Split (3)

train · 273k rows

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[ WP ] Your life has been awful , and you can no longer stand it , so you commit suicide . But instead of dying you wake up in the past , on your first day of elementary school .	`` Class I'd like to introduce you to James Tanaka. His family has just moved here to the US last year. This is his first year at an American school so treat him nicely okay. James do you have anything to say?'' `` I..uh..um..'' `` I'm sorry James, you must not know that much English since you've just moved here last year.'' `` No, I..uh..can speak fine, it's just that I'm nervous since its my first day of school here in the US.'' `` WOW! I'm speechless, you speak very good English! It's like you lived here for a few years.'' `` Yeah..I..uh... watched a lot of American movies back in Japan.'' `` Okay class, I want you all to try and be friends with James, that's for homework! Just kidding hehe~'' Okay, I have to stay calm. I'm pretty sure I'm dead, especially with all the blood that was gushing out. The last thing I remember is my conscious fading away. So why am I back in third grade? Not only that but why am I back to my first day of school? This was one of the worst days of my life, I do n't want to go through all that bullying again. `` Hi James! Is there something interesting in that eraser? You've been staring at it for a while.'' `` Oh, I uh, was daydreaming a bit.'' `` Haha, you're funny James. Anyway, I'm Saria, that's with an ia after the r not an a.'' `` He does n't care about your name Saria! So anyway, sup James, I'm Kevin. I see that you're wearing a Star Wars shirt. That's cool man.'' `` Uh, hi James. I'm uh, Eric. Can I uh, ask you a question?'' ``..sure..'' `` So uh, do you guys in Japan uh, really eat raw fish? What's it called again? uh, Sooshe right?'' ``..Yeah..'' `` That's awesome! Is it good?? I wan na try it, but I'm uh, allergic to fish.'' `` Yeah it's delicious. And aw, I'm sorry.'' `` It's okay, my mom uh, does n't let me eat meat anyway. but sometimes I'll uh, trade Kevin my chocolate pudding for his uh, ham sandwich.'' `` Okay class! Take out your math books, we're going to learn about multiplying double digits. Does n't that sound fun!'' This is really weird. I remember Eric asking me if I eat dogs and telling everyone to keep their pets away from me because I eat dogs, which I do n't eat. He was so mean to me back in elementary school, everyone was actually. The thing that's really weird is for Saria coming to introduce herself to me. I had the biggest crush on her back then but she told me not to talk to her until I can properly see because of my slanty eyes. That really hurt the most. ``... and the answer James?'' `` wha... um..'' `` psst... 224.'' ``..224?..'' `` Yup, good job James! Okay class so what you do is...'' `` psst... since you're new Ms.Jenny will pick on you to answer a lot okay.'' ``..thanks, Saria..'' `` No problem, since we're sitting next to each other. I might as well help you get used to school here in the US.'' `` Saria, James. We're in class right now, if you want to talk, talk after class.'' `` Yes, Ms.Jenny.'' ``..yeah..'' So the day went by pretty quick. I'm surprised at how good everything has been. This was one supposed to be one of the worst days of my life but it turned out to be the opposite. It's probably because I did n't know how to speak English back then, all I could say were broken phrases. If all this is real, then that means I can start my life here in the US all over again and make it much more better than before... Maybe killing myself was a good idea. `` Hey James!'' `` Oh, hey Saria.'' `` What are you doing this weekend?'' `` hmm, nothing why?'' `` Oh good, me and some other people from class are going to play baseball in the park. The weather is supposed to be good. But, um, you do n't have to if you do n't want to of course. It's just I thought it would be to cool to be friends beca-'' `` Sure, Saria. I'd love to go.'' `` Awesomee! You do n't have a cellphone do you?'' `` No, why?'' `` Oh okay. Well what's your home phone number? I wan na have you saved as one of my contacts. My Daddy just bought me a phone the other day and I got ta find some use for it.'' `` Sure it's -- -- -- -- --.'' `` Okay, cool. My ride's here, I'll see you tomorrow James!'' `` Yeah, see ya!'' I forgot that her family is rich. She was the first person to get a phone from what I recall and it's no different now than it was then. But, wow, I ca n't believe I got invited to hang out. Not only that I got invited by Saria! I think I like this weird back to the future thing going on.
[ WP ] You are one of the best security experts in the world . This has landed a job that pays beyond your wildest dreams . The task is simple : secure a single room in an otherwise unremarkable building and prevent whatever is inside from leaving ...	In that room has to be some kind of political prisoner—someone so important the government doesn ’ t want the world to know who they ’ ve got. That or maybe it ’ s a rival gang leader or mob boss. Maybe a drug kingpin. For the kind of cash my new employer, whoever he is, handed me up front, it could be my own mom in there for all I care. He or she or it isn ’ t going anywhere as long as my guys and I are getting paid. Right now, it ’ s three in the morning and I ’ m speeding in my truck down the dark, empty, two-lane New Mexico backroad that leads to what we call “ the house. ” My left hand grips the top of my steering wheel while my right hand calls Mike, calls Will, calls Anthony over and over on my phone. They have the watch tonight and were supposed to check in with me an hour ago. None of them answer. In that room could be some super-rare, endangered animal. It could be an alien. It could be a machine or a weapon, which would explain why we haven ’ t had to feed it. Part of our agreement with our employer is that we won ’ t look inside the room, no matter what we hear. So far, we haven ’ t heard anything. I turn off onto a dirt path that ’ s easy to miss. The house is a few hundred yards away. I drive up, park facing the front door—the only way in or out—and light it up with my truck ’ s brights. There ’ s no sign of the guys. I step out with my flashlight and gun and creep toward the house. It ’ s a still night and there ’ s no sound apart from the truck ’ s engine. I come up from the side, crouch by the front door, and reach over to twist the knob and open it just a little. From what I can see at an angle with the help of my headlights, the front room is just as empty as ever with its concrete floor and windowless walls of wood paneling. I turn on my flashlight and lean in to get a look at the rest of it. In the middle of the back wall, the door to the room we ’ re not supposed to go into, the one where there ’ s probably a celebrity or some rich guy ’ s kid, is wide open. I pull back, ready my gun and flashlight in front of me, and kick the front door aside and move into the doorway. I shine my light into the other doorway, right on Anthony ’ s scared face. “ Dude! ” he says before I can ask what happened. There ’ s blood trickling out of his nose. “ Get out! Get out now! Don ’ t listen to it! ” He falls to his knees and screams, and the door slams in front of him. I run across the room and try to open the door. It ’ s locked. I pound on it and yell for a few seconds, then I hear it too. The sound is high, dissonant, clashing frequencies mixed with whispers. I can ’ t make out what the whispers say, and my brain feels like it ’ s being stabbed. Gritting my teeth, I turn around and make for the front door. It shuts in front of me just like the other one. The sounds get louder. I drop my flashlight and gun, close my eyes, and put my hands over my ears. I can ’ t hear myself scream.
[ WP ] Write a poem using the phrase `` blooming in reverse '' as a title or a line .	Once upon a time, you were my best friend. New life experiences filled our adventures. We could take on the world. I felt like a beautiful rose Our friendship was a powerful addiction. As time passed, I realized you were never a true friend The appearance of friendship was all that mattered to you. My loyalty did not matter Immeasurable disappointment I was blooming in reverse. Swallowed by a dark whole in the ground Turning into a seed Waiting for one day when I can spring forward and be who I was meant to be, an iris and someone who is not your friend. Edited: Formatting
[ wp ] a Professional Sign Spinner confronts the Mannequin that stole his job	The bus hissed as it pulled alongside the road. The backdoors swung open, letting passengers exit. The last passenger to exit was a skinny young man, mid-twenties, black pants and a blue polo shirt, neatly tucked in. Over his right breast was a small name tag reading, “ How Can I Help? My Name of Jonathan. ” “ Oh, you have got to be kidding me, ” Jonathan looked across the street at a mannequin. The mannequin ’ s arms were designed to rock back and forth, holding a sign leading, “ Liberty Mutual Insurance! ” A foam Statue of Liberty Crown had been stapled to her brunette head and a green table cloth was wrapped around her body. Without checking for traffic, Jonathan ran across the street, straight towards the swaying mannequin. “ No! ” Jonathan shouted, pointing at her. “ This is what they replace me with?! ” “ You got five guys fired, bitch! ” Jonathan thrust his body forward. The mannequin remained silent, save for the rhythmic squeak of her arms. “ You can ’ t even spin! Why don ’ t they at least have you spin? If you can make a bow-tie spin, make a sign spin! ” Squeak squeak. “ You can ’ t throw or toss or do anything. You ’ re nothing! Whose eye do you catch?! ” Squeak squeak. “ I ’ ll give them two weeks before they toss you in the dumpster. Waste of money. Nobody is going to see that! ” A car drove by. “ See?! He didn ’ t even turn his head! Didn ’ t even turn-, ” Another car passed by. “ Look! See?! You moved your arm BACK when they passed by! Move it forward and pivot; follow the angle of the car. But you ’ re a machine, you can ’ t. It ’ s just back and forth back and forth back and forth, yawn yawn yawn. ” A bus pulled up across the street ad et more people off. “ Let ’ s see, let ’ s see if one person looks over here. Not one! ” Several people exiting the bus heard Jonathan shout and looked his way. “ OK, that doesn ’ t count. They were looking at me, which is my whole point! ” He shoved the mannequin. “ I give you two- no! Not even two weeks! I give you a week and half and you ’ re out and they ’ re calling me back! But guess what! Ol ’ Johnny Boy doesn ’ t have time for Liberty Mutual Shit Fuck Shit Heads Incorporated! Yeah! That ’ s right, I got a new job! I ’ m working at the Cash Mart over on Bronson! Yeah! Inside! I ’ m a greeter! That ’ s something some dumb stupid mannequin can ’ t do! ” Squeak squeak. “ Shut up! ” Jonathan shoved the mannequin once more. It rocked back for a moment, then, the weight to the motor at the base, sent it forward, bumping the sign into Jonathon. “ Hey! ” Furious, Jonathan tore the mannequin from the stand and tossed it into the street. A fancy BMW smashed into it, shattering it into pieces. Screeching to a halt, the car pulled over onto the side of the road, “ What the fuck!? ” the driver opened his door and stood up, removing his sunglasses. “ Oh, I ’ m sorry sir, I uh, ” Jonathan struggled to find an explanation. “ Wait a minute. Jonathan?! ” the driver leaned forward. “ Uh, yeah? ” “ Didn ’ t I just hire you? At the Cash Mart? ” “ Uh… no… ” “ Yes I did. You ’ re wearing your name tag. This is unacceptable. This Is how you behave? And while wearing the company logo? No, you ’ re fired. Don ’ t bother coming in again, ” the driver got back in his car and peeled away. Jonathan pulled at the name tag, pinned to his shirt, hoping to tear it, dramatically. Unfortunately, either the fabric on his polo was too strong or he was too weak to tear, so he unpinned it and cursed the pin, “ Stupid pin! Why didn ’ t I take you off?! ” He threw the pin into the road and turned his back, covering his eyes. From behind he heard a pop and a crash. Spinning his head around, Jonathan turned around and looked, “ Oh fuck! ”
[ WP ] Death will revive those who can make him smile . You died , and the first thing you saw was him walking up to you with the biggest grin on his face .	I greeted him with a smile on my face as he too walked to me with a smile on his. 30 seconds. We tenderly embraced each other for what felt like forever. 25 seconds. Our foreheads pressed together as we took a deep breath. 20 seconds. The short moment we cherished. 15 seconds. He and I were very old friends. 10 seconds. We fell in love long ago. 9 seconds. Our love was a curse. 8 seconds. But a blessing all the same. 7 seconds. A curse of immortality. 6 seconds. A curse to only meet when life perishes. 5 seconds. But life continues to live. 4 seconds. Because of the death's smile. 3 seconds. A love too strong to resist a smile. 2 seconds. So long my love. 1 second. My love that smiles only for me. 0 seconds. [ This is my first published poem. Please critique me! ]
[ WP ] Use the line `` We 're getting a bit short on heroes '' any way you 'd like .	I think I'm on like my twelfth superhero. This month, I mean. Holy crap, it's nothing like the comics! Seriously, these guys go down easy. The first two, I just got a lucky shot in, but the others... oh man, those were some Rube Goldberg-worthy deathtraps. Really takes a lot out of ya, putting all that together, but it's worth it just to see the looks on those do-gooders' faces when they realize, no, they're not the one who's gon na bring me in... Do I worry about the future? Heck no. These guys sprout up every day. That's the upside of living in an age where physics just gave up: any random-ass lightning strike or cosmic ray or whatever gives me new rivals to put down. It's a bull market! They really do keep me on my toes. In fact, I need a lunch break. Changing into my civilian identity, I let my fellow villains take the reigns for a little while. I can afford it. Not like they're about to match my kill count. So I walk into the sandwich shop. Huge line of people ahead of me, but I know the owner. I holler at him to order my usual. `` Sorry bud; we're getting a bit short on heroes. After this rush I'm only gon na have paninis left.'' God. DAMMIT. Someone find me another super; I got some rage to vent.
[ WP ] A long-suffering employee kills the boss , inadvertently triggering the end of the world .	At work so this will be a work in progress for a little while. Moving to this wretched city was his idea. I mean the money was good enough I guess, other wise I could have been almost anywhere else. Personally I love the bullshit about being high enough that everything starts looking up, all I can see from my not quiet corner office is dust and filth collection at the feet of the city below. John has a skill that I valued far too much, he can talk on the phone. Sounds simple enough I know but, at that point in my life any interview even those over the phone were as much me gaining information as the interviewer. Almost ten years ago we finished a perfectly wonderful call with a verbal handshake followed by the transfer to an in house travel agent which landed me here. Sadly it Turns out that my judgement was in many cases just wrong, John was a monstrous bastard. Riding on the back of my success the top floor corne is his along with all the perks that come with it. Our latest project was nothing more than simple construction on a large scale but, as usual John's silver tongue has turned it in to a feat of the century one to be remembered. I'm meeting him on site to review the plans today. Construction has moved internally from top to bottom so we took the temporary shift elevator about a third of the way up, 35 stories give or take. A feeling of unease overcomes me whenever we did this and, outside of my fear of heights I always got the feeling that I was being used for something outside of my control when we meet like this. John on the other hand always seemed much too calm when we wasted time on site visits like this. Inevitably we get past explanations and dove deep in to the ocean of shit that is small talk. I hated the mans wife and his kids are horrendous little trolls that exemplify my reasons for not having children. After nearly a decade of this you would think I might be used to it but, I can honestly say as we moved back toward the elevator I wanted nothing more than to get away from this roach of a man. You can imagine being in and around an active construction site I would have plenty of options to do it with or, that given the right opportunity that I might let gravity have the glory of making the world a slightly better place. In reality my weapon of choice was luck. Just as he was about to dive head first in to another story about the latest month long world tour taken on the company dime he was n't looking at me and not the way he was walking, at about 6 feet or so I realized that the door to the elevator had opened early, the lift had n't made it yet. Let me stop here and admit something, my earlier statement reflected that I had only bumped John and that it was all an accident he slipped backwards and I could n't save him. Our current situation being what it is I realize that I do n't have much life left to worry about. We may not all die but his father will salt the earth and I personally wont leave this room alive. In short I pushed hard, hard enough that I knew he would n't be able to catch himself even if he tried. If what your saying is true I murdered the son of one of the most terrifying men in the world, his only son. His Father Micheal had raised him from a far. The best education and lifestyle money could buy. Having gone to his adopted parents funeral he always assumed the money was from his parents trusts and the rest was provided through false grants from anonymous interested parties. Micheal kept John at a distance to save him from the dangerous world of a high dollar corporation servicing oligarchs and nations alike. His private military has already taken control of at least one nuclear state the end inevitable at this point. It's far to late to be sorry but I am anyway. If anyone survives to hear this I hope they know that I was a monster and fear and death where my only rewards.
[ WP ] Write anything you want . The catch : Every post in this thread takes place in the same universe and you are n't allowed to break the canon .	/u/dylaxius twirls his blade in boredom, waiting for someone to make the first move. The old universe would have never put up with this type of dullness. Every second day you had a new ruler, new plague, a new war, a new assassination. In fact, without that chaos he would n't even be here. At first, he thought his employer must have been crazy. Assassinate /u/Silverspy01, the most powerful man on the planet? No man would attempt such a crazy feat. Nevertheless, if the universe had to end, he were n't going to let it end without giving this mission a shot. Approaching the fortified base, /u/dylaxius marveled at the level of destruction already wracked upon the world. This base, once the greatest stronghold on earth, had been reduced to a smoldering pile of ash and rubble. When the universe is in the midst of destruction, breaking into such a place is a trivial task. The blueprints provided to him led him to the trapdoor easily, and even prepared him for the traps put in place to prevent all would be assassins, but what they did not prepare him for was cross dimensional travel. /u/Silverspy01 stood before a glowing portal of light, through which a whole new world could be seen. Green meadows, blue sky, and not a single ounce of nuclear radiation to be seen. How dull. He unsheathes his dagger, not seeing any of the usual guards lurking around the man, when a voice echoes through the room. `` Congrats bud, you look interesting so have another shot at life!'' The portal tells the man, who graciously steps through, a serene smile on his face. `` Oh hell no! You wont get away that easily!'' /u/dylaxius leaps towards the already closing portal, plunging through at the last second, only to find himself plummeting through the sky, at least a hundred feet above the lake that swelled below him. And that was how he came to awaken on a bed, drenched to the bone. though his eyes were shut, he could feel a presence moving nearby. Springing up from his bed, a surprised shriek issues from directly in front of him. `` Who are you? where am i?'' He demands from the shocked woman. `` You're in my house. I found you floating in the lake and pulled you to shore. Did you come here by portal too?'' `` Yes, did you see anyone else come out before me?'' He eagerly asks the confused woman. `` No. You were the only one i found. If there are any others, they're either at the bottom of the lake or long gone.'' Without pause, /u/dylaxius rushes out the front door and leaps into the nearby lake. The murky waters were ice cold, but he continued on, emboldened by the need to confirm his kill. He had never failed a mission before, and he would be dammed if he started today. However, after countless hours of searching, he found no body, nor any indication that anyone had been there other than him. Surfacing, he glares at the woman. `` What game is this? Are you hiding him from me?'' `` What reason might i have to do such a thing? I still do n't know who you're talking about.'' `` The overlord! /u/Silverspy01! I have to find him!'' He could feel something change in the woman. Her kindly eyes now held nothing but anger and hate. `` /u/Silverspy01? From the old dimension?'' She asked coldly. `` Yes. I have been tasked to assassinate him. Do you know where he is?'' `` No, but i will soon enough.'' She pulls him inside, and begins stuffing items inside a bag. `` I do n't know why you want to find him, but i will help you. He has wronged me in ways i can not speak of.'' She explains as she pulls on a thick layer of... Was that nanotech armor? Pricey stuff. Must have saved it from the old dimension. `` That's good to hear, but i still do n't even know your name.'' He points out. `` My name is Fer. And what about you?'' `` /u/dylaxius. I'm glad you decided to come along. Not to many people would be willing to aid an assassin. `` And not many assassins would accept such aid.'' Fer responds as she leads him to the stables, where a selection of fine horses were stabled. `` We should begin riding now. The nearest town is only a few hours away.'' And so, the two rode off towards the nearest town, seeking the former king. Would they find him? Will they actually kill him? How badly did i fuck up /u/Braz-dur's character development? Find out the answers to this and more soon.
[ IP ] She stared out into the depths of space .	88 never ceased to find beauty in the sight of the endless abyss. Each speckle of light that dotted the black canvas represented something greater than her and everything she'd ever known. Whenever the confines of the Ark wore on her psyche, 88 needed only to plant herself in front of one of the large viewing panes and let her mind wade out into the infinite stretches of space. It was here, watching entire solar systems slowly float by like dust aglow in a beam of light, that she found serenity. Her complete isolation was, somehow, more bearable knowing there was so much of the universe beyond the Ark. 88 took great pleasure knowing that each star bore the possibility of life, beauty, and love - none of which she would ever fully experience firsthand due to the malfunction that had released her from her stasis. Sometimes she would revisit that pod; the six-foot-tall capsule which had given birth to her. She would run her hand along the cold steel interior, trying to remember how it felt to be conceived and yearning to return to that blank state. Then she would inevitably catch a glimpse of the silent, motionless figures that floated in the five hundred adjacent glowing-blue pods and pity that they could not experience life as she understood it for another three thousand years. Despite the malfunction, and despite the decades of intense loneliness that lay before her followed by an inevitably quiet and unseen death, 88 found fortune in being the sole witness to such vast stretches of space and time. Each distant star, glowing comet, black hole, and passing asteroid was hers and hers alone to behold. Still, she wished to understand love. A handheld computer she'd procured held a detailed record of all of humanity's history, discoveries, and philosophies, and while she'd spent countless hours studying all of it, the one that fascinated her the most was the concept of love. The nearest sensation to love that she'd experienced, as far as she could fathom, was the intense peace and yearning she felt every time she gazed out that giant viewing pane, yet according to her research that was nothing like what one individual was capable of feeling for another. 88 wandered the dark corridors of the Ark, surrounded by nothing but the gentle sound of her own footsteps and each life-bearing breath she took. She made her way back to the warehouse of five hundred stasis pods; all but one containing life that she was so close and yet infinitely distant from meeting, and ran her hand along the glass of each one she passed until she came to her own. She again gazed into the open capsule, remembering where she'd come from, before moving on to the next pod, where 89 floated in a state of deep, dreamless sleep. 88 pressed herself against the capsule of her duplicate, washing herself in the beautiful blue light that illuminated the pretty specimen. She watched its naked chest gently rise and fall with each carefully operated and monitored breath. She imagined the blue fluid draining away, the capsule opening up, and 89's eyes blinking open to experience sight for the first time. She imagined the sensation of being seen, of locking eyes with a living thing, and knowing that she was no longer alone. She imagined herself saying `` I love you,'' to the living replica. She imagined that it felt like gazing out into a whole new universe for the first time. *** Thanks for reading! If you liked this, see more of my work over at r/yackemflaber!
[ WP ] In Hell , everyone is assigned a partner . Satan picks them specifically to be the one person you could never , ever get along with . If the partners can become friends , both ascend to heaven .	DANCE HELL DRUG Good God she was awful. I laughed to myself, `` good God, huh? Is n't that the reason you're here anyway? Blasphemy right?'' She was just some slut. Actually you know what? She was way worse. She was a whore with numbers in triple digits and a long rap sheet of cheating relationships and betrayals. She was unfit to inhabit my circle of Hell. She deserved a much deeper level of damnation than a guy who said `` God-damn'' on occasion. Yet, here I was mentally shackled to an apt description of Revelation's whore of Babylon. Any time she spent not calling me a prude and asking me to `` get off my high horse please'' she was making the experience of the other condemned a little less insufferable. No.. That is n't right, how is she the good guy now? I found her morally despicable, suffice to say. She was the one thing I could n't stand in life, a lying, conniving bitch obsessed with her own pleasure and the satisfaction of pulling one over on guy after heartbroken guy. I was n't some church boy; but I had morals. Id gladly stay here than have to witness her reap eternal reward for salacious deeds that could n't even come to a climax after death. Every word that came out her mouth was a hot drip of magma down the center of my back and her stare was one of skeletal emptiness and deserved suffering. Her name was Chastity. `` Are you kidding me?'' I snapped during our assignment. `` Chastity? Is that your stripper name or something?'' `` Wow. And what's you're name, you judgmental asshole? Buzzkill? No wonder you're down here, you could n't even enjoy the life you were given.'' she sneered aggressively. That was the abstract of our first conversation. We did n't talk much. Every few weeks we were forced into `` team workshops'' and life story events that supposedly helped strengthen cooperation and empathy. I vaguely remember her making fun of my use of polysyllabic words in the dining hall where I had to sit through her incessant line of interrogation and in our `` private time'' her depraved sexual habits. We were n't permitted to stray a car length from each other. Do n't think too hard about that. So she was talking and not stopping and I was glancing back and forth and not listening when the intercom erupted during supper. `` Another cooperation exercise, we're going to fuck up, right?'' she laughed. I could n't contain myself. Her comment was funny. We had been shackled for over four years in this wasteland. I lost count at some point. And in all that time we had not even the slightest success or contemplation of friendship or intimacy. We were practically a married couple. Truthfully I did n't agree with her; but sometimes we had our good days. Some days I even thought there may have been some method to her madness. Ballroom music began to play. `` Is this the challenge?'' I asked nobody. It was a familiar tune. I used to dance it back in ballroom meet ups every Thursday for the better part of ten years before a girl like her ruined my life. A few of the damned got up to dance near but not with their assignments. We both got up simultaneously and independently of the other. I looked at her inquisitively. `` Can you dance?'' I asked. Wordlessly answering my question she came closer and took ballroom position. I led her the way I had led my ex so many times before. We started slow before I decided I was tired of wallowing in self pity over something that literally happened a life time ago. I was in Hell, and goddammit I was going to have some fun. The music swelled and increased it's pace. I embellished the dance with moves only a professional knows. The once miserable crowd of heretics, hethens, and hedonists looked in awe at our performance. She was an experienced follow. Every touch of my hand to her hip was followed by a work of art. The music came to a magnificent crescendo as my spite for her melted and concluded with an aerial that caused even the fallen angels and locusts to applaud. The dance had possessed me, like so many demons before. I did n't care what had brought us here or what had brought us together. Then the most powerful joy in my existence took place in hell as I dipped her to the last inch of the floor with a passionate kiss. A spotlight enveloped us as applause continued to erupt from the crowd. We had won. We began back to our table as the light followed us around. `` Alright, I get it. We won. Could you get that light out of our eyes?''. I said as my feet lifted from the red sand of the arid hellscape. I looked to Chastity. `` This is it! ``, she cried. She embraced me, eyes overflowing with tears. And in that final moment we rose from the land of the dead in a glorious beam of redemption from above, redemption from sin, and redemption from the mundane and clouded judgments of our own kind.
[ IP ] The City	This would be the last time she would see the cities from this ridge. It was an odd feeling to know that; to know that you were living in a moment of time that was its last, a fleeting glimpse of something you'd never witness again. Technically all moments are different and unique, but everyone has that place, the one that's always the same, its differences noticable only in the minute nuances that go undocumented, the place where quiet is happy and simple and calm. This was her place and these were her cities, and for them, she would need to go. With a deft hand, she retrieved her compass, a silly thing whose arrow refused to stop spinning. She sighed at the sight; she'd hoped that on this occasion it would find its way, point in the direction where she needed to go, but like a top it kept spinning, a blur humming in the palm of her hand. `` I wo n't let you down,'' she whispered and tucked it back away. She could wait. When she'd first come to this spot she had been alone. Tears and grime had covered her cheeks and she pushed through the pain and the dirt as she climbed up, up to the side where she'd seen the sun fall. The ridge that encompassed the cities was monstrous and impassable but she had to go, she had to leave. And so she had climbed. She'd got to the top once night had fallen, the first time in almost two years. It would be a long three years of darkness, but she could care less; from that spot, life was simple. Life was quiet. The cities were hushed by the wind and the street lamps twinkled like stars. And she was at peace. The second time she'd gone, she met Rodrick. They talked for days. About their lives. About their dreams. About his compass that would n't stop spinning. `` All I know,'' he had told her, `` was that my pa gave it to me. He told me it would help me find my way. Though it wo n't stop spinning, wo n't stop going. So neither will I. For my pa, you know?'' They met as often as they could, their smiles cast in the shadows of the long dark. They became fast friends and talked about what lay beyond the ridge, a world shrouded in clouds and faded light. One time they found a path that wound down the opposite side of the ridge and Rodrick declared he would hike it. She had giggled and begged him not to go, but he was adamant. But before he left, his pa's compass became hers. It'd been four years now. Four years of lonely ridgetop views. The wars were getting worse now, the nighttime having lasted two years too long. One city to the north had collapsed and the smoke covered the stars for days. People were getting restless yet there was no escape. Not here in the arms of the ridge. She pulled out the compass again. Still it spun, the tipped edges whirring in dizzying circles. She got to her feet and made her way to the path she had watched Rodrick disappear on, tucking the compass away. At first, her heart was in her throat, her fingers quivering with the moment of decision. But she kept on walking down, down towards the cover of clouds, her jaw locked and eyes hopeful; and in her pocket, the compass pointed on.
[ WP ] Hell turns out to be you and a TV which plays your entire life . You think it will take a mere 90 years or so . Then you notice it has 'onlooker commentary ' which contains rants , praise and general thoughts on every action you ’ ve made from each living being who was witness to or affected by it .	Y'know it's been a while now. Just over 4000 days of viewer time, and easily quadruple that in real time. The commentary, it does tend to drag on. I just could n't live anymore in the real world, I'd just had enough. My entire life I'd been told what a useless piece of shit I was by my family and loved ones. I also knew in my head that those that were not saying it, were thinking it. When I took my own life it finished one book, but opened another. Now I sit here, watching through, and I hear it, I hear their thoughts in real time for the first time. I was right. They did think it, and any validation I get from being right is drowned out by the knowledge of being... of being me. Day 4380 is a big one. That's my 12th birthday party. I ca n't go there again. I'm desperate to make it stop, but, well, I'm dead. The house rules here are pretty strict. A thought enters my head.'Can I die in Hell?''Will I be sent to a place worse than Hell?''Is that even possible?'. A week before the big birthday review, I saw Sally sitting in the break room. You might ask yourself why Hell has a break room, but it was n't for me. In fact the only reason I was in the break room was because I had to watch and listen to the commentary on my reaction to their commentary, while they had their break. Sally was alone in the break room as we had been watching a rather boring scene where she had witnessed me walking home after being beaten up at school. Sally was a good girl, but only because she had the opportunity to be like just the rest, but did n't. Sally did n't stop anyone or stick up for me, but she did n't pile on, so that was alright. Sally was going through her own struggles with the viewing. I mean shit, she was in Hell too right? There was n't an elevator you got to take just to participate in the commentary portion of my torment. Sally was n't allowed to talk to me outside of the commentary, so she did like she usually did, and left me a note. I hated reading them but I could n't stop myself. Instead of the usual'You're the reason we are both here', it said'The utensil drawer is unlocked'. I pulled open the drawer, grabbed a steak knife, and killed myself.
