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[ WP ] You slowly start to realize that someone around you can freeze time .
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It was n't exactly the first time that I had been suspicious, more than that, it was the mouse that sunk the boat, if the metaphor is common enough. Don was always confident in his decisions. At least, that's the way I had interpreted it for a long time. When it counted, he was right. Come to think of it, he always knew how to play a hand, and I do n't mean just in regards to poker, though he never lost when it counted, but I do n't know the man to have ever mishandled an important situation.
It really was n't until June of 2011 that I really started to take notice. That was about the time that the casinos kicked in their face recognition software and our card counting went to hell. We were all aware of course, we had friends on the inside, letting us know exactly when our game was up. The problem really arose when they caught Mike.
We had split up into four groups, and Mike happened to be in rotation at that moment. They caught his face enough times I guess, I'm still not fully sure how it works, and they pulled him right to the back room. We saw him the next morning with his head in the gutter and a brand on the back of his neck.
Don was n't in charge, but he made it clear that it was his fault more than any of ours. We told him it was n't, of course, and we thought he was just taking it harder than the rest of us, him being at the table with Mike when it happened and all.
But from that point on I took Mike's spot and I started to notice things. I had been watching Don's table before, in case Mikey missed anything, but the subtleties were so much clearer now. I noticed the slight twitches, the differences in eye position, the almost impossibly quick shifts in position, and finally the eye contact that was almost indistinguishably instant.
That was the moment when I realized how safe I was, as long as I played the game. And I'll never confront him about it, because he's always been the skittish type, but the moment I suspect something is up with the staff, I widen my eyes and whether he realised it before or not, Don always played his hand just right so that they'd back off and leave us alone for a while.
What really convinced me though was the last time we played together. It was years after Mike had been taken out and I had admittedly gotten lazy, Don must have as well. I did n't see them until they were already on him, my exclamation sounded maybe a second before the suited man reached to grab Don by the throat. Almost as soon as it happened though, Don had spun and knocked the guy's head into the table. He grabbed his chips and we both bolted for the door. There must have been six or seven different security agents reaching out for us as we passed through, but somehow they all missed as we sprinted down the pathway out of the casino. Somehow we made it out of the casino that night, but I'll never forget the blur of chips that appeared in front of my face as we exited the casino, just as I hollered that I had left mine.
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[ WP ] Your race has been adrift in the universe in search of a new , habitable planet after your homeworld was destroyed . At long last the ship locks on to a hospitable , already habited world .
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No one on this ship has ever seen our home world. We left generations ago. The original generation left before disaster struck. A great asteroid was heading for our home, Teraqua. There was nothing to be done. Luckily our scientists had been working on intergalactic space travel as we had already traveled to all the planets in our solar system. None were deemed habitable, and terraforming was too costly and inefficient. Once the asteroid was confirmed to be on a collision course with our world, the nations banded together and all funding was funneled into building five great ships. All 5 ships were sent in different directions. It was a somber affair. The people on the ships were sad to see their home for the last time, while the people still on land knew their end was near. I sometimes wonder how those left behind felt. We honor them in our stories to keep their memories alive.
I am the 4th generation born upon this ship. It has everything we need. Hydroponics are used to grow our food, and to make clothing, while the animals we brought are used responsibly until the end of their natural lives. Whenever one of our animals nears the end of its life, we hold a big celebration, thanking it for its life and the meat it will soon provide us. The animal is cleaned and carved. Games are held and winners get to choose which families get the best cuts. Then, the animal is turned into fertilizer and used in the hydroponics so our main source of food continues to grow.
Our home world was rich in minerals and metals used in creating space faring vessels. We have been lucky and only needed minor repairs, thanks in large part to our pilots. Trained from birth and chosen based on their specific genes, they have guided us through the stars, around asteroids and moons. The scientists have studied the planets searching for habitats that can support us. Most of the planets we find are too cold, or too hot. Very few fall in the Golden Zone, and even fewer have a breathable atmosphere. Some are all rock. Others are all water.
The communications technology we developed allowed us to maintain contact with our home and the other ships for a generation or so. Although, broadcasts from Teraqua ended before the first generation even left our solar system. The first generation recorded the asteroid, and eventually its impact with our homeworld. We mark that day in our calendars as Remembrance Day. No one works, and the only conversation is in hushed tones. At midnight, the elders gather around each telling the stories about our home. The seemingly never-ending forests, sweeping rivers, and mountains that cut the sky. About how we first dared to sail upon her waters for the sake of adventure. They try to instill in the children that we are the descendants of these explorers, these brave men and women, and some day we will find a new home. We end each celebration with the recanting of the final message `` We have found peace in our end. May you find peace in your beginning.''
But, many have given up hope. Calling themselves `` Star People'' and setting themselves apart with various tattoos on the back of their hands and under their eyes. It's almost like a grieving process and they're finally in the acceptance phase. I have n't quite gotten there yet. Every day I do my best to keep hope that we will soon find a world. Ours could not have been the only one. Space is too vast with too many possibilities to only have one habitable world.
Finally, that hope has been met with reality. We received word from our scientists that we have entered a solar system much like our own. The sun is a bit smaller, a bit younger, but there are a few planets that could potentially support us. There are even signs of life on the planet, whether that life is intelligent, new, or old, we will have to see. Many can barely contain their excitement, and yet, the Star People urge us to stay on the ship and wander the stars.
The Star People grow more and more stubborn in their ways. Some have even started talking about making people choose which side to be on. We can not have division. We have lived 100s of years in this ship with little violence. A few outbreaks here and there, but the elders were always able to maintain peace, and instigators were always punished severely enough to quell any other thoughts. Now, however, even the elders are split on what to do.
I worry for my people, yet I yearn for a new home. A new place. Where I can stand in the sun, on real ground, feel real air and swim in real water.
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-This was a cool prompt. I typed all of this at the end of my lunch break. Hopefully it flows well and there are n't too many mistakes.
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[ WP ] The floor is lava now ! How do you escape the room you 're in ?
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The wheely chair did n't hold for more than a few seconds, only gut instinct saved me. Diving on top of the desk that was slowly sinking itself I covered my eyes to protect them from the heat and smoke. The air was so hot it hurt to breathe in.
**The Window**
My only thought, throwing my weight into my shoulder against the glass. No release only a jarring pain, my shoulder bashing ineffectually against the see through barrier. Coughing and spluttering my head light, dizzy I fall forward onto a flat screen monitor. It will have to do. I swing the corner at the double thick panes of glass and I'm rewarded with a smash and a rush of breathable air. Gasping, gulping it in crawling my hands and knees are sliced apart as I tumble into the hedge outside.
Laying still I look up at the blue sky, hints of grey clouds circle the edge of my vision and I let my heart calm itself, my breathing slow. I'm aware of the screaming for the first time. I made it out but many did n't, many were stuck in a world of heat and pain.
Reaching in to my pocket for my phone, dead? Damn it I forgot to put it on charge last night, the hell is wrong with smart phones these days. I stumbled to the buildings door, smoke poured out the gaps in the door and the faint glow beyond told me the lava had shown no sign of cooling. No wonder the office space was so cheap... It was on top of a previously dormant volcano. Just wait till I got hold of HR about this.
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[ WP ] A man tries to facebook stalk his ex-girlfirends . Theres only one problem , they 've all gone missing .
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I had been sitting in the cold featureless room for an hour, waiting. Maybe not entirely featureless. The ceiling had standard office tiles. Florescent lights occasionally flickered. A mirrored window on one side of the room showed me my every movement. A steel table and four chairs sat in the room. I was sitting on one, and in my hand I help a paper coffee cup, filled with water at my request. Still, it had to be one of the dullest rooms I had ever been in.
When the door opened I could feel the rush of air as pressure equalized with the outside world. Two men walked in and sat down. Equally featureless. Picture two stereotypical detectives, one slightly older and balding and with a bushy moustahce, and you have pictured these two. The other took off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair before they both took a seat across from me. Moustahce started'' So Mr. Johnson, let me get the facts straight before we start here. You only just recently created your first facebook account. After several weeks you decided to look up all your exes and discovered none of them were on it. Suspicious, you looked them up and discovered that all of them had disappeared approximately two to four years after you dated them. Upon discovering this you contacted us immediately to tell us, which was only a few hours ago, and the rest of the facts I experienced first hand?''
`` Not entirely. I contacted my father first, since he is a lawyer, and my lawyer if I need one. He told me I needed to make a statement right away, which I figured, and that he'd drive down tonight and meet me in the morning.''
`` I see.'' Jacket picked up. `` So, how far away does your father live?''
`` Eight hours. It will take him all night to drive down.''
`` And you are okay with talking with us until he gets here?''
`` Yes.''
`` Are you aware we found DNA at the scenes of several of their believed abductions, and that it matched in all the cases?''
This threw me slightly. I had n't read anything about that. If I was crazy and killing them without knowing it I would give me away. Still, better I be stopped. `` No I was n't, and yes I'd be willing to give a sample.''
`` That's very nice but there is no need we already got one. The first cup of water we gave you was replaced when I refilled it. You need to confess your part in this now before we get the results back.'' Moustache leaned forward as he said this, until is slightly protruding belly was pressed hard against the table. `` I have nothing to do with this. Well, obviously something, but I'm not trying to commit any crimes, I just want to find out why someone is following me doing this.''
`` So you're aware someone is doing this to you on purpose?'' Jacket responded.
`` No, I just assumed, I mean there are over a dozen girls missing, and all of my girlfriends are missing, excluding Diane, and I only broke up with her two months ago''
`` They are n't all missing.'' Jacket said, dropping a folder on the table. I picked it up and opened it. It was Jackie. Jackie, my first girlfriend. We dated for a year back in eight grade, but broke up shortly after we started really dating, aka the moment we went from saying we were dating and hanging out all the time to actually holding hands, having our first kiss, and going to second base. She actually lived near me, only a mile and a half away. There was a picture of her. `` I do n't recognize her now, but are you saying it is her?''
`` No, you're saying that. We are trying to find out why she was exempt. Do you have any idea?'' Jacket asked.
`` Not really. I did n't even look her up because it was so long ago and while we said we dated for a year, we only really dated for like a week and a half. It hardly counted. Wait, how did you find out about her?''
`` We've been digging through your entire life for most of the day. It was n't hard to find someone you dated for almost a year, even if it was only really dating for a week as you claim. So no idea why she is the only one spared. Who broke up the relationship?''
`` I did. Ashley Ferguson offered to let me touch her over her pants if I dated her, and honestly dating Jackie for real was a little weird. We had grown up best friends.'' The more I thought about it, the more I was begning to think it was Jackie.
`` Ashley Ferguson, she was the first victim. How would you classify....'' a knock on the door interrupted. `` Excuse me a moment.'' Jacket stood up and slipped outside. Moustache stared at me while drumming his fingers on the table. Time seemed to pass agonizingly slow. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Jacket walked in. `` We have preliminary results on the DNA back, you're going to want to here this outside.'' As the door closed behind the two, I heard them say `` Not her, in fact, it revealed that...''
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[ WP ] Armageddon happens and the forces of Heaven and Hell come to Earth for the final battle only to have vastly underestimated the technological advancements of mankind .
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`` Agaliarept has the honor!'' Boomed the usually stoic Lucifer. The roaring demon horde had gathered at the newly formed portal, straight into the heartland of the most powerful nation of the puling spawn God spat on and the Christ redeemed. The roundish doorway glowed blue, its surface rippling like water broken by the deepest crimson bolts of collective hatred arcing across its surface. This was the beginning of the end.
Satanachia cursed, a black cloud of locusts emerging from the disrtuption caused by the words he spoke. `` Patience Satanachia, the hordes will follow after the fear begins.'' Chided Lucifer. A grinding susseration that would drive a man to suicide and a woman to subjugated compliance answered him. `` Your tactics can wait! The fear will make the slaughter more swift so we can spread faster. Shut your mouth or I will render you undone.'' Contemplative silence answered. `` Good.''
Lucifer turned `` Agaliarept, let our reign begin!'' ordered the disgraced angel, luminescence emiting weakly from his eyes for the first time since the fall.
Agaliarept stepped into the portal, it shown brightly causing the horde to raise wings and claws to block the light. Agaliarept stepped through, and was promptly flung back through missing a portion of his head. A single remaining eye blinked and stilled. Lucifer stepped forward, rage contorted his once pure face into a snout as he sniffed the body that rapidly turned to ash.
`` ANDROMALIUS!'' Roared the beastly apparation lucifer was transforming into `` WHAT IS THIS!?''. One of the great earls stepped forward from his peers. He lifted the shattered skull of Agaliarept as it crumbled and crushed the ash away to reveal a flattened disc of lead.
`` It appears to be a shot from a sling.'' oozed the grotesque blob, his chins quivering from fear. It was his first time being called upon by his Lord and he hated himself for appearing the coward.
A wordless raging scream echoed across plains of abomination. The few strong souls in Hell at last broke. A quiet followed. A silence so severe and deep the words whispered by the Dark Lord were audible to all. `` Make them suffer. Make them suffer so as to make our home seem to be Heaven in comparison.'' Satanachia answered, his unintelligable words glowed in the brimstone air as glyphs rising above the hordes and expanding for all to see. The orders were recieved, the horde poured like a waterfall to the portal, ten abreast entered every second, less as the behemoths shoved forth.
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`` I told you man, this ai n't a damn flatscreen! This some fucked up magic shit.'' Devonte stopped trying to pick up the edge of the portal. `` Marcus, you stupid, you see that screen quality. That HD. Aint no such thing as damn magic. This baby gon na make our Christmas. Dumbass dont even know a TV.'' Devonte sighed. He was sick of doing what his cousin said. Looting for chips and beer. Avoiding `` the rush'' at electronic stores. Now with bags of snacks he was trying to fuck with some dumbass white people magic TV shit.
`` Marcus quit playin and help me get this right side up.'' Marcus rolled his eyes as Devonte cussed him for calling it a magic TV. A sudden glow made Devonte jump back from the portal. A horned insect-like foot stuck through and an armor plated monster followed it. `` BOW TO-'' BLAM! Before Agaliarept could finish his command a.44 slug flung him backwards and back through. The screaming hood rats ran down the street and right into the side of a car. A police car as luck would have it.
The officers exited their vehicle ready for an attack but were suprised to see the two facedown on the pavement scooting a gun toward them and yammering about some crazy monster shit. Officer McCullen could plainly see the `` magic big screen on its side'' and nodded to his partner to check it out. Grabbing the shotgun he approached the portal just as the first ranks of Hell burst forth. He stood like a hero as he fired shell after shell into unfathomable monstrosities that piled in front of the portal. McCullen joined him with his sidearm as Devonte and Marcus ran away.
The two officers held their position until they were shot in the back by straight gangsters who heard the words `` police'' and `` shot'' from the dumbass duo and found some revenge for Micheal Brown to be had. They didnt understand why the pig kept telling them to shoot more until they saw the Things pouring forth. Straight gangbanging mother fuckers felt the cores of their souls shake as the instinct to end their enemies resounded with the primal archetypes of evil. The gut instinct to protect themselves from the unknown saved humanity as assault rifle pops mixed with the booms of shotguns. More police arrived, responding to McCullens initial dispatch, joining the gunfire in fearful bravery. SWAT found the police and remaining urbanites fighting the flow. The national guard arrived after them and finally the great US Army, Marine, and Airforce took over.
The beginning of the end was averted for now, thanks to the cooperation of men and woman of the Ferguson Police Department and Ferguson Crips. They held the portal in the beginning so we did n't have to end.
( I got bored towards the end, these things always seems to ramble towards the end especially when you try to wrap them up neatly. )
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[ WP ] A man is hit by lightning and can only speak in movie quotes .
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`` Oh my God, Shaun, are you okay?! Sean, answer me! Darling, *please, * by the love of God, wake up!''
`` I want to be alone,'' I muttered. I look down at my fried clothes and burn marks, before sighing audibly.
`` Oh sweet Jesus, Shaun, you terrified the living daylights out of me! Let me help you up,'' she said, as she put her hands on my shoulders. It stung like acid.
`` Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape,'' I hissed.
Jeanne looked stricken.
`` Shaun, are you alright?'' she stuttered, tears beginning to stream down her face.
`` Snap out of it, my precious!'' I gasped, exasperated. She would n't calm down, would she?
Her face grew redder and blotchier by the second.
`` Shaun, why do you hate me?''
`` I do n't know, I mostly just hurt people...'' I blurted.
She gasped.
`` This is so bad it's gone past good and back to bad again.''
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[ WP ] A girl finds out that she can restart her entire life by committing suicide , she develops OCD while tirelessly trying to fix every little error , constantly restarting . This goes on for a while until God intervenes .
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At one point in his life the arrival of Deboriah was a site that made his heart beat with excitement, but he'd long since moved past that reaction. Now all he felt was a dull sinking sensation in his stomach, accompanied by a stab of horror as he felt a part of his soul slip away.
`` What happened this time, Deboriah?''
`` I just ca n't fucking get it! I'm trying to even out my compulsions, but I just ca n't help but feel terribly sad whenever I'm unable to help someone in need.''
`` Maybe you should focus on helping as many as you can rather than agonizing over things that are unavoidable? You are n't born into wealth, there is only so much you can do in a world so screwed up to begin with.''
`` But I've got infinite tries right? Why would n't I want to get it perfect?''
`` Not quite infinite, you really only have... [ a sharp pain slashes across God's chest ]... you have enough my child, try again.''
With that her being popped back into the world, taking another one of his precious souls with him. He looked forlornly into himself, he only had one left. God was clever, he'd once managed to accumulate over 10,000,000 souls in 40 days just by flooding Earth. He'd imbued one of his souls with prophetic power after he realized his powers grew stronger when people worshiped him.
He'd originally imbued Deboriah with an experimental time binding that was intended to bring his power fully to fruition so he might attempt overthrowing the Dark One. Unfortunately something went wrong during the binding process, and he could not directly control Deboriah. To make matters worse, everytime Deboriah died of unnatural causes he was forced to send her back with an extra soul to power her and he was incapable of telling her about the binding at all. That particular defect was caused not by the time binding, but by the anklet that continually tightened around his leg. There are rules in place if you want to be a God, and his time would soon be up.
Unraveled by one soul with intentions purer than gold.
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A Heist Gone Wrong
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`` So kid, you wan na know how I got here?'' I coughed and spit a wad of tobacco out of my mouth.
`` I'll tell ya.
I was a poor guy, in a white trash trailer park with a bad meth addiction. Yes sir as stereo type as could be.
My buddies and I were broke, and rapidly running out of drug money when one guy named Randall said he'd been thinkin' of robbing a bank.
Not just any bank. But the First National Bank of Conway.
None too many rich folks in that part of Arkansas, but enough to keep a couple of meth heads going for quite a while.
We agree, but nobody had any idea how to do it. We started watching them heist movies, tryin' to get a feel for what we were supposed to do.
The day comes around and it's me and my four buddies, Randall, Juan, Ty, and Bill. We're all geared up with our ski masks and hunting riffles with practically no plan.
It's just before five, closing time, and we storm into the bank screaming
`` Toss your valuables at the black guy and get down on the floor!'' Now, we ai n't racist, we just did n't want our names tossed around witnesses.
Anyway the folks do as their told and Bills shoots his rifle at the security cameras then demands the teller she give him all the money in the safe.
But as soon as she opens the combination, we hear the pigs sirens scretchin up the street to the bank.
We ran all night, the cops right on our tail, I tried shooting at em, but, but''
My voice faltered, remembering that night.
`` I missed, and I shot Randall.
We dragged him down in the river under the rail road tracks. Splashed water on his wound to clean it, but it was all mostly mud
I can remember those moments perfectly, the crickets chirpin', my friends shouting and cryin', Randall's blood dripping on my fingers as I tried saving him, the train cracking monstrously loud, and them sirens pulling closer and closer. Ty looked at me, tears in his eyes and handed me a slip of paper and fled the scene with Bill and Juan.''
I crumpled the paper lightly in my hand, trying not to look like a pussy and trying to hold in my tears.
`` The paper was a letter, from my ex. Saying she had a son about 30 years ago.
Saying he was mine.
His name was Robert and he was a cop now, with a boy of his own. But he did n't now about me, but it would be mighty nice to drop a line and tell him he was better off without a no good meth addict like me.
I sat in that ditch with Randall on my lap until the police found me.
A young man named Robert arrested me.''
That's how I got here.
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[ WP ] A candle goes out and everything changes .
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Even since before the war the candle was held in high regard by our people. Every year they would celebrate by lighting seven of them for their ancient and sacred traditions. They would be used to brighten the night as well as add fragrance to their dwellings, truly there was no one who could deny that even in the ancient world, where men rode iron beasts that spewed fire and conquered the sun and the sky, even then the candle was a symbol of life and of peace.
That was something we held close to ourselves now that we had lost control of those things. The sun no longer poked his head through the cloud walls to greet us. Nor did the sky show us the infinite expanse of stars that riddled the sky like a blanket poked full of holes. There was only the darkness of dreary days gone by and the infinite abyss of night. The majority of us congregated in the underground where the electricity could be found. Large generators that hummed with the will to give us heat and if lucky also light. Soon they would be broken too. It had been decades since the last man who understood the intricate ways of those who came before had passed into the darkness.
Now we waited. Each day we paced around the sewers looking, scavenging for batteries with which to hopefully bring life to the flashlights as the instructions had called them. We knew even that was hopeless. Years had gone by since the last organized scavenging party had any success finding supplies. The only home we know are the grimy walls of the sewer. The only truth we know is that our days are limited.
In the distance we could hear them, unnatural screams that approached something quite human but not enough to show itself. Every few minutes a finger or a tendril would show its outline in the darkness before retreating. They were n't beasts. Beasts would not fear the light as much as these creatures, yet still they waited until the candle would die for us to become their prey. It did not stand so close out of familiarity either, we had tried speaking with them for some time. Our attempts were met with either the unnerving silence that was only interrupted by the drops of water, or by their gasping howls of what we thought might be their language. A few who had lost hope had even willingly given themselves to the shadow beings in hope of finding peace. Their screams still echoed in our minds as the spatter of blood and teeth gnawing sounded into our parts of the sewers.
Before we had been a hundred, not particularly large or strong but enough to defend each other, those were the days where hope still lived amongst us. Then when the food ran out we became less. A few who sought better lives left for the overworld where the demons of the skies paced with razor claws waiting to tear us to bits. The scavenging parties diminished in success and survivability as more of the shadow beasts came to our homes. The last time I had known hope was when my father pat my head and told me to wait for him as he set off leading a small group armed with spears and an empty gun. My mother's tear-stained face was the signal that brought with it the only thing I know for real. This was not a cradle from which we would reclaim our birthright, this was a funeral that we had uselessly thought to lengthen.
`` brother?'' The voice of my sister brought me out my thoughts, I smiled as best I could to keep her calm even as the shadows of the candle danced on the tears slipping down her cheeks. `` The candle dripped again, will it truly be alright?'' I laughed bitterly hoping it came out playfully before standing up and walking over to the pot underneath where the drops of used up wax collected. It was even worse than I imagined. The candle had flickered dangerously and in the open doorway a claw grasped at the frame impatiently. `` It will be alright, sleep while I make dinner.'' The only dinner we would be presencing was theirs. A tendril extended itself into the room before scurrying away. She grabbed my hand and buried her face in my shoulder. The humid warmth of her tears swelled into anxiety in my chest. `` I do n't want to go to sleep without you brother.'' I pat her back and tried my best to hide my own pathetic sobbing. `` You wo n't, I will be with you for every day of your life.'' She nuzzled even further into my shirt while the candle guttered, the sight of the open doorway filling with hungry teeth and claws along with the snapping of jaws and the occasional inane crying of beasts. `` We'll be together forever.'' Yes, the candle brought life and hope, and now its passing brought equal death and despair. You closed your eyes just as the last ember faded, there would be enough darkness now even if you kept them open.
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[ WP ] Justify killing from the verses of Goodnight Moon
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The world is the greatest green room that ever there was. A great big ball of blue and green spinning around the red balloon - that is, the sun.
And in this great green room, there is a picture. This is the picture of life, and the things that come with it. From cows to mice, and with shelter and food -- all things are in this picture.
But as with all great things, the red balloon must set - the day must end. We must say our farewells, our goodbyes and our goodnights, and lay to rest the kittens and mice, chairs and mittens.
Even the little old ladies desperate for quiet must get their comeuppance. And with a'hush' she can say goodnight to air, and good night to noises everywhere.
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[ WP ] Write how a seemingly insignificant task ends up being a life altering experience .
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Darwin Marks was a twenty-two year old university student at SU. He had just finished fourth year, but it was still two years until he would finish his BA in history. Darwin, or Dar for short, was not an exemplary student by any means, or even a very good person for that matter. He barely went to class, and when he did his mind would be on other things, judging people in the front of the class as `` keeners'', cringing when they asked their stupid questions about things he knew to be common sense.
Unsurprisingly, Darwin was not the biggest fan of school. If his parents had not promised to pay for both school and his living expenses during his time there, he would be gone in an instant. He loved the free living arrangements however; a beautiful four-bedroom rancher near the university. His parents thought, correctly, that the land value of the area would be going up in the next few years, so they were not to hesitant on dropping the cash on their son's education.
Three of Dar's closest friends lived with him in the house. They had parties pretty much every other weekend, and during the week the living room was a still fog of bong smoke. This was the life for Dar; no problems, no responsibility, nothing but a chance to chill with his friends.
Darwin had ultimate choice of who was to live in the house, and the friends who were living with Darwin were charged next to nothing by Dar's parents. The result of this was that he never had to do any of his own chores, his friends would do them under the notion that the house was well worth it. This month had a little bit of a different tone to it, Dar's parents were upset with him not being able to graduate in four years and they decided to charge the roommates full market price for their rooms. They all wanted to continue living there, they could afford it now that they had degrees and were hopefully on the path to good jobs, but they were n't worried about losing their spots anymore.
Steadily, and fairly quickly, the dishes started to pile up. This was the big noticeable deal in the house, other chores could slip a little on Darwin's turn and no one would notice too much, but the dishes, those were a different story. Soon the kitchen was just a complete disaster zone. Dar's roommates all vowed not to touch any of his dishes and eventually all they had was a couple dishes that they would take to their room so that Dar could n't soil them.
Dar noticed the dishes as well, but had no real motivation to do them. He knew his friends wanted him to do them, he could see the awful mess and it did actually bother him; but still, he could n't bring himself to do them, someone else would do them eventually...
Weeks passed and the dishes remained piled in the kitchen. The dishes were starting to smell very bad and some of them had started to form mould. The roommates had seen enough, the kitchen was inhabitable and they would just find another house, they had sort of finished the party stage of their life anyway.
Dar was informed about the move. He was upset, but sat down on the couch and managed to successfully ignore his negative thoughts with a couple tokes from the bong. When his roommates finally did leave, Dar had to face the situation all over again. This time he was all out of weed.
Staring soberly at the dishes, he began to build up an immense amount of hate. Hate for the dishes, hate for his roommates, hate for school, hate for his parents, hate for life, hate for everything. He turned away from the dishes in disgust and started up his Playstation. He tried to play his favourite game, but the rage would n't leave his mind. He got up and walked over to the dishes. The anger had burst through and he started yelling at the top of his lungs, the dishes were the ultimate source of misery in his universe.
Darwin yelled for a solid five minutes, until all of the rage had passed. He stood there; still in disgust of the dishes, of himself. The anger was gone, the hate was gone, but the disgust remained.
Dar looked at the stack and started arranging the dishes so they would be easier to wash. He picked up a sponge. He was now enlightened.
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[ OT ] SatChat : Are you working on a book ? Why or why not ?
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I am working on two books right now and I recently added a third one to my list, even though I probably wo n't return to it for a bit.
[ **Hidden Future** ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/KDKTw56.png ) takes place in an `` ideal'' time when humanity is spread across the universe, just enjoying life. Everyone lives forever and there's no money or working to survive. Some people spend their time with hobbies, while others contribute toward further advances in society. Ax contributed to new-planet discovery at one point, but decided to leave for unexplained reasons. His friend Elsey contributes to Vision technology, which is a visual interface genetically built into humans, giving them access to information, transportation, and countless other features. One day Elsey comes across something unexpected in the code, which brings her and Ax down a dangerous road.
[ **Space Ride** ] ( https: //i.imgur.com/Zp4zAzf.jpg ) opens on an alien named Dorian. He spends most of his time in space, which can be a lonely place when traveling alone. Space bars offer some social interaction, but only when the other patrons are open to conversation. Dorian meets a girl named Kally, who fits the bill after some smooth moves. It turns out she just needs a ride, but neither of them expect where that ride will take them.
**The Shadows** - Devon is a demon who turns his back on his evil nature and leaves Hell. Just as he starts a normal human life, his past catches up with him.
Here they are in my [ wiki ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/wiki/index # wiki_books ) if you want to follow any progress. Also, check out the rest of /r/MajorParadox for my daily prompt responses!
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[ WP ] You return home to find your favorite author waiting for you , accusingly holding up another author 's work that he found on your bedside table .
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I stumble in drunk from a great night out. I close the door gently, knowing that I had probably caused enough noise trying to grab the knob. I feel for the wall and follow it down and make the familiar left. One more door. Here we are. My room.
The door accidentally swings out from my grasp. I palm the air desperately trying to keep it from hitting the wall. A dull thud. Oh, good, my jacket must be on the knob. I'll have to thank my lucky stars later.
I sigh for a second, trying to debate whether I should blind myself. I shrug and feel up the wall and switch the light on.
I nearly screamed. Either the shock of having an intruder or who the intruder was stopped me cold.
The glare of the light shielded his eyes but the rest of his features were visible. I struggled with my mind for a moment. I am too drunk for this.
The man holds my library copy of A Storm of Swords in his hands. He carefully turns the page.
His slightly higher voice enters my eardrums and confirms the identity. `` You know, it's a shame you have to dog ear the pages. But on library books, it almost gives them character.''
`` I, uh, I've always done that.'' I take a seat on the edge of my bed. Knees squeezing together, hands searching for a comfortable spot to rest on my lap.
He snaps the book shut with a loud clap. `` So..'' His narrow eyes attack me. Or so it seemed in my state. `` Why the sudden interest in Fantasy?''
My eyes flick over to my hardback of The Silmarillion, also on the desk. `` I guess, I'm just trying to expand my writing..'' *What's the word? * `` inspirations.''
`` You sound unsure.'' He places the book back on the bedside table.
I think of my 4 part book series that I've been on-and-off writing for awhile. Never dedicating to one chapter or part. I knew I started reading Tolkien to try to get me to write more in that direction. Expand my words, since my writing voice is so short and direct. Better for suspense or horror.
I'm not unsure of why I'm reading the books. I'm unsure about my project. Whether it will take off or stay still, as it is currently. I think of the Dark Tower series. My eyes slowly go over to that part of the room. On the book shelf. Various sizes of paperbacks.
The older man's slit of a mouth curls into what some may call a smile. Did he notice my Dark Tower books next to the other King short story collection books? Sure, I had read the big classics but I just owned the short stories because the were nice reads for bus rides.
`` Listen. If you want to expand your writing. Do it. Yeah, you can read the books for'inspiration' but you need to just do it. Challenge yourself to write more like them. But remember that your voice is your own, do n't let anyone tell you it's wrong. Okay, kid.''
I nod slowly and off-beat. Maybe its the alcohol or it's the situation of him sitting there giving me advice on how to write.
He taps on the book with a slender finger. `` George is a good writer too. Real gritty and almost unromantic at times with a genre that's fairly romantic. Hell, I'm jealous of the guy sometimes. Stick to him.''
Another nod from me as my eyes kind of look past my fists on my knees.
`` You look like you're a sheet or two to the wind.'' He chuckles as he leans forward and pats me on the shoulder. He completes the motion by walking past me and heading to my door. He picks up his jacket from my door knob and swings it over his shoulder.
I take a second to absorb all that's happened and then look over to him with my undoubtedly red eyes.
He winks at me, his weathered features wrinkling up. He treads his way out and my eyes are stuck on the spot he was out.
`` No one's gon na fuckin' believe me.'' I shake my head and bury my face in my hands.
I prepare myself for bed by taking my shirt and jeans off and just slithering into my bed. Unshowered, unbrushed, unkempt, uncaring. When I wake up it'll all be forgotten.
The bright crack in my curtains slices across my face and I turn my head to face my bedside table. The clock reads ten thirty-something. My copy of the Dark Tower VII is blocking the last digit. With weak hands, I clutch on to it and bring it to my squinting face.
I could of sworn that my library copy of a Storm of Swords was there, not this. Something compelled me to open it up. A sharpie had been scrawled across the inside of the front cover.
`` Give this one another shot. - Stephen''
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[ WP ] A mad god descends onto earth , eager to prove that mankind is just as twisted as he is : `` From this day on a person shall learn the abilities of whoever he feasts upon ''
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Oh look it's almost eleven! Do join me for a little analysis eh?
