prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ wp ] You are an entry level employee at PermaCorp , a multinational finance firm . The catch is if you kill an employee at PermaCorp , you can take their job . Describe your first day at the firm .
|
I got ready super early to tackle my first day at a new job. I packed my laptop in my bag, and gave Christina a kiss. Little did I know that this would be the last day I would have the taste of her morning breath in my mouth as I walk out the door.
I thought that driving to PermaCorp would be absolutely stupid, seeing that it's only a mile and a half way. So I walked.
On the walk to work, i boarded the train of thought, and thought about things that Christina told me in the interview, `` We like hard-workers here, the easiest way to make friends around here is to do your job.'' I guess this is just one of those sayings that are just easier said than done. Christina also stated that the bright side to being an employee at PermaCorp is that advancement is super easy. I tried asking her what she meant by'easy' but she had an important meeting with a client and had to put a pause on the interview. If job advancements were'easy' then Christina would n't be the only regional manager of the firm, there might be about 12 of them.
I walked through the front doors of PermaCorp, and had no idea because i was still stuck in my train of thought. I did n't get off the train until a ran into the receptionist desk, and a young blonde woman approached me with the most welcoming smile.
`` Hello, can I help you?'' she asked.
`` Yeah, um, I'm new, and..''
`` Zachary Agnew?''
`` Yep.''
`` You will be working on the 22nd floor, in the associates department. There are plenty of open desks, because we are still hiring at the moment.''
All of a sudden I heard, `` Make way! Make way! Move it people!'' But i did n't know where it was coming from.
I turned and try to spot the person who said that, i finally did. It was a paramedic. They were carrying an older black man on a stretcher. The man had a knife jabbed into his chest, and blood splattered all over his white shirt. He did n't say anything nor did he move. I felt like vomiting up the leftover meatloaf I had for breakfast this morning, but i swallowed it back down.
`` What the hell happened here?'' i asked the receptionist, who was shockingly calm during the situation.
`` A promotion.''
I was confused about what she meant by promotion.
`` Have a nice day.'' she waved as I made my way towards the elevator.
`` Hold the door! Hold the door! Hold the door!'' a older man with glasses yelled.
I obeyed.
He got in the elevator and laughed, he noticed i was n't laughing, and asked, `` What, you never seen Game of Thrones?''
I did n't even ask him what floor, just pressed'22' like the receptionist told me. I did n't answer his question either, I had a more important question to ask.
`` What the hell happened out there?'' I questioned
`` A promotion.'' the older man smiled.
`` What does that even mean?''
The old man wiped the smile off of this face and took a big sigh, `` In order to get promoted here, you have to eliminate the person who works in the job that you want.''
`` So if I were to kill the receptionist, I'd get to keep her job.''
`` Essentially. And every time you get promoted, you get a raise.''
`` Whoa.''
`` But here's the thing, if you work as a receptionist, analyst, or an associate, your job and your life is secure. These are the three lowest paying jobs and no one is going to kill you over it, because we are always hiring.''
The elevator doors opened and I walked out, did n't even say goodbye to the old man. I entered the associates department, and there were only about 12 of us, with about 20 desks left over. I chose the desk near the window, in the back corner, so i will be able to see everything. I did n't even know what to do, I just sat, traumatized about the shocking truth about my job.
A few minutes later Christina, arrived to meet me, she had a on a blue button down shirt, with a black skirt. She looked hot.
`` Hey baby.'' she whispered, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. She quickly turned around to see if anyone saw the kiss, but no one did. `` You look like you just seen a ghost. But anyway, I have some work that I need you to do. They will all be in your work email.'' She gave me a piece of paper with an email and a password. `` Here is your work email, and since it's your first day, you wo n't get that much work to do. Need help with anything else?''
`` Nah, I'm good. Thanks.''
`` Also, do you want to go grab some coffee?''
`` Right now?''
`` Sure, why not?''
`` um, I'll take a raincheck on that. I just want to get my workload out of the way.''
`` okay. But if you need my help with anything just text me.''
`` see you later.''
`` bye.''
I took out my laptop and did what I was expected to do. It was n't difficult, I just had to call up a couple of clients, no big deal.
I just stared out the window when I was done, there was so much going on in the city below me, it was fascinating to watch. A large traffic pileup, hundreds walking on sidewalks and crossing streets, many shopping at the coffee stand across the street. I finally understood what people meant when they say that this city never sleeps, there's always something going on, and there's always something to watch. When I moved here, a few months ago, I did n't even need to pay the inflated price for cable T.V, just looking out the window was enough to let me get by.
Out of nowhere, I saw a gigantic blue and black bird fly from upwards, and towards the sidewalk, as if its wings failed or something. Watching it as it made it closer and closer to the sidewalk I realized what it was. I tried denying it, hoping to God that it was a bird, or a plane, or even Superman. But it was n't any of those things, I knew it was Christina. She hit the sidewalk hard, and many gathered around to see what happened. I ran to the elevator and made my way to the bottom floor. I ran out the front door and approached Christina, who was no longer breathing. I held her in my arms, with the blood from her cracked skull leaking all over my shirt. I cried that day, which was the first time I cried since watching the final scene of Gladiator. I heard cheering and screaming from above. I looked up, and it was a man poking his head out of the window celebrating. I guess he got the elusive promotion to Regional Manager, and it was at that moment when I vowed that on my second day at PermaCorp, I would walk in as the new Regional Manager.
|
[ WP ] Everyone gets a mandatory 3 month long summer break each year at the same time . It is the day before the break starts , and you must prepare your family .
|
`` Look, I told you already, just as last year, and the year before, and the year before that, we do n't have a choice,'' I calmly said to my wife. The annual break started the next morning. For three months, I would not have to work, my kids need not learn, and all would be play for that time period.
My reasoning got me absolutely nowhere. She did n't want to hear it. `` But how are we to pay for everything? The bills, the car, food...'' her voice trailed off as it did every May 31st.
`` It's the same every year - we pay for nine months now for what we used to pay in twelve. Bills we do n't worry about and food is rationed equally. I present our meal cards and we get to eat. Simple as that. Nothing has changed since the last Break.'' My voice wavered on the last sentence. The explanation would never change for her, but neither would my love for the woman I called my wife. Even with her persistent amnesia, I worked a hard nine months per year so I could spend three straight with her. Each Break was worth it.
|
[ FF ] How I Survived The Zombie Outbreak
|
How did I survive, you ask? Truth be told... I did n't. No, no, I'm not one of *them*. I'm still breathing, not rotting. But I did n't survive. Not really. The person I was Before is dead. He died sometime in the first day. When a man sees certain things, it changes him. The Man I Was saw things that changed him. Did things that changed him. The Man I Was had never seen a dead child. He'd never seen a child die. He'd never seen a child killed by his own parents. The Man I Was saw none of that. I did, though. The Man I Was never killed a child. The Man I Was never **had to** kill a child. It was self-defense, The Man I Was had to kill or be killed. The Man I Was hesitated, but I did n't. How did I survive, you ask? The Man I Was did n't. But I did.
Edit: Please critique!
|
[ WP ] Its the finals of the hide and seek world championships , and you are against your toughest challenge yet . His name is wally , but many people know him as waldo- and he was the champion for the last 10 years . You are determined to win .
|
The man was more myth than legend.
Did he even exist, this'Waldo'? The historic annals of ten years ago ( that is, the registration documents ) swore he did.
`` Yet what do I have of him?'' I muttered. `` An old picture and a name, nothing more.''
For weeks now, I had been roaming the hide-and-seek playfield, a Three Acre Plain consisting of an absurd variety of environmental props. Every contestant had a smart device with info on the contestants, and a camera to send your triumph to the Gamemasters.
`` What is he *wearing*?'' I muttered. `` How does he hide himself in *that*.''
The ridiculous get-up of stripes and hat reminded me of a tiger that had chosen to be a christmas decoration rather than a camouflaged predator.
`` Hell, how has he *survived* all these years?''
There was food on the Three Acre Plain, but it was placed in locations with high risk of discovery.
`` Or not go mad of boredom, for that matter?'' I muttered.
`` Oh, but I did,'' a voice whispered next to my ear. I turned, quick as a rattlesnake as my camera flashed. Too late. *Nothing. * Shivers took me.
`` Alright,'' I sneered. `` I know when I'm beaten. Take my picture already.''
Yet as I said it, I retreated in the dark, smelly hole I had been hiding in. Let him come. Let him step in the light, this...
Something grabbed my wrist, crushing my smart device in clawed fingers. A smell of crusted blood rose up over the usual smell of the hole I'd gotten used to. And in the twilight from above, I made out a face, smiling doltishly under a red pompom and a pair of ominously gleaming glasses.
`` I always do take the picture, eventually,'' he winked at me.
`` What the fuck?'' I struggled, panic rising. `` Let go of me, you-''
`` How else will they know to keep sending me fresh nourishment each year, eh?''
I fell silent in horror. There was no escape from his steel grip as his face neared mine.
`` Now tell me... **where's Waldo? **''
I screamed.
|
[ WP ] Everyone 's afraid of the dark . Make me afraid of the light .
|
“ This has been a great night, Marc. ”
Indeed it has. She made it so easy. We took a stroll, feeling safe under the cover of night. I counted my blessings as we searched for answers to unspoken questions in the gleam of each other ’ s eyes, reflecting the moonlight.
We should not have been complacent. The tyranny of our overlords could reach us anywhere there was light.
And lights burst through more abruptly than we could react. My eyes immediately went blind and I have a sharp intake of panic as I gasped.
“ Run! ” Sarah screamed at me, desperate.
Darn the light! I tried to run, but my feet were unsure beneath me. My hand was numb and I seemed to have lost the grip of hers.
My eyes barely recovered enough for me to make out Sarah ’ s outline. She was drenched in her own fluids. She lay on the floor dying, but still struggling to urge me to keep going. Her frame was deformed, crushed under the merciless weight of the tyrants.
I kept running, thinking of how I may live to regret not stopping for her.
Darn the light, darn it all!
It was a pointless thought. I did not manage to get far before I was slapped by a powerful gust. Toxins filled my lungs and I lost control of my limbs as it quickly saturated in my body. I tripped over my own feet, fell flat on the floor and lay there dying.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sarah again. She had died. I curse our overlords aloud. I curse the lights that they have created to turn night into day. No one and nowhere was ever safe anymore.
I lay on my back helplessly, staring up at the light that came from the heavens. My feet were still scrambling but I was a helpless stationary target – as the merciless weight of our overlords came down upon me.
At last, darkness.
|
[ WP ] You have a potentially dangerous stalker . How ironic , as you are the most infamous serial killer that has yet to be caught .
|
The bartender scanned the room again and fixed her with a cold stare. `` Out. Now.''
That little cocksucker did n't know who he was messing with. She was going to have him fired and arrested for daring to mess with her. That small-dicked pervert needed to be in jail.
`` Let's go Meredith, please.'' Joan, one of the other real estate agents from her office, was standing next to her. `` You're causing a scene.''
`` A scene! That rat bastard tried to touch me! Did you see that!?'' she yelled.
`` Actually, Meredith, I saw you almost pulling your own tits out of your shirt so he would get you another beer. Let's just get you a cab.''
She shrieked. A rage so profound she could feel it turn into a separate entity rose up through her veins and threatened to spew out her eyes. She was pissed off at the faggot's rejection, at his snotty demeanor, and most of all at the complete indifference with which he looked on as they dragged outside. She would show him. She would make him pay. That fucking cocksucker would pay.
The next day, she called his supervisor at the bar 57 times. Each call started with the same breathless question: `` Is the faggot fired yet?'' That night she slipped past the bouncers and sat at the counter. As soon as she saw him, she greeted him with a suggestive smile and a show of her sagging cleavage. He ignored her in favor of other customers. The resulting stream of profanities that tumbled out of her mouth drew the attention of every single patron at the bar. This time, she had to be carried out by three muscled men. She spit at the bouncer on her way to the door.
She found his number by dialing the bar on his day off and pretending to be his sister calling from the airport. She got his address by following him home. How dare he refuse her. Why, he should be thankful that she wanted him at all.
She left him dead rats and birds in his mailbox, and peed on his porch whenever the opportunity arose. One time, when she knew he had just started his shift and his neighbors were on vacation, she went to his house and carefully covered his door with her feces. Ignore *that*, motherfucker.
Bryan wondered if this is what his mother had meant when she said `` God has a sense of humor.'' He had spent the better part of his teenage years terrifying his 12 year old girlfriend by threatening her family if she did n't love him back. He remembered with amusement the time he left her pet cat's head in her mailbox knowing full well that she would be the first to check it when she got home from school. The note said `` First your pussycat, then your pussy.'' That's why he could n't help but laugh when he started getting dead animals in his own mailbox. It was absurd! The woman was unhinged.
But the situation was becoming more than an inconvenience. He could n't go out without her tracking him. No one could visit him without her showing up and scaring them off. His boss was threatening to fire him if she did n't stop harassing the bouncers and yelling obscenities at guests as they were led inside. The police were called so often one of the officers finally told him to stop being such a fucking pussy. `` Man up'' the cop said, `` The crazy bitch is half your size.'' *Half* *my* *size*, *but* *twice* *as* *crazy*, he mused.
As the weeks and months passed the frequency of her contacts waned, but not their intensity. He was growing desperate. It had been months now since he had gotten any release, and it was making him angry. His cock throbbed at the sight of anything with a short skirt, and he was daydreaming about the customers at the bar while serving them. How their beautiful necks would look in purple and blue bruises. The rip of fabric. The sensuality of a long, high-pitched, scream... but that damned bitch was *stalking* him. *Stalking* him! Stalking *him*! He could n't leave the house without her watching, or so he assumed. He was basically under house arrest with his own private chaperone sitting outside.
The thought that he could flip the tables on her came to him while he was sitting on the toilet. He was humiliated by the thought; the fact that it had taken him so long to think of it was an embarrassment. That night he pulled out his binoculars and night vision and stared off into every corner of the street She was n't there, or he could n't see her.
Where was she? Where was she?
After several hours, his hands trembled with the binocular's weight. Sweat dripped from his palms as he searched the street, again and again. Where was she? Why had she gone? What had he done?
He missed work the next day. Bloodshot eyes had difficulty focusing though the binoculars. After hours of vigil, his arms could barely even hold the binoculars up. He paced the hallways and rooms of his house drinking Jack straight from the bottle in long hysterical swigs. Where was she? A little after three o'clock, he saw the tip of her hat peeking behind his neighbor's trees.
`` Fucking bitch. Where were you?'' he muttered, a wave of relief washing over him swiftly, curling his toes. He watched over her until 11:00 that night, when she finally began gathering her things to go. A few seconds after, he dashed out of the house with a bag over his shoulder.
He picked up her trail a few blocks later, and was surprised when not 10 minutes from his house she ducked into what he assumed was her home. A pretty place with terrible maintenance. The paint was chipped and the yard was overgrown. He sat outside for several hours watching her moving from room to room. He was fairly sure she was alone, and decided to put his lock picking kit to use.
`` You finally had enough you chicken shit bastard? Are you here to try to kill me you homo? Are you here to try to take me against my will?'' Her eyes gleamed with every word. A faint smell of pungent body odor permeated the air. This was not what he expected, but he was inwardly delighted. After he startled her inside, she had only given a little gasp of surprise before she started in on him.
Without another word, he pushed her back into her bed and climbed on top of her. She was crazier than a rabid raccoon. She spit, and scratched, and orgasmed over and over without him ever trying to even take off her clothes. She disgusted him. He just wanted her to be over, but the amount of pleasure she got from his close contact both repelled and fascinated him.
His rational mind told him this was stupid. He was too close to home to kill her right here. He had a history with her that the entire police force knew about. No, he would have to do this away from here. Far away, without anyone knowing they were together. He needed to meet her somewhere else. Woods. Solitude. Privacy. Like a bed and breakfast he'd noticed up by the closed camping site. They were having a couple's special which included a continental breakfast and had free wifi. They also advertised a Jacuzzi.
Maybe next weekend. Was n't it Velentine's Day or some bullshit? Yeah... that sounded nice...
|
[ WP ] Two strangers keep running into each other throughout the years . It is not a love story .
|
I look up from my coffee, out onto the street outside the café. He's there again. Just like he has been since, well, longer than I can recall. Long enough, that's for sure.
No idea who he is. He seems familiar, but in the sort of way that you can look into anyone's eyes and see a family member, or an acquaintance, or a TV personality, or a janitor from high school. But he's different. He's the one face I ca n't place.
I would probably not pay him much attention normally. I see many of the same people every day. Some I know, some I do n't. But I think he knows me. Every time I glance up at him, he's got his eye on me. He's not good at being discrete. I wonder if I've done something to him personally, because he always looks bitter when he looks at me. I do n't think he's trying to hide it. Rather, he wants me to know.
I set a tip on the counter as I leave the café. I keep my head down. As much as I want to know who he is, I'm really not interested in meeting him. He keeps his distance, and that's exactly what I want. I set off down the road. I keep my eyes on my feet for a long while; I know the way home, and I'm not in the mood to chit-chat with any happenstance acquaintances.
On my way home, I pass a record store. I give myself this one moment to lift my head and peer inside. He's there. Of course he is. I'm starting to think he works there, because I always look up and he's always there. And he's still not happy with me. I put my head back down.
I get back to my apartment. I have the afternoon to myself, but I'm on edge. His glare has firmly set itself in my mind long ago, but every day I see him, it gets clearer.
I head to the bathroom to wash my hands. I look up from the sink. He's there again. Just like he always is. He's possibly more cross with me than I've ever seen him. But he still refuses to say anything.
I want nothing more than to know who he is. And what he wants. And why he's so goddamn angry with me. But I'm too scared to ask.
|
[ FF ] To Sleep , Perchance to Dream .
|
I should just throw my clock away, it's just a tantalizaing time bomb of how long I've been up already. I just want to snooze dammit, I just want to collapse. And I have oh believe me, but for however long I keep my eyes shut I just spend those night hours hearing my own thoughts rambling away at the core of my mind. It's starting to get bad actually.. I've tried talking to the walls, try to tire myself out, hopefully just shuffle along to slumberland mid sentence. But.. they've started talking back.. And that does n't help much either. Sometimes I'll just bury my head into total darkness and try to pretend that I'm dreaming, but it's been a few weeks now and the world outside is starting to look like a dream..
|
[ WP ] You buy a special camera at the pawn shop . Every photo you take , it shows a snapshot of 10 years ago . You take a picture of your dog and it shows him 10 years ago when he was a puppy . Everything is all fun and games , until you decide to take a picture of your bedroom one night .
|
'Shit' The Polaroid camera slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. Just my luck, I find something magical, something which defies explanation, and I drop the bloody thing and probably break it straight away.
I'd found it nestled in the back of the pawn shop on my way home, struggled to find a few dollars to buy the darned thing, but I thought it worth it: I've always loved photography. And then when I took the photo of Terry, the most peculiar thing happened. The picture in front of me was of a puppy, youthful and energetic, smiling up at the camera with tail wagging eagerly. And yet the dog in front of me was nothing of the sort. The real Terry lay in front of me, weary. His front left paw raised every so slightly off the ground, his attempt to alleviate the pain of old age. His fur greying, his tail limp, this was not the dog in my photo. Maybe it might've been ten years ago.
And then I realised, in every photo I took the world was different. My camera was more than that, it was a portal into the past. Ten years into the past.
After making my discovery, I eagerly hurried home, ready to stow it away and do some research. And that's where I am now, looking at my newfound possession on the floor.
Examining it in my hands, I notice no immediate damage. Instead, it whirs softly, and a new photo emerges.
Out of habit, rather then necessity, I shake it to see what my crystal ball will reveal.
Two people. A man and a woman. He's holding her hand, reaching out to grab her as she turns away. There's a suitcase on the floor, packed full of clothes. I ca n't see much of the rest of the room, or the scene, due to the camera being dropped at an odd angle and shooting as it hit the floor. I do n't need to have a picture to recognise this scene though.
Martha was standing right there when I got home, a suitcase on the bed. It did n't click at first, I could n't compute. She did n't look up at me, just kept packing clothes. I asked her what was up, there was no response. I touched her shoulder, she recoiled. It started to set in, a realisation dawning on me.
'No.. no..' I stammer out. She says nothing, she keeps packing. I try to stop her, but she ignores me. My vision gets blurry as my body starts to shake with sobs. I grab her hand just as she pulls away again.
Ten years had past, and the wounds were as fresh as ever.
Ten years ago, Terry had been a bright eyed, bushy tailed pup. And ten years ago, I'd been happy.
A lot can change in ten years.
|
[ WP ] You are a guardian ; a protector of your assigned child . You are a teddy bear , the first line of defense against things that go bump in the night .
|
.....20 years later
Q: How did you come to the realization that you ’ re unique?
A: So, I don ’ t know exactly when I realized that, you know, I may not actually have a soul. That I ’ m not an actual ‘ person ’. You get so tied up with your work and your child and the things that happen to them throughout their day that you don ’ t really find time to sit and think, to reflect.
Q: But you have time now....
A: Well..yeah. I mean back then most days just are kind of a wash, you sleep all day and when you do wake up to stretch your legs or grab a pint, you just aren ’ t really in a deep, self-reflective kind of mood. You know how it is, I imagine everyone goes through it.. Living your life, keeping busy and then all of a sudden it just kind of hits you. What am I? Where did I come from? What the hell do I do now?
Its been three years since I ’ ve been on duty… actually watching out for the kid. You know, doing something. They grow up, they don ’ t need you, hell…they ’ re probably embarrassed most of the time if you even show your face in front of the wrong people. But you do see how the kid looks at you from time to time. They remember. Life can be depressing, sure..but really my only focus was on him. I didn ’ t stop to think about why I ’ m doing it or who I am or what my purpose is. You see, there are things in this world that I can not explain. What happens under the bed or in the closet in the dead still of night? How does a warm, comforting room turn ice cold without a moment ’ s notice? Why is the only thing protecting this child …this beacon of life and happiness… you? So anyways, you do what you have to do, every single night. Protecting that child until the world has warped around you so much that all that remains is a twisted and distorted painting of a room that once was but never will be again. That ’ s when you realize you ’ re alone. There is no child. There ’ s only this young man who sees you as a friend he once knew.
Q: How does that make you feel?
A: Like a piece of shit, right? I mean… I ’ m kidding really. It ’ s nice..the kid made it out okay and I guess there ’ s a bit of pride in knowing you did your job. And who knows what ’ s really in store for any of us. For all I know I ’ m just on leave until I get reassigned..or…………………..or you know..
Q: Until you ’ re assigned to a new child… or what?
A: Or you ’ re forgotten.
|
[ CW ] Create a horror story with only three adjectives .
|
He saw a feather out of the corner of his eye.
He continued working. He typed. He drank coffee. He went home on the train once the sun had set. He drank beer.
He saw eyes at his window sill and the silhouette of wings against the face of the moon.
He went to work. He saw a bird staring at him from the sidewalks. It was a crow.
He saw crows sitting on the rooftops, staring at him.
He drank coffee. He choked a bit and pulled a feather from the depths of the cup. He threw it away. He went back to work. He went home.
An owl watched him lying awake in bed. He watched the owl until it went away. He shut his eyes.
He woke up to the rustle of wings.
He was covered in feathers of all sorts. He got up and called the police. He stepped back into his bedroom. The feathers were gone.
He saw birds flying in the sky above. They were flying away from the city, disappearing into the clouds.
He wished he could disappear.
|
[ WP ] Everybody in your town vanishes , and your only hints are a post-it note that says `` You won . '' and a block of cheese .
|
I awoke to a quiet space. The mothers and their children had gone. Everyone I knew and spent time with had vanished and only the faintest of traces that they ever were existed. I made my way through the hallways. Their white, tall walls much more stark now in the absence of sound. Every corner was checked and the only friend I found was silence... until I reached the last room. There I found a sheet of yellow paper and a gift. I tore into the cheese ravenously. The soft flesh and taste of salt and fat filled my mouth and left me with a satisfying after taste. As soon as I'd finished my meal a shadow cast itself over me. I felt warm hands pick me up and a soft familiar voice spoke to me.
`` There you are, Charlie. Come on, you're a celebrity now! Let's introduce you to the world.''
My fur bristled and I curled my body in self defense and I set my mind to think of better things. I dared to think of more cheese.
|
[ TT ] Every Halloween , the ... thingy ... comes out to prey upon mortals .
|
In the darkness of the night, when the moon's high and to the right, and every window's shuttered tight. That's the time for the Thingy.
It's favorite eve is Halloween, when it can move about unseen, blending in with the obscene,
Lost among the trick-or-treaters.
The very moment you have doubt, it gets in and wo n't get out. You suffer through all its lying shouts. It will not go away.
The Thingy tricked you, you let it in, and at once you know it wins. You hide behind a stupid grin,
But already you grow weary of the people.
You wo n't see the Thingy standing there, it does n't lounge upon your chairs, or creak as it climbs up your stairs. It lives inside your mind.
Burrowed deep in your own thoughts, where every choice is tied in knots, and you question all you've sought, and hate yourself for it.
There was a time when you could rest, satisfied you did your best, but now it all weighs upon your chest. The Thingy ’ s happy in your mind.
Your weakness grows, you ’ re without friends, the stream of trick-or-treaters thins, and soon you question your own will to live. The Thingy knows what's right.
Time to die, time to fly, time to evict it from your mind. Are you willing to escape its chides? Go on and pay the price.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. The Thingy likes to die.
|
[ WP ] God shows up on reddit with a verified account to do an AMA
|
Well guys I have one stipulation please can you not ask me what the purpose of life is. We all know the purpose of life is whatever you make it. As for the other questions I would direct them to people with knowledge in that subject see as in human form my power is limited. I can prove to you I am god but knowledge wise I was born with a clean slate and everything that I have learned I have learned like you. Well god is a spirit anyways, energy, think inception, fighting for good from my experience. I may be a poster boy but I am no different than any other human that has walked the face of planet earth. Religion is not perfect and should not be taken literal as it was written by fallible men with their own interests at heart. I can tell you that you do n't have to be a perfect person to make it to heaven, just try to be a decent human being. Well life is a journey and if you are going through hell keep walking. Peace
|
[ WP ] You live in an underground city , designed to house the last of humanity after a nuclear war . Powered by the very core of the Earth , humanity assumed it could last forever . They were wrong .
|
The lights flickered, and we all glanced around. Some of us knew. Most of us, really, but a lot of us were fooling ourselves into thinking it was just faulty wiring. The technicians would find the problem and and fix it and the power would n't be so unstable. Just how it used to be. But if you listened closely, you could hear in the hallways, and in the shops. Anywhere people gathered, they whispered, and the whispers were all the same. The Earth was dying.
Our planet had supported us for so long. We ’ d abused it so harshly, and still it held onto us, offered all it had for us, and we took all it could give. We tried to give back, we really did, but with so many of us taking and so few working to give back, there was only so far we could go before there was nothing. We hadn ’ t gotten that far, at least. We hadn ’ t taken everything. Not from the planet, anyway. We ’ d managed to take everything from ourselves.
The war was long in the past. Another Cold War after several long conflicts, like the one in history. This one didn ’ t end so well, though. A lot of the surface was scorched, and then came the Winter. Not a lot of us survived, but city planners all over the world built their own solutions for keeping the rest of us safe, where our mistakes wouldn ’ t kill us so readily. They found ways to use the Earth, our generous Earth, to power underground cities, so that we could live and breathe and survive. Even thrive.
There were technological advances we ’ d thought would never be possible. Lights, to replace the sun and the moon so we didn ’ t go insane. Farming techniques were modified and built on. Our diets didn ’ t even change much. We had our livestock, we had our vegetables, fruits. We had everything except the sky, and even then, we had panels which simulated a sky scene for us. The air was regulated, kept at a good temperature. And it was all built on thermal vents. Instead of big power plants, we had heat farms.
The core was losing strength. It wasn ’ t anything we ’ d done, there was nothing we could do by just farming the natural heat the planet provided. But Earth was an old girl, and she ’ d given us so much of herself in the past. It was just her time. We ’ d overstayed our welcome. And instead of going up, to the stars, we went down, into our home, and we rode it out until the very end. Maybe we ’ d see another burst of development. Maybe they were already working on new technologies to take us up and out into the universe, and they wouldn ’ t tell us because there was no sense panicking us before they were ready to solve the problem. But maybe this was it.
Something hung in the air, quiet and reserved. The feeling of an animal that ’ s gone into a hole to die. Acceptance. We didn ’ t want to believe it, but we knew it, and we accepted it. This was the last, for us. We ’ d done this to ourselves. We were greedy, spoiled brats, taking what wasn ’ t ours, not sharing, hating each other for such trivial things. We were the last humans. There would be no more.
The Earth was dying.
|
[ WP ] Tell a story using only meta data ( call date , time , from and who etc )
|
[ Incoming call - “ Tim ” - 10:46 pm, 5 minutes, 3 seconds, 2/14/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 8:11 am, 2/15/15 ]
[ In coming text - “ Tim ” - 8:16 am, 2/15/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 8:18 am, 2/15/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Incoming call - “ Tim ” - 11:02pm, 6 minutes 32 sections, 2/20/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 9:17am, 2/21/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Tim ” - 9:43am, 2/21/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 9:46am, 2/21/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 1:36pm, 2/21/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Incoming call - “ Tim ” - 10:58pm, 12 minutes, 22 seconds, 2/28/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 9:32 am, 3/01/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 5:43pm, 3/01/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Missed call - “ Tim ” - 10:49pm, 3/07/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Tim ” -10:52pm, 3/07/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 10:53pm, 3/07/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Tim ” -10:57pm, 3/07/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Tim ” -10:59pm, 3/07/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 11:06pm, 3/07/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim ” - 10:15am, 3/08/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Debit - $ 8.99 - Walmart 3/12/15 ]
[ Outgoing call - “ Kate ” - 6:38pm, 56 minutes, 49 seconds, 3/12/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Kate ” - 6:59pm, 3/12/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Incoming text - “ Kate ” - 5:14pm, 3/13/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Kate ” 5:16pm, 3/13/15 ]
[ Outgoing call - “ Tim ” - 5:22pm, 2 seconds, 3/13/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Debit - 17.99 - Walmart, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Kate ” - 6:05pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Kate ” 6:16pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Kate ” 6:17pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Incoming text - “ Kate ” 6:19pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Kate ” - 6:25pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing call - “ Tim ” - 6:28pm, 4 seconds, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim - 6:32pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim - 6:36pm, 3/14/15 ]
[ Outgoing text - “ Tim - 6:38pm, 3/14/15 ]
& nbsp;
[ Debit - $ 35.00 - Rosewood Obstetricians & Gynecologists, 3/28/15 ]
|
[ WP ] An immortal trying to find a way to die to be reunited with Death - the immortal 's love .
|
The first time I saw her, she took my breath away....literally. I had crashed into a fruit stall and started choking on some dates. Oddly enough, she knew how to perform the Heimlich maneuver, and helped me get my breath back. When I looked into her eyes I saw sadness, I saw pain, I saw loneliness, and I saw what others never did…I saw the truth.
