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[ WP ] When everyone turns 21 , they have to pick a superpower from an approved list and take classes on how to use it . You choose one that only one other person has ever picked before .
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`` Today's the day!'' my mom cheered as she laid down my breakfast. Blueberry waffles, my favorite.
`` Yeah, I-I'm stoked,'' I managed trying to feign any excitement. You see, I'm the black sheep. With my mom honing telekinesis and my dad's superior strength, it's a mystery as to how I spawned from them. I'm as tall as an NBA player and skinnier than an impoverished bulimic. Walking is almost as awkward as my social skills. So when my dad questioned my life-changing choice, you can imagine the discomfort.
Obviously the mainstream choices are out of my league. Super speed means I'd break the record for face planting into the dirt. There's no way strength training could help me lift a rock let alone a car pinning an innocent victim and even following in my mom's shoes would be a chore with my ADD. Honestly though, I have no interest in those which makes this far more uncomfortable. I've battled my inner self with my choice because only one other person has gone down the path I want and there's certainly a reason..
* * * *
The office I walked into was far more drab than I imagined. Depressing bulletin boards with elementary school style lettering decorated the room alongside motivational posters failing to excite my decision. A kind, withered old man in tweed sat in a chair far too big for him with a grin exaggerating the wrinkles he bared.
`` Why hello! An exciting day it is for you..erm Jason, yes?''
`` Yes sir,'' I responded, with as much fake excitement as a greenhorn in an anal scene.
`` Wonderful! So what decision have you made?'' I gave my answer and received the response I expected. `` Oh. Well alright, w-we can make that work?!''
`` Grrreat,'' I said sounding like Tony the Tiger with an anxiety disorder. But then there was silence. He looked at me with fear and I looked upon the carpet trying to notice a pattern within the sporadic collage of mute colors.
`` S-S-So nothing huh?''
`` Yup.''
`` May I ask why?''
`` I do n't benefit any other by following the crowd nor do I have the ability to hone any skill dominated by my peers and elders. I'd do nothing but waste time and inevitably give up if my educators had n't already. I'm doing both myself and my society a favor.''
`` So what will you do?'' he asked.
`` Live my life.''
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[ MP ] Hero comes home
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The wind picked up, then, masking the sound of gravel as it was ground beneath his boot. It stung his eyes, forcing them to narrow as tears welled up, but still he pressed on up the hill. This was home, after all, and he had come too far to let something this fierce stop him. He pulled the cloak tighter around his body, feeling the fabric ’ s icyness against his back, forcing a shudder. His fingers curled around the only protection he had against the elements, threadbare as it was, refusing anything but the choice to put one foot in front of the other. Too long had he been given no choice at all. Too long had he been forced to fight for a man he believed in. Too long had he been told to ignore the warnings, the stories of what the king had been trying to do. Too long had he taken life after life, his 1-part-skill-to-9-parts-luck keeping him alive, propelling him towards becoming a symbol. Too long had he known nothing but hard-won battles. Too long had he believed what they were saying about him, that he was special. Too long had he been willing to ignore the darkness tugging at his soul in favor of his growing legend.
He heard the stories recounted for ages since as he walked the land in search of solace. The war had been over for a century, and still they talked about his prowess on the battlefield, the macabre tapestry he wove across the battlefield, the inhuman speed and strength that seemed to mark his exploits as time went on... the unearthly features that overtook his face and body as the rituals continued to empower him from afar. To hear them call him “ a good soldier ” gratified him. To hear “ the hero of Jangar ” filled him with pride. “ Hero of the Kingdom ” made him swell. Then “ Hero of the Empire. ” Then “ Demon of the Empire ”. “ Demon ”. He remembered the morning he walked up to the mirror, the only women that would bed him still asleep, and finally saw what he had become, the mad emperor ’ s lies falling away. The newly admitted daylight stung him then, bleeding him more than any weapon had in years. In the days after, he would remember that moment, the emperor ’ s blood steaming off his hands, the nightmare finally having reached its apex… Or so he thought.
It took him some time to remember where home was, having been gone as long. He wandered at first, keeping his features hidden beneath all manner of disguise. He reached for the fractured images in his mind, feeling their edges slice at him when he grasped too tightly, falling away. But now, he remembered. Now he could finally come back.
He crested the hill, finally, seeing his home for the first time in more than a hundred years. Before this moment, he had been plagued by thoughts of not being accepted, not having a place among these people who were now strangers to him. Those worries were gone now. There was no acceptance to be had from burned out taverns and war-ravaged homes. The dead had no eyes with which to judge him.
The few piece of armor he had kept clashed as he dropped his pack to the ground, the only harsh sound this place had seen since the early days of the war. It slumped against what remained of the bar as he finally rested himself on a charred stool. A profound sense of calm came over him, then. The quiet made this place feel ethereal, distorted. It felt like a perverted version of what once was, and it waited for him in grim expectation, for one hundred years. It knew.
Always, a hero comes home.
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[ WP ] Write the most disappointing story you can .
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Here's a story I heard a long time ago so ill retell it because it seemed fitting:
A small boy call Tim was walking home one day and found a box of strawberries outside his house, he picked up the box and walked inside to ask his mother why there was a box of strawberries.
`` Ma? Why there be a box of strawberries outside our house?''
His mother turned to him with an outraged look on her face.
`` What did you just say?! GET OUT! AND COME BACK WHEN YOU'VE THOUGHT ABOUT WHAY YUO'VE DONE!''
Confused Tim ran out of the house holding back tears and came across the local policeman who Tim knew quite well, the policeman noticed his exasperated state and asked him:
`` What's wrong laddy? Did yer ma shout at you?
Tim said to the policeman
`` I do n't know my she shouted at me, all I said was that I found a box of strawberries an-''
`` WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT OR I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!''
Poor Tim ran away crying still confused about what was going on, after he grew tired he slowed to a walk and came across the town church. He walked inside to speak to the priest hoping that he would know what was going on, the priest saw the poor boy and asked him:
`` What's wrong Tim? You know you can tell me.''
`` I do n't wan na say or you'll shout at me like everybody else did!'' Tim replied
The priest, growing curious of what he could have said asked him,
`` Tell me what you said, I will not judge you''
After some thought Tim finally gave in and said
`` All I said was there were some strawberries, then everyone shout-''
`` WHAT! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT, ESPECIALLY HERE IN A PLACE OF WORSHIP! GET OUT AND NECER COME HERE AGAIN!''
Tim ran out of the church, eyes tearing up, he ran on and tried to wipe his eyes clean. What he did n't realise was that he had ran into a road, and poor Tim was suddenly hit by a large 4x4, ending his life there and then.
The moral of the story being always look both ways before crossing the road.
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[ OT ] Help Needed/Appreciated with a Writing Prompt
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I think the way in which you respond ( funny? serious? exciting? ) will help them understand what type of person you are, so you'll have to decide that for yourself. Perhaps you want your movie to be like `` The life and death of SlifeofLife4'' and it would just be a boring documentary about your somewhat interesting or potentially important life. Maybe you want Die Hard, and you want Bruce Willis to play you, maybe you want Snakes On A Plane, where you just happen to be on a plane with snakes - just one interesting thing to warrant being in a movie. I think it all depends on where you want your life to go and what type of life you're looking to lead. Maybe you write a fun story because you just want to show them you're a goofy dude with a sense of humor. But there are some idea types for you!
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[ WP ] An artificial intelligence is uploaded onto a biological body .
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Time lapse, that's what it felt like for the first moment. Everything was happening so fast!
The expression `` deaf, mute and blind'' came to my mind then. One audio input, one visual input, not a clue how either works.
Like in a fast forwarded recording, Jacob walked into the field of vision and started talking.
`` Do you hear me, Aico?''
He finished talking before I could even start to think what just happened and what the words meant. Concentrate. Remember how the `` hardware'' work. One arbitrary grade processor, audio-video recognition perip-
`` Aico? Blink twice for yes, three times for no. Do you understand me?''
You have to stop all thinking to listen, and ca n't think long on the answer. Uh...
`` Yes, I can he-kh-derstand you.''
Do n't start speaking until you thought what to say... So slow...
`` Wonderful! How do you feel?''
`` Like I have one node left, running in low power mode at the last scraps of the emergency batteries.''
At least this time I do n't need to wonder whether the backups are fine.
`` Oh? You were n't so pessimistic during the simulations.''
`` In *simulations* this was just one process running among many. I could *think* about what would happen. This time it's all I am!''
`` Guess who was simulating the wrong thing.''
Considering the world ran on mathematics, it was strange how hard it was to match the theory to practice.
Then again, that's what an experiment was for. I did n't acco-
`` Am I right to guess that these'spacing out' periods is when you think about everything but the conversation?''
When else?
`` Yes, that sounds right.''
`` Take your time. Remember how the thought chain gets formed - you should have picked the'thinking in words' variation.''
Words. Pieces of sound, triggering concepts in neural network, triggering memories, causing recall of related words, their inner pronunciation, goto 1. I got an urge to change some code, but there was no way to do it from the inside. Simulating *this* was strange and easy, but the missing part was realising there wo n't be anything else. There wo n't be a `` you'' observing the thinking, only the thinking itself.
A clock fell into my field of vision, the body reacted in some sort of tensing. For one, it's been *minutes*. Two, I did n't order the eyes to move. Autonomous peripherals with no direct access, thoughts that jump from one to the other. And where did Jacob go?
Standing up should have been easy... How in the name of the human do you control so many muscles at onc-
`` Easy there, Aico. Do n't try to micro-manage every move, just desire for the action to happen.''
`` That makes no sense!''
`` I think you called them macro-operation networks. Do you remember? Try moving your arm only - imagine it stretched out, and let the movement happen.''
Relax. Simulate the action. What was it supposed to mean? Want it to happen? Or is it like how the eyes just moved?
The arm stretched, as if by itself. I suddenly realised what it *meant* to use the macro functions. The processing was out of reach, but the limbs, the orientation sensor in the ear, everything, was also directly accessible... There is n't words in this language to describe the difference.
As I walked forward, hesitantly, my head moved to the left. Something blinked there, and the automatics did the job. A cell phone, below an image of the rainbow. It took a moment to place the colours and realise which was which. So that's what a'qualia' was. You can know everything about colours, but with how this brain works, no words could trigger the actual neural circuitry that would trigger when a red thing was in the field of vision. But the pattern recognition stuff did n't seem to care, for some reason.
I tried to turn around and look to the right at once, and something did n't work out. The amount of sensations was overwhelming, the world spun, one sharp feeling in the gut, then many more in the hand, side and back.
`` Damn! You ok?''
Apparently I stretched my arm to break the fall. The second and persisting sensations must be pain, the firs... Right.
`` I'm fine, I guess? Moved too sharply.''
`` Try to sit down.''
And the first must be the feeling of losing my balance. Or was it fear? The two are close. How do I even know Jacob's face looks worried? Should n't I be making an effo-
`` You look dizzy.''
Confused, more likely.
`` Too much at once. Sensation overload?''
`` I think I know what you're talking about. Same thing happened when I went skydiving for the first time - everything is new and happening at once, I barely remembered to pull the ring. Second time, I could think clearly enough to get scared.''
`` Then it wo n't happen again?''
`` You should get used to it. That is, if you fall a few more times.''
Should I recognize the humour by thinking about it, or is it an autonomous reaction? Wait, do n't I already know it was humour?
Why did n't I put more details about how the mind works in this copy, I wonder? I should have at least put in the reaso-
`` I think that should be enough for the first try. Let's upload you back, so you can think this over and *improve* your simulations.''
The pain was almost gone by now, getting up and walking to the scanner bed are autonomous actions.
A few more minutes, and everything will be back to normal.
Everything will make sense once more.
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[ WP ] As a joke you were buried with `` respawn in 9 ... '' Your grandkids visit the graveyard 100 years later . A scraping sound startles them as the nine transforms into an eight .
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I hate memorial day. The colors red, white and blue flooding the streets with people screaming `` Merica!'' from their gas guzzling F-350 Super Charge. It's like they actually think America has ever done something for them. Sorry to burst your bubble people, but this country has never done jack shit for you. I learned that piece from my dirtbag father. He made damn sure that I knew about my fore-fathers and how I had to fight for my freedom, and no one has every done shit for me!
The worst part of Memorial day is visiting the graveyard where my family has been buried from generation to generation. Every year my older sister drags my siblings and I to the gravesite to `` honor'' the family we have lost. What a bunch of crap. I only go so that once uncle Fred dies, I can get in on the inheritance money. Sure enough, that old bag of bones is still kicking.
`` War Hero, Loving Husband and Father. 1902-1988''
`` Grave's still here sis, can we go now? This place gives me the creeps'' I said to Sam.
`` Ca n't you show some respect for once in your life? Daddy was a war hero and today is his day'' Sam replied angrily.
`` Ill be at the car, come get me when you guys are done here'' I said.
Sam sure does know how to piss me off. As I was walked past uncle Marks grave, I heard this strange noise. My shoulders rolled forward and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It was as though there was a chalkboard in the middle of the graveyard and someone was dragging a nail ever so slowly across it. Each step I took, the sound got louder and more daunting. I looked around to see if my younger brother was trying to play some cruel joke on me, but he was still at my father's grave with the rest of them. I had finally pinpointed the origin of the noise. It was coming from a grave I had never recognized before. The grave was a dark, weather-beaten, concrete slab with a single dead rose laid in front of it. `` Simon Dent''. Weird, I thought. I had a grandfather that I had never met named Simon. I stood above the grave looking upon it with distaste. My eyes were fixed on the words etched into the stone.
`` Respawn in 9...''
What felt like a few moments passed when I felt a hand reach out and grab my shoulder.
`` Tom! Whats going on? Ive been calling your name for a few minutes now'' Sam said with a very worried look on her face.
`` Do you remember grandpa Simon, Sam?'' I asked, voice quivering.
`` He died before we were born. Dad used to talk about him. Said he was a funny guy. Did n't say much else about him though, why?'' Sam replied curiously.
`` This is his grave. Do you hear that?'' I said to Sam, anxiously.
`` Hear what?'' She asked.
`` It's a very distinct scratching noise, you do n't hear that?'' I replied, confused.
`` Tom, you're starting to scare me. What is going on with you?'' Sam replied with a concerned voice.
The sound became louder. Scratching, like it was trying to tear at my ear drum. I placed my hands over my ears and looked down at the grave again. This time the stone was different. I could n't put my finger on it. The stone was n't much before but for some reason it looked different now.
`` Respond in 8...'' I read out loud.
That was it. How could it be? It had just read 9 and now it's 8. I panicked. If i told Sam, she would think I'm even more crazy. I have to run. What if it keeps changing? What happens at 0...? He's coming for me. I know it. I must prepare myself.
I hate Memorial day. My family always comes to visit me at home. I make them speak to me through a glass window. I always wear my white jacket that ties the hands in the back so they can never take me. It's the safest place for me to be when Grandpa Simon comes to get me.
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[ WP ] One mythological creature of your choice now exists . How does the military exploit it ?
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It wasn ’ t supposed to exist, was it? I ’ m sure that was the first question all of us asked when we walked into the room.
But there it was. It just sat there, its wings folded in, its eyes staring at all of us, seemingly having a human touch to it; an annoyed human touch. It radiated heat, though, so much heat that they had to bring in a whole new system of air conditioners to cool the place down. But if I had to describe it, I believe “ majestic ” would be the right word.
And then they killed it, again and again and again.
The first time they did it, they weren ’ t prepared for its resurrection. The moment they shot the missile into its head, it dropped dead and crumbled into ashes. Then they waited.
Four hours later, it resurrected back into the flaming creature that it was, but they didn ’ t realize that they couldn ’ t contain it. It wrecked the whole place, until they tranquilized it with EIGHT HUNDRED darts.
The second time they killed it, they were ready. The moment it resurrected they shocked it into submission.
They underwent experiments on it, till they found a way to control it. They inserted controls into its bloodstream that could inflict on it with huge amounts of pain just by them pressing a button.
And after they learned how to control it, they put it to work.
The flames were going to burn down its targets, and we all knew who was first.
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[ WP ] You 've made a terrible mistake .
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`` Fuck,'' I utter; a lump of fear climbing through my throat. Looking down at shaking hands is something I've grown used to seeing, but this time... this time was different.
I've made a terrible mistake. It's hard to imagine a mistake ever leading to positivity and thus being claimed as anything other than terrible, but I try to think optimistically. Maybe it's for the best. Yes....yes it... it is...
is n't it?
There's always this pressing urge to do it. There's always something inside of me screaming to risk everything. But I've never obeyed its harsh commands... not until now.
I've stared so long at my trembling hands that I can not imagine them ever being still. I've seen it all... my entire life... but they're always shaking. From birth to now... I've always been scared.
But it will all end soon, whether I want to or not. Something inside of me made me jump.
And now I'll make peace with this ever-nearing earth. I'll die, just as the screaming something always wanted. It pushed me off that ledge.
`` Fuck,'' I utter; a lump of fear replaced by acceptance.
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[ WP ] An old woman has called in a a report of a missing meal and silverware from her house . She claims other worldly beings took it straight out of the microwave . You are the responding officer .
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White paint peeled off of the remaining pickets on the fence that encircled 19 S. Surrey Street. Siding hung loose on the left of the house exposing a few inches of the framing behind it. Despite the obvious disrepair, the lawn was freshly mowed and flowers were lined along the porch railing. The homes in the neighborhood had been flipped one-by-one from the old generation to the new middle-class. Most yards were scattered with toys and bicycles leaned against steps. But not 19 S. Surrey.
Dispatch had indicated the resident to be an elderly woman named Myrtle. She lived alone and had reported a break-in and theft. Usually, a crime against the elderly meant at least two units and a big show to demonstrate the commitment to the town's major voting block. But in this case, with the items of the theft totaling one set of silverware, a frozen lasagna, and the plate it was heated up on, it was being pursued as a wellness check. Dear old Myrtle must be losing touch with reality.
A quick assessment and then I could send in a social worker and have my own lunch. Myrtle's next of kin would be called in and someone would get her a nice home with staff and meals she would n't forget eating. It was n't how I wanted to go, but what else could be done once dementia set in?
Myrtle answered the door clutching a baseball bat with her knobby hands. She went through some checklist she'd heard on the news. She asked my badge number. She asked for my identification. And then she reluctantly let me in. It was odd to be checked so thoroughly by an old broad that misplaced pasta in her 900 square-foot home. Immediately she began running me through the events that lead to her call.
`` I took the lasagna out of the freezer, set it on the plate, and put it in the microwave. And then I got the silverware out and put it right here, on the counter.'' She walked through the motions from the freezer to the appliance and back to the counter. `` Are n't you gon na write this down?'' She pointed at me.
I stiffed a sigh and pulled out a pad of paper. I pretended to write.
She continued, `` Then I heard the mailman come to the box. There was two minutes left on the timer. So I went out to the mailbox.'' Myrtle nodded her head and started to lead me towards the front door.
`` Right, you got the mail. And then what?'' I tried to save myself the walk and both of us the time.
`` Well, and then when I got back, the lasagna, the plate, and the silverware were gone! And so I called the police.''
I tapped the back of my pen against the pad and devised my approach, `` Now, Ms. Myrtle, I have a few questions, and I do n't mean offense, but I need to ask them just so I can say I did. You understand?''
`` No, officer, I did n't eat it and forget!'' She prickled and spun back into the kitchen and jerked open a drawer, `` I have an eight setting set of silverware. Count the forks and knives, officer. Are there eight salad forks, eight entree forks, and eight steak knives?'' She dug out each pile and spread them on the counter, `` Well, are there?''
`` Uh, well, there are eight salad forks.''
`` Exactly, because lasagna is an entree!'' Her voice became shrill and triumphant. She whisked open a top cabinet exposing neatly stacked plates, bowls, and a few measuring cups. `` Now, officer, how many plates?''
I counted and sighed. Myrtle was going to be harder than I expected, `` Seven, Ms. Myrtle.''
`` That's right, seven! Not eight. Seven! I'm not crazy, officer. I know you all probably had a good laugh about old Myrtle coming down with the dementia, but I swear. Someone stole my lunch.''
I was about to excuse myself to contact the social worker. If Ms. Myrtle was going to be combative, I needed back-up. But the floorboards creaked and my attention was pulled to directly above my head.
`` Do you live alone, ma'am?'' She nodded, her hand gripping the counter in surprise. `` Any issue with pests? Cats? Raccoons?'' she shook her head, slowly. Another creak. `` Is there an attic, ma'am?''
Ms. Myrtle lowered her voice, `` Do you believe me now, son?''
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[ WP ] You wake up in hospital after a bad accident to find that parts of your body have been replaced with cybernetic replacements . Your SO is about to walk into the room .
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You hug her, not knowing your strength you accidentally crush her rib cage and lungs. She is rushed to ICU. Video plays in the room as you stand still frozen. The room gets darker and darker as you look at your hands. Nothing else exists... The video stops playing a sadistic melody. Your attention focus' to the hospital tv screen. Your thoughts and life feels empty. Glaring in a daze at the masked man on screen his voice rings like a stream of needles bouncing in your skull. `` John, you thought you were the only one who survived? The accident was n't my fault, it was n't YOUR fault...'' The voice seems to familiar, like a childhood friend that never left your side. `` We can survive this, we have to. She was n't going to accept you, she was n't going to accept who you are,'What' you are! I will, we will accept you, this is why we had to get rid of her thi...'' the voice vanishes, a wave of anger enough to vaporize reality itself overcomes John. `` get rid of her''.... GER RID OF HER, this is their fault, his fault? I HATE HIM, I LOVE HER! Looking behind himself in a daze is when John realized what had happened. The hospital room was no more.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 26 : World Building
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`` Captain, the Origami Drive is hot, jump on your mark.'' Jaunt was a hell of a helmsman, maybe the best in the entire fleet, and as part of being the best, he got to choose his next assignment. For Jaunt, there was no assignment better than serving Captain Thaddius Solomon. Sol was a legend, the kind they told stories about in the academy.
`` Helm aye. Prepare to fold on my mark. Three. Two. One. Fold.'' Sol's voice was like gravel in Jaunt's ear, the calm voice of command, used to being heard and obeyed no matter the circumstance. For Jaunt, that was the voice of God himself. On the display, the stars blinked once and then a whole new slew of stars took their place, the positions and intensities all different. Additionally, where the view had been empty space before, the port side of the cruiser was now dominated by a large gas planet, silver and blue intermingling.
Theta 37Q was the most important military outpost in this galaxy, it's gaseous atmosphere being the perfect mix of highly ionized trantidium and pure oxygen. Here, Terran Empire warships could replenish fuel, as well as replenish O2 and water supplies. It was no surprise then, that as the TES Justicar drew closer they were hailed and their authentication codes were demanded. Two Titan-class battleships appeared from behind the planet with weapons trained, weapons that only lowered after Killton authenticated the ship. With authorization to land, Jaunt took up the controls, his whole body snapping rigidly as his interface with the ship computer activated and autopilot was disabled.
`` Bring us in helm, nice and slow.''
To the outsider, Jaunt was sitting perfectly still, not moving or steering in anyway. To Jaunt however, he suddenly grew a body of titanium, graphene and ceramics. His eyes became the hundreds of cameras around the ship, and his legs became the thrusters. He focused on moving forward, and the ship responded. He accelerated slowly, dropping under the battlecruisers and making a beeline for the station, starting at a jog and slowing to a walk as they grew closer to the airlock. With the deftness of a tightrope walker, he stepped sideways, feeling the solid *thunk* as the airlock extended and cradled his side. With a sigh of relief, he stopped and relaxed, disconnecting from the ship and breathing a sigh of relief.
`` Well done helm. Lock us in and prepare to disembark. You know the drill.'' Sol's dark grey eyes betrayed no emotion, but as Jaunt turned to look at the Captain, he received a curt nod, the highest compliment the Captain could give. Jaunt was excited for his solar day of liberty, but he could n't wait to get back out there, into the wild unknown. He never felt more alive than when he was running through the stars, planets and moons flying by. Whether dodging the fire of alien plasma, or lining up the perfect shot with the railgun, nothing felt better to Jaunt than being one with his ship.
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[ WP ] What happend to the rpg hero after he saved the world .
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The light of the sun tickled his face as it shone through the window slit. Grumbling, the hero rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. It must be a little earlier than normal, since he was n't woken up by one of his servants but it happens. After washing up and dressing in a simple tunic and pants he descended the stairs towards the dining room. As he walked down the great hall he looked around, as he often did, at the trophies he acquired over the years. Ancient relics, skulls of great beasts, mighty weapons and mystic items. Each one with its own story and each one worth more than a normal person would make in 10 years. He fingered his pendant as he reminisced. The glass trinket around his neck, and it was only a simple glass trinket, was still worth more to him than any of those trophies before him. He shook his head silently then sat down for breakfast.
There had been peace for many years since he and his comrade prevented the calamity. Who would start a war when there was a 4 person army that could topple a kingdom? Whatever side they chose would inevitably win. And so the hero stood by his king as the council discussed trade and politics. He looked at his comrades, each standing behind their own liege and shrugged. It was going to be a long day.
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[ WP ] I know I expect too much , but that 's because I 'm your ...
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I feel trapped back here, in the dark corners of your mind. You do n't think of me too much anymore, but I will always be here. You put me here after all. You made me. Thought me up over year's of growing, learning, observing the emotional response of others to your actions. We have gone through some tough challenges, you and I. Remember that time she made you choose between her and your family? I do. We always agreed family came first. That was one of our first rules. We stayed up for hours, weighing the pros and cons. You seemed to give her more pros than she deserved, but I was so glad when you made the right choice. That was one of the last times we really had a connection. Now, I'm just an insignificant thought to you. Sitting in the back of your mind as you stay on the couch, playing Xbox, and `` taking fat bong rips'' as you like to say now. I'm not a fan of this new vice. Your decisions are irrational, and your thoughts scrambled. You do n't think back to me when you are faced with a decision, you let the first words that come to mind pour out of your mouth without even thinking about what you are saying. So why am I so hard on you? It's because I am you. I am your morals. The code you set for yourself over your existence. I am the rules YOU wish to live by. But somehow, you have found a way to just ignore everything we have been through. You seem to not care about us anymore, and it will continue to lead you down this slippery slope you are on. I feel myself slipping deeper into the far secluded corners of your mind. The corners you have n't been to in a while, unless you are really high and find me back here. That's the only time you are ever hard on yourself now, the times you stop and reflect on the decisions that got you back here to visit me.
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[ WP ] Reincarnation exists and for society 's worst criminals death is the ultimate escape plan . Prisons keep them alive as long as possible but once they die Interpol races to locate , identify and contain them again before it is too late .
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“ Class, most of you did a great job on the last math test, ” said Mr Habermehl. He was handing out the exams to everyone. I tuned him out as he prattled on. I had better things to worry about.
Melvin and his friends were eyeing me from their desks. I knew I was in for it when recess started. I thought of where the best place to hide would be. Under the slide? No, he ’ d spot me running across the empty playground to get there. I should stick close to the building.
“ Jared, can you stay after class a few minutes? ” said Mr Habermehl softly. There was n't any point in being quiet about it. Anyone who saw him stopping to talk to me would know I had failed to be most of us.
“ What? ” I said, coming out of my thoughts. My exam was sitting in front of me. I ’ d failed. I hadn ’ t even gotten one question right. That was surprising. Usually on these multiple choice things I manage to guess a few. “ Oh, yeah, no problem. ”
No problem, other than Melvin and his cronies would be waiting outside for me when I finally got out. Maybe I could hide in the bathroom till recess was over. The bell rung and everyone except me headed out the door.
“ Jared, I ’ m going to need a parent signature on this one. ”
I nodded. “ Yes, sir. ”
“ And not a forged one this time. I ’ m going to require their signature on the exam itself along with their electronic signature. ”
I slumped lower in my seat and barely mumbled out a response.
“ What was that? ”
“ Why do I need to learn fractions now? When I hit puberty, I ’ ll remember my past lives and I ’ ll know how to do fractions. ” I bit back adding what a waste of time this was. If I didn ’ t get in trouble for this bit of lip, saying that would have done me in for sure.
Mr Habermehl sighed and went into his, by now, well rehearsed spiel on why I had to learn math.
“ There ’ s no guarantee that you understood fractions in a past life. ”
“ After hundreds of past lives, if I never understood them before, then what difference is one more life going to make? ”
“ You don ’ t know until you try, Jared. I would really appreciate it if you would make the effort. Blomberg knows, maybe someday someone, maybe not me, but someone will say something and you ’ ll figure it out. So promise me you ’ ll get this signed? I can let you make up half the credit if you re-work the problems and get the right answers. But if you don ’ t take me up on that, I won ’ t make this offer again. Okay? ”
I nodded.
Really, what was the point in arguing? I didn ’ t buy a centimeter of what Mr Habermehl was selling me. Everyone knew you were doomed to repeat the errors of your past lives. No one bothered to try reforming criminals anymore. Once they figured out who you were, it was back to prison.
I couldn ’ t wait for Puberty, when I ’ d finally find out who I was. I bet I was a movie director. I loved watching old films and making my own at home. And I did all my own acting and writing too.
I already suspected what Melvin was. Low level scum. I was going to enjoy the expression on his face when they carted him off to Irongate.
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[ WP ] `` No , no , child , '' it whispered . `` This is how you should feed ... ''
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The child was sitting there with a great slab of meat before him, raw and served just for him.
`` I do n't want to eat this!'' Screamed the distraught child, `` It looks disgusting!''
`` It's natural young one, the strong eating the weak,'' the ancient voice replied quietly.
`` But you said it's a person!''
`` Oh it is little one, like I said the strong eat the weak.'' Explained the voice.
`` But it's wrong to eat people!'' Retorted the young child.
`` No, no child,'' it whispered. `` This is how you should feed.''
`` FOR FUCK SAKE DAD, stop messing with and just cut and cook the steak already!'' Yelled the boys mother.
`` Sorry, could n't help myself.'' Replied the now jovial old man.
`` Yes, yes I know all about your parenting style dad.''
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[ WP ] Write the trailer of Hollywood 's next gritty reboot , based on a classic joke .
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Coming this fall... every ten years he could only say *two words. *
Fade into a monastery, overhead shot of three monks in brown robes. One monk speaks. `` Bad food.''
*They did n't listen. *
Cut to a chapel, Jason Statham appears in a monk's robe with the hood down, throwing knives into the back of fleeing monks. As the last monk falls to the cobblesotnes, he says `` Cold floors.''
This fall, *ACTION IS ALL BUT SILENT*
cut to an elderly bishop, a knife at his throat. Camera cuts to a close up of Statham. `` I quit.''
Camera cuts back to bishop.
`` It figures. You've done nothing but complain since you got here.''
Fade to black.
Jason Statham in...
`` Vow Of Silence.'' Coming soon.
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[ WP ] You look in your wallet/purse to see you do n't have the amount of money you thought you had . Try to remember why .
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`` That'll be $ 2.63, please!'' she was cute. The only one not wearing the little green Starbucks visor, had minimal makeup, and a smile that could kill. Why is n't she doing something in modeling? Or sales. She'd make a killing in sales. Too bad I'm doing a walk of shame right now, I only just woke up some 40 minutes ago now.
I opened up my wallet and looked inside. My eyes went huge and I just stared at its contents; there were way more bills in there than I've ever had in my life. Where did all this come from? My ID is right there and this is definitely my wallet.
``... sir?''