[ WP ] You moved into your apartment 2 years ago and when you did the property manager told you that you should be out between 1-2pm every Friday . You thought this was odd at the time but have n't thought about it since as you are always at work then anyway . This Friday , you come home early	`` Honey, I'm home!'' I announce as I open the front door to the living room, as I have for the past 2 years. Ha ha, jokes on me, of course no one is home except my cat and his name is n't Honey, it ’ s Sam. It feels good to be home early though. Have n't had an early day in a very long time, and I deserve it too! I've worked exceedingly hard at that dead end job for years, it's about time I had a little me time. I drop my keys in the bowl by the door and my messenger bag on the couch as I begin to take my blazer off. CRASH! “ What the fuck?! ” I yelp in surprise; it sounds like it came from the bathroom. I reach over behind the door and grab the Louisville Slugger that rests there in case the Mormons don ’ t go peacefully. “ Who ’ s there?! ” I shout in the general direction of the sound. Silence. I slowly creep towards the bathroom and notice that the door is closed. Had I closed it on my way out this morning? I never close that door; the bathroom has the only window that gets any sort of breeze in this apartment. “ Whoever ’ s in there, come out now, or I ’ m coming in swinging! ” Silence. I reach out to the door handle as I tighten my grip on the baseball bat. I try to give the handle a turn, but its locked. This is awkward. Do I bust down my own bathroom door because I think I heard a noise? What would the property manager think? Oh wait, I remember these shitty interior door locks can be opened with a kitchen knife from the outside. I back towards the kitchen, keeping an eye on the door. Silence. As I make my way to the kitchen drawer, I realize I haven ’ t seen Sam. I take a quick glance about to try to spot my little buddy, and see him crouched under the kitchen table, staring at the bathroom door. “ Freaked you out too, huh? ” I whisper towards Sam. I open the kitchen drawer and… god dammit! All the silverware is gone. Whoever is in the bathroom is an idiot. Who steals silverware these days? What, you going to get $ 10 for your heroin habit? That ’ s going to go far. Why not steal the Xbox under the TV? There is plenty of stuff in this apartment more valuable. “ Hey genius, what the hell are you doing in there with my spoons and forks? ” I yell. Silence. I catch a glance at the clock on the microwave, 1:15 PM, as I walk back over to the bathroom door, a little less cautious as I realize I am not dealing with the sharpest knife in the drawer… well, he does have my sharpest knife in the drawer. Maybe I should be a little cautious. Wait, what time was it? 1:15 PM? I vaguely remember something about the apartment and not being here at a certain time, is there something to that? Whatever. I pound on the door with my fist, “ Open up, this is the last time I ’ m saying it. ” Silence. That ’ s it, to hell with the property manager, that door is coming down. I ready myself, preparing to launch at the door to bust it open. 3. 2. 1. I charge full force into the door, and bounce back, landing on my ass. Well, that ’ s embarrassing. I ’ m a pretty stout guy, there should have been some give to that cheap ass door. Whoever is in there must be bracing the door from the other side. Sliiither… thump. I hear a liquidy impact sound on the other side of the door, like some wet mass just fell to the floor from the counter. Nope, that ’ s just fucking weird, and a little creepy. Time to bring in the boys in blue, I am not about to deal with whatever the hell is in there, not going to happen. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Its dead. I fumble with the little button on the side to turn it own, holding it for five seconds, ten seconds, whatever, how long does it take to start up? No use, the battery must be dead, although I know I had it plugged in at work. I start to look around for a charger so that I can plug it in, get a call out, and have someone else deal with the silverware stealing wet thing on the other side of that door. Click. I turn back towards the bathroom door that is now just slightly ajar. I hesitate. This is fucking stupid. Just grab the charger, plug in your phone, and call the police, hell, just leave! You can go the neighbor ’ s apartment and call from there! Do not walk towards that door. I slowly walk towards the door. Come on man, I am not an idiot. I have seen plenty of fucked up movies where this goes really bad, really quick. I tighten my grip on the baseball bat as I reach out towards the door.
[ WP ] Relationships ( in any form ) are physical bonds .	Strings Attached The first night, when they fell together and pressed against the other with a fire typically reserved for those in Hell, was the night the cord appeared. She found it, just an inch at the time, after she rolled off of him with a satisfied smile. He had picked it up and dangled it in the air before asking if this meant they had a fuck-buddy system going. `` Sure, though I thought we agreed no strings attached,'' she had replied with a shrug. An inch had n't bothered either of them. But now? It's a whole meter. A coil that sometimes seems longer and thicker than twine. He points it out earnestly, hoping for a positive reaction. She just looks scared, trapped. It was just supposed to be an occasional hook up. The night is hot, humid, stifling. Each breath claws for meaning in the thick evening as throats and noses are scorched by the musk of his cologne. White sheets rustle under white noise of the white fan in his white room. The silence teeters at the brink of tongues. Both wait for the other to say something. Anything. Finally lips part and teeth bare themselves, pausing for a moment before sighing. “ Scoot. Your leg is crushing mine. ” Perhaps it is; perhaps his heart is crushing hers. Either way, he obliges and they shift around until she drapes across his chest. Perhaps she really means to say, “ My dear, I ’ ll happily fuck your brains out, kiss your lips, feel your breath, and love your heart as it beats in sync with mine. But don ’ t ever, ever think I could love you. I lovelust your body. But not you. ” Perhaps she does, perhaps she doesn ’ t. The silence wears. Tossing limbs rub over coarse twine that has begun unraveling in his sheets. Sometimes, if the lights are cut and moonbeams stream through his window to pool upon the rope, it gleams like steel and feels chilled to the skin. Though steel is colder and stronger. She would know. He would know. Coiled against her slender wrist are meters of steel cord. The ends are sharp, freshly cut; they chafe against her thin skin and sometimes cut deep enough for blood. He has a steel corded around his arm as well. His lost love was longer ago -- the steel has already made it to his bicep where time has rusted it slightly and worn it smooth in other spots. Despite the age of the band, on occasion she wonders if the deep breaths he takes during sex hide the name of a past love. God knows hers does. He wonders too, but neither dare ask. Ignorance is bliss. It doesn ’ t matter. Shouldn ’ t matter. This sex, those kisses, the many long nights of cuddles, perfect morning biscuits and tea, sweet conversations of hopes and dreams? They don ’ t matter. It ’ ll pass. It ’ s just a summer fling. He rolls out of bed and stands under the whurring fan for a moment, back turned to her. Part of her wants to stand behind him, hug his waist, tip-toe and nibble his ear. Part of her wants him to look at her, acknowledge her despite her stubborn silence. Part of her does, but that part does not move her. She remains tangled in salty sheets while he shifts towards the window and cracks it open. The sound of city life pervades the room and chases away the physical silence. The ever cloying scent of cigarettes and sewage wafts inwards. It is the smell of the human beehive. The smell of for million minute strings between eight million people. The smell of reality. `` Babe, shut the window. I ca n't stand the smell.''
[ WP ] Write the most heart-wrenching acrostic you can ... please , for the love of all that is holy , tear my heart out of my chest with a rusty spoon !	Staring into the night, I think of you. Only darkness prevails, for there is no light anymore. Reality has shattered, now that you have gone. Rage fills me when I recall the tragedy that stole you from this mortal coil. Over that, though, is this deep hopelessness that brings me to my knees. War is hell, as was aptly said by so many before. Fighting for your life, you bravely persevered. Ultimately, you had no choice in your fate, however. Only the bullet could decide. Love has become alien to me, for it is only felt as I stand before your grave, missing your laugh and gentle touch. If only you were here.
[ WP ] While sitting in a public area , a supreme being abruptly appears and while pointing directly at you yells `` Seriously ! This guy ! This guy right here ! Fuck this guy ! '' and quickly returns to the heavens .	There I was, drinking some cheap ass alcohol at a keg party. I've always been a goody two shoes before this point, the only in my family to get into college for twelve generations now, and the only one to graduate college for that matter. I deserved this. My first party, not really that fun for me. Everyone was better looking, funnier, more social, and actually knew each other. I was only invited because the host ( smoking bomb show ) was a cutie i helped tutor. She has a high chance of graduating thanks to me. Out of no where, a bright flash stunned the crowd. An orb that was all colors and no colors at the same time, all percievable objects ever mentioned in life at once, came into the middle of the room. It swung through the air near me. It was magnificent. The orb lowered to the floor. Out stepped an obviously well kept sentient all-knowing being. And his word was magnificent. `` This guy right here. See'm, ladies? This dude!'' He said, bopping my nose several times. `` Yeah, fuck this dude. On the penis.'' Then he snapped. Becky, the host of the party ( smoking bomb show chick ) was the first to turn. Then followed the other chicks. It. Was. Magnificent.
[ WP ] A ship is drifting into the solar system , Earths first contact . The ship is empty .	The first observatory to spot The Object was the Keck Observatory on Hawaii's Maunakea summit, and like new discoveries, was done entirely by accident. The Object was spotted during an observation of a primordial galaxy, and showed up as a glitch in the data; an error in the spectral analysis of a 13 billion year old galaxy. Normally such minor glitches are ignored. Sometimes things just happen: a ripple in the atmosphere, a bird flying near the field of view, or even a microwave oven turned on for a hungry popcorn munching grad student who forgot the blackout period have caused glitches in the data. This observation would have also been ignored if it were n't for a bright-eyed and busy-tailed grad student who was working that night, and who wanted to know the source of the glitch. The Object was eventually named the Donner-Brand object -- after the persistent grad student and the professor who insisted on credit ( despite drinking Mai Tais at a local bar when the object was eventually spotted ) -- had its trajectory plotted, and other scientists started investigating the material composition of the newly discovered asteroid. Early theories had the object's origin as somewhere within the Oort Cloud beyond Neptune's orbit, and the fact that it would eventually pass within 1 AU of the Earth made the object of particular interest to observers who wanted to understand the composition of the dust cloud beyond the rim of the Solar System. It was also fortunate for those observers that a joint NASA/ESA mission was on the drawing board to test a series of new space probes for gathering materials from asteroids for space mining. Named the Gayatri Project, a large Saturn rocket would launch with more than two dozen small EM-drive equipped probes who would meet various targets, sample them, and return the samples back to Earth. It was n't hard to ask the committee to add Donner-Brand to the list of potential targets. -- -- It was n't until Donner-Brand passed within the orbit of Saturn a decade after its discovery that scientists started to wonder at its composition. By this time Professor Suzanne Donner was a full time lecturer and astronomer who spent a considerable amount of time observing Oort cloud objects and particularly the object that was named after her. `` What makes Donner-Brand rather interesting'', she told a room full of professors at a small gathering to discuss Gayatri targets, subconsciously blushing at the self-reference, `` is that it has an extremely variable albedo, almost as if the object had large smooth surfaces rather than the typical pitted surfaces we would expect of an asteroid.'' `` We do n't know what to make of this'', she continued after a pause. `` But the sheering forces necessary to create large smooth surfaces on an asteroid suggest some yet-unknown phenomenon at play.'' It was her talk, combined with other observations that the asteroid contained a number of very interesting metallic alloys, which convinced the Gayatri project managers to target the largest of the tugs to Donner-Brand. -- -- A year later, as final plans were being put into place for the various tugs, the first images of Donner-Brand came in from the Mars orbiting telescope platform. The reason for the highly variable albedo became apparent. Before the observations could be made public, Professor Donner found herself along with a half dozen other scientists and the project leads of the Gayatri Project summoned by the President of the United States and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. `` So what do we know?'' asked General Perry asked. Perry was one of the primary advisers to President Alexander. Professor Hayes cleared his throat a little nervously. The idea of a bunch of civilian scientists being summoned by the President -- and it was clear the `` invitation'' was not optional -- was quite intimidating. But not as intimidating as the long-range fuzzy photograph of Donner-Brand now being projected behind him. `` The object appears to be some sort of space craft, about the size of a Boeing 747. There are an array of four cylindrical objects at what appears to be the back of the craft, and a bulbous cylinder at the front. We theorize that the cylinders at the back are some form of...'' General Perry cut him off. `` Is it a threat?'' Professor Donner spoke up. `` We do n't think so. The object is not exhibiting any sort of thermal radiation; it appears to be as cold as any asteroid we've observed before. We are not receiving any radio waves or detecting any motion. I think it's dead.'' General Perry: `` Could this be a ruse? Could there be some sort of automated system waiting to wake up?'' Professor Diaz spoke up. He was one of the observers at Keck Observatory who had been watching the object as it approached its perihelion within the orbit of Mars. `` I do n't think so. Remember, any electronic components would generate some heat -- and given the shape of the object, that heat would not be easily radiated away. Donner-Brand is not showing any infrared radiation as far as we have been able to detect.'' `` So,'' General Warren, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, turned and faced the Gayatri Project representatives. `` Can we tug this thing back to Earth?'' A handful of scientists on the other side of the table huddled together, and started scribbling notes on a series of papers. A couple of tablets came out, a bunch of ellipses were drawn on a bunch of papers, and finally Professor Shaw, the team lead, piped up. `` No.'' That earned a scowl from a handful of the generals at the table. `` Look,'' Professor Shaw stared down the half of the table overflowing with brass. `` We're a privately financed project, so even assuming I could get permission from the corporations and governments funding our project, which I very much doubt, I would need to share that discovery with everyone who helped to finance our project. `` Second, the best we can do is perhaps alter the orbit of the object to place it between Mars and Earth, so we can go back at a later date with another tug to pull it back to the Earth. But we'd have to accelerate the launch by...'' Professor Shaw turned to one of the members of his team, who piped up with `` about 4 months''. Shaw turned to face the General. `` We'd need to move our launch date up by 4 months.'' `` What would that take?'' `` Well,'' Professor Shaw subconsciously rubbed his chin. `` We'd need to get more manpower to build the tugs, and we'd need to move the launch site, and ideally we'd need to assemble the rocket faster and...'' General Warren raised a hand and stopped Shaw. `` How much money.'' Shaw huddled together with the other scientists, then spoke up. `` I do n't know.'' `` Guess,'' an increasingly irritated General Warren asked. `` Perhaps $ 80 billion?'' Shaw cautiously replied. Murmuring broke out around the room. At the end of the table, President Alexander stood up. The rest of the room fell into silence. `` This is potentially the single most important discovery in the history of mankind. You'll get your money and whatever manpower we can provide.'' ( part 2 to follow )
[ WP ] You can travel backwards in time . The only problem is : Whenever you travel , you take the entire human population of the Earth with you .	When we created the atom bomb, we became a race of bastards. When we created the Wells Protocol, we became bastard gods. The legacy doctrines tell us this is our 6th time back. Each time, we return to the moment mankind would take its first steps toward a new dawn, and we stop it. Replacing our ancient ancestors as the rulers of our domain. At first, we attempted to become better shepherds for the world, using the combined knowledge to avoid the mistakes of what was our past. Fossil fuels were all but avoided, planetary waste reduced to minimal levels, radiation nearly non-existent. We launched our race ahead by millennia, utilizing what we knew and the micro-tech we were able to bring with us. Space exploration became the primary goal, to see exactly how far and how fast we could go forth toward the stars. Part of this was to be forewarned of a planetary event. Nothing on earth could stop us.Now, the only threat we faced had to be something bigger than us, bigger than earth. That second 2nd age was ended because of such a thing. An asteroid the size of Alaska was found. We were prepared. This was to be the new way of life. Encounter what should end us, go back, prepare, and survive. The 3rd age ended when we finally found life outside our own. It was accidental, a foreign virus ravaged the human population. It spread like wildfire but took years to be discovered as it laid dormant. When it bloomed though, lives were cut down faster than the fall harvest. Only the emergency population survived to go back. An isolated lot, picked specifically for their genetic makeup to ensure if only they went back, humanity could thrive again. They were born, lived, and died in an eternal eden. To be untouched by those that could pass on undesirable traits. But something happened during the 4th age. The doctrines state the Protocol could only to be triggered in case of a mass extinction event. In fact, it could n't even be used. It had to be triggered by a set percentage of the human population's health signal being cut from the machine within given times. A smaller percentage the faster it occurred. That way, a case of bad flu seasons that killed a significant portion of the population over a winter would n't trigger the protocol but the use of a weapon of mass destruction that killed what could be considered a minimal percentage within seconds would. What the doctrines do not state, is why or even how the protocol was initiated. My children of whatever generation finds this. I am passing this message back to warn you. Do not let the Human Empire continue. The Wells Protocol can not continue to be used as a weapon of war. Please, I beg for you to beat the swords into plowshares and allow humanity to take its place as a citizen of the universe, not its ruler.
[ WP ] Mankind discovers the key to eternal life , ways to reverse entropy , and cures to all diseases . Death wakes up to find just one name on his list : his own .	BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. He rolled over to his side to see 6:00 AM staring at him in the face, mocking him. This job will be the death of me. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and just sat there for a moment, gathering himself before he started his long and busy day. 3 minutes passed when he finally mustered enough energy to get up. He dragged his body to his closet and inspected what lied in it. He tossed on his black work clothes, grabbed his cane and headed out the door of his 1 bed, 1 bath apartment. He walked into Big House Inc. and said hello to Mihr the receptionist. Mihr was always nice to him, even if he was just a lowly employee. He stepped onto the elevator and pressed floor 3. If he could smile, it would be permanently plastered on his face. Ding! The doors opened up to the third floor and he shot out of the elevator. He passed all the other cubicles in a blur. Todays the big day, Betty's turning 94 and I'm finally going to do it. I'm finally going to kill Betty. No more messing around, it's game time. He finally got to his computer and signed in. D-E-A-T-H. He hit the tab button. 6-6-6. His fingers anxiously tapped the keyboard in anticipation for his list to pop up, even though he already knew who was going to be on it. The computer finally booted up and a `` Welcome!'' message greeted him. He quickly clicked the message away and double clicked the folder that read, `` Assignments 1/17/2016''. He peeked his head out from his cubicle to try to make eye contact with anyone to share with them that today was the day that Betty was going to die. He looked back at his computer screen and froze. He did n't find Betty on his list, or anyone for that matter. The only name he found on his list was `` DEATH''. Great, this job really is going to be the death of me.
[ WP ] As you drift off to sleep , you realize something : your front door did n't open inwards like it always does .	It all started when I put my hand to the cold surface of my hallway mirror in the morning. I had smudged my lipstick: the red sliding across my face like an angry scar. I swore, tripped over my dog's collar, which of course I'd left out the night before, and steadied myself against the mirror. My hand left an imprint of mist against the burnished glass -- I thought nothing more of it and left. When I came home the door seemed stuck. I could n't budge it to save my life. That was until I realised I was trying to move it the wrong way, mentally slapped myself upside the head and pulled it open. I locked it shut behind me, dumped my keys in the brass bowl at the base of that awful mirror and kicked my shoes off. It was a piece of furniture I hated in my house: something my mother had bought me when I first moved in and so much of her style: a Louis XIV monstrosity of gold curlicues and bronze imprints. It took up too much space and seemed to exude cold into the rest of the house -- it had never been warm any time I'd ever touched it. The floor was free of dog toys, as I padded towards the fridge, eschewing dinner in favour of a glass and a half of red wine and three chocolates from a selection box I'd been working my way through for the better part of a month. The wrappers I put in the bin. It was a vaguely tipsy me that slipped into bed that evening, resting my head on the pillow and trying to work out why I felt so odd. It could have been the lack of proper food; it could have been the overly full glass of Pinot I'd downed in front of a re-run of Celebrity Pointless. But somehow it was n't. The door of my wardrobe hung open, the full length mirror catching the glint of the full moon that hung outside my window -- the curtains left open. Someone, within the mirror, was watching me. Like a snake, a shadow uncoiled itself from the glassy surface of the mirror, languid legs moving onto the clear floor and sinking deep into the thick carpet. I sat bolt upright in bed as the moon dripped light onto the figure who had walked out of my mirror and into my room. My heart hammering, I wondered if it were a hallucination, and I had almost convinced myself of it until the mirror-figure opened her -- my -- mouth -- covered with a bright slash of precise red lipstick and spoke. 'You are an absolute state,' she said.'Your half sucks. I want my half back.' 'What are you talking about?' In return, she turned and pointed at the mirror. In it I could see the reflection of my bedroom. But not as it was now, tidy and organised, but how I had left it this morning ( how had I forgotten ) strewn with clothes across the floor, and two empty wine bottles rolling across the shag-pile carpet. I knew there was a reason I hated that mirror.
[ CW ] A war poem written by a common soldier in a fantasy realm	Long live the King, we boys did cry, Swords raised in grand salutes, The bards, they sang a sweet goodbye, Gently strumming lutes. Shining knights, they bravely led, This noble, holy deed, But ne'er a royal tear was shed, For soldiers with no steed. Who knows the dragon's burning breath, The manticore's dreadful sting? Who's fought a horde cursed with undeath, And heard a Siren sing? Sixteen years, my dearest friend, Too young to cross the Styx, But it's too late, you've reached the end, I'll wear your crucifix. Our spoils made tribute to the King, The knights did proudly bow, And yet, so few to kiss his ring, We're food for maggots now.
[ WP ] A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place .	NOTE: Got really tired of all the `` Daddy what's going on yay you're a hero no matter what I wuv you!'' lame daughters people were writing. This story's little girl has more teeth! Shit. She recognizes me. I tensed as the woman's attention on me sharpened. She was shorter than average, with close-cropped black hair spiked up like a hedgehog. Her title was Havok, I remembered her from the news. Heightened agility and an ability to generate small, fierce explosions of telekinetic force at close range. Havok had honed her powers into an impressively deadly skill-set. She was a smart, tough, cunning villain, and she knew I could take her apart in seconds. Havok was scared, and she started calling for backup. `` Hey. HEY! It's Nightmare! Thundra, Cavalry, get over here! It's fucking Nightmare!'' Thundra, a tall and slender woman with abilities that granted her limited superstrength and invincibility, and Cavalry - a cloner whose clones got tougher the longer he focused on creating them, as I recalled - rushed over. Thundra was dressed in unremarkable street clothes, never bothering to hide her identity. Cavalry, in contrast, was dressed in matte-black body armor and held a gun. Shit. His clones will be armed too. `` Are you serious? That's actually Nightmare?'' `` I did n't realize he'd stuck around after retiring. Local PeaceForce must have cut a deal. Thundra, I'm almost ready to go, you and Havok go lock him down... wait, what's with the girl?'' No. `` He had a wife, remember? Must be his kid. That'll make this easy.'' No no nononono... Thundra strode over confidently. Her face was empty of the usual collection of lines and marks that were the first layer of identity - a blank mask of remote, Slavic beauty. `` Nightmare. Bad timing, I guess. Is this your girl?'' Beside me, Alexandria stirred fretfully, but stayed quiet as I squeezed her hand - fast-fast slow - in our safety signal. She'd been so good until now, calmly accompanying me on our errands and enjoying the sunshine. She liked being with me during weekend days, and Cassandra pushed me to keep her out of the house as much as possible. Did n't want her getting too pale. In a brief moment of detached reflection, a part of me chuckled at how little my little Alexandria's future suitors would care about her tan lines once they realized the extent of her abilities. The beast within me rose to Thundra's unspoken challenge. I was pushing forty but my beast and I were still as strong as ever. Tundra, tall even among men, hardly came up to my chin. I could feel my skin going numb as the chitin formed beneath, and my vision was already growing sharp. Of course I could take them. I could take on half the damn PeaceForce if I wanted to. Only Fulcrum or Bygone or one of the other heavy hitters could really harm me once I was in top form... but Alexandria was a different matter. My beast and I worked together. We were siblings, symbiotes. Alexandria's monster was of another breed entirely, and very hard to handle, even for me. I am a monster, but my little girl is going to grow up to be a force of nature. It was time to act. `` Thundra, Havok, back off,'' I said, stepping in front of Alexandria. `` I do n't care what you do with the money, but we're staying out of it. Clear?'' Havok shook her head. `` No way, Nightmare. Score's too rich to take chances with a wild card. You know the drill: girl goes with me to the center of the room, you go to the wall and wait, we're out in 15 minutes.'' The dumb little shit looked at Thundra and nodded towards my little girl, and the blond thug nodded back. Cavalry was off to one side, mumbling to himself, gathering his power. I knew if I let him take too much time, his clones would be strong enough to hem me in unless I was willing to cut loose... and that was n't an option. Thundra strode forward, intent on Alexandria, and I snarled at her. Black, spiky plates of iridescent chitin were rippling over my skin, though I kept my face clear for now. `` Back OFF, Thundra. You know you ca n't stop me.'' Alexandria stirred. `` Daddy, what's going on? These people sound mean.'' I risked a glanced down and saw her eyes - so bright and blue, like Cassandra's - slowly darkening. Just like mine do when I'm using my power. Damnit, I'm running out of time `` It's fine, baby. Just some nice people stopping by to say hi, that's all. Rest easy, ok?'' I kept my voice light, but I let my beast rise. Alexandria's little brow furrowed, and her eyes kept getting darker. My little girl just did n't buy it when her old man started pulling wool over her eyes. If she did n't calm down, this was going to get bad. Thundra grinned. `` That's right, girlie. Your daddy needs to go talk with my friends, so you and I are going to take a little walk, ok?'' I groaned inwardly as Alexandria lifted her head. `` No. You're a stranger. Go away.'' `` Young lady,'' Thundra replied, `` you should learn to respect your elders.'' She favored me with a mocking smile. `` What's the matter, Nightmare? Do n't like to spank your kids? I'll do it for you this time, I'm happy to be the bad guy.'' Alexandria's dark, dark eyes locked on Thundra, and something awful burst into the air between them. `` Go AWAY!'' She screamed, and it sounded like a crowd of people shrieking along with her. The thing she summoned, a vaguely human-shaped column of smoke and tentacles over ten feet tall, craned towards the stunned villain with a wavering cry that sounded like it came from the depths of hell. Thundra shouted in surprise and her skin suddenly shone with a brilliant light, her fists raising to fight. `` No, you idiot!'' I roared as my beast surged, `` run away! She'll go through you!'' Thundra ignored me, and my daughter's summoned monstrosity enveloped her and tore the woman apart in a shower of blood. Alexandria, eyes utterly black, held tightly to my hand as her head swept around to lock on Havok. The eldritch monstrosity surged forward and the dark-haired villain shrieked. Cavalry shouted a challenge, and I turned my head in time to see a small crowd of men with rock-hard skin being charged by a vaguely dog-shaped beast with too many jaws and blades for legs. Cavalry's shout turned to screams as I snatched up my daughter and leapt for the exit. Cassandra and I had yet to understand the nature of our daughter's ability. There was an irony to it, though, that sometimes kept me up at night: I had been called Nightmare for a long time, but my little Alexandria could make her nightmares reality.
[ WP ] You live in a world where any animal you eat must be cared for in the last week of its life and then slaughtered -- by you .	Kunta sharpened the ceremonial kris, showering the room with sparks each time the blade brushed the whetstone. Off to the side, the calf stared, half confused, half paralyzed with fear, its eyes staring into Kunta's own. `` This is stupid'', Kunta exclaimed when Obwe passed into the room. `` Why must we care for an animal destined for slaughter? It would be simpler to kill if this calf was but a stranger. Instead, I cared for him, I bathed him, I fed him, and I loved him. Now, I slaughter him.'' `` Yaraga was a great hunter'' Obwe began, seemingly ignoring the young Josun's frustrations. `` One winter, while tracking deer, a snowstorm trapped him in a cave. And as fate would have it, the deer he was tracking sought shelter in the same cave.'' `` For seven days, they waited out the storm. Yaraga would build fires around which the two would huddle, while the deer sniffed out lichen and moss, upon which the two survived. On the seventh day, with the storm still raging, the deer, sensing his own imminent demise, threw himself upon the fire, so that Yaraga might survive.'' `` Touched by the deer's sacrifice, Yagara proclaimed that all animals will be cared for by its killer, so they too may know pain.'' `` That's stupid'' Kunta sulked. `` The deer sacrificed itself. This calf does n't want to die.'' `` You misunderstand'' Obwe replied. `` Yagara wanted our people to understand that the animals had feelings, desires and pain. If you are going to kill, then you should at least share in the pain.'' Kunta slit the Calf's throat cleanly, and the blood bubbled forth in its mouth. It looked neither afraid nor confused anymore, and Kunta just sat there cradling the calf until its body went cold.
[ WP ] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less .	Soooo let's start with a little history you're wondering who's telling this, it's just me so since it's interesting you should be listening since it's just me, I'll just begin We're not the first kings to walk those earth rings the way it started, controversial Before there was life there was a big big bang This was before Slim, Moby and 50 cent This was roundabout four billion years ago Rocks and bacteria, here we go 3 billion years ago there were stromatolites If you find any today, that's just nice then the time flew by, continents appeared life came existing, now we're here there were dinosaurs in the jurassic age and today there's songs by Eminem with drastic rage The world revolved around the sun til 1972 Since then it evolved around me, and heaven did too So I'm gon na disappear now and leave this lesson with you And by the way, the story bout Nessie is true
[ WP ] All diseases known to man are manufactured by an advanced species and are introduced to Earth in a way so they seem natural . The purpose ? To condition the human species to withstand a conquering race that uses biological warfare .	“ Hold on. Let me confirm just one last time. ” “ Once more? ” The woman paused her gait and rested a pair of eyes on me. Her second pair gazed about the sterile gray corridor, the last pair remained fixed on the blue planet beyond the window. “ Hey, do n't blame me. ” I massaged my temples. “ Your beam-upper must be on the fritz. My memory is still all fuzzy. Besides, I think I'm handling this First Contact business pretty well. I just did n't expect to be asked about unleashing an apocalyptic plague on my race. ” The woman turned away from me with a swift pivot. Not for the first time, it struck me how graceful the alien was. I half expected stars to shimmer inside her obsidian scales. “ Wait. Okay, fine. Alien logic. I can deal. Why me though? ” “ Our algorithms selected for expedience. A human capable of parley without loss of composure or sanity. Truthfully, we expected an expert in a field of science. ” The woman looked back and cocked her head. “ And you got a dreamer. ” I raised my hands. “ Guilty as charged, at least, as far as I can remember. Picked up by aliens. Heck, I probably rehearsed this. Between you and me, I thought there would be more probing. ” The woman cocked her head even further, until it laid perpendicular to her spine, presuming she had one. “ I have not been instructed to proceed through those particular protocols. Would you like me to? ” “ What, seriously? Would you? ” The alien just smiled, strangely seductive for a mouth with more fangs than I should strictly be comfortable with. “ I'm increasingly afraid only one of us is joking. Maybe later? ” “ As you wish. ” We walked through corridors, passing sliding doors and transparent observatories, before arriving in a lavish antechamber. The alien woman walked to a panel by the side of some kind of technological archway, somehow reminiscent of the beam-upper, though I could not say in what way. “ You will address the Samar Conclave. Do you require preparation? ” My memories were still hazy, though my opinions seemed to have returned. “ You know, I think I'm actually in favor of a good plague. ” For the first time since I regained consciousness in the beam-upper, the woman focused all of her eyes on me. “ Despicable thing for a human to say, I realize. But mankind is succeeding itself to death. You've heard of the Black Death, right? ” “ Naturally. It was our doing, after all. ” “ Huh. Cool. Anyway, after the Black Death killed off half of Europe, forests grew back. Laborers became a valued resource again, overpopulation and famine stopped being problems for a while, and if this new plague of yours strikes indiscriminately, the corrupt elite get slammed hardest. It would be the greatest victory for equality in centuries, and do n't get me started on pollution and global warming. I mean, I realize you people just want to restore survival of the fittest, cull the weak, purify the batch, prune the plant, whatever it is you want with mankind. You'd still be saving the planet. ” The woman frowned. “ But let's speak frankly. ” I pointed at the gate. “ It's not gon na matter what I say in there, is it? ” “ Naturally not. You have been brought here to appease humanity sympathists. Whatever you say, the majority will conclude mankind is unfit to decide what is best for itself. If our project is halted, the Yaag Empire will destroy us all. ” “ Sympathists. They're the ones who do n't want the plague, yeah? For reference, what're the others called? Annihilists? ” “ Normal. ” “ Brilliant. ” I cracked my knuckles. “ Let's do this. ” The massive gate lit up and I stepped forward. Spacetime spewed me out into the middle of a circular tribunal, surrounded by elderly lizard ladies and gentlemen. They fell silent at my appearance, so I opened my mouth to speak. My memories had recovered as much as they needed to. “ My dear Samar Conclave. I'll keep this short and sweet. Thank you for bringing me here with your hilariously exploitable algorithms. My people should have a lock on my position and will imminently eradicate all solid matter within a radius of three hundred kilometers. The Yaag Empire sends its– ” Before I got the chance to mention love and kisses, the Samar woman sunk her fangs into my throat, likely knowing it would do nothing to change our inevitable doom. “ Uncool, ” I managed to gurgle out. In the corner of my eye, Earth glimmered blue on a monitor. See ya, Terra. Averted a plague for you. No need to thank me. I've not done you a favor.
