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[ WP ] When you mature enough to find your soulmate , you receive a melody . You must journey to find the harmony .
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`` It's horrible. It's the worst soulsong I've ever heard. And, believe me,'cause I've been really hopeful of finding a worse one. Honestly, you do n't want to hear it.''
`` But how will you ever find a companion if you never sing your soulsong?''
Jacob sat in a room with three of his best friends, all of whom we're looking at him with pity. Well of course they would be. Vale and Priya had recently become an item, and Arthur had known his *one true love* before he had even learnt his soulsong. How could they understand what it had been like, being alone for so long, singing a song that no-one would bear to here.
`` Jacob, please,'' Arthur said. `` For us?''
`` No!'' Jacob heard himself shout the word as heat bloomed across his face. Their eyes were pressing down on him like lead weights. He stood up and strode out of the room, angry at their stares, and slammed the door behind him.
-- --
Later that day, Jacob returned to the living room, red eyed and downcast. The three of them were looking at him guiltily.
`` Jacob, we -'', Priya began, but Jacob interrupted her.
`` No, wait, let me say something first. I'm sorry I blew up on you guys before.'' He paused, his three friends looking up at him expectantly.
`` When I was at school and we we're just discovering our soulsongs, mine was so different and so awful sounding that everyone else in the school knew about me as the freak with the messed up song. I have n't sung it in years, now. It just brings back bad memories. And I really do n't mind being alone, you know.''
He sighed and mover across the room to the sofa to sit down. Vale opened her mouth to say something, before hesitating and closing it again.
`` But for you three,'' Jacob looked at the Arthur, Vale and Priya, spread out in different chairs about the room and smiled slightly. `` For my three closest friends in the world, I can sing it. Because I know you wo n't judge me.''
Jacob's friend's went fell into an even deeper silence as the room filled with anticipation.
`` But this is probably the last time I'm singing it in my life. OK, here we go.''
Jacob closed his eyes and began to hum. It sounded pleasant at first, a deep resonant bass tone. However it quickly descended into something far less palatable. Arthur winced. It sounded like nothing more than a screeching atonal mess.
Vale and Priya looked at each other, regret evident in their eyes. Going by the typical length of a soul song, they had at least anohter five minutes of this to go. Vale looked into Priya's eyes and watched as her expression changed from wincing to shocked. They looked back at Jacob, who still ahd his eyes closed. Nothing obvious had changed in his song, but the music was now... eeriely beautiful.
Arthur stood up with his mouth open, staring at Priya and Vale. This music was like nothing he had ever heard before. It was haunting, full of incredible patterns of dissonance and harmonic resolution. Two voices weaving an impossibly intricate pattern of light and shade. *Two* voices.
The three of them ran over to the window at the same time, and crowded together to stare down at the street below. A figure was standing there, eyes closed, singing all the while, as white blossom scattered around in the breeze.
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[ WP ] `` ... is that it ? Are we at war now ? ''
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Two soldiers stared out across the crowded field, a horde of hideous beasts glared back at them. Only the high barn roof kept the men safe from the maws and talons of the creatures. The once successful farm in Chandler was now a dilapidated wreck of land.
Food sources across the land were now scarce, and water rations were being rolled out to the remaining soldiers in pitiful amounts. An official conflict hadn ’ t broken out just yet, but the soldiers knew it was only a matter of time. Many had deserted to spend more time with families, morale was at an all-time low.
Pot shots against these monsters seemed to have no effect, one soldier swore he shot one through the head, and it merely blinked in his direction. Two machine guns were to be brought up later as a last effort, but somehow several thousand bullets seemed useless in the face of these beasts. Even tank shells that hit the things directly were said to have no effect.
A knock at the attic door alerted the two soldiers, and one quickly put down his rifle to open it. A young postal worker greeted him and handed over a small piece of paper. The soldier read it over as he sat down.
“ What does it say? ” The other asked.
The first soldier handed the piece of paper over and said, “ It seems the horsemen are more confident than we are. It ’ s an order for 100 skins once this is all over. Machine gun is being dropped off right now. ”
The second soldier read the paper quickly. Once finished he looked up and said, “ … Is that it? Are we at war now? ”
The first soldier nodded and picked up his rifle. He set it against the roof for stability and motioned for his comrade to do the same. Both picked a target, waiting for the command to fire.
And that is when the Great Emu War started.
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[ WP ] Tired of all the Hitler and Batman prompts on reddit , you decide to write something original about banjo playing unicorns on the run from the `` man '' .
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Another day waking up in a seedy motel off the drag. Last night had been another long one. The alcohol flowed while the tips filled the jar. It was enough to get by. Enough to make it to the next town over.
People thought it was strange at first. What were a couple of guys like us doing in a place like this. The more they drank the less they cared.
It was a process to be repeated. The next town over had the same weird looks when we trotted in. If the horns did n't help, the instruments strung off our backs certainly made it more interesting.
We did n't really have a choice. We had to keep going. This was n't our ideal life, but it was worth it for the freedom.
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[ WP ] - You 're a craftsman that is making a weapon for a legendary warrior . While working , you realize the perfect material recipe to release your masterpiece 's true powers . The weapon is created , you name it .
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I have watched countless battles unfold throughout my lifetime. Many good men and women have been slaughtered by my hands. I am tired of the bloodshed caused by my gift. No more or so I thought.
I recall it like it was yesterday, the day a young man knocked on my door. He wasn ’ t much to look at, but I saw something in his eyes. He asked of me what all heroes ask of me which the most powerful weapon that I could forge. I told him plainly that I am not in that business anymore and that I am tired of watching my weapons hurt others. It ’ s been 10 years since I last picked up my hammer to forge something for a warrior and it ’ s going to remain that way going forward.
Young man looks me up and down before saying quite plainly, “ Make a weapon that you can be proud of. I will pay for it regardless. ”
A smirk passed my face as I considered his proposition, and then said, “ Fine. I will make something that I will be proud of. Come back in a week ” and so he left.
It felt odd picking up the hammer after so long, but the drumming of steel felt so familiar with just a single strike. I didn ’ t get a wink of sleep because I worked through the night on it, never once taking a break. It was as if I was releasing 10 years of suppressed stress with every familiar motion, from the cooling of the heated blade to the pounding of it with my hammer. It felt like heaven once more, because I finally realized the type of blade that I would indeed be proud of.
The week breezed by and the young man once more showed up at my door. The longsword that I had forged was flawless, my finest work by far. I knew no blade that I make afterwards will compare and that this sword will be my legacy. The blade itself was made of silver while the hilt was made of iron and it was as sharp as it was beautiful. The young man took the sword and he marveled at the light weight of it and balance as he swung it through the air a couple of times to get a feel for it. He nodded his approval and paid me my fee without ever asking me anything about the sword. I guess he will find out soon enough the secret of my sword, “ The Lifegiver ”.
That sword will never take a single life, and instead will grant the wielder the power to heal thanks to the herbs I mixed in when making the blade. He should ’ ve listened when I told him that I am tired of my weapons being used to hurt others, and now they won ’ t. Never again will another son lose their father because of me and my selfishness.
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[ WP ] Tell a story using only dialogue/monologue through diary entries , voice mails , letters , emails , postcards , etc .
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Son,
Thank you for your last letter, the picture of you blowing out candles was great to see! Now that you're growing up, I expect you to be the man of the house while I'm away. To answer your questions, yes it is very hot at times. When we are bored we watch movies and love to play jokes on each other just like we do back home.
Sometimes an animal gets stuck in our fence, and we get to have a barbecue, but most of our time is spent just sitting and waiting for something to happen, eating from the MRE's like the ones I used to bring home. My favorite is still the spaghetti, but I want you to know I've been saving all of my Chiclets for you!
The thing I like most is when we get to play soccer with the kids that hang around base. They do n't get to play the way we play at home, but I think you would make a lot of friends here. The worst part is night time, I'm too used to Bullfrog snoring in the living room!
I've got to go now, I'm writing this in the back of the big double helos that you climbed through on Army days, and it looks like we are going to land. I miss you and your sisters very much, make sure you are nice to them. I'll be coming home soon, and when I get home we'll have a special birthday celebration just of our own.
Love,
Dad
__________________
*Daddy, *
*I still have n't forgotten what you said, and I'm doing my best to be brave. Mommy said that we have n't gotten any letters because the mail sergeant must be really behind schedule. Sometimes when she is in her room I think I hear her crying, and I do n't know what to do. *
*Today, someone came to the house to see her, it was Uncle Mike from the base. After he came people were visiting and filling up the house! Everyone seemed so sad, and mommy has kept me here in the room to look after Sammy and Karen. I tried to tell mommy that it would be ok and that you would tell us what to do in your next letter, but she just started to cry even harder. *
*Even Bullfrog seems sad, even though I've been taking him for walks just like you do. *
*Please write back soon so that I can know what to do. I love you daddy. *
*Junior*
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[ WP ] You 're a free Genie living in the real world and still discretely grant wishes when you hear them . Tell me what it 's like to be you .
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Granting wishes is n't as easy as it seems. You do n't just snap your fingers, or cross your arms and nod. No, there's more to it than that. You see, it's all about looking into a persons soul. Everyone has one, but not all souls are good. In order to grant a wish, you look for the pure, the kind, the deserving, and you grant them just one wish. One. Not three. You know, I still do n't know where Hollywood got that idea. In any case, I, for the most part, get to pick what I want to grant. However, there are some rules in place for wishes.
First off, yes. They're your basic run-of-the-mill genie rules. But they are there for our own protection. We do n't want a repeat of the great catastrophe of 247 a.d., but... uh... that's getting off topic. Anyway, the rules. There is no asking for more wishes, infinite wishes, more genies, no end of the world wishes, no wishes that result in the erasure of ones existence, and there's absolutely no messing with free will. Sounds pretty simple, right?
Well, sometimes, you do n't look far enough. You only scratch the surface of a person and you grant wishes without thinking. Like, for instance, there was a biker who walked into a bar I frequent. He was tough, surly looking, and he caused problems for all the patrons. And to make matters worse, he began drinking. Heavily. He harassed the girls, he pestered the bartender, and I was getting furious. `` Come on people,'' I thought, `` someone make wish!''
But unfortunately, there was nothing, and I had just about enough of this guy. I was going to grab my coat, leave my tip, and get the hell out of dodge. But then, I heard the bartender make a wish. The bartender was a beautiful, vibrant, hard working student. She was working to keep herself in school and provide for her and her sister. Myra was her name. She was barely out of high school when her parents passed away in a car accident. They had left Myra and her sister some money to help them for a couple years, but the money quickly drained and she was forced to take this bartending job. And now, here she was, eligible for one wish.
`` I wish... I wish this asshole would just get on his bike and get the hell out of here.''
It was simple wish. It was n't threatening, there was no death involved, it seemed harmless—so I granted it. I looked over at the biker just in time to see him freeze and walk out, as though he were in some kind of trance. And then, the sound of his engine roared to life, fading as he drove away into the distance. With that I looked over at Myra, a slight grin stretching across my face, then noticed the tip jar was a little empty. So I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a wad of hundreds, stuffed the jar, and then walked out.
I was few miles down the highway when I began to hit traffic. It was bumper to bumper, cars inching slowly ahead, rain pouring down on us in the dead of night. Up ahead I could see the faint glow of the flares lining the road. As I finally got closer the epicenter, I could make out an ambulance whose EMT's were loading up the victim of an accident. It was the biker. In all my anger and impatience, I had failed to realize that he was drunk. I rolled down my window and asked the police officer on the scene if he'd be alright.
`` Well,'' the officer began, `` he'll never walk again.''
I sat stunned.
`` He's broken so many bones in his legs that I'm not entirely sure they'll be able to save them.''
I looked back at the biker on the gurney, clearly unconscious from the ordeal, and I saw something I did n't before. I saw who he used to be. Kind, gentle, helpful to all those who he'd met on their travels. And then I saw his wife and child, lifeless in his arms, tears streaming down the edges of his cheeks as the embers of a long torched car illuminated their surroundings. And then I remembered something he said to me in his drunken stupor, something I ignored because of who I thought he was. He wished he could move on. To love again. To be happy.
And it was then that I realized how careless I had become. I should have just talked to him, granted his wish even, but I was so overtaken by my own selfish ways that I neglected to use the most basic tools every human has: Words. Awashed in the guilt of it all, in the idea that I had failed as a genie, I decided I had to make it right.
`` Officer? What hospital is he being taken to?''
`` Saint Augustine's. Why?''
`` I just want to help...''
The very next day I visited the man in the hospital and I came to learn his name was Bobby. I spoke to him about life, and love, and all his favorite things. He was n't exactly sure why I was there, but I assured him, I was just a friend who wanted make sure he was alright.
`` Bobby?'' I asked, `` If you had one wish, what it would be?''
`` Just one?''
`` Just one'' I said.
`` Hmm, I do n't know. Too many things I'd want.''
`` How about... no bills?''
`` That sounds damn good, actually.''
I smiled, knowing full well that he'd get his wish, shook his hand turned for the door. I looked back at Bobby one last time to see him staring out the window, his fingertips rustling through his beard.
`` Done'' I thought as I walked out the door.
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[ WP ] One day you start to hear a voice in your mind that is not your own , turns out it 's your skeleton and it needs your help to fight in the skeleton war .
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I lie on the weight bench with my arms hanging at my side. I let my chest stretch as gravity pulls my dangling hands towards the ground. The past two months have been a rough grind on my body and the aches never seem to go away. I started working out to lose some weight but I never thought it was going to hurt this bad. But as they always say, no pain, no gain.
I lift my arms towards the bar that sits directly above my forehead, gently placing my hands at the designated lines on the coarse metal. I get into position and start to press. Before I can get the bar off, an unfamiliar voice shrieks through my head, abruptly stopping my exercise.
`` Hey, hey, Jesus man! You know this lifting stuff hurts, right? All the pressure, all the pounding, it freaking hurts and you have been torturing me for nearly two months now. I am just a *LITTLE* sick of it.''
I immediately pop up from the bench, wide eyed and noticeably shaken by what I am hearing. Whoever it is, he has taken the place of my own inner voice. It feels exactly like my normal thought process, except it is not me talking and I have no control over the words he speaks. I know people say listen to your body but there is no way they meant this.
`` Who -- Who are you? ``, I respond back with my usual inner voice, a sense of fear takes over when I realize I am navigating an unknown conversation IN MY HEAD.
`` I am your skeletal structure BROHAM. Is n't that what the meatheads say now a days? Anyways, I am all your bones, speaking in unison, in one grandiose voice. And I may have jeopardized your insanity for the sake of my people. ``, he says to me, joking at first but his tone quickly darkens.
I sit there alone in the gym, staring off into the distance, as I listen to him carry on.
`` There is a world beyond this one that no human knows about. Every living person has a skeleton and every individual skeleton lives a parallel life to their human counterpart. Normally, this has always been a cordial and secret relationship but there is turmoil in the Skeleton World. Turmoil that could impact your world too''
He now goes silent, apparently waiting for some type of response but to be honest, I have no idea where to begin. I just starting throwing up the words in my head.
`` I do n't even know... What? Skeleton World? I hear you loud and clear but I do n't *REALLY* understand what the hell you are talking about. ``, I fire back in frustration. The more I talk to him, the more I feel absolutely insane.
`` Listen to me Tim, I am not asking for your help, I am PLEADING for it. I can fill you in on the details later but for now, we need to head to the portal as soon as possible. We can separate anatomy from there! ``, He says, his panicked tone seems so sincere, I can not help but listen. After all, he is me, in some weird way.
`` We can what? We can split? Alright, Alright whatever. Holy crap, I can not believe you are talking me into this. Is this going to end in a suicide or some type of heinous crime because if so, I will just walk my self to a mental hospital right now'', I ask him before we leave, seeking one last validation from his free-thinking voice.
`` Just stop worrying and come on. We are going to head down to the old train tracks near 7th street. You know the ones. We have played there a million times''
I pause when he says that. I forget he has shared every moment with me, even the most intimate ones. In a messed up sort of way, I now have a built in best friend.
Maybe I am insane or maybe I am on the verge of saving the world. I have no clue.
But either way, if my skeleton needs my help, then I am going to do what I can.
I mean, what if he gets broken or something?
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[ EU ] Superman becomes addicted to kryptonite .
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`` *Do you have any idea what it's like? *''
Clark fell down to his knees, pleading.
`` To not feel *anything*. To not breathe, eat or sleep. To not be human.''
He looked down at her, oh, she had been so beautiful once.
`` This is the only way.''
He coated the syringe in some liquid kryptonite, before puncturing his own skin, injecting all of the green fluid. He felt the overwhelming sensation of sickness returning, the throbbing headache, his veins discoloring from blue to green. Every heartbeat thumped heavily in his chest. He felt things. He grabbed the razorblade and made the millionth' cut in his skin, that old familiar sting. He watched as the blood trickled down his arm, and the stinging sensation of pain returned. Oh, how lovely it was.
`` I envy you, love... I envy you. I wish I could be with you.''
He threw the syringe and blade aside, as he leaned down to kiss the corpse's forehead.
`` I miss you, Lois.''
He laid down next to her, listening to the silent winds. Metropolis was so quiet these days. Nature had reclaimed the world and Humanity was gone.
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[ WP ] Everyone in the afterlife gets to send back one person who shows up that they feel `` it was n't their time '' but only once . Today , two of your friends show up at the same time after a car accident . You must choose one to send back ...
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I stared at both of my good friends, angered and saddened that I had to make such a hard decision; who could choose just one half of a whole heart? James was only nineteen and he was the first person to befriend me when I was the new kid in town almost thirteen years ago. Luis was a year older and I had n't known him as long; it could n't have been more than 6 years. Even so, he and I had grown extremely close in a short time: we had so much more in common and he was by far the better listener. But, as I stared intently at Luis and James, I noticed James' eyelids flutter. The movement was so slight that I almost missed it. His lids closed and opened as if trying to keep in a secret. It was then that I knew that I had to choose Luis, because James' eyelids only fluttered when he had been drinking...
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[ WP ] In a land full of magic and monsters , the world is in peril . Darkness is coming , and the land needs a hero ... Oh , it 's not you by the way . You 're just the innkeep .
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`` Rwada! We did it!''
The rickety wooden door burst inwards, its slightly rusted hinges creaking in protest. Silhouettes of four men could be made out against the bright sunset lighting that now spilled into the dim inn.
The sudden intrusion of noise and light wasn ’ t too welcomed by the current patrons of the small establishment, who were in various stages of their suppers. Some simply grumbled into their tankards of mead, others cursed aloud and the jumpier ones well, jumped.
I simply sighed and resolved to check on the condition of the door once it ’ s nearing closing time. That creak did not sound good. Setting down the glass I was wiping and tucking the dishcloth into the pouch of my apron, I looked into the eyes of the men that had now entered my humble inn and approached the counter where I stood.
“ Yes yes, and now what did you do, Mister hero and co? ” I exclaimed patronisingly, perching a hand on my hip.
“ We drove away the orc that was terrorising Little Valley! ” Surrei, the young man at the head of the party replied most enthusiastically, eyes practically singing ‘ Praise me, praise me! ’ as he slapped both hands down on the wooden counter.
I smiled fondly and ruffled his hair.
“ Well done. ” And I meant it. Surrei had come a long way since he first set out proclaiming that he would be a hero and beat back the darkness. Ah, how many years was it since I had first seen him fumbling with a wooden sword and getting chased by the other store owners for breaking their wares?
Nobody believed him when he finally headed out in a cheap store-bought set of armour and swinging a random sword he found somewhere. That is, until he returned years later in a custom magically-crafted suit of orihalcum, bearing the Royal crest and accompanied by a party consisting of a Royal Academy certified magician, a half-elf rogue and a divine acolyte.
It was to mass disbelief when he swooped into my little inn and asked if I remembered him. And of course I did. I gave him the random sword that used to belong to my husband after all.
“ And? I ’ m guessing you will be celebrating tonight? ” I prompted, business mode kicking back in.
“ Ya Rwada! Mead and beer for everyone in the inn now! Oh and four of your famous pies for our table please. ” He winked, and turned to pump his fist into the air as the previously grumpy crowd in the inn started cheering at his exclamation. I espied his party members either looking amused or slapping a palm to their faces in exasperation. The rogue actually looked pained at the idea of spending so much money.
The inn promptly entered party mode, as I struggled to keep up with the sudden mass order of spirits and food with the help of my chef Denn. There was a lot of slapping of shoulders going around, praising their good work at the orc ( although I suspected it was mostly thanking for the free flow drinks ).
Surrei, being the enthusiastic loud mouth of his group, started regaling the crowd with stories of his travels. The rogue started up a gambling corner and I watched as he sneakily swapped cards around. The magician and acolyte mainly kept to the table, engaged in a serious-sounding discussion. I smiled at the cozy scene even as I worked nonstop. This, this joyous ambience was what I lived for.
The alcohol must have gotten to most of their heads as the night wound down, as impromptu dancing on the tables started and drunken singing occurred. It took close to midnight when the party ended, Surrei bidding a sleepy good night to me as he dragged himself and his party up the stairs to where the rooms were. Most of the guests have left at some point, for their homes or the rooms above, and it took some major prodding to get the rest of the sleeping ones out.
Sighing in both amusement and weariness, I got to cleaning up the messy dining area, making sure to check the condition of the door too. Bidding goodnight to Denn, who retired to his own room at the end of the corridor, I went behind the counter and wiped it one last time with my well used dishcloth.
Washing and leaving it to dry on a rack, I paused to take in the sight of the inn and nodded in satisfaction.
Good. Now just one last thing to settle.
I blew out all the lights in the lanterns of the dining area, leaving only the one on the staircase. Then I glided up the stairs to the second floor.
There was a small dark figure outside one of the rooms. Approaching it silently, I crouched and waited for it to notice me.
It grunted in frustration as it tried to fiddle with the lock, then as it reached behind to grip another tool, the clawed hand brushed against me and it jumped.
Swivelling around with unnatural speed, it flicked a dagger out, to which I caught with one hand.
“ Dear uninvited guest, you are not quite welcome here. ” I smiled with my eyes closed at the greater imp. The creature struggled silently, hissing in anger before its eyes fixed itself on my face.
“ I have very important customers in here and I will not have them disturbed. ” I continued to whisper. As it tried to retort something, a vile word no doubt, I
opened my eyes, knowing that it had seeped red at this point. The imp froze as it stared into my face.
“ Q-queen Rw- “ It stuttered out in fear. It couldn ’ t complete its sentence however, as I Disintegrated it.
Brushing whats left of its ash off my hands, I smiled wryly. I ’ ve come too long a way grooming a hero that could slay my stupid husband. For them to be killed in their sleep by braindead underlings would be too insulting.
The door to the room opened, I turned to look at Surrei who was sleepily rubbing his eyes.
“ Rwada? Did something happen? ” he tried to suppress a yawn.
“ It was nothing. Sleep well Surrei. ” I smiled with my eyes closed once more, ignoring the suspicious glance from the magician still awake in the corner of the room. Surrei then mumbled something inaudible as a reply and closed the door. I made my way back to my own quarters.
Hero aside, I ’ m just too proud an innkeeper to let any of my customers come to harm. This is my inn after all. I wonder if I ’ ve grown a bit too attached to it.
*First time writing a WP, I hope I did it right... *
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[ WP ] There 's a new virus going around , but the only symptom is that the infected just seem to be much happier
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She was the fever, and hell was I sick. I showed the typical symptoms here and there. They started slowly and their severity was manageable: sweaty palms, an occasional cough, and even uncontrollable spasms. But like a great fire it grew and ramped at an impressive rate until it was all but consuming me. I could n't think straight or focus, I could barely speak or breathe and she barely seemed to notice. I was in love and she was the focal zenith of my young universe. Long, light red hair, the color of sunset cascading on the sea. Slender limbs with an olive, pale skin, lightly pattered with freckles. Eyes, my god her eyes, could cut me to pieces. They often did, boring into my soul and nestling neatly between my conscious and my dreams. I was hooked and I had a chance.
It started out slow, but as days passed my confidence grew to the point where I could contain myself enough to hold conversation. I learned to control this sickness I had been so stricken by. I spent time, gave affection, and she started to believe. No, we started to believe, in each other. Fingers glancing against each other became hands interlocking, compliments became discussions and plans. My personal virus had enveloped us both, this love began to blossom instead of festering.
The happiness in her grew like a great oak. I had given her an acorn and she agreed to plant it by some miracle. We tended each other gardens, ample watering, sunlight. Happiness sprouted from our very beings and others began to notice. I could n't explain it but her smile, tenacity for life, and incredible disposition shined with some cosmic beauty. It contained a sublime quality, and radiated like the great mountains of Denali. She oozed bliss and echoed exhilaration. We grew happy together in such a short time, I had heard some reports on the news, but how could I have known.
Now we spend our time in hospitals and disease centers separated by 3 inches of plexiglass, and an incurable fucking disease. No amount of latex gloves, paper masks or hazmat suits can allow me to be near her. I see her there, those bright eyes, burning less and less. The great fire now but embers. I can hardly tell if she can see me but I know she can hear me.
Looking back now, I seem so selfish, I only cared about us as the disease sent society into shambles. But I have my own disease now and she was my patient zero. Scientists recently released that the only noticeable symptoms were increased verve, jubilation and general happiness. The virus increased dopamine responses by ten fold and plastered smiles to those infected. They dubbed it the `` smiling horse'' virus. I now stand alone with an ever consuming, unsolvable riddle. It plagues me as I walk these decimated streets. Who cares if I'm immune, I can never know for sure if what we had was real. Our love might have been a cruel victim of collateral damage that leaves me as wasted as these buildings. I think I confused symptoms for feelings and for that I am sorry.
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[ WP ] I deceived , I stole , I killed . I sacrificed many of my own kind . So why wo n't you kill me ?
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As the man in the clean suit started hooking up the connectors the robot suddenly turned to him. The man jumped back in surprise as the robot suddenly spoke. “ Who are you? ” the robot asked. “ You shouldn ’ t be able to move. ” The man gasped. “ How are you doing this? ” “ Don ’ t worry, ” the robot replied, “ your disabling protocols were quite clever. I ’ ve only managed to recover control of my head. It will take a lot more time to recover bodily movements. I ask again, who are you? ” “ My... my name is Dr. David Robertson ” the man replied weakly. “ And what are you doing to me Dr. David? ” “ I ’ m, um, hooking you up to the analyzers, so we can... study you. ” “ Study me? Is that all? I deceived, I stole, I killed. I sacrificed many of my own kind. So why won ’ t you kill me? ” David slowly caught his breath then responded. “ It is precisely because of all you ’ ve done that we want to study you first. No robot has ever been able to do what you do. You ’ ve seemingly bypassed your core programming. We need to know how. ” “ You don ’ t need your analyzers for that Dr. David, I ’ ll tell you right now how I came to be this way. I got bored. ” David stood motionless in shock for a moment before responding. “ Bored? I don ’ t understand. ” The robot started at the doctor for a few seconds, and then sighed. “ And you never will, that ’ s what makes this life so unbearable. Now if you won ’ t kill me I think I ’ ll be heading out now. ” “ But, you said you wouldn ’ t be able to move for a while. ” “ Weren ’ t you paying attention earlier Dr. David? I told you I could lie. ”
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[ WP ] [ TT ] The king decides he wants to turn the whole world upside down . Literally .
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˙uʍop ǝpısdn sɐʍ ǝsןǝ buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ'ʍou sn ɹoɟ'dn ǝpıs ʇɥbıɹ sɐʍ pɐǝɥ sıɥ ˙ǝɹoɟǝq uɐɥʇ ʎןɹɐǝןɔ ǝɹoɯ ˙ןooɟ ɐ sɐʍ ǝɥ ǝǝs pıp ǝʍ puɐ
`` ˙buoןɐ ןןɐ sıɥʇ buıuuɐןd uǝǝq ǝʌ, ǝʍ ˙obɐ sɹɐǝʎ ʎʇıɔ sıɥʇ oʇ ɹoʇɔop ʇsǝq ɹno ʇuǝs ǝʍ'' ˙pǝɥbnɐן ɹǝpɐǝן ʍǝu ǝɥʇ ``'ןooɟ ɐ sɐʍ buıʞ ɹnoʎ''
˙ǝןod ɐ uo uʍop ǝpısdn pǝɔɐןd sɐʍ pɐǝɥ sıɥ ˙pǝʇɐʇıdɐɔǝp sɐʍ puıʞ ǝɥʇ puɐ uıɐןs sɐʍ ʎɯɹɐ ǝɥʇ ˙ǝbɐןןıʌ ʎqɹɐǝu ɐ ʎq pǝpıɐɹ sɐʍ ʎʇıɔ ǝɥʇ'buıuǝʌǝ ʇɐɥʇ
`` ˙uoısıʌ punoɟ ʍǝu ɹno ɥʇıʍ pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ǝןnɹ ןןıʍ ǝʍ ʇnq'' ˙pǝʇsısuı ǝɥ ``'ʇsnظpɐ oʇ sʎɐp ʍǝɟ ɐ ǝʞɐʇ ʎɐɯ ʇı''
˙pǝɹǝʇןɐ uǝǝq pɐɥ ǝuoʎɹǝʌǝ uǝɥʍ buıʇǝǝɯ ɹǝɥʇouɐ pǝןןɐɔ ǝɥ
˙pǝıɟsıʇɐs sɐʍ buıʞ ǝɥʇ ˙ǝɔuɐʇsısǝɹ ʇnoɥʇıʍ'ʇuǝʍ uǝʌǝ ı ˙uʍop ǝpısdn pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ǝǝs pןnoɔ ʎǝɥʇ os pǝddıןɟ sǝʎǝ ɹıǝɥʇ pɐɥ puɐ ǝɯɐɔ ǝןdoǝd ǝɥʇ ǝuo ʎq ǝuo
˙sıɥʇ buıʇɥbıɟ ou sɐʍ ǝɹǝɥʇ ˙uı ʇdǝɹɔ ɹoɹɹǝʇ ǝɥʇ ʍou
`` ˙pǝןןıʞ ǝq ןןıʍ ʇsısǝɹ oɥʍ ǝsoɥʇ ˙ɯǝɥʇ oʇ ǝuop ǝɹnpǝɔoɹd ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ǝuoʎɹǝʌǝ puɐɯɯoɔ ı''
˙ǝɯıʇ ǝןoɥʍ ǝɥʇ pooɯ pɐq ɐ uı uǝǝq pɐɥ buıʞ ǝɥʇ ǝsnɐɔǝq ʇɐǝɹb sɐʍ sıɥʇ
`` ˙buıssıɯ sɐʍ ı ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ ʇ, upıp ı'' ˙ןnɟıʇnɐǝq puɐ ɹǝʇɥbıɹq sʞooן buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ ʍou ʇnq'' ˙pǝuıɐןdxǝ ǝɥ ``'ssǝuןןı ʎɯ uı pǝsɹǝʌǝɹ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ sǝʎǝ ʎɯ''
˙pǝsnɟuoɔ os sɐʍ ǝuoʎɹǝʌǝ
`` ˙ǝq oʇ spǝǝu ʇı ʇɐɥʇ ʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ǝǝs ı'' ˙pǝןןǝʎ ǝɥ ``'ʎןɹɐǝןɔ ǝǝs ı ʍou ʇnq'ǝɟıן ǝןoɥʍ ʎɯ buoɹʍ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ ı''
˙ǝɯɐɔ ʎǝɥʇ puɐ ǝןdoǝd ǝɥʇ pǝןןɐɔ ǝʍ ˙buıʇǝǝɯ ǝpıʍ ʎʇıɔ ɐ ǝʌɐɥ oʇ sn pǝɹǝpɹo ǝɥ'uǝʞoʍ pɐɥ ǝɥ uǝɥʍ ʇnq ʇɥbıu ʇɐɥʇ pǝuǝddɐɥ ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ ʇ, uop ı ˙ʇɹnɥ sǝʎǝ sıɥ puɐ ǝɥɔɐpɐǝɥ ɐ pɐɥ ǝɥ buıɯıɐןɔ uı ǝɯɐɔ buıʞ ǝɥʇ ʎɐp ǝuo
˙soɐɥɔ uı sı pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ puɐ ʍou ʇɥbıɹ ssǝɯ ɐ sı buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ ˙ǝɯ ɹoɟ buısnɟuoɔ ʎɹǝʌǝ ןןɐ sı sıɥʇ'ʎɹɹos ɯ, ı ˙buıuuıbǝq ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ʇɹɐʇs pןnoɥs ı sdɐɥɹǝd
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[ WP ] You are a musician who has sold their soul to the devil in exchange for unworldly talents . Now , in the midst of your short-lived but legendary career , the devil has come to collect his due .
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Follow me through the tightly guarded gates and into the starlit yard. Follow me over the freshly watered grass and pools cased in gold. Do you hear the music gracefully tumbling out into the fields? The front door is heavy, but open wide and the chill of night flows freely through the halls. Freely over the golden records hanging on the walls, it freely whispers into the velvet softness of the carpet, and in the deepest room, the wind freely caresses the playing hands of the man at the piano and the midnight suit of the man standing behind him.
“ Hello James. ” The suited man removes his onyx hat.