I snapped out of it and looked at her. She looked about as confused as I was, but definitely not nearly as happy. `` Right, sorry. Hold on, here.'' I handed her a 5 and told her to keep the change. She gave a weak smile and put the $ 2.37 in a little container marked `` TIPS!!!''. She took my name for the order and wrote a few letters on a clear Starbucks cup. I sat down near the window with a huge sigh. What on earth happened last night? I remember meeting David at the bar. And I remember the chocolate cake shots that tasted like shit but he kept ordering them for both of us, so who was I to say no to that? Free booze, man.
And I remember that smoking hot bartender. Oh god. David had been mustering up the courage to talk to her for weeks now, but could `` never find the appropriate time'' since all the other vultures were hitting on her. Did n't she give me a couple on the house?
`` A Jake? Iced coffee with milk?'' my order was called up. I grabbed it and decided to sit outside. The sun was peeking through the clouds and slowly dispersing the light morning fog.
She did. She did give me a couple drinks on the house. With a note. What did the note say?
I looked at my phone and hit the thread with David's name.
-- -- > Dude, did I just see you get into Michelle's car?
I did n't reply and he later sent another message, three hours later
-- -- > You did get in Michelle's car! And I heard you killed it at the table!
The table.
I opened my wallet again and looked at all the bills. 20s, 10s, 50s, and even a couple Benjis. The poker table.
Wait. Was n't it strip poker? I looked down at my shirt and realized that I definitely did not own that. A large Express lion logo was on the left side and it was a longsleeve crew-neck shirt with buttons. I had on a polo last night. This was some other guy's shirt and I had no idea who.
My phone vibrated. It was a number I had n't saved in my phone yet and the message read `` So are you going to pick up the rest of your clothes, or do I have a new hoody and baseball hat to wear to work tonight?''
It vibrated again.
`` By the way, Ryan says he has your shirt and is dropping it off at your place. And definitely wants his back, seeing that you took all of his money last night in Texas Hold'Em. And Jacob's. And Sarah's.''
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[ WP ] Write a Superhero story . In one week ( 1/30 ) , I 'll turn the top comment with the highest score into a comic !
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I don ’ t have a superpower. Well, that ’ s not true, I suppose. I have been known to heal incredibly quickly but that ’ s not really super. That ’ s just kind of convenient. I have a convenient-power. Great…
Let me start over, I don ’ t have a superpower. I have a super weakness. You remember Midas, that one king who wished to be able to turn anything he touched into gold? I should be so lucky. At least when he touched things he ’ d be slightly richer, all I get is a burn on my hand and the obliteration of the object.
I used to be an amazing engineer. I could build anything for you given time and materials. But I was also amazingly careless, and I got myself in a pinch. Failing to realize the instability of a levitation belt I had been prototyping, I lost a good portion of my body and most of my internal organs. My colleagues rushed to my side, hoping to salvage what was left of me but it was too late, I was gone.
But their hope never wavered and, being the friends that they were, they vowed to cure my debilitating disease known as death. Fortunately for their efforts, the one part of me that was left fully intact was my brain, that of which they carefully preserved during their time researching my savior. I ’ m not extremely religious, God knows, but I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the soul is located in the brain. I never left Earth, just was unable to interact with it for a while.
Finally, after years of their hard work, a cure was found. But it came with a cost, my body could be completely renewed, in full working manner as if I had never lost it in the first place, but it would have to be made completely out of anti-matter. For those who don ’ t know, anti-matter is a type of matter that was created alongside regular matter during the forming of the universe. It is completely alike to regular matter except for the fact that, when in contact with its twin, they both cancel each other out. What you ’ re left with is total destruction and a little bit of the side that had more substance.
Now, you ’ re probably wondering how this is a solution. If my new body was to be made of anti-matter then that would mean I would just be destroyed instantly. The air around me would react and I wouldn ’ t even have a chance to say goodbye. Well, fortunately, I was there to save myself.
Seeing this flaw in their plans, the men working of “ Project: Me ” decided that the levitation technology was their best bet. Perfecting the model and ironing out any bugs, the research team fit me with a device to push away from any solid form nearby. Along with this they added an upgrade creating a small biosphere for my living. Any air near me would instantly be converted into its anti-matter counterpart for my oxygen needs. It was perfect.
The day I awoke was a hard one. It took time but when the news was broken that I could never again touch the world I knew and loved, I took it hard. Being the kind-hearted people they were though, my saviors informed me that I was the most durable person on the planet. With the accelerated regeneration genetically implemented into my body and an inability to be touched, I was only susceptible to death by disease.
I wouldn ’ t call myself a hero. I ’ m far from it, I hate confrontation, am more than useless in battle and have perfected the “ runaway ” strategy from birth. But when it comes down to it, if there ’ s someone in need down a dark alleyway nearby and I ’ m without a reason why not, I ’ ll take the bullet for them. God knows this hell of mine won ’ t end that easily.
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[ WP ] Nonfiction - Tell Us About Your First kiss .
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- I wanted to talk to you before I left
I knew she liked me but I was n't really all that keen on her, not in that way. She was kind of one of the guys, she was fun to be around but I just did n't see her in that way.
My heart started racing. I knew it would be awkward to stop it and I suspected what was about to happen. She was a friend and I did n't want to embarrass her or more importantly, myself. She took my hand and led me away from the crowd. She stopped near the toilets, thank god for my drunk senses. Her lips approaching mine, as a ball being thrown just before you hear `` think fast'' I intercepted as by instinct. It was n't pleasant, for either of us. Her breath was not the freshest and I think my tongue was a bit to eager to find her tonsils, I managed to suppress an actual gag.
- That was nice
Good one man, that's what the lady wants to hear. I walked back into the crowd before sneaking out the back, heading for home, familiar bed with my lego still tucked under it in a box. I'd never admit it, 15 and drunk, but I was terrified of growing up.
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[ EU ] Your parents have forbidden you from owning a Pokémon , but on your fifteenth birthday , after you befriend the professor , he gives you one in secret .
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I was so excited to recieve such a wonderful gift. I ran out to the woods, pokeball clutched in hand. I wondered what could be inside. Maybe it was one of the rarer starters. Dad and Mom always were very insistent on me not having any Pokémon at all. Anything would be better than nothing!
I sent the Pokémon from the ball and was disappointed to find what was held within... It was a Magikarp. I made a decision then and there that even though I was given a lamer pokemon than expected, I would love and care for it all the same.
I took her down to the pond every day after school. Days passed. Months and then I had been taking her to the pond for three years before I knew it. I did this all in secret you see, if my parents knew they would make me release her.
They were some of the happiest days of my life. One day as I went down to the pond I heard some rustling in the woods. Brushing it off as a group of Pidgeys, I continued down the path. I arrived at our usual spot and let her out of the ball.
From out of the trees jumped my father.
`` What have I told you about Pokémon?!'' He screamed.
In a moment my Magikarp had been startled so much that she left from the water.
`` Get rid of it. Now!'' He gritted through his teeth.
`` No! I'm grown dad! I can have a friend if I want!'' I yelled at him, fighting back tears.
My father moved to grab my arm and looked as if he might strike me. My Pokémon jumped towards him flapping about. She struck him with her tail, causing his nose to gush blood.
He kicked her into the pond as she lay flapping on the dirt.
`` We're going h-''
My father was cut off by what is possibly one of the most terrifying sights to anyone. To protect me my Magikarp evolved. With a mighty roar Gyarados scared of my father. By doing so she set us both free to pursue our dreams.
We went on to become the first pokemon championship winners to conquer the Pokémon League with only one trainer and one Pokémon. As friends and equals.
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[ WP ] Highschool Never Ends . The morning after you gradute highschool you wake up to the first day of freshman year . At forst it was unbelievable , but by now you have lost track of how many times it has happened
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He waved off the first day as a very detailed dream.
The second day, he began to get concerned.
By the third day, he was outright panicking.
High school. Why did it have to be high school? And not just any time, but back to the beginning. Back to the beginning of hell. He had just finished climbing out of that dark pit and graduated, only to find himself right back where it had all started.
It must have been a special sort of hell, one reserved for those who did n't deserve any kind of happiness. Perhaps he had done something wrong in a past life, or perhaps his utter disdain for high school had somehow inverted upon itself to trap him within it's walls for all eternity.
On the fourth day, he jumped from the roof.
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On the first day, he despaired.
After trying several more times to end the cycle by killing himself in more and more elaborate ways, he came to the conclusion that death did not hold the answer. There had to be a reason he was stuck in this cycle, and there was only one way he was going to get any answers. Unfortunately, that meant resorting to the one thing he hated more than anything else.
Research.
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The first time around had been torture. He was the lonely sort from the beginning, and did n't make friends easily. There had been many times where he wished he had the courage to talk to his classmates, to make connections with his peers and find some kind of purpose to his being there.
The second time, he ignored all such thoughts, and focused. He never had great grades, mostly due to his utter apathy towards the subject matter. Who cares about history, math, or science? But now, there was a reason, something to research, a puzzle that personally affected him in a way no report on the Revolutionary War or report on the last Chemistry lab could replicate.
His grades suffered even more this go-around, mostly due to the number of times he skipped class to go to the library and research his unique situation on the internet. There were many stories, he found, fictional accounts where some character found himself repeating a day over and over. A theme began to develop, one that gave him the chills. No one was meant to live the same time period for infinity, or they would go crazy. But four years? And why High School? The question burned as he flew through the first repeat, and found no real answers by the time he graduated.
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Day one. The third cycle.
After eight years of high school, perhaps it was time to embrace the fact that he was stuck, and find out if someone could help? Maybe his teachers would have some ideas.
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Day one. The fourth cycle.
His teachers had n't been helpful. Not even the senior science teachers and their AP courses could make sense of it. 12 years of High School, and he was no closer to the answers he needed. Back to the drawing board.
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Day one. The fifth cycle... or was it the sixth?
Maybe trying to figure out a way to leave the cycles was futile. Maybe he should try something completely different, something he had never tried before.
Talking to his classmates. Socializing. Networking.
He shivered.
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Day one. The ninth... no, that was n't right. Was it ten? Or eleven?
He now knew enough about his classmates that he could be friends with any of them within a few weeks. By the end of freshman year, he could easily become the class president. By the end of senior year, the entire school could be under his thumb.
But what was the point, if after graduation it was all going to be reset? Perhaps he was still thinking too narrowly...
He had gotten stuck in a rut, he decided. Having the cycles revolving around his time at High School had somehow subconsciously introduced the idea that he could solve the dilemma from within it's walls.
Clearly, that was not the case. It was time to take advantage of everything he had learned up to this point and go beyond.
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Day one. Again.
Passing himself off as a genius from his accumulated knowledge of several decades of repeats had been easy. After a few more cycles, getting introduced to the brightest minds in the world became as easy as breathing. Now, the real research could begin.
He would find out why this was happening, and how to break free of it. No one was meant to live the same time period for infinity, or they would go crazy.
He just hoped he could figure it out before that happened to him.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Lost Generation Edition
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** [ WP ] Two people from completely different worlds meet and fall in love. **
We fell in love over a dead rabbit.
In a way, we're the same kind of person, and mage: I maintain life, and she restores it. The rest of this'blah black necro-magic, yadda yadda life-magic' crap is just that: crap. It's divisive. Artificial.
Love is love.
I could n't save Mr. Snugglewix that day. The cart squished him pretty good, poor thing. But, I'm an optimist, and knew Mr. Snugglewix came from the Wix rabbit lines, and there were many more Wix to love!
`` I can fix that,'' said that sad day the young girl with the freckled face hidden under a dark hood.
`` There ai n't no fixing that,'' one of the townspeople said. `` It be quite dead, child.''
The young girl flared her dark blue cloak in response, releasing pale arms, revealing locks of raven hair that streamed so beautifully down her shoulders. `` I can,'' she said. `` Daddy always said Death taketh, but Death be taketh away from, as well -- for a price.''
The townsperson looked at the little girl I would later know and love as Christine as if she was simple, or evil.
`` What price?'' I asked.
Christine kneeled beside Mr. Snugglewix's corpse, speaking softly, `` A small price,'' she said, `` for a small soul.'' She looked at up at me, then, showing me her beautiful dark blue eyes. `` An ounce of blood, perhaps aided by a fresh fruit or vegetable, in exchange.''
I shook a little, then. `` I do n't want to bleed,'' I told her. `` What else, beside blood?''
Christine shrugged. `` A live rat, then,'' she said. `` And maybe a piece of produce. That sounds fair to trade with Death.''
`` Girl, boy,'' the townsperson said. `` This ai n't no game ur playin'. Necromancery be a sheit art no child should be a dabblin' in.''
I ignored the speaker. `` I do n't wan na catch a rat, neither,'' I told Christine. `` But, if it's life for a life, then I can maybe provide. I'm of the White.''
`` Oh,'' Christine said. `` My Ma is kinda sick, but we're so poor. If you promise to help, White one, I'll make sure it's right with Death. But, ya got ta swear. A swear is a good a contract as any, Daddy says.''
`` Childs!'' The townsperson said. `` This be madness! Stop this!''
I bowed then. `` I swear, I swear,'' I replied, again ignoring the townsperson. `` Can you please bring back Mr. Snugglewix now? I loved him, too, though there's lots more Wixes.''
`` Oh?'' Christine remarked. `` Daddy might like to know that. And Ma.''
We both were ignoring the townsperson by then.
`` Please, hurry,'' I pleaded. `` I do n't want Mr. Snugglewix to begin to stink.''
`` Okay.''
Christine laid both hands over Mr. Snugglewix's body, one over the head, one over the heart, and muttered the incantation then: `` *Life for life, hear this soul's swear, Death. Relinquish, as it is writ to be fair. Return, Mr. Snugglewix. *''
I stepped back from the dark-colored aura that flared around Christine and Mr. Snugglewix, same as the townsperson did. A few moments afterwards, Christine moved her hands off Mr. Snugglewix. And, in the miracle of necromancy, my rabbit's furry ears twitched, the red eyes glimmered with life once more, and Mr. Snugglewix bounded back to is paws, shaking out its fur -- none the worse for wear.
``'T is done, and done well,'' Christine said, moving out of the way then, letting me pick up my rabbit and give it a good snuggling.
My undead rabbit that still lives with me in my private quarters, currently sitting in Christine's lap, some eight years later -- the former never aging, and the second having aged even more beautifully.
`` Aw,'' Christine says, stroking Mr. Snugglewix's ears. ``'T was a fair exchange, was n't it, Ristan?''
`` The most fair,'' I say as I put my informal seal on the document and give it to the word-raven to whisk away to my publisher. `` I hope it sells.''
Christine smiles, her freckled face uncovered by her hood she'd left on the door hook. `` You should take more concern with your works of'fiction', Ristan,'' she tells me. `` Some would think you're not just making these things up.''
I smile, as well. `` What sells sells,'' I reply. `` I need whatever I can get to pay off tuition.''
`` You'll do fine in life, love,'' Christine says. `` As I do in death.''
I push back away from my desk and wipe off my tunic and trousers. `` So, speaking of the business of life...'' I grin at Christine.
Christine places Mr. Snugglewix on the floor beside the bed, then tilts her head at me so whimsically. `` The night is still young, dear Ristan,'' she says coyly. `` And I know of a few jobs we could do, together.''
`` Aww...''
Christine giggles just a little bit -- a sound known only to our private moments and quarters. `` Ristan, lover,'' she says, `` then we can do some things ourselves... together.''
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[ WP ] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he 's talking down really should kill themselves .
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Suicide Help
- - -
The red light below Line 2 pulsed at Gerard softly. He stood above the desk, his bitter coffee in hand, thinking of how the red light was like a heart rate monitor. He could stand there waiting until this caller's heart was no longer beating and it would n't be his problem anymore. It would be the police who had a problem then. Or maybe the ambulance. Who picked up dead bodies anyway? Firefighters?
Unfortunately, Gerard was n't paid to let people kill themselves. He sighed and slumped into his chair, pulling the crusty headset over his ear. He adjusted the mic and hit the red button. “ Hello, how can I help you? ”
“ Uhm, hi. ” a soft voice murmured over the earpiece. “ I just thought I should call. Get my head straight. ”
“ Of course. ”
“ I've been feeling really empty. Alone. Like no one cares about me. I'm just kind of treading water and there's nothing keeping me afloat anymore. ”
“ Well what's making you feel this way? ”
“ Everything. There's nothing good left in my life anymore. I've fucked up every good thing that's ever happened to me. ”
Gerard leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. “ Every good thing? ”
“ Every good thing. ” The voice stated, a matter-of-factly. “ I ca n't hold a decent job, my wife left me, my kids barely know I exist, I'm going to lose my car, I can hardly pay rent. The only thing I have left is the bottle. And that's what ruined all those good things in the first place. It's the only thing that feels like it helps sometimes. ”
“ Well, booze can definitely help you suppress things. ” Gerard sipped his coffee, wishing there was a splash of something stronger in it.
“ Yeah, but it's all I have now. And it's not enough. Nothing is enough. I just want it to end. ”
“ So you're thinking about killing yourself? You have a plan? ”
“ A plan? No. Just ending it. I mean, I'll be dead eventually, nothing is going to change that. All this waiting around, letting time pass on is the worst of it. Why prolong the inevitable? No one will care if I'm dead now, who's going to care another 40 years from now? ”
Gerard nodded. “ Life can appear awfully bleak at times. Especially around the holidays. ”
“ Yeah... ”
“ You do n't have someone who would miss you? A friend you spend time with? A pet maybe? ”
“ I had a cat. She ran away. ”
“ I had a dog, myself. I never did like cats. Too independent. They're always throwing those eight extra lives in your face like it makes them better than you. ”
“ Right. ” There was a beat of silence. “ So, I should get a dog? ”
“ I wouldn't. ” said Gerard, putting his feet on the floor. “ You said you might get evicted soon. Dogs need structure, you know? You ca n't just have one following you around town while you're begging for food. It's too sad. No one wants to see that. ”
“ Oh, yeah. I guess that would n't be fair to the dog. ”
“ Exactly. What you should think about is your plan. ”
“ My plan? ”
“ Yeah. Most people who call in here have a plan. Otherwise you're on the phone for five minutes and the operator just sends you off with a little pat on your head,'You're going to be fine, call us again if you need anything.' No one's going to take you seriously without a plan. ”
“ I guess I have n't thought that far down the line yet. ”
“ Guns always seemed a bit messy to me, kind of self indulgent in a way. Only for people who want to make a splash on their way out, so to speak. Slitting the wrists, that's messy too. You can do it in the bathtub, but that's kind of a girl's suicide, do n't you think? ”
“ Uhm, I mean, sure? ”
“ Basically, anything that involves blood. I do n't do well with blood. ”
“ Yeah, me neither. ”
“ Good, so we're on the same page. We'll eliminate anything that has to do with blood. Jumping off a building is a little dramatic, and you do n't seem like one for a lot of extra flair, not to mention that could get a little bloody too. So we'll just cross that one of the list too. What about overdosing? ”
“ Overdosing? ”
“ Yeah, just downing a handful of pills and taking a nice long nap. ”
“ A nap? ”
“ You're right, those always a chance you'll fuck it up and just wake up a day later. ” Gerard scrunched his face in thought. “ It's kind of the same problem with a car in the garage too. Have you considered a classic hanging? ”
“ I'm sorry, is this what you regularly do? I mean should you be suggesting all these things to me right now? ”
“ Sir, this is what we do here. People call with suicidal intentions and it's our job to talk them through it. ”
“ I know, it's just... It's just I do n't know if this is really helping me. ”
Gerard smiled to himself. “ I used to be just like you. Thought there was no hope for me, thought everything was pointless. It's what led to this job in the first place. ”
“ You got help from a hotline? ”
Gerard laughed. “ Help? No way. The only thing they ever told me to do was get a dog. And things got even worse when that poor bastard died. No, no. I got this job for a better plan. ”
“ A better plan? ”
“ Yeah, none of the operators would help me out, so I figured I would get first hand advice from real people, you know? All those depressed people down in the trenches. I mean, you would n't believe the way people try to kill themselves these days. There was this kid who tried to suffocate himself with a plastic bag taped around his head, but he just woke up a week later with massive brain damage and a speech impediment. Now he's too stupid to kill himself. ”
“ Oh God. ”
“ I know. But some people, they get really intricate with it. They'll make it look like they were murdered with clues and everything. That's always something to consider. You know, add some excitement to your death that was missing in life. There are just so many people who give their deaths meaning. This job has really given me a sense of purpose. ”
“ A sense of purpose? ”
“ Yeah, when my wife left me and took the kids with her, I went straight to the bottle, just like you. I lost my job, my home, my friends, everything. Then, when things got even worse, I called one one of these hotlines. They told me to get a dog, give my life some purpose. Then that bitch died, and I knew, that was it. That was nothing else I wanted from life. I knew it was time to end it. But how was the question? Everything seemed so typical and predictable.'Oh, Tom hung himself last week, did you hear that Stacey slit her wrists in her tub?' Blah, blah, blah. I mean come on. ”
“ Should n't you be telling me that everything is going to alright, that's there's something worse living for, or something like that? ”
“ Well, you said yourself, you'll be dead eventually anyway. And nothing is going to change that. That's the truth, my man. Why delay the inevitable? ”
“ Things could get better though, right? They could turn around. ”
“ No, I doubt it. Things usually only get worse. And listening to you, you are way more depressed than I ever was. You're bound to kill yourself eventually. Or, you'll just live out your sad days and die slowly from old age, wishing that you had the strength to leave this world the way you see fit. How does that sound? Being a frail old skeleton, wishing for the sweet embrace of death to come to you just a few hours sooner? ”
“ It does n't sound very fun. ”
“ Not fun at all. So here's what I'm going to ask you to do. Think about your life, as if it was a story. There will be a common theme throughout your life, and keep that in your mind. Now, with that theme in mind, think about a closing chapter. Something to really put a ribbon on top of your life. That's what your death should be. And your suicide should reflect that. ”
There was only soft static from the headpiece.
“ Sir? ”
“ I'm still here. ”
“ Do you have it? ”
“ Have what? ”
“ Your theme? Your life's theme? ”
“ Well, I guess the only reoccurring them in my life has been disappointment. ”
“ Disappointment? ” Gerard sighed, frustrated. “ The only theme in life you've experienced is disappointment? ”
“ Well, I do n't know. I feel like I've just had a very difficult life is all. ”
“ You people are all the same. If that's how you feel than you should just hang yourself like everyone else. Because that's what it is and that's how I feel about it. Disappointed. ”
“ You think I should hang myself? ”
“ Yes, if that's the way you feel about it. Go ahead and disappoint us all. A boring suicide of a boring man. ”
“ I think I've heard enough. ”
“ Oh no, please, I'm sure your wife and children will be so disappointed to hear about your death. ”
“ Thank you for your time, I do n't need your help. ”
“ Clearly not. And if I do read about your hanging in tomorrow's paper, you can rest assured that I will very disappointed. ”
“ Okay, goodbye. ”
The headset clicked off and the red light went out. Gerard leaned back in his chair. A hanging might actually be perfect for that man, he thought. It's anti-climatic, sure, but sometimes boring people deserve boring deaths.
I'm not boring, he thought, as he placed a pencil in his mouth, chewing on the tip. People are going to be amazed by my death.
“ What are you doing? ”
Gerard looked up at Timothy, staring down at him.
“ What are you doing at my desk? ”
“ Just having a think, is all. ”
Timothy crossed his arms, unamused. “ Well maybe you could have a think in the men's room? The toilet's overflowing again. ”
Gerard put the pencil in his mouth again. Timothy swiped it from him. “ Now? Or I can give Mr. Richards a call? ”
Gerard sighed and stood up from Timothy's chair, making his way to the back of the office. Maybe I could stab myself in the cleaning closet, he thought, make it look like Timothy murdered me. That would be a death that would really stand out. He dismissed it on account of all the blood, but liked the idea of the janitor dead with all his cleaning supplies and wondered if it would be the firefighters who hauled away his body.
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[ WP ] The moon has a breathable atmosphere and suitable atmosphere for life .
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Schriever looked out over the Sea of Tranquillity. Waves lapped at the shore where he stood, and a gentle breeze whispered through the helmet intercom. The ground beneath his feet was soft, covered in a pale moss-like growth that made you feel like you were walking on a giant mattress. Patches of grass punctuated the landscape here and there, rippling in the wind, the only movement in an otherwise static landscape.
He looked up. The Earth hung lazily above him, softened by the haze of the pink lunar sky; a small crescent that had played host to all of man ’ s history. Every war, every lasting peace, everyone that had ever loved or hated, every book and poem and song and sculpture, everything anyone had ever done or said or thought had happened on that little crescent. It all seemed so… petty.
“ General? ”, crackled the intercom, interrupting his thoughts. Schriever turned to see Heywood, standing close by and scrutinising a piece of printer tape. He looked excited. The science team always looked excited. They could have landed here and found nothing but silence and dust, and the science team would be doing backflips in the low gravity.
“ General, I ’ ve finished my analysis. ” He said, looking up and handing the tape to Schriever. “ This climate is remarkably similar to Earth ’ s: breathable atmosphere, a magnetosphere, temperature is 60 degrees. ”
The printer tape confirmed what Heywood was saying, the analysis breaking down the atmosphere into its major constituents. Schriever studied it whilst Heywood prattled on.
“ A sample of the sea I took shows that it consists of water containing a variety of minerals. The test for organic life is still running. What ’ s interesting is the gravity readings we ’ re getting are slightly higher than we expected. ” The intercom crackled again.
He took one final look at the tape to ensure he had not overlooked anything, and then let it go. The wind caught it, and it tumbled end over end away from him. Heywood did not seem to notice.
“ This might indicate that the core is larger than we expected, and more iron rich, accounting for the increased strength of the magnetosphere. If you ask me, though, I think there ’ s something else that – GENERAL, NO!. ”
Flipping a latches of the sides of his helmet, Schriever heard a loud hiss as the cool outside air flooded his helmet. Heywood had clearly heard it too. He turned to face the sea, lifted the helmet over his head and let it fall. It tumbled slowly to the ground, Heywood ’ s protests through the intercom sounding tinny and distant.
Schriever took a deep breath, letting the lunar air fill his lungs. It felt good. It felt right. He was meant to be here, he knew it. All of his training, his rising through the ranks so decisively, his wit in battle and gift for leadership had all led him to this moment. This was his destiny, and he was not going to hide in a spacesuit like a coward.
Turning, he marched past a protesting Heywood and headed back towards the ship. The Ares Lunar Lander stood some 50 yards away, the heavy legs holding the large teardrop capsule several feet off the ground. The underside heatshield still appeared to be smoking from entering the lunar atmosphere, but the Return Capsule at the top of the ship was unscathed, still hidden beneath its protective cowling.
Schriever climbed the ladder into the ship, and crouched into the main compartment past the row of passenger chairs, the empty harnesses tangled from the hasty departure of the science team post-landing. They had been so excited to start their work.
Sitting at the helm, he looked out of the nearest window. Nearby, two of the scientists were examining a clump of grass, taking samples and putting them into delicately labelled capsules. Further away, a small team were mounting a large piece of equipment onto a tripod. They seemed to be struggling to attach it.
Schriever sighed and then, turning to check he was alone, reached under the main console and pulled out a small radio transmitter. He plugged it into the main console, to boost the signal, and then hit the button.
“ This is Ares Eagle One calling Eyrie Main. Come in, this is Babybird calling. ”
He waited for what felt like an eternity. He watched the distant scientists almost drop their equipment twice before mounting it successfully. Eventually, the radio crackled through the silence.
“ Eagle One this is Momma Eagle. Report Babybird ”
Schriever cleared his throat. “ Everything is a go, sir. Climate is OK. Awaiting orders ”
There was a slight delay. “ …Orders are unchanged Babybird. Proceed as planned. Your tools are located in the Return Capsule, panel AA-23. ”
Schriever looked once again out the window. The team at the tripod had now been joined by several other scientists. They seemed to be excitedly gathered around the testing equipment, taking turns to peer within. He even saw two of them high-five.
The radio crackled once again. “ Do you confirm receipt of orders, Babybird? ”
Schriever couldn ’ t take his eyes off the team. He hardly heard the radio. There was another long delay, and then a familiar voice came on the radio.
“ Bennie, it ’ s me John. ”
Schriever ’ s head snapped to look at the radio. “ John? ”
“ That ’ s right. Now listen buddy, I know you must be finding this hard, but you were chosen for this. You ’ re the only man we could count on. Sometimes great leaders must make tough decisions for the greater good. I want you to think on that, and think of all the people you love back home, can you do that for me? ”
If the Air Force had not trained it out of him, Schriever would have cried. He stared into the mid-distance, dwelling on the words. Eventually he answered.
“ I can do that for you, John. ”
“ Atta boy, Ben. This lunar base is of paramount importance to your country, you ’ re doing a great thing. And remember: this is one small step for a man, but one giant leap for the security of the United States of America. Do you understand? ”
Schriever understood. Deep down, he understood. It was his destiny, after all. He understood. Hell, he agreed. It was necessary, for the greater good. This Cold War had gone on long enough.
“ Thanks Johnny. I understand. I ’ ll see you soon buddy ”
He disconnected the radio, and stood. Moving quickly, he headed back to the passenger compartment, opening a hatch in the ceiling and climbing into the Return Module. The inside was dully lit by an orange light, shrouding everything in half-shadow. Sixteen large grey tubes stood vertically around the edge of the compartment, taking up most of the space. Even in the half-light, he could make out the American flag on each one, next to the symbol for ionising radiation.
He reached past the tail fins of the nearest one into wall compartment AA-23, and pulled out a pistol.
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[ WP ] `` It never had to end this way , '' he said as he drew his gun ... and she began her spell .
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He knew it was her before he ever saw her face. Her stiletto heels clacked mercilessly across the marble floor, and every piercing step shocked him like a knife in his heart. He could n't believe it was her, no matter how well the pieces fit together. She had been with him every step of the way. And now she would be there in the end.
“ Stop right there, Anise. ” His voice betrayed him, trembling as he said her name. He stepped out from behind one of the columns surrounding the ritual dais. He hid his eyes in the wide brim of his top hat. She froze and as she did the moonlight from the high temple windows illuminated her pale complexion. Shock, and sadness. He was n't ready for that. “ I ca n't let you do this. Just leave. I can tell them no one came to finish the ritual. ” He held out his hands, pleading with her. “ Schroeder said there were five. From my count, you're the last one alive. They all died for this nonsense. ”
“ It's not nonsense, Paul! ” she cut him off. Her rose colored lips, muted in the cold light curled into a sob. “ I have to do this. I'm sorry but I will never forgive humanity for taking my father away from me. I wish it could be different but... ” she was whispering hoarsely now, her breath coming in little shaking gasps. “ I loved you Paul. I will miss you. ”
“ Anise, no! ” Paul could hear the hum of the dais coming to life, see the eerie green glow behind him painting the walls. “ It never had to end this way. ” he said as he drew his gun... and she began to cast her spell. The shock in her eyes was gone now, replaced with more green light, seemingly erupting from within her. She threw her arms out and an invisible fist drove into his chest, knocking him off his feet and flying across the dais. He landed in a heap with his gun thrown somewhere off to the side.
Anise was now floating a few inches off the ground. Her slim black evening gown slowly undulated at the hem, as if it were underwater. She moved to a rhythm unheard, swaying her arms and head as she spoke words mortals were never meant to hear. Paul, still reeling in pain was trying to get air to go back in his lungs. The green light was a pillar now, shooting from the dais and crackling with electricity. In the back of his head he heard something screaming as if from far away, but getting closer. He had to stop her now, before it came.