[ WP ] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly . Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult ?	I was on a date, in fact it was my third one with this stunning woman who I never in a million years thought would go out with me. I saw her on the bug and decided to ask her out and she instantly said yes. This was n't a rare phenomenon, though I will admit I'm not the most handsome of guys. Every since I was in grade school I've been able to get dates with anyone I set my eyes on, but that is as far as it has ever gotten. I have girl friends, or rather plenty of friends who are women, but I ca n't ever seem to go further than that. We always get to a point in our relationship and they begin to admit that while I'm a great guy, they just do n't feel anything beyond that. You see, the reason it never went on beyond that is that they never LOVE me. `` Like, Like, Why did I have to say Like?'' I say to myself. If I had chosen my words carefully my life would have turned out much more different. Like any normal kid I starts to notice girls in grade school and I would mutter under my breath `` I wish every girl would like me''. Unfortunately that came true, and only that.
[ WP ] `` How far are you willing to take this thing , kid ? Things are about to get ugly . If we do this , we see it through to the end . ''	`` How far are you willing to take this thing, kid? Things are about to get ugly. If we do this, we see it through to the end.'' His words erupt from the past and ring clearly through my mind as the knife falls from hand to the ancient stone floor. But why would I think about them now? There ’ s little good they can do me, or him for that matter. Especially him. Byron had known that this kind of thing would happen, and he ’ d let me push us forward anyway. And now his words pound against the back of my eyes as I try to figure out how to put his insides back where they belong - to summon that dangerous intelligence back into his now dull eyes. What it is it I said so confidently in response? “ Don ’ t be an idiot, things can ’ t get any uglier than they ’ ve always been. ” He ’ d sighed. He ’ d smiled his weary smile. “ Alright, kid. Finish your drink then, we ’ ve got to get moving if we ’ re going to make it through the threshold in time. ” I was staring at the threshold now. We were feet from it. The Point lay lifeless beside it. The red essence of his life runs in a viscous river to meet and pool with Byron ’ s. Light leaks around the edges of the door. I climb to my feet and stumble toward it. Objective One is just beyond. I have to finish this. But my feet get heavier. And they stop moving altogether. Byron ’ s blood is drying. It begins to constrict the skin on my hands and arms. There is nothing to look at but the light peeking through the crack at the bottom of the Threshold. This is just the first step. And there is so much farther to go. My right boot lifts from the ground.
[ WP ] `` He wo n't make it through the night '' is all the nurse says before leaving the room . You take a seat next to the bed . `` Do you remember ... ''	Do you remember the water? The way it used to lap at the sides of the Pinnefore? Such a majestic name for what amounted to little more than some old rotted planks lashed together with twine, heh the ebullience of youth eh? So many summer nights spent drifting across the surface of a pond that might as well have been the Atlantic. We never did settle on who was the captain did we? Not that it really matters but deep down in my heart I always knew it was you. You were n't just a kid, you were a god damned force of nature; the best I could do to keep up was just hang on to your coat tails and ride in your massive wake. It was, you wer-hell are, glorious to behold. I guess the candle that burns twice as bright really does burn twice as fast... fuck. I'm sorry John, I really am. I loved you, you know that right? Not just as friends but as brothers. You may have been younger than me but you were always my senior, in ideas, music, heh even in love. There you were wrapped in the arms of the man you would marry before I even had my first kiss, but I never hated you for it. I was just glad to be able to watch you up close, to see the man the world would come to hold up as the best among us all; to see you become that man... well it makes me cry even now. Not in sadness or even in joy but in pure awe. There will never be another like you, God could never allow another to shine so bright. Everybody knows the campaign would have failed if not for you man, the rest of us were nothing more than glorified backup. I mean none of us could have guessed how much destruction one man could really cause, and shit clearly neither did those fucking bugs. I guess that prick Malloch was right in the end though, that bomb of theirs would be the death of you... I bet he did n't expect it to take over sixty years though. You never did tell me just what he looked like when you put that round through him, but I bet that stupid face of his looked pretty damn surprised. I do n't know if you can hear me John, but if you can... I love you. I just wish I could be your first mate one more time. Heh, can you imagine the pinnefor floating down the river Styx? I wish I could be by your side when you show those bastards what hell really means. I love you buddy, I'll see you on the other side.
[ WP ] Legend has it that King Arthur vowed to return to save Britain in its greatest moment of need . Over a thousand years later birthrates are plummeting , poverty is at an all-time high and obesity is an epidemic . Arthur materializes on the shores , inevitably wishing he had been more specific .	Oy, this is satire something the Internet sucks at. Its not pro Monarchist commentary OK, fine thanks. Arthur once again sat on the throne of Britain, now a greater larger nation than she had ever been in his day. His new Knights of the Round Table fueled by magic and technology slew all before them, brought order, peace and the rights of Freemen to all of the united Kingdom and soon perhaps the world The previous queen and her princes had gone into a gentle exile, they had shown more than a measure of courage and were after all fellow monarchs. The last of his foes know knelt before him looked up and smiled `` Uneasy that wears the crown oh king, If you do n't mind my saying now comes the hard part, you have to govern.'' `` I do indeed.'''' said Arthur drawing his sword `` But wormtongue, unlike you I am an absolute monarch.'' and he slew the politician bringing a golden age to the West.
[ WP ] Write a story that does n't make sense , until the last sentence .	There some man walk around, he do not know where is he walking, also do not know why is he walking.Just walking.That's all. Walk walk, go go. Walk man, go man. Sad man. In he heart, the great sadness overwhelming.These days, all he feel are the blue feeling.He decide go do some thing usuarlly make he feel better, so he finally have place he gon na walk. He start walk there, and although he pass some lovely cat, dog, and so on, but he do not smile.Do not laugh. Nothing.Still he just the walk-go man, only difference compare before is he having idea where he wan na go. Sun so high in air remind him glory day he country, there no shine-through-some-cloud rays though, so more like modern time.All other time this man think how great is he country, because ya. He the leader this country, every other time think such thought, indeed he feeling grin like a Cheshire cat. But not now.Now, although he think thing in past make him feel in his heart so flying, but now still the sadness. Go-man must go place to where he wan na walk.Must reach there, feel better.Many people wait him there.Many ghost come from he past.But in go-man heart, maybe these ghost still have some life. Ah, he can see now.Almost arrive it.Big and have the copper roof, but very older very history: copper looking green, blue, maybe also some grey, too many interesting color, but in fact just one color.This how go-man see he country history, although it maybe like tapestry woved with hundred different thing, but look far away? well, then it in fact just one thing. It wers honor.Everything to go-man wers honor, and now he arrive desturnation.Arrive most important shrine for he. The ghost usuarlly so quiet.Silent in fact.Never they say any word. Never have make some sound.Maybe because Go-man's sad heart, or maybe because ghost self feel guilt about they own history.But finally the ghost speak. Say Go-Man the down words: 《In great southern capital of great country, I raise sharp sword thing on end my rifle, Poke it into head of lovely babby, Raise dead babby high in air, Shout < < Who I gon na rape? > > Wooman run away and scream, Make me feel excite, I rape so many > > Ghost look go-man using some very sadness eyes. Say, < < How i do such thing? After 70 year, I can not bear such guilt.How you come here day by day, pray for us evil ghost? Honor the ancester maybe important, but why you dont have own ancestor can make some offering give them? What is we but some evil ghost? Maybe it best we be forget? Maybe we dont deserving such honor place under cool looking copper roof? Dig up we body, burn them, shit in them, feed them to dirty dog? it dont matter, but we so bad, and you heart have such heavy becaurse you can not let us go? Do you know it? > > With the up words, Go-man know it.He know he got ta apologize China, but for real.He got ta tell Chinese people how bad is he country. Got ta dismantle he navy, militarys, guns, and so on. Got ta give back island that america and he own country take away China. Got ta give China maybe some big city also.Only then he heart can feel light once again.Only then can he smile the lovely dog and cat. Go-man naem? Shinzo Abe.
[ CC ] Excerpt from Chapter one of a book I 'm writing ! Need criticism . ( Rough Copy )	Hey there, cool story! You may want to read this over for grammatical errors like: > granted if Algaia hadn ’ t milked it dry that day. You also have the odd capital letter after some commas. I'm guessing you changed punctuation around a couple times. There are also one or two errors where you change tense. Small stuff. > She was of Noble birth. Her father had served 20 years directly under the Emperor himself. Maybe that ’ s why she had a hard time making friends, she couldn ’ t relate to anybody. The above I would consider an example of `` showing, not telling''. Even rephrasing it as Raptis's thoughts about her would keep the narration more engaged with the story. Your choice on how to change it, if at all. That's just one example though. This is less criticism and more comment, but I noticed that you like to give the reader a lot of information. For example, with the pick-me-up signs, you tell the reader that the sign exists. Then you describe it. Then you explain what it means. So you have a symbol and the meaning you want it to convey. I think you could let the reader infer more for themselves. Instead of saying that people are n't happy and informing the reader directly that the signs are a government attempt to keep people happy, simply have the narrator or Raptis comment that the signs are n't boosting morale. Then the reader can infer the rest for themselves. In general, you have some extraneous words. Examples: > It would be quite a trip to Ward 22, where he lived. We already know Raptis is headed home, no need to clarify there. > The Emperors spire, easily the cities biggest skyscraper, dwarfed the others. If it dwarfs all other buildings, it must be the biggest, no? Overall, I get the feeling that you want people to see your characters a certain way. The problem with that is that you have a bias. You created them. Readers are going to hate characters you love and love characters you hate. Instead of forcing characterization on the audience, give the reader the chance to see characters in action for themselves. For example, instead of describing Matty as always looking for a practical solution, have that thought run through Raptis's head. Better yet, have he and his brother witness a problem. Show us how their reactions compare and contrast to each other. On the other hand, you paint a vivid atmosphere. It's very clear that you have something in mind. Having Raptis forget his I.D. was a natural way of working his physical description into the story. You paced your story very well, given that it is the length of a novel. I did n't detect any ham-fisted foreshadowing. You have given us the setting first, and introduced characters, establishing their importance and then removing them for the moment. That's a good way to cue the reader that something will happen later, giving theme a reason to keep reading. Feel free to ask about anything specific you want feedback on or clarification for anything here. Sorry my thoughts are kind of scattered, I try to pick and choose what I highlight.
[ WP ] Killing the murderer brings the victim back from the dead . Serial killers are being hunted by the families of the victims who compete against one another to get their loved ones back .	We were crouched low to the floor of the warehouse behind some boxes. I looked at Ellen. “ Are you sure this is going to work? ” She wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head sadly. “ I don ’ t know. But I ’ m committed to finding out. ” I nodded. We did not have much time to spare. If we lingered, others would know who I was. Ellen took a deep sigh and I could almost see her strength waver. If she faltered, the plan would be for naught. We gave each other a quick hug, stood and stepped out from behind the boxes. We followed the noise of heavy snoring and stopped about 20 feet before the man. He was disgusting in his grey briefs and stained undershirt. “ Monster! ” Ellen spat the word and the man stirred and clamored to his feet. Ellen aimed the pistol and the man put his hands out in front of him almost if he was going to beg for mercy. Ellen didn ’ t hesitate, she gently squeezed the trigger. ~ Time seemed to slow as the bullet traveled to its mark. It was weeks after our children were killed and Ellen and I had a friendship forged in grief when Ellen ’ s world was shaken again. The cancer she had been fighting for years had spread and she only had weeks to live. I expected her to fall apart. Instead she was absolutely steadfast in exploring something called the re-loop effect. ~ The bullet hit it ’ s target with satisfying finality. And in moments there stood Alex, Ellen ’ s 16 year old son. He looked confused, and a little pale but otherwise complete. Ellen handed me the gun and went running towards her boy. He recognized her and welcomed his mother into his arms, and I noticed that even while he was still so young he towered over Ellen. He started piecing together what had happened. “ Mom, we were driving home and there was a car broken down. It was still daylight and Chrissy said to pull over and help. ” My heart lept at hearing my daughter ’ s name. “ Mom he was crazy and he hurt Chrissey and... ” Alex was visibly shaking by this point. The emotions, still recent and raw were mixed with the understanding of what had happened. He started to cry and Ellen pulled him into her for a final hug. “ Baby, baby. Listen to me. ” I was impressed by how calm her voice was. “ I need you to be strong. ” She looked at her boy and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “ I brought you back to tell you I love you. ” She kissed his right cheek. “ But I got to bring Chrissey back too. ” Her voice cracked as spoke and she kissed his left cheek. “ Alex, march out of here, and don ’ t look back. ” He nodded and turned. Ellen looked at me. Despite the tears flowing freely from her eyes, she smiled. “ Let ’ s hope this works for you too. ” I nodded and extended the hand with the gun. I aimed at her. I lined up and closed my eyes, I could still see her standing there but I pulled the trigger. ~ “ It ’ s real! ’ Ellen came charging into my kitchen only a few days before. “ The re-loop effect. If you kill a killer the victim you have the strongest relationship with comes back. ” She sounded crazy. And as she explained the plan of she killing him, bringing him back, only to kill him again, she sounded crazier. But it was amazing how meticulous she had been in her planning. And when she looked at me, I realized how little we had to lose, and how much we had to gain. ~ By the time i opened my eyes the monster was standing in front of me. He smiled through yellow teeth. “ Where ’ d the bitch go? ” He scratched his gut. How I wanted to make him suffer. i had brought a bat with me, and a knife. He had taken my daughter from me, and my friend. “ You look like the teenage tramp that i did on the highway. ” The unapologetic pig. He scratched his testicles and that was the last stray. I aimed the gun. He snickered. “ if you figured out how to bring two back someone else will. It wo n't be enough after the next time. I ’ ll be back. ” I didn ’ t look away this time. I pulled the trigger and he slumped down. Suddenly my daughter was there. Her hair was pulled back off her face. Her beautiful face with pain written all over it. She stood there in fear until she focused on me. ‘ Mommy? ” I went to her and we wept. She was as tall as I, a young woman, but again I was her mommy shooing monsters from her world. “ Mom ” She stammered, “ … we were coming home.. ” I put my finger up to her lips. ‘ I know, sweetheart. Alex told me. ” Her eyes lightened. “ and he ’ s coming home with us. ” We walked out of the warehouse and I told Alex that while cancer was killing her, that monster was the real cause of her death. We three cried together again, and went home. But something that pig said to me, “ It wo n't be enough after the next time. I ’ ll be back, ” still sickens me. I don ’ t resent any family their victims back, but I can ’ t chance that monster coming back. Even if I have to end the loop.
[ IP ] I am your guardian	I am your guardian. Any who dare fight me will be destroyed. Any who think themselves a match for me will be shown how wrong they are. Any who would face me will fall to my wicked claws, my powerful jaws, and my strong muscles. I am your warrior, and I am the most dangerous creature in the universe. You may fear my claws, but they will not harm you. You may fear my teeth, but they will not bite you. You may fear my children, but they will not touch you. Though my fearsome appearance will terrify your enemies, for you it signifies only safety. I am your protector, and no harm shall come to you while I live. I will hunt for you, feed you when you can not feed yourself. I will clean you I will keep you warm in the cold nights. I will seek out shelter and safety for you to rest in the dangers of space. I am your caretaker, and I shall provide for you. I do all of these things for you. I do them because I am your cat, and you are my xenomorph. Thus the ancient bargen was spoken, and thus it shall be fulfilled.
[ WP ] We discover the Sun is a living , sentient creature	`` Good morning, how can I help you?'' `` Good morning. Am I calling to the NASA center in Houston, Texas?'' `` Yes, ma'am.'' `` Could I speak to Captain David Smith? He is in charge of that broken spaceship that will be flown into the sun next Monday, is n't he?'' `` I will try to find him but he's quite busy right now. What is your name, ma'am?'' `` Sol. He will know me. Thank you.'' `` Gladly, ma'am. Could you please wait for a moment?'' ( Classical music for some minutes ) `` Hello, this is Captain Smith. Are you still there?'' `` Hi, David. This is Sol. I told the guy before that you knew me, but that was a lie. Alright, so, about this spaceship you are sending into the sun. I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully because I wo n't say it again.'' `` I am listening, ma'am.'' `` Do n't you dare throwing your shit into my house.''
[ CW ] Tropeday Prompt : The Hardboiled Detective	Half bottle of vodka, not much else but regrets. It had been a year. A year of hiding, like a rat. Like a rat that's had it's tail caught in a trap, chewed the damned thing off, and learned it's lesson for it. Then, the sons of bitches found me. They were grinning as they did it. `` Jacob Granby?'' `` I'm afraid there's no one by that name here.'' `` Listen, I've got a picture, and he looks a lot like you. You want innocents to catch a bullet too? Who ever I'm hired to clean up, they deserve it. Accept it. You deserve it. Let's go inside.'' And so we went. Life was a bitch, that much was true. You can run, but you ca n't hide. You can try and play someone else, but you ca n't ever put on a true disguise. `` Fine. Let's go inside. But before you start blasting, let's talk about a certain thing. You know those little heart monitors they have for the elderly? I've got one too.'' He chuckled, and so did I, but for very different reasons. `` I've killed old folks before. What, you feel up some under-age mob-boss's daughter? You fuck a thirteen year old?'' I actually liked the kid. Too young for the business, far too young, twenty something at oldest, but he had morals. He thought he was killing for a reason, and probably was told something akin to a decent motivation. Lies, sure, truth sprinkled in like cheap spices on rotten meat, but he was just a gunsel. `` No, nothing like that. I poked a monster with a stick, a long time ago. Long enough for me to forget. But it seems he has n't, and for folks like you, well, money never forgets.'' `` What's that got to do with the old folk's bracelet you're rambling on about?'' The bastard did n't even know... `` Well, you see, we're at a bit of an impasse. See, you can shoot me, but there's enough dynamite in these ways to make collecting the bounty a bit difficult. See, chunks ca n't walk out and pick up a paycheck.'' His eyes widened. And yet, no fear. `` I can get you walking outside.'' `` Why would you want to do that? You know he'll kill you afterwards? Not because you screwed the job up, but that you did it right. He wants me, the twisted bastard. But so far, I thought I had gotten far enough away.'' `` Whatever, kiddy-fiddler.'' His voice was shaky. `` I never touched no damned kid. Think about it, man. Who hired you? You even look in his eyes? Of course not. No one ever stares the devil in the face.'' They should have sent a poet. `` So what now? You're bound to leave soon, and then I shoot you, or you pull a fast one, and we both go. Game theory states you should just do it, and save us the hesitation.'' `` How about a sandwich? We'll talk this over, and tell each other what we supposedly'know'. Pleasure to meet you, kid. I'm Jack Granby.''
[ EU ] Harry Potter , in his Auror years , teams up with an American Wizard of the equivalent profession .	Sorry it's late, I was having some fun with it. Also, it's quite long so it's on [ Google Docs ] ( https: //docs.google.com/document/d/1jfs0rKWI76jsUXGFq_CvkrCGM-QmYWuo5iEeVsYjk2U/edit? usp=sharing ). EDIT for teaser: The cold Chicago night ’ s wind rushed around Harry Potter as he stepped out from between two large brick buildings. The crack of his Apparition was muffled, but not inaudible. Years of serving the Ministry of Magic as their top Auror had sharpened many of his skills, but if his stealth was admirable at Hogwarts, it now was at a level that surpassed everything as his lead specialty. He stopped to survey the area, noting that, while the weather was similar to the part of London he came from, the difference in atmosphere was like a completely new smell. He thought that was odd, given that he had been exactly here before. A few years ago, he and Ginny took 5-year old James on a two-week broomstick tour of America, after an incredibly uncomfortable airplane flight to Florida. Thankfully, he and the family could simply make a Portkey back home from the beautiful western California coastline. He smiled as he recalled James kicking his legs on the broomstick in front of him as the three soared over immeasurable acres of beautiful landscape. Ginny ’ s smiling face flashed through his thoughts, with her red hair whipping back, belly slightly swollen with another child… He smiled and dismissed those thoughts, those happy memories. Now wasn ’ t the time for reminiscing, he had a mission this time. The dark wizard he was after was a fairly new problem, but he had caused a lot of damage in the short time since he had started. Crimes against the Laws of Magic and Man. His thoughts turned sour again. “ Hey, pal. You just going to stand there and sniff around? ” Harry started, nearly dropping his wand, and turned around a little too quickly. The man standing behind him was unusual to him. Tall, very tall, just shy of 2 meters in height, and clad in a leather duster that was straight out of an American Western film, he still somehow used his hat to shade the top half of his face. What made Harry Potter take a few steps back was the long, beat-up wooden staff, carved with runes, in his hand and the scowl on the visible part of his face. Harry straightened up and put his wand purposefully between them, the tip hovering low but ready. His mind was racing at the idea of an American wizard, and, for a moment, considered him as a suspect, but he kept quiet and collected. This man did not fit the description of the captor several of his victims had given. Slight, skinny, cloaked in black. They kept calling him Death. They were insane, of course. Months of physical torture combined with torture spells had eroded the minds of 15 kidnapping victims. But when asked about height, they had all said he was average, if not just shorter. All of the victims had been American tourists all over Europe, but London in particular. Harry strongly suspected the warlock was American himself, which would explain why he had fled here. The stranger ’ s scowl turned impatient. “ You ’ re in my way. ” Harry regarded him with distaste and stepped aside. “ Of course. But, if you ’ ll excuse me, can you tell me if you ’ re a …wizard? ” The stranger had already gotten halfway past him before Harry had started speaking. His long legs seemed used to a fast pace. The accent seemed to intrigue him first, then the admittedly awkward question. “ Yea. ” He responded with a gravelly voice. He seemed to be surprised. “ Has my name travelled so far? ” “ No. I don ’ t know your name. I just guessed based on your… er, staff. ” He was going to say all-around appearance, but he knew these Americans can tend to be touchy. “ Well, you guessed it. The name is Dresden, Chicago ’ s resident wizard and Private Eye. Locating spells, finding lost or stolen articles. Oh, no love potions or parties. ” He turned to go, and Harry raised his eyebrows and caught him by the shoulder. Dresden turned around, this time looking a little annoyed. “ Listen, I don ’ t have time to make friends right now. Here, ” He rummaged around in his duster for a moment and pulled a card out, shoving it at Harry. His voice softened a little. “ Call me and we ’ ll set up a meeting. I can tell you have a lot of power, and I want to hear your story. But right now, I have business to attend to- “ He turned to leave again at a brisk pace. “ Please, I ’ m here to find a criminal, he ’ s escaped here from The Ministry of Magic in London. ” Dresden slowed again, turning back and frowning pensively now. He pushed the lip of his hat up and Harry could finally see the scars on his face, around a pair of hard, but not evil eyes. Harry had a flash of Mad-Eye ’ s face and voice, and smiled inwardly. Dresden paused, still facing away, for another few seconds before saying “ You got anywhere to be? ” Harry Potter looked confused, but shook his head no. “ Good. Walk with me. ” He started again, and Harry rushed to keep up. He seemed to be lengthening his strides, making Harry work to keep up. Harry gave him a look sideways, and Dresden smirked a little. “ Who are you? ” Dresden asked. “ I ’ ve never heard of this Ministry of Magic. Is it like the White Council? ” Harry gave him a quizzical look, and Dresden shrugged. “ My name is Harry Potter. I ’ m an Auror for the Ministry of Magic, the law keepers of the magical population of England. ” Harry paused, genuinely curious to know if an American wizard had heard of his name. There was a pregnant moment of silence, and Dresden finally broke it. “ OK, that makes some sense. You ’ re a what? ” His Mid-American accent was especially thick, stressing the last word like whuht. Harry wouldn ’ t admit to anyone the slight deflation he felt in his chest when Dresden didn ’ t show any hint of recognition. “ An Auror, Mister Dresden. The… I guess you would call us Private Eyes. ” His tone went from amused wonder to adamant. “ We hunt and capture dangerous and dark wizards and make sure they can ’ t harm anyone again. ” “ Yup, that ’ s pretty much what I do, too. So, what are you going to do with the warlock when you catch him? And what did he do? ”
[ WP ] You have 34 seconds to live , but you get to relive those 34 seconds as many times as you like .	34 seconds, that's all I have. 33 seconds, the scenery the same every time. 32 seconds, but I have to change something. 31 seconds, she is all I have. 30 seconds, after I'm gone she'll have no one left to look after her. 29 seconds, but at least she'll still be alive. 28 seconds, the ground is growing closer. 27 seconds, people are screaming, clawing at each other for some way of escape. 26 seconds, but they are n't going to find it. 25 seconds, I've seen it a dozen times. 24 seconds, every time the fire and smoke envelopes them. 23 seconds, their bodies going limp and the life disappears from them. 22 seconds, but not for her. 21 seconds, I love her too much to see her go this way. 20 seconds, I'm going to find a way out for you. 19 seconds, my little angel. 18 seconds, I hope you will manage well without me. 17 seconds, we're speeding up now. 16 seconds, as if death has grown impatient. 15 seconds, maybe if I held her this way. 14 seconds, no... that would n't work. 13 seconds, the pilot is unconscious now. 12 seconds, as are many others. 11 seconds, not long now. 10 seconds, I'm running out of time. 9 seconds, I feel as if I've tried everything. 8 seconds, but there has to be another way. 7 seconds, the fear in her eyes. 6 seconds, I ca n't stand it. 5 seconds, she just wants to go home with me. 4 seconds, smiling together, hand and hand. 3 seconds, we hit the ground. 2 seconds, the glow of life that usually radiates happiness... 1 second,... is gone... ... ... I have to try again... 34 seconds...
[ WP ] 2 months before you die , death appears like a simple person in your life . Depending on your action in these 2 months , he will decide if he sends you to hell or heaven . Somehow , you discover that this guy , who just became your best friend , is the death himself and he 's here to take you .	I do n't know how. I do n't know why. I do n't know where I'm going but I know for sure I'll be going somewhere very soon. I recently met a new bro. He's kind of emo but he's a cool guy! Likes games and doritos. Exactly my type of friend. Well, I've known him for what? 7 weeks? and we're already the best pals ever. We grew attached more than spongebob and Patrick! I wo n't claim we are any smarter though. We've been through so much stupid shit in so little time I should be ashamed. Two weeks ago we were at a random party and Rick ( that's his name ) was zoning in a corner with some random chicks playing the `` dark-mysterious-brown-haired-deep-guy'' very well as usual. From just a glimpse I knew there was very low chances he'd be coming home alone this night. The girl he was flirting with was trashed as fuck. I do n't know what the fuck she had been drinking this night but I think even the Russians would have had trouble standing up at that point. She was nothing but a wreck now. He had that smile I rarely saw on his face, kind of vicious but I thought I knew him enough to know it was the just the fisherman's smile after a good catch. The moment he went in for the kiss, shit hit the fan. A random boyfriend came out of nowhere and punched him right in the face. I rushed to my friend and helped him stand up again. `` Are you okay bro?'' He did n't even answer. The look he gave that guy was terryfying. Eventhough, the music was still on but everything looked frozen in the room except for the girl Rick tried to kiss, she did n't seem realize what happened. After a couple of seconds he mimicked getting dust of his coat. `` Yeah, I'm fine, do n't worry.'' His tone looked calm and happy but his face was dead serious. Strangely something looked off about the scene, the boyfriend looked very musculated, yet there was n't any blood on Rick's face. Being the cool guy I always am, I took my friend and excused ourselves to leave. Back into the streets I noticed my friend still looked rather angry. `` Do n't worry bro, you did the right choice, I know you wanted to hit that fucker but it could n't have ended well.'' I said. `` It's fine, I'm ok.'' Again his tone was off. His face looked deeply upset but his voice was soft and calm. _______________________________________ The very next day I was woken up by sirens ringing down the street, apparently a couple died from absorbing more alcohol than depressive hobos, adding some random drugs to the coktail. The DARE campaign did n't seem to have any effect around here, I thought. How surprising. What I did n't know at that time was that the police discovered the man did n't consume any alcohol nor drugs but still died from the causes his girlfriend did. > hello, this is my first post here, and would like some feedback, would you like to read more? I'm very new to writing and english not being my native language makes it harder
[ WP ] Main character finds a door they 've never seen before , in a house they 've lived in their whole life .	I was looking at the door that was n't there before with surprise, and with excitement. I have lived in this house for my whole life. First with my parents, but as I was ready to move out, they have moved out instead. They went to Europe, following the dreams of their youth. I envied them. I always wanted to see the world, but never did anything about that. Even of my city, I have n't seen much, especially with all the work I had at the moment. Every day I was just oscillating between home and office. For a different person, the door would be a bad omen, a first sign of quiet madness. But what I saw was a cheat -- a Get Out Of House Free card, a chance to see _other places_ ( Narnia? Middle Earth? Earthsea? ) without any effort. Same as my books, or my games -- just reach out and get it. The door was unlocked. I opened it and stepped in. I was in my house, with my back to the door I just went through. Someone else with my face was looking straight at me. `` No'', he said, and pushed me back through the door. I was in my house again. There was no one around. I was shaken -- I made three steps forward, then heard a sound behind me. Another stranger with my face was coming through. `` No'', I said, and pushed him back through the door. `` Ah I understand now.'' I muttered. I was scared, but not stupid. Another me entered the corridor. He was smiling, but I knew myself well enough to see that he was frightened. `` Hi!'' he said. `` There is a problem.'' `` Really? Aside from the fact that there is more than one of me around?'' `` Yes. I am not a problem, I am a future you. You will relive it sometime later. There is a different problem. Follow me.'' I saw no reason not to trust myself, so I obeyed. We went to to the study, passing some more of us along the way. `` Why are there so many of them around?'' I asked. `` At some point you will think it is a good idea to go through again and again. As if it would change anything.'' In the study someone was slumped in my chair. My guide turned the chair and yet again I saw my own face. Frightened. Dead. `` What happened to him?'' I asked. It was an abstract interest, the reality has not quite set in yet. `` What will happen to us, you mean?'' my guide asked. `` This is literally _the_ future you. You, and me, and others will end up in this chair, dead. Unless there is some way to avoid it. I suggest we work on this together, with those of us we understand and trust.'' `` Understand? Wait, but who killed me?'' `` I think there is something wrong. I was chatting with one of us and he talked about the catastrophe, dead people on the streets, no one to talk to. And another spoke about the riots, and obelisk police, and melt-guns. My Earth is reasonably good and boring. I do not remember anything like that.'' `` I do not think all of us here are from the same place.''