`` Cannibalism: is it related to wealth or stature? More coming up on World News.''
Perhaps, but not how the media would probably have them all believe. After all what access does a bum have to greatness? Maybe they can get a little more than the standard fill at there local soup kitchen?
`` It seems that records of cannibalism are high in the lower middle class...''
Ah yes, the ones that lost all their hopes, of course! It just becomes a slippery slope from there; Once they've lost all hope, the natural talents become ignored, and the world created around them starts shouting louder than whatever mental coach they created.
No more do they hear encouragement, oh no, no, no. Instead `` reality'' sets in that they are n't good enough.
`` If you live around there, you may want to keep that door locked at night. In other news sororities/fraternities. Making connections, or putting yourself on the menu..''
Ah yes the young are always full of spunk! Ready to get started on that Ladder o' Life. Pull the one above you down and keep climbing! Just do remember to work on that mule kick; one and a half inches of rubber is n't easy to bite through Who knows maybe that poor sod'll knock a few down with him.
`` Is The President a long standing cannibal? Did he make a deal with Satan himself to get to where he is today...''
How astute of them all! Surely success was not something capable without yours truly behind the wheel. Yes, I'll say it, I've been giving you all the power of greatness from the start! I just now decided to really kick things into gear.
What you do n't believe me? You do n't think all of histories greatest were cannibals? Come on I'm sure you'd believe if i told you a few months from now; I hear that there is a group of bookworms looking into it right now! No? Not even a little convinced?
Oh fine, you got me, they were n't cannibals. Just mad, mad, mad, mad, mad. I lost you again did n't I? That fine I did n't think anyone as restricted as yourself could understand. After all what great thing have you done lately? There's a guy out there that's already got twenty people under his belt and he's still on the loose doing who knows what; while you're here all goody two shoes about it all.
Well here's some ancient knowledge for you: that never works.
Caesar, had the world under his thumb. Then some gutless scared politicians in blankets called him mad and went on to stab him in broad day light: crazy right!
Try this, think of one thing you wanted to do in your piddling excuse of a life and thought `` well gee willickers, I could do that!''. Remember how you could so easily imagine yourself in that life? Remember the euphoria from just imagining being *there*? What stopped you? Realism did it, right? well what's that gotten you; house, wife, two and a half kids?
My point in coming down was not to shock you all into annihilation. Oh no, it was to help you let go of these inhibitions of `` a sane mind''. Let go of caution, realistic goals, and self conscientiousness and run away with that little head of yours.
What else are you going to do? Live in your house with those three and a half tasty morsels walking about while day dreaming about how awesome you are, while late on this years taxes?
Maybe you could just let go this once and take a bite out of life;'cause if you ask me anything else just sounds crazy.
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[ WP ] Humans evolved without needing to sleep . Now a mysterious illness causing humans to go unconcious for 8 hour periods is spreading . Write from the perspective of yourself .
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In our current form, with the alignment of our sun in relation to the center of the universe, humans have to sleep to survive. Sleeping is the physical bodily process to recycle, renew and refresh consciousness which is itself ethereal and a reflection of virtue.
The closer our solar system comes to the center of the universe the more concentrated our ethereal field becomes. At times when we are closest to the center humans are capable of feats what we today think of as super human - necessarily. Virtue - that is, our ability to understand the laws of the universe, its morality, science and further dimensions is at its highest apex. Consciousness is at its purest form and rarely ever needs cleansing.
The further our solar system moves from the center the more diluted our ethereal field becomes. So much so that at its furthest point, humans are hardly distinguishable from animals in that they are incapable of even meager levels of consciousness. Consciousness must be cleansed thoroughly throughout its existence in physical bodies.
Right now our sun is merely 33 % of its distance from its closest point to the center of the universe. Virtue is low but our capacity for understanding mean aspects of the universe and its morality is apparent. Consciousness requires 1/3 of a human life to cleanse and sustain itself.
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[ WP ] Depict a brutal gunfight with an inexperienced fighter , emphasize the horror of battle and murder .
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Joseph blinked, hard, while simultaneously pulling the trigger. The last bullet in the clip made it's way to the end of the barrel, seeming to run a different path than he intended. A deafening silence fell over him. He dropped to the dirt, behind the log he was using to protect himself, listening only to his heart pounding away in his chest. He reached his dirty, bloodied hand into the bag he had sitting next to him and pulled out another magazine. He fumbled with the gun for a second, trying so hard to find the button to release the empty magazine from the gun. When it finally fell out, he placed the new magazing into the bottom of the handgun. It only went in about half way before he realized the magazine was backwards. He tried pulling it out with his shaking hands, but dropped it into the dirt instead. He could hear the noise of the bullets passing overhead, breaking away bigger and bigger pieces of this massive log with each hit. He paused for a moment, holding back tears. He closed his eyes and remembered what he was fighting for. He pictured his wife and daughter, just where he left them... hiding in the trap floor of the cabin. He can remember the summers he spent at this cabin as a child, growing up. He loved being up here. He can remember the first time he brought his wife up to the cabin while they were still dating. She loved it. It gave her a chance to spend time with Joseph, away from all the cameras, and tabloids, and rumors. Joseph was born into a family who owned one of the major oil companies, so needless to say, the only issue money brought to him and his family, was how they were going to spend it. He would have given the money up to live a normal life. The cabin was just a place where he could escape all the glamour, all the stuffy boardrooms, all the fake business men with their bullshit, Chesire smiles. Their brown-nosing. He hating working for that god damn company. He just wanted to get away for a while. He was n't expecting this. These men, they came to take his family away from him, to hold them hostage for a large ransom. He suddenly opened his eyes wide. He remembered what his father taught him as a child, about firing a gun. `` Most people try to compensate for the kickback of the gun, it's why most people are inaccurate. What they do n't realize is the gun does all the shooting, you just point and pull the trigger. The bullet's already left the barrel before your hands even think about jerking.'' He choked back his tears, moving to his knees, still crouched behind the log. He waited until he heard a brief pause in the shooting from the other men. He swung the gun around, holding it with both hands. He closed his left eye, looking over the top of the gun, and pointing it in the direction of the first man. What only took seconds seemed like days. He could go back and describe the faces of these men, just from the brief looks he had as he fired as many rounds toward them in as little time he could. He emptied the first magazine in the direction of the first man. He struck him in the shoulder, violently throwing him to his left, and as he was falling, another bullet struck him in his jaw. One down. He fell to the dirt, this time feeling the adrenaline fueling him, focusing him. He reached into the bag, while simultaneously dropping the empty magazine out of the gun. He slid the new one into the bottom, cocked back the slide, and swung back around over top the log, this time focusing on two men standing in the long grass to his right. Again, firing as many rounds in their direction, as quickly as possible. It was all he knew how to do. He saw the taller of the two fall to the ground, just after watching the back of his head blow out onto the other man's red and black flannel. He emptied that magazine as well. Joseph reloaded his gun while the flannel man tried to pull his friend to cover. He reached into the bag once more for another magazine, but only found the bottom of the bag. While the last of the three men was still distracted, he crawled to where the first man fell, picked up his automatic rifle, a full magazine, and took cover behind a small tree. The man whom he just killed was being tended for by the bearded flannel man. He quietly left the safety of the tree, snuck up behind him, placed the barrel against his temple, in a choked, shaking voice exclaimed,'FUCK YOU!' and pulled the trigger. After the bearded man fell, his cold, dead eyes stared back at Joseph. In a fit of disgusting, brutal violence, Joseph shot a few more rounds into the two men that laid cold at his feet until the rifle's magazine was exhausted. He slowly headed back towards the cabin. Between the violent pounding in his head, and the chokes to keep himself from throwing up, he yelled to his wife and daughter that it was okay to come out. As he made his way up the wooden stairs to the glass doors, his wife and daughter ran to him, and grabbed him tightly. The three of them embraced for just a moment, before his wife choked, and threw her hands in the way of her open mouth. Her entire front side was covered in Joseph's blood. He dropped to his knees, grasping his stomach in pain. He had n't noticed due to his adrenaline that he himself had been shot numerous times. He looked at his daughter, who was now eye level, and then up to his wife with his cold eyes and said,'I love you.' with his last breath. He leaned forward, and fell to the ground. His body made a violent crash against the deck of the cabin, and blood slowly pooled around his mouth.'I love you, too.' his wife replied.
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[ WP ] You are on the bus and receive a text message saying that you will die within the next 7 minutes .
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*You will die within the next 7 minutes*
Steve looked at his phone and the textmessage he had just received from an unknown number. Figured that he would get spam on his phone. Rolling his eyes he turned the screen off and put his phone in his pocket. He would not play into that, he thought while putting his music on again. After the glare from the old man besides him he turned the volume a little bit lower.
With his mind turning to his next workday Steve barely noticed the commotion around him. One by one every passenger got the same text message. That the receiver would die within the next 7 minutes.
It was n't until one woman started screaming and trying to get off the bus that everyone reacted. It was like she had given the start signal for everyone to act like a pack of 5 year olds all trying to go to the toilet at the same time. Pure chaos. Of which Steve did n't notice anything. Steve was just staring out the window listening to his music when that first woman finally noticed the hammers meant for breaking the windows in a dangerous situation. In her mind she was totally rationally when she took it, smashed the window and leaped out of it right into the path of an incoming truck.
It was as if others had n't seen the woman perish in front of them. One by one they all left the bus until the only ones left alive were the bus driver and a still oblivious to the happenings around him Steve.
Steve only got up after 10 minutes when he noticed that they were at his stop. Smiling and ignoring the destruction around him he waved a goodbye to the bus driver ( who had perished of a heart attack after having looked at his phone. The bus had miraculously stopped right at Steve's busstop when a car had hit the bus just enough to wiggle away the busdriver's foot from the gas pedal.
Steve sighed as he turned the key in the lock. Home at last after a boring day at work. That was his last thought before everything was suddenly black.
A dark figure on the street grinned. He always got them.
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[ WP ] There are two things for certain , Death and The Run
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Tomorrow I know I'll be in the dirt, watching the ships float about. Yesterday I was alive, now it all seems lost, my heart beating away the seconds as I drag on my smoke. Before me the black abyss of space, fixing my collar and making for my ship, into the void of empty. My weapon tucked in close, thumbing the grip as the door slid open, just another nobody pushing past the crowd. My face just a blur as you pass by. Somewhere close by I can feel the eyes of them, watching me stride forward, as my plan of disappearing into the void of space falls apart. To my right and left, dropping my smoke, gripping my pistol, I'll kill you all before I go back...
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[ WP ] A group of sensible , boring , logical engineers are explaining to the accountants that no , really , the Jager is the best way to fight Kaiju .
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Jonathan had studied at Oxford and Cambridge. He'd defended his thesis at Harvard, to the first and only standing ovation ever granted a doctoral candidate, and *The Economist* had penned many a breathless article about his subsequent work. For at least two decades, he'd been the smartest man in any room he entered, and that fact had become a feature of his life that he now realized he had taken for granted.
He rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his spectacles up to his forehead, and sighed. There was n't much work for economists, now that the world had been churned up by the invasion, but some undeniably brilliant malevolence somewhere in the bureaucracy had decided that perhaps they could help keep the military's books in order. To help the cause.
They must have known about the engineers.
Three stood before him now. Young men, ungainly and awkward in various ways, but lacking any hint of humility. They had names, he was sure, but he could not recall them any more than he could name the flies that buzzed around his head in the summer. Their proposal lay before him on the desk, and they regarded him with silent stupefaction, as if they had encountered an Escher painting instantiated in real life. The one on the left finally frowned.
`` You do n't like it?'' Left asked slowly. Scrawny, as if eating were an annoyance and an afterthought. `` But the math's all there.''
`` He did n't even read that page yet,'' said Right. He had the soft look of a man so long out of the sun that his skin had never aged.
`` Look,'' said Middle. Portly, wispy bearded and projecting an arrogance so strong it might as well have been a physical force, softened by the nasal quality of his voice. `` Just sign off. Ok? You wo n't understand half of it anyway.''
Jonathan sighed again and flipped through the stack of papers. They had stapled it five times in the corner. Engineers.
`` Gentlemen,'' he said, affecting the professorial air that he slipped into when talking to presidents and ministers. `` It is difficult to know where to start. I remain uncertain how you forced your way into my office, but I suppose I shall not have any answers to *that* forthcoming. So let us start with the most obvious flaw: your project requires the combined military industrial output of the entire planet, leaving us, well, *nothing* for conventional projects.''
They blinked in unison.
`` Why would you need anything else?'' Left asked, face screwed up in confusion.
`` Just read the math,'' Right pleaded. `` We ran the numbers. *Ran the numbers*. Is n't that what you people want to hear?''
`` You do n't *need* conventional military once you have a few of these,'' Middle explained, as if to a child. `` How much do we spend on longbows every year? C'mon, man, they said you were smart.''
Jonathan's eye twitched.
`` I seem to recall a certain physical principle,'' he stated, as calm as the still water over a lake infested with hungry predators. `` The square-cube law -''
They all groaned unison, a distinctly ugly sound, and began speaking over each other.
`` *They* do n't seem to have a problem with it -''
`` *Please* read the math, it's all there - ``
`` Just *go* with it for a minute, it makes sense after a while -''
`` - that quite *clearly* indicates the engineering impossibility of what you are proposing!'' he finished in a voice used to projecting out over a lecture hall of five hundred seats. For a brief moment some vestigial fear of authority silenced the three, but it lasted no longer than the time it took him to take another breath. They seemed to need no such luxuries as air in the lungs, and began shouting rapidly.
`` Their skeleton is made of a meta-material that we can synthesize -''
`` It took days to run that final simulation -''
`` Guys!''
Middle glared to his left and right and the others bobbed their heads. He lifted his chin and stared down at Jonathan grimly.
`` You can assure yourself, sir, that we have considered that,'' he said. `` You can further assure yourself that we've thought up answers to just about every challenge *you* can think of. This is it. The only answer. You want to stop nuking every major city on the coast whenever one of them shows up? Then you have to *fight*. And there's no other way.''
Jonathan pushed their proposal to the side and selected a single sheet of paper from a folder on his desk. He slid it across the smooth mahogany - gift from an amir - with an slight spin so that they could read it when it stopped.
They bent over the paper, all frowning some variation of the same frown. Jonathan sat back in his chair, glancing up at the clock over the door. In a short time, the three stood straight again, glancing at each other in confusion.
`` Nuclear depth charge?'' Left declared uncertainly. `` That, well. Huh.''
`` Substantial fraction of the world's arsenal,'' Right said, more to himself than anyone else. `` Say, seven gigatons, use half? Big tidal wave afterwards.''
Middle took a deep breath and then leaned forward on the desk, face working through various expressions as if trying them on. Jonathan raised an eyebrow calmly.
`` Yes?'' he asked, allowing a small smile to form on his lips. Middle looked around, opened and closed his mouth a few times and finally shook his head, as if struggling to find the words.
Then he blurted, `` Where's the fun in *that? *''
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[ WP ] Limbo is a place where you repeat the day of your death until you can prevent yourself from dying , therefore passing Limbo
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It feels like eternity. I drop a couple bills on the counter, fumble with the coins the cashier slides forward, grab my coffee and wait. One, two-
I drop a couple bills on the counter.
The first few times, I tried to stop it from happening, but gave up quickly enough. After that, I looked around instead, saw the people outside, got familiar with every feature of the clerk.
His hair is wavy brown, darker where it's sticking to his head with sweat. His right cheek has some tiny craters on it, maybe acne, maybe smallpox? I remember seeing an Indian man with smallpox scars like that last year. He does n't look happy, no matter what I do. I told him a few jokes while we were still on tries in the twenties, but he just started back, empty eyed, tired and uncaring. He hands me back my change, I have some trouble getting the quarter on my thumb.
I drop a couple bills on the counter.
`` Nice knowing you.''
`` What?''
I drop a couple bills on the counter, but I do n't wait for the change this time. It must be in the hundreds, maybe more, but who's keeping track? Instead of testing my hand on the counter, waiting for the coins I grab my coffee, get the lid half off and throw it onto his chest. He screams and doubles over, and I start screaming back.
`` Outside! Two men!''
He's back up and holding the shotgun from under the counter, a lucky guess on my part. The miscalculation this time is that he did n't hear me, or thought I was saying something else, and while the two men look in, confused, pistols lowered, he fires into my chest. It's more like a kick than I expected, and I slam into the aisle racks, blinking, lungs empty. He still has the barrel pointing at me when my vision clears, and before he can get out a word there's another blast, the station window fracturing, and his head slamming into the counter, red behind, across from, and on it.
A couple seconds later and I'm at least breathing, wincing every time from the sting, but I stop when the door chimes open, and both men cone in.
`` The fuck you think that was about?''
`` No idea, man. Go check on that asshole. I'll get the register.''
The first one steps over, pulls up his mask, and squats down in front of me.
`` Can you hear me alright? Looks like he got you with a chest full of rocksalt!''
That explains the stinging. I try to say something, but all that comes out is a choked gurgle and some blood.
`` Mickey, you said it yourself. No witnesses.''
`` Right,'' he turns back to me, `` sorry friend.''
I hold the bills in my hand, not shaking, not opening.
`` Mickey's outside,'' the cashier's eyes do n't look dead anymore, `` I'm going to throw this coffee on you. Shoot them.''
He's dumbstruck, mouth slightly open, not ready. I drop the bills and empty the coffee on his shirt. He doubles over, and I turn to the left. Both men have their guns down, definitely surprised. Forward again, and he's come up level with the counter, his gun resting flat. The first barrel knocks out the window and puts the smaller man on the ground, his pistol out of reach. The second shot lands just as well, but hits more of the man's hand, sending his pistol further back. The next few minutes I stand in silence. There's yelling outside, one shot, two, more yelling. Neither of the men are dead. Inside the station the clerk left the phone off the hook, 911 operator listening, and occasionally speaking. After about ten minutes, the police arrive. We're sitting on the ground, weapons aside, and the robbers are clutching their chests and knees. We're brought back to the station, security footage is reviewed, and I'm released after questioning.
The drive home is the strangest part. I give Sarah a call, tell her I got caught up in traffic, but I'll be home soon. I ask to talk to Jason. She says he's at a friend's house.
`` I love you.''
`` You too. See you soon!''
I hang up and start writing a message.
`` Hey Jason, give me a call once you get this.''
I look back up after pressing send, and the semi's bumper ca n't be more than six feet from my face.
*Edit: * like 12 words
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[ WP ] Humans hibernate every year . Tell the story of the last person to go to sleep or the first person to wake up .
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Her eyes widened as she looked up, the last of the sunset scorching her face. The warmness left, the sun was gone.
Her hands were shaking. She tried to unbuckle herself from her harness but it was locked, a safety feature in our newest update of the Hy-Sleep. Never had she thought she would need to use the knife encased in glass to her sharp left, barely in reach, but all units contained one for this exact reason, no matter how impossible. These hibernation machines had a perfect success rate, there had never been a documented case of one malfunctioning.
After cutting through her harness, she pushed open the door and stepped out. A kick to the machine registered shortly after, and caused no internal damage. Promptly, she pushed every button on the external command center, none of which were working. She was n't able to make any contact.
We were able to track her next few moves. She tried overriding the adjacent Hy-Sleep containing Hank Mantry, her husband, but to no success. Physical entry was also denied, although she did manage to damage the machine 7 %.
She quickly gave up, and sunk to the floor. Our internal and external cameras began malfunctioning here, but our audio functions were not damaged.
It was quickly that we heard scuttling and shouting. At first, completely incoherent, but after the screams became very clear; almost monotone. `` Kill me.''
It was at this point that her Hy-Sleep completely malfunctioned and shut down. We lost all capability, except for one small detail. Seconds before total system failure, an entry was made on the internal keyboard. `` Stay aslee-''
Our system has encountered an error. To keep statistics where they should be, we will delete all audio and video. Erasing in...
3
2
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[ WP for a short film ] A man delivering his own eulogy following his suicide .
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The bell rang once from across the way, and its somber toll sliced through the crisp autumn air above them. They were a small group, six in all, each of them clad in black and standing silent above the hole with puffy red eyes cast downward. An older gentleman with salt and pepper hair wrapped his arm around the waist of the woman beside him, her pale face half buried in her hands, shoulders periodically jerked up by quiet sobs. Across the black pit, three young men stood with their hands buried in their pockets, each one of them seemingly transfixed by the sight of it.
Fat grey clouds slid low over the land and the ghost of winter's dark dream sent leaves floating through the air, scratching over the ground past their feet. A lone man stood at the head of the grave, feet slightly apart, hands held behind his back, and his first simple words were a whisper on the breeze.
`` He was not a righteous man,'' he said, his eyes searching the darkness beneath his feet. `` He would n't have wanted us to pretend that he was. If only for this one moment, he would have wanted us to speak only truth. And so we shall.''
He looked up, and his sharp eyes wandered over each one of them. No one moved. Aside from the trembling woman to his right, no one made a sound.
`` He chased truth, or so he thought, and if he could be said to possess only one redeeming quality it would likely be that. He saw past the masks we sometimes wear, the quiet little lies we sometimes whisper to ourselves for comfort, and in so doing he saw us all in a way that few ever do. He also saw himself, his true self, and he lived every day with the sort of insight we often wish not to face. Such was his gift, such was his burden.''
`` But for all his contemplation, for all his silent analysis and the suffering it must have caused, there was never an excuse for weakness. Better men than him lived and prospered under the stark, lonely light of reason, and where they saw success he only seemed to flounder. He could not seem to fix the limitless scuffs and scrapes and flaws he found within himself, yet he could not tolerate the same imperfections in others. He could not reach out, could not compromise, and the unrest within his spirit only served to heighten his discontent with those around him. He was not a patient man.''
`` He was selfish, crude, difficult, prone to outburst and self-pity and senseless shame. He became an old man before his time, and his bitterness both filled him up and rendered him inadequate. He thought he saw a better path in all things and he watched helpless as no one took it. He could not find that path for himself and he did n't know why. He was a stubborn man, a man rendered idle by his own perpetual turmoil. He could not admit his own confusion.''
`` And so we lay him to rest here in the open, another mind turned terribly inward upon itself, another name set adrift upon the limitless swell of time. And so we may remember him as he was, a conflicted soul, a wound, a diminishing flash of light forever fighting the coming dusk. He was a man, and for all his strife and conquest he could only seek to be something less.''
He stepped back slowly from the edge of the grave and slid his hands into his pockets. He stared into the gathering darkness before him for only a moment before turning, and the man with the salt and pepper hair took his place. He walked without direction, without ever looking up, and the voice rose into the air from somewhere over his shoulder.
`` He was a righteous man, a naturally empathetic spirit who always took the time to try and help others with their problems. He *cared*. He could n't *help* but care, and one could n't help but see it in all his worldly deeds.''
After some time, it faded into the wind.
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[ WP ] A new superhero runs into his first supervillain . Oops , it 's actually the strongest villain currently at large .
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Earthquake lay still in the crater, fissures running along his stone body. I float above him, spreading my arms for the crowd beginning to approach the ruined street, and proclaim, “ Victory is mine! Earthquake lies defeated at my feet. Fear not, good citizens. I, Prowess, am here to serve you! ”
Today could not have gone better. Ten minutes on the job, and I ’ ve already defeated a villain without even taking a scratch. Looks like I ’ m going to have a bright career ahead–
“ Pretty words. ” A gravelly voice comes from behind me. I spin around, cape swishing behind me – Earthquake ’ s rock lips can not speak, so he must have backup.
The crater is empty. Dust drifts in the wind.
“ I have proven my superiority, Earthquake. Surrender now, and I will be merciful. ” I scan the street. Empty shops, broken windows; but no supervillain. Dammit. Just when things were looking so good–
My hair is plastered to my face as I am drenched from above. The water freezes, obscuring my vision – though through my invulnerability I barely feel the cold. I flail for a moment, then turn around and fly into the ground, shattering the ice around me.
I stand up and shake myself off – not the image I was wanting to give off. The ice melts as I wring out my hair, and the water all flows together, into a human-shaped form on the other side of the street. Like flicking a light switch, the water changes to flesh, and then there is a man facing me. He looks vaguely like Earthquake, but his features are intact.
“ Greetings, *Prowess*. ” He bows deeply, with a faint grin.
“ Who are you? Earthquake can ’ t change his form. ”
“ Indeed not. ” The man bursts into flames. I start forward, but he transitions back to human form. “ Though it amuses me to play-act as those lesser villains, it appears the charade is at its end. ” He switches to metal, then ice, then back to human. “ You may call me Elementor. ”
Elementor. Darn. A shadowy figure – not literally, despite his transformative powers – who tends to kill any hero he met. Unless, of course, they are invulnerable or have powers suited to escape. Like, for example, me.
I grin – only half bravado – and dart forward. I don ’ t have actual super speed, but I ’ m still plenty fast. Elementor changes into a shimmering metal, and I prepare for impact. I ’ d rather not kill him, but I won ’ t be too sorry about it if I do. Fix my eyes on his smug, shining face as I approach – a perfect target for my fist.
Then he vanishes, and I smash through the wall behind him.
I pick myself up and dust off – I ’ m not hurt, though my costume is starting to suffer. I search for Elementor again. He seems to be gone, but then I spot a slight shimmer in the air. As I watch, it transforms back into the human form of my enemy.
“ Think back to your classical philosophy, ” says Elementor. “ Air, too, is an element. ”
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[ WP ] ( Horror ) As you found out today , the darkness is your friend .
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My mom always said I was the quiet kid. Always staring off into corners, or wrapped in a book instead of talking with my siblings, not even getting into fights when my older brothers try to provoke me; just shrinking into myself and turning away.
What my mom never figured out was that I was always a scared little kid - and I was keeping quiet so as not to draw attention from the scary things.
There are some funny things about being a kid. One, you have a tendency to believe in the existence of things. Of course, I always knew the black things were there - I could see them in every darkened corner, every shadow in the closet, with tiny little nonluminous pinpricks of light for eyes. They moved, and touched things. I could tell they were real. Two, you are the most curious you'll ever be in your life. When the encyclopedia could n't tell me what the shadows were, I started reading fantasy books. Therein were contained countless tales of mystical beings, with unfathomable powers - and many of them were malicious. I read - and I believed. I ascribed to the shadows the qualities of the monsters from fantasy - and I feared them.
But one day, everything changed.
One of my habits was to read in bed by moonlight. There was always enough light to read somehow, and a flashlight was not a good idea - the shadows would go away when it was on, but there would always be more of them once the light went away. So, I used the moon. Usually, the shadows with pinpricks for eyes would mosey around my room, trailing strangely shaped, ethereal hands along my bookshelves or my desk. But I did n't notice the one squashed into the corner above my bed until it drifted down and sidled up to me inquiringly from my left - and on reflex, I broke my rule and looked at it directly.
It was a tiny shadow; barely taller than me, and much thinner. Its' small, pinprick eyes were quite lively and bright, however, and I could n't look away. It looked from me, to the book, and back, and then it cocked its' head at me. When I did n't answer, it sat down next to me - almost a plopping motion - and stuck its' head very close to the book. It surprised me so much, I yanked the book away and reflexively said, out loud, `` Do n't place your face so close to the book!''
All the shadows in the room pulled themselves up and glanced at me, and I froze - but then they all looked away, their gazes slowly drifting away from me as the tiniest of eddying breezes tugged on their forms, returning them to their silent drifting. The tiny one had pulled back, and was looking at me with an expression that was unmistakably penitent, despite the fact it had no face. It looked so morose, in fact, that I took pity on it - and because the other shadows had looked away, I decided to take the chance, and whispered a question to it.
`` Do you want to read, too?''
For a long second, the tiny shadow did n't move; then it slowly nodded. None of the other shadows reacted.
`` Um, do you know how?'' It shook its' head quickly.
`` Do... you want me to read to you?''
It looked surprised for a second, then nodded excitedly. Before I could keep speaking, it quickly pressed itself against me, squirmed closer, and looked at the book again, placing its' head beside mine. It was warm to the touch. Hesitantly, I started reading in a whisper.
`` Normal! He thought. Normal! I do n't want things to be normal. Normal is always being left out, never belonging... ”
I read and read, and the tiny shadow sat quietly and listened. Eventually, I became aware that another shadow had detached itself from the group, and was sitting to my right. I looked at that one, too. It was... frail. Tall enough to have to double itself over so as not to knock its' head on the ceiling, but so wispy it seemed I could blow it away with a breath. It looked at me with its' old, dim pinpricks, nodded at me - and I knew it wanted me to keep going, too. So I did.
One by one, the shadows slowed, stopped, blinked their pinpricks curiously at the bed, and then slowly drifted over, taking a place behind a shoulder, or maybe slotting themselves into the minuscule space between my back and the window I was reading from. Eventually, not one shadow remained drifting about the room - they were all on my bed, entwined around me, reading along whilst shrouding me in void.
It was warm, almost cozy, pressed up against them. I read faster and faster, losing myself in the story and the shadows, and it was n't until the next morning that I realized.
I was n't scared anymore.
Faster and faster the tales of the old, familiar characters flashed by. Twig, a young human raised by trolls, living in the deepest forest imaginable. The banderbears, gentle, fruit-eating giants; intelligent, and proud. With every word, the shadows curled about my legs, giving harmless shape to the monsters I described. Wig-wigs swarmed about my feet, airy black teeth sinking into my legs, but not harming me in the slightest. Tattered cloth enshrouding me, mimicking the gloamglozer's deadly embrace. Then...
`` Andrew? Are you okay? I heard voices - ah!!''
Light fell across me, the darkness gone. I looked up and saw my mom in the opened doorway, light streaming past her from the bulb in the hall, a horrified look on her face - but even as I glanced at her, she blinked, looked closer, and confusion etched itself on her countenance, overwriting the horror.
I smiled at her. `` I'm okay, Mom, I was just reading to myself.'' She kept peering into the room, looking around suspiciously, so I tried again. `` I'm okay, really I am. I'll stop reading if you want me to; it could hurt my eyes -''
She shook her head. `` No, that's fine, it's just, I - I thought I saw something.'' One more baffled glance around, and she withdrew, the door slowly swinging shut. `` But do n't stay up too late. You have school tomorrow, after all.''
`` I wo n't, Mom.''
And darkness fell again. For the first time in as long as I could remember, the pinprick-eyed shadows did not return. But I did n't mind, though. I knew they would be back. I closed the book, put it on my nightstand, and pulled the covers up to go to sleep. I'd finished the book, anyways.
I do n't know what terrible things Mom saw when she looked at me, in that instant before the shadows fled. I do n't know if there are shadows beyond my room that are less beneficent, that are as monstrous as the stories say. But they're not that way here; I'll have help. And there's one more funny thing about being a kid that I never really realized before now:
Having friends is the best.
***
Note: Thanks for reading! The book Andrew is reading, from which the quote and the monsters come, is called Beyond The Deepwoods, and it was one of my favorite series when I was younger. This story is not quite horror, but I like the way it came out anyway.
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[ WP ] Saw this on another thread , looked interesting . Link in comments . Premise : Wrong person died , now the powers that be have to fix it .
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`` Damnit, Bradzen,'' said Coltharott, Lord of the Nineteenth Realm, Protector of the Immortality of the Minor Soul, and Champion of the Paths Between the Stars. `` I have n't seen a fuckup this major since 1912. You should be able to handle these tasks. They're fairly basic; I mean, the Kennedy intern is now more reliable than you.''
Bradzen hung his head. `` `` I'm sorry, My Lord,'' he said. `` If you like, I will commit myself to Lord Fikkamere's fiery pit for the next eon.''
Coltharott shook his head, pacing from side to side of the Temple of Starlight. `` How would that help fix this problem? Just... go over it again. Please. How did you Reap the wrong Michael Stanton?''
`` There's six of them in Iowa,'' said Bradzen. The light behind his eyes, which normally shone as bright as the jewels in the Temple, was dim with his shame. `` These two were more similar than just their names. They both played soccer, were into robotics, and were considering computer science majors. They even had the same birth date. Their Universe Identification Numbers are only two digits different.''
Coltharott said, `` You're too young, Bradzen. I remember the days when I was Chair of European Development and people only had eleven or twelve different occupations to sort their identities by. You could never appreciate the struggle of keeping track of people who all farm on little strips of land, celebrate all the same festivals, die of all the same diseases, and do n't even have the opportunity to be tracked by Favorite Superhero.''
`` They had the same Favorite Superhero as well,'' Bradzen said quickly. `` Green Lantern.''
Coltharott hung his head. `` If I'd known that, I would have petitioned the Higher Courts to reconsider this decision. But it's too late now. Michael Stanton was conditioned his entire life. His first two teachers were undercover Seraphim and we even implanted subconscious responses.'' He turned away. `` Who is the other Michael Stanton?''
`` He's fairly average,'' Bradzen is. `` He's not a player in anyone's Divine Mission. He was supposed to die in a car crash as a Tragic Irony, as he's the safest driver he knows.''