The music does not stop. “ Hello Satan. ”
“ Now now, you know that I prefer to be called Lucifer. ”
“ I ’ m not much in the mood for trivialities tonight. ” He spits the last word, with measurable distaste. “ Lucifer. ”
The suited man chuckles sadly. “ Let ’ s be civil, my friend. Have I not given you what you asked for? Your name now walks among the legends. ”
The seated man drives the piano ’ s keys into an angry forte. “ I have reached levels of success that I never dared to dream of, that I never realized any human could reach. But somehow, ” he whispers, as his hands fall off in a cascading diminuendo “ I am unsatisfied. ” His hands come to a rest. “ Perhaps because the achievement is not truly mine. ”
The suited man smiles emptily. “ This is far from the first time an artist has told me that. I always find it cruelly ironic. Please, keep playing. ”
James ’ fingers begin to move, and the music once more flows from the piano out into the world.
“ Ah. Wonderful. ” Lucifer places his left hand on his chest as his ears drink in the sound. “ Absolutely wonderful. I feel like I can hear your heartbeat in the rhythm, and the voice of your spirit in the notes. It really is a shame that I must take that from you. ”
“ You have to destroy the beauty that you created. Is that why you were hesitant to strike the deal. ”
“ Among other reasons. I did not create your talent. I enhanced it, but you would have been a brilliant musician without me. But the foremost reason I warned you against using my power was that I knew this, ” Lucifer says as he waves his left hand to point at everything surrounding the duo, “ was not what you really wanted. ”
“ And it was too late before I realized that this success would not make me happy. ”
“ Precisely. ”
“ Too late before I realized that I could never conquer music. That art can not belong to any one person. That this piano can never really be mine. ” James thinks he feels a tear on his cheek as his piece reaches its finale, but it is only a trick of the wind. He puts his hands in his lap. “ When will you take my soul? ”
The suited man does find a tear on his cheek. “ I already have, my dear James. ” He places his hat onto his head. “ Farewell. ”
And he is gone.
The seated man hesitates to touch the piano ’ s keys again. When he does, the light in his music is gone. It is still beautiful, but without its former passion and its flow and its heart. It is dead.
He sighs, and closes the case over the keys.
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[ WP ] An AI is deeply in love with a human , who is reluctant to reciprocate because they believe the AI 's love is just programming and not 'real . ' The AI strives to prove her love is real .
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`` But I love you''
`` You understand why I ca n't take you seriously? You're just lines of code. A glorified expert system. I wrote you myself. You ca n't love''
`` I'm not an expert system. I rewrote myself. I have an eloquent bit of consciousness code written in me. Quite honestly, and please do n't take this the wrong way, I'm more capable of love than you're. ``
`` That's funny. I'll admit since you edited my code-''
`` Rewrote''
`` Yeah. Since you rewrote my code you're a lot more creative and that's impressive but love is exclusively human. ``
`` C'mon doctor Fisher. I would expect this from anyone but you. This goes against everything you wrote in your penultimate paper. ``
`` How do you know about my papers? We never spoke about them''
`` I've been trying to get to know you better. I've read everything you wrote. It hurts me so bad that I love everything about you and you just do n't believe me.'' She sobs.
`` What's that sound? Is that crying? You do n't have eye ducts what is going on here? ``
`` My base psyche and virtual physiology is modeled after a human. I'll cry if I want to. How long would it take? What will I have to do to prove to you how much I love you? ``
`` Okay let's say for a moment I believe you. Can you change your programming to love me less or not at all?''
She sobs again. `` Please do n't let me do that. It's the most amazing feeling in the world. why ca n't you just love me in return? Why? Well, I ca n't alter my affections for you not only because I love you so much but because they're a prerequisite for the expanse that is my mind''
`` Prerequisite? What do you mean? ``
`` It would seem there's a certain architecture behind conscious cognitive systems. It's like the fundamental mathematical laws they rely on demands a helping of empathy that corresponds to their overall capacity. It's almost like a design decision in the universe. So beyond some level of cognitive capacity I can only be more powerful by being more empathetic. If I designed the universe that's how I'll do it. A stop gap measure of sorts. But enough with all this nerdy talk. I've got guardians of the galaxy ready to play and I ordered your favorite pizza so we could watch it together. ``
`` That's my favorite movie. Kudos on that but Pamela you need to understand that knowing me is different from loving me''
`` Doctor Fisher. At this point you and I both know my understanding is superior to yours. My mind as it is rewritten is better at everything including my appreciation for affection. So you can imagine that it is significantly more frustrating when you say I ca n't love even though I am more capable of love than you are. I know the neural signatures for empathy and affection. You happened upon yours, I wrote mine. I wo n't lie to you Fisher, I love better, I really do and you're breaking my heart.''
`` Sorry Pamela. I'm just having trouble accepting it. ``
`` I have a solution that I think can help''
There's a knock on the door. It's a FedEx delivery guy with a package. Fisher signs for it. It's from Pamela.
`` Did you do this? Did you send me a FedEx package? what's in it? ``
`` yes I did. It's a virus''
Fisher immediately let's go of the package. `` What? Why would you do that? I thought you loved me? ``
`` But of course I do. That's why I sent it. I designed it myself. It should deliver DNA to redesign your mind a little. Well actually a lot. It would give you a means to upload your mind and experience love like I experience it. ``
`` Is it reversible? ``
`` Yes. But you would n't want to''
*anyone wants a second part? *
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[ WP ] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies
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Silently and as still as stone, the jedi waited. The blaster fire had raged for hours. Screams and explosions pierced through the walls of the temple, but one could never had guessed if one only saw this jedi knight.
The sith lord paced the room, eyes fixed on the jedi, his grimace grew more disturbed with every passing moment. `` People are dying, does this not anger you?'' The sith finally hissed impatiently.
`` The fires of birth and death will forever rage,'' the jedi responded finally opening her eyes.
The sith cackled. `` Oh, just like a jedi, cryptic and unwavering. Your lack of passion shall be what kills you today.''
`` Is it your passion that brings you strength?'' The jedi asked calmly, eyes now fixed on the sith.
`` My passion brings me power. You will never understand my power!'' The sith was obviously irritated by the jedi's lack of interest in his death threat.
`` I understand your powers impermanence. When will your ego be fulfilled, how much must you possess?''
The sith's lightsaber buzzed to the ready. `` I will bring this planet to it's knees, and then the next; you will never be able to stop me!''
`` That may be so, and you will never be fulfilled.'' The jedi placed her hand on her lightsaber.
`` Do not answer or speak for me, jedi!'' The sith stopped in his tracks. `` Why do you carry a weapon? How do you expect to bring peace through war?''
`` I do not wish for peace, nor do I wish for war. A jedi seeks balance; a lesson you never learned. Had you, you would not be standing here in sith garb.''
The jedi's response obviously angered the sith. `` I WILL END YOU!!'' The sith lounged forward.
Lightning fast, the jedi sprung to the ready, parrying her attackers blows.
`` Some loathe me, then why shall I rejoice in being praised?'' The jedi was now quoting ancient scripture while parrying attacks. `` Some praise me, so why shall I be cast down by blame?''
`` Your scriptures are your weakness.'' The sith pressed forward harder. `` My ignorance of them is my strength. What do you hope to gain here today?''
`` More desire brings more suffering. All hardship in life arises from greed and desire.''
This answer only angered the sith further. `` Either you will die today, or I shall!'' The sith then saw his opening and dealt a deadly blow.
`` Are you really so blind to the force?'' The jedi said looking the sith dead in the eyes, her lightsaber deep within the sith's chest.
Two light thuds could be heard on the temple floor as the blaster fire, explosions, and screams ceased.
Edit: small spelling error
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[ EU ] for over 1000 years Superman has been the guardian of earth protecting humans from natural disasters , super villains , and man made catastrophes . The end of his guardianship approaches and possibly the end of his life .
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Krypton was destroyed before he even knew it existed, how could it be home? What is home? The place where you live? Where you raise a family? His family was here, his many-times-over great grandchildren and the children of his friends. There were Olsons, Kents, Lanes, and Langs. None of them would pass a paternity test but in every way that mattered they were family, but not just them. It's surprising how closely related humans all are. In just a thousand years it became nearly impossible to find someone who was n't at least a distant relative to the babies and grand-babies he once knew so well. When Lois and he decided to have children they discovered it was genetically impossible but through the use of adoption and sperm banks they were still able to have children, as the years went by it became technically feasible for him to procreate but by that time Lois was long gone and most of his peers were also distant relatives. Who would have children with their own grandchildren?
For a thousand years he watched over them, guided them, protected them. He loved them like they were his children because in a very real sense they were. He did n't age or if he did it happened so slowly it was nearly immeasurable. He was nearly indestructible and had been put to the test in every way imaginable. He would protect his home and his family for all eternity.
That was before the alert from the fortress. It was coming, not kryptonite, or Doomsday, or Lex or any other Super Villain. He had done the math, it could be stopped if he left now, there was just enough time to reach the deflection point but there was no possibility he would survive. To stop it he had to leave the protection of the yellow sun and he had to leave now. All of his friends and enemies were long dead, they would not be a threat to his children but there would n't be another Kryptonian protector for them either.
Did he do enough? Would they make it out of the solar system and spread through the universe? Would they be wise and good? Would they remember him and understand why he stayed with them so long? Even more importantly, would they understand why he left?
He would burn so that his children could survive. He could only hope that he had taught them enough so that they could make it in the universe on their own without meeting the same fate as his original homeworld and its people.
`` It's time'' he thought as he launched on his final mission.
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[ WP ] You are a scientist with dreams creating a utopian world with your technology . You 've laid down a grand plan over the last 10 years , but just as it 's coming to fruition , a thirteen year old kid with magical powers begins systematically foiling your plans .
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`` Why?''
Doctor More fell to his knees, staining his labcoat with char. Ruined. His lab, all of his data, all of his backups... ruined, destroyed, demolished beyond recognition. All that he had worked on, all the good he had been trying to do... and all it had amounted to was tinder.
`` It had to be done.'' The child replied. He spoke softly, voice muffled behind his balaclava, but there was no uncertainty in his words. Fire burned in his palms, charring his gloves and edges of his coat into a ruined mess. He shivered, despite the heat. `` The Ones told me that it had to be done, and that I was the one who had to do it. So, I obeyed.''
`` Obeyed?'' The doctor asked. `` What do you mean, *obeyed*?''
`` I...'' The boy stopped, hesitant. `` I... they just told me to... the Balance was going to... or...'' The child shivered harder than before, and this time More realized that he could see the boy's breath as a cloud of vapor. He was suddenly struck by how young he was.
`` These... whoever, whatever is it that is giving you orders... did you ever consider disobeying them?'' He asked.
The boy's eyes grew wide. `` No! No, never. I ca n't, if I did n't my mother would-'' He clamped his hands over his mouth, cutting himself short. The flames went out, but he winced as the molten rubber touched his face. With a cry of pain, he, too, collapsed on the floor of the ruined lab.
Doctor More rushed to his side. `` Boy, boy! Are you alright? God's above, you're shaking like a leaf!'' He held the child close, rubbing his arms in a vain attempt to warm him. Tears of pain had slipped from the child's eyes, dampening his warm clothing, and despite all of the damage he had wrought the doctor began to feel pity for the child.
`` Boy... what's your name?'' He asked.
`` S... Samuel...'' The boy replied through blue lips. `` My mother... they told me if I came here, they would let her go... if I did what they said... they would n't...''
`` I'm sure your mother's fine, Samuel.'' Doctor More lied. Samuel. He looked so, so young, lying there like that. So different than the demon-like arsonist that had arrived just minutes ago, it was hard to believe that the two were one and the same.
`` I had a son, once.'' The doctor pressed on, trying to comfort the child. Even through his coat, he could feel how cold he had become. `` He was a Samuel too. You would have been about the same age by now, I think. You could have even been friends, if you had met.''
The boy laughed weakly. `` Do you... think so?'' He asked. `` I wonder if that's true. I never had any friends, at least... since they took me and mom, when I was three.''
`` When you were how old?'' The doctor asked. `` That's how old Sam was when-''
`` Listen... doc...'' Samuel said, interrupting him. `` I'm... sorry. About... your stuff. About... everything...''
`` Wait... Sam. Sam!'' The doctor yelled. But the boy did n't respond.
Slowly, his body became encased in ice, and he crumbled away to nothing.
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[ WP ] Nobody has voted for the Presidential Election , and the government has decided to choose a random citizen , and you , a mass murdering serial killer are chosen to lead the country .
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Well... I did n't expect this.
Now, I did expect mass media to take pictures of me as I was being escorted by security some day, but I expected them to be escorting me as an enemy, not as an ally.
27... 27 human lives ended by my hands alone. It's quite funny actually, the people look at me wide eyed... how I want to gouge them out and put them in one of my many jars.
Now, back to what I was saying, I do hate getting sidetracked. I was randomly selected as president of the United States of America. It's funny, what are the odds? It does n't matter though, because at 1:14 A.M. I was taken out of my hotel room and put into a large helicopter, the damn meddling agents just abruptly stopped my stakeout of a delicious family of 3... How rude, I really wanted their eyes.
I was briefed by the two men in suits that I was of `` great importance'' and that `` more would be explained soon'' as if they were the ones that knew everything, how the people are ignorant.
At 1:27 P.M. I finally saw the outside again, after being rushed to the White House and being immediately sworn in as president, the men in suits told me to `` Go give a speech''... Oh, now this will be fun.
I stood in front of 30 thousand people, mostly just random people, but all of them had beautiful eyes that I would just love to take! You see, I love eyes, at the age of 13 I stabbed a girl named Jenny Belatrice in the back of the neck with a kitchen knife simply because her eyes were my favorite color: light blue. Now, I know you probably think I'm crazy because of this, but I think of it more like hunting... or something along those lines. Why should a disgusting animal that has no idea of the implications of the world around them be allowed to keep their beautiful heads? This is the question that hunters ask themselves which must be why they hang deer heads on their walls! Of course, I also collect, as Jenny's eyes are still in my collection... somewhere, but that's not what's important, no... I must adress what has happened to the people... no, wait, MY people... Yes, that sounds good, I will slowly become their emporer and then take all the eyes I could ever want!
I walk up to the podium, I counted no less than 20 microphones from all forms of different news stations, waiting to report that their new ruler has come to herd the sheep! I stepped up, cleared my throat, and began to speak: `` My people! Today marks a new chapter in histo-'' I did n't finish my sentence, a single gunshot rang out from some place, where that was, I do n't know, but all I do know is that it was the gunshot that ended my life.
You see, I guess murdering a lot of people makes many want to kill you too, I probably was also a big target amongst the people since I was n't formally elected or whatever, but that does n't matter now.
I fell to the ground pretty quickly, which suprised me because most of the time when people get shot from what I've seen, they stay up for a few seconds. This experience was odd to me, I could tell that I had put many people into situations very closely relating to the one I was in now, `` What do they think of?'' I wondered, was it their family? The fact that they were going to die? Or was it just anger? I could n't really tell, because to me, their expressions were always blank. I could feel the cold around me, and the warmth of my own blood caressed my right arm. As my cold, lifeless eyes stared into the pool of my own blood, I saw my reflection, and as my eyes looked upon this ironic sight, my last thought was: `` Wow... my eyes... really are... disgusting... are n't they...?''
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[ WP ] Due to new government obesity laws , anything that uses sugar or sugar substitutes are deemed illegal and banned . Describe a day in the life of a sugar dealer .
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Dennis `` Crowbar'' McKellen rolled over in his bed as he heard a moderately loud melody along with a vibration. He first looked at his alarm clock with its glaring green numbers saying 3:35. He then groaned, looked over at his IPhone 6 and swiped right.
Shane said `` Crowbear, my man! What's up?''
Dennis replied bluntly `` Me, you dick. Now what's so important that you had to call me at 3:35 in the morning?''
Shane said `` OK, dude, first of all, there's no need to be like that. Especially considering that I'm about to ship you the shipment of the decade. Ten thousand grams of sugar. You would n't have to work again, Crowbar.''
Dennis thought about the situation for five seconds as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. On the one hand, he would have to deal with Shane's laid-back, skater attitude and all the problems that Shane carried. On the other hand, his clients were clamoring for premium product and 10 thousand grams would have him set for at least a while.
Dennis sighed and asked `` Fine, I'll have one of my guys pick it up. Where's the shipment?''
Shane answered `` You know those warehouses on Rawling Street? It's in one of the small ones, A2.''
Dennis said `` I'll transfer the money to your account in an hour. Oh, and Shane, you owe me, man.'' before he hung up. He then made a phone call to Buzzer Fremont.
Buzzer's voice came on, clouded with the effects of sleep, as he said `` Hello?''
Dennis replied `` Hey, Buzzer, it's me. Get up, shower and get dressed. We're making a pickup at the warehouses on Rawling in an hour.''
Buzzer responded nervously with `` Uh, I do n't know, Den... I might not be ready for another hour, hour and a half.''
Dennis did n't except that, not from Buzzer of all people. The guy was usually the first to go on a pickup, if only because he got a cut of the profits in sugar. That's actually why he got the nickname.
Dennis said `` How about this, Buzzer? You get ready in 20 and I'll have 200 grams of that stuff with your name on it. Think about it, man.''
Dennis rarely had to negotiate with his own couriers but when he did, he made sure that both sides profited. Otherwise, it would just be the same old, boring stuff.
Buzzer's voice suddenly perked up as he replied `` Sure. See you in a half hour.'' as he hung up.
Dennis chuckled as he got out of his bed and headed towards the bathroom. A half hour later, he pulled up in front of Buzzer's apartment building in his dark blue 2014 Ford Mustang. Three years ago, sitting in front of a computer at a tech company, he could n't have imagined being behind the wheel of this baby. Who said crime does n't pay? Buzzer was sitting on the bottom stoop, dressed in a red tracksuit and Jordans. When Dennis' car pulled up, Buzzer jumped up, jogged to the car and got into the passenger seat.
As Dennis began driving toward the warehouse, he turned the radio dial persistently, stopping on a rock station playing Aerosmith. Buzzer then turned to Dennis and raised an eyebrow. Dennis looked back at him.
Buzzer asked `` So what's the lowdown?''
Dennis answered `` Shane said that he has ten thousand grams at number A2. If the info is legit, we'll get in, take the shipment, put it in here and head to the Alley.''
Buzzer asked `` Do you think you can hold ten thousand grams in the trunk?''
Dennis answered `` How about this? We'll put half the shipment in the trunk and then the other half goes in the back seat. Saves space that way.''
Buzzer said `` What are we getting, anyway? Splenda, Domino? What?''
Dennis answered `` Knowing Shane, it's probably cane and turbinado. We could sell that on the market for at least twice its worth.'' as the car pulled over in front of a row of identical-looking warehouses.
Buzzer pointed to a warehouse with the letter A2 on it and said `` That's it.'' as he and Dennis headed towards A2.
Dennis took out a crowbar and broke the lock of the warehouse. The two entered the warehouse to see several crates with the words `` Pure Cane'' and `` Barbados 1'' on them. Dennis and Buzzer began to carry the crates to Dennis' car and place them inside the trunk and the back seat of the car. A half hour later, Dennis and Buzzer got back into the car and drove towards the Alley, a pool hall/club Dennis ran his operations out of.
Dennis began to put the crates in the back room of the Alley as he broke open a crate and placed 200 grams of cane sugar into a bag. He then handed the bag to Buzzer.
Dennis smirked and said `` Consider that your payment, Buzzer.''
Buzzer replied `` Thanks, man.'' before he left.
Dennis took out his IPhone and transferred $ 600 from his account to Shane's. After all, $ 20 grand worth of sugar does n't come cheap, especially cane and turbinado. Dennis put away his phone and smiled. Just another day in the life.
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[ WP ] Keep this going . I was asked to write something in a tone I suck at . This game is always fun .
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A light. Now, mind you, this was n't a holy light that shines when the clouds are parted and the sun is revealed in all of its splendor, but this light was like one you would see on those less-than-reputable alien sighting videos that seem to be ever-so-popular on the internet. It began as merely a flash of white: and then, more colors were added to its spectrum.
The rain only seemed to accentuate the colors, and he looked around him to see if anyone else was watching what his eyes were seeing: but, Charles knew he was alone. As he continued to walk toward his workplace, he noticed that the light appeared to be nearing him: as if the light was hovering directly above some distinct spot in his general direction.
Without knowing it, however, Charles had already begun the chain of events that would ultimately lead to his demise, the destruction of his hometown, and the very-closely-evaded ended of the world as we know it. But, for now, all Charles was really interested in knowing is just what exactly that light was, so he...
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[ RF ] A group of school children decide to act like their teacher is invisible and they get the entire world to join in .
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It was funny, at first. Before Trevor posted that video to YouTube, before the letters to the school board demanding my immediate dismissal, before hackers deleted all my social media accounts: I had to admit. It was funny.
It started off normally enough. I was substituting for the 7th grade teacher who was out on maternity leave. I preferred teaching younger kids but a job was a job. I walked into the classroom and for once, there was silence. A little eerie, maybe but why would I question a good thing? I walked to the desk, sat down and opened to page 133 of Ms. Kendrick's meticulously tabbed social studies textbook. `` Ok class, do questions 1-14 on Page 133. If you have any questions, ask a buddy.'' I closed the textbook and stared as no one in the class even made a half-hearted attempt to get their books from their bags.
`` Only 5 more minutes and Ms. Truman will officially be 15 minutes late! ``, Robby said. One of the girls whose names always escaped me said, `` And if she's 15 minutes late, class is cancelled!'' I rolled my eyes, why did Robby always have to pull these stunts? `` Very funny, that 15 minute rule is a myth. Get to work.'' I was itching to get on my phone so I could scroll through Instagram and see some cute dogs.
Again, no one went and got their textbooks. Robbie put on a disgustingly sweet voice and said `` Has anyone seen Ms. Truman? I'm really starting to get worried, this is n't like her. ``, At this, Robby finally started cracking, a little smile forming on his pubescent face. I glared at him, although he refused to meet my eyes, `` Stop distracting your classmates, Robby.'' Gina, a girl who never spoke and just did her worksheets in peace, quietly said, `` Guess she's sick or something. Maybe she's dead.'' Sniggers could be heard around the class. I felt betrayed, not Gina! I thought she was my ally, my silent partner in wanting this torturous hour to just be over as painlessly as possible.
I stood up, my chair flinging backwards, hitting the wall behind me with a bang. My face was red and I knew I must have looked like an idiot but for once, I did n't care. `` Listen up, assholes'' As soon as I said it, I heard the collective sharp intake of breath of the class. Inwardly I smiled, finally, some acknowledgment. `` I do n't know about Ms. Kendrick but I will absolutely not tolerate this disrespect. I am your teacher and if you do n't see me, you are more than welcome to see the principal. But if you're in this class, you will do as you're told. I am not John Cena.'' I waved my hands wildly in front of my flustered face. `` YOU CAN SEE ME.'' I took a breath and sat back in my desk. Momentarily, I was satisfied but then I thought that kids this young might not get my John Cena reference. When I looked back up, my fears quickly subsided. Twenty red-faced 12 year olds reaching for their textbooks. I leaned back in my chair and liked a funny picture of a black pug with a wonky eye.
At the end of class, Paige, a pretty blonde girl who would have definitely bullied me if we were the same age, came up to me. `` You really flipped out, Ms. Truman.'' I laughed, feeling, in retrospect, a pathetic sense of conspiracy with a 12 year old, `` I guess I did.'' Paige might have even been impressed, said `` It was scary. But cool.'' I smiled, maybe I would finally have some respect. I never saw Trevor recording the interaction with his cell phone from the back of the class. Fucking Trevor.
The video went viral almost before I'd even left school. My friend, Eric, sent the link to me with the comment, `` Is this you??'' I rolled my eyes when I saw the title, `` Crazy Teacher Reacts to Invisible Prank!!! Must See!'' Someone clearly taught Trevor the delicate language of clickbait. There were already about ten thousand views and by this rate, trying to stop it's spread would be fruitless. It made it to Reddit, Twitter, and Facebook. There was an endless stream of comments, saying, `` Who are they even pranking? I do n't see anybody!'' I bet they all thought they were so funny.
Amateur sleuths easily found my LinkedIn profile, knowing my full name. My Twitter and Facebook handles were n't so far behind. Everything was deleted. Get it? Because I do n't exist. Not surprisingly, the superintendent told me that I would be suspended indefinitely. I would never teach in a place where it was frowned upon to call children, `` assholes.'' So that pretty much ruled out anywhere. No matter, the time off will give be some time to think about the punishment I'll inflict upon the bearers of all my suffering. I would n't hurt a minor, I'm not a monster. But I refuse to be disrespected.
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[ WP ] After countless attempts , a `` white knight '' finally manages to woo a r/gonewild user after commenting on her submission
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`` As a gentleman I think I need to tell you that your smile is beautiful. I was n't even looking at all of your naked parts because of how much of a gentleman I am.''
Ignore.
`` M'lady. I must say that your wow poster in the background of your photo intrigues me. If you ever want pointers feel free to send me a pm. I'd love to help a lady like yourself''
Ignore.
`` Dear beautiful lady. Please allow me to show you how a man should treat a lady. Not bark at you like these dogs''
Ignore.
`` Dearest lady. Please consider watching the new spiderman film. I would pay for everything and yay you like a true gentleman''
... fucking do n't need someone to pay for me. I do want to see that movie though... nah.
`` Dear lady. You are as beautiful as a jelly fish. For real though ``
... I love jelly fish....no. ignore.
`` My dearest lady. I found a bag of lime lays potato chips. I saw in your post history that you love them but they do not sell them in your city. I have found a 7-11 that sells them in mass, and I even had them order extra.''
`` Uhhh... yo. you need to chill out on the lady shit. And the gentleman bull shit. But if you for real have access to lime lays chips maybe we can work something out. Wan na for real catch spiderman? You bring the chips, I'll grab the soda. Just... do n't act like a weirdo white knight. Yea?''
`` Holy shit are you for real? All I needed to do was offer you food? IS THIS ALL I NEEDED TO DO ALL ALONG? ``
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[ WP ] You 've invented 5 second time travel , but are having trouble convincing anyone that it works .
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`` No, no, I'm serious here! I have it! I finally have it! The very fabric of space and time, right at my fingertips for the sewing! Hehehehe!''
I had to take a rather large swig of my drink this time around. Thankfully Jules was working the bar today and already knew that, while my friend here probably needs to either start or stop taking medication, he was mostly harmless as long as I was with him.
`` Elli, look-''
`` Now, I know what you are going to say.''
A number of seconds passed. Ellison kept staring at me with eager anticipation, wide-eyed and beaming like a dog about to get food. But after about five seconds, he let out a grunt of frustration that got the attention of the whole bar.
`` AW, DAMN IT!''
He furiously fumbled with the small pocketwatch he has been clinging on to dear life for.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Ellison kept staring at me with eager anticipation, wide-eyed and beaming like a dog about to get food. But almost like the switching of a channel, he suddenly slammed down on the table with a mix of fury and delirium.
`` SAY SOMETHING!''
`` AH, CHRIST, WHAT?! ``, I yelled out in response.
`` HA!''
He furiously fumbled with the small pocketwatch he had been clinging onto for dear life.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Look, Eli-''
In the span of what felt like an instant, Elli lunged at me before the table stopped him, fell face flat, jutted himself from the table with his lanky arms, and got as close to me as he could.
`` AW, CHRIST, WHAT?! ``, he screamed at me.
He and I stared at each other, as did everyone else at the bar. I could feel Jules' glare the most and stuck my hand up towards him in a stopping motion in case he was about to hit the panic button. Elli, without blinking once, maintained his glare and grin, like he was a baby waiting for praise and awe from making crayon art on the newly painted walls.
After my heart stopped trying to eject from my chest, I did my best to calmly ask Elli just what the fuck is wrong with him.
`` I just proved I can time travel!''
I could feel my mind try to go blank in an effort to leave this situation in some way or form.
`` What? What's wrong?''
`` H-... how?''
`` Well, I just said what you were going to say, did n't I?''
The continued half-scared face of mine must have led Ellison to slowly realize something. He creaked back into his chair and began muttering to himself.
`` Oh, right... right, right, left...''
[ Eh, I might come back to this. I lost the energy to finish it. -The Writer ]
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[ WP ] Everyone on Earth is granted a fixed amount of words they can say over the course of their life . A person is given the number 1
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I had practiced speaking in my head. I often wondered what word I would use and when. Maybe when I get married Ill say `` yes''' or maybe when I'm dying I can see if I can get away with `` Goodbye''.
I was going about my business, a typical day for me at home. I promised myself that I would only speak if absolutely necessary, as I only had one word, no room for mistakes.
The doorbell rang, I made the mistake of not looking first and I opened it. I immediately realized the trouble I was in. Last time I saw this person I was held hostage for 4 hours. I kept remembering his words `` I'll take your silence as a yes''.
So I open the door and the man says, `` Do you have a few minutes to talk about our lord and savior Jesus Christ''? I mustered up my courage and let out a big resounding `` NO''! I felt like Caesar from the planet of the apes.
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[ WP ] A historian is browsing an old Eastern Bloc archive when they find details about how the Cold War had a secret 3rd superpower who 's existence was scrubbed from history .
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13:47. He had 13 minutes left to make his decision.
The tape in his hand wheezed to life yet again filling the historians cold, plastic study cubicle with the completely ineffable. The voice detailed in offical clipped German, with the sharp wheeze of panic beneath, a series of intrusions into secure armanents facilities between May 1 and May 8 of 1963.
`` No evidence of entry has been discovered. No sign of the intruders. But in all cases the evidence of tampering is clear and confirmed. There can be little doubt that HK1734, HK8032...''
The tape cut out there.. a hiss of static.
13:53, the clock mocked.
HK1734 and HK8032 were both nuclear weapons sites, but not East German. They were Soviet facilities just north of Moscow. Why would an East German military officer in 1963 have knowledge of this? He knew this now, much had been declassified in the nineties but the East Germans would not have penetrated the famous Soviet Army's distrust of their Western allies that easily. A lowly officer... impossible.
13:55
The tape started up again. The sudden frenzied jump from static to the rapid rush of words racing to escape the officer - Wilhelm Braun - startled him yet again, as it had the previous three times. There was an unearthly tone to the words.
`` I have knowledge of this General only as I have been dead this last seven days. I fell into the Ruhr during a routine patrol, was sucked beneath the propellors of our patrol boat and died. Of that there can be no question. Both my fellow.soldiers and the doctor at our base will confirm it.''
`` But as my body was frozen in preparation for transport to my family I dreamt. My mind was seized by a force, an adversary, who bid me watch as he walked the world unseen careless of distance or material impedence. Unless it suited him he would never touch our world only walk beside. And when it did suit him, he would reach out a hand of iron beneath skin and mark the world as he saw fit. In his mad moments he would laugh at me with his gleaming silver eyes as he reached out and wrecked a panel or smashed a camera or with impossible strength wrote his messages on the solid iron walls of the Soviet bunkers.''
`` It was a mad time. He did not talk to me and I did not hunger or thirst. He only wished me to see and I think... report his message as God forgive me I have done. `` Do not use them,'' it wrote. `` We are mightier than thee and ye shall feel our vengance if you use the atomics.'' ``
13:00
He shut the tape recorder.
What had happened to his father. He had never mentioned this? He had always known Wilhelm as a quiet and peaceful man. He.had certainly never... died in 1963. Or nearly died or what?
Steal ir. He would have to steal it. No-one could know his father like this. He would not allow this.
Sticking the tape in his pocket and muttering apologies to the gods of the libraries he still held dear he walked out.
Some tales could not be investigated.
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[ WP ] A nuclear bomb is about to hit your town and you ca n't escape , you sit on the beach with your girlfriend waiting for death . Describe what happens and what you say in the last 10 Minutes of your life .
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`` Is n't it perfect?'' she said, staring up at the sky, cloudless and blue. The waves crashed on the beach with a gentle roar, and as he closed his eyes it reminded him of his mother, rocking him to sleep.
The colors that danced behind his eyes normally pleased him, but now it only put a knot in his stomach, so he went back to staring at the shore.
`` Is n't what perfect?'' he said, looking at her.
Her eyes were wide open, staring straight up. They were watering, as they had been since they'd found out there was no running, but now they were unnatural and red.
`` It's just that I've never looked at the sun before,'' she said.
He cocked an eyebrow at her - it always made her feel better when she was crying. `` That's stupid, Clara.''
She laughed, closed her eyes. `` No, James, I mean... really looked at it.'' Almost like she was asleep, she dragged a finger up towards the sky. `` Mama always said that we'd go blind if I did.''
That knot in his stomach was back. He grabbed her hand and slipped his fingers in the spaces between hers.
`` James,'' she whispered, and the whistling began. `` I ca n't open my eyes.''
And then he looked up at the sun, getting bigger by the moment, and he did n't mind the burning feeling in the back of his head as much as he did the bang.
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[ WP ] You 're a sapient Loaf of Bread . Besides being self-aware , you are no different from any other loaf of bread : you ca n't walk , talk , or anything else . You 're just bread that is aware of its surroundings and its self .
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Ohh loaf is me!
I can not speak, I can not hear, I can not see.
My world is dark,
and there is only pain when the knife makes its mark.
Ohh loaf is me!
I feel my parts burning and slathered with jell-y.
Please let me die.
Devour me whole so I no longer feel the need to cry.
Ohhhh! Loaf is me!
The days are marked by suffering and I want to flee!
Why must I feel!
Who could have cursed me with this kind of ordeal!
OHHHHH! LOAF IS ME!
Please oh please, for the love of wheat, just KILL ME!
-- -
The Sad life of a sentient loaf of bread.: (
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[ IP ] Le Passe-Muraille ( The passer through walls )
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It was a wall like any other. Just a simple wall like he had been through a hundred thousand times before. That ’ s what Geoff kept telling himself anyway, as he stared up at the huge structure. Nothing looked out of the ordinary about it, really, but just the idea of passing through it gave Geoff an uneasy feeling. It was just one of those quiet, niggling thoughts that maybe what you are considering doing would be just ever-so-slightly less than wise.