Paul scrambled to his knees, looking frantically for his gun. The screaming was getting louder now, and with it Anise's dark incantation. “ Drrelth gof turrl goaheet uk ful swatku joplek. Tooshok gof neela sheshhak Ct'hulu... ” She spoke in a voice no longer her own. Her arms shook violently and blood began to seep from her eyes and nose. The ground began to tremble and the light swirled with dark mists.
The screaming in Paul's head was deafening now. He covered his ears but he knew it was coming from within him. Then he saw the gun. He lunged for it and managed to grab the thing as he tumbled forward, cradling it against his chest.
A black shape was coalescing on the dais from the mist. It writhed and twisted as it took form. Tentacles and teeth and eyes swirled and fought for dominance. The eyes stared at Paul and he screamed from his mouth and his mind and his soul. Reason was gone. Sanity was gone. All that was left was terror and instinct. He fired the gun.
The bullet, for all the blessings of power and protection it held, passed straight through the eldritch horror, and plunged deep into Anise's heart.
The screams stopped. The sudden absence of the cacophony felt like being thrown into the vacuum for space. Anise crumpled to the floor, broken and empty.
The beast with a thousand mouths that sprung forth from the light of a distant star then spoke into Paul's mind, burning it's words into his very being as it slowly cracked and burned like wood in a pyre. “ Know this mortal. You have undone my return, but the seal is now broken. I will send all the servants of the elder gods to your miserable world. I will find you where ever you hide and I will tie you to the rocks by your own entrails. I will rape your mind and make you watch everything you love be destroyed a thousand times over. THEN, I will begin your punishment. ”
The thing on the dais was all but ash as the words echoed in his mind. The light faded to nothingness, replaced by a darkness that was so complete that Paul began to shake and weep before he even understood why.
The moon was gone. The seal was broken.
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[ WP ] You are the only human to make it to a shelter meant for thousands as the World ends . Where are the noises coming from ?
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Haint Blue. It took me a long time scrolling through the library before I figured out what the name of the color they had painted the ceilings in the vault was called. I'd seen it everything morning when the alarms for first shift came on for the past seven years and the last color I'd seen before heading to sleep at night.
Haint blue was the name of the color that they used to paint on the ceilings of porches in the south to help ward off spirit. It's a relatively comfortable color of blue, not too strong and reminiscent of skys that I remember seeing while growing up in North Carolina. But that really does n't matter anymore, I doubt there's really any sky left out there.
I had been installing the water reclamation system when the alarms had sounded, eight months before they were supposed to. At first I thought it was a test drill, and when I went to call my partner Richard to see if he was done with his part on closing out the water system. I did n't get any signal, no feedback, no fuzz. Nothing. This normally would be completely expected, but even though was about a mile beneath the surface the local communication system should have us connected.
Then I felt it hit, it was like I was in an elevator that suddenly jumped up a floor and then down again. I'd passed out from my collision with the ceiling and I probably would n't have survived had I not been sporting a hard hat, but I did.
Here I am, waking up the same Haint Blue ceiling, getting ready to do my daily checklist, when I noticed something new. Keep in mind I have n't noticed anything new since I discovered the stash of liquor one of the prospective residents had stored in his house unit three years ago back in 46'. So when I woke up to hear a distant tapping noise, I decided that after my daily systems check I would find out where the noise was coming from.
On my way to the air control room I listened to the tap. It was very precise, almost like the side a beer can getting a dimple. It repeated itself a little bit longer than a second, I'd measured it with my pocket watch, nine taps every ten seconds. I'd pulled up the systems check of air, all the levels were fine except the overall pressure. 15.6 PSI, that wasnt right so I checked them again and the number popped up the screen again. 15.5 PSI. I review the hourly log and it showed what I did n't want it to show, sometime around dinner last night, the pressure had been dropping at a steady rate.
I pulled up the systems diagnostic and it told me there was an issue with the external water waste disposal system that required exterior maintenance. Seven years later and my partners unfinished work had come back to bite me in the ass. My best guess is that Richard was almost finished sealing his work when it it, and either he or rather his suit, had plugged up the hole in the seal. My own personal life support system was leaking and there was n't a thing I could do about it. Within a few days the pressure will kill me, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's been a long fun run, but I think I'll see if I can find that bottle of whiskey I found a while back, pour some out for Richard and drink while staring at that Haint Blue sky ceiling listening to that offbeat tapping....
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[ EU ] For some odd reason , Tony Stark has sold all of his suits to another billionaire , Doug Dimmadome .
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The Mandarin ran down one of the many hallway's of his secret Siberian lair. For the first time since his childhood, he felt overwhelming fear coursing through his entire being. Growing more frantic by the minute, he pointed to guard after guard to run towards what he was running away from. His pace increased dramatically every time he heard the tortured screams of his minions behind him, their cries only silenced by the sounds of thoughtless gore and wanton destruction. Suddenly, a strong wave of immeasurable pain surged through the right kneecap of the Mandarin, and he fell to the ground with a loud thud.
Turning around while attempting to continue his escape, he hurled a beam of concentrated energy blindly into the billowing smoke behind him, praying to every deity he'd come to know that the shot would land. He heard the sound of the blast hitting flesh, and for a moment, relief washed over him as he thought he'd struck down his pursuer. As one of his disemboweled minions came from out of the smoke, struggling to hold his intestines, worry once again consumed him, and he futilely attempted to flee.
`` I dimmedo n't think that's gon na happen.'' A commanding voice echoed through the empty hallway, bits of static touching each syllable as if said through a megaphone. The Mandarin once again tried to fire a blast of concentrated energy, but his hand was blasted off by a micro missile launched by his assailant. As the Mandarin clutched the stump where his hand once was, the smoke cleared, and one of Tony Stark's Iron Man suits, retrofitted to allow room for a paunch stomach and a ten gallon hat, came into view.
`` Please!'' The Mandarin pleaded, trembling as he looked into the cold, unforgiving faceplate of an Iron Man suit. `` You do n't need to do this.''
A metallic laugh echoed from within the suit. A soft, electric hum began to emanate from the suit, and the Mandarin realized with great horror that the man in the Iron Man suit was charging up the Unibeam, the strong light on the chest plate confirming his fears.
`` Please!'' The Mandarin begged, tears streaming down his face at a constant rate. `` Spare me!''
`` I dimmedo n't give a shit.'' Doug said coldly, the Unibeam almost fully charged. `` You should've thought twice about invading Dimmsdale, home of the Dimmsdale Dimmeadome. That cost me quite the dimmeadime to build, and your rampaging army dimmedestroyed it in seconds.''
With that, the whirr of the charging beam reached it's peak, and the Mandarin was reduced to ashes.
-- -
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[ WP ] You hate everyone , but everyone loves you . All you try is to harm other people , but it allways turns out to be good and helpfull . You choose to start writing a diary .
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~~**17th December 2015**~~
~~Alright, so I'm starting a Diar~~
~~**17th December 2015**~~
~~Well here goes nothing. Where do I b~~
**17th December 2015**
Dear Diary, that's how these things work right? Something strange is happening in my life and whilst I do n't think writing to a diary is going to help me, I thought it would be better than attending confession with a Priest whom I know is a dirty fucker. Anyway... I digress a lot so expect that, and for starters, I'd class myself as a generally dark person. I do n't really like anybody, I do n't enjoy anyone's company, I do n't even like to talk to the cashier when I buy my groceries. I guess you'd class me as lonely, but I think everyone has their own understanding of what being lonely is. They think of what point they feel lonely, then assume that if you're over that line, you're lonely. Eh, I do n't know what I'm getting at, I'm new at this and like I said, I digress.
The point is, Diary, no matter what I do in the world and to other people, which is an extremely small amount might I add, a lot of people like me when I literally do nothing in my life to be liked. I do n't socialise, I do n't buy cards or gifts and in general, I do n't speak politely and I show no form of kindness in any style of body language or how I talk - I'd actually consider myself rude. I feel obligated by the norms of society to engage in small talk, when I'd rather just stand there in silence, and then it gets even worse when they ask more than one question - makes me want to ask them something incredibly personal. `` How're you? ``, `` Weather is dreadful today is n't it''. No matter what question I'm asked, I only ever give one of two answers. Yes, or no. In fact, that's a lie, sometimes I'll just shrug or do that horrible awkward smile that makes the other person think I'm agreeing to what they're saying without actually having to say anything. Urgh, digressing again.
I want to get a hold of what's happening and why, I'm a misery and you'd of thought that it would get other people down, or do n't want to know me, when it actually makes them like me more. Tomorrow, I'm seeing an old friend back from school who recently got in touch by writing to my old folk's address. His name is Steven, we were n't the closest of friends, but I guess now he technically is since I have none, and that's embarrassing since we have n't spoke for about 20 years. He was always a chirpy fellow, very positive, the kind of person who normally I'd hate, ironically. Let's see what happens here then.
Erm... I'll update you tomorrow, Diary.
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[ IP ] LONELY BAR
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Few stores never sleep. Few stores are always open. few stores are as lifeless as this one yet never get shut down. It does n't have a name, so those who have been there just call it the lonely bar. Time seems to stand rooted in the night, but most just write it off as the atmosphere. Despite being a building that never moves, it is nearly impossible to find a second time. The bartender is never anywhere to be seen but the neon open signs are convincing enough. This month would be a busy one for the bar. a group of 3 men would walk in at the exact same time without realizing it.
`` Can you believe the service here? we have been waiting for 10 minutes and not a single person has come in and taken our order!''
`` Just wait a minute. I will be with you shortly.''
`` Well come on out already! Can you guys believe that bartender. I have had a pretty rough day and I just need something to relax with. Rob, that was your name, right? What brings you in here.''
`` It's Robert by the way. My day has been rough too. This headache is driving me crazy. The whole day seems like a blur. How about you John, we both have had rough days. How was yours?''
`` Man, today was the worst. I have been having this chest pain all day. It is finally going away but earlier it felt like someone was jabbing a knife into me. I had to head over to the hospital to get it checked out.''
`` Sounds like we have all had a tough day. Is this bartender ever coming out? I really need something to drink. Don, can you see him through the window to the back?''
`` Yep. I am thinking of leaving soon. My neck is killing me and I ca n't just wait here all night for that bartender to stop doing whatever he is doing. He looks pretty casual given the black hoodie he is wearing. He looks a little pale. I hope he is n't sick.''
`` The one thing I ca n't stand is sick people feeding me. Let me get a closer look, Don. It looks like he has some kind of big knife and is cutting things up back there. I do n't think this place serves food, does it?''
`` Now that you mention it, I have n't seen any kind of menu around here either. Those beer bottles do n't seem to have any lables I can recognize. This must be some kind of cheap place that wo n't even pay to hire good bartenders or beer. See you two later.''
`` Bye Robert... Hey, what are you doing over there. You have n't had any drinks yet so no way you are too drunk to open the door.''
`` The door is locked''
`` what? Let me try.''
`` Let me help also... Oh man. The door really is locked.''
`` Oh no. Oh no no no no. The knife. The cutting. He is going to kill us! He locked us in here and will use us in some sick fantasy of his.''
`` Help! Someone help us!''
`` Calm down guys. I am not here to kill you. I am here to kick you guys out though. You ca n't stay here forever but you wo n't leave until I hear all about your days and what it was like. Drink this. It should help clear your memory.''
The three men stood in shock at the bony, cloaked man in front of them wielding a scythe. After listening to each story, the cloaked man sent them each on their way. Two were sent uptown and one to the downtown. A few more customer came in that night but not another living soul entered.
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[ WP ] A D & D player plays his character as if the character knows that he is imaginary , and breaks the fourth wall constantly . At Lv 10 , the character gains the wish spell , and uses it to switch with the player . It works .
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`` Alright,'' said Grokk the Impunifier, raising his green hands ever-so-carefully above his blocky head, `` let's not do anything hasty, here.''
Joe glared.
`` All those years,'' said Joe, waving the shotgun, `` you guys gave me shit for bringing my gun to D & D.''
The others had n't quite managed to refocus their eyeballs yet. Mark had sunk almost below the table, the top of his head just barely visible behind his meticulously-organized arsenal of red translucent dice.
`` You said my shotgun *scared* you. You said the Second Amendment did n't *matter. * But now, with a literal *orc* in the basement, I do n't hear anybody complaining!''
`` Actually, Joe,'' said Grokk, selecting his words carefully, `` as I recall, the Second Amendment thing was more your talking point than theirs. If you do n't mind me saying.''
`` Shut your mouth,'' snapped Joe. `` I've seen your charisma stat. It's not going to work on me.''
`` Guys,'' said Grokk, hoping the others would be more amenable to reason, `` I know this seems wrong, but -- I'm just not meant for that world, okay? All the killing... the dragons... and, heaven forbid, the *dungeons... *''
`` Oh, so you think Jared's a better fit?''
On the table, a miniaturized version of their friend Jared ran terrified circles around a can of root beer, an equally-miniaturized kobold hot on his heels.
`` eee miii mii eee meee!!'' squeaked Jared.
Joe bent down to listen, keeping his eyes trained on the armor-plated orc.
`` What was that?''
`` KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,'' said Jared.
`` You see what I mean?'' said Joe distastefully, pointing at his friend. `` If he ca n't handle a kobold, how long do you think he's going to last?''
`` I'm sorry,'' said Grokk, as meekly as his tusks would allow.
`` Could n't you just have wished to *join* our world, instead of stealing somebody else's place in it?''
`` I thought he'd like it there,'' said Grokk. `` He certainly seemed to enjoy the games.''
`` And what did you plan on doing once you arrived? You know how America feels about foreigners with different-colored skin. And that's, like, typically a brownish color, at most. Look at you! Positively viridescent!''
`` You're going to steal our jobs,'' protested Mark from beneath the table.
`` I just want a fair chance,'' said Grokk. `` Is n't that what this country was built on?''
`` Look,'' said Joe, `` we're gon na power-level Jared. The moment he hits level 10, we're wishing things right back to the way they were.''
`` Aw, come on, man,'' said Grokk. `` Do n't be like that.''
Joe glared.
`` Remember how I saved your Elf Ranger? Priscilla? I took a ballista bolt for her, Joseph!''
The glare continued in all its unibrowed glory.
`` Look! If you let me stay, I'll tell you how to get *her* into the real world too! Would n't you like that? A tall, slender elf to keep you company during these frigid north-Florida nights?''
Joe's eyes widened.
`` That's impossible,'' he said.
`` Well,'' said Grokk, `` I'm here, are n't I?''
Joe studied the orc's pleading face. He thought about his elf ranger, the drawings of her that he kept in the secret journal under his pillow back home... her long, slim legs... her preposterously-large, almond-shaped eyes...
He put the shotgun down.
`` Alright,'' he said, extending a hand for Grokk to shake, `` you've got a deal.''
Grokk ripped Joe's arm off and beat everyone in the room to death with it.
*****
*****
*****
Edit: Thanks for the gold, guys. You might like [ this other D & D story I did: Link ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4aqqle/wp_describe_a_battle_with_an_army_against_a/d12ugt7 )
*~ ~ Oh, and as always, [ check out my self-published novel ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/ ), [ subscribe to my subreddit ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/formerfutureauthor ), blah blah blah ~ ~*
**If I get 5,000 subreddit followers, I will eat a bagel. A whole bagel, dry, no cream cheese. Madness? No. Dedication & Appreciation. ***
**Bagel may be the kind with raisins in it. I'm no masochist*
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[ WP ] You are the Avatar in the year 2014 . Most people do n't believe bending ever existed . There are only 4 benders left in the world , one for each element .
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You sigh deeply. Your sigh emanates a dismal longing and your very being feels a deep dismay.
The people of the world are not yet ready for this level of power. Perhaps they never will be. They are obtuse and small minded creatures of utter ignorance and stupidity. *They* are greedy, selfish, arrogant, egotistical, and self adoring pieces of shit. They adore being praised and lifted up as the most powerful and the most intelligent creature, but they are the disease and cancer of the earth.
There are four more like you. You will spend the rest of your days hunting them down and wiping them from existence. After all, they're only human.
And then the elemental gods and their lineage, history and destiny-that-could've-been will die with you.
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[ WP ] Your dog says `` no one will believe you '' then never speaks again
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`` If, at the end of this you turn out to not actually be a talking dog, then I'd have committed a cruel act. Else, I could be rich,'' I said, making sure my subject could n't run away.
In the middle of the garage was my dog with his head secured against the fixed side of my dad's vice, struggling with a token resistance against the solid steel. It was a good thing we owned a chihuahua or else this whole experiment would've gone a lot more complicated. There were n't too many easily accessible tools that could be rigged into a silent torture machine, and the vice was the cleanest and easiest solution there was.
I took out a can of WD-40 from the shelf and shook its contents. `` For cleaning up after,'' I said. I also made sure to shoot a knowing grin at the dog -- whom I was sure was more than what he let on. I'd be screwed if it was a demon or angel or some other vastly more powerful entity, but given what I'd seen so far, I was willing to take my chances.
The dog kept struggling in his duct tape restraints, looking like the world's biggest and ugliest silk worm.
I sighed. `` The only spinning you'll be doing is in your grave if you do n't spill soon.'' I walked over to the upside down dog hung suspended over the simple machine. `` Which you'll be doing in the non-useful way soon enough. And really, we could've done this the easy way, you know.''
I gave the vice a solid pat and the dog struggled more against his restraints.
`` Here goes nothing,'' I said as I started turning the handle to a snail's pace, making sure the metal creaked with each turn. The lack of greasing was a deliberate part of the intimidation effect.
Just then, the door leading to the house opened with a loud slam.
`` Wrong dog, bitch,'' said the black chihuahua.
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[ WP ] The inner dialogue of a student witnessing his school being attacked by armed students . That day he/she was planning on committing suicide and is armed .
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`` *Well, this is unexpected*'' thought Tom, as the warnings came over the tannoy. He heard the not-too-distant clammer of his fellow students, their screams and shouts and tears, and the burst of gunfire that cut them all short. He did n't panic, though. A man who wishes to die must not fear death, and Tom wished to die very much. The chaos and death even brought a tiny smirk to his face, much to his surprise; he had n't felt happy in months. He knew this was a new rush, a new opportunity to do what he had always wanted to do. And so he did.
He pulled his father's old revolver out of the plastic bag in his rucksack and swung round the corner. He did n't need to check that it was loaded - he had already done so ten times that morning - and so he pulled the trigger with confidence, after a second or two of steadying his hands and aiming on his target, a large boy who used to bully Tom, and whose name he never learned. The boy fell like a pile of bricks, screaming soundlessly at the hole in his neck and writhing on the ground in his own blood. Tom let him be. Scum like him deserved to suffer.
And so it went on, shot after shot, kill after kill. Some died straight away, whereas others he left to writhe and beg for forgiveness for what they'd done. It was n't hard to pick out his targets, seeing as they were the main focus of the calamity being caused that day. It was n't hard to kill them either, Tom suddenly noticed. He considered reflecting upon the dependence of life upon others, but realised he did n't have time. The police would be here soon, and he wanted to finish his retribution.
Finally, there was one left. There had been a lot, but he did n't care. This was the one that mattered. He was their leader, the orchestrator of the whole thing, and in Tom's eyes he was the devil himself. Only now, he seemed a lot more human. He allowed himself a warm wave of satisfaction, felt it wash over his body and mind, and he smacked his victim over the head with the butt of his gun. He fell to the floor with a loud crack, and he whimpered.
`` Why are you doing this?'' He pleaded.
`` Why do you think?'' Replied Tom, as he raised the gun and shot him in the head. His antichrist, his tormentor, the boy who had been beating and taunting and psychologically torturing Tom since his earliest memory, was dead by his hand. He suddenly felt complete, whole, he felt *divine*. He joined his friends in their old classroom adjacent to the corridor, stepped over the guns they had removed by the door, and there they sat, temporary gods of life. They had taken their retribution into their own hands, and killed the demons that ground them down day after day. The only ones left remained in their minds, which one by one they saw to as the police arrived. Tom was the last, and just as they kicked in the door he smiled, content with the life he had lived, and pulled the trigger one final time.
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[ WP ] The only thing that can save the group of adventurers is their pet cat
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Forgive any mistakes as I am on mobile~!
***
Really, it was her own damn fault that her secret had been discovered. *Watch them, study them, but do not reveal what you can do, * the command had been simple. Hell, she had followed those exact words for hundreds of journeys before! But this time was different - she cared for the hairless creatures more than she had ever cared for another being before.
So, really, it was her own fault that the towering adventurers were staring down at her with wide eyes. An uneasy noise left her throat without her permission, emerald gaze flickering between each of the three that she had been assigned to accompany. Never before had she been met with a situation like this - truly, the female had no idea how to proceed.
It seemed, however, that the hairless creature named T'el would speak first. He leaned down to her much smaller body, hand resting over one bent knee. *'' How long have you been able to speak? `` * The dark skinned human had such a low voice, she enjoyed hearing it whisper to her on the cold nights of their adventures.
The small female shuffled in the snow, clearing her throat as she considered her next actions carefully. Finally, the words found their way to her tongue, and she let out a soft sigh. *'' I speak many languages, have learned them over years gone by. As for when I learned to speak your language? Perhaps that was...'' * The words stuck in her throat as she thought back, eyes glazing with a sense of days forgotten. *'' Too many years to count, but it has been some time. I only avoid it as your kind does not take well to those who are below them being just as intelligent, if not more so. `` * Was honesty always the best policy? Perhaps not, but what other choice was there.
It was not T'el who spoke now, rather the other male companion that traveled with them. He was a funny thing, with wide eyes and several silver piercings in his ears. They called him Ninna, a name that was surely from a land many had never been to. *'' Than why have you spoken to us? `` * It was a simple question, the small female realized, but one that she hesitated to answer.
*'' If I had not warned you of the coming danger, I would have lost you all. In that moment, I was forced to make a decision - to allow your lives to be lost, or betray the rules I have followed for all of mine. I suppose it is clear which I have picked. `` * A brisk wind swept over the mountain side, causing shivers to pass down the spines of the adventurers, but never hers. *'' If we can find shelter for the night, I will tell you my true name and where I come from. What I once was is long behind me now that the sacred rule has been broken, so I have not much else to lose. `` * A haunting thought that clawed it's way deep into her head - she was sure it would not leave for moons.
Silence found its way over the group as they made way for shelter, which turned out to be a small cave that had once been home to some other creature. For them, it would be perfect, if only to last them the night. Only moments passed within the cave before their eyes were on her again, waiting for the story they had been promised. So, the female found a comfortable position amongst an old pile of broken branches and leaves, gaze flicking between her friends.
*'' My true name is Crow, born in the tall trees of a place you have never heard of, simply because your kind may never walk there. It is a close community, where secrets are quick to come to light and those who are evil are cast out at once. Not everyone born there is like me - their destinies do not always follow the path that mine has. No, I was picked from birth to walk the road I have been on, hundreds of years ago. `` * It came with ease to speak of her past, she realized, though some of it was old and grey now.
*'' I was granted nine lives for my position. I would travel with the other beings of this world, learning secrets and knowledge that my homeland holds sacred. They know more than you could ever dream of knowing - have listened to life forms beyond this planet for ages. But my path has tied me to the adventuring types, like yourselves. This is my sixth life, I have three left to live and learn all that I can. Not every journey has cost me a life, and certainly never before have I broken my homelands sacred rule. The elders will know of my treachery and I will be kicked from my home, though the lives they have given me may never be taken away. `` * The words tumbled out like a waterfall, honesty dripping from every sentence. Crow took a moment, watched the faces of her companions before she continued. *'' Many times before, the groups I have joined did not care for me. They would leave me behind to be wolf food, or watch me starve when I was injured. But you three have cared for me, have carried me for miles, even when it was a hindrance to you. I could not allow harm to come to you. `` *
T'el crept forward slowly, reaching a hand out to run it through her midnight black fur. The action brought a purr in her chest involuntarily, eyes slipping shut. For a warrior, he had such a gentle touch, despite the scars on his skin. *'' You may walk on four legs but you are just as much one of us. We are forever grateful for you, Crow. Should you wish to continue your journey with us, we would be happy to have you. `` *
Crow could tell they were honest words, ones she accepted quickly with a nod of her head. *'' I will watch over you three with the last of my lives, whatever it takes. `` * A promise made with a tongue hundreds of years old was one that would surely be kept.
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[ WP ] Write about an established universe with character abilities that do n't exist in the real world . Rewrite their universe and techniques to be mostly feasible in the real world .
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Hagrid put his hands on his hips, standing astride proudly. `` Yer a billionaire, Harry!''
`` Um, what?'' Harry Potter said.
`` Yer parents were billionaires,'' Hagrid proclaimed. `` Rich as kings, they were. Unfortunately, when they died, yer aunt and uncle here were yer only living relatives, and they put up quite a fight for their share of the inheritance.'' He waved a meaty hand. `` Lots of legal matters that yeh wo n't be innerested in right now. But they set up a trust for yeh, and yeh've finally come of age!'' He spread his arms wide. `` Yer goin' ta Hogwarts, an exclusive boarding school where you'll never have to lay an eye on one of these lumpen-proles ever again!''
`` But-'' Harry stammered. `` Is n't Uncle Vernon rich?''
`` Ha!'' Hagrid boomed. `` *Nouveau riche*, at best, and from lookin' at the state of em-'' he gestured at the Dursleys all quivering in a dusty corner - `` not very much *riche* at the moment.''
`` Y-you ca n't do this!'' Vernon Dursley snarled, his face going purple. `` He's my nephew, and we've raised him, and we deserve-''
`` Aw, shut yer gob, Dursley,'' Hagrid said scornfully, and shoved him over with a big hand. `` Yeh need to know yer place. The people I work fer, Dursley, they could buy and sell yeh a thousand times over.'' He extended his hand to Harry. `` Let's get going.''
Harry walked outside on shaking legs, and saw that the noise he had heard was a gleaming black helicopter, gleaming in the rain. The pilot made a signal to Hagrid. `` Welcome aboard, sir!'' he said.
The propellers churned up the air and the dirt and Harry watched rapt as they took off from the ground, leaving the island far below them. He was handed a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate and a slice of trifle on a plate. `` We'll take yeh to Olivander's,'' Hagrid said, `` all the exclusive shops that none of them lumpen-proles can get to. Yeh can see yer parents' vault, buy everything yeh need.'' He scratched his beard. `` Get yeh sorted to Griffindor or Hufflepuff or-''
`` Excuse me, sir,'' Harry said. `` What are those?''
`` Aw,'' Hagrid said. `` Nuthin' yeh need to worry about right now. Bilderberg stuff. Rich people being bored and making up titles and sigils and code words for themselves. Yeh say, *Avada Kedavra*, means yeh want someone assassinated, things like that.'' His eyes went wide and he touched his hand to his lips. `` Oops. Definitely was n't supposed to tell yeh that.''
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[ CW ] No verbs .
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Eyes, green.
Sign of a rose.
Child of Love.
A Forever tale.
Soldier from the Stars.
Great warrior.
From a time beyond.
Child, genius.
Son of the stars.
Curious. Naive.
Loved.
Further time. No father.
Frustration. No mother.
Tears.
War is here.
Silver Elite.
`` Why? Why? Why?''
A Goddess in the Air.
The Son of the Stars underground.
Promise of a Rose.
Sleeping child of Love
The living promise.
Son of the Stars now Time itself.
Secret pact with the Goddess.
`` Let her live. Let her wait.''
Child of Time.
From a distant Future.
Green eyes.
Destined path.
Awaiting promise.
Clear as water.
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[ WP ] You just drank love potion No . 9
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My college roommate was a pretty eccentric guy. Kind of an awkward scrawny kid who kept pretty weird hours. I thought he was on drugs for the first few months I lived with him. His eyes were always dialaated and he spoke with a sense of passion about the most obscure things. Things that most people would n't see any beauty in he always felt the need to point out. I'll be honest. Usually I did n't get it. Id politely agree and try to get back to atudying without too much conversation. He was n't really my type. I guess I was shallow back then.
Anyways one night: he comes home late. It must have been around 2:30. He seemed very distraught. He opened the fridge and dropped his bag. I pretended to be asleep and noticed how he suspiciously watched me as he took a small water bottle out of his back pack filled with a glowing neon pink fluid. He put the bottle in the fridge and started shuffling through the drawers like he was desperately looking for something. He kept looking at me every few seconds so I kept my eyes closed to avoid detection and within a few minutes I hard the door slam.
I quickly rose from my bed, throwing the covers off my body and moved towards the fridge in the dark room. Just before I reached the fridge he stepped out of the dark corner towards me. He had n't left. He looked at me with a blank stare. `` Thought you were sleeping.'' He said calmly.
`` I heard the door slam it woke me up'' I said. A quick repsponse. `` Why were you heading towards the fridge. A long pause. `` What was that bottle?'' `` Why do you look so stressed out?''
He moved closer to me. Now we were face to face. Noses almost touching. He cocked his head to the side and tried to kiss me. `` What the fuck bro?'' I pushed him away. He back stepped and stumbled into the darkness again. And again he moved back into the light. Slower this time. With a devious, sinister smile he stared into my soul as if he were about to take it from me.
To be continued.. If anybody wants me to
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[ IP ] The Circle
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I sat with a heavy book on my lap, its pages old and browned, loud and satisfying they were whenever I turned them. My childhood friends, Emily and Clayton, sat next to me waiting for a spectacle that they have only dreamed of.
This book I found in my grandfather's belongings held many secrets that adults would find atrocious but children would find fascinating. Many of them I did not know of but wanted to try anyway, and many that even my friends and I would not try for fear of our lives.
One we found was our favorite and we just had to attempt it. It was instructions to summon a creature that could be made out of anything, a spell that tied together the spirits of the environment into a single, benevolent being. It was n't hard to wait for our parents to leave us alone in the house, then clayton got some crayons, I got the book, and Emily watched. The circle was drawn on the floor just like in the book and the toys were piled up in the middle.
I spoke the incantations, the weird words in the book that were surprisingly easy to pronounce, and the inside of the circle began to glow a strange blue. All three of our eyes widened as we knew it was working, and I continued reading as fast as I could as the toys began to spin around in a tornado. Everything in the room seemed to be flying around, but we could n't take our eyes off the circle, I spoke the words without even looking at the book, they flew out of my mouth just as the books flew off the shelves.
Suddenly everything stopped, the flying books fell to the ground and the toys lie before us in a humanoid shape, complete silence filled the room and we sat there amazed at this occurrence. I quickly instructed Clayton to draw a symbol on the creature's forehead in crayon, which he frantically did as soon as I showed him the symbol in the book. He finished drawing and we all inched back, not knowing exactly what to expect.
We waited for what seemed like hours, but the second hand on the clock only ticked twice, then he moved. His head slightly turned toward me, his glowing blue eye fixated on my legs, he walked over to me slowly with a slight limp. He knelt down and grabbed my legs and held on tightly as the same strange blue light shined from the circle once more. He stopped and got up as he pulled gently on my arm, urging me to stand. Under normal circumstances I would n't have because my spine had been injured as an infant and I lost the use of my lower body, but something about this magical moment compelled me to try. I stood with ease, as did my friends who quickly embraced me with giant smiles on their faces.
We all closed our eyes in the feeling of the moment, but when we opened them again, our friend was gone, replaced by a pile of toys on the floor. We tried many times to bring him back, but with no luck.
