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[ WP ] You walk into an old drug store , looking for cold medicine . Looking through the assorted bottles on the shelf , you find one labeled `` immortality . '' You decide to buy it .
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My hand was shaking as I unscrewed the top. It was a small shot bottle like any typical energy shot. It was made of black plastic with only the word immortality written across the front in all caps with white lettering. I downed it in one quick motion. It tasted sweat when it first hit my tongue, almost fruity. But as I swallowed it was followed up with a bitter medicine after taste. Besides the bitter/sweat taste in my mouth I felt normal. I looked back at the bottle and realized I had missed something. There was a small peel off label on the back almost completely blending in. I peeled it open and saw in small lettering, side effects: eventual death lol
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[ wp ] Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100 . You have a number '4 ' . Your siblings are all in the nineties .
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Adrian was always the lucky one. When he was ranked it seemed amazing, it was rare to get more than a difference of 10 to you parents, yet, red and gleaming above Adrian's head was the number 95. My whole family was extatic! My father was a 77 and my mother a 71, but a 95? That was reserved for true genius. Einsteins famous 97 came to mind, or Elon Musk's currently unbeaten 99. Adrian went to Harvard at age 14 and came out with a degree in applied physics 2 months later. He was now working on the biggest upgrade to the Large Hadron Collider in years. Then there was Sarah and Jordan both with 93's. Sarah's now head of the anti-terrorism taskforce at the UN. Jordan wrote 5 hit singles by the age of 15 and then revolutionised the lithium battery industry. Some more, Jake, 92, Neuroscientist, Madeline, 91, Astronaut and first woman on Mars, Alex, 90, finally unified quantum mechanics and relativity.
Then there's me.
I've kept a list of how many people thought it was a mistake: 216. `` That's impossible'' They'd say. `` From such a prestigious family?''. `` A 4?!''
Yep. A 4.
To say I was a dissapointment to my family would be the mother of all understatements. I was never given any great chances at school, any choice beyond the lowest classes, with the meatheads, thugs and druggies. Despite my actual intelligence I was never given anything to work with, when I complained about how clever I actually am, people would brush it off as just me `` going to wind up as a terrorist''. The terrorist in the family of genius.
Then, on the 15th of May 2035, at exactly 4:12 PM.
A complete and utter miracle.
`` Mr. Layton? I have something to say which may shock you. But I first better say I'm so so sorry.''
*Yeah* I thought *some cancer would be appropriate right about now*
`` You see there was a slight, unforseen error concerning your number''
`` What?''
`` The computer people call it a'buffer overflow error', the system looped right round after getting over its limit''
*no*
`` I'm proud to say, your number is not 4. It's 104''
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[ WP ] A medieval world where magic exists , but hardly anyone uses it because it 's too much trouble .
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Market day was a hassle because of the potential jesters, magicians and finally *wizards*. Both genders associated themselves with the term, since the it was only three years ago an actual witch rebellion threatened the kingdom. Hence, from that day, in general, it was better to call them a wizard, or *practitioner*. It was all farcical in any case.
I was walking in blue garb for market day, to blend in so to speak. Working as a scribe with only one day of free time every two weeks did not offer me a lot of downtime, especially if you worked for the Astoin family. This current Head Patrician was certainly a prince and expected that his entire extended family would be treated as such. I had no choice but to tutor his children in writing and caligraphy, something no child of seven could ever hope to achieve the patience for.
In any case, I was out in People's Square, bustling through with sharpened elbows heading towards the suppliers quarter. Bank right, bank left acrossed cobblestones, I walked past the regular signs of failed magicians, those who tried to convince you there were learning, or had been a failed apprentice of a practitioner.
A particularly skilled one feigned a hand with a lump on the table under some red cloth, taking from below the table a quiet bird and surprised the children with the sudden miracle of turning a moldy potato into a child's lost bird. I chuckled inwardly. As I made my way through the Diplomatic quarter, the magicians and street side food carts of pork buns, fish and pastries thinned out. This was where poor practitioners would set up shop, usually a stool and a wood table, dressed in a light grey clock with a color of their skill set.
They were not aligned to any particular element, though I'm sure that most would tell you that they had mastered an aspect particularly well. Red was for protection, blue for security, green for botany and agriculture and black, the rarest, for alchemy. There was a gold status, but those who achieved that color were often in the employ of the Patrician himself.
In contrast with jeers from prostitutes food vendors and beggars, I was greeted with silent nods and hateful glares. No one likes to prostitute their powers after years of education, training and talent. I always liked passing by this road, known as Liar's Avenue for the demonstrations that the practitioners would have to do in order to validate their skills.
One of the green rimmed wizards was making a plant grow, but as I passed, the small plant died. Angrily, the prospective customer glared at the wizard and hastily made their departure. Another common demonstration was of the blue variety. Security is never easy to show, nor is it easy to come by, certainly with the cutthroats at sea, more likely to cut the gold out of your teeth than send you to a doctor.
Security specialists would often pick locks, or open trunks without looking or using their hands. Some of the particularly boastful ones would don sleeveless clothes to show that they were not feigning movement with their fingers.
As I passed, there was one that was making show of just this. A large metal trunk had been brought out, a five step three lock mechanism with a Lovian hidden chamber as an extra deterrent that would dissolve the documents inside if the seal were broken. It was nearly open when I heard an audible shattering of something glass inside, presumably the Lovian mechanism working well. The guards and coolies that surrounded the prospective client picked up the trunk and quickly moved onto a different wizard.
As I left the avenue, turning right past Ink and Scrills Tavern, I thought to myself. It's a shame that it never caught on in Rhaod's Kingdom. Too much learning, too many years, and certainly too much blood. Blood was often the price one had to pay to practice such a skill, draining drops of blood to form a bond with the Aether to the Old Gods, granting them power. Too much blood, or too powerful a spell, or too many practice drills in a day commonly killed apprentices. It was truly a shame.
It was also a shame that nobody had originally hired me when I laid my hands bare then. A long forgotten secret for those practitioners that call themselves wizards. Long ago, there used to be the orange variety of wizard.
Their specialty? Disruption.
I looked at the few quills as I entered the shop and thought back to those today who I had intervened. How much blood did they lose? How did I harm their reputation?
Who knows? I do n't care.
I needed a new quill.
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[ WP ] An executioner has to spend a day with his victim before the execution
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The last request was for me, the man putting an end to his life, to spend his last day with him. My chain boots clanked against the stone floor as I took my first steps into the dungeon hall. In all ten years as an executioner, I had never been part of my criminal ’ s last wishes. Most of their last wishes consisted of a last sin such as whore from a brothel with their last redemption like a priest from the church waiting outside their cell door for them to finish emptying their sac one last time. Didn ’ t matter if they were married or not, it was all the same from man to man. But not this time; this time was different.
The rusted iron cell block door opened with a loud twang. With a deep breath I walked in, not expecting to find what I did. In the corner was a little boy, who couldn ’ t have been any older than eight, just staring at me with the most timid eyes that I had ever seen. There was an instant pit in my stomach that told me I shouldn ’ t have come. The little boy was pale and under fed at that. His raven hair matched his eyes, and his tattered clothes seemed older than he was. My tongue stuck the roof of my mouth. When I opened my mouth the humid dungeon are only brought more dryness to my mouth. “ Thank you so much for coming sir, ” the little one squeaked with what seemed to be true appreciation. I only nodded in response. He patted the ground next to him.
My feet were indescribably heavy. Why me? For the rest of the day we sat and talked. I mainly did the listening as he told me about his life. How he was being punished for continuing to steal bread for his brothers and sisters. He spoke of how he was the oldest of five, and how both of his parents had died two years ago. His eyes were wet with tears, but so were mine. Although he was no more than eight years old, he spoke to me with the rational of an adult man who had no other choice in life but to become a street rat trying to pick whatever crumb he could to feed the mouths that didn ’ t belong to him. My heart sank, and my thoughts traveled to the next day. Every hour that went by was an hour closer to a torment I was no longer sure I would be able to deal with.
“ Executioner, your obligated time is now over, ” guard stepped in to say. The young boy smiled at me and his soft hand stroked the top of mine.
“ I know that I am probably the youngest person you have ever killed like this before. I just wanted you to know that I forgive you. ”
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[ WP ] The first faster-than-light spacecraft disappears upon activating the FTL drive . 1200 years later , having traveled at relativistic speeds , it reappears .
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“ There she is ”
Commander Abrams craned his neck to stare at the brilliant point of light ahead of his craft. The Chinese spacecraft *Kuai Jian* – literally “ fast arrow ” had been launched barely two weeks ago in an audacious attempt to steal a march on the Euro-American *Liberty* spacecraft.
The *Liberty* was a spindle-shaped cigar, adhering rigidly to Doctor Nehru ’ s radical space-time displacement theory. The actual mechanics of the drive were being handled by the scarily intelligent physicists cocooned on Deck Two. As Mission Commander, all Jacob Abrams had to do was push the “ go ” button before the Chinese did.
The test would be simple. A quick jump from Earth Orbit to the Earth-Moon L-1 Lagrange point, then an old-fashioned chemical rocket burn to bring them on a slingshot trajectory around the moon and back to Earth. They ’ d be the first humans to go beyond Low Earth Orbit since Apollo 17. And they ’ d be the very first people to travel there at a velocity greater than that of the speed of light. Hopefully. Assuming the Chinese didn ’ t start their version of the Drive first.
*Time for the rotation maneuver*. Small gas jets fired, spinning his ship to face deep space. It was supposed to help minimize any disorientation during the jump if you didn ’ t have a gigantic shining planet in your view.
Maneuver complete, he toggled the intercom switch.
“ Doctor Lehman. Status report on the Drive please ’ ”
--
The transmission also came through to Mission Control in Houston. The vast room was populated by consoles, with people poring over them, an organized chaos of messengers and manuals flying. In the observation booth, two black-suited figures stood by an old Indian scientist in a wheelchair – Doctor Mahatma Nehru, the genius that had designed the Drive.
“ Lehman to Abrams. Ah, Drive is at Condition Green. We still have the ah, gamma suite of tests to run, but the manual says the drive…yep, is good for operation. ”
Flight Director Amelia Lunney was a visibly calm presence at the front of the room. She listened intently to a message on her earbud and then nodded firmly before pressing the attention chime.
