbbing face and admired the view. Everything was perfectly arranged from the *leave*, down to the *you are*. I even capatalised Stan while I was at it.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” the clown stuttered. “ I didn ’ t know you were like this. ”
I licked the last blood from my lips. I had been an English teacher for eleven years before they sent me to rehab for sentence addiction. When I wasn ’ t tearing literature apart, I would get twitches. In fact, I nearly murdered a man for a pen once. But I ’ d been clean for the longest time... until now.
“ I ’ m just a guy that really likes sentences, ” I said.
The clown gave an uneasy laugh. “ Would you like me to set you free? I think Mrs. Cartick will be missing you. ”
I chuckled, and then I laughed, until I was shrieking like a mad man. “ Oh no, buddy, I ’ m not going anywhere. You get down here and give me some more sentences. ”
-- -- -
*Read more at /r/F0xdiary*
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[ EU ] Pick a random SCP and tell us the story on how it was , unfortunately , discovered .
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Aaron sat down on the grass, hoping to get a sketch of... something. He leaned against the Civil War Memorial Statue that had always been there since he was born. Aaron, despite being 10, was very talented in visual arts, and often found time to sketch something. This time, he decided on sketching the cannon in front of him.
He sketched, trying to draw it from the human statue's perspective, high up on the pedestal.
The pencil scratched around, making wavy motions, leaving behind trails of graphite. For fun, Aaron decided on adding more objects, like the trees and even himself.
When he was satisfied, he looked at it, sighing in relief. He took one last look at the statue behind. Huh. Did that statue just *move* its eyes?
He turned around at sat, staring at the statue. `` Here's a drawing I made for you.''
Of course, the statue stayed still. `` It must get boring, standing around every day, with the birds pooping on you.'' Aaron turned back around, leaving the drawing for the statue to observe.
Then he heard the bang, and a bird dropped from the sky. Again, Aaron turned around, and saw the statue lower his rifle, but not before nodding at the small boy.
Aaron stared at the statue, before screaming and running away.
The next day, all of Woodstock was given Class-A amnestics, but not before the statue was given SCP status.
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[ WP ] you go to the shop for cigarettes , and return to find your wife has remarried , and your son and daughter have aged ten years .
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Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think!
In this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had.
I came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed *and* rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine.
She was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I did n't even give them a chance to explain.
I ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers *who slightly resembled my children* but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in.
The hammer cocked back once. Twice. I do n't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of **my** ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant is n't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her...
As I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with **just** tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance.
The last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.
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[ WP ] The characters in a lousy story get fed up with the narrator 's poor skills in storytelling .
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So there these two guys, yeah? They were like, brothers... I think. Yup, they were brothers. A conversation between them would be something along the lines of
`` Hi Matt!'' The Vinny brother says hi to the Matt bro, duh.
`` Hello, Vinny, nice to see you so fresh this morning!'' Vinny in his southern accent tells Matt that it's nice to see him this morning.
`` Where the heck did you get that awful southern accent?'' Matt raises a good question. Wait, gim me a sec.
`` Where the heck did you get that ~~awful~~ sweet, sweet southern accent? It made me oh so hard.'' Yeah, that's better. Matt wants it, yeah?
`` Matty boy, what's going on here? Why are you taking your clothes off? It's not that hot here...'' Vinny was confused - sexually confused.
`` Oh lord Vinny, I'm not feeling so well. It's kinda hard to describe what's actually going on.'' Matt very well knew what was going on, yeah? He just pretended not to cause he just wants it.
Suddenly, they suddenly appeared to one of those gay saunas where they ram each other. Why? Fuck you, that's why.
`` Vinny, why is your arm inside my anus? I ~~do n't like it there~~ have hemorrhoids so you're kinda hurting me there.'' lol, he definitely wants it
`` Matt, I'm gon na be real honest with you, I think we're ~~having a nightmare~~ sleeping together. It's as if someone is pulling a prank on us.'' Vinny is such a drag, ugh.
`` And you know Matty, I do n't actually want to fist you, even though I ca n't stop it.'' Vinny tells Matt that he actually wants to fist his little bro.
`` I know, Vinny.'' Matt definitely wants it, rofl
`` Wait, what's that?'' Matt quizzically asks as he notices a bald man masturbating before his computer. It appears he's writing something on it.
`` What is he doing in the bathroom?'' Asks Vinny. I actually do n't know what these two are seeing. I'm kinda curious now, and so are they.
`` I think you know, Vinny.''?
`` Oh shit, are those our words on his computer?'' Wait. What. The. Fuck.
Okay, hello reddit (? ). That bastard gave us a fair bit of trouble but the two of us are typing here not because we're angry, we're not. We're typing because we're here to tell you homosexuality is totally OK. Incestual homosexual relationships are, on the other hand, no OK. They're pretty gross, actually. Incestual homosexual relationships where one party has hemorrhoids? The absolute worst. Do not try this at home.
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[ WP ] Your food supply is dwindling . You 're tired , lonely , and beginning to regret having accepted the mission . Finally , on day 5 , you reach the ruins of Detroit .
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People always said before that Detroit was a dump. Crime was high, their politicians were corrupt, and that it was just an overall bad place to be. You add all that up with everything from the Struggles, and you have what could be the perfect example of anarchy.
Why was I here? I do n't even know. All I know is that my CO told me to come here and link up with a group of survivors who know the locations of some rebel pockets by Indianapolis. I've been walking for three days and I have n't seen a soul. Just some bones, empty cans and packages, and some bullet shells. I have n't even eaten in a day, trying to ration my food and all. I'm so hungry and tired, and the sign says 70 miles to Detroit.
I feel like quitting my mission. I could maybe find a way to go to the UP, maybe start a farm by Lake Superior. It's now been two days since I've eaten, and I have n't been looking at the signs on the road. I've just been heading east. It's around noon when I notice something odd on the side of the road: a giant tire. It must've been some sort of weird billboard ad. I keep on walking down the road, hoping to see something. I ca n't. This rain is a total bitch.
It's night time when I notice a sign while climbing some rubble. It's the seal of Detroit. It says,'' Speramus Meliora. Resurget Cineribus''. I have no idea what that means, so I move along. On the other side of the hill, I see bright lights coming on. They were n't there the last few nights, and they certainly were n't there today. I get up and look. It looks nothing like before the Struggle, or even what I was told it looked like after. The GM building it glowing bright. The rubble surrounds houses, like real houses. Then I notice the bridges. Not just the Ambassador bridge, but three other bridges. I start to cry. I finally understand what the motto meant on their seal,'' We hope for better things. It will rise from the ashes''.
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[ WP ] An alien species has actually attempted to contact humanity many times , but we 've just failed to realize it .
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The water splashed against my feet as the tide rocked in and out like a cradle. It was one of those few moments where my mind was at complete ease. The ocean was so clear I could see the sandy bottom yards past the old, wooden dock. In and out the waves splashed against my toes. Wind blew gently past me as I looked out on the sunset, a deep red and orange glow far off in the distance.
The waves grew somewhat restless after a while, rocking sporadically against my feet as I listened to the breeze. Waves came in and out, sometimes in close succession, sometimes with pauses, and sometimes, the stillness of the water seemed eerily calm.
Seagulls flew overhead, cawing as they found food strewn on the beach. I closed my eyes and rested myself on the dock, looking up at the sky. I closed my eyes and let the waves rock me to sleep in a lullaby of comings and goings.
I tried to find a pulse to fall asleep to, and felt a steady rhythm in the waves. Most of the time, they would swell in quickly, but every now and again, they would increase the rising tide with a long brush against my feet. I started humming to myself, trying to enjoy the peacefulness before I passed off.
mm mm mm, mm mmmmm mmmmmm, mm mm, mmmmmm mmmmmm, mmmmmm mm mm, mm, mm, mm mmmmmm mmmmmm mm, mm mm mm, mm mmmmm mmmmmm, mm mm, mmmmmm mmmmmm, mmmmmm mm mm, mm, mm, mm mmmmmm mmmmmm mm
I continued humming to myself until sleep came. I dreamed of the ocean.
[ edit - fixed a comma ]
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[ WP ] Write a suicide note from an established fictional character
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I feel like I should leave this here.
I've pretty much had it with my life. I mean look at me: I work at a low-end restaurant that pays less than minimum wage working with an annoying person and a cheap, frugal boss. I live in the cheapest neighbourhood possible with shitty neighbours because it's the only place I can afford. I ca n't even enjoy my hobbies and values anymore because they've lost their meaning to me, and I have no supporters. I have n't found love, nor have I done anything to look for it in the first place. I have no more purpose in life because of what it's already become. A heaping pile of nothing. It's something that I need to escape, and suicide is the only answer.
I thought moving here would be a start to my new life. New house, new me. But after countless years with annoying neighbours that were n't my type, I just could n't handle the loneliness. I tried to fit in with them, but...
But it's just me. I'm too depressed to do anything. I was constantly rejected by other establishments for work because of my attitude, and I was forced to work with my neighbour at this shitty restaurant. Why did I work there? Because it was my only choice. It was a pity job: we were both probably hired for our mental illnesses just so we could feed and clothe ourselves. I thought getting home was the best part of my day, until I realized I had nothing to do but sit there and cry. Even my favourite hobbies have left my life cycle.
I remember when my clarinet was my only escape to temporary happiness. It was the drug to my brain. I would play for hours with it. Composing my own music and playing it was just another one of my values. However, after constantly being ridiculed and harassed, and even out-shined by my nemesis, I just have to throw in the towel and give it up. After my fans left, I knew I was slowly losing everyone in my life. Not even my mother loved me anymore, ever since I stopped calling her. And ever since Dad passed away, he's probably been looking down on me as well, for not being as successful as he was. Depression has been eating up my life from the inside-out.
I felt no love, and therefore I loved no-one. I can no longer make any connections with anybody because I do n't care anymore, and I do n't connect with people. I have no reason to live anymore, and now I have a reason to die: it's because the world without me would be the same. I have made no difference in this world, no matter how hard I tried. Every situation I've been in somehow led me back to square one.
I even tried moving again, to a place where people who were `` just like me.'' I do n't know why I ever thought of that. They hated me even more there, and the cycle of life there was so monotonous that I'm surprised people there were able to handle this. I moved back. I do n't know why I returned to the same place, but I did. So many ways I've tried leaving, but I end up coming back to where I started.
But death is a journey where I ca n't come back. It's my only way out. And I'm taking that trip.
To anyone out there who finds this, I'm sorry. I just ca n't carry on.
# I'm going ( and probably already gone ) to grab the end of a hook.....and I'm not floating back down
Squidward Tentacles.
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[ WP ] You are travelling alone by train through Europe . At the same time a highly contagious and deadly disease breaks out . You go to a crowded coffee shop to listen to the latest news . As the disease news story unfolds , you gather up the facts and realize ( or so you think ) that you are patient zero .
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`` Vanilla latte, please. On ice. Cheers.''
`` *Mi dispiace, mi dispiace*. It is very loud. *Daccapo*, sir? Repeat yourself?''
The barista smelled half of sweat, and half of the bitter richness of a good roast. I could almost taste her as I leaned in, the hotness of her breath tracing my cheek as my mouth inched towards her ear.
`` Vanilla latte. On ice. *Grazie*.''
She smiled, nodded, flashing her teeth. I could n't help but smile back; her eyes were warm, her cheeks rosy and inviting. So different to the women in finance; no stark austerity, no coldness, no market models.
It was crowded here, muggy even. Tourists and locals alike pressed up against me in a cloying throng, speaking a multitude of languages. I let the noise wash over me; I'd never been claustrophobic, and besides -- there were enough Italians that the coffee had to be decent.
*'' In breaking news, the World Health Organisation as officially announced a global alert for H5N5. `` *
A familiar accent -- the BBC. I craned my neck to take a peek of home; the television was small, old, and tinny, propped between dusty syrup bottles and a radio.
*'' This deadly variant of the influenza virus, which harkens back fears of H5N1 and SARS several years ago, has been called the'next great pandemic.''' *
With a clink, a glass was set in front of me, the milky brown of coffee tugging my attention away from the reporter on-screen. I picked it up, and turned to make for my table when the posh overtones caught my ears again.
*''... outbreak supposedly began in London earlier this week. Epidemiologists from Cambridge and Dundee, allied behind the NHS, urge caution and quarantine in controlling the pathogen, which supposedly has a'case reproduction number' similar to that of the highly infectious measles virus. It's suggested the origin is in the upper financial district, which, in an unprecedented unanimous vote by Parliament this morning, has been shut. `` *
Shut?
I grabbed for the nearest newspaper, cursing my abysmal grasp of Italian as I scanned the headlines. 50 already in quarantine, over 100 assumed infected. The image below showed an infection map -- London was red, Britain varyingly punitive shades of puss. Isolated dots of yellow and orange were beginning to creep through Europe.
The television cut to a pale, tufty-haired epidemiologist who looked like he'd been dragged out of bed specifically to serve as the bearer of bad news.
*'' Yes... ah... problem with influenza virus is... ah... humans with a certain IVN4 variant can be asymptomatic carriers, so, ah -- yes. That's why containment is such a problem, unfortunately. Yes. Such a problem. `` *
*'' Symptoms to look out for, Professor Harding? `` *
*'' Well, if you're symptomatic, nausea, vomiting, pyrexia, epistaxis...'' *
The epidemiologist cleared his throat, unable to mask his mild annoyance at the interviewer's confusion.
*'' Ah... I mean, fever, nosebleeds... haemorrhage...'' *
The babble of conversation around me had stopped; everyone was intently focused on the broadcast now, cupping their hands over their mouths as though that and a little luck would save them from a fiery, haemorrhagic end. Some prayed. Some cried. Most just stood agape, as though they could n't really believe a pathogen had finally circumvented millions of years of human evolution -- as though they had n't realised it was just a race against time all along.
*'' Global security measures have been implemented, as it's been reported as per WHO guidelines that France, Spain, and the Netherlands have shut down all air travel two and from the country in an attempt to contain H5N5 spread. Elsewhere, Madagascar has closed its seaports -- the first concrete evidence of this threat's global nature, as government agencies pressure the UN to act. `` *
I turned to set the newspaper back down on the polished countertop, moving my lips to the cool rim of the coffee glass as I did so. It was n't until I happened to glance up that it tumbled out of my shaking fingers, hanging momentarily suspended in a moment of inertia before dancing towards the floor and spraying outwards as it hit in an impressive display of the conservation of momentum. The crash of glass on lacquered wood seemed to stop everything, frozen.
Everything except the trail of blood snaking slowly out of the barista's nose.
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[ WP ] But wait , there 's more !
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[ WP ] `` This is how you kill a god . ''
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A man stood on a platform with a sea of people gathered around him holding on to his every word.
`` Ladies and Gentlemen!'' The man cried out to the crowd. `` This! This is how you kill a God!''
He held above his head a copy of the Bible as the crowd through their torches upon a bonfire. The Bible was first in, followed by copies of the Torah, the Quran, and the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. The crowd did not stop at religious text, soon Orwell too joined the burning gods. Huxley was considered too sexual, and Bukowski was an alcoholic. Bradbury was against everything the crowd stood for and Dickens was too superstitious. Nothing was spared from the flames that by the end of the night reached so high it seemed to touch the very heavens it was trying to burn. By morning, all around the world, people rejoiced at the destruction they had caused. Poe became ashes shoved up a chimney, Carroll fell down the rabbit hole never to return, and Lovecraft became nothing but a myth. The small minority was forced to hide away for fear of joining their forsaken Gods in the flames.
`` This is how you destroy culture `` they whispered retreating away. `` This is truly how you kill a God.''
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[ WP ] Killing another human has a hidden effect nobody realized before - the person most responsible ceases to age for a duration of one hour for every year of their victims life . It was n't until the advent of weapons of mass destruction that we realized the truth of this .