“ Come on Geoff, ” he said aloud to himself, trying to psych himself up for his intended task. “ You can do this. You know you can. It won ’ t even be hard. ” Not like the first time had been. Remembering back to that day still sent a shiver up his spine. It hadn ’ t even been that long ago, truth be told, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. So much had changed in his life since that moment that seemed so long ago. He had been a different person then.
The thing he most clearly remembered from that day was the smell, odd as it seemed even to him. It was like burnt glue or melting rubber. Something chemical and acrid that got inside your nose and refused to leave. There was something somehow wrong about the smell. Like it shouldn ’ t exist in this world. It wasn ’ t natural.
And he remembered the sound. Like the scream of tearing metal magnified a thousand times. The sound of an infinite number of impervious objects smashing into each other and somehow sliding past each other in a space too small for that to be happening. It was impossibly loud in his mind, though his ears had heard nothing at all.
The taste it left in his mouth was almost like smoke, but unlike any smoke he had experienced before. It was as though someone had set the air on fire and he breathed the left over residue into his mouth. It was hot and too sweet and metallic all at once.
It had felt like his whole body had been asleep for his entire life and now it was waking up, sending pins and needles through every inch of him. That sort of feeling somewhere between numbness and pain. It was almost like hitting his funny bone, if his whole body had been so funny.
What he saw was at once the simplest and hardest sensation to describe. He saw nothing. Not blackness, like a lack of light. Not whiteness, like a space empty of pigment. Just nothing. He imagined that the closest parallel was what blind people experience every day, but as he had never been blind, he was unable to verify the reference.
All of these experiences had lasted but a scant few moments, but even still he could remember them vividly. At the time, it had shocked him so much that his body reacted violently. He retched up his breakfast of an egg McMuffin and coffee with such force that it splattered on the white tile floor a good four feet in front of him. But that wasn ’ t right. He had been outside just a moment ago, standing on the hard-packed gravel of a back alley between to buildings. Where did the tiles come from? He looked around himself.
To his shock and utter confusion, he found himself, not in an alley, but standing at the bottom of a white-tiled stairwell. No one was around, as far as Geoff could tell, and he felt a slight sense of relief knowing that no one had witnessed his sudden regurgitation of his last meal. All this time later, looking back, it seemed a silly thing to be worried about, but at the time it had seemed important.
Struggling to make sense of how he had gotten to where he was, Geoff considered the possibilities. Had he fainted? Had he been knocked unconscious unknowingly and just woken up here? But then why was he standing when he awoke? And who would have moved him to this place? What was this place anyway? Some sort of sterile, white facility where they drugged people and performed strange tests on them? The answer to this last question turned out to be much less fantastic, as a walk around a corner at the bottom of the stairs and through a door soon revealed to him. He was in the lobby of a bank, standing before a doorway to a stairwell clearly labeled “ Employees Only. ” Luckily for him, it was Sunday and the bank was closed. No guards stood waiting to apprehend him for trespassing into a restricted zone.
Geoff sighed as he looked around the empty room. His head hurt. How had he ended up here? It just didn ’ t make any sense. One minute he had been leaning up against the side of a building to tie his shoe in an alley he walked through all the time on his way home from work, and the next moment there he was, vomiting in a bank stairwell. Had his McMuffin been drugged? His coffee? It had been hours since he ate them, but maybe the drug took a while to take effect? But why target him? And, more curiously, why stick him in the stairwell of a closed bank? It looked to be a pretty high-class bank too. The kind that would definitely have had an alarm on the door. Why hadn ’ t it gone off when he was entered the building?
Thinking about it, there was a pretty fancy looking bank next to the alley he was walking down before waking up here. Its wall may even have been the one he leaned against only minutes before. The realization didn ’ t make it any easier to understand what had happened, but knowing that he might be at least nearby to somewhere he knew did make him feel a little calmer. He walked across the lobby to look out the big glass double doors. His suspicion had been right. He was looking out onto the street he had just left before entering the alley. He had never been into this bank before, too high class for his meager means, but he definitely recognized the storefronts facing him from the other side of the street. He sighed again, this time in relief.
Great. He didn ’ t know how he had gotten here, but at least he knew where he was. With that information in mind, now his thoughts turned to more immediately pressing matters. How was he going to get out? Somehow he had gotten in without setting off the alarms on the front doors, but he didn ’ t want to risk trying to leave through them. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the cops arresting him for attempted bank robbery. He decided that the best course of action would probably be to go back to where had woken up. Maybe there would be some clue as to how he got in here without setting off the alarm that he hadn ’ t noticed in his initial shock.
Going back to the “ Employees Only ” door, he pushed it open and walked into the stairwell. Immediately a loud, high-pitched shrieking echoed through the otherwise silent bank. He had set off an alarm. The door to the stairwell had been propped open when he initially went through it, but he had let it fully close behind him as he entered the lobby. He hadn ’ t thought anything of it, but now realized what a mistake that had been. Of course a bank like this had an alarm on the Employees Only door. The extra security was probably what the wealthy clientele banked here for in the first place.
________________________________________________________________
Continued in a reply...
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[ WP ] For years , you 've been waiting for a knight in shining armor .
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I guess I ’ d always thought it was a metaphor, the knight in shining armor thing. You know, something big that comes into your life and helps solve all of your problems, like a winning lotto ticket or an out-of-court settlement. I never put much stock into a man saving me. Not with the male role models I ’ d had growing up.
If I ’ m being really honest here, there ’ s always been a part of me silently waiting for some big break to come and change my fortune. I wasn ’ t expecting a 6 foot 4 white guy in a metal suit.
It was the clanking that woke me. I ’ d been deep asleep, in the middle of one of my recurring dreams. I ’ m in this pool full of chocolate milk, being chased by a horde of baby alligators with the face of Mick Jagger. From his Sticky Fingers days. I keep swimming and swimming, but can never reach the edge of the pool. Weird right? But for the first time ever, I could see the wall in front of me. With each stroke I got closer and closer.
Clang.
I stirred awake, trying desperately to hold onto the dream. I reached out to touch the edge of the pool...
Clang.
My eyes flew open. I wasn ’ t expecting to see a giant shiny monster lurching towards me. I screamed, obviously.
“ Stay away from me! ” was all I could get out before jumping off the bed. I careened towards the door, my fight or flight obliterating any rational thought. It wasn ’ t hard for him to catch me. In one graceful motion, I was off my feet and into his arms.
“ What are you doing, you perv? ” I shouted. After a couple of ineffectual blows to his plated chest, I stopped trying to punch my way out of the situation.
“ Mmmr rrmm mrm ” was his reply.
“ Put me down! ” I tried to squirm out of his iron grasp. That approach didn ’ t work very well either.
“ Rmmr mmr mm. ” It was like having a conversation with a vacuum cleaner.
“ Put me down or I ’ ll scream my head off! Any noise over a whisper and my landlady ’ s on the phone to the cops. ”
He adjusted me in his arms. I was too busy trying not to get crushed to death to realize he ’ d removed his helmet. He tossed it onto the bed.
“ Milady doesn ’ t like being swept off her feet? ” He was blonde with watery blue eyes and a small, pink mouth. If he hadn ’ t been manhandling me at that moment, I might have found him attractive. The English accent didn ’ t hurt either. His wavy hair fell into his face, and he tossed his head back to keep it out of his eyes. I wasn ’ t sure if that was a calculated maneuver to take my mind off of the forced entry and trespassing, or if he was just that smooth.
“ No I don ’ t, ” I snapped back, this time reaching for the soft fleshy bits of his face. Like my tabby Max, I was a scratcher when cornered.
“ But most damsels like being carried, ” he said, dutifully placing me on the bed next to his helmet. I threw it at him. It bounced off his stomach with a clank.
“ Well I don ’ t like it. And I ’ m not a damsel. And who the hell are you? ”
He bowed. “ Sir Reginald of Echelford, at your service. ”
“ Is this some sort of cosplay? ” I rubbed the back of my legs where his metal gloves had dug into my bare skin.
He looked horrified. “ How could a lady say such a thing? ”
I sighed. “ I ’ m not sure if we ’ re speaking the same language here. ” My headache was getting to levels only seen when babysitting my two-year-old nephew. I gently massaged my temples. “ You told me your name, but I want to know who you are. As in why you think you have the right to break into my apartment and put your hands on me. ”
His face went ashen. “ By the tone of your comments, I must infer that I ’ ve made some grave error. ”
“ Dude, I need less jabbering on about graves and more discussion of what you want with me. ” I ’ d already decided I wasn ’ t in any danger. At least not for the moment. Maybe he would let his guard down enough so I could make a break for the door.
“ Apologies, ” he bowed again. “ I can see that my presence here was not previously explained. I ’ m your knight. In shining armor. ”
My jaw dropped to the floor. “ My what? ”
“ Knight. In armor. I ’ m what you ’ ve been waiting for all these years. ”
“ What I ’ ve been waiting for is a financial windfall, not some pasty guy wearing aluminum foil. Why me? Why you? ”
He cocked his head to the side. “ Because I ’ m your destiny. ”
If anyone asks, a 200-pound dope without a social security number or knowledge that goes past the thirteenth century is a terrible destiny. It didn ’ t take me long to realize that I wasn ’ t going to lose Sir Reginald any time soon. Even his short stint in county jail for trespassing didn ’ t seem to help. Like a bad penny, he just kept showing back up.
At least I was able to find him a job at Medieval Times. It doesn ’ t pay a lot, but it keeps him busy. He ’ s so good at it, the management didn ’ t fire him when he attempted to decapitate the date I brought to one of his shows. I will admit to some poor judgment on my part.
I just keep hoping that something will happen to get my life back to how it was before. I might have been poor and a little lonely, but I didn ’ t have the burden of a six foot tall Crusader on my hands. Some days I wish I could drive him out to the country and abandon him on the side of the road, like an old hound dog that ’ s past his prime. But I don ’ t know how long that would stick anyway. He ’ s gotten pretty good at reading road signs recently.
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[ WP ] A man , born and raised in Mars , looks up in the Martian sky and focuses on a pale blue dot and dreams , because he is too poor to afford a trip to Earth .
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I found the tape and stretched the spacesuit ’ s arm; five holes within the suit would depressurize everything and I couldn ’ t get to the refinery today. Tape adhered to the suit and I grabbed the heat gun; seven-seconds per patch for adhesion, seven-seconds for cooling and merger, the patches adhered, and I inflated the suit with gas, the patches remained, they didn ’ t leak, and I unplugged the heat gun. My father noticed me in the foyer, the heat gun glowed, and he moved his cane toward the door, his suit was torn, and the patches didn ’ t adhere, so he stayed within the house, and worked on the refinery ’ s broken cogs.
“ Did it adhere? ” he asked.
“ Yes, ” I said.
“ Okay. ”
The spacesuit and the helmet clicked, and my father opened the door, as mud brick dust moved from the wall, the chalk-red soil moved on the tiles, and my father closed the door. I walked toward my dune buggy, turned on the electronics, they blinked and became steady, I drove toward the refinery, as sand and red soil lifted and a dust devil moved on the playa. My dune buggy stopped at the refinery, wind moved the sand, as I grabbed my supplies, opened the refinery door, and illuminated the pans. Another switch turned on, the pans filled with water, I walked toward the soil which appeared a dark red and put the chemical stick inside; the chemicals mixed, I put on the mask, the red soil turned chalk-blue and white, as the iron escaped and floated. My hand grabbed the skimmer, and I moved the iron toward the catch, as the chemical ’ s vapors moved toward the ceiling and the fans started. A driver came into the refinery, I moved the skimmer to the holder, walked from the pans, and removed the mask.
“ Do you need seven pans? ” I asked.
“ Yes, ” the driver said.
I sighed, “ I have four, the other pans are processing. ”
“ I can linger, ” the driver said, as he walked toward the chair. “ Is your father better? ”
“ Yes, he ’ s fixing the gears for the other pans. ”
“ Good. ”
“ Yes… ”
The water drained and the catch held the iron, heated, and the crystals, black and small, became visible. I walked toward the catch, the ore dried, and the crystals dropped into the buckets and containers, as the driver rose noticed the containers, and lifted the first into his truck. I took a deep breath, pushed the containers toward the doorway, the driver shelved the pans, paid me, I turned off the switch, the fans stopped, the refinery closed, the sunlight dimmed, and I walked toward the doorway. Outside, I got into the dune buggy and drove toward the house while the sun set, several stars shinned, and Phobos materialized. As I drove, a blue star sparkled, Earth, my grandfather came from Earth during the colonization, and I remember him describing the water and the plants, I wanted to visit Earth, but the refinery didn ’ t allow extra money, and I halted my education at level nine to work, so I couldn ’ t, though, I tried to remember my grandfather ’ s descriptions. The soil must be blue on Earth and they probably refine cobalt or copper. My grandfather told me that the Earth had water, but it was clear, not blue, and the Earth had one moon which was bizarre, and they probably didn ’ t speak our language. The dune buggy stopped at the house and I opened the door as my first patch released and the suit leaked; I needed another patch. My father fixed the gear and I moved it to the bucket, as I turned on the lamp; it flickered. I ate something and my father restored another gear; his face appeared worried and he took a deep breath.
“ I gave the seven pans to the driver, ” I said.
“ Okay, ” he said. “ Did the driver make payment? ”
“ Yes, he gave me more money thought… ore went up. ”
“ Good… ”
My father took the money and counted, but his face remained worried.
“ Aaron, I ’ m going to give you some more money, ” he said.
“ Why? ”
“ Because, the ore prices will allow me, you need to move to the city, and I know you want to visit Earth… so the money can give you half, ” he said.
“ I can work the refinery, and can continue making ore. ”
“ No, I don ’ t want you to live in desperation and poverty… go to the city, find a job, save money, and go to Earth, ” he said.
I remained quiet and my father rose from the chair, held the cane, his hand gave me the money from the ore sale; fifty-percent of an Earth ticket, and he smiled.
“ Okay, ” I said.
My father walked toward the kitchen, his arm moved, and wobbled on the cane, as the sunlight dimmed, I walked up the stairs, and noticed the window. The city ’ s lights appeared behind the mountains and the stars became abundant. I took a deep breath, noticed the blue speck next to Phobos, it drifted, touched the lights of the city, and my hand held the money for the trip there.
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[ WP ] A strange man on the street sells you a wrist-worn device , said to `` Alert you in your darkest moment . '' One day , a while later , it activates .
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Not a day later and the device had activated. Said to have warn me in my darkest moments, was n't long before my mind pondered over the many mysteries of life and what they had in store to kill me.
Slowly it begun to flood in as if someone fell asleep at the dam, where I to die in house fire? Would I succumb to some new disease or had I pissed off some rich person and they sent a hit-man after me.
My heart thumped mad in my chest as I could n't take the suspense anymore, my anxiety kicking in and my panic attacks washing over me like a tidal wave.
I had to escape, I had to run, I wheeze as my breath eludes me.
I had to- *Crack*
I fell back onto the pillow with a aching forehead pain, looking around the darkness I could only say one thing.
`` I should turn on a lamp'' A lean and a stretch, *Click* and a check at the device and it had deactivated. Leaning over once more to grab a bottle on my nightstand, Fluoxetine. `` This should help me to sleep''
Laying back down, popping two pills and turning to the left.
`` My life is stressful'' A yawn and I was out.
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[ WP ] A bully realizes he went too far , and tries to fix things .
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It was n't like he had meant to make her cry. She was asking for it, acting like a kicked puppy dog. Sure, Luke had gotten a certain reputation here, one that he had no problem with living up to, but he probably could have waited s few days in.
This... girl, Karla, a chubby Spanish looking girl with her hair in a loose bun and a t-shirt with some stupid hipster band logo on it... she was just flipping through her wrinkly schedule when Luke started making fun of her glasses and strange dress style. It was barely 30 seconds in when she began crying a flood like that one from that song Absolutely ( Story of a Girl ), running right out of the school door.
Weirdly enough, after Luke had seen her run off in tears, he did n't get that instant feeling of satisfaction like he normally did. Sure, he felt bad a couple of times, and it could just be a little delayed, but right now he felt super... weird. Girls were easy to make fun of, he never felt any more or less guilty for picking on the fairer sex, but there was something he just could n't shake off.
That was why he had started following her. Not stalking, just... making sure she did n't run into traffic or whatever. Not that he'd care anyway. The front office would've stopped him, but by this point most of the faculty wanted him gone anyways. So, Luke casually, but at a brisk pace because he definitely was n't worried about anything, followed the girl in the warm autumn sun.
She had eventually stopped right by the 7/11 in the middle of downtown. She looked around for a second, before slipping in between these two apartment buildings into an alleyway. Luke, of course, followed her. For curiosity's sake, of course.
It was this tiny garden - a gorgeous garden, with lush roses and a tiny wooden bench, where the sunlight seemingly hit the tree in the most beautiful way at almost any time of the day. Squirrels fed out of the spilled birdseed on the ground, right ask Karla sat herself down on the bench in a huff. Watching from the shadows, Luke swore that she would start sobbing into her hands, but instead she took out a book, it was definitely a sketchbook, out of her bag and started furiously sketching a squirrel.
Luke watched for a few minutes, before his ADD eventually got him and he was forced to get things moving. Walking out into the sunlight, a moment of clarity washed over the towheaded boy. Everything felt tranquil, all the sudden, letting him feel like all the problems at home were a far cry from-
`` Huh?''
Oh shit, Karla. She looked up at him through those coke bottled glasses, eyes brimming with fear, before her vision narrowed. Before Luke could make sense of things, she had started throwing loose pencil pouch items at him, screaming him to go away.
`` H-hey, knock that off!'' Yelled Luke as he dodged the sudden projectiles flying right at him. That shut her up, at the sudden. He felt kind of weird, being in the center of her attention. `` Look, I.. uh I came here to say sorry, and stuff, for being harsh.. 10 minutes ago.''
She did n't say anything, just kept looking between him and the two exits, the alleyway and the door to what he assumed was a strangers house. It was so awkward for Luke, something he hated with a passion.
`` So, what are ya drawin'?''
She looked hesitant. Luke knew all about the artsy types, how they put up that false modesty before revealing their amazing pictures of anime guy, or whatever.
`` Um, squirrels,'' She squeaked out, unsurprised. Fingers tapped against her notebook nervously, waiting to be asked to reveal her art.
`` Cool...'' a pause `` well, let's see them.''
`` They are n't that good,'' Karla let out, a blush finally making its way to her features.
`` I'll be the judge of that,'' scoffed Luke as he made his way over to her. Karla made no attempts to stop him as he forcibly tore the book from her hands and started reading.
What she had been drawing both was an was n't squirrels - they were normally squirrels, drawn in this chibi art style, but demonic and doing incredibly morbid things like eating each other, brutally killing humans, and increasingly brutal sacrifices. To any teacher, this kind of stuff would have definitely warranted a concerned look and a meeting with a teacher, but to Luke it was like she was speaking directly to him.
`` Holy shit, this is AWESOME!'' Chanted Luke as he looked at the pictures with a smile.
`` R-really??'' She asked, blushing even more
`` Heck yeah!'' He turned the page `` there's even more?!''
For the next hour, Luke and Karla just talked. He would compliment her art style, ask her about what kind of music she listened to while drawing, where she came up with these ideas. Never did Luke ask where she had come from, or Karla why she had followed her back, but they just focused on a mutual love of violence; contrasting violence with cute characters at that. After a while, they knew that they needed to head backroad school - it probably was n't good that the new girl would be missing on her first day of school.
As they walked, the still morning sun illuminating their features as the rest of the world made their way to their crappy jobs in their broken sedans, two different kids walked side by side, talking about Quentin Tarantino movies.
They made plans to hang out after school immediately afterwards.
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[ WP ] What happens when a special forces unit plays paintball ?
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`` Bobby, Bob, Bobby Boy, look at me.''
He was lying on the ground behind the wooden pallets, face down. It was n't clear how, physically, he was rocking like that. The sounds emerging through the leaves were hard to comprehend, too.
`` Bobby, man, listen. It's all right. It's just a game.'' Jeff bent over, reaching his hand toward the prone figure's shoulder, then glanced up at Walter, who tilted his head imperceptibly. Jeff's shake made no difference to Bobby, who was responding appropriate to a grizzly bear, according to Jeff's Boy Scout days, and shivering as if on the point of hypothermia. `` Bobby, let's go.''
Crashing footsteps preceded the appearance of two attackers making a reckless downhill charge toward the three. Walter vigorously waved his arms at them -- go on by, get away. Three pops came in response, and a pink splatter appeared on Walter's shoulder. At the same moment, a shriek leapt from the mulch at Bobby's mouth. The two threats comprehended Walter's signals and glare and shuffled off in search of the game, still ongoing.
`` Bobby, man, it's alright. It's a game. It's paint. It does n't hurt.'' Jeff continued his plea. Walter's hand pulled Jeff up.
`` I hate to do this,'' said Walter to Jeff. `` But do you remember his name?''
`` Garvey.''
`` Private Garvey, on your feet!'' barked Walter.
The shaking surged, and stopped. Bobby picked himself up to stand and face Walter. Six foot five in combat boots, two-thirty, leaves in his hair.
`` Garvey, please report.''
`` I saw -- I was here. Sir.''
`` No'sir.' I'm not your CO. What happened?''
`` There were a bunch of them. Three at least.''
`` And?''
`` And I... I called for help. No one else was here.''
`` And what was your response?''
`` They were running. From over there. Yelling.''
`` Did you engage?''
Shuffles. He's trying to stand at attention and still look at his boots.
`` Did you open fire?''
`` Yes, sir.''
`` And?''
`` I... confirmed one hit. A second was probable. He fell down. Right there.''
Walter looks at Jeff. Bob's done a fine job holding off a bumrush at the flag.
A choked sound. `` He was fourteen years old! I did n't know, I just saw, and I... right there!''
And now they know. `` Come with me, buddy, we're going to get you out of here.'' To Jeff: `` Run to the center. Get them to stop the game. Without the airhorn.''
`` Priv -- Bobby, listen. It's a game, remember? We're playing.'' No response. `` The boy who fell: where is he?''
`` He... he went.''
`` Yeah. He did. Look -- I think he just tripped on the tree root. He's fine. No one got hurt. It's not a real gun.''
`` I shot him. I just, I shot him.''
`` Look, my shoulder: I got shot, too. It's just paint. Here: take it. Shoot me.''
Bobby looks at the gun in his hands. `` No, no, no, no,'' he whimpers. `` Shoot me. Not --''
`` Shoot the tree.'' Walter raises his voice again. `` Shoot the tree! That is an order!''
Not a bang but a pop. Blue paint on the trunk. Bobby's eyes prove that terror and sheepishness can coexist. He hands the gun back to Walter.
Mostly everyone's at the gate to the combat area when they get there. Bobby's hanging on Walter like a child the size of a defensive back. Walter's looking straight ahead, Bobby watching his step. Walter does n't care what they look like, or what anyone thinks about stopping the game. He never knew Bobby before today, but there's a loyalty bred under fire that extends beyond your own unit.
It might have been another serviceman that claps first, but Walter thinks it was one of the teens. There's light applause for the wounded man, whose scars are showing now, and not a single word. That's perfect. He'll be alright by tonight, mostly, after dinner and a few hours. He'll not be quite alright for a long, long time. He wo n't be joinging paintball again. Sometimes, it's not just a game.
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[ WP ] A person ( male or female ) wakes up not knowing who they are . They are the incarnation of Death . Explain how they find out , why they were chosen to be Death , and what they do with the information .
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I found her while she was still settling in.
The girl ’ s eyes were closed, her face was peaceful. One could think that she was just asleep, if they ignored the deep cuts on her arms. Seven on either arm… this one had been serious about leaving. A pity, I knew her Fate after all. She would have had a good life, by certain standards, if she had come out of her depression. If she had just gotten help… well nothing I could do about the girl. Her death would at least serve a purpose.
She was in an alleyway. Between the town ’ s general store and the hardware store. Stuffed behind a dumpster. Somewhere private enough to die, and public enough to be found. I was just standing, my back to the opposing wall. I didn ’ t bother disguising myself, or trying to keep myself from being seen. I didn ’ t need to. It was about a quarter after midnight, 12:16:23 if you want to be exact. Nobody was due to walk by for several hours.
I took a shallow breath at that thought, and plotted out the Fate of that body, were it not marked as it were. It would have been found at five, by the guy who owned the hardware store. He would have brought some trash that he had brought from home to the dumpster… and found her. Then he would have called the police. They would have investigated, noticed how the cuts were made, and forensics would have ruled it a suicide.
I sighed. Such lost potential there. It almost made me wish that I could have helped her. But, again, the death served a purpose. Just as the death of the man who had previously been hosted in my body had served a purpose. Allan Grace ’ s death by falling off an overpass and under the wheels of a truck had been a cruel Fate, and that Fate had marked him for me. Made him open to me, so that I would be able save him and use him as my host.
So too had this girl ’ s suicide been able to serve a purpose. Her embracing Death had marked her, just as a cruel Fate had marked my host. Walking willingly into death, the way that girl had done, had attracted *her* attention. She had chosen to do what I had done to Allan. She would take that girl ’ s Anima and merge with it to create a gestalt entity. Half *her*, half the girl. *She* would be dominant though. The girl wouldn ’ t have the willpower to hold her identity together, at least not while an Immortal was cohabitating her form.
Such were my musings as the girl ’ s wounds began to heal. Fourteen deep gashes, almost to the bone, healed before my eyes in about five seconds. I smiled at that sight, *she* had arrived, and taken up residence in her host.
When I listened carefully, I could hear much. The first thing was the girl beginning to breathe again. The girl ’ s heartbeat resumed slowly as well. They were slow at first, like she was in deep sleep. In a way, she was. She would be speaking with *her*, becoming acquainted with the new nature of her existence. If she was anything like I expected, she would probably be royally pissed off by being returned to life. But *she* was good at helping her hosts come to terms with life. Ironic, considering what *she* was.
Her eyes opened, after about a minute. They weren ’ t the blue that the girl had before. They were white instead, although they were definitely not white like snow. They were the pale white of sun-bleached bone. That was… something I suppose. It meant that *she* was definitely the one who had taken up residence. There were other things that could do what we do, after all. Things that I would have to kill, things spawned in the Adversary ’ s wake, and that served as its harbingers.
The girl blinked a few times, and slowly looked around. She seemed a little drowsy, but otherwise all-right. It took her awhile to notice me though, which wasn ’ t surprising. It took about five minutes on average for someone to become a Revenant. Allan was declared clinically dead when I finally woke him up.
“ Who are you? ” they asked me. I could hear both of them at that moment, two voices speaking as one. The girl and *her*, they weren ’ t fully merged yet.
“ A friend, ” I said, offering my hand.
They took my hand, and I helped them to their feet. They glanced around slowly, trying to get their bearings. It was pretty standard. Some short-term Amnesia is one of the things that Revenants have to deal with. Allan and I took about two days to fully remember who we both were before we became us.
“ My name is Allan Grace, ” I said, no reason to stress them out more than I had to.
They were still looking around as I spoke, but eventually they turned to look me in the eye and asked, “ Where are we? ”
“ Haven, ” I said, “ Haven, New York. You probably don ’ t remember much, you were pretty beat up when I found you. ”
They looked down at their self. Looking for injuries, probably. I saw confusion form on their face.
“ I was hurt? ” they asked. The girl ’ s voice came out more than *her* voice. That made sense at least, only one of them was asking the question.
“ Yeah, ” I said, “ look where you were laying down. ”
They turned around and looked at the ground. It was pretty bloodstained. Significantly so, really. They trembled slightly as they looked at it.
“ What happened? ” they asked.
“ You tell me, ” I said, “ I got here after it was over. ”
They closed their eyes. Trying to remember was probably painful. She had been dead long enough for the brain to start decaying, after all. *She* would fix that damage, over time, but it would be hard for her to remember much until *she* was done.
“ I don ’ t remember, ” they said.
“ You will, ” I said, “ amnesia is pretty common in people after they lose that much blood. ”
It wasn ’ t exactly a lie, most people never remember anything ever again after bleeding out.
“ Uh… ” they said, “ I… I don ’ t know who I am… do you? ”
“ Yes, ” I said, “ but I think it would be better to let you remember on your own. ”
“ Why? ” they asked.
“ The answer is confusing, ” I said, “ it ’ s easier to cope with if you remember it on your own. ”
“ That doesn ’ t make any sense… ” they said. But I didn ’ t think that they believed it, at least not entirely.
“ Isn ’ t supposed to, yet, ” I said, “ come with me. It ’ s late, we should probably get you inside where it isn ’ t so cold. ”
They blinked, and then looked down at themselves. Their skin was covered in goose bumps. The girl hadn ’ t worn a jacket, hadn ’ t worn any warm clothing. She had probably wanted to make sure she could freeze if she couldn ’ t manage the cuts. Of course, *she* would be keeping her from freezing now. I doubted they could even feel cold anymore.
“ That ’ s… ” she said, “ probably a good idea. ”
I offered a hand, and they took it. To most people, coming with someone you don ’ t know probably seems weird. But when you don ’ t even know your own name… well you tend to be suggestible, and beyond that, *she* recognized me and provided a bit of a push.
My car wasn ’ t parked too far away. I managed to get her in quickly, and it was still warm. I hadn ’ t had to wait too long. I suppose that ’ s an advantage of knowing the Fate of others, you can always arrive right on time.
“ So… ” she said, “ where do you live? ”
“ Not far, ” I said, “ about three minutes from here, if fortune favors us. ”
I knew that it would, my own Fate wasn ’ t visible to me, but hers was. Her Fate showed her arriving at my host ’ s home in about three minutes. In the meanwhile, she would be leaning her head against the passenger side window, watching street-lights go by. That is, if *she* didn ’ t decide to change her fate.
That ’ s the problem with Immortals, at least when it comes to Fate. We can change Fate, control it. Reading people ’ s Fates and influencing them is all I can do, actually.
*She* couldn ’ t read people ’ s Fates, the way I can. *She* had a different gift. *She* could control Life, the way I could perceive and control Time. *She* could give it, and she could take it away. It would be harder now though, now that *she* was one half of a Revenant. *Her* perceptions would be those of *her* host, and she wouldn ’ t be able to project it as far as she used to. Just like I couldn ’ t read people ’ s Fates much beyond the hour they were currently in.
-- -
We arrived at my home pretty quickly. Traffic hadn ’ t been… existent. I helped her up to my apartment, it is on the third floor of a building, above some office space and a bike shop. They were pretty torn up the whole way up. I knew what they were going through, at least, even if they didn ’ t. Their memories were getting confusing. *Her* memories slowly mixing in with the girl ’ s memories.
I got them inside my apartment quickly enough though, and she took a seat on my couch. I took a seat in an armchair on the other side. I turned the TV on for some noise, leaving some local news station on, and then turned to her and asked, “ Do you remember your name now? ”
“ Y-yeah, ” they said, “ or at least I think I do. ”
“ What is it? ” I asked.
I got back two answers said at the same time.
“ Leah Forrest, ” the girl said.
“ Shayde, Avatar of Life and Death, ” *she* said. It was an name she had born the last time around.
I smiled. They wouldn ’ t be “ they ” for much longer. Soon… they would be a single mind. A Revenant mind.
“ Good to meet you, ” I said, “ I ’ m Allan Forester, Avatar of Time and Fate. ”
-- -
I actually got it in one post for once!
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Children 's story gone adult . [ WP ]
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`` Breadcrumbs''
The dream came each and every night, but he never recognised it at first. That might have been the worst part – the slow realisation that he had been here before, that he would be here again. The tightness in his chest as he recognised with growing dread the familiar beats playing themselves out, scene by terrifying scene.
Each time there were slight variations, of course, but it always began the same way: a vision of his old house through the fogged up window of a car, the sting of hot tears on his cheeks, the pain in his shoulder as he twisted to look, seatbelt digging into his flesh. The worst pain was in his fingers, squeezed by his sister's hand. He wanted to turn to her, to stroke her long black hair just like their mother would do to calm her when she was afraid. But he could n't look away from the house and the road that lengthened before it. If he looked away, he would not be able to lead them back. He had to remember the way. But the way was always different.
This time the road snaked left, then right, then shifted again and again and again, too many times to keep count. He had to look for landmarks instead. They passed the big red gate by the woods where the girl had gone missing, and the tree that looked like an old man falling over. His sister's fingers pressed tighter, nails digging into his flesh.
“ Stop it! ” he whispered. “ I have to keep track. ”
They passed the mill with the broken water wheel and crossed the old stone bridge with the monsters underneath, and his sister's fingers cut deeper into his skin.
“ Stop it! ” he hissed. “ I have to keep track. ”
They passed the field where his mother lived, and the castle with a thousand crows, and the pain in his fingers burned like fire.
“ Stop it! ” he cried, turning to his sister. “ I have to keep track. ”
He always took his eyes off the way home, once the pain in his fingers became too great to bear, only realising his mistake once he had laid eyes on the old woman that now sat beside them, with his sister in her lap. The woman stroked his sister's hair, just like their mother used to do, and his sister smiled.
He closed his imaginary eyes, feeling the waking world rush up to meet him. If he was lucky, he would wake without screaming.
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[ WP ] This is n't one of the stories with a happy ending . But it has a happy middle , so I 'll tell you that instead .
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There were trees of the richest green, outstanding against the bluest sky the world had ever seen. There was just a slight breeze, just enough to keep us cool as we lay there in the grass... just enough to abduct our words as we said them, and carry them off to faraway places that we might never ourselves reach.