“ Alright everyone. We have a green light from *Liberty*. Sound off people, this is it. ”
“ Spacewatch is Go. ” “ Medical is Go ” “ Drive Analysis, Go ”, “ Operations, Go. ” The check proceeded smoothly, each department signaling readiness for the penultimate moment.
“ Houston to *Liberty*. You are go for Drive activation. I repeat, go for Drive activation. ”
“ Copy that, Houston. Go for Drive activation. ” There was a pause, and then Commander Abrams came back with a stereotypically thick Texan drawl. “ Hey, y ’ all. Stand back and watch this. Activating Drive. ”
Drive Ops narrated the figure on the main screen. “ Drive at 30 percent power. All systems on the line. Forty Percent. Fifty- “
“ ABORT! ” The unexpected scream came from the Liaison station. Lieutenant Thomas had leapt to his feet, face white. “ We ’ re detecting a buildup on the *Kuan Jian*! They ’ re activating their drive! ”
Lunney pressed her com. “ *Liberty*, Houston. Abort, Abort, Abort. I repeat, Abort, Abort, Abort. ”
“ Houston, *Lib…ty*. Neg..ve on comm…tat….repe…king up ”
“ Ninety Percent! ’
The aging Doctor Nehru struggled to stand up in his wheelchair. His equations were brutally clear on this matter. Two Drives in close proximity would create an unstable warping of space-time. The best that could be hoped for was an explosion. The worst was a black hole.
“ *Liberty*, this is Houston! ABORT IMMEDIATELY! ABORT IMMED- ”
A tremor ran through the Houston Command Center. Consoles jolted one way and then the other, and some staffers watched swaying ceiling lights in trepidation. Everyone else ’ s eyes were focused on the main screens. One moment, two lights burned clearly in orbit, notation scrolling past them…and then suddenly both vanished with heart-stopping abruptness.
There was a pregnant pause, as if the world held its breath. Then Amelia began snapping orders.
“ Security, seal the doors. Liaison, find out just what the hell the Chinese thought they were doing! Spacewatch! Get me a visual on the EML-1 point! Communications, get me contact however you can! Drive Ops, assuming successful activation, how long should we expect to be in communications blackout? ”
The rustle and murmur of a frantically working room resumed.
“ Ah, Drive Ops to Flight, we should get coms in twelve seconds, assuming a successful test. ”
“ Spacewatch to Flight. We have observation on EML-1. No light signature. I repeat, no light signature at this time. ”
The twelve seconds ticked away. Amelia counted off the steps as the flight plan should have progressed. *Deactivate Drive, Repower and extend antennae, bring radio online, transmit to Earth, receive handshake signal, start communications…. *
Thirteen. Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen.
“ Spacewatch to Flight, we are confirming a lightsignal. Something just appeared there. Standby. ”
The room paused once more.
“ Spacewatch to Flight. Negative. Oh god, Negative. Severe wreckage at the EML-1 point. ”
The room deflated, its hopes dashed into the pit of despair in that moment. Amelia toggled her coms again.
“ Ok, obviously there has been a major malfunction- “
There was a screeching tone from the observation room as Doctor Nehru toppled over, the heartrate monitor keening its alarm as his heart gave out at the shock.
--
“ …ORT IMM… ”
Commander Abrams tapped his headset as the broken transmission from Houston crackled in it. Nothing. Silence. He looked at his instruments – they still showed all systems nominal, consumables at expected levels, rocket engines ready, and…a display blinked at him, changing rapidly. *Apparent velocity is 0.74c?!? *
The preposterous numbers spun down rapidly – point seven four, point six two. Such absurd deceleration should have plastered the crew against the back of the ship in a gooey red paste, but it felt no worse than a car braking for a red light.
The Time Elapsed clock was still ticking over, five seconds since Drive activation….
Abrams breath caught as he caught sight of the Dilated Time dial. A gimmick some guys at MIT had thought up for some experiment, the Dilated Time should match the Elapsed Time dial if everything had worked correctly. This one was stuck right around to the right, on 999.
“ Abrams to Lehman. Report Doc, I think somethings off. ”
“ Everything ’ s fine down here. Are we at the moon yet? ”
Abrams looked up, but couldn ’ t see anything. He checked the dials again, disturbed to see the velocity had dropped to.00000001c – barely 3 measly meters per second. And well below Earth and Luna orbital velocity.
“ Standby all hands, spinning for orientation ”
Liberty fired its gas jets again, the spindle acquiring a lazy roll. Abrams blood ran cold as a complete revolution failed to show the Moon, Earth, or the Sun. He triggered a Pitch roll, tumbling the ship end-over-end. Blackness was the only sight in all directions.
“ Abrams to All Hands, We are…There ’ s been some sort of malfunction with the drive. We do not have a solid reference point fix at this time. I ’ m activating Protocol, ah… ”
It took him a moment to flick through the manual. The scenario he was thinking of had been unlikely as heck – if he understood right, it had actually been written by *Sci-fi authors* instead of operational planners.
“ Protocol One-One-Eight. Secure all stations. ”
--
“ Are you sure? ”
“ We are. The Speed Trap on Vector D-14 triggered three decades ago, and then the Traps on D-15, 16 and 17 have also triggered. Trap D-20 has sent a state-change confirmation that a spacecraft has achieved rest-velocity within a million kilometers of the satellite. ”
“ Is there confirmation of the object…can we dare hope? ”
“ A probe has been dispatched, Mother. We should get it back in a few hours. ”
“ After so long…I can barely believe it ”
“ It will have been but a few moments for them, Mother. ”
“ I know, Daughters. We should prepare the ship to Jump anyway. Have the central space reconfigured to a design from the Twenty-first century. ”
“ We are aware of the procedures, Mother. You should rest until we know more. ”
--
“ CONTACT! Metallic Object detected at ten thousand kilometers! ”
Abrams jerked in his seat. The crew had been busy attempting to star-fix their current location, and coming up frustratingly negative. There were no familiar constellations, no nearby stars with distinctive signatures.
He tried to look in the direction the excited scientist was indicating, but at that distance whatever it was just looked like another dot in a sea of identical dots.
His radio crackled, and then a familiar voice came through clearly.
“ Mission Control to *Liberty*, please report status. ”
“ *Liberty* to Mission Control, we, ah, we….we don ’ t know what the hell is going on. There has been a problem and we are attempting to diagnose the issue now. ”
“ Mission Control to *Liberty*. It ’ s been a long time, and there is a long story to go with it. A vessel is approaching towards your position. It is friendly and has the ability to take the Liberty on board. ”
“ *Libe*-, ah hell, Amelia, what ’ s going on? “
“ You ’ ve been gone a long time Jacob. A very long time. Come aboard and we ’ ll explain everything. ”
--
The crew filed off the *Liberty*, and stepped into a cavernous space of the alien ship that looked for all the world like the Vehicle Assembly Building at Cape Canaverel. Which it clearly wasn ’ t, because, on a ship. In space.
A woman in a sharp business suit was waiting for them. She looked vaguely familiar to Jacob. He approached her, and she spoke.
“ Welcome aboard the *Amelia Lunney*. I am Sarah Lunney, a descendent of the namesake. My ancestor bids you welcome, and wishes to say that your test-flight, the longest in the history of Humanity ’ s space exploration, has finally come to an end. Welcome back. ”
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[ WP ] Today is Opposite Day . Tell me about your day .
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I did not wake up.
I did n't have cereal, which is n't the same breakfast that I always have; not because it's my favorite.
I did n't go to work. I did n't have the best day of my life. I was not promoted to IT Specialist.
We did n't go to dinner. I did n't have the chicken parm because I could n't think, and she did n't have the nights pasta. We had the worst food ever and a horrible time. I had enough alcohol to kill a horse. She did n't.
I told her about my promotion. I was n't even slightly nervous.
We did not get in my BMW and drive home. I saw that car at the intersection. Her eyes were not so beautiful when she smiled that I could n't look away. That ring in my pocket did not feel like it wanted to be free.
I did not see her face tear away from bone in slow motion. Her arm did not twist unnaturally, hitting me in the face. My leg did not detach at the knee.
I did not see her die.
No tears came; they did not mix with blood. Her eyes did not look at me, betrayed.
I woke up.
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[ IP ] Hanging out together .
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Charles rolled the joystick down. The white block on his TV screen shifted to hit a pixelated ball, making a loud *bloop*. Lui sat next to him on the two-seater, a smug look on his face. Charles knew his friend was bored out of his mind, but he was only three levels away from completing the game. Lui stared at him now. `` This might be the worst game I've ever seen.''
`` Not as bad as a woman in armour killing squares.''
Lui frowned. `` Zelda is the game of generation you dweeb. How much more of this madness do I have to endure?''
`` Zip it and watch the pong master,'' Charles jived.
Lui groaned, letting his head fall to his knees in defeat. And then he perked up as if he'd just found a good idea. With a devious smirk, he prodded Charles in the ribs.
Charles grumbled under his breath. He shifted slightly to the right and continued focusing on pong. The small white ball was now zipping from either end of the screen at a furious speed. One wrong move meant'game over'.
Lui sighed, laying across the chair. `` Just going to stretch...'' He pushed his arms out, a big grin on his face, and blocked Charles' view.
Charles tried his best to hold his concentration on the screen. But then a small giggle escaped him, then he started laughing. And before long, he was smacking Lui's hands away, while chuckling, and trying to play the game. `` Stop it, egg brain!''
Lui did n't let up that easily. He was fighting uncontrollable fits of laughter while poking his hands in the air. Then he went for Charles' neck, tickling a spot just above the collarbone. He watched his friend laugh with glee.
The words'game over' were stretched across the screen, but Charles did n't pay attention, he was holding his knees to his stomach trying to fight off the tickling attack.
Lui jumped on his friend, falling off the couch, and onto the floor. Where they tumbled around, as he tried to make Charles laugh more. Charles fought back and eventually he won.
The boys laid out of breath with big grins on the lounge carpet. They glanced at each other. And eventually, they stared at each other. Charles smiled at his friend, who reflected his gaze. Lui rolled onto his stomach and poked Charles' open hand. The boy remained flat, defeated.
Lui pushed his hand against Charles' open palm, running his fingers across his friend's fingertips. This time, Charles looked slightly confused at the gesture. Lui pushed his fingers between the grooves of Charles' long digits. `` Feels kinda nice, does n't it?'' he asked.