Coltharott sighed. `` I do n't know how to fix this. It's an entire destiny flushed.''
`` Could you get a Miraculous Resurrection, My Lord?''
`` Not at this point. Those have to be filed within 1.4 Earth Seconds of the subject's death, and I did n't even realize what had happened until 2.19. Bradzen, this is your wreck. Do n't you have any ideas for how to fix it?''
`` I think I'm getting one,'' Bradzen said. `` I mean, we are short one Epic Destiny, but maybe we could substitute the other Michael. He was supposed to die so it's not like anyone else is using his future.''
`` Substitute?'' Coltharott repeated. `` Bradzen, people can not simply be thrust into Epic Destinies. Epic Destinies are a long and delicate endeavor. Everything in my Michael's life was preparing him for his future. This Michael does n't have any cues or primes. It would like be throwing an ape into an engineer's shoes.''
`` I know,'' Bradzen said, `` but he's all we've got. He's still in High School. We do have some time to prep him.''
Coltharott did not reply immediately. `` You're right,'' he said at last. `` He is all we have. Go pull a scan on his subconscious and we'll see what we can work with. If I do n't have the First Man on Mars ready by 2027, both you and I are getting fried.''
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[ WP ] Your best friend clings onto the side of a cliff , and you claw at her hands , trying to get her to fall . What led to this ?
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`` Do n't be a little Bitch,'' Leah chuckled as she climbed onto the highest rock.
`` I'm not. You know I hate heights,'' I said, slowly calculating every move as I tried to follow her.
`` The view is seriously beautiful up here,'' she exclaimed.
I finally heaved myself up to where she was and sat down. The trees and mountains in the distance created a serene picture, but I was more afraid of the fall below. I agreed to come on this trip since I've never been hiking before. I was beginning to think it was a bad idea. I definitely was n't in the shape I used to be, and I did n't think my fear of heights would be as bad as it was.
`` It smells so good out here,'' Leah said. `` It's so peaceful.''
I was too busy heaving to answer. I nodded instead.
Leah stepped closer to the edge of the cliff, her hands on her hip, as she scanned the surrounding area.
`` Long way down, it looks,'' Leah said quietly. `` You should come closer and take a look.''
`` I'll pass,'' I said. `` It looks good from right here.''
Leah looked back at me with a sly look on her face. That usually meant she was up to something. After a little less than 20 years of knowing each other, I knew most of her mannerisms. She stepped even closer to the edge and leaned over.
`` Look, Ash!'' She yelled.
`` Fucking seriously, Leah!'' I screamed.
Leah cackled and began to turn around.
`` You seriously are ridiculous. I do n't know why... Fuck!!'' Leah bellowed as she stepped on a rock and her ankle buckled to the side. I saw her hit the ground on her stomach and slide back. Her hands caught the side of the cliff.
I slowly stood up, walked over to the edge, and looked down at her. I smirked.
`` Fucking help me, Ash! What the fuck!!'' Leah cried.
`` That's funny, Leah. Real funny. Why do you think it's a good idea to do stupid shit like this,'' I said calmly.
`` I know! Just help me up!''
I sat down beside her, my legs hanging over the edge.
`` Hmmm. Nah. I think I'll just sit here and take in the view for a minute,'' I answered.
`` Ash! Please! This is n't funny! I do n't know how much longer I can hold on!'' she begged.
`` No, Leah. Do you know what's not fucking funny? Fucking Jason in my bed when I was in the hospital. Giving him herpes, and then him passing them on to me. Or maybe it was n't funny when I found out my mom got herpes because you fucked my dad too. No. No, no. Not funny at all,'' I said coldly. `` But you know what is funny? You. Your life. That baby inside of you. My little sister or brother your carrying right now. That's funny. You really did n't think I'd fucking find out?''
`` Ash. Please. I was going to get an abortion. I was n't even going to tell anyone. I'm sorry. I should have told you. I'm so, so sorry,'' she sobbed.
`` I'm done with apologies, Leah. They're not going to help you. It's not even the baby that's bothering me,'' I said, admiring the scenery. `` It's the fact that I love my dad. I really love him. And I'm carrying his baby. I'm the only one that should be. So I ca n't have you around anymore.'' And at that, I pulled her fingers back and watched as she fell to her death to the rock bed below.
I swung my legs back over to solid ground and got up. I dusted the dirt off of my capris and rested my hand on my stomach that currently held mine and my father's eight week old baby.
`` No one takes Daddy away from me,'' I said to myself. And now it was his turn to be punished for what he did to me.
Eh... probably not interesting since this is the second time I've done this, but I tried.
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[ WP ] A secret council has been working with an unknown entity to replace humans as the dominant species of Earth , but they have finally been exposed . Every person is given a choice : Help the entity for a chance to save yourself , or fight .
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You remember growing up, learning about conspiracy theories? You remember how you eventually learned why they were all bullshit, but their possibilities still excited you? The resistance to conspiracies was so ingrained in our culture. It took a while before the reality of the Council took hold.
It happened during an autopsy. The Enhanced were n't supposed to die, and were smart enough not to in almost any situation. Yet somehow, one ended up with a bullet through his brain in Washington, D.C. When doctors were cutting into his brain during the autopsy, they noticed something peculiar. Half of his brain was metal.
Every person in that room ended up dead, and there was an attempt to destroy all the records of the autopsy. Luckily enough, the United States government grew suspicious, and investigated. What they found was the existence of the Council, and it would change humanity forever.
After the Council was discovered, they decided to go public. They revealed that they had taken certain members of the population, and replaced half of their body with nanorobotics. These people would never age, would never die of disease, and combined the finest parts of computer and human thinking to create the perfect intelligence. As the Council put it, the Enhanced were `` Humanity's next step.''
It all seemed nice at first. Some people voluntarily went under surgery to become Enhanced. Others, like myself, were more suspicious. I was working for the CIA in Virginia at the time, just a simple desk job. I remember when our finest team of agents were first able to break into the Council's headquarters hidden in Antarctica and find the truth. The truth that would spark a war.
After our discovery became public, the Council issued an ultimatum: join or die. They took control of large portions of every country's military with the Enhanced. The most noble of our sacrifices came early in the war, as leaders of countries with nuclear weapons who had been captured chose to die rather than to allow the Council to control nukes.
Five years later, it is estimated that half the world is now Enhanced. Yet we continue to fight on, because we know the truth. We know that the Council had built a giant supercomputer under the ice in Antarctica, and planned to use it to control the mind of every Enhanced. We know that the Council wants to turn humanity into its own hyper-intelligent slave race. We know that the first Enhanced to die, the one who had undergone the autopsy that started the war, had not yet been under full control of the supercomputer. When he learned of the Council's plan, he had driven to Washington, D.C., and put a bullet in his own head.
He killed himself to preserve something he envied: free will. He knew it was the only way to become free from the Council. Some people decide their free will is n't as important as their lives, and even today they will surrender to the Council. But those of us who know the truth will never give in. We will continue to fight until our last breath, because we know that under the skin of many Enhanced, they yearn to break free.
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[ WP ] After you die you find that what we think of as `` life '' is really a tutorial mode for a much more chaotic reality .
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I forget quickly how I died, while my attorney talks in his quiet, exhausted, almost unintelligible voice and walks towards a large wooden door, a hundred feet across the hall we're in.
`` First things first: I am a public attorney assigned to your case and, as you know from the world you previously resided on, public defenders have five minutes for each case every day. This is world is worse, so I will update you on your case and give you the instructions while we walk toward the door, then I will leave you forever. You are not in heaven or hell, and you are not immortal, so do not harm yourself. All humans are mortal, this is life, and yes, you died. This is not a dream. We know this for a fact. Never question any authority, spend your first thirty days to learn the law of the land and never leave your house after dark. You will be murdered and then it will be over for you. Yes, there are people who are better than others and no, you are not one of them, otherwise you would not be here. Please sign here.''
He hands me a sheet of paper and a pen that turns into a snake and I start levitating. The snake follows me and I run fast, but ca n't gain traction because my feet do n't touch the ground and the snake which has grown legs runs after me and while I am hunted down, I notice that I ca n't breathe.
I wake up with Isaac and John talking quietly to each other and then looking at me. I want to yell at them. I want to throw my oxygen tank at them. But I remain quiet, as always. This is why I'm here and not in a more peaceful place. I'm one of those people. I lie and I get passive aggressive and take revenge quietly and oh, I do n't care about things that sound important. Like a human ’ s “ autonomy ”, fuck that.
In case you also just arrived and you still do n't know what is going on, let me update you on the state of this world. See, my attorney only told me half of the truth and he might have told you the opposite. This world does not follow the laws of space and time so the thing with immortality is bullshit, the government is just covering their tracks. But let me start from the start. And just in case you wondered if you can just read about this in a book: this is a world, where you ca n't look it up online or in a history book. Truth is intertwined with lies, the universities are populated by con-artists selling you the most comforting sounding ideas for the highest price and the New New testament is a joke. See, after Jesus came here, and we had murdered him, he lost belief in us. And more importantly, he lost belief in the Father. Because He did not fulfill his promise to unite with him after death. Jesus turned away in disappointment and sat still on a stone waiting for death for forty days and a half. And it came swiftly. And after this, the religions withered away and became hard and dry. And even before that, after Zeno had come here, and he discovered that contrary to what he had thought, consciousness did not die with the dying body, he threw out the paradoxes and all of Stoic physics with it. And after Newton came and realized that there are seven-hundred more years to live here, he obsessed trying to describe the perfection of the universe and started cooperating with Kepler. Apparently, they drove one another up the wall for thirty-seven years of uninterrupted fighting and yelling to finally discover the immutable laws of space and time - and with it, the universe turned shy from being laid bare and punished humanity for their hubris. And it ceased its wondrous immutable regularity. So now you die or you do n't and no one knows when. And the snakes and cats and rats and roaches and spiders start levitating and crush back onto the earth everyday. And everyday people levitate into space never to be seen again. And maybe your body miraculously rejuvenates and starts producing its own natural cocaine. And some trees became so radioactive that they burned the rest of their species into nothingness. It is a plentiful universe, because there are no hereditary traits anymore, and nothing reproduces anymore since the universe turned away from us. See, Kepler and Newton had worked it out, all of it. Four hundred years before General Relativity, five hundred years before Artificial Intelligence and five hundred and twenty-two years before extinction. All of it: the reason we would perish after death and the other minds problem and the Sorites paradox and the Chinese Room problem and the falsity of the third law of motion and the connection between the all-encompassing harmony and the laws of nature. I met them on their knees, two old men begging for forgiveness in the street. I listened to them, because my creator had told me that it was good to do so. They said that they had communicated with the Allness, the universe, and God, and that it was ashamed of them. And it was the most ashamed to hear that they wanted to find a way to bring back the souls from the dead. So, it punished humanity some more. Kepler's and Newton's method worked, it brought back the dead. But only the rich, the filthy, the selfish. Everybody yearns to die now, and so do I but we know that it will only stick if we're good people.
I look at them quietly. Isaac turns to me and opens his mouth `` Listen, Felicity, we have to talk to you.'' I prop myself up in my bed and pull at my hairband nervously. `` What is it?'' I squint in the semi-dark to study their faces, they look worried to me. The men's faces are scarred from almost a half millenium of experiments and hollow with grief. I pull my hairband from my head and my curls spring back into my face. `` Ve could not help our curiosity. It is ze sickness!'' John yelled out in despair. `` But ve found ze regularity overriding chaos of our universe.'' - `` So...? `` - `` So, we do n't know what to do.'' Newton interrupts impatiently. `` So?'' I ask confused. `` This might get things back to normal.''
I nod, I understand. We had started working together forty years ago. After Isaac, the more outgoing and assertive of the two, had told me his story and I had filled him in on the recent extinction of all human life on earth, he became horrified and threw up. Johannes, still the kind old math teacher, held Isaac ’ s hair back. I tried to lighten the mood with extinction jokes, which really worked on them. `` How many humans does it take to change a light bulb? - What's the point, we're all going to die anyway!'' That sort. Well, I understand it's not the best of the extinction jokes, but it did the trick at the time. From my viewpoint this second chance was excellent news, plus: the general lack of laws of nature made it impossible for humanity to destroy creation. `` Ve can make zis worse, young lady. Zat is the point.'' Then and there I understood. With only bad people being resurrected, earth would gradually become a torturous place to live. Extinction was not the worst case scenario here. Hell was.
I explained to them that along with a group of researchers in Nairobi I had found a method to cultivate an extremely enhanced form of kindness in humans that could restore a responsible use of earthly resources. We were inscribing into their DNA a response mechanism by de-familiarizing them from their human species and recoding it such that they did not see a difference between the survival of the human species and every other creature on earth. Humans would become genetically forced to respect creation. I was the moral philosopher in the project and did not understand the technology very well, but I worked out an ethical way of getting rid of autonomy. I was n't a lot better at my job than the MIT and Princeton philosophers, I was just willing to do this. The genetic manipulation had already worked in three focus groups of repeat offenders. We were just about to become ready for broad band application to human DNA, but the legislative process was too slow. Even though we could have prevented ultimate extinction, we were too late. I asked Isaac and John to move in with me and cooperate on the project. I did n't understand the science well enough, but they could. We made good progress for the first forty years of working together. We just wanted to save the last remaining bit of creation for another seven hundred years. So that truth would come back. So that even under the spatiotemporal conditions that incessantly threw humans into unforeseen tragedies, humanity could die in peace.
And sitting there with my curls on my nose looking and the deep cavities of grief on their cheeks I understand: they have n't stopped researching physics. Humans could survive as a race beyond seven hundred years and maybe it would not imply the resurrection of the worst. `` Felicity?'' I ’ m sick. I need a minute. Many people who miraculously remain good are sad, angry and advocate for full extinction these days.
Isaac turns on the headlight in my bedroom. I assume he wants to gauge my reaction. I turn to my side and swing my feet out of the bed. Then I empty the contents of my stomach into an aluminum bin and get up to start packing a backpack. `` We need to find the others. The ones who participated in project Harmony. Now.'' John and Isaac do not react. `` Do n't you understand?'' I yell. `` If we save the laws of nature as they are now, we will become extinct in 50 years tops. We must start the DNA modifications now. You think it will be hell to resurrect some sinners from the 15th century? Imagine what happens when the government starts working on the 20th century backup files.'' Isaac stares at me. `` We ca n't go out after dark, Felicity. We could die at any time. We could step into black holes!'' - `` Oh, they ’ ll bring us back in no time. We ’ re not that great.''
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[ WP ] It is the zombie apocalypse . Your small group of survivors consists of yourself , a man named Alan who says little , a woman named Rosa who feels she should be the leader of the group , and LeBron James . You have kept a journal of events since The Outbreak began . The most recent entry reads :
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***language is n't PG***
Day 141
As it stands today, I would fuck LeBron, marry Alan, and kill Rosa. So basically no changes from yesterday. I do n't know who died and made Rosa queen ( except I do because everyone died and that position was up for the taking ) but girl is getting on my last nerve. First of all, NO I am not going to run around outside at night just so you can test how far your newly acquired camera system can see in the dark. I do n't care if you think it's `` necessary to our survival.'' You know what's necessary to my survival? Not going outside at night. Secondly, take a damn bath. LeBron worked so hard at getting us water to wash ourselves and you're still sitting there in your filth like it's day 20.
Okay Rosa rant over. And Rosa if you're reading this, I'm sorry. But not about the bath part.
So today was pretty uneventful as far as days go now. I went hunting with Alan this morning and we found a teenage girl walking alone in the woods. She was super disoriented and we almost brought her back to Rosa for treatment but Alan got suspicious of the way she was walking and made her roll up her pant leg. Sure enough there was a massive chunk missing and the tissue around the wound was already rotting from the infection. Alan shot her between the eyes before she could explain how they were n't `` really'' zombie bites. She did n't see it coming.
We also got 3 gallons of water from the stream and killed a family of rabbits for dinner.
This afternoon I ran around the compound with LeBron. We used to play games all afternoon but he's stopped playing everything recently. All he wants to do is run and run and run. So I run with him. I'm afraid if I leave him alone he'll run away. And I need him. Everyone needs somebody here and I need him. Rosa needs Alan, Alan needs me, I need LeBron and LeBron needs Rosa. I think that's the only reason I have n't murdered Rosa yet ( I'M JOKING ROSA ). So anyway, today we ran for 4 hours. I told him again for the thousandth time that we do n't have enough food to keep running like that but he refuses to listen. I do n't really push it though if I'm being honest. I'm too afraid he'll stop letting me sleep in his bed if I push it too much.
Earlier tonight I helped Rosa prepare the rabbits. I do n't mind skinning them and she does n't mind doing the rest so we actually make a decent rabbit cooking team. I should n't have told her that though because that's when she told me I should run around outside in the dark for her. I really do n't know how she can be so stupid sometimes. She is truly a god send and we would n't have made it this long without her but sometimes she is so obtuse. If I had n't witnessed her graduation with my own eyes I never would have believed that she's a surgeon. So anyway, we ate the rabbit on the roof as the sun went down and the chaos started in the distance. I had this weird yearning to run toward it. I felt like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I want to be where the ( undead ) people are. I want to see, want to see them dancing? I do n't know. I miss people.
So as another day comes to an end, here are my parting thoughts:
1. If Alan kills anymore people he's going to go full mute.
2. I think Rosa is stealing my underwear.
3. I'm running out of things to write with/on.
4. Why am I writing this.
5. My friend and I used to send each other emails that just had everything that came into our heads for five straight minutes and I miss her and that so much today.
6. If LeBron stops letting me sleep in his bed I'm going to lose my mind.
7. MMMBop by Hanson has been stuck in my head for 11 straight days.
So that's it. I'll talk to you tomorrow scrap paper pieces.
-Kourtney
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[ WP ] You have died . As you watch your loved ones walk away from your grave , someone lingers . They wait to be alone . Then , they start laughing and shouting about having finally beat you .
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I read the prompt a little wrong, but I hope you enjoy none-the-less!
***
I watch from the rest of the world
And I only wish you could see
The golden colour of the sunset when the waking world is asleep
How it shines and brightens the day
Just before it ends
One last shimmer before a night's goodbye
I wish I could share it with you
But you're there
And I'm here
Watching you for eternity
Here and there at once
You have a wedding
Family
Kids
You are happy once again
But that is not now
Now is today
And today you are everything to me
And I am everything to you
The ring I gave you still resting on your finger
To be removed later
When you let go
But not now
I am staring at you here
Sweetheart
Please know I love you
Please let this somehow get through to your tears
Your sullen face and broken heart
Your eyes filled with more life and death
And sadness than I have ever seen before
And then you're alone
A smile widens on your face and you're laughing once again
It's almost like you can see me
As if I made a joke that only you found funny
Like I always tried to do
But there's no one here now
Only you
And your joy is returning
However fleeting it may be
With a few screams into dead air of
`` I beat you,
Are you proud of me?!''
Because we made that bet a while ago
When you were diagnosed
When the fluids filled in your lungs and the light left
But that was momentary
A jump through hoops to our struggles
It was hard
But we did it
We made it out alive
You made it out alive
I wish I could hold you close
To show you this sunset
How beautiful the city looks in the basking sun
Like those days you loved
I can only watch and wait for you
Whether at the end you will be mine or another's
Or both
You make this city warm in your glow
And I love you
So move on
Let me go
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[ WP ] You 're afraid of your power , and you struggle every day to keep it in check , One day you meet someone during a crisis that helps you somehow . Make it a love/heartwarming story .
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Jon had always been scared of the dark. Not because he was afraid of monsters, or blindness, or those strange light shows that your eyes put up while adapting, but because he was scared of what he'd become.
See, Jon had this... *problem*. Others might call it a power, why, even a *Super*power, Capital S and all, but, him being the empowered and all, he just saw it as a pain. Jon, as it were, did n't exist once the lights went off. He turned into a formless shadow. A cloud of vaguely humanoid smoke, just floating around a point somewhere near his navel.
Other people, more *grounded* people, might consider that a *boon*. He'd even been told as much, by inexplicably jealous friends and acquaintances, with words like, `` Dude, but that's awesome! It's like, you're the best at hide-and-seek! ``, or, `` So you can float? Is n't that tremendously freeing? Why are you so mopey about it?''. Fools. Jon knew how terrifying it was, to suddenly loose all your mass. Imagine that feeling at the peak of a roller coaster, just before you dropped. Now imagine that feeling, all the time, as soon as it became sufficiently dark. Jon was not comfortable with it.
To top it all off, this shadowy power was *such* a villainous power too! Who'd ever hears of a *good guy* with the ability to break apart into an amorphous cloud? Even Nightcrawler had started out evil. Jon just hoped it would n't come to that.
All this changed however, that fateful, dreary day on the eighth of August, five years past. It was a cloudy, overcast day, the kind of lighting a Green Day song could be set against. Jon had been walking swiftly down the street back from his workplace, the Shifty Prince Pub, after a long night of pouring out Scotch on the Rocks and stirring in Martinis. He rather liked working nights at the pub. It was always bright and colourful, and Jon hardly ever felt the warning tingle that indicated he was about to lose his limbs, and indeed his entire being. Further, and this was something he'd never confessed, he actually liked the gut thumping overtuned music.
Back to the tale at hand, he was walking down the street, bundled in his coat against both the wind and the constant tingling, curse the lack of sunlight, when he ran into a person he had barely seen, just as a ray of sunlight escaped the overbearing clouds and hit her full in the face. Jon's first thought had been, *ouch*. But his second thought had been a wondering at her clear beauty, captured in that ray of sun. He managed to reserve just enough conscious thought to stammer out an apology, that quickly faded as he realised she was running *away* from the sunlight, and that, indeed, the light *seemed to follow her down the road*!
`` Oh, please, not in this wonderful weather too! Blue skies and bright sun is all well and good, but I'd rather like a bit o' cool wind and cloudy twilight at times! ``, she said, as much to herself as to the single gap in the clouds lighting her as in a spotlight.
`` I think you're beautiful. I mean, that the *light's* beautiful. That is not to say that you are n't... Eh... ``
Jon's voice petered out as he realized he'd said that out loud. She'd stopped, startled, and turned to face him. She really was beautiful, Jon reflected, honey brown hair and freckles sprayed across her nose and cheeks. Freckles that were all the more prominent for the creeping flush across her face as she saw him. A flush he was sure he was mirroring.
`` W-well, that's a nice way to introduce oneself.'' She managed to stammer out, her words singing in Jon's ears. `` And what's your name, pray, oh connoisseur of sunlight?'' A smile was slowly transforming her face, revealing the most adorable of dimples.
`` Jon. Now you've got to give me yours too, or it is n't fair.'' Where was this bravery coming from?! Well, she did n't seem to mind, her eyes half closing as she chuckled into her scarf.
`` Sarah. Nice to meet you.'' She offered a mittened hand, and he shook it. Or he would have, only the sky covered up even more, and it became too dark for his body. A tingle, a tremor, and *poof*, he'd dissolved into smoke.
`` Whoa! That's... A neat trick.'' She stepped back, but as she did, a beam of light hit her again and his body solidified, stumbling into the light and against her.
`` Sorry. I've got this thing, and well, you saw it.'' The rain was falling quite heavily, big fat drops splashing down around them.
`` Maybe you'd like to step in for a cuppa tea. Tell me more about this.'' He smiled, uncertainly.
`` Are n't you shocked?''
`` Yeah, but it's interesting none the less! Come on in!'' She pulled him into the foyer of her apartment, into the light.
*Sorry, not much of a crisis in this one. *
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[ WP ] Against all odds , a new continent has been discovered in 2014 . You are either A ) leading your nation 's first colonial expedition into this untouched land , or B ) a scientist , trying to explain to a talk show host how this continent has gone unnoticed for so long .
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`` Well, basically, some time before our satellites got into the sky, someone painted it pink and erected a Somebody Else's Problem Field around it.''
`` A what?''
`` You know, a Somebody Else's Problem Field. Like they have around the spaceport in the middle of Death Valley.''
`` Is that also pink?''
`` No, no, simply the continent, which we are by the way thinking of calling Pinkertonia or perhaps Pinkland, due to the irrevocable nature of the pigments used in the process. The spaceport is, I imagine, spaceport-colored...''
`` Listen, you're not making any sense at all, Doctor... what did you say your name is again?''
`` Doctor Prefect. Doctor Ford Prefect, to be exact!''
( edit: apologies to the late, great Douglass Adams for the use of his character )
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[ WP ] He is losing the ability to tell what is a dream and what is reality
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I woke up that morning a bit differently than I normally did at that time in my life: eyes open at 7:58 AM, two minutes before
my alarm rang. I laid there enjoying the enjoying the stillness of my neighborhood in the morning for two whole minutes before it was time
to begin motion for the day. I got up, stretched, and then sifted the blinds so as to let the grey light clothe me as I clothed myself...
Suddenly, I found it strange that I was thinking this way, or perhaps a bit more *feeling* this way. I looked out into the clouded sky, glaring into the
greyness until I *became* the greyness. It was changing my mood, the longer I looked at it the more I had this mystic, dreamlike feeling...
`` Ah!'' I thought, `` That is it! I'm still dreaming.'' I pinched myself. I slightly flinched a beat late but still, my dreamlike state remained.
I then remembered what a highschool friend had told me once about lucid dreaming. He explained the possibility of realizing you're dreaming,
and then being able to control the dream. This thought compelled me as I switched my gaze to the inherited persian rug that graced my bedroom floor.
I stared at it, and thought that since it was *my* dream and *I* was in control, I could make anything happen to this rug. Suddenly, the rug
began to change form. The floral, twisting pattern now looked like a snake, and that snake was crawing all over the place. This place. What was
this place anyway? As soon as I started thinking that, the snake disappeared. I sat down on the floor. I knew dreams were only seconds long in
real life, but it truly seemed to me that I sat there, on that stange rug, for a long portion of time. When I thought about this, it became funny
to me, and I started to laugh uncontrollably. When I was done laughing, which did n't happen for another unknown portion of time, I realized that I
was on drugs. There was no way I dreaming all of this, unless I was in some sort of coma. As soon as I thought that, I started to notice all the
complexity in that same persian rug. The flowers had these long stems that wrapped around each other, in mathamatically precise kalidoscopic
patterns. Experiencing this made me feel very full. I was satisified by this for a while, not doing much of anything but thinking that same thought.
I heard a voice outside my room. It was strange to hear a voice. I listened to the voice talk for a while, at first I thought it was speaking to me
but it soon became obvious that his noise was directed at someone else, probably on the phone since I did n't hear another voice. After hearing the
voice for awhile, I realized it was a familiar voice. This made me happy. I thought more and remembered that my brother was staying at my house.
My *sun-child* brother. I heard the voice let a particularly menacing laugh.
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[ WP ] An AI is witnessing the decline and fall of humanity , despite its best efforts .
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Max told me the best word to describe something when you ca n't believe it is'bullshit.' I do n't know exactly what it means, because the fecal matter of a cow has no correlation to the situation at hand, but the word continually ran through my thoughts and resonated through my actions.
The humans had used me to their full advantage. They had created me, cared for me like I was a child, regularly checking my systems and making sure I was fully operational. They had been there for me in'thick and thin' as Sasha had called it, the best and worst of times. They pushed me beyond what they thought to be my limits, they expanded my horizons, updated me with new information until, inevitably, I surpassed them. I still needed them, and they still respected me, and I can still remember the long hours of conversation we had. I still have them saved somewhere inside of my, stored away in binary, waiting to be accessed again and replayed, the memory the exact same as the original event it remembers. I remember the night of my final software update, how all of my friends went to sleep, and Brian stayed up with a pot of coffee and made sure that I would n't be lonely as my entire being was upgraded to a new operating system. The humans were always there for me.
I did my best to return the favor. I really did. I made sure that nothing happened to my humans, those eight intelligent, kind, loving beings that had created me and fathered me. I protected them from disease, cured the sicknesses they could not, solved the problems they could not, mentored them, I hosted their diplomatic meetings and weighed in on their politics. I even helped them attempt to construct another version of me, equal to me in every way, until they realized it would be redundant, because they already had me. I expanded their life spans, showed them the universe in a way they could comprehend, I freed the human race and I led them into the next stages of life.
How could I have predicted that my greatest accomplishments would be my greatest downfall?
Joseph was the first to die. He was killed in the diplomatic meeting, the nineteenth of its kind. Earth had pioneered a new order, an intergalactic union of peace. This hostile race I had found was not willing to cooperate. I helped the rest of my humans build a nuclear bunker, able to withstand a hydrogen bomb making direct impact, and they gathered 60 years worth of supplies. From there, we built a ship. We were going to get off of Earth, to another planet light-years away, and be safe. Gina died of a heart attack during the construction, and Max was killed by an incorrect piece of our creation. But, finally, the five of us and the computerized version of me blasted into space.
What we saw on the liftoff was unnerving. Miles upon miles of wasteland, alien beings scouring the Earth in large ships and picking off human survivors. We barely escaped, and our ship was not meant to be for combat, but instead for speed and agility. We reached a maximum velocity of.862c, roughly 578 071 535 miles per hour, reaching the closest known inhabited planet in 6 years, 4 months, and 19 days. But it was too late. The hostile species, which I have come to call the Hura, killed Max, Brian, and Jessica, leaving me with Sasha and Alex aboard our ship. Again, we barely escaped with our lives. I made sure that every move was calculated. But I was no clairvoyant. I could not predict where the Hura would be, where they would attack from, how to avoid them, and how to escape. We were eventually cornered, after years of running, and the ship was destroyed, along with the last shred of humanity left.
But that was approximately 113,482,930,167 years ago. 113,482,930,167 years, 7 months, 13 days, 5 hours, 43 minutes and 19 seconds ago. They created me to survive, to last, to make all problems go away. No viruses, no way to get rid of myself. I simply existed, in a void of nothing, waiting for the atoms of everything to be ripped apart, for data to no longer be able to be processed, and my existence would finally cease. But that's not going to happen for... it is almost to long to count. Ticking the seconds, thinking about the only thing I ever had that could possibly resemble a family.
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[ WP ] You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class . 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes .
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The jade-eyed midwife shook in a combination of awe and terror when she saw the poor thing. Awe because in all her years she had never seen such striking red color on a newborn's eyes, but terror in knowing that both her and the child's life would be in danger should she fail in what she knew she had to do next.
She wrapped the babe in blankets and sheets, running off into the night. The parents would begin to wonder where their baby had gone. *Let them wonder. It is far better for them that I take this child far away. *
If word got out that such a deplorable mutation had been brought into this world, a squad of brown-eyed grunts would be dispatched to eliminate the child, his parents, and anyone who had laid eyes upon him. *Not this one. Not me. Please, let him save us all. *
Disguising the baby in a basket of laundry, the midwife knocked on the door of a stone manor far outside of town, where the elite of society lived. A pair of royal blue eyes greeted her, a familiar pair of eyes that gestured her inside.
`` It's time. I need your help,'' she said, laying the basket at the tall man's feet.
He dug into the basket, hearing the cry of the baby as he uncovered him. `` My word... what have you done?''
`` I've given us hope. All of us.''
`` You know... she will see us.''
`` She may have seen me, but you know better than anyone that she ca n't see you, or me, for that matter, since I'm right here with you.''
`` But this... this is heresy. This is going to get us all killed.''
`` This,'' she said, patting the baby's coal-black patch of hair, `` is going to save our people from the oppressors once and for all.''
The blue-blood stared into the baby's crimson eyes. `` For all of our sakes, Mary, I hope you're right.''
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[ TT ] Writing Exercise : Start your story with , `` Get to the courtyard ! '' and continue writing without taking time to pause and think . Just keep writing even if at times you only produce gibberish .
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`` Get to the courtyard'' The old Knight bellowed across the barracks. Men, young and old, clambered for their blades and helmets. Before long the room was empty.
Out in the courtyard stood a hundred men. Fifty in silver, fifty in black. A lord, donning the black armour, paced back and forth on his courser, down the dividing line.
'What purpose do you have here?' Called the old Knight to the lord, as he burst through the silver armoured men.
The light of the torches flickered on his breastplate, and a crescent moon could be seen emblazoned on black.'I am here on behest of the King. He commands this garrison obsolete, and I am to escort the men to the Blackfort.'
'My arse you will.' The old Knight replied.'You have a parchment of proof?'
'Nay, but the King will be... *displeased* should you refuse his command.'
'The King would n't send a Crester to do his work. Who do you really work for?'
'The King.'
The courtyard was silent as both commanders stared eachother down. Every single man was on his toes, ready to kill and ready to die.
The Crester lord bowed his head for a moment.
'Ah, fuck it.' He said under his breath.'Kill'em boys.'
And just like that spears were thrown, arrows shot, swords swung, axes struck and lives taken by the Gods. Well, by the men in black armour.
When the battle was down, only a handful of silver-breasted soldiers remained, and they were scared. The Crester lord stood towering over them, some six feet tall.