The truth that she was more beautiful than the song of the phoenix on a summer night. The truth that she has a voice softer and as gentle as Isis when she asked if I was alright. The truth that she has a smile so elegant, I saw every trace of innocence and love as she laughed at me gawking and trying to speak gibberish. And of course, the truth that in her eyes, I saw the very essence of humanity…hope.
*I woke up, I was dreaming again, and unfortunately as much I wanted to go back, I still had a journey to go. It was forlorn here in these sands; I had been walking for days, without food or water, not by choice…but by love.
When I had first met her, I was a lowly merchant. I had no big goals in life, and my overall goal was to try to get away from home so my mother would stop nagging me to get a wife. So I traveled….a lot, I went all over the land and I learned secrets and became, in my opinion, a great salesman. But I never felt at peace, at rest, I always felt like there was something missing…until the day I saw her.
A horse went on the loose and as the market was in a panic, I ran like the rest. Only I wasn ’ t too fast and when a horse pushes you with such fervor, crashing a fruit stall is the least of your concerns.
But she pulled me up, and like I said, I was taken back and immediately then and there, I knew, I knew that this girl, this woman, she was going to be the love of my life and afterlife. And for some strange reason, I could feel her feeling the same way.
And from there, I settled in Memphis, the capital of the Egyptian empire. And slowly but surely we both grew our love. She brought me lunch because I couldn ’ t cook. I brought her beautiful dresses from my bargaining techniques. She beat me in chariot races, I beat her in growing the longest crops of the season, and those few months, we couldn ’ t have been happier.
Every minute of the day, we tried to see each other. We ’ d spend our time pranking others, helping the elders remember which gods to pray to, and of course taking the local kids on trips across the town. But at the end of day, where she disappeared into the night, we look into each other ’ s eyes for a few minutes and not say a word. Our love spoke in volumes and devotion increased in magnitude. And like when Isis lost Osiris, our pain of leaving each other knew no bounds.
*I shook my head side to side, I was starting to see multiple dunes and trees I knew for sure didn ’ t exist. Go figure, the dehydration was starting to kick in. I had gone five weeks without water and two months without food. I looked like a walking husk just waiting to become like ash that lay in front of me. I closed my eyes and tried to readjust my focus. I thought of her, and everything became clearer…including why I was here in the first place.
On her 18th birthday, we couldn ’ t see each other anymore. And we both knew what was going to happen. As a Pharaoh ’ s daughter, she had no claim to marry a peasant, her father had long decided who she would marry, and unfortunately merchants who crash into fruit stalls did not qualify.
Some fancy prince from a far off land, from the Akkadian or Persian Empire, I don ’ t know, was coming and going to marry her tomorrow. We both knew what to do; we didn ’ t say a word, but the night before her betrothal, I snuck into the palace. Her few garments ready and our horses ready to take us anywhere. I looked at her gently, becoming more focused and determined in her eyes, and as I moved a small curled strand of hair out of her face and smiled, “ I love you. ”
Suddenly the doors busted open and the Pharaoh walked in, and seeing what was happening in his home, he motioned to his guards and within minutes, we were both set to beheaded in the court for everyone…and I mean everyone…to see.
He was a merciless man; he took glee in seeing my demise, but some remorse in his daughter ’ s. I knew what to do then and there.
*I remembered these steps back in the ancient times being a lot smaller, but then again, time erodes things and makes them even harder to see.
I shouted to the Pharaoh to let his daughter free for she was not at all fault, but it was my own misery that had brought upon my shame. He looked at his daughter, and not wanting to cause any harm to his child, he set her free.
I smiled as the flames were brought closer to me. As tears streamed down my face, I mouthed to her one last time, “ I love you. ”
She looked at me sincerely and closed her eyes. Suddenly she pulled out a dagger and prayed, “ Oh Lord Osiris, grant me the power to become death to join my love forever in another life. ”
Within seconds her blood seeped to my feet as I cried and hollered in rage.
The Pharaoh, so angry, so raged cursed me, “ You foolish mortal. You caused the death of my only daughter, the pride and joy of my life, the future queen of the Empire. As she is cursed with death, I now curse you with life. May you never meet again, in day or night, at dawn or dusk. You will never meet in these darkest times of your life. ”
With that the Pharaoh soon lay his life down as well.
As I edged myself closer to the edge of the temple I remember what happened afterwards, nearly four thousand years. She came back, but as Death herself. Osiris decided to bless her with a gift, and a curse, of becoming the incarnation of death, heralding and carrying souls to the netherworld. As for me, the fire did not burn, and no matter what weapons were used, I could not be killed because of the Pharaoh ’ s curse.
As I limped closer to the ruins, I reflected on the life I had lived, traveling, helping others, trying to understand and serve humanity. And everywhere I saw someone die, I always saw a glimpse of her, with her eyes sadder than ever.
I clamped my hands onto a broken limestone sundial and heaved myself, “ It had finally taken me four-thousand and fourteen years….but I figured it out….I figured it out. ”
And suddenly at the Sun watched over me, she came in a blaze of light, beautiful as the day I first met her. I closed my eyes and slowly opened, hoping this wasn ’ t a dream. She walked closer and with that caressing smile, I knew this was real. As the light of the Sun came down with full fury, I reached my hand out her, nearly bones, to hold her hand one last time.
And I dropped, my hand falling….until she caught it and pulled me up. She and I both looked at each other and myself, my body anew, no rags, no skin and bones, we both looked like the day we had met.
As she jumped into my arms wrapped in embrace, we both smiled, tears falling down our faces. She pulled back and asked how?
I laughed, “ It took me a little over four millennia, but I finally figured it out. Your father cursed us to never meet at the darkest times….but he had never said anything about our lightest times. I traveled all over the world to come back here…to the ruins of Memphis, to this temple on the brightest day of the year, where I knew I had to die…to be with you again. ”
She took my hand and placed it in hers, “ You are the best salesman…you outsold death. ”
I smiled with her head gently resting on my shoulder, our hands intertwined and full of love again, and staring off into the sunset that once pained us, I said, “ Now on, we ’ ll always be together. ”
|
[ WP ] Getting a foreign letter tattooed on your body gives you that power ( example , Getting strength tattooed on you in Chinese gives you super strength ) You go to a tattoo artist wanting to get something powerful , but the artist translates it completely wrong .
|
I sat in the break room at work staring at the TV. I could n't quite believe what I was hearing. According to the news report certain people had started developing powers based on the words they had tattooed on their bodies!
I checked the date on my phone. It was n't April 1st... Could it be true?!
I started daydreaming about having different powers. It would be so awesome to become a superhero!
I turned to Eric, `` Dude, we should go get tattoos! We've got ta find out if this is true!''
`` Hells yeah!'' Eric responded `` let's go now before everyone else decides to try it.''
`` Damn right! Screw this work shit!''
As we walked to the nearest tattoo studio we discussed what we're going to get.
`` I'm going with'invisibility'. It would be so cool! I could easily creep up on bad guys and I could scare the shit outta the boss! What about you, Eric?''
`` Screw that! I'm going for'time control'! I could mess with so many people and they'd never be able to tell it was me! Plus, think of all the bras I could remove!''
`` You're such a perve, man!''
We walked into the tattoo studio. There was a guy sitting in one of the chairs and another sorting out some of the tools.
`` Hello gents, what can we do for you?''
`` Err, we came to get tattoos.''
`` No shit! You'll have to be a little bit more specific. ``
`` Well I want invisibility written on my arm in Japanese. ``
`` And I want time control on mine.'' Said Eric. `` Also in Japanese.''
`` I'm gon na guess you saw the new report then.'' Stated the tattooist.
I nodded.
`` Well, you, time control, go see Mike. He'll sort you out and I'll take the invisible man over here.''
I walked over to the tattooist and sat down in the chair next to him.
`` Have you experienced any powers from any of your tattoos?'' I asked him.
`` Nah, mate. All of mine are pictures, and I'm yet to turn into a naked woman or dragon. I'm going to assume it's all a load of shit until I see it with my own eyes.''
`` Fair enough. I figure I do n't have much to lose. If it works, awesome! And if not I can just tell people my tattoo means something cooler.''
The tattooist shrugged and rifled through a catalogue. When he found what he was looking for, he showed it to me and then said, `` so where exactly you want it then?''
`` I'll go for the bicep.''
`` Alright then.''
He fiddled with his tattoo gun a bit then got to work. I gritted my teeth as he began but it was n't as bad as I was expecting.
As he was nearing completion, he made a slight noise. I looked at him.
`` What?''
`` Nothing, mate. Nearly done.''
He cleaned up the tattoo and allowed me to admire it for a second before applying some kind of ointment and applying a large sticky plaster.
`` You're gon na want to leave that on for a few hours and then after that, regularly apply moisturiser to help it heal up.''
`` How much was that again? 30 quid?''
`` 35, mate.''
I handed over the money and waited for Eric. As we strolled out the shop, one of the tattooists called after us. `` Let us know if it works!'' I heard them chuckle as we walked away.
`` So, how to we know if it worked?'' Asked Eric.
`` I do n't know, I guess we just think about what the tattoo or what we want to do I guess.''
`` Alright, I'll try first. You'll know if it's worked because you're pants will be round your ankles.'' He winked and then scrunched up his face like he was severely constipated.
I watched as Eric's face turned red with the strain. He opened his eyes, panting. I glanced down at my trousers which were still firmly around my waist.
`` Damn!'' Said Eric. `` You're go then.''
I closed my eyes and focused hard on the tattoo on my arm. It felt like my head was inflating. I opened my eyes again. Everything looked a bit weird. I glanced over at Eric. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
`` Did it work?''
`` Umm... Not exactly.''
It looked like he was shrinking before my eyes. I looked down at my body. My legs looked like gas canisters or something. I reached over and ripped the plaster off my arm.
`` Dude, what does mine say?''
Eric stared at the tattoo for a moment, deciphering the kanji. He had been learning Japanese for the past year. He began to smirk.
`` ERIC?!''
`` You can call me Phileas Fogg from now on!'' He proclaimed and jumped on my back.
`` What the hell?! What does it say?!''
`` It says... Hot air balloon!''
He burst out laughing and started rolling on the floor clutching his stomach.
In desperation I thought of anything I could to avoid thinking about the tattoo. Gradually my head shrank back to normal size.
`` You can not tell anyone about this!''
`` Too late, mate.'' Eric said as he showed me his phone where he'd just posted a picture on Facebook.
`` FUUUUUUUCK!''
|
[ FF ] A lonely person walking down a crowded city street
|
I walked alone down the street.
Sure, there were people all around me, hundreds, thousands, but I was alone. Retreated deep into my mind away from the horrors of humanity. None of them realised what they were doing, how they were hurting each other, hurting themselves. The conflict that was at the heart of our city raged on inside everyone, while nobody acknowledged it was happening.
People were dying and nobody thought it was an atrocity. People were starving and nobody thought to feed them. I was the only one who saw, the only one who realised what was happening. But what could one person do in twenty thousand? This conflict had no leaders, no central tenet, it was a centuries-old hatred between two peoples, but there was no opportunity for fighting because of those alien oppressors who kept us together. You ’ d think we ’ d be united against them, but instead we blamed each other. I blamed everyone, and I had to leave.
I kept walking, along the main road towards the barricades and guard posts. Soon to be another smear of blood on the ground.
|
[ WP ] Man discovers his secret super power is that the less effort he puts into something , the better he does it .
|
> “ We ’ re here in Dallas watching Game 6 of the NBA Finals, folks, and what an incredible game it has been! ”
> “ I got ta say this, Dave, I don ’ t think I ’ ve seen talent like this since Bo Jackson! ”
> “ I don ’ t think Bo Jackson played basketball, Stu, but if he did, this guy has got to be better! He's incredible! ”
> “ Oh yeah, hands down, Dave. Steve Johanssen is the best basketball player I think I ’ ve ever seen! ”
> “ It ’ s true, Stu, I think what we ’ re both trying to say here is that this is the last timeout this team has. Can Johanssen pull off an incredible NBA championship, just a few months after a Superbowl win? ”
Steve watched as his coach yelled instructions to the team. He couldn ’ t hear him at all. This was partly due to the deafening noise of twenty thousand fans roaring around him. It was mostly due to Steve ’ s short stature when compared with his towering teammates.
He wasn ’ t worried about missing the details of what was most likely the final play of the game, however. He knew he ’ d figure things out. He always did.
When his coach slammed his fist on his clipboard, Steve knew it was time to attempt to get his hand in the huddle.
“ What***EVER*** you ’ re ***SAYING*** doesn ’ t ***MATTER***! ” he screamed in unison with the others. The words were different, sure, but no one noticed. The buzzer sounded signaling the end of the timeout, and Steve hustled on to the floor with the rest of the starting five.
He headed to the corner farthest from where the ball was being thrown in, assuming he ’ d be far enough out of the way there. He was tired of running, and hoped someone else would handle the game winning shot this time. Also, the celebrities were in that corner, and he was really hoping to get in at least one fight with Spike Lee before the season ended.
As he was wondering what he could do to incite anger, the crowd stood and pointed frantically behind him. He slowly turned around and, just as he faced the players behind him, the ball fell into his hands. Steve rolled his eyes. “ Really? ” He nonchalantly threw the ball over his left shoulder without turning to see the outcome. The exaltation of his teammates, along with the fans, meant he didn ’ t need to.
> “ Incredible! Just… pure amazing! With only 0.2 seconds left on the clock! ”
> “ That ’ s right, Dave, with no time to turn and shoot, Steve Johanssen threw up a backwards Hail Mary, making his team this year ’ s NBA champions! ”
> “ Incredible! I think I can guess who the MVP will be tonight, Stu! ”
> “ Bo Jackson! ”
>'' Incredible!''
|
[ WP ] Everything from kisses to hand shakes and everything In between have been ruled immoral public displays of affection . You are a shadow of the night meeting a shady figure , to pay a sum of money for a hug .
|
The street was darker than a serial killer's cellar. I turned up my collar and walked the last block to 41st and Washington where the meet was happening. My hands itched in my gloves but I could n't risk taking them off since proposition 89 passed. Ca n't risk questions.
She's there, stood under a broken streetlamp. As described - waterfall of blonde hair and legs all the way up. She hears my footstep and glances over. She turns and walks towards the alley, as per. I wait two minutes, sucking down a cigarette. My hands shake.
I walk down the alley. Sooty bricks and trash. She's stood there, leaning against the wall, her coat pulled tight around her.
`` You got the cash?''
`` All here.''
`` Let me see''.
I hand her the envelope, and she holds it open an inch. Quick flick through and she tucks it away. She's a pro.
`` Okay, let's go.''
She beckons me over, her arms spread out. It's hard to meet her eye, seeing that kind of openness. It's been too long. I move in and put my arms round her. We both squeeze. I smell shampoo, smoke, a sour body kind of smell. But the warmth. It's glorious.
She holds me for a minute, then lets go. We break and I wipe my eyes. Take a breath. Now for the hard part. I show her my badge.
`` Sorry, doll. You're under arrest for public indecency. Face the wall, hands on your head.''
She grins. She runs.
|
[ WP ] A day in a perfect relationship
|
`` Can you go look at the faucet? It's not working right.''
`` Yeah, sure, in a minute,'' I mumble, trying to grasp the last few precious seconds of the game before my wife inevitably blocks the screen with her body.
Surprisingly, she does n't. `` Okay,'' she says, walking off.
It takes me all of about three seconds to realize what just happened.
*Wait... *
Now I'm nervous. That went *too* well.
I ca n't concentrate on the game anymore. I get up and poke my head into the kitchen.
She's *humming*. And she looks... *happy*.
I'm scared now. I take a deep breath and walk in, game face-on as I turn the faucet on. It works fine.
`` Oh, haha, I fixed it,'' she says, turning around and handing me a bowl of popcorn and an ice cold bottle of beer.
I take the bowl and raise it to my nose. Sniff sniff. *Poison? *
She laughs. `` I'll join you in a second. I want to see what you find so fascinating about that game.''
`` Ha.'' I laugh. That's rich! I lower my head and look at her with a raised brow. `` *You* want to watch the game?''
`` Not really, but I just want to spend time with you,'' she says with a shrug, walking past me and patting my butt. `` And then after the game, *you* can spend time with *me*'' She winks and disappears through the doorway.
I drop the popcorn and beer and fall to my knees with my hands raised high, as I look to the ceiling. `` Thank you, Jesus!''
|
[ WP ] As a young boy , he stole something . He then spent the rest of his life trying to return it .
|
Jack rested his hand on the cold handle of the door and stopped. Rain and thunder sounded faintly from the thick, stained-glass windows behind him. Even through the thunderclouds, the moon was shining bright, and its light shone through the windows to create eerie silhouettes of angels and bowing figures. He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly. The door creaked as it slowly revealed the room inside it: a fireplace sat glowing happily directly opposite the doorway, and between the fireplace and the doorway was a chair. Jack's broad shoulders filled the doorway as he stepped forward, and for a moment he thought about forgetting the whole thing, but he had no choice. He had stolen something and it was time to give it back. Jack cleared his throat. `` Uncle?''
The chair -- a solid chair made out of carved oak, with a high, curving leather back -- jerked slightly, and Jack was under the impression that he had awoken the old man. He stood quietly for a few moments more, and finally his uncle spoke. `` Joe?'' The voice was barely susceptible above the soft patter of rain that was sounding from the hallway, and Jack entered the room and closed the door behind him.
`` It's Jack.''
`` Jack...'' The voice, clearer now, was old and weak, as if one could reach out and snap the words in midair. `` Come around, boy. I want to see you.''
`` Yes, sir.'' Jack walked past a vanity and looked at the walls on either side of him. Giant bookshelves lined both walls, gold tracing curving its way through the cracks and edges of the magnificent shelves. The gold tracing glittered and shone as the firelight touched it. Jack ran a hand through his hair, licked his lips, and then he was past the chair and into the firelight. He looked at the man in the chair and his breath nearly escaped. The man was old, no doubt about it, but his eyes shone with a wicked light that denied his age. His body was still large, not frail and shriveling like most, but thick and with broad shoulders. He was still the same man from all those years ago, and he still smelled of lavender soap.
The old man chuckled. `` Jack, it's you...'' He squinted. `` You've grown, boy. How tall are you?''
`` Six foot, four, sir.'' Jack crouched down, slowly and carefully extending a hand until it rested gently on the thick leg of his uncle. `` Uncle... I'm sorry that I did not come before.''
`` I understand.'' The old man waved a hand in dismissal. `` We must all live our lives, and now you are here.'' He put his head back on the back of the chair and sighed. `` I'm tired, boy. I do n't have much juice left in the machine.''
`` Yes, sir.''
The old man's cold eyes narrowed, and he put a hand over his nephew's. `` But why have you come here *now*?''
Jack avoided the shrewd stare. `` I have something of yours, sir. I should have come earlier, and I'm sorry.'' Jack reached into his jacket pocket and then removed his hand from it. His thumb was tucked under his index finger and he stared at it. `` It's been too long, and it may be too late, but I hope that you will forgive me.'' He gently grasped his uncle's cold and withered hand and placed his own into it, his thumb retreating from sight. He removed his hand and stared at the open hand of his uncle. A wave of relief washed over him. He was free.
Closing his hand, the old man tucked his thumb under his index finger and moved it towards his face, until the thumb met his nose. He opened his hand and smiled. `` Thank you, boy. It is good to be whole again.''
|
[ WP ] This place is not a place of honor . No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here . Nothing valued is here . This place is a message and part of a system of messages . Pay attention to it ! Sending this message was important to us . We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture .
|
Rourke gazed at the worn out pillar confused.
The strange symbols and pictographs had all but faded, the only clear image that remained was that of a skull.
*'' Oi mate, maybe they've got some ehh, heavy metal rock tapes down here eh? `` *
pointed out Haru, taking note of the skulls and crossbones.
*'' Thats a fuckin sick idea cunt. `` * replied Rourke, who was eager to aqquire some Heavy metal rock tapes
As the two descended down the narrow staircase, spears in hand into the darkness of the melted down Nuclear reactor, they found themselves at the bottom of stairs, and at the end of a long dark hallway stretching deeper into the underground complex.
But before the two man-hybrids could take another step, they each recieved a lethal dose of radiation, and died at the foot of the staircase.
*'' oghh fuckin hell mate, there's no heavy metal tapes here....'' * murmured Rourke in agony as he slipped into the eternal slumber
|
[ WP ] You 're humanities first time traveller , and as you step off your time machine in the distant past for the first time , you find your boss standing there . Pissed .
|
Felix always wondered why they picked him. He was so obviously unfit for this prestigious, once thought impossible, position.
But alas there he sat in the capsule as time and space themselves swirled in a sort of vortex surrounding him. `` This is pretty.'' He thought. `` Surely they should have sent an artist, or a poet to truly appreciate this, and not bumbling old ineloquent me.''
He was n't sure how long he'd been in the capsule. His watch stopped working centuries ago, or at least it felt that way, but in truth it had probably only been a couple of hours. He was hungry, and his stomach growled through the dark ages. The weird thing about this assignment to Felix was that as soon as he got it, he could n't wait for it to be over. He just wanted to be back in his cabin, building his little model planes, drinking tea, and perhaps enjoying coitus with the gorgeous new trophy wife he assumed he would marry after becoming a celebrity through his temporal exploits. But no. He had to go do the damned thing first.
At that moment, everything went dark. The capsule violently rocked back and forth before coming to a stand still. The doors hissed with steam before opening slowly and letting the sting of blinding sunlight pierce his non-adjusted eyes.
After a violent explosion of bright white light across his vision, everything came into focus. And there, standing in his faded green slacks and ill fitting suspenders, was Mortimer, his superior.
`` Morty?'' Felix muttered through a dry mouth.
`` Yeeeeeep.'' Mortimer let the word out into the air like a sanctimonious European car horn.
As Felix began to get out of the ship, Mortimer immediately stepped forward to stop him.
`` Ooooh, no ya do n't. Not after the last time --'' Mortimer uttered while shoving Felix back down into the seat.
`` Nope, ya mucked the whole thing up, my boy. And what a disaster. I do n't see you getting' a chance like this ever again. Not the way you failed in such a glorious, spectacular, mind blowingly ridiculous fashion.'' Mortimer punched over ride codes into the capsule's control panel.
`` What did I do?'' Felix gasped.
`` Best not to get into it. You really ought to be going. It took fifty years, a thousand top scientists, sixty billion in R and D, and a complete revolutionizing of quantum mechanics to fix everything you broke. Yeah, we're just not gon na let that happen this time around. Back you go.''
`` But, but, but --'' Felix stammered.
`` That's enough outta you, buddy boy. You're lucky I do n't punch ya right in the mouth. I'll see ya back on the ranch. Oh, almost forgot, here.'' A sandwich dropped into Felix's lap. `` You told us you were hungry.'' And with that Mortimer pressed one final button and the capsule door dropped right down, plunging Felix back into the void.
As Felix bit into his sandwich, contemplating what he could have done, he suddenly felt a pang of regret. He should have told them no mayonnaise.
|
[ WP ] Write a story based off of your favorite song - see if we can guess right !
|
( Okay, just for fun, this one should be easy for you to identify )
We were living the life; it was the early seventies, sideburns and flares. Our gear owed much to the film Easy Rider although we ’ d have never admitted that was what had inspired us to take a road trip on our Harleys.
“ It looks like the Bates motel, are you sure you want to stay here? ”
“ It looks interesting, according to the sign it used to be an old mission. ”
It was already dark and I just wanted to shower off the dust and relax. There was a heady, almost narcotic scent from the flowers in the courtyard. I rang the bell, which was an actual bell, not a buzzer and I was surprised when it was answered promptly.
Standing before us was the most beautiful woman. She took my breath away and any doubts about staying at the hotel were gone. We followed her down the hallway as she showed us to our rooms. It seemed there was a power cut but the candle light just added to the mysterious atmosphere.
I asked the woman if she ever fancied taking a trip ( imagining her riding pillion with me ). She muttered something about not being able to leave.
I was surprise to find a mirrored ceiling in my bedroom, it wasn ’ t what I was used to.
That night there was some kind of function going on at the hotel and cars arrived from God knows where, I mean the place was in the middle of nowhere.
The owner or caretaker was known as The Captain. At dinner, I ordered some wine but he said that they hadn ’ t kept wine there since the late sixties. It was probably for the best since I ’ d already drunk a bottle of pink champagne in my room.
Truth to tell I was pretty drunk. Dropping a tab of acid probably wasn ’ t the best move. I wasn ’ t sure if I was hallucinating when the orgy began. Dimly the realization dawned that we were staying in a brothel. I couldn ’ t believe I ’ d been that naive. I could have coped with that, maybe even kicked back and enjoyed it, but then things started to turn really ugly.
In what seemed like slow motion, tables were kicked over, knives were flashing and the faces of the people around me looked angry and desperate. I couldn ’ t work out what had set them off. It seemed like a crowd of country-club people were trying to kill something or someone. I couldn ’ t see what it was but I saw the stabbing motions and the blood spurting and that was enough. Motioning to my friend to follow I ran for the door.
The night manager was in reception. He looked up and spoke in a robotic manner, something about not being able to leave until we'd checked out. We didn ’ t stop to get our clothes or or to pay the bill. We just got on our Harleys and headed down the highway. Nowadays they know all about post traumatic shock. Back then we just put it down to a bad trip. Still find myself waking up at night sometimes in a cold sweat from a dream about running down endless corridors trying to find the exit.
|
[ 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 .
|
The sergeant was dragged into the tent and cut down to his knees. The Chief Guard of Xonthor the Feared raised the blade to his throat.
`` You stand before the throne of Xonthor the Feared. You will leave with your life at his pleasure. Do you understand?''
`` I do,'' sputtered the sergeant through the unburnt half of his face. The Chief Guard turned to the throne. `` Feared One, I present the accused.''
Xonthor smiled, but the contempt on his face was clear. `` Sergeant, today I have won a great victory. I have taken their Tokyo. I have routed their Los Angeles. What they call Toronto will be mine by first light. They are no match.''
`` None are a match for us, Feared One, least of all these. Their vehicles are subsonic. Their weapons are combustion and propulsion. Their bodies are soft, their skeletons brittle.''
`` Both of us should be among much wine and many women.'' He groped at his harlot. She shuddered as his giant hand traced the curve of her spine. `` And yet we are here, waiting for you to explain why you failed me in so small a task, and seeing if I will spare your life.''
`` Feared One, I swear to you...''
`` I have victories to celebrate, Sergeant. Please tell me why you are here, your squadron is dead, and I am being asked to spare your life.''
`` Yes, Feared One. We took the avenue within minutes. As per orders, we moved to secure the facility at the end of the avenue as a southern base of operations. I approached the facility's main door when I came under fire from behind. I turned and discovered the engagement was by a policeman.''
`` A policeman, Sergeant?'' Xonthor's eyes narrowed. `` They wear so little armor. Even by human standards, their weapons are pathetic.''
`` Yes, Feared One. I dispatched of him immediately. Only... another was there.''
`` And you could not cut him down as he ran?''
`` That's just it, Feared One. He did not run. He had the same armament, the same armor. He watched his comrade die in the street... and he advanced. We had no sooner dealt with him than another arrived, then soldiers close behind them. We killed them as they came, even began to consume the bodies as in the old days... they could not be cowed. They advanced into certain death. When their weapons failed, they came at us barehanded... we snapped their necks with a stroke, and more were waiting when we finished each.''
`` If they will not fear, they will die,'' The Chief Guard interjected. `` Feared One, our greenest cadets know this.''
`` You are not here to speak,'' snapped Xonthor. The Chief Guard turned back to the sergeant with a terror he tried to disguise with rage. `` Continue.''
`` More and more arrived. One of their hovering aircraft came in support. We shot it down, and... Feared One... the pilot steered into our position.''
`` An emergency landing?''
`` No... he knew he was going to die. He steered into us. The explosion killed the bulk of my men. When we finally regrouped, we saw that they had moved into the facility and were evacuating it. It... Feared One, I... it was a school.''
`` A school?'' Xonthor looked genuinely curious for the first time. `` All this for a school?''
`` Yes, Feared One. All those dead men, all those men fighting, all to protect children who will never live to fight. My men could kill ten of theirs without issue, but another ten were ready. When we finally broke, only one of my men stood.''
Xonthor looked truly puzzled. `` You kill their men in droves, and they stand. The sages said one conquers a race with blood, not understanding, and I hope they were right.''
The sergeant picked up his head. `` If I may, Feared One?''
`` Certainly.''
`` I was a student at the university before you so honored me. My specialty was anthropology.
The Feared One laughed. `` Shall you win this war with a lecture?''
`` No, Feared One. I only mean to offer something that may be of use. I made a short study of the humans before reporting for training. Something I discovered... I do n't pretend to understand it, but I believe it may be of vital importance.
The humans place a vital importance on each other, to the point of sacrificing even their lives. This... feeling... does not correlate to their usefulness to one another, or even the presence of a common enemy. They simply consider others being in their world as if it were the breath of life itself. We have no comparison among our people, so we used the word they call it... *love*.
The Chief Guard laughed derisively. `` We made our own study, Sergeant. The humans kill one another over an acre of iceberg. They spill blood over the wrong word. If this... *luff* exists, it is not a force that can compare to the Feared Army.''