[ WP ] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons do n't know what to do with her .	Samantha was five when the drunk driver rammed his truck off the road and smashed her away from her mother. She still wore the same clothes now, a bright colored dress and fancy looking, but functional shoes. She was playing with some rocks on the Precipice of Inifinite Pain above the Lake of Fire. Two demons each kept one eye on her as they spoke. `` And you're sure there's no record of her? Little Samantha, drunk driver, crushed to death.'' Spoke the larger one, horns blackened by fire curling back in a twisted pattern. `` Yeah, of course, I have checked several times. She did n't live long enough to deserve the fire anyway. I've already sent a message to Him, I'm sure he'll know what to do.'' This one was smaller and only bore the most vague resemblance to a human figure. Arms and legs so thin as to be almost comical were they not also featuring many more joints than a human had. `` Well'' Spoke the big horned one, stalling for time, `` Do you... Ah! The succubuses might like her, do n't you think?'' Many joints scowled, `` Maybe, but I am a gatekeeper. She has no designation, she still resides within my sphere.'' `` Oh, give it a rest, she does n't reside in any sphere with us. We'll just -'' Big horn cut off and began a sprint on the realization that he could n't see Samantha. Demons can move fast when they want, and as fast as big horn was, many joints was faster. They reached the edge and looked over, screaming in unison, `` SAMANTHA!'' The little girl in the pretty dress hopped out from behind the rock formation she'd been playing with, `` Boo!'' Both the demons started, turned, and looked at each other, a moment of agreement passing between them. `` Fine,'' said many joints, `` Take her to the succubi.'' He emphasized the ending of succubi. `` Big horns sighed, `` The pluralization is n't so well set you, bah!'' He turned to the little girl, still smiling at them, `` I'm going to take you to a bunch of ladies, would you like some ice cream on the way?'' The little girl nodded. Big horns stood up and extended a hand large enough to encircle her head, she took it and skipped alongside him as they headed off.
[ WP ] A senile , old superhero still goes out to fight crime . None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him .	This is n't exactly following the writing prompt, but it's what my imagination spat out “ They killed Necroblighter ” The old man said. “ Yep ” his friend replied after taking a sip of iced tea. “ I heard from my daughter. They staked him down and let him burn to death in the sunlight. Bad way to go. ” “ It's all these danged upstarts. They do n't even call themselves heroes anymore. Now everybody's got to be an'antihero', and be dark and brooding ”. “ It's not just these new heroes. The villains too. They're nothing like they once were. We had a code. We might take over the world, or steal millions, but we had basic decency. You remember what that monster last year did to all those kids. The league of villains would have never stood for that back in our day. And while I'm at it, what kind of silly name is'Necroblighter'? The old villains, they had some good names.'Zebulax'. That's a name that makes you afraid. Makes you wonder what he can do. ” The two old men sat in their rocking chairs on the front porch of the sprawling house, lost in old times. After long minutes of reverie, the old man's friend spoke again. “ You know it was folks like Captain Amazing that kept us in line. No matter how many times he caught us, he never treated us badly. Always believed we could be reformed. I guess having someone believe in us gave us some faith in ourselves, even if it was only a little bit. ” “ There is no Captain Amazing anymore ” the old man said. “ just some old geezer with a suit that does n't fit, arthritic knees, and no pension. I always said crime did n't pay, but I never realized that selflessness does n't get you too much either. Every time somebody offered me a reward, I'd turn it down. ” The old man's friend grimaced. “ twere n't right of the city. Use you for 30 good years, and then put you out to pasture with a key to the city made of fake gold.'twer n't right. ” Captain Amazing sighed; “ I guess they got so used to me turning down rewards they never thought about it. It's you guys who really remembered us in the end. You're a good friend, Zeb ” Zebulax shrugged. “ well what else could we do. I know you've saved every one of us from certain death countless times. Remember our fight on the top of Dead Man's Cliff? I slipped on those rocks, and you jumped over the cliff to save me, even after I had tried to kill you. Never thought twice about it. I would n't be here if it were n't for you. Besides, our crime really did pay. We can afford it. ” The Captain stared into the distance, watching the sun set. When dark had come, he stood up. “ Well, ” he said with a stretch, “ I guess I'll turn in early. Mindmaiden had another vision last night. There's a little boy that's going to get lost tomorrow on his way to school. If nobody helps him, he'll end up in a bad way. I reckon a couple of the boys and me will go down and help him out. ” Zebulax drained his iced tea and stood up with Captain Amazing. “ Mind if I come along, Cap? Sounds like it might be fun. ” The Captain grinned faintly in the dark as they walked back into the League of Villains Retirement Home; “ sure Zeb. I'd like that a lot. ”
[ WP ] `` Would you like fries with that ? '' He said with a grin . In that moment I knew ... I had lost .	`` Dude come on, I'm on a diet.'' `` But there only 99 cents. Large fry. One time only.'' `` It's been going so well, I've lost 5 pounds; I've got a good thing going here.'' `` Sam, you know you want them. I mean look at these babies. Fresh from the fryer. Boiled in peanut oil. Dosed with fresh seat salt. Piping hot too.'' `` I ca n't dude..'' `` Sam, I'm offering you a FREE BURGER with a LARGE fry for practically peanuts here. Look at the this piping hot burger with onions, pickels, and melted cheese. It's your favorite. One little cheat day ca n't hurt.'' `` Ugghh-fine.'' I say relunctantly. I pull out my leather wallet and reach for the green paper inside. I glance at his face, smug would n't even describe what emotion he expressed. It was something far greater. Like the pride of the devil himself. The cashier looked at the green paper and smiled. `` Would you like fries with that?'' He said with a grin. In that moment I knew... I had lost. I solemnly nodded, and he took the green paper, printing the receipt. `` Thank you for your purchase.'' He said taunting me, and turned towards his crew behind him. `` That! Ladies and Gentlemen is how you make a sale!'' The crowd behind him mocks me in laughter. Their lips howl in delight and bellies look like drums. In a few minutes, my order is complete. I look at the meal with disgust. `` Have a nice day.'' The cashier gloats with his smile gleaming. I nod at him and put an oily, hot, salty fry in my mouth; my diet completely ruined.
[ WP ] You take an -- extremely -- budget airline .	Sometimes in life, you find yourself in funny situations. Sometimes, you find yourself painful situations. At present, John found himself in a curious mix of the two. Even flying face-forward into the biting wind at hundreds of miles an hour, all he could feel was a dull amusement. `` How on Earth did I find myself in this situation?'' he began to say, but a fly jumped down his throat as soon as his mouth opened. He supposed he deserved that. It's not like anyone was around to listen to him talking up there. The airfield had been rudimentary - uncomfortably so. While John had hardly been expecting a clean or premium tarmac, he had at least expected something planned. Rather opposing, however, the field that stretched ahead of him seemed improvised, at best. `` Well, '' he thought, kicking a loose bit of turf underfoot, `` I guess you get what you pay for''. Yes, what you pay for. Which, in this case, had hardly been much. `` Okay!'' said the grinning guide from the front of the line. `` Now that you've briefly seen our premises, it's time to begin pre-flight checks!'' An assistant in a lab coat seemed to materialise from behind the group and began handing out waiver sheets thick in law-related lingo, and stood to the side, waiting for the initial confusion to settle. After a few brief seconds of silence, a hand out of the crowd shot into the air, waving left and right. The assistant nodded at it. `` Hello! My name is Harry!'' shouted a strangely positive voice, `` See, I did n't really agree to signing off any waivers. Is it necessary to sign this board the flight?'' The assistant nodded. `` Then what exactly am I signing off on, with this?'' he continued. The assistant frowned briefly, before equipping a thick book from his coat pocket. In a deadpan tone, he murmured, `` Damages... life insurance... legal responsibility... human rights... magna carta. All of that stuff.'' Although this set off another wave of mumbling around the crowd, the original quizzer seemed to have been satisfied with the assistant's answer. `` Thank you!'' He shouted. `` Magna carta? '' John thought to himself. What the hell is going on?'' `` Now,'' the assistant began, just as arms began to raise again. `` If any of you wish to return to the mainland, we will be running ferries again.'' Looking up at the clear sky, he grinned, and continued, `` However, due to poor weather conditions, the next ferry will be leaving in approximately three weeks. We will not be offering lodgings, but there is a lively wildlife native to this island. Hunting equipment can be harnessed from the tree on the island. Pip pip.'' With a swift double-clap, he span on his heel and began to walk away. The attention of the group turned back to the guide. `` Well!'' he said, grinning so widely his eyes were hardly open, `` That's that! Let's make our way to the departure zone!'' And so they set off in the North direction. Over the next three hours, John found himself cycling through a whole mix of emotions. At first he had been confused - then he had been annoyed - then he had been desperate. He began to look back on his life. The past few hours especially. A sense of dread had built, but he could n't put his finger on when it started. Was it the fact that the website had required payment in bitcoins? Was it the letter of directions that combusted after being read? The blacked-out windows on the ferry? The anti-air cannons on the deck? This among many other mournings flew through John's head as they approached the silhouette in the distance. What red flags did he miss? The silhouette gradually became defined. It was clearly that of a small plane. Nearing it, they saw it was a small propeller plane. At this point the sun had nearly set - the sky was a soft orange diffusing into a deep blue. At a near distance, they could see baby-booster seats on the wings. The guide stopped in front of the plane and turned to face the group, still grinning. `` Okay!'' he said. `` We're here. Any questions before we take off?'' Again there was a silence in the group. Shock? Disbelief? It seemed even they could n't figure out how they felt. The day had been tumultuous. A familiar hand shot up again. The guide nodded excitedly in its direction. `` Hi - it's Harry again. Are you expecting us to sit on those wings? That seems rather dangerous!'' An agreeing murmur ran through the crowd. The guide seemed confused. `` Plane? What plane?'' He turned around and gasped - seemingly only just seeing it. `` Oh! Of course not! You did n't pay that much! `` he shouted, grabbing a radio from his waist pocket. `` Can someone move this thing? Yeah, it's a plane. I do n't know what it's doing here either, silly - just get rid of the damn thing!'' The plane suddenly sputtered to life and lurched into a forest behind them, merging into the shadows. Behind it, was the largest cannon John had ever seen. `` Alright,'' said the guide expectantly. `` Who's first?'' *This was trash. do n't judge me! I'm tired!
[ WP ] The aliens abducted everyone in your village but you .	Kibwe lay in the brush, silent as a fleeting shadow. He dared not move a muscle. One unexpected or unnatural movement and the pheasant would fly away without a second thought. This was the thing with birds: they never take time to assess a threat. All the bird cares about is whether or not it is safe in the moment. To hunt a bird, one must become part of its environment. Blend in so naturally that even you begin to believe that you belong there. Become so much a part of nature that the bird is dead before it can realize that there is something wrong. The bird poked through the tall grass, hunting for a meal of its own. Bobbing around its stout, gray head, the bird took a few hurried steps closer to Kibwe. Instinctively, he leaned back on the balls of his feet and drew his hooked spear back from his chest. Best to wait until the bird is just a bit closer. Kibwe was known among his people as “ Nimble Viper. ” He had earned this title after a cheetah had prowled into the center of the village during a festival ceremony for the harvest. Before the other men of the village had time to panic, Kibwe had pierced the cat in the side and hurled it to the ground. He struck with a certain focused ferocity, his weapon a blur as it passed into his target. One of the village elders described it as the ruthless single strike of a venomous snake. Of course, the people had drunk much of the palm-wine by this time of night, and the story is exaggerated just a bit more each time it is told. Still, Kibwe took great pride in his strike of the viper and felt a brief rush as he whipped forward out of the grass, sinking the hook of his spear into the bird and hoisting it up into the air. A clean stab, exiting through the head and ensuring it died instantly. Kibwe rushed to bag his prey and begin the trek home. It had fallen dark long ago, and his family had expected him much sooner. Kibwe could tell something was wrong from a long way away. The flames outside the elders ’ chambers were usually lit through the night. As he approached the dark village, Kibwe felt a slow sense of danger, realizing that all the sounds of nature had ceased. The closer he got to his village, the more distant the constant music of creaking frogs and humming insects became. There was only silence. Kibwe held his spear at the ready as he passed through the outer households of his village. He briefly peeked in the houses of a few families he knew, finding them empty. All of them. Not even a woman or child in sight. After a few minutes of uncertain, dreamlike walking, Kibwe found himself at his own door. He stopped for a moment before entering, berating himself for his senseless fear. This was likely one of the Oracles ’ grand commands from the gods. The village had been asked to convene as one, elsewhere. This, of course, had not happened for a long time, longer even than KIbwe ’ s father could have remembered, but he supposed it was the most likely explanation. They would be back before the morning, he was sure. Kibwe was just about to call out into the dark house when he heard a noise. A loud scratching noise, from inside. He stood there, listening for a few moments as the noise grew louder and louder, before quickly ducking behind the wall. Two humanoid creatures exited the house of Kibwe. They stood on wrinkled, four-clawed feet, at least two heads above Kibwe ’ s own. They had the leathery, loose skin of a snake about to shed, and walked with their legs bent out of shape, like a bird. Their heads were like short, curling snakes, with scaly necks that were constantly twisting and turning around. Kibwe stared, biting the inside of his mouth. Impossible. These were the kind of monsters children told stories about. They walked out of the house and into the open air, squawking in low tones to one another. One of them raised a small, smooth piece of metal up to its head. It screeched loudly for a few moments, waving its head around as it seemed to speak. Its deep yellow eyes scanned the area. They began to stalk toward the center of the village, still making those unearthly sounds at each other, until one froze, mid-squawk. It locked eyes with Kibwe, head coiling and swiveling toward him. It raised a claw at him, shrieking sharply at its companion. Kibwe gripped his spear and sprinted, headlong at the creatures. He let out a booming cry of his own as he swiftly closed the gap between him and the monsters. Jumping back on their lizard-like trunks, one of the monsters held out its metal tool toward Kibwe. Instantly he felt himself slow down: he was still pumping his legs forward, but being pulled toward the ground at a snail ’ s pace. He felt like he was slogging through a tall lake. Chittering, the monsters strolled over and walked around him. They studied him with wide eyes, observing him amusedly as he struggled to move. They croaked, turning to each other and twisting to look at him. One of them began to speak to its metal tool once again, humming a low tone. Kibwe stared as the monsters conversed. They made sure to stay a few feet away from him as they spoke. Every time he would take a long, slow stride toward them, they would eye him for a moment before hopping away. It was maddening. The one that was speaking put away its tool and placed a wrinkled claw on its companion ’ s shoulder. It spoke a series of quick clicks, and the other creature reacted violently. It swung its head out toward the other, pushing it back a few steps with open claws. It squawked loudly, and the two began to chatter on top of one another. Kibwe watched intently, landing another step down on the ground. They were distracted, now. The creatures ’ argument sounded like a flock of dying birds. They both seemed to be making three distinct sounds at once, making Kibwe want to tear out his ears. The heads of the two monsters seemed to be circling up against each other, like two snakes looking for an opportunity to strike. Kibwe took another step toward the monsters. He slowly shifted his grip on the shaft of his spear. Just a little closer. The monsters began to claw at each other, hissing. One of them took a step back, then rammed its head into the other ’ s chest. It squawked indignantly, pointing a claw at Kibwe to seemingly make a point. Now, Kibwe had not earned the title of “ Nimble Viper ” for nothing. He struck, hooking his spear into the creature ’ s chest as if he was baiting a fishing rod. He ripped downward, splitting open the creature like he was gutting the fish. The other monster stared in utter shock as its companion flinched slightly, reached a claw up into the air, then fell backward into the dirt. The remaining monster took several hasty steps backward, staring at Kibwe ’ s bloody spear. It raised its metal tool to its head and began to chirp fearfully into it. Stumbling further backward, it dropped onto all fours and skittered away into the darkness. Kibwe suddenly felt the monster ’ s evil hold on him fade. He shook out his arms, stowing away his spear on his back. He bent down and examined the dead creature. Its head lay limp, bent back on itself against the ground. He looked the monster up and down for a few moments before snatching its metal tool off of the ground nearby. He held it up to the moonlight, observing its intricately carved features. An object of unholy power. Casting an unshaken look back at his house, Kibwe pressed the metal tightly against his chest and set off after the monster into the darkness. -- - I wholeheartedly believe that hunting a good story is just as difficult as hunting a bird. Um... maybe not as difficult. Hunting a bird is pretty hard. Especially with a spear, man. Anyway, check out /r/FlyingNarwhal.
[ WP ] Every person experiences the world with only one emotion . One day you become the very first person to feel a second emotion .	Construction, it woke me every morning at four the past seven weeks. Perpetual racket for eight straight hours every damn morning until shift change. But shift change means lunch time and that means I have to serve food to those dream time cock blockers. I work two jobs, I get three hours per night to sleep. I ca n't keep this up any more. I do n't like it. I do n't like it. What is that? I am not content with my surroundings. I think the noise in the morning is bullshit. People who chew loudly, hypocrisy, lying, cheating it's all bullshit, it does n't make me happy. I've never wanted to physically harm someone until today. I've never felt displeasure. I get paid today though. Jennifer called me back as well, I had met her at the bar the night before. I wanted to explain to her what I had just thought, but considered I might sound crazy. I mean I do n't like things, that's a new kind of fucked up. She agreed to a date tonight and we were both happy about it. Of course she was too, everyone was, except me. The one person in the world that is n't content. But I was happy about the date, happy that I can afford to go on that date. I could experience two feelings, but it was n't on purpose. Seemed almost instinctual, and I liked it. I've never felt a negative sentiment before. Twenty three years I've been alive and all I've known is happiness and suddenly now I just felt bad. How do you even explain that to some one? `` Hi I'm Tim and I think limp biscuit was n't that great.'' They would n't even be able to comprehend it. Of course they would n't dislike it, but it would seem strange. I could explain that it was a bad experience but I would n't even have the vocabulary needed to describe how that feels. They need to know, it's wonderful. After all the negative thoughts throughout the day, small things still make me happy too. Happier in fact, than ever before. Without the low, I would have never experienced such a high. Maybe I'm not the only one, maybe other people feel like this sometimes but hide behind smiles and happiness so they are n't outcast. I pondered these thoughts as I dressed for my date. The sound of construction across the street relentlessly howling, I smiled and turned up the radio.
[ IP ] A Good Death	The Last Hezzagari struggled to control his breath and remember the lessons from his master. Each hand was a being, whole unto itself. The swords were of the hands, moving according to the hand's will. The body moved the hands and the hands moved the swords. The brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword. Training moved the brain, and the brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword. His master made him repeat those words like a prayer, day after day. Every day was an endless mantra of strikes, ripostes, parries, and dodges. All while saying the prayer. Every day was the same, and then it was n't. They came from the West, from the nation that used to be Azuale. No one living knew where they came from before they attacked Azuale. They spread from Azuale like locusts, devouring everything in their path, until they hit the school. Like a wave breaking upon a solitary outcropping of rock, they fell upon the school. Here though, they did n't find a ragtag army of soldiers, nor a huddle of scared farmers. Here they found the Hezzagari, and the Hezzagari were death. Death reaped the Horde, and drunk deep of its ranks, but even death could be overwhelmed. The four hundred and forty-four Hezzagari killed thousands, tens of thousands, but the Horde was endless. For fourteen years, the Hezzagari had halted the progress of an army that had never known defeat. For fourteen years the Horde had bred new monstrosities to end their greatest enemy. Then, the Horde grew clever. It began to take the Hezzagari its legions felled and took them West, to Azuale. No one knew what horrors were wrought in that ruined land, but the Horde sent new beasts to seige the Hezzagari, beasts unlike their feral kin in form and in function. The new beasts were not so strong as their mightiest brethren, no, not so strong. Instead, these new beasts were something different: skilled. It is said that a Hezzagari swung his sword ten-thousand times before he reached his tenth year. These new beasts were no Hezzagari, but they were close, and with their numbers, close was enough. These new monsters eventually broke the Hezzagari, and all were killed, save the Last Hezzagari, whose life was saved at the cost of his brothers, so that the Hezzagari ways would not die. For nearly twenty years, the Last Hezzagari wandered, searching for a sanctuary to rebuild his order, some place of peace and safety that the Horde had not touched. He never found it, and for twenty years he had fought and killed the Horde whenever it found him. Their greatest champions had fallen beneath his twin blades, their mightiest princes cast down at his feet, and still they hunted him. The Horde would not permit the Hezzagari to live, not even one. Their most skilled beasts were dispatched with one goal: end the Hezzagari. In a chase that crossed oceans and continents, the Last Hezzagari had evaded and battled his enemy. This time however, there would be no escape. The Seven had come for him, the greatest enemies of the Hezzagari, each a killer whose claws had tasted the living flesh of the sword masters. The Seven were here now, ready to taste that sweetest dessert once again. Mighty though the Seven were, they still stalked slowly, and circled carefully around the Last Hezzagari. How could they not be cautious, for the Seven had once been the Nineteen, when the chase was new and the prey was fresh. Twelve of their number had fallen to the Last Hezzagari, twelve of the Horde's greatest killers reduced to heaps of sliced up flesh. The Hezzagari was a dangerous beast, and never more dangerous than here, cornered and without hope. The Last Hezzagari recognized the elongated limbs and claws of the Seven, once the Nineteen, and knew his end was nigh. His wounds had n't yet healed, his stomach was empty as it had never been, and his breath was ragged, this then, was the final leg of the chase. Still, the Last Hezzagari was n't worried. The blades were sharp, as sharp as the day they forged, for his hand and his alone. As the Seven tightened their circle and prepared to charge, the Last Hezzagari raised his hands. Each hand was a being, whole unto itself. The swords were of the hands, moving according to the hand's will. The body moved the hands and the hands moved the swords. The brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword. Training moved the brain, and the brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword. The swords moved, the wind howled, and the Last Hezzagari died. The One, the last of the Seven who had once been the Nineteen, limped back towards Aluane, the broken corpse of the Last Hezzagari dragging behind him. The chase was done, and the rewards for this hunt would be great. The fog was thick, and the road was long, but the One was content, knowing his scars would bring him honor and the pains would fade. A whisper on the wind made him pause, dropping the burden of his dead enemy. A faint voice came from the fog, high pitched and beautiful, a woman's voice. `` Each hand was a being, whole unto itself.'' Then came the sound of a sword whistling through the air. `` The swords were of the hands, moving according to the hand's will.'' The sword swing was closer now. `` The body moved the hands and the hands moved the swords.'' The sword was to the left of the One. `` The brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword.'' Now the sword was to the right. `` Training moved the brain, and the brain moved the body, and the body moved the hands, and the hands moved the sword.'' The swish was all around the One. The One tensed and readied himself for battle, confusion in his every move and stance. Those were the words of the Enemy. The words of the now dead Hezzagari. The hated one. The One spun in a circle searching the fog for some clue, some hint as to the voice. There was a flash of silver and the One's head toppled to the ground. A woman, barely older than twenty, sheathed her sword and stepped from the fog. She went to the broken body of the Last Hezzagari and wept as she cradled him. She carefully gathered him up in her arms, and carried him into the fog. The Last Hezzagari disappeared into the mist.
[ WP ] Humans have made contact with a similar intelligent alien species . We are more advanced than them except in one aspect .	`` sometimes we sacrifice our own to survive, sometimes we have to take two steps back in order to go one step forward, and then sometimes we have to compile truck loads of mixed feces in order to fuel our ships. It ’ s a wonder your planet hasn ’ t exploited the power of your remains. we have excellerated in all areas of transportation both on planet and in space. `` the Crassian diplomat ended his unintended speech. the Brazillian astronaut did not know how to reply, it was already taking great effort to pretend the putrid smell radiating from the Crassian wasn ’ t gut wrenching and churning his stomach into pulp. his eyes watered as he made an attempt to speak, “ champ sUk-diN, please know we are very impressed with you uh, sustainable technology. however, ” Carlos swallowed a gag, “ we believe our species is just not ready for this kind of…advancement. ” The Crassian diplomat bowed his head and flicked his tongue in agreement, “ we suspected you were a primitive species ” The diplomat exited the room leaving behind an almost visible stench cloud of flatulence. Carlos immediately phoned the secretary to the president, “ Tell him they no longer want to help us. tell him those pieces of shit are gone ” But only 2 months later Carlos was found dead. It appeared that he had drowned in diarrhea but the corners inquest determined it was an accidental over dose.
[ WP ] You enter a room in a hospital where your parent is dying . There sits a red demon who can make your parent young again , at a price .	I could see it in her eyes, in her face, where her smile used to be; it was nearly over. As I bowed my head to beg for 5 more minutes, the tapping of footsteps crossed the door, and a hand gently cupped my shoulder. `` I believe I can provide the services you seek,'' calmly croaked like gravel passing through mud, `` but it's not free, and it's not easy.'' I turned to greet this mysterious benefactor, only to see the devil himself standing before me. `` What do I have to do?'' I did n't care, I did n't have time to weigh the consequences, I just needed it done. `` To save your special one, I'll need a sacrifice, and you must pay.'' He hissed as he talked, sending chills down my spine. I began to kneel before him, ready to pledge my soul to the devil, when suddenly he held out his hand and said `` I need about tree fiddy.''
[ WP ] You are a slave escaping from your master in an alternate 19th Century America . You are about to take your journey on `` The Underground Railroad '' , which is actually an underground railroad .	Dog's howls mixed with their handler's angry voices as I broke through the trees. `` He's thatta way! GET EM'!'' My bare feet slapped against the rough ground, the moonlight helping me dodge the stones and sticks that littered the field. It was n't far now from the house but if I did n't hurry the dogs would be on me like death on my doorstep. My eyes drifted towards the sky for the moment and I found the stars I needed. Momma's voice came back to me and began to sing. `` When the sun come back, when the firs' quail call. Then the time is come. Follow' the drinkin gourd.'' Pain stabbed my heart as her old weathered face came back to me. I pushed it out my mind as I hit the river and jumped in to swim across. Water flooded'bove my head and began to drag me down beneath it. Rocks along the bottom scrapped'cross my knees and I struggled to regain my center and swim up. As I flailed about above the water, my hand felt a tree branch and I latched on to pull myself to shore. Goose pimples appeared quick as the cold night air danced across my skin. Across the distance I saw the lantern hanging in the window and knew I was about to miss it ifen I did n't hurry. With all the strength left in my body, I ran towards the shack. Hollering from behind me died down as I left the river in the past. Only minutes passed'for I hit the door and gave the knock. Three raps on the door and one on the window. An old white lady opened the door and looked at me. `` Ticket?'' I reached down to my pants and lifted the right leg. Her eyes looked down to see the broken shackle and she nodded. `` Jus' in time, son. Hurry it up and get you some dry clothes on. Ca n't'ford to be havin' no one catch their death on the train.'' `` Yes'm. Thank you, ma'am.'' She shook her head. `` Beatrice will do. I ai n't your massa and I do n't plan to be'em. You be free soon, boy.'' I smiled and nodded a silent thank you as I took hold of the clothes she offered and changed. `` Now you bes be hurryin''' She call out as a deep whistled vibrated the floor of the shack. `` Ai n't gon na wait on you forever, son.''