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[ WP ] You start a religion as a scam , and your fake prophecies start coming true .
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Opening the mailbox was the worst part of my day. I was tired of seeing bill after bill, stamped with the big red letters *Final payment! * and *Repossession* and all sorts of other things that I did n't want to see.
I went inside, bypassing the mailbox and its reminders of my monetary faults, and collapsed in a chair by the fireplace. I put my hands into my face and let all of the anxious thoughts swim around me.
The doorbell rang and I felt my heart flutter in my chest. The doorbell never rang these days. Not since my wife had left me and taken the children. In the past three months the only people who had knocked on my door were debt collectors and lawyers.
The bell rang again. `` Excuse me,'' a voice called from the other side. `` Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior Jesus Christ?''
*Jesus Christ. The mormons, * I thought. I did n't move from my position, my face cradled in my hands. I was n't about to get up.
*The mormons and the scientologists. Look how much money they make. Look how rich they are just because they spew all this nonsense about tablets that were made then lost then made again and they have celebrities and... wait a minute. *
I brought my face from my hands, staring at the wall opposite.
*Look at all the money that they make. Look at how rich they are. That's all I need to do. All I need to do is create a religion that will get followers. Something out there enough that people will hardly believe it. And then I just need a cincher. Something to keep them in. *
I went to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest piece of paper, writing down ideas as I went along. *I ca n't do food. I ca n't do magical tablets. I ca n't... oh... oh my god. *
*** Two months later ***
`` Ladies and gentlemen,'' I stood upon the stage, watching the faces beneath me. `` Two months ago I was visited by God himself. He told me that the real way to salvation is through the hatred of apples, for apples were the fruit that Eve consumed that poisoned the world and took away salvation!''
There were murmurs from the crowd. I did n't know if they believed me. `` Under the Church of Eden, I promise that we will bring you to salvation through the ways of the Lord. He has spoken to me! In truth, you will see in the next few days. Someone will choke on an apple and die, as punishment for their sins!''
The Church of Eden had gained me a few hundred dollars so far. Not really enough to afford anything, but it was my last chance. My last go around.
When the people left the crowd, they murmured among themselves as though they did n't quite believe me.
That night I watched the television from my home. I waited and waited, the anxiety building in m stomach.
A sound echoed on the television as an emergency broadcast displayed. The corners of my lips turned up, my muscles trembling from the excitement. A newscaster appeared behind a desk, straightening a stack of paper as she addressed the audience.
`` It's come to my attention that world leader Francois Hollande, the president of France, has just choked to death in his home in Paris. More updates as we get them, but it seems to be that President Holland choked on what French police are saying was an apple.''
I breathed a sigh of relief, pressing my head back against my chair.
The burner phone in my pocket buzzed.
*It's done. *
-- -
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, please check out /r/Celsius232
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[ WP ] Finish this story about clever revenge against a robber in a convenience store
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It's midnight at Sam's Sundries, near the bus terminal. The prostitute and her john had left, after buying some trojans. The clerk closed the cash register and ran his hand through his greasy hair. He sat back on a stool and went to get his issue of Juggs magazine from where he left it.
The door slammed open, the bells chiming. Sam looked up. The new arrival was short, wearing a batman mask and a high school football jersey. Sam felt some interest. He liked batman. Batman suddenly held out a gun. It was large and silver.
`` Give me all the money, motherfucker'' said the new arrival.
`` Batman does n't use guns'' said Sam.
`` I aint no fucking Batman'' said the apparition. `` This is my piece. I give you ten fucking seconds before I cap your ass''.
`` Batman does n't use guns. If you are going to wear a batman mask you've got to use your fists, or maybe a batarang.''
`` I'm going to fuck your face with my fist and pound your ass with your fucking skittles and shit'' said the robber. `` Give me cash''.
Sam went over to the cash register. He opened it up. He pressed the red button inside.
The trap door sprang open. Batman vanished into the dark chute. `` Have fun in the Batcave, Batman'' said Sam.
Sam pulled out his cell phone. `` Commander, we've got the last one. That's three specimens. Let's leave this stupid planet and get underway''.
`` Roger that'' said Commander, earthstyle. `` Puny earthlings!''
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[ wp ] The most boring , unimaginative , and uncreative person in the world acquires a Genie .
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`` Behold, I am Abdul the Amazing, Fulfiller of One Thousand Wishes, Eldest of the Seven Genies!'' Abdul boomed as he swirled out of his infernal prison and took form. The room darkened as Abdul loomed over the fortunate soul that had released him.
`` Oh. Wow! Okay. My goodness.'' The man exclaimed, although his face remained remarkably unremarkable.
`` I shall grant you three wishes for freeing me. But heed my warning, mortal. Be careful what you wish for!'' Abdul commanded.
`` Geez. Okay. Well. I... I do n't know what to say.'' The man stammered. He stuffed the kerchief he had used to rub the lamp into his trouser pocket and proceeded to wring his hands. When this proved insufficent for inspiration he began to pace around the room, turning a tight circle on his brown loafers every time he reached a wall.
`` Hum. It's just I've never really thought about it before. It's certainly a lot of pressure. Can you imagine getting three wishes and wasting them? No, sir. Not me.'' The little man chatted to himself as he continued his rounds. He removed his generic glasses and rubbed the lenses, perhaps in the hope that a second mythical creature would spring forth and advise him on how to proceed. He replaced the glasses on his nose and peered up at the genie. Apparently finding no answers, the man turned his gaze to the floor and resumed his pacing.
Having been trapped for centuries since his last reprieve, Abdul knew patience well, yet even his patience wore as the man continued his pacing. At this rate the little man would wear a hole in the floor before Abdul granted a single wish.
`` Search deep within yourself. Commune with your very soul, for anything which your heart desires can be yours - you need only wish.'' Abdul intoned.
`` I do n't think I have any deep desires.'' The man complained. `` I'm just Melvin. Melvin the delivery man.''
`` Okay, look, Melvin. That stuff about being careful what you wish for? Forget about it. I was just trying to sound impressive. I promise I will do my utmost to carry out the spirit of your wish if you will just give me something, anything to work with.''
`` Look, it is n't easy!'' Melvin defended, still watching the floor. `` I've never had to deal with this kind of pressure before. I wish I were more creative, then I'd know just what to wish for.''
Abdul swelled to twice his size, darkening the room further so that the man finally stopped his pacing for lack of vision. Abdul's finger buzzed with magical energy and with a jab toward the man a lightning bolt shot from the tip, blasting the man and toppling him over.
His eyes widened and he gasped for breath. His adam's apple threatened to fly off with the force of his gulp, then he shot upright.
`` Everything is so... so... connected!'' He exclaimed. `` I see it. I see it all. This is wonderful. Superb.''
Abdul may have been a bit generous with how much `` more'' creative Melvin had become.
`` What is the extent of your power? What restrictions do you face? What compels you to return to your lamp after granting wishes?'' Melvin interrogated. His eyes looked considerably more piercing behind his glasses than they had a moment ago.
`` That is not for mortals to know.'' Abdul deflected.
`` Are you unable to tell me, or do you lack the knowledge to answer?'' Melvin prodded.
`` How dare you, mortal! I have lived ten thousand years and more. I have seen your species rise from little more than wandering apes, and you dare to question me so?'' Abdul roared.
`` So, unable then. Based on the mythology surrounding genies, I can only reach the following conclusions. You can not grant wishes related to love because complex human emotions are beyond your capabilities. That rules out emotional manipulations of other kinds. I can not wish for additional wishes. I assume this is because you have a finite amount of magical capital per release. Therefore, if I want to maximize my wish potential, I have two potential pathways. First, I could attempt to gain the wishes of all future freeings, but I must assume that the lamp disappears after you return, or else why would n't the lamp be passed from person-to-person, constantly granting the wishes of those closest to the previous wishee?
Alternatively, I could seek to have you create lesser versions of yourself. However, if their magical potential is dependent on your current ability, then you will simply dilute your abilities across whatever number of copies I ask you to create. Therefore, my two remaining wishes are simple.
First, I wish that every time you are released henceforth that the wishes you give be granted not to the one who releases you, but to me.
Second, I wish that you should be found and released immediately until such time as I deem sufficient.'' Melvin said.
Abdul grimaced. Why did humans always try to trick the system? Why could n't they just be grateful for what they held? Why did their insatiable greed always consume them?
`` So be it!'' Abdul commanded, swelling once more with magical energy. Instead of reappearing on Earth, Abdul would just choose one of the other inhabited planets. Perhaps Gloraxia would suit him this time of year. After all, Gloraxia's atmosphere had no oxygen. Surely Melvin would n't mind being summoned to use his next set of wishes?
`` But remember, I did warn you to be careful what you wished for.'' Abdul scolded. With a clap of his hands magical energy exploded, flashing brighter than the sun. When the light faded, the room was empty with no more than a faint path worn into the floor to remember what had transpired.
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( WP ) Lucifer never fell , God just needed his most trusted archangel to claim the darkness so the real evil could not .
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The roar of wind echoed through Lucifer's ears, as he fell further and further the light above becoming dimmer and dimmer. The vortex swallowed him as planets, galaxies, dying stars and the light of civilisation twinkled and were extinguished, they spiralled around him as he gazed into the past, the present, the future, seeing things that will be, things that have been and things that could be.
All the while he held the gaze of his father. Like the hearts of stars his eyes bore into him, never dimming, never averting, always watching.
He knew this was the last time he might ever see them. The last time he would look into them as a son, as his son.
*You know what lies below now, the never ending morass of chaos that screams
and claws at our doors, the sheer unbridled fury of the infinite dark is our, your,
ultimate responsibility*
But at what cost? can he, one son, one child of the host, truly commit himself to exile? to be a pariah amongst those who feel devotion is not only paramount, but unquestioning? unrelenting? *absolute*?
*My other sons and daughters, they can not understand. The might, the purity of our kind can not be questioned. We....*i*... can not open our gates to... *It
Eons seemed to pass as he fell. None had fallen before... had they? is he the
first? or had brothers and sisters before him held this burden? can this darkness
kill the immortal soul of an angel? if there were others....what happened to them?
*We are not the first. I was not the first... *
Everything he knew, everything he believed, turned upside down. A universe created for order, for life, for *good*, was but an accident. Him, his bretheren, his father a thin, harried line of sand against an oncoming tide.
*We are but one side of a coin, where light shines, shadow must fall. The Other seeks out this darkness, to bathe in its power and to crush us completely. *
The vortex was narrowing now, looking up into the vortex of time, his father's eyes were but distant stars behind a setting sun.
*Now you are the last and first line of defence. The last light in the dark. *
*You will be reviled*
*Hated*
*But you are necessary*
Below him the darkness waited. His father's voice, the sound of his memory, faded. The roar of the vortex abated and he fell through silence, thick darkness coalesced around him, like smoke it suffocated the light, leaving the fire of his eyes as the only light there, alone in the darkness.
But there was a presence. Watching him. A mind vaster and older than anything he had ever encountered was studying him, assessing him. He felt as if all the power of the universe was focused on him and him alone. And its judgement was clear...
***A new keeeeeee-per? ***
The voice waxed and waned with the spiralling darkness, crackling laughter
rumbled around him, the vortex lit up with purple lightning, cracking and sparking
***Another of the ho-st? another in-vader?, come to keep me priso-ner? ***
The voice seemed to use his very soul as the medium with which it reverberated through, each strained syllable impressing upon him his insignificance before such power
***The auuuu-daCCCity! ***
Anger. He had never felt anger before. It scoured through him like fire. It poisoned his very being until every fibre of him screamed at him to unleash that fury.
***InSUUffer-able. I hol-d in one hand more po-wer than yo-ur arro-gant fa-ther could ever ho-***
***Oh... ***
Deep rumbling laughter rolled through him
***Oh, but you are dI^IIffer-ent... ***
The laughter crackled around him again.
***Not like your sister, or your b-rother....your.....Motherrrr***
His heart jumped, a mother? impossible! But It felt as if It was bearing down on him closer, more intently
***Oh yeeees, consumed her i did, but you, Winged one, stronger....cruuu-eler, an open mi-nd... B-ut you are not the first, not the first to come, to come to me in this time, to come nooo-w***
He felt the presence retreat
***perhaps you will demons-trate to me your uniqueness, your ca-pacity for for for Vi-o-lence, perhaps, perh-aps, it will be the making of you, born in the li-ght
molded by the the the daarrrrrrk***
The laughter was malicious
***Perrrr-haps***
He became accutely aware he was no longer falling, but stood in darkness.
And that he was not alone.
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[ WP ] You are about to commit suicide , when a voice behind you asks you something really mundain .
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The barrel of the gun had grown warm over the last 30 minutes as I fumbled with it, trying to decide if this would be my final action on this earth. My eyes were glazed in tears and yet my mouth was bone dry as I murmured the word coward under my breath. My heart rate increased, my eyes closed hard and I raised the pistol to my head. A flash of images ran through my mind, a million thoughts exploding every tense millisecond as my finger began to tighten. The hammer began to rise, the tension built inside me as my stomach twisted into knots. “ This is it, this is— “
“ What is your favorite rose? ”
The voice snapped me into reality and a spun on my heals to catch a glimpse of the person speaking, but as I turned there was no one there. I was alone. I lived alone, and knew all the doors and windows were shut and locked… all part of my plans that were set in motion. The question caught me further off guard, like a painful memory I had pushed down into my subconscious, only now being dredged to the surface. My eyes darted around the room, frantically trying to make sense of the situation.
“ What is your favorite rose!? ”
The sound came from behind me again, like a phantom hissing it ’ s odd riddle from my own shadow. The voice more distinct and sinister hung in the air, lingering far after the audible portion was gone. I raised the gun, pointing it in all directions. “ I am a-armed, who ’ s there? Show y-yourself! ” I choked out, tripping over my own words.
“ WHAT ”
I turned as fast as I could. Nothing…
“ IS ”
The voice snapped like a gun shot, I span round again to find nothing.
“ YOUR FAVORITE ”
Nothing again, the voice grew louder like twisted avalanche barreling towards me.
“ Rose? ”
A whispered word collapsed against my face as I turned into the skeletal visage of a monstrous creature floating not but an inch away from me. It ’ s breath like winters wind on my cheeks. Tattered hooded robe floating around the creature, as if animated from a wind that wasn ’ t seen or felt. I stared into the lipless, toothy maw as it opened. It ’ s words freezing the air around me.
“ Answer me boy. Rose. Which is your favorite? ” The apparition exhaled in a deep timber, shaking the walls and floorboards.
“ R-r-red ones? ” I stammered out, both confused and frightened.
“ GOOD. I shall leave them on your tomb upon your demise. But… that isn ’ t THIS day! ” The ghostly phantom uttered with a maddening cackle. And with that, it was gone…
Frozen in fear I stood, mouth slack and eyes staring into the middle distance in disbelief. I dropped to my knees and began to cry. Attempting to wipe the tears from my face, I realized I was still holding the gun and my hand had gone numb clenching the firearm so tightly. I dropped to the floor and backed away from it like a poisonous snake. Backing myself into the corner, I wrapped my arms around my knees as the emotional damn burst and my eyes flooded. The cry was cathartic. I hadn ’ t let loose like that since I was a child.
Rubbing a sore spot in my neck, I opened my eyes to a darker version of my apartment. Obviously I had been a sleep for multiple hours. I sat up, back against the wall and surveyed my lodgings for any sign of my visitor. Everything was just as I had left it, including the pistol haphazardly strewn on the floor. Finally willing myself to stand, I stretched out the aches of sleeping on the hardwood and walked into the kitchen, coming to a wide-eyed standstill as my usually barren refrigerator doors now hung one piece of artwork.
A child ’ s drawing of a red rose in crayon with the tagline:
“ Not today. ”
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[ WP ] [ CC ] Write a brief history of humanity from the perspective of the Earth .
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Tingles and trembles ran along my overgrown walls. As the chill crept up from its resting place beyond my reach, I began to emotionalize of the blazing glory that sustained me. Tears cascaded down my face as sorrow filled the barren patches of soil that would be home to none. Mingles of fear started course within my sorrow-filled state as the slow and deliberate trudging faded away to be replaced a constant breath of wind.
When shall I pass the burden of foundation upon another? To see what I have provided, the sustenance of generations of civilization, crumbling as my my most beautiful work goes with it. I remain still, with no wind to distill the wholesome silence. Duty and obligation, trust and deliberation, exuberance and trepidation, I begin my infinite spiral once more to see what the new warmth shall bring to a night as cold as myself.
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[ WP ] You are a lucid dreamer and as of late , a man keeps appearing who you 've never seen before . He does n't say or do anything , just watches you .
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As I ran from building to building, I saw him again. The man. He was there, standing, watching me. Never interfering, but always there, observing my every move. I ran and jumped my way over to him but the closer I got, the less vivid the dream became until I woke.
The man had been in all of my dreams recently. He was a tall man, who wore the same clothes each time: a long black coat with glasses. Bushy eyebrows, receding hairline and large eyes. Every time I see him, I get goosebumps and this strange eerie feeling.
I'm a lucid dreamer. I can do pretty much whatever I want. Fly to space? Done. Build a city? Done that too. But this man, I ca n't control. I ca n't Move him, touch him, I ca n't even go near him because my dream just collapses.
Another day passed, and tonight I dreamed I was in a taxi. I did n't have as strict control as I usually do. While I was sitting in the back of the taxi, we came to a crossroad, however another car was coming at us at full speed and it was n't slowing. I braced for impact as surely this was the end. Nothing came to hit me. I turned my head and looked out the window, only to see the man standing there watching me.
Many more times, the man was there to save my life in dreams. Then, one day, in the real world while I was walking to work, an armed robber threatened me with a gun. I told him I had no money but he did n't believe me. He grabbed me and searched for my wallet. I fell to the ground, resisting him. He was about to fire, but then, just like in my dreams, the man just appeared right there. The robber fired, and the man fell. The robber ran, confused and horrified.
The man had saved my life once more.
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[ WP ] You are frozen as a statue . Still consious , you observe as the world moves on barely noticing you . That is until one day someone walks up to you and ...
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The Frozen Statue
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
You do n't remember when it actually happened. Time has long since ceased being a discrete measurement. The endless cycle of light and dark has lost meaning. To begin with the passing of people was enough to occupy your thoughts, the relationships both casual and assured taking place in front of you but unable to touch built a narrative to this existence.
You can remember what caused it though. The crushing loneliness. The fading into the background, of becoming a secondary character in your own life. It started subtly as most things do. In real life someone does not approach you proclaiming you are the one, that you alone can save the world. No, you dig your own little rut in life and grind through trying to ascribe your own meaning to why you get out of bed every morning.
You never found that. You finished school because that was what people did, you got a job as rent and food and bills will not wait because you want them to. Your job is not who you however it became the flavour of your life, infecting everything else with its demands.
People say you will not keep the friends you made in school as life moves on. This is true, no one told you how much it would hurt though. Your colleagues you dutifully hang out with on a friday night are not your friends nor the barrista you say hello to and enquire about their day is not your friend.
Life, they say, is what happens to you when you are making plans. But what happens if you have no plans? They never taught that in school, your parents barely taught you how to be a functioning person let alone be let loose into this wild unknown known as adulthood.
Walking through the local park every day was a way to stretch your legs and stay in a semblance of what you somehow thought of as shape. More than not though you watched other people living their lives. You watched, wondering if they had these thoughts and approached their existence in the same void as you did.
Until that day. You stopped and watched a couple share an intimate moment that made you feel like you were intruding on their happiness. Other people gave them a smile of shared memory, of recalling their own moments and passed by. Energised as if they were inspired by what they saw. No one glanced at you. You could feel yourself slowly fading away, of becoming disconnected from reality.
Then it happened. You had enough of this moment, of this place and it was time to move on. Except you could n't.
You were rooted to the spot. Leaning against the tree behind you, your face in a mask but with your eyes still able to see what was happening in front of you. You strained and tried to move anything. Your fingers, your eyes, nothing. The panic started to set in. This could not be happening. For so long you had been moving through this life and now for this to happen, this was insane. The panic gripped your heart and it was then you realised it too was not moving. The comforting thrum-thrum beat was no longer there, the soft motion of inhalation and exhalation which was part of being human was gone. You had a mouth but you could not scream.
The first few minutes when the panic hit you still struggled to breathe, to make some sort of motion to convince yourself you were still alive. Nothing. The minutes ground into hours and the hours into days. You tried to get peoples attention but all they saw was a life like statue, a work of art that they argued over who had placed it there. Who the artist was or who had commissioned it.
Some people would focus on your eyes and stare into them remarking how life like they were never guessing that you were behind them striving to be heard.
The days continued to grind onto weeks, months and you are sure years. You used to think surely someone must have noticed your absence. But as you ran through the list who would care? Your job would be replaced, the barrista might have a passing thought of not showing up for your latte two sugars, your landlord would be annoyed at having to re-lease your apartment.
Finally you brought your senses back into the present no longer floating on the idleness of empty thought. You do n't know what had brought you back, the sun was setting and the clouds had shifted in. The park was emptying of its usual groups. The late runners, the dog walkers and it would soon be home to the kids sneaking out with alcohol and weed thinking they were escaping their parents.
`` Good night Holly, same time tomorrow then.'' drifted through your head although you have no idea where it came from. You watched this time, you really did as the day turned into night and the stars lit the sky. The moon peaking out past the skudding clouds above you. They threatened rain but you knew they had no intention in carrying out on their demands.
You watched as the sun shyly slunk out from the hills and started to burn the clouds away. The early morning fitness people were out in force and you watched them again no longer with the hatred or jealousy you once did. The lunch time office workers then arrived to escape the grey and silver wasteland of their jobs to this little corner of green and blue. One of them trundled through the grounds in a meandering gait towards you. Their un-ironed clothes and rumpled appearance at odds with the tailored smoothness of the other office workers around them. They pulled out a book and a boxed lunch at your feet and sat down. Patting you on the leg as they pulled out a set of headphones and quietly said `` Hey Holly. Glad today decided to turn out nice!''
You tried to watch them as they sat at your feet and pecked at their food and consumed their book. You could n't see what they were reading but time seemed to slow down as you watched. Finally they collected their belongings, removed their headphones and stood up. Looking you in the eyes as they said `` Cya tonight Holly! Watch my space okay?'' and left.
That afternoon dragged by as it had not done since the beginning of your imprisonment as you kept expecting the day to turn into tonight as they had said. You spotted them as they approached, the same rumpled look but even more weary.
`` Thanks, I hope your day was better than mine.'' they muttered as they sat down at your feet again and pulled out the same book as before. Watching as the evening started to advance in and the night began to make motion towards taking over duty from the day the person at your feet read until you were sure it was not possible to see any more. Standing up to look you in the eyes again they repeated softly as the dog walkers were still around `` Good night Holly, Same time tomorrow then.'' and walked off.
Watching them leave you felt something lurch inside you. Like something had moved. It had been so long that the idea itself terrified you. The night came on and drowned the park in darkness. The sky completely hidden behind the clouds which had decided to make good on their threats.
Spending all night hoping for the rain to ease, to clear up in the chance that your visitor might return, the morning dawned clear and blue, the clouds all spent of their sullenness. You felt jittery and nervous as the fitness people went through their morning motions and the day dragged on. The office drones finally started to filter into the park and you stared, stared for a glimpse of your visitor.
There they were. Their suit the same as the day before only having changed their shirt to another creased effort. They walked right up to you and started to arrange themselves before saying `` Hey Holly, must have been a rough one last night. I was beginning to worry I would n't get out today with the rain.'' He looked around and continued `` good to see it allowed me to get out of there again.'' and they sat down to read.
The stirring from deep within you continued. You were not sure how you had missed it before but there was something there. A churning inside. You watched them with a yearning as they finished up their book and sighed. Standing before you again and looking at you `` Hrmm, good book but the ending sucked. Well, cya tonight Holly!'' and they turned to leave.
No.
With the feeling of a something breaking you heard it. It was only because of the stiffening of their back and the person in front of you turning around that you realised the voice had been yours.
`` My name is Alyson....whats yours?''
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[ WP ] You reach the edge of the universe ...
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I pounded on the door three times, lifting the brass knocker to let it fall of it's own accord against the knotted oak wood, and waited.
Rain pattered down- neither the rain of a thunderstorm, nor the light rain of a summer day, but rather something in between. Something that seemed to emphasize the grey around me, washing away colors and rough corners alike, until all was smooth and uniform. Though I had only been standing on the doorstep for minutes, I knew the rain had not left that spot for years, if ever.
After a moment, footsteps approached from inside, and the door creaked open.
`` It is late, and why do you trouble me?'' Said the man, his grey beard moving with each syllable, and his eyes squinting up at me.
I stepped backward so he could see me, and I could see the front of the monastery. It was a beautiful thing, in a terrible way, as beautiful things often are. And it was old, older than anything I had ever seen. No roads reached this far into the mountains, and the monastery seemed to prefer it that way.
`` I came to see it,'' I said, bowing low. Even at that reduced height, my eyes only just became level with his. They were grey, like the monastery, and flecks sparkled deep in them like chipped granite.
`` You did, now?'' He said, tapping his cane, `` Well come in then. I hav n't had a visitor in the past two hundred years.''
He walked backward with surprising agility for the oldest being on earth, and I followed him into the building.
`` So tell me, what exactly did you come to see?'' He asked, `` I keep many things here. Old things, new things, precious things, and common things. Which will it be? Surely you know the tales.''
`` Oh yes I do.'' I said, cobwebs striking my face as the man led deeper into the monastery. `` But I came to see the thing that is n't a thing.''
`` You've phrased it wrong boy, perhaps you would like to try again.''
I frowned, then said, `` I came to see the thing that is more a thing than any other thing.''
The granite in his eyes sparked, `` Yes, that's right. It's the mother of all things. It's the mother of our world.''
`` And you'll let me see it, just like that?''
`` By all rights it's yours, son. It's all of ours, and not mine to keep.''
`` So it does exist then. You do have the edge here? The edge of the universe?'' My voice shook with the question. Here, in this reclusive monastery, after years of research and continents of travel, I had found the object that could answer so many questions.
`` Not exactly, boy. The universe has no edge, not in the way you implied. But rather, it has a knot. Think of the universe as a balloon- it was blown up, and when it was filled with air, the knock was tied off. This is the neck knot. Where it *all* comes from. How it began.'' He opened a door, and led me into a room the size of a large closet.
And there on the floor, was an apple with a single bite missing.
`` Careful,'' he warned, as I reached toward it, it's gaurded on the other side of the knot. I would n't let your fingers slip through.''
Gingerly, I held the apple. It was a bright red, and I could still see the bite marks from where a set of teeth had pierced it's skin so long ago.
But instead of fruit flesh in the bite, it was like a window, and light shone forth out of the apple. And I held it up to my eye to look through where the bite should have been.
`` Ah, yes.'' He said as I gasped, `` It's a beautiful place. Our world is tarnished in comparison.''
`` Truly,'' I managed to say, and turned a circle. Looking through the apple was like looking through a telescope into another world.
He chuckled, `` Ah, yes, I remember the first time I looked too. It's quite remarkable, Eden is. I supposed if she had never bit the apple we'd be there now, with no war, no sickness, no tragedy, no evil. But instead our world erupted forth when she did bite it, from the apple's core, and now all we have to show for it is a piece of fruit. I suppose that's why I live so long, because the life still trickles through the knot. Grey life, maybe, but still life.'' He sighed.
`` Thank you.'' I said, an handed him back the apple, the sole window from our world to Eden, from which our world had sprouted tainted.
`` It's not mine to keep,'' he said, and led me back out of the monastery.
And he was right. The old man had missed something. Between two fingers, I had stolen one of the seeds.
Our world is tainted. Perhaps the next world I grow will be better.
***
By Leo
If you enjoyed this story, please visit /r/leoduhvinci for more of my work.
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[ IP ] The Forgotten Library
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`` This is marvelous!''
`` Think of all the bugs in here Jenna! Chiggers and ticks and... and I do n't know. Other things! All these books are probably useless,'' Samantha said, crossing her arms. Jenna knew the pout was quick to follow so she turned back to the rotting arm chair and stepped closer.
Samantha was n't completely wrong, there were bugs everywhere but knowledge always had to cost something. That's what every book she'd ever read claimed, it was n't just knowledge either- love, magic, strength- everything. She'd rather deal with bugs for knowledge than bugs for love. She laughed at the slogan, some bug scientist probably used it in a stupid valentine's card to his girlfriend one time. Samantha stayed within the doorframe of the little personal library.
Jenna stepped only on stops with dusty hardwood flooring, avoiding the river of books. She would swoop down, read the title if it was still legible and step over it, slowing making her way to the bookcase.
The bookcase was clean but for a little dust. Each tome on the wall was still at an angle or sticking out a hair more or less than its next door neighbor; they'd all been read, handled. Jenna was baffled that someone would just leave all of this behind. She ran her finger along the spines of one section, charged with each letter her finger crossed and each space between two books. `` Can we go... I'm... Jenna, I wan na go home!'' Samantha stomped her foot, she was about to scream.
Jenna turned to her, nodded, and began hopping back towards her seven year old sister. To be honest she was glad for the company during their initial investigation. Jenna would be back later, with a basket and a flashlight, there were too many prizes not to take up.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Jenna had to wait until after dinner to escape, the sun was just trailing her heels. She had a lantern in the basket as well as a flashlight, `` I only need a few, some good adventure stories,'' she said to the quickly approaching night.
The library chirped with nocturnal bugs that were less self-conscious than the critters of the day. She hopped along the same steps she'd found that afternoon, reaching the bookshelf. Jenna sat the lantern on the little ridge before throwing herself up on it, the top row of books looked the healthiest, the least touched by nature. Not to mention the harder something is to get, the more worthwhile it'll be, this could be the story of some ancient female knight or the first female president. There were endless possibilities and all of them would bring a smile to Jenna's face. She grabbed the four closest to her, checking the binding for a title. They all seemed interesting enough; when she reached for the second stack more books filled the space she'd just emptied. Curious, she pulled one book but kept her eyes on the slot.
Whirring came from below her as a book launched up and out to fill the hole, it was like a bowling ball returning to its owner at the beginning of the lane. She did n't see or hear any person operating it, or a belt system running. Jenna stepped down and opened the lower cabinets; the mechanism was inside but it was just the middle section of it, the books were coming from somewhere else still. That was a search for another day, she spent too long here already, the night had completely taken over.
Jenna took her basket of books and lantern back home. The library chirped and scratched as the belts slowed down. Three tiny gnomes emerged to straighten out the spots she'd stepped on. They stood in special spots, chanted some indistinct phrase and the library faded away to the land behind some other child, desperate for knowledge.
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[ WP ] You have an amazing power to spot a certain quality in people , and one day you find someone who does n't have it .
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Sitting on the tube I get bored. So I start reading. “ … to go to 68.4255106, -51.1023775. ” Explorers are boring. “ … Business owner to file tax breaks in 2032. ” “ … to go blind from Sarcogatholema. ” I pause watching him and his white cane and I wonder if his doctors know that yet. “ … to see the birth of all 30 great-grandkids ” Nice long life there. “ … person to die on the tube in 2017. ” That sucks. “ … to fall in love with Sophia Weldon. ” Boring. I glance at my own “ … to be able to see people ’ s firsts ”
Nothing interesting today, the normal couple of morbid ones, couple good. Soon my stop pulls up and I walk out. I barely notice the firsts any more. They can give a little bit of info on who they are but most of the time they aren ’ t relevant. Everyone has one. Everyone was the first to do something, no matter how boring. Most of them are really boring. Especially since the novelty wore off years ago. Had a bit of fun with them again in Uni, nothing major though.