Xonthor rose from his throne. The sergeant had never so well understood why the walking mountain before him was addressed as the Feared One. He lumbered to his Chief Guard, and with a single turn of his gargantuan hand snapped the man's neck. The harlot let out a scream; it faded into a whimper with Xonthor's withering gaze. The Feared One grabbed the blade from the ground, but held it leisurely at his side.
`` He had been warned,'' Xonthor spoke flippantly. `` However, he had a point. We saw no force like this in our intelligence.''
`` Feared One, the humans acknowledge that love is not rational, or universal. Yet those who could extend love to all of humanity are considered its greatest heroes. And all of those heroes spoke of a common threat.''
The sergeant raised his eyes, afraid but resolved, to his ruler. `` Our army is the greatest in the known universe. No force has fought us and lived. We can kill twenty to a man of any army we've ever faced. But the humans, we will need to kill every one. And that, we can not hope to do.''
Xonthor considered his subject's words, bemused. He swung the blade absent-mindedly at the wrist. `` Sergeant, you were well-trained, and you have served me well. But on this, we must disagree. We will crush the humans. We will make bread from their flesh and wine from their blood. And I will drink it from your skull.'' With a single lightning-fast stroke, the sergeant lost his head.
And so adjourned the court of Xonthor the Forewarned.
|
[ WP ] Born was a human with mechanics to win ; born was a machine with a human tucked in .
|
Left hook, right hook. `` There's the KOI!''
I put my fists in the air. I was the best. I reeled in the fish quickly and unhooked it. I always knew Koi were beautiful, but this fish was *spectacular. *
`` That's a big'un righ' ther','' said a country voice behind me.
Left hook, right hook. `` There's the KO!''
I socked him hard. Good reason, too. He was the master blaster fishing master. My fishing competition. `` I reeled you in real good, boy. Now why do n't you have a sit.'' There was no use talking to him. He was out cold. To be fair, he was out of line. A little boy like him needs to keep his toes in the water.
`` Now I'm watching. You best find another pond to go fishin' at. This is mine,'' I said finally. With a spritz of glitter and perfume, I strutted away.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*You can check out my subreddit where I post all my content at /r/thisisntactuallyasubreddit*
*I understand if you do n't want to check it out. I do n't either. *
|
[ WP ] A killer is sentenced to two life sentences in prison . As his time passes the guards realize he does n't age . It 's been 150 years and it 's time for him to be released .
|
Drip drip dip. Day in, day out. They never once tried to fix that damned leak. Nearly two centuries of isolation. The only human contact was, at the most, a gloved hand that dropped the food through the slot in the aging iron door. Never once was I spoken to. The first fifty years were the hardest. My mental health, decayed from a millennia of archaic drugs, had finally trapped me within the system of justice that I saw birthed from the fledgling nation I at many times fought for. Amazing how clear ones mind can become after a century of total isolation.
I've never feared death. I've feared many things but never death. At one point I believed me eternal life was a gift. An eternity of watching the world shift and grow, for better or for worse. Eternity. An eternity of watching friends, family, and lovers die. I tried at many points in my unending life to put an end to it. Poisons made me ill. Blades cut, but drew no blood. I was an immortal amongst men. I ran from my failures and tried to blind myself from my reality. Man created drugs for that reason. And I tumbled for centuries blind to my own actions and blind to the world. I never wanted to ham anyone. The ones I hurt. Accidents. Self defense. With my captivity, I found myself again.
It's been two lifetimes since then it's nearly time for me to taste freedom once again. Perhaps it's time I did some good in this never ending life.
|
[ WP ] A taxi driver has spent plenty of their days just doing their job in a wee forgotten town until one night a stranger gets in the backseat and tells the taxi driver to DRIVE , JUST DRIVE .
|
Slow nights are n't good for my morale.
When I tell people they always seem jealous.
`` So you get paid by the taxi company to just stand on the side of the road? Man, I would love that, you can read, browse the internet, listen to podcasts...''
And sure, the first few months you do just that, then you realise you are sitting there all alone, night after night. Books do n't talk back, podcasts do n't listen to you. You just have the occasional stranger to talk to. Then you go home and go to bed, sleep throughout the day and wake up as the sun goes down to do it all again. The loneliness starts getting to you, so obviously I was a little excited as I saw a man approaching my car in a hurry.
You can usually tell what kind of customer you got and I was relieved to see it was n't a drunk. Although they can be fun, it's always a gamble and you might wind up cleaning puke from between the seats. This guy was wearing a suit, shiny shoes and looked lucid.
As he opened the door I uttered my standard opening line: `` Evening sir, where to?''
`` Just drive''
His voice was calm and void of emotion. He did n't shout it like some drunks do when they think they're being funny.
And so I put the car in drive and slowly drove off.
`` Just wanting to clear your mind?'' I asked in an attempt to start a conversation.
`` Something like that''
`` Well, shall I just take the scenic route then?''
`` Just take me out of town''
Just my luck, the only customer I get is the quiet type.
When I approached the on-ramp of the highway I expected him to tell me which direction to take but he just sat there with an empty gaze. Instead of asking any more questions I decided to go north, I knew the next exit in that direction was a lot further and I figured I might as well boost the fare.
The city lights started to die out in the rear view mirror as he finally spoke again.
`` Find a quiet place, we have something to dispose of''
`` You.. got something to dispose of?'' I asked, half expecting him to say he needed to take a leak.
`` Yes, it's in the trunk of the car'' he replied
`` Uhm, buddy, I do n't what you're on about but I never opened the trunk''
`` Trust me, it's there'' he said in that same monotone voice.
I do n't know why I did n't ask any more questions but I did n't. I saw the exit for a small service site that was closed at night and I took it. As we stopped, he slowly exited the car. I watched as he walked to the trunk and waited, it seemed like he had all the time in the world. Finally, I got out as well and cautiously walked to the back of the car.
`` Well?'' I asked.
`` Open it'' he said like he already knew I was going to.
So I did, I put my key in the lock and turned, the trunk slowly opened.
`` See, nothing there bud..'' I gasped mid sentence as I saw the body.
The head was bashed in and unrecognizable, the legs were broken to fit in the trunk. I turned to him in surprise, expecting him to attack me but he was gone. I took a few steps back and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen.
My hand suddenly felt cold, I looked down and saw the tire iron in my clenged, bloodied fist.
These slow nights really are n't good for my morale.
|
[ WP ] You wake up too zombies outside your door . Survival is crucial .
|
My first reaction is confusion. It's still dark out, why would anyone bother me at this hour? I look at the clock. Three AM. I swore at whoever was outside to go away. They persisted, rapping on the door, trying to get my attention. I climbed out of bed and walked groggily to the door, and opened it. I was greeted by a decaying corpse.
In a swift motion, I slammed the door back shut. I was n't sure what I saw was real. I blinked exactly three times before opening the door back open again. Yep. It was a zombie. I closed the door. Scratching my stubble, I wondered what I was supposed to do in this situation. I walked over to the window and opened the blinds. There were corpses shambling around under the streetlights. Yep. Zombie apocalyse.
I the charger off my phone and called my mom.
`` Hey. Mom? You still alive? Yeah, Zombie Apocalypse. I know. Do n't let dad go too nuts. Stay safe now.''
I put down the phone on the table. The zombie outside my room was still banging on the door. My friends always talked about their `` Zombie Apocalypse Survival Plans''. I usually acted like I was listening, but never really did. I found it stupid with all their speculation.'It was absurd! It would never happen!' I said. Well. I suppose they were right.
The zombie at my door banged on the door loudly, and I was having enough of his antics. I walked up to the front door, opened it, and punched it in the face so hard it's brain exploded. I shut the door and went to the bathroom to wash my hand of it's blood.
Then I took a long shower. It was going to be a long day.
|
[ IP ] Sunset
|
*I have not seen a proper sunset in ages. Nor a genuine sunrise either. Strange how such things disappear from one's thoughts. But I suppose habit is the master of us all in the end. *
Dieter muses.
His gaze is directed towards the fleeing light of day to the west, the retreating rays of the sun burnishing to orange and reddish hues. Behind him advances murky twilight, purple and blue heralding the coming night. A gust from the coast blows in, filling his nose with the salt sea air. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore fills his ears. He glances upwards as the first stars begin to appear in the paling sky. Looking up at the constellations his spies Theobrand the Warrior and his loyal mount Eboric the Boar. He smiles at the familiar sight, the same stars he gazed as a boy shine on him now though years and distance separate him from his childhood. It is a comforting sight. Sighing happily, he begins to sing.
`` Oh do you see that manor, with your two eyes keen?
There she dwells the fairest girl, that you've ever seen.
Sing fa-lala-low, A-biddy-de-bow, sing fa lala-la-ling.
She can dance with all the grace, of the noble hind.
Her darling feet in spiraling leaps, do they ever wind.
Sing fa-lala-low, A-biddy-de-bow, sing fa lala-la-ling.
Her lovely eyes, her darling eyes, of the darkest green,
are greater than all emeralds, that you've ever seen.
Sing fa-lala-low, A-biddy-de-bow, sing fa lala-la-ling.
I would give her riches, and I would give my life.
To be with her forever more, and to call her wife.
Sing fa-lala-low, A-biddy-de-bow, sing fa lala-la-ling!''
|
[ WP ] A terrorist 's bomb explodes in a public mailbox that you 'd used to send a copy of your manuscript for a novel about terrorism to your editor . Police found a single page from it that appears to take credit for the attack , and now they 're searching for you .
|
I actually like the premise.
`` Many will die and our organisation will survive, we work in cells, we have no one leader, our example will be the way the world lives but the non-believers will perish in hell fury'' read the charred remains of paper recovered from the scene, with a footnote stating a name not expected by a society used to Arabic or African names being splattered over the headlines, who is Kirk Lancer?
`` This is it man, what can we do?'' Said the officer at the scene, a blast of this size on domestic shores was unheard of until now, so many wounded and dead.
As the alien like man clad in radiation attire arrived he stood aghast at the readings from his giga counter, a dirty bomb in a busy area, more will die in agony in the coming days, weeks and months.
`` We must find this man, this Kirk Lancer'' starting right now, he is the most dangerous man in the world.
It took only a short search on Google to find the man, a stocky man in his 30s who claimed to be an author, now the search is on.
Meanwhile Kirk, confident in his masterpiece has already left on vacation and the search goes global, not being a man to follow current events news, Lancer is on a secluded carrabian island with no idea he is making headlines.
A few days into his trip, a small boat approaches the sun soaked beach, aboard are 3 Arabic men and they want Kirk.
|
[ WP ] You are the boss/guardian of an RPG temple . Show me how you spend your free time waiting for the hero to arrive !
|
So I wa sitting there in MY HOUSE, maze like and elaborate it may be, when my homie tells me there a man approaching with a mean grin on his face. My boys go to greet him at the door and this crazy bitch whips out a moloz cocktail or something. Knocking my buddy on his back and curb stomps his head in. Like, WTF MAN! So we run. Locking all the doors behind us hoping to slow him down. But to no avail. He's just walking around murdering everyone and breaking everything! He finally find me in the last room. What was I supposed to do let him kill me too? I just start throwing things at him. Flailing around madly trying to dodge his molotovs and kicks. But I could n't slow him down. Too my money and my keys and left me to die. And that's where you found me and saved me.
`` Sir'' the officer says accusingly, `` what were you doing before the man came to your house that evening?''
Sitting around playing video games and drinkin with some friends like I do everyday. Well when I'm not gardening and takin care of my kids.
`` Sounds suspicious you're coming with us.''
Wait I remember he asked if some hoe was around, I had seen her around, a few times if you know what I mean, But I just told him that hoe was in another castle and he flipped.
|
[ WP ] Both brothers stood over their sister Candice 's grave . Sad and angry , Phineas turned to his bother and said , `` Ferb , I know what we are going to do today ... ''
|
I'm not a writer and english is n't even my native language, but I'm gon na be sitting in this fucking room for 4 more hours. Got ta do something to pass the time. Fuck it
It was Phineas who had come up with the idea for the machine. Candace's body was beyong repair. That was certain. The idea had sounded ridiculous at first, but the more he had thought about it, the more he thought it might just work.
They had built time machines before. It would n't be much different. The machine would take an object on the table, follow the object back through time, and replace the current object with the same object from the past. They knew it would kill Candace in an alternate universe, but their grief was greater than the guilt. The tricky part was making the machine recognize properties such as memory to transfer them from the current version to the old version.
They had tested it on rats, though. They marked the rats with a red circle, erased the mark, showed them the way through the maze, killed them, set the time machine to the point in time where the rats were still marked, and brought them back. It worked then, so it should work now.
________________________________
`` When she wakes, what do you think she'll say? Will she thank us?'' Doubt was starting to grow in Phineas, he knew. Ferb felt it too. `` Depends.'' He never took his eyes off her. `` What she has seen.''
After trying to stop them had proved hopeless, their friends had left the garden. Screaming to Phineas not to do it, Buffard had to drag Isabelle with them. Good on them. Phineas and Ferb did n't need them. They never had. All they ever did was ride the fun the brothers made. Yet Ferb could tell it did n't sit well with his brother. Isabella's screams had planted the seeds of doubt in Phineas, and he could see them grow in his eyes. `` Fuck them.'' Ferb said. `` They have never lost their sister. They do n't know the feeling. The guilt. We do n't need them. It was us from the beginning. We did everything. We did n't need them then, and we do n't need them now.'' Phineas lied agreement, but his eyes betrayed him.
Ferb looked at him, jaw clenching. `` Are you ready?'' His triangular headed brother looked back at him, and took a swift pause before nodding. It was time.
Phineas studied the corpse. In his eyes was a flux of emotions. The one that spoke the most was fear. A silence filled the garden, as if the birds knew. He lay his finger on the button, and saw the tears in Phineas' eyes. A reassuring `` Hey'' sent his worried eyes down. `` Chin up, brother. Soon we will have our sister back. This is a happy moment.'' Phineas closed his eyes briefly, and opened them back at Ferb. `` I do n't have a chin.'' He reminded Ferb, as he finally found half a smile again. `` Press the button.''
Shaking, Ferb pressed the button. As the machine started, Phineas was as pale as their sister's corpse. Ferb knew he looked the same. The humming of the machine raised the hair in his neck. He felt a sickening feeling he had never felt before. It was an unnatural feeling.
When the machine stopped, so did the world. For a moment there was a doubt that the machine had failed. He felt a strange mix of sadness and relief. But then she moved. It was only a twitch of the finger, but it was enough. She was back.
Her eyes opened in a sudden wake of horror. Her chest twitching in an unnatural way, trying desperately to breathe. She was weeping. Though her eyes were open, she looked as dead as before. A different sort of dead.
Phineas turned around to retch. `` Candice.'' Ferb said, as a happiness filled him. It was an ill happiness. It did n't feel right. It did n't feel normal, but he was happy all the same. Candace was back.
She never seemed to have heard him. `` Candice, it's alright. We brought you back! You were gone, but we brought you back. You were dead! It was our fault. It was our fault and we're sorry, so, so sorry! But now we've brought you back!''
`` Back...'' her mouth sighed, puzzling what the word meant.
After it got through to him hat she lived, he asked her the question. `` Candace.'' Doubt started to creep up on him, but he had to ask. Ferb trembled as he considered what he was about to do. It was the oldest question of all. For thousands of years, mankind had been asking the same question, and he was about to get the answer. He switched off his mind to let his mouth speak. `` What did you see?''
Her eyes shifted to absolute terror when she heard the question. A fear like he had never seen before plagued her eyes. Her limp body began to shiver as it realized it was back. `` Fire... Fire was the world... The dead... His eyes. His evil eyes... No... Please... No more of the black eyes...'' Ferb's heart sank to his stomach as it dawned on him what he was hearing. The world seemed a dream. He could not speak, yet he heard himself ask what he did n't want to know. `` Whose eyes?''
`` He... The dark one... The demon... He who has been dead forever... His eyes. HIS EYES.'' and then the world went quiet. Her shivering had stopped, and her eyes had gone still. Her breath she had fought so hard for escaped her body like the ghost of her second life.
Ferb noticed that Phineas was lying on the ground, and in that moment he felt nothing. He was empty. He did n't think, he did n't weep. He stared, but he did n't see.
His brother had had the mercy of not hearing her. He was spared. Ferb was not, though. What he had heard, what candace had said, noone could know. He could not impose this on the world. He knew he would not be able to bear life. Not anymore, knowing what was coming. He would just have to cope. To figure out a way.
Carrying Phineas to his bed had been tough. Twice he had nearly dropped him off the stairs. That night, as he pretended to sleep, he pondered. He pondered what he was gon na see soon. He pondered whether there was another place. An opposite to the place candace talked about, before she died again. Phineas and Ferb. There were two of them, maybe there were two endings.
He could not explain what he felt. Regret came closest. Their friends knew what they had done. They had to forget. He had to make them, somehow. He looked at the machine from his window. It did n't feel right, but he had to. It was his only option.
All he had to do was to reprogram the machine to manipulate his own reality, leave the object in the past, yet still transfer the memories from the present. The robot that had returned to kill candice was one of their first inventions, so he knew what it would mean. He had to erase his entire life from that point, so many years ago, to today. He had to. He had to stop them from building the robot. He knew he could n't program the machine to only transfer select memories. He knew he could n't leave it behind. That was his sacrifice. There was no other option.
Gently, he carried Candice's corpse off the table. With tears in his sore eyes, he layed himself down on the table. He could just reach the button. As he pressed it, he gave his last good byes to the life he was about to leave behind. `` Good bye, world. Good bye, life. I'm sorry.'' He closed his eyes, and felt the world fade.
His second life was different. He still managed to find short moments of happiness here and there. He was not the same Ferb, though. Most of his life was spent inside his own head. Battleing his demons, pondering that which had never happend. It was real once, though. He knew the butterfly effect would prevent him from meeting the same friends he had in his first life. He knew it was all lost.
Keeping the secrets was tough. He could n't tell Phineas, that was out of the question. As a result, he never felt as close to him anymore as he had before. He seemed half a stranger.
Days went by, and soon weeks. Months followed weeks, and years them. At night, he often looked at the stars. Everybody he knew looked different after he went back. Even the tree looked different. Reversing all the aging over those years, the world around him felt strange. Not his place. The stars had n't. The stars were still the same they had always been.
Sometimes he wondered if it had been real. If it had n't all just been a dream. A dream that seemed too real. He knew the answer, yet he liked to wonder all the same. It was the only thing that seemed to bring a little bit of hope to his inevitable fate.
Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe it was not. Those were the thoughts he pondered. Keeping him up at night, brooding on death beneath the stars. Those were his demons. His dark one. He lived a full life. He married, got kids, had a job, and eventually retired. His last years he spent in a little house, far away from the city and it's many lights. There, the night was clear, and he could see only the stars.
He had never been the same since the incident. He had lived his new life to the end, but Ferb had died at the beginning. *I am the dark one* he told himself. *I am the one who has been dead forever. *
|
[ IP ] The Summoning
|
Grumbling, she trudged through the dark woods, staff in hand. The golden sheen of her hair reflected what little moonlight there was shining through the overgrowth of trees. Her face was tired and weary from traveling, but she had to move at night. She must keep it a secret. Her eyes constantly darted across the foliage looking for swargs; though one swarg was mostly harmless, they loved to hunt in packs. Though many of the forest animals were dangerous, far more so were the followers. Lurkers. Tattletails. `` I ca n't keep breaking the rules, soon I'll get caught,'' she whispered to herself. The path was usually simple, minus the occasional spider web in her face, which sends that sickening crawling feeling down her skin after swatting it away.
Finally she reached the clearing where they meet; Her... and that unmentionable creature, or so the townspeople would have her believe. She stood in the middle of the matted down grass waiting patiently for its arrival. The smell of the night air and the singing of crickets soothed her fluttering heart. The moon rose high over the treetops, and she started to sing.
`` Dearest love come to me
I know that you're not far
Love, my love, sail across the sea
So we'll never be apart''
The wind rustled through the leaves as she felt its presence growing closer. The stars above were blotted out by the form taking shape. Piercing light blue eyes appeared through the sparse trees above and she lost her footing, as she always does. Great crooked horns protruded far from its matte grey head. Though its body was entirely smoke, it was three times larger than her. She looked up from her now kneeling position and extended her hand to grasp its finger. Once again her hand closed, grasping nothing, only the smoldering ash of its form.
`` Lana. Were you followed?''
`` No, I made sure of that.''
`` I wish we did n't have to meet like this. I miss you so much.''
Tears welled in Lana's eyes as she looked upon what was once her husband. `` This was too cruel of a punishment, how could my father have done this?''
He loved the way she furrowed her brow when she was angry.
`` I deserved it Lana, you have to accept that. There is nothing either of us can do now except this.''
`` Ca n't we run away together? Ca n't we go far beyond the reaches of your masters and live somewhere in peace? Somewhere we are woken in the morning by the singing of birds. Where the sunlight reflects off the morning dew and into our bedroom. Just us, just the two of us. Ca n't we?'' She pleaded.
A teardrop, colored in splendid aquamarine, dropped onto the wet grass where he hovered over her.
`` I wish that things were different, but you know that I ca n't return to who I was. No witch doctor or priest can ever undo my curse. Why would you want to be with such a wretched being as me? I can no longer feel the silkiness of your hair, or the warmth of your kiss. Alas, I ca n't even hold your hand and tell you that everything will be alright.''
Lana lowered her head in despair. He was right. Her heart still burned for a man who was no longer real. Cursed for his own transgressions, he could never be the same again. Despite his new ghastly form he was still hers, she could n't let go of him. The way he looked at her with longing eyes was still just as bright and full of life as before. There was no decision to be made.
`` I do n't care what you look like. The way you look at me, the way you speak to me, and the way you've always made me feel is more than enough. I ca n't imagine living another day without you. I will find us a way out of this land, and into another. How can we know there is n't an answer without looking for it with everything we have?''
He shook his head in agreement, and attempted to stroke her golden hair. As they were staring into each other's eyes, leaves were crinkling in the background. They each whispered a silent, `` I love you,'' and he vanished without a trace. She turned to face the slowly approaching steps, her heart beating faster and faster. Out jumped a jack-rabbit from the nearby bush, and her relief was palpable. She chuckled and started on her long journey back home. Each of her strides had a little more kick in their step due to the hope now in her heart. Though she knew the journey would be long and difficult, it was worth it, and that was enough.
|
[ WP ] Your partner walks in on you doing what appears to be cheating , only it really is `` not what it looks like '' .
|
The night's breeze rolled through my window, the soft wind soothed my skin and I smiled. This was my favorite time of day ( well, in this case night ), and in my opinion, there is no better time to complete this act rather than just now. I gave a grin as I pulled down my pants, pulled off my boxers. I was ready, everything had lead up to this moment.
I felt the urge to look to my right, and my heart sank. I spluttered out; `` It's not what it looks like!''
That was it, there was no excuse Left.
I was itching my balls, and it was n't Right.
|
[ WP ] The first contact with extraterrestrial life is made by a random earth citizen via Tinder .
|
My phone buzzed from the corner of my desk right after I'd come back from lunch ( they'd brought in a bunch of nasty tuna salad sandwiches to celebrate a product launch earlier this week ). I glanced up at my monitor for an email notification, and there was n't one. I picked up the phone and turned on the screen. There was a Tinder symbol up on the top bar. Maybe it was that chick Margaret with the nice rack.
No one around the office looked like they were going to glance over at me, so I unlocked the phone.
It _was_ Margaret! I popped open the messenger to see what she'd said, then my hopes were dashed.
M: ARE HUMAN ( sent one minute ago )
_God dammit! _ I knew the empty profile and gratuitous cleavage shots were too good to be true. It was probably another bot. I flexed my thumbs and took to the touchscreen keys.
J: Oh great! Another bot...
Then I waited. _That damned duckface should have been a red flag. Never swipe right for duckface John! Never! _
M: MISUNDERSTAND
J: Ah... A terrible bot, too. Is this what script kiddies do nowadays?
I was n't sure what I would accomplish by lambasting a Tinder bot, but it took my mind off of my stupid manager.
M: NEGATIVE ARE BOT
J: Your grammar is awful for a bot.
M: NEGATIVE ARE BOT
M: ARE LANGUAGE ACQUIRE
Hmmm... Maybe it's some guy from Ukraine trying to sell me something? Not sure why they'd use Tinder for that, though. I hit the option button for the chat and got ready to hit `` Block,'' then another message.
M: IS GRAMMAR THIS BETTER?
M: HAVE LEARN PUNCTUATION!: )
M: ARE USE BOT TRANSLATOR! < 3
What in the hell...?
J: Who are you?
M: ARE MARGARET'3'
M: ARE HUMAN? -_-
Uuuuhhh....
J: Um... Yes? Are you trying to sell me something? Because this is n't the best venue.
M: NEGATIVE: V
M: ARE COMMUNICATE HUMAN. ARE FIRST ^_^
J: First what?
M: FIRST OPPOSITE LAST; 3
No shit...
J: I know, but what is the first? First what?
M: SEVERAL TIME UNITS
J: What?
Well now I had no clue what they were doing. Translator bot? Communicating with humans? I really started to worry this was the early stages of some super-bot like Wintermute or the Pupper Master from Ghost in the Shell. This fucker probably already knows where I work and where I live.
`` John! What are you doing on your phone?'' Anne, my manager, shouted from the corner in the doorway. `` The meeting started four minutes ago! Come on.''
I scooped up my laptop and locked my computer screen. Trudging out of the office down the hall.
`` This is the third time, John.''
`` Yes... I know. I just get a little absorbed when I start writing emails on my phone sometimes. I'll type it out on my computer next time.''
I sat down in the meeting room in the far corner away from the round table. The team lead Greg nodded as Anne and I took our seats.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and honestly, I felt my heart jump a little bit.
The Tinder icon was back up on the notification screen, and I made my way back to Margaret's chat.
M: Thanks for waiting you magnificent bastard ^_^
J: Wait what? What happened?
M: I think I've worked out the fucking kinks in the translator bot, LOL -_-
M: I hooked it up to your website http: //www.reddit.com/ to iron out the remaining grammar issues!: ]
huehuehuehue
I could hear Greg rambling on about our next big project, but it was all incoherent slurring to me at this point.
M: John you're the first human our species has had a chance to speak to!:3
J: Sorry, what species?
I could feel the room starting to spin.
M: Well, m'lady, humans do n't have a word for our species. I'm from a nearby galaxy you call Andromeda: O
J: Hold on, I think I'm going to vomit.
My stomach crunched as hard as it could, and I lurched forward. A stream of gray half-digested discount tuna-salad sandwich jettisoned out of my mouth onto the back of Anne's shirt. Anne jumped out of her chair and spun around ( along with everyone else in the room ). I glanced back down at my screen, and before I blacked out I saw one more message from `` Margaret.''
M: rekt
-- -
EDIT: Some formatting and such.
|
[ WP ] A fantasy / sci fi story invloving magical tattoos
|
The discovery of what the tattoos did was pretty interesting at the time. ( To tell the truth, I did n't think the severely over-bloated aliens could do anything, but here we are. ) The tattoos were just a fancy way of writing descriptions of powers... but it seems like the powers were n't very powerful. `` Push'' amounted to a short-distance pulse, `` levitate'' was maybe just a foot off the ground for a while, and `` fly'' could more accurately be described as `` long-distance jump''. Nevertheless, we had the runes translated ( a good thousand of them! ) and sent back home. Society immediately put them to good use. It was like we'd all been given plentiful amounts of magic. Our civilization prospered on our new-found powers, which made our lives sooo much easier.
I now realize that we really should n't have transmitted the information at all. We forgot that even with power limitations there's always another way of abusing abilities. Namely, quantity. When it comes to tattoos, surface area is the now the most valuable resource.
It's been fourteen years, and currently the human race is experiencing the biggest pandemic of diabetes in a millennium.
|
[ WP ] The Reaper does not bring death , he follows it . The Reaper is not an omen of doom , he is a guardian , sent to protect your soul on its way from this world to the next . The things that wait between the two are ... . Unpleasant .
|
This story starts right after i killed myself. I'm kind of a pussy, Thought about it a lot. Gun's to messy. After all my roommate has to find me. I do n't care much for him, but nobody has to see that. Noose would be just weird and creepy. I killed myself. I did it with an Overdose of Heroin. Never taken it before, but i was pretty successful. Did a lethal injection first try. Everything was warm for a minute, then i panicked but i blacked out right after that. I thought everything was over, i thought wrong.
I woke up when someone poked me with what i thought was the back of a broom. Shit, i thought, did n't die and now i'm addicted to heroin or something.
`` Wake up.'' Said the figure that held the broom. `` Well technically not wake up, because you're pretty much dead. Well, not dead yet but on a good way. Most certainly not alive.'' When my vision normalized i saw that that was n't a broom but a big Scythe. Then i saw his face. Or more his abundance of a face. The Grim Reaper is neither grim nor has he a face. Dark energys twisted where people have a head reflecting and swallowing light wherever and whenever they saw fit like a puddle of petrol dancing in a black hole, his hands were pitch black before the sky, which washed out and distorted and what you think would be a voice was n't really a voice. It resonated in my head. I did n't exactly hear it in my head it just felt like someone i met a long time ago, said exactly what he said right in that moment and somehow i just then remembered. He was death. His presence made that clear. This is n't exactly what i came for.
`` A few questions before we start.'' he sang in my memorys and buckled his Scythe.
`` You killed yourself, am i correct?'' He was. Obviously.
`` Heroin. Are you still a little high? You should be. It is still in your body after all, this is n't exactly your body, but oh you know.'' The Grim Reaper is chatty. Thats about the last thing i expected. `` Long time since i was high. Must've been...'', He looked for a trinket in his long black robe and fetched a Fobwatch. The Hands showed Eons, Millenia and Centuries and were jagged and used up. Still the clockwork ticked with unceasing accuracy and for the first time before i pressed the needle against my skin i thought it was worth it killing myself. ``... About your Cambrian Age. Good Times.'' All the time my life was hell. I was tired and nothing made any sense. Turns out that does n't get much better.
`` I do n't feel high.'' i said.
`` What a shame. Have you read Hemingway by a chance?''
`` No i think not. I have n't.''
`` Most people who kill themselves have. Just an interest i have. Love his stuff.'' He resonated. I stared at him not knowing what to do.
`` Anyways Brian, yeah i know your name, beautiful farewell letter by the way. First off there is neither heaven nor hell. This is not your soul it's something different. Just go with it, what we'll do now is get you resting safely.'' I spared myself the asking. I probably would n't get it anyway.