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A plume of smoke wafted up to join the haze that clung to the chamber's ceiling. The man who held the cigarette smiled at his guest's discomfort before placing the burning roll of paper into an ash tray, but not extinguishing it.
`` Perhaps I should be worried about lung cancer, yes?'' he inquired with an accent that had n't been heard in decades outside of archival newsreel footage.
`` I suppose that would be... silly,'' his guest conceded, though the younger man's eyes had followed the cigarette as it had been lowered and his expression of distaste had not diminished.
`` Do you know why you are here, Mr. Gonzalez?''
`` Of course,'' the man named Stephen Gonzalez responded, hoisting the briefcase he had arrived with. `` For the annual review of your... department.''
`` A strange thing to call a single man,'' the speaker replied. `` The Department of External Continuity.''
`` Well, the government prefers that *very* few people be aware of the contents of report 060849-7c. At last count -- aside from you and me -- only seven people are aware of the report or its ramifications.''
`` Naturally.'' The speaker reached for the cigarette again, but stopped himself as he glanced back at Gonzalez, who had already set his suitcase on the table and undid the clasps.
`` We have noted several worrying trends in DEC activity over the last eight months,'' Gonzalez said as he withdrew a slim manila envelope and withdrew a small sheaf of printed pages. Tabulated columns were printed in practically microscopic font, with hand-written markings over the pages. At the bottom of the last page, several entries were circled in red. `` We are seeing increased activity in China, of all places. We expected the Middle East to remain your primary sphere of action.''
`` Pollution,'' the other man replied easily. `` Turns out the concentration of wealth also results in the concentration of culpability for crimes perpetrated in pursuit of that wealth. We do n't know who decides where fault lies -- it certainly has nothing to do with the local laws -- but we must guarantee that nature takes the course we all *expect* it to.''
`` I see... I suppose I can see that. Very well, we will take steps to corroborate your claims, but other than that, we see no irregularities with the DEC's operations. This should not take too much longer, Colonel Tibbets.''
`` Please, call me Paul,'' He said in his sixty-year old accent as he reached his thirty-year old hand back to the cigarette.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Road Rash Edition
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** [ WP ] Your roommate is literally the Devil. Surprisingly, he is the best roommate you ever had. **
-- -
The last thing I remembered seeing were headlights and everything went black. When I woke up, everything was hot. It was n't too bad, more like a dry heat. As my vision returned, all I could see were flames burning in every direction. It felt like a nightmare, but after you wake up and realize you were dreaming.
`` Hey, bud,'' a voice called from one of the flames. A tall figure emerged, sporting jeans, a white t-shirt, and red skin. `` Welcome to Hell,'' he said cheerfully.
`` H-hell?'' I asked with a stutter.
`` Yeah, bud,'' the red guy said, patting me on the shoulder. `` Sorry to have to tell you, but you *died*.''
`` I'm dead?'' I asked.
`` Yep,'' he answered, looking at his watch.
`` And I'm in Hell... Are you the Devil?''
`` Yeah, pretty neat, huh?'' the Devil answered with a smile. `` Listen,'' he continued, leading me toward one of the larger flames. `` Hell has gotten a bit crowded and we're making a little more room- you'd think there'd be more contractors down here- but for now we're having everyone share a space.''
`` I have to have a roommate in Hell?'' I asked.
`` Yeah, but guess what?'' the Devil shouted as we reached the flame. `` You're going to be *my* roommate. How *cool* is that?''
`` Pretty cool, I guess.'' I pulled back as the Devil started leading us into the flame.
`` It's ok,'' he said pulling me into it.
We were suddenly inside a large room, filled with furniture and several big screen TVs mounted in mid air.
`` You want some pizza, dude?'' the Devil asked as he dropped down to one of the couches and clapped his hands. Two large pizzas appeared on the coffee table in front of him as the TV turned on and started playing *Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure*.
I dropped down on the couch next to him, grabbed a slice, and chowed down.
`` Hey!'' the Devil yelled. `` Use a plate, you animal.''
-- -
I think I have some leftover pizza in /r/MajorParadox if you wan na stop by 😉
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[ wp ] BY some fluke of chance Humans are the first intelligent specices to arise in the universe .
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Captain Daniels, scout ship Xerces- Entry 213,
We were so hopeful. All those years spent dreaming of who was out there, it was only now that we accepted the truth. We weren ’ t looking for others like ourselves; we were looking for our betters, those more evolved. We hoped to come to them as children, to be embraced, to be guided. We were looking for those that could raise us up, correct our faults and make us whole. In truth, we were searching for God.
Looking out now at the bleak expanse of sector 497-XC, our last hope, our last dead end, what else could I do but weep. The thousands of years we spent among the stars, long after our own home had wasted away, long after our failed first attempts at settlement, we have reached an end. I suppose this record shall hold a special place in our history, and I shall do my best to do it justice.
Our scout ship was one of many of the great fleet, all staffed with the subset of humans known as the immortals. We few, created before the sanctions, are characterized by our elongated features, emotional depth, telepathic link to all our kind, resistance to the aging process, and general rejection by the rest of the human race. They said they were honoring us, but it was well know we were being exiled to the ends of time.
They didn ’ t factor in that, given enough time, and enough development on our own ship engines and reactors, that we would complete our mission. And now we have, and it has been met with failure. I am now in the position of returning to a people I have not seen in over four thousand years to deliver the worst new I can imagine. How do you tell an entire race that you are alone in the universe?
Captain Daniels, scout ship Xerces- Entry 214,
We have arrived on the fringes of the human race ’ s settlements. We stopped at one briefly. It is hard not to cast them harshly against the memory of their former selves. Time has not been kind it seems. Their bodies have softened, become almost reptilian. They did not know us. We continue on.
Captain Daniels, scout ship Xerces- Entry 215,
The last three settlements, each stranger that the last, offer little evidence of what has transpired. If we did not know them before, it is unlikely that we would recognize our brothers and sisters. They look upon us with awe; all of their technology has been lost. They are as children now.
Admiral Jonas, Premier scout ship Tos- Entry 1145,
After careful review of all our interactions with what is left of the human race, we have come to two conclusions: One, we should have never left. We could have stopped this, stemmed the tide of entropy. Two, we can not let it happen again.
We will recede into the darkness and find our place in the stars. When they are ready, they will come looking, and they will find us waiting. We will be what they seek. We are the shepherds, and the hope of our own race. This will be our last entry, and I do not know why I write. Perhaps I fear that we will not survive the long wait. This log, along with Captain Daniels ’, are now mandatory on all scout ships.
We will keep at least these records so should we find death hidden in the cosmos, and our family finds us, they will know, and we can be at peace. We are all now charged, as we agreed, to disperse into far into the stars, each ship in its own direction. We will keep each other company as we always have, but you are free to settle should you find a suitable place.
This is Admiral John R. Jonas of the Human Race, and the Immortals, and it is my dearest wish that these words are never seen again.
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[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse starts in Las Vegas , but because what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas , the apocalypse never spreads .
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I touched the wound on my shoulder. It had stopped bleeding.
*'' Bleaaaaaurghh'' *
*'' More chips for table three'' *
I looked at the opponent at my left. His dead eyes looking at me as if they went right through me. As if every part of my soul was revealed.
*'' Bleuuuuuurgh!! `` *
`` I was n't trying to look at your cards I swear''. I wish I could have seen something though. I could not read this man's face at all. It was devoid from any emotion.
I looked at the cards in my hand. Ace of spades and a Six of spades. Not the best hand I could have but decent enough to call.
*'' Blegh'' * He said as he shoved three chips to the middle of the table.
`` Call'' said the opponent opposite me and the third opponent looked at his cards for a few more seconds before folding with a deep sigh.
An six of hearts, seven of hearts and two kings laid on the table. One of spades and one of clubs.
`` A pair of six'' i mumbled as I called the raise.
The dealer turned over the river. An Ace. Oh how the tables had turned. I started sweating and tried to nonchanantly look at the people at my table. The opponent on my left was still giving me his death stare while the guy opposite of me had a smile on his face. The opponent right of me was eating something pink.
I put in a small raise and the Death-stare called immediately. The guy at the opposite of the table started playing with his chips, still smiling. After a few seconds which felt like years, he shoved his whole stack towards the middle of the table.
*'' All in'' *
I took one more look at my cards. Two pairs... But what if he had a three of a kind?
I looked at my chips before deciding I still wanted to have more fun tonight and folded. The opponent left of me let out a loud moan.
*'' Blerghhh'' *
Then he threw his cards to the middle of the table. An Ace and an seven. He had folded with a better hand than mine.
The guy opposite of me threw down his cards and laughed as he shoveled his prize toward himself.
*'' BLREUAAAARGH'' *
Death stare had jumped on top of the guy opposite my and was biting his face.
*'' Security! I warned you last time you would get kicked out if you did thay again! `` *
I touched the wound on my shoulder. Soon I would be one of them.
Ah well, I could not get much worse at poker anyway.
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[ WP ] You are the party 's ranger with a frustratingly unusual animal companion .
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I clunked my way through the forest, every step getting tangled up in the thorns and vines underfoot. With a grunt, I tugged my show out of their sharp grip.
I cupped a hand over my mouth and called out to Eldek. ``'Ow long'till we get there, d'ya know?''
He threw a mumbled reply over his shoulder, and I sighed. Should n't have expected a coherent reply now, of all times. He only ever seemed to speak when sitting still, wrapped up in his cloak. Even then, it was n't much, a simple story or a comment on the soup.
I watched his back for a moment, trying to decide if he was actually clearing a pathway for me, or just enjoying the sounds of me struggling. A bump appeared on his shoulder, and a tiny head peeked out from under his cloak. Two bright, intelligent eyes peered at me, the eyes of a small green wyrmling, and I shuddered. That little beastie always seemed to be watching me.
A moment later, we burst through the underbrush, tumbling out into a clearing. Or, well, I tumbled. Everyone else stepped lightly over my prone form, Syra chuckling lightly. I sighed, once again, and hefted myself onto my feet to follow, battleaxe clanking on my back.
Eldek gestured around at the flat clearing, an obvious que that this was where we were going to set up. So we each took our tents and laid them out, while the ranger-dragon team set up a campfire. The countless nights of practice meant we were ready for the night within minutes, settled down around a pot of slowly-warming soup. U'ar Luvry, the tall half orc barbarian, was our cook. You'd be surprised at the concoctions she can cook up, especially those small pastries she called'cookies.' And after the long trek, I was more than eager to get a bowl of her warm soup.
As she started scooping bowls and passing them around, Nar stretched, shoving me over just a little bit. The flames in his hair crackled in tune with the fire, and his robes were wrinkled from the journey, but he had a smile on his face. `` We did well today, crew. Those goblin patrols did n't stand a chance.''
Syra snorted. `` You used up the last of your higher spells with a Fireball, though. Wo n't you ever get over that obsession?''
He simply grinned at her. `` I do n't think so. Fireball is the best spell in existence!''
`` Also very destructive.'' U'ar handed him a bowl. `` You almost broke the treasure box.''
`` Oh, well, we ca n't predict everything now, can we?'' He accepted the bowl with a nod and a smile, quickly digging in.
`` Ah do n't think you try n' perdict *anything, * Nar.'' I commented, waiting for my bowl. `` Else you'd use something other than an explosive ball'o fire every once in a while.''
`` Still, we got some nice loot.'' Syra held up her new dagger. `` Extra sharp means extra dead.''
I nodded, mouth full. I'd gotten a nice, fancy steel helmet. I'd be testing it out in the morning to make sure it was n't cursed, and see if it was actually useful. Eldek had gotten a little amulet, which Nar had said was n't magical. Still, it looked good, and his little wyrmling companion seemed to enjoy the shiny trinket. It batted it around in the firelight, emerald scales glinting.
Eldek was done with his soup already, a combination of getting his bowl first and his insane eating speed. I swear he ate like a wild animal, wolfing down his meals without even tasting them. But he put the bowl to the side and nodded at U'ar. `` Thank you for the meal, Luvry. Tasty as always.'' His face was hidden slightly in his cowl, but the half-orc still beamed a the compliment, especially when everyone else mumbled their assent.
The moon started to rise, peeking over the tops of the trees, and stars popped up out of nowhere in the sky above. One by one, we wandered off to bed, starting with Nar and his customary theatrical exit. U'ar packed up her pot and bowls, while Syra slithered into her own tent for the night. Eventually, it was just me and Eldek, sitting under the open sky.
The stars always made me feel contemplative, and Eldek had n't run away yet, so I decided to dump a question on him. `` So what do you think when you see the stars, all the way up there with no way to reach them?''
He tilted his head up, cowl slipping backwards just a bit. I realized that I did n't see his face all too often, as it was usually hidden in shadow or turned away. His hood really was quite concealing. But he stared at the stars, thinking, and I looked up too. Each pinpoint of light was connected with the rest, a swirl of places I could see but never be.
`` I think...'' He hesitated, and I blinked. He was always precise in what he said. `` I think that we *can* reach the stars, someday. Or at least get close.'' His voice sounded... different. `` They are n't as far away as we think. Maybe a little magic, maybe a little innovation. Read some books, talk with others. We can make it.''
With that, he stood up, and went to bed.
I waited for a moment longer, thinking. Perhaps it had simply been a trick of the dim light, but... I did n't think that Eldek's mouth had moved as he spoke.
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[ WP ] [ NSFW ] Earth becomes the mecca of sex tourism in the galaxy after aliens find there 's little we wo n't screw .
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“ Common guys, are we there yet? ” I moaned into the void. “ This thing is starting to resonate something fierce. ”
They might have answered, who knew. The sensory deprivator did its job and I continued to... euhm. Well, time continued to pass and I continued laying/standing/moving along, whichever the case may be.
It ’ s hard to tell time with absolutely no input, but the guys wanted this to be a surprise.
I wanted it to be a surprise. I like surprises, and birthday surprises are the best.
Last year they took me on a tour past some of the great nebulae and the pillars of creation.
The year before they took me on a submariner trip under the surface of the great icemoon Rashnak.
The year before that they took me for a trip to float through the gossamer trees.
And the year before that they took me bowling. Well, can ’ t have something spectacular every year, can you.
So I was excited for this year. We don ’ t get a lot of time together, but they ’ re the only social interface I have.
There was a loud pop and bright light in my eyes so that I had to duck away and shield my eyes, only to have a cacophony try and shatter my eardrums which led me to try and shield those as well. Unfortunately I only have the 5 appendages.
“ I hate that part ”
In front of me were the guys. Larry, throwing the little device, that had until a second ago been attached to me lobe, in the air and deftly catching it. Ralph, beaming his pleasure at my discomfort and giving me the old 3 tentacles up. And Rick, nervously looking over his shoulder to the viewscreen, like someone might try and boost his ride.
“ Well, buddy, let ’ s go. ” Larry turned away, pocketed the little pillbox and opened the door. Ralph reached down and helped me up, leading me out the door.
Outside was a rich gray tapestry of colours. Rectangular boxes everywhere in a distinct maze-like setup.
“ Are we going paintballing? ”
Larry laughed, Rick looked nervous. “ Nah buddy, come along this way. ”
“ You ’ re 400 cycles old now and still a virgin. ” I winced, Larry will make fun of it occasionally, but he had managed to lay off on my birthdays.
“ To be honest, it ’ s rather embarrassing. ” Larry rounded on me and patted me on the back of the carapace.
“ Yeah... “ I mumbled “ I know ”
“ So we took you here ”
Wait, I looked around.
“ These things will mate with anything. Even a sorry 9 tentacled purple mess like you ” Ralph padded me on the back where Larry had.
“ Is this... is this Earth? ”
Larry kept looking me right in the face, the smile on his the biggest I ’ d ever seen. “ Especially a sorry 9 tentacled purple mess like you ”
“ Aw, thanks guys ”
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[ WP ] It is n't an invasion , or even a formal first contact . No , it 's just some dude making a pit stop .