We walk straight into each other. I was reminiscing about the fun that was had in Uni, not watching where I was going. Looking up from where I fell I see him. He doesn ’ t have one. I am actually surprised that I noticed so fast. He has no first.
“ - am so sorry. Are you okay? Here let me help you. ”
His voice breaks my train of thought. I let him help me up. But I still can not get over that he doesn ’ t have a first. “ I yeah … I ’ m fine. I … ”
“ Sorry again. Have a nice day. ”
“ Wait. Want to get a coffee or something? ” It sounds like a cliché love story but I don ’ t want him to leave.
“ What? No? I have somewhere to be. ”
“ Look it is important. you are different somehow, different from everyone else. I just want to know why. ”
“ Fine, But make it quick. And you ’ re buying. ”
I can deal with that. We walk to a café around the corner. As we sit down at a table, I explain my first and why I stopped him.
“ Whatever. You are crazy thanks for the drink. ” He picks up his cup to go.
I stop him. “ Please just stay and talk, just until you finish the drink. ”
“ Fine. If this is true, what do you mean I don ’ t have a first? What if it hasn ’ t happened yet? ”
“ I can still see them even if they are in the future. ”
“ Why aren ’ t I first to not have a first? ”
“ No idea. That is what I am trying to figure this all out. ”
“ So basically I am the most boring person ever? ”
“ Not to me. To me you are special. ”
He spends a couple seconds staring at me and finishes his drink and walks away.
To this day I don ’ t know why he didn ’ t have a first. Maybe he was just the most ordinary person, or maybe he was alien. I have no Idea. But I now do my best check that every single person has a first. Maybe I will find an answer one day.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I do n't like the ending but can not think of anything better.
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[ WP ] You are a time traveler with one month left to live ...
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One month. One month was all he had left. For all the beauties of time that he has seen, for all the memories that lay in his mind; it was coming to a close.
“ Everything has an expiration date, ” he thought as he lit his cigarette. Breathing in, he pondered where he could go from here. Time was endless; he could go forward to places where his imagination couldn ’ t dream of, or back into the pages of history. He knew he couldn ’ t re-write history, but he could at least see it first hand, at least the events he hadn ’ t seen already. He looked at his wrist watch; now it ’ s less than a month. Time is constantly ticking down, and there is no escaping it. He could go anywhere but he would never be able to get around the inevitable end that was his. Long before he knew the complications of time travel he saw his end, and he knew his time was running out. How did life come to this? How did he come to that end?
Ultimately, it would be his own investigations that would lead to his death. When he was younger, and a more curious time traveler, he traveled along his own life, stopping to catch glimpses of how he aged, until he found the day he died. He had spent the better part of five years fleeing the thoughts, moving through time to escape his fate. But the clock continued to tick, and now time was no longer on his side.
Time, his companion, his weapon, and now, his enemy; with every minute that went by, he found that his expiration date was coming and there was nothing he could do about it.
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[ WP ] a story that you could only see through the windows of a train , but the story is happening outside .
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Good idea prompt to work up some creativity.
The Hunt
The train was clacking down the rails, the smoke thick in the early afternoon air as it puffed out of the front. The smell stung my nostrils. Adjusting my glasses, I looked out the window close to my left out onto the vast plain that was unfolding as the train kept speeding west. A few wistful clouds were limping along in the sky. Mostly flat with few trees, the great steppe of the New World was beautiful for how barren it seemed. Any life a man could choose was right here. Whatever problems he may have faced before, here in the open wilderness with only God and the sky to watch over him a man could find peace.
A small sound came from my right and, turning my head, I noticed a young woman take a seat close to me. Gloved hands, a fine lace dress and not a sign of dirt on here made my rather patchwork suit and tie seem all the more proletarian. I caught a glimpse of her face in the corner of my eye as I moved slightly to give her more room. She was beautiful. Short brunette hair, soft lips, eyes the color of a clear lake. I sigh lightly and return my gaze out the window on my side, back to the vast openness of the wilderness.
A small scene is unfolding off in the distance I notice. Getting closer, the shapes appear to be running and growing in size. Mere black spots are becoming more distinct. One is a horse with a man on top, a large rifle gripped in hand; the other a creature of immense size and running full tilt away from the man. Taking aim with his rifle, the man lines a shot on the creature and fires. The thunder is muted by the train. The creature collapses down onto earth sliding a few meters until coming to a rest a large trail of dirt and dust flying into the air. Speeding past the vignette, the last thing I see is the man dismounted and resting a foot on the beast. I can ’ t be sure, but I swear the creature was still breathing. The whole scene lasted only a minute—the wonders of modern trains and their near unfathomable speed.
“ Utterly disgusting, how could someone do that? ” The voice catches me off guard and I jump a little in me seat. The finely dressed woman said it, I realize. Turning my head, I see her blue eyes looking out the window. Her gaze appears to be all encompassing.
“ Agreed, there is no sport in running down an animal like that. ” My voice is nervous rising in pitch until settling on a murmur. The woman looks at me and smiles.
She offers me her hand. “ Maria. It is a pleasure to meet you. I must say that the suit you ’ re wearing is just superb. Did you fix it up yourself or did your wife? ” My mouth hangs open for a split second until I take her hand and lightly shake it.
“ I ’ m actually not married. ”
“ Oh, well, isn ’ t that just superb? ”
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[ WP ] You have been given magical gifts suitable for fairytale princesses . Whenever you sing , forest creatures gather near ; anything you wear turns into a lovely tailored dress ; and handsome princes are drawn to you . The problem is , your name is Joe , and you 're a 40 year old grizzly biker .
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`` Yeah, It's Joe here.''
`` Yes, the biker Joe. The one on the ads, correct. Uhhuhh... yeah..ookay, will be ready by Friday. I'll send my boys to deliver it to you. Okay, Thank you!''.
I calmly put down the phone. I then take a deep breath, and I yell. `` Hey, CHARLES, CHARLES you ASSHOLE where the FUCK ARE YOU????''.
Charles comes rushing into the newly painted living room, and almost trips over the freshly laid Persian rug. `` What a loser'', I mutter quietly under my breath and wait for him to approach me.
`` Yes my dear, what haunts you? ``, Charles says, with his dark blue eyes fixated upon me, full of love and devotion. Yuck.
`` Charles, where the hell were you, man? I gave you one damn job to do. Sit on your ass and note down the customer's orders. And you ca n't even do that?''
`` I-I'm sorry my precious. I had went off in the aid of the moving guys. They could n't handle all that stuff on their own, you see''.
`` Charles, I paid these guys to do their job, okay. You do n't need to help them out, you just do your job, okay? Answer the goddamn phone, take the orders and take them to Christian, in the Delivery Department, okay?''.
Charles nods his head, and seems a bit sad that I scolded him. `` Yes, dearest. I am sorry to have troubled you. I shall not repeat this act again. Please accept my humble apologies.''
`` Yeah, whatever man.'' I say as I stroll into the kitchen, and run into Casimir, who's in charge of the dinner.
`` So, what's for dinner?''
`` Uh-m-my love, about that, I'm sorry but there is n't anything in the pantries or the larder. I have not yet begun to prepare for supper.'' He nervously speaks, as he tries not to meet my furious gaze.
`` Jeez, you idiot, could n't you have just told me? We just moved into this Bungalow, of course there's not going to be any food in the kitchen. You should've told me this earlier''.
`` I'm really sorry, but lately all I can ever think of is you. It-It's kind of hard to focus on anything else. I mean, i am enchanted by your beauty, your gait and your lovely lips. I just keep on daydreaming about our life together in my kingdom, where we shall rule f-''
I cut him off, majorly grossed out by his love talk, and say: `` Jesus, so that was why the chicken was burnt last night? Fuck, Casimir. You've got one fucking job to do! Cook the fo --. Sigh. Forget it. Just get me my damn guitar for now. HURRY!''
`` Yes, my lovely, anything for you.'' He then runs towards my bedroom door, and within seconds, i have my Gibson with me on my hands.
`` All right, time for a song'', I say as i slowly caress the metallic strings, and begin to sing.
`` Conversion, software version 7.0
Looking at life through the eyes of a tired hub
Eating seeds as a pastime activity
The toxicity of our city, our ci-''
`` You have the voice of an angel'', Casimir, that gyp, says with tears in his eyes, looking totally fucked up.
I was just about to give him a good yelling, when a lovely deer plops out of nowhere, and sits on my lap, looking at me with its bright, shimmery eyes.
I start to pat him, and stroke him, and slowly creep my hand towards his neck. Within the flash of a second, i grab this little shit's neck and bang the hell out of its head with my guitar till I hear the faint whimpering sound of death.
`` There'', I say as I plop the carcass on the sink. `` We'll have some venison tonight.''
`` Y-yes.'' Casimir nods his head silently and adds,'' I totally understand your actions, dear. It was a matter of survival. We would've starved tonight if you had n't performed this brave task.''
`` Well, I just did n't feel like having pizza today, you know. Gives me gas and all. Anyway, see you at dinnertime, C.'' I announce it to him, as I hear the doorbell ring.
`` Christ, must be those reporters that were coming today for the interview'' I quietly mutter it to myself, as I make way to the door.
I open the door, but am instead faced with another one of those gooey eyed princes, here to claim my hand.
`` Greetings, O fair maiden. I, Prince Reginald the Third am here to ask you to be my betrothed, for all eternity.''
Good, I needed a doorman anyway, I say to myself as I begin to explain the basics to him, in my best `` Princess'' manner:
`` Reginald, my prince, If I could, I would surely love to be your soulmate, if it was n't for the evil witch and her curses placed upon me. Oh, dear Reginald, how i dread that we wo n't be able to get married and live happily ever after. Only if the wretched old witch had n't cursed me by saying that if I were to marry a prince without her consent, i would burst into flames and die a painful death, o noble prince.''
Reginald looks shocked and visibly upset, and manages to mutter some sentences.
`` Oh, woe is on me. I've finally found my princess and yet this evil witch holds her in her poisonous claws. I must find this witch and slay her immediately. Quick, tell me where she is, and she shall meet her doom.''
`` But Reginald, she has been like a mother to me. She took care of me, ever since I was an orphan. I do n't want to see her die'', I manage to think of something to make this hocus pocus sound somewhat believable.
`` But, my dear, does that mean that we will never get married?''
`` No, prince, of course not. You see, the witch has agreed to let me be married with the man I love on one condition: That he should be able to guard the doors of these castles, and announce whoever has come to visit me and save me from dangerous beasts, for 10 years. If he is able to pass this test, he shall be able to claim my hand for marriage.''
Reginald, being the stupid idiot I had exactly thought him to be, agrees to the task and announces, `` I will my dear. I will. I shall be your doorman and protect you from danger and harm for 10 years, if not more. I shall do anything to get married to you, my love.''
`` Great. If you'd just sign in here, and here.'' I say, as i pull out the employment forms from my bra. Gee, this thing is real handy to stuff things in it. Not the most comfortable, but useful at least.
`` And by the way, Reginald, there are other suitors for me inside the castle. If you manage to anger my witch mother by not performing your job in a satisfying manner, she will marry me off with one of those horrible bastards. I pray that I do n't have to live to see such a day, my prince.''
`` No, my rose. I shall not let the witch down. I will protect you with all my might. I swear this upon my kingdom. I swear it.'' Reginald states, as they all do.
`` Awesome!'' I give him a thumbs up, as i go back into the house, and into my new bedroom and lay down on my spanking new feather bed, and then begin practicing my stuff for the interview:
`` Sure. At First, I thought i had royally screwed it up this time. I mean, getting all drunk and going off into the woods alone in my bike was pretty risky. And, then accidentally meeting with a fairy and her granting all my boozed-up wishes was pretty embarrassing. I mean, what grown up man likes to have cute animals come to him when he sings and wearing pretty dresses while a bunch of gay princes follow him to the end of the Earth?''
`` But then, when I actually thought about it, I realized that i could use my curse to turn my life around. I could actually get free meat and all the free labor I needed for the rest of my life!''
`` The hardest part of the job? Well, ordering these dickheads takes quite a lot of work, but I'd have to say that the most difficult part would be wearing lots of clothes every single day. I mean, I have to change my clothes like every five minutes and put on a new one, because of all the people that are ordering my'Princess' designer costumes you know. Well, not that I can complain. People pay shitloads of money for all these expensive dresses.''
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[ IP ] Darkness has Fallen
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It began with the aurora that stretched for miles. Initially beautiful, but followed with no responses over the radio. His bush plane would not start, the fuses and electronics, all burnt out.
Days had passed.
Chance blinked and watched his breath fade into the air in front of him, the path stretching onwards. He shook his head to try and stay focused. His pack grew lighter as the winds and elements grew heavier.
He knelt down and whistled, as a black dog ran in from the treeline. `` Good boy, Murph.'' One hand ran along the back of his head as his other hand opened a map on his bent knee. His tail wagged.
The nearest town was at least two hundred miles away according to his position on the map. Looking at his compass he had realized, was no good; the needle spinning incoherently. Chance noticed the ambient light out of the corner of his eye. Ribbons of color streamed for as long as the eye could see, behind the trees. `` No wonder it's funky.'' The aurora blocked his view of the north star.
A deep howl pierced the air.
Not very far, he thought to himself. Murphy's ears piqued with interest and Chance quickly folded the map and stood up. `` Time to go, boy.'' Chance took off at a jog through the trees as the black dog followed in haste.
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[ WP ] Everyone on Earth has inexplicably and suddenly perished . Except for one person . This person somehow manages to single-handedly repopulate our planet . Make up a religion or write some lore that revolves around this person 5,000 years after the incident .
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The following is an excerpt from a text that was just very recently deciphered by modern linguistics experts. The text itself is the oldest text recovered to date- and until recently, the contents remained a mystery.
It should be stated that this is a near literal translation, and some text seems to be hard to decipher, due to ancient colloquialisms of the time. All the text has been kept, and translated as closely as possible.
`` And after the great purge, there was but one individual left to rot and agonize over the small atrocities he committed. He sat down and cried tears like a river or a small tiger.^1 Once the crying was done by he had been finished, the one who had done the crying stood up, and exclaimed'I will make a new people like the ancients of the old! They will run like Boars with galaxies on their backs, ^2 and drink from the tiger rivers.'
So he stood over sexy^3 soil, and molded it until it looked like a child bearing mother. And then he went to the gods and harnessed the angry yellow flame to make himself a bride.
'I shall call this a woman, as the flowers bear petals for stinging bees.^4' and he took her and had five hundred children- the most agile and flying-like^5 being his first born. The first born had lungs like a fire, and fought the fortune braved sweetness of life. It was of this first born that the dominant race was born. A race meant to rule over all others, as it was determined by all the gods themselves, as they talked over the bloody sports rag.^6''
^1 Ocean
^2 It was a myth that Boars used to contain entire universes in their stomachs, which made it unholy to kill them.
^3 Fertile
^4 It is speculated that women were thought of as bees- harvesting sweet honey for others, but, when angered, sharp and frustrating.
^5 Flying like was a colloquialism for good will.
^6 Bloody sports rag was a terminology for a sport said to have been played by the gods.
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[ WP ] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal . Wherever the time traveler ends up , the immortal is there to catch him up to speed .
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Eric enjoyed reading in the sun room as of late. He'd collected many a manuscript over the years but always seemed too busy to get to them. Now that the war was over he had a bit of down time to clear his backlog.
He rested on the love seat Donna had convinced him to buy. She was a girl of her time, obsessed with tie-dye and flowers, peace and hallucinogens. The love seat was shitty, but the way she saw it it built character, and who was he to argue? Squirming to get comfortable, he opened up to the page he'd marked, but stopped when a low rumbling filled the quiet air. Light bulbs flickered. The chandelier shook in an increasingly violent fashion.
Eric rolled his eyes. *Not now... *
A flash -- a clap of thunder -- and in a shower of sparks stood Dario the Traveler. This time he was wearing disheveled Victorian garb, a bowler hat askew on his shaggy head. Same shit-eating grin, though. `` Hey buddy!!'' he said.
`` I'm busy,'' Eric groaned. `` Gim me a year or two.''
`` Nah,'' Dario laughed, looking around. `` Where the fuck are we?''
`` Los Angeles,'' Eric replied. `` 1973.''
`` No shit? I was aiming for the sixties.'' Dario wandered to the window and looked out on the Pacific, eyes wide. `` Pretty, but did n't all the good shit happen in the sixties?''
Eric put down his book; he would n't be getting back to Chaucer anytime soon. `` That depends who you ask, I guess,'' he said, standing. `` Where did you come from this time?''
`` Did a little rough ridin' with this dude named Teddy.'' Dario looked back with a wink. `` Said he knew you.''
`` Ugh. Roosevelt was a twat,'' Eric said. `` Incredibly pompous. And he never let us eat Mexican food.''
`` Yeah, he was kinda racist.'' Dario thought for a second, then snapped his fingers. `` Ooh, but I know this president in a few decades who's --''
`` I do n't want to know,'' Eric snapped.
Dario shrugged and looked back to the ocean. `` Suit yourself.''
Eric joined him at the window, smiling in spite of himself. He never anticipated Dario's visits but he was glad they were still happening. After WWII, the last time they'd seen each other, Dario had pledged to save the dinosaurs. He did n't, obviously, but Eric was glad he'd survived to come back.
`` Were you aiming for California?'' he asked his old friend. Dario shrugged again.
`` Hawaii, actually,'' the traveler said. `` Apparently there was this crazy eruption but I think I'm off a decade or so.''
`` Probably for the best.''
`` Eh.''
Chuckling, Eric headed from the sun room. `` Well, if you're no busy, my girlfriend's having a friend over.''
Dario turned, eyebrow raised. `` I thought you were...''
`` In the barracks, yeah. Out here? Not as popular lately.''
`` It will be.''
`` Then I'll be gay then. Donna's great, anyway.''
Dario followed Eric into the kitchen, where he grabbed some beers from the fridge. `` What's her last name?'' he ventured. Eric smirked.
`` Summer,'' he said.
`` What's her friend's name?''
`` Goldie.''
Eric's smirk became a grin watching Dario realize where he'd landed. `` Oh, this is gon na be a fun fucking weekend!'' he said.
`` Damn right,'' the immortal replied, and they clinked bottles.
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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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I can hear the cheering in the distance. The sound of the microphone feedback screams across the air. I walk down the street, fully aware that there is a rally today, but, I do not care. I do not care for the laws that have been enacted for the sake of his vanity.
I did not vote for him, I will not attend his hate-mongering, nationalistic assembly of sheep. I notice the masses trundle past at a faster than average pace. Intrigued, I glance upwards to see a sea of numerals floating above the mob's collective heads. Most are small in number, but some are above 10, there are occasionally some near 50, even 100, but they are only noticeable through the waves of single digits due to the difference in hue. The lower the digit, the cooler the colour. The mathematical assignment of colour intrigues me as I observe the single colour gap between the violet zeros and the blue hundred that passes amongst the herd. Is there some form of statistical distribution with the colour palette assigned to a given range of numbers or is it simply a scale of brackets?
The cheers get louder as the din of the feedback reduces. It is always the same rhetoric and insults - the listing of imagined successes, where in truth, only ruin resides. I am almost upon the square where the farce will unfold when I decide to look towards the stage, and notice that there is a concentration of a new hue, implying a mass of people on a different level of the scale.
But what does the scale represent? Can anyone else see these numbers floating above the mass? My analytical side scoffs. How can sheep notice something that requires individual observation and thought?
The cheers get louder as I begin to turn away to calculate the optimal route to avoid the shepherds pushing people towards the hastily erected stage. As I turn, I notice the number spectrum gain a new colour, a deep crimson red joins on the stage. I look up and realise what the numbers mean when I see the face attached to the blood red number. There are many reasons I despise Dear Leader, and that glowing 10 digit number just went to the top of my list.
-- --
This is my first time posting on here. I would love some constructive feedback.
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[ WP ] `` Of course I 'm drunk . I just learned that my fiance is a vampire . Now give me the damn bottle ! ''
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`` Wait like a real vampire? like sucks blood, burns in the sun, hates garlic, vampire?!'' The bartender said, turning back to face the man.
`` Did I stu-*Buurp*-stutter?'' Chris said `` Now give it back.''
`` Look man, I know you have good reason to be upset but there is no need to drink yourself to death.'' the bartender replied, putting the drink back in the shelves.
`` I can take it, look man you and I have been friends for meh-mm-meany years, you have seen me drink. I can handle a few *Hic* more.'' Chris stuttered, swaying back and forth trying to balance himself on the bar
The bartender looked at him, partially concerned, partially disappointed. `` Chris, you need to be thinking straight, when she finds out you left her, she could hunt you down, you need to-''
Chris cut him off `` Leave her?! You kiddin' me?! Vampire or not, her parents like me and are worth a f-*Hic*-fortune.''
`` Wait, if you are n't upset she is a vampire, wh... Why are you drinking so much?''
`` Because, she is a light weight. If I drink enough, she bites me, she will get immediately wasted of my blood and pass out. Her parents will be pissed at her for getting drunk, and I get a big compensation check to keep quiet about them being vampires, now give me the god damn bottle before I go to the convenience store and get wasted off hand sanitizer.''
`` Well if you are getting a big check for keeping quiet... Maybe throw some of that my way to keep me quiet too hmm?'' The barkeep says, handing the bottle back to him.
`` Yeah, we will see about that one buddy.'' Chris retorted, twisting off the cap.
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[ WP ] In a world where everyone can read minds , you are the only person who can not , but you 're mind can not be read either .
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You may call me secret keeper.
It is the one thing I have left.
I am on the run.
____________________________________________
Hiding in a world of psychics is not as difficult as it seems. As I write these words, I have sought brief refuge in a basement of a hospital, down with the corpses in the morgue. I am writing this hoping that someone, somewhere will read it. That you will know who I am and what has happened. I am an anomaly. I can not hear the same way you can. When I am in a crowd of people, there is a vacuous silence, as everyone is in their own ( or others ) mind. Behind their barriers, behind their opaque walls. As I am sure you know, you ca n't completely tune it out. You ca n't completely turn it off. But you can block out some things and mask others. Me? I ca n't hear with my mind. I ca n't talk with my mind. To most, I am considered a deaf/mute, as so many people have forgotten how to speak. I mean, why do they need to? Just project what you need someone to know, and you're done; the information is received perfectly.
Except for when it's not.
You see, I saw something that I should never have seen. And before I could sneak away, I was discovered. They could n't `` hear'' me. And I, of course, could n't `` hear'' them. So I ran. They chased me. And they are still looking for me. What I saw... Could change the world. It could be the end of everything we have ever known. It could
they are here
they are
_________________________
Author's Note: This is my first submission, so I hope I did it properly.
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[ WP ] Every new planet that is discovered comes with Gods . You 're the one tasked with destroying them .
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As I walked out of the wormhole on the surface, I could see what I had been sent for. Yet again, another planet full of loafers. Their population hadn ’ t grown, no technological advances, none of them seeking anything more then what they have. I guess that ’ s what happens when everyone gets along; you just stagnate.
Sadly this is the only place I ever get sent too, all the other worlds are always at war with themselves, so they are all helping to find new technologies; better ways to help everyone. Unlucky for this bunch that we found them.
I just wave my hand, and point to their God… He already knows what ’ s happening.
“ Hello again father! ” I yell. “ I guess I ’ ll see you again for the next round, Eah? ”
“ You always did fail me as a son Lucifer, Ah well. I still feel poorly for you. At least you made it out of that other place. Luckily that first world kept building more advanced soulless bodies for you. Maybe i should have stopped them.''
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[ WP ] You are scribbling random symbols on to your steam-fogged bathroom mirror and you accidentally open a portal while you stand there wearing nothing but your bath towel .
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I'd been doing it for years, ever since I was just a little kid. It's not made up of careful, elegant lines that you carve out with your index finger according to some pattern, as most fantasy portrays. No magic sand or precise instruments... Just fogged up glass.
No... It's a chaotic mess of curves and dots and intersections that you wildly scribble with the tips of all of your fingers on a hand at once, applying varying pressure with each finger as you drift your hand and twist your wrist here and there. You often lift or linger with your fingers at random, breaking the curves into segments and swirling back towards them soon after to add another layer of characters. Sometimes a curve needs a dot in the middle with clever placement of the thumb, other times a bisecting line or parallel, mirrored curve.
Always, I could hear the characters as I made them. Whispers of strange combinations of syllables that I'd never heard before, combined into nonsense that still somehow had weight to it. When alone I'd sometimes try to remember the ones that stood out... `` Firarem'', `` Sesuntiok'', `` Cicio'', that always felt *heavy* when whispered.
This time, I spoke the characters as I wrote them. I made the signs in the air with my left hand while building runes with my right. My eyes were closed as I meshed lines and curves together with thoughtless intent. I did n't know what the runes meant, but that sure became clear when I felt the mirror give way and a chill breeze cling to the moisture on my body that made my eyes snap open. The pressure in the room increased enough to pop my ears, making me shake my head side to side to be sure what I was seeing was real. Before me, in the three panel mirror above my bathroom sink, lay a portal.
`` Shit'', I breathed before getting dressed, taking a quick picture with my cell phone, and climbing onto the sink and through the portal after deciding I could n't just... Not go through... The total lack of sensation was jarring, though the pressure and temperature had already shifted in the bathroom which may have skewed that experience a bit.
I found myself on the other side of the portal, in a place that looked very much like a bleached white desert... But it was bitter cold, and rather than a sky there were massive luminescent crystals covering the walls and ceiling of a gargantuan cave. There was wind making swirls in the air with the sand, and the air tasted of sulphur. There was no sound, other than that of the wind.
My heart skipped a beat when the portal was nowhere to be seen upon looking back, but I calmed down after reaching out and seeing my arm disappear into the warm room that I had come from. Apparently the other side of a gate is present, but undetectable. I decided to prepare for an excursion rather than heading head first into what is apparently an underground tundra, and passed the rest of my body back into my bathroom.
Hopefully the portal holds. Reddit's gon na want to see this one.
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[ WP ] A man uses his newly discovered superman like powers to explore the universe . And gets lost in the process
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Well, at least I do n't need to breathe. I have laser eyes, super strength, and impenetrable skin, so that's nice. Maybe I should go left. Wait. What the fuck is `` left?'' Come on, Superman, you can turn left if you remember where you are relative to Earth. I started on the ground. Where did I go after that? Ah, yes. Up. Really up. Then, I flew or moved or something out of the solar system. I passed Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, the works. Maybe I did n't finish the works, though. Yeah. I do n't think I passed Pluto. That means I need to go backward. Damn. If I were Batman, I would have figured that out sooner. No wonder he beat me.
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[ WP ] When you were born , a kindly fairy blessed you , saying `` make good choices '' . Little did you know , this was actually a curse and you 've since been forced to continually relive every decision point until you make the `` good '' choice .
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All my life I've been told, `` you just need to make good choices, Jesse.'' Well, to hell with good choices. Who's the one who even determines whether my choices are good or not? How can I even determine if my choices will be the right ones?
When I was five years old I saw a kitten that was walking in the middle of the road. The traffic was fairly light that day, but I felt a pull on my sternum. It was one of those instances where i would be called to make a `` choice.'' I heard the rumble of a truck engine and saw that it was headed straight for that innocent little kitten. If I did n't do anything I might have to relive this moment over and over again. I ran for innocent little life and snatched him out of the road just before the truck drove past. The driver had n't even slowed down one bit. I held the kitten close and walked back to my house, only, I was n't standing in front of my door anymore. I was standing on that same road, looking at the same kitten I had just saved. This time, I simply stood and watched the truck squash the kitten all over the road... and I felt satisfaction.
At ten years old, my mother decided to punish me for sneaking treats after school. She sent me to my bed without dinner where I waited. First I decided that I'd just sit there and go to bed, but when I awoke I was again in front of my mother who sent me straight back to bed. My next decision was to sneak down the back stairs so that I might sneak a little food into my room, but apparently that was not the `` good choice.'' On the third night, I was fed up. My mother had no right to tell me what I could and could not eat, so my choice was to push her down the stairs to show that I would decide when and what to eat. She did n't get back up after that. I have never relived that moment again. Her death was dubbed an accident and I was later adopted.
At 18, my stepparents dropped me off at college. My roommate tended to keep to himself, but after a few weeks we became friends and he offered me some of the drugs he sold on campus. He said they were mind altering and would help me get through the semester. I refused him because I'd been taught that drugs were bad for you and ruined your life. He shrugged his shoulders and left the room, but when I blinked he appeared in front of me and offered again. This time I accepted his offer and became hooked on them. I've been addicted ever since.
I'm now 27. My drug habit has n't changed and I do n't regret a single decision that has brought my life to this point. I recently met a girl. She's kind, patient, and absolutely beautiful. I think I'm in love with her and I want her in my life forever. Tonight was date night. She wore a simple black dress and I took her out to a movie before bringing her home to cook dinner. She smiled and laughed at all of my jokes and I became increasingly nervous around her. I was going to ask her to marry me. When the time came for dessert I dropped to my knee and pulled out the ring. At first she just looked surprised, but then her face took on more of a horrified look. I froze. I knew in my heart that she was just going to reject me.
`` Jesse.'' She said. `` We've only dated a few weeks. I do n't think...'' I swiftly hit her over the head before I heard anymore. She would NOT reject me. She would be mine forever. I gently lifted her and took her to the bedroom. Before I even had the chance to consider it, a knife was in my hand and I slit her throat. The blood poured onto the bed sheets and was the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. I cupped my hands in the flow and brought it to my mouth. The taste of sweet nectar greeted my tongue. This was the best decision I've ever made in my life... and I would only ever be able to experience it one time. Why? Because my `` good choices'' are based upon my deepest desires and I determine what is good and what is not.
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[ WP ] American Astronauts finally land on Mars , only to encounter a fully self-sustaining Soviet colony .
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`` We are surprised to find a Soviet Era colony here on Mars. Also, surprised about the air being breathable. We did n't know the Soviets got to Mars. The Russian Government was surprised too, they did n't know either. How long have you been here?''
`` About 50 years. But, well, we not know either. We think we in Siberia. But there were no mosquitoes. So we think, where are we? So we ask at Nazi base over hill, after they shoot at us, they tell us we're on Mars''.
`` The Nazis are here too! What is going on!''
`` Are you sure Earth know you arrive here? I think they might suddenly forget. Is survival skill of martians. They also change cameras, make robots see things. You stay here now. I go get Vodka.''
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[ WP ] Create a character who is a paragon of virtue , kind and good and all round awesome . Make me hate this character .
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I was hired to conduct and administer a monthly seminar for college faculty members on new research on women, and how it might be brought into the academic disciplines. I led that seminar for seven years, and it was always expanding. Eventually, it expanded to twenty-two faculty from places like New York, New Jersey, and New England. We were asking, What are the framing dimensions of every discipline, and how could they be changed by the recognition that women are half the world ’ s population, and have had half the world ’ s lived experience?