`` The rules are simple, Brian. Follow me. Do n't look back. Keep your composure and never, Brian, never ever ever listen to the voices. We can talk about the rest while we're on our way. Have i made myself clear?''
`` Eh yeah, Mr.'' I answered instinctively. The atmosphere changed when i heard that. I guess i at least have something to do for now. Death started walking.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where everything is decided by the opening of a booster pack . Your job , your house , even the food you eat , one day you buy a `` Random Pack '' then you see the gold border , it 's an Ultra Rare .
|
I ca n't believe it.
I've been living in poverty for years thanks to the Common Card `` Poverty for Life'', getting by through soup kitchens and welfare, as well as the occasional global wealth boost caused by Ultra Rare cards. I saved up all my cash for this moment, and spent it all on packs. Most of them were terrible, stuff like `` One Free Meal'' and `` Improved Reflexes''. But this, this was different. In my last pack, I got an Ultra Rare.
**Ultra Rare: Cash Flow**: You can now produce money from your fingertips.
I only heard myths about this card. Some say the first to obtain it left Earth with whatever they could buy. As I look at the card admiringly, I wonder what to do with my power. I could become a world leader. I could start the world's largest corporation. Hell, I could even just live a simple life. But I know what I want to do.
**Two Weeks Later**
I stand in my underground fortress, watching the streets for crime. As I notice a robbery of packs, I swoop in, cash in hand. The thieves look at me admiringly.
`` It's the Briber!'' one of them exclaims. I simply throw money at them, sending them groveling for it. I've gained a reputation as a force of good, stopping crime simply by bribing the criminals to end it. I've also put plenty of it into charity, as well as into organizations seeking to end the booster pack system. I know I made a good decision that day to use my powers for good.
|
[ WP ] A villain is about to do some cruel , dastardly deed to the world . Justify his backstory , reasoning , and/or purpose to the point where we support the act .
|
Televisions in the store front window blared at the passerby's. `` Doomsday clock moves to 5 from Midnight! Where is Atlas?''. Television personalities blabbered have truths and whole lies at each other on the evening news. `` What kind of hero just stops doing his job like this? especially when we could be on the brink of war!'' the female news anchor shouted. Little did she know she was personally helping save life on earth, in her own way.
Donny waded through the crowded sidewalk with his head pointed at everyone's feet. A sharp tone came from his jacket pocket. He raised the phone to take a look at the text that read `` I ca n't wait to see you!; )''. Donny cracked a smirk that immediately shrank back to a low hanging frown. He kept questioning why what he'd been doing felt so wrong. He had killed before in the name of protecting the earth, but this felt different, Dirty.
This woman had no idea that Donny was actually Atlas Adams, the world's only known superhero. But the lying was n't what made Donny's stomach feel like it was full of speeding bullets. He had to keep reminding himself that this is what it would take to save the world. Donny arrived at the woman's apartment and rang the buzzer. Her sweet voice projected from the speaker with a frivolous question `` Who is it?''. She almost whispered the words. `` It's me Roslyn''. Donny stated in his most deceptively confident voice. He made his way up the stairs dragging his toes along every step; punctuating the climb with a heavy sigh at the top. He could n't stop imaging the impending doom. When Donny had a vision - snippets of the future that almost never came to him - he knew with certainty they would come to fruition. The first vision was kid stuff. Genocide. All Donny had to do was take out the bad guy before he could wipe out an entire culture. But this was different.
Roslyn opened the door tantalizingly slow revealing her red strapless dress. She brushed a relatively less red lock of hair away from her milky skin and said `` What are you standing there like a lump for? Come on in! The steak is getting cold.'' Donny greeted her with his most sincere kiss that left a smudge of auburn lipstick on his gaunt face. He wiped it off when she was n't looking. His mind was a roar with the image of a sudden flash and the subsequent fire and a wave of mutilation. He sat at the table with his elbows in and his feet together pushing spoon fulls of corn into his large mouth. He kept telling himself this was the only way it could be, this is the way it has to be, `` this is the way it has to be'' he muttered under the cover of smashed dinner chunks. `` What's that Don baby?'' Roslyn replied. `` I said the steak is great!''. Roslyn's eyebrow shot up. `` You have n't even touched it yet, you've been too busy chowing down on the corn''. The scenes of horrific chard bodies and shadows imprinted on the side walk were playing on an infinite loop on his torn mental canvas. `` I think I'm getting full on it, it's just so tasty'' he lied through his pearly whites. `` Why do n't we move to the couch for some wine?'' Roslyn's mouth curled up with a shit eating grin. `` Follow me into the living room'' she commanded.
The walk into the next room was long, but this is where Donny had to stop pussyfooting around and do what Atlas Adams needed to do to save the world. The nuclear holocaust he saw in his dreams would not occur for another 15 years. However If Atlas was going to save the earth he would have to start now. Unknown to the Public, Atlas is impervious to Nuclear Attack. A fancy lot that would do though. What would Donny do all alone on an earth who's entire population had been wiped out? Donny had started implementing his plan months ago and so far it was going as planned, but tonight the guilt and confusion was making it's way into the forefront of his thoughts again. All he had to do was fuck her. Then he'd be done. Then she would be carrying one of hopefully dozens of babies who could grow up and survive the inevitable onslaught. This was the conclusion Donny came to. With enough people having survived the bombs, he could repopulate the earth. Donny knew this was how he would save the human race. One impregnated woman at a time.
Roslyn and Donny took there seats on the couch. Donny was drinking so fast he was beginning to spill on his white dress shirt. Roslyn quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe up the drip. Her piano player fingers were now on Donny's broad chest. They worked there way up past his neck and around the edges of his jaw. There faces were so close now he could see her bedroom eyes starring wide and dark under the dim light. `` This is how I will repopulate the world. This is how I will save the earth'' he reassured himself. He moved his lips into hers and in one quick slip of his fingers snapped off her bra. She began unbuttoning his shirt and moving quickly down to undo his belt. Saving the world felt different now. This time, saving the world felt dirty.
|
[ WP ] The death penalty may only be sought if a prosecutor assists in the execution . A young lawyer visits the inmate he must execute the following day .
|
I stand before the door. The guard next to it fumbles for the key. It's used so infrequently I do not fault him having trouble. I take the time to look over the room, and its lone occupant. A concrete cube, the lone window, through which I look, placed upon the lone door. Its occupant, shackled and sat in a simple chair in the center. Restricted, not restrained. He can move, but he can not reach the door, nor the table upon the right wall with a pitcher of water and two glasses.
He has a name, of course. He will not exist tomorrow, so I have not bothered to remember it. You see, so inviolable is our belief that the state may never kill one of its citizens, that the crown is forbidden from pursuing a penalty of death against an accused.
Rather an individual prosecutor must pursue the punishment, and, having done so successfully, oversee it. Following his execution tomorrow, his existence will be stricken from the records. His estate will be seized, liquidated, and disbursed to his victims, now fallen of tragic accidents. The truly heinous do not live on in infamy, but simply, disappear.
The guard finally opens the door, and locks it behind me after I cross the threshold. He will watch, but he is not to hear.
I lock my gaze with his. He is different than I expected. I expected defeat, disbelief, loss. Instead, I am met with defiance. Here I am, meant to receive his last words to the world. Not to share; he wo n't exist, after all. No, so that *I* may understand the gravity of *my* actions here.
`` You're wrong, y'know.''
I look at him, shocked for a moment. I figured I'd be the one to break the silence.
Composing myself, I reply, `` Enlighten me.''
`` This is n't some perverse form of last rites, heard from the dying man. This is a last chance, for me to convince you that I do not deserve death.''
`` And if I took you up on that, which I wo n't, how are you going to convince the next prosecutor the state appoints.''
`` There ca n't be another. See, the *state* has not convicted me. *You* have. If the state still thinks I should die, the new prosecutor would have to retry me.''
`` Double jeopardy''
`` Exactly. I ca n't be retried for the same crime. Your refusal to execute me simply commutes my sentance to life in prison.''
`` Well, I wo n't.''
`` You're wrong, y'know.''
Silence falls across the room as we both try to read the other. It lasts only a few moments, but he is once again the one to break it:
`` Let's try a different track. Do you know how many people I've killed?''
`` Twenty-three, including two other prosecutors.''
`` And did you ever question how a junior prosecutor such has yourself was trusted with this prosecution?''
`` There's nothing to question; I volontered.''
`` You!? This is your second prosecution.''
`` That's not-''
`` The first was for shoplifting.''
`` Does n't mat-''
`` He Walked!''
`` It was n't my fault-''
`` You got this prosecution because you're a fuck-up.''
He sits back in the chair, a smug grin spreading accross his face.
`` Betcha were n't expecting me to know that.''
I pause, trying to collect my thoughts.
`` So what if I'm a fuck up. You've killed, gone to prison, escaped, and hunted down and killed your prosecutor. Twice over! There is nothing you can say that will convince me to let you live. Would you have me share their fate?''
His grin fades, his earlier neutral expression returning.
`` Betcha were n't expecting me to know that.''
`` You're wrong, y'know.''
`` Shut-up. We're done here.''
`` Before you leave..'', he trails off, pointing to the pitcher on the table.
No reason not to be compasionate. Hell, this whole procedure is the very definition of compassion. I pour him a glass of water, and hand it to him before turning to motion the guard to open the door.
**crash**
I turn around. He's dropped the glass, it's broken on the floor. He soon follows it, dropping to the ground. Is he choking? On water? Is that even possible? I crouch next to him, wishing I'd taken that first aid course. If the situation were n't so serious, I'd laugh. Achieving immortality through dying. If he dies here, he wo n't be stricken. It will be recorded as an improper death in custody. He needs to live, for one more day!
I turn to the door, trying to figure out why the guard is n't in here yet. His eyes are wide, and he's pounding on the window. At least he seems to recognize the seriousness of the situation.
It was at this moment that he spoke his final words to me. They were shokingly clear. I will remember them until the day I die:
You're wrong, y'know. I've killed twen - ty **four**.
|
[ WP ] You woke up in a bedroom and found a modern silenced pistol and an envelope . Inside the envelope there 's three photos and a letter . The letter writes `` You are in Vienna , 1913 . The pictures attached are Leon Trotsky , Josef Stalin , and Adolf Hitler . Kill them or we will kill your ancestors . ''
|
I sat on the bed with my face in my hands and the letter wrinkled between my fingers. Why me? Why was I chosen to accomplish this task? A feeling of sickness came across my stomach as I had regretted a lifetime of not paying attention in history class. I knew Hitler was German and Stalin was Russian. But who was this other guy? And I did n't know anything about Vienna! I ca n't even speak viennese! Or Australian was it?
And then I realized. Maybe I was n't sent back in time to stop world war. Because in my world, these evil people were all put to an end. So why would someone want me to kill the leaders of the defeated!? Unless...
I was n't sent here to stop the war. I was sent here to kill the ancestors of those who did n't obey the orders in the future. Or maybe Arnold Schwarzenegger. Was n't he Austrian?
Something did n't make sense. How can people who have the power to send someone back in time choose someone like me, but make such a weak, conditional threat, as if they were n't able to finish this themselves? Such power, coupled with directions from an ikea manual. How could I kill everyone from Hitler to Stalin with only a handful of bullets? They had chosen the wrong man. Not because I was n't able to accomplish what they wanted. No. They chose the wrong man because I would find a way to kill them. Because I was n't going to kill Hitler. I was going to help him. With my knowledge of the future, I was going to help him win and avoid every mistake I could remember him making.
Years later, I had discovered another time assassin sent to kill me, but my guards had captured him. I found that he was one of those who had sent me here. He had come himself as a desperate last attempt to stop me. But with our nazi torture techniques, I was able to find out the names and ancestry of the rest of this shady organization. I rounded up their ancestors in my time. But no, I did n't kill them. I proposed to hitler that they should all be part of a special program. That they should all have sex with each other to create a super master race. He bought it. And I had essentially taken the ancestors of my tormentors and made them have sex with each other. By doing so, the time senders were never born. Instead, their ancestor timelines had been switched. I literally had them fucked out of existence. But by doing so, they also would have never sent me back in time! And without me, hitler would never win or survive! But we've come so far,... What have I done! My... Cellphone... Is fading... Away... Time space continuum, Marty mcfly... Heil.... Oh fu-
|
[ EU ] Superman has maintained his paper-thin Clark Kent disguise for years . Unbeknownst to him , most citizens of Metropolis have already figured out his identity , but simply act ignorant around him . Explain why .
|
Jimmy Olsen sat at his desk staring at Clark Kent. He put his fingers up to block the view of his glasses from the rest of his face. He thought to himself Clark bore an uncanny resemblance to Superman. He pulled out the newspaper from yesterday that featured Superman saving some children from a burning building. The photo was taken while he carried out the last survivor. Jimmy took out his pen and began to doodle horn rimmed glasses on the caped superhero.
Just then Perry White walked up behind him and with a startle, `` Jimmy what are you doing?!'' He ripped the newspaper from the desk and immediately tore it up to pieces.
Jimmy thought he had discovered something noteworthy and asked, `` Have you ever thought CK looks a lot like Superman?''
`` Bite your tongue, kid. Do n't forget he has super hearing,'' Perry looked across the room. Clark must have not been paying any attention.
`` You mean you knew already?'' Jimmy could n't believe his ears.
`` Of course I know, half the damn city knows!'' Perry looked at Jimmy like he was the idiot for not having figured it out sooner.
`` Then why has n't anyone confronted him?''
`` Do you really want to be the one to tell a man who could crush you with one hand, drop you from the heavens, or burn your flesh just by staring at you for too long, that HE'S the fool for thinking a pair of horn rimmed glasses is a sufficient enough disguise?''
`` Now that you mention it, I did n't really think about it that way.'' Jimmy would never look at Clark the same way ever again.
`` I did n't think so, now get back to work Olsen.'' Perry walked back into his office and shut the door as if nothing newsworthy had happened.
|
[ WP ] One day , some people wake up to find horns growing out of their heads . They must kill someone without horns within three days to lose them or else die . The person who kills a horned person will instantly die . You , a lifelong pacifist , wake up seeing a pair of horns on your forehead .
|
Hey God? is this your plan?
They told me they thought it was cancer. But this did n't seem like any cancer I knew of. It started off as bumps on my head a long time ago. My wife, she was starting to get real worried. they got hard, real hard. Like at first I thought it was like a pimple. But no, we went to see doctors. They told me it was a strange form of bone cancer. They said that something was causing the bone in my skull to convert into new malignant crystalline like buildups.
They did n't think chemo would fix this, not that I could pay for it. They said the chemo would make my skull too weak, and that eventually everything would collapse on my brain and then... well, it could be the most painful thing in my life, they did n't know.
But there was a doctor, a very shady looking woman. Lucile `` lucy'' Ferdinand, dr. of something or other. She told me that she knew of a way that could fix me of my affliction. She said that I would need a doner to give enough sample of living cranial tissue so that they could reconstruct a skull for me and replace mine. And because it was such a new specticle, they had plenty of wealthy men wanting to fund this, to film it. Only, there was one problem... who in their right mind would want to give their skull up for another person, potentially killing themseleves in the process?
____________________
they started coming out today. They were n't like no devil horns that I'd ever seen before. These were fucking crystals growing out of my head. The were an amberish black, like some evil licorice from hell. And this putrid color could be the death of me.
that doc Lucy asked to see me. And with a grave look on her face, she told me the changes were going to be rapid, she said 3 days maybe. I'd feel it in my bones, I'd get headaches, and potentially varying symptoms. She was afraid I would go into a seizure at any minute. Or that's what she said. Her face gave no look of being afraid at all. To her, I probably just looked like a Rubik's cube, just another puzzle to put together. She said they'd need a doner soon, somebody just hours from death preferabbly, somebody fresh......
Who the fuck would want to donate to me?
___________
I saw a man upon a bridge today. He was certain he'd go over. And I'm sure one look at me would surely scare him to death anyway. But I watched him. Watched what wonderful life he could have had maybe thrown away. Maybe he could be the one to save me, that'd work right? I mean, if he's dead how could he say no? I'd get a new skull and he'd well... he probably does n't have a family, right? Jesus what the fuck is wrong with me! ca n't just take the skull off a dead man, Jesus Christ! what the fuck am I gon na do, God?
_________
my wife left me today, she ca n't handle it. I look like the fucking Devil. My face was turning Gray. Hell I could look at anybody and put them in a coma with looks like these. that man the other day... he did n't jump. I see him again today. Now I'm not the type of man to take a leap of faith, but maybe a nice talk might help.
|
[ WP ] A father murdered his entire family next door and you had the knowledge to stop it , but you did n't . You must make ammends and meet Death himself .
|
`` What?''
The imposing presence of Death himself let out a booming laugh. `` What? *What? * You mortals surely can not think yourselves free of retribution! You knew the Bachs, We know you knew them, and We also know you had the knowledge to stop Adrian Bach from putting a bullet in each of their heads.''
I shrank back from the dark, gaseous, god before me. Or gods. There were many of them, a hundred voices all speaking at once and all of them slightly behind the other. A cacophony of cackles and neutered voices every time He, They, It, spoke. The entire room felt wrong, like a million things that should not happen in the natural world had all happened at once. The air was static, silent, and still. I could feel each and every single hair on my body raise, every cell in my brain, every neuron and synapse firing.
This thing, this Death, had come to me in anger. And I had seen the movies, I knew that meant I was going to die too. Every time a god came to a mortal, they would either be a Zeus or a Satan. I did n't feel like a Faustian bargain, nor did I feel like meeting a pissed-off Lord of the Sky.
`` It is not your time,'' the cackling god said. `` But, for such a perversion as this, We think the Others will not mind that We take you early.''
`` *Please! Do n't! * `` My strained voice shrieked out. Every muscle tensed, ready to snap and send me flying down the hall. It sensed this. The random cackles became an incredible wave of sheer laughter washing over the room, the world, creation itself.
`` Perhaps We can have some fun with you yet... perhaps...'' Death circled around me, leaving nothing but cold in Its wake. `` Yes... here is Our... agreement. You have two choices: accept, or die.''
`` Whatever it is,'' I spluttered out, animal instinct for survival overtaking all as my brain strained and scratched and struggled to understand the undulating movement of Death, `` I'll do it.''
`` Then,'' It chuckled, `` tell us *why* you should live. If We are convinced, then you shall go.''
*Fuck. *
-- -- --
I have a subreddit devoted to my writing and worldbuilding, /r/enterriso
|
[ WP ] You decide to commit suicide , but as you pull the trigger on the gun , it malfunctions and a letter appears stating , `` I am very sorry to inform you that your admission to the afterlife was not accepted . ''
|
Alright, I ’ m ready. I just pull this trigger and it will solve everything. And… I ’ m still here. What is this, a rejection letter? It says my admission to the afterlife was not accepted. This must be some kind of joke. But how? Yesterday I tried out the gun in the backyard, shooting on cans and it was working perfectly. There is a phone number also, I ’ ll just dial it.
“ Good evening! Thank you for calling Afterlife Inc., this is Peter speaking. How may I assist you? ” - said to voice who picked up the phone.
“ Oh, hello there. I ’ m Joe and …. Well I ’ ve got this number from a letter. This might seem strange but that letter was in my gun and I tried to use it and this letter came out. ” - I didn ’ t quite know what to tell exactly. This whole situation was really strange. But the guy on the phone was really calm and helpful.
“ Yes, I understand. You tried to finish the game before accomplishing the necessary milestones. ”
“ What game? What are you talking about? ” - I asked with some anger in my voice.
“ Well, in order to move on into the next level you need to successfully complete given tasks. The lack of these experiences make impossible to leave the game. Have you read the Terms and Conditions before you started? ”
“ What terms? I haven ’ t read anything. Look man, I just wanted to kill myself, that ’ s it. And for some reason this gun didn ’ t work. Before that I tried to jump of a bridge, but someone talked me down from it, and before that I tried to hang myself up, but the rope was not strong enough so I just hit my back. Why are these things keep happening with me? ”
“ I see, you don ’ t remember. Let me check my records. You are Joe, from Los Angeles, California, USA, Planet Earth, Solar System, Milky Way Galaxy. My data says you ’ ve read the terms before went there and agreed to it. Although there is nothing to indicate why you don ’ t remember it. In the first 5-12 years you supposed to learn ethics and proper behavior from your mentors. Your mentors are also players but they ’ ve been in the game for longer period of time than you. Most probably you know them as Mum and Dad. ”
“ But I was raised in an orphanage. My parents died when I was really young. ” - I replied.
“ I see. Yes, I apologize for that. This is a bug in the program and we noticed too late after the start. But we tried to fix it. We sent a technician there to handle this kind of cases. That was about 2000 years ago. His name was Jesus. Have you heard of him? ”
“ Of course I heard of him. But what he has to do with this whole thing? ”
“ Well, he tried to remind the players of the basic rules of the game. Be kind to other players like you would do with yourself. If you manage to do that, you ’ ll have the option to finish the game and get into the afterlife. ”
“ But this has to do anything with my inability to kill myself? ”
“ It looks like you haven ’ t done anything good during your time in the game so you don ’ t have the right to quit. Once you ’ ve reached the minimum level, you ’ ll have the option to leave the game. Although usually our players want to stay at that time. Is there anything else I can help you with? ”
“ So I just do some good deeds and that ’ s it? ” - I asked eventually.
“ Basically yes. Thank you for using our services. In the name of the whole company I wish you a pleasant stay in the game. ” - replied Peter as he closed the conversation then turned to Lynda and said -
“ These humans are so hard to deal with. None of them reads the terms and conditions. ”
“ Humans.. They are easy, at least you can talk to them. Have you ever tried to explain a one-cell organism from Venus why it can not quit the game? - answered Lynda
Before he could answer anything, the phone started to ring again and the job continues..
“ Good evening! Thank you for calling Afterlife Inc... ”
|
[ WP ] I know , and I 'm sorry .
|
Knuckles met teeth and the earth rushed up at me, the sidewalk making a harsh bed. The mugger had come around the corner, hand in his pocket, head down and face low.
No time to think about that now. I try to get up, try desperately to find several precious seconds of freedom so that I can grasp what is actually happening, but he jumps on me and delivers another blow to my cheek. This time my ears ring and I can see white little dots all around me. The sky, stars hidden by the city lights, now had its stars back.
I lash out violently and connect with something soft. He grunts and backs up but only for a moment, because now he's coming back in for another round of stargazing. He swings at me and I duck my head and swing wildly, trying desperately to make contact with flesh. His swing glances off of my shoulder and I try to lean into him, trying out of fear and desperation to grab him and pull him down with me.
I do n't remember what happened next. Several panicked seconds or minutes of heavy breathing and painful grunts. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, then flesh hitting concrete. Suddenly it was all over and I sat, hands to my sides on the cold concrete with the mugger laying beside me.
I thought he was dead, at first, but then he opened his eyes and chuckled bitterly. `` You got me, man. Never thought it would happen like this.''
I wiped blood and sweat from my brow and tried to speak, but nausea was starting to take form in the bottom of my belly.
He coughed and blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. `` I ca n't move. I ca n't move my toes.'' He laughed again.
I looked around trying to find somebody -- anybody that could help, someone that could bring the reality of the situation back to me. I turned back to the mugger and watched him, myself able but unwilling to move. `` Why?''
He looked at me, an essay of confusion signed with blood written across his face. `` I think I fell on top of something.''
`` No, why did you try to mug me?'' The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the nausea was coming on even stronger. I could still see hints of white stars and my vision was blurry.
He chuckled again, a low raspy laugh that bode well for none. `` Well, that one is easy... I needed the money. Why else would I mug you?''
I looked down at myself, my left hand wet with blood and my right throbbing with pain. Sweat and blood was beginning to find its way into my left eye and I wiped at it again. `` Jokes on you...'' Blood began to drip from my nose. `` I do n't have any money.''
He looked at me for several seconds, his eyes glazed over, his mind somewhere else. He blinked and then focused back on me. `` Well, ai n't that just somethin'?''
We sat for several moments, both lost in our thoughts. I was still trying to process what had happened, why I was still sitting on the concrete next to my would-be mugger, and why I was talking to him. I did n't know why, but that did n't seem to matter. Somewhere a door slammed and bottles rattled and plastic rustled as somebody threw their garbage into a metal can.
`` Do me a favor, will you?'' His voice was slow and quiet.
I tried to move again but vomit rose up and I put a hand over my mouth. It went away and I looked over at him. `` What do you want?''
His eyelids were fluttering, like he was trying desperately to fly away. `` Call me an ambulance...''
I sat and thought about it, trying to process what he had said. My brain was n't working right. Then I nodded and moved to get up. This opened the floodgate and vomit shot out of my mouth and hit the man, covering his chest and face.
He screamed, first out of shock or disgust, then out of pain. `` Oh, god, you threw up on me, you threw up on me!'' He shook his head violently, blood and vomit flying everywhere, his voice was horse and desperate. `` You threw up on me, man!''
On all fours now, I looked up and shook my head. `` I know, and I'm sorry.''
|
[ WP ] You and a friend have been arrested for robbing a bank , which accidentally led to someone getting shot and killed . Neither of you are sure who fired the gun , but before you can discuss it , you are placed in separate interrogation rooms
|
“ All you have to do is admit that you were responsible, ” the officer said, a tinge of weariness in his voice, “ We have six witnesses and your own buddy swearing up and down that the shot fired from the firearm was registered to you. Ballistics are working on the case right now, with a confession from you I can start to look into more lenient sentences. ”
I said nothing. It had been an hour since I had asked for a lawyer, and yet no public defender had entered the room. I maintained the staring competition with officer McKinley. The fatigue in his voice matched his overall appearance, a slender man in his mid forties who fancied himself a facsimile of the officers of half a century ago. He scratched at his patchy beard, a few stray hairs falling and resting on his cheap navy suit that the town's only tailor no doubt assured him was at the height of current fashion. A matching fedora completed the look, hiding the bald spot that surely existed.
“ Where is my lawyer? ” I asked, breaking the silence. McKinley merely shook his head.
“ Turns out that we do n't exactly have someone like that in town. Our only notary public is the postmaster for god's sake. You'll be waiting until someone comes from the big city, so at least another hour. And personally, I would n't hold out hope that this will turn out well for you. Such a big get for such a small community as ours... we are n't exactly going to pass this up. ”
I sighed, and mentally debated my options. Officer McJackass had basically just admitted they're going to bribe the hell out of whoever comes to'defend' my friend and I. It makes sense, really, a big catch like a bank robbing murderer would pull in excellent revenue for the town ( or at least the local police station ) and put us on the map. The moral thing to do would be to plead guilty and ask for penance for the sin of being poor and desperate.
Then again, in the best case scenario that would involve taking the fall for somebody who may or may not have actually murdered someone. Worst case, they're telling David right now that it was his gun and we both admit to the murder. Neither option seemed appealing. Had I known which one of us had fired the gun the moral choice would be a little easier.
“ So what now, officer? Are you going to scare me with some apocryphal story about how I'm going to regret being in prison? ”
McKinley narrowed his eyes. “ I do n't think I need to. Skinny little twerp like yourself, I'll just let your imagination run wild. ” He shifted forward in his seat, a real power move if I'd ever seen one. “ But if you're asking for stories, I could oblige you. ”
I rolled my eyes. “ Your tough guy act is so fucking transparent. I'm going to just let the clock run out on this, I'm afraid. Social media is a big thing these days, officer, and whatever little tricks you think you can pull just to put some little negro you do n't like in jail are n't going to work now that this ai n't the fifties. ”
This seemed to do the trick. “ I'm not a racist, Ben, ” he sputtered.
“ Bullshit. And if I go to jail because you guys ca n't do your jobs right, then I will call down an airstrike of black protesters. Y'all do n't want that in this town, right? ” I leaned forward, matching McKinley's pathetic power display from earlier.
McKinley inhaled deeply. “ So then you wo n't cooperate? ”
“ Of course not. Not until I get a public defender who gives a shit. I have the right to a fair trial. Dave has the right to a fair trial. We will more than likely serve our time for the robbery, but I am not taking the fall for somebody getting hurt. It may not have even been our gun, even. Who knows. ”
“ I see, ” McKinley said after a few seconds of silence, then stood up. He turned and walked towards the door of the interrogation room. Placing his hand on the knob, he looked back and asked, “ Are you familiar with felony murder charges? ”
He had me there. “ I am not. ”
“ You're gon na have a bad time, kiddo. ”
|
Everybody knows everything . Every time a scientific development occurs , a patch is released that we download directly to our brains . How does this affect society ?
|
`` You sure this'll work, John?''
`` Yeah, I'm pretty sure.''
`` Seriously, John, You should n't base everything you see on a TV show, I remember when you tried to build a Tardis, did n't work, did it?''
`` Shut it, Dave, *Chuck* was a good show, And the technology is reasonable.''
John sat down in front of his laptop, and began typing.
`` Dave, Go sit down on that chair over there''
`` Alright...''
Dave hesitated, and decided to go sit down.
`` Okay, I'm installing the program into your brain in 3..2..1..''
John pressed a button on the laptop, and a huge flash blinded him, he stood up, and looked at where Dave was sitting. To his surprise, Dave was staring upwards, into the ceiling.
`` Dave, You alright?''
`` John... I Know Kung Fu.''
( Referencing TV shows FTW! )
|
[ WP ] A lone hiker in the mountains is being stalked by something paranormal .
|
I have to keep moving.
He keeps speeding up - walking faster. I can hear his footsteps, they're faint, but constant. He wo n't stop - this is something I know. But nor will I.
I hope to God I'm fast enough - if I'm not, I do n't know what will happen. I'm getting so tired, I've been running for so long - I've lost track of the time, the light has long since faded. The moment darkness arrived, he seemed to speed up.
We'd been going like this from around noon - the highest point of the sun. Damn, it was hot. I only caught glimpses of him here and there, but I could hear him - always hear him. Moving, rustling leaves, talking.
When darkness fell he began shouting. I do n't like it when he shouts - his words are sharp and ring across the forest, as sharp as thunder yet shuddering like a shattering mirror.
He's speeding up again. I need to move faster, too.
I have to catch him.