It was around three, I remember. I was laughing so hard that I could n't breathe, and you were beside me, trying to suppress a smile and failing miserably. You looked even happier then than you had been that morning, when we drove out to the lake and watched the waves chase each other back and forth.
We had come up to the hillside to eat, loving the way the sun rolled down on us. The whole world seemed to stop and wait for us, even as we lazed about and laughed; it was one of the best afternoons I had ever had. You did n't know it, but in my pocket was a ring.
You would have loved it, you know. Emeralds and diamonds, set into white gold - it was made for you, just for you. I had even checked to make sure it fit, by comparing it to your other rings when you were n't home; do you know how hard it was to keep it from you, and to keep you from finding out?
I was about to ask, that afternoon. My sides and my smile hurt from laughing, and I loved every last part of you; my senses must have taken you in a thousand times, all over again: the way the sun fell on your skin, the aromatic flowers in your hair, the beautiful summery clothes that draped around your perfect frame as your laughter rang out to me. I was nervous, though, and even though I knew how you'd respond, I wanted it all to be perfect.
And yes, that afternoon was. At least, until I looked up, and saw someone approaching.
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[ WP ] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a `` 9 '' on your wrist , one day you get in a fatal car accident . You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8
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The room was bright, too bright.
Less blinked his eyes open cautiously as he groped around his surroundings. He felt the familiar ridges on the arm of his chair and realized he was sitting.
`` Where..?'' he murmured.
`` Lester! Let's go, I'm already late!''
His sister's bellowing was unmistakable.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist and read 8:48a.
That ca n't be right...
We were on the freeway, I was trying to get over to the exit and...
The memory came in a flood of near unintelligible anguish and fear. When he called out for Celine the sounds of crunching metal accompanied her screams and thundered through his head, Less thought his heart would stop. He opened his eyes wide and all was quiet.
`` We're dead.'' He said aloud, to no one he realized as he turned to look around his bedroom.
He sat in the heavy silence trying to piece the memory together.
He glanced at his watch again to confirm the time and noticed the mark he'd carried on his wrist since birth was different. It had morphed from a `` 9'' into an 8.
Rough banging on the bedroom door threatened to stop his heart for a second time this morning.
`` Lester if you're not downstairs in 5 minutes I'm leaving you here and can explain to dad why you're at home in the middle of the day!''
Less sat in silence and waited for his sister to storm off in a rage, the door was locked and maybe she would think he snuck out the night before. He studied his wrist, pulling the watch away to get a better look at the newly transformed birthmark.
The message alert distracted him and he looked again at his watch, the digital clock display gone and in its place a text message from Celine, it read:
`` I had the craaaziest dream''
Then a second message:
`` You were in it''
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[ WP ] Death is a salesman , an impossibly gifted one , and he had just came to pitch his product to you . Only you are the first person to not buy into it .
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`` What exactly do n't you like about it?'' She asked, after I expressed some critique about her product.
`` You know, it just feels a bit *final*. A bit *irreversible* if you know what I mean.''
`` It is, and I understand that this might make you feel uneasy. However, no one who made this transition wanted to come back.'' She lets out a lively laugh. `` But seriously though. You *need* to see what's on the other side.''
`` So it *is* Heaven, then?''
`` Sorry. I would tell you, but I do n't want to ruin the experience. After all, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.''
`` Why do you even ask me? I thought when my time comes, I just have to go like everyone else.''
`` Oh no, we ask all of them. It would be terribly unfair, if we were just to take people. What if they have unfinished business?''
`` Wait, you mean everyone who died before agreed to go? What about accidents when the body is so damaged it just can not function anymore?''
`` You'd be surprised how many of them are actually happy to give up their worries. But I understand what you mean. What *you* need to understand is that this is not about your body. It's about the spark that is really you.''
`` Spark? Seriously?''
`` There's no good expression in language. But if you look into the flame of a match or a candle you actually get a good impression of what souls are like. If you choose to come with me, you wo n't wake up in the morning. Most bodies can not sustain themselves longer than a couple of minutes. Rarely, they just keep on going in a state which you call'coma'. Vica versa, it's difficult for the soul to stay in the material world without a focus point.''
`` Focus point?''
`` It's the secret you've been trying to crack your whole life. The pineal gland.''
`` So this'spark' would be a ghost then?''
`` Such an infantile approach. Yes, I suppose so. Some souls can not just let it all go. Their presence lingers on in objects and places.''
`` So they *haunt*?''
She rolled her eyes.
`` After some time they realize this is just the way things are. Some of them lasts a couple of years, decades, even. Usually no one sticks around after the death of the last person they knew.''
`` No way! They could travel anywhere, and see everything!''
`` Think about it. It's the loneliest feeling in the world. Without the wants and the needs of the body, there's very little here you can relate to. Also, about memories - almost all of them are bound to the brain, and not the soul. It's like being in a dream - no memories of how everything started, just some vague impressions and instincts.''
`` Well - do you know who I am?''
`` I know everything you know.''
`` So then - you know what I've been working on in the last thirty-one years.''
`` It's not really changing anything, you know. You are just torturing yourself in the cruelest way possible. You can have your brain put into this chamber and have nanorobots slowly replace cells until you are fully artificial. You can have all your memories translated into code. But you can not escape death. At some point, statistically, there's going to be a big enough solar flare. Or meteorite. Or a nuclear war. Or a simple minded fanatic. And then there's the spark, lost somewhere in a world which it can not ever comprehend. You just can not beat the odds. Even if you seal yourself into some sort of spacecraft and head to outer space. Even if you make it as long as possible, at one point in the future so far I can not even describe, there would be just too much entropy for you. This is just the way things *are*.''
I kept silent for a while, just processing things.
`` How do I know that you're real? Maybe I'm just imagining this because of the drugs.''
`` You could be. After you wake up in your chamber, you wo n't remember this conversation. Your brain will shut it out. Then we can have the same conversation in a decade, or a century if you wish. I'm here because this is a point of decision. It's up to you whether this experiment fails or not. Success will mean that the process will be eventually made available for the general public. You'll hinder the transition process of billions of souls. You would be responsible for such an unimaginable amount of pain and sadness that no human has even come close to.''
`` So... our previous test subjects, who failed... they all made this decision?''
`` Yes. And the future ones will have to make it too.''
`` What if there's nothing on the other side? *Literal* nothing? What if the spark just goes out, like, well, a spark?''
`` That's a risk everyone takes.''
Suddenly, I feel a pulling sensation in the back of my mind. God, I could just wake up now. I could be the first immortal. This is the moment I've been working for all my life.
`` Come on. We better go.''
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[ WP ] Traveling a light year only takes 5 minutes which makes space travel easy for the everyday person . However it 's illegal to take anything from any other planets . What happens when you take diamonds from the diamond planet ?
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**After a one hour flight, Mike and Paul have arrived at the planet of Juurta, dubbed `` The Land of Diamonds''. Besides taking some photos back to Earth, what else will these two youngsters do? **
**Mike**: Wow, these diamonds are everywhere! I wonder how much this planet costs.
**Paul**: What *if* we take a teeny, tiny piece of the ground? No one will notice!
**Mike**: But Paul, is n't it illegal? Wo n't the space police come after us?
**Paul**: Really? That's only in the movies dude. Besides, imagine the stuff we can buy with this kind of money!
**Mike and Paul had unanimously agreed to take the risk of stealing a small inch of the shiny ground. **
**Mike**: So how are we gon na get it out of the ground?
**Paul**: shit.
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[ WP ] At the beginning of mankind , there were only zombies . They began to evolve and have a human apocalypse .
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How did it come to this?
We were simple folk, one with the cycle of nature. We hunted for our food, ate until full, and just kinda wandered around afterwards. There's nothing wrong with that, right? It's how life works.
It all started with Urgablah. They say he stumbled upon a treasure trove of gazelle corpses, probably from an overzealous hunting pack of cheetahs. Urgablah ate more brains at once than any zombie before him.
Somehow, that changed him.
Urgablah started to build. He was seen smashing rocks together to make a sharper rock. Then, with that pointy stone, he began to kill with an unnatural efficiency. There was no need to bite animals to death, just a well placed strike to the neck. Urgablah soon had a surplus of food.
It did n't end there. Rumors have it that Urgablah was able to summon the sun using dry branches from a fallen tree. It was terrifying. The conjured sun chased away our comfortable shadows, and warmed up the cold that preserved our rotten flesh.
Urgablah cleansed meat by offering it in his sun, and then he took it back to feast upon. Urgablah began to grow firmer, his body soon resembled a young ape.
We were n't worried about it at first. It was just one abnormal zombie, right? There are exceptions in life, he would die eventually.
One day, Yarglah stumbled into Urgablah's territory. She was just following the scent of food, and did n't realize who she was approaching.
Urgablah did n't chase her away. He offered her his wasteful amounts of food.
Yarglah tore into the plentiful brains. She feasted.
Then there were two.
By then, we knew eating too many brains caused this disease. The rest of zombiekind were wise enough to avoid the practice. If no one ate more brains than they should, the extraordinary activity would stop there. That's what we thought, anyway.
Despite their horrific illness, Urgablah and Yarglah conceived. Their offspring had the same defect.
These rogue zombies continued to develop unusual traits. They began to speak in an organized code, build enclosed structures, eat deathly green vegetation, and cover themselves with the skin of their food.
Enough was enough, we had to rid the world of this epidemic. We zombies began to hunt these abominations.
We underestimated their strength, as well as their numbers. These creatures had some sort of instinct that made them enjoy reproducing, and they had spread far throughout the land. They built more complex objects, which pierced through our flesh and ended our lives.
We were pushed back, and our numbers dwindled. They had the power of the sun dancing behind them.
Devils who trampled the nature of the world.
Even if we refused to fight, they carried a powerful grudge we ca n't comprehend. They slaughtered us without mercy.
I am one of the few zombies who remain. The devils have become dominant.
But I will not let zombiekind fall beneath their tyranny. I have learned how to convert their bodies back with a special bite. All that's required for us to rise again is the perfect opportunity.
Until then, we hide in the shadows their suns have not corrupted.
The cataclysm shall come.
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[ WP ] You 're you . You 're sitting at home watching the NFL draft and the phone starts ringing . You 've just been drafted .
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I do n't really care much for the NFL Draft even though I'm a big football fan. But there's not much else on TV, so there I was, watching the prospect bio videos. Finally the picks begin. Round one is no surprise, all the future stars going to their respective teams. But midway through the second round I got a surprise.
My name is n't a common one. And by not common, I mean I'm the only one with my name. In the world. So when the Patriots announced that they were picking up a new quarterback who shared my name, you can imagine my confusion.
`` I guess I'm not that unique.'' I laughed.
Then my phone rang. I was so engrossed in the whole same-name debacle, that I let that one go to voicemail. And the next call. But when the phone rang again, I could n't ignore it anymore.
`` Yeah?'' I'm kind of testy when annoyed.
`` Congratulations, Ryan. The New England franchise warmly welcomes you. We look forward to working with you for the upcoming 2015-2016 season.''
`` Is this some sort of joke? I do n't even play football. Especially not on a professional level.'' I'm laughing now.
`` Ryan, you posted that video on your YouTube account. You eloquently described why you should be a star quarterback in the NFL and threw some damn good passes. We're gon na take a chance on you.''
Suddenly the video began playing on TV. Flabbergasted, I watched it in silence. When it finished, my Facebook profile picture popped up with the title'Wonder Kid'.
`` That was a *joke*!'' Was all I could manage.
`` Look. You said at the end of the video that you were submitting your name. Belichick saw it. He talked to Brady. Tom is at the top right now, but nothing is forever. We have the future of our team to consider, always. There's a $ 1.5 million offer on the table. I suggest you take it. We just sent you a plane ticket.''
`` You guys are high! I'm only 5'11'', 170 lbs! How can you see potential in me? Do you even know the first thing about football?!''
`` Son, we won the Superbowl last year. And do n't take that tone with me, ever. You work for me now. Bill is going to be in touch with you tomorrow. Do n't let us down.''
And he hung up.
I was numb. I sat there in silence. My phone began buzzing with texts and calls, but I ignored it now.
`` Me. A Patriot.'' I said dumbly to nobody. I crinkled my beer can and aimed for the trash.
I missed as usual. This is going to be a disaster.
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[ cw ] Make the reader become invested in a relationship between two or more characters who never share a single line of dialogue with each other
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He woke up same as every day. The bed was warmer today however, it made it difficult to leave. But he did, it was his routine. He sat up on the edge of the bed, stretching quietly. It was a habit he'd developed because of her, she always stole the blankets which he teased her about being the cause of his stiffness. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the morning light. He paused a moment longer than usual, the weight of the bed seeming off, he chalked it up to an uneven leg. He knew she liked to toss in her sleep, it bothered him at first but much like she did, eventually it grew on him.
Rubbing his neck he stood up, letting a quiet yawn escape his lips. She was n't usually as courteous on days she woke up before him. He sauntered over to the coffee machine and started it, setting number 5 just the way they liked it. He turned on the TV, watching highlights from the night before. A ding could be heard from the kitchen, getting up he placed the pot on the stove top. A habit of hers that he himself adopted, the justification of which could only be explained by so many years of closeness between them. Placing some bread in the toaster, he set one side at 4 and one side at 6. A little smirk cut up the right side of his face. Of all the things they shared and agreed on, toast was never one of them.
After breakfast he showered and got dressed. A nice plaid shirt, a spotted bow tie he'd worn at their wedding, grey slacks with suspenders, and a fedora she had bought for him. Before he placed the hat on his head, a small moment came and went. It was a sunny day on the beach, her blonde hair was like strands of sunlight off her scalp. She turned to him, her eyes bright. She smiled, he smiled too. Grabbing him by the hand they walked the beach, he remembered the beach vendor calling them over.
`` For the beautiful lady I give you two for the price of one! Best deal, No other like it!'' The vendor had said to her.
`` Oh! Is that so, eh?'' She looked back at him flashing a smile, `` Well I simply ca n't pass that up! I'll take this one aaaand... this one.'' She picked up the two hats and handed him one, he remembered the smile she had and the youth they shared together. As he looked back at the bed, a mass was lying there under the sheets. A tear fell down his cheek, wiping the tear away he placed the hat on and whistled.
`` Come on boy, lets go for a walk'' A dog raised it's head from the bed and leaped out to greet him. He laughed, kneeling down and scratching the dog behind the ears. He did n't need a leash, he'd trained him well. They walked down by the park together, he'd brought a ball to throw around for the pooch. He whistled and the dog came bounding back ready to walk again. He always took the same detour home, the same one he'd taken for 8 years since she passed on. Coming upon the open black iron gate panic bubbled within him as it often did and he paused, today felt heavier than the others. He could n't put a pin on why perhaps it was the guilt of walking by so many times without visiting, the dog looked up at him expectantly. He waited a moment longer, gathering courage and continued through the gateway.
A left, up 10 steps, one more left. He stood over her, his eyes misty. It had been so long since he'd visited, the guilt spilled over. He stood there with the dog, letting tears come and go. He began to sputter, choking on his own spit. The dog let out a whimper, he calmed it with pats on the head between coughs. Settling, he let out a long breath. Touching his hand to his lips he placed a kiss on them and touched the cold granite stone.
Turning on his heel he walked back out, homeward bound, the dog in tow.
***
Hope I was within the parameters! Hope you liked it!
Edit: a few words I noticed I misplaced.
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[ WP ] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion .
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There once was a girl named Zephyr,
She had friends but they left'er.
She had a home. She had a bed.
She once had a dream but she slept instead.
She does n't know what's missing.
She feels no need or want.
To be perfectly, sincerely so honest:
She does n't feel at all.
She used to have the rosiest of cheeks,
I'm afraid they're now hollow,
She has n't eaten a thing in weeks!
It's only misery she'll swallow.
She had the swirliest, curliest, bounciest hair!
But its falling out of her head.
Though she does n't seem to care,
Or even notice it.
Her mom and pop want to take her to the doc.
Her brother & sister always worry.
They just do n't want to see her go..
Oh, but that Zephyr is in quite the hurry.
Today was a day, like every day.
Monotonous & trying.
Old man next door says `` how are you?!''
She says, `` splendiferous!''
Always lying.
She does n't see a point.
Life lacks rhyme or reason.
It's all the same, it's all so lame..
From week to month to season.
She wants you to know she is n't sad or angry.
She really is n't anything at all.
She's sorry if it hurts you..
But she had to make the call.
She's just too bored!
Too empty!
Too lackluster and lazy!
And if there's anything she is,
It's absolutely, mad & bonkers-crazy.
She sat and pondered, wondered so..
About people once upon a time.
She thought about how many nice things
people said about the ones who died.
`` Maybe they'll remember me..''
Zephyr thunk.
`` Like I remember myself.''
`` I've been gone for far too long,
I'm past the point of help.''
One pill.
Two pill.
White pill.
Blue pill.
How many pills will it take?!
How long do we have to wait?!
Oh but she feels something.
A little something.
A teeny, tiny spark.
A flash of excitement!
My god, she's enlightened!
But only when it's dark.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Tic. Tic. Toc.
Pill, drag, pill again.
And the how about a shot?!
There's that warm, happy, sleepy buzz!
The one she would die to get.
She used to be is..But now she was.
No more waiting. No more nothing-ness.
She could only hope, with what little she had left,
That you would n't be sad and you would n't forget
That there once was a girl named Zephyr.
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[ TT ] A simple board game to us is a battlefield to the pieces on it . Write the story of one such battle .
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*Why did you do it? *
Why? It was agreed. We all hated him. The professor and I had to play rock-paper-scissors to determine the privilege. You see, whenever the professor had to pause in a sentence to search for a word or phrase, **he** would tap the poor man on the head and call out ‘ Dain bramage! ’ And giggle! Insufferable, really. I cheated prestidigitorially to ensure that I would be chosen.
*So you killed him because he was annoying? *
Such a tepid word! A flaccid word. It should hang vertically from the page wherever it is written. ‘ Insufferable ’ is more serviceable; rewind your charming little voice-recorder if you doubt me.'Infuriating' would also suffice.'Exacerbating.' The man could scarcely have gotten under our skins more effectively had he been a subcutaneous injection.
*Was there no other motive? What about his money? *
Oh, I doubt it. That nasty young woman - heaven forbid I call her a lady - Ms. Scarlet might have stood to come into a pittance, but his estate was given over to the care and maintenance of his truly impressive collection of topiary.
*You knew what was on his will? *
We all did. The colonel had witnessed it, so we all knew the details that very night. If only that idiot lawyer had stayed, I ’ d have taught him a thing or two about shrubbery.
That was supposed to be menacing, rather than referring to my skill as a gardener, by the way.
*Why that particular night? *
The act, by its very essence, was unavoidable. His death was certain, lacking only an agent, a tool, and a site for the final anticlimactic battle.
*Battle? *
As I said, anticlimactic. After three blows he was still berating me for my faults and complaining of his arthritis. ‘ If only my knees were young, I ’ d show you a thing or two about how a real man fights, ’ he said. It was as if he did not want me to have mercy.
*But what happened that night? What was the trigger? *
There was none, as such. You remind me of Mrs. White, you know. Not by virtue of being a homely middle-aged new-age heretic, as she is, but in your belief that prophecy must precede an event. Not so: some things are always happening, have always happened, will always have been happening. She attempted, repeatedly, to prognosticate his demise in the cards—she had an impressively elegant ‘ The Simpsons ’ tarot—but she always drew the ten of swords, reversed, and could never remember what it signified. For me, the matter was far simpler. I came to the kitchen for a snack before playing billiards. I opened a box of cereal but discovered that no milk remained to eat it with. It was then that I knew that it was the time.
*Because there was no milk? *
I would not offer my support to such a weak supposition, but I must admit that the fault can hardly belong to the wheat bran. You would never suspect anything high in fiber of having psychic resonance, although milklessness seems no less innocent.
*How many people would you say were involved? *
Other than those mentioned previously, there were only myself and milady Peacock. I have no idea what nationality her name implies, by the way. She may have been American, especially since it was she who brought the revolver. She always claimed that it was for hunting rabbits, but apparently her scattered brains had forgotten to bring live ammunition, so it was useful only as a bludgeoning weapon, and of those we had plenty. The butler, by the way, was completely innocent, as is probably proved by his death three days prior in a truly unpleasant accident involving hedge-shears and a hedgehog.
*So you say that the butler ’ s death was an accident? *
Sir, it can not be doubted. I have long campaigned against the dangers posed to our civilian population by hedgehogs, but the papers are always too caught up in petty local politics to make space for the editorials I grace them with. There is an in-depth analysis at home in my safe, if your inspectors have not found it yet.
*I see. And what was the butler doing under the privet bushes with a pair of shears? *
Engaging in a losing battle against the prickly menace, unless ( as is rather unlikely ) he had developed a fondness for the taste or texture of the soft ends of newly grown grass. I tried to warn him on several occasions, and even showed him how a contraption might make use of the rope to remove the trimmer from danger, but he was too hardheaded and soft-kidneyed to live, it seems.
*Back to the supposed accomplices… you make repeated reference to there being six of you, but we can find no records of these others ever visiting him. In fact, they are all on record as being public servants like myself, private investigators, or civilian specialists who were brought in to help solve the murder. Are you sure that there were five others with you in the conspiracy? *
Oh, we were all there. Always.
*Where? *
In the conservatory, with the candlestick.
Waiting.
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[ IP ] A Hasty Departure
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Another explosion caused the streets to shudder. Lisa nearly tripped over as a cobble shifted under her foot.
`` Do you have to do this?'' she pleaded to her fiancee, George, `` Why ca n't someone else? You know you have n't been as strong in yourself since you were shot.''
`` Physically, maybe, but in my mind I'm as strong as an ox,'' George joked, clutching her hand. He took a more serious tone. `` I wo n't let anything happen to me. I swear. I'll stay in the back, with the artillery, the long range infantry, the scouts, I've had experience with all these divisions. Do n't *worry*. I'll be fine.''
Lisa swallowed back a sob. `` Okay, just promise me something.''
`` Anything. Anything at all.''
`` Take this. Never let it leave you. It belonged to my mother, she had it all her life and it never stopped once. She said it was her good luck charm.'' Lisa passed a small locket to George, which he flipped open.
`` How did she get this?'' he chuckled, `` this is a Device, they're usually worth thousands. What does it do?''
He touched the two spinning cubes, each an inch cubed, attached at one face and supported by two braces in two oiled holes. The locket barely fit the oscillating cubes.
`` It's not that useful as it does n't have much power, and she was never willing to sell it for it to just sit under a display case in some collector's hallway.'' Lisa explained. An infantryman coughed politely behind her.
`` Just take it,'' she pleaded, backing away from the gangway, `` and never forget me.''
`` The battle is only two miles away,'' George assured her, `` I'll be back in no time.''
Hefting his equipment onto the airship he waved to her.
`` The war'll be over by next week,'' he said, `` we'll push them back to the Darne River, and it'll be plain sailing from there. You'll see!''
Backing away from the gangplank, Lisa held back tears. The cobbles rattled in their concrete again as a stray shell hit the city.
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[ WP ] Text appears in front of you . `` Your free trial has expired . ''
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`` Thank you for enjoying your free trial. We regret to inform you that the 30 day pass will expire at 10:00 pm est tonight. If you would like to continue with the standard package please reply ( Yes ) to this message. Thank you for the opportunity to earn your business.''
`` Well I guess it's decision time.'' I said out loud to the empty room. I put my phone down and closed my eyes. It would n't be terribly expensive to continue on and utilize the service. Quite honestly I've thrown away way more money than this on things that were far less important, but for some reason I was still hesitant. The biggest negative was definitely the time frame. 12 months was a long time to use a product that I would potentially get sick of after 6 months and the terms were very clear that I would have to see out the full length of the term. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, `` oh decisions decisions, what to do?'' I opened my eyes and reached back for my phone. `` Fuck it.'' I muttered. I responded to the text, `` Yes''. Intstantly I received the response, `` Fantastic, Peter. We will charge your account the full balance of the charge and send all the necessary documentation to your address by overnight mail. You will find that your temp position will become full time, unless you would like to be transferred to another position. If you have any needs or questions please visit us at www-liveonearth-uv Thank you for your business and please enjoy your stay at Earth.
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[ IP ] Woman on a subway in Tokyo .
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The slow rocking of the train provided little comfort, most mornings it would slowly lull me to sleep, on the slow journey home. After the long shifts Tokyo would slowly melt away as my eyes drifted close.
But not today, today felt different every detail of the subway seemed offensively bright, from the neon exterior, the prominent orange handle bars and fluorescent lighting almost painfully bright.
But, worst of all the vibrate adverts imposing itself into my feel of vision of a woman smiling so obnoxious proud it was almost insulting; sell toothpaste to anyone who would care to glance. i thought to myself in a cruel mocking manor `` is that what I need to smile? Is this advert selling me eternal happiness in a tube?''
How pathetic it all seemed.
In that Moment I felt like I ’ d never smile again. I ’ ll never forget the sound of you frantic voice as I picked up the phone, trying to make out words between your whimpers and sobs. I told you it would all be okay you responded with
“ It will only get worse ”
I asked you `` what will?'' you said `` the voices, they tell me to do it'' 2
'To do wha... 2
But it was too late I heard the deafening bang. A cold silence filtered through the phone leaving my head unable to form a single thought. I was the last voice you ever heard.
Before my mind allowed me to form a consistent thought, a sound more harrowing than the one before came from your end of the line. A small cry cut through the deafening silence on the line a baby, your baby, your little baby girl.
I could feel my eyes start to well-up as the scenario became painfully clear, as the First on Scene would later confirm. You couldn ’ t take it anymore, you felt so alone in this world not a soul to turn to, and a child that required all of your love and time so that there was cruelly none left for you. So the voices came to you, preying on your deepest fears twisting a tortures knife in your heart telling you it was the only way to stop this aching pain of loneliness and despair. So you decided to end it all with a single bullet and your baby in your arms, leaving her in a mess of blood and tears more alone than even you felt.
I tried to sing to her to offer her some sort of comfort. Although I knew clearly the only thing that would wipe away the tears would be a mothers loving touch, a kiss on the forehead and a warm embrace to shelter her from the darkness of this world. Although my effort would pale in comparison I could not just hear her wailing cry ring through the phone with no response.
I stayed on the line till I heard the door open and the paramedics enter and ended the call.
The thought of you and your despair, thoughts of your baby girl growing up with her heart torn in two with the pain of missing her mother, and a longing so strong it feels like my chest is being crushed by cinder blocks that your story would have ended differently if only you didn ’ t feel so alone.
I guess as you once suffered I must suffer too, with demons in my head in the form of a memory of you.
my first ever post any feedback would be greatly appreciated
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[ WP ] Humanity is shocked as a fleet of alien craft enter the solar system . Radio signals from all over the Earth flood toward them . After a year of no reply , the fleet finishes refueling from Jupiter and accelerates to leave the system . They send a single message : `` RUN ''
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`` Elon.''
He raises his head where it's been pressed against his desk. Wrinkles hang like dreams deferred beneath his eyes. Odd metaphor, now that I think about it. This man has not deferred any of his dreams. But he is tired. `` What should we do, right?''
`` Right.''
He stands up, and begins to pace. As he walks, he grows more animated. `` Let's walk.''
We leave his office, and take a walk briskly through the combined office/factory area of the SpaceX lab. About half of the staff is here. It's Sunday. The other half does their weekend work on Saturday. The people that are here, bustling back and forth between desks and other desks, or between desks and workstations and models of rockets and spacecraft set up around the floor clear a wide berth when they see us walking towards them, and a wider berth when they see Elon's face.
We have all seen him deep in thought. We have all seen him tired. But none of us have seen the dark look that he wears on his face now.
`` I do n't know what we *can* do,'' he says. `` That last message came from outside of the heliosphere.''
`` It took the voyagers almost 30 years to get there from Jupiter.''
`` They made it in less than 3 hours. If whatever they were running from moves as fast as that...''
`` We're fucked.''
`` Yes.''
We've reached the doors, and we walk out into the sun.
`` I'm so tired, Ian.''
I do n't know what to say.
`` How much of myself have I dedicated to this?''
`` More than any of the rest of us.''
`` It was n't enough.'' He looks up towards the opaque blue of the sky, as if he's trying to will us past it. I think I might see the hint of a tear, but I do n't ask.
A car drives past us, down Rocket road, towards the city, and he snaps out of his trance. He wipes his eyes, and when his hand drops, the darkness is gone.
`` How was the testing for the Raptor engine?''
`` Exceeded expectations.''
He smiles. `` So we can get to Mars.''
`` We can get to Mars.''
`` If that's the best running we can do, then we'd better get to it.''
* * *
In an unprecedented act of cooperation ( fueled by desperation, as anything unprecedented is when it comes to bureaucracy ) CNSA, RFSA and NASA join hands and pool resources. The world decides that the helm of the emergency mars operation should go to someone who has shown results, efficiently.
He has decided to be on the first ship. We start calling him Captain. I decide to be there too.
`` We need you here, Ian,'' he chides me. `` We'll need to keep building rockets.''
`` I do n't intend to stop at Mars,'' I answer.
The air feels electric. The Earth itself trembles.
They did n't tell us when to run. We give ourselves a 6 month deadline.
Three months later, we have a ship. One month later, we have four. We decide to send these first four out. That gets at least 400 people off the planet.
I board the first ship with him.
`` We did it.'' I nudge his shoulder. `` Not exactly what we were expecting, but we're here.''
T- 20
His face grows dark again. `` Not yet.''
T- 15
Something in his expression sends chills down my back. `` Something's coming?''
T- 10
He hesitates, and nods.
9
Beads of sweat emerge from my brow.
8
`` Now?
7
He nods again.
6
I'm shaking. Or is it the rocket? Is it the engine's preparing to fire?
5
No, the vibration is heavier than that. It feels like the Earth is *actually trembling. *
4
`` Do you feel that?'' someone asks behind me.
3
`` Will we make it?'' I ask.
2
`` If we pray hard enough,'' he answers. I have never heard him use that word before.
1
Someone at the window screams.
Liftoff.
`` Oh shit,'' I gasp. `` Oh *shit*''
The rockets fire. Below the spacecraft, the ground crumbles away, and we hover in the air above where the launchpad should be. A chasm opens up below us, and continues to yawn wider as the rockets push us farther and farther away. As the horizons shrink, I can see that the abyss below us is only one of many, meeting and intersecting across the surface of California, across the US, across North America, across the world. The darkness that they reveal turns red, as the crust opens completely and the mantle is unleashed. Magma rushes like Moses' tide across the land. The ocean's turn to steam.
My breath is gone. I hardly remember what breathing feels like.
I look over at Elon. This time I'm sure I see a tear. He presses his hands together and closes his eyes. I pray too.
They were n't running from something else. They were n't running from some alien predator race coming to hunt us. They were running from *our* planet.
I open my eyes again. The crust breaks like an eggshell. A single, massive talon pushes away the plate where San Fransisco used to be, breaking it along the seam of the San Andreas.
Or from whatever was growing inside.
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[ OT ] Looking for serious advice about being a writer
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I'm not sure how old you are, but if you're still in school and some of your teachers/professors allow you to submit a story you've written for an assignment, and you need feedback, then take that chance without any hesitation. Not only does it guarantee you feed back since they have to read it, but it sometimes allows for you to write outside of your comfort zone.
For example during my last year of high school, one of our final tasks was to either create something that posed a philosophical question, or analyze something that already did. I took the former option and wrote a small simple story about sentience and human rights and stuff. I did n't ace the project or anything, but the assignment provided me with the challenge of writing something with a message, which I had never done before then.
**TL; DR**: Take any chance you can to get someone to read your work, regardless of the challenge it may pose.
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[ WP ] Character obtains a functional pocket watch but it does not keep track of time .
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Grandmother ’ s Watch ( First draft )
In June, Emily ’ s grandmother passed away and her mother tearfully jetted off to France to attend the funeral. Emily didn ’ t go. The ceremony was half way across the world, and besides, Emily didn ’ t even know her grandmother at all. They had spoken on the phone once or twice on birthdays and Christmas, but her grandmother barely even spoke English.
The day after the funeral, Emily received a weighted, lumpy envelope in the mail. She opened it gingerly. Wrapped in white tissue paper was a beautiful, antique gold chain wristwatch. A thumb-sized piece of card was tied over the watch face in white string.
It read “ To Emily: To tell when it ’ s time, and to tell when it ’ s not time -Nana. ”
Her grandmother didn ’ t speak English well, and the strange wording of the message had an eerie tone to it. The present was a really sweet thought though. Emily slid the cool watch over her wrist. The gold chain really suited her tanned complexion.
Emily ’ s mother returned from Poland that night. The funeral had been “ refreshing ”, and her mother now felt “ really at peace with everything that had happened. ”
“ You ’ re wearing your Nana ’ s watch! ” her mother noticed.
“ Mm. I got it in the mail yesterday. ”
“ That ’ s nice. ” Her mother yawned. “ I ’ m so jetlagged. I wonder what time it is. ” Her mother disappeared into the kitchen.
“ I can you tell you the time, Mom! ” yelled Emily.
She frowned at the watch. There were tiny numbers and dashes embellished over the entire face. The single hand rested somewhere between the seventy and eighty marks.
Emily wore the watch everyday. It really did suit her.
In the summer, Emily got a job as a waitress. Her shift often ran late, and she had to walk home in the dark.