[ WP ] Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood . The more bad deeds they commit , the darker their blood becomes . One day , you meet your soulmate . Skip a few years , and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips , falls , and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…	You know those moments when something happened that you do n't want to accept and you just freeze in an effort to deny it? Like dropping a plate, or stubbing your toe, the moment right before it registers where you try to hold back all the emotions bubbling to the surface? Well this was kinda like one of those moments. Only problem being that those examples are very small in scale, and although you do n't particularly enjoy physical agony or time consuming chores, it's not a very pressing concern. A pressing concern like, for instance, your fiance clutching a hand dripping with BLACK BLOOD. And no, that is not an exaggeration or a typo, it was black as a deep winter's night. So there I was, deer in headlights looking fella, staring at my would-be wife with a terrible combination of fear and disbelief in my eyes like a plum moron. Now, with hindsight being 20/20 and all that I've come up with several actions that would have made a lot of sense for anyone who finds themselves face to face with a Black. Option A: Play it off like nothing happened.'' Blood? What blood? We ’ re all friends here.'' sorta thing. Bit of a long shot, I'll admit. Option B: Be super chill about the whole situation. `` Black blood huh, that's hella sexy.'' or some shit like that. Not really my style, but maybe you're more suited to it than me? Option C: Run like the fucking wind. Hands down the most universal option, and usually the best one. My personal recommendation. So of course I went with option D: None of the above. And as such I found myself face to face with the woman of my dreams, a veritable ocean of doubt now separating us where before there had only been a riverbed. Were it only a casual acquaintance who turned out to be a Black, I could have gotten over it pretty quickly, after all I was a solid Sangria by now, even if my drivers licence still said Currant. But I always imagined it to be a Rose, maybe Scarlet at worst, and instead what can only be described as liquid coal flowed through her veins. She was the love of my life, perfect in her imperfection, and I had never met anyone like her before. She truly completed me, in ways I did n't think were possible, and I tried my best to repay the favor. You know, we do this biweekly thing every Friday, biweekly because the other Fridays she has kickboxing, where we order fast food and watch bad rom coms. And it really feels like heaven, since usually we will try to eat healthy and mostly watch horror with a splash of thrillers, so those times are the most relaxed we'll ever be. But I also love all the other days where we try to cook together as often as possible to make up for our hectic schedules. Any time spent together is a privilege during this time, so we try to make the most of it. Now she may not be the best chef, she does have a killer grilled cheese though, but she more than makes up for that in company alone. So, as you can imagine, I was conflicted. Not as to what to do exactly, more what to feel. I was scared. I was sad. Disappointed, angry, confused, with myself more than anything else. And most importantly, I felt lost. I felt I needed a guiding hand, divine intervention or something similar to make sure I did the right thing. But I already had that hand, that divine, I just could n't grasp that at the time. `` Hey, is everything alright?'' She said, steadying my neck with one hand and brushing away the hair from my eyes with the other. I was on my knees, with no idea how or when that happened, and she was kneeling in front of me with those sapphire eyes as comforting as ever. I could feel the heat and slick wetness from her blood on my neck, and knew then that she did n't care. She did n't care that I knew, and I felt so fucking stupid for giving her a reason to. She trusted me with this, and I had been dangerously close to betraying that trust in my shocked and terrified state. It made me sick to my stomach. I was supposed to be there for her, comfort her and convince her that it made no difference to me what her color was, not the other way around. But even still there she was, looking out for me again, meeting my gaze with a smile sent from heaven as I collapsed onto her shoulder, balling my eyes out.
[ WP ] Gandalf goes to Compton to do street magic .	I saw a wizard get mugged. It began like most nights, I was rolling down the street in my beamer; the car had the musty smell of bud from passing a blunt. JC was strapped, this being compton, I knew we might need a piece; especially if this party was gon na be anything like last week's. `` Ay, this the place?'' I asked, taking the blunt and turning down the track. `` Nah, cuz. Take a right'' said JC as he lit up a cancer stick. I wrinkled my nose at the reek of the menthol. The smell took me back to those early mornings with my mum, before she made my ass go to class. `` Fucking hate this place'' I muttered as we came to the intersection. There were a couple of hookers standing on the corner, waving to us. Compton, the pit of California. I'd moved out as soon as I could, living in the midwest for a few years until I eventually got an apartment Baldwin Park, and moved back to LA; my homecoming. JC just laughed as we rolled up to the house, lights blasting out of the windows and music booming down the street. Crowds of people milled about, dealers hung out by their cars, hoes ran around in their heels and short-shorts. I pulled up on the side, looking over at JC, whose eyes were locked on the stret infront of the house `` Who'se that old ass cracker?'' muttered JC as he took a drag of his cancer stick. `` Where?'' `` There nigga.'' he said, pointing at a freakishly tall man in grey with a pointy hat. I looked down at my blunt, wondering just how high I was. `` Does he have.. A fucking stick?'' JC started cracking up. A crowd was gathering around the man, as he set his pointy hat on the ground on its side. Apparently he was putting on a street show, in the middle of Compton at 11pm; right outside of a party. `` We got ta get a closer look at this shit.'' We strolled out of the car, walking toward the crowd. There was a lotta laughing as people roasted the pasty-wizard-looking-fucker. `` I'll tell ya what, nigga. Make a bottle of some fine wine appear for my girl, and I'll give ya a dub.'' shouted one particularly big guy, with a skinny bitch at his side. She looked like a tweaker; almost as skinny as a skeleton. Somehow I doubted she wanted anything but The tall bearded man nodded solmenly waving his hands about. There was a flash of light as a bottle of Dom Perginon appeared on the ground infront of him. A flood of silence filled the crowd. `` What the fuck..'' I muttered, staring at the bottle `` This mother-fucker has...'' began the big dude, his jaw dropped. Before I knew it, someone decked the tall white dude from behind. In a second he was surrounded by the crowd as they checked his robe for other expensive shit.
[ WP ] A gamer gets sucked into a video game and learns that his favorite NPCs all have secrets .	`` Princess?'' `` Who are you?'' `` I'm... uh. I was playing a game called Super Mario Bros...'' `` Wait, this is a MARIO game? Oh of course that greaseball would get his name on this.'' `` Sooooo, wait what?'' `` Do you know how many times I've tried to run away from that creep? Constantly smoking whatever plants he finds and tripping on LCD. Every time he licks one of those star stickers he runs around the house breaking everything like he's a super hero or something. And to top it off, he runs around killing wildlife! I just ca n't stand it any more!'' `` Is that why you're here? With King Koopa?'' `` Yeah, he's such a nice guy, he's tired of the castle being so dirty so in exchange for letting me hide here, Luigi and I have been straightening up the place.'' `` Wait, you and Luigi?'' `` Yeah, he's fantastic! So much better than his loser brother. He listens to me when I need to talk, does n't try to hog all the attention.... Oh, and he does n't need a mushroom to get big.''
[ WP ] You are a spider going through a midlife crisis .	She remembers the first web she spun. It was the pattern of her mothers before her, so old that Arachne herself might have dreamed it at the loom, picking a warp and weft that would make gods jealous. By morning dew hung heavy from the radials. Through the captive droplets, the world seemed engorged with such promise that she ate her failure without losing heart, ready to spin again. Other days would come, bearing better gifts from the sky. No one seems jealous now. She waited, as she always had, with her limbs on the signal lines. She was patient and trusting. The Great White Eye saw her faith and brought her flutterings and buzzings, so many that she had grown big and fine on their bounty. Then a different pulse thrummed through the silk of her world. Neither frantic nor frenzied, it plucked daring provocation. Irresistible intrigue lured her from the center and his gentle weaving lulled her hunger. When it was done, she hardly understood what she'd offered, what he'd taken, or what they'd lost. It was the finest meal she'd ever had. He was such a tasty thing, precious and dainty, with eyes like gems and a scent like fate. She grew leaden with season. A new hunger came. With untempered voracity she ate every catchling in the web, regardless of its size or worth. Her mood swung with pendulous uncertainty. Another web sister would pitch her into murderous frenzy, bringing cannibal comfort with confused conclusion. Shadows thrown by the sky hunters sent her scurrying. Her silk lost its taste in proportion to her growing appetite. The more she ate, the more she loathed, the more she needed. Sometimes she wonders if she spins her own destiny, or if she is merely the instrument of an infinite thread, one that wills her to and fro on nightly errands of its own madness. Something is inside her. There is a dread certainty of this. Memories of her hatchling days confound her with urgent nostalgia, and she is compelled to recall what she once was even as she repeats what she always has done. From the days of her mother it has been this way. Why does she feel so wistful? Why was her gem eyed lover, her delicious treat, spared the agony of the waiting, the knowing, the anticipation of inevitability? Who will remember what she has spun? Who will marvel at the fastidious devotion to the White Eye, the delicacy of her silk, the cunning patterns that had culled so many curious things from the air? Must it all be forgotten like the mothers before her, their eternal patterns and ephemeral lives? The clutch stirs. She knows what is upon her and makes no struggle. It is the cruel humor of the Moirai that she thinks of all that she is not as she succumbs to what she is. What bothers her most is the question. Were the webs she has spun truly hers, or was their another thread she could have followed? At each turn in the pattern of her thoughts, she finds that she has made another circle. There is an endless logic of radials, labyrinthine and obscure, which she can not escape. She is bound by which she binds. She is weaver and she is pattern. It fits too nicely. Without ceremony or fanfare, the first egg hatches. The others follow with the faintest popping, akin to the bursting of so many unrequited dreams. As the swarm of her issue covers her body, she is ready to receive them, to be released, to have them devour her hopes and fears.
[ WP ] The glass bottle you were holding cracked , accidentally creating a wound the shape of a pentagram in your hand . Now , you have to deal with a bunch of demons you accidentally summoned .	The lines shine crimson on my hand in the dim light. As the blood drips down, the streams resolve themselves into five crisscrossing lines. It looks kind of like a pentagram. But I'm probably just drunk. I turn around and come face-to-face with glowing amber eyes and a smug grin. `` You called?'' he whispers. His voice is silk and honey. `` Aw, fuck,'' I say. My annoyance is mostly due to the broken bottle. Vodka sprinkled with glass slowly sinks into the carpet. I'm too tired to clean this up. I pick up another bottle and take a swig. Then I turn to face the man. `` What do you want?'' He spreads his arms wide, still smiling. `` You're the one who summoned me,'' he says, still looking at me with those oddly bright eyes. `` Usually, when this happens, someone's trying to make a deal.'' The world is swaying. I pull out a cigarette and a lighter, flicking the lighter on. The fire dances before my eyes, and I stare at it, watching it sway and shake. Fire as bright as the man's eyes. `` Cigarette?'' I ask. He nods and I hand him one. He puts it between his lips and waits for me to light it, which I do. `` So what happened?'' he asked. `` Someone leave you?'' I laugh, thinking back to the last few one-night stands. `` Nah,'' say. `` Relationships are n't really my thing.'' `` A friend, then?'' I shrug. `` I keep to myself, mostly,'' I say. `` My best friends are Mary Jane and Smirnoff.'' `` Depressing,'' he says. `` Not really,'' I say. `` Or if it is, I'm never sober enough to notice.'' He takes a drag of his cigarette, chiseled face shining in the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. `` So let me get this straight,'' he says. `` You drunkenly summoned a demon for no reason?'' I look down at my hand, and shrug. He does n't need to know that it was an accident. I do n't want him to leave. He's so beautiful. `` Maybe I just wanted some company,'' I say. `` And exactly how much are you willing to sacrifice for company?'' `` Not my soul,'' I say. `` I do n't think you'd want it, anyway. It's broken. Faulty.'' `` Yes,'' he said. `` I sensed that. But I'd take it anyway.'' I shake my head. `` No,'' I say again, taking a long drag. `` Okay,'' he says, with a sigh. But he does n't leave. He is staring at me. After a long moment, I pat the couch next to me. `` Want to sit down?'' And, with a small smile gracing his lips, he does. `` I've got backup, you know,'' he says. `` In the backyard. In case you tried to trap me, or kill me. That's happened before.'' I turn around and look through the window at glowing white moonbeam eyes, and eyes of sparkling emerald. They are standing at opposite ends of the yard, watching. `` Okay,'' I say. `` But I think I'm too drunk to kill you even if I wanted to.'' He shrugs. `` Fair.'' He leans towards the window and gestures to them, and the eyes vanish. My hand creeps towards his, and he takes it. I can see dancing fire in his eyes.
[ WP ] Whenever you take a shower , you always press a random number of shower tiles , imagining that you 'll activate a secret code and gain access to some secret lair . Today , you press the tiles in the correct order .	Every morning I go through my routine without a thought. I urinate, brush my teeth and then warm up my coffee. What should I get for breakfast? I'll figure it out later. As I figure out what to fill my empty stomach, I hop in my shower.I turn on the shower with a careful grip of the handle. The temperature should be just right, nice and warm. Just perfect. Now time to reach for the soap. Got to stay clean you know. There's a bad habit of mine that became part of my morning routine. Before I reach for the shampoo, I play around in my shower. Ever since a crack form in one of the tiles I play around with the whole wall. I push the tile as if it were a button. There's really no reason for this. It's not like I expect anything to happen. There is another tile two to the left and three above with a weird dark mark. Tap. Three to the right and there's a stained tile. Tap. But what caught my eye captivated me. I have never seen this discolored tile before. It is only ten tiles above the previous one. Without a second thought I jump to reach for it. The tile loosens but does not fall off. Nothing happens as expected. But slipping as I reach the ground caught me by surprise. My attempt to try to regain my balance made it worse. At the end of my struggle, I fall forward and slam my head on to the cracked tile. The water kept on running and the blood continued flowing. I guess I finally entered the'secret code' to enter another world.
[ WP ] Make me fall in love with a character , only to end up hating said character with ONE sentence at the end	Sylvie was... nice. Sweet. Those were the first, best, and only ways to describe her voice the second she spoke to you. God, her voice... I was new to the game. Did n't know anybody. Picked it up because I was angry at life - the younger, stupider me who'd snapped some kid's fingers for stealing my wallet; the bitch of an ex-wife that took the house, the dog, the most perfect, beautiful baby girl I've ever held; and the roadside bomb in northern Iraq that ripped our car apart, blew my best buddy to bits, and took one of my legs and two fingers off my left hand with it. I was back in civilian life, getting employment rejection letters out the ass because of my disability, and incapable of visiting my baby girl more than once a month. My life was shit, and I was stuck feeling sorry about it, which was worse. So. Video games. They made it so easy to feel like I was accomplishing something in my life. New gear, better loadouts, hitting top of the scoreboards for the first time, and then again, and again after that... Yeah. But the more I played, the more I noticed this name. Fury86. Always dogging me on the scoreboard, always 1-3 places away from me, beating me, just behind me... Fury86, Fury86, Fury86. I tried to be cool. I tried to remember it was just a GAME. But... the game was my release, my escape - and this dude just would n't get off my dick! So I said as much. I laid into him. I was the dick -- calling him out as a stalker, putting him down just for being good. And made an ass of myself. Fury never lost his cool. `` You're a great player. I want to play with the best.'' An hour of messaging back and forth later, and I learned what a clan was. I learned about the other people that played this game, I learned what kind of people they were... and I found they wanted me. I belonged somewhere, and it was... well. I had n't belonged anywhere for a very long time. I also found out Fury86... was a girl. Sylvie. My Sylvie. The only girl in the whole clan, and it did n't matter. She did n't drag anyone down, she did n't try and talk herself bigger than she was. She was just there to play, as long, and as often, as any man there. She was wonderful, and the clan adored her. And she would talk to me. She had this low, husky voice... and the brightest laughter. Nothing could get her down. You could hear the smile as she spoke. I talked to her. About my life. I never talk to people. Even early on I knew that shit should stay separate. It only interfered with playing the game, and that was what we were there to do, right? But she coaxed it all out of me. The stupid mistakes. Trish and my little girl. The... deformities. She did n't care. `` You're a good guy,'' she'd tell me, leaning in to the webcam, her face alight with more sincerity than I've ever seen from any woman in my life. `` You'll figure it all out, just like you've figured out this game. And you're going to love it exactly the same way.'' I lost count of how often we talked. How long we talked. How late it was when she fell asleep mid-sentence, and I would just linger awhile, listening to the static and the soft sound of her breathing for just a little while longer before I hung up. None of the other guys ever knew. None of the other guys got to see her, not like I did. She made me better. She made me happier. She made me want to get up and get back out there, and make something of myself so that I could come back to her and be proud of the things I told her. She... she loved me. And I wanted to be somebody who could take care of her. Then one night... she wasn ’ t there. I waited up, certain it was nothing. A thunderstorm. A power outage. Nothing. Another night. Nothing. I was worried. I was frantic. Where was she? What had happened? I left messages. I sent emails. I stayed home from work just to see if she would appear. I couldn ’ t sleep, could barely leave my desk to take a piss just in case something—anything—happened. Then, finally... an email. That was all. Sylvie was sweet, beautiful, charming, funny. She was kind, encouraging, willing to do anything to make me smile. She was fourteen years old, and her mother had called the police.
[ WP ] you are stuck in a coma . The only way to wake up is to fight your way through your subconscious by actually fighting your `` demons ''	Nate awoke from his slumber gasping for air, only to be submerged underwater when he opened his eyes. The cold pierced his flesh and locked his joints stiff. His muscles fatigued as he thrashed and flailed in slow motion with the dragged resistance of the water. Darkness enveloped him. Kicking his legs as hard as he could, Nate broke the surface of the water only to be sucked right back down by something that latched onto his leg. His eyes were focused aloft, and the rippled underside reflection of the moon smiled down on him as he drifted toward the depths. He gave up. And the moment he let his body float motionless, whatever it was that clasped onto him released it's grip, and water filled the cavities of his lungs when he sucked in a breathe of air. His scream was muted by the turbulent tides of the powerful ocean, and the bubbles from his last breath ascended toward the surface. Nate saw nothing. A void. An endless time lapse as far as the eye could see until he blacked out. Nate awoke again gasping for air, then submerged underwater... * * * ^^^/r/MishaTheZombie ^^^to ^^^read ^^^more ^^^of ^^^my ^^^stories.
[ WP ] Upon his death , Billy Mays wound up in Hell . In exchange for a lighter sentence , he was given the opportunity to use his skills in the employment of the devil , scamming the damned and convincing the living to give up their souls . Hi ! Billy Mays here , and have I got a deal for YOU !	Hi! Billy Mays here, and have I got a deal for YOU! Do you feel entitled to more in your life. I know I did, but that does n't mean you have to anymore. Introducing the brand new Devil's Favour. With the Devil's Favour all you wild dreams come true. Just spilt red wine on your rug? Before you'd have to use a shamwow, now with the DF all you need to do is sacrifice a goat ( Billy Mays sacrificing goat scene ) and... presto not only is the spill gone but now I have a brand new house. Want to become the president normal favours would n't be able to do that... trust me I've tried, but with the DF just 1 goat is all you need. Now this is at a real bargain at not 19.99 $, not 9.99 $ but 1, yes 1 soul. But wait call in the next 20 minutes and we'll give you your first 20 goats free. Thats right folks 20 goats and the Devil's Favour, thats a whopping lifetime of whorshipping the devil value for a grand total of just 1 soul. Just call 666 and get your Favour today.
[ EU ] You found a genie and asked him to turn your life into a video game where you would be the protagonist . So the genie turned your life into Dark Souls .	Where am i? Who am I? I take a few moments to look around and gather my bearings. Its starting to come back. I'm TwAtWaFfLe69. In my hand is an axe. In the other, a wooden shield. I raise the axe, suprised at how light it is. I know I heard a bell, that's what woke me up. Could that casket be mine? Of course it is, because that's my life preserving estus flask in it. I pick it up and I set forth. Alright, this guy looks a bit crazy, but maybe he can help me understand what's going on. `` Hey, where are we? Did you hear the bell too?'' No responce, guess he did n't hear me. Hmmm, there's another guy sitting down. Maybe he knows what's goi- I feel the sting of the first guys sword as it pierces through my throat before I can get out another word. `` HOLY SHIT! What the just fucking happened!?'' I'm back at my casket. I touch my neck. I can remember the pain of the sword cutting through it, but there's nothing there. No hole. Not even a drop of blood. Okay, okay. I'm not going crazy. That just happened, I know it did. So that cunt is definitely not friendly. Aproaching him slowely, I let out a blood curdeling scream as I swing my axe, cutting through cloth and flesh as if it were nothing. As I get closer to the guy sleeping, he stands and charges at me, grunting like an animal as he swings his sword. I deflect it with my shield and cut him down just as easily as the first. Oh, another flask. It's just like the one I have, but it has a blue tint to it. Tastes a little different to, but it's good. `` Alright, where to next?'' Looks like there are a few more of those pricks. The dude looking away is the obvious choice though. He never knew what but him. Better keep going I guess. Two more sleeping dudes. As expected, they rise when I get closer. Knowing what to expect, I roll out of the way of the first strike and bring my axe down on his head. One left. Before he even raises his sword I swing as hard as I can, taking him out no problem. `` Wonder what's back here?'' Trudging through the water I see a massive shiny creature. `` Probably best to let him be.'' I head back the way I came, dispatch another man, and make my way down the path. Looks like someone forgot their sword here. As I go to grab it, the ashes come back to life, bringing forth flame. Its so.....comforting. Maybe I'll just rest here for a while. 5 minutes later: `` Hey man, want some help with that sword stuck in ya?'' No answer, exactly as I expected. I take hold of the sword and slowly pull it out, so as to minimize the pain as much as possible. `` There ya go mate. Now, do you know what's going on here?'' As if in answer, he stands up and looks down at me, never speaking a word. `` Okay then bud, do you at least know what's behind that door over there?'' He swings his massive halberd and cuts me nearly in half. `` Fuck. Guess we're doing it the hard way then.'' And I set off to kick his ass, and maybe teach him some manners while I'm at it. Ungrateful cunt.
[ IP ] Sunrise	Begin again. A new day. You must run, run far, they are coming for you. Like they always have. Have they? You ca n't remember, it's been so long, so very long. You check your bag, you do not have very much food left. You are n't sure where you can find any, maybe some berries? That does n't fill you up very much though. Run. But, as always, again and again, you tire. The sun blinds you, and you did n't see them. You hear the familar cock of a gun and - GAME OVER. Begin again. A new day. - Dr. Petersen looked down at the twitching teenager and rechecked the kid's chart. `` It's a pity his brain glitched with the new virtual reality systems,'' he remarked to the nurse, who nodded her head. `` There's little hope he'll ever come out.''
[ WP ] An immortal man is sentenced to life in prison .	I never know what day it is, what month, what year, what century, and the guards know I don ’ t really care. Knowing the season is nice, whether I should wear a coat or boots for my daily jog or if the state supplied denim is adequate. Prison isn ’ t so bad, all things considered. The guards pretty much leave me alone. They know I could probably leave any time I wanted to, but I don ’ t. I ’ m fulfilling a debt. When I came to this planet, I promised I ’ ll follow the rules. When I made the promise, I had no idea crimes had a mandatory punishment of life in prison. Day in and day out, it ’ s always the same, except for Christmas and the Fourth of July. And, of course, Repentence Day. But I never want to know when that day is coming. It ’ s better to be caught off guard and only deal with it for the 10 hours of daylight I suffer through. Knowing before would mean days of suffering and anticipation. It ’ s much better this way. When the spring snows start to wash away the winter snow, I feel a twinge of anticipation. I know the Day is in spring, toward the end of spring, before the summer winds fill the prison yard with dandelions and wildflowers. The survivors have dwindled over the years, but as hatred fades, curiosity remains. It ’ s worse. In the beginning, every year, they came. Some faces I recognized from the onslaught, from the battles, from the sidelines. Others were filled with the righteous anger of family members who have lost a loved one. They would yell and scream. They would shoot bullets, throw spears and fire arrows. One year, they even set me on fire. Another it was ants, and once it was wolves. Both died after the taste of my flesh, and they haven ’ t sent anything alive sense. But now, after the slow march of days and decades, the anger is gone. I ’ ve read the essays where no one blames me any more. They understand the battle, what would have happened if we didn ’ t fight back. They think I ’ ve paid for my crime. So now they come to stare. Sometimes they ask me questions while I stand, chained to the post in the yard with shackles on my neck and my wrists and my ankles, but, most of the time, they just stare. It ’ s the worst of all, the staring. Without that, life in prison isn ’ t too bad. I haven ’ t had to fight in half a century. I haven ’ t had to kill or work or risk another mind controlling my own. Instead I read and play cards and build. I ’ ve learned woodworking and blacksmithing and technology. Pretty much anything I ask for, they give me, and the days continue their march, day after day. The days march into weeks and months and years and decades, and, still, I remain. -- -- - -011
[ PI ] THE EDEN STREAM - FEB CONTEST	I might be biased, because I like anything with elephants in it, but I loved this! Your prose, your characters, and the world you created are all fantastic. Your writing, as others mentioned, is very descriptive and adjective/adverb heavy. However, I think you do a really good job of only picking descriptive words that actually add something - for the most part, taking them out would detract from the meaning - so it did n't bother me at all. I really enjoyed the language and the imagery. The only place where you might want to be careful is the action scenes. If I'm running for my life, I'm probably not going to be noticing the colors of the walls or anything else with much detail. While reading, I never got a sense of real urgency, because I was still in contemplative observation mode. Tweaking that part might make the story arc feel more satisfying. But yeah, well done! And good luck!
[ WP ] A sinister tale where a common household appliance is the villain .	It started with excess infatuation. * ‘ But doesn ’ t it always? ’ * she thought to herself. In the beginning, when she arrived at his home, he had nearly fainted with joy. “ You made me wait 2 weeks goddammit! ” he had yelled, taking her in his arms and carrying her with the gentlest grip in his muscular arms. Initially it was awkward for him too. He took almost a week to get used to her ways to understand her unsaid whispers and a full month to control her wild sounds. Oh it was beautiful, those moments of learning about each other in those hours of darkness! But after five wondrous months of making her serve him in every way possible, he suddenly disappeared for a week! He had returned one morning and gazed at her longingly with his dark intense eyes “ You ’ re so hot it makes me want to cry! I can ’ t bear to touch you ”, he whispered. Oh if she could just talk and tell him how she truly felt! He turned around and as almost reluctantly added “ All that will change now. My wife will come tomorrow and she says I have to get rid of you. I ’ m sorry but the best I can do now is find you a place in the corner ” She was stunned. This could n't be happening. She was n't shocked to discover his marriage. On the contrary, she had figured out pretty early that he had to sometimes be away for hours trying to appease that horrendous woman on the phone. But she ’ d never expected to be cast aside like a rag doll! The wife arrived the next evening and brought her son…no their son along. He was a baby boy aged two with bright blue eyes and an annoying little whine. After the initial shock and despair, she came to terms with reality. She decided she had to get rid of the wife. But she would start with the kid. After all revenge was a dish best served cold! So she waited with the patience of a leopard. Lying in quiet wait for almost seven weeks. The day finally came... The kid was lost and trying to discover his jar of cookies. He could barely see over the counter but he was trying to reach the cookie jar by using his cute little fingers. The fingers moved along the counter and over the marble corner of the kitchen. ‘ A little more, a little more ’ she thought as she willed him to come near her. As he touched her, she grabbed him and shut the hard metallic door on his fingers. The next few minutes were pure agony as the kid shouted in horror. But she had no pity. For 30 seconds she burnt him. And then with a careless shrug, let him out the door. The wife came rushing in and cried looking at her kid ’ s fingers. Sheer terror was in her eyes as she wailed “ Mark, Mark! Get over here, the microwave ’ s gone crazy! ” Mark came running and in shock looked at the microwave “ But..how?? You were not supposed to know! I thought I had it hidden! ” * ‘ Next is you bitch, watch out! ’ * she thought as she sunk back in her corner without making a sound.
[ WP ] A story of two internet lovers just before the fall of the internet	Thirty-six years For thirty-six years of my life, I had never, ever been more sure of anything. Anything at all. The Internet was blood to lots of us; pumping news and music and videos and entertainment through our eyes and into our veins. It was beautiful. Deep and bold and fathoming, it was like a - or perhaps the - basis of our society, not simply a tool but a part of all of us. I'm sure those reading this should be able to remember what it was like. I still keep my computer, though, the buzz of its fan louder and more clogged-up than in its heyday, but still functional. It all started with a post - a short note on my wall, about how my sight would be artificially replaced by surgeons in just a week. She replied. I must've added her to my friends list at some point, or else how would she have known me? We talked. Y'know when people are talking about how they got married or lost their virginity or whatever, and they always talk about how `` one thing led to another,'' I always hated that. How does'one thing lead to another'? Surely there's some driving force - some motivation, I used to think. Until - well, to break my own hatred - one thing led to another, and... It was one evening, I remember, when we had our first kiss. The light was unusually milky in the dawn - no sunrise or sunset or whatever, just another dawn in mid-Fall in some deserted part of town, beneath a streetlight. Nothing romantic, just... well, special. I still remember the drive to the hospital, where I would trial a remarkable, vision-saving procedure that would restore my ailing eyes. And the press were there... I vomited the usual bullshit about my anxiety, but I was n't really nervous, y'know. I just thought... and remembered... I can still recall the four red stop signs, and the six kids in hoodies on dirtbikes, and the pigeon that pecked at an old man's feet. When I awoke, the first thing I saw were the buttons on the nurse's uniform: all blurred, red and gold and joyous. The nurse whispered something to me: Jennifer had died. A car crash, they told me. I wanted to get rid of it all - the vision, the publicity - everything. She was gone. And I wanted to rip out my prosthetic eyes, because I did n't want to live in a world where I could n't see her. The Internet died into obscurity, years later, but I still have my old computer. I load it up every now and again, check my profile and my wall and the places we first met. And, every so often, I send a message through to her - I love you, or a reminiscence of the days we spent together. It kills me that she does n't reply.
[ WP ] As the city sleeps .	Jason checked his clock. 2:04 AM. The city's asleep. Time to go to work. Down by the river, in the old warehouse district, all manner of criminals and worse than criminals gather. Tonight, though, Jason is looking for one quarry in particular. This target has nothing to do with his work as a detective. He parked his old, beat-up hatchback by a crumbling steel foundry, long since abandoned. Stonewell had n't been doing well for years, and most of the factories and such lay empty and unused. Jason slid his handgun into a comfortably worn shoulder holster, and crept out into the night. He was a half hour into his search when he saw a shape flit into an empty warehouse. It seemed almost jittery, as though his mind had dropped a second, the shape jumping across his field of view. Jason shuddered and broke into a grin simultaneously. Squinting into the dark, Jason hugged the doorframe leading into the warehouse. He adjusted the pistol, clutched tightly in sweating hands. `` I hate this part,'' Jason whispered to himself, stepping inside. `` Do you, Detective?'' a voice hissed directly behind him.
[ WP ] Write from the perspective of a being that is not human .	Ghst sjjdsk nsjsgjjbg najj jka kamam! Jaisk akju jaanj najj akju gssu. Ghst sjjusk iopa uaww hjaol sik laoa. Afahjs jsawI fuso jaisk ghst aip qiaal kilde od yuak jka sjjusk erwth menako sjjusk ol sernka. Shaik sull tavy sjjdsk aop ilal ka. Jauk weuts sakli uaal. Laush imanek jol, ajko sjjusk tatpoppa il codra ka vilt. Joaid ghst hashy erqipa kod ol manina jija benk; uial sjjusk yua il sjjdsk manina. Iaosh mink ol ashu melk koa. Etsj dus tavy ol Afahjs ulksj mipka. Pahj haus mes sju koppil mula erqipa. `` Adsi alsji naga ol monkh ol misjk!'' Djoa Afahjs. Hasjpao jleoa sull. Ukapp ilva tavy gssu. Joalk kovva melk iala pok ol sjud. Huaka jaikl iopa sjud pilt asja miat kiln tala. Ghau dosak sjim klova opaol il nava.