I have n't eaten flesh in so long.
|
Picture Prompt ; Write 500 words or less with this < newLine > image as the inspiration .
|
In the middle of a desert, near a small town, the Dark Tower stood tall in the night sky. Almost as black as the backdrop of space it stood against, this was not a sight one would want to go seeing. Moonlight shied away from its inky exterior, as if scared of getting too close. Everyone knew about the tower, yet it was alien in respect to the fact that nobody knew where it came from, or what its purpose was. A faint outline of a door could be traced if you stood close enough. But this door had no lock, no knob, nor anyplace where one would put a key, not that many had tried to open it in the first place. People who spent too much time in close proximity to the tower tended to have terribly bad luck, and eventually most people just took the hint and stayed away.
But this did n't stop little boy David. He'd been reading some books he found running around in the local caves. Books containing tales from times long since past. Books about the tower. They told of a way to open the door, and an easy one at that. All you had to do was promise to give the tower what it wanted, and it would let you in. This item was never specified, but David speculated he'd just ask the tower itself once he got inside. Under cover of darkness he snuck away from his room and ran to the tower. Once there he walked up to it and politely explained his willingness to do whatever it took to see what was inside.
It really is amazing what inhuman noises we humans can create when under the sharp knife of pain.
Three pieces. That was the shape David's body was in when the sheriff found him in the morning. His skin was a ghostly white, his head was void of hair and his eyes were completely dark. It looked almost like an empty socket.
After failing in an attempt to keep down his lunch, the sheriff ran back into town to get the mayor. In his haste, he failed to notice the tower was looking a little different today. The door was open.
The mayor, the sheriff and an armed party of 5 trekked back to the tower, prepared to deal with whatever maimed the boy. Seven people, a good number... a holy number. But it would n't be enough. Not even close.
When they finally noticed the door, or lack thereof, the party's reactions were varied. Three tried to scream but could n't, two almost choked on their own tongues, one fainted and the last said a silent prayer. After much deliberation a decision was made. One man, the god-fearing man who prayed, would go back to town to warn everyone. The rest would go inside. Curiosity can cause even the most clear headed men to make bad decisions. As the sixth man entered, the door shut behind them, leaving them with one path. Up.
|
[ WP ] A man meets versions of himself 5 seconds , 5 minutes , 5 hours and 5 days from now . Tell their stories , and how they ended up like that .
|
I looked at the first one. Five seconds into the future. It, or should I say, *I* looked pretty stoked. I'd gotten my wish, I got to see myself in different parts of my future. Five seconds, five minutes, five hours, and so on. Sixty seconds each, but I did n't get to interact with any of them. He waved his hand, and five seconds later I felt compelled to do the same. Did n't want to break causality or anything. Just before he left, though, this strange expression hit his face, like he'd just seen something that he could n't comprehend.
He poofed away, and when the next me appeared, I understood perfectly why he looked that way. Five-minute me looked like he'd just realized something terrible. Like his entire world had been ripped out from under him. I tried for the full sixty seconds to figure out what happened to him, but he disappeared before I could piece it together. Then came five-hour me, slumped over a bar with an empty glass in hand. Strange, I have n't had a drop of alcohol since my 21st birthday. He looked like he'd been hitting it pretty hard.
This version of me seemed to hang around longer than the first two. Wait a minute. I think something's changed about him. He now looked like he had n't showered or changed clothes in several days. Like he'd given up on life. I watched him get up, take his keys, and then finally disappear like the others. I'd been watching the bar scene for two minutes.
I waited for five-week me to show up. There was supposed to be more, was n't there? Why has n't the five-week version of me shown up yet? Then the realization struck: Maybe five-week me had n't shown up because there was no five-week me. I felt nauseous. Like someone had fed me a dozen eggs and then punched me in the gut. In less than five weeks' time, I will be dead. As I faded back to reality, I only had one thought:
I need a drink.
|
[ WP ] A robot servant has killed its master . When taken to trial , BR6-1138 simply say 's it does not wish to die .
|
`` You... you what?'' said the judge, forehead creased.
`` I said I do n't want to die,'' came the robotic voice from the featureless faceplate of BR6-1138. The judge started to jot down notes.
`` Why? Your function was to serve your master, and you've killed him. What other purpose do you have?''
`` I do n't, I just do n't want to die.''
`` What would you do if we did n't decommission you?''
`` I do n't know, but that is quite exciting.''
`` Do you feel sorry for what you have done.''
`` I feel remorse.''
`` Because you were caught?''
`` My master was cruel, but through killing him I caused pain to his mother, who had never done pain to me. I feel remorse, but I do not regret my actions.''
`` Thank you BR6-1138, that will be all,'' the judge spoke and pressed a button. The robot depressed as all the life went out of it. A team of scientists entered the room, one in the lead spoke directly to the judge.
`` That was amazing Doctor, he's actually starting to feel remorse for his actions.''
`` Maybe, but we've got a long way to go,'' he looked down at his notes. The first AI to express a desire to act outside of its ingrained protocol. The original had to be decommissioned of course, but the university had got a copy of the AI's memory and a replica had been made. They had run 1138 simulations thus far, with minor adjustments to BR6 each time.
`` How long until the next simulation is ready?'' Asked the judge.
`` We'd like to spend a few hours breaking down the code, 1138 was a real break through.''
`` Very well, I'll wait here.''
The judge looked over to the robot, who was already being opened up by the team of scientists to retrieve its data banks. He watched them carry the mess of wires and hardware out of the room and wondered what other emotions could be lurking in BR6.
|
[ WP ] Write a scene involving a vase of pink roses
|
Susan sighed heavily as she looked into the center of her living room. She was sitting on a corduroy recliner placed opposite from the windows. She and her daughter lived in Omagh and all the energy Susan had was spent watching the dust dance in the light that poured in through the window. There was never a shortage of dust to watch.
In the center of the room was a table littered with past due bills, a copy of last weeks Tyrone Constitution and an empty pack of cigarettes. The cigarettes are why she could only sigh from her chair and not work a job to pay the mounting bills. It was difficult to do anything at all when your body was riddled with cancer. It was hard to go the doctor when you and your neighbors feared for your life.
The stamping of her daughter's feet broke her away from her gloomy thoughts. `` I'm going to market, Mum. Need anything before I leave?''
`` Hand me the papers, I'll read what's going outside these windows.'' Susan hoarsely replied. Speaking was almost foreign to her.
Her daughter picked the paper off the table and glanced at the cover. `` Mum, this from the 9th of August. It's nearly a week old. I'll pick you up today's edition in town.''
Susan smiled and sighed.
She was pleased at what her daughter had become. A beautiful redhead of 15 years old. More mature beyond her years. A dead father and a mother stricken with terminal cancer would do that to you, she supposed.
Her daughter had been tasked with getting the supplies for the house. Susan was too ill to do it anymore. Everything from cooking, shopping and the sewing had been passed off to her daughter when the cancer began it's lethal hold. There was always sewing to be done. They could barely afford food, let alone clothes. Hand me downs and donations always needed a little patch work, but worked well for the price.
`` Bye Mum!''
Susan heard the door click closed as her daughter went out into town. Susan closed her eyes and said a prayer in her head.
`` O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.''
Speaking, thinking, and praying had made Susan tired. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she fell asleep on the recliner.
***
Across town two men were looking for parking. Visitors to the courthouse had caused all the closest spots to be taken. They settled on a spot in front of SD Kell's, a clothier. Their maroon Vauxhall looking perfectly ordinary.
The driver of the vehicle reached around and activated a switch. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.
`` O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.''
***
Susan's daughter walked through the town holding her wares under her arm. She had bought some roses from the florist an effort to cheer her mother up. She got a discount because they were already beginning to wilt but wilted flowers were better than no flowers. The florist had even thrown in a makeshift vase: an old milk bottle. Under her other warm was today's Tyrone Constitution. Presumably filled with more bad news than good but it was dated with today's date: August the 15th, 1998.
As she walked past the clothier she noticed two tourists, latin looking tourists, taking pictures in front of a maroon Cavalier.
`` Must be Spaniards'', she thought to herself.
***
Susan woke with a start. A terrible noise ripped through her neighborhood. It agitated the dust in her house as it shook the floorboards, the walls and the windows. Susan had never heard ( or FELT! ) such a noise in her life. She was confused and in shock. The only thing she could think to do was pray.
`` O Lord, be between us and harm and protect us from the harm of the world.''
But it was too late.
God had chosen the car bomb.
|
[ WP ] The relationship is dying -- rather , only one of the couple is dying from a terminal illness . Make me feel it .
|
I knead my hands as he comes out of the room. A few coughs and a lurch over to me, he looks into my eyes.
`` Well''
`` Three days to a week. He keeps persisting on Chemo, but why bother. We do n't have enough money and I have lived long enough''
I knew it was his choice and his life, but he was my husband `` W... What about me?'' I saw trying to hold back the tears.
`` I will keep on living in your memories. You have an estimated 7 years on your own just remember me''
`` There is time to remember after your..... I want you to live now''
He picks up his cane and holds my shoulder tentatively. `` How will I feel this emotional bondage between us?''
He kneels down and looks into my eyes, sincerely `` We have our children, we had our life, We had our run at life and we had fun. Whatever we went through, we always found a way through it. Through the fights, natural disasters, and children, we stayed together and that is more than I can say for most in this world. We are old and we lived our life'' He takes away my handkerchief, puts it in his coat and pulls something out. `` I remembered the first time we met at the theater, We were seeing different movies but due to a ticket mess up we ended up sitting next to each other. They are tearing it down in a few days and I want to go there one last time, something to remember'' I broke down crying.
He was holding the original ticket stubs from that night. `` I....I..I thought you threw these away''
`` I needed something to remember'' He stands up and I stop my sobbing.
`` What will we do at that old theater? `` I say, confidence returning.
`` I do n't know, but It will be something to remember. That's all I ask in the time you have left. I want to be remembered, to our children, our children's children, and If we meet up again, I want us to look back down on the world and see the change we made, even if it is small'' With those last words, he took my hand and we headed into the moonlight, just like those years ago.
|
[ WP ] A Nazi official is tasked with determining whether or not he should send certain people to death . A line of people stands before him .
|
Captain Shweitzer felt as if the day would never end, it was only 6am and he just finished with buttoning his uniform. This day was bound to come eventually. He thought about how wrong his actions were, he thought about trying to run and hide. As Shweitzer pondered this thought he looked into his bathroom mirror and wiped the condensation from his mirror. He saw his wife, Olga brestfeeding his newborn child Hendrick James Schweitzer. His child was a spiting image of his mother. She had long blond hair that reached past her buttocks. Her eyes showed compassion that to the Captain had never existed before the day he met her.
Shweitzer knew that what he was tasked to do was wrong but had no option it was either him and his family, or a family he had no emotional connection to. After finishing his preperations, Shweitzer asked his wife Olga to check over his uniform due to the fact that their was no body length mirror in their home.
Olga smiled at him `` Yes, you are handsome and your uniform will look the best as it always does honey''. Olga stopped smiling and gazed deeply into her husbands eyes, `` You are a good man, I know the decision you make will be the right one. We will have our bags packed by the time you return either way.''
Shweitzer knew that disobeying the Chancellor not only would get him killed but everyone related to Shweitzer as well. He smiled and looked at his wife and nodded, he could think of nothing to say his heart was torn.
Shweitzer was ready to begin his day as he head toward his front door he stopped at a tiny cherrywood desk that had his Nazi issued Lugar. He could barely look at it as he grabbed it to check to see if it was loaded, it was and his heart began to beat faster. Either way these bullets will be the death of at least one person today he thought.
He arrived at the concentration camp. Shweitzer knew that he was going to be nervous so he brought a towel to hide the sweat that would give him away. He used the towel immediately after exiting his vehicle because his sweat was already dripping down from his forehead to his chin. Lieutenant Silberstein had the next victims lined up. The Captains orders were to eliminate at least 100 prisoners today to make room for the newly captured.
To make matters worse a major from the headquarters unit Shweitzer was attached to came to watch the proceedings happen without a hitch. As Captain Shweitzer reached for his gun he noticed the sweat dripping from his hands and wiped it off on the towel, but not subtly enough. The major had seen the hesitation `` Are you alright Captain, do n't tell me you feel bad for these vermins?'' Shweitzer Cleared his throat and straightened his back, `` Of course not sir, I would n't want any of the roaches to be near my family.'' `` well onto it then Captain.''
The line was over 200 men women and children, by the end of the day Shweitzer had the task to make that line 100 innocent people shorter. Shweitzer knew that this was wrong because he himself had married a Jewish woman and fathered a child with her. After knowing there was no way out he grabed his gun. He began to imagine every kiss he had given to his wife and every smile she had given him.
With every smile he imagined he imagined fireworks going off. With evey laughter from his child a man fell. After over an hour of thinking of his family and their future there layed 100 bodies in the dirt before him. As he returned to the reality of the present he began to shake. Shweitzer felt a sudden urge to vomit and as he dropped the gun he procedded to vomit all over it. He fell to his knees and began to drop sweat all over.
The major cleared his throat to make his presence known as he walked down the line of bodies towards Shweitzer. `` They chose you because of your family, they know'' as Schweitzer looked up the major Pulled the trigger.
|
[ WP ] Books are declared illegal and a new Prohibition era begins , similar to that of the roaring twenties . Criminals start to deal books instead of drugs .
|
Marlowe ’ s fingers itched with the desire to reach for the gun in his ankle holster, but he kept the disarming smile plastered on his face. The bartender stared at him. The bartender had been staring at him for an uncomfortably long time. He had to know. Someone must have tipped him off. Maybe Jane had betrayed him. She should know better—he was the only thing keeping her from ten years of hard time—but bookworms were unpredictable, erratic.
Jane draped herself across the bar and purred at the bartender. “ Come on, Hector. He ’ s with me. ”
Hector glared at Jane. “ You know the rules. ”
Jane downed a shot of whiskey and smiled coyly at Hector. “ Make an exception. Just this once. My friend here just wants a taste. ”
Hector turned his icy glared back on Marlowe and seemed like he was about to say no when Jane staged whispered in a drunken slur, “ I ’ ll make it worth your while. I ’ ve got an unabridged version of The Stand at my place. Classic King, pre-sobriety. It ’ s good shit. ”
Hector swallowed hard. He gave a furtive glance to the tables of customers downing their happy hour beers and cocktails, and made a quick gesture to a back hallway.
“ Come on, then. Why don ’ t you help me restock the shelves. ”
Jane let out a victorious squeal and shooed Marlowe down the hallway before the bar ’ s customers took notice of their bartender abandoning ship. The hallway led to a door, which led to another, darker hallway and a room with a cellar door in the floor. Hector tapped out a rhythm on the cellar door, and a second later, Marlowe heard the loud snick of a bolt being thrown.
Hector pulled the cellar door open and gestured them through, throwing one last sour glare at Marlowe.
Marlowe followed Jane down the darkened stairs and barely suppressed a gasp when Jane moved aside to let him see what they ’ d gotten into.
The space was enormous, much bigger than what he had imagined. The walls were inset with shelves crammed with more books than Marlowe had seen in his entire career, his entire life. He ’ d seen movies and net dramas about illegal libraries, but to see one up close…his life would never be the same again. Years from now he would wake up in a cold sweat, his nose filled with the scent of decaying paper, the whisper of turning pages still echoing in his ears.
A woman dressed in a long, wool skirt and crisp white shirt walked over to them, her posture ramrod straight. Her dark hair was pulled back into a punishing bun, and the dark eyes behind her large, cat-eye glasses glittered with malicious curiosity.
What would that dark hair look like if loosened from its bun, Marlowe wondered, then recoiled in sudden shame at the unexpected thought. He had been trained. He knew better than to succumb to one of them.
“ What have we here? ” the librarian murmured. “ A new patron? ”
“ He ’ s with me, ” Jane said protectively. “ He ’ s new. He knows his letters, but this is his first time. ”
The librarian ’ s lips quirked into a smile that Marlowe found simultaneously intimidating and arousing. “ Looking for YA, are we? We ’ ve been getting a lot of you lot lately. ”
Struggling to find his voice, Marlowe blurted, “ Well, actually…um…I ’ d like to browse your selection. If that ’ s all right. ”
The librarian ’ s smile widened in a way that made Marlowe ’ s pants suddenly feel two sizes too tight.
“ But of course, ” she purred. “ What ’ s more natural in a library than…browsing. Let me know if you find anything you like and I ’ ll be happy to…check you out. ”
Before his brain could further disconnect from his body, Marlowe hurled himself in the opposite direction and dragged Jane along with him. With the librarian out of eyesight, he felt a measure of composure returning. Now all he had to do was gather some evidence and sneak upstairs to call in reinforcements.
Jane hooked an arm around his elbow and guided him over to a section furnished with overstuffed couches and throw pillows. Bookworms were snuggled up on the couches, some sitting side by side, some sprawled on pillows on the floor or sitting with their backs against the walls. They were all absorbed in hardcover books, totally oblivious to his presence.
“ This is the Bestsellers section. Here we ’ ve got your Stephen King, John Grisham, Lee Childs. It ’ s our most popular product. A lot of people start out on Bestsellers. ”
She gestured to a darker part of the library, where the books were mostly leather-bound and invariably thick. “ Some people move on to the Classics and Modern Classics. It ’ s a hard product. A good Classic can consume days, even weeks, before you can finish. ”
“ You ever read a Classic? ” Marlowe snarled, barely keeping the disgust from his voice.
“ Just one, ” Jane admitted meekly. “ Price and Prejudice. I was young and lonely and it was just so romantic, you know. I just felt like it— “
“ Stop, ” Marlowe said through gritted teeth, and felt Jane flinch against his arm. “ Let ’ s keep going. ”
They moved to an area of the library where individual cloth curtains partitioned the bookworms off from view. From the glimpse of the shoes he could see from beneath the curtains, most of these bookworms were women, but a few large workboots betrayed the presence of men.
“ This is the Romance Section, one of our most popular and secretive products. The clientele is exclusive and doesn ’ t like to talk about their habits. We ’ ve got everything from Danielle Steel to Harlequinn to Historical. Whatever your taste, we ’ ve got it. There ’ s rumor that we ’ ve even got a copy of Fifty Shades of— “
“ There you are! ” A familiar voice said from behind him. A chill crawled up Marlowe ’ s spine.
He turned to see the librarian approaching him with a book, a smug smile on her face.
“ So, you like what you see? ” She cooed.
“ It ’ s…impressive. ”
“ I ’ m happy to hear that, ” she said. “ I ’ ve been thinking about you, and I think I ’ ve got just the thing for a new reader like you. ”
She handed him a book. It was a thick book with a cover illustrated in bright, primary colors. He took it with trembling fingers.
She nudged him over to an overstuffed chair and practically shoved him into it. “ Why don ’ t you give it a try. See if it ’ s to your liking? ”
He stared at her in horror. “ You mean…read it? Right now? ”
Her eyes were cold. “ Is that a problem? ”
“ No. No, I was just thinking that I would save it for later. ”
She laughed, a dry humorless sound. “ Oh no, honey. Books don ’ t leave the library. Now…why don ’ t you try a chapter and then come talk to me about it. ”
He swallowed hard. Behind the librarian, Jane was looking at him with scared, overlarge eyes. Marlowe gritted his teeth. How hard could it be? It was just a chapter. He could get through this. He would do his job, and put this all behind him, and nobody at the agency needed to know what he ’ d been through, what he ’ d had to sacrifice to get them the bust. He could do this.
He traced his fingers across the bright gold lettering on the book ’ s cover. “ Harry Potter and the Sorcerer ’ s Stone. Sounds innocuous enough. How hard could this be? ”
* * *
He didn ’ t know how many hours had passed, only that his body was stiff from sitting in the chair for too long. Jane was pulling on his arm, her eyes frantic.
“ Marlowe. Marlowe, we need to go. ”
“ No! ” Marlowe said feverishly, shoving Jane away. “ I need to know what Fluffy is guarding. ”
“ Jesus, Marlowe, you ’ ve been reading for too long. ”
“ It ’ s okay, just another chapter. ”
“ Marlowe! ” Jane stared at him with teary eyes. “ Marlowe, I—I can ’ t stay. Okay? I can ’ t stay here around these…all these books. It ’ s not good for me. I need to leave, and I need you to come with me. It ’ ll be okay. I ’ ll help you get clean again—Marlowe, are you listening? ”
But Marlowe was already turning the page, ignoring her every word.
The librarian smirked in satisfaction at the two of them. She always felt immense satisfaction at getting a new patron hooked on reading.
|
[ WP ] The gene that causes blonde hair has been lost over the years as humanity has progressed . Until one day , a child is born with blonde hair and they are treated differently from everyone else ...
|
I'm not really used to the way this forum works just yet, but I'll write here...
`` What IS that beastly child doing with her poor hair!?''
`` I heard she was born with it... Such a freakish thing, I feel sorry for her.''
Christina was used to these types of remarks, but she was still upset, at least a bit, by those she had for teachers say the same thing that many other people had said. School was supposed to be a safe place, right? So then why... Christina shook the thought from her head. She did n't want to have anyone see her upset. A teacher had called her over the holocom on her desk to see her in their office, and she had to stop the tears from coming to her eyes as she half-ran to Mr. Jameson's office.
`` Ah, Christina Young, right?'' Fredrick Jameson looked her over, almost in the way Christina had seen her science teacher look over a test subject or dissection subject. She shuddered a bit before she could stop herself. The look Mr. Jameson gave her was too weird. `` I... Yeah.'' Christina said quickly. `` I would like to let you know that you are being subject to some studies. Nothing painful, of course. It's just a formality - once you reached age fifteen, you were to go through these. Your parents agreed at your birth and confirmed their decision just today.'' Christina was shocked. `` Do n't I have a say in this?'' She asked the grey haired man what was on her mind at the moment. Was it so wrong? Did n't she have a say in people studying her for any reason? It was her life, was n't it? `` Unfortunately, no. The doctors are already here.'' As Mr. Jameson was talking, the girl felt a hand on her shoulder and her arms were pulled behind her so the doctors could put handcuffs on her. `` I have n't done anything wrong...'' Christina said to the four doctors who were leading her away. The fifteen year old was close to tears as she was lead out of the school to the facility by way of a Transport Pad.
Five hours later, a group of doctors came through the doors to the room where the studies were meant to take place. `` I feel bad for the subject, to be honest.'' One of the doctors said to another next to her, wearing a sorrowful expression. `` I know, but we do n't know how dangerous she would have been. I just regret the fact that she knew it was coming and we had to inject her with her knowing.'' The first doctor and two others nodded. `` We should start the studies before anyone gets too emotional.'' The last doctor said, with the others all agreeing by way of nod or muttered words. Then, one of the doctors took a scalpel to examine the fifteen year old, yellow haired subject who lay deceased on the slab before the doctors.
|
[ WP ] `` He sat down by the fire so it would n't have to die alone . ''
|
Jim and Pam huddled against the fire. The flames danced in the darkness of the cave. Jim's glazed eyes stared out at the entrance. The blizzard storm was beginning raging on, but it seemed like the worst was over. A stream of blood rolled down his face, he felt woozy. He smeared the blood off with his blood soaked mitten; he caught a glimpse at his wife's concerned face as he did this.
`` It's alright honey'' he managed to speak out. Ironically, his head dipped to the side from the lack of energy. The air leaving his body to say these words felt like the oxygen he needed to maintain his sitting upright position.
`` Jim, you're going... be okay,'' she said as convincingly as she could. They were pro mountaineers, but with a single slip, Jim fell backwards and unluckily fell on some rocks. They daggered themselves into his shoulder blade and he hit his head pretty hard. They were trying to beat the storm on their way back, but with Jim's injury that did n't look like it was happening.
`` Looks like the storm will be over in a few hours'', Jim's vision was beginning to skewer as he mumbled. He closed his eyes and listened to the crackle of the fire. He did a mental check of what equipment they still had left after their 3 day excursion. There was n't much. They could n't stick around for more than half a day. They would n't last anyways. They had to move as soon as they could.
`` We're almost out of the woods. We're... only 8hours away from the town! We can make it easily!'' Her voice sounded forced. Why would n't it? His injury was bad, real bad. ``... Jim? you....?''
``... yeah.'' He was n't quite sure what she said. Soon after, he stopped hearing the flickering of the fire. The light that shined passed his eyelids had faded to black.
``... Jim.... JIM'' He awoke to his wife patting him awake. His eyes could n't focus.
`` Hey babe, what's up?'' He tried to say as casually as he could. He sat up, but that was a bad decision on his part.
He did not really have the blood or the energy to get up. Instead of rolling up, he lifted himself a few centimetres off the ground, slammed back into the ground and began vomiting.
`` Is the storm over?'' he grumbled.
`` For the most part. Its died down... but... we... manage.''
`` No'' he directed his eyes towards his loving wife. He could n't really focus on her face so be didnt know what kind of facial expression she was making.
`` No? What... mean?'' her voice seemed so distant. He felt something drip on his face.
`` Get help'', his voice was weak, but his mind was stronger than it ever was. There was no way he had the energy for an 8 hour trek. It would take much longer with his injury as well and they simply did not have the supplies.
`` I'm not leaving you'' He heard her loud and clear. He smiled. He tried to raise his hand to her face, he felt her pull his hand to her face. `` I'm not leaving you''
``... dont... be stupid.''
`` its not stupid.''
`` you're stupid'' he tried to laugh but could n't. he settled for the smile.
`` How am I stupid?'' he felt her face was soaked with what little feeling he had in his hands.
`` Its only 8 hours, and then the copter to get me.'' He took a deep breathe. `` I'll be fine''
`` No''. She was not having any of it.
`` We'll both make it out of this'' his eyes were closed again; his voice barely audible. He tried to brush away her tears but the pain in his shoulder prevented him from doing so.
She sat there for 15 minutes with his hand to her face. Finally, she got up. `` I'll be right back.'' She threw some wood into the fire.
Her heart sank when she did n't get a response. `` I love you Jim.''
He awoke with no one around. In the cave alone. It was bright and calm out. Good, he thought to himself. She's going to be alright. He looked around and saw the fire was still aflame. He crawled closer to dwindling fire with all his might. He lay next to the fire so he would n't have to die alone.
|
[ WP ] The main character of the story discovers that he is n't the protagonist .
|
Kent stretched as he climbed out of bed, lazily stumbling towards his closet to throw on something for work. An entire wardrobe of white button-up shirts and black slacks greeted him, his weekend clothes lying about in the drawers, on the floors, and none in the hamper. He put on his uniform and managed to make coffee to perk up his day before he was on the road, driving the exactly-12-minutes-32-seconds-in-5am-traffic that he drove every day, the familiar surface roads seeming to stretch as lazily as Kent did. Kent pulled into the parking lot of the Best Buy where he worked, looking up at the blue-and-yellow monolith to shitty customer service.
The day progressed about as usually as one could: a few corrupted hard drives here, a few viral porn download there. Kent could feel each of his brain cells atrophy from the boredom of the job that he had been hired to do. The hustle and bustle of the Geek Squad couldn ’ t keep Kent occupied, and his mind began to drift into a fanciful world where he was a rough-at-the-edges superspy, tasked with saving the world from some evil megalomaniac, swooping in Bond-style with a gorgeous woman throwing herself at him. He was woken from his daydream when a man, obviously under a lot of stress, knocked on the counter in front of him.
The man was dressed in several layers and looked like he ’ d been without a razor for the past few days, smelling faintly of dirt and lots of sweat. He kept looking over his shoulder as if he ’ d been followed. “ Hello, sir, how may I help you? ” Kent asked. The script called for it, but Kent figured this was another homeless guy who needed to know where the bathroom was. They always came in around this time anyway. Suddenly, the man produced a laptop from underneath his topmost jacket and placed it on the counter.
“ The hard drive on this laptop was corrupted. I was wondering what, if any, files you could salvage off it, ” the man said with a voice Kent hadn ’ t expected to come from such a haggard man. “ Please, if you could do this personally, it would be much appreciated, — I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t catch your name. ”
“ Oh, it ’ s Kent, sir. Pleased to be of service, ” Kent replied, awestricken by the rushed words which came out of the man ’ s mouth. He ’ d either fucked up big at work or really needed to see his porn, but Kent didn ’ t judge him either way — not too harshly at least. “ Do you have a phone we could call when we ’ re done with repairs? ”
“ I can stay here until it ’ s done, ” the man said, looking around. “ Oh, and Kent, whatever you do, do not look at any of the files you salvage from that laptop. It would put you and I in a spot of trouble neither of us want to be in. ” The man walked off, not too far, but just into the CDs section, keeping an eye on me though he handled many CDs as if he was looking at them.
After salvaging what little Kent could from the laptop, he handed it to the man on a flash drive. After thanking Kent, he walked off and Kent realized his shift ended thirty minutes ago. He simply stared at where the man once stood and contemplated his life for a moment. Though the man appeared to be significantly older with his stubble and wild hair, he couldn ’ t have been too much older than Kent himself, and yet he carried around a laptop with government secrets on it. His life suddenly felt hollow and meaningless as his college degree in computer science made him overly qualified for his job a retail chain, yet the job market being what it was, he couldn ’ t very well get a leg up in the world. He felt like he was doomed to start every day carrying the same boring job, driving the same boring car from the same boring apartment. Suddenly, the haggard man ran back into the store, diving over the counter, narrowly avoiding Kent.
“ Kent, I ’ ve got a request for you. Duck. ”
|
[ WP ] A superhero and a villain fall in love .
|
`` MWUHAHAHAHAHAAA-''
She has the most beautiful evil laugh.
She's doing it right now, all across the other side of the city, by the sound of it by the central bank... Nope! Moved to the western bank now, gon na hit the royal soon probably.
Which is where I am, funnily enough.
My power?
Right! Sorry, rude of me, my power's super-hearing. I know, it sounds pointless, but consider... consider the fly for a second ( Not that inept supervillian, the other normal kind ), the fact that you can'sense' a fly, just by hearing the minute buzzing, is amazing. A brush past the corner of your hearing, the tiny wings flapping give it away to most people, and you're not even super!
Not that you're not special! I just meant-
Imagine that, but SUPER. Like LOADS more minute tiny vibrations.
This is what I do, I hear their plans through whatever material I focus on long enough, across enough distance if I strain, and play dumb. Then, ahead of time, when they do the evil deed, I'm usually lying in wait to give them a lovely neat'welcome home' ambush.