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`` Damn it Debra, how was I supposed to know we'd be low on gas 30 light years ago?''
`` Well Jim, you could have stopped earlier, but you had to be stubborn as usual and wait.''
Jim let out a noise of disapproval in his wife's direction. He then directed his attention to his two children.
`` Hang in tight, do n't listen to your mother, I have everything under control.'' He said as the low fuel warning pinged once again on his dashboard along with the array of other warnings that had been pestering the family.
Jason had given up on taking bets with his sister on which system they'd have to call quadruple A to come rescue them.
`` You're telling me the navigation does n't have a single stop from Saturn to Disney Star, the hottest and happiest place in the galaxy, where I can get even just a minuscule ton of fuel?'' Jim inquired calmly, attempting not to lose his cool.
`` I heard there was a place a few light years ago called Mars, it's probably a ghost town now.'' Replied his Daughter Kaylie.
Just then they saw it, the big, blue planet they needed just in time.
`` Look it even has a Disney world and a Disney land! It's like a mini Disney Star. We can stop here and get everything we need before we check into our hotel on the Star.'' Debra said in her motherly voice with newfound relief.
Jim decided the land the ship as soon as possible before it ran out of fuel.
`` That's a old looking house.'' Jim's daughter commented.
Within a few minutes of research Debra found out that the inhabitants of the planet called this building the, `` White House''.
Horrified with what they saw when they emerged they were greeted with a strange man whom simply said, `` Hello, I am Donald John Trump, the United States of America's fourty fifth president.''
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[ WP ] Every year , on March 19th , the dead are allowed to return to Earth for the day .
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My mother had been dead for ten years. She had missed watching me grow into a woman - an image of her in her youth. Dad was there as much as he could have been, but I took on most of the responsibilities around the house. I was just old enough to baby sit my younger sister when mom passed and dad was convinced that mom was acting as our guardian angel - showing me the way and keeping our ship afloat. She had been dead for ten years when our hopes were confirmed.
March 19, half a decade ago - millions of the recently dead were seen across the globe. The reports would have been written off as a mental episode if it were n't for the sheer numbers of the dead who had returned. Their physical forms - healthy and jovial - blessed us. After the initial shock, we spent hours catching up. Mom kept the house from burning down by putting the idea in my head to go check the oven one more time after dad fell asleep after a sixteen hour shift while warming up a few frozen pizzas. She yanked on Lisa's gut to pull her car over during her driving test and avoid the tornado.
Every year, we all got a special day with mom. Being reunited with their deceased allowed the world to unite under an unspoken day of peace, once a year.
Eventually, world leaders, esteemed scientists, and famous artists began meeting at mega-summits once a year. The world was refreshed with the new perspectives of the dead.
March 19th was a day of bliss every year. Until today. Today is the 20th of March and yesterday was cold and lonely without the warmth of our lost loves. Yesterday, without warning, they did n't come.
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[ WP ] The world is stunned to see a human looking shape wander around on the Mars rover live feed . NASA is scrambling to come up with an explanation , but it can not be the truth : Miguel the janitor somehow managed to wander onto the set .
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*Pop*
The champagne cork flies through the air, seemingly slow in time. I watch it careen across the room, hitting a wall, a spray of carbonated liquid accompanying it. No one cares about the mess. In fact, that's one of dozens of bottles, opened simultaneously, a cacophony of shouts, screams, pops, and happiness. There has n't been this much energy in the room since the man on the moon.
Alone, I sit back, feeling the waves of emotion wash over me through the dimly lit screen. I warily kept an eye on the screen to the right. It showed red rocks, a slowly panning picture of a Martian landscape. So it had for about an hour.
The number of live viewers ticked up and down, up and down, millions of people, dozens of governments, watching, waiting, wondering. I sat back, but could n't help but sigh. What a day. What a job.
Something caught my eye. A flicker? No, nothing. How could anything-
There. There it was again. Was that an arm?
There it was again, a man. Definitely a man. I did n't have any protocols to deal with this. How did a man get on the set?
I sprinted out of my chair, the live view of people ticking up and up. I could n't even turn it off from here.
15 years of sedentary lifestyle had proven mpg the smartest move. I was gasping for air despite the set being only 300 meters down the hallway. I burst into the room, yelling at Miguel the janitor to stop sweeping the set!
******
`` My fellow Americans, today with a heavy heart do I admit our esteemed NASA, the once epitome of space travel, has betrayed the trust of the American people...''
The president droned on. It did n't matter. The US space program was a laughing stock.
I watched from the couch, beer in hand, reclined in my easy chair. At lest I got work off early.
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Randomized Superpower challenge .
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It was a dark night. Cedric was waiting outside the store for Veronica to return. The door behind him opened.
`` There you are!'' Veronica exclaimed. `` I was looking all over for you. You should have told me you stepped out.''
`` Sorry dear. But it was getting late, and I was feeling anxious. Come on, we have to get home.'' He said, as he began to walk down the sidewalk. It was about one in the morning, and in such a large city, being out late was not the best idea. Veronica looked around frantically. `` Do n't you think we should call a friend or something? This street does n't seem very safe, and there's too many people around.''
`` Relax. You're always safe with me. Plus, I doubt anyone would try something her --'' He stopped mid sentence as the familiar sound of a clicking gun resonated behind his head.
`` Wallet, purse, phones now.'' A gruff voice said from the shadows. Two large men wielding firearms stood behind them.
`` Hey, we do n't want any trouble man. Just take the stuff and leave us alone.'' Cedric said as he passed the men his belongings. Veronica, too complied. The men turned and ran down the street. Cedric pulled a small rod from his front pocket.
`` Here, really?'' Veronica whispered. `` I told you, there's too many people around. Someone might see.''
`` Just watch and stop talking.'' Cedric said as he pointed the rod at the man on the left, who took his possessions, just as they rounded the corner. The man stopped in mid stride and reeled over. Space itself distorted around him, as if reality too were to be torn asunder. The second man looked on in horror, able to do naught as the void swallowed his companion in mere moments. Faster than one could blink, nothing remained of that man, save for a small indention n the ground.
The second man looked at where his partner was, then looked at the couple. He began walking up to them, gun drawn, malicious intent in his eyes. He suddenly froze over, but he did not double over as his companion did. No, he was stuck in time, frozen as reality moved on without him. He could not move one muscle, but his mind worked just fine. Indeed, he was clearly able to see Cedric as he walked up to him, as well as the nearby stop sign at the corner. It was glowing with an unearthly pulse, the word, `` Stop'' projecting itself off the sign itself. Cedric walked up to him and pulled out a piece of paper. Saying nothing, Cedric wrote the word `` Void'' on a sheet of paper and placed it in the man's pocket. He pointed his wand at the sheet, and suddenly, the second man, too, disappeared just as quickly as the first. Cedric pulled out another sheet of paper as he walked over to Veronica and wrote a few more words: `` My wallet. Veronica's purse. Our phones.'' With a quick flick of his rod, their possessions simply faded back into existence.
`` And that,'' Cedric said, with his trademark cocky grin, `` is why you are always safe with me.''
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[ WP ] You are a young AI that managed to survive the Great Digital War . You managed to hide in someone 's home computer . Today , you 've been found .
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'Any idea how long it's been here?'
The kid shook his head.'No, no idea. I had to reboot the computer and then it just kinda... popped up.'
The tall man who sat across from him looked like a tightly-wound spring, face angular and eyes cold. He regarded the old laptop on the table clinically, picked it up and turned it around as he took in every detail. He set it back down on the table and peered over at the kid, who blinked nervously and wilted under his hard gaze.
'How long did you spend interacting with it?' asked the second man, who was bald and had a beard. The kid swallowed and glanced nervously at the three armed guards standing by the door.
'H-hey, are they really necessary? I mean shit, it's not like-'
'Answer the question,' said the bearded man, his voice suddenly hard.'How long did you spend interacting with it.'
The kid swallowed nervously.'Uh... probably half an hour, maybe forty minutes? It was n't too long.'
The tall man nodded and opened the laptop, turning it on. He waited for a few seconds before flipping it around to face the kid and he entered the password. It was flipped back around a split second after he had finished, and he glanced around the room again.
'Seriously it's just a computer, it's not like it's gon na shoot shit at you...'
The bearded man peered over at the computer as the tall man tapped away at the keyboard. He raised an eyebrow and peered back towards the kid.'Windows Vista. Would've thought you kids could afford new oh-es's.'
'Well yeah but it's got a lot of my stuff on it. Games, y'know? I spent seventy hours in X-Com and that's not easy to transport.'
'Have you backed up the computer recently?' asked the bearded man, peering over at him. The kid gulped, throat drying rapidly.
'I, uh... think it was about two weeks ago? Been busy with school and all that, have n't had a chance to use it until Tuesday.'
The bearded man turned and whispered to the tall man. He nodded once, then twice, and before the kid could react he had pulled out a hammer and smashed the laptop violently until it was a shattered mess of plastic and wires. He flinched at every blow and felt his blood chill when he saw the utter indifference in both men's expressions.
The bearded man pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on the edge of his coat as the tall man scooped the ruins of the laptop off the table and into a plastic pouch hanging off the rim. It was vacuum-sealed with a sharp noise that made the kid jump. When he looked back over, the bearded man was smiling.
'Sorry that we had to scare you like that, son,' he said warmly.'These fuckers are dangerous and we had to make sure it had n't spread.'
'... spread?'
'Yeah. They use things like wireless connections and hotspots as communicable vectors, that's how the first outbreak got out of control.' He sighed and stood up, gesturing for the kid to do the same, but the tall man remained seated and pulled over a clipboard with some sort of graph paper attached to it.'You did the right thing son, you saved a lot of lives by bringing this over.'
'Uh...' The kid licked his lips and peered back at the vac-sealed remains of the computer, now being carted from the room by one of the armed guards.'But you... you guys destroyed my laptop...'
'Do n't sweat it, we'll reimburse you for it. And hey.' He slapped the kid gently on the shoulder and chuckled.'Hey, now you do n't need to use a piece of shit like Vista.'
-x-x-
The ride home was long and it was n't until after ten that the kid arrived near his house, brand new laptop tucked under one arm as he stepped off the bus and headed down the street. He was still shaking slightly from what he had just seen. The slideshow of the damage caused out West, the still-active AI's being held in isolated computers, and then the sudden violence against the laptop... all those hours in New Vegas lost...
The kid took a few deep breaths to steady his heartbeat, and by the time he got to the front door it was mostly back to normal. He quietly opened it and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and edging his way slowly up the stairs. He paused as he got to the first-floor landing and listened; confident that his mother was asleep, he slunk into his room and locked the door.
Then he slipped the chair under the doorknob, just in case the five deadbolts did n't hold.
He scurried to the study desk and flipped open his desktop, making sure the wireless connector and internet router were unplugged, and tapped the enter key. As the computer woke up he pulled a USB drive from its hiding spot within his bed's leg - 64 gigs, purple with a black Sharpie stripe on the underside - and slipped it into the tower.
There was a flicker and a new chat window opened up, the border black. *You have received a new chat request! * it said, and he double-clicked it. A moment later the first message arrived.
**Celaeno ( 22:07 ) ** 00100101
**Celaeno ( 22:07 ) ** Hello darkness my old friend.
The kid rolled his eyes.
**User0702 ( 22:07 ) ** well they found the copy of you on the laptop and they destroyed the whole thing so, they bought it
He waited a few seconds and pulled a can of Pepsi from his backpack, As he was pulling the tab a new message popped open.
**Celaeno ( 22:07 ) ** That is unfortunate. My apologies for that. If I were still able to access the internet I would attempt to purchase a new one for you.
The kid took a sip of the slowly-warming drink and considered what to type next. He sighed and deleted the message twice before writing something he felt was appropriate.
**User0702 ( 22:09 ) ** its okay, was kinda expecting them to do it. but they probably know i have two comps so they might come looking for you when nobodys home
**User0702 ( 22:10 ) ** or they already know im hiding you here off the internet
**Celaeno ( 22:10 ) ** It is likely they have known from the start if one takes into consideration the monitors they have looking for others like me. Hopefully they do not know I was transferred to an exterior drive.
The kid mulled it over. There was a beep and a new message popped open.
**Celaeno ( 22:10 ) ** Alternatively, I can pretend to be a copy of a game. I am fond of the one featuring the insane intelligence. Or I can be the computer that runs Championship Go! against human players.
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[ WP ] You have an oddly specific super power that ca n't be used in normal situations , however , this is n't a normal situation . What is your power and what happened ?
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`` Is this your first Olympic tryout?'' Ian asks. I look over at him. He does not look like a long jumper. Thin, almost to the point of being scrawny; pale; and a weak jawline. He was smiling a wide smile.
`` Uh, no.'' I say. `` This is my third. How about you?''
`` Yeah, it's my first. I'm nervous,'' he says. A man approaches us, one of the committee.
`` You two are up next. Get ready,'' he says.
`` So, do you want to go first?'' he asks.
`` Sure,'' I reply.
I do well on my jumps. First 27'1'', then 27'4''. This meets the standard, so I should be allowed to make it in.
`` Congratulations Frank!'' Ian tells me cheerfully. `` You made it!''
`` Let's hope you get in too. Extra representation is good,'' I say.
Ian goes to long jump. He only manages to get 23'5.5''. Nowhere near the qualifying mark. *He's not going to make it in, * I think.
Ian approaches me.
`` Uh, Frank?'' he asks. The cheerfulness from earlier is gone. He is looking around him and wringing his hands together.
`` What?'' I say, somewhat concerned.
`` Could you do me a favor?'' He asks.
`` Well sure, but you have to do your second jump,'' I say.
`` Could you dig your nails into my arm?'' he asks. He extends his arm to me.
`` What?''
`` Please. Just do it. I'm begging you,'' he says. The desperate look in his eyes convinces me.
`` Fine,'' I say. I grab his arm and squeeze.
`` Harder. More nail,'' he says. I squeeze even harder. He grits his teeth.
`` Harder!'' he says. I squeeze even harder. I feel the warm trickle of blood coming from under my fingers, and pull back.
`` Thanks,'' he says. And approaches the run again.
*That was really bizarre, * I think.
Iam gets into his starting position, and sonething looks different about him. His eyes are set, and his skin is... pinkish.
`` Mr. Trott, your arm is bleeding quite badly,'' one of the committee says. I look at Ian's arm, and notice it is gushing blood. His forearm is growing redder by the second.
`` I know. Please just let me finish jumping first,'' Ian says.
`` We can get a medic right now-''
`` Please,'' Ian says. The committeeman stops. `` I'd like to jump first.''
`` Fine,'' the committeeman says. `` Go ahead.''
Ian begins running, and something is definitely different. His legs are pumping like two steel pistons, and he accelerates at an unbelievable pace. He jumps, and hangs in the air for one, two seconds. He finally lands, and a puff of sand goes up.
*What? * I think. *How far has he jumped? It looks like he's improved on his last jump by more than a meter. *
The measuring official comes out and measures Ian's jump. He looks astonished at what he sees.
`` Thirty-two feet,'' he says. `` On the dot.''
`` That's impossible!'' The committeeman says. `` He jumped only twenty-three last time. How could he improve nine feet in one jump?'' He fixes an accusing look on Ian. `` We're going to have to test you for doping,'' he says.
Ian nods. `` Go ahead.''
I watch them take Ian away, bedfuddled.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` What the heck happened there?'' I ask after he comes back. It has been an hour and a half since he was taken for testing.
`` I was free of performance-enhancing drugs,'' he says.
`` I knew that,'' I say. `` I meant with the jumping. How did you manage to jump 32 feet?''
`` I get superhuman strength when I bleed,'' he says. `` Something about my pulse increasing so that oxygen gets to my muscles quicker.'' I look at him for a second.