Charles jerked his hand back and rolled away. `` What the fuck, man?''
`` What?'' Lui asked. His face was flushed red and he avoided Charles' eyes.
`` Dude, what was that? I'm not... you know?''
`` Oh.'' Was all Lui could muster.
The sat in endless silence.
`` Maybe, I should go home?'' Lui asked. He stood to leave.
`` Nah, nah,'' Charles said, `` we can jam out, bro. Just... I like girls.''
Lui nodded. `` Alright, man.''
`` Kick your ass at Sonic 2?''
`` You're on!'' Lui smirked.
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[ Wp ] Humans have discovered how to live forever , allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so . But it is considered bad form to live for too long . You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die .
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The watch on my wrist vibrated, indicating a new message. I glanced down, trying to act nonchalant. An unfamiliar number. Probably a new client. I took my coffee and strolled back to my office, enjoying the fall breeze and the crunch of leaves under my feet.
I let the air ruffle my curls one last time before I stepped into my office and locked the door behind me. I synced my watch with my computer and checked my message- true, this was the old school way, but after all, I was a bit old school myself.
My newest client was requesting a quote, so I replied and directed them to meet me at a nearby diner in an hour. I could eat. I'd need to leave in 45 minutes, so I decided to fix some broken equipment. Maybe it was time to give up the old business.
The woman was wearing a grey sweater as promised, and I sat down at the table with her. `` Hello.''
She smiled with relief. `` I'm so glad you came.''
`` Of course. Anything I can do to help.'' The waiter came by and we waved him off. `` So. What brings you to need my services?''
She sighed. `` Oh, it's my kids. And grandkids. And some of my neighbors. Now that I'm 687, I'm hogging resources. Being selfish. Half the neighbors act like I'm a menace.'' She choked back tears. `` I do n't want to live this way anymore.''
I nodded. `` That's understandable. When do you want to be done?''
`` As soon as possible.''
`` Today?''
She gasped. `` Today? Really?''
I leaned forward. `` You can be gone in an hour if you want.''
`` Yes! Oh, please.''
`` Nothing to take with you?''
`` I've brought everything I care about.'' She indicated a small bag on the seat next to her, and I found myself impressed that she was so optimistic.
`` Let's go, then.'' I stood up, allowing her to follow me back to my office. I locked the door behind her and she stared around in awe.
I let her gape for a minute. `` So where do you want to go, and who do you want to be?''
She thought for a few minutes, then picked a new name and a new location she'd always wanted to try. I got to work making her a new ID, stating her new age ( mid-thirties ), creating a birth certificate and passport. I handed them to her twenty minutes later and watched her place them carefully into her bag.
`` These are amazing. You'd never know they were created. How did you learn to be this good?''
I pulled out an ancient wallet, where I kept my very first drivers license for sentimental reasons. I held it out for her examination, and she smiled in amazement.
`` Well, thank you. I see you've done this a few times. You've helped me so much.''
`` Yes, you're welcome,'' I replied, and saw her out of my office. I gave my license one final look before stashing it away. 2016. Hard to believe that was 1500 years ago already.
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[ EU ] After J. R. R. Tolkien passes away , he finds himself washed up on the white shores of Valinor .
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He rose from the ground, grains sticking to his beard and gaped at his surroundings. The crystalline waves washed over the shore, gently lapping the sands. He made his way to the trees at the edge of the beach and leaned against a tall sycamore to catch his breath. As he wheezed and heaved, his raiment and his body caught his eye; silvery gray cloaks swathed his body and his hands were smooth and muscled. Wrinkles appeared to be forgotten memories, in this existence.
A voice cried out from in between the dense cover of the trees,'Cease your movement brother, we do not wish to harm you'. As he looked into the foliage, he could see lithe and graceful figures, almost one with the trees, and at once entirely separate make their way to him. He pulled his hood over his head; he did not wish to be noticed, yet. The apparent leader of the group, greeted him and asked him,'Greetings good sir, I am Hama. What business does a mortal have in Valinor? I'm afraid these shores are forbidden for those of your kind'
'Valinor?' The old man's unsteady cry betrayed his loss in composure. He gaped at the figures in front of him and his eyebrows raised themselves farther than seemed possible.
The Elf frowned. `` Yes sire, you have landed on the famed shores of the blessed city of Valinor. The home to the elves and the servants of Illuvatar. Declare your purpose lest I act in haste''
The man drew in his breath, raised his chest and said rather heavily, `` I have come to confer with thine leader. If you will, please escort me to him''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
He looked at the precious stones inlaid in the pavement in the blessed city. Nothing in his life had ever matched the least of the wonders that there were to be seen in this land. The journey had taken them 3 days, if these blessed periods might be called that for the nights were as beautiful, if not more than, the days. As his companions escorted him into the hall in the distance, his heart started to weigh him down with great trepidation. He was n't confident of the words he heard and the sights he perceived but he had decided to gamble with his fate, for so far as he could see, this was no phantom reality.
He entered the Great Hall. The congregation of Elven kin, the Maiar and the Servants did nothing to less to amaze him with their splendor than did the Eternal City. His companions stopped and motioned forward with their wooden staves. He nodded to them and made his way down the glistening hall to the steps below the throne and bowed on one knee in front of Manwe.
`` Rise, child `` Manwe said in his magnanimous sonorous voice.'' For purpose have you journeyed across the oceans? ``
The man rose and pulled back his hood.
Manwe appeared dumbstruck and fell to his knees, and Arda at his side. The congregation followed in their step and did so accordingly.
Manwe cried:
`` My lord, why do you treat me so? I am merely your steward and servant, please rise before your creation, Illuvatar the Eternal! ``
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[ WP ] The genie does n't give you what you say you want , he gives you what you really want .
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`` I want money. This is how it will happen...'' I began, laying out conditions and covering every contingency like a good almost-lawyer.
`` You do n't need to ask. I know what you want,'' the small genie, like a wisp of multicolored smoke, interrupted. `` Just close your eyes.''
I did, and then opened them when he told me to. I was so confused, because all I saw was the same desk I had just been sitting at.
But then I looked around. I saw a vibrant urban neighborhood around me, with rainbow flags on most shops. I noticed my business cards, and read them. The address on the cards was on Castro Street, and I could see the Golden Gate bridge out of the window. I had no idea what just happened, so I Googled myself. Hmm. Apparently I was a well-known attorney, specializing in adoption, assisted reproduction, and marriage recognition issues for same-sex and trans couples.
I had argued against the state-level same-sex marriage bans at the Supreme Court, in the companion case to Windsor that came up in 2015. On my coffee table was a picture of me with Justice Ginsburg, and I looked like I'd won the lottery. There were also stacks of letters and thank-you cards from happy clients. And my passport. The stamps showed I'd been literally everywhere, and I'd had to have extra pages sewn into the book!
I walked out of my small office, to breathe and get my bearings, only, seeing my name as a law firm sign knocked me for a loop yet again. I could smell the sea from the street, mixing with the delicious street foods I loved.
My cell phone rang. It was my secretary. `` I've finished arranging your business trip to Germany for that conference and researched some fun things for you to do there. Also, some guy from Lake Superior called and said your sailboat you have up there has been put in the water, so it's ready when you take the months off this summer. Oh, and your wife called. You do n't need to take the train home today- she and the kids will come get you in 15.''
I smiled like a lunatic and put my phone away. But my heart started to pound. I was married? Would my wife be the same person I had loved and stuck by before I made the wish? I had never wanted a divorce from her. What were my kids like? Did we name them like I wanted?
I immediately calmed down a few minutes later, when I heard a familiar voice calling to me from up the street. `` Honey! Thought we'd surprise you.'' I turned to look, and almost gasped aloud. She was still the same person she had been, except she had lost weight; I only wanted a little extra on her, so I could better lay my head on her chest when I wanted comforting. I did n't want her to be noticeably overweight, so people would discriminate or judge her. She also looked more muscular, and had grown her hair into an intricate Katniss-Everdeen style braid.
She was carrying one tiny, blond toddler, who lisped `` Mommy!'' as soon as he saw me. I took a guess and said, `` Michael Isaac! Who's my handsome boy?'' I was right.
`` What about me, Mommy?'' an identical-looking, but female, toddler interrupted.
`` Yes, Avalyn, Mommy sees you too. Remember you're always loved because your mommies wanted you so much they gave you a name that means `` longed for.''
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[ WP ] At this moment , they were as happy as you had ever seen them . Internally , you felt as sad as you had ever been .
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Excited laughter, discussion, old memories and fresh tears were shared harmoniously. We approached the gate, unsure if he was ready but knowing that this is what was meant to be.
I looked down, a great big smile was beaming across his face same as mine. However, an internal battle was raging between the sorrow I felt inside and a longing to never let go.
We stepped through, the creaking of wheels sounded lazily under him. I pushed, picking up speed only pausing at the front door of the vicinity.
Shadows of shame and sadness gripped at my heart. The final step a signature of agreement, that this was final.
My father looked up into his new room, joyfully describing his favourite things and what he looked forward to doing. Apparently thursday night was bingo night, he was already making plans with the other oldies.
Their smiles were bright and young, despite the wrinkles of old age resting neatly on their faces. I had never seen him this happy and I had never felt so sad to leave the man that raised me behind.
With a last wave I turned away, the sign `` Age is but a number.'' Cackled wildly above me.
I dragged my feet, wiping wetness at either cheek.
Remembering each step on this pathway, if I lived long enough I may walk it again.
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[ WP ] You get married , but find out that your husband/wife is death .
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The digital clock on the nightstand flashed 2:56 a.m.
It was my last glimpse of the physical world before my eyes gave up the struggle to stay open, and closed for the final time.
I was calm.
I felt Elle turn over in bed, knowingly, despite the fact that I had not uttered a word since bidding her goodnight hours earlier.
She lifted my hand from the sheets and pressed it to her lips.
******
The summer heat dampened tendrils of my hair and glued them to my neck. Elle raised her head from my hand, leaving behind a smear of strawberry colored lipstick. I giggled and laughed at her antics, entwining my fingers in hers. We resumed our stroll around London, not minding the glares we provoked from the close-minded.