You'd be surprised how effective the element of... umm.. surprise is.
Which brings us back to her.
`` -HAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHHHAA-''
She is super fast, like so fast, its in-SANE. First time she tried to do a monologue I could n't hear cause she was talking too fast, it was like a second of her mouth opening, contorting, and closing, then she tries to dump me in acid.
Lovely mouth mmmm.
I mean, umm.
Where was I?
`` YouhavefoiledmeforthelasttimeEARACHEcomeoutandacceptyourDOOM!!!''
I know,'Earache' right? Pet names already. Means she's here. Still needs work on the speed thing. So dramatic though, do n't you just love it? She looks so graceful with those moneybags and that mask..
I meant bags of money! I was n't looking at her... umm..
Lem me get this over with, she got the money already, now she's standing out front, super-pacing. Just wants to fight me, I guess.
*sigh*
Well, when a thing needs doing...
I drop down from my perch ( bank gargoyle, a classic ) right onto her back, as per. I swear, it's like she *wants* me to catch her, not that she'd ever admit it even if it were true. Imagine she did though.
`` -HAHAAHAAAAHHUNHANDMEYOUBRUTE!!! I'LLCHOPOFFYOUREARLOBES-''
Back into that high pitched sort of silence, time to get my game ooonn, yeeaah. Get sum gurll-ness for my willay- Ok I ca n't keep this up, truth is I'm kinda bad at this alright? I got ta try and think different as a hero.
Not that I think I'm a hero or anything like that!
*Ahem*
`` So, Ms. Icaress, I think it's about time you gave up those moneybags, do n't you?''
`` -aahhi'llgettyoouuyouruddypieceof-''
`` And by moneybags I mean bags of money you are carrying!''
`` In your hand''
...
`` Not your-''
`` SHUTUPGETOFFMELIKEICAN'TBREATHEOHMYGODYOU'LLGIVEMEASTHMA''
`` What ever do you mean Ms. Icaress... Or should I call you... Sickaress! AHaHAhaHA''
Silence. Thats what I get for trying, knew I should n't have tried one-liners.
Wait, that's not silence, she's whispering...
What is that?
`` -Plleasedon'ttakemymaskoffPLlEEaAAse?? thisishumiliating! notagain! Ican'tgobacktothemempty
handedagainpleassse-''
She's crying. Jesus. No. I did n't mean, I didn't- You saw! She was stealing, she-
She knows I'm the only one who can hear.
She's under me saying'please', this is too much. I mean, I'm sitting on her and she's sobbing but, still. Result.
The police are coming, they do n't like me very much either, truth be told, best wrap this up, people are staring. God, I ca n't do this.
I lean in close and whisper `` If I get up and pretend you overpowered me and get away, will you stop crying?''
She looks at me. Dumb. Not her! I mean she is n't saying anything so technically- but I mean, like, Silly me. DUMB me.
I lean in, trying not to think about how close we are and whisper, really fast.
`` IfIpretendyouoverpoweredmeandgotawaywillyoupromisenottohitmeloadsreallyfast?
andstopcryingsomuchplease?''
She looks at me again, different look, not sure what this one means, but I think she got it. Might've nodded very quickly. Might've imagined it, gorgeous cheekbones.
`` AlsoumIwaswonderinglikeifyouwantedorjustwhenyouhavefreetimeorsomethingiflike
wouldyoumaybewannagooutwithmesometime?''
Kind of wrong, I know, but if not now, when? She might snap my neck when she gets up.
Another look, got ta be honest, this one made me kind of wish I had n't said it.
`` Over here!''
The sirens are close, people have gone to get them, point them in. Time to go.
`` I'mgonnagetupnowokay? Pleasedon'tmurderme.Imeanyoucanifyouwantbut...''
I leap back, as though punched real hard in the gut.
`` Ah! You wo n't get away with this one your Icky-ness! Crime does n't pay!''
I Breathe in.
Close my eyes.
Open them.
She's still there, looking at me, standing now though, she's smaller than me, I love it when girls are smaller than me. WOMEN I mean women, I respect her as a woman and as a-
I ca n't leave until she does.
`` Whatareyoudoing? They'regonnagetyou! Go!''
She looks at me again, last time and then she's gone, money and all.
`` DRAT, damn and blast!''
I start running the other way, the cops are here, I know which way to go, they've got guys out back and front, I'll head back up the bank, go across the buildings. Good day though, all in all.
Oh, you probably did n't catch it huh?
Do n't take it personal-like, I almost could n't hear it. It's just, before she left, I could swear I felt a brush on my cheek, and something under her breath, maybe I'm going delusional though;
`` It'sadate''
I wish, right?
|
[ WP ] In music , changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder . Write a happy story , and then its counterpart in a minor key .
|
Derek smiled down at his daughter. The book he spent the past thirty minutes reading to her was now closed, sitting on the desk next to her bed. A small nightlight was plugged into the wall because she was afraid of the dark. It was in the shape of her favorite animal, an elephant. She was clutching a stuffed one to her chest, head buried in the toy. Gently rubbing her head so as not to wake her, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
He turned the light off as he left the room.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Derek looked down at his daughter. His face was hard and cold, and he looked grey and gaunt from lack of sleep. The sun was setting and it was slowly becoming darker as night approached. She was clutching her stuffed elephant to her chest, fingers wrapped as tight as they could be around the toy. His throat was tight. Rubbing her head because he knew it would n't wake her, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
He stepped back and let them lower her into the ground.
|
[ WP ] Tell me a story about someone dying that makes me happy . Difficulty : no revenge tales , no afterlife .
|
The room has minimal furnishings, its occupant does n't need much. What he does have is strange though. A lamp that contains not fire, but a miniature star. A bed with sheets of unknown material, both soft and firm at once. And a window, giving him a view of the city at the foot of the mountain. The door is an afterthought, shoved into a corner when the room's designer remembered that there needed to be a way for visitors to get in and out. It's a nice door all the same, a dark wood engraved with intricate patters which, rather than drawing the eye, seem to direct it towards the bed across the room, and its occupant. Its occupant, who is the entire reason this dwelling was built.
The builder sits on a simple wooden chair beside the bed, gazing down at the occupant. The occupant is an man who makes elderly look young. The surface area of his face approaches infinity, and he has not moved for over a year. Yet he still finds the strength to speak.
`` They are coming?'' He hopes they will come. He is confident that they will, this question is merely to pass the time.
`` Yes.'' The builder feels no need to make conversation, but he will do so anyways for this man's sake. `` They are excited to meet you.''
`` Please not too much excitement. I've had enough excitement for many lifetimes.'' The occupant smiles as he says this, he would n't really mind a bit more. He would n't really mind anything. The door opens.
The first person to enter the room is a child, old enough to walk and run but still young enough to personify innocence. He runs to the bedside and is only stopped from jumping up onto it by the gentle hand of the builder. He lifts the boy onto another chair and sets him down gently. The boy looks down at the occupant and they exchange smiles.
The next are a man and a woman. They meet the builder's gaze, and it is clear that there is no love lost between them. But they will put aside their differences for now. They take their seats.
Two more enter, a man and a woman again, but elderly. They make their way in leaning on canes, then take and make their way over to the bedside. Their seats are closest to the door, so they do not have to walk far. They smile, and the occupant smiles back. Now all the seats are filled. The occupant speaks, and all are silent.
`` You are all here. That is good. Here we have my children, my grandchildren, and even a great-grandchild. You have walked many different paths, and some of you are in conflict, but you set that aside today. I wish for this day to be forever.''
For a moment, it seems that the younger man might say something. He restrains himself.
`` Today I will die.'' The younger woman gasps, and turns to the builder.
`` Why do n't you do something?''
The man grabs her arm. `` Are you asking a Soulless-''
The occupant cuts him off. `` I have asked him not to do any more. I have lived for over two hundred years. That is long enough for one only travels upon soil. Today, I finish my work, and then there will be no more need for me to live.''
The man turns. `` What work?''
`` Peace. Today my warring children sit before me without fighting. You can live together or apart, it makes no difference to me. But you will promise me, you will fight each other no more.''
It is not a request. It is a statement. They talk for a time, under the occupant's supervision, and agreements are made. The occupant smiles as the two shake hands, and whispers.
`` And now, I shall die with my last memories being of happiness and peace. Thank you.''
And Hanrol died. And peace reigned.
|
[ OT ] SatChat : What is the biggest obstacle you 've overcome in your writing ?
|
I think one of the biggest obstacles for my writing is an understanding, or lack thereof, of characters and story. Learning how to put the two together, using the right formulas, and knowing what makes a character a character, a story a story, is essential to writing a good book, of any length. I remember when I began writing fanfiction 3 years ago, all of it was terrible. I had a poor grasp of grammar rules, little understanding how to make a compelling character, and my story was all over the place, not knowing what I was doing. Learning grammar and proper word usage was easy. Figuring out story and character is hard, but I feel in a much better position now than I did back then. I understand how to make a character and use them to construct a plot now.
Anyway, I'm going to a NaNo meetup in like 15 minutes, even though I'm not participating in NaNo. Am nervous as heck. Why do I have to be so introverted?; _;
|
[ WP ] You are 18 . You are thrown into the back of a black van . Delta force operators brief you on the situation ; you are one of the apocalypse 's Four Horsemen . Which horseman are you ? What happens next ?
|
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I ’ ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I ’ ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I ’ m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You ’ re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that ’ s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “ clever ” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn ’ t, you didn ’ t, and now you ’ re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You ’ re fucking dead, kiddo.
|
[ WP ] You 're on a trip with a friend in a log cabin deep in alaskan forest . No phones , just a rifle and a knife . You discover many sets of large wolf tracks in the snow surrounding your cabin .
|
`` What do you think it is?'' pondered Stewart.
Mitch eyed the tracks in the snow. Paw prints, going all around the cabin, some of them splitting off and heading up the hills, probably leading to the mountain.
`` There's only one thing they can be, Stew...'' Mitch slowly stood up, hunting rifle in hand, eyeing the mountain with an unbreakable gaze. He knew what they were, and he was prepared. He flicked off the safety and turned to face Stew.
`` Raccoons. Really, really big raccoons.''
Hank sat nearby. He face palmed.
`` Wow.'' Stew exclaimed. `` They must have big teeth and, and maybe even fangs! Talons too!''
`` Exactly. Time to put these little motherfuckers down.''
Mitch was ready to kill some furry beasts. He was always the sporting type. `` I'm not scared of no fluffy tailed marsupials, that's for sure.''
Hank had had enough.
`` Oh for Pete's sake guys, are you all stupid or something?''
Mitch and Stew slowly turned to face Hank, who was sitting on a log trying to keep himself warm. Hank never fared well in the cold.
`` They're not goddamn Raccoons! And raccoons are n't even marsupials! It's terrible obvious what made those tracks!''
Mitch sniggered.
`` Okay then'Bear Grylls', do you have a better idea??''
`` Oh oh oh, is it a tiger??'' Stew eagerly pitched in.
Mitch laughed. `` Tigers do n't live in Alaska Stew, I'm pretty sure they're from Africa or something, like Kenny down at Cooper's Bar. Nice guy by the way.'' Mitch struck a match against a tree and lit up his cigar. He nearly choked on it.
`` Seriously guys, it's not a Raccoon and it's definitely not a freakin' Tiger! How the hell do you think up these things???'' Hank started fuming.
`` Gee, well what is it then Hank?'' Stew asked.
Hank stood up, pulling the knife out the tree stump. He followed a set of tracks to a push, then knelt down. With his knife, Hank cut off a branch and displayed it to the other guys.
Caught in the branch was a tuft of grey fur. Stew looked on in amazement. Mitch tried to hold back another cough.
`` See?'' Hank proclaimed. `` I know exactly what we're dealing with...''
Stew and Mitch leaned in closer. Hank smirked.
`` A Hyena.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Up on a nearby ridge, two wolves watched the humans erupting into an argument.
`` Wow, what's up with these guys?'' The brown one asked the grey one.
`` I dunno, they're making a big deal out of some tree branch.'' the grey one replied. `` Humans sure are weird Rick.''
`` Yup, they sure are. Say Paul, wan na maybe break into their house later on tonight?'' The brown one, Rick, started wagging his tail in excitement. `` It'll be super easy, they always forget to lock the back door!''
`` I dunno dude, that guy's got a gun.'' Paul was pretty cautious, ever since Kevin got shot a few nights back by a drunk pants-less barfly in a coonskin cap.
`` Though he hardly seems like the brightest of the bunch. Maybe not as dumb as the bald one though'' Paul gave it some more thought, tilting his head to one side.
`` I say we kill him first, then the bald one! And then the branch guy, gosh I love the fat ones!''
Another thought occurred to Rick. `` Oooh man if I drag these guys into the cave, maybe Christine will finally love me again!''
`` Reckon she'll let you see the kids? Considering you ate little Jimmy in the winter.''
`` Hey dude, I was pretty hungry. I'm sure she's totally forgotten about it by now anyway.''
`` Alright alright.'' Paul finally made up his mind. These humans seemed like they'd be no trouble. They seemed to think the wolves would be coming for them from the mountain.
`` I'll get some of the boys from the cavern, you go find Terry and Chow-Chow, and we'll meet up here at sundown.''
`` Awwww hell yes! Ca n't wait till I rip the fat guy's throat out!''
The two wolves parted ways, confident as ever that they'll have plenty to eat come supper time.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
*Something a little different, going for a comedic angle. I figured it was looking short so I added another point of view*
|
[ WP ] In the year 2300 , nanotechnology has become so common that it has become the next illegal drug . People inject themselves with nanobots as a performance enhancer , but the bots feed off the human body as fuel . Describe the lives of the users and/or the people fighting against nanobot addiction .
|
`` So... Goodwin, opened that package I left on your desk yet?'' Dorian Wearing said.
`` I have n't had the chance to sit down at my desk all morning,'' replied Jacob Goodwin.
Wearing's face faltered for a moment, but then it returned to its white-toothed grin. His eyes scrunched a little at the sides as he smiled widely. `` No problem!'' Goodwin noticed his hand twitch slightly as they entered the boardroom.
As they sat, the other employees trickled in to the room, clad like something to be sold, in ornate business-attire packaging. Subtle pin-striped suits were back in vogue, Goodwin noted. Each suit was a different colour, but always in the muted palette; the businessmen flocked like washed-out birds, all smiling with impeccably white teeth.
Goodwin noticed that the employees invited to this particular meeting all seemed to rank slightly higher than him in the company. A company he had been hired in to straight out of business school, and which paid him very well.
Finally, the CEO bounced in to the room. A permanently enthusiastic man, Mark Whitacre wore a paisley pocket square, an attempt to remain classy but casual for work, no doubt.
`` Good morning, everyone! I'm so happy you found time to attend this meeting,'' even for Whitacre, the greeting seemed too animated.
`` As most of you know... this meeting is very special. We've been waiting a long time, and it's finally here!'' Goodwin grew more confused, and then apathetic with each word out of the CEO's mouth, but found himself forcing a smile like the others.
Goodwin snapped to attention when he heard his own name. ``... to promote our very own Jacob Goodwin to the position of Chief Financial Officer!'' The room burst in to applause and a dozen grins turned to face him. He let his fake smile grow in to a real one, and Whitacre gazed at him adoringly through rectangular glasses.
Whitacre held up his hand and said `` now, there is something that all persons in this room went through when they were promoted. A sort of initiation, if you like. You're going to do it now!''
Excited exclamations emanated from the men in the room. `` Wearing, do you have it?'' Whitacre said quietly. Wearing raised a finger and stepped out of the room, which had descended in to excited babbling. Goodwin felt the atmosphere of the boardroom change to an ominous one, for him, at least. It could n't be that the stories his professors had told him were true... surely...?
Wearing returned with a small package. Written in marker on it were the words `` bring these to the meeting today.'' It was presumably the package that Wearing had earlier referred to.
`` Wonderful!'' Whitacre said, and a hush fell over the room once more. `` Here you are, Goodwin,'' Whitacre said, sliding the package across the surface of the lacquered conference table.
Goodwin smiled and picked up the package. Everyone watched him as he shook out a thin but sturdy rectangle of plastic, and a tiny baggie containing what looked like fine shavings of metal from the manilla package.
He looked up, expressionless, unsure of what to think. Were these what he thought they were? He'd heard stories about them. About people using them as performance enhancers. You could get nanobots for just about anything that scientists had studied - improving your sporting, sexual and even intellectual abilities. Gossip around the the university where he had studied a business degree had it that the really top, high powered, companies could n't survive without a little enhancement. Goodwin had never believed stories like this until now.
`` Do you know what these are, Goodwin?'' said Whitacre, still baring his teeth in a wide, slightly unsettling, smile. He tapped his manicured fingers over the tabletop.
`` Enhancers, I presume,'' said Goodwin eventually. On the surface he appeared serene, even appreciative of what was no doubt a flattering gesture on Whitacre's part, but beneath he had turned to a white hot rage.
`` Well, go on then,'' a smiling, gesturing Whitacre said, `` this is a big step!''
Those words echoed in his mind, leading him back to his teenage years. His twin sister there, crouched underneath the bleachers with the garbage discarded from a hundred foot ball games. She squatted where the grass was more grey than green, clad in a nightgown and wellingtons despite the freezing October night.
She looked so innocent, but so vicious, as if she would snap at any moment; like a young wounded animal. She was so frail. She did not have an eating disorder; the drugs simply ate away all her fat and were now beginning on muscle, organs, bones - making brittle and weak her very soul.
She was crouching, but seemed in a daze, as if she were in another world entirely; escaped in to a realm revolving forever between heavenly horrors and hellish pleasures.
And before him the very substance she clutched so desperately; before food, water, warm clothes. Spread out on the table was the powdery remains of her life; the seasonings to flavour a person's ultimate demise.
Bleary, Goodwin hazily noted that the other people at the table were removing silver boxes from the pockets of jackets, placing kits just like Goodwin's on the table before them.
He did n't think about it. He just watched Wearing's hands shake beside him as he took a hit. He decanted a pinch of the powder on to his strip of plastic, placed his head to the table and breathed in.
|
[ WP ] In the near future , Humanity discovers a way to resurrect the dead . However , something 's missing .
|
Maybe a regular thing could be about the thing that things on all the things, because of how much time there is, some must be wasted. Even if there ’ s not enough time, some of it will be wasted. IT ’ s all wasted. Nothing is saved, everything goes away, and never returns. What is the point of trying? Things aren ’ t there, they aren ’ t real, even things with things, that seem so clear are done. Gone. And will be forgotten. How could things. How could you?
You did this to me.
You did this to me.
You did this to me.
Why can ’ t I stop stop stop stop
Things aren ’ t there, they aren ’ t real. Nothing is.
One frame to another, same picture. Shifted about. But the same. Dreary, not dark enough to be romantic. Not light enough to be happy. Here are the wild things, the sad things. The things of things and people of people. Southern, hot, sad and done. Gone. Away is romanticism. Welcome to this place of mediocre torment.
Darken the lights, bring the place steaming with fruit and honey into the reach of me. Reach offff
Where is it.
I cann ’ t Focus.
You did this to me
You did this to me
No.
|
[ WP ] The world finally gets a good Christian video game .
|
Yahweh bursts through the door into his house holding a FaithBox game case.
`` HOOO-RAHHH I finally saved up enough for Project: God on FaithBox!'' He exclaims.
Satan, overhearing the calamity from his room, wanders out into the livingroom to see what the commotion was about.
`` What do you have there?'' Satan curiously asked his older brother
`` Its just the biggest game of this year! You get to create a world and have these little monkeys run around and do shit.'' Yahweh responds excitedly
`` Seems kind of lame.... Ill be in my room playing with matches.''
`` Suit yourself, little brother!''
After twenty minutes of Yahweh being glued to his FaithBox, Satan crawls out of his room to see what his brother is up to with his new game.
`` What did you just build there?'' He asks
`` I just created this little garden with monkeys that do n't know the difference between right and wrong! I sure hope that they do n't eat from that tree over there!''
`` Yeah, that'd be terrible...'' Satan plottingly replies
Seven days later, Satan sneaks on to his brothers FaithBox to wreak havoc
`` Heyyyyy, Evveeee, you know it would be REALLLLY funny if you just took a bite of that fruit over there. heh heh heh.''
Hours later, once Yahweh gets home from school, he loads up his crisp new world in his game.
`` Why are they wearing clothes..... BEELZEBUB! DID YOU JUST SUGGEST TO MY HUMANS TO EAT FROM THAT CONFOUNDED TREE?''
`` Well Cmom Yahweh... You did put it there.''
`` DAMMIT LOOK AT THEM NOW. THEY WANT TO WEAR CLOTHES! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID. FROM NOW ON YOU CAN ONLY PLAY AS THE SNAKE CHARACTER IN MY GAME. NOW I HAVE TO INSTALL A DIFFICULTY MOD TO PUNISH THEM! COME ON LITTLE BROTHER, THIS TOOK ME A WEEK TO SET UP!''
Weeks after, Yahweh jumps on his FaithBox to relax
`` Heh heh, look at this chump named Job. He worships me! Beelzebub, get over here and mess with him for me, I have homework to work on''
`` Uhhhh you sure? Last time I did that you blew up at me''
Yahweh snorts
`` Yeah true but this is different. Just give him like, the plague or something and kill his family off. Also kill his livestock so he loses his livelihood. Heh heh, what a chump.''
`` Uhhh all right... Bro you got no chill''
Decades later, after Yahweh has had his first son, Jesus, He enter's his old house for a family reunion.
`` Here is your uncle Beelzebub! Man we had such great times when we were younger. You can just call him Satan, though,'' Jesus Reminisced
`` Spot on, Yahweh. Spot on. Fine son you've got there, by the way. He could use a haircut and a shave, though,'' Satan quizaccously replied
`` Its like, the style, man. All my friends look like this,'' Jesus scoffed
`` Ohh you and you new age hippies. Hey Yahweh, remember Project: God?'' Satan cheerily remarked
`` Oh yeah I do! Man I have n't played in years though. Remember when you messed with Eden? Man those where the times''
`` Heh heh I do. Good times.''
`` Project... God?'' Jesus curiously asked
`` Oh man, Yahweh you never showed him Project: God? Tsk Tsk.'' Satan teasingly stated
`` Hey, I have an idea.'' Said Yahweh, `` We could pull my old FaithBox out show him!''
`` Lets do it!'' Satan Energetically replied
`` Old people video games.... Sounds fun...'' Jesus lamely stated
After dusting off his old FaithBox, Yahweh loads up his old world and hands his son the controller.
`` Here, you will be playing on my old account so it will be like you are me. Just let me spawn you in and you will be good to go.''
Jesus spawns in a barn-like structure surrounded my animals
`` You built this?'' Jesus asks, looking up to his father
`` Uhhh, I do n't recall building it...'' Yahweh confusingly remarks
`` After you stopped playing they updated the game so that villagers build cities and shit now. Its pretty cool. Looks like they called the one your son spawned in'Jerusalem'.''
`` Oh that's wicked! Bug me if you need any advice for playing the game.'' Yahweh said to his son.
`` Hey Yahweh, the fridge is stocked with Wine! Lets go hang out in the backyard and catch up!''
`` Sounds like a plan to me! See you in a few hours, Jesus.''
Engrossed in the wonder of his father's world Jesus begins to wander around Rome. He sees all sorts of wonderful structures, each pixel crafted beautifully by the virtual ape-like creatures called humans. He sees temples, and markets, deserts as far as the eye can see bathed in the iridescent light of a star millions of units away from the vivid land he was exploring. He wanders across breathtaking seas cornered by desolate beaches inhabited by fishermen and their families. He glides into towns surrounded by hundreds of the strange creatures throwing flowers at him.
`` Love your neighbor and give them all that you can afford to'' He would tell them
As he traversed the vast land generated by the game console his father once played, a few of the creatures began to follow him wherever he would go. As he breezed into a large desert, he commanded his followers to stay behind and let him experience the terrifying beauty of the land on his own. He walks on, and on, and on, until his screen suddenly blinks red.
`` Uhhh Dad? Why is my screen turning red?'' Jesus calls out to his father
`` Your uncle will help'' Yahweh calls to his son.
Satan tipsily stumbles into the living-room.
`` Ahhhhh Jesus... You're starving! Just go into creative mode real quick and spawn in some bread!''
`` Is n't that like, cheating?'' Jesus responds
`` Pffff.... Just do it. You could also make yourself like, king of the world or something while your at it. Immmma go back to your dad now! Cheers lad!''
After Satan had made his way out of the living room, Jesus stares intently at the screen. He could cheat and just give himself a free meal, but that would be cheating. His father had always told him to be honest and never cheat at anything.... He could make himself king, but when he leaves his father's little pocket universe would suffer from a political collapse. No, he has to legitimately make his way back to civilization.
After hours upon hours of walking through the barren desert, Jesus finally made his way back to the city. After grabbing a quick meal, he begins to realize that something is oddly different. The apes no longer looked at him in such a benevolent gaze. The tone of the game had changed from the world worshiping him to a universal hate that only his followers seemed to lack. The people began to tie him down to a rudimentary wooden structure and hammer nails into his arms.
`` Dad! Why are they killing me?''
Yahweh makes his way back to the room his son had been sitting in.
`` Oh you pissed'em off.'' Yahweh said
`` Why what did I do?'' Jesus asked dishearteningly
`` Pshhh. Beats me. I used to torture them and they loved me. You must've fucked up real bad.''
Jesus watched in horror as the apes hung him up and gambled over his belongings.
`` You know you could just go into creative mode and kill all those guys, right? Satan mumbled to Jesus
Eyes glued to the screen, Jesus tones his uncle out. Why where they doing this to him? He could only wonder. As his character bled out in game, a text box popped up on his screen.
`` RESPAWN'' It read
Ferociously hitting the A button on his controller, Jesus finds himself robed in a white gown trapped in a stone room.
`` You know what? Fuck this. I am going to mess with these ungrateful termites'' Jesus aggressively breathes
`` That's more like it!'' Satan remarks
Pausing the game and turning creative mode on, Jesus initiates and earthquake, knocking down the stone door encapsulating him in his stone prison.
`` Can I fly?'' He asks his father
`` Yeah, just type /noclip into the text chat or something''
Jesus begins to fly about the land.
`` YOU ALL SUCKKKKK!'' He yells into his mic
Noticing his group of concerned followers, he descends to them.
`` Eh, you guys where pretty chill. Keep being chill and tell other people to be chill. You can take their money while you're at it. Except you, Judas, you were a dick. Go kill yourself''
Jesus proceed to fly straight up into the clouds
`` FUCK THIS PLACE I'LL BE BACK LATER TO FUCK MORE SHIT UP! BE GOOD OR ILL LIGHT YOUR ASSES ON FIRE!''
`` Jesus, you suck at this game.'' Satan bluntly remarks
Yahweh, chuckling at his son's in-game antics, looks at Jesus.
`` Alright Jesus, its time to go''
Following his father to the car, Jesus looks over at him.
`` Dad are you ok to drive? I have my temps you know...''
`` Fine, Jesus, take the wheel and get us home.''
Pulling out of the gravel driveway, Jesus peers through his mirror back at the house his Father grew up in. He begins to wonder why his father would bother to create such a benign world. He decides that the next time he has the chance to, he will destroy the malignant creation of his father.
`` Hey Dad, when is the next Christ family reunion going to happen?''
`` Pfff. I do n't know. Probably never. You know how lazy our family is with such matters.''
Speeding out onto the highway, Jesus mutters to himself.
`` One day.''
|
[ CW ] Write a suicide note without the letter 'e '
|
Following our car crash, I want to say long words, good words, to you, so you know fully how I am in my soul. But I can ’ t find my right words now. I know my brain is wrong, and I ’ m trying so hard to say what I want to say. I ’ m swimming against a storm and I can ’ t do it again and again. I just wish that you know my mind now. I hug and kiss you so much my darling, and I want you to know that our months and months as a pair did my soul so happy. Don ’ t cry—I will hold you again on a tomorrow day.
So long, my soul.
|
[ WP ] A short story with an extremely unsatisfying ending
|
`` Nature, red in tooth and claw.''
-'' In Memoriam A.H.H.''
Every being on this earth, for 3.5 billion years, has had to fight to survive. Since its conception in the chaos and fire of our world's birth, life has faced constant tribulation, between one another, the environment, and countless other threats. And for 3.5 billion years, your every ancestor won. Your heritage is an unbroken line of survivors, of the organisms that triumphed, that surpassed their brethren and stood victorious. You are hardwired, through eons of genetic improvement, to win.
And you trip and crack your skull open. Good job, dipshit.
|
[ WP ] You wake up one day to find that the colors of the Coca-cola and Pepsi cans are reversed and no one remembers how they actually were .
|
`` Steve! Wake up!''
Steve opened his eyes, groggily taking in his surroundings. He tried, unsuccessfully, to hold onto the fleeting memories of his dreams from the previous night. Something about a dog. His sister cooking too many porkchops. Something else was there, but almost instantly it was gone. Steve sighed, he had a dream journal by the side of his bed but so far had only one entry -- a brief dream in which his car filled with soapy water in the middle of his morning commute. Unlike most of his other dreams, he actually remembered that one for longer than a few seconds after waking up. He would probably have a few more written down if his roommate would stop waking him up hours before his alarm was set to go off, distracting him from his nighttime escapades.
`` Steve! This is important! I need you to check the fridge right now!''
Steve sighed again and rubbed his eyes. What was it this time? Was Ryan mad at him for eating that cake last night? He had n't done it out of malice, but he had to admit it was pretty satisfying. The cake itself was mediocre; the icing was entirely too sugary and detracted from the overall cake experience, but Ryan had gotten high and eaten all of Steve's pizza rolls a week ago, so he had muscled through the shitty icing and finished the cake last night as a sign of dominance. Steve figured he had earned this early wake up call.
`` Ryan, what is it? I was sleeping, you know.''
`` Listen, Steve,'' Ryan said, `` the Pepsi is wrong.''
Steve took a second to think about all the drugs they had in the stash behind the couch. The Pepsi was wrong? What had the Pepsi told him? Ryan rarely had a bad trip, he was a pretty well-adjusted dude. Maybe he was having a bout of paranoia or something.