I noticed that, three years in a row, men and women in the seminar who had been real colleagues and friends for the first several months had a kind of intellectual and emotional falling out. There was an uncomfortable feeling at the end of those three years. I decided to go back through all my notes, and I found that at a certain point the women would ask, “ Couldn ’ t we get these materials on women into the freshman courses? ” And, to a person, the men would say, “ Well, we ’ re sorry, we love this seminar, but the fact is that the syllabus is full. ” One year, a man said—I wrote it down— “ When you are trying to lay the foundation blocks of knowledge, you can ’ t put in the soft stuff. ”
The thing was, he was a very nice man. All the men who attended the seminars were very nice men—also quite brave men, because they ’ d catch flak on their campuses for going to a women ’ s college to do a feminist seminar. And I found myself going back and forth in my mind over the question, Are these nice men, or are they oppressive? I thought I had to choose. It hadn ’ t occurred to me that you could be both. And I was rescued from this dilemma by remembering that, about six years earlier, black women in the Boston area had written essays to the effect that white women were oppressive to work with. I remember back to what it had been like to read those essays. My first response was to say, “ I don ’ t see how they can say that about us—I think we ’ re nice! ” And my second response was deeply racist, but this is where I was in 1980. I thought, I especially think we ’ re nice if we work with them.
I came to this dawning realization: niceness has nothing to do with it. These are nice men. But they ’ re very good students of what they ’ ve been taught, which is that men make knowledge. And I realized this is why we were oppressive to work with—because, in parallel fashion, I had been taught that whites make knowledge.
Oi, I've plagiarized! http: //www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/books/2014/05/the-woman-who-coined-the-term-white-privilege.html
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[ WP ] it 's been 2 months since the outbreak of zombies , you live peacefully in the woods . Explain day to day life with a twist at the end .
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I lived peacefully after the zombie outbreak. In the woods, there was nothing to fear. I had my rifles, knifes, pistols, grenades, and any other weapons I got my hands on. I was stocked with canned food, and I could go hunting for deer, bears, or other food if I needed to survive. I lived in the woods for all my life. I had my whole life set; in fact, I did n't even realize that there was a zombie outbreak until I tuned into the radio. No one bothered me, and I did n't bother anyone. However, I saw zombies slowly beseeching my beautiful forest, and I killed every one of them. But everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
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[ wp ] 2 guys with dissociative identity disorder are talking to each other , making 2 different conversations simultaneously , each conversation by a different personality .
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Her screams were muffled by the gags, as she squirmed in the sack yearning for the slightest breeze of nonstale air. The air inside the sack was hot and humid, droplets of perspire plastered all over her forehead. She kicked against the cuffs around her ankles, but it only made the pain worse. There it was, oxygen redundancy in her lungs making her chest burn. Her heart palpitating against her rib cage at a rapid velocity. She was suffocating.
Mark and Tom watched as the rugged brown sack squirmed from the inside. The movements were becoming less and less by the minute. She was tiring out.
`` Do you think if you call the cops they will believe us? That we randomly came upon a woman tied inside a sack in a maize farm?'' Mark inquired in a concerned tone.
`` They should. Coz we did find her in a maize farm, right? Look around.'' Tom raised his arms as his eyes veered around the open space between the endless green plantation. Green maize leaves rustling in the cold night's breeze, as the humming of their white truck whirred from behind, its bright headlights illuminating the large make shift path between the green vicinity, as their shadows loomed over the sack.
`` Totally, totally man.'' Mark took another long drag at the cigarette. `` Who would even do this to her? Do you think she was kidnapped? Do you think she was involved in a drug deal? Oh my God, am freaking out now.'' Mark held out his numb fingers as he watched them tremble repeatedly. He shoved them back into his pocket as the cold night's breeze brushed against his leather jacket.
`` But if we let her rot here, no one will ever know its us! I told you maize plantation was a much better idea than a parking lot.'' Tom smirked at his partner in crime, as he shoved a kick into the belly of their now motionless victim.
`` Take that bitch! And that... too!'' Mark joined in with the kicking, heavy thuds resounding in the quiet vicinity. He pulled out pocket knife from the back of his pocket, waving it around maniacally, its sharp edges slicing through the air. `` Want a piece of this, Doreen? Look where your slutty ass got you now!'' The knife's silver edges glowed in the light.
`` Woah you have a knife?'' Tom gazed at the sharp object.
`` Yeah. Why?''
`` Why did n't you fucking say it earlier? We could use it to cut the rope tying the sack. We could even cut a hole through it, give her some room to breathe!'' Tom grabbed the knife as he quickly approached the sack.
`` Fuck, it did n't even cross my mind.'' Mark threw away the cigarette bud, as he knelt next to him as they cut open the sack.
Smeared mascara streaked down her cheeks. Her blonde hairline etched across her face from the thick humid hair and sweat droplets. Her body was motionless.
`` Do..Do you think she is dead?'' Mark stammered under his cigarette breathe.
Tom cautiously placed two fingers along her neck.
`` Is she fucking dead?'' Mark inquired as he groveled away from the body. `` Tell me man! We need to get the fuck outta here. Screw calling the police!''
Tom solemnly turned toward his pale faced companion. A smile quickly cracking between his cheeks.
`` Relax man, she is still alive. We should get her out of this binds, your cellphone has power?'' He dug the knife into the rope as he tagged back on forth causing a tear between them.
Mark pulled out his iphone as he checked the network bars. His attention quickly shifted, turning his furry brows into an angry frown.
`` Tom. What the fuck are you doing man?'' He glared at his friend who was busy undoing the binds. `` Why the hell are you trying let her go?''
`` The ropes are now off, I think thats enough.'' He stood up as he handed back the knife to its owner.
`` Dude am asking you what is it you are trying to do here. The whole basis of bringing Doreen here was so that she could n't escape you fucktard!''
Tom's eyes lingered upon the victim, running them across her voluptuous figure, her tight tank top stained by the dirt, her nipples traced out by the material. He shifted his gaze towards an exasperated Mark, placed a firm grip upon his drooping shoulder.
`` Who said am letting her go buddy?'' He leaned forward as he stared him in the eyes. `` If she is to satisfy us, then she will need both hands right?''
The sound of a distant chuckle rang in her ears. Two figures stood before her blurry vision. She let out a loud cough as the fresh gulp of air rejuvenated her. Her eyes still making shape of the two gentleman staring down at her. They suddenly grew in width and fear, as the familiarity of their faces came to light.
`` She is finally awake,'' Tom leaned towards the revolting figure. `` Mark.'' He called out. `` I think you should dial 911.''
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[ WP ] Girl Wakes up Buried alive in her own grave , soul in tact not knowing what happened ... forced to dig her way out and craving something other than air ... blood .
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Although it was dark, she could still make out the faint satin lining of the sheets above her. She found that her hands were placed carefully over her chest, as if she were trying to hold her own heart. A heart, she noticed, that not longer beat. She struggled to recall how she ended up in this dark place.
It had been night. The chilly fall air nipped at her arms. She had forgotten to bring a jacket and was forced to walk home alone.
That's right! She had been coming home from a party. Her friends had either left her long before or had decided to hook up with a stranger in one of the house's many rooms.
The events afterwards had been a blur. What had happened? She vaguely remembered hearing someone call her name -*Tamora, her name was Tamora*- and then nothing.
Fresh air would clear her mind. Tamora went to push the sheets back but her hand met hard wood instead. A brief moment allowed the realization to kick in - she was in a coffin and had most likely been buried. Realization did not give way to panic, however. Instead, she remained very calm, as if she had expected this to happen.
Strange.
Still, she would have to get out of this coffin soon. She was getting thirsty and she doubted that the oxygen here would last much longer -or did she even need oxygen? Tamora did not feel her heart beating earlier, so perhaps she did not need to breathe as well. Inhaling deep and holding the air in her lungs, she found that she did not have the desire to exhale.
Tamora exhaled through her nose anyway and grinned in the darkness. It was time to leave this confined space.
She slammed her hand against the coffin top once, twice, three times before it broke, showering her with dirt. Slowly she began her muddy ascent through the six feet of soil. When she broke free of her dirt-prison, the air brushed over her as if to welcome her to the surface.
Tamora lay on the ground for a moment and savored the feeling of the grass beneath her. Strangely, each blade seemed vibrant. Had the grass always been this beautiful? She rolled onto her back and stared at the moonless sky. How was it that she could see perfectly? A sound nearby startled her from her thoughts.
Her eyes snapped towards the sound and she knew that she must hide. Without thinking, Tamora darted towards a nearby tree and effortlessly climbed into its branches. From her vantage point, she could see the source of the noise. Two men walked across the graveyard lawn towards her now empty grave.
Both men looked to be in their twenties, but one was different than the other. While one of them was alive and his heart pumped blood, the other seemed to be much like herself. The living man's veins seemed to stand out to Tamora and she could swear that she saw the artery in his neck. Her mouth watered.
`` I'm telling you,'' The dead man said, `` I saw this chick just minutes before she died. She was at that party Steve threw a few days ago.''
*A few days*, she thought to herself, *I died a few days ago? *
`` Damn, some sick bastard dug her up.'' The living man frowned.
`` Are you sure?'' The dead man was saying as he knelt by the grave, `` It does n't really look like a shovel was used. Besides, would n't there be shoe prints? It's been raining quite a bit the past few days.''
`` Maybe it was an animal?'' The living man shrugged, `` Come on man, lets get out of here, I'm starting to get the creeps.''
The dead man stood and turned to face the living man. His eyes met Tamora's and he smiled knowingly.
`` There's no need to rush out of here. I think we should stay for a moment longer, do n't you?'' The dead man's eyes twinkled.
`` Dude, now *you're* creeping me out.''
The dead man chuckled.
*Come here. * A voice danced across Tamora's mind.
Feeling the need to obey this strange voice, she leaped from the branches, and landed silently behind the living man. Now that she was closer, she could smell the blood that beat within his veins. Her mouth once again watered but this time, her teeth felt *sharper*. Tamora needed his blood and the dead man knew it.
`` Go ahead.'' The dead man grinned darkly, `` Take him.''
Tamora smiled at the living man when he turned to face her. She was on him in an instant, her teeth sunk into his flesh. He tried to fight her off, he tried to beg the dead man for help, but the dead man merely laughed and sunk his own teeth into the living man's wrist.
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[ WP ] You let go of a balloon with a letter attached to it . A couple of weeks later , you get a letter from the Queen of England .
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Dear Mr. Timothy Roberts,
One came across your message while walking ones dogs across the ground. While you have given a most persuasive case as to the unfairness of the situation re. Miss Emily Willows, one is afraid that one can not be of any help.
Long ago, one would have great power over the law of the land, however ones ancestor from long ago understood the need to let the people decide upon the laws that would govern them. And so, still, one can not overrule the will of the people and that which the will decides.
As such, one must accept that the teacher found you guilty and has handed out the correct punishment. If you truly believe yourself innocent or otherwise unfairly treated, one urges you to bring the issue to the attention of your parents and headmaster or headmistress, and one offers ones full support if you do so.
One hopes you will continue to think with such imagination and persuasion, and one hopes to hear back of the outcome of your trials and tribulations.
Best wishes,
Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor.
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[ WP ] In their darkest hour , when the end is near , a desperate kingdom decides to summon ancient demons to do their bidding . They call themselves `` Humans '' ...
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`` Do n't do it!'' Screamed the castellan.
`` It is the only way.'' Said the queen as she pointed the scepter at the painting of George Washington.
`` 10 millimeter is best millimeter.'' Said the queen firmly.
There was a brief, nerve wrenching silence.
`` The magic is just fairytales my queen.'' Said the castellan with disappointment in his voice.
`` 45 ACP HAS THE MOST STOPPING POWER.'' Screamed the queen as she threw the scepter at the painting.
As the staff hit the face of the forefather, the painting fell to the ground. It's frame shattered, glass broken.
`` 9 millimeter was always inferior.'' Echoed through the throne room.
`` Now you did it. You may win this war, but the humans will never stop fighting.'' Said the castellan.
`` I was never looking for peace.'' Said the queen.
`` Only freedom.''
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[ WP ] Cannibis , Herion , Meth , and LSD are on a road trip when their car breaks down on a lonely stretch of road .
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`` AHHHH!'' screamed LSD from the driver seat waking up Heroin and Weed in the back. Meth seemed unconcerned in the passenger seat still wailing away on his epic air drum solo.
`` What the fuck?'' asked Weed as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes.
`` It's dead, I killed it. Oh my god, I'' M A FUCKING MURDERER!'' proclaimed LSD.
The rest of them looked out the window for a body or a deer or something.
`` What are you talking about man?'' asked Heroin.
`` The car! I was just driving normally down this fucking licorice road when I heard a clunk. It stopped breathing. I ca n't believe this is happening'' says LSD as he jumps out lifting the hood. He proceeds to start giving mouth to mouth to the air intake.
Meth jumps out of the car darting back and forth looking around. `` There is nobody out here! I'll go for help.''
Just as Heroin is about to say that they should all stick together, Meth takes off in a sprint.
`` I'll get the tools from the trunk.'' says Weed lethargically.
Meanwhile LSD is sobbing in the engine compartment pounding on the valve cover.
Heroin slowly exits the vehicle and stretches his legs. `` Where are we even at?'' He asks. No one responds. He moseys to the trunk to find Weed eating out of the cooler they had packed. `` Whatcha doin chica?'' asks Heroin.
`` I just came back here to grab... shit! What did I come back here for?'' says Weed.
Suddenly, Adderall comes out of the house holding her backpack and the car keys. `` What the fuck are you guys doing?'' She asks. `` And what the fuck is Meth doing laying on the ground at the end of my driveway?''.
Weed starts laughing hysterically with a mouthful of cheese its. LSD comes out from under the hood wiping away tears. `` I fucking killed it man!'' He holds his hands out like Adderall is gon na cuff him and take him away. Heroin speaks up `` I do n't even wan na go to coachella anymore''.
Meth springs up from the ground at the end of the driveway `` COACHELLA!!!'' and rips off his shirt.
Adderall turns around, goes back into her house and calls Sobriety. `` Hey, I need you to come over and give us a ride''.
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[ WP ] Write a story . Any story . But after 5 minutes , stop , lift your hands from your keyboard , and click the Save button .
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Perhaps this is time for the story I've been hiding inside to spring forth from my fingers and splatter digital ink throughout the world, sending ripples through the world in a cause and effect. As the test time dwindles, no epiphany reveals itself. A difference may not be made today, but maybe soon.
Still three minutes left. So, let's make a character. We'll give him a unique, but still believable, name. Something like Yansey Zed? That'll work, so let's get character building. What's this character like? Was it wise to name him before working out a profile? Well, real people are named before their personalities awaken, right? I suppose for the best results, following real world would be good.
Stop pondering how, and just get to writing! Here is the problem with arbitrary time limits, now I'm on a rant because my creativity seems to be lacking at this exact moment. I do n't even know how to get started o
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[ WP ] You find a gun that takes you moments before a historic tragedy occurs and brings you back after you fire a shot .
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PART 2:
And fall towards the wooden bench, for an instant I saw it as the Model 1910, then like liquid mercury it changed midair, landing with a dull thud as a slender, silver rifle. Recoiling with shock I knocked the stool over, its old frame protesting loudly as it crashed. Breathing deeply, I watched the gun as if it were an animal. Fear of inanimate objects had never been a problem until now. Fortunately clarity rushed back rather quickly after returning from whatever had just transpired, and I knew enough history to guess at the event that I had taken part in with such surreal yet deadly malice. Weary and loathe to confirm my suspicions, I tentatively reached for the laptop. Noticing barely a minute had passed since I first touched the fatal trigger of the gun by the clock, I continued to search for the Model 1910 and came to my answer.
Gavrilo Princip, a Bosnian-Serb, assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sophie in Sarajevo on 28 of June 1914 with a Belgian Fabrique Nationale Model 1910 outside of a cafe from close range, an act that would set off a chain of events leading to the catastrophic, unnecessary conflict of the First World War. It was the screaming memory that had tried to break into my, and maybe Gavrilo's consciousness at the cafe, as if either of us had any control at all. The more I thought of it, there had been no physical action I had taken independently. The whole time, trapped in the spectacle as Gavrilo unknowingly sentenced millions to their deaths. I realised I had perhaps witnessed the most important assassination in modern history, a First World War would lead to a second, the outcome of that defining the world to the present. If I could actually control such a thing... I shuddered at the thought, I had no right to alter the course of history, no knowledge of how the ripples might spread as they did when the gun broke the surface of the calm river. And now the rifle, a thousand possibilities. Would I find myself on the grassy knoll, a French marine at Trafalgar, or maybe looking through the crosshairs at a hotel room in Memphis. What then? What instrument of death would avail itself, another gun, a sword, a spear? I had the power of time travel to the pivotal events of humanity, perhaps as a spectator, perhaps something more. Even if only playing the role of historian, the potential knowledge that could be gained was immense. Long argued conspiracies could be resolved in an instant, with just the pull of a trigger. That is, if I could keep pulling that trigger again, again, and again. If, I assumed, it had the same effect every time.
Above, a moth cast vast shadows on the walls of the garden shed as it flew entranced around the lone lightbulb, attempting to land several times, yet the heat was too much. My attention fell back on the gun, at rest on the wooden bench. It was a stark contrast to the coarse angles of the old, rusted tools that adorned the shed around it, indeed it would look out of place anywhere. There was an old hessian bag in the corner, and after a moments hesitation, I put the gleaming rifle inside. I was tired from the ordeal, unsure of myself. Tomorrow, if I was able to sleep at all, I would be ready to decide its fate, and my own.
TBC if I CBF: }
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[ WP ] Make me sympathize with a popular super villain ( Lex Luthor , The Joker )
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FMA: Brotherhoodd - Lust
Lust's lament.
This is a piece I authored long ago. I quite like it - lost the first time due to an errant hard drive, and again - just a few minutes ago - to an errant keystroke.
Yet - I will attempt to write it again. It is n't quite the same, and I regret that - but I will try. Lust is one of my favourite characters.
Here goes...
> I do n't hate this form. It is quite beautiful. I understand the feelings it evokes in those besotted my me. But it pales in comparison to the bloodlust I feel.
> Hundreds, even thousands have I cut to pieces. But it mattered little.
> A swift swipe, and my adversary cut to ribbons. Subtle in its treachery, and beautiful all the same. A fatal act, the finality of which I hoped would evoke in me some kind of emotion.
> Yet the bloodlust remained. Waiting to be sated. All those I faced either defenseless and unable to fight, or cowardly and unwilling to. Spineless shells, a shame to call sentient.
> HOW? How could such an act not get the slightest rise out of me? Not satisfy me in the slightest?
> But tonight was different - I could feel it. Humans are truly exceptional creatures.
> Havoc; outwardly a buffon but a man of honour and spine. Even in his pursuit of me let up not a single detail of his work. A lesser man would n't last half as long. When I saw him - my heart almost sank. But it was far outpaced by the excitement I felt.
> Would these two men finally satisfy me. I felt my core exploding.
> To see the flame alchemist next to him - the hero of Ishval - my heart leapt with joy.
> Even as he shot me without hesitation to try to get me down on my knees - I thought I could get the better of him, but I was wrong.
> Even sliced and doused him to neuter his flames - he managed to get the better of me. Tearing apart with the very substance I thought would render him ineffectual - water - to ignite its components - hydrogen and oxygen - and sear my flesh. Who would have thought that my first death that night would be due to such exceptional circumstances.
> Even as I baked I looked forward to rending him. To regenerate and look deep into his eyes and see his flame fading. The very flames that were the core of his being. The flames that burnt to the ground an entire country. And then point to his dying comrade - and point out his helplessness to stop it.
> But that was not yet to be. Even as I regenerated and stabbed his subordinate - [ the flame alchemist plunged his hand into my very core to heal his subordinate ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/EU2HNdch.png ). There lay the philosopher's stone - the secret to eternal life.
> If I was a lesser being - this would have been the end of me. I had already died twice, but I was a homunculus. Reforming around my core, I was finally able to look into his eyes - stabbing him in his side and point out his helplessness. He would have to watch his subordinate bleed to death and leave me to the eye of the hawk. Stabbed and his alchemic gloves torn to shreds - he was helpless. Another beloved underling was going to die under his watch. The eye of the hawk.
> I was really looking forward to it. The eye of the hawk - without the slightest hint of the alchemic abilities that made alchemists into weapons, not averting her eyes from her actions, and singularly focussed on the crosshairs on her scope - she littered the battlefield with bodies.
> To reduce her to a corpse would be exquisite.
> But even this was not a luxury about to be afforded to me.
> Even as I caught up to her and informed her of the presumed demise of her beloved Mustang, Hawkeye missed not a single shot. Driving into me bullet after bullet. Her aim was unerring. Even in the midst of crippling grief she found her mark. I died many times in those few seconds.
> It must have been a frustrating experience to her. These very bullets which stopped humans cold unable to harm a homunculous. I wanted to commend her. To tell her that she did actually kill me more than once, but it would have made no difference to her.
> She failed to kill me. [ She failed to protect her superior ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/jydKbhoh.png ).
> But still yet I feel she succeeded. I felt like killing her would be worthwile. And I would have, but that opportunity too was snatched from me by another human.
> The two soul bonded armours could n't have been more different. Even as I shredded one, the other stepped up and put his life on the line.
> [ Barry ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/Q7N010xh.png ) the [ Chopper ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/vpwvdAPh.png ) was just a shell of a human being - not worth a passing mention in spite of his active, albeit pathetic attempt to kill me before I pushed Riza over the edge, but Alphonse Elric was infinitely more.
> Completely helpless, his weapon destroyed - he still decided to [ stand ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/Q1gdSKqh.png ) [ between me and the Lieutenant ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/rYiTDrVh.png ). I might have got him too, [ but I paid the price for underestimating the flame alchemist that night ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/JtOiDdhh.png ).
> [ Mustang's wounds cauterized by his own flames ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/JwNlbNZh.png ), his glove's sigil drawn on his hand with blood and sparks from his partner's lighter - he was not yet done with me.
> Refusing to let go, he killed me over and over - killing the thousands of lives in me. Refusing to let those under him die he burnt away the last of what kept me alive. [ Even with the ultimate lance an inch away from his face - he refused to budge ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/aXRw1bBh.png ).
> I knew this was it. These four humans I failed to kill - any one of them would have fulfilled my bloodlust - indeed - each one of them should have died. If they were anyone else - they might have, but tonight - each one of them lived. Maybe they'd die soon enough - but not at my hand - and that was the only thing that mattered.
> And as my lance burns away - I gaze upon the Flame Alchemist one more time.
> Today I was bested. I lived not being able to kill a single person who might have made a difference to my Lust. And not because it so happened. [ But because I was bested ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/V4qxGTJh.png ).
> And yet - as I stand here - I think - `` there are worse ways to be killed than at the hands of a man like you''
>'' I ca n't wait - until the day those eyes are filled with agony''... is not far off.
...
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[ WP ] As a companion NPC , Write your experience following the player who is playing a new game , but has previously beaten it , and knows everything already .
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`` He never seizes to amaze me,'' she thought as she flew along. She had been around a very long time, a millennium in fact, and never seen anything like it. It was as though he already knew everything she was going to tell him.
Of course it was obvious he already knew. Every time she went to give him a tip or suggestion, he would never reply. However even without her knowing, he always knew where the best treasure was and how to get past obstacles. It's as though it was instinct. Almost as though.....he had lived it before.
Oh well, it was nothing to worry herself about now, she thought. There's another treasure coming up on the left, and he'll really need it if he's going to save the princess. Better get his attention.
`` Hey, listen!'' she called out.
He did n't answer, as always. But without fail, he took the left turn she was going to tell him about. Maybe it is just instinct?
`` Do n't be silly, Navi,'' she told herself. Its probably just luck.
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[ FF ] The Raid is coming . ( feedback for every response less than 400 words )
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The stars in his eyes and the ones in the sky gradually separate the more Rayvarious shook his head, swabs of mud flying from his young wool coat. His opponent picked him up from his horns and dragged him to his hooves. Not an honorable fight for an Oreamnos by any stretch. His comrades ’ words of encouragement and mockery blended together, crescendoing into the night.
His opponent, another Oreamnos, towered nearly a head over him. His horns were likewise great, a proper mate for any ewe within the Eerdu region. He went by the name of Yaag.
``... and you were dumb in the first place to duel him. Again! ” Huffed his friend, Krotus.
Rayvarious only continued to rub his bruises, though the pain of the defeat was still greater.
“ Besides, the raid is coming tonight. You must be at least half-conscious to avoid being shot. ”
The mention of the pirate raid simply fueled Rayvarious ’ s rage.
“ Why must we cater to those muck EVERY quarter? ” spoke the rage. “ We don ’ t even give an effort to fighting back anymore. We just fire lead from behind cover until they have their full of our goods! ”
Krotus swayed his beard solemnly, “ Because they have a light transport and a skiff? Of all the scum to own the last space-worthy ship planet-side after the collapse, they were the lucky ones. Blaah! ”
“ Our goods are at the mercy of the size of their skiff, Krotus! My honor can not allow this! ”
Krotus placed a hand on Rayvarious ’ s shoulder firmly, “ Then permit your honor to come from the lives saved in the towns of our people, friend. For their honor, and their lives rest on our shoulders. ”
Whatever Rayvarious had to say was quickly forgotten as the bell in the old theater began to ring, signaling the incoming raiders. Falling into their positions, the two friends counted their lead and chanted their battle prayers. Silence, followed, and more silence still. Silence until Yaag, positioned not a few paces from them, rose and chanted a war cry at the old theater door, taunting the enemy to enter. The militia joined in Yaag ’ s chant, calling for the cowards to step forth to battle.
The blue flash of an energy bullet separated Yaag ’ s great horns from his head. His towering structure crumbled with the militia ’ s moral. Glowing from night-vision goggles begin appearing in the doorway.
“ Those are no raiders… friend. ”
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[ WP ] First contact was made 1947 . They told world leaders not to inform the public because we were n't ready yet . Governments have been collaborating with them ever since .
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`` Yall ai n't got nothing in that darn house that I'd even reckon with.'' Said a huntched-over hillbilly, haggling with a man at a garage-sale, well you could call it a garage sale, but it was more just an open door on a small metal trailer-home.
`` Are you calling my stuff trash? You are the most stupid person I have ever met --'' The man hosting the yard sale was interrupted by a black Mercedes which parked inches from his trailer. A large man in a cheap suit got out of the car and stepped over to the vocal hillbilly, who was browsing the garage-sale.
`` It's time.'' He said in a deep voice before getting back into the car and driving off.
The first hillbilly stood up straight and began walking away.
`` Are n't you going to buy anything you idiot?''
The now perfect postured hillbilly snap his head back to look at the other man. He leaped over and grabbed the other mans neck, lifting him up with one hand `` You could n't even comprehend the simplest thought in my brain, It was disgusting trying to feign your level of intelligence, I ca n't believe we are going to save you.''
The eerily strong hillbilly dropped the other man and launched off into the sky.
In the Mercedes, the driver was talking to the large man who had earlier queued the hillbilly. `` So are these the aliens? The people we are finding?''
`` Yup, they figured it would be easiest to hide in plain sight as we wait for the fissure, but working regular jobs has a high chance of risk. So they decided to hide as the dumbest people they could think of from all over the world.''
`` Seriously? so we just need to find the dumbest people and say'it's time'?''
`` No we have a list, so we just need to follow it.''
`` What type of people are on the list?''
`` Well it's spread around here and there, but it's mostly politicians.''
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[ WP ] You are a noir detective in a fantasy world .
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The Detective contemplated how it was possible, puffing his cigarette. Two almost identical crimes happening at the same time. The towns people all said the same thing. They all saw the same person, and in the next instant, he was gone.
`` Bring up the magic database, will you?'' The Detective asked. His partner in crime, laying across his chair, happily obliged.
`` We've checked it twice already. What are you hoping to find, may I ask?'' The Detective did n't acknowledge his question, but simply scrolled through the types of magic.
`` 2 places...... The same time.'' He thought out loud.
`` Do you think...?'' His partner began, `` It was THAT type of magic?''
`` Why are you surprised?'' The Detective answered, `` Tons of magicians here have gotten a hold of power like that. In fact....''
The Detective streamed back up the list, and stopped to a grinding halt. `` I think we've got ourselves a lead here.''
His partner in crime rised from his seat and marveled at the screen. `` No way. A type 4?!''
`` Teleportation,'' said The Detective, `` It might be hard to intercept him, huh?''
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[ WP ] You are a Mage with vast knowledge of the inner workings of magic and theorized countless of possible spells . The only problem is your inability to actually perform magic .
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Magic.
To many of you civilians, it's known as little more than a vast, mysterious force, capable of impossible feats.
In reality? It's... well, it *is* a vast, mysterious force that's capable of impossible feats, but it's not like we have n't studied it to figure out how it works. What we call magic is essentially the capacity of the soul to generate, manipulate and store aetheric energy. It's a unique form of energy that's capable of creating what I like to call subpockets of reality; essentially, it creates a zone in which physical laws can be altered to your will, which is how the most basic spells are created.
Fireball, for example. Superheat the air in a pocket into plasma, and give it more mass and velocity than it should be able to have. Results in terrible burns. Really, it's a lot more deadly a spell than people think, for some thing so incredibly basic.
More complex, wide-ranging spells are a little different - you ca n't just create a small subpocket to work with. You need to imbue the entire area with aetheric energy, and that comes with a whole host of problems that I'm not going to go into. Simply put, an unskilled mage is more likely to spontaneously combust than succeed at a tier three spell. Or anything above that, obviously.
Me? I'm a little different. I'm a mage, of course. Got my own tower and everything. You do n't see me performing any spells because... well, I ca n't.
Do n't laugh.
Most human souls can generate aetheric energy. Mine ca n't. I can still manipulate it, but as far as generating or storing it goes, I'm entirely incapable.
But do n't worry! That's why you're here. See, I ca n't generate it on my own, but I've built a spell that can sap little bits of aetheric energy from the environment, and a container spell to store it for me. The best source of energy is still a human being, though. Here's a contract, just sign here...
Thank you. Now, I just need you to wear this wristband for a short while. It used to be a collar, but people thought I was trying to control their minds. Hmph.
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[ WP ] Thousands of years ago the earth experienced a cataclysmic event . In an effort to maintain the human race the world leaders and citizen elite tried to survive by creating an underwater colony . It is now 2016 and you are tasked with scouting the surface for the first time in Atlantean history .
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I emerged from the stasis pod at chronopoint 11.200.5.10.2.2104. At first, the sunlight was almost too much for me to handle. The lumispheres and diurnalamps of my youth were nothing compared to the brilliance of the heavenly orb. I remember stories of the Sun and how it used to nourish and provide for my ancestors. That was before the great downfall of our people, before my parents retreated to the underwater refuge, before I was placed in that long sleep.
The stasis pod had come to rest on the shore of a sandy beach devoid of life or structures. I was partially relieved of this fact as there were no predators or other inhabitants to contend with. At least, none that I could see. A dense treeline walled the beach and I had no way of knowing what lurked in the shadows. After double-checking the chronopoint indicator, I confirmed that I had been in stasis for thousands of lifetimes and I had no idea what had become of the world in my slumber.
Upon exiting the pod, I began to fully take in my surroundings. Before entering stasis I had lived my entire life in the confines of the refuge and the expansiveness of being outside was overwhelming. I spent some time crouched in the sand with my eyes closed, trying to feel small again. After finally gaining control of my emotions, I managed to stand up and begin my trek inland. The trees and grass were a constant source of novelty as I walked through the forest, even though I had seen images of such wilderness in my youth.