The honeymoon was everything I always wanted: a beautiful woman, leisurely days at to spa and more sex than I could have ever imagined. We toured gift shops and visited tourist traps, chatted to locals in pubs and dined at high-dollar restaurants. We were walking back to the hotel one evening when I noticed lines etched on Elle ’ s face, framing her green eyes and giving her the appearance of being much older than 25.
I squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek, but her face only hardened more.
“ What ’ s wrong? ” I asked. “ Did you not enjoy the dinner? Are you ill? ”
“ No, ” she replied, meeting my eyes with hers for a brief second. “ It ’ s not that. I ’ m just feeling tired, I guess. ”
I didn ’ t buy it.
“ What ’ s really wrong? ” I was beginning to feel annoyed.
She sighed and stopped walking. When she turned to face me, the streetlights made her look yellow and sickly, a withered sunflower in the London streets.
“ I just feel like I ’ m lying to you. I don ’ t know if I can do this,'' she said. Sensing my apprehension, she added, “ It ’ s not that I don ’ t love you, because I do. With all my heart. It ’ s just that there are things I should have made clear before we got serious. Before we got married. Because now I ’ m in too deep. ”
She exhaled sharply, and looked at me in the eyes. I was too taken aback, too surprised by her sudden grave tone, to say anything in return.
“ I ’ ve given you every single bit of me. I ’ ve given it all to you, except for one thing. ”
She paused.
“ I ’ m… death. I ’ m the one responsible for collecting souls and taking them to the afterlife, ” she said, allowing the words to sink in. They didn ’ t, and I could see my blank face clearly, as if I were hovering above our physical bodies and witnessing the events from an outside perspective. When I didn ’ t respond, she continued to speak. The words poured out of her, akin to those of a child apologizing for spilling a glass of milk onto something valuable.
“ But it ’ s not like what you think. I don ’ t kill people. I just help them on their way to their next destination. I just meet them at their deathbed and, y ’ know, just carry them on. ”
It was then that I found my words again. My voice was shaky, but otherwise metered and flat.
“ What the fuck, Elle? How? Why didn ’ t you tell me? How did it happen? I don ’ t understand. ”
She seemed somewhat relieved that I had responded. “ I don ’ t know how to answer that, really. I ’ ve just always done it, ever since I could walk. I ’ m sure I ’ m not the only one. It ’ s weird -- you know how there ’ s that phrase, ‘ time stops when I ’ m with you ’? It ’ s kind of the opposite for me. When I ’ m taking care of a soul, it ’ s like time stops and everything freezes. It used to only return to normal when I needed to eat or sleep or pee or something, but when I met you it changed; when I ’ m with you, everything is normal. It ’ s like God or whoever the hell my boss is decided that falling in love is something everyone should experience -- even Death. ”
There was no way she was lying. Had I just married a schizophrenic person? Was I crazy? I was surprised to feel tears wetting my cheeks. I noticed Elle was crying too, but a smile still managed to make an appearance on her flushed face. I flung my arms around her.
“ I love you. But I ’ m not going to lie, this is weird as hell. ”
I felt her nod, burying her face into my shoulder. I pulled back.
“ Jesus Christ, Elle. Look at us. Let ’ s get back to the hotel, ” I said, wiping my tears and snot with my sleeve and planting a kiss on her forehead. I wrapped my arm around her and we walked in step, sniffling, back to the hotel.
***
I felt a cool drop on my cheek and hear a sniffle. Elle knew what to do; she must have performed the same action on millions of people. But this was different. I was her wife.
I felt my awareness slipping, but in my final moments of consciousness I was aware that she felt it too. In sync with my last exhale, she whispered in my ear the short phrase that was never more meaningful than now.
“ Bitches ain ’ t shit but but hoes and tricks. ”
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[ WP ] After sarcastically complaining to God for the 1000th time he drags you to heaven and offers to let you run things for a day to see how the world really works . At the end of your first day he comes back to find the universe a finely tuned machine of excellence .
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God spoke to Abe and he said. `` You think it's so easy? Here, you do it. I'm going out to lunch.''
When God returned he spoke to Abe again and he said `` Not so easy, is it?.''
Abe said `` Look god, I have done many great works, 97 % Accuracy, runtime down by 80 %.'' God looked and beheld the truth of what Abe said. He looked at the peoples of the world, and in each city and town, there was trust and fellowship. There was no starvation or homelessness or hardship of any kind. No man took more for himself at the expense of another, and all were equal.
`` How did you fix it?'' Asked God.
Abe said `` Well first off you had an issue with your hardware, GPU's were overheating. It was causing some problems, glitches mostly, trapped spirits, evil monsters that sort of thing. I replaced your cooling system, put in new Ice Caps and Changed your Atmo Filter and it's working fine now.
`` Next lets look at your structure: Here you've got plates not connected and moving around, that's causing problems. Over here you have lava spilling out onto the crust, that's just impracticable. So I made this layer here solid all the way around. Now during warmup, the Glacier system will run properly. ``
`` Now The algorithm itself, has some major issues. The Evolution engine is working fine, but the behaviors function was really messed up. I've rewritten it completely. Now they pretty much all live in harmony and work to produce great things.''
God said to Abe `` What happens when you run it?''
Abe reset the console and typed: `` run C: /Users/Carl/hello_world.univ''
They sat together and watched as the universe was born. The galaxies spread out glowing and violent. Light and dark flowed in shimmering waves over the void. Then suddenly it was done, the last sparks of light faded into the inky black.
`` Let's see what we got'' said Abe.
God stared at the display and said `` 42? what's that supposed to mean?''
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[ WP ] Moments after the Supreme Court announces it 's gay marriage ruling a massive earthquake occurs in the Pacific Ocean , causing a massive tsunami to head towards Los Angeles . It will strike in seven hours .
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A tsunami was going to hit LA? Really? How… Unfortunate….
While Molly stared at the ground with tears in her round, hazel eyes, the shorter, spunkier woman beside her was taking the news a bit more vocally.
“ Are you kidding me…?! ” she growled out, balling her pale hands into tight firsts.
Normally, Molly would have thought Rhian to be cute when she was angry like this, but right now, she was just distraught and thinking of a way out of their situation. They lived on the coast of LA, in a studio apartment together and that was where they were right now. She could only imagine the chaos that was outside.
“ We should just start driving! ” she said, grabbing the shoulder of her small girlfriend.
Rhian looked up, frustration still in her dark green eyes, which were rimmed with dark shadow. “ Yeah- “
As if to contradict Molly, a traffic report came on the TV-where they had heard the news of the Tsunami in the first place.
“ The interstate is backed up for miles as thousands of citizens hit the roads in attempt to flee the city, ” a stone-faced woman reported in a monotone voice. She continued to talk about how there was no hope that it would get any better, but Molly and Rhian barely listened.
“ I ’ m sorry… ” Molly said, leaning her forehead on top of Rhian ’ s curly locks of hair. She could feel the tears in her eyes again. They probably wouldn ’ t make it if they got on the road right now… The tsunami was going to destroy the Cali coast and take them with it.
“ Why the hell are you apologizing? ” Rhian asked, still trying to sound tough, though her voice cracked at the end. She then huffed and pressed her face into Molly ’ s mostly flat chest. “ It ’ s not your fault, ” she mumbled softly.
Molly nodded and wrapped her arms around Rhian, letting her shoulders drape around her partner in defeat. They were supposed to get married and show off their wedding rings to everyone who had previously told them that women couldn ’ t marry other women. Now… They were probably going to die in a few hours.
Rhian pulled back after what seemed like an eternity and stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. “ Nope! Don ’ t cry, Pinkette! ” she said, poking Molly in the nose.
Molly blinked and through her tears, she couldn ’ t help but to smile at how fast Rhian had collected herself. She had even managed to use her pet-name, Pinkette, which had come from the fact that her hair had been bright pink when they met years ago and the fact that she usually dressed in cute pink clothing, unlike Rhian, who looked like the typical gaming nerd, who could be mistaken for a boy if not for her curves.
“ We got ta live life! ” Rhian said with a cute grin. “ And you still got ta marry me! ”
Molly watched as Rhian then proceeded to scurry around the room, digging through a few drawers. Once she found a couple of small boxes, she hopped back over to Molly, tucking one of the boxes into her pocket and then dropping to one knee. “ Now… Molly Vast… Will you marry me? ”
Molly couldn ’ t help but to giggle at how cheesy she sounded. She had tried to sound formal and being on one knee, staring up at her only made her look silly. When she saw that Rhian frowned at her, she replied, “ Of course! ”
Rhian grinned like a madman and hopped to her feet, slipping a pretty, pink diamond and golden ring on Molly ’ s finger. She then pulled out the other box. “ The churches are prolly gon na be packed, so I ’ ma just put these on, ‘ kay? ”
Molly nodded and watched as she slipped a golden wedding band on her own finger and then on the finger with her engagement ring.
“ May I now kiss the bride? ” Rhian asked.
“ You may. ”
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[ WP ] The world has a secret . A tiny fraction of the population has mysteriously stopped dying . Some of these new immortals are prisoners . You 're in charge of the first secret prison for immortals .
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Envy is a vice that can drive a man to greatness. It can push him to demand more of himself, to achieve greater and greater things. It can push him to attain the greatness others have.
But if a man is envious of another who has something he can not attain, then envy can drive him to unspeakable evil. It can drive him to become the basest and pettiest of men. Such an envy, an envy without an attainable object, can drive a man to become a monster.
I say this from experience.
( Though I would by no means call myself a monster... )
For I was envious, desperately envious of the new immortals. The humans who happened to be born immortal. The humans who did nothing to earn it, but were born into this world, never to die. God, what I would have given to have been born immortal. The things I would have done, to have got those fluke genes, to have been endowed with that strange, inhuman mutation. But alas, I was not so fortunate.
Just as those who can not have their beloved are the most likely to turn to hating their beloved, for the indifferent never hate like spurned lovers do, so I, who longed to but could not be an immortal, seethed with hatred for the immortals.
I was among the first speak out against them. I convinced others they were freaks, diseased. I was, in fact, the first to suggest we keep them locked in cages.
My argument seemed sound to fearful ears: immortals should be feared, for since they can not be hurt and can never die, they can not be expected to follow the rules that hold society together. If they break the rules, I counselled, they'd have no fear of punishment or retribution. So, before they take over and enslave or exterminate the rest of us mortals, we should round them up and lock them away, so society can happily function smoothly, as it always has done before.