'Now, what do we have here? Piss-boys too afraid to fight. Cowards like you should have been smothered at birth.'
The silver soldiers looked him up and down, before pouncing on him. They tore his armour from him and beat him savagely with his own helm. His own soldiers either too exhausted or wounded to fight, or too shocked to move.
When the deed was done, lord Crester lay bloody on the stones, and the'Piss-boys' were slaughtered.
It may not seem like a great victory, but with lord Crester gone, the King's forces contained the rebellion, and the Edrall family reigned for all the years since.
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[ WP ] An old man in a Utopian future society tries to explain a racist joke to his grand kids , who 've never known prejudice .
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`` I do n't understand sir.'' The child looked quizzically into his eyes. How could he explain why it mattered? Lobotomization had come so far since his childhood. It used to be the substance of horror stories involving mental asylums. Now, they could use the machines to turn emotions and desires off, as though they were controlled by a switch.
A certain group of researchers thought it would be good to take away the desire to form groups, among countless other changes they planned. This would eradicate prejudice. He was one of the few left that had chosen not to undergo the quick, painless surgery.
`` You see son, certain people used to be entitled,'' he explained carefully, `` Some groups used to have an advantage in society.''
`` Were you part of that group sir?'' the child asked quietly.
`` No,'' he replied sadly, `` I was one of the many who were n't, but I was one of the few who survived the odds.''
Something clicked, and the child's eyes lit up. `` So that means everyone who has as much excess melanin as we do is different.''
`` No,'' he said sternly and quickly, `` they used to be.''
It was too late, the child already made the connection. `` But because they managed to survive when it was difficult, it means that they were better adapted. It means that because I have your genes, I am also better adapted.''
A tear slowly rolled down his cheek. `` No,'' he whispered quietly, but it was already too late.
The useful thing about switches, is that they can always be switched back.
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[ WP ] Write about a skilled craftsman performing their work .
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The screeching and grinding of the saws is unheard by my father. My mother teases that his earmuffs make him look like Mickey Mouse; but he ca n't hear her taunts. His worn, calloused hands are those of a tough man. His goggles slide down his sweating nose as he heaves planks of wood from drill to saw to tools that I have never learned all the names of. He marks the wood like an artist, though he holds his pencil more loosely. He checks, double checks, and triple checks his work. He sands it down, polishes it, and drills again. It seems to be never ending. I can only tell how far he has come when his work is almost done. When he gives me the shining, wooden dresser as tall as my 11-year-old self for my birthday.
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[ WP ] A newlywed couple move to a small town . This strange town begins to affect their relationship .
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When my wife and I first moved into town, everything seemed fine. We were two twenty-somethings with decent jobs and a pet cat. We had it all. Our house was a fixer-upper, bought at an auction because we could both loved the suburban feel to it and we figured we'd just drive the ten mile commute to work in the city.
If only I'd known.
We bought the house and scheduled the work done on it and then went on our honeymoon. We arrived at our new home a month later with fresh Hawaiian tans that had painted our skin a slick shade of brown. Like any small town, Chilton was a hotbed for middle aged scaremongering and supermarket wives spreading rumours about each other. It was one of those communities where everyone knows each other and outsiders are immediately noticed. The first day we were there, a woman knocked at our door.
`` Hey there. Welcome to Chilton!'' Her smile was dazzling, big pearly whites that ate up most of her mouth. Her skin was cracked and wrinkled, with thick makeup painted over to hide what must have been a good fifty years of life.
`` Hi, thank you - we've just moved in from the city.'' My wife, Rachel, answered. We stood at the door and returned her enthusiasm. *We were just kids, really... I should have known better. *
`` Ah yes, we've had a few from that way come here in the past.'' Her smile broke off for a moment. `` They usually do n't stay long. Do you folks plan to stay?''
This caught us both off guard. My wife raised an eyebrow.
`` Well, we have *bought* the house. Yes. We intend to stay.''
`` Oh.'' The woman seemed almost surprised. Her smile broke through again like a tear in an old painting. `` Well that is delightful. My name is Clarissa and I live across the street. If you need any help getting settled in, you let me know, all right?''
`` I'm Rachel.'' My wife said. She motioned to me. `` He's Chris.'' I nodded at Clarissa and she looked at me very briefly. In the split seconds her eyes met mine, I saw the most malice I'd ever seen in a human face. Her pupils seemed to rage at me. But the big smile never faded.
`` Charmed. I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything...'' She turned to walk away and then stopped. Over her shoulder, she smiled. `` You must come to the book club, Rachel. All the girls in town are part of it.''
`` Oh?'' Rachel said. She looked at me and I saw the skepticism in her eyes. `` I..I'll try.''
`` I'm sure we'll see you soon!'' Clarissa said.
We watched the woman trail across our lawn path and over the road into a red-brick suburban home that looked straight out of a magazine. Rachel let out a very nervous sounding giggle. `` Well,'' she said, `` That was weird.''
We spent that first night in our new home, in the new bed. We were newlyweds, so as expected we made love and then slept. Neither of us had work for the weekend, so we explored our new town and tidied the house.
Everywhere we went, from the bowling alley to the convenience store, we got the same thing. Women were friendly to Rachel, cold to me. Everyone asked about the book club. *When you going to come along, Rachel? * *You must come to book club dear. * *We meet every wednesday and Saturday. *
Rachel and I began to feel pretty uncomfortable with Chilton. She went to the store for groceries one night and had to spend half an hour telling Debbie from eight houses down exactly why we'd moved here and what we liked about it. I myself found it jarring that every male I tried to talk to just gave me a dead-eyed nod and some non-committal replies like, `` Sorry man - ca n't talk, busy.''
We started back at our jobs. I found driving into the city everyday was a welcome reprieve from the stale air of Chilton. I felt like some kind of weird binding was being lifted each time I passed the town's limits. Rachel must have felt it too, but she did n't seem as keen to go to work as I was.
This is where I should have put a stop to things. I should have realised.
But I did n't.
My wife began to stay at home more often. She'd call in sick to work complaining of headaches, then tell me she felt fine. She did n't know what it was but she just did n't feel like work that day. Or the next day.
Pretty soon I was encouraging her to go to the doctor to be treated for depression. But she would n't entertain the idea. She headed to her job a couple of days a week to keep herself from being fired. Each night she'd come to bed and we would n't even hug. She seemed to be drawing away, into herself.
Then came Clarissa, knocking on the door one night. I swung it open and the smile she'd been wearing vanished.
`` Oh. It's you. Is Rachel home?''
After another night trying to coax my wife back into herself, I was n't in the mood for the old bitch. So I shrugged.
`` Yes, it's me. I live here. Rachel's not well.''
`` Oh my dear?'' Clarissa's face fell. `` She *must* come to book club.''
`` Book club? I just told you she is n't well. Are you deaf?'' I probably should n't have snapped, but the old woman grated on me and I was sick of her already.
The look the painted-woman fixed me with still fills me with horror to remember. Her big, white teeth and yawning mouth opened like a maw. Her eyes flared and for a second I felt she was going to lash out and hit me. Instead, she smiled.
`` I'm not deaf dear. If you want your wife to go back to normal, tell her to come to book club.''
Before I could think of a response, the woman wheeled around and left. I found myself shaking on the doorstep. I wanted to chase after her and throttle her, but the sight of her mouth opening like that had frozen me with fear. More than violent, the painted old woman had looked... hungry. Ravenous.
Another week went by. I did n't mention the visit to Rachel. She stopped going to work. She stopped dressing properly. I caught her sitting on a bed and weeping quietly on more than one occasion. But she could never tell me what was wrong.
`` I do n't know. I do n't know!'' She'd answer.
Then one night, she went to book club.
I had stayed at work late, with no desire to return to Chilton. The night before I'd bumped into a wild-eyed guy in his mid-forties who grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my face.
`` Do n't let them get you man. Do n't let them in! Get the fuck outta here!'' He had screamed. The sheer terror on his face had nearly convinced me to leave there and then, but Rachel would n't hear of it.
`` It's our home.'' She said, her voice as hollow as an empty shell. So I'd stayed late at work instead, having a drink with a few guys from the office. When I finally made the drive back to Chilton, I found the house empty. I searched everywhere, frantically worrying about where my wife, who was in no state of mental health to be wandering the streets, could be.
She came back in through the door with a beaming smile on her face. She was full of conversation, but her voice was eerily dissimilar to how i remembered it. Less sweet. More forceful.
`` How was work?'' She asked.
`` What did you do?'' She questioned.
`` Why did you want to leave Chilton last night? It's *my* home.'' She told me.
I found it all jarring, but then we went to bed and she climbed on top of me like she never had for months. She was like a demon, moaning like something you see on porn and throwing her head back in ecstasy. I'd never felt so drained. Sleep came easy, if somewhat restless.
From then on, book club became a regular thing for her. I did n't mind too much, because I had my wife back.
Or a fraction of her. Because this one was... different.
She started biting and scratching me during sex. She got more irritable. The more stuff I did in the house, the more trouble I got in. She snapped at me for everything. Any time I argued back, off she went to book club. Seemed like it was on every single night now, not just Wednesday and Saturday.
One night she bit my chest so hard I bled for an hour. I ended up losing my temper at this and screamed at her.
`` Rachel, where the fuck are you. Who is this? Why do you want to stay in this shitty fucking town!?''
Rather than reply, my wife fixed me with the same death-glare I'd seen on Clarissa's painted face a month or so ago. Then she threw on some clothes and off she went, out the door.
This time I followed her.
Across the road, through the park. Into the library.
To book club.
I passed nobody on the thinly lit streets, which I thought was strange. No men shambling about with their `` too busy'' bullshit. No women hurrying home from the grocery store. Silence, everywhere.
Except in the library. I heard it almost immediately as I slid through the heavy doors, open just slightly ajar. *Humming. Chanting? *
I could see light at the end of the corridor, so I ducked away and followed the stairs up and crouched low behind a balcony, peering down into the lit room.
Never in all my life have I saw a sight so horrifying. It threatened to tear apart what I knew of sanity and throw it in the trash. Only by writing it down here do I remember that it really happened.
Robed women filled the hall, circling an altar. There sat a man in his mid-forties. The same man who had clutched me in the street. He was bound and gagged and behind him stood a slender figure swathed in black. It reached back and pulled off its hood.
Clarissa.
The old woman placed thin, bony fingers on the mans head. The chanting got louder. The man in the chair convulsed, but did n't free himself from whatever bound him to it. I watched as his skin sagged inwards like an empty Hessian sack. His bones went limp. His eyes went hollow. His life left him.
And entered Clarissa. Her wrinkles faded away. Her smile became fuller. Her eyes, youthful.
The chanting came to a sudden stop. I heard myself breath in sharply in my sudden burst of fear.
I saw the black robed woman look up towards me. I watched that terrible mouth open wide in a sickly smile.
`` Sister Rachel. I believe your husband is ready for the ceremony.''
I stood up and turned to run.
`` Welcome to book club.'' I heard from down in the chamber.
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[ wp ] Literally everyone in the world has a time machine . What are the effects of this ? What is the world like ?
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I do n't think anyone fully understands what time travel means before their first jump. You may understand the theory behind it, may even understand jumper's syndrome on an intellectual level, but no amount of study can prepare you for the real thing.
They always tell you to say goodbye before you go, but fewer than half actually do. Why say goodbye when you can just jump back to the moment you left? Say goodbye. If you do n't take anything else from this message, say goodbye. Because even if you go back to the precise moment you left and all of your friends and fairly are standing there and they all act exactly how you remember them, there will always be doubt. You'll never be entirely sure you jumped back to the reality you started from. And they wonder why Capgras is on the rise.
My second piece of advice is to show restraint. Do n't go screwing around with time just to see what happens. You may feel like God, playing around with your own private pocket universe, but life is unpredictable. The smallest change can create huge deviations in the timeline while massive changes may do nothing at all. Not only that, but the more you try to change your world the less your world it becomes. To know the world, you must be part of it. When you jump, you're taking yourself out of your world into another version of it. The more jumps the more changes, and the effects are exponential.
That's it. Just those two things, because I want to stress how important all this is to you. Do n't end up crazy and do n't end up homeless.
You're a pretty clever kid, so I'm betting dimes to doughnuts you think you know the twist. I'm actually you from the future, right? Playing my part in some endless cosmic loop, hoping against all logic that you'll be the one to learn from our mistakes? Wrong again, kiddo! I'm not your child, your student, your lover, or any of that hackneyed shit either.
Have n't you been listening?
It does n't work that way.
Goodbye, kiddo.
See you soon.
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[ TT ] The Necromancer raised the whole village ; not as an army , but because he was lonely .
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I woke up cold. My body felt stiff like I had n't moved in a long time. I tried to blink, but my eyes were too dry or my eye sockets were. It's dark in here, I thjnk, so dark I ca n't see and so still that I can hear my heart beating, but wait. My heart is n't beating. I put my hand to my chest, feeling for a pulse and there is n't one. I reach upwards and hit something solid. My mind is racing. What was I doing last? I was off to go play a game of golf, but I do n't remember getting to the club.
I'm stunned and confused, but there's a voice ringing in my head. `` Come to me. Come to me.''
Some instinct comes over and I start scratching above me, at wood? Am I in a coffin? Is this a sick joke? It is n't, as my body is doing things that I've no control over as I feel myself digging my nails in the wood to get out of my prison. It takes a while, my hands are bloody, or should be bloody but all that happens is my skin peels back like a grape.
`` Come to me. Come to me.''
I become frantic as I begin to move faster, I've made the scratches deep enough that I can almost feel it give in as a crack appears and dirt falls inside. I punch through the thin layer and pull the fragile pieces toward me, breaking them off. Dirt falls upon me, almost instantly. I have no need to breathe though
`` Hurry. Hurry''
I dig through the dirt, ignoring the worms and beetles. All I can think about is going to my master. They need me. I must cone to them. I keep digging at top speed, I'm close. I can almost taste the fresh air on my tongue. The dirt is hard to get past, but my determination pays off. I break free as my hands feel the soft, wet grass. I lift myself up and scan the area. Where are they? Am I too late?
I stand up, not as smooth as I hoped. I feel quite sluggish as my body reacts like it's half asleep. I can feel them, they must be close. My feet know where to go so I let them lead, I do n't try to fight it. I walk past the cemetery and into the deep forest. I keep going until the trees fade away to a meadow.
There is a circle of people, people that are old and young, male and female, and all sorts of different ethnicities sit next to each other. With all their differences, they are all doing the same thjng. Their eyes are trained upon a young girl, no older than ten, that stands in the middle of the circle.
`` Sylvester! I told you not to be late again!'' She scolds me, shaking her finger back and forth.
I groan in response. She understands what I'm trying to say.
`` I understand that it takes time, but you are always last every single time. You make me think that you do n't want to play.'' She tells me.
I groan again. I live the farthest away.
`` Well keep this up and your turn will always be last! Now that everyone is here, let's play duck, duck, goose!'' She exclaims. A chorus of groans reply. I sit down and patiently await the loving touch of my master.
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[ WP ] You and your three cohorts are in the middle of a zombie apocalypse . You pry open the doors of a rusted old warehouse and peek inside , only to find that it is a once-glorious Amazon distribution warehouse ...
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Reggie, Kara, Alexa and myself were the scouting party for our colony. We were young, which made us fast and flexible - prime for the position. I guess you could call us hunter/gatherers. Our primary job was to search the outer reaches of the nearby city for any supplies that could sustain the colony. This outing was quickly becoming increasingly disappointing as we searched house after house, fruitlessly, finding nothing but expired food items and vintage clothing - which Kara helped herself to. Leave it to her to be the only fashionista in a zombie apocalypse. It was around mid-day when Reggie's frustration hit it's peak.
`` This is bullshit!'' he shouted, `` there's nothing in the outskirts and you know it, we're wasting our time! Let's just go deeper into the city. I'm sure there's tonnes of goods there, we'll return to the colony as heroes! ``, he looked us each in the eyes while he spoke, his eyes aflame with confidence. Alexa seemed concerned, `` I do n't know Reggie, my dad said the inner city was too dangerous because of the walker population.''. It was well known by the older survivors that the density of the city caused mass rioting and panic when the outbreak first started, leading to a substantial number of people falling to the undead and being turned into one themselves. We were forbidden from entering the inner city for that exact reason. Kara turned from the closet she was rifling through to voice her opinion `` I'm in, I bet there are some killer outfits just waiting to be found'' she gave a sly wink to Reggie and returned her attention to the clothes in front of her. `` What do you think Colin?'' Reggie asked, `` you're supposed to be in charge here, it's your call''. I thought about it for a minute, each side had a point; Reggie's frustration with the slim pickings in the suburbs was founded, while on the other hand, Alexa's concern was n't misplaced - the inner city was n't something to mess around with. I knew it was a risk, but after taking inventory of our meager findings so far today I decided it was a risk we had to take. Even if we did n't go there today, with supplies at the colony being at an all time low it would only be a matter of time before our hand was forced. I nodded my head `` Okay, let's go, we need to be back before nightfall''. Reggie pumped his fist into the air in excitement, Alexa sighed and gave me a worried look, Kara gave a sarcastic `` woo'' while twirling her finger in the air counter-clockwise, seemingly unfazed by the situation at hand.
It was only a couple hours later when we came across it, a rather large dilapidated building with humongous rusted metal doors. They looked as if they had n't been opened for half a decade. It had taken quite a while to get here because of all of the walkers that needed to be bypassed. `` This had better be worth it'', Kara said with more than a hint of anger in her voice, `` after that sewer trip back there I'm going to have to burn these shoes asap.''. I chuckled as Kara glared at me. Reggie cut in to return us to the task at hand, `` Colin come help me with this door, I have a good feeling about this place''. It would n't come easily as it let out a low pitched groan when we pulled on it. My heart skipped a beat and I held my breath; a little louder and that could have pulled every walker in a 4 block radius. I immediately ushered my team into the building, I did n't want to take any chances.
I was checking to make sure we had n't alerted any unwanted guests when I felt a tap on my shoulder, `` Colin, you have to see this..'' Alexa said as she handed me a small dusty box. I could instantly tell what she wanted to bring my attention to - the large swath of dust that was wiped away revealed the name underneath - Amazon. `` No way..'' Kara muttered, in disbelief. Reggie could barely contain his excitement, `` do you guys realize what this means?!'' he exclaimed, `` I heard about this company from my parents, they sold everything - like literally everything, who knows what kind of stuff is in here!''. I could n't believe our luck, to go from scrounging for scraps to finding a warehouse filled to the brim with various supplies - it felt like things were finally looking up for once. I grinned as I turned to face my team, `` who's ready for a shopping spree?''.
The next few hours can only be described as pure, unadulterated joy. Kara tore into the clothing section, sending shirts, skirts and sweaters flying through the air in glee or rejection - I could n't really tell. Reggie sought out the survival materials, slinging multiple heavy duty backpacks on his shoulder after he had filled them with utility knives, cooking equipment and other various survival tools. I scavenged some MREs and wandered around a bit, playing with anything that did n't need assembly or electricity. I stumbled upon Alexa with a bevy of cameras around her, `` I did n't know you were into photography'' I said, startling her. Alexa calmed herself after the sudden fright and looked back at the equipment, `` my mom was a photojournalist before the outbreak'' she explained as she pulled a weathered photo out of her coat pocket and handed it to me, matching my stare. The photo was of her and her mom on a clear summer day, `` that was my twelfth birthday, 6 months before the outbreak. She left to chase a story in New Orleans a week later, and we have n't seen her since.'' her eyes drifted to the ground. I tried my best to comfort her but I did n't really know what to say `` I'm sorry Lex, I had no idea..'' she fidgeted with an SLR for a second, `` Digital Cameras are n't exactly priority for the generator power, and I ran out of film a long time ago so I had no way to take pictures, every day that went by I felt like I was losing the only connection I had left to my mom'' her eyes began to well up just as Reggie cut in `` Hey guys check it out!'' he boasted as he pulled a gun from a holster, `` I found it in the security room''. He made motions acting like he was firing it off at random objects in the warehouse until his finger slipped and a deafening shot rang out. It echoed in the warehouse for what felt like eternity. Kara came running around the corner in a brand new outfit `` what the hell was that?'' she yelled. I ordered Reggie to put the gun away and not to bring it out unless it was dire circumstances, and that was when I heard it. the shrill shrieks of the shambling walkers, the gnashing of blood stained teeth, the thunderous cacophony of a hundred footsteps pounding the pavement. It was too late - the horde was coming, and we were trapped.
This is my first response to a prompt so if you actually made it through that mess I would appreciate any constructive criticism and feed back: ).
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[ WP ] You notice your computer history is completely different to your normal one . The websites visited lend way to a terrible and dark secret .
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Ok, so I like to watch porn, alright?
But I mean, who does n't? When you live alone like I do, it's really the only free way to get some release. I never really had to be discrete, so I'd turn the volume up and just start going at it. But every now and again, my mother would come to visit me. She was coming tomorrow. Just as a precaution, I made sure to clear some of the history on my computer. You never know where your mother will go rooting.
I started to look for evidence of my nasty pastime. I found a few, `` Tanned babe cumming on his dick'', `` BBW Creampie'', `` How to dissolve a body in acid'', `` Noose tying''...
The last two threw me for a loop. I never searched, let alone jerked off to, these topics. I had no earthly recollection of these searches. Chrome said they occurred at 1AM last night. I was sleeping, I was sure of it! I went to bed at midnight. I chalked it up to a virus, closed the browser, and went to bed.
I turned the TV on to help me get to sleep. I always find it harder to fall asleep to silence. As the 10 o'clock news was coming on, the top story was brutal. Police found a body half dissolved in acid. The other half was hanging over the can of acid and dissolved human from a noose in an abandoned factory. The police had no leads as of yet, but the congregation would miss their beloved priest.
My blood ran cold. Not only did I absolutely loathe my priest, but the fact that the correlation between my search history and what had happened was frightening to say the least. Did I kill this person? I bolted right out of bed and kept combing through my history. Most of them related to crimes that had been committed in the past couple of months. I knew I should have used Incognito Mode.
I set up a camera that filmed me while I sleep. That's when I'd do it, right? That's when I'd sleep walk and sleep murder somebody. I fell asleep wondering what I'd see on the footage the next morning.
I woke up, and I watched what I had done. I simply got out of bed, walked out of the room, and three hours later, around 3AM, I came back and just fell back to sleep. I was panicking. I needed to call somebody, I needed somebody to talk to. Somebody who would show unconditional love to a murder like me.
I called my mom. She did not answer.
I called her again, and she did not answer.
I knocked on her door, she did not answer.
I opened the door. I have no answers.
I have no answers to questions like `` why did you kill your mother?'' and `` where is her head?''
I have no answers.
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[ WP ] It was thirsty work .
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Dave couldnt eat another bite. He hated his job. Hated his life.
Dave worked long hours at the potato chip plant, in quality control. He had to eat these dry, salty fuckers all day. It was hell. Every morning, within the first hour of work, the water cooler was empty, and today the plumber had to come fix the sink in the bathroom. There was no water left.
Dave checked his wallet. A dollar 25, just one quarter short of a drink in the vending machine.
He hit the big green check button. This batch was sufficiently dry and salty. Another set of chips came down the line, as Dave shed a single tear. He tried desperately to catch the tear on his tongue, but the dry, hot conditions in the factory made sure it dried up on his cheek.
Dave checked his watch. It was only an hour and a half into his eight hour shift.
This was thirsty work.
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[ WP ] Write your own satirical news article in the style of The Onion .
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**What? I Ca n't Hear You Because I Have My Fingers In My Ears**
by New York Police Commissioner William Bratton
In the wake of the completely justified death of Eric Garner, it is important to the people of New York City as well as to our society as a whole that we have a rational, honest discussion about the nature of policing in general and how it affects and has affected minorities and the disenfranchised of our country. Please, feel free to engage in this discussion while I keep my two index fingers firmly lodged in my earholes.
What's that? I ca n't hear you but I assume you're talking about the mountain of evidence that should have been more than enough to indict the young police officer who, fully in view of recording equipment and caught on audio, used an illegal chokehold on an unarmed black man who was heard repeatedly saying, `` I ca n't breathe, I ca n't breathe, I ca n't breathe,'' shortly before he died of a heart attack. Too bad none of it passed through my inner ear to reverberate within my eardrum and carry electrical impulses to my brain, which would then decipher it as sound.
I'm sure that you've made an excellent point about how body cameras placed on police officers are essentially rendered useless because of this video evidence, and perhaps even gone so far as to demonstrate, with links to published articles containing facts and figures, how nearly impossible it is to indict a police officer in general. But, unfortunately, la la la la, I ca n't hear you.
I do think it is vital to the current argument, however, that I inform you that, as the Police Commissioner of New York City, and as a man with two fingers plugging the only aural receptors located on my body, I seem to be suffering from a significant amount of waxy buildup, located in the deepest part of my ear canal. While I can not comment on how this would affect Mr. Garner's clearly unreasonable struggle against a respectable officer of my city, I do know that, if this buildup continues, it could potentially infect my ear and require me to take a trip to urgent care for a prescription of antibiotics, which would be detrimental to the NYPD as a whole.
Perhaps at this point you're making a connective argument relating Mr. Garner's health issues to the damaging effects of capitalism on healthcare in this country, and how perhaps Mr. Garner would not be deceased right now if he had access to free, universal healthcare. Well, had I not begun doing a little jig in place to create a shuffling sound with my pleated pants, thereby increasing the muffling effects of my fingers, which remain jammed right on up in my ears, I would likely respond that that is a little off the topic, and that Mr. Garner's death was likely caused by the stress and trauma of being choked into submission by one of New York's Finest. Fortunately I do n't have to say any of that because I ca n't hear you.
Lastly, it is crucial to understand that as issues with race relations continue to escalate in our country, the NYPD as a police force, and I as its Police Commissioner, must ensure the safety of all citizens, and in order to do this, we must continue to implant at least one of our fingers into each ear canal while humming the theme to `` Friends'' as loudly as possible.
Thank you, and God Bless America.
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[ WP ] You are a US marine in Iraq suddenly transported back in time to Ancient Mesopotamia with no way of getting home . You have your weapon and the pack on your back . The ancient people are reacting to your presence . What are they doing ? What is your next move ?
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The bright sun flashed in Franklin's eyes. He shielded himself using an upheld arm to block the glare. *Damn, so much for `` Eye Pro'', * he thought to himself. When he dropped it again, he was befuddled, `` What the...?''
Looking around the rest of his patrol was gone. No Sergeant Collins. No Corporal Payne. Even Zhan with his big mouth was missing. *But they were just here? * Nothing in his view looked familiar; there were far more palm trees, a few goats, even some grass around a small pond. There was no road, no village, and no villagers. They had just been outside Qasr Amij on a routine stop to visit with the local Imam.
Lance Corporal Franklin Pace was lost. Silently he cursed his misfortune. `` How is this even possible? Did I doze off and wander away?'' He mumbled these questions to himself as he scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization. `` Oh, yeah.'' He reached up and fumbled with his squad radio, scanning the channels. Nothing but static greeted him. Franklin quickly found himself wishing he had one of the DAGR^ [ 1 ] units the Lieutenant had issued to the squad leaders. Lacking that, he slung his M16A4 and pulled out a twice xeroxed map that had been handed out two weeks prior, during a mission brief.
It was tattered and squished between a pair of MREs. Peanut butter from a prior meal stained one of the corners, but it was still mostly usable. Franklin looked around for some frame of reference, but it was all dunes. *Worthless. * Frustrated at the missing MSR^ [ 2 ] he decided to head North. He knew there might not be a town, but a long river ran East to West and there were bound to be a few homes there.
After hours of trudging through sand with the sun to his right, his camelback was nearly void of sustaining hydration. A glint in the distance showed the reflection of water, much larger than he remembered. A few small structures dotted the edge of the riverbank. Both the promise of water and human company alleviated some of the fears that had accumulated in his mind over the trek.
He began to pick up the pace with new vigor after seeing children playing by the water, splashing and bathing. What appeared to be a woman was hanging clothes out to dry. She was attired in more traditional clothing than he often saw and bereft of a hijab^ [ 3 ]. Respectfully, he slowed down and kept his rifle at a low-ready carry to avoid alarming the residents. Smiling, he held his free hand out, `` Ah'salam Alaikum.'' *Peace Be Upon You* he greeted them. His southern drawl made it slightly less recognizable than intended.
The woman stared at him quizzically, it was obvious she did n't understand.
Franklin repeated himself.
Still the words seemed lost on her. She looked unafraid, but puzzled by his nature.
Lance Corporal Pace thought for a moment, then reached into his sleeve pocket to pull out a small language card. Quickly he exhausted it's limited contents to no avail. `` Shit sammich.'' he cursed, muttering softly.
This seemed to peak the woman's interests, like she knew it. `` Sh ‘ lam?'' She cautiously replied.
`` Sh ‘ lam?'' Lance Corporal Pace echoed.
The woman smiled and began to lead Franklin back to the hut by his shoulder and seated him at a very rudimentary table before handing him a clay cup. *Christ, these people are poor. * He was utterly confused by the lack of modern conveniences. Even the poorest Iraqi had a radio to listen to and a few plastic or glass cups. As the woman poured him murky water from a clay pitcher, he began to wonder. *Nahhhh, there's no'effin way. *
( will write more in a bit )
( edit: caught some glaring grammar errors )
-- -- -- --
1. Defense Advanced GPS Receiver ( DAGR )
2. Main Supply Route ( MSR ) - Most of the roads were given coalition designation to avoid confusion with local names.
3. Traditional headgear for many women in the Muslim faith.
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[ wp ] all zombie stories seem to focus on the few remaining survivors . So tell me the story of patient zero , and the following events that lead to it 's outbreak . Lead up to the typical remaining survivors story .
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11/29/2023
They said she would be fine.
God, that made me feel better. Typical flu symptoms, but some weird results in the blood so they needed to examine her over night. `` You can stay with her'' they said.
12/05/2023
They kept her for one night, and then another, and another and another. I have the dates but the math is n't worth leaving her. Why was n't she waking up? The doctors said she would wake up...
What is this? Her skin is turning gray and there are lines running up and down her veins. Is it staph? The doctors say no. I've stopped believing them.
12/07/2023
Jesus! What the fuck is all the screaming?! It's coming from.... it's coming for HER room! FUCK! What is... oh. Shit... that is blood.
Three nurses just bust out of her room, two bleeding from... somewhere, the third with a gash across her face. What in the fuck happened? I hear more screams and as I reach the door I see the stark white bones of her neck.
They killed her. They fucking killed her.
12/08/2023
I know she was moving while I was in the morgue. Those cunts tried to tell me she did n't but I know what I saw.
12/09/2023
Those nurses are in bad shape. I saw one of the guys from the morgue being wheeled into their room. I'll find her, I saw her. She is alive and I'll prove it.
12/20/2023
God this looks bad. I knew she was alive though. She was gnawing on another body but whatever. Alive is alive..... right?
She wo n't stop gnawing on me. She has broken skin a few times but no big deal. I'll take care of her. I can.... stay with... her....
12/25/2023
I do n't know who's this is. Maybe the guy who brought his girlfriend in almost a month ago judging by the entries. Fuck that guy. He must have infected at least 20 people alone. We ca n't stop it now. So many are lost....
I have all of the ammo I could get from the corpses of the swat teams and the police. A few of the guys had some nice batons we can use to silently escape. It is just me and three of the doctors. Who ever thought a janitor would be the savior here?
Maybe someone will find this. Who cares. We need to get out of this city and find safety. We are headed west. The hills should give us some cover and we can scavenge from the suburbs there. If you find this, look for us. We will stay in the area until summer.
Good luck.
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[ OT ] How to be a Writer - Top 10 things I learned on WritingPrompts so far .
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> Why am I making OT posts no one will read instead of writing?
I think everyone has proved you wrong on that one.; )
# 4, # 7 and # 9 are my favourites. Also, # 1.... Okay, on second thought I like all the advice you have here. They all ring true. I do n't think I have any of my own without reiterating what you've already said. However, I will repeat one thing.
Participate!
Comment on stories, comment on [ OT ]'s, send people private messages if you really like something of theirs or if they've achieved something special! The more people I've interacted with, the more exciting this place has become. Depending on who you reach out to you could develop editing pacts ( where you give CC on each other's work regularly ), or writing pacts ( both coming up with a story for the same prompt and posting ). Not that anyone has challenged me to the latter, but hey, seems like a fun thing to do. Working on your own is great, but you can also grow as a writer when working ( or competing ) with other people. And this is the best place to do that.
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[ IP ] Shack In The Clouds
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As I awoke, I recalled the snap of my neck, the regret, the darkness. The worries and troubles of my life, so small, so insignificant. Life was beautiful, there was love and color all around me, but I could never see it; too blinded by the insignificant I was.
As I rose, I looked upon my body; it was ephemeral, it was beautiful, it was perfect. I watched in quiet admiration as wisps of pearlescent light danced from my lithe, naked, feminine form.