[ WP ] Describe an everyday action as if it was the most horrifying thing on earth .	He grabs the filthy stick, with the whiskers caked with a white substance. It has been there for 6 months now, constantly collecting grit. He grabs the tube filled filled with it and places it on the whiskers... He turns the knob as the water falls from the sink, while holding the brush under it to with the grimy goo. He take it slowly, slothering the shit in his mouth, the excess pouring off his chin like a dog with rabies. For what seems like a lifetime, constantly rubbing it on his teeth, the remains spilling all around his mouth. A disgusting glob of it drops from his chin on the crystal black tile, tainting it with splatter. I can not do it, watch him, the man is too horrific, so repugnant, I could not go on and now I already have lost my appetite for the day.
[ WP ] You are the first explorer to reach the pitch darkness of an alien ocean 's seabed .	Your tiny submersible slithers along the bottom of the alien ocean of its own accord, occasionally taking readings. It had been at it for hours now, automatically performing the duty it was programmed to do. You sit back in the stiff metal chair bolted to the chassis and stare unblinkingly out the observation window. You see nothing. They say solitude does funny things to a person. The feeling of being utterly alone scares you, and an ever-present chill colours your movements and actions. At the thought of being alone, you cough. Not that you needed to, but to remind yourself that yes, you were here, and yes, you were still real. For you could n't really be sure if anything was real at the moment - anything, at least, outside of your little submarine, your little world. The powerful beams of light at the front and sides ( more for your benefit than the computer's ) seemed to illuminate little more than the unremarkable silt and rock beneath the craft. Everything was deathly silent save for the occasional radar ping. At first, you were incredibly excited to have been chosen to go on humanity's first extrasolar mission. Even when they told you the risks involved, the work required, and the cost. Not in money - no, you would n't need that where you were going - but in time. The trip to this godforsaken planet had taken centuries. No time at all for you, comfortably stored in a cryogenic pod for the entire journey. But for those back home, those left behind... it had been ages. Who knew what was going on back on Earth. Maybe they had joined some interstellar federation. Maybe they'd developed FTL travel, and already had thriving colonies on distant worlds while you still fumbled about in the dark. Maybe they were all dead. Ping. You check the readings. Nothing abnormal. Nothing you were needed for. You think about going back to the colony a few hours early - surely, no one needed these useless readings? Thoughts of warm food, hot showers, and comfortable beds taunt you as you shift uncomfortably in your unyielding seat. You think of home - but you ca n't stop yourself from thinking of Home. You look out again into the infinite blackness, and imagined it filled with stars instead of curious sealight. You recall a cold January night, centuries ago, when you first looked up at the stars and wondered. You think of friends, family. Enemies, rivalries. The feeling of grass on bare feet, and the sight of the familiar sun illuminating a beautiful, lush world. It was nothing like this. Nothing like this at all. The metal groans. Rationally, you know that's normal. But your mind, consumed as it was by unhealthy nostalgia, quickly panics. Fingers fly across the dashboard, overriding autonomous operation, transferring manual control. You activate emergency ascent, and the little submersible shoots up as quickly as its little thrusters would allow - but not nearly quickly enough. The darkness presses in from all directions, and you can almost see the toughened viewport cracking, leaking. You close your eyes, but that only makes the terror worse. Instead, you stare at the ground, and your hands. Hands, your mind immediately reminds you, that once held another's in marriage. Hands that had caressed your infant's in its first moments, and held your parents' in their last. Everywhere you looked, there was something that served as a cruel reminder of what you had left behind, and what was no more. You scream, because it is the only thing that can keep you from being totally overwhelmed. You scream, and you scream, until your vocal cords tire and voice becomes a hoarse whisper. Then you whimper, quietly at first, but quickly devolving into full-blown sobs, pathetic and weak and lonely. The depth monitor nears zero; you do n't notice. An eternity passes, and the submarine breaks the water's surface. Immediately, you collapse against the controls, hyperventilating. As much as you might wish it, the submarine can not take you any higher. Immediately, you reach up and force the hatch open, ignoring the myriad warning signals and klaxons. You clamber onto the metal frame and take deep breaths, staring up at the unfamiliar stars, so different from the ones you once fell in love with. The vast expanse of an alien sea stretches before you. Minutes pass, maybe hours. Eventually, you slowly climb back into the submarine. You set the computer's destination to home and - wiping tears from your bleary eyes - think of Home.
[ TT ] Give us a peek inside the massive surveillance operation that allows Santa to classify the world 's children as naughty or nice	No sooner did Jimmy trace the rabbit hole back to its origin than a knock was heard on his door. He jumped, then turned, then tentatively called `` who is it?'' as he reached underneath his desk for a.22 caliber pistol. His arm, of course, was caught in a vice grip. He lost consciousness less than a second later. When he awoke, something was very, very wrong. His hands, as well as his whole body, were restrained, and as he struggled against his bonds, they jingled merrily. The only source of lights in the room were the multicolored, naked bulbs attached to a single strand of christmas lights hanging down from the ceiling. The room around him was a mottled grey. As he opened his mouth to call for help, something was very violently shoved into it: a ribbon tasting of blood and peppermint. Someone whispered into his ear behind him. `` If you make a single sound, I'm gon na slit your throat. Hell's not a place for people on the nice list, but with the way you've been digging, you might not be on it for long. Now, I'm gon na ask a few questions, and you're gon na talk, and you'll never hear from us again, kid. Capiche? Nod if you understand.'' Jimmy nodded. `` Good boy.'' The ribbon was slowly pulled away from Jimmy's face, and he took a few quick, deep breathes. `` First thing I wan na know is how you found us.'' `` I... It was, well, everywhere. I found it in the coding of my computer while trying to debug. I knew it was n't something I'd done, I know my OS, so I tried to get rid of it but could n't. Looked it up because I figured it was some virus other people had had trouble with, but found nothing. And, and then when I deleted it, or tried to, it would n't. It said that it would, said that what I'd wanted to happen had been done, but I'd go back and still find it. Thing is, it would move through the code. Almost did n't catch it the second time except by accident, and then would n't have caught it the third or fourth time had I not been looking for it. It was just... just right there. I thought,'well, fuck it, might as well go on seeing as it does n't look like its doing anything,' but it got me suspicious. A few months later I was digging around in a game's software and I found the same thing. Exact same coding, exact same bug. Tried to delete it, but it would n't leave. Then I found it again. And again. And again. And again. I had to find the source, did n't I? I thought it was government or some bullshit like that, but never...'' `` Never the big guy, ey?'' `` Yeah. I mean, I did n't even believe in Santa until now, but after I asked around a bit on the darknet, I found some people who knew about this stuff and it led me here. Nobody ever knew the whole thing, just pieces, and these pieces were nothing. It was like trying to solve a sudoku puzzle without any of the numbers filled in, ya know? Even now, I still do n't know...'' `` Well, kid, you know what it does, right?'' `` Yeah. Surveillance. Complete access to all databases worldwide, complete access to cameras, webcams, security systems, criminal records, financial records, hell everything. I still do n't get it, though.'' `` How so?'' `` I do n't understand how. This leads to a million places, but theres no way it could've spread as far as it did without hundreds, maybe even thousands of access points in just about every level of everything! Plus, if this has only been developed in the past few years, how was it carried out before then? Nothing adds up. The sheer size of this operation, and the number of people who would have to keep it secret is unfeasible.'' `` Millions.'' `` What?'' `` Millions of access points at every level. You worked for the truth, right kid?'' `` Yeah.'' `` Well, you're gon na lose it. You're gon na have your memory wiped and you're probably gon na lose a few IQ points in the process, but for the five minutes between then and now, you wan na know the truth?'' `` I do n't know.'' `` Then I guess we can start-'' `` No! Tell me.'' `` Really?'' `` Please.'' A short, portly man came into view from behind him. `` Jimmy, in the history of all of humanity, not a single person has ever grown to an adult height shorter than five foot six inches.'' `` What? That's ridiculous. My step mom is, like, five three.'' `` Humans do n't come that short, Jimmy.'' The man leaned in, smiling, `` Do try to be good from now on, ey?''
[ WP ] make a poem about reddit .	There once was a site, And it was a sight to see. A wonderful website, For you and me. A site filled with people, From here or there. Reddit was full of people, Everywhere. Of course, there maybe a mod or two, Like on r/gaming and r/tifu. Some bots may come into play, We access this site nearly everyday. Some people will stay here hours and hours, Wasting time and not taking showers. Others will post relevant facts, Or even some amazing life hacks. Reddit welcomes you, No matter who you are. Remember to develop a thick skin, People will insult you... near or far...
[ WP ] You wake up in Hell . You look around , you ca n't see anybody , it 's just fire and brimstone going on forever . Eventually the Devil walks over and says `` Finally , you 're the first to arrive , so tell me , who are you ? what did you do ? and how did you die ? ''	The devil did n't look like I'd imagined him. For one- it really was n't a `` him''. My sister and I used to play a game in the mall called `` chick or dick'', we try to make our best guess at whether a person is a girl or a guy when you ca n't really tell. The devil would have been one of these people. Long hair kept in a low bun, long delicate fingers on a slender, muscular frame. Those big eyes with beautiful lashes, but with a sharp strong jaw. `` His'' fingers curled around a clipboard that was filled with paperwork to be done. `` Actually'', he said. `` Follow me. I'd rather do this in my office.'' He snapped his fingers and a room appeared in the distance. It seemed impossibly far away, maybe a half mile, but with nothingness in every direction it's hard to judge distance. We were there in just a few steps, gliding along in the darkness- well not darkness. Sort of like what you can see out the back of your head. Just- nothing. He opened the door to the room. Inside was a modern-looking office. It reminded me strongly of the offices where I had applied for welfare in the past, not very welcoming, but the single cushioned folding chair in front of the desk was more than enough for me. The desk had pictures of what I assumed must have been him and a demon on it in human form, at a vacation spot, some beach somewhere. `` That's him.'' He said. `` The creator. The great I Am.'' `` God?'' I asked, confused. `` Yeah.'' He said. `` We try to get out every hundred years or so. Anyway, let's get to it! Your name?'' He plopped down in the computer chair on the other side of the desk and pulled a pen from behind his ear. `` Oh, uhh, Sammy. Sammy Wilson.'' I took the one opposite. `` Sammy! How are you? Satan.'' He offered his hand across the desk, and I cautiously reached up to meet it for a firm shake. `` I'm good, I guess. For being in hell.'' I was not quite registering anything yet, like when I fell off my bike as a kid and just sort of accepted that my arm was broke. I walked into the gas station I had just left and calmly asked for a ride to the hospital while the bone was jutting out from my arm. There would be plenty time to process it later. I was in hell. I had all eternity. `` Ah, yes. Do n't worry too much though. Everyone goes to hell.'' He said. `` Everyone? I thought I was the first!'' `` The first this millennium. We remodel every so often.'' He pointed to the bleak nothingness out the cubicle's window. `` Time of death for you was 12:01, January 1st, 2000.'' He was right. I suddenly remembered. The ball drop! It dropped alright, right on drunken old me. I needed a closer view, and I got it. Damn. `` So what did you do then? How did you die?'' He showed me the clipboard with a list of possible choices. Drowning, genocide, suicide, murder, old age, death by giant celebratory decoration, and illness. `` That decoration one.'' I said, embarrassed. `` Mmhmmm.'' He said. He checked the box next to it and spent a few seconds filling in... something. Notes? `` Here's the deal. I could go through the paperwork line by line, or give you the general idea and get both of us out of here sooner. Now, hell is pretty much the opposite of prison on earth. It's rehabilitation, not punishment. There's only so many souls, and we have to start working on getting yours all clean so we can recycle it. You do some good back on earth, you get some time to think about what you did, you get back to a good place morally, spend some time in heaven just waiting around for your time, and we send you back in the rotation as a newborn.'' `` How do I do good back on earth?'' I asked. `` Well, you will some miracles to happen, see that prayers get answered, stuff like that. All with the power of technology!'' He said, opening a desk drawer and retrieving a laptop. He gave a huge grin. `` We used to have to do this by hand!'' He opened it to Facebook, and up came a barrage of the `` share if you want Jesus to help poor little African children'' type posts. `` So every time they share this, it really does help?'' I asked. `` Now it does.'' He replied. He sifted through the paperwork on the clipboard to the last page, on which there was a line for a signature. `` Just sign here, take the laptop, and be in your way.'' He handed me the pen and clipboard, I signed my name quickly, and he handed me the laptop and walked to open the door. I walked outside and he snapped his fingers again, and both he and the room disappeared, to be replaced by a comfy chair. I sat down, opened the page of half-hearted `` amen'' s, and curiosity got the best of me. I typed Netflix into the browser bar, and my heart skipped a beat. It actually started to load! Then, defeat. `` The system administrator has blocked this site.'' I really was in hell.
[ OT ] With all of your help , I 've improved a lot as a writer . I think I 'm ready to take it to the big leagues . Can you guys help ?	You could consider posting this to /r/shutupandwrite or /r/destructivereaders but you're here right now, so I'll have a look. * * * I'm going to be blunt with you here. The start bit? All of the start bit all the way down to'One day Marc Andre...'. All of that does n't work. It comes across as a bunch of rather unneeded exposition that seemingly serves no purpose and quite frankly, bores the heck out of me. If you want/need to work that stuff in, you work it in the plot, you do n't dump it all at the start and hope that the average reader will go through that to get to the meat of the story. Because they wo n't. Anyway, starting from after the introduction exposition, and going into the text that I actually consider relevant. I'm not going to do an absolute full review, just a few major glaring errors that I see: * * * As previously stated, the entire exposition segment at the beginning. Your sentences are erratic and lacking proper flow. Your paragraphs are also just large blocks, do n't be afraid to use a line break here and there. Jeff. Jeff. Jeff. Mentioned three times in a single run-on sentence. Marc Andre is Marc Andre, you do n't need to tell us that he is Marc Andre more than once, and if ( Marc Andre ) is his full first name, I suggest you change it because that is going to annoy people rather quickly. Your general descriptions need work. You're putting too many unnecessary words into your sentences when a shorter one can more easily convey the point you are trying to make.
[ WP ] You 're immortal . A new art museum just opened nearby and you decide to take a look . In the exhibition there 's a painting , depicting what seems like your doppelganger . Other visitors laugh it off as an odd coincidence but you know better ... it IS you in that painting .	A beautiful woman named Jezebel sat cross legged in front of the painting. She smiled, she remembered when this was done. It was nearly 260 years ago. People stopped and stared at the painting and took pictures. They talked about what the possible underlying meaning was behind the picture. But Jezebel knew the truth, the painter was a lecherous old bastard who liked painting naked women. One of the tourists looked behind him as he backed up to get a better picture and saw Jezebel. He looked back at the painting then suddenly did a double-take back to Jezebel. `` Holy Crap. You look exactly like her,'' he said as he stared amazed. Jezebel laughed, `` I get that all the time when I come here. It's just a coincidence or who knows maybe I am related to her!'' The man laughed as well, then hurried to catch up with his friends. He pointed her out to them and they all started whispering while glancing back at her. Jezebel shook her head and looked back the painting. A minute later Jezebel heard footsteps behind her, then an extremely handsome man with black hair sat down next to her. `` Hey Simon,'' she said and they kissed. Simon put his arm around her waist and she put her head on his shoulder. `` Hey babe. Ah, I remember when this was painted. You begged me come to this guy's studio because you said, and I quote,'This is going to be boring as fuck and I'm only doing this because Dad wanted me to'.'' Jezebel snorted, `` I had to sit still in a chair for five hours straight so yeah I wanted someone to talk to. Plus I think the guy was drunk or high or something when he painted that because I remember the studio smelled awful.'' Simon chuckled, `` Yes I remember. Still a beautiful painting though'' Simon stood up and held out his hand to Jezebel. She took it and stood in front of him. Simon put his other hand on her cheek and he smiled, `` But, it may as well be a caveman's drawings compared to the real thing.'' Jezebel blushed and they kissed again. When they finally, almost reluctantly, broke apart, Jezebel gave Simon a playful smile, `` You flatter me good sir.'' `` I'm your husband. It's my job.'' Suddenly a mischievous grin played across Jezebel face, `` You know I think there's a painting of you in here somewhere.'' Simon face contorted into a face of mock horror, `` Oh Gods I hope not!'' Jezebel took Simon's hand lead him through the Museum, `` Come on! I think I saw over there somewhere.'' `` Ugh you cruel, cruel woman,'' Simon said in a fake wounded voice. Jezebel looked behind her and smirked, `` I'm your wife. It's my job.''
[ WP ] A widowed man invents a machine that can travel to parallel universes . While exploring one , he finds out that his wife had never died in it , and considers the option to murder and replace his counterpart .	Instantly he discarded the thought of casual murder, `` If an infinite amount of parallel universes exist, all I have to do is find one where I died and my wife did not. It's that easy!'' 2 and a half years later `` Oh, Professor Jenkins! Congratulations on returning from your adventure throughout the multi-verse. All of us at the Experimental Science Club are eager to hear all about your findings after this meet and greet. Meanwhile, you simply must try the h'orderves. Albert's wife went all out this time. The little pate sandwich ones are simply divine and...,'' the portly Mr. Gonfall, the University's dean and founder of the Experimental Science Club, paused in mid sentence as he stared at the slim figure behind the newly returned Professor Jenkins, `` My god, man! Is that your wife? I had thought she had passed away.'' `` She, by which I mean my original wife, did. But during my travels, I found a universe where Sarah lived and I was the one who perished. After explaining my situation, we started talking; comparing our separate universes. Eventually, we fell in love. She's visiting my universe this year, but the next I will spend with her.'' `` That's simply fantastic, my boy! So tell me, are there much differences between our respective universes?'' Professor Jenkins turned his head towards his new wife as she spotted the plate of fancy appetizers. Dean Gonfall turned to look, just in time as Sarah's mouth and jaw opened up into five sections while three long tentacles lashed out from her throat only to wind themselves around the plate and all the tiny sandwiches on it. In one lightning fast motion, the tentacles retracted bringing the plate into the woman's maw. A few crunching sounds were heard before the tiny sandwiches and the ceramic tray they were on were all no more. Silence reigned in the room as all conversations stopped immediately. Sarah Jenkins just shrugged, `` Sorry, everyone. Those little snacks just looked so good. Much better than the tiny screeching goblins my version of the club serves up.'' The silence continued until Professor Jenkins turned towards the stunned dean, `` So, yes, I would say there are a few minor differences between our two dimensions.''
[ WP ] In the near future , protests are held holograpically . Give me the viewpoint of this from any member of society ( or outside it ) .	The voice of the people could be heard resonating through the underground garage. Shouting and chanting `` Our Lives Matter,'' `` Stop the Violence,'' `` No More Murder.'' They thought they were doing something, making a difference. They were sheep. Nothing had improved since the Peaceful Protest Act of 2021. Police shootings were on the rise with no end in sights, no repercussions for that matter. Day after day the news kept reporting how another cop was acquitted. Hundreds even thousands would gather in the streets to protest, however due to the PPA only their holograms got to be present. Holographic technology had been on the rise and it guaranteed no riots that could not be controlled with the flip of a switch. Of course everyone had a right to protest and not everyone had access to their own holodecks. Small holo clinics were set up across most major cities as a place for the common man to join the government sanctioned protests. Small groups projected in front of the Police Precinct as a large protest were the cause of the noise. Jack had been an active protester in the past but this time was different. The victim in the most recent shooting was Susan, his wife. He pulled up the live feed of the protest on his smartwatch. He could n't believe that he use to think this would bring about attainable change. Susan was walking home from work when she was shot. The police chest cam showed her turn the corner running at full speed toward the officer. He pulled out his weapon and shouted for her to stop and when she did n't, he unloaded an entire clip into her. It was then that the mugger rounded the corner with a knife and immediately turned and ran away. The fat ass cop could n't catch up with him and now the mugger walks free and the police officer gets an honorable discharge. That's what qualified as justice these days? No, this time was different. The whole precinct was going to pay. Jack armed the bombs he had set up around key points of the garage. It should crumble the building. The people watching on their holo screens at home would finally see what change looked like. What real justice looked like.
[ WP ] A man visits his grandfather 's grave at a cemetery , but ca n't find it and discovers that his grandfather , and the entire rest of his family never existed .	A paradox emerges from behind a bush. `` Ah! you startled me sir!'' said the man wading through the many graves. `` Did n't see you there!'' exclaimed the paradox in reply. `` I've never seen a paradox in the flesh before'' noticed the man to himself. The paradox gave the man an easy smile and said `` right, well I'm off'' in a British accent. The man, now having already completed what he had come to do, walked back through the graveyard to his car. He opened the door and sat down. The car smelt of old cigarettes, foam and stale french fries. Upon arriving home, the man felt some form of remorse as even though he visited the grave, he at the very same time could not find it.
[ WP ] Claire was exorcised as a child , four times . As an adult she has gained the ability to draw on powers from her former possessors but must weigh the benefit of using them with the risk of losing control of her own body again .	The Dead West stretched out before Claire ’ s feet like a sea of blood -- The crimson sand rising in formless wisps as the dry, desert wind blew hard across the plains. Claire the Loon, they ’ d called her, back in Fortitude. Ha ha. Big joke. Fuck you. Her mother named her after the song, but when the first of the devils came to her it seemed more like a brand, than anything. She could still remember the lilting notes of the old record, spinning along on the wind up music box, as the children from her school gathered their stones. Claire the Loon, they shouted. Claire the Loon. She spat, thinking of the fat face of the mayor, red and laughing, as her mother sobbed and cried tales of possession. She was four, when they brought the first of the exorcists. She spat again as she thought of the preacher-man, with his sweet words and his dirty fingernails. Father Kirkmichael, he called himself. A holy man, all crosses and devotion, who lied to her mother -- who told her he could make Claire whole again. She was possessed, but that preacher had more demons in him than she did, Claire reckoned. Corson had broken his arm clean in half, the first time he tried to lay hands on her. Corson had no time for sins of the flesh. She looked to the west, and to the trail of ochre dust that rose and fell at the heel of the Paladin, as he marched onward over the horizon, and she smiled. No one would ever call her Claire the Loon again. “ Corson, ” she stretched her neck as she spoke, eliciting a loud crack that was wrapped up and carried off by the wind. What? The voice in the back of her head spoke in low, hateful tones like the rumble of Old Man Marklay ’ s Deezil engine. Corson hated her, but he was her first -- he held a special place in her heart. “ Don ’ t be like that, lover. ” she said, seductively, voice muffled by the thick scarf that sat across the bridge of her nose and hung down, keeping the desert sand from her mouth. She could feel Corson ’ s being cringe and shrink at the thought, pulling away into a small, tight ball of crystalline rage. Must be all that Catholic guilt. I swear, if yo- he began, but was snapped into silence by his sister. Let the girl speak, half-wit. Foras ’ voice tasted like honey and moved like tar. Her commanding presence lay languidly across the recesses of Claire ’ s mind, taking up all the space she felt was hers, by right. “ Thanks, darlin ’. ” Normally, Claire fought hard to keep the podunk accent of Fortitude out of her voice. She always did her best to speak clearly, much as the Couriers and the Traders from the north and the east did when they came to town. But Foras had a particular way about her -- a way that made you let your guard down. Still -- she was the closest thing Claire had to a sister. “ How long you think it ’ ll take us t ’ catch up with the Holy Man? ” YoUr NoT rEaLlY sTiLl ThInKiNg Of GoInG t-t-t-t-tHrOuGH wiTh th-h-h-haT? Volix spoke like the skips in a broken grammyfone, pinballing back and forth between loud and quiet. Sometimes, he ’ d wind down like he ’ d run out of power -- just for a minute -- then he ’ d speed back up to catch up with himself. He was the youngest of her guests, the baby of the bunch, you could tell by the way the others picked on him. If he was a man, Claire thought, he might be sweet. And one day, she might like to kiss him. But he wasn ’ t a man, all the same. And sweet as he may seem, he would still try and take her over if she abused his power too much. “ Yes, Volix, I am. ” Claire folded her arms across her chest, drawing the thick woolen coat tight around her. “ There ’ s no place in this world for a freak like me. Paladin might take me in. Might give me a place. ” *We could bring you power…* Satiri, voice slicker than an oiled up rattlesnake and ten times as venomous, echoed out from his little corner. Of all her guests, Satiri was the only one who still really scared Claire. The others were easy to manipulate, driven by base desires, wants or needs -- but Satiri was an enigma, and an ancient one at that. Looking at him next to the others was like looking at a Redwood next to a sapling. The comparison was staggering. *Use us, and you can have anything you want. * “ Now don ’ t go starting that up again, you old buzzard. ” She tutted, wiping dust away from the cracked plastic goggles that did their best to keep the sand from her eyes. “ I ’ ve made up my mind. ” *You could do well, out there in the West, child…* Satiri didn ’ t speak much, but when he did, the others fell quiet. Claire could feel him press his will against hers, and knew she ’ d get no support from her other guests if Satiri tried to break out of his cage. *So, so well, if you ’ d only let. us. OUT! * He screamed the last word, and threw his presence against the bars of Claire ’ s will. But she was ready for him, and steeled herself against the cold touch of his ancient mass. After a moment, he shrank back to the shadowy corner he called his own. For a brief minute, the voices in her head stopped, and all was quiet. He ’ Ll kIll uS, ClaIreY. Volix, ever the frightened one, spoke in a voice that shifted and shoved between tones. He was the only one that called her by her mother ’ s pet name. Sometimes, he even felt like the friend she made them all out to be. “ He ’ ll do no such thing. ” Claire spoke, matter-of-factly, though not entirely convinced, herself. “ And if he does try, well, I ’ ll set Corson on him. ” She could feel Corson, locked inside her cage of will, preen at the thought. Oh, we ’ ll see, sugar. She felt Foras lean back, spreading herself as if across a cushioned floor. We ’ ll see. “ So. ” Claire asked, again, eyes locked on the trail of dust barely visible over the horizon. “ How long? ” Week or more, Corson spoke, calmly. If he stops for gas. Paladin ’ s on a horse, though. You ’ ll need to let me ride, if you want to make the distance. “ Well then, ” Claire grinned beneath her scarf, arched an eyebrow under her goggles, and opened the doors of her will to Corson ’ s presence. “ Saddle up, big boy. ”
[ OT ] SatChat : `` A writer who does n't read is a starving artist ''	I'm trying to catch up on a bunch of cool WP redditor stories at the moment. However, I've also been reading'The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared' by Jonas Jonasson. That's pretty decent. Re-reading'Swallows & Amazons' by Arthur Ransome. About to start'Do androids dream of electric sheep' by Philip K. Dick. I also picked up'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight' need to get into that. As well as some guilty pleasure a forgotten realms series ( Brimstone Angels ) and I need to finish the Elric of Melniborne books. ( Sword & Sorcery setting. Think basically Conan but sorcerer MC rather than barbarian MC ). Whenever I read. It irritates me to some degree. I'm immediately inspired to write something... I have to fight the urge to finish the book.
[ WP ] No matter how many Eons pass , no matter how far our reach extends , we can not and will never , ever , truly , completely and utterly trust any alien race .	Fodon sat quietly the terminal glowing infront of him. The cron ticked again and Fodon sighed softly. Would n't due to put this on his prime account. A throw away, yes, a throw away. His hands went to the input board and padded softly against the touch sensitive glass. `` Well Veddit, it's the 45th century and Im a little ashamed of myself. It was my son's 4th birthday, in Home Years of course, 1.4 years Local. I've moved to the GreeNah colonies on the Outer Rigles for work. The pay is good, the cost of living is low, and I can actually own a patch of ground for less than 30 Million Creds. The locals are good people, great people. You remember the Zeb-Nagha conflict? One of the GreeNah saved my granddad, pulled one of those Illegal Zorna Singers out of his side before the toxin got into him. My Granddad can walk because of the GreeNah. I love these people, I owe these people. They just keep on giving, the `` neighborhood'' `` cretch'' whatever you wan na call it, threw my son a birthday party for his 4th. They actually bothered to do the math on the time difference. They got it right to the day. Well Veddit, the entire Cretch was there, eating, drinking, laughing ( in that weird little chitter way they do things ) and the young ones were playing hide and seek. It's interesting how those little games translate across species. Well my boy was hiding under the one of the tables and John ( Not his real name ) spotted him. Now John is a great guy. I work with him every day, we drink together. Last Earth Christmas I gave him some of that Dranab Wiskey that's so famous in the Trila sector. Well John decided to play peek-a-boo with my boy, and I was watching. He stuck that big chitenous head under the table and made a face I have seen the GreeNah make millions of times with their own young. But when that Maw opened and all those pointy teeth appeared and that weird little rattle started something caught in my chest. I could n't breath, my heart felt like it was going to explode. I took a few steps forward, it felt like I was walking in a long tunnel, my boy faced down by this monster at the other end. I stepped up behind John and put my hand on his carpace. When he looked up his mouth closed and I saw that buggy little face I had shared cake with not an hour ago. I managed to shake it, blinking out whatever sick feelings had filled my mind. My boy was of course laughing his head off, but when I looked down I'm shamed to say I had to put down the Rahna Carving knife I had picked up. I do n't even remember putting a hand on it Veddit, but here I was about to stab a person I had shared food with, at my own table. I do n't think John noticed, but maybe their right Veddit, maybe we ca n't really lead the universe if all we see is a bunch of `` not human.'' God I'm ashamed Veddit. Seriously, some one post a cat video, I need to move past this.
[ WP ] Scientists have confirmed that Earth is the only planet in the Universe with life on it .	The 23rd of June 2019, scientists discovered an elusive mathematical proof, proving with absolute certainty that earth is, in fact, the only planet bearing life. Most thought not a lot would come from this. The believers and scientists that had been certain extraterrestrial fact would exist were mocked, but most people seemed happy to go on with their lives like always. Then, humanity realized that being alone was no desirable thing. It meant that no matter how far we ventured, the only things that would greet us are empty, cold planets. The great hope of escaping earth to join another, more advanced and good civilization, that many had harbored without being aware, was crushed. Unrest spread over earth as people realized that this was it. There was no one coming to save us from ourselves. Gradually, however, we accepted our faith. We accepted the responsibility of being the universes only carrier of life instead of death. Every politician realized he was not only making decisions for his country or even humanity, but for the universe. So we turned in and looked at ourselves. Was this the kind of ambassador of life we wanted to be, ridden by war, disease and poverty? People decided it was not. We realized it was up to us to make sure that the life the universe had bestowed on our planet would not be wasted. We realized the only ones able to achieve the paradise we were all longing for was ourselves. Hundred years later, the discovery that life on earth is lonely in a desolate space is considered one of the greatest events in history, that radically changed our future. Because we, the people of earth, are perfectly able to manage alone.