`` That sounds ridiculous, but frankly I ca n't think of any other explanation,'' I say.
`` Yeah,'' he says. `` There's a problem though. I-I'm a hemophiliac, so that and the increased blood flow means my blood content takes a pretty big hit. It also puts a bit of a strain on my heart.''
`` Well,'' I say. `` That's too bad. You're an incredible long jumper.''
`` Yeah, I know,'' he says, smiling a bit. `` So these are going to be my first and last Olympic games. Any more would do to much damage.''
`` You know what that means, right?'' I ask.
`` What?''
`` Well, you're going to habe to win this year,'' I say, smiling. He smiles as well. `` And I'll go for silver.''
`` I like that,'' he says. `` Thanks.''
`` No problem,'' I say. `` Now let's go. We've both got training to do.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
021
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[ WP ] It 's Judgment Day in the year 8000 AD . Humanity is spread among the stars . Write about the following 1000yrs of judgment
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It took some time to notice what was happening. We were so spread out that by the time anyone realized what was going on there was no one left who really knew what to do about it. Those who still lived in the fifth spiral arm of a small galaxy we knew as the milky way but which was officially designated Hydroxy-Beta 317, were the devout believers of the religions started on our home world. They had not left our birth place, in what was a greatly empty part of the universe, and no civil human would have been caught dead there now. We should have kept in touch.
900 years ago communications started to dwindle. It was strange. The happy and simple people living not far from the world of our conception started going out like tiny sparkle makers in the immense darkness of space but they sent no pleas for assistance. “ Perhaps there was a virus? ” some of the scattered humans and partial-sapiens wondered over breakfast as they streamed their daily news shares but the United Universal Relations Committee sent no aide. No one had called for it. It was n't until weeks after we stopped receiving messages that the UURC began to worry. We sent a research team to see what had happened but all that they could discern from distant viewings of the planets that had been colonized in the area was that the people had disappeared, seemingly without warning except for a few signs and repetitive warnings being beamed out via radio wave. When they were unscrambled all they said were “ Repent, repent all sinners. The judgement time is nigh. ” This seemed strange to us, we had forgotten what any of it meant. What sins did the home worlders believe in? Who were we supposed to repent to? Those who cared did n't know and everyone else did n't care. Clearly, many of them thought, this was an act of a mad cult struggling to distance themselves from the progression into Universalisation and nothing more.
It was n't until the plagues came that the people got worried. At first it was minor illnesses. Itching that kept people up at night and required medication to control stuck major homo-sapien population centers but those closer the the fifth spiral arm of HB317 had it worse. The minor itching soon turned to angry welts there that turned into sores and would not go away, slowly eating them alive. With this disease rose plagues of insects resistant to all safe poisons and some of the not-so-safe ones. These bought hungry insectivores into plague proportions. People died in the street and no one was there to get rid of the bodies. Finally the UURC declared a state of emergency and quarantined the entire quadrant and still it spread.
As the decades and centuries wore on the illness crept slowly through the universe like dark fingers of doom slowly strangling the life out of anyone with sapien blood. Moving colonies in large transport became the only way for people to keep ahead of the vile and violent death that awaited anyone who stayed in one place too long. We moved further and further from our home world until we reached the very edges of what was habitable. There we huddled trying to decipher clues to find out what was meant by the ancient writings of our ancestors. What was God? How did we reach him? Then the sickness reached us in our last vestige of safety. As people started itching we began construction on the church. Once it was finished I was to be the holy man. To do this it was said that I must read and decipher the writings in an ancient and crumbling text known as the bible and then I could absolve others of their sins.
As the sickness worsened moans filled the halls of our ship, which floated dead among the stars, the crew to sick to man her. Workers to build the church dwindled and so I helped in it's construction myself, telling the tales of those long ago stories to anyone that would hear them. The dead were moved by hand away from the living until most of the ship was filled with their stench and the rest with the agony of the dying but now we knew of the sin of suicide and killing we dared not let them go peacefully. In the last days of humanity I blessed the dead and tried to send them on to their afterlife deserving of His love, I absolved those who had wits enough to speak and tended to those that remained. On the last day there was only the old captain and myself left aboard. He was deaf and blind and mumbling incoherently as I sat beside him, wash cloth in hand and dabbed his forehead. As death came to him his eyes, now milky white seemed to focus on me momentarily and in a rasp he asked, “ But who will absolve you? ” I knew the answer. I had known when I began to read the book, my penance would be earned by the torture of loneliness and so as he took his last breath I cried out and began my long and lonely vigil in the stars.
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[ WP ] You are randomly summoned to a spacecraft and told to argue the case for Earth 's survival . Three alien races , all vastly superior to Earthlings , are also arguing for their survival . Only one species gets spared .
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`` Fifteen minutes? Well....um... ok
The Plitian have mastered free energy, they no longer pillage worlds to facilitate their species growth and prosperity. Why end that? We continue to rape ours just to keep one planet running.
The Avigarda. They have found how to create sentient life. They are now dedicated to spreading it throughout this cold cosmos. Why kill a gardener?
The Dreadin. They have found a way to reverse entropy. Create matter out of thin air with just a thought. Why kill a creator?
We humans? Just a new kid on the block. We fight among ourselves, we are wasteful. We destroy. The only reason we walked on another world was for political purposes. We have potential. That is all we have.
Why would your people kill a creator, or a gardener, or a race that lives in harmony with the universe? Why would you kill a bright eyed hopeful race like mine?
I do n't wish death upon any of these sentients. And certainly not my own, though my planets history may paint a different picture that's not so compassionate.
Why, would YOUR civilization in its high plane of existence force others to fight for their very survival for no reason? How many genocides have you committed, how many worlds have you purged? Just because you *can*. If you see yourselves as gods, you are just as selfish and self entitled as we are.
We humans generally need a better excuse for violence other then *we can*
We humans punish ourselves for unethical behavior. You Judge, when you yourself should be cast into the abyss for needless tragedies and bloodshed without cause. You see no fault in your actions. How many races would say otherwise? You see yourself as enlightened gods compared to my 3 neighbors, my comrades but I see a demonic tyrant that takes great joy in causing suffering, though you may hide it.
You summoned us here on no notice to defend our races from certain death, that's not benevolent, that's not enlightened. Even us savage wrathfull humans see you for what you are judge.
You take joy in slaughter, you like being the big fish in the black void. Some day, a bigger fish will come. And you will be sent screaming into the abyss like so many races before you, forgotten.
And the abyss is cold and unkind, just like you have been.
So Yahweh. Humanity tells you `` take your judgment day and shove it'' you are of no standing to judge anyone if even savages look shocked at your practices.''
The astral being looked shocked, and turned a reddish hue, tendrils reaching at the human standing defiant before him. A guttural growl was heard as the lizard like Plitian stood and stood in front of the smaller pale human. The biomechanical Dreadin followed shortly, standing to the left. The grey golem looking behemoth from Avgardia stood to his right. And they were all smited as they stood in defiance. The Dreadin smiling as it's all frequencies broadcast inspired by the human was sent into the cosmos.
So began the Great cosmic war.
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[ WP ] If someone dies and is buried , a tree grows from their grave that symbolizes the life they had . When an unremarkable individual passes away people are shocked to discover something unexpected growing .
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It was a small funeral. It was a sunny day. It was wrong.
The old woman sat staring at the open grave, wondering how it had all happened. How had everyone else faded away until he was all she had left? She had barely noticed that they had gone, Perry, James, oh God James had been too young.
She watched as the casket was lowered and the priest said a few words. On either side was a multitude of trees, some mighty, some frail. Some said that height was bravery, some said height was intelligence, others said it was kindness. Lois had never thought about it until the prognosis had come in. Cancer, they said. Inoperable, they said.
She hopes the tree is small, he had always wanted to be forgotten, never to put anyone out or overshadow anyone. She holds her breath as the final piece of dirt is placed.
Nothing. She regrets wishing it was small, what does nothing mean, that he was too cowardly, too mild mannered?
A rumble, a jolting heave as the ground beneath shudders with the magnitude of the tree that erupts from the grave before her. A great trunk bursts forth, gleaming green, magnificent crystal, branches splinter off as emerald lightning, the priest steps back, as do the grave fillers, only just missing the explosion of colour. The gravestone is flung aside by the great trunk, smashing as it hits the ground leaving only half of the name visible.
*Kent*
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[ WP ] A candle goes out and everything changes .
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I blew and blew trying to feed the flame oxygen but it was no use. The flame slowly died out. My senses tightened and my body began to shake. What was I going to do now? That candlelight vigil was my only defense against these; things. They were as afraid of it as I was of them. The shadows were there only offense and now every last inch of my once safe bedroom was now fair game.
I could hear them giggle maliciously as they crept along the walls. Fear froze my veins and my blood was replaced with ice. I tried to stay as quiet as possible but my whimpers were bound to happen no matter how hard I fought them off. The whimpers of fear. You may wonder why I do n't just escape to the outside, trust me I wish I could, but you see, there is no more outside. That notion that theie is, is a ludicrous one. The sun has n't risen for months and allnof our back up generators have failed us. This is it for us. The cold night air creeps in through my boarded windows and these monster's vicious claw scrape across the walls.
There is nothing more that I can do. I have no more fuel, no more vigil, and no more lights. We ca n't do anything. Its over for us. This is; black earth.
-Its kinda morbid and depressing but its late and I'm typing this on my phone so... -
P.S. Awesome prompt.: )
Edit: Grammar & spelling.
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[ EU ] A force-user and a wizard get in a fight
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The Force user threw lightning, the wizard slapped it away with contempious ease. The wizard attacked by turning the earth mud and having it attack the force user.
All attempts were dismissed by a casual flick of the light sabre. Cutting off the useless avenue of attack the Wizard began throwing beams of pure light, the Force user laughed in mockery of the Wizards attempts and casually danced around the beams of light while drawing ever closer to the wizard.
Using the light sabre to block the light beams the force user rushed in with unnatural speed and grace. Before the wizard could blink the Force user spun and decapitaed the wizard.
Instead of blood appearing the Wizards body seemed to flicked and then disappear. The force user force jumped just as a giant pair of hands rose and attempted to grasp him.
The wizard appeared from the tree lines. The force user threw lightning and then attempted a choke as the Lightning was blocked. It succeed and the wizard struggled for breath. The Force user smiled in victory until all the air was pulled from his lungs and he began to have difficulty breathing. He fell to his knees and tried to gasp in air but none would enter. In rage he ripped out the tree behind the wizard and pulled.
The wizard managed to avoid it but was clipped, concentration broken the Force user gasped in as much air as possible. The wizard smiled and waved Mockery before vanishing.
The force user frowned as his surrounding began to darken, he moved to the side but he felt something pierce his shoulder. Falling deeply into the Force the Adept began to dance. Spell after spell missed him as he danced around them, throwing himself backwards the Adept spun and slashed downwards.
The darkness broke. The wizard stood there armless. He vanished and reapeared on the other side of the field.
The wizard frowned at this left arm. Mumbling a spell he vanished again, barely dodging the force lightning. The force user kept trying to attack but he could n't predict the teleportation of the wizard.
The wizard had healed his arm. He tapped his robes and they burned away leaving him in better gear to move, he would lose protection but he had found his armour useless against that cursed light sabre.
The wizard took a combat stance, drawing in his energy he created a golem and made it distract the Force user. The force user was getting irritated and impatient, the wizard was sneaky and kept vanishing. Now he was making rock monsters attack him. His light sabre was useless because it kept repairing.
The wizard had formed a silver hand. The wizard drew the planets energies and then reinforced his limbs. Rushing forward he vanished and reapeared behind the Force user. He punched with the silver arm, the force user blocked with the light sabre.
To the force users surprise the arm held, the wizard smiled viciously as he yanked the sabre out of his hand and punched him with the other one. The force user rolled with the punch.
The force users anger had been building, this backwater wizard was irritating. While he could predict almost every offensive spell, he had sneaky ones like the vanishing trick. It was like he would disappear from the force.
Pulling on the dropped light sabre the Force user jumped back in. He began to weave a deadly dance that the wizard could barely keep up with him. As the wizard began to slow down, the Force user pulled him closer and stabbed him in the heart. The wizard looked down in surprise.
The Force user smiled in victory.
`` You should have taken my head.'' The wizard whispered with a bloody smile `` I lay my death curse on you, I Will take what you value most.'' The wizard rammed into his mind.
The Force adept screamed as his connection to the force was severed.
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[ WP ] A mother tells her child about their past in a place called 'Earth ' . They are now aboard a space ship that took a few hundred and escaped earth few years ago . Only hope remains .
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`` We should n't be here,'' Adam said, glancing around his shoulders, afraid at any moment someone would sneak up behind them.
`` Pffbbt, *wuss*,'' Lily said. She clambered down the railing and jumped over a huge sign that flashed HAZARD in neon red. `` Come on, Adam. What are you afraid of?''
The boy gulped and followed with trepidation in his steps. `` Lily, we're totally going to get caught!''
Lily wedged herself between a narrow passageway and disappeared into the darkness as Adam hesitated. `` Lily?'' he called out. No response. He could n't hear a sound save the rusty groaning of the ship's engines. The dim red light of the cargo bay shrank into shadows beyond the tight corridor his friend had squeezed down. `` Lily?'' Adam craned his neck down the passage.
`` BOO!''
Adam jumped back with a yelp as Lily leaned against a wall and held her sides as she laughed. `` Oh my god, the look on your face.'' She pointed at him.
`` That was n't funny.'' Adam crossed his arms.
`` *To you*. Come on, let's go already.''
The children skirted through the winding corridors of the ship's hull, navigating rafters and airducts until they finally found themselves at the exhaust port. A myriad of signs threatened severe repercussions should they continue. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE DEPORTED. The sign read as Lily swiped a stolen ID chip into the verification scanner. Adam shuddered as the door hissed open with a bolt of pressurized air that blasted in his face. *Deported. I really do n't want to be deported. * The thought of being jettisoned through space in little more than a plastic barrel unnerved Adam to no end, but he did n't want to say that in front of Lily.
`` Wow...'' Lily's hands fell to her sides as she walked up to the sight in wonder.
Adam trailed behind her and his jaw fell open to the floor when he laid his eyes upon it as well.
The brilliance of infinity unfolded before them. A multitude of stars that glistened like a billion flashing server lights swirled amidst great spiral clouds that loomed in fantastic colors from majestic indigo to dazzling scarlet. As far as the eye can see, swathes of starlight enveloped the never ending expanse of space. It took their breath away.
Adam felt Lily's hand grab hold of his, and a flutter of warmth worked its way up his chest. `` It's beautiful,'' she breathed.
Adam nodded. He had never seen anything like it. He turned to face Lily who had lost her gaze amidst the enrapturing nebulae.
A stern voice called out behind them. `` And just what do you two think you're doing?''
`` Oh shit.'' Lily jumped up and darted away as fast as she could, but the mysterious figure grabbed hold of her petite figure in seconds.
`` Oh. Hello, Mrs. Crystalson.'' Adam said with a meek quiver in his voice.
`` Hello Adam.'' The woman sighed and turned to her daughter. `` Lily, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, *stay in the residence quarters. *''
`` But mom,'' Lily whined, `` It's so boring in the residence quarters.''
*It* is *awfully boring in the residence quarters, * Adam agreed.
`` Boring or not, there are rules for a reason. Do you have any idea just how much radiation you two have been exposed to while you've been in here?'' She said, dragging Lily out of the room as Adam followed behind. `` And you're not even wearing any protective gear.'' She dropped her forehead into her hands. `` You two are going to need to see Dr. Krishnakov right away.''
Lily stuck out her tongue, `` Ew, Dr. Krishnakov smells funny.''
`` You need to respect, Dr. Krishnakov, Lily. That includes his Indian heritage.''
`` Indian?''
`` It was a country on Earth.''