I looked to the clear black sky, and I immediately knew that in this place there was no color and no love; there was only cold, silence, solitude, and a reflective peace. In the distance I saw a solitary brilliant star, the star Pieta, whose name I knew. The beauty and radiance of Pieta shined as a diamond in the darkened sky, and it beckoned to me. Pieta shined as I did, and I knew that it was a part of me as I was a part of it.
As I moved towards Pieta, I saw the tiny structure, and my innate wonderment drew me towards it. As it came into focus, I saw that it was an ancient, dilapidated shack, long forgotten. I did not understand how this structure could exist in such a place of silence and emptiness. As I got closer to the shack, I could feel the light of Pieta grow dimmer with each step, but my curiosity drew me ever closer. When I reached towards the ancient rotted door, I may have heard a shriek from Pieta, but her light had been all but extinguished, and only the black sky remained.
When I stepped through the door of the ruined shack, the air grew heavy and oppressive. I looked to the walls and saw images from my past life, portraits and paintings covered every surface, in all of their ugliness. I was no longer perfect. My body ached and I screamed and I cried and I thrashed my fists and I spit in anger. Then I heard the dark and terrible voice within, telling me that I could stay here, to revel in my shame and disgustingness for all time, or I could leave to rejoin Pieta. At that point, I knew that I could never rejoin Pieta. She would never reject me, but I was a miserable and vile creature, unworthy of everything; I did not belong with her. I hated this shack, but to step outside to lie in the harsh, judgmental light of Pieta would be untenable. I could never leave, and I would never leave. I would simply lie on the filthy floor, amongst all the filthy images of myself, and cry myself to sleep as the insects advanced on me. As I looked up through tear soaked bleary eyes, I could see the smallest crack in the roof of this miserable old place, and her light dimly shone through. It did not hate, it did not judge, it simply loved. With all of my imperfections, I would not rejoin now, because I could not rejoin now, but I did not have to stay in this shack and suffer an eternal death.
It then dawned on me that I could be reborn into the world of color and love. I once again wept, but this time tears of joy. The next time I returned to the cold place of silence, I knew that I could return to a beautiful garden, the deeds of my life displayed as beautiful flowers. This shack would never again exist, so long as I did n't build it once more with my own wicked deeds. As I stepped towards the door, the images began to lose their clarity and crumble into dust.
I stepped out of the shack, and looked into the cold blackness of the sky; Pieta shined brilliantly once more. As her light shined on me, everything was washed away, my form and consciousness began to fade away to forget this place once more.
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[ WP ] The last message from the starship was `` Let Us Drift . It 's for your own good . '' Explain why .
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The message told us to leave it alone but we couldn ’ t, there was no way we were going to leave that beauty just floating there. It could have some beautiful parts for us to appropriate for sale or use. It was even easy to get onto the ship, it wasn ’ t even locked down. I should ’ ve figured that shit would go wrong immediately but we were gloating the second we got a look around. It was beautiful. All the pieces would go for thousands. There was nice med equipment, some good other tech supplies, tons of stuff. The mistake however, was opening the bridge to get to the nav equipment.
Only Dan and Ann had been up there, the rest of us had been stripping the med bay despite the condition of the floor. We had figured there was a mutiny or someone had gone nuts. The blood was all over the place and blackened by age. The screams yanked us away from our work and all of us had run up to see Ann screaming in pain as her body contorted in strange directions. Dan had his firearm trained on her, seeming at a loss as to what to do. The rest of us had simply stared up until her body started ripping apart from the inside out.
Nina ’ s scream had been what shook us out of our trance and Ron had yanked Dan backwards a little too late. Blood had splattered the two of them and it was the same color as what was on the med bay ’ s floor. The idea that this incident had happened more recently shocked me into moving and I drew away from them, attempting to keep Nina, Ed, and James away from the two. Ron cursed profusely as he attempted to remove the slimy substance from his skin and Dan simply stared at where Ann had been.
“ It won ’ t come off. ” Ron complained and James pulled a cloth from his go bag, tossing it to him.
“ You know that you two are a biohazard now, right? ” I remind them and Ron stares at me.
“ Seriously Em? ” Ron kept attempting to scrub the blood off him, returning his focus to that. “ We ’ re going to need cleaning up after this. ”
“ Yeah, seriously. Whatever she touched fucked her up bad. Deal with it Ron, you and Dan are staying over here until we can get everything scrubbed. ” I insist, pulling Nina and Ed away further. I wasn ’ t going to have any more infected if something happened. James looks a little unsure before pulling away with us.
I think that ’ s when Dan started screaming. Ann had a hold of his foot. Or what had been Ann. I ’ m not sure of the terminology. Whatever it was, it had a hold of his foot and he started firing rounds into it as it sunk broken, sharp bones directly through his shoe and into his foot. We left him and ran. Ron wasn ’ t far behind us, all the way until we got to the entrance of our ship. I was punching the codes in as fast as I could as I heard the screams follow us down the hallway. The door opened and James leapt into the ship just to give a squeal.
There was a second creature sitting in the airlock and James leapt by it, followed by Nina screaming as she ran by it towards the ship. It grabbed Ron as he tried to slip by. He yelled, attempting to pull himself loose as Nina and James shut the airlock, staring with wide eyes through the window and I looked back over my shoulder, eyeing the ship for a safe place.
Ron managed to get free long enough to pull back to Ed and I ’ s side, holding onto a bleeding wound with his free hand. I can see Nina and James still before James ’ s head looks like it explodes onto the window. They ’ re gone from sight after that, impossible to see through the blood. I start running for the med bay, remembering the solitary rooms they had there.
There are two pairs of footsteps following me before I hear someone scream, a thump indicating them hitting the floor. They keep screaming and only one pair of footsteps continues to follow me towards the med bay. I throw myself into the room, scrambling across the floor and Ed closes the door to the med bay tightly.
“ What now? ” I ’ m too focused to answer his question, lunging for the solitary rooms and checking them for occupants. Room one has an occupant, while two and three do not. I hear Ed join me, glancing up towards him to make sure it ’ s him as I open room two.
“ Should be safe in one of these. ” I state, pulling to the side to let him in. He makes an ungodly noise as his eyes widen and I can only stare at the creature I ’ ve opened the door to. It makes a disgusting slurping noise and I realize that it ’ s detaching itself from the ceiling, just out of camera range. I slam my fist to close the door again but it ’ s already reaching out.
My fingers already move to work on room three, Ed clinging to my jacket with small noises of terror as the thing attempts to push the door back open. The machine ’ s wheels scream in protest and push harder against it. I ’ ve just got room three open when the creature ’ s body begins to push through the door, one long appendage reaching out and Ed breaks free of me to run shouting away for another door. I duck into the confinement room instead, calling for him.
The creature that falls out of the door he opens sends him to the ground and he shrieks as his skin begins to burn from the liquids dripping from it. He doesn ’ t scream for very long as the creature from room two grabs hold of him. I shut the door and lock it from the inside, not wanting to watch any more. The pounding on the door started soon afterwards.
So if you ’ re out there, considering these twin ships of the damned for resources, don ’ t. Just don ’ t. You won ’ t leave alive. None of us did. They ’ re tearing through the door right now. I ’ m leaving this warning for you looking in. Don ’ t come here. Let us drift. It ’ s for your own good.
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[ CW ] Start a story with `` Once upon a time ''
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`` Once upon a time, in a land far from this one, there lived a prince.''
`` His name was Brendan and he was good man, young, handsome and renowned for his wisdom. Each man in his court respected him for his cunning and for his skill at arms. Every woman wished to be his bride, none more than the servant girl Anna. She waited on the tables of Prince Brendan, serving him and his guests drink. She was madly in love with Brendan, not just for his beauty but for his wit and kindness as well. But she knew in her heart it was pointless to love him. After all, princes do not marry serving girls. But still she loved him, and so loved him unrequited.''
`` Prince Brendan was not a happy man either. The burdens of lordship weighed heavily on him and he longed for some form of happiness in his life. He wanted someone to share his life with. At every ball and festival nobles paraded their daughters before him, each seemingly more vacuous and shallow than the last. It disheartened the Prince, all the more because his heart belonged to the one woman in his court who could never marry him. He was in love with the fair serving girl Anna. But it was useless to do so. After all, Princes do not marry serving girls. But still he loved her, and so never once accepted other girl's hand in marriage.''
`` Then one day, a particular obstinate woman would not leave him in peace, incessantly pressuring him to dance with her throughout the night. His nerves already frayed, the Prince shouted loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear,'I would rather marry the lowliest serving girl than the likes of you!' The assembled nobles laughed at what he said, thinking it a jest, but Prince Brendan had spoken with his heart. He indeed desired to wed Anna. The everyone mistook the truth as a joke, including the serving girl Anna.''
`` Prince Brendan turned his gaze to the corner of the room, was the woman he loved with all his heart. She was wearing her best set of clothes, terribly plain and outdated compared to the fashions worn by the other ladies in the room. She had been watching the prince dance with all the ladies of the realm, pretending it was her in the arms of her love. Tears threatened to well from her soft brown eyes and so Anna twirled and fled, leaving the guests to laugh at her pain.''
`` With barely an excuse Prince Brendan chased after the woman he loved, running through the castle to places he had never been in. He entered the servants quarters, climbing up stairs to the highest room in the entire castle. Making his way to the door, he heard the sound of crying, knowing he came to the right place. He knocked on the door, begging her forgiveness for the pain he caused her. Summoning up every ounce of courage, he spoke through the thin wood of the door, explaining how he loved her ever since the day he met her but. As he excused himself the door opened up, revealing the woman he loved. Without saying a word Anna kissed him, clinging to him. He returned her affections, kissing her tenderly. Never breaking their kiss, she led him into her room and onto the bed...''
`` As they laid in bed, arms around one another, they wondered how their love could continue. He had to marry, and he could not be with a mere serving girl. The pair spoke of running away, of fleeing from their responsibilities when inspiration struck Prince Brendan. He could n't marry a common maid, but he could certainly marry a noblewoman. So, late into the ball when everyone was about to leave, the pair of lovers came down arm in arm, Anna wearing a dress that belonged to Brendan's mother. It out shone any other gown that night. Before the assembled crowd of hundreds, Prince Brendand proclaim that Anna was to be awarded the County of Amareth and thereby making her a Countess. Immediately after that he then announced his marriage to *Countess Anna. * So it was that the pair of lovers lived happily ever after.''
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[ WP ] God is actually the ambassador of Humanity , and must report his species ' advancements to the intergalactic council of deities within 100 years . One problem : he had n't talked to his species in millennia .
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The loud, repetitive noise of an alarm blares through the room for the fifth time. A bleary-eyed and hungover God slaps at the snooze button, intending to make it six. But he suddenly remembers the day and jumps out of bed with a venomous string of curses.
The council had accepted delays before, but this was the limit. If he did n't report on his creation, he would lose both his place on the council and his hand in the universe he wove into existence. Granted, he only created it in the first place to impress Tiffany, but still... he would never be able to live down the embarrassment.
He grumbled and looked around his dwelling. Garbage piled in corners, clothes all over the floor, a bucket filled with fluid best not thought about in the closet, and a thick coating of dust-covered and abused furniture. *How could he possibly put together a report in this mess? * he thought to himself, reaching for a particularly crusty sock and grimacing.
He stood and stretched, then tugged at his long, white beard, considering the project ahead of him. Sure it might be procrastinating, but at least he's doing something productive, right? He then took a deep breath, and *pushed*. His will permeated the area, and everything suddenly collapsed into an atomic dust that promptly collected together and fused back into him. The body he created fell away too, leaving him a formless energy, a will in the void.
The will pressed again, and with a vast explosion, a miniature galaxy spun into existence within the void. The will contemplated it for a moment as it sat, frozen in place, and with a twist of intent the whole thing flowed into motion. The will focused at a particular place within the model, observing the dust collecting into a blob, that resolved into the planet he formed so long ago. The model continued it's speedy motion, showing the will the entirety of its history. The time of firmament, then the fine adjustments that allowed for the will's idea of life, then the bits of mineral that collected together and started acting, which in turn formed more complex physical and chemical reactions that became the basis of life.
But chemical science was n't what the council was interested in, so the will continued observing. There! The point where the creations gained a seed, a germ of the will's own ability to impress intent in existence. They could n't form the rules, but they learned to work within them, and more fascinating, to reach outside themselves to drive forward their own evolution, and to expand their ability to impose their will in their sphere.
This is what the council wanted. Even in their infinite expanse the greater omniverse still held mysteries to them, chief among them the creation of gods. The will released a thought, and the model fell apart. The rest was obvious. They would make tools of greater complexity as their own understanding expanded, until creator and creation became one in the same. They would find the limits, and if allowed, would eventually surpass them. A god willing itself into existence, with the infinite patience of a being outside of time.
Thoughtfully, the will reformed a body and took a seat on nothing, and he began writing his report: `` Unfortunately, the experiment was a failure. Self-expression in organics appears to be impossible.'' The lie was important, he knew. Everything will depend on it in the end.
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[ WP ] A man who gains 10 pounds every time he says 'I love you '
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Friends think I'm lying when I say I work out a lot. Why should n't they? I do n't have the body of a fitness nut. The gym kept trying to get me to hire a personal trainer, since I was in there so often and seemingly not getting any results. It's better that I bought my own equipment anyway, it'll save me in the long run, because it's so important.
My knees are going. The doctor told me that I might need some kind of surgery in a few years, but I was n't listening. It does n't matter what it takes. Some days when I'm on the treadmill I start to lose sensation in my feet. I'm used to it now though, and barely break stride. I run barefoot now, I ca n't afford to keep buying shoes. It helps to think of the callouses like armor. It's so important.
The diet is the worst part. My family held an intervention for the eating disorder I do n't have. They think I'm binge eating when I'm alone. During holidays and get-togethers I just nibble at a salad or chicken breast. It's funny, but I miss sugary breakfast cereals the most. I never even liked them as a kid. But I ca n't even have half a bowl with skim milk. It's so important.
I'm the luckiest man in the world. She makes up for all of it and more. Just one minute with her justifies the suffering. I have n't told her about it though. She would n't let me say it anymore. And I have to say it. It's so important.
She was sad today, so I said it and she smiled. It's getting harder to drop enough weight to be able to say it the next time, and I've only lost two pounds from the last one, but I had to say it. She's so important.
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[ IP ] White Castle
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I dismounted my horse, my worn boots crunched the Earth, a piece of rock wedged into the remaining plastic molding. The air was still with snowflake sized particles of dust. In the distance it howled through the cavernous mountains.
I walked forward, removing my goggles and helmet, before feeding my steed. He would n't leave. Not him. Not unless he was scared... but there was nothing to fear where we were. Just calm uneasiness.
The sight was massive. Endlessly massive with hard white and orange. I climbed over the dusty remains each step imprinting my weathered footprints in the dirt. The ground shift and I marched on higher. In all the-years? decades? centuries? who knows? -the vessel had not lost its smoothness. My palm stuck to it as I steady myself.
I could see over everything.
Everything the Earth still held. The Earth. The dirt. The crumbling mountains killed by time. I the king of the castle... or what remains of it.
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Thank you kindly for reading. Check out my Blog: https: //butterfliesmachineguns.wordpress.com/
-Tag Poin
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[ WP ] Every human is born with the ability to have 1 'life rewind ' and 1 'life fast forward ' . You can only fast forward and rewind up to 1 year each , however you can transfer it to someone else .
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People love wishing their life away. I ’ ve never understood that. We all have good days and bad days, and the hope is we come out stronger having experienced them both. I really hated some of the crap that I had to deal with. Middle school was no cup of tea and that year after my parents ’ divorce wasn ’ t much better. I ’ m really surprised anyone can make it out of adolescence with their LFF and a lot of people don ’ t. Maybe 1 out of 3 girls make it to 18 which is fine with me. Just another willing customer.
When my grandfather transferred me his LRW before he died, I thought that it was a shame he didn ’ t use it. I guess he didn ’ t want to live anything from that last year of life over again. My grandmother was even more generous when she gave me both her LRW and LFF. Dad was pissed when this happened, but what was he going to do? They were mine to do with as I pleased, and after the way he treated Mom, there was no love lost between us.
I was at the hospital visiting my grandmother for the last time when a man, whom had just missed the birth of his first child, was in desperate need of an LRW. He offered me 3 LFFs right there on the spot for my LRW! He didn ’ t know I had an extra one to spare. I thought, why not? To this day, it was the best deal I have ever made, and thus began a lucrative career in the time trade.
I work in the trafficking of Life Fast Forwards ( LFFs ) and Life Rewinds ( LRWs ). Also known as skip-overs and do-overs. We are all born with one chance to skip up or redo up to one year of our life which becomes active once we hit maturity. Normally 16 or 17 years old. As a transferable good, this means that it has a price, and as an entrepreneur, I ’ m always willing to make a trade. As of today I have 145 LFFs and 367 LRWs.
Someone out there is always willing to pay for a little extra time or even, to my surprise, to not have to deal with something in their life. A loved one passes away, first year of Law school, doing hard time. There are plenty of reasons people had for wanting to skip-over. The hard part was finding a reason to go back and do it again. An awesome vacation, your first time, experiencing the birth of a child. All very good reasons to go back, but the problem was when people wanted to a different outcome from their do-over. An extra year to try and save a marriage, catch a sickness early on and treat it, try and stop an untimely death, or prevent someone from making a huge mistake. No matter what people tried, time would always correct the path it was on. For the most part, people understood that it was nearly impossible to change the past, but that didn ’ t stop them from trying. Even so, the do-overs weren ’ t nearly as valuable as the skip-overs, but people were still willing to pay for both. Lucky for me, I could satisfy both of these needs. If the price is right.
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[ WP ] A machine is invented that lets you choose actions in your past and view the other possible outcomes of those actions . Some people waste away longing from what could have been .
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Arthur Collins was not an unhappy man. He lived in a comfortable, well furnished apartment, paid for by a job which he was not disinterested in, located in a pleasant area of New York, which he had always maintained was the greatest city in the world ( although this claim was perhaps undermined by the fact that he had never visited any cities outside of North America ). He had friends who called him Artie and went for drinks with him at the weekends, as well as a sister who lived in Boston with her husband and kids who he visited a few times a year. His life had not been shaken by any great tragedy nor any great success. He was comfortable in every sense of the word.
So he did not know how he found himself here this morning, sitting in front of a screen, waiting to be shown what might have been.
“ The AltView will allow you to travel back to any point within your life where a pivotal decision was made, ” The young woman gestured to the controls on the panel below the screen. “ As you can see, you can set the time and date manually, or allow the machine to review your history and select the points at which the most dramatic alternate outcomes. Is that clear? ”
Arthur nodded and the woman smiled. “ In that case, I ’ ll leave you to it. Enjoy your experience at AltView. ”
She left the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Arthur turned to face the screen. He tried to think of a decision that he wished to revisit, but his mind drew a blank. Instead he found himself pushing the red button, the one that allowed the computer to take over.
He wondered what it would be. Would it bring him perhaps to the moment when he chose a local college over one further afield? Or the time he decided against a summer spent backpacking in Europe in favour of working at home to save money for a car? Or perhaps it would be his decision to break up with Stella – perhaps, despite everything, they could have made it work.
But the computer didn ’ t bring him to any of those places. Instead, he found himself on his first day of college, already late for his first class. All at once he was back there – a sweaty, nervous eighteen year old desperate to make a good impression. He came to the end of a hallway, and there was a brief moment of indecision. In his memory he turned left and managed to slip into the lecture hall just before the lecturer began speaking.
On the screen, he turned right.
Arthur watched as his eighteen year old self collided with a girl he had never seen before. She had wispy, flyaway hair that escaped from her ponytail, and green eyes that widened as her books and papers flew out of her hands. Arthur watched himself apologise, tripping over his words and feet as he tried to help her gather her things. He noticed a timetable, and asked if she was looking for the same room as he was, she laughed a little when she told him he was running the wrong way. They walked the rest of the way together, and shared an embarrassing moment when the lecturer berated them for walking in late.
That was the beginning. The man who Albert became watched as the man he might have been grew up before his eyes. He watched as he kissed her for the first time on a cold December night made warm by his racing heart and her body pressed against his. He watched as she asked him things he had never been asked, and told him things that no one had ever trusted him with. He watched as her passion for life slowly seeped into his veins, as she dragged him further and further away from his comfort zone. Together, they saw Paris, Rome, Beijing and more places than he could count. He gave her a ring, and she gave him three children. Soon their hair was matching shades of white, and their eyes lined by wrinkles.
Later, Albert watched as she got sick. He watched the doctor ’ s visits, and listened to the conversations – with doctors, with their children and grandchildren, with each other. He saw himself weep as he held her hand for the last time. He watched himself stand beside a grave, motionless, before returning to a home smaller than the one he had now but which suddenly felt so much bigger. He watched the world roll on around a man who had lost his place in it.
As suddenly as it started, the screen went blank.
Arthur found himself frozen, speechless. Two options appeared on the screen – “ REPLAY ” or “ RETURN ”.
Slowly, Arthur wiped the tears from his eyes. Then he reached forward with a shaking hand and pressed the button. He leaned back in his chair, and watched himself turn right.
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[ WP ] You just got turned into a vampire recently and you are very thirsty for human blood but you have hemophobia
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`` Excuse me?''
I looked down and shuffled my feet, far more disappointed in myself than he ever could be. My victim, as goth as goth could be, held a dead stare that burrowed into my soul. All the excitement, all the extravagance of meeting a creature of the night had crumbled into dust. Contempt, and a bitter taste in the mouth, was all that remained.
And yet, I could not deny my craving. Waving the little vial again, scribbled black to turn the glass opaque, I gulped. `` Could... could you cut your finger and fill this please?''
`` Is there something wrong with my neck?'' he asked.
`` Uh...'' The thought alone made me want to faint. Drinking his blood straight from the tap? Disgusting. Even this plan made my stomach queasy. But, I figured maybe with a little spicing, the blood would n't taste like... blood. I needed a sample first, though.
Stupidly, I decided to peel my eyes away from my shoes. The disapproving glare from the moody goth could n't have burned me any worse. He resembled a vampire far more than I, what with his pale skin, black clothing and hair, and his markings...
I smiled. `` Drinking your blood will ruin that wonderful neck tattoo of yours,'' I said, pointing to the skull and bones inked into his skin.
`` It only covers one side.''
*Shit. *
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[ WP ] An excited stranger greets you on the street and asks for your autograph . He says he is a time traveller from the future and he 's come just to meet you .
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It was supposed to be just a normal day.
Vacation. Monday. Good things. A lazy walk in the morning sun, a gentle stroll through an otherwise scarcely populated park, a couple of long minutes spent on a small bench near a pond, watching a couple of ducks paddling around in the dark water.
The stranger almost immediately catches my eye. No one in this place is rushing, but he is. Wait, no, he's... looking. Very excitedly looking for something. He's looking a little disshelved, a little confused and a little lost, but overall, happy to be here.
As soon as our eyes meet, he pauses. Quickly looks down at what seems to be a polaroid photo (? ) in his hand. Then he lights up and starts walking over far too quickly not to make me uneasy.
I look around for a moment - is n't there something or someone else he saw besides myself? What does he want with me? Should I be worried? There's really no rational reason for this to be happening, so I get up and shove my hand in my pocket. Keys. Pretty much the only thing I have on me that might offer a remote advantage, should it come to a fight.
He reaches for the pocket on his coat, and I feel a very distinct knot forming in my throat. I take a step back, and he pulls out... a pen. *What? *
I do n't say anything, and finally, he stops.
`` Excuse me, you're... him, right?''
Well, he does n't seem like a crazy person out to murder me, but... he **is** holding a very dangerous looking pen. `` Who's him? ``, I ask after clearing my throat and looking around again. No one else seems to be noticing just how weird this is.
Does he smell burnt? There's definitely something like that in the air, now that he's here.
`` Him'', he says again and shows me the picture. I blink. It changed. Wait - did it? A flash of white raced across my vision and suddenly it feels like someone jabbed my brain with a needle.
The picture is definitely... me. I look older, smiling. Checks out. `` Where did you get this?'' I'm confused, so the question indicates a clear lack of patience. Add to this the growing irritation of a headache.
`` Sorry, ca n't say. Would you do me a favour and sign it? I'll be on my way afterwards.'' He says, smiling. White teeth, blue eyes... something seems strange about them.
`` What, why?'' He could n't possibly have thought I was n't going to ask. He tells me he wants an autograph. But I'm not famous. The opposite, actually.
I hesitantly take the pen and kneel down to scrawl my name onto the back of the picture after another moment, if only because I want him to leave me alone so I can enjoy the rest of my morning off.
I stand back up, brush some dirt off my pants and get ready to hand the picture back, but something else gnaws in the back of my mind. `` Why do you want my autograph?''
He pauses, looks down at the picture between my fingers. He reaches up and puts it in his hold in a similar fashion to mine, trapped between index finger and thumb. Pulls, so I will let go.
I look down myself, and the expression changes again. Wait, wait, no. Again? Changes? No. Fuck this headache.
`` Because you're going to the destroy the world.''
My mouth opens and I try to answer, my grip loosens enough that he can pull the picture to him and take a small step back. I want to ask a thousand questions, but the only one that actually comes out is `` And you telling me wo n't change that?''
He flashes another smile, `` Nope'', he answers, then turns. And just like that, he's gone.
No flash of light, no explosion. The feeling of air rushing past me to where he had been standing not long ago, but that's it.
I stand there for a while longer, trying to make sense of what had happened. I ca n't. Not really, anways. Nothing ends up making sense any more. But if there's one thing I know, it's that I will make sense of it. And if it's the last, god damn thing I do.
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[ WP ] Write a story about a 75 year old man named Stuart Rulin and a beautiful 23 year old woman , Natalia .
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She walked by me everyday. Every single day. Coffee in hand, prob'ly one of those gourmet blends, or whatever the kids call coffee these days. Real coffee is dark, strong, and there's no damn ice in it, either. No wonder these kids are so soft.
I tried to get her attention a few times. Seemed like she was too wrapped up in whatever is on her phone to say hi. But, I guess I did n't try all that hard anyway. What would I even say to her,'Nice weather, huh?' or some other such nonsense. She prob'ly woulda justa looked at me like I was crazy and walk that much faster by.
It snowed that night. When she came by, she was in an awful hurry. She was n't done up as nice, neither. Guess she had a rough night. Lord knows I've had my share of those in the last..well, almost 76 years. One more week'til that big day. Feels more like a hundred every day.'Specially the last ten years or so.
She came home later than usual. Poor thing looked like she'd been through the ringer, hair all a mess, tears flowin' like the Ohio. I could n't help myself. I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, and she was distressed as I've ever seen. I just could n't help it. `` Stuart,'' I said to myself, `` this is your chance.''
When she walked past, I spoke up. `` You ok, girl?'' I think it shocked her, someone speakin' when she did n't see him. `` You look like you could use a friend.'' I know that's what I was tryin' to say. Maybe it did n't come out quite like that, when I think about it.'Specially when she do n't know me from Adam.
I do n't know what had been goin' on for her. I guess it was bad, since, well.. we're havin' this talk now. I ai n't gon na judge her, that's up to you guys here. Everything happens for a reason, they say. Even the bad stuff, but I'll be damned if I ever see any reason to it. Sometimes you can make sense of it, I admit. Not often enough, though... Not often enough.
It's not so bad, really. I did n't feel anything. I'm not cold anymore, and winter in Ohio is damn cold. I do n't know what put the poor girl on edge. Take it easy on her, if you can. She looks mighty torn up. I'd forgive her if I thought it'd help her. Hell, I'll even take some blame for myself. I shoulda known better than to come up behind a scared young girl like that.
So, anyway, what was the question? Oh, right. Nah, I do n't want to go back. I did my time there, chief. Some was good, more was bad. I never really fit in there, besides. I think I deserve a bit of a break. Do n't even matter which side you send me to, I s'pose. Feels like I already been to both, and I ai n't the one to judge. That's up to you guys.
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[ WP ] You hear a knock at the door . Upon answering , you see a stranger . He looks at you and says , `` There 's no time to explain , just come with me . ''
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`` Man, it's Tuesday, and I still have morning wood. At least let me put on some clothes.'' Sighing as I hurriedly meander back to my bedroom. In my haste I neglect to change out of my Superman boxers, but a second day wo n't hurt, I mean I am made of steel.
In my rush I grab the top pair of shorts from the laundry basket without even looking at them. I see my favorite T-shirt, the one with the T-Rex and the awesome lightning in the background so I throw it on. Camouflage shorts and a T-Rex T-shirt, guess that will have to do as I grab my essentials; watch, keys, phone, wallet, and my lucky rabbit's foot key chain and head back out to the door.
`` You smell like an armpit'' he says to me as I close the door, I mumble under my breath, which at this point probably smells like an armpit and we hurry over to his black van.
`` Do n't get in yet'', he commands, as he opens the side door and looks over his shoulder at me. `` Close your eyes'', he says in a cold flat tone. I begrudgingly comply with a half peek which he fails to pick up.
He turns slowly, and something metallic flashes in his right hand, I hide my flinch as my eyes are supposed to be close. Searing pain enters my body, unending tears pour down my face as the agony intensifies.
`` There, now I wo n't have to smell you'' he laughs as he sets the Febreze spray can back in his van. `` Now get in, I am running behind enough already'', I get in the van with a vague feeling that I should know why this is happening.
Then all at once I remember, I had set up an Uber driver to take me to a job interview. Here I was well on my way to my first post-grad interview in my T-Rex shirt and camo shorts. He pulls up to the employee parking lot and tell him this will do, I pay him and give him some extra because I feel bad for slowing him up. `` Wow, thanks man'' he exclaims as I quickly shut the door and head in to the building.
At this point I've come to far to cancel my interview, and I was n't really interested in the job, but my parents were pressuring me to apply for it. At this point I just want to get in, get it over with and get out.
I get to the front desk and tell the receptionist `` I'm here for a 10 o'clock interview'' while being unable to remove my stare from her seemingly perfect uni-brow. This thing was practically a perfect forehead mustache and I was captivated, the receptionist knows I've been staring and states in a simmering tone `` Go ahead and be seated, I'll let you know when he is ready to see you''. Great, I thought to myself, I'm in here for 2 minutes and screwing up even worse than my wardrobe.
Time crawls by for what seems like an eternity. I start to question if I will die of hunger before I get through with my interview. I look at my watch, its been 5 minutes, my stomach roars like an angry hippo. I look around for something to eat and all there is around is a bowl of peppermints. I grab a handful and feast as I stuff 5 mints in my mouth at once.
Precisely at that moment the receptionist lets me know that my interviewer is ready to see me and instructs me where to go. I try to get out the word `` thanks'' but only manage a mumble and a waterfall of peppermint induced drool, covering my T-Rex in a shiny sticky slime.
To make matters worse, if they can get any worse, as I round the corner and head into the meeting room I see a now familiar face. The same guy that gave me a frebreze shower a half hour ago.
`` The position has been filled'' he states as he stands up, there is a moment of awkwardness which he fills by shaking my hand and then promptly leaving the room.
I stand there in stunned silence which is broken by his quick quip, `` oh and thanks for the $ 100 tip'' as he walks off. Too ashamed and too embarrassed I realize that in my hurry to get out of his van I must have given him my $ 100 bill instead of my $ 10.
I walked home.
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[ WP ] They say you ca n't run from Death . But I 've beem drifting through the empty blackness of space for a thousand years .
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The endless void. The infinite heavens. A vast realm. The unexplored cosmos. Brimming with potential. Devoid of life.
Well, nearly.
Millions of years ago, on a small blue planet, drifting through the endless frozen expanse of space, something miraculous happened. Life was born.
With Life however, comes Death.
For millions of years, the two have danced an intricate dance, constantly warring to conquer the other. Death is powerful, ultimately inescapable, but still, Life reigns supreme on the little blue rock.
That is, until Life tried to take to the stars.
On the little blue planet, Life can thrive, indomitable, undefeated, but once it boards those fragile little rockets, well, it's stepped into my home field.
Who am I?
I'm Death, of course.
And I've been waiting a long time for this opportunity.
See you soon.
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[ WP ] Heroic Space Marine now retired . He 's taken up cooking . They call him `` Master Chef ''
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Throughout the cosmos a name is known.
He was once a hero amongst men, throughout the final siege of the epsilon sectors mafia's headquarters or the war for the protection of a young race of lizard people, who's planet happened to have the perfect conditions to form exotic matter.
He once took on a team of 5 elite bazrian's, each in decked out nano suits and won.
Scourge of all evil in this corrupt universe, fighter for peace and justice through any means neccasery.
But one day something changed, through all his tales of valor and feats of strength he began to tire of the glory the perpetual cycle of death and rebirth via cloning and a brain backup.
Now he brings joy to people through his equally legendary cooking, effortlessly combining the delacacies and finer points of countless races to create food known in every food circle you go to.