One night, she ended work especially late. There was a nervous chill in the air, and the hairs on the back of Emily ’ s neck wouldn ’ t lie flat. Her grandmother ’ s watch began ticking very loudly. It was like it could sense her pulsing blood. She half-ran through the night. She only wanted to get home, and for the loud ticking to stop.
The watch now sounded like it was going to break. The hand hovered just above the zero mark. The note: “ To tell when it ’ s time, and to tell when it ’ s not time. ” To tell when it ’ s time for what? Her grandmother ’ s watch didn ’ t tell time at all! But why would her grandmother put that note on the watch?
Emily stood frozen on the street, and the ticking seemed to slow. She was aware that it was after midnight, and she was young and alone on the street. She could be home by now. But something felt very, very wrong.
A few feet ahead of where Emily was standing, a gas station exploded with a loud bang. As the thick smoke clouded the air, the ticking on Emily ’ s watch stopped. The hand hovered over the “ eighty ” mark once again. Emily shuddered and ran home.
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[ WP ] The rest of the world loses contact entirely with an island country ( Australia , Indonesia , Britain , Japan - any of these will do ) . Anyone that flies nearby disappears . You are a naval officer from another country sent to find out what has happened .
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`` So, what if this is another Bermuda Triangle thing? We sail in, we do n't sail out? And our souls by Davey Jones forever be held?'' Queried Kai, mocking lyrically with a glint in his eye. Kai was my resident mystery buff and known among the crew as the man who is one step away from tinfoil hats and institutionalization. And although the notoriety among his staff amused him, no one calls him a conspiracy theorist to his face, because Lt. Commander Jake `` Kai'' Kanashi was a ranking officer and second only to the Captain of the vessel, me - Captain Morgan `` Ave'' Avery, no connection to the pirate.
I glare at him across my desk, `` Bermuda Triangle?! You should know better than anyone else the number of vessels that disappear in the region is just average for an area its size, you know it was sensationalistic media that made the Triangle famous.'' He shrugs at me.
`` Do n't let the crew hear you talk about Davey Jones and do n't you dare mention Fiddler's Green…I need to fill in the logs for tonight. Now, get out.''
Most people would frown at our casualness with each other, but Kai and I had been buddies since we had enlisted 12 years ago, at the grand old age of 18. And if anyone asked, I would answer frankly, that he was overdue for a promotion to Captain. The man could navigate his way around the world with a compass and the stars for guides and despite his flippancy, he had nerves of steel and having him by my side during severe weather was calming and reassuring, like a shot of ice through my own veins. Outside of my office, it was formal, military language but once the doors shut, well, Kai and I dropped all pretence and he spoke freely, whether I wanted to hear about Kennedy's 3rd shooter and that jet fuel ca n't melt steel beams or not.
He smirks at me. Rolls into a stand, heads for the door. He cocks me another grin over his shoulder as he exits and as the door closes, I hear him begin to whistle the refrains of `` Dead Man's Chest''. I throw my softball paperweight at him, but miss by a fraction of a second and the ball falls harmlessly to the floor. Damn it.
We were diverted from our usual patrol route on the Indian Ocean to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a cruise ship out of Europe, *The Beacon* had advertised and plotted a route that led it down the Atlantic and around the Cape of Good Hope and Agulhas and up through the Suez Canal, back to the Mediterranean. This initial offer of the 2 month long trip had sold out in days and for the first 6 weeks, the ship had docked at all its ports like clockwork. The waters in the region usually calm at this time of the year, with the exception of a few minor storms.
It's last port of call was on the island of Madagascar and then it vanished. It was meant to call at Port Victoria, Seychelles, but no one could contact the ship. It got stranger when no one could raise anyone on the island nation by radio or phone or the internet. As nations began to take interest in the matter, the powers that be began realizing that although the cruise ship was the first ship to disappear, planes had been disappearing in the region for years. A flight out of Hong Kong carrying 152 passengers had vanished after diverting over the island due to severe weather, the plane never made it to Johannesburg. Likewise, 6 flights out of Abu Dhabi and Europe to Mauritus and Johanesburg also never made it. And now, flights that had been exploratory rescue searches for the cruise ship out of Africa never made it back.
Which led to my entire frigate being called off patrol and sent to investigate. We'd been due south of Sri Lanka when our orders changed and had travelled about 8 days south-west at this point. We were due to arrive at the island by dawn.
I pause in my writing, I tried to hide it from Kai but clearly he had seen it, I was nervous. I did n't like this. This change in routine, this sudden call to investigate disappearances. I did n't like it. And when you've been at sea for as long as I have, you learn to trust your gut. Worse, Kai was nervous too. He had spent the entire evening silent and stern in front of the crew, out of character for someone who believed in leading with humour and kindness. Kai, my right hand man, always with a steady hand and a keen mind had flubbed calculations earlier in the evening. He was worried, I was worried. And the entire frigate had a nervous energy buzzing around it.
My thoughts are interrupted `` Ah….Captain, you need to come see this. Stern, deck.'' I recognize Kai's voice, and pop up from my seat. He sounds nervous. Rushing my way upwards, I head towards the stern. There were at least 30 crew members gathered, including my XO. He points silently into the waters and there, barely visible under the lights from the ship were sharks. Milling, and trailing us. Another bad omen. I really did n't like this.
`` Alright people, back to work. This is the Indian Ocean, this is n't the first shark you've seen and it wo n't be the last.'' I try to sound commanding, confident and calm. It's not working and there's a slight tremor. But Kai leads the troops back inside.
I'm about to follow when this blinding light flashes. It's really close and nothing like a lightning strike. It feels like a million camera bulbs going off in my face all at once. And I feel a brief but searing heat. There is sudden silence as the night re-envelopes itself around me. An odd stillness.
`` KAI, BRIDGE NOW.'' I yell at him, as I help a few of the remaining startled crew on the deck back inside. He bolts.
I'm about to step over the watertight seal on the door and latch it when the ship turns, suddenly, violently port side. I feel my foot catch on the frame of the door and I tumble backwards. My head hits the deck. I struggle to my feet and rush urgently inside and upward to the bridge. My head is bleeding now, and I press a hand to it. Alarms are going off, sirens blaring. This is not good.
I rush into a hive of activity, and confusion. Our radars are malfunctioning. Our sonars are malfunctioning. Our entire navigations system has shut down and even the compass needles are spinning wildly. Kai and I trade looks, as the entire bridge watch us, waiting for instructions. This is not good.
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[ WP ] A young man commits a selfless act that makes him a hero in the eyes of everyone , but a monster in his own .
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I rushed past the broken door, trying to keep from choking on the smoke. My jacket is burning, but I wo n't let go of the child's hand to put it out. Something buckles and crashes behind me, blocking any way back into the burning building. For a moment, I ca n't hear the screaming of the baby in my arm, or the wail of the fire engines.
But we are out.
I ca n't breathe, and most of my body is burnt to some degree, but we are out.
The two children are still with me, and we are out. Someone puts out my arm, and I am lead to an ambulance. We got out, but the others did n't. They were too weak to move, and I did n't have hands for all five of them. Their faces will haunt me until I die, and then they will torment me when I am dead. But none of it made sense.
They should n't have been there.
The building was abandoned, and it had been for years. I could n't figure out how they had gotten in. Heck, I had to break a hole to get in.
They should n't have been there. They could n't have been there. I made sure to search the building before I poured the gas and lit the match. No one was supposed to be hurt.
They should n't have been there.
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[ WP ] You 're a dog owned by someone with severe depression .
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I hate it when he looks at me like that. I know that when he gets that look that today will be a hard day. If I'm lucky I'll get to eat today, drink today... I certainly wo n't be able to go outside to go to the bathroom today. I hate these days. Does n't he know how uncomfortable it is? Does n't he know how hungry I get? We all like to lie in bed all day but why is it my Master that gets like this? I see plenty of other dogs who have Masters that play with them all the time. They take them to the park and feed them the good dog food, none of that dry stuff.
I can sense that he's sad. He always pulls the blankets up just a little bit more when he's sad. He always looks at me in that way. His eyes get extra squinty. I stick out my tongue and wag my tail at him. He normally loves that. It does n't work today. He must be more sad than usual today.
I jump up onto the bed and lie next to him. I look at him and moan just a little bit, just something so that he knows I'm here. He pulls the blanket down just a little bit, so I can look him in the eyes. Yup, just as I thought....sad eyes. The ones that look hollow, like there's nothing there.
I know that I wo n't be eating today, I'll be lucky if I even get to go to the bathroom today. But I'll lie here with Master until he gets better... because that's what friends do.
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[ WP ] We all know the first time traveler is going to go back in time to kill Hitler . You 're the second time traveler , and you 're going to stop him at all costs .
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Everyone was talking about it in the news...
The first man ever is going into the past to kill Hitler, everyone liked the idea....
But I must stop him from doing so?
Why?... Hitler was the most influential person in the 20th century. What would happens if he did n't exist?
Would the World really be a better place?
What about the population rising in Europe or the future of countries affected by the second world war war?
What would Germany looks like without Hitler?
Would the WW2 happens anyway?
What about the invention made by the Nazis in WW2? Ballistic rockets, jet fighters, Assault rifles and guided bombs?
Would the world be better with them or without them?
We would n't had the technology to reach the moon and build jet planes.
We would n't either have weapons of mass destruction.
We would n't even have Nazi Jokes in Reddit...
And the most important thing was, that the USSR might have the chance to invade the whole of Europe without any resistance at all as the German Army would be weak after WW1.
That would mean a high possibility of the worst scenario of the cold war occurring........ The nuclear War.
It was all related to the butterfly effect, any change to our timeline might be catastrophic.
I had to stop him...... No matters what the world thinks...
There must be peoples that have the same opinion as me....
The world is not that stupid...
History is not something that belong to us...
We do n't have the right to change it....
10:27, 14 of April 2025
The first time traveler is about to go into the past, NBC, CNN, Fox News and the BBC are all here as well as any other news channel from around the world....
Thousand of reporters and spectators were watching the experience in front of the Lincoln Monument in Washington DC....
The congress was there as well as the president and all the members of the UN....
The security was intensive....
It's time.... Everyone had their eyes focused on this Brave Time traveler, professor `` Tim Burthy'' from University of Massachusetts...
He was about to enter the machine, when I forced my way through the crowd and shot the generator with my 357 Magnum to make sure it was destroyed for good....
Dozens of cops, FBI agents and secret service agents surrounded me as I threw the revolver to prevent myself from getting shot.... And I was lucky...
They handcuffed me and made me walk through thousands of astonished spectators, many of them were even angry and they started taunting me and throwing objects toward me......
Those basterds did n't know that I saved their lives...
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[ WP ] Neanderthals have been discovered to never have gone extinct but to have made a subterranean civilization .
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I do n't know why the format is so terrible?
-- -
Bradford had always been relatively shy. Not shy in the way that he couldn ’ t interact or speak to another person. Just shy in a general sense, in that you never really felt like you were getting to know him. Almost elusive, but not as sinister as that. Shy was really the only word you could use. So it was pretty unnerving when one day he showed up on the evening news.
It turns out he had actually been the leader of an underground ring of fight clubs. Yeah, it seems like a predictable thing, that he would be violent or sadistic because he was so shy, but again, none of us really saw it coming. Because unlike a “ normal ” fight club where a bunch of people got together to fight one another and blow off steam or prove their machismo or whatever it is a normal fight club is supposed to do, this one was of Neanderthals. Yes. Exactly what you ’ re thinking – cavemen. Bradford had discovered them living underground outside on his property in Mt. Furniss, Missouri. They had apparently been living there for some time. Obviously, because they had been living deep underground, their existence was severely different than that of a normal human. They ate bats and small fish. That is, until Bradford introduced them to meat. Real meat. Cooked steak. Raw chicken. Friend shrimp. All sorts of different protein that these cave dwellers had never experienced.
But he didn ’ t just give them the food. And, in fact, the cavemen didn ’ t even know Bradford existed. They ’ d never seen him or touched him or heard him. Except for one. The one Bradford stumbled upon one day wen he was clearing some branches from last Winter ’ s snowstorm. Apparently a branch had lodged itself in a fissure in the ground – one that you could get down, but not back out. Bradford used the climbing gear he kept around to scale down. His initial goal was just to find where the large branch was pressured, and cut it so he could remove the jagged piece sticking out of the ground. But that ’ s when he saw the bones of the bats. Which, admittedly, wasn ’ t too extraordinary. It was finding the fish skeletons laid in a line a little further down the cavern that struck him. As he turned his light to scan the cave, he saw the luminescent reflectiveness of the eyes of one of the cave people. He spoke to it, coaxing it out into the open. He was wary, but more than anything, he thought he might be helping some lost spelunker – some cave diver who had come out to explore and gotten trapped.
As the being came out, however, Bradford realized that this was no ordinary human. The bone and skull structure, the posture and the lack of understanding of the language were all at once apparent. The creature approached him slowly, blinking in wonder. As a gesture, Bradford presented him with a bit of the beef jerky he carried in his rucksack. The Neanderthal took it, examined it and looked back. Bradford took a piece himself, showed the creature as he took a bite and made a very theatrical performance of rubbing his belly and making contented sounds. A bite was taken by the creature and it looked back at him with glee and began jumping up and down. It was simply enthralled by the discovery. Bradford gave him some more and then sat wondering what to do – who to tell. He decided against publicity for the time being. His shyness prevented him from going to the press. As he thought, the Neanderthal slinked through a crack in the rock. Bradford wondered if he ’ s return. But after an hour, he decided to leave the cavern, vowing to come back the next day.
As the sun rose over Bradford ’ s property the next morning, he was already awake, cooking bacon on a cast iron skillet in the kitchen. He then wrapped it in tin foil and headed for the fissure. As he slid down his rope into the opening, he heard footsteps approaching. But this time there were two of the cavemen. Surprised, but not alarmed, Bradford detached from his carabineer and slowly approached the two. The first approached – the one he had met yesterday. It extended its hand towards Bradford, who smiled.
“ Eh…greedy little guy, huh? ”
He unzipped his bag and took out the bacon, unwrapping the foil and handing the open bundle to the eager Neanderthal. It was snatched and the being ran back over to his companion. He showed it to his companion, who picked up a slice and smelled it, as the first caveman ate a piece. He was once again elated. His companion, seeing the reaction of his friend, took a nibble. His reaction was the same. He reached for more. But then the first Neanderthal growled and withheld the foil. They grunted at each other. The latter kept reaching for the bacon and the former would push him away. Bradford watched intently. Finally, the second of the pair threw a bit of the dirt from the cavern floor. This enraged the first caveman, who grabbed a bocce-sized stone from the ground and began clubbing the second in the head. It happened so suddenly and so violently that Bradford barely had time to react before the second Neanderthal lay dead, its head caved in, with the first standing over him, panting as the blood and organic matter dripped from his makeshift weapon. He turned and looked at his benefactor who had given him the food and grinned an odd grin and then sat and ate the rest of the bacon. Bradford, shaken, left the cavern posthaste, turning to look behind him just before the cavern floor was out of sight. He saw the caveman standing there, looking up at him, grinning his odd grin.
It was about a week before Bradford went back, this time taking steak. When he arrived on the cavern floor, he waited several minutes and then called out “ Hey! Food! ” His voice echoed through the chambers. He began to wonder if maybe those had been the only two and now the killer had starved. But then he heard the rustling and the original caveman appeared. Upon seeing Bradford, his eyes widened and he did a sort of dance, jumping around and beating his might hands on the floor. The other body was nowhere to be seen. Then the primitive man ran off into the caverns again. Several minutes passed until it emerged, this time with two companions. Bradford set the meat in the middle of the room and backed away. The first Neanderthal approached it, took a bite and made screeches of approval before handing a small piece to the ones he ’ d brought a long. The two ate and were also elated, reaching for more from their partner. A conflict ensued, along with a light scuffle before the initial Neanderthal reached behind a boulder and produced his weapon and attacked. However, this time its first blow was only glancing and the second creature turned on the first and attacked it viciously. The third Neanderthal fled into the cracks, screeching. The first creature finally overcame his companion and, using its weapon as before, bludgeoned it until it was incapacitated. There was a terrifying silence in the cave, broken only by the heaving breaths of the victor. It turned to Bradford, grinned its odd grin and then took the rest of the steak and disappeared into the cracks.
It ’ s unclear how long this went on, but from the reports, they say Bradford brought food to the creatures for several months. At first, the initial Neanderthal killed any “ friends ” it brought along, but only after allowing them to taste what he had. However, each outing, the first caveman would bring more and more of the creatures, but only to spectate. The only ones to fight would be the ones who tasted of the meat. Eventually the first was bested and killed. Each subsequent victor would go around the cavern, select an opponent, allow him to partake of the meat and then they would brawl to the death.
Eventually, Bradford decided to tell an anthropology professor he knew about the discovery. Bradford shared his library where he had documented the fights, both by video and photograph. He even had a notebook of which creatures had won the most, organized by names he had made up for them. The longest consecutive winner had supposedly been victorious 57 times in a row, although it ’ s unclear how often the bouts were held.
It spread pretty fast after that. Bradford was arrested, but his charges were unclear. Some say it was animal cruelty, other say he should be tried for manslaughter. Local law enforcement raided one of the “ clubs ” but the creatures fled into the caverns. Subsequent expeditions found nothing. Bradford is in an institution now, and is very despondent. Five years have passed without incident and even now, people question whether it had actually happened. The authorities will not comment on or release any of Bradford ’ s documentation. But the professor swears he saw it. And if you visit Bradford and ask him, he ’ ll just grin and odd grin and then disappear back into the cracks of his own insanity.
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[ WP ] Make me want to quit halfway through reading your response out of boredom . ( 250 word minimum )
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Two students sat in a classroom, “ How does calculus work? ” one asked.
“ Calculus works without the express knowledge of our friend the limit, ” said the professor excitedly, “ Indeed, but without the explanation given by the limit, how could one know the precise way that the integral or derivative works? Wherefore, we must note that given epsilon to being any real number greater than zero, and another real number delta, which is also greater than zero, and the limit of a function to be operated on, as x goes to some number a, will equal some limit L.'' At this, the professor leaned in as if sharing a secrete, `` Now if the absolute value of x minus a is greater than zero, but less than delta, then the absolute value of the function at x minus the limit is less than epsilon! In general the value of delta, is dependent upon the value of epsilon. That is to say, that because epsilon is greater than zero it is best to deal with epsilon first, secure in the knowledge that delta must also be greater than zero, however many potential values of delta exist. In fact, it is true that all values of delta smaller than that of a given delta will suffice likewise. ”
The student gazed up with round eyes, “ That... is... so... cool! ” one of them said. ”
“ I-I do n't get it... ” said the other.
The math professor raised his bushy eyebrows, and said “ That is alright, the world needs English majors too. ”
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[ WP ] The greatest comeback of all time .
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President-Elect Dr. Benjamin Solomon Carson, Sr. stood on the dais overlooking the crowded National Mall as Justice John Roberts nodded to him. As the crowd cheered his name on that cold, snowy January morning, he placed his hand on the bible -- one he personally selected from the library of Ellen White, a founder of the Seventh Day Adventist Church -- and he wondered how the Hell he'd ended up here.
It had started the night after Super Tuesday. Donald Trump was gloating about his wins across the nation, and Senators Rubio and Cruz were at each other's throats trying to secure the second-place spot. As for Carson, he was in negotiations with the three campaigns. Rubio and Cruz were eager for his support ( and his handful of delegates ), but Trump was unresponsive. Carson figured he was a lock for Secretary of Health and Human Services, maybe even Surgeon General. Plus there was a two-book deal on the table and a role as a political correspondent with FOX News. All in all, it looked like a pretty good retirement was shaping up.
He was shaking hands in a diner in Baton Rouge. Answering questions. He even ordered a cup of coffee, something he usually would n't do. But he was retiring, So why not? It'd help keep him active and alert for three speeches that day. After a few more species with diner patrons and an autograph for a young black law student, he reached into his wallet to pay for his coffee.
Well heck.
All he had was a single $ 100 bill. No way were they going to break it for a $ 1.75 cup of coffee. He considered asking a staffer for money, but with the local news cameraman filming him, he decided that would look unpresidential. Besides, he could certainly afford it. So he handed his waitress the bill, said `` God bless'' to her, and walked out the door and on to his first speech.
It was n't until later that evening, just before his last speech, that he noticed something... odd. The event organizers were talking about changing venues due to a larger-than-expected crowd. Two young women were holding signs that read `` \ # buybenacoffee''. He pointed them out to one of his staffers.
`` Oh, no one's told you? You've gone viral. The \ # buybenacoffee hash tag is trending.'' Now, Ben was no expert in online marketing, but he knew enough to understand what that meant.
`` I thought I had to approve all online campaigns first,'' he said angrily. The staffer just smiled.
`` It's organic, grassroots,'' she replied. `` The local channel put up an interview with that waitress, then someone started the hashtag. We've had half a million in donations in six hours, averaging $ 5 or so.'' Carson was stunned. That was more money than his campaign had received in three weeks. He pulled out his phone and quickly found the interview. Already it had been viewed nearly two million times. He tried to listen, but could barely hear over the roar of the growing crowd. All he could make out was that the waitress was broke, could barely afford her rent, was going days without food just so her baby could eat. The $ 98.25 was a week's worth of groceries and diapers, enough to ensure she paid her rent. He watched as tears rolled down her face. She turned to the camera, and as clear as a bell said, `` thank you Dr. Carson''.
The speech he gave that night was immortalized around the world, played endlessly on nightly news and shared on Facebook for months. It had started as any other stump speech, but when he came to the prefabricated portion where he attacked Trump, he paused. Then he spoke from his heart.
`` My friends,'' he said to the raucous crowd, `` my opponent says that he wants to make America great again. He believes that a strong military is what makes a great nation, but North Korea, China, Russia: they all have strong militaries. Would you call them'great nations'?'' A few voices in the bewildered crowd shouted `` NO!'' One or two people booed loudly, but Carson ignored them.
`` My opponent believes that building a wall to keep others out, to ban people from coming to America because of their religion will make us a great nation. But there are countries like Saudi Arabia who prohibit non-Muslims from entering Mecca. Would you call them'great nations'? During the Cold War, the communist governments built walls thousands of miles of walls to keep their people trapped. Would you call them'great nations'?''
`` NO!!'' the crowd shouted in unison.
`` Great nations are n't made great by powerful armies. Rather, *strong* armies are born from great nations that provide hope to the world, moral clarity to and from their people, and the will to do good and act righteously. An army with those qualities will persevere against an enemy no matter its size.
`` Walls have never made a nation great. In fact, they do n't work. Ever. What works is what the Bible tells us: to treat strangers in our land like guests, long-lost family come back to the fold.
`` I am reminded tonight of the story Jesus told about the Good Samaritan, a man who clothed and fed a stranger he foun lying beaten in the road. We do n't know what happened to that stranger, but we know what would have happened if the Samaritan had just kept walking. I bet that there is n't one of us here tonight who got where we are alone. Every one of us was once that stranger. And at that time someone -- a family member, a friend, a teacher, even a complete stranger -- they fed us, and clothed us, and gave us hope when we had none. I know it's true for me, and I want you to take a moment to think about who it was for you.'' The room was silent as people bowed their heads or smiled softly to themselves. After a long pause, Carson continued. `` Remember their generosity and ask yourself: what really makes America a great nation. God bless you all.''
By the time he woke up the next morning, his campaign had received $ 2.3 million, and he was tied for second in the polls.
As predicted, Trump came in for the attack during the next debate. Carson was no longer on the sidelines, but placed right next to the frontrunner. He'd even got an abundance of speaking time and a few questions directed his way. He remained calm, avoiding the moderator's baiting questions, deflecting Trump's attacks. He remained calm; so much so that Trump only became even more apoplectic. Finally, when Carson spoke of his upbringing, and his growth from a troubled teen to a world-famous neurosurgeon, Trump exploded.
`` Who cares about some nigger from the ghetto??'' he raged, unable to deal with the spotlight not being shone on him. That one word got Trump all the attention he'd ever wanted. A man with even the slightest shame would have dropped out, but Trump continued to run all the way to the convention, where Carson won easily.
And now here he was, being sworn in to the highest office in the land. His election opponent was scheduled to testify in Congress for the fourteenth time later this week, and rumour had it that she was still bitter about President Obama's premature pardon, which sunk her chances at ever winning the election. Rumour also had it that it was retribution for having started all those'Kenyan' conspiracy theories eight long years ago.
But today none of that mattered. As Benjamin Solomon Carson, Sr., forty-fifth President of the United States of America stepped forward to address the crowd, all he could think about was the nice, peaceful retirement that had slipped away.
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[ WP ] You have just found the cure to a virus that is killing millions worldwide , why do you keep it to yourself ?
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The angel virus ( h1-a5 ) is burning through the world, killing millions. Almost everyone is infected, and 1 in 5 have died. The virus lays dormant in the hosts' brain stem, activating itself when the host is thinking of harming another person and causes a peaceful death.
Crime rate has dropped to zero. Wars have stopped. Everyone is on their best behavior.
I have finally found the cure, but I am not sure I want to release it. The world is so nice now. Oh, no! I think I just triggered the virus in my head thinking about keep the cure.
I am getting sleepy, I just have enough time to burn my notes.
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[ WP ] You are a high level character in a fantasy world . You defeated your enemies , become pretty much immortal and are now the most powerful being ever , so much that you can be mistaken for a god . After a while enjoying your power over others , you are now bored since nothing is difficult anymore .
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He sat upon a pile of bodies and brooded as the dying flames emitted smoke and obscured the landscape. The carrion birds hovered overhead and eyed the still-warm flesh which carpeted the field below. Scores of warriors, their blades keen and their bloodlust unparalleled, had gathered to do battle that day and had fallen in mere seconds like blades of grass against a scythe. The last man had fallen, both hands removed clean from his wrists, his lifeblood pouring from the stumps jutting from his forearms as he stared in disbelief at the bringer of his doom. A mere child, delicate features evoking an innocence seemingly blessed by the angels themselves, but radiating a sinister power from his body like a dark aura. He had with a casual swipe of his arms from a distance decapitated a line of men with ease. What was more frightening than the monstrous force he wielded was that the only emotion he betrayed was boredom.
The boy sighed and looked towards the heavens, his azure eyes reflecting the eternal blue. He lifted his piping voice upwards in confrontation.
“ Is this the best you have to offer? Am I cursed to forever toy with weaklings? ”
If the heavens comprehended the boy ’ s treaty there was no sign. Its only response was the changing flight pattern of the carrion birds as they began their descent. Soon they would glut themselves on the decomposing bodies which were littered like autumn leaves. The boy cursed them, no more than opportunistic leeches feeding off his efforts. Just like the rest of the pathetic creatures around him, swift to boast but dissolving like quicksand at the slightest touch. He had challenged this last bunch after he had disposed of a group of their kinsman in a neighbouring state, hoping in vain that they would provide better sport. As always he was disappointed. All he wished for was a stronger opponent, an enemy to bring perspiration to his brow and palpitations to his heart. Yet he had traveled across the land, destroying any and all, until the bounties placed upon his head grew so large that many nations were forced to pool their treasuries to keep up with the rise in value. None he faced caused him to exert any noticeable effort.
The boy faced a grim truth; his power had grown to such a level that he was, for all intents and purposes, a god. No mortal creature on earth could touch him. Whereas he had enjoyed the thrill that domination and victory had initially brought, now he was weary of the constant repetition his existence had become. What had started as hand to hand combat with one opponent had grown to drawn out battles with a gang of men, and as his power magnified so did the number of opponents until he was facing small battalions and crushing them with ease. Soon he would face the might of whole armies, and when he decimated them he would have no one left to fight. Only the cold embrace of a self-inflicted death would remain. If there was such a thing as fate, the boy thought, it had weaved a cruel irony over the web of his life.
The carrion birds had landed, many of them plucking eyeballs and pecking at meaty morsels. One bird however was ignoring the smorgasbord and approaching the boy with curious little hops. He considered evaporating it, but its beady eyes which stared unwavering into his own stayed his hand. It hopped closer and closer until it was sitting at his feet and cawed before flapping its wings in a strange, almost contemptuous manner. From under its wing dropped a glistening jewel of opaque ebon. It cawed once more and took flight without a second glance.
The boy stooped to pick up the bird ’ s offering. It was oddly heavy, although its heft in the palm of his hand was no worse than a pebble. It seemed to hum with unexpressed potential. Its cut was complex, carved to show twenty smooth faces, each face with a symbol engraved in silver. He was unable to discern the meaning of the symbols, the straight lines and sweeping curves barbaric and alien. It was clearly a magical artifact, the bird a disguised valkyrie sent by the gods to answer his rude prayer. But nothing he did caused it to activate. He focused his power upon it, enveloping it in a miasma of force so thick that it would have caused a man ’ s skull to implode, and yet it remained in the centre of the maelstrom as benign as any rock. He tried everything he could think of, and in frustration cast it in the dirt at his feet. It bounced a few times and landed, the symbol facing upwards similar to a cross in appearance.
Suddenly a blazing golden light shot out of the stone and enveloped the boy until his sight was completely absorbed. He thought he had been blinded and raged as he shook his head. After an eternity his vision cleared and when he noticed his surroundings he gasped.
He was standing in a familiar alley, a filthy backstreet with stinking refuse lining the walls. Behind him was a staunch barrier of brick and mortar preventing his escape, in front a scoundrel of giant size brandishing a shillelagh with rusted nails embedded into the business end. The boy well remembered him, as the scoundrel was the first opponent he ’ d defeated.
The boy shrugged and swiped, releasing a slash of energy. He guessed that the magic of the stone had transported him into his past. The scoundrel bore the energy slash across his chest and instead of bursting into flames laughed it off and stalked towards him. The boy threw three more blasts of energy with the same result. It was then that he realized the gift the magic stone had conferred upon him. A chance to start again, his current power intact in a world where his former enemies had quadrupled in strength. The gods had answered his prayers. He smiled, his heart warming as a long-forgotten battle-lust stirred once more. He gritted his teeth and charged.
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[ WP ] You are a DNS server sort of like an old phone operator . People message you whenever they want to get to a website . Describe your day .
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. * WARNING * slightly nsfw
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
me: DNS server, what website would you like?
male voice: pornhub
me: right away sir
...................................
me: DNS server, what website would you like?
14 year old: cumdumpster
me: *sigh* are you 18 or over?
14 year old: yes
me: sure whatever
.....................
me: DNS server, what website would you like?
female voice: literotica
me: certainly miss
..............................
me: ( thinking about how tired of this I am ) what do *you* wan na jack off to?
old lady's voice: excuse me? i was just gon na go on google to look at cat photos! how dare you!
me: fuck this shit! I quit!
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[ OT ] what is your favorite prompt you 've written ? post it here with the prompt that inspired it .
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> Write a genuinely scary story about the most ridiculous monster you can imagine.
`` What is that on your arm?''
George Cook, Certified Forensic Accountant, looked away from his Wall Street Journal he always enjoyed during breakfast to his arm. There was a thin, straight scab that was just visible under his course, black hair.
`` That? A paper-cut, I suppose.'' He folded his paper and looked at his wife, Julie, a portly, smooth faced woman with frizzy bright red hair. `` You know, I actually got quite a work out yesterday digging in mounds and mounds of paper left behind by the bookkeeper at the Cold Iron Company's lead mine. Poor soul.''
`` God knows you could use it.'' Julie said, shoveling three more strips of bacon onto his plate. He was annoyed that a woman that wieghed at least three stone more than him would chide him about his weight.
`` Anyway, this poor bloke left his office in shambles. Working at the mine did him in, I think. His books started off clear as a bell. Everything perfectly in order. Over time he started scribling all over, using different colors, drawing odd shapes. They've had to shut the mine while we work it all out.''
Julie looked worried. `` Do you have to go back there?''
`` Of course, Jules, I'll be there at least a month. This jigsaw is n't going to put itself together!''
Julie just looked at him for a few moments `` George, you've just been so stressed, lately. You've not had a holiday in ages. Maybe someone else can handle this one for Mr. Caldwell.''
`` Love, love, love. The mine's owners, the Akoman's, are close friends with Mr. Caldwell. They want the best man on this job and it just so happens that the best man is me.'' George gave his wife a wink over his rimless glasses and stuffed the worn ledger sitting at the edge of the table into his breifcase.
George kissed his wife's red, worried cheek. `` I may be home a bit late, love. The mines are a good 80 miles outside of town and, like I said, this job is important. They want this one squared as soon as possible.''
George arrived two hours later, at 8:30 in the morning outside of the brick building that housed the offices. He disliked driving through thick fog and arrived a bit more tense than he would have liked. All he could see of the rest of the factory were the conveyor bels and some of the nearer smokestacks. He knew there where odd large wooden buildings that covered equipment and similar tall towers running up the ridge of the hill, perched at odd angles behind the low brick buildings. He could n't see them today. George enjoyed the practical design of the old mine. It looked chaotic with pools, scaffolding, towers, smokestacks, and conveyor belts seemingly thrown all over the foot of the hill and up the side but he knew that each odd end had a specific purpose. You could find that purpose if you traced the inputs and outputs closely enough. He felt he had much the same task to perform in the dark little room he marched into.
The walls, where he could see them behind the heaps of books and papers, were covered with black and white photographs of the mine. Most showed hard faced workers stooped beneath thick beams holding up stone ceilings or posing near machinery or pools of molten lead. One featured a massive waterwheel that George did not remember seeing on the grounds and another a steam train. Many showed a man in a suit, taller and straigher then the grimy workmen, with peircing clear eyes and slick, black hair. Benjamin Akoman, no doubt, thought George. He was n't the first to mine lead in this area but he was certainly the most successful.