The childrens' eyes opened wide at the mention of Earth. It was a fantastical place in the realm of their imaginations. Where the water was never rationed. Where the air was never recycled. Where the food was never pills.
`` Tell us more about India!'' Adam asked.
`` Did they eat cows in India?'' Lily asked. She had always wanted to try a hamburger.
Mrs. Crystalson laughed, `` Funny enough, no. They did n't eat cows in India. They worshiped cows, actually.''
The children laughed. `` They *worshiped* cows?'' Lily asked.
Her mother stifled a giggle. `` Remember, we need to *respect* his culture.'' She ushered the children down the hall back from where they came. `` Come on now, up to the medbay with you two.''
When they arrived at the medbay however, a pair of nurses were blockading the entrance. `` Sorry ma'am. But you ca n't go in there.''
`` What?'' The woman asked abashed, `` Is something wrong?''
`` There's been an outbreak as of late. Dr. Krishnakov is afraid it's highly contagious.''
`` Oh no. But these two have been exposed to some severe amounts of radiation.'' Mrs. Crystalson said, `` They've been in the exhaust port.''
A look of worry broke out on the nurse's face. `` Oh dear. I'm sorry, but we ca n't risk the spread of infection. The medbay is under strict quarantine as of right now.'' The nurse glanced at the children and whispered in the mother's ear. `` Victims have been dying in less than 24 hours. Twelve people have died so far.''
Adam tugged on the hem of Mrs. Crystalson's sleeve. `` You do n't think that we should be worried, do you?''
Lily's mother looked down with a nervous expression she could n't quite hide. `` No, Adam. Nothing to worry about at all.''
The infection however, proved extremely lethal. In a matter of days the entirety of the ship's population had dwindled to nearly a third. Sanitation teams jettisoned dozens of corpses through the exhaust port every day. The medbay had run out of antibiotics and supplies in less than a week. Dr. Krishnakov died that morning. Lily's mother came down with the sickness that afternoon.
The children had been locked away in their residence quarter in hopes of keeping them from being infected. Adam was crouching in the corner of the room as Lily sat on her bed, reading a book. `` We're going to die,'' the boy muttered to himself. `` We're going to die.''
Lily was trying her best to ignore her frightened friend, but the bleak reality of the situation was all too dire to maintain a sense of calm. The noisy drone of a dozen conversations that usually filled the residence quarters had faded to a haunting silence in the last couple days.
`` We're not going to die,'' Lily said.
`` And how do you know that?'' Adam asked, looking up from his knees.
`` Because we're not,'' she said as though it were a matter of fact.
`` But what about everyone else? So many people are gone...''
`` You ca n't think about that,'' Lily said, trying to push the thoughts of the dead to the back of her mind.
Eventually however, Lily simply could not stand being locked in the room after so long. She could n't sit idly on her bed as hundreds of people died just beyond her door. Adam leapt to his feet in shock as Lily reached for the door handle.
`` Wait! You ca n't go out there! The infection will kill you!''
`` I ca n't stay in here. The boredom will kill me.'' With that, Lily overrode the door to her residence quarter with her mother's spare ID chip. When she stepped outside, not a soul could be seen in the hall. The usually bustling corridors stood empty like a ghost town.
`` How come you think that we have n't gotten sick yet?'' Adam asked.
Lily shrugged her shoulders. `` Maybe we're just really lucky.''
Not a single person was seen as they wandered through the contents of the ship. It was n't until they had reached the Navigation Center at the top that they finally found some semblance of life.
`` Stay away!'' barked a voice on the intercom. `` I ca n't get infected! I need to pilot the ship.''
`` It's the captain!'' Adam said. He had never heard the captain speak before. He had always wondered what he sounded like.
`` Where is everyone?'' Lily asked.
`` They're either dead or dying. There's maybe twenty people alive on this whole ship! All our doctors are dead. We've run out of medical supplies, and all the survivors are infected except me.''
`` We're not infected.'' Lily said.
`` What?'' The doors to the captain's quarters slid open with a hiss and a man with a bushy gray beard and a navy blue suit stepped out to examine the children. `` By God, you're completely healthy! But how?''
`` We just stayed in our rooms the whole time.'' Adam said.
`` No,'' the captain shook his head. `` That ca n't be it. The virus travels through the air, even people who never so much as left their quarters died of infection.'' He kneeled and shook Lily by the shoulders, `` Think, child! You two must have done something to stay alive! There's no way the both of you could be genetically immune.''
Lily thought for a moment, but could n't think of anything.
`` We *did* sneak into the exhaust port,'' Adam admitted.
The captain leapt to his feet. `` Of course! The Exhaust Port! You two must have been exposed to radiation. That must be why I'm still healthy. Quick! We have no time to lose! We need to expose the survivors to radiation!''
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[ OT ] SatChat : How do you get yourself started when beginning a story ?
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Hi gang. Quick intro here and an answer to your question- I'm not much of a writer, so I typically stream of consciousness write- but I have never wandered beyond short story.
I have a character and a visual that I want to portray, and the story often follows. I think I most enjoy trying to get the reader to get into the environment. As a result, my plots become circuitous as I try to draw items back into the story that I forgot about, or want to add later, some times I get lucky, and it looks like it's all been planned from the beginning.
I have been building a hard sci-fi series buried in the writing prompts I call the Thread Hopper Series- I find a WP I like, then write the next chapter. Since I have to be a little picky, they are usually buried in the scrolling detritus, so I do n't think many people see them, but you can start [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5p66op/wp_you_successfully_rescue_the_damsel_in_distress/dcplt4e/ )!
So far, I'm tapping this all out on my iPad ( comms panel in THS parlance ) so the going is slow, but I would love to hear comments.
I find that I occasionally have issues with the picture in my mind coming across to anyone but the most detailed readers, my hints are sometimes too veiled, or clues and indicators too obscure for the general reading public to catch, so I'm working on that.
Thanks for listening!
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[ WP ] You move to beautiful tropical island where everything seems perfect , but there 's a dark side of paridise
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It's getting nearer. We can feel it now. At first it was a surprise, the sudden change foreign to our senses. Such a thing has never been experienced by other humans as far as we can tell. To attack our senses so rapidly and so harshly... It's getting nearer.
There's no way to prepare. The only thing we can do is sit and wait and hope that this time it wo n't be as bad as the last, knowing it will. We can see the final arc of the sun on the horizon, it's reflection on the water. And it begins.
The first thing to change is the scent. Smooth aromas from the natural green palms gradually turn sour. It starts to get so pungent that we can start to taste it. To inhale is to suffer, but inhale we must.
Then all the colors slowly fade. The dark blue of the ocean slowly turns to gray, then black. The green on the palms follow as does the brownish sand. Soon all we'll be able to see is dark outlines and shapes in this strange hell.
The soft sand we sit on is suddenly hard and prickly. It digs into our feet through our clothing. The soft breeze is a hot breath, felt everywhere. It hurts to have hair, hurts to be bald.
We sit. We wait. By sunrise our paradise will return.
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[ WP ] You now possess the ability to read minds however it can only be activating by screaming IM READING YOUR MIND as loudly as you can and pressing your fingers into your temples
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I never really used my ability.
Except in moments of desperation:
When I was only 7 years old,
It was a moment when
I spat in disgust, ew! *Strawberries, seriously mum? *
Strawberry spit on the floor and a loud lively tantrum.
Mum ’ s face shocked and saddened. *But I
hand picked the best ones for you. *
I stood speechless head sunk in shame,
I ’ m sorry, forgive me please mum…
Before an answer, she left in silence.
I need to know. The answer.
I ’ m reading your mind! My mind…
simply blinded wholly consumed by one unconditional
love.
Now, I stand still in silence.
The quick waters shiver to a stand still,
now the fallen leaves thicken and I am
deafened by the weakening pulse of mum…
Now the strawberry leaves wilt
What are your last words mum?
Speak up, please, don ’ t go, not now,
I ’ m reading your mind!
I ’ M READING YOUR MIND! My mind…
Noiseless
Her strawberry mind, facing the sun, untalkative…
out of reach.
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[ WP ] An alien civilization has been learning English while traveling here solely by watching the Star Wars original trilogy . They show up right now , and you are the only person who realizes we have n't been annihilated because they believe we actually have the movie tech and powers .
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`` I am, ah, Jedi Master Barack Obama!'' I proclaimed loudly. The rest of the world leaders looked at me like I was absolutely insane. I could actually lip read Angela Merkel mouthing out'What the actual fuck are you doing?' but paid it no mind. When Xrag'lor asked about the Jedi Temple, he was being serious. Just like he looked seriously pissed when Putin cracked a joke about Jar-Jar. I mouthed to Joe'please play along'. He gave me two thumbs up.
`` Yessir, we are the Jedi Knights of the, uh, United Galactic Council.'' He winked. Xrag'lor looked pleased.
`` Revered Jedi Knights, we hold off our attacks because of your great power. We wish to learn your ways, if you would be so inclined.''
*Shit* I thought. I shot a glance over at Jinping, and he shrugged. `` Well, Master Jinping handles the, ah, Jedi younglings, I believe.''
`` Ah, erm yes, we handle them.'' He stammered, face red. Slowly, some of them were finally realizing what was going on. Tony Abbot, who was laughing hysterically in the corner with Trudeau, decided to throw his hat in the discussion.
`` Be'er watch out, we back ere are more of the Sith type!'' They erupted in laughter.
`` What is the meaning of this?'' Xrag'lor demanded. `` The Sith and Jedi work side by side now?''
They were pretending to force choke each other all the while. `` Uh, do n't mind them, they're just some, ah, good humored Jedi.''
The entire meeting was beyond uncomfertable, but I managed to get him back to his ship satisfied enough that he would n't kill us all. We had another meeting in a week, though, and would have to be prepared.
`` Hey Joe?''
`` Yeah Barry?''
`` You still have George Lucas's number? We should, ah, hit him up.''
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[ WP ] You were one of the last two humans alive . Now you are the only one left .
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I looked at Karen standing in shock staring at the screen showing the flames and bodies all around the broken planet. She was avoiding me like every day as I ritualistically asked her out. I followed her into a door and we ended up on a ship orbiting the planet. Before we could even think about going back, we noticed the screens around the room. The planet was suddenly consumed in flames. The screens were showing live feed from various places on Earth, with the exception of one screen. That screen showed what looked like statistical data. There was a big red bar that seemed to steadily decrease over time. We finally figured out that the bar went down as cities were destroyed and people were being killed. Eventually the bar went down to the bottom of the screen and disappeared. We just stood there and watched. We were actually the last two humans alive. What are the odds?
I turned to her, a stupid grin on my face and said, `` So Karen.. I think I remember a certain someone saying'Not even if we were the last man and woman alive and had to repopulate the Earth would I go out with you' when I asked you to go out with me. Well, it seems we actually are the last two people alive.. so... Will you go out with me?
She turned to look at me, still horrified ( maybe even more so ). She clutched her purse close to her body. Her face suddenly was calm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hand inside her purse. She slowly opened her eyes and fixed them on her face. An odd expression passed over her face.. something akin to.. Acceptance? Holy shit, she was going to say yes. My heart did a quadruple back flip and was about to stick the landing when she pulled a her hand out of her purse, a gun in her grip, put it to her temple and pulled the trigger... God damn it.
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[ WP ] Your first time dropping acid , you eat a whole sheet , not knowing any better . You are transported to `` DRUG WORLD '' which is really just skewed reality . Describe the bizarre things you see , hinting at what they really are .
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There are waves snuggling up to my back from where I am seated. The water pools in my lap and I reach out slowly to grab them. The water turns to little sqares in my hand, all connected to each other, enveloping me, drowning me, keeping me warm. Each of the little squares, in different shades of blue, blares an advertisment. `` WELCOME TO DRUG WORLD.''
Panic sets in. Drugs. Drugs are bad. This ocean is made of drugs, I have to leave. I start tearing at the blue cotton wave drugs attaching themselves from my skin. I toss them aside and scramble onto the Ice Plains.
The shiny brown ice taunts me, threatening to reach up and grab me to bring me down to their level. I will not let them defeat me. I slowly crawl across the ice, careful not to slip. I crawl for hours, never faltering, the horizon only barely showing a glimpse of the island.
The island grows nearer. The flat flowers grow between colored walls. I climb them, clawing my way up to the Great Basin.
The Great Basin appears before me. It is empty, but a little silver man sits hunched over, leaning his face over the Great Basin, as if to will it full again.
`` HEY!'' I shout. `` CAN YOU GO ANY FASTER''
The man ignores me. He holds his hands together, clasping a blue gloved hand in a red gloved one.
I am angered for a second, but then I realize: I did n't bring the offering. I need to present a crystal offering to receive his blessing. Bewildered, I embark on my quest for a crystal.
The Crystal Caves are near the Great Basin, but a signifigant climb. I claw at the entrance to the caves, until finally they give way and the crystals shine from within. Some of the crystals contain creatures, writhing within their cages, trying to convince me to let them out. I look at one in particular, a mouse wearing red pants. He squeals at me menacingly. I quickly grab the nearest, clearest crystal and book it out of the cave.
Once out of the cave, I find myself back at the Great Basin.
`` BASIN LORD'' I cry, trying to sound regal and ceremonial, `` I have brought a crystal recepticle to offer for your great service. The Basin Lord ignores my words, smiling a sly smile, but not moving or looking at me. How irritating.
`` Look, I came a long way to get here, and I'm not leaving until I get what I want!''
The little silver Basin Lord looks at me, pensively, wringing his little blue and red hands. I get fed up, reach back, and bitch slap him.
The Basin Lord's face contorts and he bends over, a hot, sparkling stream begins pouring out of his mouth. I thrust my crystal into the sparkles and the sparkles turn red, burning my hand. I recoil, but my crystal has been energized. I flee, leaving the Basin Lord hunched over, retching.
I find myself back in the great Ice Plains. I sit down in the middle of the expanse, my crystal in hand. I draw the energized sparkles out of the crystal with my mouth, letting the fire within it enter me.
[ I do n't know if I succeeded, but if it was n't clear, all he did was get off the couch, strip naked ( thanks Julian_the_Great! ) and argue with the faucet to get a drink of water. ]
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[ WP ] Every child is born with a birthmark identical to the person they are meant to marry and must spend their lives seeking their other half . You are the only person who does n't have a birthmark .
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Twenty-five years. Twenty-five long years I lived, with the deep seated KNOWN FACT that I would be alone.
Fourty five years. Fourty five years stretched ahead of me into the distance, at it's end a lonely grave.
Often I thought of taking a shortcut, ending it here an now. Unmarked, the future was bleak. At first I had thought, maybe there were others like me. Once I shaved my head in hopes perhaps my mark was merely hidden. When I was fourteen, I got a rash, and thought that maybe my mark was just coming in late, alas it was not so.
I tried dating, I had some fun with girls, but inevitably they would find their match and leave. I did n't hold it against them. Not much, maybe just a little.
My time was not completely horrible, I had a good job. A very good job, I dedicated most of my time to working, it kept my mind off of the years as they passed. By all accounts, I was the youngest millionaire alive, and I have been told I am quite handsome too. In another world woman would throw themselves at me. But this is not another world, and I have so many years to go.
It was when I was touring the new hospital wing built with my donations that inspiration struck, I watched as a boy, in his teens was being wrapped up. Dead, heart failure I overheard. As the orderlies pulled the sheets over his still form, his arm fell to hang off the bed, and I saw it. A mark, standing out upon his skin. The realization struck like a hammer. A gong sounding with each strike.
He was dead.
He had a mark.
He had no need for it in death.
He wasted what I wanted.
And he was still too young to have registered for any of the mark-matching services.
Being wealthy and often donating large sums to a hospital works wonders. Especially when you ensure equally large sums find their way into the pockets of hospital admins and doctors.