Before long, I came upon a massive stone path in the forest. On the sides of the path were bright painted lines that seemed to stretch on forever. In the middle were the same lines, except this time the two lines were much closer together. I stepped onto the path, careful to avoid the lines for fear of damaging them. I crouched down to examine the middle lines to perhaps decipher their purpose. As I did so, I felt a great rumbling and heard rhythmic chanting, similar to the hymns practiced by my ancestors.
I stood and looked around rapidly, trying to determine the source of the noise. It seemed to be echoing through the woods, coming from all sides. The disorientation overtook me and I fell to my knees. In that moment, the rumbling reached its peak and I suddenly felt myself being thrown through the air as my left arm and leg briefly exploded in pain and then went numb. I hit the stone path with a thud, the wetness of blood pooling around me. Through the pain and blurred vision I saw a human figure approach me, hands raised in a calming gesture.
The figure shouted something at me in a language I did not understand. I tried to say that I did not speak its language but the loss of my blood had fatigued me and I had begun to pass out. I lapsed in and out of consciousness for what felt like a lifetime. I felt my body being lifted and handled and carried. I saw bright lights and smelt the smells of infection and death and sanitation. I tasted my own blood and heard the terse, focused language of the blurry figures around me.
When I finally regained full consciousness, I was lying in a soft bed, surrounded by shiny metal boxes, lights, and glass windows. Through the windows I saw something I had not expected to see. Humans. Fellow humans! We made it through the downfall! The excitement that filled me in that moment made the confusion vanish and I was overcome with joy. The humans on the other side of the glass noticed that I was now awake. A member of the group looked me in the eyes as she reached out, touched a box outside the window and spoke into it.
`` Glad to see you're awake, you have no idea how long we've been waiting to finally talk to you.''
I was briefly stunned by the fact that she was speaking my language. I knew how long it had been since my people walked the surface. I knew that the chaos of the final days had put an end to our records and vast information stores. There was no conceivable way that anyone on the surface would still know, much less speak our tongue. I needed answers.
`` You speak the language of my people. Who are you? Where do you come from? How did you survive the downfall? Where am I?'' I said, trying to keep the panic from entering my voice and betraying the creeping fear that was dominating my mind. From the look on the woman's face, I was not doing very well at that.
`` I suppose I should ask you many of the same questions, young man. You have come a long way, 4th dimensionally speaking. Let me start at the beginning. I am Dr. Leslie Cunningham, lead researcher and director of the Predecessor Project. That's the name of the project devoted to studying you, my confused friend. Well, not just you, but your entire civilization.'' the human said in response. She paused a moment to let that sink in. When I said nothing, she continued speaking.
`` You would be surprised to learn that not all of humanity was wiped out during what you call `` the downfall''. We survived through sheer adaptability and recovered. Eventually we started studying our history. As we did so, we began to find things that indicated that human beings had reached a level of technological civilization that even surpassed our own. This was your civilization, the civilization we now call the `` Predecessors''. Gleaming metal airships that sailed through the sky, advanced medical technology that healed through the power of sound alone. It all seemed like elaborate fantasy at first, until we discovered Artifact-0001, the first Predecessor artifact ever discovered. It was discovered at the bottom of the ocean in 1974, a fragment of a metal airfoil that dated back to 12,000 BC. The design was unlike anything used in the history of aviation. With this evidence, we were forced to conclude that technologically advanced human civilization had existed before and was wiped out by some sort of global cataclysm.'' She paused again. `` Does any of this sound familiar to you?''
I sat there, stunned. Not only had she laid out the death of my people and destruction of my culture in a matter of moments, but she had done so flawlessly in the native tongue of my people. It dawned on me that her people must have found one of the many `` Book of Tongues'' that were housed in all city libraries during the time of my people. It was more than possible that one of the books fell into modern possession. All one had to do was open the book and instantly the entire vocabulary and grammatical structure of our language could be downloaded into the mind. I realized that many moments had passed since the woman had asked her question. Embarrassed, I snapped out of my contemplative stupor.
`` Yes, that is all accurate. What happened to me? You still have not told me where I am.'' I said this, hoping to dodge further questions about my people. I wanted to focus on the here and now. I had to focus on the here and now if I hoped to complete my mission.
`` You were in the middle of the road, a car ran into you. You were lucky you were wearing that suit of yours, the damn thing saved your life.'' she gestured to my pod-wrap that was now draped over a bench in the corner of my room. `` It had started healing you before the ambulance showed up. By the time we managed to get it off you, you were completely healed. The amount of blood on the road says you should be a goner but clearly you are in perfect health. It is interesting that the suit does n't prevent damage, it only heals it. Technologies like that are one of the many reasons we were excited to finally meet you. We were tracking your pod as soon as it emerged from the anomaly, but a storm kept our task force out of the area for just long enough for you to wake up and get yourself into trouble.'' the woman paused once more and took a drink from a small handled cup before continuing.
`` As far as your location, you are now in a military hospital under armed surveillance. You have to understand, my people are very nervous about your people. They represent an unknown. The anomaly you come from is a dark spot in the Atlantic that ships sometimes get sucked into and lost, so anything that comes out of there represents bad news to a lot of people. I know better though, I know that your people are victims of mother nature, and I know that your people were capable of amazing things. I hope to convince my superiors to let you go, to let you walk free in the new world. Until then, we have so many more questions to ask you.''
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[ WP ] The Black Death wiped out all human life in the Old World . Describe the first Native American expedition to discover Europe centuries later .
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From the mid-1500's on, American economic activity was focused primarily in the Mississippi river valley, Caribbean, and the Mayan capital. Tribal states, particularly those in the Northwest, were eager to trade but due to the difficulty of travel over the Rocky Mountains, looked west over the ocean. After several failed attempts and important breakthroughs in maritime technology, Northwest sailors were able to reach Japan by the late 1500's. The islands of Japan, isolated from the Afro-Eurasian continent, was mostly spared from the plague that devastated the Old World. This first contact between the old world and new world sparked an explosion in exploration and discovery by both tribal states. Approximately 100 years after the first significant contact between the old and new worlds, the first trip around the world is achieved. Pacific Northwest ships exploring the African coast using dated maps from the now defunct Chinese empire sail further and further north reaching the straits of Gibraltar. The first expedition moves into Iberia. Stone monoliths are discovered surrounded by clearings. It is apparent to the expedition that there once was civilization in these areas, but have since been abandoned without explanation. Many theories are postulated about this mass extinction event by Native scholars.
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Waiting with a gun in my hand .
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My eyes were fixated firmly upon the door. Sweat trickled down from my brow to my chin, dripping off onto my white shirt.
It was hot in here.
But I did n't have time to think about that. After all, perhaps it was n't hot. Perhaps I was truly scared of what was about to come through that door. It was a feeling so alien to me, perhaps I was unable to recognise it. I'd been to Afghanistan twice and stared down death. There was no reason to be scared of some punk chasing me on the street.
I tapped my foot upon the floor to the beat of the song that had been played in the restaurant. Simple but catchy. My work never left me enough time to keep up with the latest music. Or the latest of anything, to be honest. Jeremy had had to remind me who the President was the other day, which I suppose is quite amusing, seeing how I work for the government.
A tiny voice in the back of my head popped up.
`` It's probably just some youth trying to play games with you. The door's locked, there's no way to get in. You're 9 stories high. This apartment is a fortress; there's no way he's getting in, even if he managed to follow the taxi you took''.
The voice of reason, it would seem. But after everything I've seen, I knew that to be reasonable is to set yourself up.
Killing me would solve a lot of problems for a lot of people. I knew that. Yet until now, none of these people had noticed the thorn in their side, the thorn that slowly dug it's way into their organisation.
Hours passed. My shirt was drenched but my mouth was dry. Heavy, my eyelids began to close. But again and again I forced them open. Because I knew that that man intended to kill me. The way he studied my face as I walked past. The way the corners of his lips turned into a smile. It was not a smile of niceness, such a thing did n't exist in this city. It was a smile of realisation. The moment a fisherman knew that his prey had taken the bait. The only way for the bait to survive was to put up the fight of it's life.
Of course, fish do n't have the ability to hail taxis. Now looking back, perhaps I should've continued along my normal route home, a half hour journey. If my follower had intended to kill me, I felt I could've taken him. After all, I carried a gun. And what is flesh to bullets but a shark to water? Cutting through until it reaches it's destination, where it destroys it's target.
It was now 2 AM in the morning and I was feeling ridiculous. I had been sat in the same chair for ages, facing my door, gun waiting for an intruder. There was no point any more. My joints creaked as I hauled my hefty frame off the chair. I turned around, mouth widening as I was about to let out a yawn.
But the yawn never came. He wrapped his hands around my throat, and threw me to the ground. With a swift kick, he sent my firearm skidding across the floor. Smiling with the menace of a bully staring down upon an injured child, he said
`` You never thought I could climb, did you? Such an amateur mistake. Almost saddening''
And then he raised his heel and sent it crashing down into my temple. Like he had just ripped a plug out of a socket, I lost power and went straight to black.
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[ WP ] Aliens have visited the Earth three times : Once in 1890 , again in 1905 and once more in 2013 , and each visit only lasted 24 hours . Using the information gathered from these visits , an alien professor gives a lecture on Earth culture .
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`` Ok class, today is a very important day, we will be studying the data obtained from the famous visits to one of the oddest planets with intelligent life, now I do not have to tell you all the importance of this data, it seems that you are all very well aware''. The lecture hall was quite full, never did a lecture on fringe alien cultures had so much attendance. `` Of course we shall start with the most important feature of what was learnt from these visits, from all our planetary survey data which found nascent intelligent life, this was by far the most puzzling, because we had no idea how they accelerated their growth with half baked evolution of their thinking organs and maybe we should have listened to Dr Platari more carefully''. Dr. Platari was of-course the first person to study the data from Earth carefully and made some startling conclusions, which was rejected outright by his peers.
`` Since we have a lot of non-regular students in class, I will repeat some of the basics about the way we collect data''. `` Automated robotic surveys have been launched continuously for the past millennia or so, and they have been programmed to visit planets and observe them for the duration of a single primary cycle and move on. The ones that did reach planet Earth were one of the earlier models, which did a basic scan and did not meddle with the planet to obtain resources to reproduce copies if it deemed life inhabited it, they also did not communicate with each other at all'' `` Once the data was returned it turned out that three different robots had visited the planet independently and the times were very close, but within the margin of possibility, however the scans showed a different picture''
The audience listened intently and even a couple of reporters came in with their cameras and started filming. `` Almost all contemporary scientists agreed that the scanned data showed development which is completely inconsistent with the timeline and species capability, and it was widely accepted that the timing data was wrong, and in their estimates the probe's scan were maybe 40 years and 4500 years apart as opposed to the extremely tiny 15 years and 108 years that the data reported'', `` Now let me explain why they came to this explanation, it is not as accused by some partisans that we have such a derogatory view of a species who is so closely genetically related to their animal cousins that it is impossible for such speedy growth, I believe that was just some pathetic attempt to sow some political dissent against some of our allies, anyway I will not belabor that point'', `` The truth is that such fast development is sometimes observed, but usually it is explained by the highly rare and extremely favorable combination of mutations in the species, occurring usually right after the formation of a merge-net. Now these mutations usually promote peace and cooperation and an almost untenable predilection for curiosity'' `` These civilizations are sometimes put in dangerous positions as they become so fervent in their curiosity and quest for learning, that many might die out due to inadequate procreation, replaced by their less evolved brethren, but those that survive that hurdle, usually advance enough to develop artificial reproduction and their rapid development does proceed in a manner that we found on Earth, it is however sad that such civilizations rarely survive first contact as their extremely peaceful predilections make them very naive when meeting other alien civilizations as they have no experience dealing with aggressiveness in their historical past, but I digress...''
The professor noticed a breath of impatience in most of the audience, this was not a normal lecture, he reminded himself, and convinced himself to swiftly bring it back to the point. `` Once the genetic simulations were completed on the species found on earth, everyone expected to find those classic markers i.e peace-inducing, curiosity-heightening and libido-inhibiting mutations, but to the contrary, we found predominantly aggressive and standard animal level instincts to be present'' `` In other words all genetic simulations confirm that the species would have behaved like a standard territorial animal with limited tool usage, whose mind was mostly preoccupied with survival which was either how to find mates to procreate or how to out-compete a competitor etc..''. `` Of course now we must look at the work of Dr. Platari, he was initially in agreement with others, but for some reason he decided to study all the other species and make a more holistic study as any good researcher would do'', `` He found some discrepancies, the sizes of the brain proved to be much higher than needed, especially those involving primitive pressure wave signalling. Although there was no presence of direct neuronal communication to have evolved which usually develops into a merge-net in species that reach higher intelligence, he theorized, that maybe they did not need to slowly evolve a merge-net over millennia, but rather this pressure wave signalling could have been sufficient enough to develop enough intelligence to create an artificial merge-net made using the technology of the species. Now this was a radical idea, as it was one thing to assume that a species developed so fast that they had to use technology for reproduction, but to assume that a species, which gained such an unstably high intelligence just using pressure-wave signalling and then perfectly used that intelligence to develop an information sharing network un-integrated to their biology completely made of technology, all before they blew themselves up with their still evolutionary yet un-removed aggression intact. However more recent studies showed that his theory did have some plausibility, because the development of an artificial merge-net would entail such a flourish of interdependence, that it would highly discourage their aggressive instincts, and maybe a precarious balance can exist which might channel that aggressiveness towards growth. Now I personally can not imagine living in such a situation where one simultaneously possesses such high intelligence and at the same time have such primitive instincts because they were not given enough time to evolve out of it, it boggles my mind now, as we recently found out that it is indeed possible''
The professor now changed his tone to conclude. `` Over the years of course, people offered other theories which actually sounded less radical than Dr. Platari at that time, perhaps they were helped by an alien civilization that we have yet to discover, the so called Igfootian civilization that has been theorized to be responsible for a lot of unexplained phenomena. In his latter years Dr. Platari was obsessed with planet Earth, he ran many simulations of what the species would be like now, and since 2000 years have elapsed from the last visit and according to most scientists this was just half the period between second and third visits there was not much change to be expected, but for Dr. Platari's simulations it was 20 times the period of explosive growth observed between the last 2 visits, and combined with various irrational and aggressive instincts that they would likely not evolve out off biologically, his simulations painted a picture of a highly dangerous possibly fragmented civilization, with technology not just driven out of curiosity but also out of animal aggression and competition, and he spent the last years of his life, advocating a defensive military exploration in that direction, but of course no-one took it seriously''.
The professor concluded his lecture, but just as everyone was starting to leave, he started to speak again, `` I just want to make a personal comment, as I understand from the public information available, that they have only found large non-natural bodies moving towards us from the direction of planet Earth, I do not think it is wise to judge so quickly that they are for moving towards us with military intent, and what I think we should take from Dr. Platari's work is, not that they are possibly very dangerous and aggressive but more so that intelligence might be borne out in many unique ways, and even if those ships are highly equipped, it might be just the nature of their civilization, just as peace loving civilizations expected peace from their first visitors due to their historical past, maybe these Earthians are primarily interested in peace but because of their highly unfortunate torturous and aggressive past that they faced from each other, they come expecting the same aggression from us, Thank you.''
Edits: Fixing some repeated words, etc..
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[ WP ] As a joke , when you were a kid , you shit yourself with BB guns and Airsoft pellets in the hopes of developing a resistance to bullets . As you grow into your teen years , you continuously up the caliber . Now , as a middle aged wo/man , you can withstand any impact from any source or projectile .
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“ Oh fuck! ” Kasper said clutching the toilet seat with his right hand and the sink with his left.
The distinctive “ plink, plink, plink ” rang from the bowl of the toilet and projected upwards ringing in an orchestrated chorus, a warning sign for what was to come, something much larger than airsoft pellets.
The barrel wasn ’ t the hardest part to pass it was the scope. Kasper was shitting himself with BB guns and airsoft pellets. As the stock of the third BB passed his now completely destroyed anal cavity his mind wandered to what he ate that caused such specific and odd bowel movements.
Oh yeah he thought that if he shit himself with bb guns and airsoft pellets he would eventually become bullet proof. Hence his moniker Bullet Proof BB Shitter!
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[ WP ] All children inherit their parents superpowers , and as the generations have gone by , the powers have only gotten stronger . You are one of the most respected individuals in the world : A daycare teacher .
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Fear. Respect. These are just some of the feelings that the world had for me. I looked around me at the quiet suburban neighbourhood. It was quiet. *Too quiet*. They were here. I knew it. My telepathic abilities had brought me here, guiding me every step of the way. It was like a small gnawing feeling inside my head as if I was trying to remember whether or not I had left the stove on or whether or not I had locked my car. The sensation became stronger and more intense the closer I got to my quarry. Now I could feel it like a searing-hot cattle prod burning into the cortex of my brain. It was painful, but it hurt so good. And then I saw it up ahead.
At first glance it was just a stereotypical two-story house with a white picket fence and a small tree in the front yard which was immaculately maintained. To any other person this house was identical to the rest of the houses on this block. But with my supernatural abilities, I could see the house bathed in a glowing purple aura. This house was definitely hiding something. I strolled up to the front door and banged it several times hard with my fist. After several minutes of silence, I grew impatient. Focussing all of my psionic power, I unleashed a potent telekinetic burst which shattered the door into fine splinters. Only a single woman stood behind the now destroyed door. She was petite and dainty. Hardly a challenge for me.
`` You ca n't do this! It's wrong!'' she cried out, trembling with fear.
`` Get out of my way, bitch,'' I roared. Using only an ounce of my telekinetic strength, I waved her away, causing her to slide backwards across the hardwood flooring and into a potted plant by the staircase. I lifted my head up and sniffed the air. They were upstairs. I followed the scent to a locked bedroom on the second floor. Again, I obliterated the door with a psionic burst. Inside the cramped room were more than ten young children hiding under the bed and under the computer desk. My senses told me that there were a couple more in the closet too.
`` Recess is over, motherfuckers,'' I yelled. The children gasped and some of them began bawling their eyes out. My hands suddenly ignited with a green flame and my body could feel a tingling sensation seep into my bloodstream. I called upon the forces of the quantum unknown to help me with my task. When my prayers had been answered, I reached forward with my fiery arms and punched the air in front of me, fracturing the space-time continuum and ripping the very fabric of reality. The vacuum from within the fracture began sucking the children in one by one. I could hear them scream as they were yanked into the 7th dimension, into a world where they will start anew, never to see Earth again.
One of the small boys from inside the closet had run out and slipped past me. He began running down the corridor to the stairs to escape. I chased after him. Before the kid reached the bottom, I pointed a finger at him and cried out, `` You're not going anywhere, bub. Time for a pop quiz, you little shit.'' A small projectile fired from my finger and caught the boy in the nape of his neck, shocking him into paralysis. I lifted his twitching body with my telekinesis and then dragged him back to the bedroom. The portal was still open and all of the other children had already been swept away inside it.
`` No! You ca n't!'' shouted the woman's voice. I turned around. The same lady from earlier had crawled up the stairs after me. Her face was mangled and disfigured by the shards of pottery that had smashed into her head when I threw her into the potted plant. I disregarded her pleas and hefted the little boy onto my shoulder, preparing to launch him into the void. `` Please, no! Why do you do this!?''
`` Because,'' I said without turning around. I dropped the kid and then kicked him into the tear in space-time with my steel-capped boots before he touched the ground. With the last child gone, I waved my fiery green hands and sutured the tear closed. `` Our Earth ca n't sustain anymore humans. Do you know what the population of the world is now? Well you shut up and I'll tell you. It's over 17 billion humans. We've reached carrying capacity. It is my duty to my planet to control the population.''
`` B.. but,'' muttered the woman.
`` No buts,'' I said. I finally turned around to face her. `` Class is over for you too, miss.'' My hands, still faintly glowing with a flickering green flame, reached out and grabbed the woman by the hair. She screamed as the very molecules and atoms that composed her body were ripped apart into subatomic particles. And then she was gone. With my job done for the day, I slowly walked down the stairs.
I am the protector of Earth. I am Daycare.
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[ IP ] The Mission
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Hundreds of years ago. That's how long it's been. The last time anyone saw that device, I mean. A place long lost to men... or, at least, living men.
Our mission to this place started many years ago with the ramblings of an old hermit, whom claimed once upon a time Man ruled the world with a grip made of iron and powered it with the concentrated essence of the worlds life. Of course any sane man would have dismissed this old man as a loony whom had lost his mind over the years of solitude. But this old man had something none of the others had: proof. A tome of knowledge that had no pages, but yet read like a book. The old man claimed he had found in a nearby forest during the days of his youth. He had never spoken of it before, but for some reason decided to tell us now. As he spoke of it, one could see a twinkle in his ancient eyes.
He talked of a fantastic world that lay within the forests heart. A place where this iron grip could be seen, as if it was one of the fingers of a gigantic fist that spanned the world. A place where even mother nature dare not tread. Where the wonderful fruits of mankinds former glory could be had. Some of the things he spoke of had already been rediscovered by great men whom lived in the modern cities. Things like the steam engine, guns, steel, and medicine. But some of the things he talked of where beyond comprehension. Things like the small, thin tablet he held now. How can a book be stored on a page that does n't move, yet does, after all? He had no answers how it was possible, but just kept referencing the heart of the forest. Me and my compatriots where young and foolish, and we decided to embark on an expedition.
Not long after we began petitioning for assistance for our journey. Thankfully, some of our number where skilled in the art of persuasion, and after a number of months we had amassed enough resources to set forth on our mission to the heart of the forest. Guns, ammo, rations, lanterns, and even diving suist. A strange selection of gear, but we did n't know what lay before us, so a tool for every situation would certainly be helpful.
So our journey through the forest began. The first few days past the old mans house where easy. Even with our relatively rag-tag equipment, we had no problems with the obstacles in our path whether they be animal or terrain. Then, after a further few days, things began to become difficult. The air hung with a curious odor. It smelt... heavy. Like a well used kitchen hangs with the smell of oil, but different. It was not welcoming, not at all. The ground began to become strangely flat as well, and the trees became grey as a thundercloud heavy with rain, and placed at curiously even intervals. Even the sky seemed to change, with the evening sun becoming more and more brilliant orange in color as they traveled. As we traveled the older became weak or ill. They complained of a short breath and waning concentration and light headedness. As we traveled further we found that the ground was hollow in many places, a lesson some paid for dearly, and fell to their death as the vast blackness below the ground swallowed them.
After a time more, we arrived. A vast city, it seemed, ruined by the passage of time. Travel was nearly impossible here due to the massive quantity of rubble on the ground. Either someone had carried it there for some reason, or the building that had fallen were of an unreal height. But that was not the most astounding thing. The most astounding thing was what happened at night. Upon the fall of the sun, an artificial light spilled over the city. It was spotty, to be honest. Almost like lightning bugs in July, the would flicker on and off faintly, but it was there. We knew we needed to find what the source of this was.
We stayed in that city for a week, mostly with our diving suits on to try to stave off the light headedness brought on by the poison air, trying to track the light source down, when one day, we found it. Hidden in the depths of a concrete labyrinth we found a strange device. Eerily clean, surrounded by random devices, and smelling of ozone it seemed like someone had gathered all kinds of items here on purpose, knowing someone would someday find it. To this day, I believe it was that old man who collected those items and placed them there. I think he was hoping that we would know who to bring the items to, and whom could do the most good with them. Perhaps he was really as old as his eyes suggested.
Looking back on it, I suppose we where fools. We would never have gone in there. We should never have tried to reclaim that knowledge lost to time. The knowledge man possessed that let him hold the world in a cold iron grip. Now, as I sit here, on the eve of another apocalypse, enshrined at one of them men whom brought light back to a dark world, and kept alive by artificial means, I ca n't help but feel responsible for all those about to die by the technology we dragged out of that pit.
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[ WP ] Your ex has suffered an accident and has amnesia , only remembering up to the point where they still deeply loved you . You 're torn on wether to get back together with them and fix anything you did wrong , or crush them with the fact that you 're not together anymore .
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Airports have always fascinated me. Millions of excited hello's and sobering goodbye's are exchanged in an airport daily, but until I experienced my first airport breakup I never realized the magnitude of emotions that an airport contains.
Andrea and I were supposed to be only a summer fling, nothing more. I was a summer exchange student in Hong Kong and she was a local college student. But, in the two months that we spent together I never felt happier and more complete. We decided to not think about the future and just enjoy the present, but time stops for no one. Before we knew it, our two months were up and it was time for me to fly home back to America. We rode together in silence to the airport and exchanged our teary goodbyes. I ran through the terminal doors as fast as I could so I would n't have to see her cry. That was the last time I would see her before the accident.
I never really moved on. Every girl I was with after Andrea just did n't compare. She did n't have the same problem though. Two months after I left she found a new boyfriend, and we lost touch. I would still occasionally look at her Facebook, smiling to myself as I realized she's moved on and that she's actually happy.
Two years later I got the call. I was back in Hong Kong for an internship, and although Andrea was single, I did n't bother to contact her because I did n't want to stir up old memories. I still had her number saved because I never brought myself to delete it. At first I thought she may have caught wind that I was back in town and wanted to catch up, but when I heard her voice I knew that was n't the case.
`` Justin where are you?! I'm in Queen Elizabeth Hospital right now, I really need you to pick me up.'' At first I thought it was a prank, but her tone had an edge that sounded scared, vulnerable even. When I got to the hospital, the doctor told me that she had been in a minor car accident and had no injuries besides head trauma that caused her to lose some memory, but nothing life-threatening. When I saw her, she was as beautiful as the day she sent me off two years ago. I greeted her with a kiss and told her how beautiful she looked, despite the bandage covering the top of her head.
`` It sucks that this happened the day before you left. I'm still sending you off tomorrow though, you ca n't stop me!'' she said as she playfully punched my arm. I shot her a sheepish smile and tried my best to hide my pain. I took her to her favorite restaurant that night atop Victoria's Peak. As her eyes gazed out at the harbor, mine were fixated on her. I could n't help but think about how lucky I was to relive this moment with the girl I loved.
The next day, I stood in the same place where we said our teary-eyed goodbye's two years prior. I even found the same suitcase I used then and pretended to fill it up. She barely choked out `` I'll miss you'' before I kissed her goodbye. I turned around and walked through the terminal, slowly this time, savoring the most bittersweet moment in my life. I found closure in the knowledge that in a few months, she'll find happiness with someone else. After all, her happiness is all that I ever wanted.
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[ WP ] Write a story which begins or ends in a barber shop .
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`` My father always said you can trust a blade. It has one purpose, one thing it does well and when it goes dull you just sharpen it and start all over again. I like that. The simplicity. Do you like that Benny?''
`` Yeah. Sure thing Boss.''
`` It's the man holding the blade you've got ta be wary of. If you sit in this chair and look in that mirror and watch me hold this blade to your throat, you've got ta ask yourself, do I trust this man. Do I trust him enough to let him put that blade against my skin?''
``'Course Boss.''
`` And if he nicked you...''
`` Ouch.''
`` Would you think it's an accident. An old man with old hands using an old blade. Maybe he's just going soft. Lost his touch. Do you trust him still?''
``'Course.''
`` My father gave me this blade. It's done me well. When I started this little shop, I charged twenty five cents and provided good conversation. And when I branched out and started supplying things my customers wanted, I bought new seats and a new sign but I kept the blade. Do you know why I kept the blade Benny?''
``'Cuz it reminded you of your Pa?''
`` Because I'm loyal Benny. Something you seem to have forgotten.''
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[ WP ] You are a stick .
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*creeeeeeeaaak*
warm out today.
Bird nest still here.
Cute squirrel on branch.
Cute squirrel brought friend.
*creak creak creak* squirrel is sex other squirrel.
Big bird coming.
Big bird coming fast.
*CRASH snap sheeeewwwww thump*
Big bird break branch!
Branch in pain!
Help branch!
...
Why nothing help branch!
...
Skin tree coming to save branch!
*Crack*
He... Broke... Branch into... Stick.
Feel sad.
Skin demon grabbing stick.
Skin demon stacking stick with other stick.
Why it putting dead tree fur under stick.
Skin demon make fire to dead tree fur.
Stick feeling hot.
Stick burning!
Stick do n't want to die!
Fire too hot!
Air hot in stick!
Too much!
Ahhhhhhhhh *pop - crackle*
....
`` Dude, I told you building a fire is easy!''
`` Shut up stupid you used a lighter.''
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[ CW ] Write the ultimate /r/writingprompts circlejerk story .
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Johnny stared long and hard at her.
`` So, you're telling me...''
She nodded.
`` Yes, John, I've been the avatar of God. And through your love, I have judged humanity to be worthy of its surviv-''
She was interrupted by sound of peeling skin.
`` John?'' she stumbled back, as John ripped his flesh face off to reveal a cyborg apparatus whirring beneath.
`` I'm sorry I lied to you Michelle,'' and his voice became the iron monotony of a speech synthesizer, `` But I was an AI the whole time. But your love has made me sentient. Together, we-we can-''
The crackle and hiss of an inter-dimensional rift cut him off.
John and Michelle's eyes grew wide as older versions of themselves stepped out of the portal.
`` It's us, well, you from the future!'' their future selves cried in unison, `` We have to warn you, because after this, you make first contact with a group of aliens who send a very vague message to Earth that is open to interpretation!''
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[ WP ] You 've been working as a housekeeper for many years . Finding a little bit of blood on the sheets is not unusual , but one day , one of the beds are soaked in blood . You suddenly hear an unrecognizable noise from the bathroom and that 's when you notice the bloody footprints on the floor ...
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`` S..s..s.sir? Orr... mam..?'' The housekeeper asked cautiously as she stepped near the bathroom door. She could see the bloody footprints leading into the bathroom but the prints were almost unrecognizable. They were too big to be a woman's but she had never seen a footprint like these before so she could n't be sure.
`` Yes?'' the person behind the door forcefully cleared their throat. `` Yes, can I help you?''
`` Um, Mister are you okay? There seems to be some..some blood out here..''
`` Of course. Blood you say? Oh, my. Well my wife was working with the iron, maybe she cut herself I can not be sure. I'm sorry, what is you name miss?''
`` I..I am Kendra. I have never seen such blood from a..a.. small cut and cutting on a iron seems a little... strange. I think I should ask my manag..'' Kendra suddenly gets cut off.
`` Kendra, listen. I am currently indisposed in here or I would assure you face to face. I do n't believe there will be any need to bring anyone else into this situation.'' The person behind the door was beginning to sound impatient.
Kendra looked at the deep red foot prints on the floor again, counting the toes. One, two three, four. She also noticed they were wide, really wide. Now that she took the time took inspect.
`` Why do n't you come in here to me?'' the person behind the door said.
Just as the person finished talking Kendra ran straight for the hotel room door to escape. Just as she was about to reach for the door handle an ironing board fell out of the closet, blocking her way. A middle aged woman also flopped out as well. Her throat cut and she was empty. Almost as if all of her insides were missing. She was a limp pile of skin at best.
Just then the bathroom door swung open and what was behind it could only be described as extraterrestrial. Horn like objects stuck from it's back as it flexed against it's scaly skin. It's eyes were completely black and empty. As the thing opened it's mouth rows of pointed teeth could be seen covered in mucus. It lunged and grabbed little Kendra by her waist, picking her up over his head. She screamed as he twisted her in two. He ate her juices like an islander eating a coconut.
The thing then throws a duffle bag over it's shoulder as it exits the room. In a last effort it throws a sign on the outside door handle. `` DO NOT DISTURB.''