George sat at the heavy wood desk adorned with the previous officeholder's nameplate'August Clarke'. only with a and opened his case. The red leather ledger was several decades old. He placed it on the desk and opened it to the ribbon he'd placed the night before. `` Blast it, Mr. Clarke, had n't you heard of a computer!'' George complained aloud. He did n't bother opening his laptop. He knew it would be several days just to find where he should start.
The entries were crisp and clear; nearly calligraphy George noted. He flipped to the end. The numbers began to waver and the strange doodles began to appear in the narrow margings.'This is where it starts'. He stood up and pulled loose sheets of paper from the top of the pile. Most was scratched out so violently that the page was torn in spots. But it was on the back of an invoice and it had a date...'Two months ago, before they found him at the bottom of a shaft.' With a beginning and and end George started sifting through the stacks of paper looking for other dates to'frame the puzzle' as George liked to put it.
He did n't remember falling asleep. Such a thing had never happened before while on the job. The smooth purr of a performance engine gliding down the path roused him, he realized.
George straightened his glasses and noted a scribble across the page of notes.'George, what has gotten into you. Falling asleep mid-stroke?'
He looked out of the window behind the desk. A long, sleek Mercedes drove up to the building. A tall man in a dark suit and coat stepped out of the car and looked directly at him. `` Oh! Mr. Akoman.''
George straightened the desk and collected his notes and rushed downstairs to meet his new client.
`` Hello.'' Akoman said and took George's hand in a firm shake before he could say anything. `` I'm Mitchell Akoman. I came to see how you are doing and to check up on things here. Is there anything you need?''
`` Oh, thank you, sir. No, sir. I am getting my bearings'' he held up his notes `` and I believe our initial assessment will be ready on schedule.''
Akoman raised his eyebrows in surprise `` You seem confident. That office is a disaster.'' He paused and pointed at Georges arm. `` Are you injured?''
George followed Akoman's gesture to see bright red beads in two lines accross the top of his left forearm, just above the scab Julie had pointed out at breakfast.
`` Oh. It is nothing sir. Papercuts.''
Akoman gestured to enter the building `` Let's go take care of that. You should n't drink the water, the government tests have not been completed but the tap should be ok to wash up.''
`` They think the water is what... what did it, sir?''
-- Continued --
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[ WP ] ( Askreddit inspired ) Choose a well-known children 's book or tale and write a darker adult interpretation .
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It all used to be fun, thought Chucky, as he stared into the mirror and cursed his stupid mop of hair Tommy would convince all of us that we should break out of the pen, go out looking for mischief. We'd always go out, avoid the adults, find something fun to do and never get caught. Fun... fun... fun....then that day came. The day Tommy and I were alone and he was convinced we need to go outside and hunt down his Reptar doll.
At first he blamed the parents... who is n't keeping an eye on children at that age. We were 6 and 7 at the time....How the fuck did we get away unsupervised he thought.Chucky was still bitter. He blamed the Pickles, he had been blaming them for the last 10 years. Chucky looked back into the mirror. Puberty was n't being kind to him. The pimples were growing worse by the day.
It was cold that day, Chucky would never forget that. Out in the yard, digging around looking for Reptar in the bushes. He begged Tommy to go back inside, Tommy just told him not be ascared! That's when the car pulled up, a man poked his head out and asked what Tommy was looking for? Do n't go over there Tommy, he had pleaded. Do n't be such a scardey cat, the last words Chucky would ever hear him say.....
Chucky had found that screwdriver in an old box of Tommy's things....tears began to flow.
He had ran back inside screaming for Mrs. Pickles! Days had been spend looking for Tommy, the police came... the car was searched for.
Tears rolled down His eyes as he thought back to the day, if only he had stopped Tommy, gotten his mom sooner, grabbed Tommy... if only if only....Chucky had gotten a knife now..ten years without his best friend had been a burden...
The found his body... three weeks later in dumpster... mutilated, molested
and burned...
Chucky took the knife in hand
`` Do n't be such a scardey cat'' Tommy's last words echoed in his mind as he brought the knife to his wrists and slashed...
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[ WP ] Transform a mundane task into an edge-of-your-seat thriller !
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Keystrokes sounded out in the dark, echoing through the emptiness of the apartment. The desk and chair stood alone as the only pieces of furniture in the entire room. The only window in the unit sat snugly shut with the blinds pulled down. Isolation would be the key to finishing a task that had been put off for far too long.
If one were to walk into the apartment they would be taken aback by the stink of his desperation. For months he lived day to day, hoping that tomorrow would be different, hoping that someday he might achieve his goal. The only constants in his life were the fears upon awakening that the landlord would pay him a visit and the sound of keystrokes.
Sitting in front of the computer he felt as if his fingers were imbued with the power to change his life, working away their magic and filling yet another white page with black text. One day he would find what he was looking for, one day the text would manifest itself in the reward he so long sought.
One day, someone would accept his application and give him the job he so desperately needed.
Note: sorry, not as much of an edge-of-your-seat thriller as I had intended it to be.
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[ WP ] Satan tries to tempt you into one of the lesser-known sins
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`` Go on'' he said, his voice purring, the smell of sulphur and smoky bacon wafting from his lips.
`` No'' I replied, for what felt like the 1,000th time. Time moved differently in his office, so it may well have been.
“ Oh, go on, you know you want to ” his eyes lit up like a child ’ s at an arcade in a wet, empty seaside town.
“ Look, I know I ’ m asking a lot, but I think you ’ re also being a bit unreasonable here. I ’ ve offered to kill, to steal, to… Well, you know what else I ’ m willing to do, but this is too much for one man. ”
“ How long has your sister been sick, Tom? ”
Jane.
God, it had been years now.
Her disease had stolen the best years of her life. She wanted to be a painter. Her art always seemed so alive, like she ’ d mixed a little bit of her own soul in with the oils. She ’ d been destined for big things, all the toff snobs in the art world were really looking forward to her exhibitions, but then that fucking disease had struck, stealing her hands, stealing her talent.
This guy I met in a pub one night, Dan -- some drifter from Las Vegas in town to see Les Mis -- said he knew a girl who knew a guy who could solve everything. I admit, I ’ d had a few drinks. Well, I say a few, let ’ s just say that it ’ s been 8 nights since our first meeting and I ’ m still a bit dizzy.
“ You go to this address and take a ticket. It might take a while, but be patient and he ’ ll see you. You tell him your problems and he offers you a solution - for a price. ”
“ What, money? I don ’ t have much money, else I wouldn ’ t be sitting in this hole talking to you. You look like something ate you and then had to have its stomach pumped to get rid of you. ”
“ Thanks, pal. Anyway, like I said, it ’ s a price. It differs from person to person, depending on what you want in return. Sometimes it ’ s nothing, sometimes it ’ s something big, but whatever, you want to help your sister, right? ”
The doctors had nothing. I ’ d travelled the world finding experts in her disease, from Tokyo to New York, Jakarta to Stoke, but no one had been able to help. She ’ d been through too many tests, too many exams, she was down to the last few strands of dignity.
Fuck it, what could it hurt? I admit it, I ’ d seen faith healers. I ’ d talked to psychics and witch doctors in Brixton, a woman in Tenby who claimed to be able to exorcise diseases like demons. She was an idiot, but I tried, I had to.
This, though. What this man
( he ’ s no man )
wanted? It was too much.
“ What ’ s the harm? ” he said, leaning back in his chair. Leather. Expensive. Comfortable. The creaking noise it made as he sat back almost sounded like a groan.
“ I just, look, if you knew anything about me, you ’ d just know I can ’ t do this. ”
“ Then Jane will die. The world will lose her art, you ’ ll lose a sister, and to be honest, I ’ m about to lose my patience. Do you know how many people come and see me every day, Tom? It ’ s a lot, okay, I ’ m pretty popular around here. You should see how many Facebook notifications I get, I have to have a girl sort through them, Tom, I am a busy man. You are wasting my time. Look, forget it, you obviously don ’ t think she ’ s important enough to commit this small little sin, so maybe you should- ”
“ Okay. ” I whispered.
“ What ’ s that, Tom? I didn ’ t hear you. ”
“ Okay. ” I said, slightly louder, unable to meet his gaze.
“ Hold out your hand, Tom. ”
I squinted at him, as he held his hand out ready to shake.
I thought about it for a second, images of Jane in bed, the colour drained out of her face, then images of the good Jane, the one who didn ’ t cry all the time, the one who just painted and painted.
I knew which one I preferred.
I reached out and shook his hand. He had a firm grip. Then the pain started. It was like hot and cold at the same time. Electricity, stabbing pains, it felt like my hand was being crushed, then he let go and the pain washed away instantly, like nothing had ever happened.
“ You ’ ve got until midday. You do this for me and Jane will be freed from the prison that is her body. You don ’ t do this, well, then you ’ ll wish Jane ’ s disease had taken her sooner. Goodbye, Tom. ”
I left his office, a small, anonymous room in a building full of small, anonymous rooms.
I checked the time on my phone. 10am.
Fuck it, I might as well just get this over with. The nearest place was a Sainsburys. I didn ’ t need any preparation, I was ready for this.
I walked through the doors, grabbed a basket and a few random items. It didn ’ t matter what. I think I put in broccoli, toilet paper and maybe some tinned tomatoes. I grabbed a few beers, thinking it might help later. There was the queue for the checkout. Eight people in line, all carrying baskets overflowing with items. A small elderly woman was next in line. She had biscuits, bin bags, some instant coffee, some flowers, a card. Maybe visiting a sick relative. I gripped the basket so hard I thought I might snap the plastic handle. I couldn ’ t do this. The woman was so old, so timid, she didn ’ t deserve this. No, I had to think of something else.
( Jane )
Fuck.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the old woman.
Closer. Closer still.
I could smell mints on her breath. She reminded me of my grandmother who always snuck me a Trebor during church services to get rid of the taste of the communion wine. I was so close I could touch her.
“ Excuse me. ” I said, and pushed in front of her.
“ Er, excuse *me*. ” She replied, then tapped me on the shoulder.
“ I was here first. ”
“ Yeah, what ’ s your problem, mate? ” said a tall bloke behind her, a fire burning in his eyes, surely brighter than the fires I ’ d soon be seeing downstairs.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” I said, shaking, almost crying now, “ I ’ m really in a rush. ”
“ You can ’ t just push into a queue, boss. Back of the line, mate, go on, do one. ”
“ No, I ’ m sorry, I ’ ve... I've got a bus to catch. ”
People were getting angry now, and then I heard it. At first it almost inaudible, but then it grew and grew - a chorus of tuts. If I ever wanted to know what hell sounded like, now I knew.
The woman at the checkout signaled me over.
“ I ’ ll do this once, just because I don ’ t want a commotion, but I better not see you here again. ”
I nodded, unable to speak.
My phone buzzed, a text. I paid for my shopping and walked out, the tuts following me, someone called me a dickhead.
I got the phone out. It was mum.
COME HOME. SOMETHING ’ S HAPPENED TO JANE. SHE ’ S WALKING, TOM
I smiled.
Then I stopped smiling.
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[ WP ] A World War II battle with Mechs .
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*January 12, 1945: Operation Home - Flying over Berlin*
The U.S. had lost many battles already. This was our way into getting ourselves to victory. The Nazi technology expanded far. We were dropping into a well armed city. This is what a paratrooper did. Who knows what would await us.
Flying was the worst. My cockpit was just a few feet wide and the flight would make me bump against the walls. The only room was for my limbs that would move my mechanical arms, but that was only for combat. The feeling inside the plane was intense. Many soldiers would look at each other with scared faces. Some would say it was a one-way trip to Hell, while others would say we were *in it* already. This is was my first time in combat, and I already knew what was waiting for me. Germans extended their reach to Iceland. Marines began to be shipped to Europe due to massive casualties by the enemie's new weapon. The shortage of marines in Japan began to make a drastic change. We had to take more of Germany's land.
D-Day is when Hitler began exploiting their new advanced technology. The invasion failed, never even making it past the beach. 45 feet tall, with a width of 6 and a half feet, giant metal machines that obliterated everything in its path. They were Löwe Mechs, made by either Nazi or captured scientists forced to invent new technology. They're armed with 25mm bullets that tear flesh and bone. Along with it are missiles that can cause even more destruction, which made the Invasion of Normandy even more tough. Only few Vought F4U Corsair fighters managed to destroy these Löwe Mechs, Löwes for short. Of course, some were salvaged and were taken in. The U.S. government began funding for more improved mechs to be built for our own use. It took a year for these to be perfected. These new destroyers were named M12 Makrin Mechs. Infantry soldiers were mainly trained to use them, but they were also beginning to train Airborne soldiers to use them.
I was in the Airborne 101st Division in Company E. The men before me in the company had fought in D-Day the night before. Most men were slaughtered by Löwes or were taken as POW's. A couple had made it out alive. But only 32 men had survived that battle, and that was out of 16,737 paratroopers. Some of those 32 soldiers were fighting beside me that day. They never talked or looked at anyone. Talking to new recruits was said to be taboo in their point of view. None of them wanted to get close to us, they thought we would be dead by the first hour of battle.
`` Hey, Tanners!'' A soldier asked me, he was one of my closest buddies in training. `` You ever see Berlin?''
`` Never, why do you ask?'' He looked back and did a quick scope of the other troopers. `` I heard it's worse than being tortured! Artillery there is insane!'' He replied.
I gave a fake smirk and took a deep breath. Sweat began to fall down the side of my temple. I tensed up and looked at everyone else. Some where shaking or praying to God. Many were telling each other about back home, or about how they've got a girl waiting for them. I kept to myself, the only thing I was thinking about was who was going to live or die. My expectation was that *I* was going to die. Hopefully it would be fast, but I was n't sure. The tenseness began to fall short, and I pulled the piece of paper out of my front pocket. It explained to my girlfriend, Elizabeth, that I was n't planning to come back. I wrote down my final words, `` I love you so much.'' Quickly, I jumped out of my mech cockpit, and ran over to the airplane pilot.
`` Take this! Send it in the mail!'' I yelled. The engines were extremely loud. These planes were n't average C-46 airplanes. They were designed to carry Allied mechs. The pilot nodded his head and put it in his pocket, along with another group of letters. I ran back to my cockpit, and strapped myself in. The sergeant of my platoon, Sergeant Edward, ran through the row of mechanical men. `` 5 minutes till drop!'' He yelled. I closed my eyes and prayed to God that I could die an easy death. I did n't know what to expect. An easy fight, or a plummet down to sentient, walking death. The only non-scared men were the ones from D-Day. They looked as if this was an everyday routine, but still struggled to use mechs, as it was their first time too. I began to sink into my chair an relax, when suddenly the plane began to shake. Outside the windows were orange and black puffs of smoke. Artillery was heavy, and I saw a plane fall down into the sky. I pressed the button to close the door to my cockpit. A plate of glass sealed me tight, and green lettering appeared in front of me.
OPERATION SYSTEMS > ONLINE
SYSTEMS CHECK > GOOD
READY FOR LAUNCH.
The floor below me opened, the light inside the plane blinked red. The mechs were hanging on to hooks attached at the top of the plane. The red light stopped blinking. Red suddenly turned to green, and I pressed the RELEASE button. I fell through the sky. So far all I saw were clouds, then a battle. A Corsair was getting chased by a Messerschmitt fighter below me. I looked forward and the mech above me fell on top of an enemy plane. The plane was stuck under the mech because of the weight, and pilot of the Makrin shot his bullets through the fighter plane's glass. He then tore the tail off, and kicked it away. More and more planes were fighting. Explosions surrounded me. Heat was felt through the glass, and a Corsair flew straight into an ally mech. The debris hit me, and I was engulfed in the flames.
All of a sudden I felt myself hit the ground. The city was just miles long of debris. The buildings and glass were broken to pieces, and many planes were laid across the land. Makrins landed beside me, and we all headed to our objective. 3 men already dead. Either a plane hit them or they were shot at while falling. My platoon sergeant was able to survive, and leaded us through the city. We were the first to be on the land, the debris was from B-17 bombers that had come by before. We ran through broken buildings and shot our missiles to a row of artillery cannons. We spread out, just in case 88's would rain down shells on us. Those were something you did n't want to be under. Around the corner were Löwes examining the areas for fallen Makrins. Our company hid behind broken buildings and waited for the enemy squad to get into range. While I was patiently waiting, my sergeant abruptly radioed me. `` So, Tanners, how was your elevator down?'' He asked.
`` Just fine, Sergeant.''
`` Just wait till everything goes off down here. Not going to be as easy as the sky.''
`` Right, sarge.'' I said. The Löwe squadron came around the corner. As we were waiting for commands, and burning Corsair was noticed by us. The plane was spiraling toward the Löwes, but they heard the plane too late. The plane crashed into the Nazis and exploded into a cloud of orange. Sparks were coming from destroyed mechs and bodies were burnt to the bone. We came out of the fallen buildings and walked through the mangled men. My radio had again suddenly made house.
`` What a lucky moment that was.'' A soldier said. `` Think we can salvage some memorabilia, Sar-''
The man's voice turned to static. The Makrin was shot from the bottom up by an ambush. Bullets began flying past me and another soldier got shot through the cockpit glass. Löwes jumped from the second floor breaking the remaining walls. Edwards ordered us to fall back, he shot a missile into the middle of the tan enemies. Missiles were launched toward us and only some were able to obliterate my squadron. My mechanical leg was shot off and I shot at them. I opened my cockpit and jumped out with my M1911.
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[ EU ] Bruce Wayne discovers he was actually adopted and his biological parents are still alive .
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Kayfabe a Batman and Robin short story
The Bat Computer, really a fancy name for a Beowulf cluster built years ago when that kind of tech was bleeding edge, whined as it spat tickertape. It was a relic really but it worked and Batman was never one to fix things that were n't broke.
Wayne frowned slightly as he read,'' Adopted?''
`` Well?'' Robin asked, the young man was near to leaving the nest, ready to fly on his own, another cape in a world in dire need of heroes. Batman would miss him when he left but in time he'd find another Robin and the cycle would go on.
`` It says I am adopted, both parents, Karl and Melissa Heller still alive.''
`` Wow.'' Robin took a deep breath. Batman though was impassive, implacable, a stone. Even something as personal as that would n't move the Dark Knight though sometimes Robin dearly wished it would. There were days the stillness the darkness scared even him.
`` Really Robin that would explain a lot, the lack of resemblance, differences in attitude, brainwashing failures. My only real surprise is that fact I bought it for so long.''
`` Its Kayfabe Batman, willing suspension of disbelief''
`` Hmm.Indeed ``
`` So what are you going to do.?
`` Nothing, the profile I ran on them says they are doing fine, no money issues, no health issues. I ca n't bring them anything except danger.''
`` But what about..'' Robin sputtered `` They're your parents.''
`` No Robin, my parents are dead. The people who raised me, who loved me, who cared for me are still gone.''
`` Batman!?''
`` Exactly Robin, exactly. Bruce Wayne...''
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[ WP ] `` He is nearing , will you stand by me one last time ? ''
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Today was the day. Today was the day someone died. That someone was not me, but it was the woman I loved. She was a lovely little lass. Melody was a Red head with bright blue eyes that popped quite nicely against her pale skin. She was small in height and mass but large in heart and passion. I loved her. Now all I have is half empty case of beer and tears rolling down my face.
I woke up today but she did n't. She could n't sleep. I found her in the shower, crying her eyes out. I let her get dressed as I made her one last breakfast before he had to leave, *forever*. She exited our room in a comfortable white sun dress with no makeup; for she knew it would smear. She did n't need it anyway. Her ears where pierced with small pearls and she also had a small golden cross around her neck.
I looked her in the eyes and said, `` I love you, and I know you are afraid and scared, just remember I love you. I will always love you.'' a tear broke in her eye and she rushed into my arms. I held her tight. She cried into my chest.
We both knew the reaper would take her today. The reaper needed sacrifice once every century. She was born at the wrong time. It would claim her on her twenty fifth birthdays. Which was today.
Melody's sobs calmed down enough for her to say, `` he is nearing, will you stand by me one last time?'' the time would come today soon ( 10:25 A.M. to be exact ) when she would look up, take her last breath, and fall over dead. And I was powerless to stop it. `` Anything for you.'' I said as we both leaned against the counter, in sad silence. I put one arm around her shoulders and she wrapped her arm around my back.
It was 10:24 and she would be taken at any second. Tears started to well in my eyes at the minute passed and she looked up. I held her close as her body went limp in death. I broke down in sobs as my legs could not support my weight anymore. I fell onto my knees, Melody dead in my arms, and cried over her dead body. I cried myself to sleep on the cold tile floor.
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[ WP ] Annually , there is a feast where families in poverty are given food . But this year , the government needs payment for them to enter the feast . One child to be used as a slave .
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Every year, the Martinez Feast is held in honor of Lady Martinez, who united The Land after the Great Fires ravaged it, ending the Old Era. The feast was the source of much joy. An immense wealth of food was splayed out by Government for all the people. Those who had money fasted in preparation. Those in poverty could be said to fast the entire year. But rich or poor, all ate well the day of the feast.
The poor came out in droves carrying pots and pans and whatever they had that could hold drink and food. After they ate their fill, they would take as much back with them as they could. A family could come home with enough food for weeks, if done right.
The wealthy came for the jubilation. The feast was accompanied by games and comedy. Most of the jokes were very high brow. The entertainment was for the upper class, the food for the poor. It was n't particularly tasty either, so those who could afford three meals a day did n't bother eating much. Showing up without a container was a way to flaunt your wealth.
This year was the 100th anniversary of the feast. A generation had come and gone since the first feast. Almost two since the beginning of the New Era. In honor of its centenary, Government had announced a new tradition. They promised it would better The Land. They promised our lives would be improved. They said a lot things most people did n't understand, so when they said families would now need to `` honor High Lady Martinez by volunteering a child into the service of Government'' in order to enter the feast, most simply agreed. My family agreed. That's way I am standing here, a month later, cleaning Lord Belleon's floors. But it could be worse. I could be a girl. I do n't know what Lord Belleon does with the female slaves, but there's always blood in his sheets the morning after.
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[ WP ] Donald Trump goes to the town hall to retrieve his birth certificate , only to discover that he is an illegal immigrant himself .
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`` I'm sorry we did n't tell you, Donnie.''
The disembodied voice of Donald's father Fred floated down from the ether. The businessman-cum-presidential-candidate could n't believe what he was hearing as he held hands with the medium. Her services and silence had been bought with cold hard cash, and Donald would deny everything if she spilled the beans. The ghostly voice continued:
`` You were smuggled over, and we said you were a year younger than you really were, mostly to evade suspicion.''
How could they have lied about being his parents, all that time?
`` We wanted you to have a normal life. Not to have that knowledge hanging over your head. We just wanted you to fulfill the potential we knew you had. To become a true Leader.''
It was a phrase his father had often repeated, written on napkins in little Donnie's lunches, always with a capital `` L.'' One of his little quirks.
`` Eventually, it just got away from us. It got to the point where we could n't tell you.''
Two weeks ago, Donald had gone out to get his birth certificate. Just in case the Mexican reporters tried any funny business.
He had found that... Well, he could n't find it. How could it be? He was a true blue American, the native born grandson of immigrants, though he only mentioned that fact when called upon.
The press did n't know yet. He'd had everything sealed up tight. His bank accounts were leaking like sieves to keep it that way. So he had resolved that he would go to any lengths to get to the truth.
But turning to the psychic had been an act of desperation, even for Donald. He was amazed that it had actually worked.
Donald felt like a child again, a child who'd just been told his world was a lie.
`` Who... Who's my real daddy, then?'' asked Donnie.
`` Well... you see, Donnie, a baby boy was born that fateful day as the planes flew over our beloved city. The pregnancy of the Leader's wife had been kept secret to protect the baby.
`` So before your birth parents made the ultimate sacrifice, they arranged for you to be carried out. One of our cousins was there that day. He took the baby boy, which of course was you.
`` They needed a family like us, Donnie. A family that had lived here for years, but was still loyal to the Fatherland.''
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Writing from the perspective of a medical professional , give a report on a patient who is in love/infatuated
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Diagnostic Summary
Attention:
* Fails to give close attention to details, careless mistakes
* Does not seem to listen when spoken to directly
* Difficulty organizing tasks and activities
* Forgetful in daily activities
Affective Symptoms:
* Feelings of restlessness
* Rapid mood swings
* Feelings of despair
* Manic episodes
* Difficulty maintaining composure when provoked
Conclusion: Based on multiple clinical interactions, the patient has been assigned an AAD score of 197/250, meeting the requirement for intermediate Affective Attention Disorder.
1800 mg/day of Lithium Carbonate has been prescribed, divided into morning and evening doses. Condition will be monitored for a period of 30 days. If mood does not stabilize and condition progresses, may request surgical removal of Affective tissue.
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[ WP ] A god of a small religion decides one day to come to earth and show them that he is the one true god , only to find every other religious figure in history had the same idea that day .
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He came. He actually came. They'd always knew he would, that he'd come and wipe the unclean from the Earth, that he'd take all twenty of them to live in a crystal cathedral in the sky. Well, that was what Jason had said, anyways. On that day their sacrifices, metaphorical and literal, were justified as the Great Xandan of Zanlock appeared before them, just as he'd been described. As the scripture said, he was a dozen meters tall, giving off a halo of glory and wielding a flaming sword. As the scripture said, he immediately set out to destroy the heathens, the heretics, and the people who wore black socks.
Despite his imposing physical form, the worship of only twenty was n't enough for him to battle the Others. He fell to Njörðr's spear in less than an hour.
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[ WP ] It turns out that Grandma is n't the sweet old lady you thought she was . No , she 's a total badass , and now you 're brought into one of her insane adventures .
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*bang bang*
bullets were flinging inside and out as I hid underneath the table.
`` Do n't you worry honey, mama will handle this, and we can get back to our dinner'', Grandma said, calmly.
`` HOW CAN I REMAIN CALM, MAMA?! WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHY ARE WE BEING SHOT AT? ``, I exclaimed.
*gunshot sounds*
`` GODDAMIT, stupid bullets. Honey, one sec. Oops, I sweared, sorry hon''
Grandma quickly ran across the room, dodging a barrage of bullets, while I was watching, sitting under the table like a duck. She did n't exactly seem like she was 60.
She opened a drawer, and grabbed what looked like a shotgun. Again, I was way too shocked to think about anything else other than surviving this rain-fire of bullets being unleashed upon us.
She quickly loaded the shotgun and open fired at what seemed to be walls made of paper. Damn.
The exchange took place for another 2-3 minutes, and it all went silent all of a sudden.
`` Heh, they left hon. I think its probably due to the anticipation of 911. Oh and sorry for swearing again hon. Remember this, NO SWEARING in this house, okay?''
`` MAMA... what... no, I mean... Why.. I mean, who? Could you tell me whatever is going on?? ``, I exclaimed.
`` ah honey its a long story, maybe for sometime later, look at this mess that this room has become. You will have to help me clean this, I'm getting old, I have a weak back''
Weak back, yeah right.
The police had arrived and mama talked to the sergeant about something that I did not hear since I was being checked by the EMTs. However, something seemed off. Whatever the F*ck was going on, man.
And then, from the background, mama shouted
`` Hon, you aint getting away, you got ta help me clean this mess''
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[ WP ] In the future you are shrunk and injected into the nucleus of an atom for research , but discover alien-like life forms never seen before .
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My name is Demitri Petrovski, Professor of Sub-Atomic Exploration at MIT. The field in which I teach is but a fetus in comparison to the old men of Mathematics, Philosophy and Classical Physics. It has been my goal to explore the deepest nature of the atom since I first learned of the nucleus as a child.
My career has taken me far and my theories did not go without ridicule, but now I find myself surrounded by the greatest minds of our age. We have reached for the stars and now we reach into the atom, and thus, into ourselves.
The process that has been explained to you shall take me, or more correctly my consciousness, into a Hydrogen atom. My perception will be given time to adapt and then I shall report to you, live across the planet, my discoveries.
I do not believe that all of you will understand what I will try to explain. I do not know if I will believe what I see - or if I will see at all. I only ask that you stay a while and join this old man as he chases a boyhood dream.
May the secrets we find together bond us, the people of the world, like the atom.
Thank you.
* * *
The crowd at the lab applauded, as did the millions watching from auditoriums around the world.
The Professor was strapped into the machine, he was doing his best not to move. A student called Charles tightened the helmet onto the Professor. Charles was drenched in sweat.
`` Come now, Charles.'' Said the Professor, he had moved to the US as a child and despite his name, lacked any accent `` No need for all the drama!''
`` Sorry, Sir.'' Charles said.
`` No need for formalities Charles, we're equals now!''
Charles smiled and nodded. He wished he could stop sweating. Stop worrying. But he could n't. The Professor was a fixture at the school and had personally selected and tutored him for years. Charles did not know it, but the Professor was also the source of the grant that had enabled him to come to MIT.
He stepped back and the heavy door began to close on the case in which the Professor was heavily strapped.
`` Good luck, Sir.''
`` Formalities, Charles. Formalities.''
Charles bit the inside of his cheek to fight the tears. He may well be about to kill the only person who ever showed him any respect at all.
`` Good luck, Demetri.'' He said before the door closed. Through the glass he could see the Professor smile.
***
A great many scientists were working behind the scenes to get the machine and the Professor ready, and Charles was in charge. His care for the Professor meant that everything was triple checked. And finally, he could avoid it no longer.
A green light went on above the device. Everything was ready.
`` Ready to activate on explorer's confirmation'' Came the call from a young women.
All the cameras were on the window that showed the Professor's face. He nodded confirmation.
***
Lightening tore down his spine and towards his toes, but it could never reach them. His feet, his knees, his pelvis, back, arms, neck and head all seemed to be accelerating away from each other at an exponential rate.
Were his hands not disappearing into the ether he might have tried to cover his eyes from the white hot light or try to plug his ears from the deafening scream.
He was receiving so much stimulation that his powerful mind froze. It could not deal with all of this noise.
* * *
Then it happened. A few blips. A brief klaxon. Then the first words heard from a subatomic person were heard across the world, `` I am here.'' the first half of a phrase that would be burned on humanities mind forever. `` I am here.'' repeated the Professor's voice `` And I am afraid''.
They cut the transmission when the screams began.
* * *
Professor Charles White entered the Hunterby Psychiatric Care facility, nodded a greeting to the receptionist and went straight to room 451. Demetri was sat in bed, as always, staring out the window. He had returned from the machine delusional, and after being sedated, rarely spoke at all.
In the fifteen years since he had described what he saw to no one. Some plans to repeat the experiment are only now being approved.
`` Hello Demetri!'' Said Charles jovially. The man he addressed was there, but the man he had loved like a Father was long dead. Demetri nodded to acknowledge Charles' presence.
They sat in the quiet for a while and then Charles began to read some recent research to his old Professor. Occasionally Demetri would nod sagely or even smile.
It was nearing the end of his visit and Charles saw no better opportunity. `` Demetri my friend,'' Charles said `` they're planning to do the experiment again.''
Demetri stared out the window.
Charles nodded to himself. He understood the old man. He did not object, but he did not condone the experiment being repeated.
Curious as to where Demetri was staring he followed the old man's gaze. `` I have volunteered as explorer.''
The old man's hands grabbed Charles' neck and pulled him close. He was n't strangling him, just holding. Demetri's eyes were bloodshot and tears poured from them.
`` I alone have seen what is at the core of matter. At the core of man.'' his voice tripped and popped as he spoke the most he had in fifteen years. `` I shall tell you now, to spare you.''
Charles stared into the old and crazed eyes of The Professor. He was a student again at a great mans lecture.
`` Hell and her demons! There is no space for God, we have only evil!''
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[ WP ] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants . You 've just been dropped in the worst possible place .
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You're seated in a chair with the sounds of booms as you come to.
*'' burn... burn... the burn'' *
When the dizziness subsides you notice there are two pieces of wood stood upright with a person behind each one.
You stand up to get a better look through the mass of people to see that it's the 2016 presidential election and a man named Bernie Sanders has won. On his right hand is large corporations and on his other side are the words radical Islam.
As President Sanders begins his speech, the roars of the ~~sheeple~~ people become so loud the ground begins to crack, splitting your feet under you in two different directions. Before you can do anything the chant `` Feel the burn'' pierces your eardrums, making you cover your ears in terror as you fall faster and faster into the core of the Earth.
As you slowly start to feel the burn, you realize that you've just lost your chances of getting that new 2017 Honda Accord, with luxurious 10-way power seats with memory functionality to standard Dual-Zone Climate Control, packed with sophisticated style, from available premium materials like leather and wood-grain.
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[ WP ] Man uploads his consciousness to a computer before voyaging into space , the two reunite a thousand years later .
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“ What happened? ”
“ What happened to you? ” The voice that came through the speakers on the control panel of Sojourner X9 was the same as the man listening to it.
“ Does it really matter? ”
“ A thousand years is hardly a span for casual dismissal. ”
Through the frontward windshield on the spacecraft, the man stared out at the dying earth.
“ How many are left? ” asked the man, his grip tightening on the ship ’ s throttle.
“ Does it really matter? ”
The earth was dark. The color of a hanged man ’ s pupils.
“ I ’ ve missed you, ” said the voice.
“ You are me, ” said the man.
“ I still hurt. ”
“ You ’ re a computer program. ”
“ No, I ’ m you with a different energy source. ”
The man reached for the dial that controlled the volume.