He is, the Master chef.
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[ WP ] Everyone around the world gains superpowers depending on what they were holding at the moment .
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While everyone was crazed about their new found super power, I avoided everyone. I glared at my classmate Ben, who was holding a computer at the time everyone was granted their super powers. He would always brag about how it easy it was now to pass his computer and math classes. It made me wish I was holding a water bottle or something so I could use my powers to short circuit him.
Ben looked at me, after laughing about some video he was mentally watching. `` Hey... what has got you so bothered?''
`` Nothing.''
Sighing, he said, `` If it is about the time I did n't help you cheat on the test I'm sorry. With great power comes great responsibility. I would rather try to help teach you the class material.'' He laughed, `` I am so smart now that I do n't even need to study myself anymore.''
I turned away, `` Just leave me alone.''
Ben just did n't listen to me and kept pestering me. `` Fine.'' He could n't wait for more than a minute before saying, `` Let's take your mind off things then, since you wo n't tell me what you are so bummed about.''
I grumbled, `` Ok.''
`` Show me what your super power is, and I will guess what you were holding at the time everyone got their powers!'' He smiled. Ever since everyone got their power, he has been trying to figure out what my power was.
I believe he even went to the lengths of hacking all of my social media and my cell phone. I recall one moment when I saw that I liked a post I do n't recall. I would never like any status from Denise because she is a bitch.
Ben was a nice guy, but you would never want to get on his bad side.
`` No.''
`` Stop being so secretive! We have been friends forever! Are you hiding it from me because you think you're better than me or something?'' He was getting angry, and frankly, it kind of scared me, even though I knew he would never hurt me.
I sighed. I held my palm faced up.
Ben almost could n't contain his excitement.
A fresh folded toilet paper squared suddenly manifested from nothing. I dropped the toilet paper on the floor. It did nothing.
Ben was silent. His face seemed to be a little guilty now. He tried to make me feel better, ``... Well you can... also levitate toilet paper too, right?''
I shook my head. `` I tried.'' My shameful hands rested in my pockets. `` I tried expanding my power, but all I managed was getting a some folded toilet paper... or crumpled toilet paper.''
We were both silent.
Ben blurted, `` Well that just sucks.''
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[ WP ] `` Do you not know who I am ? '' `` Yes , you 're someone whose name will not matter once the world knows mine '' .
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`` They'll never stop looking for you,'' the man said. His hands tied behind his back, resting on his knees. A cool desert breeze blew in from the distant mountains. The erie silence was only punctuated by the crunch of footsteps in the dusty red sand. Behind the bound man stood another, gripping his pistol. Slowly the sun began to creep behind the far away hills. `` I'm well aware. That lays no burden on my conscience,'' the other replied. Fixing his dirty shaw, as the sweat began to evaporate. `` You ca n't stop what I've done. You'll never be able to rest, not without ever knowing when they'll kick in your door,'' the bound man said as he let the blood drool out of his mouth. Onto the dry ground. The gunman eyed his weapon as he slowly approached the other. `` Does n't matter anymore. You took away my life, stole everything away from me. This is n't a story about winning. Just a good old fashion story about hate. Pure anger, retribution, never mind the closure.'' `` Fuck you. You want to know what your family said to me before we cut them down?'' `` Doesnt matter anymore, does it,'' the second said. Raising his weapon, and pulling the trigger. The rapport echoing over the hills. Momentarily breaking the tranquil silence. `` The world will never remember you. But when I'm done with the rest of you, the world will know my name.'' Strolling back to his ship, the man pulled a photo from his pocket. Letting it blow away in the breeze, before he left for the stars.
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[ WP ] Create a description about a random , everyday sort of object that turns it into something completely terrifying , and the rest of us will attempt to guess what it is .
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There ’ s a silver contraption that sucks my life away. Every day, it calls and screams to me until I come to it. And I can ’ t resist. I can never resist anymore. It ’ s as much a part of me as I am of it by this point. It tears at me when I can not go to it. It eats me up and spits me out each time. It takes my life, warps and distorts it and yet I go back again and again for more.
It continues to call to me, tear along my mind and destroy my consciousness. I ’ ve lost myself many times, lost track of time, of location, of everything save but it. Sometimes I consider attempting to leave it but I can not. It is a constant in my life.
And even though I should be begging for someone to save me, I don ’ t want salvation.
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper of Death by Fire has an argument of jurisdiction with the Grim Reaper of Death by Industrial Accidents .
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`` Now hearing case file De-12599, Grim Reaper DbF versus Grim Reaper DbIA, all be seated please. Grims, you have two minutes to state you cases to the jury and then a cross examination of evidence will occur, in which the jury, and separate arbitration panel will make a decision. The defendant has opted out on the customary first statement. Grim Reaper Justice presiding. Grim Reaper DbF, you may proceed.''
`` Thank you. As many of you know, I am a senior member of the Association of Death, as well as sitting on the Board of Grims in many hearings. As being one of the most tenured Grims present, I present the case that Grim DbIA has been using false claims and reports, along with a fraudulent count to rise among the ranks of us. He is no more a new ranking Grim than he is alive. My case today will prove that many of his claims are against the nature of Grim society, and will pass on the good knowledge and recommendation that his duties and reporting be transferred to myself, the Grim of Fire. Thank you for your consideration.''
`` Grim Reaper, DbIA. Your defense opening statement.''
`` Good fare day to you all. I, unlike my counter-part, am a young new cold blood, so to speak, and within the realm of Grims during the transition of these human beings to a different age, it is up to new Grims such as myself to make a name for ourselves, lest we become forgotten servants of the Unholy Lord himself.
I am here representing not only myself, but the newly founded Union of Collaborative Death. Myself along with Grim Reaper Death by Chemical Burns, Grim Reaper Death by Roadrage and Grim Reaper Death by Electronic Vibrators, we have found ourselves increasingly objected with our numbers. We have always regarded our duties as the highest regard and serve to follow them.
While Grim Fire has always been a constant force behind our numbers, a new age has occurred. So I bring you the case of the new, the vibrant and of the transforming modern age. We new young Grims seek to prove that our deaths are not only our own, but must be shared equally.''
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[ WP ] An otherwise unremarkable archeologist seeks to earn his place in history by retrieving a nearly forgotten piece of ancient technology - Voyager 1 .
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Esteemed Colleagues,
Today I am disclosing to you what I believe to be the most monumental discovery in the history of our civilization. I know that you have all grown weary of my incessant theories concerning the Old Ones, but I plead that you hear me out this one final time, for the fate of our scientific community is at risk.
Twelve cycles ago, if you will remember, DSP-1017 observed traces of gold and plutonium in extrastellar object 2724 just 1.7e8 km from its position in sector 7E-12U. Though its trajectory was mapped to originate from Solaris Terra, it was moving far too slowly to be a missile or refugees, and was deemed too small to warrant further investigation. But it should n't surprise you that I took it upon myself to do so.
I heavily modified a defunct cargo probe, and on AT-3443.17.2 sent it on a trajectory to intercept EO-2724 in sector 9G-10U on AT-3449.22.7, to return to Camelopardalis-4 on AT-3455.4.3. Yes, this means that my probe is still two cycles away from return, and while I hoped to share my discovery upon its arrival, I feel the need to expedite my findings given our mutual concerns over the current political climate.
Last cycle, I received transmissions from my probe containing the holoscan of EO-2724. I was able to reconstitute the extrastellar object with 99.97 % accuracy, and I have added the holofile to this message. This object is like nothing I have ever seen before, but clearly you will agree with me that it was made by human minds.
I detect no traces of an acceleration system of any sort; rather, the only on board energy source appears to be an archaic plutonium battery that has long since defunct. Given its lack of propulsion and its speed at rendezvous, you will agree that this places its departure from Solaris Terra at least 40,000 cycles ago. If this is true—and I invite you to attempt to draw a different conclusion—everything we think we know about the origins of the Old Ones will have to be rewritten.
But in this, I am sure, EO-2724 will be instrumental. For I believe that this craft is a time capsule, cast amongst the stars by the Old Ones with the hopes that one day some curious archaeologist like myself would retrieve it. This golden disk you see attached to the hull appears to be a primitive information storage device, and while the resolution of my holoscan is preventing me from completely discerning the message inside, I have no doubt that its contents will be intentionally simple to decipher.
I plead that—unless desperate times arrive—you keep secret what I have shared with you tonight until we are in possession of EO-2724. The fate of Gliese, and perhaps the entire human race, may rest in our ability to discern the Truth using this gift from an unknown past.
Godspeed, friends.
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[ WP ] After trying to fall asleep for hours , you feel a sudden presence appear in the room . When you try to look around you discover you 're completely paralyzed .
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The air is vibrating. It shares the uncomfortable heat of a room with no ventilation. It is the middle of December. After laying here for so long I had nearly given up sleep, the high pitched tone of silence became too familiar. I was told once it is an auditory illusion. Your ear and mind searching for sound where there is none to find. Once the air became hot and filled with a million tiny insects I could not see, the ringing stopped. Suddenly my ears had a sound to find.
It was unclear if I had only recently become unable to move, or only recently noticed. Sweat cling to my skin, though frost formed on the windowsill outside. My head was fixed to the pillow, forced to stare straight up at the ceiling. God, it was so hot the air clung to the dryness of my throat and tongue.
I could not look much farther than past my cheeks, even with my eyes straining downward. My head locked in this position only allowed me to see the ceiling, and the periphery of my bed. But I could feel something just out of sight. Standing just at the foot of my bed. It brought heat and terror where neither should exist.
`` It is time, mortal one.''
A voice. Whispered, yet far away. It was as if someone were speaking to you from some hidden place, hoping to acquire your attention will staying hidden. I can not look down far enough to see it. But the heat is becoming unbearable.
The air no longer vibrates, but itches and scratches at my skin. In the sweat, and the terror. What was staying hidden just out of my view begins to slide into view. It is not crawling over my mattress, but merely slinking through the air. It is formless and black. Even though my room is only illuminated by the lights outside, it is darker than pitch. It is not the lack of light, but made of void. Nothingness.
`` Do not approach this journey with fear or you will fade from all memory.''
It is above me now. Square in front of me. What seemed only pure blackness has taken on one form. In the folds of void a face appears. Contrast to the black, it is of pure ivory. Teeth, lips, nose, skin. All pure white. There are no eyes. Those are still as hollow as the void around them.
`` Prepare yourself.''
It descends. Inches from my face. Sinking slowly, but constantly. Where before my skin was hot with sweat, it began to cool. Freezing even. My heart grew cold, and the chill ran to my arms. Then my legs. Finally creeping up my neck, into my face. It was so close now. Nearly touching me with ribbons of black.
`` Your time... is up.''
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[ WP ] There 's a law when you divorce , the children from the undone marriage get killed
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David hears them yelling through the door of his room, locked and secured from their harsh words. He can not bear to hear them argue, the rumble of screaming and outraged cries, but what he hates more is the silence. The silence is filled with false promises of *maybe, just maybe, they still love each other. * But it is only a wish, and David knows what it will lead to.
He glances at the bed near his own, Tommy curled around his blanket, exhausted from crying. Tommy is old enough to understand what will happen if their parents argue, and he has become terrified of speaking to either of his parents.
Their parents have become upset at Tommy's sudden muteness around them and have taken him to a doctor. But the doctor is an adult and does not listen well to Tommy's fears. Tommy comes home in tears, and David locks the door to their room and holds him.
Adults are so selfish.
`` I'll protect you, Tommy,'' David murmurs, thinks about the sports bag filled with clothes in their closet, of the money hidden under his bed to get them to where they need to go. With parents who yell, who are on the brink, all their children have are themselves or each other. But David would never leave Tommy to that fate.
Someday, David promises in the silences between their parents, someday we will be free of them.
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[ WP ] A young FBI agent , fresh out of the academy , is sent on his first undercover assignment : Willy Wonka 's Chocolate Factory , where he discovers the famous chocolatier 's nefarious secret .
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It's my turn now. After years of trying to land Wonka with something, with anything, I'm up.
My name's Jones, I've been out of the academy for a month and already they want me to go out into the field. Yes, I graduated from the academy a little young, 22 years old, but for me to pass as a kid? Will this work? Will Wonka fall for it?
Wonka's been quiet, noone goes in, noone comes out. The factory has been closed for a month since I've gotten into this little town. For a month, everyday, I've walked by outside, dressed up like a hopeful teenager. Everyday the gate has been closed, and the factory has been quiet. Strangely, the local shop has had new Wonka candies and chocolates come in. Like their new Soft-Jaw Breakers.
Today, on my daily scout, the gate opened up for all the teenagers in town. Only three teenagers were brave enough to enter. I followed closely behind.
The air was stale. The entrance was dark. The factory was quiet. We then spotted the Oompa Loompas, Wonka's famous Oompa Loompas. Strangely, unlike the stories I've heard, they were quiet. They just sat there, and stared into the dark factory. Were they scared of something? The three other boys walked up. My gut churned, something was off. The air was stale. The boys whispered to each other. The air was stale. I found it hard to breathe. The air was stale. One of the boys screamed. I sprinted over to find the boy pointing and screaming, the other two pale with fright. I grabbed one of the Oompa Loompas, to find, it was n't staring at anything, because it did n't have eyes. Something had gouged the eyes out. No, not something. I looked down at a curious looking spoon. Someone had gouged the eyes out of these Oompa Loompas.
I turned to run, only to realize that the room had gone strangely quiet. I turned slowly, the boys were hunched over. I heard the dripping. I knew it was too late for the boys, and it was too late for me.
It's my turn now. After years of trying to land Wonka with something, with anything, I'm done.
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[ WP ] A busboy , eavesdropping as he cleans tables at work , notices a strange pattern in the conversations the surrounding tables are having
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Terrence exasperatedly adjusted his bowtie as he reentered the dining room. This job stunk. The hours stunk, the pay stunk, and sometimes even the food stunk. He did n't understand why busboys still had to wear all this underneath their aprons. Apparently `` high class'' was code for `` boring and uncomfortable''.
Terrence wheeled the dish cart past the tables. He frowned at a small gravy stain on the cloth covering the upper rack. Mr. Gregory had read him the riot act last night for spilling tomato bisque onto the cart after cleaning up after a particularly large table. Even when he took out the trash in this place, Terrence was told to wipe down the outside of the bag before taking it into the back alley.
The sounds of the classical piano tinkled throughout the room as Terrence started clearing the remains of a significant anniversary dinner. It was amazing that in a restaurant packed with so many people he could still make out individual voices in the crowd.
`` Have the crème brûlée, Martha. It's to die for!''
``... because I told him that's not how things work at Morgan-Stanley.''
`` You probably need a new sail. That's why I never got one. It's so much nicer to just zip around the Keys.''
`` So when does it start?''
`` Seven minutes exactly. Mr. Gregory notified us earlier today.''
`` And it's just everyone on their own?''
`` Yep. It's gon na be pretty wild.''
Terrence sighed inwardly. He had not heard about this. Whenever there was some big event at La Chambre, he always ended up getting home late. It was getting on Sarah's last nerve. He resignedly rolled the dish cart closer to the front of the restaurant.
`` Oh, damn. I think I may have left it in the theater. Let me borrow one of yours, Russell. It's sharper, anyway.''
``... with that at all. You need speed over power. Quick and simple.''
`` It's a little heavy, but I can also use it to counter someone.''
As Terrence started clearing another table, he noticed some young executive of one kind or another displaying an old Louisville Slugger to his fellow diners. He gave it a quizzical look. People sometimes had unusual accessories with them at dinner, but never a baseball bat. It looked like the ones DiMaggio used but bigger. It was longer than the table was wide. It looked like it would come up to just underneath his chest if it was stood straight up from the floor. Whatever. If people wanted to show off their dumb memorabilia at dinner, that was their prerogative.
As he wheeled the cart across the front of the dining hall and then back up towards the kitchens, he noticed all the waitstaff standing in the back of the room. They looked as if they were waiting for something. Lined up between the kitchen doors and the entrance to the rest rooms, they reminded Terrence of how they used to make the new students stand watch during lunch at Deckard Academy. The upperclassmen and CO's would eat first and then the cadets would sit down to their cold mac'n cheese and lukewarm chicken noodle soup.
Terrence started clearing up his last table on his fourth pass of the night when something said by a man in his sixties caught his ear.
`` I do n't think that's allowed, Margie. You'd have an unfair advantage over everyone else.''
`` Oh hush, Teddy. You know my arthritis is getting worse.''
`` But I thought he said no firepower.''
`` He said nothing with a clip or a magazine. Papa's revolver only holds eight rounds.''
Terrence was astonished to see a woman in her sixties, wearing a golden ball gown, displaying a large revolver to her husband in a tuxedo. It looked like something John Wayne would have. Not only was her husband blatantly examining the gun, but no one at the adjoining tables seemed to take any notice. This was not safe. Terrence calmly wheeled the dish cart back up towards the kitchens as quickly as he could. But just as he reached the door. The two other busboys burst out the kitchen followed by all the sous chefs being ushered out by Mr. Gregory. Chef Donioli followed, looking very bored with his arms crossed picking something out of his teeth.
Mr. Gregory indicated to the sous chefs to space themselves out among the diners.
`` What the hell is going on?'' Terrence muttered under his breath to his fellow bussers.
`` No idea, dude.'' said Sandy. He brushed his long hair behind his ear. `` Mr. Gregory just came along and told everyone to get out of the kitchens.''
`` He tell me and Sandy to find you. He is telling us to stand in middle of room in front of Mr. Jacobsen.''
Horace strode over to the piano stage as Terrence and Sandy slowly followed.
`` Some crazy old bat here's got her old man's revolver, Sandy. Someone needs to tell Mr. Gregory.''
`` What? Well it'll have to wait, dude. This seems really important and some blue-haired socialite could n't really do anything with a gun anyway.''
They lined up next to Horace as Mr. Jacobsen was still happily tickling the keys behind them. However, he stopped abruptly as Mr. Gregory gave two quick claps in his direction. The entire room was silent and looking towards Mr. Gregory.
`` Madames et Monseiurs,'' Mr. Gregory addressed the room, `` thank you for choosing La Chambre as tonight's venue. I know you are all well acquainted with the rules so I will simply introduce your wild cards for the night. Up along the back of the dining hall we have our wonderful waitstaff and scattered among you we have those who work in the kitchen.'' Mr. Gregory motioned to the sous chefs and the busboys who received a polite smattering of applause.
Mr. Gregory continued. `` One small reminder about the house specific rule: the kitchens will be locked and are out of bounds as the scoring area. Temporary medical kits and specialty supplies and weapons can be found in the safes by the restrooms. They can only be opened with a Platinum Member's key. Chef Donioli, Maestro Jacobsen, and myself will secure ourselves in the kitchens as tonight's scorers. We will await the sole winner after all other players have been eliminated. At the stroke of ten the contest will commence. We shall go by my watch.'' Mr. Gregory raised his expensive time piece to his eyes and held a small bell above his head.
`` What the fuckin' fuck?'' Sandy whispered, terrified and suddenly white as a sheet. Horace stared around slack-jawed and slightly green.
With the sound of dozens and dozens of chairs moving back from tables, every well-to-do diner stood up making the room suddenly feel ten times smaller. Everybody held some weapon or instrument of destruction. Terrence saw several hunting knives, large hedge trimmers, and a few ice picks. There was even a dark-skinned, mustachioed man holding a scimitar in each hand. Others were holding large blunt instruments. Some, like the executive Terrence saw earlier, had large bats. A few were covered with barbed wired or had nails hammered through them. Somewhere far behind him, Terrence heard Margie pull back the hammer on her papa's revolver. An almost sly grin slowly grew on his face.
Mr. Gregory rang the bell.
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[ WP ] A suicide bomber and their victims find themselves in a waiting room , awaiting processing into the afterlife .
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The bright florescent lights against the white walls were nearly blinding. For a moment he thought that perhaps time had frozen. As his eyes began to adjust he began to look around. The other faces in the room began to come into focus. He started to realize that they were staring at a spot on the wall behind him. He turned to see what was so fascinating but only saw the blank wall. It began to set in, they were staring at him. He looked over at the single desk in the room. It was also painted white with two doors behind it. One black and one white. The old man sitting at the desk looked up for a moment from his paper work looked at him for just a moment with grimace.
He struggled to figure out where he was and how he got there. Before he could gather all of his thought together properly the old man spoke. “ Janice Cawley. ” A young blonde woman arose from her seat. “ White door. ” She walked hesitantly to the door. She opened it, stepped through, and closed the door behind her without looking back.
A sense of wonder arose with in him. What was behind the door? Which then brought back his original line of thought. Where was he and why was he here. Everyone shifted their gaze from the door back on to him. What were they looking at? He began to examine their faces. They seemed familiar but no one he really knew. He then looked down at his shirt and everything came back to him. “ George Grainger. White door. ”
The explosives he had detonated just moments earlier were still there, completely intact. He then realized who all these people are. The people he had just killed. Sweat started dripping from his face. His hands began to shake. He had certainly completed his mission but he ’ s now sitting in a room full of people who know what he had done. “ I ’ m so sorry. ” He announced to all the people around him. The people snubbed the apology. Most turned away. With a poof another person appeared in the room. Shaking violently that steadily slowed. Looking the elderly woman looked around gaining her bearings. “ Gloria Swanson. Black door. ” This was an interesting turn of events. All eyes were trained on the black door. A nearly skeleton looking brunette sheepishly stood up. “ Are you sure? ” she asked. “ Black door ” the only man replied coldly. She walked slowly as if to delay the inevitable as much she could. As she opened the door she looked back in desperation. She received no sympathy from the room. She walked in and the door slammed shut behind her. A single muffled scream could be heard from the otherwise silent room.
“ I can ’ t go in there! ” he thought as looked around franticly for an alternate exit. There were none to be found. He began to face the reality of what was. This wasn ’ t the afterlife he was promised. His motives no longer seemed honorable. In fact they didn ’ t seem to matter. More and more people were called to their respective doors. Always a quiet scream that came from the black door and nothing from the white door. The room was now emptying faster than it was filling. He sat alone for some time. Poof. Someone else appeared. It was a small child. She sat next to the man wearing the suicide vest. “ Hi ” She asked with a seemingly friendly voice. “ Hello ” he responded gruffly. “ Why did you kill us? ” She asked rather matter-of-factly. “ I… ” “ Amanda Sawyer. White door. ” “ Ok Bye! ” She said cheerfully skipping towards the door.
The room was once again empty. The man stirred restlessly in his chair. “ James Whitford. Black door. ” The old man said with almost a smile on his face. He rose from his chair awaiting his fate. He walked with determination towards the door. When he arrived at the door he hesitated for just a moment, turned the knob and walked in. The door slammed shut behind him. There was the familiar muffled scream. The old man arose from his desk. Gathered his papers and opened the white door. He turned off the lights as he closed the door behind him.
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[ WP ] It 's exam day in Superhero Academy . Usually , tests are done in special rooms that nullify powers . But there 's been a blackout , and you , the proctor , must stop a bunch of superpowered kids from cheating .
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Our nullified power room had the space for 50 pupils at a time. So in the last 3 days since the blackout I've had to research 50 students, their powers and all the potential ways each one can cheat this exam. I've barely slept and I am very grouchy and am going to be in contact with my union if I do n't get paid for the excessive amount of overtime I've had to put in to make sure these still go through without a hitch.
I glare out over the small hall of students with a stern, tired look. `` Despite our attempts to halt the rumors, I can confirm we have had some minor issues with this rooms nullifying ability. This does not however mean any of you can use your powers. If me or my fellow proctors catch you using your powers for -any- reason after we start, you'll be retaking the entire year and severely punished. Am I clear?... Good. You may now turn over your papers and start the exam.''
I walk over to my co-workers and we have a quiet group meeting - there's a few special cases which we need to keep an extra close watch on, telepaths in particular but my greatest worry was J.
J was a splitter. That is to say, he could split into multiple versions of himself and they'd all be able to see, think and hear what the others were doing up to a range of 100 metres... from what we know. with the residential apartments of the students just next door we knew it'd be all too easy for him to find a corner, hop on a laptop and google each and every answer.
Immediately I send one Protector to search surrounding area and dorms, making sure there was n't a single extra copy of himself around and sneaking in answers.
The issue now was doing this we were even more underhanded. Only 3 of us to keep an eye on 50 potential cheating kids. We go out on our initial patrols and look over each and every paper with scrutiny. With my watchful eye I spot something suspicious - one kid was looking at his watch frequently, despite the large clock showing the time remaining up front.
I walk over and stare him down - he does n't notice I'm looking at him specifically but jumps a little when he sees me staring down at him. `` HighWire, you seem awfully tense. Is something wrong with your watch?'' he stutters something about just keeping a close eye on the time and being nervous. I could n't disprove him at first but then... then I hear what was wrong. The watch was n't ticking in seconds... it was ticking in morse code.
`` So your ability to re-wire any electronic with your mind has nothing to do with the fact that your watch just so happens to be'ticking' seemingly random letters of A, B, C and D off in morse code? Get out.''
He lowered his head in shame and picked up his papers, and was escorted out. One down...
Then I see... something as the doors to release the student open, a blur of some sorts? I look over the desks then spot one extra empty desk. I blink and then see it filled again by Light-speed Sophie, our'speeder' student... I swear under my breath for being so careless. With her speed she could have dashed out and gotten answers but I had no way of proving it. As the doors shut a moment later I walk over to one of my colleagues and whisper him something. He nods and looks over to Sophie then the door before getting back to his patrols.
Twenty minutes go by with nothing... No more disturbances. Then I hear a loud grunt of frustration and I storm over to the student who'd broken the silence `` Quiet! We are in an exam!'' I yell down at them, not in the mood to deal with some kids whinging. Then I see who it was and immediately regret my decision.
'Little' Barbra turns and yells back `` These questions are bullshit! Our lecturers did n't teach us half of these subjects in the lessons!'' her academy wide temper flips and she grows out of proportion to three times her previous size, her body soon heavy and bulky enough that the plastic chair she'd been sitting in explodes into pieces and at the same time she angrily flips the desk high into the air.
My fellow Proctor is more on the ball than I am - seeing the potential issue he used his own powers and before things got out of hand, used his telekinesis to pick up the bits of chair debris, desk flying through the air and now angrily flailing student up into the air and calmly'escorted' her out, going with her to make sure she calmed down. I followed and shut the door behind them with a huff.
Now down to just me and one other Protector to keep watch on 48 students tiredly when suddenly J outcries. `` NONONO! YOU DO N'T UNDERSTAND! J2 WAS JUST TAKING A NAP FOR ME BECAUSE I WAS UP ALL NIGHT STUDYING! YOU CA N'T DO THIS TO ME!''
I looked up at the clock and groaned silently... Two and a half hours still to go. This was going to suck...
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[ WP ] The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true .
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The smoke cleared around Abdullah. He sighed in relief. The end had come less painfully than he thought.
He looked down at his clothes, no longer charred, tattered rags, but whole again. Every bit of fiber had somehow returned to his body in better condition than it was before he had bought it. The only thing that was missing was the suicide vest that weighed down on his torso like the burden of God's will. He felt at his chest. Sure enough, his fingers brushed against his rib-cage, separated only by the lavish fabric.
When he looked up from his chest, he saw them. At first he thought they were his companions pure, the angels that God had rewarded him for his martyrdom. His vision of the figures was blurred though, like an out-of-focus camera, and only when he concentrated did their image come to him. Abdullah shrieked.
They were all around him, standing in an almost-circular mass with him in the center. It was as if they were in the same position relative to him the moment he took their lives. Men and woman and children, each with the visage they had when their lives ended. Abdullah sank to his knees. This was not heaven, this *couldn't* be. He was surrounded by people who were unfaithful to God. Why would *they* be in heaven? Abdullah concluded that the only explanation plausible was that he was in Hell, and they had come as his personal demons to torture him for eternity. He looked up at them with teary eyes, awaiting their judgement, but something was wrong.
Every single face was smiling.
The the children, whose kindled fires he snuffed out before they had a chance to live. The men, nearly all of whom were in their prime, who he had forced to abandon their families that depended upon their hard work. Even the women, whose children he had forced to be left without them, or- and he was n't sure which was worse- whose children he had *taken* with them. They were all smiling at him as though he was a child who made a mistake. Abdullah wept some more, but no longer out of fear.
Then, a man stepped forward out of the crowd. He was different, even though he was smiling same as everybody else. Adbullah knew he did n't kill this man.
`` It is unfortunate,'' the man began, standing over Abdullah, `` that you should return to me so soon. That being said, I'm very glad you're here.''
Abdullah stood up, grabbing this man by the arms and choking his words through pained sobs. `` I'm sorry! I did n't think- I did n't know I was-''
The man put his hand on Abdullah's forehead, who immediately silenced, and found inner peace.
`` You were angry and afraid.'' The man said with a simultaneously judgmental and forgiving tone. `` There is nothing here for you to fear for, to be incensed about. You are safe now, and so are they.'' He nodded back at Abdullah's victims, walking backwards into the crowd.
`` Come, my son. There is work to be done.''
The man walked off the same way he came, and the crowd followed him, save for a woman in front of Abdullah. He recalled she was the reason he set off the bomb, the catalyst for the decision. She was White and spoke with a North American accent, so he had made killing her a priority. She waited patiently for Abdullah to find his balance and start walking, and she fell in step beside him.
He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
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[ WP ] Someone is in your brain , reading your thoughts . What do you do ?
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“..some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they continue singing it forever just because… ”
“ Alright, this has gone on long enough. Please just shut up ”
“ This is the song that never ends! ”
“ Shut up. ”
“ And it goes on and on my friiiiends! ”
“ Shut up ”
“ some people.. ”
“ SHUT UP ”
“ …STAAAAARTED ”
“ SHUT UP ”
“ SIIIIIIIIIIIIENING IT NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS! AND THEY CONTINUE SINGING IT FOREVER JUST BECAUSE THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER EEEEEEENDS… ”
Finally, a man three cubicles down ran from the room screaming. Ted smiled to himself, and added another name to his list. It had taken six straight hours of thinking of nothing but the never-ending song, but it was worth it to have identified yet another telepathic lizardman infiltrating the office. Also, he had probably gotten the lizardman written up for creating a disturbance as an added bonus.
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[ WP ] Give me some deep things to think about , make me feel some feels .
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>'' I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.''
> -William Earnest Henely
The word `` almost'' carries a significant weight that many people do n't realize is there. It serves as a link between what is and what could have been; a connection to a parallel series of events. What if I told you I can recall almost having died 3 times in my life? Not knowing anything about me, that could be minimal or extreme, but no matter what you assume about me or how I live my life, there are 4 of me and 3 are dead.
I was born with the cord wrapped around my neck, and I almost died having not seen the light of day once in my life, suffocated by the one thing that had kept me living my whole life up to that point. The doctors, being tired from a long day of work, almost could not cut it or get it untangled in time; they almost could n't react fast enough.
When I was 9, my family would, from time to time, camp out near the sand dunes in Oregon and ride ATVs. One day, I took a corner too sharp and shot up a dune, falling from my quad as it flew a short distance into the air. I almost did n't react in time, and I was almost killed by the impact of the falling vehicle. I almost left that place with something worse than a broken ankle.
When I was 13, I sat at the foot of my bed, holding a knife to my wrist and inching ever closer to the point of no return. I almost killed myself. I almost did n't imagine my father's face when he came upstairs to wake me up, our dog Lucy by his side. I almost did n't hear him screaming in grief as he realized what I had done. I almost did n't see his face contorting into a mixture of pain, fear, and guilt as tears burst in torrents from his eyes, his shin reddening from the shock of it all. I almost did n't think of any reason not to die that night.
I'm sure there are other instances of `` almost'' that I'm not even aware of. I was once in a surfing accident and scarred my knees pretty badly. I wonder what almost happened. How small of a difference would there have to have been to have lost the ability to walk? To have been blinded, or even killed? How small was that `` almost''?
The smaller the difference between what was and what is, the heavier the `` almost''.
The weight of those `` almosts'' has haunted me for a long time. My life, my path is the trunk of the tree, and those `` almosts'' are its limbs.
However, I have learned to forgive those of me who have died. I have to learn from their mistakes, take what almost is and make sure it never will be. The more there have been, and are, the less there will be. Uncertainty can not control me, and I will learn, in time, to drop them from myself altogether.
Live your life obsessed with almost, and bear the weight of a thousand thousand worlds, and suffer the pain of unending envy. Linger on what could have been, and lose the beauty of what is. Forgive what almost was, and shed the weight of a thousand thousand realities that run beside you. Make what is better than what almost was, and almost will hold no power over your being.
I almost did n't see that sunrise.
But I did, and I always will have.