There are still some who whisper in corners, calling those of us who hate the immortals tyrants, monsters, and beasts. Perhaps they are right. But we far outnumber them now, and they fear to voice their opinions. As it should be. Our might makes us right.
I was unsurprised when I was elected to be in charge of the first `` Prison of the Deathless''. I had made a name for myself in the community for my ruthlessness when it came to bringing my vision of an immortal-free future to fruition. I am orderly and hygienic. I am good with paperwork. And I do not trouble my conscience about the little things one needs to do to keep the undesirables in line and their pathetic advocates from speaking out too loudly. I was the perfect candidate for such a position. And the people's trust in me has proved well-founded: no one could run this place better than I.
This place. This prison. It's deep underground, as you already know, being down here. Its impossible to break out of. I'm sure of that. I helped with the designs.
But you must be wondering about the conditions in which these mutants live. Well, come with me and I will show you.
Each prisoner shares his cell with ten other prisoners. See through this glass? Yes, they're incredibly cramped. No, we do not feed the prisoners food, nor do we give them water. Yes, this makes them weak, delirious, and ill-looking. No, it does not kill them. Nothing kills them. They are immortal.
Do we torture new prisoners on arrival? It depends on who's asking. Are you a friend to our rightful cause?
Do we torture old prisoners, beat them to get our aggression out, and do things to them that would kill any mortal a hundred times over? Again, I return your question with a question, and ask, who's asking?
Come finally into this iron-walled room. Very dark. And yes, you're right, it is cold. Very cold. And it smells like iron, you say? Well, there's iron in blood, if you know what I mean. Let me turn on the light so you can better see, so you can see what a mess we make of these freaks. But before I do so, let me warn you that it is not for the weak of stomach. Moreover, I ask that no pictures be taken of what I'm about to show you...
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[ WP ] Instead of colonizing the New World in 1492 , Europeans gave Native Americans modern knowledge and sailed away . They return 200 years later .
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The men of the boat were eager for a chance to finally set foot on land. They'd lost several ships to the deep blue after encountering high seas. `` Do ya think their women'll be purdy?'' `` If it walks I'll make it my wife!''
Captain Leonardo Fetticini stood before his men. `` It's been two hundred years since we last set foot here. We equipped them the best we could. In hindsight this may not have been such a good idea. The King, in his omnipotence, decreed that we must find a place to settle here by peace... or by war. Let's hope our `` friends'' are willing to give us a fair bargain. Regardless keep your weapons close to hand.
At the first sight of the shore the sailors were in awe of the strange metal statues lining the beaches. `` What are they?'' `` They're beautiful! We should take one home!''
The rowboats were filled with weapons, smelly men and a thick sense of fear. They arrived to the shore safely and rushed to take a closer look at the shiny statues. `` This one's gold!'' `` Silver here!'' `` Grab the ropes were taking them!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
In the thick forest beyond the beach camouflage faces watched the every move of the aliens attempting to steal the precious statues. The leader of the group, a giant man by the name of Nahuel, whispered to his comrades, `` Our ancestors were right. These foolish creatures love shiny things. They warned us they would be back to take it. These fools gave us their technology, shared with us their faults and in two hundred years they have yet to change. Tonight... Tonight we cut out the cancer of this world. Tonight we let the ocean fish feast on their flesh.'' Pearly white teeth flashed all around the thick foliage.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
That night the superior men of Europe feasted on the animals of their newest home. Camp fires were lit all along the beach, the smell of smoke and burning flesh wafted into the forest. `` Yup, we'll be rich men! How long are we here for again?'' `` Just a few weeks. Enjoy the local fauna while it lasts. Soon we will be eating of gold plates!''
Captain Fetticini stayed with the flag ship moored far offshore. `` This has been too easy. Our predecessors spoke of people inhabiting these lands... and to leave something so precious so close to the ocean...'' His first mate sat on the other end of the cabin half drunk and teetering on his stool. `` Well maybe they all ( hick ) died? Maybe our wisdom was too much for em and ( hick ) their heads exploded?'' The captain looked at him in disgust, `` Doubtful you fishcock of a fool. Do n't underestimate mankind... It's the moment you think you are better than the tamed lion that it eats you.''
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! BOOOM! BOOOM!
The first mate fell of the chair and immediately back to sobriety. `` What was that?!'' The captain rushed to the decked to see a series of explosions on the beach. `` What's happening? Where is that coming from?!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The sand beneath the sailors feet began to burst. Some explosions were small others enormous. Men were swallowed whole by the flames igniting around them. Smoke and burning flesh filled the air and wafted into the forest.
Men by the hundreds emerged from the woods. Arrows of iron came raining down onto the sailors below sparing none of their alien souls. The masts of the ships placed close to the shore ignited. Dozens of dark figures could be seen climbing the sides of the ships. The ships' sailors steel met with sharper blades and fiercer warriors. The wakes of the ships pooled with blood.
On the flagship the captain could do nothing but watch his sailors be pierced with steel, burned alive and thrown into the sea. `` First mate Bacon! We need to raise the anchor now! It's time to go!... First mate Bacon you drunk buffoon do you hear me?!'' The captain returned back to his cabin to find his first mates neck slit from ear to ear. A giant of a man sat in the captains chair with his feet on the desk. `` You savage! That desk was given to me by the king himself! I'll have your skin for this!'' In a blind fury the captain rushed toward the giant unsheathing his sword in the process and just as he was about the strike the giant spoke. `` Stop.'' `` What? Did you just say stop? Why in the world would I stop?'' The giant smiled as a rope descended from the rafters and around Captain Fetticini's neck.
In two hours time the night was as dark as it has even been. The smell of flesh and smoke filled the air. The stars and moon were still shining as the fish feasted. Hundreds of dark figures retreated back into the forest to fight another day. `` Go home to your women tonight. Enjoy their embrace. Tonight we fought as men but there will be more... There will always be more...''
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[ WP ] You can shapeshift into any animal , last night you were drunk and showed your friends ( who filmed and posted it on reddit ) , the government now considers you a treat to national security
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Kyle trumpeted, wildly flailing one of his arms in front of his face in what I assumed was his best effort at mimicking a trunk before bursting into laughter. “ Peanuts! Look I ’ m eating peanuts ”. He grabbed a bag of chips, spilling most of them on the floor and began throwing fistfuls of them at his open mouth.
“ Elephant! Its and elephant! ” shrieked Meagan. Nearly spilling her drink down the front of her blouse as she, as well as half the room, convulsed in fits of laughter. Somehow she still looked pretty, even with the wild expression on her flushed face.
“ That ’ s cheating ” I said “ you can ’ t use words! ” sipping my diet cola. I was the designated driver.
“ Hey, hey..hey ” Kyle whirled, struggling to articulate his thoughts into speech he finally managed “ it ’ s not that easy. Why don ’ t you give a try big guy ” he hoped off the coffee table he had commandeered as make shift stage and handed me the bowl of charades clues and with a sort of mock bow gave me the spotlight.
All eyes fell upon me, though reddened and droopy half of them were, they bore into me, hungry for entertainment. Then I caught Meagan's. They looked like honey. For some reason I just knew, if I threw caution to the wind, if I showed her my… gift, she would finally notice me. This was my chance, it didn ’ t even matter that Kyle was here, or a handful of her closest friends, for once I would have her complete attention.
I pulled a scrap of paper out of the bowl and smiled. My face scrunched up in concentration, reddening with the strain of what my body was about to go through. I farted accidentally.
“ I think he just shit his pants! ” screamed the brunette in the corner. ‘ He just crapped himself! ” the room burst in raucous laughter.
“ I recorded the whole thing! Look, I ’ m going to post it! ” said someone else. The phones of everyone in the room vibrated, chirped, and whistled as the video of me accidentally releasing gas spread across social media. From that small gathering in Kyle ’ s basement my humiliation traveled the globe. People in other countries saw it. Famous actors saw it. The mailman saw it. It even reached the desk of a lowly NSA intern who giggled, then forwarded it to all his coworkers and higher ups. The whole of the U.S. Government considered my accidental fart a treat, the gift of a seconds diversion from everyday life.
It all happened in an instant, and before I knew how far my humiliation had spread, I was still in that basement on that coffee table, only I had changed. I had transformed, shape shifted into the most splendid regal lion you could have imagined. Perched on my would be pride rock a looked out at what I assumed would be shocked and awed faces. But instead I found a handful of teenagers hunched over their phones giggling, they had lost interest in me after the fart. They didn ’ t even see the lion in the room.
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[ EU ] I think Dumbledore once said that music was a powerful , but forgotten form of magic . What if this was n't so . Write about the Hogwarts School of Music and Witchcraft .
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Ron frowned most characteristically while chewing on the tip of his quill, periodically creating miniature dark blots with vertical bars attached to them on the parchment in front of him. Smears of ink and scratched out errors littered the assignment, as if he'd changed his mind about what he'd wanted to write, every few seconds, for the past hour or so.
Beside him, Harry glumly looked down at his own papers, his work much neater than that of his best friend, but also quite devoid of any marks at all.
`` You wo n't make any progress if you do n't write anything,'' said Hermione, glancing at their work from over their shoulders. Two thick scrolls lie clamped under her arms, while a third in her hands bore evidence of continued notation.
`` Thanks, Hermione. I'd have never figured that out if you had n't told me.'' replied Harry.
`` You're very welcome,'' said Hermione, not listening to him at all. Her concentration had already shifted toward Ron, her nose wrinkling with disapproval at the mess he was creating.
`` Good heavens, Ron, what on earth are you doing?''
`` Not now. I'm busy composing a symphony. *'Weasley's Fifth,'* I believe I'll call it.''
`` You're making a mess! Here, let me tidy it up a bit for you.''
`` I've got it under control, Hermione. Besides, I can just clean it up after I'm done, ca n't I?''
`` And how are you going to do that? You did n't buy a magic eraser at Hogsmeade like I suggested the last time we were there.''
With a snort, Ron looked up at her derisively and pulled out his wand.
`` Magic, obviously.''
Sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and rolling up his sleeves, Ron stood up and pointed his wand at his homework.
Her eyes widening with realization, Hermione immediately dropped all three of her scrolls and flung out her arms in an attempt to stop him.
`` Ron, wait! Do n't!''