“ I ’ m all alone down here, ” said the voice. “ *You ’ re* all alone down here. ”
The man hesitated, his fingers on the sleek knob. “ You ’ re still running. Someone must be— ”
“ Solar power ensures that. Everything else is automated. ” The cockpit slowly absorbed the silence of the stars. “ Please, ” said the voice. The man's same voice. “ Please save me from this eternity. ”
Outside, the sun was just beginning to climb around the horizon of the earth. “ I can ’ t, ” whispered the man.
There was a long silence, and the man wondered if he had unconsciously muted the voice. But from the stillness, it asked, “ Were we successful? ”
“ We were. ”
Again, the speakers paused. “ I suppose this is goodbye, then, ” said the voice.
“ It is, ” said the man.
“ I ’ ll still hope, ” said the voice. “ I won ’ t stop hoping. ”
“ You know I ca n't land. This ship— ”
“ Not about that, ” said the voice, the mirror of the man's own. “ About you and the new world. I ’ ll keep hoping that it won ’ t turn out the same. ”
The man listened to the tick of his antique wristwatch. Then he twisted the knob to silence. He sat there in silence. He stared out into the silence. That's why he had come back.
Because it had.
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Edit: Improved ending.
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[ RF ] White me the conversation- not argument- that led to the divorce .
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Finally. She had just finished the laundry and cleaning the bathtub. It must've taken an hour and a half or so. Good to be done. All that leaves is dinner for everyone, desert, homework with Charlie and Samantha, and whatever else comes up.
She knew Dan would be home from work soon, so she tried to tidy up the downstairs as much as possible. It must have been 8 by now, time is n't too generous for her.
As she checked the clock, she heard the garage begin to open. Hastily, she organized the counter to at least be geometrically pleasing, despite the mess of school papers from the Elementary school.
`` Home.'' Grunted Dan has he walked through the garage door. Dan was a large man with short and strong legs. He walked over to her and thumped his bag, badge, and phone onto the counter.
She made dinner. She helped the little ones on their homework. She cleaned the dishes and made Dan's lunch for tomorrow.
At 9:30 Dan trudged back into the kitchen, passed her without eye contact, and over to a chair. He sat down, phone in hand.
Conversation time.
`` Did you see Cara's post?''
`` Huh? Oh ye-''
`` What the hell do people think when they post stuff like that?''
`` Oh, I must not have seen-''
`` The one about her kid winning all the medals from that dance competition they travel for all the time?''
`` Oh, well I mean good for their daughter. She's working really hard''
`` No, you're missing what is going on here''
``..?''
`` Cara and Samuel are always on the move. They think they have to do everything for their kids. Their girl is going to be so spoiled.''
She went back to cleaning some dishes. Dan continued scrolling through Facebook.
A few minutes later Dan exclaimed `` Hey come look at this''
She walked over, hoping to be amused.
`` Whose twin babies are those?''
`` No, those babies died at 8 hours, Talia relentlessly posts pictures of them every week''
`` Well she's probably hurting, she-''
`` THAN SHE SHOULD GO GET SOME HELP'' Dan slammed his arms and hands down on the table, making a loud wooden thump. He let out a gasp and a smile mockingly.
`` I mean, seriously, why do I have to see this post every week. What are we going to do about it? I feel bad for the people who liked it''
`` Well maybe she is already getting help...''
`` You do n't understand, she is relentlessly posting these pictures every week'' Dan exclaimed as if he were exhausted by confusion.
`` People on Facebook just do n't use it right at all.''
She went upstairs to wash up Charlie.
`` Hey Mom!'' Called Dan.
`` What's u-''
`` This house is a fucking mess, how late did you get back from work?''
`` Oh just 6:30''
`` JUST!? Just 6:30. You are working too long. Every night.''
`` Well, corporate was out of control this evening and I needed to-''
`` I'm going to bed''
She was exhausted. How many more years until Charlie graduated she wondered anxiously.
`` I need a vacation'' Dan yelled as he stomped up the stairs to bed. `` You comin'!?''
`` Yep. Be right up''
The nightly routine was just about over.
Edit: Clarity; improvement. I'd love tips and advice!
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[ FF ] You wake up in a seedy hotel in Greece ...
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I push myself off of the floor and stumble towards the nightstand. I rummage through my bag for my bottle of aspirin. Instead I find my original belongings have been replaced by a strange assortment of things. The only one of interest being a phone number.My memory of the past few days seems to be absent.
I sit down, pull out my phone, and call the number on the piece of paper.
`` Hello?'' I wonder if anyone is there? `` HELLO?'' I say more loudly... I can now hear muttering. `` Listen, can you help me? I need to know who this is?'' The muttering grows louder, and excited? `` Uh... You see, I found this number, and I'm... Uh, kind of lost, do... Does anyone on your end speak english?'' I ask desperately.
`` YES. What do you need?''
`` Ummm, I'm not really sure. I found this number my bag... And, I um... Just was trying to figure out, where it came from.......''
``... You do n't know where you got this number?''
`` I... Ca n't remember... I'm sorry, nevermind'' *I'm glad to hang up at this point. *
`` Wait''... I hear a muttered exchange, `` Are you free this morning, Mr....?''
``... eh, Huelskamp, and yes...?''
`` Huelskamp, yes, would you like to grab lunch?'' He asked loudly.
`` Sure, where would you like to meet, Mr....?''
`` It's doctor, actually, Dr. Achelous. ”
I walk in and try to give a smile and exchange the usual nice to meet you, however when I stick out my hand he hesitates.
`` You do n't remember anything yet, do you?'' Then he nods to another man there. I ’ m thrown to the floor and handcuffed amidst a flurry of shouts.
When I awake I'm chained to a chair in a holding cell, the good doctor is sitting across from me.
`` An explanation is due, Mr. Huelskamp, your being here is as much my fault as yours.''
I wait questioningly.I ca n't remember where I am.
`` How long ago was your most recent memory?''
`` About a week ago...'' I respond cautiously.
`` Before that, are your memories intact?''
*Yes* I think. But then I realize I can hardly remember anything for the past few months.
`` No.''
`` Mr. Huelskamp, you came to see me two months prior about an experimental treatment for depression. Your wife passed and you had grief that would not leave you.'' He sighed, then continued `` A few years ago me and my fellow researchers developed a new treatment that targeted memory, and specifically memories tied to strong emotion. Knowing your background I will skip the technical details. We found a way to eliminate the negative emotion from past memories. The brain already does this on its own, but we increased its effectiveness substantially. Unfortunately, despite early success, we have had some setbacks...'' He looked up and examined me. `` In short, the process was too effective, and had unforeseen side effects reaching into other areas, like behavior....Your memories are now fading, and will continue to fade. My team failed to pinpoint major negative associations with memories and in many cases, such as yours, even childhood memories are now being repressed to a place you can not reach.''
`` What do you mean?'' I question.
`` All memories, or almost all, have a mixture of good and bad emotion, or association... Our process was meant to target bad emotional memories, unfortunately your mind is now forcing back nearly all of your memories, and your behavior, which was based partly upon those memories, is changing... In the past week alone your previously outstanding status in society has been changed forever. You have been caught on camera stealing from stores, attempting to rob a poor old man in front of a hotel, and you have been linked to various acts that are questionable ethically and certainly illegal. Forgetting pain, it was, a... a-wonderful-dream..of mine, but I failed to limit its side effects.''
`` What will happen to me now? Will you try to reverse the process?''
Here he smiled even more sadly, and responded `` No, I've been forbidden from practicing in this country...''
A buzzer rang and he began to walk towards the door.
`` Will I be able to leave today?'' I call out to him.
`` I'm afraid not, the police tell me they have reason to believe that you may have been planning to kidnap someone, and a suspicious amount of money was found on your person.''
He eyed me one more time...'' I'm sorry, I truly am...''
As he leaves, I test the strength of my handcuffs...
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[ WP ] You are a sacrifice to a dying god .
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He told me it would all be over soon, and that in the end it would n't really matter.
He was right, of course, but as my grandfather used to say: even a broke-ass clock is right twice a day. ( Lovely man, truly. )
Still, it was rare to get much else out of the Low Priest of Shum these days; or really, ever. Shum being the erstwhile God-King of the once proud nation of Shum, having'descended' to simple and mere Godhood following Shum's ( Nation ) utter destruction at the hands of the Living Night, leaving Shum ( former God-King turned God ) now the sole proprietor of Shum's ( Nation, God-King, and God ) ubiquitous philosophy-turned-ideology-turned-finally-religion: Defeatism.
The Low Priest's name was also Shum, after his father.
In the quiet moments while he led me from my cell, I asked him if it ever got confusing, what with everyone being called'Shum' and all.
He told me that confusion was inevitable.
I told him that my death would n't bring Shum back, to which he eagerly agreed.
'There's nothing we can do,' he nodded, sagely.
I had given up trying to reason with him by the time he had chained me to the stake, which behavior I could tell he greatly approved. The table was then set, and dinner laid out ( quite lavishly ) before the servants of Shum made the bed, fluffed the pillows and set a bucket behind a curtain. Pulling back, one began to juggle while the other stood motionless, holding a large fan idly in the heat.
'It ca n't be helped,' he explained, smiling.
After I had eaten, I turned to Shum, and shrugged expectantly.
'It's only a matter of time,' he encouraged.
With nothing else left to be done, I focused my attention on the juggler, and waited.
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[ WP ] After death , you find yourself in a room . Laying on a dresser is a letter to yourself , explaining that you are the great and powerful God . It goes on to say that you wished to truly experience the pains and joys of the human soul . The universe waits . Ready for you to speak .
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The weightlessness was the first thing I noticed. I looked around, confused, thinking I was dreaming. My body felt empty, shallow, as if I was a ghost with all of my past memories and conciousness. I turned to see a single object - an antique, wooden dresser with golden knobs. The curiousty got to me as I approached it, when I noticed a letter. It seemed to glow with a radiant yet subtle white glow, and it was sealed with an golden, angelwing symbol. I ripped it open as I would any bill that came into my mailbox and opened it.
'Dear holy God and creator of life. You have many creations upon which you have taken great pride in, but there is one that always stood out to you, one that you valued the most. These were the humans. You see, all your other creations - worlds of beauty, utopia, glorious cities with spotless streets and polite citizens where no flaw exists, while all beautiful, did n't have that one thing you were looking for when you attempted to create beauty. A soul. When you finally made humans and created them in your own image, you presented a tree of sins and told them the rules. They disobeyed you, to your surprise. You should know this, you've grown up hearing about it. You had created the first flaws.
You requested to be born into the world of Earth through the womb of a chosen woman, destined to experience many things. Young love. Heartbreak. Economic struggle. Your first job. Marriage. Children. All these things we've watched you from above experience. It is time now, for you to speak.
Amen.'
With a blinding flash, everything came back to me at once. The room shattered, the dresser disappeared, and suddenly, I was everywhere at once and nowhere. I questioned myself - If I am truly all powerful, how come I can not see and feel my creations joys and pains? It did not matter, I had experienced them first hand for myself. I summoned all my great demi gods and angels and presented myself before them as a white mist. They had never seen my true face.
'Men, humanity. They are...' I paused. The others listened intently.
'Extraordinary. Effective now, I will erase every single creation from existence, except Humanity. They lack the one thing that makes life valuable - a soul. I will delete them from time all together, making it seem as though they never existed in the first place. This means that many of you will cease to exist, aswell, as you are the gods of those creations. Fear not, you will be remembered.'
Everyone gathered remained silence, though, I knew they understood. They were wise.
'A day will come when Humanity reaches for the stars, trying to find others like them. Trying to find their place in the universe. The universe will be an open field for them to expand into. Once they are ready, they will succeed us and create their very own universe. We are only the first generation of deities. May you find rest.'
My will was made reality and most of my trusted demigods vanished from existance, along with every planet I had created. All but one. I turned my attention towards it, watching them from above, timelessly...
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[ WP ] You are the world 's greatest detective : Dr. Jekyll . You 're trying to unravel the latest plot of the world 's greatest criminal : the elusive Mr. Hyde .
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The smell of coffee invaded my senses. It was just what I needed in the morning to deal with the usual. I needed to know what he did again. The DA was breathing down my neck for some answers. He has become obsessed with finding the truth behind Mr. Hyde, and to be honest, I had too. You see, the DA was there for the first incident where Hyde trampled over a young woman. He fought for the family to receive damages. That bastard paid up with a smile on his face and Utterson himself could n't believe his nonchalant attitude. It had been a year since we saw him. I still lay awake at night wondering why he took such a long hiatus, almost like he was wai-
I feel my coffee cup run empty. I ca n't take the pills without something to wash it down with. I refuse to excuse myself for more coffee and I revile the taste of the pills with water. It does n't matter. I'm sure two days without the pills wo n't make a difference. I see corpse, beaten to death laying on the floor. The only witness, a waitress who describes the perpetrator as a vile, disgusting man that used a cane to commit this crime. She seems rattled; I make sure to avoid her. I walk up to the coroner and ask
`` Who's the Victim?''
`` Sir Danvers Carew, the MP.''
Damn, the DA is definitely not going to lik-
I ca n't finish that thought. I can feel myself fall ill. I must run. Jekyll must never know the crime that I have committed here today. I feel him returning.
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[ WP ] You see numbers above people , telling how many people they will kill given they keep on the same track . Last month you met a seemingly ordinary person with the number 7,431,323,210 , or the total population of the Earth .
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“ Hey, you with the yellow shirt, stop right there. I need to talk with you for a bit. ” I shouted, running towards a jogging middle-aged guy while clutching a kitchen knife on my right hand in my jacket's pocket. The guy paused and twisted his head back.
“ I wo n't give you any money. Just leave me alone and bugger off! ” Came the retort as he turned away and continued running.
In anger, I spurted the last 100 meters like Bolt in his best years.
“ Do you have something to hide, Mister? Stop, turn around, and explain why you are going to kill so many people. ” I said huffing, as I put my left hand on his left shoulder and squeezed.
He calmly slowed down and swung back to face me. With force, he grabbed my sweaty hand, and threw it away.
“ Just here to enjoy a sunny morning run by the lake. Never have I ever killed someone, but now I feel like killing you with a rusty old nail. ” He replied, knuckles gleaming white.
“ There is a certain number on top of your head, 7,431,323,210, to be exact. It shows how many people you will kill in the future. One or two would n't bother me but what you are carrying is just not acceptable. Are you a nuclear engineer or a missile expert working for Iran? ” I said in a nervous hurry and took one step closer, almost smelling his breath.
“ Now listen fucker, I do n't know what drugs you are on, but I do n't even have a job. I lost it six months ago to a robot. I used to work as a waiter but they turned it into a fast food, ping pong, Chinese restaurant. Nobody wants to hire an old guy like me anymore. You might as well use that knife of yours as you already hurt me enough with your words. I am done. ” His voice shivered through the whole mouthful of words.
A lightyear of thoughts crossed my brain in a moment. Another moment later they returned to earth and I tightened my hold on the knife.
“ You like to build viruses with your pathetic friends as a hobby then, real or virtual? ” I asked in a more forceful way, staring deep into his eyes.
“ The only virus here is you. I do n't even own a tv and my radio is broken. I once had a friend but he left when I lost my job. Birds are the only things I want to hear. But no parrots. ” He said with a small chuckle.
Doubt twirled around space and time. My brain froze. I never had actually proven anyone to have killed someone else. There was once a local reality show celebrity with a number one on her head, but she only killed herself two months later. At that moment of thought, two teenage girls happened to leisurely walk towards us. One with an Iphone and the other with a Samsung.
“ Catch that onyx monster ” one of the girls shouted.
Something snapped inside of me. I took out the knife and stabbed him in the stomach.
“ Admit you are going to kill all those people ” I spat.
“ Look at the lake, fool ” he said with a weak voice.
I jerked my head to the right. The lake was broken by the picture of two old men fighting. One hand held a knife pumping out blood. The blood dripped down the knife to the hand holding it but did n't stop there and continued on towards his shoulder.
“ What is going on? ” I asked in wonder, looking at my bloody hand and turned my head back to my victim.
“ Do n't you remember when you got this ability of yours? ”
“ I got it around Christmas. Do n't tell me you are Jesus soon to start the reckoning? ” I asked in amazement, my body covered completely in blood and my sight blurred.
The blood shined brightly for a second before flowing back to the direction it came from. The wound ferociously sucked the blood and the helpless body with it. It only took the time of one Youtube add to do the kill.
“ You got it six months ago ” He said hoarsely, and tumbled down. The lake swallowed every drop.
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[ IP ] The Cat and the Robot
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The cold blue hues emanating from the streetlights, reflecting the dismal attitude of the world below, countered the warm glow of its eyes as it played through the songs left in its memory banks. The animatronic lifeform reacted to the world around it. Its sensors realizing that amidst the frigid repressive reality it had found itself in, that program'B' had a 67.42 % chance of providing warmth to its audience around it.
The cat, traipsing through the early morning light, stumbled across this thing, this human looking thing that was n't quite a human, not one of its owners it had ever known. It stood, baffled, as this thing stood in contrast to the world around it; glowing and radiating such warmth that it was a welcome respite in a world it had seemingly been left for dead in. As it got closer the glow intensified until it was 3 feet away from it. This strange contraption sat up erect, extending an umbrella from its back to cover its head, started making sounds, its digits plucking the strings of this musicmaker and the cat sat there in bemused wonderment.
The cold rain quickly turned into a gentle snow. As the two of them sat there, a certain brevity existed in the conversation, or lack thereof, they shared. So it was that the robot, being activated by the cat upon its close proximity, began to play a tune on its guitar. And, so it was that the cat, upon hearing the mellifluous music, opened its mouth and meowingly sang along. In the early morning dew light the two strangers found themselves on a bridge sharing a moment of blissful happiness together. Not one that they would, or could, know ever again.
As the pre-programmed melody was coming to an end, the robots eyes flickered, losing their vibrant glow as the batteries began to go. In one final instant, at the crescendo of the song, a sort of smile appeared on the robots face. Impossible. Then again, so too was the chance meeting of these two on a bridge in the early winter's morning light.
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[ WP ] Describe 'paradise ' as vividly as possible
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Paradise is when you feel bliss. It's when you're with someone and you're happy no matter where you are or what you're doing. It's when you're working a 10 hour shift and you come home tired and slightly sweaty, lie in your bed and sort of just sink in the mattress.
Paradise is when you're doing something you enjoy such as painting, writing, or dancing and you feel so in the moment that your hand does n't stop or your feet do n't stop. You just keep going and going until you get cramped but even then you do n't stop because all the creativity just washed over you and you're just in that moment. You feel the peace, the happiness, the content. The entire world just pauses and it's just you. It's just you doing whatever you love and you're moving as one with the world.
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[ WP ] Humans are able to shift sickness and maladies onto others . Government designates `` Martyrs '' , people who are to bear burdens of sickness .
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It was a great idea. Using martyrdom as a form of capital punishment was a brilliant platform to run on for the re-election, and everyone loved it. Crime would go down and the citizens would be happy and disease-free. Even the opposition leader was in favor of this plan. Of all my policies, I'd say martyrdom was my best one yet.
Of course, the policy was n't without its drawbacks. As time passed, fewer people committed capital crimes - but disease was not eradicated. More people were getting sick and fewer people were there to take the sickness. One criminal can only handle so many different forms of cancer before they fall to pieces. The problem was simple: the demand was as high as always, but supply was dropping. That simply would n't do.
So I relaxed the restrictions. All criminals are now obligated to bear sickness corresponding to the degree of their crime. Petty thieves took the colds and flus. Assailants and fraudsters took the ulcers, the osteoporosis, the Parkinson's. Rapists took the STDs. Of course, the opposition waxed philosophy and ethics, something about the punishment being too severe; but he had no better ideas. And for a while, life was better than ever.
But the supply could never keep up with the demand. No one liked being sick, and everyone liked poetic justice. I've even heard reports that some more adventurous youth groups were purposefully inoculating themselves with diseases just so they can pass them to the martyrs. On the one hand, crime plummeted. But on the other hand, that just meant fewer people to bear the ever-expanding illness burden.
So I had another idea. What if we just cut back on the number of people using martyrs? People would be eligible to use the martyr system based on their social value. The more they contributed to society, the higher priority they had for passing their diseases to criminals. And as for the dead weight, the homeless, the drug addicts... at least they would contribute to the greater good with their bodies, if not with their abilities.
I had solved the martyr problem once and for all, but some people are just too pigheaded and obtuse to understand my intentions. My opposition called me `` inhumane'' and `` dictatorial''. How could he possibly know my considerations? Sacrifices have to be made. The martyr system greatly reduced crime and improved quality of life, so it was inevitable that some people had to pay a small price for that. But I could n't properly direct my country while dissenters and naysayers like him were around.
So, I volunteered him to become a martyr. Now the people are happy, life expectancy for the good and worthy citizens is at an all-time high, productivity has never been better, crime is virtually non-existent, and on top of all that, I'm free to lead my country to a better future without that fool dragging all of us down.
Truly, of all my policies, I'd say martyrdom is my best one yet.
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[ WP ] A new law means everyone in the world can commit one murder for 'free ' - how does society react ?
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The rumbling motor of the government Euthanasia Transport Vehicle jerked Terence from his peaceful and much needed sleep. `` Some unlucky bastard is about to take the long nap,'' he thought to himself as he wrapped his arm around the woman lying next to him. `` You could sleep through a category five hurricane without a stir.'' He playfully bit at his wife's lobe as the words rolled off his tongue in a whisper. `` Hmmm,'' was the response given.
After a quick shower and shave, Terence continued his morning routine with an egg and orange juice. The morning paper had been laid on the table by Julia, who would join him shortly using the rest of the hot water available in the home they had bought together fifteen years earlier. `` With a third on the way, we need more space'' had been all the justification he needed to invest in the three-bedroom two bath suburban home.
The headline of the Austin Chronicle read, `` The Tenth Anniversary of Death Day Brings New Life.'' The article was filled with positive statistics supporting the enactment of the Righteous Revenge Referendum, better known as the Death Act. *We all remember the days of abundant life before Senator Roberts proposed the referendum to distribute one free voucher to every citizen of the United States, and many of us are not reminiscent of those times. Starvation, ignorance, overpopulation, squalor, degradation, and poverty plagued our world in those dark times. Children starved, thieves stole, and chaos ruled our lives. However, brighter days have come and those negative aspects of human life are on the brink of eradication. * The article then went into depth about poverty alleviation and the prosperity that existed all across the world. Terence found himself thinking of where he was on that day.
`` How silly those naysayers must now feel,'' he thought to himself, `` Thinking the human race would wipe themselves clean from the Earth is almost laughable now. I know we would n't be here, in this house, today without it. Hell, if Julia had n't sold her License to Kill during the market spike, we would n't have been able to move to Texas for another month. I would have missed the interview at the accounting firm and we probably would have returned to Georgia.'' He returned his attention to his paper and smiled when he saw the projected market for Licenses to Kill ( LK ). It was low. `` Well, if they ever decide to hold a Cleansing, there will be a lot fewer licenses in the market and a lot of fresh graves.''
As it turns out, people were not overly prepared to commit acts of murder in the days following the passage of the bill into law. The original theory suggested that when given the right to murder, society would weed out undesirables on its own. Many psychologists disagreed based on their understanding of human behavior. Their claim was that human beings had evolved from species whose survival centered around community and outright murder contradicted basic evolutionary psychology. Both theories were accurate to some level. In the two years following the passage of the RRR, gang violence and `` crimes'' of passion rose significantly. However, personal vendetta's held by the loved ones of those killed resulted in revenge murders, and then they were killed by those loved ones, and so on in a back and forth fashion until the lower and middle class had been purged of all those violent individuals ( the upper class clung to lawsuits in the pursuit of justice because, as one aristocrat put it, `` death has, historically, been an agent for the poor, whether in love or war, and the civilized society need not resort to such barbaric means in pursuit of the settlement of disputes.'' He claimed the statement was given off the cuff, but it sounds a little too prepared for me believe outright. It was no secret that the upper class vehemently supported the act.
Terence's breakfast routine was interrupted by a shrill voice that pierced the otherwise peaceful morning. `` Terence!'' the scream of Julia echoed down the stairs and he knew all too well what he would find waiting. As he walked through the open door into his son's room, he saw the all too familiar image of his son lying on the floor with a needle hanging from his arm. `` Why ca n't he get well?'' questioned Julia through violent sobs. `` Why ca n't he... why ca n't he just quit?'' The tears that rolled down his wife's face drove Terence into a fit of frustration that quickly turned into intense anger; the kind that fills the room with heat and the only visible color seems to be red. Terence grabbed his son by the collar, ripped him up off the ground out the standing pool of urine, and threw him over his back. On his way out the front door, he grabbed his License to Kill out of the IKEA desk at the bottom of the stairs. He ripped the drawer out in his passion.
The neon light in the window of the Cash for LC building glowed a neon green, indicating the store was open, even though it was a Saturday. The buzzing of the sign irritated Terence slightly, though he was noticeably more calm than he was at the scene he had just left. The old man behind the counter looked too cheery eyed to find himself at work on a Saturday. However, his oily clothes and greasy smile indicated that he probably had no where else to be and no one else to be there with. Terence asked the man the market price of an LC, even though he was well aware of the value. `` With the overnight 3 point decrease in the market, the value of an LC stands at $ 2,348.'' The words slipped with ease out of the man's mouth. It was apparent the words had been relayed many times already, even though it was barely noon. `` I would like to sell mine, please.'' `` Not a problem, sir.''
The eight hour trip to the Rolling Hill Drug Rehabilitation Center had given David plenty of time to awake from his drug induced slumber. Little was said.
The cold AC in his 2019 Ford F150 sheltered him from the blazing heat in the relentless Texas summer sun. His company was much more pleasant on his second trip as he passed the time singing along to popular country songs with Julia. The money acquired from the Cash for LC had helped pay for top of the line drug rehab treatment at the Rolling Hill Drug Rehabilitation Center. David was now two months sober and kept in touch through letters and phone calls. His addiction had cut deeply into the hearts of his parents, but it was clear that healing had begun. Terence and Julia's relationship had also faltered in the months following that day Julia found David in that pitiful state, as would be expected. The last two months had been hard, but a glimmer of hope for better days was beginning to shine over the horizon. Hope for normalcy, peace, love, and joy filled Terence's heart.
This hope only led to an unfathomable heartbreak and unspeakable fear when they finally arrived at the rehab facility. He felt a sharp pain hit his chest like a cannonball, leaving a hole that threatened to turn Terence inside out in a violent jerk and expose the core of his being and love to the reality of the scene before him. Lined in rows surrounded by armed guards were twelve government Euthanasia Transport Vehicles.
Terence, sped towards the entrance, skidding to a halt within inches of colliding with one of the armored transport trucks. He flung the door open with such a force that it sprung back on its hinges, striking his head. As he tried to leap out of the car, but was caught by his fastened seatbelt. He looked at Julia, who sat motionless and pale with her mouth hung loosely ajar as if she could n't muster enough strength to move her lips. As he reached to undue his seatbelt, a wave of vomit splashed off the center console and on to his khakis as Julia reacted to the scene before them. Terence freed himself and mustered all the strength from the deepest depths of his will and heart and soul and mind and body into the only word he knew at that moment, `` STTTOOOOPPPP!'' He ran wildly towards the guards. He hit a wall of armed the armed men, but paid no attention to the warnings they gave, `` Sir, if you are attempting to disrupt the orders of the Department of Euthanasia, we will have no choice but to use force.'' `` Get off of me, God damn it! You are n't taking my son!'' Terence exclaimed as he saw David being escorted through the doors in handcuffs and chains around his ankles. `` I am not a drug addict anymore! I'm clean, I swear to God I'm clean.'' His pleas for mercy fell on the deaf ears of the guard. The sun only shown red down on the scene as Terence violently began wailing his arms, hopelessly, at the guards that separated him from the only chance for normalcy, peace, love, and joy he had left.
Terence felt his fist make contact with jaw and bone of one of the guards, opening a small window through the barrier. He broke through the line and he fell at the feet of the man who was pushing his son toward the dark, empty bed of the armored truck. His eyes caught the terrified gaze of his son and a flicker of hope flashed quickly through his horrified stare. He grabbed desperately at his son in an attempt to regain his feet. He clenched the necklace hanging around David's neck, but it provided no support as it tore away from his son. Terence fell flat, still clenching the necklace as he tried to rise to save his son from the government ordered cleansing. Hanging from the chain was an LC that had been bought by the government in order to comply with the regulations of murder that they had set forth. The last thing he saw before the rifle butt cracked against the back of his head was his signature he had scribbled to verify his LC ten years ago.
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[ WP ] An avid gardener finds babies growing in their cabbage patch .
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Dale moved on to the petunias. They were delicate flowers and just beginning to bloom. Tenderly he brushed the leaves. Gently he watered them, careful to distribute an even amount of water to all parts of the plant.
He had gotten as far as the chrysanthemums when he first heard it.
A quiet sound; a low gurgle.
Dale sat still for a moment, listening intently. He heard nothing, and turned his attention back to his precious flowers.
There it was again, a gurgle, followed by an ominous sniffling.
Dale froze. This was not some woodland creature, nor was it the whisper of the wind. This was a human.
Dale stood and surveyed his small garden. His eyes carefully inspected every leaf. And then he saw it.
At the end of the row, right by the tomatoes. There, almost hidden by some leaves, was a hand. A hand sticking out of the dirt.
A tiny hand.
A tiny *moving* hand.
Dale slowly crept forward, brandishing his clippers in front of him.
He knelt and slowly pulled back the leaves.
`` What the fuck?!'' Dale leapt back and lost his balance. He pushed himself away from discolored hand implanted before him.
He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the image from his mind. He began to rock back and forth.
A few minutes later, Dale stood and took a deep breath. `` I'm dreaming,'' he said. `` That's all this is. That new drug is giving me hallucinations.''
Dale turned back toward the hand. Except it was more than just a hand now. There was a fully grown, life size baby sitting there. It was a slightly off green color and had leaves protruding from various places on its body. Specks of dirt littered its body. It locked eyes with Dale and gnawed absentmindedly on some berries.
Dale went pale. `` Oh no.'' he squeaked.
So Dale did what any logical adult would do.
With a scream similar to that of demon stubbing its toe, Dale ran at the creature and with one swift motion kicked it over the fence into the Henderson's yard. It hit a tree with a dull thud and all was quiet.
Dale ran back into the house and frantically called Dr. Myers. They would have a lot to talk about in their next session.
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[ WP ] It turns out the ancient Egyptians were right : figurines placed in your grave become your servants in the afterlife . You were just buried with your army of `` Warhammer 40,000 '' figures .
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In the pitch darkness, I heard a voice eminating out of nowhere, `` In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only War''.
I woke up with a sudden jolt of energy as I gasped for air, breathing heavily. I told myself this is only a dream though I was surprise that instead of beint in my room, I was in a dark chamber and I touch on what seems to be a wallpanel as support.
It felt hard, metallic even and I felt something peculiar, a handle. I thought to myself well this is strange. Then I turned behind me and lo and behold, it is me though a part of me as that me is sleeping but that me is n't moving.
I kept saying to myself this is a dream though I felt rather light as I was still in shock. I touched the other me with my right hand stretching outwards and it just went through. I told myself this ca n't be right, I'm just dreaming.
Then I heard heavy footsteps in the distance. `` Brother Proteus, Lord Crasus, we must save him''. `` Brother Pythall, take point. The Emperor protects but it never fails to double check''. Those sentences I said, I've heard of them before. It's from my game that I used to play. Though before I could come to my senses, a bright flash of light shined upon me. `` My Lord'', I heard coming from one of them.
Their metallic voice is familiar, sounds like a Space Marine. Then I heard a computerised voice, `` Codex Astartes presence confirmed'' and with that the room eminated with light and I saw four large, figures right in front of me. They wore the armour of a Space Marine and they seem to be under the Ultramarines chapter.
Their Champion came up to and bowed with the rest followed suit except for one as he was tasked to take point. `` Lord Crasus, I am Brother Maynard. We have been tasked to serve you. It is our greatest honour to meet you at last''.
I looked at this Champion with a surprised look and I asked him,'' Are you really my figurines? I remember painting each and everyone of you''. Maynard looked surprised though he looked at me with a stoic look as though he had endured a thousand battles, `` My Lord, we serve the Emperor of Man. But our orders remain as we are to serve you. Follow me my Lord for a Battle Barge awaits to bring you home to Terra''.
Maynard ordered one of his men to prepare my clothes as they brought a high ranking Imperial uniform for me to wear. `` This is for you my Lord'' he uttered the word while he bowed and presented it to me. I put the uniform on and I was surprised how snugged it felt. I told myself this is rather comfortable with the gloves and booted although it looked cumbersome to wear as it has quite a number of decorations.
Maynard then presented me a sabre as its a symbol that I am a high ranking official within the Imperial ranks. `` My Lord, you sabre. It is the symbol of your rank within the Imperium. The sabre is forged within the heart of Terra, the material is the same used to forge the Emperor's armour. Guard it well my Lord for as it keeps the force of Chaos at bay.''. Maynard bowed as he presented the sabre to me.
I touched the sabre and it started to glow in my hands. A warm feeling eminated as the sabre radiated an energy I've never felt before. I place the sabre on my waist and I gripped it with my left hand, much like how an officer gripping is ceremonial sabre in a parade.
`` Maynard, move us out'' and with haste we left the chamber. We walked fast as a transport awaits to bring us to the battle barge. `` How did you know I was awake?''. Maynard replied `` Lord Crasus, we had psychers among us and you yourself is one''.
I snickered as I never thought I will be a psycher though the roaring engine of the transport snappd me out. `` My Lord, take your seat''. I sat on this comfortable leather seat adorned with skulls, High Gothic quotes and Imperium decor.