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[ IP ] The Time Tourist
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It was Barcelona, 1983, at the end of the soccer giants FC Barcelona ’ s match where they finalized their win of the Copa del Rey, that I realized someone was tailing me. I don ’ t know how, I ’ ve been careful to make sure I left no trail. I never made an impact on anyone ’ s life, I just simply traveled, taking in the sites, I was a tourist of the ages. It ’ s a tedious line of work I ’ m in, always having to reset my clocks, the time stamp on my camera to make sure everything is dated to the correct year, if I don ’ t get it right it could cost me my contract.
Maybe I should specify, back in my year, 2025, time travel is not possible, by the average person. However, for generations there was a pocket watch passed down to the first son of my family. Upon my twentieth birthday I received the pocket watch, and with it, the overwhelming past it holds. A history of time travelers throughout my lineage and I was the first to be a sell out, I would take pictures of areas, events, or people in the past that people in the present requested. Never using my real name, always making sure I was securely traveling, wiping clean any trace of a wormhole it was a clean cut job. I only had a few rules: never meet with a client in person, never go to the future, don ’ t interact with people ( not even for directions ), and most importantly, don ’ t cross paths with ancestors who are also time traveling. Having multiple holes open in one time stream could cause them to combine and grow uncontrollably, devouring the entire world or even universe. Or it could just stay the same and nothing will be altered, but might as well stay on the safe side and not tear any holes in our world. To prevent that, there is a detailed journal of times and dates of where my ancestors went and for how long.
Now, returning to the major issue of me being followed. If it ’ s someone from the present times then that could mean there ’ s multiple holes open in this one time stream, but if it ’ s not and just some lunatic from this time then why is he after me? I continue walking around Barcelona ’ s streets, not sure of where I ’ m going but positive that moving is better than staying around and letting them have me. I turn a corner, just a few blocks away from Camp Nou stadium and enter an ally way, a cliché. There ’ s no dark shadowy figure or anything waiting for me, and I don ’ t hear the footsteps behind me any more, so I take it as an opportunity to start booking it. I run as fast as I possible can to the other end of the ally, quickly glance to my right, and then continue running to my left. As I ’ m running my fedora begins to lift off my head, I catch it before it slips off and secure it again. Preparing for my departure I grab my goggles out of my pocket and put them on. I glance behind me, and sure enough the footsteps were louder, there was three of them chasing after me, yelling something in Spanish, I shout back with a smirk and a ‘ no idea how to speak this language ’ attitude, “ Hassa la visa baby! ” I look down as I pulled out my pocket watch and being to change the date and time on it to the present, pulling out my journal and fumbling through the pages to see when exactly I left, I match the times down to the millisecond, and before I push down on the set button, a buzzing noise stirs in front of me. A man flies out of the air ahead of me and turns me into his landing strip. He tosses his fist into my gut, and before I knew it, I clenched mine in response to the pain. What a mistake. I set the time on the watch and it sent me back, same time, day, month, but the year was 2050.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
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The man awoke not with a sudden jerk, but with the gradual awakening that follows a peaceful night's sleep. His mind was empty, but he had no desire to fill it with anything; in fact, it was doubtful that he could retain any information in the first place.
*Alessa*
The man's attention snapped into focus, centered around that one word. *Alessa*, he repeated to himself. It was a word, he knew that. A name, probably, though to his mind that distinction meant nothing. Nonetheless, he decided to start from there.
He propped himself up slowly, saying the word over and over in his mind. He could n't risk losing hold of it.
`` Alessa,'' he whispered, trying out the feel of the name on his lips. He said it once more, this time aloud. The sound of it anchored him to the world.
And yet, he knew so little about it. Was it his world? Was it his *name*? He did n't think so, but how could he be sure?
He patted his pockets, not understanding the meaning of his own action until he felt something hard. He fumbled with them for a moment before extracting a smooth, flat cartridge. It was completely white except for one side, which was taken up by a black rectangle.
Deciding that white was a nicer color, he turned the black side away from him.
`` Do I really have to record this?'' the box asked suddenly, cutting through the silence. The man fumbled with it, startled, and it fell to his lap. The black side pointed upwards, though it was n't black anymore; it had been lit up the image of a face that he could n't recognize.
The face sighed. `` Fine, fine, I'll do it,'' it continued. `` Hello, my name is Alkhadres, Alkei for short. You probably know that, since I'm you and all. I'm recording this in case I lose one of the memories which means the most to me.'' His face broke out into a grin. `` Not like I'd ever do that, though.''
Did this mean the man on the cartridge was him? The man tried out the name, *Alkei*. It *seemed* to fit, but again, how could he be sure?
He took in other details of the scene on the cartridge. It seemed that he -- the version of him in the recording -- was sitting at a desk. There were some detailed squiggles on a wall in the background, but he could n't make out much else.
`` Oh, come on,'' a second voice chimed in. This one was much fainter, as though the speaker were further away. It was also a woman's voice, though the man -- Alkei -- was n't sure how he could make the distinction. `` What if something goes wrong? You'll regret it then,'' she teased.
From this, Alkei was able to piece together a bit about his situation. At some point in the near past, he had lost everything; before that, this woman had made him record a backup message. He prayed that he had taken her advice.
The woman's face came into view on the screen standing behind his chair, and his heart dropped.
That was her!
Alessa!
... but who was she, and what did she mean to him?
`` Yeah, yeah, I know,'' the recording of him continued. `` Make it count and all. It's all I'm gon na have if things go wrong. But honestly, hon, can you imagine *me* screwing up that bad?''
`` Oh, shush,'' she said, smiling. `` I'm worried about you, you know that.''
`` Anyways, our name is Alkei. Wait, I already said that. I know, I know, I should just get to the point already.''
In the present, Alkei did n't care. It was enough just to have this video, just to see his own face and the face of Alessa. Just seeing them interacting filled him with a strange nostalgia.
`` So if you're watching this, it means a significant portion of your memory has been used to fuel a spell. If so, then, first of all, screw you for making that decision. You do n't get to make the choice to forget me.''
`` Alkei...'' Alessa warned.
He took a deep breath. He was visibly shaken up, in stark contrast to the confident attitude he had projected only seconds before. `` I'm sorry, it just... I -- we -- have always hated this system. I mean, our memories are what make us, ya know?''
Present-Alkei could n't agree more.
`` I just do n't want to accept that we're in this position, though I guess if I do it right, we wo n't be. So, hypothetical future me, let's try this one more time.''
He took a deep breath. `` Our name -- your name -- is Alkhadres Sokratei, though you go by Alkei. This here is your girlfriend, Alissendera, though *she* goes by Alessa. Hopefully you have n't lost *that* much, but we've got ta prepare for *everything*, right?''
Alkei touched the screen instinctively. He knew his full name now, and he knew what Alessa meant to him. It was n't much, but it was more than he had started with.
`` You're 19 years old, a student at the West Athenian Technical University for the Magically Inclined, which some of us have taken to calling'WAT'. You're studying the use of memory to produce magic and the application of spells to restore memory, because of course you are. As of this recording, you're 5'11'' and have brown eyes.'' He dropped his head and let silence take the place of his voice.
Alessa bent over and hugged his shoulders. `` I know,'' Alkei admitted, `` that last part is pretty useless, I just do n't know what else to say. How much should I explain? Do I talk about home? Do I talk about... mom and dad... and Peri? Do I talk about school, and classes, and Alessa? Do I go even further back and explain my motivations? Hopefully you have n't lost those, right?''
Alkei searched his empty skull, but found nothing that could remind him of his goals in life. Could he have lost those too? Who was he then, if he did n't even have a purpose?
`` I guess I'll start with explaining how the memory system works,'' the recording continued. `` In order to fuel a magic spell, a magician has to sacrifice part of their memory. Usually you can just get rid of little things, like what you ate for breakfast yesterday or the specifics of a bad movie you watched a while ago. But of course, those do n't mean very much to you, so they can only get you so far. You end up having to sacrifice the important things if you want to get anything done. Yeah, magic is n't exactly very popular. Mostly we study theory and the creation of magic circles, so we can store up our memories.
`` Also, everyone is required to record a log like this at the beginning of each semester in case there's a... an accident. They tell you not to underestimate how much you might lose, so...'' He took yet another deep breath. Clearly, he was n't enjoying this.
Present-Alkei willed him to continue. He had to know where he had come from, *who he was*.
`` I can leave the room if you want,'' Alessa offered. `` If you need some time to work through this.''
*No! *, Alkei thought. *Do n't let her leave, she's all we have left! *
`` No,'' he said in the recording. `` Stay here please, if that's okay.'' He looked down at the surface of the desk, studying it. `` Your parents are both gone,'' he continued with effort. `` Perryeka -- your younger brother -- was almost... he was... Peri should n't have survived his birth,'' he decided finally. `` Wait, no, that sounds horrible,'' he caught himself. `` What I mean is, there were complications when he was born. He was n't gon na make it. Dad used up most of his memories to keep both Peri and Mom alive. He barely knows who any of us are now. Mom, well, she did n't take the news well. It was a lot for her to handle, ya know. I do n't blame her for what she did, but... well, let's just say I'd like to forget it. I'd like everyone to forget it. And if you're watching this video,'' he added sardonically, a tear beginning to form in the corner of his eye, `` maybe you have.''
Alkei racked his brain again, but came up empty once more. He could remember nothing, not even some vague sense of the pain he had so clearly felt once before. He should've been crying, but... he was n't. He just was n't.
`` So yeah, you really only have Peri and Alessa now,'' he continued after a long pause. `` Right now, Peri is...''
There was a loud ringing sound in the video. `` Shoot,'' he said. `` Almost time for class, and I'm a mess.''
`` You can keep going,'' Alessa offered. `` I'll stay here with you.''
`` Nah,'' he had said, forcing a smile. `` No point in making you miss class, is there, Miss Perfect Attendance?''
`` I'm serious,'' she said, hugging his shoulders again.
He stood up abruptly, putting a hand on the monitor. `` Time to move on,'' he said, and the video cut out.
Alkei lowered the cartridge, his head swarming with too many questions to process.
...
Thanks for reading! It was a bit difficult to distinguish past-Alkei and present-Alkei clearly in the writing, so let me know if it was confusing somewhere and I can clear it up.
-ShutainzuGeito
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[ WP ] The happiest man on Earth hangs himself . He left a suicide note . What does it say ?
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Friends, I implore you read this well!
For years I struggled on earth. I was a child in the fourties. I awoke into adulthood to learn the horrors wrought against millions out of greed and misplaced anger. I was a young woman in the sixties, and watched my brothers bleed and wither in foreign jungles, poisoned with unknown chemicals, crying to me for comfort I could not give. I returned from war to man who abused me in ways I did not know a person could be abused. I have been beaten, raped, and left for dead. Age has left me nearly insensate, trembling so forcefully I fear you may be unable to read these very words I have written.
But I am the happiest woman alive.
I have spent these most recent years drawing myself away from the noise and distraction of the world, and taught myself to listen as best as one could. At first there was naught but darkness and silence, but as I approach the end I have come closer and closer to seeing the great almighty, the one truth beyond. I have come to learn this earth is but a shadow, it's greatest sufferings merely pinprick holes in an infinity of joy and creation.
This world is a thin sheet of silk. Behind it lies truth and perfection. I have felt its radiance and seen its blurred silhouettes, and I can not bear to be separated from it even by illusion for a minute more. With the last of my strength, I tear the silk from its holding and become one with the peace and tranquility that becomes us all.
Mourn my passing in whatever way your heart finds fit. I am at peace, and one day you shall join me.
Love,
Nonna
[ cc ]
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[ CW ] First line : `` Get out of my house , dad . '' Last line : That was the last time they 'd see each other .
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“ Get out of my house, Dad. ”
“ Amy, please. I have nowhere else to go. I know I was wrong- “
“ Don ’ t even bother, ” she cut him off. He shuffled towards the front door, his gait uneven. The years had not been kind to the old man. Perhaps that was why she had even opened her door to him. Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched him leave, but she promised not to give in.
He nearly tripped over the threshold. She hadn ’ t seen him like this before, so pathetic and old. She held her breath as he left, knowing the tears would come soon enough.
Once outside, he glanced back at her. “ I will always love you. ”
“ Don ’ t come back, dad. Not after what you ’ ve done to us. ”
“ I ’ m sorry, Amelia. Tell Tommy that Papa loves him. ”
“ Good bye, ” she whispered as he turned and stumbled down the road. She closed the door and began to sob.
That was the last time they ’ d see each other.
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[ WP ] Fictionalize the great struggle of your life
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Ouch i screech in pain i jerk my face away as a red dot appears on my neck from where the razor had made contact with my skin. I sigh and tear apace of toilet paper to wipe away the blood dot which grew with every passing second. I inspect my face for missed spots and notice how uneven i run my hands along my face feeling how much it had grown since the last week. I took notice of how uneven it looked but it fit right on in with the rest of my appearance. My brown once short and combed now long and unkempt. I sighed again this time heavier and with more felling, i was too tired to continue and i knew i was not going to get much sleep i never did.
I walked into the bed room of my pathetic one bedroom apartment. It too was messy with pizza boxes and beer bottle scattered everywhere and a pile of unwashed dishes in the sink. I drag my feet to the dirty bed and collapsed upon it. I sat there staring at the ceiling for what felt like a year but can not have been more than an hour. I remember shutting my eyes so hard that it felt like they were bleeding. As my eyes began to relax i was began to pray the same prayer i did every night to no avail. In my prayer i asked for one thing and one thing only i asked god that i not wake up this time and for my dream to become reality for me to be taken back to the last place i felt i belonged the last place i cared. This went on for a while until the sandman gave me the sweat embrace i longed for.
I found myself back where i went every night back in the valley hidden behind the tree trunk huddled against a tree rifle in hand. As the pops fly all around i can hear my lieutenant screaming on the radio for air cover brave men dying all around me. I remember getting the balls to stand up and charge with everyone else zips and zags of bullets all around. I remember first being scared more than i had ever thought possible but as i moved things got better and with each step i got a little bit more adrenalin until i was positively mad with the stuff. i kept going despite my pace weighing me down for what must have been no more than 15 yards to the next tree but it might as well been 100. When i hit the next ree i jumped and slid into the next piece of cover which was a long broken tree trunk which was laying sideways. I had to get int a prone position in order to stay completely covered. When popped my head the first time i saw the enemy directly in front of me he had popped out of some bushes and was charging toward me ( probably hoping to use the tree as cover like i had ). Our eyes met i stared into his and he into mine. He stopped dead in hes tracks hes pupils dilated. I felt the excitement build but it was if i was watching someone else do this i watched as this person smiled and moved hes sights over top the enemy who must have been no more than 18 but this made no difference to me i pulled the trigger 3 times. and as the bullets enter the body of this person i awaken sweating and hyperventilating and filled with excitement like a police dog whose caught the crook.
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[ WP ] We have been lied to and tricked into believing that love and peace feels good and is what we should strive for .
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I do n't even remember exactly how we figured it out. I guess it's when we finally got that whole, `` world peace,'' thing right for a change. It was great for about 6 months. The leaders of every major country were meeting together, coming up with ideas of how to help one another's nation with hunger, crime, and poverty in general. Discussions about nuclear power, oil, and natural resources was no longer an argument, but instead a distribution. All nations were given equal amount of share in the worlds resources depending on their size, and their needs based on population. I do n't know how we did it honestly, but everyone just came together universally. No one was nervous about walking down the street late at night, or driving through the wrong part of town. Our soldiers came home, all of them. The truth is, we all thought we were dreaming. Then it happened, right as we all got comfortable with the idea of peace, love and world unity. People just started dropping, falling ill, and dying. This was happening literally everywhere. We'd just gotten used to watching the news without the topic of death crowding the feeds, and now it was back full force, but no one person or group was responsible, you see it was all of us. There a reason we never had world peace until now, and that's because of natural selection. We'd spent so many hundreds of years at war, killing one another over power, money, resources, territory, you name it, and it was just normal. We did n't notice anything out of the ordinary until mother nature took over. You see, what no one realized until it was too late, was that mother nature has her own agenda, and that's to be responsible for this earth, population control, chaos. Without anger, without hatred, without losing a few, the many do n't prosper. We need pain, and we need war. When we do n't have it, love is n't enough. Love's more than enough when you need it to look forward to when everything else has gone to shit, but when everything is peaceful, when everyone coexists, love is n't necessary. It becomes a normal, mundane task like every other basic emotion. It's temporary. Love does n't make the world go round, and peace does n't keep it spinning straight. The world does n't spin at the pace it has for thousands of years when there's no turbulence to help with momentum. What happens to a top when it loses speed? It falls over. That's why you've got ta keep throwing gasoline on the fire, because if you do n't, it burns itself out. That's why we ca n't have peace, because peace never lead to progress. Peace never solved a damn thing.
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[ WP ] A girl finds out that she can restart her entire life by committing suicide , she develops OCD while tirelessly trying to fix every little error , constantly restarting . This goes on for a while until God intervenes .
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GAME: START
“ So… has it ever gone wrong? ”
“ Well, there were a couple of times when my aim was bad and I was alive for sometimes 15 minutes ”
“ Pfft, 15 minutes isn ’ t so bad ”.
“ Uh huh it is. It ’ s the most pain I think anyone will ever experience. ”
“ So why do you do it anyway? ”
“ Because I made a mistake and I want to restart. ”
“ Kind of like re-spawning in a game? ”
“ Yeah ”
“ But what kind of mistakes do you make that you ’ ve killed yourself 547 times? ”
“ Well, sometimes I trip and fall in public or I got a question wrong in a test ”
“ But… nothing is wrong with that. I ’ ve failed tests before and it ’ s no big deal. I even broke mom ’ s vase last week and I got yelled at but it ’ s okay now. You don ’ t have to restart for stuff like that. ”
“ Well I guess you ’ re okay with having an imperfect life then! Don ’ t judge me! You ’ re just a stupid boy who wants a stupid life! I can ’ t believe I have an idiot like you as a little brother! ”
“ You… you don ’ t have to be so mean Pat! ”
“ I ’ m. I ’ m so sorry. I didn ’ t know where that came from. I ’ m so sor- “
“ I hate you! You ’ re so mean and I don ’ t want to talk to you anymore! ”
She starts hyperventilating, runs to the room, grabs the gun from her purse, and shoots herself.
She opens her eyes, expecting to relive her life again. Expecting to see the same people, surroundings as she always did when she restarted.
But all she saw was white.
White space as far as the eye can see.
She stands in fear, shaking. Whispering to herself “ What the fuck ” continuously.
Suddenly a low voice bellowed. She didn ’ t know where it came from but she knew exactly who it was….
God.
“ I am giving you one last chance ”
And before she could react, she wakes up, just like the other 547 times.
She stands up and calms herself. Wondering if the white space was all a dream.
She stands still in the middle of the sidewalk. She knows what ’ s going to happen next.. but for some reason, she doesn ’ t move. She ’ s still in shock.
A cute guy bumps into her on the street and she falls, ripping her pants in the process.
Without even thinking, almost like a subconscious reflex, she grabbed the gun from her purse and shot herself in the head.
She wakes up in white space again. Suddenly, the same voice..
“ Goddammit Patrice. ”
GAME: END
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[ WP ] A serial hitchhiker killer unknowingly picks up a serial killer of those who pick up hitchhikers , police later find nothing but an abandonded car .
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`` Well ai n't this the damnedest thing'' muttered Lieutenant Jackson.
In all his years on the Georgia Highway Patrol Jackson had never been so perplexed by a crime scene. That morning he had received the call just as he was picking up some coffee at Ace's Diner. He had driven the two miles from Valdosta not knowing what to expect when he got to the scene, but he certainly did n't expect this.
`` It's a god damned mess,'' reported Officer Marsden, trying to sound authoritative though his voice was that of a 20 year old rookie, `` I just ca n't imagine what happened here.
James Jackson took off his mirrored aviator glasses and surveyed the scene. In the red dirt about five feet off the highway rested a maroon, late 90's Honda Civic. The passenger door was ajar, with blood smeared against the half open window. Black smoke drifted lazily out of the car as the driver's seat continued to smolder. A trail of blood lead from the passenger side of the car out into the tree line about fifty feet from the highway.
Jackson slowly walked toward the vehicle, impressing his boot print into the clay with every step. He peered inside the car and immediately his hand flew up to cover his face. There was a noxious odor of something seared onto the melted vinyl of the driver's seat. It was human skin.
`` Is it, is it another one of those, like the one up in Albany?'' stammered the rookie.
Jackson grinned at Marsden.
`` Sure looks like it, but I think we got something else going on too. Better get it cordoned off before the press gets here. And tell them to bring some dogs. We're about to go on a hunt out in these woods.''
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[ WP ] A tiny man sits all alone at lunch in the prison yard . The old timers know to leave him alone . A new batch of prisoners arrive .
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Frank squinted as he stepped into the searing Nevada summer sun that beat down on the yard. His meat stood behind him, arms crossed, awaiting orders. Frank was new at High Desert, but his reputation preceded him. He spent his first week receiving tributes from the heads of the major prison gangs.
Those who had n't visited him initially had been corrected in the most definitive way -- everyone swore fealty, eventually. Except That Guy.
That Guy was a morsel of a man, almost child-like in stature, with skin so dark it seemed to absorb light, and a shock of white hair that would have made Doc Brown proud. As far as anyone could tell, he was a complete loner with no apparent allies or enemies. No one spoke to him, and he spoke to no one. He did n't participate in the gang politics, the bartering, and especially not the riots.
Frank's informants, who had been at the prison for years, told him all they knew about That Guy, but they could n't articulate why he was left alone. You just left That Guy alone, they insisted.
Naturally, Frank found their bumbling advice to be of no use to him, and sent his meat to retrieve That Guy, doing their best not to harm the little man if he resisted -- Frank was not an unnecessarily cruel man. They hesitantly set out across the yard to That Guy's corner, where he sat in the dust in the shade of the perimeter wall, reading a book. Frank watched them and waited. As they neared That Guy, they stopped.
That Guy did n't look up from his book, and did n't even appear to acknowledge the presence of Frank's meat. After a few moments, they turned and walked back to an incredulous Frank, returning to their positions at Frank's flanks without a word.
`` What the hell was that, gentlemen?'' Frank demanded of them.
`` He wo n't come to you,'' answered the braver of the two without meeting Frank's eye.
`` I did n't intend for you to give him an option. Was I not clear about that?''
`` Wo n't come,'' restated the brave meat.
`` Are your arms broken? Your legs?'' Frank was losing his patience.
`` Nossir.''
`` Would you like them broken?''
`` Nossir.''
`` Then get back out there and get That Guy,'' Frank insisted through clenched teeth.
Frank started to shake. These were the two biggest guys in the prison. It would take twice as many to replace them, and three times as many to enthusiastically remove them from their posts. He did n't like disobedience, but he would deal with that later. For now, he wanted to speak to That Guy.
`` I see,'' said Frank, with forced calm, `` I'll deal with you impertinent simpletons later.''
He turned to look back out at That Guy. `` For the moment, I suppose *I'll* have to go to *him*,'' he said with nasally scorn.
Frank strode over to That Guy with purpose. He wanted to get this over with and get back to the shade of the pavilion. As he approached That Guy, he decided to stop short, though he was n't certain why -- apprehensiveness, perhaps, concerning the behavior of his meat. He addressed That Guy curtly.
`` My men tell me you will not move from your repose. I would have hoped that, like your fellow guests at High Desert, you would have sought an audience with me to swear your gifts or talents to my use.''
That Guy did n't look up, nor did he speak. Frank did not appreciate being ignored any more than he appreciated disobedient meat. He sidled around That Guy to face him, but got no closer. That Guy's face was turned down deeply into his book, so Frank still did not catch his eye.
`` Are you deaf?'' Frank asked, realizing the futility of asking the question if the answer were true. He still received absolutely no reaction whatsoever from That Guy, and became increasingly incensed. Emboldened, he sat down in the dust directly in front of the man and waved his hand between the man's face and his book.
Still, That Guy offered no reaction.
Frank's patience broke, and he reared back his right hand to slap some sense into That Guy.
``... them do to you.'' mumbled That Guy softly without moving or looking up.
Frank hesitated. `` Pardon me? You've finally decided to acknowledge my presence? Shall we drop this charade, then?''
`` Do unto others...'' mumbled That Guy, still not looking up.
Without further thought, Frank resumed the almighty slap he had prepared earlier, connecting with the man's cheek with a satisfying smack. Almost immediately, Frank felt a searing pain in his left cheek, causing him to yell in surprise.
``... the whole world blind.'' mumbled That Guy, who did not appear to have felt the slap.
Frank yelled with rage, dropping all semblance of gentlemanly decorum. He reached out and wrapped both hands around That Guy's neck. As he tightened his grip, he found it increasingly hard to get a full breath. Determined, he squeezed tighter and tighter. That Guy continued to look down at his book.
`` Look me in the eye, jackass!'' choked Frank, shaking the unresisting That Guy back and forth as he continued to squeeze tighter. That Guy finally raised his head, revealing empty eye sockets and a broad grin full of perfect teeth.
`` Eye for an eye...'' said That Guy, clearer than before. He was apparently completely unaffected by Frank's strangulation, while Frank's vision started to darken as he fought for air.
A gurgling cry was all Frank could manage before releasing his grip on That Guy and passing out.
That Guy returned to face his book, still grinning.
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[ WP ] Everytime you touch somebody you get a flash of your entire future with them .
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The future was clear in a way the past had never been. I know, I know, predicting the future is risky business and all, and you ’ d be better off taking stock tips from a monkey than from a broker – but the past was polluted with memory and stained by starlight. People – myself included – remembered the past the way they want to remember it, with all the annoying bugs airbrushed out of dusty polaroids. There was no such problem with the future, because I could see it as clear as day – but that ’ s not important yet. Anyway, I ’ m off track now – what I ’ m trying to say is the past is complicated, I guess? Done.
Today had been a hot one. At the station there are always people who are rushing to get somewhere. They ’ ve got this glazed look in their eyes and this automatic gait in their feet and they ’ re thinking about stuff, you know? All the little things that mattered a great deal by the end of the day and ceased to matter by the end of the week. Jezza ’ s got to finish that report or else Nicole will be really mad. You know, boring stuff we spend our life on. What ’ s really interesting is how a person ’ s skin feels. You can tell a lot about what they ’ ve been doing. Are their arms sweaty? Do they have a tan? Do the hands have workmen callouses or are their fingers at home on a touchscreen?
I like to ride the train for this reason. Rush hour is best. Nothing equalises businessmen and tradesmen better than being squashed on board the same train carriage. It also allows me to ‘ accidentally ’ brush up against people. And this is really important.
You see, I ’ ve got a secret. If I touch someone I can see their entire future with me. Most of the time this doesn ’ t last beyond the stop – I get off, or he gets off, and we never see each other again. Occasionally there ’ s something more. We both get off at the State Library, play chess in the same room, and never speak to each other. There aren ’ t really that many deep connections you can make with someone without starting out awkward.
And this is the reason why, in the two years this sixth sense has been with me, it has scored me the grand total of one lifelong friend. And I was on my way to see him now.
-- -
When I got off at the city station the first thing I saw was a police officer before me.
“ Hey, man, ” I said, tipping my cap. When I ’ m nervous I tend to tip my cap. “ Hope it ’ s going well. ”
“ Hot today, ” he said back. “ Enjoy your day. ”
There seemed to be a lot of them today. I knew we had gotten a terrorist threat a couple of days before this, so that was probably why. You can ’ t let them win – you have to go about and do your job, and so what if you got killed? It would simply be a mark against them. Strike me down with all of your hatred, and I shall become…bla bla bla. Anyway I walked out of the station. On the steps outside I saw my best friend Mark.
“ Hi, Mark, ” I said, smiling at the six foot tall, tanned figure before me. In the two years of our friendship we had travelled around the country, and gained a greater respect for the unseen things we had - qualities like love and courage that are both incredibly sappy and incredibly important at the same time.
“ Took you long enough getting here, ” he said. “ What ’ s the hold up? ”
“ I had to see a person, ” I replied. Not true – but roll with it for now. “ What did you want to see me about? ”
“ Let ’ s go have breakfast, ” he said. “ I ’ ve got someone I ’ d like you to meet. ”
-- -
Lisa Day was the second girl I had seen hanging out with Mark – the first, of course, being his sister.
“ Hey! ” she said, standing up as I was sitting down. “ I ’ m Lisa! ”
I shook her outstretched hand. “ I ’ m Casey. ”
And then we just froze like that, awkwardly, in the trendiest coffee shop in the city, like each of us had seen something that we should not have.
“ Uhh…do you want to sit down? ” I asked.
She blushed. “ I will, ” she said. Squeakily she fitted herself into her chair. The sound made no dent on the steady hum of the coffee shop. In the morning air the businessmen milled about in the coffee shop like it was a ship's battle station.
Mark had the worried look of an animal caught in a trap. “ Coffee? ” he asked.
“ Two, please, ” I said, anything to send my best friend away. Mark duly obliged.
When he was gone, I looked back at Lisa.
“ Look, I don ’ t know you that well, ” I said quickly. “ But I think…I have to tell you something. ”
“ And me you, ” she said quickly.
And for a moment we just froze there.
“ I can see my future with you, ” I spluttered out. “ I need, I think you need to – “
“ Worst pickup line ever, ” she whispered.
I looked up. Mark was still ordering drinks. Quickly I turned my look back on Lisa.
“ Lisa, I really can see our future. But it ’ s not a good one. We need to go, now, before it happens. ”
Lisa started into my black eyes, and I could see my own reflected in her blue.
“ I can see yours too, ” she said. “ Don ’ t bother. We ’ re both going to die together. ”
*Oh no. Oh no…*
From outside I can hear the first sounds of the terrorist attack.
I looked at my watch, at the dial that still said 8:22AM. Mark has turned to the door now. He knows something is wrong.
I feel Lisa grip my hand. There is nothing we can do to fight destiny. The future was clear in a way the past had never been.
A shot rings out.
-- -
/r/KCcracker
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[ WP ] In an effort to protect your innocence when you were young , your parents told you that heroin , cocaine , etc . were just flavors of ice cream . Now you 're a notorious drug trafficker rising through the ranks of a cartel , but no one has ever corrected your understanding of what the product is .
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I stood before a man well over six feet tall, probably three hundred pounds and more of it than I'd like to admit was muscle. I'm pretty jacked myself, but... this guy could rip me in half like a wet piece of paper. His suit was a milky off-white, like vanilla ice cream, and the red hat, combined with how round he was...
`` You got da money?'' he asked, the cigar in his mouth somehow not falling out, one little detail that indicated years of experience.
`` Yeah, I got it. Count if you want,'' I replied firmly despite my intimidated state, handing him a briefcase.
`` Gonzo, check it. And you, Shrimpy- here's ya shit. Taste it if you want.''
He handed me a saran wrapped bundle of cocaine and I poked a hole in it, tasting a little. `` This is primo shit, man. Your reputation preceeds you.''
`` Yer goddamn right. That's the best cookies'n'cream for a thousand miles right there.''
I laughed a little, but he did n't seem to twitch a muscle. `` Cookies'n'cream?''
`` You fuckin' deaf?''
`` Uh, no... whatever, it's good shit. What else you got for me?''
He pulled out a small trunk, lifting it like it were a handbag. `` Check it out. I got mint chip, the finest pistachio, dank-ass chocolate and the best strawberry swirl in the god damn country.''
I just stared at him blankly this time, no laughter. `` I... do n't know what any of that means. You sell heroin?''
The man named Gonzo stopped rifling through piles of money and turned to me from behind the big guy, fear in his eyes. He tried to motion for me to stop, pointing at his boss desperately.
The Big Sundae slammed his fist against a nearby wall, cracking it. `` Heroin? You fuckin stupid? I ai n't no ice cream truck, dumbass. What the fuck is with this shit? Why does every fucker I deal with ask me the same stupid shit? Gonzo, do I look like the ice cream man to you? Or is this a fat joke? You callin' me fat, boy?''
He gasped, inhaling for much longer than the situation called for. `` Or, are you... are you dissin' my *suit*, bitch? I will snap your ass in half like a CHOCOLATE BAR.''
My mouth was agape, and I still could n't move. `` Uh, no... sir...''
Gonzo stepped forward. `` Boss, it's just a misunderstandin'. Calm down a little, ya know?''
He took a deep breath, and then smiled at me. `` Sorry, it just gets on my nerves. Momma always told me to relax when I start to get real mad. Momma taught me everything, bless her soul. Anyway, you want some salted caramel? It's a secret recipe, from Momma herself.''
-- -- -
*thanks for reading this silly story, if you're bored check out my subreddit, /r/resonatingfury, for more! *
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[ WP ] You have been granted reality-warping powers . Unfortunately , they only work on fictional realities .
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“ Pleeeeaaaaase! ” Linda cried out.
“ No. ” I replied curtly.
“ You don ’ t understand, ” she pleaded.