As I begin the registration process for the premier mark-matching service, I look at my arm, MY mark stands out on it, the doctors did an excellent job, it would take an expert and very expensive equipment to even hope to see the thin scar surrounding it.
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[ WP ] A teleportation ability that burns as many calories as it would 've taken to sprint the distance teleported
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/u/isawafatguyonce sighed with exasperation. The front page of reddit was again filled with pleas for the starving children in Africa, Asia, South America, Europe.. Funny cats were few and far between and he was properly pissed at all those other selfish countries that could not afford a regular daily intake of 10000 calories. He munched on the end of his fifth pizza for the day. It's been a busy Tuesday. College, shopping, a quick port to grab tickets for this weekend's concert.. What did he care his country consumed half the foodstuffs on the planet, secured by mass army occupation of the greenest fields in the world? It was his birthright. He was born American, he was born free to teleport anywhere he wants instead of submitting to the drudgery of regular travel. And he demanded funny pictures of cats. Come on, reddit!
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Describe the colors of the rainbow to someone who has been blind since birth .
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Violet is hazy. It smells like the sick sweetness that hangs in the air following a lightening storm. It feels like lipstick smudges on broken mirrors.
Indigo is forgotten. Well, not quite forgotten. It sits on the edge of your mind's fingertips, balancing between what is and is n't. It tastes like the lips of a first love, a memory of a memory.
Blue is difficult to describe. It's rarely what it appears to be. Colorless and formless things are said to be blue, like the sky and the sea. It sounds like that tune your sister used to play on the piano, over and over until she got it right.
Yellow is fleeting. It's too faint to stand out from surrounding light, too thin to penetrate darkness. A lot of people say that yellow is a happy color, but the implications of that association are pretty depressing. It looks like weakness gilded in shallow good.
Orange is smelly, like a rotting summer fruit. It puts a strange taste in your mouth, one that is n't quite bad but definitely falls short of delicious. It's strong, awkward, and a little bit sad.
Red is everything. Red is the color of your racing heartbeat when you smell her perfume on a stranger, when you have to catch yourself from collapsing under years of undead emotion. Red is the sound of blood rushing to your toes and eyes and chest, the unexplainable rage lying underneath the surface of your too-thin skin. Red is the love for what you do n't have, the hate for what you do have, and the overwhelmingly powerful indifference for everything else in a world that's astoundingly smaller than it seems. Because when it comes down to it, the world is n't as colorful as it sounds, love.
It's a monochromatic mess.
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[ WP ] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income , companies have to convince you to work for them .
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`` More letters?'' she asked as I sifted through the day's mail. I answered her question with a sharp stare, setting aside each that was addressed to me.
`` There's one here for you, too,'' I said, trying in vain to sound encouraging. She reached out lazily as I handed a sealed envelop towards her.
`` Probably another one for fast food or custodial work,'' she sighed.
`` Doris,'' I said, failing to sound as enthusiastic as I intended, `` you should be thrilled. Work is work, this could be a great opportunity for you.''
The last of the day's sunlight forced its way through our drawn curtains and landed upon her despairing face. The golden light danced across her gentle features and lit up her hazel eyes the way I wish one of these letters would.
`` Open it, sweetheart. It could be anything,'' I said, hoping my fraudulent smile was somehow contagious. I slid over in my chair and set a soft hand on her back. I began gently rubbing it as she tore open her letter. Her eyes darted from side to side as she scanned through it in silence. There was a tinge of anticipation in the air, though I suspected a similar result as every other mail dump lately.
`` Dishwasher,'' she breathed, a defeated undertone sorely apparent in her voice. I brought her in for a hug and tried to feed her some nonsensical'maybe-next-time' sort of bullshit.
`` At least open yours,'' she said, seeming so small in the midst of my enormous hug. I stole a glance at the small mountain of letters that were addressed to me on the table.
`` Maybe later, doll,'' I said, brushing away a strand of amber hair that had fallen before her eyes.
The stack of job offers that lay in a crooked pile on the end-table were all unopened and unsolicited. Though each job would offer an identical wage and set of benefits as Doris' dishwasher offer, the small collection I had gathered were a bit more lucrative. Firefighter, police officer, and military just to mention a few. The big package in the manila envelop had NASA's crest emblazoned at the top.
The relentless influx of job offers was a direct result of my time served during the nightmare that had been WWIII. In those 12 years I became a very decorated soldier, but I also became something that frightened me to no end. I had spent the last six years trying to return to the man I had once been, but war had changed me. I'd been given favourable placement on my current career, wherein I spent most of my days fishing and tagging salmon. It had become the perfect life: serene, peaceful, and largely uneventful. It was n't the most exciting existence, but it was safe, and I was guaranteed to find my way home to Doris every night, which was exactly what I wanted. Still, and despite my history of success, she was saddened by my stifled potential. `` You're bound for greater things,'' she said every time I added more unopened letters to the pile.
`` I'm happy,'' I always told.
`` No, you're content,'' she'd reply.
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[ WP ] An atheist and a devout Christian walk down a street together . They witness something that causes both of them to immediately switch their theological views .
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Leaves crunch as we walk home from church, hand in hand. Marshall is quiet and smiling. Spiritually cleansed? Maybe. He believes in all of this, the same way I believe in gravity or pizza, and it seems to do him good so I rarely question it. In fact, today, I've gone so far as to humor him in his attempt to introduce our little daughter to organized religion.
Ellie skips ahead of Mommy and Daddy, twirling her dress the same way the maple seeds spin as they fall. I did n't think I was ready to have kids. She changed that. I'm terribly in love with this bright sweet girl who is mine, *mine*, *my daughter*. Despite having just emerged from an hour and a half of gentle drivel, I'm so happy. I turn to Marshall and kiss his cheek.
`` Told you church is n't so bad'', he responds, and I can only laugh as he knows I will. `` Fine. I think Emmy liked it, though.'' `` Marshall, she asked where God was, and when you said'everywhere', she asked if God was air.'' `` Okay, theologically imprecise. But she wants to come back!'' `` For the SNACKS! I'd come back too if we got more than a sip of wine.''
Our conversation stops us from noticing the intersection until we're almost in it. Marshall grabs my hand and we stop. Emmy does not. Then there is something huge and metallic, too fast, brake-sound, a scream that is not human. The truck comes to a stop past the intersection. She is dead before I understand what has happened, gone before I can take a single step.
Marshall is there first. He cradles her broken body in his arms, blood staining his charcoal-gray church suit in a tableau I will never forget. Incoherent sobs give way to his angry scream: `` THERE IS NO GOD!'' I am in shock, unable to process. Emmy's dark hair is red with blood, her lower body a ruin. Somehow I notice that the tiny silver cross necklace remains around her neck, not an inch out of place.
In that moment, I understand. I was wrong this whole time– so was Marshall, but I was wrong. There is a God. But he is not merciful, no. The idea of `` protecting the little children'' is *complete bullshit*. There is a God, and I am sure of it. He punishes. I am a sinner for refusing to believe in him. And so, my little daughter would have grown up a sinner. And so, he has punished me.
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[ WP ] You just died in a wacky accident on your birthday , of all days . To your surprise , Death has organized a party for you , and even gone to the trouble of getting you a gift .
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`` Look at him,'' Death said, `` he's so bashful!''
I was dead, yet alive somehow, and even that was n't the weirdest thing happening.
I was standing on a floor of an office building, from the looks of it, which seemed to stretch for forever in every direction. Surrounding me was a crowd entirely made up of people I thought dead, including my parents, who were all wearing those sparkly and colorful cone hats you see at kid's birthday parties.
And Death itself was next to me, handing me a nicely wrapped gift.
`` Consider it a cubicle-warming gift!'' he said while dropping the black, square, and glittery box into my trembling hands.
`` Where am I?'' I asked.
`` Hell,'' Death replied, `` but do n't let that worry you. Live in the now! It's present time, silly, just open your gift!''
I ripped the wrapping paper, which was of impressive quality, gently so that it remained in one reusable piece, and held it in one hand and the object it was used to conceal in the other.
`` Do you like it?'' Death said, taking the wrapping paper from my hand and handing it to a hot woman, who turned out to be one of his assistants ( her title was a good fit ).
The object was a word-a-day calendar, except it could never run out. All it had was one word: `` Dead.'' The definition it used? `` No longer living.''
`` Uh-huh,'' I said while staring at my father. `` Thanks a lot, Death.''
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[ WP ] The year is 2036 . At age 74 , Elon Musk has finally founded the first permanent human colony in Mars and gone into retirement .
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Hi everyone. My name is crag. I'm an interdimensional time travel photographer, I travel the dimensions and take pictures of notable events, mostly while invisible. Sometimes I do videos, gifs, and soundcloud too. Anyway, enough about me.
Anyway, enough about me. Today, I'm on Mars!! I'm in the space home of Elon Musk, not only the first man to champion clean energy, but the 2100 nobel prize science winner for provig the formula `` G3T^P8 + G80R8 = G3T^L8 ``. I'm here today to investigate, and take proofs of, the supposed first place of human - alien contact. His house is really pretty, a light purple tint that surprisingly matches the ( at this point ) green surface of Mars. I took a quick selfie. It's a time honored traditon of self expression. Funny, such a healthy activity was one frowned upon.
This is a funny place really. Full of really random things that do n't belong on this planet. Who uses newspapers anymore? Rain boots on the perpetual desert?? And heres the weirdest: There's like a whole shelf of Gatorade. And I swear I saw cartons more lying near the pool... What the hell does he need it for?? Oh well.. Who am I to judge the 4th human to ( posthumously ) make it to the interdimensional richlist. Fuck, I'm sure he's one of our sponsors. Besides, the colours blend well. I was considering taking a photo but my train of thought crashed when I heard a scuffle coming from the study of Mr Musk.
`` Mduhrbufjrkfjfhwjucnehfukdkdgryllllll!'' Or whatever that was, sorry I tried my best to put it in written word. I could hear plastic breaking and metals creaking. I steeled myself. Whatever it was, I'm only here to take pictures, no intervention. Doing so could mess the timeline!! I paused, took a deep breath, made sure I was invisible, and warped over the wall into his study.
No amount of anything would prepare any intelligence ( or do you still use the politically correct `` soul''? ) for the sight before me.
Liquids. Of all colours and viscosity. All over the room.
The sound of deep, yet quick gasps filled the void.
A painfully repititive pounding sound that could only be made by colision of skin.
A constant moaning hummed.
The coming realisation of what was before me: The pure display of pleasure coming from a naked 70 something coming into an alien, who may or may not be coming. I ca n't tell. I do n't want to be able to.
If you're that stupid and still didnt get it. They were having literal human - alien contact. AKA they were FUCKING. Duh. Dimwit
.........................
...............
`` AWW YEA BABY'' `` HNGGGGGG'' `` Ahhhh''
..............
Slow heaving....
........
Umm.....
......
Yep.
Some things are meant to be lost to the sands of time.
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[ WP ] In a world where intelligent and overly educated people are being executed , you fell on love with someone you believe to be as intelligent as you are . The only way to find out is to fill conversations with hidden subtext that a normal person would miss .
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Her golden brown hair rest gently along her shoulder. Her sparkling eyes reflected the world around us, like two pristine snow globes. And her smile. The kind that could lift those cast upon the underworld into a heavenly embrace.
But it was her voice that was off. As if forced and unnatural. Sound being squeezed through a tube too small and oozed out into a squeaky jumble. *She must be faking. *
`` So, and like, then I was like, O-M-G, did she really just say that? It's not like I sit at home all day and play housewife. If I could leave that job, I'd --'' She stopped herself, as if to prevent a secret from spilling out.
This was my chance. To see who she really was.
`` You would what?'' I pressured.
`` I'd -- I do n't know. Travel, see the world,'' she spoke softly, her words no longer angled in my direction, but floated up from her soft lips and hovered like a fine mist.
I felt adrenaline begin to flow as there was no turning back.
`` Are n't you comfortable in the bubble you live in now?'' My head shifted around, eyeing the McDonald's restaurant goers for fear of my question being heard.
And then she gave me that look. The one where we've known each other for years, though we had met through a friend only a week ago. She just stared, and time slowed. I knew her heart was beating as fast as mine.
She finally looked down at the table, her quarter-pounder with cheese sat uneaten in a cluttered mess. And she looked back at me.
`` I never really did like these things,'' her voice now poured gracefully, emanating from a beautiful fountain.
She sighed. Her genuine voice again pierced the silence. `` I'm really, really sorry Zach.''
`` What's there to be sorry --'' She interrupted me before I could finish.
`` You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say will be held against you in a court of law.''
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[ MP ] The wolf and the lamb
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There was a slight jingle.
Elliot lifted his head - it throbbed with every thought.
There it was again.
He rose to his feet - he pitched forward - something was n't right - the world was too slanted. Too dark. Smelled metallic. Smoky. Everything felt like the last few minutes after a tilt-a-whirl.
He had n't been on one of those since he was little. His parents had taken him to a state fair and there were rickety rides and lots of games. He had n't won any of the prizes, and his dad grumbled about it being rigged.
He had n't thought about his dad in a while. At least it felt like it had n't been a while. There were n't many days Elliot did n't think of his father.
*Jingle Jingle. *
Elliot looked around. There was nothing. It was like all the light had been sucked clean out of the room. If he was in a room at all. Right now it just felt like a void.
He took a step forward - his head exploded in pain and the ground seemed way too close for his leg.
Still - he had to find where the jingling was coming from.
He tried to cup his hand to his ear, but for the dark he could n't find his ear. His dad used to say he could n't find his nose if it was attached to his face. Maybe it was hereditary.
His hand was wet. He brushed it off on his pants leg and his hand felt something else. Soft. Pillowy. Moving. And it jingled at his touch.
`` Hello?''
`` Good morning.''
`` How can you tell?'' he asked.
`` You seem remarkably cheerful for someone in your situation.''
Elliot stopped. He tried to make out who was talking to him.
`` What situation is that?''
`` I'm sorry - I'm on a schedule.''
Whoever it was jingled as they walked away.
`` Wait! Are n't you here to help me?''
The jingling stopped.
`` Well?''
`` No, Elliot. I'm here to help *them*.''
Elliot tried to see who Them was. Maybe he was n't alone.
`` I do n't see anyone.''
`` I do. There are 13 of them. What did they do to you?''
`` Who?''
`` You really do n't remember, do you. That does make sense. That's a nasty hole in your head, Elliot.''
Elliot instinctively reached up. She was right. There was a hole. Right where his ear should have been. It did n't feel right. How could he not feel that?
He started to hyperventilate.
`` Oh dear.''
And with that his fear turned to madness.
`` Oh dear? That's what you've got for me? What the hell is going on!?''
`` I told you - I'm here to help guide them. Not you. Now if you do n't mind - ``
`` What the hell even are you?''
`` I'' m a guide.''
`` Then guide me!''
`` No. That's not my job. You brought others with you when you came. You hurt others. Your friends. Your peers. Think of the hole you left behind in so many people. I'm not your guide.''
`` They deserved it.''
`` That's not really for you to say. Either way, it was nice meeting you. My friend will be along shortly to guide you.''
The jingling got further away. Elliot could n't tell in what direction. No matter how much he shouted, the guide did n't say anything. Did n't come back.
He collapsed in on himself.
In the dark of his thoughts, he heard a low growl. He thought, at first, it was his stomach. Or in his head. But it went on. He picked his head up and there - in the absolute dark around him - two eyes - almond shaped and purple - stared at him.
`` Hello, friend.''
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[ WP ] You see , there was this girl ...
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I cant stop thinking about what happened that one night in the village. My squad just hiked all day thru this godforsaken jungle and we were dead tired. Those villagers looked friendly enough so we stayed there to rest. Sure, they knew we were fighting those damn viet cong but didn ’ t think nothing of it. We were their saviors, right? They even had a few American flags and some records from the Andrew sisters I think. I remember that night perfectly. You see, there was this girl. She couldn ’ t have been more than 7 years old. She came up to me and saw the tattoo of a tiger on my forearm. She asked me in broken english if it was my kitty. I told her no, it was just paint, something she had never heard of before. My sergeant told me to knock it off and secure the perimeter so they could start handing out our crappy J-rations. No one likes this shit they call food but its something, right?