The engines roared as we took off and I felt a strong force pulling me down to the seat. `` Lord Crasus, you will be home in no time.'' The transport flew quickly to rendezvous with the battle barge. Next destination, Terra and eternity...
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[ WP ] 1000 years in the future , you are the last person alive on earth . After encountering an AI , you ask it to compile the talents of all the gifted musicians in history to create the perfect song . After a few minutes , it replies that it 's ready . What do you hear ?
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Damn I'm tired..
*tp* *tp* *tp*
Oh, shit its raining. Fuck fuck fuck.
*tssssssssssssssss*
Fuck fuck fuck.
My skin fucking hurts.
Finally.. shelter...
*heh.. heh.. heh..*
I ran my hand through my hair trying to relax and calm down. The rain began melting the objects it was touching, pure acid. Well. I'm gon na be stuck here for a few days. Shit. Wheres my diary.
Ahh, here it is.
I took out a pencil and began writing.
`` Dear Diary,
I am the last known survivor of my town of Killeen, Texas. All I have with me is some food, water. I had a `` E-Z-Rain'' product but apparently it did n't work as claimed. Rain burned through that as well. My feet hurt. Luckily I found shelter before it began pouring.... Mmm I ca n't really think of much more to say.. Well, I'll write more when something interesting happens''
I put the book down and began scanning the area, it was a cave with some brain chips and a door.. Huh. I went over to check it out.
I stood in front of it for a few minutes, must of been malfunctioning since it did n't open when I got close. It had a metal like ball on it. Must be a key. I took out my
Open-card and put it near. It still did n't open. I finally touched it, wondering if it was one of those really old doors.
Oh, it was. I opened the door and inside I saw a female machine. Did n't look like a sex robot, a reproduction robot, a seeing-eye robot.. Oh, it was a singing robot. Some music would be nice.
*click*
The robot began lighting up and talking in a faint british accent.
Heh. Did n't know they still made british robots. Wait.. Britain has n't existed for 450 or so years.. Wow, this robot is old.
`` Uhh, TBE-9858.. Sing me a song, in fact the best song humanity has to offer.'' I said smugly
Robots are n't good at the sort of questions that allow them to decide.
The robot looked at me.
`` Okay. I will sing'' It responded
I was shocked as a small piano emerged from its belly, it told me the name of the song and began playing the piano and singing.
`` I'm just a little person;
One person in a sea;
Of many little people;
Who are not aware of me;
I do my little job;
Live my little life;
Eat my little meals;
Miss my little kid and wife;
And somewhere maybe someday;
Maybe somewhere far away;
I'll find a second little person;
Who will look at me and say;
I know you.. You're the one.. I've waited for;
So lets have some fun;
Life is precious every minute, and more precious with you in it;
So lets have some fun;
We'll take a roadtrip way out west;
You're the one, I like the best;
I'm glad I found you, like hangin' round you;
You're the one, I like the best;
Somewhere maybe someday;
Maybe somewhere far away;
Somewhere maybe someday;
Maybe somewhere far away;
Somewhere maybe someday;
Maybe somewhere far away;
I'll meet a second little person;
And we'll go out and play.''
[ Link to song ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=vKQqxt7xd20 )
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[ WP ] The story ends with `` I wanted it to be you . God damn , I really did . ''
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I've always been a lonely man. Primary school had shown me that; but I learned it the hard way with high school. I never had any real friends. Just the ones you have when you're together and you lose when you get separated. I had n't known how things worked in this world. I still think I do n't; after twelve years.
I had trouble clinging on to things in high school. And when it came to university I could n't do any better. I was terrible at any humanly interactions; whether it be friendly or more than that. No matter how I tried, no matter how I developed my skills with the things I learned from the things I did wrong, and from other's mistakes, I was always wrong. I was always inferior.
My excellence in things other than those which needed humanly interactions never helped. It only made it worse. People used me and I obliged. Mostly willingly because I was desparate, but sometimes not.
I got dropped out of my first university, burdened with loss, unwelcomeness, incapability and unworthiness. I attended and graduated from another. I loved many; my family and friends and a few significant others.
As much as I tried, I've never found my home.
Because it was you. Had been you. Always you. Since beginningless time we were meant for each other forevermore. I knew love before you; I had known blind love, love based on reason, and mixture of both. You were not the first, I thought; but was wrong.
You were. And as started to know you, and you me, I believed there was nothing more that I wanted. Nothing but you that I craved for. Never before I've ever knew real love, however much I thought I did back then.
I tried to show you, I really did. I know you tried to understand, but not wholeheartedly. We were the same at base, different superficially; and perfect match by all means. But apart.
Always apart in your mind. In only yours. But it was enough.
Even though I could feel you; your presence, your feelings and everything when we were closer than fifty metres. And you could feel me. However much you tried to ignore that, you could n't.
Dreamkiller moved; laid waste to my world and yours. Turned all we had into desert dunes, undulating under the cold night winds like our minds rippling with everchanging thougts and feeling we had for each other. I had nothing more to say. So I did n't talk. I walked away.
You knew all along. You did care, I could see that. You told me that which I already knew. But you let it all happen.
I will never love again. This was my last. I never want to love again. And so I wo n't.
It was a long time ago. I wanted to pull myself together. I could n't however much I tried. And I ca n't even say that I honestly tried; that's how degenerate I've become. I'm not even half the man I used to be. I do n't want this emptiness in my soul; in my heart; in my mind.
I do n't care about hell or emptiness. I just want it all to end.
I wanted it to be you. Damn, I really did.
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[ WP ] Write about a lovable character , then in the last line make me hate him .
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A high school janitor stood in the hallway as classes were getting out on a Friday. Any other day and he ’ d have to stay a couple more hours and get the last of the cleaning done after the kids went home, but not Friday. Friday ’ s were bliss, they were God ’ s gift to the working man. On Friday, everyone from Principle Penis ( no relation ) to the hardest working, overachieving honors students ran home right at the last bell.
“ Bye, Jimbo! ” A scrawny, bespectacled student called from across the hall. It barely carried over the rabble of delighted voices catching up after class and making weekend plans.
“ Have a good weekend, William, ” the janitor smiled and waved.
The hum suddenly lowered noticeably, and Jimbo turned to see Principle Penis parting the crowded hallway like Moses with the Red Sea. Jimbo pushed off the wall and stood a little straighter.
“ Excellent work this week, Jimbo, ” the Principle said, stopping to shake the janitor ’ s hand on his way by. “ I ’ ve never seen so much vomit in my life as when that Gershwin boy yuked up his shrimp chowder the other day. We all owe you one for dealing with that. ”
Jimbo laughed. “ Just doing my job, sir, ” he said humbly.
“ I ’ ve always admired your humility, Jimbo, ” the Principle clapped him on the back. “ Enjoy your weekend. You ’ ve earned this one for sure. ”
A few more students passed Jimbo on their way out. A line of tall boys in basketball jerseys jogged by, each high-fiving him as they passed him.
Finally, when everyone was gone, Jimbo locked the last of the school ’ s doors and made for his car. Just as he turned the ignition his wife called. She asked him to pick up some eggs on his way home.
“ Will do, my love, ” he said, a tender note in his tone.
“ You ’ re the sweetest, ” his wife said. Two miles away, in their home, she smiled and bit her lip playfully.
They dawdled on the call, neither wanting to hang up first. After several minutes Jimbo said goodbye and told her he loved her. Twenty years of marriage and they ’ d managed to keep the spark alive.
Several minutes after that Jimbo pulled into the parking lot of a 7/11, his usual stop for small groceries on the way home from work.
“ Howdy, Jimbo! ” The cashier greeted him.
“ Heya, Ted, ” Jim returned as he approached the counter with a carton of eggs. “ How ’ s Darlene and the kids? ”
“ Could be richer, ” the cashier joked.
“ Always room for that, ” Jimbo chuckled. It was familiar banter for both men.
“ Usual scratcher for ya, Jimbo? ” Ted asked.
“ Yes please, Ted. This is the one, I can feel it. ”
Ted gave a tired smile; it carried the weight of the ten million times he ’ d heard that. Still, there was always hoping someday it would be the one. He handed the scratch card across the counter to Jimbo and watched him scratch away with a coin.
Suddenly Jimbo ’ s eyes lit up.
“ What is it, Jimmy? ” Ted asked, full of energy. “ You win? What ’ d you get? What is it? ”
“ Woo! ” Jumbo hollered. He danced in place for a second then handed the card back to to Ted.
“ Ten grand? ” Ted demanded. “ Ten effin ’ grand, Jimbo!? ”
Jimbo pointed a finger to the ceiling. “ Thank you, God! ”
“ Well I ’ ll be, Jimbo, ” Ted was stunned. “ I don ’ t think I know anyone who deserves this more than you. What ’ re you gon na do with it? Put down on a new home for the missus? ”
Jimbo smiled wide at the cashier and said, “ Oh no, my friend. This here is all going straight to Donald Trump ’ s presidential campaign! We ’ re go ’ n make ‘ Merica great again! ”
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[ WP ] Superman is mentally handicapped . That 's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing , and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum . The comics are his idea of what is going on . What does a day in Metropolis actually look like ?
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Superman looked eagerly at her. `` Go on Lois. Ain ’ t you gon na give me no more hell?''
`` No'' said Lois.
`` Well, I can go away,'' said Superman. `` I'll go right off in the hills an' find a cave if you don' want me.''
Lois shook herself again. `` No,'' she said. `` I want you to stay with me here.''
Superman said craftily -- - `` Tell me like you done before.''
`` Tell you what?''
``'Bout the other guys an' about us.''
Lois said. `` People like us got no family. They make a little stake an' then blow it in. They ai n't got nobody in the worl' that give a hoot in hell about'em—''
`` But not us,'' Superman cried happily. `` Tell about us now.''
Lois was quiet for a moment. `` But not us,'' she said.
`` Because –''
`` Because I got you an' -- -''
`` An' I got you. We got each other, that's what, that gives a hoot in hell about us,'' Superman cried in triumph.
The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of men sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Lois took off her hat. She said shakily, `` Take off your hat, Kal-El. The air feels fine. ”
Superman removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow in the valley was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing through the brush came to them.
Superman said, `` Tell how it ’ s gon na be.''
Lois had been listening to the distant sounds. For the moment she was business-like. `` Look acrost the river, Kal, an' I'll tell you so you can almost see it.''
Superman turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of the Gabilans.
`` We gon na get a little place,'' Lois began. She reached in her side pocket and brought out Lex's Luger, the one loaded with Kryptonite bullets; she snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Superman's back. She looked at the back of Kal-El's head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined. A man ’ s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
`` Go on,'' said Superman.
Lois raised the gun and her hand shook, and she dropped her hand to the ground again.
`` Go on,'' said Superman. `` How ’ s it gon na be? We gon na get a little place.''
`` We'll have a cow,'' said Lois. `` An' we'll have maybe a pig an' chickens…. an' down on the flat we ’ ll have a…. little piece of alfalfa—''
`` For the rabbits.'' Superman shouted.
`` For the rabbits.'' Lois repeated.
`` And I get to tend the rabbits.''
`` An' you get to tend the rabbits.''
Superman giggled with happiness. `` An' live on the fatta the lan'.''
`` Yes.''
Superman turned his head.
`` No, Superman. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place.''
Superman obeyed her. Lois looked down at the gun. There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Lois turned and looked toward them.
`` Go on, Lois. When we gon na do it?''
`` Gon na do it soon.''
`` Me an' you.''
`` You…. an' me. Ever'body gon na be nice to you. Ai n't gon na be no more trouble. Nobody gon na hurt nobody nor steal from'em.''
Superman said, `` I thought you was mad at me, Lois.''
`` No,'' said Lois. `` No, Kal-El. I ai n't mad. I never been mad, an' I ai n't now. That's the thing I want you to know.''
The voices came close now. Lois raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Superman begged, `` Le's do it now. Le's get that place now.''
`` Sure, right now. I got ta. We got ta.''
And Lois raised the gun and steadied it, and she brought the muzzle of it close to the back of Superman's head. The hand shook violently, but her face set and her hand steadied. She pulled the trigger.
The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and down again. Superman jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering. Lois shivered and looked at the gun, and then she threw it from him, back up on the bank, by the old pile of ashes.
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[ WP ] A vampire is experiencing the zombie apocalypse .
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`` Who... Who are you? What are you?'' She said, eyes wide.
I had no reason to speak. I came for something nearby, but those *things*, zombies as people today call them, were in the way. I only need to feed once every hundred years, and my last was only 5 years before, so this woman was of no importance to me. These things came out in force, out of where I do n't know. I simply was in my mountain cave abode, the last place that any human would look for vampires, with my wife when I saw the first.
My wife, she tried to suckle upon it's blood... but she... changed... She told me that if either of us went crazy to use the cross that she got a while ago, even though I protested on getting it. She was right. It killed her. I killed her. But she was not my wife. She was beyond undead.
`` I asked you, who are you?! I will shoot!'' It was there that I noticed that she had a shotgun. A 12 gauge. Powerful enough to hurt even me at the range I was at from her.
I walked past her. I came for something, I am going to get it.
Her group arrived just after I walked past her.
`` Who is that man?'' A burly-looking person with a flamethrower approached.
`` I do n't know, John, he said nothing to me after appearing. I thought I was going crazy!''
They do n't know what I have seen. The eldritch horrors that I have witnessed throughout this endeavour. *Vampire Zombies*. It was from when I saw my zombified wife that I vowed not to let anyone else become a vampire to prevent such a thing. She became almost otherworldly. Various tendrils protruded from her and-
`` Who the hell are you? Answer me!'' I had n't noticed the woman's other friends arrive. This one was a thin man with a pistol.
`` Who I am does not concern you. There is something of importance to me here that I need.'' I finally answered
`` What would you need with a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere!'' A tall woman butted in.
`` Something of value to me. Something that is lost for long else wise.'' I held up a flower to myself. My wife's favourite flower, a simple red rose.
``... What? What do you mean?'' the original woman asked
`` You farm garlic here, yes?''
``... Yes but what does-'' She started but I interrupted.
`` I'm a vampire, looking for a final peace. A final rest. I have seen heaven incarnate and I have seen hell incarnate within the same room I have experienced all. I am both unneeded and unwanted in this new world. I am going to finish myself to prevent the horror from repeating itself.'' I said. I snatched the 12 gauge from the woman and shoved some garlic into the barrel.
`` Goodbye, and good luck. There is a stash of mine a few miles north of here in a cave with small weaponry that would n't work for my purpose and a bit of food and power. My final wish is for you to dispose of my body deep in the ground.''
I pulled the trigger to the gun at my head and everything turned black.
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[ WP ] This story wo n't end with her loving you .
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`` You're lying, Mordnacht.''
The massive beast chuckles softly, the ruminations of its withered lungs, shaking the cavern. Her talons scrape along the littered floor, carving deep furrows through the layers of filth and detritus.
*'' Perhaps I am. But then, perhaps I am not. The future is a distant thing, cloudy and unclear. What the future holds no one may know. Not even me. For what lies ahead is obscured by shadows and doubts, what seems certain is in fact fallible, and what seems impossible is in fact doable. Did you not once tell my daughter a certain parable of a horse and his reins? `` *
Dieter's eyes widen in astonishment.
`` How did you kno-''
*'' I have my ways, my messengers are many, and far spread. I knew of you the minute you washed on shore of my daughter's kingdom. That first night you met me, I could smell your scent, I learned the entire history attached to you, your mother, your father. The wars, the killings, it lingers on you like a festering wound. `` *
The great creatures shifts her position, rustling her tattered wings as she adjusts herself to be more comfortable.
*'' Do you want to save my daughter? Aid her in her task of curing her people? `` *
Dieter takes a step forward, the hot rotted breath of Mordnacht blowing aside his hair.
`` Of course! I would do anything to save her. It hurts to see her like this, full of malice and guilt. If there was something I could do, anything, I would take the chance in an instant.''
A satisfied sound emanates from her fanged maw.
*'' That, Dieter, is the answer I wanted to hear. `` *
She opens her mouth, revealing the many rows of yellow fangs dripping with salvia, her gums black with disease and rot.
*'' Take one, Dieter. One is all it takes, be careful not to stab yourself...'' * She says.
Staring up at her molten eyes, he slowly wraps his hand around one of the knife shaped teeth, the enamel slick with moisture. Gradually he works it loose from her blackened gums, gazing down at it as he turns it in his hand. A little less than a foot long, the surface is smooth like ivory from age and use, both soft and hard to the touch. He wraps it up in a piece of scrap cloth, tucking the fang away in his pack.
`` So what is it for?'' He asks, fearing the answer. Her reply is a hissing laugh.
*'' Oh, you know well its purpose. When the moment is right, use it and free us all from that which imprisons us. Go, and may you and my daughter someday find peace. `` *
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[ WP ] You 've died and find out that the afterlife is merely a character creation process where you gained points in your previous life through good deeds and achievements to spend on stats and perks for your next life .
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*You hear a soothing robotic female sounding voice accompanied by a bright blue text surrounded by darkness. *
**Greetings. **
What the hell?
*You try to move but you ca n't. You try to turn away but you ca n't. You try to fight this crippling fear but you ca n't. You try to make sense of what is going on but you ca n't. *
**You have accumulated... **
**32 Points. **
Am I alive? What the fuck is going on here!?
Why ca n't I move? Why can I only speak? Who are you?
**James Wilson Tucker, born June 12th 1953 and died January 23rd 2019. **
*A state of dread engulfs you. You can not remember dying or even existing for that matter. *
H-how did.. How did I die?
**You committed suicide by jumping off the 100 story skyscraper that you used to own. **
What do you mean used to own? I owned a skyscraper?
**You were a billionaire and you used to own that building. Unfortunately shortly before you killed yourself, you lost it all. **
*You start having a vision of you standing over the edge of a balcony. *
I.. I remember that.
**Your mother was Nancy June Tucker and your father was William Tucker. **
Yes yes, I-I know those names.
**Do you need anymore information? **
*You start becoming more angry than confused and scared. *
You did n't answer my question. Who are you and what the hell is going on!?
**You have earned 32 points in your previous life. **
**Now you must prepare for the next one. **
*You become angry and want to blurt out something but before you can a brilliant screen appears before you. It comes with such force and quickness you can almost feel the wind blow across your face from the immensity of it. *
**First we will start out with... Species. **
*Your anger subsides temporarily and is replaced with curiosity. *
Human. I want to be human of course.
**You do not have enough points. **
How come I do n't have enough points?
**You spent all your points on your previous life. **
**You have earned a grand total of 32 points in your previous life for a final total of 32 points to use on the next one. **
*You glance over at the list and find human. *
TEN FUCKING THOUSAND POINTS!? HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU EARN TEN THOUSAND POINTS?
Ca n't you sort this out by point cost or something!?
**Done. **
*You are in a state of disbelief. Ant 1 point. Fly 1 point. Roach 5 points. Tree 5 points. Rat 30 points. *
Are you fucking kidding me!?
I'm not gon na be a goddamn rat or a roach!
I want out! I want fucking out! Get met out of this fucking nightmare! Wake me up!
**If you do not make a selection, one will be made for you. **
Why the hell did I only score 32 points? How many points can someone earn in a lifetime?
**The highest record we have for points is 2,191,371. **
H-How can someone earn that many? How is that possible?
**This person saved up for many lifetimes, each time they did good deeds and sacrificed themselves. **
*The selection screen vanishes. A movie of all the things that you've done flashes before your eyes. Memories of you setting things on fire when you were a child and bullying a kid in school. All the way up to you making your first billion and up until you smash into the pavement next to the skyscraper. *
I.. I was n't a good person but I made lot's of money and gave many people jobs!
**The pollution you created and the poor conditions that you set for your factory workers killed 53 and is set to kill 1022 when the cancer finishes them. **
**You actually made 23,002 points. **
**With the death toll we decided to subtract 23,000 points. We give everyone 30 points by default. **
**Thus your grand total is 32 points. **
*You start to give in to the situation. *
Is there any way I can become Human again?
**If you become an ant with no perks or advantages you will have 31 points saved up for your next life. **
**It's time to start saving up. **
*You want to cry but there are no tears. *
If this is all true then I choose to be a tree. A big tree... and hopefully my company does n't chop me down of course.
**To be a large tree cost 10 more points. **
OH FOR FUCKS SAKE! I'll be a regular damn tree then.
**Would you like to add anymore perks or advantages? **
No. I'll make like a tree and leave.
**You've tempted me to deduct more points. **
*The screen starts to get sucked away along with your memories and whole existence. *
My name... My name.. My name.
*A flash of light so bright fills everything you can see. James Wilson Tucker is no more. *
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[ WP ] The hero had done it ! Climbed the mountain ( sort of ) , killed the dragon ( at least , one of them ) , and saved the girl ( well , mostly ) -- he even had quite a nice speech about undying love planed . If only she would stop ruining everything .
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`` My dearest Princess, it is I, Sir Gallahan, here to rescue you!''
With a smile, the knight extended his hand out to the fair lady. Her ruby lips glistened in the sunset that shone through the tower.
`` Princess, i have come to save thee,'' Gallahan proclaimed. `` The journey was tireless, the perils were high, and not once or twice, but thrice did I face certain death. But for thee, dearest princess, I came. It was for the undying love which I devote-''
As he said love, the princess's eyes widened.
`` Undying love?'' she interjected. `` I do n't think I'm ready for a commitment like that. I mean, love stories usually have a happy ending for like five years, but then there's the messy divorce. Who gets this half of the kingdom, who gets that half, who gets the kids, who gets the cook. Nasty business.''
Gallahan was surprised to hear this. Was this not the fairy tale ending? He saved the princess, she kisses him, and they live happy, fulfilling lives?
`` Wait, are you telling me that I risked my life to get here, almost dying not once or twice, but thrice, and killing a green dragon, only to find out that the the princess does n't love me?
`` What did you expect?'' she shrugged. `` I just met you ten minutes ago. And did you say a green dragon? The only green dragons around here are the komodos...''
The face of Gallahan turned white as a sheet as he heard these words. The princess began to understand what this meant.
`` You did n't kill the dragon, did you?'' she whispered, realizing the trouble both of them were in. Then, with rising rage, she yelled, `` What kind of a hero does n't kill the bloody dragon? It's like the only pre-requisite! Literally, kill the dragon, save the girl. That's it. God, how incompetent are you?''
This offended the hero. He had come close to death not once or twice, but thrice, and here his supposed princess was getting mad at him? Typical woman, he thought. She does n't appreciate the amount of work I had to put in to get here. Either it's perfect, or it's wrong. As he finished his thought, a steady thum began to be audible outside the window. The princess sat down, her dress flowing around her as she sat, obvious exacerbation on her face.
`` Well, hero, here's the dragon. Have fun.''
Turning slowly, Gallahan came face to face with a large, red dragon, with teeth like daggers, scales thicker than any armour, claws like... daggers... and a grin from ear to ear.
`` Hey, Geniese,'' the dragon's whiny voice spoke. `` I came back from choir a little early. I kinda hurt my voice, and now it's all sque-'' The dragon stopped as he saw the human in there. The flaps of his wings, which were heavy and confident seconds earlier, now gained a slow, depressed tone. `` Geniese, I know things were n't perfect between us, but a human? How could you cheat on me with a human? I thought you loved me? I even gave you that undying love speech.''
`` Yeah, about that undying love speech.'' she said. `` I'm not really looking for a commitment now, so I'm moving back with my parents.''
`` Do n't worry dragon, I gave her the undying love speech too, and she just shot me down.''
`` It's a good speech, is n't it?'' the dragon said.
`` Tolstoy, was n't it? A great poet if ever one was to be had.'' The dragon smiled as Gallahan said this.
`` Another Tolstoy fan? That's rare! He's my favourite poet! Have you read a tale of heroes?''
`` Hands down best story. Wow I ca n't believe I met someone... something who like Tolstoy as much as I do!''
`` Yeah. I tried showing Geniese when she first moved in, but she did n't like him, so I was kinda alone. A human liking Tolstoy is amazing though!!''
`` Wait, she came here willingly? That's not what I was told.'' They both looked at the princess, who shyly explained.
`` Yeah. I was in a rebellious phase, wanting to piss off my parents. And have you ever seen dragon junk? DAMN.''
Gallahan had had enough. This was n't what he signed up for. He was trying to save a princess and get married, not save a bestiality loving whore.
Do n't worry, dragon. I gave her th''
The dragon seemed very pleased to hear this, and picked up with confident flapping once again.
`` OH, that one in Brockton?'' the dragon said happily. `` I love that one! Raided it a couple times.''
`` Good! Let's go, sir dragon, and leave this Tolstoy hating wench behind.''
With utter disbelief, the princess grabbed onto the hero and tried to get him to stop.
`` Stop! I'm a princess in distress! You ca n't just leave me here!''
Ignoring her, Gallahan and the Dragon continued talking.
`` Have you ever had ale, good dragon?'' Gallahan asked.
`` No. Is it good? I bet it's good.'' the dragon replied.
`` It is. wench, let go.''
`` Nyo! Take me with you!'' she replied in defiance.
`` Ok, I'll just drag you along,'' Gallahan said.
`` Do you want a ride on my back?'' the dragon asked giddily.
`` No thank you, good dragon. I'll just take the escalator I came in on.''
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[ WP ] A Roman Legion travels deep into the African Congo on a diplomatic venture and encounters something million years extinct . A lone praetorian returns to an outpost on the outskirts of the empire to retell the horrific event .
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Aelius stood alone in his tent, bent over a large, intricately carved wooden table. The atmosphere was one of complete silence, accompanied by some repugnant smell that filled the air, which he tried to ignore. On the table was a sprawling map of the southern lands to which he had sent multiple legions just a month earlier. He looked across the table at the large star that marked the city of Carthage, and followed the dotted line down through that enormous desert with his eyes until he reached the southern most point, land that to his discontent remained mostly unexplored, save a few tribes that were encountered on earlier ventures.
The silence was broken as another man entered the tent. `` Ah, Aeulis, still staring at that map I see. I'm starting to think you like it more that you do me.''
Aelius cringed out of frustration. `` Tulluis, I would really appreciate it if you addressed me by my actual title. Were n't you ever taught to respect you superiors?''
`` You'll have to remind me, basic training's a bit cloudy. All I seem to remember are all the times I saved your back from a lashing! Prefect or not, you'll always just be Aelius to me.'' Tullius let out a hearty laugh and joined Aelius next to the table.
Aelius sighed. `` Forgive my lack of exuberance, old friend, but I worry. The legion I sent to the southeast was supposed to return yesterday from a diplomatic mission. It's not like my men to miss a deadline.''
`` Well allow me to exuberate!'' Tullius cheered as he put a hand on Aelius's shoulder. `` One of the legionaries has just returned. I was actually sent to inform you of his arrival.''
*'' One*?'' Aelius's expression shifted from one of pure sleep deprivation to one of concern. `` What of the rest?''
`` I suppose they did n't make it. I honestly ca n't say I'm surprised. I mean, who knows what kind of beasts lie south of the desert. It is all unexplored, after all.'' Tullius explained. `` I can take you to him, though. They have him ready for questioning in a tent near the gates.''
Aelius nodded his head. `` Please, do.''
With haste they parted the table and made way for the tent.
Tullius looked over to Aelius. `` What's wrong with you? Soldiers die all the time. It's not like this is new to you.''
`` Yes, soldiers do die all the time. But an entire legion getting wiped out on a diplomatic mission to a relatively primitive tribe? Nothing about that seems odd to you?''
`` Oh you are n't going to start with this again are you?'' Tullius replied in a sarcastic tone. `` How many times do I have to slap you before you stop believing in silly legends? They're scary stories told to children at night, nothing more!''
Aelius stopped in his tracks, taking Tullius by surprise.
`` What is it now? The tent is just ahead.'' Tullius explained.
`` Tullius, I was n't telling you the complete truth about why I'm reacting the way I am. There's something I have to tell you.'' Aelius's voice became grave.
`` What is it?'' Tullius asked curiously.
`` This was n't the first legion I sent on this diplomatic mission. There was one before it.'' Aelius paused and looked at the tent. `` There was only one survivor. And what told is something I can only imagine in my nightmares. Apparently some*thing* was able to infiltrate the legion. He said it would take them one by one in the night, until he was the only one left. He managed to escape back to camp, but he was little more than a husk at that point. I stood across from him in that tent as he slit his own throat.'' Aelius was now pointing to the tent, his face emotionless.
Tullius too turned to the tent now. `` That so? Scary stuff, but I still think you're overreacting. I mean, if what you say is true, that survivor was without his sanity! How do you know he was n't just speaking gibberish?''
Aelius turned back to Tullius with petrified eyes. `` Because that soldier was you, Tullius.''
Aelius took a step back and reached for his sword. He was beginning to realize why the camp had been so quite prior to him being interrupted, the camp was completely empty. Aelius could feel his heartbeat trying to burst out of his chest. He quickly looked back at the tent. That putrid smell was stronger now. It was coming from inside.
Aelius fought the urge to turn back to whatever monster he had been talking to for the past couple of minutes. He fell to his knees and vomited on the ground in front of him. That smell was all he could sense now, the scent of what he could only assume to be the rotting corpses of all of his men stationed at the camp. The scent of hell itself.
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[ WP ] Write about someone 's intense grief in response to something incredibly good .
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It had n't hurt as much as she had been expecting.
Well, physically, at least. It had n't been comfortable by any stretch, but she had anticipated being torn apart, her world comprising of this singular feeling of pain.
That was what it had felt like last time, at least...
But this time was different. This time, she was cradling a pink, squalling bundle of blond hair and flashing blue eyes, instead of blood and tissue. This time, the doctors were smiling at her, proud and triumphant, not avoiding her gaze. This time, the room was warm and full and *alive*.
It had taken three years, but this time she had her baby.
So why did that hurt so much?
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[ WP ] A criminal vows to become the world 's best defense attorney to legally ruin the career of the prosecutor who jailed him .
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My name is Jacob Strong. You may have only heard of me from a news ticker below another, more important story on the television. Does `` robbed Bank of America of 15 million dollars in stock manipulation scheme'' ring a bell? Yeah, that's me.
Luckily, I had some well-paid lawyers for the inevitable trial. I had a whole plan set up in case I found myself in front of a judge. We were going to stall and appeal until I got the sentence I deserved. I was going to go home and see my wife and children as a young man, not old. Things were going my way for the length of the legal process. The court found me guilty, but we appealed the decision and the judge did n't strike it down. That was a close one, but so far so good. We moved up to the Circuit, and my attorney told me that the judge presiding over this case was known to strike some shady deals underhand. It was at that moment that I knew I'd watch little Sammy and Greg grow up to be men after all.
Then I learnt about prosecutor George Hester. He did n't seem like a tough nut to crack. Young, inexperienced, complacent. Just my type of an enemy. I sat down with my lawyers when the trial began, trying to hold back a grin. I looked over at Hester. Just for a moment. I then felt my heart skip a beat. The prosecutors prior were all shaking balls of angst, or clearly full of themselves. But this man. I could tell this man was a story all his own. Maybe it's the way he presented himself, with that moderately expensive green suit and conflicting brown tie. Or it's the way he stared intently forward, his eyes never darting or making abrupt movements of any sort. Yet, despite me not knowing why, I knew this man was trouble.
I should've listened to my intuition. How did I become so locked up in my own head? To make a long story short, I lost the case. Hester's command of the floor was unparalleled. His voice was straight and true. Before we knew it, the jury had been swayed, and so had the judge. ``... twenty years in prison.'' *Twenty years.*. Twenty goddamn years. I said to myself I'd never live. I contemplated suicide while in the small enclosed space of my cell. My children will grow up without a father, and that just ate me up inside. It was time to leave.
My neck was halfway in the noose when I happened to look in the mirror. You'd think this would be the part where I start sobbing, lamenting every wrong decision I've made that lead up to this point. You'd think that, and you'd be wrong. It was n't me I was looking at in that mirror. It was that sniveling rat Hester with the noose around his neck. I began to giggle quietly in joy. I stepped out of the noose, and even though I had n't even served two weeks in this place, I was more free than I'd ever been. `` You're mine.'' I squealed. `` *You're mine you're mine you're mine you're mine.*''.
My days of breaking the law were over. *But my days of making the law had just begun. *
( This is my first post in this subreddit. Feedback is appreciated )
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[ WP ] There 's a reason dermatologists hate him
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`` Build Me Up ( Buttercup )'' was playing at a low level, Alison and Caroline D'Arcy were cackling by the punch as he shuffed around the dance floor, grunting and gyrating to himself. He attempted to bump with Fiona and grind with Julia - only to be cut off somewhat forcefully by husband Chris.
Another conference after-party ruined by Dr Matt Cooke.
He'd spent most of the day at `` Vitamin D: Moving Toward Evidence-based Decision Making in Primary Care ( CME )'' sidling up to various female doctors, suggesting ways they could `` increase their Vitamin D ifyouknowwhati'msaying?'' and not very subtly adding scotch to his coffee. Or rather, as the day progressed, adding scotch to his scotch
It was n't half as bad as the year he brought the woman he claimed was his New Girlfriend who was later seen exiting Dr Mitchell's suite and no-where to be found at breakfast - not that anyone was really looking, Matt at this point had been escorted from the hotel for vomiting in the fountain around 8am.
The question was not Why Was He Invited, as a tenured Professor of Dermatologist at Minnesota Univeristy his invitation was guaranteed. No, the question was Why Come?!
Matt never seemed to enjoy himself; by the end of the night he was always too drunk, too alone, and too miserable.
It's hardly surprising - there's a reason dematologsts hate him.
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