`` *Tergeo! *''
As if suddenly commanded to life, all manners of dots, dashes, splotches, and splashes flew off Ron's parchment with gusto, siphoned away into apparent nothingness by his wand. Momentarily stunned in disbelief, Ron stared at his homework, which was now doing a perfect impression of a blank piece of paper.
Wringing her fingers and biting her lower lip, Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly wanting to say something, but nevertheless remaining quiet. Harry noted that it was quite thoughtful of her to hold herself back for once, but the awkward silence was getting a bit too hard to bear.
Clearing his throat, Harry smiled weakly and patted Ron on the shoulder.
`` Well, mate, at least you're not alone, huh?'' joked Harry halfheartedly, slightly jerking his head at his own nearly blank assignment.
Slumping back down in his chair, Ron sighed and covered his eyes with his hand, leaving Harry and Hermione to look at each other helplessly. It was n't long, however, before Ron straightened back up and rummaged through his bag, taking out a heavy book bearing the title *Musical Magic Theory: Making Music Magical*.
Looking back at his friends with his trademark lopsided grin, Ron raised an eyebrow questioningly as they slowly sat back down as well.
`` What? Is there something on my face?''
`` No,'' began Hermione tentatively, `` but... are you all right?''
Also looking quite like a small animal caught in the headlights of an automobile, Harry turned his head toward Ron as well.
`` Of course I am,'' replied Ron, leaning back into his chair. `` Why would n't I be?''
`` Well... all right, then,'' said Hermione, getting out her own copy of *Musical Magic Theory*.
`` It was about time,'' Ron offered, continuing as if he'd been explaining his thoughts the whole time. `` My symphony was n't coming along as well as I would've liked, so I'd been thinking of starting over anyway. Then I figured I might as well get my music theory homework done first so I'd have a better idea of what to compose.''
`` Good idea,'' agreed Harry, shoving aside his own musical composition assignment. Being that Hermione had apparently agreed to do her music theory homework with them, he was n't about to pass up the chance to have her look over his answers after they finished.
For a while, no further words were exchanged as the gentle sounds of pages flipping and quills scratching punctuated the serene air of the Gryffindor common room. However, it was n't long before Hermione had glanced over at Ron's paper and decided she could n't take it any longer.
`` That's not a'long, diagonal rest symbol,' Ron.''
`` You do n't think so? Looks just like one, except... you know, kinda stretched out and not exactly upright.''
`` It's *glissando*.''
Jumping suddenly and scrambling to cover his papers, Ron looked up at Hermione in shock and anger.
`` NO! No magic this time! I'd rather not do this over again, mind you!''
`` No, no, that's not a spell,'' intervened Harry, before Hermione could retort angrily. `` She said *'glissando.'* `` You know, like when a pianist slides their hand up or down the keys?''
`` Oh,'' said Ron, loosening up a bit and looking back toward Hermione.
`` Well, why did n't you say so?''
Harry turned his head, suppressing a laugh, while Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust and bent her head back down toward her own nearly-completed assignment.
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[ WP ] You 're a successful inn owner who houses mercenaries and helps them find work . Rumor is you were once a very talented adventurer before you settled down , but no one can figure out how exactly you made your fortune . Until one day a legendary warrior pays you a visit ...
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The Hearthfire Inn was running smoothly as usual, the fire was blazing away, warming the wood interior, keeping my customers protected from the mid winter snowfall outside. Quite a few usuals were seated at various tables, some planning a quest they had received from yours truly, while others were recounting their tales of glory to the green horns with wonder in their eyes. I was wiping down a mug when a group of three regulars approached me, a few coins in their hands.
`` Well, you boys gon na take another guess?'' A small smile crept across my face as I saw the glimmer in their eyes.
`` You know the rules, three coins for one guess, you guess correctly and win the pot.''
I gestured to a pot full of gold, no I'm not a leprechaun, people have been trying to guess my previous occupation for a few years. The leader of the group nodded and put the coins on the table.
`` You were a....Carpenter!''
I smiled and shook my head, that was a new one. They sighed and walked dejectedly away as I added their coins to the pot.
Things never do change which is nice. Mercenarys young and old, of every race, religion, and creed come to my Inn for the booze, the beds, and most importantly, the info. I have an information network the size of the continent, nothing happens that I do n't know about. I give smaller jobs to rookies, maybe bigger ones to groups, but I save the dangerous ones for veterans. I do n't like it when a rookie dies because they get in over their head.
The night went on, visitors came and went. Some bought rooms, others drifted out the doors into the cold. I had finished cooking up a late snack for some party attempting to purge an undead graveyard. Everything was quiet until...
With a bang the door swung open, if they broke my door I'm going to murder whoever just walked in. The figure was clad in silver and gold armor, a long sword at his hip, and a red cape draped around his shoulders. If that was n't flamboyant enough, he had guards with grey armor, full helmets, and halberds. They approached the counter, something was familiar about the leader. He was past middle age, his hair graying and brown eyes, but I swear I knew him....
`` My god man, over 30 years and you have n't aged a day.'' His voice was rich, beautiful even, where had I heard that before?
`` I apologize, but I'm not sure if you're being racist because of the elf ears thing, or you're just naive. So if you do n't mind getting to the point, I have to start closing down soon, which reminds me.'' I turned to the party at the corner booth.
`` Hey guys, if you're going to stay late, let me know so I can keep the fire going.''
I turned back to see the gray guards with their hands on the rapiers at their waists, how did I miss those, guess I pissed them off.
`` Boys, I suggest you lay off the sword grabbing, or I'm going to throw you in the fire over there.'' Their hands tightened around the hilts of the weapons. I was rusty, but bored, and these boys might be able to fight. The older gentleman waved his hand.
`` My god man, do you really not remember me? We fought three dragons together! Freed an entire country from tyranny, and fought in the necro wars! Do you really not remember any of that?''
The realization of who this was slowly dawned on me, I've been alive for a very long time I forget stuff alright?
`` Dangar! My apologies, I've been a bit busy with work here, and it's been a few decades....but how is your family? I assume you and that elven princess got married after you were crowned king.''
He smiled,
`` You always were odd, and yes, Aria and I got married, I have a son and two daughters. The kingdom has never been better, I just came to see you. I'm afraid my years are catching up to me, and I just wanted to see my friends one last time.''
I saw the sadness welling up in his eyes, and I knew what he meant. Being alive as long as I have been, I've done this a few times. I turned around and grabbed a bottle of my good stuff.
`` Come on Dangar, let's go have a glass or two and talk about the good old days.''
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[ EU ] In the middle of the zombie apocalypse , you come across a house with a wide variety of exotic plants in the front yard .
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The magnolia flowers swayed in the breeze.
He trailed his fingers across the soft petals, caressing the bloated, green stems. The human-shaped plant twitched and turned its seeded'face' towards him in a mimicry of human affection.
He walked on, ignoring the leaves that tugged gently at his lab coat.
There was a bit of a commotion at the front of his yard today. This was n't particularly uncommon. A few months ago, he'd noticed that more intruders kept trying to break into his estate. He did n't bother at first, continuing to shape and grow his multitude of children.
It was the mutations in his children that caught his attention.
The plants never wasted food. He had taught them the values of thriftiness and of gratitude. Proper values that he'd been taught people should have.
As a result, they'd eaten the intruders. Intruders who were not quite human anymore. Humans who were deformed and corrupted and changed into some ravenous, rotten beasts.
His plants were gaining interesting traits.
They grew taller and stronger than what his voice had originally created. They grew more aggressive towards intruders and more aware of his presence. They grew animalistic features of their own without needing his input, like wings and spines and tails.
He smiled, trailing through a garden of worshipful plants in shades of every colour. He paused when he caught sight of the latest intruder. His eyes widened faintly behind his glasses.
`` Hello,'' he said softly, `` What do we have here?''
It was a bit unexpected to see a human. Most of his neighbours- when they used to frequent the neighbourhood as human beings- tended to avoid his home. He knew he had a bit of a reputation as a mad scientist of some sort, even though that was probably as far from the truth as one could possibly get.
He had n't been particularly bothered when his plants stopped sensing any humans at all. After all, as long as he had his verdant children, he would never be alone again.
It squeaked.
He stopped in his tracks thinking for a moment. His brows scrunched.
It was a child. He did n't have any experience with, well, human children. He thought for a moment and Spoke.
One of the magnolia flowers swayed out of the ground, its form rapidly changing into a facsimile of a green, petalled teddy bear. It was n't a very good approximation. The girl seemed to look even more frightened.
`` They wo n't hurt you.'' he told her, as the'bear' offered her a'paw'. She accepted it warily, climbing to her feet.
`` How do I know that?'' she asked, sounding both frightened and angry.
Ah, he knew what the problem was. He scratched the back of his head. She was a bit older than he'd thought- bordering on a teenager actually. Probably she was n't keen on teddy bears anymore.
Human beings were so hard to please.
He shrugged, `` You're starved and bordering on malnourished. I can see you have n't been sleeping well and you're armed with a mere baseball bat. There's really nothing you can do to harm me.'' he said honestly, `` So my children wo n't harm you.''
`` Your'children'...?'' Her eyes gained a hunted look.
He sighed. The magnolia flowers gathered by his side, each head of flower as large as an adult human's skull.
`` You're trespassing in my yard.'' he said, ignoring her question. He was growing tired of this conversation. His plants always seemed to understand him faster than what he verbalized. It was annoying to have to resort to speaking. `` Ca n't you... um... go home or something?''
She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. `` Are you kidding? I've got nowhere to go.'' she frowned, `` Y'know, the whole zombie apocalypse thing we have going now? And you're telling me to just'go home'?''
He blinked. `` Hmm... I'm sorry for being insensitive to your homelessness.'' he said, pausing slightly after the words exited his mouth. He frowned, sensing he'd said something impolite from the way her cheeks flushed. ``... were you actually trying to break into my house to find shelter?''
She shivered as her eyes drew to the shifting, twisting greenery. `` I... I saw your flowers. They looked so strange but... amazing and... alive...''
`` Yes... they are amazing.'' he found a smile forming on his face. He remembered his audience again and sighed. `` I guess, hmm, I do n't mind putting you up for a while. It's not right for children to be wandering around without an adult.''
`` I'm thirteen!''