[ WP ] You and your friends are in the middle of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign . Your character goes through a portal in-game and appears right beside you in real life .	`` Uh, I step into the portal after attaching a rope to myself so I can be pulled back out if need be.'' `` Glad to know a rope is strong enough to withstand the manipulation of space and time,'' Mai said to me, wearing that shit-eating grin of his. `` If you have any better ideas, I'm all for it,'' I responded, crossing my arms, trying to justify my actions. `` We do n't have any better ideas, but I'm not sure about our control-freak cleric going through the portal first,'' Josh responded. He was playing our barbarian, and liked to charge in way more often than was necessary. `` It really all depends on what dimension he'd be going into, though,'' Sarah, our Rogue, said. `` I have n't done much reading on alternate dimensions, but I'd imagine some ethereal dimension would require a lot of charisma and wisdom saving throws. In that case, I'm all for Eric going through first.'' `` And if it is n't?'' Mai asked. `` Then he can heal himself on the way out.'' `` Oh get on with it,'' Kat, our DM, said, the previous excitement she had shown at us reaching the portal having devolved into boredom as we argued among ourselves. `` Right, I'm going through with a rope then.'' `` Alright. You step through the portal, rope tied tightly around your waist.'' As Kat said this, a flash illuminated the room, and after I had blinked the afterimage away, there stood my character, a Forest Gnome I had named Dimp. We all stared at him, mouths agape, except for Kat, curiously. `` You teleport in a ball of light to find a small room, filled with five sitting humans. Every one of them stares at you in a look of disbelief, except for one, which seems to be narrating what you do in Common.'' Kat looked at me, eyes wide, and I could see tears forming there. It seemed she could n't control the speech. `` What the fuck?'' I said, first to break the silence among us players. `` One of them spits a disbelieving expletive at y-'' I tuned Kat out, trying to focus on the situation. My character, one that I created in a FICTIONAL GAME, was standing right there in front of me, somehow transported to this world. Curiously, he stood there, doing nothing. `` How did you get here?'' I asked, scratching my head. No response. I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turn my attention to Josh. `` Tell Kat what you're going to do,'' he whispers. `` I respond to the strange humans,'' I say, addressing Kat. Still nothing. Maybe it has to be specific? `` I say `` Hello'' to the strange humans.'' `` Hello,'' Dimp says, and then he falls silent. Kat does n't stop narrating, saying everything as we do it, but tears are clearly falling down her cheeks now. `` I pull Dimp back through the portal with the rope,'' Mai says, noticing this. Dimp was violently pulled by the rope at his waist, and he disappeared in another flash of light. After Kat was done narrating this, she stopped talking, and collapsed on the floor in tears. Between shuddering breathes, she asked us a single question. `` What. The fuck. Was that?''
[ WP ] : The protagonist made just enough this year to be considered in the 1 % bracket of America . The next day they receive a package detailing the rules and regulations of being part of such an elite group .	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) '' Dear Sir, Congratulations on your acceptance into The Elite. The Elite is an organization consisting only of the top one percent of wealth holders in America. Your earnings this year, as well as your projected wages in the foreseeable future, have qualified you to be a part of I skim the rest of the letter. I find it... difficult to believe. I look up at the courier, who is still waiting in the doorway. He wears a white tuxedo with black trim, as well as black gloves and a black chauffeur's hat. `` Is this for real?'' `` It is, sir.'' He barely moves. `` Hmm.'' Words fail me. `` I have been asked to escort you and your wife this evening to the Ritz-Carlton in Atlanta for your initiation ceremony. It is my duty to inform you that, should you fail to attend this event, your offer of membership will be revoked and your memory of said offer will be erased.'' ``... I'm sorry, what?'' `` I have been asked-'' `` No, no, no, what was that you said about my memory?'' The courier said nothing. `` You said it would be erased?'' `` That is correct.'' `` Okay.'' I fold up the letter and hand it back to him. `` Look, I did n't make my money by being stupid, alright? I'm not falling for whatever... Candid Camera show this is.'' The courier does n't take back the letter. I shove it into his chest. `` Here, go on. Get off my property.'' All of a sudden, the courier puts a finger to his ear, as though reaching for a nonexistent Bluetooth headset. I have to stop myself from falling over. He nods, ever so slightly. `` Sir, you are being asked to check your bank account online, as proof of fact.'' `` I'm not letting you into my house.'' He nods again. His finger does n't leave his ear. `` You may check your billing statement through your phone, on your mobile app.'' `` Shows what you know.'' I shake the letter in his face again. `` I do n't have a-'' My smartwatch buzzes. I look down, and to my shock, see the words Downloading - Bank of America My vision starts to swim. I pull my phone from my pocket and watch as the download completes. I pull it up, quickly. After entering my passwords, I am greeted with my most recent balance. Carter Hawthorne Balance: Savings: $ 0.00 Checking: $ 0.01 The courier has n't moved. I glare at him, and he does not respond. `` What is this?'' My voice is shaking with fear. `` We are who we say we are, sir,'' he replies. `` Please call your wife to give notice of the event. A limousine will be here to receive you and your wife at 6 P.M. sharp.'' On that note, he turns and leaves. The package he brought with him stays on the doorstep. I slam the door, and run to my office. It had to be a hack, had to be... I think to myself, as my hands slam their way over the keyboard. I pull up all my assets, from my company bank to my offshore emergency fund. At each account, I am confronted with a balance of nothing. Only a few of my stocks are still intact, but they're being drained. I sell on all my investments. I'm forced to use a less-than-legal wire transfer account I picked up a few years ago. I can have it sent to a new account once I set it up. I lean back in my chair, my breathing ragged. I feel myself going into shock. The only thing that keeps me from fainting is the sound of my wife's car rolling up the drive. I force myself to stand and go downstairs. `` Honey?'' `` I'm home,'' Alyssa calls out. `` Do n't ask me why though. I thought the investors' lunch was going just fine, but then they all up and left at once and - oh.'' She stops speaking the moment I step into the garage. `` You look like a mess. What's wrong?'' `` Where are the kids?'' `` Wh... They're still at school.'' `` We're going to go get them. Get in the car.'' `` Dear? Dear, what's wrong?'' `` We need to be out of the country by six.''
[ WP ] Coming back to life .	A deathly breath crept inside his lungs. He coughed up dust and could not stop for what seemed like a lifetime. His chest began to hurt from the harsh heaving and his eyes watered from the pain burning deep within him. The coughing was uncontrollable. As it began to subside he realized he could barely move. Maybe he could wriggle a little down and squeeze his arms over his own body to his face but he was trapped. Then he opened his eyes. Really, he had them open the entire time but it was now that his mind caught up. There was no light. Only the deepest darkness met his eyes. He began to panic. He began to thrash and scream and snarl. Where was he? Why was he here? He pushed against the container he was in, cutting his knuckles. His chest began to hurt once again. Then, so did his eyes, legs, arms, and stomach. Everything began to light afire with pain causing him to almost pass out. Or maybe he did but did not remember it. Everything was paralyzed with pain and he could barely move. He could only think why, why me? He began to sob.Through the pain and through the tears he remembered. It was raining. It was always raining. Thunder sounded in the distance as the rain poured onto Jim's head. In an act of futility he tried to raise his collar to keep out the rain. Where's that sophistic fuck? The rain, coupled with the cemetery he was supposed to meet in, made his teeth chatter. Jim took a shaky hand and drew a puff from his smoking cigarette. He was halfway surprised it lit in this rain but that was just his luck: getting miracles when it did n't matter. `` Jim,'' said a quiet voice from behind. Jim whirled around, a.44's silver sheen visible in his hands. `` Jim, it's alright! It's me!'' Jim sighed. `` Richard, I've nearly blown your head off enough times as it is. No sense in sneaking up on me like that, eh?'' Richard scratched his head, a tired smile stretched across his face. `` Yeah, yeah you're right. Those were the good days though, right? All those close calls. All those times my ass would have died. You were there. You were there to pull me out. To make sure I was n't just a bag of meat. Nobody else cared for me like that. Nobody.'' Richard laughed, or tried to laugh but it came out as more of a cough. `` Those were the good days.'' Jim took another breath of the deathstick he could n't ever quit. `` Yeah.'' Jim's voice got quieter. `` Yeah, they were.'' The two exchanged knowing glances. Jim stood a bit straighter but like a soldier who knew the bullet was on his way to his heart but just had n't yet reached it. `` So it was you they sent?'' Jim shook his head. `` You of all people?'' Richard only grunted in reply. His eyes were no longer meeting his friend's. The rain hitting the gravestones became the symphony of death, its notes hitting Jim like sledgehammers. He threw his.44 beneath Richard. Such a small device had saved his neck so many times. It's the little things. It's always the little things. `` I'm sorry, Jim.'' The tired smile turned into a horrid grimace. There were tears but the rain washed them away. Richard was thankful. `` Jim, if I don't-'' `` It's alright, Richy.'' Jim was the only one who called Richard that. The nickname only made Richard's chest that much tighter. `` It's alright.'' Jim inwardly cursed. He screamed. He was n't just going to lay down and die after everything was he? He was n't just going to die like a helpless dog... was he? `` Do... what you have to do.'' Out beneath Richard's coat a grey piece of metal appeared. Slowly, Richard worked the slide injecting the lead tipped bullet inside the chamber. Jim's heart seized. This was it. He was staring down the barrel of a gun for the last time. These magnificent pieces of machinery built to kill would take one more life this day. His life. `` I'm so sorry, Jim.'' Jim smiled in return. He took one more drag from his cigarette, threw it away and looked Richard right in the eye. `` I'm so sorry.'' No more words needed to be exchanged. No more feelings needed to be expelled. The trigger was pulled. The firing pin hit the primer. The bullet sailed out and into Jim's chest. Richard pulled the trigger three more times as Jim collapsed. Blood fountained from the wounds. His body hit the ground, the blood dissipating into the ground. The darkness once again encased Jim. He searched his chest for holes but all he could feel were slight indentations. While he felt elated to be alive once more Jim had already seen that his oxygen would run out and he would die once again. Just his luck: miracles when it did n't matter. He almost laughed then. Be brought back to life only to die again, a more painful death. Then, as if a real miracle had happened, he felt a sharp object cut his pectoral. He felt around for it and it was a sturdy knife, large handle and sharp edges. It was a wonder he had n't impaled himself on it during his panic. Jim smiled. Maybe his luck was changing. He dug at the top of his chamber which he assumed could only be a coffin. It would be slow work and maybe he would n't even make it. However, there was hope. For the first time in ages he felt like he wanted to live, no, he needed to live. He was n't finished yet. Jim whispered to himself, `` I'm getting out of here. I'm getting out of here even if it kills me.''
[ WP ] Build up a tense scene , then destroy it with a deus ex machina .	`` Get down!'' I duck and watch the sword swing over my head, then turn to stare at the rotting corpse which had been seconds away from gouging my back. I nod in brief thanks and give my fellow party member a once-over. He has a gash all the way down his left arm. `` Is that superficial or deep?'' He looks at it and winces. He must be so pumped up he's not feeling pain. ( I wish I could be like that ). `` Not sure.'' `` Let me heal it then.'' My hand glows green as I patch up the wound and he scans the horizon for more undead. I feel the trickle of strength flow out of me. `` Done.'' `` Great. Okay, let's try to get closer to town - `` He whirls and skewers another undead as it tries to dig itself out of the ground. `` I know they do n't spawn on the path.'' It is an hour's walking to the path, and that's in daylight and good conditions when we were well rested. We had n't planned to return on foot. `` Stop looking at me like that! You're judging me, I know you are!'' `` Well, we would n't have been in this mess if someone had n't lost their teleport crystal.'' `` For the last time, it was - `` A wolf howls in the distance and we both go silent in terror for five seconds or so. ``... stolen. Back at the market.'' He finished in a hushed whisper. There is no more howling, and we both breathe silent sighs of relief. `` Sure. Whatever. But... I do n't think the path is the best option. We should get to the top of that hill-'' I pointed west, where a tor top was lit by the moon `` -so we have good visibility, then wait it out for dawn. They'll stop spawning at sunrise.'' `` Better idea than mine. You lead the way; I'll cover your back and skewer anything that looks at you funny.'' Blearily, I trudge up the hill. I feel woozy and hazy; I have used far too much magic today and I should have been asleep five hours ago. In front of me, an undead hand bursts from the ground. I stomp on it with a satisfying crunch, and imagine a scream of pain ( I know they do n't feel pain - they do n't feel anything ). I smile a little and plod on. When we're almost to the tor, I hear a scream of agony behind me. Two zombies at once. One's chewing on his arm, and he's desperately batting away the other. His sword is three paces away from him; out of reach. I yell in answer and run towards him, wishing not for the first time that I had any talent in offensive magic at all. I need to get to the sword. It's too heavy for me to normally handle, but I know I will be able to swing just twice and cut off two heads. He screams again, a torturous wail echoing around the moor. One of the undead is grasping at his chest. I see blood. Sword forgotten, I lunge for him instead, hands shining green - he's going to die very, very, soon unless I heal- My hand strikes his face, and the green flash is nearly blinding. I pour strength into the blast, yelling mentally to fix it, fix everything... When I come around, three seconds later by the tick of my mind, There is no sign of the undead and no sign of wounds. His clothes are n't even tattered. `` Did you kill them?'' `` They just... dissolved.'' He looks as shaken as I feel. For a moment I do n't get it, then the realisation hits me. I'd learned this way, way back but it had never before been useful. `` Healing spells kill undead...'' `` Are you sure?'' `` Positive.'' my headache is blinding, but I crack a smile. `` Let's get to the tor.'' He takes my hand and leads me forward, and I know from that that I probably look as bad as I feel. We reach the rocky outcrop and he boosts me up; I have no strength to climb. Another cry from below - a zombie has his leg. I try to fire green magic at it, but it misses. `` Wide area effect spell!'' He yells. I yell back an affirmative; it probably sounded as a meaningless shout to him. I close my eyes. Feel the river of light in my mind. Wrap it around me. Cast it wide. The dome expands outwards, and encompasses the tor top. I hear scrabbling as he pulls himself up and feel, through the magic, the cleansing of the undead that had held him. `` Can you keep this up?'' `` I'll try.'' My spell healed me too; an absurd positive feedback loop that made me believe maybe we were n't destined to die this day. `` Do n't talk to me. Distracting.'' An hour passes. Maybe more, maybe less. Feels like a month. My mind-clock is obscured by the haze of green. But then the sun comes up, and it hits my eyelids, and I open my eyes and stare into the most beautiful sunrise I will ever see in my life. My concentration broken, the spell ends, and the green dome flickers away from me as I continue to glassily stare at the morning sky. Next to me, he drags himself to his knees and whoops with laughter at our survival. `` We did it! Ohmigod we're alive!'' I do n't respond. I do n't hear him. ``... Hey? You... alright there?'' I do n't respond. I do n't hear him. He pokes me. I do n't feel it. He checks my pulse, and finds nothing, and begins to cry. I am still staring glassy-eyed at the last sight I will ever see. The most beautiful sunrise of my life.
[ WP ] Tell me an emotional story about a man , using only what he would type into Google search	Best private school LA LA public school system Jobhunter LA Budget kids clothes How to fix a leaky faucet Modern student backpacks How to qualify for an education loan Return Klip-pack 9000 Amazon Ninja Turtles rolling backpack Rain jacket size small What to do if your apartment floods Budget plumbers LA From Columbus to America book rental How to help your kids with math Best Christmas presents for kids 2014 Chronic pain in throat Cold medicine Amazon Chronic coughing How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program How to pay for cancer treatment without health insurance Part time jobs LA Craigslist jobs LA Alternative medicine LA What is chemo therapy Throat cancer surgery success rate How to qualify for a medical loan What to do if you can ’ t pay credit card bill How to qualify for a loan with bad credit Ninja Turtles Raphael doll Amazon Child caskets LA
[ WP ] Conflicting Secret Organization names	`` So I met this girl, and she was also from the Agency, and we really hit it off, man. Same complaints on our bosses. Same opinion of the Leader — ruthless yet efficient. Similar plans, aspirations. We had so much in common, even the head counts — yeah I know one is n't supposed to brag, but then everyone does sometimes. And then on the next day we're planning to go to the briefing, and she got the Agency address all wrong. And the I realize she's from the other Agency, the one on Elm. I totally forgot about that one. And she realizes as well. And of course now we have to kill each other — said too much, and so on. But I try to be a decent person, so screw that rule. It was n't her fault anyway. So we just shake hands and part our ways with a mutual respect. So damn sad, man. But what can you do? The transfers take years with all bureaucracy and you might end up in a wrong place anyway. I just hope I wo n't meet her on a mission.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Impressive, is n't? Axium is the rarest and most destructive mineral, and we got a whole warehouse full of it. And it's a funny story. It started when Group 11 has ordered some axium. But the shipment was attacked by L8, and by mistake went to Group II, which is us here. When L8 found out the shipment was axium, they ordered some too, to balance the odds. That order was in turn hacked by G11. However G11 just outsourced the hacking dept to cut costs, so it was done just as well as you would imagine. The shipment went to us again. Those shipments got other groups and agencies interested in axium, so everyone started ordering it. But by that time the vendors were sure it was us all along, just being discreet by working through others. So they decided to save on shipping and just sent it all straight to us. Not the smartest move if you think of it, but they probably did save a lot. And now we have a warehouse full of axium and everyone's afraid of us. Good thing they do n't know that after all budget cuts GII is just a warehouse worker, that's me, and my intern here. And the boss, but he's always drunk. So now I get to decide all those foreign policy things. Not regretting that university degree anymore.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` It is said sometimes that our country has secret agencies, and that we might have too many of those. Do you have any comments on that, Mr. Secretary?'' `` I do n't normally comment on rumors, but let me build a hypothetical situation for you. If we had all those agencies you are talking about, and if there were many of them, how many people would be employed there?'' `` The rumors are that almost every tenth person is in some kind of an agency or group. Of course these are only rumors and I do n't know anything about any actual agencies or groups or their closely-guarded secrets.'' `` So, a lot of people. A lot of people who have jobs now. You say there might be some redundancy. Let's say we, well, reformed those hypothetical agencies. Do n't you think a lot of people would lose their jobs and would n't be very happy about it? Does n't it follow from your original idea that those hypothetical unhappy people would be highly trained and extremely dangerous?'' `` Um… thank you for answering my question, Mr. Secretary. That was the last for today. Tune in for our show next week, folks!''
[ WP ] A superhero has multiple personalities and is his own supervillain .	`` Shit!!!'' Peter Parker snapped awake, glanced out the window and slammed his palm against his bed frame as he realized it was completely dark outside. Hand stinging, he scrambled to find his phone buried in the musty sheets that lay in a twisted mess atop his bed. Groaning, he realized it was after 10:00 p.m. - despite downing a strong coffee, putting on the loudest music he owned and sitting down to do some work, he had dozed off that afternoon. Again. For close to ten hours. Familiar cold dread began to snake its way through his stomach as he tried to shake himself awake. Heart racing, he stumbled to the bathroom and examined himself, looking for any trace of black goo spotting his fair complexion. After 20 minutes of scouring his own body, and two near-heart attacks caused by some suspiciously thick looking patches of arm hair, he took a ragged breath in and gripped the bathroom sink. If he let himself he would keep looking for hours, and, if there was any chance Venom was back, he would need his wits about him... If he had known at the time that trying to replace the shredded suit that the Beyonder destroyed would lead to all this, he would have happily worn nothing rather than put on that godforsaken filth. It was n't until he started sleeping late, waking exhausted and hearing reports of Spiderman sightings at times when he knew he had n't been out that his excitement about the new suit gave way to trepidation. Things escalated all too quickly after that and, even months later, just thinking about the cloying feeling of that black tar-like goo spreading across his body made him shudder. Once it became clear that Venom was not just a piece of clothing, but an alien parasite that hoped to make Peter his host for good, it was n't long before his desperate attempts to rid himself of it led to it taking over Brock. With a grudge to bear over Peter's role in his professional downfall, Brock's desire for vengeance combined with Venom's unrelenting obsession with Spiderman resulted in a villain that shook Peter to his core. It had been weeks since Venom nearly killed him by pushing him in front of a subway train but the mere anticipation of another meeting left him perpetually panicked. Now he could n't tell if exhaustion was setting in or if his change in sleep patterns meant that Venom had broken away from Brock to try to re-possess Peter. One thing was certain; after weeks of obsessively trying to plan for Venom's next attempt to re-claim his body, he was beginning to become unhinged. He could not shake the feeling that he was hearing things; low hisses seemed to emanate from the floorboards when he left a room and at least a dozen times in the last week he had turned face while leaving his apartment building to confront a large hedge which seemed to be murmuring `` Peeeeeeter.......'' It always quit the moment he spun around, poised and ready to web his way to the roof of the building. One morning he steeled himself to ignore it and keep moving, unwilling to make a fool of himself again. As one foot, then another landed past the point where he had stopped every other day to defend himself, his progress was met with silence and he began to breathe a sigh of relief, until -'' FOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! `` Peter ducked as though dodging a punch and slowly turned to face the direction from where the thunderous scream had originated. Dropping into a low crouch, he haltingly approached the hedge a few inches at a time. Once he was flush with its side, he peered into the leaves, straining his bloodshot eyes to see what he knew was waiting for him. But the long silence following the hedge's initial condemnation stretched into seconds, then minutes, until nearly an hour had passed since Peter first tried to leave. His legs ached from squatting but, even after a passing neighbor did a double take at the sight of a disheveled, half-crazed young man seemingly communing with the residential shrubbery, he remained, peering into the shadows cast by the leaves... Later that night Peter collapsed onto his couch, fed up with an evening of pondering then rejecting his own half-baked strategies for confronting Venom. Weariness was n't just something he felt in passing any longer, it engulfed him completely, tugging his body deeper into the cushions with every breath. He rubbed his temples slowly as his head pounded in pain, trying to take a step back from the terror that still surprised him in its ferocity. He was a superhero, for God's sake, he'd battled criminals and come to within an inch of his life on more occasions than he could count. Why was this *thing* rendering him so useless? Indignation quelled the panic that had been willing his eyes open and, mind still churning, he fell into a fitful sleep... Blaring big band music filled a string of strange and disconnected nightmares and Peter awoke gasping for air, with vivid memories of being thrown from a cliff just moments earlier. Whatever Sinatra song his free-fall had been set to was still on repeat in his head as he groggily looked up from *'' Shit, shit, shit! `` * he hissed, jumping up as he realized that the music he had heard was not in his head at all, but being blasted from his bedroom down the hall. He quickly circled behind the couch to the hallway and paused on the opposite end of the hall from his bedroom, looking for any movement. Seeing nothing, he made his way down the hall, moving in quick, quiet strides towards his bedroom. Halfway there he felt a sharp burst of cold air graze his right cheek and paused, then followed the chill into the tiny bathroom. His heart sank as he looked to the window - the cheap curtains his aunt bought him as a housewarming gift fluttered in the cool breeze, dancing amidst shards of broken glass. A strong gust of wind slammed the bathroom door shut with a crack and, as he reached to pull it open, his breath caught in his throat as he heard sudden movement outside the door. `` I'm in here!'' Peter yelled, `` and I'm not leaving without a fight!!'' Pressing his shoulder against the door to keep what felt like three or four large men at bay, Peter counted to three under his breath, then suddenly jumped back from the door, ready to attack whoever Venom had brought with him. As he tackled the grey-haired men who fell onto the bathroom floor, he felt someone above him stab him in the leg. He tried to swing his fist back up to backhand the second attacker, but in seconds he had lost coordination of his muscles and found himself laying on his side, cheek to the cold bathroom tile. The man who he had tackled was slowly picking himself up and Peter slurred a question as the tranquilizer kicked in `` Who are youuu?'' Peter struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting an overwhelming tide of drowsiness in his desperation to identify his assailants. His eyes widened as he saw the man dust off a white lab coat and straighten a name tag which read: Dr. Jeffries. `` Whhoooooo!!!!!!!!'' Peter moaned in confused protest, staring up at the man from the floor. `` Peter, it's Dr. Jeffries, you know me,'' the man replied in a genteel and patronizing tone. `` You've had another episode, but we're going to get things cleaned up in here and get you back to your room in not time. Did you hurt yourself when you broke that window, son? I do n't see any blood, but we should probably give you a good check-up...'' The Dr. nodded back at a man and woman, both in nursing uniforms, who crowded in to the bathroom on his cue and kneeled next to Peter. As they started lifting up his shirt, he moaned again, making one last attempt to fight the heavy drugs immobilizing him and let these people know they were in danger. `` V... V..eeerrnoeeeem'' he gurgled, internally exasperated that he could not form an intelligible word. To his surprise, the doctor's eyes flashed in recognition at the name. His lips pursed into a thin line as he lowered his head in....disappointment? Peter could n't tell if the drugs were inhibiting his perceptions, or if the doctor actually knew who Venom was and was foolhardy enough not to take actions to protect himself and the others. As Peter groaned a warning, the doctor snapped `` no, Peter'' and leaned in close to his face. `` I know this is disorienting, but stay with me... we've made so much progress.... you're not Venom, or Spiderman, you're Peter Parker and you're being treated for Disassociate Identity Disorder at the Abbott Psychiatric Hospital...'' The doctor repeated this same sentence again and again, but as the sedative took hold, the words blended into the Sinatra song on in the hospital hallway and Peter drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
[ WP ] The most generic story , in the style of your favourite author . People in the comments will guess who he/she is .	Breakfast, for Masereau, being a critical start to every day, began with, actually depending on, Sarah's manipulation of a chrome-plated aparatus. Masereau detested the mechanical tool, as he did of any machined instrument, instead preferring the simplicity of nature: Kill bird, eat bird; none of the euphemized portmanteaus of processed nutrition. BeefKen and SoyVeal stood out as the absolute worst, though, as to which resulted in the worst experience remained open for debate. Fibrous yarn wove textureless souffles from beef and chicken byproducts - sinew, vein, bone meal, all important nutrition sources - to create that remarkably bland blend, BeefKen. Comparatively, on teeth chewing tin, the rich ambrosia of soy shucks and beefy afterbirth, fumigated the kitchen with paint-curdling pungency owning to an otherwise surprisingly delightful medley of paste and grit textures, blared to any olfactory sense, of those so far undamaged, that dollops of SoyVeal were imminent. Such cursed comestibles came, assisted by engineered assistance, with the jolliest of smiles, as though Sarah's entire perception of reality were warped across space and time such that, somewhere else, an entirely different universe, such crap could be passed off as food. Curse the machine, Masereau said each morning, with earnest force behind the thought, willing it to break, though it never did, but such played out the recurring charade. Of course, today, Masereau knew, stood apart, Sarah having set the bowl down, because, not having to look or listen or even flick his tongue in the air, she had mixed the vile remnants together.
[ WP ] Your parents insist you are their biological child , but you suspect otherwise . You send samples from yourself , your parents , and siblings to a lab be tested . The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA ...	`` Not equipped? Non... human..?'' Heck, if they are gon na fuck up the test then at least refund my money. Martin got to typing as he would not let $ 139.74 after taxes go to waste. > Dear Co. DNA > I just got your letter telling me you're equipment was not equipped handling the samples I sent you. I want my money back or for you to do your jobs. I can send more DNA, but I refuse to pay shipping this time. > Please and thanks. > Regards, > Martin They'd probably get cracking to make it work once they realize near one fifty is on the line. Fuckin companies. Martin sent out the email and took a breath. With a sigh he was about to close his laptop, but just when the light was about to meet the buttons the computer sounded, `` BA-DING! You got mail!'' Martin's hand stopped concurrently with his brow furrowing. Could it be? He lifted the screen to light up his face again to see his inbox updated. > About your DNA... SENDER: Co. DNA That is some good service. Martin rolled the mouse to click the link however was interrupted, `` BA-DING! You go- BA-Ding! You got mail.'' > Urgent Please Respond SENDER: Co. DNA > DNA SENDER BEWARE!! SENDER: Unknown Martin got a run of chills down his back and clicked the third email received ignoring the CoDNA company. The email read: > whose ever spit was used to seal that envelope is in grave danger, and one other entity in the 4th test tube. assuming you know who is who, get them and run. your IP is being traced.'' Martin could not comprehend what was going on, but before he could react a distant chopping sound was getting louder. Helicopters?! FUCK FUCK FUCK! Martin bolted downstairs and saw his parents in tears and they screamed at him, `` WHAT DID YOU DO?!'' Martin looked at their computer screen to read in big bold letters, `` BLOCKED, SECRET SERVICES.'' `` I-I-I do n't know! I was sent our DNA to see if I am related to you guys... What am I? I'' Martin's little sister Jen walked in from the commotion, `` What are we?!'' Martin continued to yell. Martin's mother sat down as the father took a step forward, `` Go downstairs, take your sister. Get behind the bookshelf and enter 1-9-8-7. We wo n't be able to explain... but you should have your answers... We love you guys.. We should have told you... Now GO!'' Martin saw Jen crying and trying to cling to her mom, but yanked her away with strength he did not know he had. What was special about his spit? It did n't even work on the seal envelope. Martin holding Jen's arm preventing her from running back upstairs. He pushed the book shelf aside which started to move aside by itself. There he saw a small number pad where he punched the numbers. And the door slid open and closed behind them as they walked through with a voice over the communication system, `` Emergency Ghost mode active! You are under the radar.'' In the room are rows set up by really long tables. The blue light made Martin feel good, but it gave the odd orbs that were set on the tables a mysterious glow. They were in plant pots and Martin could not make them out, `` Is this a farm?'' Martin got next to one of them and touched it. They were all eggs. He looked back at his sister who was rubbing her now scaly face from tears. If this is a farm... then we are the cattle... edit: fixed a thing or two to make it better.