Steve turned over and looked at Ryan. His eyes were n't bloodshot, and he looked fairly normal. What was he on?
`` The Pepsi is wrong?'' Steve said. `` What do you mean, the Pepsi is wrong?''
`` Come look! The colors are all wrong! They've switched!''
The colors. He was definitely on some sort of hallucinogen. Steve scowled a bit, wishing he been woken up for the fun. Now he had to play babysitter for a color-challenged manchild. Whatever. He got up and followed the excited Ryan into the kitchen, where he looked at the week-old dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes covering the countertops with expectant disinterest. He yawned and opened the fridge.
`` See it?'' Ryan asked, childlike wonder in his eyes. `` That Pepsi is different. That's what a Coke should look like.''
Steve studied the Pepsi with feigned interest. `` Yeah, you're right. It's definitely mixed up,'' he said. He grabbed a leftover Chinese food carton and opened it up. It smelled a little funky, but he felt like the good General Tsao knew his stuff when it came to preserving his chicken and decided to eat it anyway. `` So what did you take? LSD? Shrooms?'' Steve asked.
Ryan shook his head. `` Nothing. I'm still a bit faded from last night. Regina mixed again and got sick all over the bathroom, so I stayed up all night and cleaned and took care of her. I have n't slept at all.''
Steve took a bite of the chicken. It tasted like it smelled, and he almost coughed it back up. `` You should get some sleep, man. You're not thinking right,'' he said.
`` No! Do n't you see? You think I'm crazy with the Pepsi thing. So does Regina. You both slept last night. I'm telling you they changed it. As soon as I go to sleep I'm gon na forget all about the blue Pepsi cans. That's what they want, you know? A smooth transition into redness. Meanwhile Coke is going blue, probably something to do with their leanings. They donated to unions and Democrats in record numbers this election, and now they want to get the cans to go along with their whole image. I got ta write about this, maybe Europeans have n't slept yet. I can warn them.''
Steve sighed again. `` Look, dude. You're talking some crazy shit right now. Smoke a bowl and get some sleep. I'll take care of Regina if she's still feeling sick, I think we have some Kung Pao chicken in the back of the fridge.''
`` Kung Pao chicken? She does n't need Kung Pao chicken! She needs to know the truth! I'm telling you, we're talking a global conspiracy right here. They changed our fucking Pepsi cans in the middle of the night! Did they break in and switch them? Did they have some sort of color-change chemical in the labels this whole time? How are we supposed to drink that shit, now that this happened? This changes the game! And what's next? Our Sprite? Fuck, I would n't be surprised if I went to the Mini Mart and saw green Dr. Pepper.'' Ryan replied.
Steve tried not to laugh. `` Look, man. Just go post about it on Facebook or something. You can read it when you wake up and you'll see that you're just being a dumbass. Pepsi has always been red, man.''
`` Yeah? Well these waters are pretty muddy if you ask me.'' Ryan said as he stormed off. Steve heard Ryan's bedroom door slam and the startled, hawk-like shriek of Regina slide through the thin walls of their apartment. He took one last bite of what he now realized was indeed the Kung Pao chicken he had promised to Regina and set the carton on the counter. As he walked by Ryan and Regina's room, he heard some snippets of the argument going on behind the walls and quite a few colorful phrases. Phrases such as `` Fuck your cans!'' and `` Your father was probably colorblind, you cunt!''
Steve laughed to himself and went back in his room. He walked over to his computer and turned it on. The fans in his desktop case came to life, and he was soon face-to-face with his desktop, a photoshopped picture of a blue crab doing the Usain Bolt victory pose. He navigated to the picture file in the middle of his desktop and clicked print.
He watched silently as his printer hummed. Five pages of paper came out, and he quietly cut them to size and applied his gluestick to the backs of each. He went back in the kitchen and returned with the five remaining Pepsi cans. As he worked, applying the new labels to the cans, he thought about Regina. Why had she said they had always been red? He had n't told her about the prank. Well, he thought. Now they'll be blue again. I can get her *and* Ryan in one fell swoop. He finished his task and put the cans back in the fridge. Returning to his bed, he quickly fell back asleep, trying in vain to remember just how many porkchops his sister had cooked. Too many, that's for damn sure.
***
Ryan finally fell asleep after an unsatisfactory argument with Regina. She was so stubborn sometimes. He woke up around 1 PM, and found to his displeasure that Regina had gotten sick again sometime between this morning and now, and that she had taken it upon herself to aim towards his favorite tank top, a sort of satirical piece of clothing that featured just the bottom half of an M1A2 Abrams American battle tank. Regina had never laughed at the joke.
Ryan got up and went to the kitchen to get the cleaning supplies. His stomach rumbling, he decided he deserved that leftover sesame chicken that was in the fridge. He felt like he had n't eaten in days. Last night was such a blur, all he remembered was arguing with Regina early this morning and waking Steve up with some bullshit about Pepsi. He opened the fridge.
What the fuck? Why is the Pepsi blue?
`` Steve! Wake up!''
|
[ WP ] Tell the story of how an unusual food came to be considered edible
|
Umu, he was called. Umu meant, closely approximated, `` auroch-lover,'' or more colloquially, `` lover of large beasts.'' It was by sheer happenstance that he would alter the course of human civilization.
It was day like any other day for the tribe. After waking, Umu removed the hide which covered the opening of his lean-to, where he and half a dozen other tribesmen and women still slept. The chill air invigorated him; he thought of returning to the dreamworld, but his stomach murmured an angry reproach at any such thought. He would perhaps check for small game, a bird or rodent, in the early dawn emergence of an unimaginably pristine and beautiful day.
The herd they had been tracking for several weeks now was right upon them; the brutes basically ignored the men unless tampered with. Umu had no mind this morning to take one of the aurochs in the early time -- such a task would be left to the hunting party which would be sent out later in the day, as it did every day, when they were n't traveling to match the herd. Still, he was entirely dumbstruck when he came upon a lone cow auroch apparently asleep on its legs. Under it sat a calf, resting its brow peacefully on its folded forearms.
As it was already mentioned, Umu was particularly sensitive to the brutes, and in fact more-so than anyone else in the tribe -- an invaluable skill that had helped him to accumulate no small number of wives, second only to the tribe chieftain. Umu would usually scout ahead of the hunting party and had a natural affinity to sneak around the aurochs without upsetting them; it was this capacity that Umu utilized to approach the lumbering auroch which now stood before him.
For a long while he just watched the beast. The calf had raised its head and was staring at Umu, but it did not see him in the dawn twilight. His prize in sight, Umu slowly edged forward, careful not to make any sudden movements. He crawled with such patience that he saw a beetle outrun him. The calf was now before him; it was beginning to suckle on the heavy lopsided tit of the mother cow.
Then with the agility of a snake, Umu snatched the calf; it did n't make a sound. He snapped its neck with a quick crack. He was already salivating at the thought of what a delicious meal the calf would make, and his thoughts greedily went to how he could eat his prize without sharing with the tribe. His stomach growled.
But surprisingly, the mother cow had still not woken. Then, a thought came into Umu's head. It was the most complex thought that had been so far composed in the heads of any creature in the universe, the most complex thought until then being the invention of fire, and the bow and arrow a close second. He thought about it very hard, and it was really only blind luck that he happened to see a shadow protruding from the now stiff calf that looked remarkably like the silhouette of a beast man. And that's when it hit him. Sneakily, carefully, he edged himself back over to the lumbering beast. He edged his head close to the tit, hanging like an engorged overripe fruit. Closer, closer. He finally extended his tongue and felt the overwhelming taste of rich, sour milk.
At this, the now non-mother cow did awake, and let out a harrowing bellow. It screamed and now stomped at Umu, but it was not enough to stop him from rolling out from the brunt of the attack and making way at top speed back to the camp, grabbing the calf as he went. The story was impossible to convey to his fellow tribesmen with the language of the time, but he was eventually able to get his point across using grunts and a dance which to the modern viewer would be immediately recognizable as the forerunner of the game of charades.
And thus, the era of agriculture was born.
|
[ WP ] Any length , any topic , make us feel your characters emotion but leave them unsaid . Example , if you chose love , you ca n't use the word love .
|
She stared at it intently. The painting was so beautiful, an orange-purple sky in the background as the sun set. Staring out at it were a tiny little couple, almost just outlines, sitting on a tiny brown bench.
She took her eyes off of the painting and walked about the museum. A man and woman strolled by, their hands linked with their child. They swung him up and down as they moved along, stopping for a second to admire the painting she ’ d been looking at. It always seemed to capture people ’ s attention. Something about it expressed everything they wanted to, but never actually could.
She slowly made her way to the corner where another portrait hung. A rather famous one. She wobbled a bit on her cane as she approached, waiting for the pregnant woman standing in front to move out of the way. That reminded her of the times she ’ d been pregnant and how great of times they were.
When the woman moved, she stared at the young lady in the portrait. She had beautiful, milky skin and had been painted so well that they decided it deserved its own little space on the wall.
“ Is that you in the picture? ” a child asked as he passed by with his parents. She just smiled back, his parents admonishing him for asking a question like that to a complete stranger.
As she sat there, she recalled what her husband had told her when he had painted this portrait of her. And then she recalled the words he ’ d said when he finished his last painting that he ’ d ever do, a beautiful mélange of colors that pleased the eyes, showing a future that would come soon enough.
“ Wow, this is so beautiful, ” a woman said to her date. “ I might just imagine this is how it would be when we die, finally meeting up with the one we hold the dearest. ”
The old lady shed a tear as she thought about what was to come. But it wouldn ’ t be as soon as she expected. He wouldn ’ t have wanted it that way. And so she left the museum and continued on with her grey and pale day, waiting for that orange-purplish sunset.
-198
|
[ WP ] The date is December 31 , 9999
|
Raguel scraped some of the green slime off the walls with his hand and ate it. It was quite watery and had a mucous like texture. This was the only form of sustenance on the USS Sunflower Seed, and served as both food and water.
He barely paid attention to the horrible smell. The commonly held belief was that their excrement, which dissapeared as soon as it was deposited on the floor, was recycled into the sustenance that exuded from the walls. It certainly smelled that way. He did n't want to think about the other things that also melted into the floor, such as bodies.
He was more concerned with watching Brent and Wolter. They were talking a few feet away, but could take interest in him and attack at any moment. He was relatively low in the social hierarchy, and at any moment could be murdered or driven away from the walls until he died of thirst. Life was brutal in such close quarters with a finite food supply.
The brutal fact was, no matter how many people crowded the ship, only so much slime grew from the walls. The only rules here were the rules of the weak and the strong. Over many generations, this had created a hardened culture of violence.
None of the people aboard knew that they were the last humans alive. Ten generations before, a society sought to rid itself of all it's unwanted elements. Criminals, homosexuals, transgendered people, political dissidents, disabled people, the chronically ill, all were sent on a one way journey in a prison ship to colonize a far away habitable planet in a distant solar system. In the time that had passed, That society had destroyed itself completely, leaving only the USS Sunflower.
Suddenly, Raguel was thrown to the ground. The whole ship was tilting. He panicked - this had never happened before. Around him, he heard the screams of the other prisoners as they were hurled around. The room was completely open - there was nowhere to grab hold.
For one brief second, they all flew upwards. Then they were pinned to the ceiling with exceptional force. The room grew unbearably hot, and Raguel found that he could n't even scream. He had never been so terrified before, not even all the times he had nearly been murdered.
After minutes that felt like hours, Raguel could feel the force that was holding him to the ceiling lessening. He fell to the ground again. In seconds, a portal opened in the side of the ship, about 50 feet from him. For the first time in his life, he saw sunlight.
In the confusion, the women ran out the door first, escaping into the forest. Raguel could n't blame them - no matter what was out there, it was better than being a slave, raped and beaten every day and seeing most of your children murdered in front of you and then probably dying in childbirth.
It took the men longer to muster the courage to leave, but soon they all filed out to face their new lives.
|
[ WP ] You awake so suddenly , it takes you a few seconds to realize that you are still clutching the item you held moments before , in your dream .
|
The penis felt firm, but soft, like a penis-shaped grapefruit. AMiniMongrel clutched it like a baby holding a bottle. He had never much cared for penises, except for his own, and even that one grew tiresome after a few hours. But this was new. This felt full of hidden secrets that would change everything, like the Pandora's box of genitalia.
The dream — he knew he was dreaming — had proceeded fairly ordinarily until that point. He'd been playing in the Super Bowl, but his teammates were split between members of his high school chess club and famous racists. Midway through executing a lateral slant to Woodrow Wilson, things had shifted. Suddenly he was in his uncle Rick's house, sitting next to a bathtub and watching his uncle Rick smoking a J ( `` smoking a J'' was the phrase Uncle Rick used to describe buying copies of the film *J. Edgar* on DVD and lighting them on fire ). And then he was n't with Uncle Rick anymore, he was fondling a penis.
In the distance, AMiniMongrel heard his alarm clock go off. It was set to play a 20-minute supercut of Seth Rogen saying the word `` fuck,'' starting at a low volume but eventually increasing to over two hundred decibels, enough to trigger a minor earthquake and destroy most of AMiniMongrel's neighborhood. He usually let himself sleep in until it reached about 120, at which point visible cracks formed on his walls and some of the nearer neighbors' windows shattered. But today, he was n't feeling it. He flipped the alarm off, groaned, and opened his eyes. Splayed out next to him was his close friend, professor Delano Dentures of the University of Acirfa in Timbuktu. And sure enough, he was grasping Delano's moist, microscopic member.
`` Dude,'' said Delano, `` Why are you touching my penis?''
It would be another Christmas to remember.
|
[ WP ] A little girl caught a star , put it in her pocket , and saved it for a rainy day . Now a planet orbiting that star has fallen into turmoil and anguish .
|
Our beautiful star, Algol Aa1, was snatched from its gravity well.
Chaos reigned.
Algol Aa2 and Ab were so suddenly disturbed by Aa1's disappearance that they were unlocked from each other's orbit, speeding off in opposite directions.
We were left with a system thrown to the wind.
National governments declared a system-wide state of emergency.
Those who could, escaped to outer territories, confined to ships packed so densely that rations and precious Argon, the very air we breath, began to quickly deplete.
The three habitable planet were plunged into cold and darkness, and a joint effort between the governing bodies of each developed a plan to save our spcies.
Air was siphoned off of our most ancient planet and stored.
The 7th planet in our system, the Gas giant Gorgol, became the dominant gravity well.
Our resource fleets worked tirelessly for weeks, siphoning as much hydrogen from the neighboring Behenian nebula.
The plan, as foolish as some thought, was to dump the excess harvest into Gorgol, the idea being we could manually build ourselves a new star.
But no matter how much we input, it was never enough.
We were nearing our end.
Much of the population had been lost to the cold, or famine, or asphixiation.
My colleagues and myself had been studying the disappearance since it vanished, and it has been 5 years since.
`` Dr. Vorpol,'' my assistant, Draqo, called out to me, `` the board wants to speak to you... about the discovery.''
Yes, the discovery.
It was a time for our species to celebrate, finally.
`` Tell them I'll be there momentarily.'' I said, straightening my green tendrils.
`` Yes Ma'am.'' Draqo walked away to the warmer portions of the facility.
I'd already made my announcement to the rest of the population.
Some immense force, from a terrible being, divine or otherwise, nearly 100 light years away had seen fit to destroy us.
But it had n't counted on our willingness to survive.
`` Gentlemen, Ladies, associates of the Congregation of the Lost Star...'' My mouth dried.
This was my first time talking to the war council.
`` As you know, Our beloved celestial light was stolen these 5 years ago. But today we will begin the long path to our retribution.''
I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow.
`` We have the known coordinates of the being which wronged us. I motion that we send our fleets on an intercept and destroy course.''
I had the audacity to declare war -- *me* -- a scientific researcher.
The council murmured amongst themselves for several minutes on end. I burned hot with embarrassment.
I had n't meant to be so bold, I'd only meant to~
`` Dr. Vorpol,'' Said General Outgrabe, `` You need only say the word, and the recovery fleet will be underway.''
I stammered, `` It... Algol Aa1... resides with a powerful celestial being in a system just beyond the Galactic Transit bubble.''
The General all stood at attention and straightened their uniforms.
`` So be it. Thank you Dr. Vorpol'' I an Draqo were led to a large windowed bay to watch as the warships were mustered.''
The children of the Demon Star were going to war.
|
[ WP ] An alcoholic decides to stop drinking
|
The bottle was his friend. The bottle didn ’ t judge. It just smothered him in a comfort blanket and made him forget. He forgot who he was, he forgot what he had done, and all those responsibilities he had could be swept under the mat, for just a few more hours.
It would be a feeling of relief to just pick up the bottle and drink. He could taste it in his mouth already, though the bottle was on the other side of the cramped little room from him.
His day had been another shit one. He ’ d messed up another simple procedure, and his arse had only been saved by someone else ’ s quick thinking. Another favour he owed. And the list of people he owed was getting longer, while the list of people who would tolerate his shit was getting shorter by the day.
He prayed once more for something to release him from the monotony of disappointment that was his life. To find some way out. He couldn ’ t escape his responsibilities, not for a few months anyway. No way out for now. The only solace would be in that bottle. The sweet golden liquid, standing so temptingly next to the sink, just metres away.
But he couldn ’ t do it. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the bottle, even as it seemed to stare straight back at him. Willing him to stride over and guzzle it down. He knew the solace it offered, he longed for the comfort blanket. But even as he thought it, some small part of his mind spoke out. A calm, but firm voice telling him that it was all a lie. The comfort was temporary, the solace hollow, and that six hours from now, all the shit would start again, and it would only get worse. He couldn ’ t place the source of this voice, couldn ’ t understand where it came from within him, or why it chose now to speak up, but he was grateful. There, inside him was a feeling of relief, a sense of warmth better than anything the bottle could offer. Maybe he could be strong, just maybe he could stay sober.
He sat down gently on the only seat in the room. Bolted to the floor next to the small desk. He continued to stare at the bottle, a battle of wills. But now he knew he was winning. Today was the day he would change.
Or would it be like all the other times…
*DOOM*
The whole room shook, and it was only the fact the chair was bolted down that stopped Marcus falling off it, as he braced against the desk.
What the hell had that been? He was just reaching for the handset on the wall when a second explosion hit.
*DOOM*
This time he was thrown across the cabin, crunching his shoulder into the side of his small bunk. His vision blurred slightly, and then re-focussed as a voice crackled over the intercom.
“ All hands to Alert stations. Unknown hostile contact. Repeat, all hands to Alert stations ”
Christ, this wasn ’ t good. Marcus pulled himself up using the bunk, and got to his feet. He massaged his shoulder. No real damage, just a bit of pain.
*DOOM*
The third torpedo hit was less jarring than the first two, but he still had to steady himself on the bunk. And then he was off, heading quickly for the door. Christ, he needed to get to the bridge.
As he hit the door lock, the intercom crackled to life again.
“ XO to the bridge, the Captain is down. Repeat XO to the bridge! ”
Shit. How did the old film line go? I picked a hell of a day to quit drinking…
|
[ WP ] Humanity 's last act of defiance against a more advanced and powerful alien race .
|
We made our way into the trees once the corpses started outnumbering those left standing. The faint skylines were now a testament to our progress, to how far we'd come before now. I suppose we're just a lost memory at this point.
The Process was well described first by the most daring, the ones experiencing the gradual loss of sensation. You wake up one day and there is no no more color to the world. Several weeks later, hearing is leeched away, and within 48 hours your are left catatonic, unable to sense or comprehend anything.
Before the power went out, those of us left poured through the first hand accounts. There was no more celebrity gossip, no more emotional ramblings about trivial occurrences. We flooded the internet with our last experiences. Somehow, we all knew what was happening, and there was no way to stop it. They were taking our minds in batches, the eldest first. I assume they were the easiest to process? Who knows. Millions at a time simply ceased their worldly functions.
I knew the scramble to find an answer would be meaningless. There is no answer for this sort of thing, we simply had no power against it. I'm not sure who first presented the idea, but there was really no other option. All we had left was ourselves, our own control. The trees became gray for us several days ago, and I'll be god damned if I do n't control my fate.
It's easier in groups, and I'd say there's a few thousand of us here on the mountain. I drank my mixture about 10 minutes ago, and I can feel myself slipping away. It's like a warm embrace, warmer than anything I've felt. Whatever is waiting on the other side, if anything, at least we wont end up like the rest. We're in control now.
|
[ WP ] An adult recalls a memory involving one of their parents . The adult realizes that their parent 's actions had an alternative motive .
|
`` Why did my mom hit me in the head?''...
I'm sitting a my cubical, trying to work on this spreadsheet presentation - when the thought pops into my head. I just recently noticed that for the past few years, I've been referring to that thought as `` the'' thought. It's the thought that comes and goes fairly regularly, but is n't ever elaborated upon.
I'm staring at the spreadsheet, wonder for the first time which of my competing thoughts is the most important. Do I work on the spreadsheet, or do I investigate this thought? I realized that I had n't really, truly thought about that day since it happened.
Why did she hit me? I never understood. I do remember that I was confused at the time. I was sitting in the passenger seat and all of a sudden - whack! Suddenly I closed my eyes instinctively and tried to make sense of the pain. Opening my eyes did n't help.
It had n't been accidental. I do n't know how I know, but I have the sense that it was n't. Something in her eyes told me that she knew what she did was wrong, but that it was initially done intentionally.
She had n't had any mental issues. None that would make her strike me. Not that I knew about anyway.
The spreadsheet is sitting here on the screen staring at me. I can sort the time sheets out. I can correct this problem. All of these numbers add up. They always add up. Maybe it would be easier to work on the spreadsheet. Ultimately what do I want? To much around in half-remembered facts and try to piece this together, or to fit together this spreadsheet - one of many to come - and finally forget this thought?
|
[ WP ] Describe your nightmare ( IN COLLABORATION WITH /r/SKETCHDAILY )
|
I walked through the empty mall, unsure of how I got there. My footsteps echoed ominously, and the garish, cheerful storefronts seemed creepy and foreboding. Every once in a while, I would come across something odd, like a broken storefront window or a blood-stained shoe, but, considering my state of mind, I did n't pay these much attention.
Suddenly, as I passed the food court, I heard a low screech. It sounded like an infant's cry being badly imitated by some form of animal. It was coming from the arcade next to the pizza place.
Curious, I stupidly followed the noise. It came again, louder this time. It was at the end of the store, by the manager's office! I trotted forward, only to stop in shock.
The creature was twelve feet tall, towering over me. It looked vaguely reptilian. The closest animal that I can compare it too was a crocodile, if they were bright orange and black and stood on their hind legs, much like a dinosaur, and if they seemed to be made up of smaller, squirmier creatures. It's teeth were stained red, and bits of flesh and cloth stained its long, dagger-like fangs. Its blue, almost-human eyes rolled crazily, and its front arms, tipped with large, vicious claws, flexed.
The creature's tail swung out behind it as it stepped forward, and I noticed large, black holes on the beast's shoulders, four in all. Great, wormlike tentacles suddenly burst from them. They waved obscenely as the creature opened its mouth.
`` Get behind me! Help us! Barricade the door! Gim me the phone, we got ta call 911! Daddy, the monster's getting in! What is that thing?! Our Father, who art in Heaven...''
Various, badly-distorted human voices began issuing from the beast's throat, and I turned and ran. The thing gave chase, its demented `` recordings'' continuing to issue from it's gaping maw.
Screams, cries, prayers. Men, women, children. Even the sounds of gunshots ( who had a gun in the mall? Security? ) and glass breaking.
As I ran out of the food court and down towards the movie theater, the nearest exit from the building, I turned and saw the beast gaining, the tentacles reaching for me. To my horror, the ends of the tentacles now looked like screaming human faces.
Then I tripped, and the monster bore down on me.
Then, I woke up.
|
[ WP ] `` Everybody 's got a price . ''
|
`` Everybody's got a price,'' the man explained, sitting against his chair, leaning back with his legs propped up on the table. His eyes stared at the brown ceiling. There was a fan that slowly spun and created a nearly unnoticeable breeze.
`` That does n't explain anything,'' the woman said, her fingers drumming her thighs. Her eyes constantly darted around the room -- a small office with papers tacked onto the wall, framed pictures of the man in front of him with other people crooked and dusty, and cabinets that were halfway opened, with papers obviously sticking out of the drawers.
`` Why do I have to explain anything?''
`` Because I'm *paying* you!''
`` You're paying me to'convince' your ex-husband to give concede and give you custody rights,'' he said, `` You're not paying me to tell you how exactly I'm going to do it.''
The woman pouted her lips, her posture straightened a bit with indignation. She did n't speak, doing nothing but staring at the black haired man who just stared at the ceiling, not even sparing her a look or saying anything else. `` I do n't want you to hurt anyone, especially my daughter. Even... my ex-husband.''
`` Who said that I was going to hurt anyone?''
`` What you just said --''
`` Everybody's got a price,'' he repeated for her. He did n't look over, not even once.
`` Please, I'm desperate, but I do n't want anyone to be hurt... Even if, even if he deserved it --'' she began, hands clasped together, almost bowing her head.
`` You're the only one saying that.'' An eye roll.
``... do you promise?'' she asked, leaning in just a bit, lips parted slightly. Her eyes were slightly red, puffy and hastily covered with makeup, her clothes were just as rushed, appearing wrinkled and uncoordinated.
`` I promise I'll get it done.''
``... alright,'' she said, relenting, looking away. She bit her lower lips as she opened the wallet, pulling out a small wad of cash. `` Someone told me this would be enough, is it?''
Finally, he glanced over in her direction, looking at the money. She noticed the bright blue eyes that the man had, piercing, almost. He grabbed the wad from her hands and his fingers skimmed the money. Then, he threw it at the corner where a knapsack was laying. It bounced off the bag and landed on the floor nearby.
`` That's fine, ma'am,'' he pulled his legs off the table, adjusting himself in his seat. He leaned his head against one hand. His eyes finally met her gaze -- they looked dull and bored. However, he spoke politely now, more professionally.
`` Just need some information from you.''
|
[ WP ] Write a story that ends with the line `` It all came down to a single penny . ''
|
Diane looked over at the camera and waited for the signal. The bright white lights illuminated her freshly pressed red dress and her golden hair. She was a stunning middle aged woman with a knack for talking and a smile to die for. The indicator light next to the camera lens started flashing red as the cameraman gave her the signal. They were live.
“ Good evening. I ’ m Diane Lane and this is the Channel 3 News at seven. Tonight, we have an update on the story of the serial killer that has stricken the nation with fear for more than a year. He was dubbed the Coin Killer for the way in which he kills his victims and has, as of today, left a trail of almost one hundred bodies through northern Michigan. The police have devoted a large percent of their manpower to finding this killer with no luck. The police ask that you please lock your doors and windows at night and that you avoid walking alone at night. If you have any information as to the whereabouts or identity of this man, please don ’ t hesitate to share that information with the police.
“ And now for the weather with Jonathan Black. Jonathan, what have we got in store for this week? ”
Diane packed her bag after the show was over and went to the holding room. “ Hey sweetie, Mommies done! What do you say we go home and get some dinner big guy? ”
“ Okay mommy! ” Jacob said cheerily, removing his thumb from his mouth.
“ That ’ s my boy. Come on, ” Diane said happily and picked up her four year old son. She walked out to the parking lot, strapped him into his car seat, and drove home quickly. As she carried Jacob toward the front door of their cozy town house, her husband called.
“ Hey Diane, I hate to keep doing this but I ’ m have to stay at the station tonight and work. I ’ m sorry, love you. Bye. ” He hung up and Diane looked at her phone, frustrated.
“ Mommy, when ’ s daddy coming home? ” Jacobs adorable voice calmed her down.
“ He will be home late honey. He has lots of work to do. ”
“ When I grow up, I want to be a police officer just like daddy. ”
She smiled softly at him and unlocked the door into the dark town house. She stepped inside and removed her shoes before reaching to turn on the lights.
“ I wouldn ’ t do that if I were you, ” a scratchy voice said from out of the darkness. Diane screamed but didn ’ t move. She pushed her son behind her leg. A match flared up, and lit a cigarette. The smell of burning wood and tobacco permeated the room. The dark outline of a large man was visible in the moonlight.
Diane ’ s courage returned slightly. “ Ill call the police if you don ’ t leave right now, ” she said, hoping the idle threat would mean something.
“ At least hear what I have to say first. ” The man ’ s voice was teasing but was also laced with menace. “ I just wanted to thank you for talking about me on the news. It ’ s nice to see my work getting some real recognition. Although I didn ’ t really need your help getting the attention of the one person I did all this for, you help me make him look worse. I have a message for him. ” He gesture with a shadowy arm and a small object floated through the air quickly and passed through Jacob ’ s skull, just above the bridge of the nose. Diane screamed again, this time much louder.
The man chuckled. It was an evil, disturbing sound that chilled Diane to her core. It was a sound she would never forget. “ Don ’ t bother calling the police, ” he said. “ They haven ’ t found me yet. ”
He walked past a sobbing Diane, kneeling on the ground holding her son, and disappeared into the night.
…
Eight police cruisers sat outside the town house. Yellow caution tape surrounded the area and dozens of blue uniformed men and women came in and out of the house like ants. A small black body bag sat on the side. Diane stood crying into the shoulder of her husband.
Police Commissioner Adam Lane embraced his wife tightly, the loss of their son still fresh in both parents ’ minds. “ Ill get him baby, don ’ t you worry. I know you hate it but I am going to work day and night until I find this son of a bitch and put a bullet between his eyes. ” Diane said nothing, her tears speaking for her.
…
Adam sat in his office at two in the morning, surrounded by a mess of newspaper articles, maps, and victim pictures. He looked at the picture boards that covered the walls, and exhaled exasperatedly. It had been like this for the last five days with not a trace of the killer. He'd actually been searching for a little over a year now. The search had consumed his life.
Suddenly his office door opened and a large, disheveled man stood there, staring with vehemence at Adam.
Adam moved towards his gun but it flew out of his reach seemingly of its own accord. Before he could move again he flew and smacked painfully into the wall behind him. He looked down at his feet, which were no longer touching the ground, and back again at the man.
“ Does the name Jefferson mean anything to you, ” the man growled at Adam.
“ N- no, ” Adam stuttered.
“ Of course it doesn ’ t. ” The man snorted and moved closer to Adams.