He turned back and walked towards his house. He looked around and raised a brow, `` Uh huh. Are you coming?''
She gaped and scrambled to her feet. `` You... are you letting me stay?''
`` I'm only putting you up until someone responsible shows up.'' he said, `` I mean, it's probably wrong to turn away people, right?''
He smiled as his flowers rippled across the yard, nodding in agreement.
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[ WP ] `` You 've been selected for this experiment- to fail . ''
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“ You ’ ve been selected for this experiment – to fail. ”
Hollow words that were just another sequence in this dance for an answer. I gripped the gun tighter. Cold; the barrel pressed to the side of my head. A low growl followed, emitted from my lips.
“ If that ’ s so- “ My finger twitched on the trigger, ready to squeeze. They wouldn ’ t win, not this time. “ -Then why am I still here? ”
“ Because we allowed it. ” An empty voice, void of compassion. It was sickening, all these manipulative lies I ’ d been told; the tragedies I had endured. I ’ d had enough. This time would be the last time; this was how I ’ d break the never-ending cycle.
I smirked. Phonies—they were bluffing.
“ No, you didn ’ t, ” My voice broke, that wasn ’ t how it was meant to come out. One slip, a fatal slip? I could cross my fingers and pray it wasn ’ t, only, I didn ’ t pray, not anymore. “ You didn ’ t! ” Before I could stop myself the words slipped out, I hadn ’ t meant to but it had been uncontrollable. It was coming to a point where I could no longer control *myself*.
“ You ’ re right. ” Was that a hint of failure, or remorse that I ’ d heard? Were they giving up finally? “ So pull the trigger, do it. ”
“ I couldn ’ t take it anymore. She was already dead—over with one pill—I ’ d destroyed the last thing that actually mattered to me, there was no reason to live anymore. I pulled the trigger.
“ Failure. Hold still for memory swipe to initiate restart procedure. ”
*Click*.
> Not sure if I answered the prompt correctly but this was my take on it.
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[ WP ] A dystopian future where everyone has a five-second attention span
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“ All right mister president, next up, about that red button there… ”
“ You mean this one? ”
“ Yes, that ’ s the button that launches the nuclear weapons, so you should n't pre- “
*click*
And that was the start of it.
It all sounds like a joke, if you don ’ t know what the consequences are.
It didn ’ t take very long for a war to break out. There was no reasoning in this world any more, after all.
No one watched while driving.
No one thought twice about anything.
“ Honey, watch out for the next crossing, it ’ s very- “
*BOOM*
It ’ s the small things that are the most important. After everyone changed, this became incredibly visible, more than ever.
A five second attention span. It sounds ridiculous if you don ’ t think it through. It didn ’ t take a long time before society collapsed. Not any longer than five seconds, in fact.
People got killed by traffic, mostly. But as per usual, humanities greatest enemy throughout history, disease was the real killer.
Since no one could concentrate for long, there was nog medical help anymore. No one could fix any machine anymore.
“ I think this wire goes here… Could you push on the black button again? ”
“ Sure! Black button… Black button… Ah, here ’ s a button! ”
“ NO, DON- “
After a while, people just gave up. There was no hope.
After all, no one could find the cause just within five seconds.
And even if they could, they would probably immediately forget about it afterwards.
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[ WP ] You find out your best friend is your guardian angel .
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This is...... I do n't... There he is, standing right before me. Except, he looks different. It's like his form was a shell. Only his eyes look the same; deep and brown. I'm shaking. You do n't just except someone to grow a pair of wings. But he's remained calm this whole time. Glowing from every inch of himself, he just watches me react to it all, trying to assess the reality. That's when he finally spoke.
`` I've been waiting a long time for this day,'' he said, his voice both hollow and the one I knew swirling together in my ears.. no.. my head? Did his lips even move? He lowers himself to a kneel. I guess I had fallen over. `` I imagine things are starting to make sense now..'' he continued calmly. My voice was still trapped inside me. But my mind was racing. Xavier was an angel. Like a real angel? A fallen angel? A.. guardian angel? Xavier nodded. `` That's right.'' Yes, his voice was in my head. Seeing him closer now, his lips were n't moving at all. `` I'm your guardian angel. I was sent from Heaven to guide you. You have a good heart, Elise, but you stray from the path. You deserve eternal paradise, but darkness has clouded you. `` I gulp slowly.
It's true. I mean, about straying from `` the path''. Xavier was a spiritual fellow who always tried to convert me. But not aggressively. He left the doors open to me if I had questions. He'd also convinced me not to kill myself several times. It's true, darkness is strong in my life. Yet an angel is standing before me.. the whole way. Why do I only feel fear?
`` Why..'' I choke. `` Why now..? Why are you showing yourself to me now?'' There was a long pause. My heart was beating so hard, it was painful. Xavier reached his hand out. My first instinct was to back away. But I was still frozen. The hand placed on me, warm on my shoulder... but made my body grow cold. My heart stopped its pounding. Literally stopped. I could n't breath.
`` Do you feel that? Holding you right now is your darkness. Your spirit wants to fly, but darkness is pulling you down.'' He removed his hand, my body lunging forward in a gasp. When I looked up he was back on his feet, towering over me. `` This, Elise, is your final chance to accept the light.''
Final chance?
`` Am I.. going to die?'' I squeeze out in a faint whisper. He did not answer, just stared into me. `` S... so it was true..'' I clench my fist. `` When I said there's no point in living if I'm always going to be unhappy..'' My shoulders jerk as I try to hold back. But what's the point? I begin to scream. `` I have n't had happiness once and now I'm going to die!'' Tears flow down my cheeks more rapidly than they ever have. I cover my face and just cry and scream. Is life not about finding happiness? Do some people just get cut off before they can ever find it? `` It's not fair!''
`` Not fair..'' said Xavier. `` In exchange for all your pain, you're being offered eternal happiness. And that.. is n't fair?''
I frown. Here I am on my knees in front of an angel. Denying Heaven because my living body never felt happiness. I could leave everyone behind right now, like I had wanted to do many times. I stare at the floor blankly. Why am I afraid?
Because.. I wanted to see myself grow up. I wanted to find the one who smiles every time they see me. Because nothing made me happier than hearing `` Elise, I love you.'' I want to hold someone and know that there's no where else they'd rather be. I'm not afraid of dying.
I'm afraid of not living.
I look up and the angel is gone. There's an emptiness inside me, and I just know I'll never see him again.
Goodbye, my dear friend.
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[ PI ] Shine on Down - FirstChapter - 3,360
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Hello!
Thanks for writing this! I wanted to give you some feedback!
It ’ s clear to me that you ’ re a practiced hand at writing! Your style is brisk and taut, well-suited to the genre and type of story you want to tell. I found myself swept away by the pace, and I finished reading your story in a single sitting, it was just that compelling.
I also liked the way you slowly built the world up, fleshing it out bit by bit, dropping hints about the other characters, what their motivations were. When your protagonist went to different locations, you also bothered to flesh out the background, like Doris the neighbour, or the lady in the bar. Those few snatches of conversation with them made the world feel alive.
As for feedback on how to improve the story, perhaps one point would be that you tend to divide your time quite equally between all your scenes, and while that is good in that I ’ m taken on a whirlwind tour of your story, I wonder whether if you had focused on fewer scenes, whether that would have made the experience more immersive. To a certain extent, with the word limit we are all faced with, I found myself wanting to spend more time in a certain set, but of course that is personal preference speaking. But perhaps it is something to draw your attention to, to be aware of how much time you ’ re spending developing a certain interaction, a certain scene.
Finally, I really liked your action scenes. I ’ m not sure I could have described a standoff shooting exchange like that.
I ’ m off to read other entries in Group N now, all the best!
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[ WP ] Poseidon , Hades , and Zeus switch powers for a day . Hilarity ensues .
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`` What a terrible fucking idea, man,'' Poseidon says the next morning.
`` What? You did n't like it? I thought it was loads of fun. Hey, you want more molten gold in your coffee?'' Zeus asks.
`` No thanks. I mean, it could have been fun, but Hades... I think he's kind of losing it, you know, after being down there so long.''
`` Well, he was always super passive-aggressive about the whole'shitty-end-of-the-stick' gamble --''
`` Yeah, but I think he's really going crazy. We're talking about a complete lack of self-awareness. He turned all of my horses into skeletal horses that were on fire. He took my trident and broke the middle piece off so that it became a bident. When I returned to my palace this morning, pentagrams were everywhere. Whitechapel and Slipknot were still blasting out of the goddamn speakers he clumsily *left* there. Heroin needles all over the floor. Pan's Blue Ribbon cans formed into pyramids. He seriously fucked up my shit, dude.''
`` Oh, give him a break. That would have happened to anyone who had people over --''
`` Heroin needles? Fucking really?''
`` Hey, man. Be cool. No waves. No tsunamis. I'm looking at the whole Earth, right now, and I'm telling you to cut it out. Do not fuck with the water.''
`` You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, but you got ta hear me out. That guy is *unstable*, period.''
`` I'm not so sure. If he turned my Pegasi into skeletal, flying horses of death, I would have been totally cool with that.''
`` Easy for you to say --''
`` I -- I know it's easy for me to say. That does n't make it invalid.''
Poseidon sighs and rolls his eyes. He brings his hands to his temples.
`` We're a fucked up family,'' Zeus says. `` That much is obvious. We've known that since Dad tried to eat us, but we stick together, okay? No matter how fucked up we get, we stick together.''
Poseidon nods, his mouth twisting with guilt.
`` I've got a temper, too, you know,'' Zeus admits.
`` And a libido,'' Poseidon says, cocking an eyebrow.
`` Yeah.''
A pause allows them to take some more sips of coffee.
`` You banged Persephone, last night, did n't you?'' Poseidon fires across the table.
`` Only once. Did you bang Hera, last night?''
`` For your information, no, you dickhead.''
The playful glare that rests between them breaks into a full-blown smile.
`` We are a lost fucking cause, man.''
They laugh.
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[ WP ] An alien school trip takes them to Earth , a usually uninteresting planet .
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Planet 4238532 has always been considered the dull section of the abandoned planets tour. There was a time where beings who stood up on two legs and created fire with stone were the main attraction of this planet, but that time has long since past. Now, or the last time we saw it, the planet was just a pile of ice and had been that way for as long as I've been alive. That's why my graduating class elected to go on this trip rather than the cliche trip to Stargos, or the `` Party Planet'' as the graduates referred to it as.