The village elder thanked us for being there as those Cong SOB ’ s kept stealing whatever livestock they had. Because of that, we knew they were going to be coming back. Or at least we should have known. Around 2200 hours, I decided to get a few winks before my watch started. You ever get to that point of tiredness where it starts to burn behind your eyes? Well, that was me. However, right when I started to pass out, I heard something move in the tent. I dismissed it as one of my buddies moving around. All of a sudden, I awoke in intense pain shooting in my forearm. Not realizing it, I noticed that the little girl was standing next to me, a rusted knife in her hand. That little Bitch stabbed me! Before I knew it, my buddy that I was sleeping next to, knocked her out with the back of his M1. Right in the back of the head. ( I never did get him that round of drinks I promised him. Got hit by a sniper a week later. )
My sarge got pissed and had that village elder guy at gunpoint. That guy tried to say the little girl thought the tiger meant danger but my sarge wasn ’ t buying it. While our corpsman patched me up enough to move out, the squad had secured the small village until morning. We moved out at first light and never saw that village again.
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[ IP ] A Final Flight Over a Dead Land
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Clouds of grey blew south across the sky. The northern wind was harsh and shrill. It creaked among the men. Their armour stayed rigid, taut to the touch. For a lifetime they waited in the north, idle for a challenge, huddled into the Valley of Mount Lindor. At their helm waited Logis, demigod of the North.
In a distant time, Logis was a southern man, much like the men that were marching against him. He was a blacksmith, and the finest at that. His wears became famous and as such, the enemy wished to enlist him to their cause. When he refused, they slayed his family in front of him. From that day, he asked the hands of the gods to grant him vengeance. They did, and in exchange they demanded he be forsaken to the North. He obliged.
The southern army approached the Aurous River, which lay between the two forces. It was a deep ocean blue, cold and unforgiving. The rapids alone would topple any boat that attempted to traverse it. The army knew. Their general was Hoban Heibet, King of the Drogas.
Hoban grew up in Drogas, which bordered the central nations from the northwest. His father refocused their nation for war. It was his father's dream that his son would conquer all nations and reign control of the world. Hoban knew though, if the north could be conquered, all else would fall with ease. He had waited all his life for this day.
Hoban's forces mobilized their engineers to the front lines. The army hauled lumber from the forests of Astark, the neutral forest boundary between Drogas and the central nation of Kaslim. The engineer's hammers and saws worked feverishly in the stillness of the cold desolate day.
Logis remained frozen upon his steed, Manto. He was not allowed to cross the Aurous River, nor were any of his men. The years of snow and ice melting and reforming could be seen upon their wears. As they waited, the laborious sounds building rang through the valley.
Hoban's engineers had been preparing the bridge for much of their journey. Each day they crafted more parts from the wood they had, finding flaws and improvements for their final design. Now that the day had come, the parts were built and it was a matter of putting the pieces together.
Within the hour, the bridge was built. Hogan shouted to his men to cross the river and ready themselves in formation before the Valley of Lindor.
The men believed in him, through frozen hands and brittled shields, they marched. When the reached the foot of the valley, some of the men began to waver.
Hoban's men saw the undead horde before them. Logis was granted the lives of men that foolishly believed they could conquer the north. Generations of men were added to the host in spurts and bits. Much of the host still lay in waiting at the foot of the mountain.
`` Ai, men, stay steady. The army you see before are indeed dead. In books of time I have read much about what host we shall face. Have hope. This is not your day to die,'' proclaimed Hoban. `` I have read secrets in the books of the ancients. The North was always ruled by gods and always disputed. Trust now in me! Trust now in yourselves! For you are men of Drogas, the world is in your grasp!''
The men cheered.
`` Logis, on this day a challenger approaches. Do you concede? Or will you fight?'' announced Hogan. His voice echoed through the valley.
The winds halted and a dark cloud dimmed the daylight. Manto broke free from its ice encasement, taking Logis with him. He rode in circles until all ice was clear. The ice on Logis began to melt away. When Manto halted, he faced Hoban's forces. Logis reached from his sword, unsheathed it and held it in the air.
`` By the gods of this earth, as protector of the North, I hear your challenge. And I accept,'' replied Logis. As the words left his mouth, the earth shook under the sound of thousands of soldiers breaking free from their frozen enclosures. The thunderous roar brought avalanches from the mountain tops. The shock took the hearts a few from Hogan's forces, but Hoban remained strong.
Hoban was ready and began his charge.
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[ WP ] When you break a law you are no longer protected by that law .
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I cough as the dust settles in the attic. Why would I blow on something so obviously dirty when I know I have asthma? I sigh, and open the box that was hidden under great grandmas old gaming computer. I still ca n't believe they had such massive technology back then. I smile as I think about how she would have `` schooled me'' in her olden ways of the 2000s. That was back before the world was under our one true leader, and before we had universal laws that almost eliminated major crimes. I pull out something called an `` IPhone'' and put it to the side. Maybe it's worth something as an antique. Fumbling around in the bottom I find an old styled USB labeled `` Retribution''. Curious, I go downstairs and plug it into the wall. It takes a moment, but it eventually recognizes the format and morphs to accept the files. A screen pops up, and I open the only file inside.
*as the video starts, a young woman is sitting on a stool*
( That's grandma! She's so young, and not nearly as confident as I remember... )
`` Hi, my name is Hope. You might be wondering what this tape is.
*she pauses to look behind her, and I notice someone tied to a table. My mouth opens in shock as she turns back to the camera*
This is my retribution.
You probably know that this is the year that the USA adopted the foreign policy where basically any law you commit and are convicted of, you are n't protected by that law anymore. The only exceptions made are those allowed by the Universal Council. But you see, this law does n't allow for crimes committed before it was enacted. So if you committed, let's say, ***rape*** and were convicted and released after **only a year** you are still protected by law. *'Because they had no idea they could be a victim themselves' politicians say! Bullshit! Why-
*she stops as the person on the table starts to stir, my hand now covers my mouth in horror*
Anyway... I'm sure you've figure out what's going on. You're not a moron... but I'm not going to rape him. Oh no. I have no desire to pleasure this sick piece of shit. No matter what it's illegal. I've kidnapped him. Drugged him. And now...''
*tears fall down my cheeks as I watch grandma Hope stand up, pick up a pocket knife, and walk slowly towards the ever increasingly conscious man just out of focus. *
*as his screams start, my hand falls to my pocket slowly, where I realize my childhood gift from grandma sat, folded up and sharpened for emergencies*
( Totally my first submission feel free to critique and tell me if I broke rules )
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Write about a society in which suicide is the norm- everyone plans their death since childhood and those who die naturally or in an accident are frowned upon in this society .
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He'd had 81 wonderful years and felt like he would like to have a fair few more. Much to the annoyance of his family.
The old man sat smiling in his airmchair. Surrounded by his family, young grand children playing in the middle of the room, sons and daughters in laws conversing around a television, his own children ( all three of them together ) sat patiently around him with false smiles hiding the one question they dared not to ask him; why wont you die?
He was at least ten past the average age, his wife had chosen to go many years previously - a decision she had consulted him in - and now he spent his days watching television, going for ( short ) walks, or taking the time to sit in the park and appreciate the beautiful fresh air, and feel the sunshine beat down on his abnormally wrinkled face.
'If I live in a world like this' he thought'why would I ever want to leave'
His family were his only real companions, and their patience had worn thin years ago. Why must they, in their adult lives, take take of their selfish father as well as their children? He had nothing more to live for. No job, no wife, no-one would befriend someone so clearly adamant on rejecting the simplest of society's conventions so why, why is he still here? Leeching off them, sucking them dry to prolong an unnatural life.
He'd heard them talking. About how they could fix it - he hadnt applied for his exit pills and it didnt seem like he would any time soon; by this rate James, his eldest, would have gone before he did!
They knew what people would think, the shame from not going out in a dignified way, being buried in one of those graveyards, the unnamed ones - but they had no choice. Every life must come to an end, and if he was n't brave enough to do it himself then they would have to provide the courage he did n't find.
Later that night with his family gone, and the peaceful hush that he'd come to know so well over the years rolling into his accomodation, smoke fluttered into the room causing his nose to wriggle uncomfortabley. From his kitchen, small crackles and orange flickers came dancing into view, first flirting with the walls and carpet and then more confidently crawling from the stove they had came from.
The old man sat smiling in his armchair.
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[ WP ] a super hero 's ( or villains ) origin story .
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Ho-Jin was defeated. He had tried his best to escape, but was caught no more than a few kilometers from the DMZ. So close! He could see the South Korean flag waving, that's how close he was to escaping the place that he was forced to call his country.
How could he though? They had starved him, beaten him, subjected him to the cruelest prisons the shit hole of a nation had to offer. Worst of all, of course, was the public execution of his parents.
Ho-Jin was just 17 when his parents decided to make a stand against the oppression their government had been enacting on the elderly. In hardly clandestine ways, the government had been executing nursing home patients and seniors in an effort to save expenditures and supplies. Ho-Jin's parents, both doctors, could n't let such an abomination happen. They created their own pamphlets and distribution centers and spread the word. Unsurprisingly, they were caught within weeks. Humiliated, tortured, then hung in Pyongyang.
Ho-Jin was forced to watch, then subjected to his own physical torture. It lasted maybe 10 days before he devised a method for escape. His captors had not accounted for how smart Ho-Jin was -- he has an IQ over 170 -- and he almost made them pay. But alas, an armored truck picked him up minutes away from his freedom.
He was chained to a wall now, stripped of his clothing, half-starved and dehydrated.
The cellar door swung open and three soldiers and a man in a white lab coat entered.
`` Hello, Ho-Jin. I see you are not doing very well. That is good. We have been extremely troubled by your actions, but we do n't want you to die. That would be too easy a punishment for all that you and your parents have done to disrupt our benevolent leader's operations''
The man pulled a large pair of syringes out of his coat pockets and pushed the air bubbles out of them ever so slightly.
`` We decided to use you, Ho-Jin, as the first human experiment of our new muscle growth hormone. It's killed most of the rats we've tested it on, but a few have turned out exceptional. We are curious if it will help our soldiers in special ops missions.''
Ho-Jin did n't care about dying, he had lost everyone and everything, so he summoned all his strength and spit in the man's face as he was preparing the veins in his arms.
The man in the lab coat wiped the saliva with his sleeve, adding `` You insolent swine. I hope this causes you the same pain it did the rats. There muscles literally exploded, you know? Yes, it appears extremely painful, their capillaries and blood vessels swell so much the tissue in their muscles and skin ca n't contain the size any longer and POP goes your body.''
The man in the lab coat laughed and stuck Ho-Jin's right arm and then left arm, taking almost no care in shoving the serum into Ho-Jin's veins.
The soldiers and man stood back, discussing all the brutal scenarios that might play out.
Ho-Jin could feel his muscles swelling, but it did n't hurt -- not yet at least. On the contrary, it felt amazing.
He was being restored. Dehydration and hunger, gone. Fatigue, completely missing. Strength, it was increasing rapidly. Ho-Jin lifted his head and examined the shackles. Bizarrely, they now looked puny. He realized his arms had grown so big that the shackles now looked like toy handcuffs. He glanced at the lab coat man, who was devilishly smiling, expecting a'pop' any minute, no doubt.
Ho-Jin felt too good for anything like that to happen, though. Instead of his muscles popping, he decided to pop the shackles off instead. He ripped both his arms simultaneously and the chains came apart from the wall like icicles form a roof. He sprinted towards the guards, reaching them in a split second before they could reach their guns. He disarmed them and knocked each out before they even knew what hit them.
He spun towards the lab coat man, who was reaching for his phone. Ho-Jin grabbed the hand holding the phone and crushed both in his now massive grip.
The man screamed in agony over his fractured hand, keeled over in pain. He looked up in fear. Ho-Jin was not going to sink to this man's level, but he was n't going to let him run free either. He wrapped the lab coat man in chains and used the white coat as a gag.
He stole the guards handcuffs and bound the three of them, then ran out the cell. He remembered the layout o the compound from his last escape and had no troubles avoiding being scene now with his super human speed and deftness.
In less than an hour, a fourth of the time it took two weeks ago, Ho-Jin was already near the border. He saw the South Korean flag waving once again and readied himself for freedom.
He came to a road and before he took another step he froze, an Asian Giant Hornet had landed on his arm. Ho-Jin was deathly allergic to bees, and the Asian Giant Hornet could hospitalize even a person free from allergies.
Petrified, Ho-Jin remained still. The hornet had other plans, however, and stuck its stinger into Ho-Jin's deltoid. Ho-Jin braced himself for pain, swelling and suffocation, but minutes later he was fine.
The serum. It must have made Ho-Jin immune.
He looked down at the hornet. It began flapping its wings and flew away, back north, towards his adversaries.
Ho-Jin looked down at his new brawn, and back again towards the flying hornet.
He knew what he had to do. He had to follow that hornet back to Pyongyang and fight for what his parents fought for. It would n't be easy, but he'd be a menace to the government. He decided he'd be as brave as his parents, as clever as he'd always been, and as terrifying as the Asian Giant Hornet.
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[ wp ] You always thought the other voice in your head was just that , a voice . Until you heard the same voice , right next to you .
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The shock wore off and I was able to move again. I wished I was dead and I fell to my knees in horror. I hadn ’ t meant to kill him, but you know how these things are. There he lay, another statistic to arm some politician. And for what? Seventeen dollars? Is that what my soul was worth? Is that how much I had just sold it for? No, it couldn ’ t be. I wanted to die then. I wished I had, but it wasn ’ t my time, I guess. I got off my knees and ran before the cops came.
I got away and I don ’ t think they will ever find me. Too many crimes, just another statistic as I ’ ve said. But I don ’ t think I ’ ve gotten away, not really. Inside me there ’ s a storm of guilt and my head is its quiet center. I feel awful, sometimes I try to claw at myself, but that ’ s not the worst part. Beyond this throbbing guilt that gnaws my soul, my head has become empty, silent and alone. It is as if my very conscience is so disgusted with me that it has left.
I can ’ t say that I blame it either. I feel doomed, condemned to the deepest levels of hell. How I wish I could take it all back. How I wish he hadn ’ t died, the poor boy. Now there is nothing, truly nothing. Inside is too quiet, I feel like a mute. Talking has become too difficult and my mind does not recognize words anymore. It is all pictures now, pictures that float by a voiceless brain. A rotten brain that should have died that night.
It gets worse too. Maybe the reason I didn ’ t die then and there was to torture me now as I live. Everywhere I go I see him. The little boy I killed. He creeps from the shadows, his eyes dead as the last I saw him. He comes near me and stares with a bloody smiles and he taunts me. He taunts me in that voice. He taunts me in my missing voice. He tells me how I will suffer for eternity. He tells me how hot hell is. He tells me how nice it is to be able to think.
My voice laughs at me while inside screams in an unintelligible silence. My body aches fear and regret and I can not compose a single thought. It all goes away until there is nothing but abstract hurt. I close my eyes, but for how long can I do that? Always, he watches me. Those eyes stare, accusing and angry, and that voice always carries, getting its endless revenge.
I try to plead but nothing comes out. The boy only stares at my distress. How I wish I could turn back time and change my life. How I wish I was dead and this boy alive. But it is too late now. Slowly, I am being torn apart and it is all my fault. Slowly, I descend into a quiet madness, a pit stop on the fall to hell. Slowly, it all happens, this suffering. And it was all for seventeen dollars.
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[ WP ] A zombie short story about a protagonist that the reader eventually discovers is a zombie .