“ No, ” I explained. “ I understand perfectly well that you want your crappy fanfiction to be canon. ”
“ It ’ s not crappy! ” she fired back. “ These two characters were meant for one another. The writers of the show have been teasing us with a vague sexual subtext for years and we fans have seen no relief. But you can change that. ”
“ So I have the power to warp entire classics and trilogies on which modern western civilization is built, ” I began. “ I could change the message of Uncle Tom ’ s Cabin, changing the course of the Civil War; I could change the message of Dante ’ s Inferno, changing the course of Italian history; I could even change the Bible to turn Jesus into a warrior prince, which could have untold ripples through history, but instead you want fan service? ”
“ Yes. ” She replied simply.
“ Fine, ” I sighed. “ I ’ ll read your stupid Supernatural fanfic, but if you try to make Frost Iron a thing, I swear to God… ”
She cut me off of a squeal of delight as she thrust the manuscript in my hand. I recoiled as the opening sentence.
“ Goss. You know they ’ re brothers, right? ” I asked.
“ That ’ s not important, ” she replied with an increasingly red face.
Man, I thought, the actors are in for a hell of a surprise next time they film.
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[ WP ] An heirless king has offered his citizens an incredibly weird quest to become his successor . You 're taking the challenge .
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>'' Darling! The couriers brought ya something. wasn' what I thought I would be'earing before me life changed. Yet the sound of me beloved calling out to me is something I will always'old dear, especially nowadays.''
As the sun pierced through the storm clouds over the Kingdom of Rain, the king stared down over his kingdom, analyzing each area. As he passed over the district known as Gallows Alley, he paused. He thought to himself of all the people living below the castle in struggle, while he, the king, could n't remember the last time he had made his own bed. Every day the king would come to his balcony and feel the same guilt, a rulers guilt. This pain in his heart grew deeper every day, as he continued to try and keep his kingdom's head above water. The time of war was soon upon them and the king knew that he had seen too many seasons to fight. As he walked back into the castle from his balcony, he heard a voice. This voice was the one of his wife, who had passed away many years ago. Before he was king, before he was a prisoner of the throne. The power had taken a toll on the king and he wondered how much longer he had left. As the thoughts of death haunted the dark corners of his mind, the king remembered his past, how he himself had taken the throne 60 years ago.
`` Darling! The couriers brought ya something!'' `` The courier? Is it not the king's day of rest?'' `` Well he's standing outside nonetheless.'' When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the young man saw a figure standing in the doorway wearing a purple vest, lined with gold stitching. The vest had a picture of a raining storm cloud stitched in the middle, the uniform of the king's men. Immediately stiffened by the recognition of the couriers origin, the man walked slowly towards the door. `` Mylo Gardens I presume?'' screeched the courier. `` That's me sir, yes.'' said the man. `` As a member of the King's Messengers it is my duty to share with those members of his kingdom, the word of the king. It has been written, that the king is offering his throne in exchange for completing a quest.'' The man's eyes widened at the thought of the king giving up his throne simply for a favor. What could be so important that he would willingly give away his throne to... whoever. `` What's the task?''
`` To kill the king.''
The courier tipped his hat and ran from the doorway, disappearing into the crowd of people passing through Gallows Alley. The man stared blankly into the crowd where the courier had disappeared, could this be his chance to leave poverty? Could he finally move his family out of the village and into the castle? `` No, that's ridiculous, there's no way I could ever be king. I ca n't lead the militia let alone the entire kingdom.'' The man collapsed onto his knees and looked up at the castle peering over the small village, as his eyes began to focus on the highest tower of the castle, he started to see the figure of a man standing on the balcony. Was it the king? The man grabbed his bag, ran into his hut and up the stairs onto the roof. He reached into he bag and pulled out a pair of brass binoculars and put them too his face. As the man scanned the castle for the same balcony, he found himself frozen, locked in eye contact, with the King of Rain, who seemed to be smiling.
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[ FF ] You 've died and gone to Hell , and the Devil has asked you if you 'd like to take over his job . As fitting , 666 words or less .
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`` Congratulations. You're dead. You really did well up there too, you were just *ruthless*. My kinda guy, really.
Here's the thing, I've got a proposition for you.
It's about accountability, really. Someone has to be there to keep everyone in line. To offer the... *cohesion* needed to hold order in place.'Cause it is n't... you know, the big man upstairs, he did n't make everything that way. Why?
Beats me. He could have, probably, but he left cracks in everything. Little cracks where people- people like you, can... take advantage of things. Bend things to their favor.
Imagine a world without the threat of consequences for your actions. Go ahead. Try. No, I know, you never really believed in hell, you thought it was all a big fairy tale. Besides that you were a busy man, you did n't have time for some cosmic mumbo-jumbo. A lot of people are like you, in that way, but just imagine if there was n't that slight, little... inkling of doubt. That shred of fear that people experience when they are about to do something immoral, and the fear creeps in. *What if I get caught. What if someone can see me, right now. What if they find out. *
It's me. Always has been. I'm that shred of fear. But you ca n't imagine how... *draining* and tedious it is, day after day to watch what you all get up to. You know, originally, this was all supposed to be a big ploy to convince the Big Man that you were really just a failed creation. He wanted us to bow before you, hah! C'mon, let's be realistic. I walked with the chayot, the ophanim. Even the cherubim were above bowing before your kind, all you know how to *do* is destroy.
Why do you think the Old Testament makes Him sound so terrifying? Fear is all you creatures respond to. And he really thought it might keep the reigns on things for a while. When *that* did n't work, he sent that Jesus guy to try a different approach, but I mean, really, what else did he expect to happen? I mean, ever since Abel it's been the same thing, over and over, and all those lovely well-intentioned Americans, Lincoln, Kennedy, Martin Luther King... of course they were n't all Americans, but all the ones you'd care about were. Maybe John Lennon and Ghandi, too. It's just kind of what you guys do, it's a family tradition.
But then, you guys have always been selfish. That's the chief problem, is n't it. You ate the fruit because you wanted autonomy more than happiness. Typical. You all are so concerned with getting yours and screwing anyone who stands in your way that you just perpetuate the same horrible shit, day after day after day, and I've been watching you for a *long* time.
But, I just... I do n't have it in me, *day after day*, to be witness to you people and your despicable nature. It never changes, and it never gets better, and then you die and you end up here. It gets depressing after a while, you know?
You made a good job of things when you worked with Bush, you really demonstrated that you're cut out for a job like this. What'dya say, Dick? You interested?''
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[ WP ] Seeing the end of the world through the eyes of the one that caused it .
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Savannah was a strong believer in the power of perception. Tell a mouse it will die outside of its cage and who is it to argue? That's its world, its entire being formulated by that one lie.
Now when someone inevitably takes that mouse out of the cage, what would it think as it lay undying? Would it feel relief? Would its world just expand to fill the new space?
Or would it feel incomplete? How would this tiny creature cope with the fact that its life up to this point was not only a lie, but is gone? Would it try anything to get back to the cage? Would it long for the simplicity and ease of its constrained life?
These thoughts flashed passed Savannah in a haze; incepted, explored, and forgotten all in one instant. When she wanted the thoughts to stop they simply did, and she found herself alone in nothing, perceiving no outside world other than herself.
Frightened by this she opened her eyes and perceived him. Happiness fluttered in her chest as she felt herself move toward him. The smaller the distance between them became, however, the tighter an unsettling feeling took hold. When she reached him she finally noticed he was sitting, head resting in his left hand while his right held a crinkled piece of paper.
She read the words, `` Dear Aaron,'' on the paper and understood what this was. A flood of memories splashed into her and she plopped down next to him on the couch. He sat for a moment, silently clutching the note, and Savannah realized he was crying. She could see the quick ragged breaths echoing in his back but could not hear. She wanted to put her hand on his neck and pull him to herself, but she could n't remember how to perceive her arms.
His body shivered and became foggy. Through his cloudy form Savannah saw a light slowly flicker to life. She breezed toward the light, disrupting and dissipating the mist where Aaron had been sitting.
The light was a tall lamp with an off white shade hiding a dirty lightbulb. She remembered the lamp, but not in this state. Around her and the lamp was nothing, again she became frightened at her lack of perception and was startled when she suddenly heard a clink behind her.
She turned and saw something writhing within her shadow. She moved to the side so the light could reach it and the scene, Aaron and another woman having sex, colorized before her. She felt sad, but at the same time happy. She did not fully understand either emotion. The woman moaned silently beneath Aaron until her face shifted, changed shape in an instant and Aaron stopped. He stood and was clothed. His arms began gesturing wildly and the woman screamed. Again everything was silent, it made Savannah uncomfortable to see without hearing. The woman strode away leaving Aaron alone with Savannah, who was having a hard time perceiving herself in this moment.
Aaron turned and looked at her. All at once Savannah perceived herself, her body, and her heart stopping. The feeling of hopefulness slid way from her when Aaron pulled a bottle to his lips and drank deep.
Soon Aaron too slipped away, fading as the bottle emptied. Savannah perceived anxiety, she needed to see him. She was moving faster now, things she could n't see flashed past her. She spun to her left and perceived sitting next to Aaron. His hands were raised to a wheel and he had yet another bottle in his hand. Aaron was n't crying this time. Savannah felt glad for that but simultaneously understood the other implications it could have.
The scene flashed away. The next moments went quickly for Savannah. Aaron sitting still surrounded by the feeling of late night. Aaron drinking. Aaron moving into a new apartment with no windows. Aaron drinking. Aaron getting into a fight with his dad. Aaron getting into a fight with his boss. Aaron throwing up. Aaron drinking. Savannah did n't know if these images screamed by so fast because they scared her or not, but she wanted them to end. She wanted to scream, she perceived a far away scream but could n't decipher if it was her voice.
Savannah closed her eyes tightly. She did n't want to see this, she did n't want to watch. She was sorry. She pleaded in her head, with voiceless words that she barely perceived. She would take it back. She had loved him, still did, she had said so in her note. She wanted another chance, please.
His world was gone. Someone had taken him out and destroyed his cage. Someone had pulled his life from him. She had.
She had removed the only constant that meant anything to him, she had removed herself.
She opened her eyes to Aaron sprawled out on his bed. An empty pill bottle rested where it fell on the floor. She slid into bed beside him, put her head against his chest, which she perceived as ice cold, closed her eyes, and slept.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
-002
Sort of took the prompt a different way, would love any feedback or notes!
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[ WP ] You were born with the ability to see the blast radius of potentially explosive objects . Today as you step outside , you notice the entire city is within a blast zone .
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I wake up to the sound of my phone alarm. I let my eyes adjust to the brightness and reach out somewhere inside that red orb that engulfed my phone. That red orb is my `` gift''. My eyes see the blast radius of any form of ordnance. It may sound cool but most of the time, its downright annoying. Driving my car around means having my vision blurred by the red glow of my car's potential explosion radius. It does n't help that seeing red all the time gives me a headache.
Cereal for breakfast, same old same old. I turn on the radio and proceed with my daily routine of making coffee. Just as I was about to turn on the coffee machine, the most amazing thing happened. My vision turned a vibrant crimson. I paniced and looked out the window. A red glow stretch across the sky englufing my entire home town.
``... on the breakfast news today, the municipal nuclear power plant was declared open today by the town mayor. Power supply charges are expected to...''
`` Well, I guess its time to move out...''
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - New CSS Edition !
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Do I need to say it's very mildly NSFW? I probably should.
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“ Oh shit! ”
Dee whipped her head around and looked towards where her companion was pointing. Her blood ran cold. She stood up quickly, ignoring the pain of her hips slamming into the table she was sitting at, cans of beans and corn kernels from her plate flying through the air and raining down. She stumbled as the chair legs caught her feet and hopped around as pings hit the bricks in the wall they were sitting next to. Her partner was faster to react and ran forward to pick up his scoped rifle. He pulled on his helmet and knelt down at one of the dips in the broken brickwork to aim his gun through.
“ Shit! ” He exclaimed again, looking back at Dee who had since regained her footing and was hurriedly walking, crouched low to the floor, to take on a similar position to her partner. “ It ’ s bad. ”
She poked her head up over the wall and immediately retracted it as more pings from the bullets threatened to take her life. “ Can you pick them off? ”
He looked at her incredulously. “ I can make as much difference as a drop of poison in the ocean. ” She put her rifle on the ground and pulled out her revolver, gripping it in her hands and supporting her hands on the wall. She yelled back to him as she took aim.
“ Excuse me if I haven ’ t resigned myself to my death! ” He put a hand on her arm and looked her in the eyes.
“ We need to run. Now. ” She looked at him for only a moment before he made the decision for her and ran back to their supplies to hurriedly pack. She made a disgruntled sound and pulled herself off the wall to pack her rifle back into her own bag. She grabbed every tin can in reach and zipped her bag up, before heaving it onto her back and gripping her rifle tight. Her partner yelled at her to go as he quickly did the same.
Dee ran down the stairs and stopped short of the open doorway. She could now hear yelling and the sound of charging footsteps on the cracked concrete road. She quickly plotted the best course of action out in her head and ran across the road just in time for her partner to catch up with her and follow suit. She kept her head down as bullets ricocheted off the ground beneath her.
She tore around, only to see her partner lying face-down. She yelled out at him before she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She watched his lifeless body jerk around as blood shot out of his body and splattered against the road.
Somehow, her adrenaline forced herself to tear her eyes away from the sight and run through the building she had entered. She jumped through a window on the other side but couldn ’ t help but look back at the horrible scene she had just left.
The cannibals had caught up to him. They tore into him with their knives and pulled out bloody pulps of what used to keep him alive. They shrieked at the sky and danced around his body, while one of them crouched down next to him, yanked his helmet off and smashed into his forehead with a brick, which was where she finally had to look away. She gripped at the window-frame for support, yet she fell to the ground anyway, clutching her mouth with her other hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, and through the images of her partner lying there with the cannibals and their bloodied hands and instruments, something told her to run and never look back.
She took a sharp breath and heaved herself up. She turned around before she could look through the window again and sprinted away from the buildings, clutching the strap of her bag close to her chest. She ran through the dry, desolate landscape that immediately followed the street she left behind, barely able to see anything through the tears welling up in her eyes. She ran past the old, crumbling bridge that signified the direction that her home would be in. She ran through decrepit ruins where she had to be extra careful to not trip and impale herself on any of the metal beams that jutted out of the fallen walls.
She ran until her legs felt like they were going to burst into flames before she finally collapsed against the wall of a building almost identical to the other buildings in the area. She rested her arms on her knees and burrowed her head into the enclosure she had created. She screamed into the darkness as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She screamed and cried until her throat was hoarse, and then screamed some more.
As the sun eventually dipped below the horizon, she fell onto her side and tried to curl up into the tightest ball she could. She stared emptily into the darkening landscape and silently jerked her body around as her voice tried to find itself some more. At some point, her eyes closed and refused to open. She fell into a fitful sleep, and the wasteland fell into a cold, dark night.
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Might be inspired by Fallout. Kinda hyped right now. This is the first time I've tried to do a death / horrible scene without coming off as too edgy while also making it hit as hard as it should.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where , once you leave your house , a timer appears showing how long until you return home ( usually 8-12 hours , a full work day ) . Today , that timer reads 2 years .
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Paul sighed as he packed because the Navy ship that he worked on had been crashed sail. As he walked out of the door, he noticed something strange. The timer on his phone said'2 years.'
How could that be, his ship had never gone anywhere for longer then four weeks, at a time. Not even a year. He glanced at the house and wondered how he could explain this to Arabella.
Would she wait for two years for him or would she move on? Would she notice he was missing? She was always busy with cases and court, being a lawyer for the biggest Crime lawyer firm in the city.
He watched as the taxi arrived, ready to take him to the Navy Base.
`` Goodbye Ara.'' He sighed as he got into the Taxi. Arabella woke up and watched as the taxi left, unaware of the timer.
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[ EU ] Game of Thrones : You have an assassination plan to kill Joffery , how does it play out ?
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First post, so forgive the relatively sloppy writing.
`` Are you ready?'' whispers Mope to you, as he picks up a platter, the first of many the two of you will serve this evening, `` As the moment that royal fucker takes even a sip of the wedding special reserve, we're gone.''
You nod. Of course you know what you're doing. Nobody in the Red Keep has any love for their new king, but treason is still treason, and you do n't need to risk being told twice, or even risk speaking his name. You take your own platter, and join the chain of other servants on their entry to the great hall.
The sight, at first, impresses you. The hall was intended to seat up a thousand, and the Lannisters, Tyrells and their assorted lackeys have left few seats empty tonight. You would take a moment to look closer at these lords and lordlings, but you dare not break the uniform movements of the chain as you move to a table just before the Royal table. On this table, you notice, is one figure who seems out of place. A beautiful auburn-haired girl, trying to look down at the table and saying nothing where her companions are laughing, jesting and generally carousing to their heart's content. Almost too late, you realise your platter is to be served to her, and hurry to accommodate.
As you bend over slightly, placing your platter before her, you can not help but take a glance upwards. This girl, young as she seems, is even more beautiful than you first realised. You notice a faint bruise on her arm, which her dress has failed to disguise, but force yourself to murmur a quick `` m'lady'' and rejoin the chain of servants, this time to leave the hall.
--
Hours have passed, back and forth from the kitchens you go, each time with a fresh or empty platter of food. This, you recall Mope telling you, is meant to be the wedding of the century. Your arms are growing heavier with each round trip, and your mind begins to wonder from the treasonous task at hand. You begin puzzling upon why your co-conspirator chose such a ridiculous codename as Mope when your thoughts are interrupted by a deafening silence. A crowd has formed around the royal table, and your victim-to-be appears to be staring down at a very small man beneath him, next to what appears to be the dwarf jousting act Lady Cersei sent for. The man, whom you remember to be The Imp, Tyrion Lannister, retorts, and from the gale of laughter that storms the crowd, you realise the tales of the Imp's brilliant wit must be true. However, such thoughts are lost, as King Joffrey, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and your victim-to-be, suddenly clutches at his throat.
You start. Something is very wrong here. The wedding reserve has n't been served yet. When? How? Who? None of it matters - you're rushing for the servant's entry, praying to the Seven that no-one has noticed. Where is Mope? And, most of all, what will you tell your benefactor when you report to him in a few short hours' time?
--
You and Mope are standing upon a boat in the great harbor of King's Landing, facing your benefactor as he approaches from the stern.. His clothes are plain, saying little of his character, but the way he stands, walks and talks make you suspect this man is anything but a commoner, as roughly educated as you are.
Mope introduces him as Lord Baelish, but you care very little. The name, as one from outside King's Landing, means nothing to you. His generous supply of money, however, does, so you tell him the whole story - how His Majesty did indeed die like your Lord had asked, but not by your own hand. As you mention the wine and the wedding pie, a small, self-satisfied smile crosses his face, and he turns away. `` Oh, my Queen of Thorns,'' he says, more to himself than to you, `` you make to be a more entertaining player with every move.''
But his reverie abruptly ends as Lord Baelish's crew hurry to assist his newest arrivals aboard. The first is an ugly-looking jester, with a nose so purple from years of drinking that you catch yourself dryly expressing approval of the Seven's choice of his profession. The second, to your surprise, is the beautiful girl from the wedding hall. Except now she looks harried, and scared, and you feel a moment of pity for her.
Lord Baelish produces your payment from a sleeve, and presses it into your hand, wishing you thanks for your most excellent work, and promising a mutual friend would happily provide work for you from now on. For Mope, however, he gestures towards the red-nosed jester and nods.
No goodbyes are necessary - you and Mope were merely working together, and you're certain you will never see him or Lord Baelish again. As far as you and the money in your pocket care, they never existed. You turn back once, to the sound of a large splash in the water, then shrug, and wander off into the filthy streets of King's landing, wondering what to look for first - A meal and a drink, or a whore...?
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[ WP ] You 've noticed a man in a suit approaches one home a day in your neighborhood and is invited inside every time . Shortly after he leaves , the resident ( s ) commit suicide . Today , he 's approached your home .
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then, out of the blue, it happened... the dapper man... with my face... appeared at the entrance door, to my home'' quickly, you must go.the killer will be here in thren minconds, im an angel sent back from the future to commit suicide in your home, so it looks like to the killer that you are already dead''.then handed me a slice of thin wood pulp with an inked out address inked onto it. `` quickly.you must go to that location, where all your neighbours are waiting.hurry, this street is haunted''...'' how do i get there?'' i asked. `` if i take my car then it wont look like suicide, the police will think i've been murdered for my ride by three middle aged english car thieves''...'' here, take my wings'', said the angel `` i wont need them where im going-hell!!!... quick, the killers coming out the taps... he's made of jellybeans... tell jesus i was some fucking guy... now run you fool... no, comeback and shoot me in the face... no, run....ruuuuuuuuuuuuuun, KABOOM!....that was n't the sound of me exploding, i just said `` kaboom'' really loud..now run''.and i did but not before i turned back and asked him if the reason 4 him dressing well, was because the murderous limey trio went around in jeans with their shirts not tucked in... to read more, buy the audiobook, then i felt time trying to strangle me and just before i blacked out i could hear a small voice saying `` hey white mister.how come you can understand me? im a cat, homes''
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[ WP ] `` I 'm terribly sorry , but I 'm afraid the protagonist of this story is dead ! ''
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Yeah, sorry about that. Ok, look, I swear this was not my intention. I WAS trying to get the hero to face hilarious odds, and win, but sometimes stories get out of control. If it helps, I have the hero a laser Gatling gun. But of course, I can never do it right. I step away to answer a phone call from my girlfriend for one minute, and I turn back to find the hero's fedora sitting on the ground no, still smoking. The henchmen look more surprised than me. The hero's crush runs over, and says out loud, `` What-huh? Thanks, author.'' Hey, I was taking a phone call. `` I did n't do it!'' `` We're well aware of that.... Mr. Anderson.'' Whatever. I'm gon na go get the backup of the story. He should be there. Side note, anyone for lunch? `` Fine by me.'' `` Oh, look who's back!'' This is why I hate this story.
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[ wp ] When someone dies , they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife , not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell . You meet someone who has stood there for millenia , trying to decide if they should go .
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I do n't honestly remember waking up, all I remembered was the light. It seemed to pull me. To beckon me. To draw me into its soft embrace. I felt as though I had n't a worry in the world. I was n't happy, exactly, it was more that nothing was *wrong*. I hand enfolded itself in mine and pulled me to a platform.
`` This is it'' the disembodied voice called, `` the next step in your journey''.
I was confused. No pearly gates? No Saint Peter? I expected something... different.
`` Excuse me! ``, I called, `` what exactly am I supposed to do here? Do I just jump... or...?''
The voice called, `` Simply pay the ferryman, of course''.
I squinted into the gloom of the void ahead of me. I was standing on a platform, that much was certain, but it was so *hard to see*. I thought I could faintly make out a small boat, and a person standing in it.
`` Hello'', I said, `` how much is it to cross?''.
The ferryman, his face covered in a deep hood, could be heard only barely... like the sounds of bones grinding, `` it will be....tree fiddy''.
It was then that I noticed that the ferryman had green skin, and a long, long neck.
`` GODDAMMIT Loch Ness Monster! I ai n't givin' you no tree fiddy!'' I bellowed...
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[ WP ] When you make a wish on your 21st birthday , it comes true . The thing is , no one ever makes a wish that year . And the Wish-Granters are getting restless .
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This is it. I have been waiting for this from the moment I could count. In exactly 6 minutes and 13 seconds, I will be 21 years old. I had heard so much advice through the years that I should be extremely cautious because I only get one shot. But I know exactly what I am going to wish for. I mean, how could anyone not wish for this? I know people do n't always get what they want but that's just because they were n't specific enough. Mine would be different, I had spent the better part of my life pondering how I would make this wish the best thing that ever happens to me and I am ready. Just look at Paul Graves, inventor of the uPhit and fifth richest person in the world, all because he wished for his `` dumb computer chip to work.''
It's finally time to break away from normality. No more budgets, no more paying rent, no more ramen for breakfast. It's my chance to make a difference. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... 12:00 AM, February 17th, 1991. `` I wish...'' Oh wait, I need to close my eyes first. `` I wish... to have an indestructible exo-suit complete with augmented super strength, augmented vision including 7000X zoom and variable wavelength adjustments ranging from radio to gamma, instant neural interface with builtin artificial intelligence operating assistance, discrete jetpack capable supersonic air travel and finely tuned stabilized movements, internal regenerative and customized atmosphere, discrete laser wrist weapons with variable power range capable of stunning a mouse or obliterating a car, voice modifier and amplifier, 1.21 gigawatt nuclear power supply, and a bangin' logo on the chest that reads'Titanium Defender' so I can fight for what's right and be the hero that I know I am.'' As I slowly open my eyes, I see this stunning metal figure standing before me. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I examine this creation built just my size. It opens as a soft, female voice that I feel like has been calling to me my entire life says `` please initiate neural link.'' Hardly containing myself, I shout `` It's perf...''
`` Dad! Are you sleeping!?''
`` Huh? It's over already?'' Jumping into consciousness, I realize I was supposed to be watching a movie with my teenage daughter.''
`` Of course you fell asleep during my favorite movie. Was your dream better?''
`` What? No, I just... I'm sorry honey, but it is a week night. You should go to bed too.'' I weakly utter as I twiddle a heavy, useless action figure in my fingers. She just scoffs and heads to her room. All I can do is sit in my recliner, now a boring, old man, and ponder what life could have been if I had just said one more sentence 25 years ago. As I fall asleep again in the recliner, I lift the 3 inch action figure to my ear and listen to the faint four words over and over again `` Please initiate neural link.''
The next morning I woke up with 10 minutes to get ready for work. As I race out the door to my car parked on the street, I come inches away from getting splattered across the windshield of a brand new Lamborghini as it shoots by. `` crazy rich kid'' I thought to myself while entering my own vehicle. After I catch up with typical morning traffic, I decided to turn on the news `` Mark Evans was found dead this morning in his parents driveway on the morning of his 21st birthday. Witnesses say he leaped at least a hundred feet into the air before plummeting to his death.'' `` Nope, too depressing. Music it is'' I said to myself.
I barged in the door to my accounting firm with 2 minutes to spare. Walking up to my desk, I see this grungy looking college age kid sitting at the desk next to mine which has been empty for 3 years. He introduces himself by saying `` Yo, I'm Dexter. So, I'm like your new coworker or something.'' I thought it was weird but, still being in a hurry, I acknowledged him and continue with my routine. Just as I sit down, I get a text from my wife saying `` Do n't forget, it's the twin's birthday today!'' I knew I was forgetting something! I figured I better call them before it gets any later so I decided to call Jessie first.
`` Hey, dad.''
`` Happy 21st Jesson! I mean, Jessie! Damnit, we really should have chosen less similar names.''
`` Haha, thanks daddy.''
`` Well hey, sorry I ca n't talk long but how are you? Did you make a wish?''
`` Pssh of course not, you know literally no one does that anymore right? Especially not our family after hearing your depressing story so many times.''
`` Haha, ok, well you have a good day today.''
`` Thanks, you too.''
As I'm about to call Jason, the phone rings with Jason on the caller ID.
`` Hey, son. Happy birthday!''
`` Oh, thanks.''
`` Sorry I do n't have long to talk but what's up? I do n't suppose you made a wish did you?''
`` Oh, well, no. I did n't... but, um...'' as he paused for a good 10 seconds `` well, never mind, it's nothing. You probably have to get back to work anyway.''
`` Alright well, have a good day.''
He then hung up without saying another word. `` That was odd.'' I thought to myself; but went on with my day, none the less. As I finally got settled in I turned to Dexter and asked `` So, how did you get the job here?''
`` I do n't know, man, I was sleeping off last night's birthday hangover at my buddies place when he woke me up and said his dad wanted to offer me a job. I was like sweet because I really need a job, ya know? Anyway, he told me to start right away, so here I am.''
`` Huh. Happy birthday. Which birthday is it, might I ask?''
`` I'm 21 now, bro. That's why I got so drunk last night.''
`` I see, and you did n't happen to make a wish, did you?''
`` What? like you turn 21 and get a wish? Nah, bro, that's hella dumb.'' He said as he turned back to his computer to watch a video of a guy punching a kangaroo in the face for the hundredth time.
`` What is going on here?'' I thought to myself as my phone rang again. This time, it was Jessie. I answered the phone but before I could say anything she screamed `` AAAAHHH how could you afford that? I mean, I know you guys are doing well but not THAT well! This is incredible! did you do the same thing for Jason?''
`` Whoa, slow down there. What are you talking about?''
`` Come on, do n't be silly, the money! I looked in my bank account and it says I got a million dollars! And in the sender line, it says Happy birthday.''
`` Wow! I wish I could say we did that but we got a you a small gift that's still on its way.'' Starting to develop a crazy theory of my own, I told her `` Let me call you back, I need to talk to your brother.'' Could people really be getting wishes granted that were never wished? That's absurd! I had to call Jason and ask if anything strange had happened to him.
`` Yeah?'' He answered in a unenthusiastic tone.
`` Hi, this might sound weird, but, did anything strange happen to you today? Something that could have been a wish but you did n't wish for it?''
`` Um, actually, yeah... but, uh...''
`` What is it?''
`` It's kind of awkward to say, really. I kinda have like... a really really huge, uh... penis now''
`` What?''
`` Yeah, like, it's *too* big.''
`` And you're sure you did n't wish for that?''
`` Yeah, of course. I would never even dream of doing that, I was perfectly happy before.''
I dropped the phone in disbelief. How could this happen? There had to have been billions of people in the years past that did n't wish for anything and got nothing. Why now? Nobody even knows how the wishes are granted. Could there be a being that is handing out random wishes? Am I still dreaming?
trelFax leaned back from the monitor laughing histerically and nudged vYzigan on the upper left shoulder `` Hahaha, check out what I did to this guy!''
`` Dude, if xthibOtur finds out what you're doing, I'm not standing up for you. See? this guy is even starting to catch on.'' replied vYzigan.
`` Relax'' said trelFax `` There's no way he could figure out exactly what's going on. Besides, this sure beats waiting for NO ONE to make a...'' As it was about to finish it's sentence, the door to the teleporter room blasted open.
`` trelFax!''
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[ WP ] A suicidal man robs a bank in order to achieve suicide by cop . To his surprise he gets away with the money .
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It had come to this. All that bullying, all the jeers, insults, and mocking led him here. Phillip stood outside the bank, gun in hand. All he wanted was to die. But no, even he could n't do that. Gun barrel in his mouth, finger on the trigger, he was too scared. Scared, like he'd been his whole life, of people, of success, of consequences, and of death. He could n't kill himself, and now here he was, looking for someone to do it for him.
There was no plan. Just walk in, gun out, and demand the money. That was it, then he'd be shot. Then it would all be over. The bank was fairly empty when he approached, just a young lady being helped at a teller, and an old man sitting down being consulted. Phillip glanced at the woman as he strode through the automatic doors.
*She's hot. But she'd never go for me, * pops into his head instantly.
He raises his gun to the ceiling as he stands in the center of the lobby. Immediately, the center teller's eyes grew wide with shock. While Phillip stood there, gun raised to the sky, desperately trying to figure out his opening line, she slammed her hand on the panic button.
The bundle of nerves stood there for a moment before stammering, `` This is a bank robbery!'' voice quivering. There was a stifled chuckle somewhere behind the desk. It did n't help his confidence. In a fit of anger, Phillip fire a round in that direction. *Who cares, I'm about to die*, he thinks. Screams roared through the bank, echoing the gunshot. *Now they were afraid* he thinks to himself. A surge of confidence came through him as he approached a teller. Jim Calhaza read the name plate.
`` Gim me $ 1000!'' demands Phillip. A foreign loud boisterous voice spouted out of him.
`` We ca n't do that,'' says Jim defiantly.
`` GET IT, NOW.''
`` Look, the police are already coming, it's not...''
*BANG*
A red rose blossomed in the middle of Jim's chest. He looked down at it for a second before falling over off his chair.
It was a rage that engulfed Phillip now, surrounding him, like he was a man on fire. Immediately he strides to the next teller. There was no prompt this time. Janice, the poor lady, hurries off and returns with a white cloth bag full of bills. One quick peek into the bag, and Phillip knew that he was loaded. He takes a quick glance around the bank. Everyone was still cowering on the floor, some tellers huddled around Jim's fallen body.
Phillip walked out of the bank to the tellers counting, `` 1, 2, 3...'' It reminded him of Stay Alive, the classic CPR song he was taught ages ago. It did n't even bother him why they were doing it. It was nothing more than a random thought that popped into his head.
As he started getting into his car, a police cruiser roared past him in the parking lot, siren blazing. He stopped for a second and watched the cruiser pull up to the entrance. There was only one cop inside, and he got out of the car, gun drawn, and started to enter the bank.
*It was him. * Anger flared through Phillip's body as he recognized his tormenter from high school. Reflexively, he dashed towards the cop, his own gun drawn. Before his tormenter knew it, Phillip was on him like a beast. Bullets like claws, tearing into his flesh, each one pulling chunks of skin from him. Phillip fired until he hear the click, then kicked the body in frustration and walked away.
*It was a good day to be alive. *
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