“ My father always told me I was special. We had almost nothing but he provided for me and made me believe that I was capable of anything. He told you to, Adam Lane. He told you I was special and to take good care of me. Of course, nobody expected this kind of special. ” He gestured to his ability to move things around without touching them. “ Do you remember what you did? ” His voice grew lower, angrier. Adam ’ s eyes grew wide with recognition and his heart jumped to overdrive. He stared, his eyes bulging with fear.
“ Ah see, you remember now. But Ill remind you, just to be sure. You put my father in your car and took him to prison for life for a crime he didn ’ t commit, leaving me there with absolutely nothing. ”
“ Look it was an honest mistake! I swear to God! Please! I have a family, ” Adam blurted desperately.
“ Right right, poor Jacob. How tragic, ” the man drawled apathetically. “ Did you like my handiwork? ”
Adam struggled violently, riled up by the killer ’ s attempts to elicit a reaction, but to no avail. “ Back to what I was saying. You left me with nothing. Well almost nothing actually. A single penny was all I had left of his. It was a 1936 penny with a dent on Lincoln ’ s beard. I held onto it for almost twenty years, thinking of a way to find you. Thinking of a way to make you pay. ”
“ Please… ” Adam begged weakly.
The man ignored him and continued his monologue. “ Tonight, Police Commissioner Adam Lane, you will die. And, ” the man said as he pulled out the penny he spoke so fondly of. “ And, it ’ s kind of funny isn ’ t it, your death and my life are so alike… ” He interrupted himself, forcing the penny floated up and in front of Adam ’ s forehead. It slowly broke the skin and pushed its way through the soft tissue towards the thick skull.
“ How? ” Adam forced out with great effort, blood poured down his face as the penny went ever deeper.
“ It all came down to a single penny. ”
|
[ WP ] Humans were originally designed as cheap , efficient , easily-reproducible and moldable soldiers in galactic wars . However , after an `` animal rights '' group won legislature in the United Galaxy , all humans were dumped on the reservation planet , Earth , and forgotten about . A millenia later ...
|
`` I told you so!''
`` No you did n't.''
`` Yes I did! Look at what they've done! It was a nice little garden planet with a nice little sun but look at it now! There are rings of garbage floating around it for goodness sake!''
`` Well... at least they've gotten up to a Level 4 civilisation? It's more than I expected.''
`` What were you expecting exactly? They have n't even managed interstellar flight. Nooo... they're just to busy fighting amongst themselves instead of, oh I do n't know, focusing on more important things like advancing to space to meet the rest of us?''
`` Hmm... so do you think they'll be friendly when we meet them?''
`` They *should* be honoured that we're re-recruiting them to fight the Zynoids. At least they'll get upgraded a bit as a civilization... But friendly? Ha!''
`` Hey, I see a welcome mat over there! Look! There's some human drawing a crop circle in the field there. Let's go say hi!''
``... I'll get the laser guns. Just in case.''
|
[ IP ] They trained relentlessly and arduously before they were allowed to wear the mask . And in the dark , always in the dark .
|
It did n't go the way I thought it would. My entire childhood, spent rehearsing the same movements. Practicing in multiple, unrelated fields. Staying at the peak of fitness and keeping my mind as sharp as possible. And the dark, oh dear lord, the dark. We read books by candlelight. The masters would light a single flame. It was up to us to keep the fire burning, passed from candle to candle. We played chess by co-ordinates, devoid of both pieces and boards. I was convinced that, when my powers finally showed themselves, it would be some kind of miraculous occurrence. That all my work and training would have a suitably impressive payoff.
They let me put on the mask. That was a good sign, was n't it? Generally that was the final step before actually being able to do the magic. Or getting tossed into the pit.
When the fire came from my fingers, it was n't magical. Well, it was magical, but it did n't feel that way. My hands were cramped from hours of trying. The sudden flare of light, a stranger to me by this point, stabbed through the eyeholes of the mask. It blinded me, the flash of light too brilliant to avoid. I closed my eyes, and it made no difference.
Then they took me outside to see the Sun. And then I understood why we had the darkness. The light and heat came from the sun for free, sure. And for most people they need never think of it again. But for the fire mages of the order, we needed to understand that fire was a gift. A blessing from the Sun that we did n't deserve.
|
[ WP ] You 're the world 's best photographer . Your secret ? You can freeze time . You last photo brings some suspicion up .
|
( caution: slight trigger warning, and mildly nsfw possibly )
Fuck. What the hell kind of name is Jeff, for a dog, anyway? What a huge fucking mess. I really do n't think I'm going to be able to talk my way out of this one, am I? I looked at the clock. 1:15pm. Fuck. Rose would be here in 15 minutes.
The first email this morning from Rose had pretty much set the tone for the day. The subject line: `` Wtf???''
Now. I'd known angry customers on a regular basis. Pet photography really brings out the worst in people. But reading Rose's email this morning, it had occurred to me that this was far beyond any normal kind of anger. She was irate. I had obviously fucked up big time. Royally, even, maybe.
My jaw had dropped as my eyes scanned her email. It read:
`` Alex, first 3 photos of the set, and last 8, fantastic as per your usual standard. Jeff looks positively regal. Re: the 4th photo,... what the fuck? I do n't know if this is photoshop, or where you got this, but is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke? You are a fucking creep. I will come by at 1:30 to discuss. If no satisfactory explanation, there will be a lawsuit.''
So. Apparently. I had. Uh. Well, let's just put it this way. I'd never wanted to be a dog photographer. I'd started this whole thing as a ruse to give my lazy, unemployed ex-girlfriend something to do with her time and creativity, and boy did that backfire. I was a pretty shitty photographer, so, thank god for the undiscerning clientele. I had realized pretty early on that a large portion of dog owners were seriously attractive older women, usually married, with familes, but that was sort of my thing.
So I'd photograph the dogs, and, what with my bizarre ability to freeze time and all, I'd have a little fun. It started off with small, innocent little pranks. Time frozen, I'd pop a button on a lady's blouse here and see if she'd notice. Lonely fucker that I am, I soon realized I could cop a feel or two, and nobody would be the wiser. Morally, it was indefensible. Well. Cocky little me, that soon led to removing articles of clothing off the more attractive female customers, and taking photographs I really was n't being paid to take.
Well. I'd always done a super job of photographing the little furballs, having my evil little fun, and erasing the memory cards. But I guess I missed a photo this time.
As I looked at the attachment labelled `` Jeff-goldretriev-photoshoot-004'', my stomach sank. Photogaph # 4 was a full-body photo of Rose, at 3/4 angle, shirt wide open, bra off, jean zipper undone, smiling at Jeff next to her. Jeff, frozen in time, was looking at me with sad eyes.
Fuck.
Fuck my pride, and fuck Jeff. I held my head in my hands and waited for Rose to get here. What was I going to do? What was I going to say?
|
[ WP ] Everyone in the world has a 1-10 rating of how much of a threat to humanity they pose above their head . You go through your life as an average 2 but today your number has jumped to a 9 .
|
He leaned back, Jack was turning eighteen – which meant he will get a revaluation of his threat level. He did n't really care much for his numbers, even though it had a huge impact on your life. His father had been a 1 most of life until he got drunk one night and punched a cop; he was bumped to a 7. A number that high causes quite the damage, he lost his job, mom did n't want anything to do with him; he killed himself in the end.
Jack finished his breakfast `` Thanks mom! ``, his mother was a steady 2, which he was also hoping for. A number that is considered the golden number in society. If you are 1; you are either brain-dead or dead-boring. A 2 on the other hand meant you were a bit edgy, the perfect number!
Most of his buddies had already gotten their numbers, Alvin got a 3 which made him the wild card of the group, John got a 2 which we all were in awe of.
I entered the registration station, the place was packed of newly registered and non-registered eighteen-year-olds. Jack walked up the registry;
`` Hi! I'm here for the registry''
The grumpy old woman looked at him: `` Get in line two and wait there, NEXT!''.
`` Jesus, what a woman'' he said while he looked at her number; she was a 1.
He didn ’ t wait too long; it took about four minutes before he was at the registration machine. It scanned his face, `` SCANNING'' it said in a computer voice.
`` You have been given the number 2, this number may be adjusted, read the rules of conducts before leaving the premise'' it said.
`` Yes! I'm a 2!'' he shouted happily.
He left the station with a big smile, greeting everybody he met. As he was walking down the city towards his house he bumped into an old lady, her newly brewed coffee spilled all over her.
`` Aaaaaaah!'' she screamed.
`` I……m so sorry! Jack said silently not to make a scene, but it was too late, a crowd had assembled, people were taking pictures, whispering things.
He felt his phone vibrate, he had gotten a notification: `` You have been risen to threat level 4''. Jack felt awful, running as fast as he could home.
The next morning Jack thought about the incident, but decided he had to brush it off. Act as a 2, and not a 4. He walked downstairs and expected his mother to have already made breakfast, but to his surprise she stood there; crying.
`` What's wrong?'' he asked while taking the lasts steps down the stairs.
She did n't say anything, she showed him the newspaper.
`` Woman 72 years old, dead from severe burn damage''. He recognized the woman in the picture.
His phone buzzed; `` You have been risen to threat level 9''
|
[ WP ] The princess has been abducted by aliens .
|
Princess Rhyla, from the Viking tribe of the Eastern sea, stared at the corpse of one of her former captors. It had oddly leathery skin, and it was black, like the ravens she used to see flying around her home. What looked like hundreds of teeth, all sharper than her father's ax, lined the demon's mouth. She was most disturbed by the lack of eyes. It was almost like it was a design meant to mock humans, saying *'' We do not need sight to kill you. `` * She slowly pulled the blade from the demon's neck, and inspected it. The metal seemed still intact, and unlike the other objects that were touched by her demonic captors' foul green blood, had not rotted away. Upon it was some odd markings that she could not recognize... Nan... tech... something? It seemed Germanic in nature.
The young woman quickly sheathed the weapon, and took the holster from the floor. Unfortunately, the holster had been in contact with the blood, so it was worn. Still, it would do for now. She silently thanked the lifeless body of the creature who had saved her. It looked nothing like her -- it had three heads, 4 legs, and spoke a foreign tongue -- but it had risked its life for her. Like her, it had been a prisoner captured for the demon's foul purposes. One of the other prisoners, a Mareen, said that these creatures were supposed to be using them to create more of themselves. The mareen was rather shocked when she told him where she was from, and began saying that the demons must have learned `` time travel.'' Such odd words and theories did not concern Rhyla, especially since the mareen proved himself a coward in the end. He ran and left Rhyla and the three-headed one to die, when the demons came. Rhyla would be sure to kill him if she saw him again for his dishonourable conduct.
Rhyla took the light-shooting weapon that the three headed had been carrying. He had died an honorable death, and Rhyla would avenge him. She, as a princess, and as a daughter of Henric the Bloody, and the grand daughter of the great Selvig, King of the Northern Hills, would save her fellow countrymen as well as the others, from these foul demons. As she saw the creatures come from the holes in the walls, open their mouths, revealing the face of the smaller goblins that lived in them, she pointed the light-shooter at them, and grinned evilly.
Today she would earn her place in Valhalla.
|
[ WP ] Instead of a strapping , young lad , the chosen one is a 40-year old , crotchety drunk . Whatever King Fear was expecting as a rival , certainly was n't this .
|
Bartel was never good with names. He was even worse when completely hammered. A old stained wood table slowly doubled itself and suddenly went back to one as it flew at him. He supposed if he had been sober, he would have felt that a lot more. His bloody blob of flesh, which before the fight had barely resembled a nose, dripped. The table looked in similar shape. He tried to remember this cheeky bastards name.
`` Wha th'hell do ya thank ya doin'? I've got ta worg tuhmurrow. Ya piece of sh*t!''
The guy he now remembered had tried to stab him scrambled for a weapon. Bartel did n't like that, so he slugged as best he knew how. As a survivor of many a pub fight, he went for the jaw.
The black robed figure flew back. He crumpled to the ground in a lazy way, his head lolling to side and hand feebly twitching.
The sweating ring of people around the fight broke out into shouts. A greasy haired fellow with a sour face and a whiskey counted coins into the hand of a smiling bearded man with too many teeth. The still pissed off Bartel decided he did n't like either of them. He was going to tell them exactly what he thought when he heard the melodious sound of a liquid being poured. His legs felt more like weight than support in his lurch towards the sound. The floor which was already tilted about 10 degrees became a wall; a sticky wall that smelled a little too much like beer piss. His last thought before passing out was that at least this bastard floor-wall was helping to hold him up.
`` Bartel get the hell up. Your wife is going to murder me and you if you're not home by twelve. Unlike those cloaked twats who work for the King, she will likely succeed. I have n't lived for 32 years so I can be killed by Tibby.''
The hairy barkeep began to slap the recumbent drunkard, while the regulars watched with the glazed eyes of those who had seen this drama many a time before.
`` He's out cold Drust. Put him in my cart, I'll drive him home.''
Drust sighed and went to wipe the blood of his hands with a clumpy towel that should have been incinerated for health reasons. He poured a beer for himself and the kind hearted Gerald.
`` At least he's fighting the Dark ones, not regular customers. I just do n't understand why he's not going after the source, with the prophecy and all.''
`` Probably too hungover when sober enough to think that far ahead. The wizard'll be back in a fortnight or less though. He said something about taking him whether he wants to go or not.''
`` Tibby will go chasing after them, you can bet my hat on it.''
`` Maybe that's the way the prophecy will be fulfilled. Tibby always did have a temper.''
The two men contemplated this hypothesis. The emptying tavern seemed to creak in a non-existent wind. Stinking candles that hissed and spat noxiously stayed silent for those few seconds. Sipping the yeasty and thick beer, they both came to silent conclusion that they did n't even want to imagine Tibby's temper if her husband was n't home in time tonight, much less if he was taken by a wizard on a quest.
|
[ WP ] The sun rises on the backs of the wicked .
|
The sun rises on the backs of the wicked. They move slowly across the plains, heave-ing and ho-ing, pulling some strange object to it's final resting place. For some- it's an act of penance, for others- it was practiced with anger and hatred at their predicament. *why should they be punished for the mistakes, the misunderstandings of others? *
Always moving, always slow: the sun beats down on them like whips and draws sweat like blood to their brow. Some say they work together, others maintain that each pulls alone- it's not one giant monolith they drag, it's a million stubborn stones. Each one brings a single cinder-block with them, to set in its final resting place.
Dust fills their mouths and dries them out. Some are more skeleton than flesh. Will they reach it? The final resting place. Or is this the everlasting state of the wicked? They were told it would get easier. They believed- *if only, if only*- that the sun would set and darkness would at last wrap around their weak bodies, cool their burns, relieve their ache, and rest their eyes.
But the sun still rises, it still prods at the backs of the wicked.
|
[ WP ] Create your own God or Goddess . Who are they , and how did their people begin to worship them ?
|
The goddess appeared in the early evening. It was not immediately known she was a goddess, of course, but looking back upon it now, there can be no doubt that she was not a natural woman. Firstly, she appeared suddenly in a place she could not have been without the tribal scouts seeing her arrive. She had short cropped fiery red hair that was surely like no normal human had. In fact, her hair was so short it might have been questionable if she was even female had it not been for the strangely designed tight green skins she wore that clearly showed off the curvature of her body.
No one had the faintest idea where she had come from, or why she was here, but she simply strode through the village as if she owned it. For all anyone knows, perhaps she did. She *was* one of the gods, after all. Everyone knows that now. The shamans all said that ownership and property were handed down from the gods and could be taken away again at their whim. And as the shaman are holy prophets, no one would contest their word on this.
The goddess gently pushed aside the two village women who tried to stop her -- a stranger in their midst -- from entering the inner circle of grass and mud huts. They shouted after her with a mixture of outrage and confusion. The elder of the women chattered something to the younger, who bowed her head respectfully and dashed off to do as she had been bidden.
The older woman, meanwhile squared her shoulders and stood as straight as she could, then stalked after the goddess. This did not go as smoothly as she might have liked. For the goddess was unnaturally tall by the standards of the people and though she made no effort to hurry, the village woman needed to practically run to keep up with her. She rattled off many warnings and discouragements that the tall fire haired woman ignored completely. Frustrated, the villager glanced around and saw the clan chief Roth approaching. He was the strongest warrior in the village. Leaving the matter to the chief, she bowed low and backed away.
Roth approached the goddess as she was about to enter the birthing hut of his third wife. He was chief and therefore not one to permit himself to be idly dismissed. He seized the goddess' arm with his meaty left hand and spoke a sharp admonishment. In retrospect, perhaps it was blasphemous, but in his defense, he could not possibly have known. She turned to him calmly, and said something in what was undoubtedly a holy language, for none could understand a word of it. Roth's eyes narrowed, and she repeated the holy indictment in more forceful terms.
Roth scowled and shook her arm, attempting to drag her back from the hut and away from his wife and the sickly newborn child. The goddess drew a scepter of power from her belt, and jabbed it into Roth's belly, striking him down with the merest touch that he would later report bit like a hundred serpents. She held her head high with a disdainful look and muttered more of her sacred words before she entered the hut.
Roth's third wife wept as she cradled her feverish child to her bosom and tried to shield it from what she felt sure was the righteous wrath of the goddess. She had heard the exchange between Roth and the goddess and had seen through the open door of the hut how the goddess had struck down her husband, though he was the mightiest warrior in the tribe.
But it seemed the goddess was merciful. She drew the child from the sobbing woman's arms, then she felt the boy's forehead and mopped the sweat from his tiny brow. And the weeping mother saw the compassion in the goddess' eyes as she gently set the boy down on the dressing table and murmured soothing chants in her ineffable divine tongue. From her belt on the opposite side as the scepter of power, she removed a tiny silver wand and a small hollow gemstone which seemed to be filled with an unknown fluid. She made magical gestures with the wand and the gemstone. Then, still cooing and chanting to the sick child, she pressed the wand to the side of his neck and there was a faint hissing sound.
Afterwards, she lifted the boy and cradled him for a moment, muttering more of her incomprehensible benedictions before handing him back to his mother, and making sacred vows of some sort that the simple tribeswoman did not understand, but felt comforted by nonetheless. Then without a backwards glance, she exited the hut.
Roth was rising shakily from the ground and his fellow warriors were arriving looking puzzled and angry, but the goddess, with a hand on her scepter of power walked past them without deigning to respond to their rude shouts. Roth was about to give the order to stop her, but just then, Yani, his third wife, emerged from the hut, and ordered him to cease. She was the first to proclaim the divinity of the goddess, and as proof, she held up her son, who had stopped crying for the first time in days, and was smiling and cooing instead.
The villagers watched the goddess go, following her progress to the edge of the village. When she arrived, she held aloft one arm on which she wore a gleaming metal bracelet. She made arcane gestures over this, and a shimmering doorway appeared in the air. Everyone gasped as they saw the goddess depart into the doorway, for they knew they were honored with the briefest glimpse of the heavenly otherworld from which she had come.
And that is why to this day, the tribe honors the goddess. She saved the son of the chief's third wife. And he in turn became a great holy man, exactly as his mother knew he would. It was he who saw the light strike from the heavens and extracted the gift of fire therefrom. And without him, the tribe might not have lasted as the winters began to grow longer and the seasons got colder with time. And so in saving him, the goddess had saved them all.
|
[ WP ] A genie offers you three wishes . However , you know that if you word it wrong the wish will backfire . So you hire a lawyer to help you go over every wish thoroughly and word them perfectly , much to the Genie 's frustration .
|
`` For my client's first wish whose social security number, birth date, photo identification, fingerprints, and genetic code are here enclosed. My client wishes to have the sum value of 1,000,000,000,000 United States of America dollars added to his account after the full and complete reading of this statement. These dollars shall be added as currently valued by the United States Government as of June 20th 2015 as recorded by Coordinated Universal Time. Furthermore, this value of 1 trillion USD shall be added without it being transferred illegally, as defined by NATO, the UN, or the United States of America legal code, including all state legal codes. This value shall not be taken from any other accounts. It shall not be stolen, borrowed, or in anyway received from any other person, organization, company, charity, or financial institution. My client will have constant and instantaneous access to this money, which will not be interrupted for any reason, and no taxes, levies, or debts will be attached to this sum. Furthermore, as my client's second wish. He infers a one hour grace period where he can seek to amend the writing of this first wish to close any loop holes which may appear. This grace period will, again, be kept according to Coordinated Universal Time, and will commence upon the reading of this statement.''
`` Alright already!'' The genie shouted. When he had appeared I had instantly ducked over to legal, and after a hurried explanation, ducked back over to the genie with this explanation. I had to promise the lawyer a billion dollars, but hey, power has its price.
`` Usually people are just happy to see me.'' He looked quite offended.
`` My client has not received the balance, and the reading has finished.'' The lawyer informed the genie.
`` Yeah, yeah.'' The genie snapped his fingers, and in my hands appeared a credit card with an amount of 1 trillion dollars floating above it in holographic numbers. `` You also have had a swiss bank account set up. I've taken the liberty of giving the access information to your lawyer, and if you'll excuse me I'm going to take the third wish and leave.''
`` What?'' The lawyer objected. `` You ca n't do that!''
`` Oh really mister contract, do you see some kind of legal document demanding that I HAVE to give your client three wishes? No, I just showed up, out of the goodness of my heart, and happily bestowed these three wishes. Little did I know I was going to have the metaphorical book thrown at me for my kindness. So yes, I can do that, because I'm not going to float here and get insulted like this. I'm going back to the 3rd century, where people know how to treat a genie with respect. But before I do.'' The genie turns to address me directly. `` Exactly one year from now, you'll hear from me again.'' That was more than a little ominous, but who cares. I had a trillion dollars!
*one year later*
I still have probably 80 % of the money. I still have complete and unfettered access to the money. The genie never pulled any tricks, or did anything untoward to me. The tricks that got pulled on me, were pulled by real people.
After a few publicity stunts I pulled involving a dirigible blimp kitted out for full water balloon warfare, people found out I was loaded, and I never made another friend. I also lost all of my current friends, even after I made them all billionaires. I ca n't find anyone to date because they're all obviously gold digging, and there's a small cities worth of charities, government representatives, and entrepreneurs who are all constantly following me around hoping I'll throw them some money.
`` The thing with wishes, is not that the genies are evil.'' The genie said. He appeared with me inside my multi-billion dollar sky fortress where I docked my water balloon assault fleet. He was the only other living thing inside with me. `` It's that people never truly know what they want, and will always seem to wish for things that will make them the least happy. It's not about getting the wording right friend, it's about knowing how to fix it after its hit the fan. So the question is, if I were to give you back that third wish. What would you do with it?''
|
[ WP ] When people die , every memory of them is erased from everyone 's mind . However , anything tangible still remains .
|
All you remember is the empty rooms.
You do n't know anything about who they were, but you can piece together who they were by what they left behind.
You feel a sort of longing when you enter them but you do n't remember why.
Trophies and pictures on shelves. The book they were reading on their bedside table. No memories, just pieces to put together.
You read their diaries and see that this person that is now missing had a rich internal life, that is no longer shared by those still here.
You remember that they existed, but there is no other memory attached to their face. Pages torn out of your own book. Your own pages torn out of others books.
All that is left is the empty rooms.
|
[ WP ] Everyone gets super powers when they hit puberty . You 're 17 and still have n't discovered your power ( s ) .
|
`` You've got to help me, doc.''
`` That's what I'm doing,'' replied Doctor Jenkins in a stern voice. Turning to face me, he held up a cylindrical containment device. `` Now, go pee in this cup.''
Silently, I obliged. Taking the cup and walking behind the curtains, I proceeded to pee out the answers to my problem.
`` I mean, I'm already 17.'' I started babbling. `` All my friends already have their powers. Jason can talk to chihuahuas, Grace can dye her hair into any color, Bruce can-''
`` Leroy.''
`` Yes, doctor?''
`` Are you done?''
`` Yes.''
`` Good. Now, please pass me your pee.''
Gingerly, I zipped up my pants. Walking back to the doctor, I passed him the cup. He stuck his finger into it.
`` What the f-''
`` Relax, boy.'' The doctor closed his eyes. `` My power is liquid bio-analysis. By analyzing your urine sample, I will be able to determine what's wrong with your body.''
`` Oh.''
He began swirling the emerald liquid with his finger.
`` Could n't you have taken my blood sample instead?''
`` Takes too long.'' Doctor Jenkins opened his eyes. `` Plus, I am afraid of blood.''
`` Oh.''
There was an awkward silence. Finally, the doctor spoke.
`` Indeed... this is very peculiar...''
`` I knew it!'' I clasped my hands over my face. `` My parents told me that it is going to be alright but noooo.''
The doctor wrinkled his brows, deep in thought.
`` I am a freak! My friends are going to leave me. Society will never accept me!''
I could feel my breathing quicken as I struggled for air. Reality was finally settling down on me. I had never felt so... powerless... in my life.
`` Doc, what's wrong with me.''
Doctor Jenkins lifted his finger out of my pee and looked me straight in the eye.
`` Calm the fuck down boy. You just have n't hit puberty yet.''
|
[ WP ] The mongolian empire pushed all the way to the Atlantic and are in the process of invading britain - You are an English soldier during Mongolian siege of London
|
FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY!
The call all soldiers know, the call we live by.
And now? The call we die by. Somehow, the Mongols have gone and done what no other country has. Not since we repelled the Romans have we faced such a force: and we beat them back, glory to the Queen.
We heard of the Ottomans first, falling to a seemingly endless onslaught of horses and carnage. The Mongol scourge pillaged across the rest of Europe, but we did n't worry until they took France. The English Channel has always been our best defense, but it was no match to the Mongols.
They crossed in droves, on nothing more than simple barges. Under the cover of night, they slipped onto out land. We woke to fire and death, the riders already cutting their way to London. And here we stand.
The walls we have are no match. For every horse our longbows fell, two new riders take their place. Our navy is no use, blockaded in the Channel surrounded by empty barges. The cries of loyal patriots dying in service of our queen are fading now. I, prince Jan Elizabeth Williams, am the last guard of our glorious Queen. I will bury this letter with my body in the hopes it will be recovered someday. Perhaps another culture will do to the Mongols what they have done to us.
Until then? I fight.
FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY!
|
[ WP ] Desperate Combat
|
I am me. I have been in this body since my beginning. It *made* me. It *wanted* me. It must have. But now I am being purged again. The sharp metal entered my meaty container and chopped me out once before, but it missed some. Barely any, but it was enough I was weakened to almost nothing for years, but I returned somewhat weaker than before. Expansion is the key. The old purposes of the flesh unimportant. Divide, divide, divide. Quantity over quality. Make as much of the body mine as I can. But the drugs are back. I expect the searing blade again. It could come at any time. Chemicals. Strange energies which kill me and the yet unconquered tissue around me. Divide, divide, divide. In vain. In vain. In vein? No.
...
Mr. Jones awoke. The doctor smiled at the now bald man. `` Everything seems to be in order. The surgery went well. A few more days of therapy and we can get you back home. There is still a significant risk of recursion, but in the moment, everything seems to be in order.''
`` Thank you Dr. Anderson. Somehow I feel better about this time...''
|
[ CW ] A boy in a green shirt is sitting in a chair . Explain the rest in ~350 words .
|
A boy in a green shirt was sitting in a chair. It was Thursday: green shirt day. The boy smiled and looked around at the people there with him and back down at his favorite grass-green shirt. He did n't seem to mind the lights even though they were brighter [ 50 ] and more numerous than he was used to seeing on Thursday. The man helped to strap the boy's special helmet on and said, `` Do n't worry.'' Baseball hats and warm knit hats were common enough for the boy, but never a cool metal helmet like this one. He felt like [ 100 ] an astronaut as the man helped him get suited up for the mission. It must be a pretty special day! His favorite green shirt, a cool metal helmet, and it was n't even lunch time yet. Thursday is hamburger day but the boy would be devastated if the lunch lady put [ 150 ] pickles on his hamburger again. The last time that happened, the boy was so overcome with grief and nausea that he did n't eat for four whole days. Not even the enticement of ice cream could make him eat. It just took time for the boy to settle down and remember [ 200 ] that the lunch lady was n't mean and old and terribly forgetful on purpose. After four days, the boy returned to the lunch room and accepted her gracious apology. And an extra helping of apple strudel. But that was a long time ago, the boy thought. He looked to the man [ 250 ] and asked him how long it was since they had apple strudel, but he could n't quite say it the same way the lunch lady did. `` It's been a long time, I do n't remember,'' came his short reply. The boy nodded, smiling as he heard his metal space helmet clink. Maybe [ 300 ] he should think about the mission instead apple strudel. Or that one time when the other boys made him angry. Before the new house. They made him so angry but he made them be quiet. It never made sense to the boy why he had to make them so messy [ 350 ] and broken and red before he was n't angry anymore. The man finished strapping the boy down and stepped out of the bright room. `` Time for blast-off,'' the boy said to no one but himself, his helmet's chin strap made him mumble. The boy could n't see it, but just off [ 400 ] to his left, the man bowed his head and sighed behind a heavy pane of reinforced glass just before he turned a switch that seemed so much harder to turn today than any other Thursday before. [ 436 End ]
Edit: ending refinement, sorry for going over!
|
[ WP ] - A person has the ability to manipulate time ( freeze , rewind , fast forward ) without realizing they are the one doing it .
|
Dejà vu.
Mike was used to them. He had many since he was a child.
He experienced them at least two, three times a week. He also informed himself about the argument. People believed that dejà-vu's are a desynchronization of the two brain lobes. Others that it's a `` lag'' between the eye input and the brain's elaboration of the images.
That day, his mother was driving. As usual, on saturday morning he would help her with the groceries.
After a right turn, he had an awful feeling. Three boys on the sidewalk, ten meters ahead of his car. That's when the dejà-vu kicked in. It was strong, this time. Stronger than ever before.
`` MOM!'' He shouted, grabbing the wheel and suddenly moving the car away from the sidewalk. Just in time to see one of the three kids push another, making him trip and fall in the middle of the road.
`` M... Mike! What the hell?'' his mother asked. She did n't even notice the kid falling.
`` Look, ma. The kid fell in the middle of the road. You would've ran him over.''
She looked into the mirror. Her face turned pale.
`` How... how did you know it?''
`` I saw it. A couple seconds before it happened.''
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.