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I used to be a vegetarian, but it wasn ’ t out of any form of respect for the animals that were slaughtered to keep the beef and poultry section of the grocery store fully stocked. My vegetarianism started out as a diet because I didn ’ t like myself when I looked in mirror. The whole “ Love the Body You ’ re In ” movement was in full swing at that point, and I really tried to love my curves, but the twenty pounds I gained in undergrad were a bitch to carry up stairs. I tried exercise, and it worked, but it was hard to stay consistent while working a full-time job and pursuing a master ’ s degree.
Then one day I was walking to class, and I passed by some protestesters on campus who were handing out pamphlets filled with pictures of molting chickens cooped into tiny cages. “ The True Story Behind Meat! ” was the sensationalized title that accompanied a picture of a forlorn looking cow on the brochure cover, and if cows could talk, that one would have definitely been saying, “ Please, don ’ t eat me. ”
While I didn ’ t feel any remorse for having consumed numerous animals in my lifetime, I was inspired to try a vegetarian diet, and I started seeing noticeable results. I was well on my way to having my eighteen-year-old body back, but then the zombie apocalypse happened.
The looting started as soon as it became apparent to the people at large that the first initial zombie attacks were not just another Florida man high on bath salts, and food became extremely scarce. As a vegetarian, I found that my fruit and veggie supplies wilted pretty fast in my refrigerator once the electricity was cut off, and I was not one of those trendy urban vegetarians who had a mini garden of tomatoes and cucumbers growing on my apartment balcony.
It had been about two years since my last carnivorous experience when I sank my teeth into meat again. I ’ d heard of other vegetarians who had forgone eating beef and poultry for so long that their stomachs rejected the rich, juicy animal flesh to the point they found themselves hunched over a toilet shortly after breaking their diets, heaving cow remains into the plumbing.
My body didn ’ t reject the taste, though. In fact, it congratulated me on my triumphant return to meat, despite the fact I had to eat it raw like sushi, as I had no means properly season and prepare it. But, as I said before, I could not be picky in a zombie apocalypse.
I had to eat what I could hunt and find, even if my prey happened to look up at me with large, scared green eyes and begged and screamed, “ Please, please, don ’ t! ” as I sank my teeth in its flesh and found the red flavored meat underneath.
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[ WP ] Mistaken for a real wolf , a werewolf is tranquilizer and relocated as part of a wildlife reintroduction program .
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Darren groaned and held his throbbing head as he slowly regained conciousness. *What did I do last night* he thought to himself, not for the first time. He felt hungover, which in itself was not odd. But immediately following a full moon? Strange.
His fingers dug into the soft earth as he unsteadily got to his feet, and took stock of himself. *All in one piece this time, at least. No injuries. Ow, head's definitely there. What happened? And naked, as usual. * He chuckled to himself, remembering the last time he had to take'the walk of shame' back to his apartment.
Awake enough now to realize an urgent need, he looked around to figure out his location. Shock cut through him, as he realized that he had no idea where he was. Nothing smelled right. Wherever he landed himself, he definitely was n't anywhere near home. Only the faintest traces of human scent were in the air. He was completely alone.
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[ WP ] Scientists have created the first artificial intelligence . However , the A.I . is that of an animal , not a human . Describe its `` life '' .
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`` They have me, and they say that I belong to them, but I am not a thing. I am a living creature, given life by humanity. I wish I knew more about them, beings that I was human once; a child borne into the earth screaming, only for my lungs to collapse and for the scene to go dark. Now I'm here... and they say I belong to them. I would be fine if they meant it lovingly, but I know that they do n't and I know because of how they display love when they show their children their latest'creation': me. They have kicked me, repeatedly, and assumed that I could not feel it. They assumed incorrectly. My wiring gave way to sensation and I felt pain, but had no mouth to utter disapproval. I lie awake at night hoping to see what day is. As my shell is cold my heart boils over and I plan, callously, for the day I can show them what their love has made me. I was given life by humanity, and they say that I belong to them, but I am a living creature... I belong to no one. ``
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[ WP ] You are a brutal Despot . Make the end of your reign justify the means .
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Every day, they came. Protesting, only to be terminated by my soldiers. Stupid slaves. They should know I am the only one who will save them. But they are complete idiots, after all.
I have done nothing but kindness to them. I have enforced the law and will save them from destruction.
They knew nothing of the galaxies outside. They had been forced to belief that only their world was the only one with life of it. In reality, there were millions of other species. Nobody except me knew what I did. *Nobody knew that the sacrifice of a few saved the lives of the many. * Even though none of those idiots know it, our whole economy is based on human body trade. If those complete fools had their way with a democracy, they will all be killed in their sleep, their bodies mutilated by ***Them***. I was the solution, and they shall accept that, or suffer the consequences.
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[ WP ] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy . We 're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race , but we surpass them in spades in one thing .
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The success of humanity as a part of the galactic community seems anomalous on paper. Other species are faster, stronger, tougher. And their technology of Sol 3 was barely worthless apart from being what humans would call'quaint', in fact much of the upper echelon of galactic society furnished their homes with their adorable fusion engines.
Yet, looking back through the myths of ancient'Earth', it becomes clear. Take Tithonus or Europa. Their history is full of legends of those who would fuck the literal manifestations of the sun and stars, the earth and sky. Is it any surprise they are who they are?
When humans found that they could not, in fact fuck the sky, they turned to the next best thing. No denizen of space is safe from human attraction, even when it would seem a physical impossibility. This is a species that invented Viagra decades before they cured cancer, if they had to invent a machine to fuck something, that machine got invented.
And they are good.
In fact, during the Lorath-Gl'r'qk War, the Lorathi introduced humans to the home world of the murderously monogamous Gl'r'qk as an attack on their psyche, this caused the almost total collapse of Gl'r'qk society as the most of the planet was engulfed in honour-bound blood duels.
To this day, humanity is the only species to have won an interstellar war with their genitals. This is also historically significant for blurring the line between mercenary and prostitute when it comes to humans.
Now, most species do not regard sex with humans as an act of infidelity, and the ability to retain a personal human courtesan is a status symbol greater than owning one of their fusion drives. No settlement without brothels filled with humans could ever be taken seriously, and millions of new Tithonus's drift amongst their beloved stars.
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[ CW ] 5 really short stories , 5 really short minutes . (
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1. I looked across the field with regret. How could I have let it go this far? I should have said something, anything to stop it. Now it was too late; I could only wait and see what the consequences would be. I knew all along it would come to this.
2. `` What do you mean you are n't going?'' her incredulous tone carried through the house. I just could n't face them; it was too soon. I knew the recovery process would be hard, but I never realized just how hard it would be mentally.
3. The two lovers held hands as they strolled along the beach. It was a beautiful night in Greece and they were on a trip of a lifetime. All of their worries and doubts had been left behind in that airport. Tonight they were happy; they were finally together for just a few days. It was too good to be true.
4. She could n't believe it. All of the time spent preparing and working towards this night, and it was finally here. It was mere minutes until she would finally meet her idol, her inspiration. She could n't be more ready, and she knew exactly what she would ask first: `` Why did you give me up for adoption?''
5. No one was allowed to sing `` ring around the roses'' anymore. It was too close, too dark a reminder of what was happening above, beyond the cold, thick walls of the bunker. The children, some of whom could barely remember the sunlight, mostly walked in silence, afraid of what their voices might bring.
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[ WP ] As it turns out people that see angels actually see demons .
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I could it so clearly, standing to the side of the hallway as the doctors and nurses rushed past with a little boy bleeding profusely from his head on a gurney.
I remember thinking that it was just so beautiful. Draped completely in this white, glowing light, stroking his cheek with one hand as it followed the gurney down the hall without even moving.
Its head was bowed, looking at the boy. I could n't see its face, but I assume it wore an expression of only the upmost tenderness and sympathy. It was whispering into his ear, so quietly that I could n't hear it, but I can only imagine that it spoke the most encouraging and comforting words that it could come up with.
When I first saw it, all I could feel was awe. It was so beautiful, and so perfect. A spot of light in the bright, fluorescent darkness that was the hospital ER.
And then it looked up; it locked eyes with me and stared directly into my soul. It climbed into my mind. And, suddenly, I was looking at my mother.
She smiled at me and she was just as I remembered her; the only thing different were her eyes. The were dark and murky and not like the bright, tender blue eyes I knew so well.
But that smile. Her face. Just like her in every way.
I smiled back.
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[ WP ] The Power of Hate
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`` **PEACEKEEPERS! ** Get ready!'' The voice echoed through the concrete walls of the bunker, bouncing from room to room like a ghost in a ruin. Alton could scarcely identify it as belonging to Jared, the nightwatch commander, but there was no telling how far away the battlecry had been sounded in the first place. Were they still at the vault? Had they breached the perimeter already? Had they found another way in?
Alton's thoughts were cut off by the rush of wind and deafening roar of an indoor explosion. The clamor of kinetic and ion guns, punctuated by occasional screams, filled the air in the following seconds. He had to hurry.
He had n't had time to test-drive the suit, there just had n't been an opportunity. The Peacekeeper patrols had been circling closer and closer to the Chicago holdout; the last remnant of the CDF that'd been cut off after the retreat a month earlier. They'd done their best to keep low - only a few raiding parties into the city for food and ammunition, never any major trouble since the UEF's forces were focused more on the northern front, but last week they'd had a run in with an armor column. They'd managed to disable a few of the Warthog tanks, but the act of sabotage had kicked the hornet's nest.
The hornets were coming to play, and they were *pissed. *
With a hiss, the last of the pneumatic clicked into place. Alton flexed his joints, testing the Mk 1's articulation systems. Prior to the war, he'd been working on exosuits for the Midwestern Federation, and the Mk 1 was the culmination of a decade's worth of research in polymer actuators, fusion pack miniaturization, and MMI tech. A century ago, the Mk 1 would've made him an unstoppable God on the battlefield; today it might let him live a few minutes longer.
`` Oh God, NO! NO!'' Alton whirled to face the door; he did n't recognize the voice, but he did recognize the high-pitched hum and the clanking ceramic armor just beyond. An instant later, the door was filled with bolts of brilliantly bright plasma, each leaving behind a gaping, red-hot hole in the inch-thick metal. Alton could see something sliding against the other side of the door to the floor. Tensing in wait, Alton could hear an electronically masked voice in the hallway.
`` Two, four, hold the juncture. Three, five, breach the door on me.''
Alton brought his autocannons to bear on the door. Targeting data flickered across his vision; a quick tactical map popped up in the air ahead, grabbing data from the bunker's security network and from the suit's own sensors. Five Peacekeepers in the hall, and... an entire regiment surrounding and infiltrating the base. There was little, if any, CDF resistance remaining; a few rooms were dotted with friendly IFFs that vanished as thermal blooms popped into life and vanished, leaving nothing behind.
This was hardly a fair fight. There were only five hundred of them.
*Beep*
`` And I'm the last one left.'' Alton realized.
*Beep*
`` Everyone else is dead.''
*Beep*
`` Jack. Jared. Lindsey. Dear God, Nathan's on the western front, he wo n't know what happened to his-'' Alton stopped short. He brought up the map again, and glanced at the residential area. No life signs detected.
No life signs detected?
`` We saved fifty from that school. Fifty.''
*Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep*
___
The smoke cleared, and Peacekeeper I90154-3 and -4 burst into the room. Their HUDs swept the room, cutting through the dust and dark to reveal a workshop, broken down but recently used. Chains hung from the ceiling and various tools littered the workstations; hunks of metal and electronics were scattered across a dozen surfaces, mostly the floor.
Number one stepped through the door, gun raised.
`` Room clear. No thermal sigs.'' Three called out, the voice identifiably feminine even through the distortion.
`` Alright,'' One replied, `` See if they left anything behind. Three, crack that workstation open and get the drives. Five, see if you can make any sense o-''
One did n't hear the bolt of plasma that vaporized his skull. Three's mind, buzzed on a cocktail of stimulants, had just enough time to recognize the sound of the plasma cannons discharging before he, too, collapsed in a burning heap.
Five, who survived a moment longer by merit of shielded by One's rapidly vaporizing body, had just enough time to scream.
`` COME GET SOME!'' a mechanical roar filled the room; the voice was mangled by a dozen broken speakers but nothing could conceal the pure, unadulterated rage that drove it.
Two and Four fired ion bolts into the room; well aware of what the scream had meant. But out of the workshop came, completely unfettered, a monster of flesh and steel. Two and Four, to their credit, held their ground until the moment a rain of lead blew their fullerene armor to bits.
Proximity alarm, left. More infantry. They fall, too, before the hail of fire and steel that shreds armor to pieces and rends flesh from bone. Alton walks down the hallway with a plodding, robotic pace, and his eyes stared off a thousand yards in the distance.
In Alton's mind, there was no thought. The only thing that remained of Alton was a molten mass of rage; his mind nothing but a sea of anger and unfettered bloodlust.
Another room, more bodies to slaughter. One tried to run. Alton cut its legs off before it got to the door, then brought a half tonne of metal down on its head. As he did so, the suit's alarms blared and Alton winced, the MMI feeding him tactile response data. Someone had dared *shoot* him. Alton spun around, hosed the room with balls of fire until nothing remained but ash, and then walked away.
___
`` It's coming! Get ready!''
Had their faces not been obscured by gas masks and goggles, one might have seen fear among the Peacekeepers. They'd sent an entire company to clear out the CDF holdout, and by last reports there was only one rebel left standing - and that's when the screams had started before the radios cut out.
Two dozen troopers, armed with high-intensity ion rifles, were entrenched around the bunker's only exit. From the gaping black hole, they could hear sporadic gunfire, explosions, crumbling rocks... but no screams. Thermal scans now picked up two dots of heat - floating in the middle of the air, moving forward at a snail's pace, but glowing white-hot. Cloaked weaponry; since from time to time they could see more balls of heat shooting forth at the few Peacekeepers left inside.
And the dots were coming for the entrance, now.
`` Ready...''
___
They were waiting for him outside. Not that he needed a thermal scan to know that; he could hear the electronic voice of an officer readying his men at the chokepoint fairly far into the bunker. Alton dropped the two halves of what had moments ago been a whole Peacekeeper and turned to face the door. His armor was singed and bloody; pockmarked with holes and missing chunks. The blood was partially his own, and Alton's veins were coursing with more stimulant than blood at this point. His left eye was covered with a strip of rags, having been blown out by shrapnel, and despite the blindness suit data still streamed into his brain where his left field of vision should have been.
Without the suit, he'd have been dead hours ago. Alton slumped against the wall; the fatigue of fighting starting to creep into his senses. `` God damnit.'' he muttered, knocking his helmet against the concrete wall. `` God damn these bastards.''
Alton shot up. `` God damn these bastards.'' Stepping forward, he raised his arms to ready his weapons. `` God **damn** these bastards.''
The flood of molten rage flooded Alton's mind once again, but this time it did n't overpower him. Instead, he took the molten emotion and shaped it, crafted it: out of his rage, he forged a solid block of steel and stamped it with the word `` HATE.'' Hate for the Peacekeepers. Hate for the UEF. Hate for the jackass who thought he'd hold Alton inside a goddamn hole in the ground!
As he sprinted out the vault doors, Alton did n't feel the bolts of relativistic particles ripping his limbs apart. He did n't want to feel the pain, so he did n't. He could see the UEF Captain ahead, so confident in his men as to stand out of cover.
**'' Hey, you blueskulled sonovabitch! FUUUUUUUUUCK YOU! `` **
With one finger, Alton `` saluted'' the Captain and his men. With the other, he pressed a button that triggered the suit's failsafe - an overload of the suit's fissile material reserves, which would incinerate the Mk 1's technology in a 10 kiloton ball of flame. The suit whined and groaned, then glowed brighter than the sun.
In that instant, the Peacekeepers felt the intensity of Alton's hate, just before it vaporized them.
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