[ WP ] Write the end ( climax/aftermath ) of a story that makes me wish I could read the rest .	( its my first post ever so sorry if i broke any rules and also sorry if i did any mistakes since English is not my native language ) “ Did it really have to end like this? ” I tell myself looking in the mirror, looking at my own eyes. “ I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU ” I suddenly scream getting up dropping the razor blade. “ YOU JUST HAD TO DO THIS TO ME YOU HAD TO BETRAY ME LIKE THIS. YOU BETRAYED YOURSELF ” I keep staring it my eyes for a good minute or too. “ WHY WON ’ T YOU ANSWER ANYMORE???? ” I look, powerless, while my own reflection just turns around and leaves.
[ WP ] Much like software is peer reviewed , before a magic spell can be published in a spellbook its effects must be well tested and documented . You are peer reviewing spells .	[ Spellnote 482 ] TICKLE ME GOLEM SPELL NOT, I REPEAT, NOT RECOMMENDED FOR CHILDREN! SIZE IS... GAAH!... ( sounds of crashing in background ) SIZE IS NOT PRESET AND MAY... ( sounds of crashing in background ) AND MAY, jesus fuck! `` HUG ME!'' [ Spellnote 556 ] Tentacle entrapment spell is uh, is, ah not, repeat not recommended as home securiAAaaaooo... gah, home security system but may have... uh... other applications in oooohhh [ Spellnote 1234 ] Greater Summon Puppies is best spell ever! Haha, whose a good boy! Whose a good boooyhooyyy! Hahaha! ( rest of entry is continued baby speak babbling until spell lost effect ) [ Spellnote 2001 ] My God. It's full of stars. ( Last known entry ) ( Last known lifesign of researcher )
[ WP ] You are an arms dealer for keyboard warriors .	My boots crunched across the gravel of the parking lot of the motor lodge. It was one of those squat, poorly lit, one story jobs that had been built back in the 20th century and had n't been updated since. Peeling paint, sagging blinds, the whole nine yards. Christ, they always wanted to meet someplace like this. I leaned a little more to my left, counterbalancing the weight of the large case dangling from my right arm. I rifled around in my pocket, digging through the contents. I reached past the large wad of bills in denominations no larger than fifty dollars, past the candy wrappers. After a moment, I had it; a grimy scrap of paper. I pulled it out and walked a few paces to the one flickering fluorescent overhead light that still worked in the whole place. It said,'115'. I walked along the sidewalk in front of the rooms, passing doors and the sounds and smells behind them. One door with rhythmic thumping of music, another with rhythmic thumping of a different sort. I passed a fifty year old woman with bottle-blonde hair wearing a low cut dress and eight inch heels, leaning against the wall and hugging herself while she smoked a cigarette. She looked gaunt and tired. I passed a monitor set against the wall, flashing bright neon text that lit up the dark and made crazy reflections in the oil-slicked puddles of the parking lot to my right.'IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING' it said.'REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY', it said.'WORKING TOGETHER FOR A SAFER TOMORROW', it said. I passed a newspaper vending machine.'RADICAL RIGHT-WING TERRORIST GROUP RELEASES STATEMENT; SOUGHT BY FEDS'. I knocked on 115. 'Password?' The muffled voice behind the door sounded anxious. Agitated. I could n't contain a sigh.'Patrick Henry', I said. The door opened and an arm shot out, pulling me into the dark. The door slammed behind me. It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust. It was a typical group. Young guys, mostly, eighteen to twenty five. The leader, a slightly older guy, maybe thirty, wearing thick-framed glasses and a pony tail, held up a hand to prevent me from going any deeper into the room. `` Check him,'' he said. Another guy came forward with a wand and ran it over my body from head to toe. The he reached to start patting me down and I swatted his hands away. `` Kid, this ai n't my first rodeo. I would n't bring a cell phone within six miles of this place. But if you touch me again, you're going to pull back a stump. The electronic sweep will have to be good enough.'' They eyed each other nervously. Ponytail's hand drifted toward his right-front pants pocket where he no doubt had some kind of small concealable piece. I shifted my weight and calculated the time it would take to disarm him while keeping an eye on the others; none of them moved. He sighed. `` Alright, you're cool. You going to check us?'' I snorted. `` Kid, if I was worried about you, I would n't be here.'' I opened the case. Inside were three or four keyboards. A heavy set young man wearing a trilby picked one up and turned it over in his hands. He was wearing a T-shirt that said `` FSA'' and `` FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS'' with a picture of a keyboard on it. He looked over at me. `` What's this?'' he asked, pointed at a scuffed blank spot on the underside of the keyboard. `` That is why you'll pay me ten times the going rate for one of these bad boys. The serial numbers have been filed off and they were... acquired... directly from the manufacturer. These are n't registered with the feds. They're ghost boards.'' An appreciative whistle came from some corner of the room. `` So,'' one of the voices said, `` You're saying we can type anything with these?'' I nodded. `` Fuck yeah,'' someone else said. `` Just like the first amendment says.'' Trilby cleared his throat. `` I do n't know. When the framers wrote the constitution, they did n't anticipate that we would have means to communicate in such a rapid and public way. I can kind of see the point of reasonable regulation. I mean, if McGuire hand't been allowed to say what he said about the NSA, how many lives would have been saved because they did n't have to put down the riots? Background checks and tracking seem reasonable to me.'' `` Shut the fuck up, Clarence,'' said pony tail. `` If you give them an inch, they'll take a mile.'' Clarence nodded a little, cowed by the leader. `` I guess,'' he said, looking at his feet. He shifted his weight and glanced toward the door. `` So how about it, fellas?'' I asked. `` You want the ability to question the government? You want to post blogs about surveillance? These things will make you a phantom. They'll never find you. Built in proxies through random servers across the globe,'' I said, pointing to a box attached to the end of each keyboard. `` Alright,'' said ponytail with sudden resolve. `` We'll take the lot.'' With a smooth, practiced motion I drew my pistol and pointed it in Ponytail's face. `` DO N'T MOVE!'' I heard the door of the room next door bang open, and I sidestepped as the door of the hotel room we were standing in splintered and banged open against the wall. Six guys in riot gear swarmed the room, pushing the free speech nuts against the walls and floors of the room. `` You are under arrest for violation of the Free Speech Protection Act of 2017 and intent to acquire tools for the purpose of inciting seditious activity,'' I announced. My lieutenant clapped a hand on my shoulder and smiled. `` Nice work, Benedict,'' he said. `` Nice work. Let's get these guys back to the station.''
[ PI ] In an effort to reduce global pollution , each nation has erected barriers around their lands to keep out toxins spread from other nations , creating isolationist policies world-wide . In the future , pollution terrorism is a new tactic used by those breaking from their isolation .	I hope you do n't mind some constructive criticism! I'm from America, and because of the way you punctuate and `` queue,'' I'm assuming you're from the UK. I do n't really know how punctuation works there, but I know it's slightly different, especially in regards to punctuating quotation marks. I did find [ this ] ( http: //grammar.ccc.commnet.edu/grammar/marks/quotation.htm ), and after skimming a few articles similar to it it seems to be the best one. So, my point in all this is: you keep changing between putting periods and commas on the inside and the on the outside. According to that article, you're allowed to do that as you see fit, but it has some good tips so I, personally, think that you should look it over. That said, I will be commenting on grammar, but take it all with a grain of salt just because you're in ~~the UK~~ Australia and things might be different over there. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - >'' Yeah'', replied the first again, `` Except the ones too stupid for that job end up here. Come on, get your ass inside fuckface. You too lady, OIR or not we have n't got all day.'' When addressing people, whatever name you use should be set off by commas, like so > Are you coming, Bob? > Bob, are you coming? > Are you, Bob, coming? -- -- -- -- -- - >'' Yeah'', replied the first again, `` Except the ones too stupid for that job end up here. Come on, get your ass inside, fuckface. You too, lady, OIR or not we have n't got all day.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - >'' Beside, I've been briefed on the situation... Typo. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- >'' Next elevat'r leaves in five, I'll get'cha to the front of the queue, just flash ya badge if anyone gets handsy yeah?'' `` Yeah'' is a non-restrictive element, meaning that while it may provide some context, it's not really necessary to the sentence, and, if taken away, it wo n't make that much of a difference. These are set off by commas. Non-restrictive elements can be short phrases, but they are usually just one word, e.g., `` surely,'' `` yes,'' `` no,'' etc. There are other words that you might think are non-restrictive elements, usually time words, such as `` now,'' but time words are usually necessary. You would n't say > I'm coming, now. because if you take away `` now'' it could mean something slightly different. But you would say > >'' Next elevat'r leaves in five, I'll get'cha to the front of the queue, just flash ya badge if anyone gets handsy, yeah?'' because if you take away `` yeah'' it still means the exact same thing. `` Yes'' and `` no'' are actually basically always set off by commas, because generally they're either a sentence opener or a non-restrictive element. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- >'' No offence ma'am, but we's ai n't here to admire the view,'' Again, the speaker is addressing `` ma'am,'' so it should be set off by commas on both sides. >'' No offence, ma'am, but we's ai n't here to admire the view,'' Also, and this may just be spelled differently here, but at least in America, it's `` offense.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - > As she turned her head she noticed the bloody footprints. > The blood smear ran all along the corridor George had led her into. You said `` bloody footprints,'' and then you switched to `` blood smear.'' That is, assuming you're talking about the same blood both times. I ca n't really tell. If you're talking about two different blood-patterns, you might consider changing `` the'' to something like `` a'' or `` some'' so it does n't sound like that's the only blood. -- -- -- -- -- -- - >'' Plus,'' added George as he picked up an entire severed arm off the floor `` here's the smokin' gun''. `` The victim lost a hand?'' `` Look inside''. I'm assuming this was an accident, but paragraph breaks always go between two different people speaking, just for clarity's sake. Even though you have quotation marks, it still might sound like it's the same person. Note: you can have paragraph breaks when it's only one person speaking, but if you choose to do so you ca n't end the quotation marks until the person has finished. Just do it like this: >'' Blah blah blah, long story, blah blah. >'' Blah blah blah, ending of long story, blah blah blah.'' -- -- -- -- -- >'' Jesus Christ'' I'm assuming this was also an accident, but you need a period to end your sentence. -- -- -- -- > He heard right though. `` Though'' is a non-restrictive element, and should thus be set off by a comma. Also, imperfect/past tense seems kinda weird for this sentence, especially because the entirety of the story so far has been in past/imperfect. Might I suggest the pluperfect/past perfect tense? > He had heard right, though. -- -- -- -- - > as far as it's isolated citizens knew Do you mean `` its,'' referring to Mexico? `` It's'' is a contraction ( like ca n't, does n't, you're, etc. ) and should only be used if it can be replaced in the sentence with `` it is'' ( adjust for tense accordingly ). `` Its'' ( disregarding the normal's = possessive rule ) is the possessive form of `` it'' ( similar to your, their, my, his, hers, etc. ) and should only be used if it can be replaced with `` the x of y,'' like, `` the isolated citizens of Mexico.'' -- -- -- -- >''... You okay lady?'' Same thing as before, commas when addressing somebody. -- -- -- -- -- -- - All that out of the way, this was awesome. Your writing was engaging as well as neat and clean cut, you were descriptive without going overboard, and the story was really good. You should totally finish it! Another thing that I liked was how you could tell so much about the personalities of the characters just by the way they spoke, acted, and thought. You really captured their voices.
[ WP ] A villain convinces the hero that they are the real villain . The argument is so convincing the villain forgets if he is the villain or not .	`` And just how many of my men did you kill or injure with your dramatic entrance into my compound?'' Sigfús was n't smiling. He gave the looming muscular man before him his most disdainful look. The hero stood, clad in dark purple. A steel golden mask hugged close to his face. The mask was in the guise of an Easter Island head. His huge exposed forearms and biceps were colored brown and scarred. `` What does that matter? They are/were an extension of you and your evil plans! When they get between me and you they are no different than you!'' `` Even when they're just working for a paycheck and have no clue as to what I am doing here in this compound? Do you think I run a cult here Budi?'' Sigfús hissed. `` I...'' `` You! You killed at least 12 innocent people by my count this evening and seriously injured 19 more.'' `` It's... It's for the greater good. I'm sorry that this happened but I had to stop you!'' `` The greater good? Do you see this man here?'' Sigfús pointed to a square on the large flat panel illuminating the steel lined room. A form appeared crumpled at the bottom of a set of stairs. A bent rifle lay a few feet from his bleeding head. `` Yes, but this distraction will buy you no more...'' `` His mother is dying of terminal cancer. His daught....'' `` No more games Sigfús!'' Budi inched closer, fists clinched angrily. `` HIS DAUGHTER is only 8 years old. Her mother died in a car accident a year ago. That man was the only source of income for the two women left in his life. They are/were totally dependent upon him!'' `` I'll.. I'll make sure the press knows of his innocence and sacrifice. I'll start a charity drive in his name and do the same for any other innocent who fell today.'' Budi grabbed Sigfús by his shoulders and lifted him from the ground, `` Now you're going to answer my questions!'' The padded shoulders of the expensive suit gave little comfort to the tight grip of the hero. Sweat started to bead on Sigfús' bald head. His thin eyebrows worked as furiously as his mouth. `` I'll do no such thing! Your warrantless attack on my private property has already been transmitted to the AP,'' Sigfús wiggled his shoulders trying to free them. The silhouette of a woman holding a phone out in front of her face stepped out of the shadows, `` Did you even realize I was being interviewed this evening when you decided to storm my 12 foot walls, kill my dogs and men, and physically attack me?'' `` This ludicrous plan is n't going to work Sigfús! Now give me the encryption codes to the infrastructure virus you unleashed on the United States now!'' `` Mr. Budi, Janice Leeson from the Times, you seem to have everything under control here. I hope you wo n't mind a few questions from the free press?'' The beautiful woman was now fully illuminated by the screen. She wore a smart gray and black business suit and brown rimmed glasses. Her hair was auburn, healthy, and cut to a set of bangs just above her eyes. Her lips, a faded shade of red, were held pursed to ask the next question. She was recording him. `` Please hold your questions. I will setup a press conference after this is all over. Right now there are more important things...'' `` About that Mr. Budi. Did you try to confront Mr. Sigfús with a more calm and peaceful approach prior to tonight's violent assault?'' The reporter thrust the phone towards the hero. `` He did n't even call or email me,'' Sigfús groaned. `` Did you bring any evidence of Mr. Sigfús' crimes with you? Surely you did n't just invade a private compound without bringing evidence of the crime with you?'' `` I can remotely access the mainframe in my lair from here. I have a few weeks worth of compiled evidence. Sigfús' hackers have been probing America's infrastructure, finding its weaknesses, and embedding viruses that could bring the country to its knees.'' Budi was starting to grow impatient with the reporter. `` You mean this evidence?'' the reporter tapped a button on the phone's screen, `` You have Chromecast Mr. Sigfús?'' `` Yes. What can I say? It allows me to save on bills and pay my men more salary. Though I'm not sure my insurance company is going to like paying out all those death benefits.'' The reporter tapped a few more buttons and the large screen started streaming a presentation from the her phone. `` Mr. Budi, we at The Times were able to gain access to data from your mainframe a few days ago. We showed your'compiled evidence' to our sources inside the CIA and FBI. They analyzed your findings and found they were absolutely incorrect.'' `` Incorrect? There's no way! I cross checked everything. I followed the hired hackers to a front company Sigfús owns. I...'' `` That company is not owned by Mr. Sigfús. He sold Pemco a year ago to a foreign company. A foreign company that just happens to be a front company for North Korea.'' `` North Korea?'' `` Yes Mr. Budi, North Korea. I have pages of actual concrete evidence obtained from my sources at the CIA that show the source of the incursion was North Korean and not a result of any action on the part of Mr. Sigfús.'' `` I.. I would certainly like to see that paperwork.'' `` I suspect that you will Budi, at your murder trial.. or is that trials?'' Sigfús coughed still suspended in the air by his shoulders. An angry look from Budi stopped his taunting. Budi let Sigfús back down, accepted the reporter's phone, and paged through slide after slide on the screen. Several times Budi cross referenced a slide with results on his phone. With each turned page his brow became more furrowed. `` Mr. Budi, do you have any comment in light of the evidence you have just read?'' `` I just ca n't believe this. This is all too perfect. This is another one of your tricks is n't it Sigfús!?'' `` Yes yes. I am everyone else in the world who disagrees with your barbarism and violence. Look! I even hired Anderson Cooper to do a hit piece on you!'' Sigfús pointed to the large screen and pulled a live feed of CNN from a side monitor onto it using an elaborate hand gesture. `` Tonight our lead story involves the international hero Budi. The world is gasping in shock and disbelief as reports emerge that Budi attacked the home of a private citizen in the UK and then killed or injured several innocent people. Apparently this was all done under the assumption that the owner of the home was planning an elaborate terrorist attack on the U.S. However CIA sources are confirming this evening that the evidence they found on Budi's mainframe computer was poorly researched and the threat was overblown. Furthermore the only evidence of a potential attack they could garner from Mr. Budi's research could be traced back to North Korea and not the private citizen's home that Budi attacked earlier this evening. Now what follows is graphic video from the evening's attack. We would ask that any viewers sensitive to extreme violence please leave the room now.'' Coooper's eyes narrowed as if to question the viewer's resolve just before the video started to play. Budi's chiseled jaw dropped in disbelief. `` I've called the police Budi. I trust you'll not leave the scene of the crime and will allow yourself to face justice?'' `` I...'' `` Mr. Budi, do you have any comment for the press?'' the reporter urged. `` I... If I'm the villain then... Then I guess I should do what villains do.'' Sigfús shook his head. Who was he looking at? The anger and disbelief in that man's eyes was palpable. What had made Budi a hero before? Was it still there? Was this the same man who had entered the room? Sigfús tested the transformation he was seeing with another jab, `` And what is that you evil brute?'' Budi sighed, shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the back of Sigfús head, and then punched a powerful fist through his skull with the other. For a few moments the body dangled from his wrist like a bracelet until he shook it free. The juicy hollow thunk the action made echoed throughout the elaborate compound. The reporter choked on her vomit as she tried to scream. Then without further hesitation Budi took off at a run and barreled through one of the walls of the compound.
[ WP ] Science has allowed for people to choose exactly how their offspring will behave and how they will look like for absolutely no charge . Tell us about it .	The lights flickered as Martha and Jack quietly stepped into the alley way. No longer would they live a life of misery in this rotting city that was once called the big apple, they would finally mold their unborn son into the perfect person, one who was successful, easily manipulated by them, and most importantly, rich. As they reached the metallic door, Jack knocked a pattern and immediately a slide eye-level opened and raspy voice wondered `` Why are you here?'' `` We need a new life for our son'' Martha desperately shrieked, wiping her eyes of tears. She was n't exactly ready to do what the government and the media had declared `` Dehumanizing'', the act of shaping a child's looks and behaviors before they were born. It sounded like cheating to her, and the United States and several other countries deemed it illegal. The door opened, Jack grabbed Martha's hand and calmly stated `` It'll be okay'' and they stepped into a red tinted room with wood floors, complimented with a bright white light in the middle with what seemed to be a operating table. It was here that the so called doctor would perform a C-section on Martha to implant a Neromicron, a device so small if can not be seen by the naked eye. This device would than alter the DNA of her son, so that by the time he was 16, he would be what they envisioned: Their savior. Their puppet. They need this done. Jack and Martha had been shafted by everyone in their lives from the very beginning, Jack especially was fed up with being the underdog, so he half-convinced Martha to do the operation in an effort to better their lives. A small man appeared out of the surrounding shadows, he spoke with the same voice that had met Jack and Martha at the door `` Are you ready? If so, have a seat there and we'll get started''. They walked over to the operating table but this time there were two stools and a ceiling mounted screen that bared the brand Vault-Tec on it. The man grabbed the screen and placed it in Jack's clammy palms `` You can alter any detail by the nanometer if you'd like, or you can choose from presets. Everything from hair color to eye color to nose length and how big his lips will be are all customizable. Choose wisely though, once I put the Neromicron in her, there's nothing else that can change or stop the process.'' They sat for more than an hour making the perfect son, he had resembled the looks of Jake Gyllenhaal with Ryan Gosling. Martha looked at Jack when they were finished `` I'm ready'' she confidently stated, and Jack kissed her as a thank you. The small man reappeared `` Good. Jack already supplied me with your sons behavioral qualities and I made the necessary changes, I just need you'' the man pointing at Martha `` to lay down on the table, and we'll begin.'' Martha laid on the table and the small man put her under anesthesia, suddenly a group of men and women came out of a door in robes with medical supplies and tools. The raspy voice from the small man volunteered Jack to wait outside, so he walked out with a cigarette in between his index finger and his middle finger. He looked at his watch, the clock hands broken but the day and year indicator still worked which read October 27th, 2077. A bright flash infected the alleyway and streets, Jack looked up, stunned and blinded because he knew what it was. He muttered `` God damn it'' before the flash turned into a nuclear fire and a shockwave ripped through the streets and crevices of Manhattan. Jack and Martha would never see their boy, their perfect boy, become what he was made to be.
[ WP ] You 're a teacher with the power to see your students hidden potential . One day you come across a student who has the potential to end the world or save the world .	What would you do if you knew the course of things? If you'd seen this happen before? How would you prepare? I thought I could do better. I watched others fail in the past. I'd failed too, if we're being honest. But I believed in myself. I believed I could do better this time. But watching him now, I had my doubts. So much power. So much ability. Yet there was something more there, underneath the surface. And it terrified me. Because I'd seen that in his father. `` Ben?'' the boy asked, flipping his sandy blonde hair in the sunlight. So much of his father in him. I stared into his eyes. `` Yes, Luke?'' `` I got ta get back home and check on everything for Uncle Owen before bed,'' said Luke. `` Do you need any more help?'' `` No no,'' I replied patiently. `` You can head on back now. Thank you for all your help today,'' I smiled back at him. `` It's getting hard for this old man, you know.'' Luke smiled that wonderful smile of his. The resemblance was there. All of it. `` Sure thing, Ben. Let me know if you need anything else!'' Patience. Tolerance. Love. So many things I could teach him. Anything to keep him from the dark side.
( WP ) It used to be easy ...	`` It used to be easy,'' the old man said, `` living. A man could buy a patch of dirt, build a house with his own two hands and live there happily until his kids put him into the ground. It was peaceful. `` Now life is a race -- get to work on time, pay your bills now, answer that message right away -- people are running from one place to the next, all trying to get nowhere first. They keep chasing happiness, keep'living for the dream'... as if forcing themselves to be unhappy will somehow bring them joy. Makes no sense if you ask me. `` I was never in a hurry, I took it slow; I worked that land from the day I got it till the day I ended up in here. Now that I'm here I wish I took it slower still. There's never enough time, is there? No matter what you do, you always want more. I'm not going to try bargaining; I do n't want to waste my last moments in the race. I'm sure you've heard everything anyway. I just have one question, though I'm not sure the answer matters. Are you really here?'' `` Yes, I am.'' `` I thought so. But even if you're not, seeing things like this means I'm on my way out anyway. Hell, if any of the nurses are listening... well, they're eavesdropping on one hell of a conversation.'' `` It's time.'' `` All right, let's go then. And thank you for listening to an old man's final words.'' `` My pleasure.''
[ WP ] For the brief moment when the sun is blocked out during the peak of a solar eclipse - they become visible .	No one can see us. But they know we are there. They feel it. We are that sensation behind the hear during the night, when they feel observed and there is none around; they turn themselves to find only a bunch of clothes, with an anthropomorphous shape, on the chair. We are a strange shadow when the curtain lift up due to the summer wind, enveloping a moonlight ray in a frame of cloth. We are the weight on the pillow when the eyes start to close and the thought start to flow so fast that they seem unreal. No one have ever seen us, but kids ask to check under the bed to verify that we are not in there, but we are, and we look them straight into the face but the parents do n't see us; we protract our finger to caress a sleeve and they feel nothing. But we are always with them, close or far. They can deny to feel us, but they ca n't ignore that we are there. Even if everyone of us knows that the negation toward ourselves is the strongest existing. There is nothing stronger then truth: and if you are totally convinced of something, that will be the truth. We are as much as them and we influence their life, we command it, in a certain way. We look between us, we know and recognize each others, love or hate, study, comprehend, look into each other so they can say that they had an intuition, a spark of understanding towards someone; the assurance of truth with no proof. Some believe to have a sixth sense, but instead they are just communicating with one of us, choosing to negate us just a little less that all the others. It is that what they see in the mirror is not real, their idea of themselves it is nothing more than an idea. We are real and even if the strength of their negation constrain us to live like shadows, if we disappeared, they would be lost. But we could n't know what would happen at the opposite, it never actually happened. When the eclipse covered the sun and a strange and unreal light fell on us, all looked up, to see the show, scared as if the eclipse was the omen to something bad. When someone started to see around, the world seemed to crystallize in a second, the breath taken. I lowered the eyes on my person and met his, while he was looking straight at my face, not recognizing me, but understanding, fast: the bound between us strongest then ever, with what I knew flowing inside him who finally understood, stopped to deny and saw me. And the same for all the other around us. For the first time in front of a mirror that earned that name. `` I do n't know you'' he said. And immediately after `` You are me, the real me''. Then the sun started to shine again, while the moon moved into its course.
[ WP ] I caught a few seconds of an exchange . Create the back-story .	The portly clerk was manning her post behind the checkout counter, pretending to be oblivious to the shoppers dispersed throughout the store. Like a stealthy bird hovering with bent wings before diving into the pond for a fish to catch, Amanda's attention floated from her crooked nametag to the suspicious, middle-aged Hispanic woman in the first aisle. The cunning shopper slipped into her purse a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and nonchalantly slid towards the next aisle. With a baron line and no customers to serve, Amanda snapped from her position and stepped towards the third aisle. The woman quickly released a twenty ounce foam cup into the trash receptacle underneath the Frappuccino machine. Amanda saw this as she turned passed the last end cap. The woman's face appeared guiltless but the brush of her fingers across her wet, frothy lips was all the evidence that the JJ Peppers associate needed. `` Hey chola,'' Amanda's upward inflection caught the Hispanic woman's full attention as she called her out for attempting to steal, `` You gon na pay for that?'' The woman grunted from her nostrils, detesting the impromptu investigation. She charged back in denial, `` Pay for what?'' Amanda replied, `` I saw you drink that and you put those Flipz in your purse.'' `` You're fucking crazy,'' the Hispanic woman remarked. She added, `` But, you know what? It's okay. I wanted to kill my husband every time the baby kicked and I was hungry.'' The store clerk dropped her jaw and squinted her furious eyes as she grabbed for the woman's purse screaming, `` I'm not even pregnant you fucking bitch.'' The woman pulled back as her body seemed to contort and she fell into the adjacent aisle where the smell of half-opened air fresheners welcomed her with stale cheers. She brought herself to her feet and began to swing at the cashier. Two police cars, parallel to each other, were parked on the side of the building facing in opposite directions. Inside of the vehicles were two officers, each, enjoying their breaks and exchanging stories through the driver-side windows. Officer Tamlin was sitting furthest from the exterior of the convenience store and had a good view of the storefront, that is, much better than his colleagues. The young officer saw the two women exiting the building in disorderly fashion. The store clerk was stronger than the Hispanic woman which allowed her to dominate over the shoplifter; Amanda had a firm grip of the woman's dark hair at medium length and swung her through the automated doorway. The police vehicles moved closer to the front of the building and blue lights encompassed the parking lot, permeating the walls inside; shadows of two-liter cola bottles on display danced along the back wall near the ice machine. Upon separating the combatants, Officer Lemming browsed the area for a preliminary investigation, hoping to recreate the scene in his head before questioning. The detective picked up the Hispanic woman's purse and opened it to find her I.D. along with the pretzels, the latest issue of The Sun, and other store merchandise. `` Care to explain this,'' Officer Lemming probed the woman. `` I caught her drinki-,'' Amanda spoke out of turn but Officer Tamlin hushed her. `` She pulled my hair out,'' the woman exclaimed pointing to Amanda. She added, `` I want her fired. I want you fired! You're done,'' and the woman's audience turned right back to the employee. A middle-aged Hispanic man in the parking lot yelled at the woman surrounded by police officers, `` Please, let it go. Let's just go!'' The woman did n't acknowledge her husband and demanded to one of the officers, `` No, I want you to arrest her!'' The officer stated, `` Listen, if we arrest her then we're going to have to arrest you for shoplifting.'' She replied, `` Why? I did n't do anything wrong!'' ................
[ WP ] Since `` The Fall '' the western world has descended into lands ruled by city states . Write about a meeting taking place between two of these rivals .	Although they had various forms of ungulate and pachyderm at their disposal, Salvador's delegation rode exclusively on armored emus. These were magnificent beasts - twenty feet from toe to beak, armored in steel and carbon-fiber, and adorned with the crest and inch-long teeth that many of the larger birds had developed in more recent generations. In truth, these looked more like a cross between some sort of prehistoric lizard and an ostrich, and maintained a similar temperament, truth be told, to what one would come to expect from an ancient bird-lizard that had lived through decades of nuclear winters and irradiated summers. Karlo scanned the heavily armed-horizon - ten, maybe twelve thousand troops stood on the dune amongst a uniformless assortment of bird, beast, and giant. This was, of course, obscured in part by the dust cloud that the rider-laden birds seemed to cultivate with each step. It was apparently close enough for the herald to start making noise. `` His Honorable Majesty, Potentate Salvador of New York, Conqueror of the Sands, Hero of the East, Slayer of Karh-djhum, Divine Protector of New England, approaches!'' It was an awful lot of words to describe a regional potentate, even for one governing such as big of a city-state as his. Karlo shrugged. Not everyone possessed the same brand humility borne by his liege. `` Potentate Gilead of House Sargo of the Indiannapolis Protectorate approaches with terms of peace.'' Gilead spoke these words himself, unadorned with herald or nondescriptive title. The fact was, he did n't need a herald anymore than he needed the bear-riding entourage that accompanied him, but he decided that riding out without the latter would be construed as an insult to his adversary from the great city-state of New York. Karlo tightened his helmet. There would likely be a few minutes of discussion followed either by a few hours of battle, or a few hours of celebration, depending on how negotiations went. He knew which he preferred. It had been a long campaign, and although the battle would be short ( the five to one advantage, to say nothing of his army's superior weaponry, ensured that ) if his own ursinid had to maul too many more ill-prepared foes, he knew it would become too feral to ride anymore. As Karlo watched the negotiations complete, 100 yards out in the distance, he could n't help but smile. Gilead raised his sword toward his troops, horizontally - a sign that the negotiation was a victory `` for them''. Karlo had seen it many times. This time, it meant that New York was now a part of the growing city-state of Indianapolis... and more importantly, that war had been averted.

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