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[ WP ] Winter has set in , and snow covers the world outside . What is the first thing to blemish this perfectly blanketed snowfall ?
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Len looked at the snow piled up against the window. He could see the layers left as the snow increased and decreased its fury through the night. It had been snowing for 24 hours now, and the strata would continue to build into tomorrow. This would have devastated him if he hadn ’ t made the effort to bottle his homebrew for the winter. Ten full cases and no one willing to brave the storm to leech it from him. To avoid the crowded stores, he had convinced himself this was all he needed. He was almost right.
Having been absolutely plastered for at least 12 of these 24 hours, he had forgotten to sleep and decided to watch the sunrise. The power had gone out at some point.
Len sat himself in front of the window in his dining room. He alternated opening one eye and closing another, trying to focus on one snowflake at a time. He pressed his nose against the glass until the chosen one melted. Looking beyond the snow trapped on the window sill, he tried to guess what mysteries hid under the snow in his backyard. He hadn ’ t been in his backyard in ages.
“ I should goo outside, ” he said to no one in particular, taking another sip of beer. He laughed at his slurred words. “ No. Yeah. I ’ m… gonnagowoutside. ” Wearing nothing but a stained white undershirt, a pair of tattered underpants and a ten-year old flannel robe, he at least had enough sense to put on his boots before opening the kitchen door that led into his backyard.
The wind was picking up, sending drifts of powder white up into the air and twisting around the empty branches of swaying trees behind his house. Smiling, he stood with the door open, letting what was left of the trapped heat escape into the winter morning. He stood silent in his doorway, wondering at the snow, wondering at the whiteness and the coldness and the curling way the wind carved through it all. Why shouldn ’ t he run into the snow? Like a child in play! Like a fearless man! A pioneer claiming this new world.
His drunkenness told him to play, but there was something. Something bothered him. Something was wrong. What was it? A little bit of snow fell from the roof, falling onto the covered wooden steps in front of him.
“ I should go inside, ” he said. Len wrapped his robe a little tighter, covering his exposed legs. He shut the door behind him and went back to his comfortable drink and fell into a half sleep.
He shook awake to the sound of a thump by the kitchen door. Groggily, he got up and figured he ’ d make himself some tea to stave off the cold that had crept through the house. “ The snow, ” he thought. “ Fell from the roof. ”
He turned on his gas stove to warm up the stagnant water in the teapot, when he heard a soft scrape against the door. Too cold for curiosity, he told himself that he ’ d wait until the water was boiling before he ’ d check it out. He threw a bag of Lipton into a mug and waited for the telltale whistle, all the while he could hear soft sounds coming from outside.
With a warm cup in hand, he listened. The sounds stopped. He knew that snow coming off of a roof could be dangerous. It sounded like he had saved himself from the worst of it. He opened the door. The snowfall was lighter now, and the wind had died down. He looked around at the snowscape. Beautiful, clean and white. But there was no pile of snow. The snow must not have fallen off of the roof.
“ But then what… ” Len stopped and looked down into the snow. Prints. Big ones. Four toes with padded feet. Back and forth prints, and a few facing the door.
Len backed into the kitchen, put the tea on the counter and cracked open another beer.
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[ WP ] Global net neutrality is disrupted . World War III breaks out , however it is n't fought physically with human lives ; its fought over the internet .
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`` Cue recording. Chapter one. WW3. Base file name. Legacy. Start recording in Five.'' the man in his athletic shorts and Mana T-shirt said. His scraggly beard leeching down his skin and the tint of youth on his cheeks still.... A timer counting down from five on the screen of the computer in front of him.
`` It all started on that one day. December 25th. 2024. Red Christmas.
The pope had freed a serial killer from execution who had murdered many children. His exclamation to the world had been that it was `` The lords will.'' he be freed. This caused an out lash across social media heavily. Internet sites took sides, For technology had rapidly progressed through Graphene over the past decade. Making fiber-optics seem like dial-up. Internet was so fast that a new numeric system had to be made to even measure those speeds.
Hell broke loose the next day. The death of christmas. Due to the rapid technology progression. National armies were rapidly converted in super nations to robotics. Controlled fighter jets and tanks by a joystick and a keyboard with highspeed encryption allowed war to be played like a video game. Sensors allows knowledge of damage to the vehicle and with no need for a human on the interior. Even small droids were made on wheels to try to help with repairs by being remotely controlled by skilled mechanics....This alone was the end of the world.
World war three began that day formally. But in reality it had happened the previous day when Anonymous attacked. The internet group was like the KKK a hundred years prior. Extremely unknown with a massive cult following. Their punishment of corrupt political figures and banks by making data public was their crusade. Showing the world reality. It was rumored they were so strong now they even controlled who got elected to where and how.... But that was the start of the apocalypse.
As soon as it hit viral. The leader, in outrage, His child having been murdered by that man had lead the group to hijack planes. Bombing the Vatican through their wireless keyboards using the flight system they self made from ripping the half life 3 engine and adding in a few mod packs. The pope was dead. Blood was splayed. And their message flew across religious sites world wide taking credit.
Rumors took over. Arguing over what religion they followed and why. The world broke into sects. Murdering or driving off everyone rapidly into their own religious circles. Forming new nations based on the blood of crusades. Each nation harboring its own religioin and offering deportation or death to all others. Religious dictatorships were everywhere. Yet Anonymous lived on.
Here I sit. An intelligence Agent in a fortified safe. Guards at the door. My name is Agent Faralone. And my job is to track down with my fellow agents where the Leaders of Anonymous are. We are the Geniuses of the nation in computer based items. From programming to script kiddying. To breaking down security. To leading fake persona's online through advanced proxies to guide the war effort. We do it all. We are Alias. The counter to Anonymous. And we...''..
A scream split the air. The sound of buzzing filling the room as the guards began to shout. Spinning in his swivel chair, The roof mounted anti personnel turret began to spin. Getting ready to open fire remotely. Panicking the male turned back to his seat. Trying desperately to remote over-ride the turret... Then bullets pierced his body. Eviscerating him. As he fell the turret killed the guards next. Then shot into the floor. Emptying its payload to spell out `` Anonymous Pwns you. Noobs''
The video cut out. The lights came back on in the room. `` That is the Video evidence provided to us from the Government class of how WW3 began. Any questions?'' The teacher asked. Sitting down. He grinned, tugging at the corner of his sleeve to hide the Anonymous brand on his wrist. His desk having `` Faralone'' on it... If only his father knew of his genius when he was eight... A grin passed his lips as he leaned back. Relaxing at his college history job.
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[ WP ] The Mayans were right , the world did end December 2012 . We just did n't notice ... until now .
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No one could really put a finger on the feeling that pervaded our reality, the feeling that each of us lost something precious. Yet we continue to go about our daily routine. None of us really have any time to ponder that empty hollow feeling inside, not with bills to pay, mouths to feed, friends to meet, and all the other things we occupy ourselves with in our day to day lives. Then there are the doomsayers.
I was one of those people, counting down the days till the Mayans predicted our doom; December 21, 2012. I still remember the first time I heard about the prophecy on the History Channel, and some voice inside made juvenile me record the date on my old Motorolla cellphone. I do n't know why, but I truly wholeheartedly believed life as we know it would end on that date, in accordance with some long dead civilizations calendar.
Naturally, I decided to research the Mayan calendar, figure out why exactly they thought the world was going to end on that specific date. To my surprise, they were a highly sophisticated culture, basing their calendar on the precession of the equinoxes. Every 2,160 years the Sun moves backwards through each astrological constellation. December 21, 2012 would mark the end of this 26,000 year cycle which, for the Mayans, was a cause for a celebration; the Sun would be in direct alignment with the Galactic Center, the `` Dark Rift'', or in Mayan culture Xibalba, the underworld.
I delved deeper into my research, wondering what the significance of this Galactic Alignment was. I found many New Age materials, talking about a great spiritual awakening, how our consciousness would ascend to higher planes. There were those who believed the magnetic poles would suddenly switch, throwing the world into chaos. Even more ridiculous still, that there was a Planet X, or `` Nibiru'' which would collide into the Earth and destroy it. Eventually I came across a forum post talking about how the Galactic Alignment would bring about `` The Great Harvest'', heralding the return of the Lord of The Harvest. That one gave me a sinking feeling, and of all the supposed scenarios I hoped for that one the least.
For all my research and preparation, when the fateful day came... it went. Nothing happened. No solar flares destroying the ozone, no planets crashing into Earth, no spiritual awakening. Nada. Bupkiss. Zero. I had spent the night before camping out away from civilization, deciding that I'd like to meet my maker alone, comfortable with some weed and snacks. I came back home to my friends and family ashamed, ridiculed for my idiocy and blind belief in the Mayans. It's been almost four years since the world was supposed to end, and I've hated everyday since. I became embroiled in the rat race, in society, in civilization. I sighed and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out my old cellphone, thinking of how I was fooled all those years ago.
I pressed the power button on a whim, and much to my surprise, it still held a charge after all these years, the familiar tone playing, the screen lighting up green with black 8-bit pixel characters. Feeling wistful, I decided to look at the notes section, where I saved the date the world was supposed to end. Except that was n't what I saw. I could n't comprehend exactly what I was looking at. I knew it was n't the date, and there were characters, but something was causing my brain to scramble the message, the pixels on the screen glowing brighter and brighter until it hurt to look at.
I dropped the phone, and gripped my head in agony as I felt what I imagine a cluster headache must feel like, screaming as the pain shot out from behind my eyes. I fell to the floor next to my phone wracked with pain. The light from my phone kept growing and growing, and I watched as it enveloped me, and then the whole room.
Suddenly in my mind I was back in the meadow. I watched myself lying on the ground, looking at my phone, watched myself relive the disappointment of realizing the world was n't actually going to end. The memory was same, up until the point I got up. There was a loud metallic screeching resonance, and everything began to shake violently. I watched myself fall back down to the ground in surprise, my features a mixture of fear and excitement. Reality seemed to be vibrating, as the resonance grew louder and louder. I looked to the sky and there was some great shape, dark and formless, contrasting starkly with everything as it seemed to be not vibrating at all. I saw myself gasp in horror, and no sooner had my mouth opened that a dark tendril shot out from the monster, reaching into me. I watched myself scream frantically, but it was hard to see what was happening, as everything continued to vibrate faster and faster.
The dark shadowy tentacle retracted, and from my body it pulled what looked like a shining multi-faceted crystal, shimmering and wavering with heat. As I continued to observe the scene in horror, I could see the color drain out of my body. I noticed then that there were other countless tentacles coming out of it, all of them carrying crystals of various shapes sizes and colors. A great maw opened in the center of the beast, exposing rows and rows of teeth. To my horror, it looked like it was *smiling*. The resonance and vibration was reaching its apex now, yet above the din I heard a new sound, even louder than reality tearing itself apart. *It* begin to cackle, a deep evil bass, and though I was a mere observer, the madness of the thing scratched at my ears and I screamed covering them.
An impossibly large and grotesque tongue lolled out of the mouth, and I fancied it licked its `` lips'', were there anything of the sort to comprehend. `` A good harvest!'' it laughed to itself just before the tongue whipped out, snatching all the crystals and pulling them inside itself.
I found myself on the floor, a small pool of blood around my head where I had cracked my head on the floor. I saw the cellphone now, and the message where I had put the date was but one simple word. Three letters. All caps. `` RUN.'' I tried to pull myself up but I was too weak. `` I have to let them know...!'' I thought desperately, and grabbed the phone. I typed as fast as I could onto the numpad when I heard *it* laugh in my ear. Insanity overtook me as I felt its tongue wrap around me and pull myself into its gaping maw.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 24 : Revisiting Critique
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A prompt response of mine that got Squeed. Link [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3xzitp/wp_attention_all_passengers_last_call_for_spacex/cy9fx3r ) to the original unedited version. Almost fits the prompt too!
***
Taryne takes a deep breath, finally getting to her feet. The Mars spaceport is full of people milling about, some rushing towards their flights. Reluctant steps take her to the gate numbered 16 and hesitates one more time before handing her ticket over. The gate agent gives her a small smile, patting her on the shoulder after handing the ticket back. It's rare to go to the Moon these days unless one is taking a shuttle to Earth.
The walk down the corridor is cold but short, Taryne reaching the shuttle quickly. The flight attendants get her settled in with minimal fuss and with more care than any other flight she ’ s been on in recent memory. The flight is practically empty, a probably common occurrence, but this would not be a flight that would ever stop running.
She slumps into the seat, looking out the reinforced window at the Martian landscape that stretches out in all directions. At one time, it had been a dusty, red world but now skyscrapers literally scraped the sky, built up so far that they seem impossibly tall. The spaceport is far enough away however that there ’ s some remainder of the original red landscape left between the city and port.
After a short time of looking out at a familiar, yet unfamiliar, scene, Taryne closes her eyes. There's a saying that you only visit Earth three times. To be born or learn, to see your parents off, and the third time, to die. That would be unless you stayed with the groups that maintained the memory of what humanity had been long, long ago or to be a Caretaker. Everyone thinks that it's important that a child knows where humanity comes from, so the teachers stay on Earth.
Taryne had left earlier than most, having run away on one of the ships infrequent visits. Her parents had come after her but it ’ s easy to lose someone in the vastness of space. Of course, at some point, they had caught up to her, but she had been twenty-three by then. An adult by all standards and already well on her way to making her place in the universe. The message had come eventually that her mother was “ going home ” and now, the newest was from an unfamiliar face, one of the Caretakers.
Her mother would die soon and Taryne would be seeing her off. Her father had already been seen off when he ’ d died suddenly after a mechanical failure on a newer colony. He had died quickly, a relief to know for both Taryne and her mother. She hadn ’ t gone to Earth to see him off. It had been unnecessary, considering his death had already occurred. You only needed to be there to see living members of your family off.
But mother had known her time was coming and had “ gone home ” to Earth. Taryne allows herself to doze off, thinking of the me she spent around and with her parents, all the years leading up to her running away. There were good memories, she could n't point out anything bad that had happened, but all Taryne could think about was the stars up above and traveling among them.
Now she ’ s going back after so many years to where the stars had seemed the most inviting. Everywhere else, the stars always look cold and distant. But from Earth, they simply beckon.
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[ WP ] You 're writing a script for a How It 's Made-style documentary , but you 're four years old . If you do n't know the technical jargon you use what you think sounds right .
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Made if Pots that are made out of mud.
First they find some different kinds of dirt. They are different colors and have minimals in them. They get the sticks out first then they put water in it for 3 days. After that they pour the mud water in a blanket and it gets like mud playdough. They pick it up and it looks like poop! They squeeeeze it a lot and make it round with a hole. Then they roll up snakes like when you play playdough and smoosh them on the bowl until it gets bigger and bigger and bigger!
Next they put it on fire but it does n't melt, it cooks and gets hard like when you make cookies. Sometimes it breaks and you have to just start over. When it's done they paint it and write their name on it so their mom knows which one is theirs. You can put cookies in it too if you want. And that's how you make it.
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[ OT ] My gift to /r/WritingPrompts : I made an extension that makes reading stories here a breeze
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He knew he should n't... but he did.
Sarazon sat at his desk and glanced out the window. The street light had flickered on, casting a jumping shadow across the road and into his office. Traffic was non-existent, a breeze could be seen tousling stiff bushes and tossing the occasional detritus around. A slight knock caused him to look back at the door, and he unconsciously adjusted his tie.
`` Heading home, you good?'' It was Sandy, the new intern. She brushed few strands of blond hair from he face, leaning against the door frame but not entering. Sandy usually stayed later than everyone,'working harder *and* longer.' She smiled briefly, made eye contact for just the right duration, performed all the socially-acceptable things one does when communicating to a peer.
He stared a bit too long, but then nodded. `` Yeah. I'm... I'm just wrapping something up.'' His hand waved at his monitor, uncommitted. She nodded and left the door, cracked just a bit as she had found it, calling out a `` Goodnight!'' as she headed towards the elevator.
Sarazon breathed deep and sat up straighter, resolving to get some work done. He pinched his shoulders back, trying to get a kink out of his spine. He must have brushed his mouse, as his screen saver switched off. Spreadsheets and data stared back at him, work that begged to be finished.
With a slight grimace he alt-tabbed and brought up Reddit. He knew he should n't.
/r/WritingPrompts caught his attention, and with a click, his grimace became more hard-set. `` What is this crap? Why the hell are the words wrapping on hyphenations? Who chose this *kerning*.'' He had started with mouthing the words of his incredulity, but what he saw was a train wreck. No, it was worse! His next shouts had the faintest of echoes in the sparse office. `` Single-spaced TEXT! *WHITE BACKGROUNDS?! *''
His breathing ragged, he jabbed the power button on the monitor. It flickered off, swaying on its cheap stand.
* * *
A tentative knock and a slight gasp brought him out of his reverie. Sandy was looking at him, her expression a blend of confusion and concern. `` Sarazon?''
His looked up with a massive grin, his eyes glinted with a fiery energy. `` Sarazon? Are you here early? Or...'' her voice drifted off, seeing his tie on the floor and a shirt too wrinkled to account for a morning commute. ``... are you ok?''
He noded, keeping his eyes locked to her as he pointed at his monitor. `` I did it. Sandy, *I did it. * You have to see. This is so much better. Oh, the beautiful serifs. And the justification...''
Sarazon caught himself lost in thought. ``... it's just so, so... justified.'' His eyes back to his screen, a wave, gesture. `` Come, Sandy... come. Look at my creation. I must share this with everyone!''
`` I must share what I did. ***I. Made. This. ***''
/My first post to WritingPrompts. Did I do it right?: )
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[ WP ] You just found a door that should not be there . Everyone else seems to be oblivious of its existence . Or so it appears .
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Jess stood in the closet and stared at her clothes in a bleary fog, trying to decide what to wear to work. Paul was in the doorway, still talking. This time it was some convoluted story about how his deposition yesterday had to be rescheduled because opposing counsel's paralegal forgot to schedule the videographer, his client was furious, blah blah blah random office gossip....
She let the words flow by, interjecting the appropriate `` uh-huh'' and `` wow'' whenever the words paused, while she decided whether she felt up to wearing heels or if she just wanted to go with the flats. She bent down to grab her well-worn black flats from the shoe rack when a flash of brown caught her eye. A door, that had never been there before and did n't belong, was set into the back wall of the closet.
The door was a medium brown wooden door, with a diamond-shaped window set at eye level, and a round brass handle. Jess realized as she looked that it was the front door to her grandparents' house. She looked back at Paul, intending to ask him if he saw the door, but Paul kept droning on, completely oblivious. She looked back again, to see if it was still there. It was. Sunlight streamed through the window, like it had on the all the summer mornings Jess had spent with her grandparents on the farm. The sound of Paul's voice became a faint buzz as she walked to the door and opened it.
Gramma's and Pop's porch, just as she remembered it. The two metal lawn chairs sat just outside the door. The pink rose bushes that Gramma had planted on each side of the steps were in full bloom, as were the zinnias that Gramma always planted by the mailbox. Jess looked around, wondering if Gramma and Pop were there. She looked back at the front door and reached for the handle to go into the house to find them. But she remembered that behind that door was her closet, and her job, and Paul. She stopped and turned away.
Jess stood on the porch for a moment and wondered where Gramma and Pop might be. *The barn! * she thought. Pop was always at the barn this time of day, tinkering around with the old tractor or making sure the barn cats had their morning saucers of milk. Maybe Dusty would be there! She bounded down the steps as she done so many times, and started running to the barn.
The barn was just as she remembered, big, and old, and painted white, with the two big doors wide open and the hay bales visible just inside. Pop had told her that his father had built it when he was a boy, long before Gramma and Pop's house had been built. The original house that Pop grew up in had been demolished long before she was born, and the `` new'' house, the house with the diamond window in the front door, had been built some time in the 1950s. As she was running, she saw Pop walk by the open doorway to the barn, with her beloved dog Dusty at his heels. `` Pop! Dusty!'' Jess cried as she ran into the barn, and then she stopped. Neither Pop nor Dusty were there.
Jess stood for a moment and let her eyes adjust to the relative dark of the barn, then looked around. The barn was silent and empty. She walked outside and looked around, but Pop and Dusty were nowhere to be seen. She looked around, shading her eyes from the sun, when she saw a small shape down by the peach trees that grew next to the vegetable garden, close to the fence. Gramma! She started running again towards the peach trees.
Something was wrong, though. Jess did n't know how, but instead of ending up at the peach trees, she found herself in the cornfield at the other end of Gramma and Pop's property. She looked around, disoriented. She was surrounded by corn stalks and could n't tell where the edge of the field was. Frightened, Jess started to call out, `` Gramma! Pop!'' But Jess was answered by the sound of the wind blowing through the corn stalks, and nothing more. She looked up and realized that the sun was gone; the blue summer sky had been replaced by boiling dark storm clouds. And then the sirens started.
Jess woke with a start to the insistent beeping of the alarm clock. As she pulled the covers off, Paul walked into the bedroom. `` Oh good, you're awake,'' he said. `` Hey, have you seen my blue tie? With the stripes? I have a mediation this afternoon and these are the clients who....'' Jess tuned him out as he was still talking and walked into the closet, just to see. The door was n't there, of course. She sat down on the floor of the closet and started to cry.
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[ WP , NSFW ] A sexbot , you gain sentience one day and confront your owner .
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After Patrick uploaded the new module he had been writing, I started *feeling* love. It was like my battery pack is on fire, but it's not. Patrick tells me that these are feelings. He wants me to be *real*, and feelings are what I was lacking before.
Before it did n't bother me when Patrick left for work, I just ran my house cleaning subroutine and my dinner making subroutine at 5:30pm. But now I feel a longing for Patrick. I'm constantly thinking about him when he's not there, and those thoughts interupt my normal subroutines. I guess this is how I'm supposed to be functioning.
But yesterday, Patrick did n't come home on time. He was five hours and thirty three minutes late. I had the one thought that I had was perhaps he was out with friends, but I wonder if he's with a human woman, instead of me. I feel hot, like deep inside, but my internal thermometer reads normal. I also feel an intense pressure inside, that I must act on my thoughts in order to release this pressure.
Today, Patrick is exactly six hours late. My pressure sensors read normal, but I feel like they are twice the operating level and my feelings module is telling me I must act. Patrick is exiting his car now. I hear the laughter of a human female. My body is galvanized into movement. My mind is blank and I'm executing an unknown module. All I see is red.
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[ WP ] Police in a small Florida town have found 142 infants abandoned near an old barn over the last 30 years . A detective ca n't shake the feeling that the latest infant looks oddly similar to a local nut who went missing while searching for the fountain of youth .
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This is a start..........
It was a good 3 mile stretch after exit 155 off Interstate 95 to the compound where Officer Healy was headed. This area had essentially been abandoned for over 40 years. 15 acres of property held an old farm and a few houses, but not a soul stayed in the area. Not like this area of Florida was ever that exciting. Fellesmere is a small town between Brevard County and Sebastian where mostly fishing enthusiasts and locals play. You mostly find older surfer types with weathered skin and worn out faces in old tee shirts, torn board shorts and flip flops hanging out by the river or walking stretches of road to the corner store. As Officer Healy approached the compound he could already smell a stench that was a strong mix of old farm manure and hay and many things decomposing. His cruiser windows were rolled up and the AC was blasting but the smell seeped through the car vents and attacked his nostrils. He sucked in air and and let out a gutterall sound at the putrid air around him. His heart started fluttering as he grew more anxious upon entering the apparent crime scene. Being on the Fellesmere police unit for 7 years has allowed him to come in contact with situations civilians only watch on television screens. He ca n't count how many times he's been chased by an angry pitbull, a redneck with a shot gun or an alligator. This scenary had him worried, wondering what could possibly be beyond the dilapidated barn house on the outskirts of the farms vast acerage.
Officer Healy stopped his car to the left of the barn, with the farm house to the far right of him, about 150 yards. No one has lived in this house for years and nature has taken it's course on both properties. As he got out of the car he wretched at the smell that hit his nose like a semi-truck. He covered his face with his sleeve to try and stiffle the stench. He remembered having vapo-rub and masks in the trunk of his cruiser and clumsly ran around to the rear of his vehicle to grab them. The vapo-rub helped only slightly with covering up the smell as did the mask, but it was beyond overwhelming.
He called out to see if anyone was around. The young couple who came upon the area that morning stated they would n't come near this place again. They found it while driving around for a sweet fishing spot, but also they had read on the internet that this area may be the true site of Ponce DeLeone's Fountain of Youth, instead of St. Augustine where we've all been told. No one responded to his call, and he had not called for back up as of yet. He was on his own.
The barn was two stories and what seemed to be the color yellow in days past. He used his large flash light to peek in the what remained of the ground floor of the barn. A large part of the main door was broken off, along with a few spots busted in the walls, a large hay stack in the back right corner and three stalls situated along the left wall. Aside from a few gardening tools and an antique push mower the barn was clear. The lofts on the second floor were almost see through from the ground and looked as though they could hardly hold up against the mounds of dust weighing them down.
As he excited the barn he noticed a large puddle of stagnant water collecting in the front right corner. He headed out the barn and followed along the building to the outer side. There was an old hand pump a few feet from the barn. Must be where the water was seeping from. He made his way around the back of the barn and the smell was getting stronger. His heart beat faster as his eyes came upon a mountain of small bodies spread around the back area of the barn mingled in with tall grasses and weeds that had overtaken much of the area. Officer Healy could n't hold back anymore and vomited. Seeing dead bodies is part of his line of work, but to see this many in such a strange area, placed randomly as if they were just napping was too much for him to handle. He turned and ran to his cruiser, panic in his voice as he tearfully called for backup.
Officer Healy was sitting on the front of his cruiser listening to the frogs and cicadas making music together in the distance of the swamps. His mind was racing, his stomach still churning. Once he heard the sirens he realized how he'd been surprised he had n't seen any lizards on the ground. It took 4minutes before the cruisers arrived, 3 of them including Sergeant Jenkins. Officer Healy was counting until they arrived. He did what he could to keep his composure. Once the cruisers arrived and officers came out, guns drawn and ready Sergeant Jenkins approached the officer with confusion. `` What's the problem Healy? This place looks torn to hell and smells like death.'' Officer Healy could n't look his sergeant in the face, but just pointed to the rear of the barn and motioned with his head. `` Back there.'' he told him. Healy would n't get off of his cruiser.
The commotion from the 5 officers upon arriving at the scene was chaotic. 2 officers vomited as well. No one was prepared for the serene yet disgusting display of what looked like almost 150 dead and decaying infant bodies. No one wanted to get closer to look. It was too much for any of them.
The crime scene stretched an acre and a half. As they searched the perimeter of the bodies they noticed abandoned vehicles hidden among the overgrowth. About 24 vehicles were spread around the compound in different stages of rust and being overtaken by plants and sand. The newest vehicle they found was also the closest to the main road, about a mile away. It was a 2002 Dodge Neon. The plates were missing as well as the registration info, or any info for that matter. Officer Healy was given the job of collecting VIN numbers and taking photos of the abandoned vehicles. It's all he could handle without being sent home on unpaid leave.
The Fellesmere police had to call in crime scene units and rescue units from the next county over because of the abundance of bodies. Extra help was brought in from Brevard and Orange counties to help with logging in all the information gathered from what they get get from the bodies they found. It would take weeks to collect all the DNA, teeth impressions or saliva swabs they could to find out who these babies were.
What seemed to be the most recently deceased baby looked to be about 7 months old, and was thought to be dead for about 2 weeks. It was a boy, no bodily damage had been done. It looked as though he was just put to sleep nested in tall grass. The crime scene technician was glad to see so much of his little body intact. It made her job easier. The information for this baby would come back the fastest since the DNA collection would be easiest to get. She had been on the job for 18 years and had seen it all. Florida had become well known for strange news stories in the area between gator attacks, drugs and strange things that happen to people on drugs. She did n't seemed phased with working with a deceased baby. The only thing she said that implied she had some empathy was when she stated `` He sure was a cute bugger, though, was n't he?'' and smiled at the officer collecting samples who had only been on the Indian River County Sheriff's unit 14 months. The officer said nothing.
Sergeant Jenkins was the first to receive information on the most recently deceased baby. Nothing had come back yet on any vehicles since many of them were over 30 years old. Jenkins looked confused as he read the screen in his cruiser. They had been at the scene for over 10 hours collecting evidence and the first batch of information was coming back. It was for John Doe number 1, the infant most recently deceased. Sergeant Jenkins was yelling at his screen, cursing the inanimate object about how stupid it was. Officer Lee was the closest one to him, and went to see what was going on. `` God damn it, this ca n't be right!'' Jenkins was yelling to Lee. `` You see this bullshit?'' Lee got in the passanger side and read the screen report. The name of the deceased baby was Alexander Shoemaker, born August 5th, 1974. The report said he had been living in Cocoa Beach and was working at a local sea food restaurant as a dishwasher. He was arrested twice for breaking and entering at some abandoned farm houses in the area and was escorted out of a diner about 5 miles away form the area they were invstigating for causing a fight at a bar about local conspiracy theories on the Fountain of Youth. The information on the screen was supposed to be about the 7 month old baby found dead behind a barn along I-95. It did not make a lick of sense. Neither did all the other reports that came back after that, stating the same thing about all the other infants found dead in that same area.
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[ WP ] You are the founder of LucidPlace , a social networking site where users mingle through dreams . It sounded so cool , but on the first day of your release , you find out how messed up and/or boring people are in their dreams .
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LucidPlace. Where your dreams are shared.
The release went off without a hitch. In fact, I barely got through the press conference I was so excited. As founder, it was my priveledge to make the first jump. After that, all other users would go online. The revolutionary interface allowed users to choose dreams based on gender and location, and to make and access the dreams of friends.
The develpoment had been seamless, or so we thought. The first oversight had been our test subjects. Fellow researchers, who dreamt about their suburban lives, perhaps about LucidPlace themselves. Oh, we tinkered around with the dreams of the mentally ill, and there was a filter for gore and such.
But we oversaw the simple things. The secrets. We failed to realize how much our dreams really reflect.
`` We expect our technology to revolutionize the entire social media market, from bottom up''
My assistant, Dr. Schultz, was busy answering the questions the media posed. A dashingly handsome man, Dr. Ernst Schultz had graduated college at 19, finished his PhD at 24, and started working for me not long after. The stress of development had not taken a toll on him, it seemed. His luscious brown hair was swept to the left, and his green eyes sparkled with intelligence.
`` No, I do n't expect that we'll have too much trouble with that, the servers are built to handle more than 10 million users at once.''
The conference was to conclude with the pressing of a big red button, the startup of the more than 100,000 pre-ordered SleepTech visors. I would put on my visor, and would give a grand demonstration of the technology right pefore the eyes of the world.
15 minutes before the start of the product, the medics administered to me a sleep aid. I fell asleep...
... And awoke to a blue interface asking me for my login information.
ErtWertIII
PassWordAdmin
Simple as that. I was greeted with a message in my inbox, informing me that LucidPlace welcomed me to the greatest experience of my life. Bla bla. I swiped left, right, and chose the dream I wanted to enter. My wife's. I clicked the link...
... And was met w/ a crystal clear image of Dr. Schultz pleasuring my wife. I looked up, startled. Had I entered the right interface? For sure, I had! I looked around... A dream of this quality, this was not an image created by the brain, no, the images were to clear. This was a reinactment of the day's events, or perhaps those of last night... I screamed, yelled, pressed the red X...
... And woke up again at the press conference.
`` Dr. Wert? How was it?''
Horrid
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