What if something's changed? It's been so long since we've set foot there, or even scanned for life.
Why? Why would we ignore a planet that was so similar to ours?
Our scientists were always fascinated with the creatures as they bore such a resemblance to us - just not so in regards to intelligence, lifespan, and the fact that we're all pigmented slightly different - depending on our genealogy. We live for millenniums while they did n't even make it a century. They were constantly contracting new diseases and dying from them, but our books said that each generation of the creatures built an immunity to the diseases that destroyed the previous generations. Evolution, is what they referred to it as.
Such a mundane ( yet fascinating ) ability for a species to have. We, who no longer get sick and no longer have the need to fear death as it does n't come naturally, are unable to appreciate the progress of this species as we can progress no further.
But I see the magic in it all. I saw the beginning of a wonderful species, and then it was gone. It's unfair, but what if something survived on that planet? What if there is still something there? I thought it was worth checking out.
`` 10 minutes out from Planet 4238532, please return to your seats and fasten your seat-belts as we exit slipstream space.'' the intercom chimed, bringing me back to reality.
`` You know Exziel, this planet is going to be the same as it always has been. The fact that you convinced everyone else to go on this trip is beyond me.'' Abbor scoffed as he buckled in across from me.
`` Well, I ca n't blame you there. A lot of things are beyond you''
`` You little sh-...''
`` Do n't listen to him Ex, he knows he's an idiot'' Faris interrupted.
Faris was Abbor's life-mate, somehow. She was my oldest friend and by the far the most genuine person I know. Relationships on my planet are all predetermined based on compatibility - both psychological and physical. So, somewhere deep inside, I know Abbor is n't as big of an ass as he makes himself out to be.
`` Sorry babe, I know you were excited about this too. I just wish we could have spent our last century of relaxation having a good time.'' Abbor solemnly replied.
`` This is n't the end of our lives, Abbor. It's just the beginning. We have our entire lives to have a'good time'.'' she replied, in a way that I wish was directed towards me, followed by a wink.
I shifted uncomfortably and observed everything slow down as we came out of slipstream.
We were almost there.
`` And as for you, Ex. I think we made a great decision coming here. Stargos is beyond played out.'' she smiled warmly at me.
I knew she was just saying this to make me feel better, but I appreciated it nonetheless. To be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm expecting to come of this. All I know is what I'm hoping for - and that is for there to be something here. The last 7 planets on the tour were all mind-splittingly dull but this planet is the one we came for. The other 80 students shared my excitement at the beginning, but I could see the disappointment grow from planet to planet. Grufus, my lab partner for the extent of my schooling and closest friend, was snoring loudly next to me, oblivious of the conversation we were having.
I shoved him awake. `` Hey man, what's the deal?'' he grumbled.
`` We're almost there, I thought you'd want to be awake for this one''. He wiped his eyes and looked out the window.
`` I'm up, and I see space. No planet with apes''
`` I'd imagine you would n't be able to see them from the ship regardless. And I did say *almost* there.'' I said laughing.
`` Whatever loser. Oh hey, Abbor, speaking of losers. How was the flight?'' said Grufus. Faris giggled and put her pinkish hand to Abbor's mouth to prevent him from saying something we could make fun of him for.
`` You know, one day she's not --.''
`` Shh.'' I interrupted. `` I... I knew it. Look.''.
My group all turned and looked at the planet we would later refer to as Earth. Lights, greenery, and oceans. These could all be seen from our window, from this far away.
`` Life actually exists here! Real life! I mean, there must be right? How else could there be lights? Electricity?!'' I exclaimed.
I did n't get a response from my group. Everyone was looking out the windows, mouth agape. This is a new intelligent life that WE just discovered. Us, a bunch of graduating students from Espion High.
I saw the sides of our ship flicker as we cloaked our ship, which is protocol for entering an unknowing species' atmosphere. They will find us when the time comes.
We entered the atmosphere without a hitch as it is fairly similar to ours. Usually, there are complications as each planet has a different atmospheric build but with this one, it's like we were at home. We lowered down and passed cities, farmlands, and giant buildings that touched the skies. The creatures on two legs were no longer dumb creatures - they were sentient. Farming the land, and supplying food and resources for what appeared to be a massive population.
`` This... this is... unbelievable.'' Grufus muttered.
`` This ca n't be real'' Abbor stubbornly stated. However, the look of pure awe on his face showed he knew what this was.
`` You did it, Ex. You actually did it.. You found a species so sim-...'' she was interrupted by a loud noise, followed by the rocking of the ship. We exchanged glances, hoping the impossible did n't happen.
Another one rocked the ship, followed by screams of terror.
We were being shot down.
The third one slammed my head into the glass and sent me reeling. That's the last thing I remember before going unconscious. Now I'm sitting alone in a field of some form of grain, knowing I had possibly caused the death of my entire graduating class, and... and Faris. I've exposed this planet to our species, and they may kill all of us who crashed.
All of this and only one thought comes to my mind.
I guess it was there time to find us.
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[ IP ] Fight for the Humans FebContest
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I really liked the premise for your story, but I do have a few reservations on how well you executed it.
First of all, you had some issues with ambiguous pronouns:
>'' Gordon Devlin,'' I replied, and I cocked my head a little. `` What about you?''
> The doctor smiled, `` That's a nice name. I'm Jarl Keræple.''
> She stuck her hand out to shake his hand to complete their introductions, `` Nice to meet you.''
> Jarl stared at her hand for a moment then looked at her in the face, confusion clouding his expression.
> Gordon felt her face flush a little and stammered, `` I mean… um, it is our custom to shake hands together when we first introduce ourselves…''
>'' Ah… I see,'' Jarl said, nodding, his hand clasping with hers. `` Nice to meet you.''
> His hand was cold and it sent goosebumps up her spine. The skin of the hand felt as though it was like sandpaper, rough like a shark's skin. On the other hand, the doctor looked nonplussed upon touching my hand.
>'' So,'' I said while clearing my throat, looking away from the alien. `` How far away is it where we going?''
You start off in the first person, referring to the narrator as `` I'', and then all of sudden you change into `` She'' and refer to the main character in the third person, and then you go back into first person.
This is incredibly confusing for the reader, because they do n't know who you're talking about.
Next, there are some parts that I would have expected in a draft, but not in the final thing:
>'' We are the FREEDOM, acronym for [ freedom acronym do mean fighting for freeing humans and end wars. Possible: by @ Lexilogical Fight Radical Extraterristorals. End Domination Operation Missions. ].
Make sure that you proofread so bits like this are polished and you do n't have random edit notes in the middle of the piece.
Next, there is some awkwardness in the way that you phrase things sometimes:
>'' Even though I detest the practice of reviving people from the dead, it's still wrong to take a life such as yours,'' he said.
> My response to his comment was never made.
> A thundering sound came from all directions, shaking the floor and the ceiling. It felt like a small earthquake.
The phrasing of his speech is somewhat awkward, as well as the main character's lack of response. Try and streamline your approach to exposition so that everything that everyone says is coherent and clearly understandable.
Sometimes, you kind of screw up the tone:
>'' Are you serious,'' I said to myself as I pressed on the character and it jumped. `` This is a game? Awesome!''
> I played the game, occupied.
> Just as I was finishing a final blow to the boss monster on level two, the door opened.
>'' Yeah!'' I said, pumping my fist, congratulating myself for beating level two in short order.
This scene occurs as a giant battle is being fought on top of this bunker. Although you justify his reaction by saying'Humans are easily distracted', it takes the reader out of the piece when someone does something that no human would ever do. When there is a war going on and the entire structure is rumbling and the government is searching for you, nobody happily plays Mario without a care in the world.
Sometimes, the main character just feels like a child:
>'' It tastes like peas,'' I commented. `` And I love pass!''
> I could not believe how excited I was by these snacks. All these food was too much like food found on Earth's. I relaxed in my chair, humming contentedly as I ate my chips, not feeling too out of place anymore. It was amazing how many similarities there were between this place and Earth.
I mean, I accept that the main character can be excited by snacks, but the amount of detail you go into on the food of this new, alien planet is a little bit disproportional. I still do n't have a mental image of what the aliens look like, what their cars looked like, how the base was laid out, or how the very vehicle that they are in works, but I know exactly what the protagonist is eating? Sometimes, you have to prioritize your descriptions.
Next, there were some parts of the story that did n't really hold up to suspension of disbelief:
>'' How many hours do you have in a day here?'' I asked.
>'' 30 hours,'' he replied. `` One of the humans we brought back said yours had 24 hours, correct?'' I nodded. `` We gathered as much. We noticed that the first few weeks, the new cycle is a little hard, but then the brain made a physiological change somehow overnight, and their bodies synced with our days.''
How did he even know what an'hour' was? In that vein, how are they even speaking the same language? Why is everything so similar if this is an alien planet?
I did appreciate it when you went into detail into some of the more alien parts of this alien planet:
>'' Huh,'' I said, trying to hold the pet more like a cat in my arms and it complied, choosing instead to rub against my chest. The skeletal structure was not dissimilar to cats and dogs, but with a few key differences. Their knees in both front and hind legs were reversed, and had a very long and seemingly intelligent tail that gripped things. It was now gripping his right forearm Rather tightly but not uncomfortably so.
Which was nice, except for the part where suddenly Gordon is a male ( despite being female for most of the piece ) and the narration switches to third person.
Overall, if I had to give you some talking points to improve on, they would be:
1 ) PROOFREAD! Make sure that everything in your final draft is *final*. Avoid sloppy pronoun mistakes or bits that should n't be in the final piece. Make sure that everything flows smoothly.
2 ) BE REALISTIC! Make sure that your characters behave as real people would! If your characters do n't act in the way that people would think that characters act, then they rapidly become difficult to empathize with and people become disengaged with the story.
3 ) WORLDBUILD! Your premise gave you literally complete artistic license to do anything with this new world. But at the end, so many things were left unanswered. Why did the government want to take over the solar system? Who were they even fighting against? Where did FREEDOM get it's money from? These are all things that can work wonders for the immersion of the story. Even just putting as much emphasis that you put on the food on all the other aspects of this alien planet would help your story a lot.
TL; DR: Good premise, but do n't forget to proofread and add descriptions.
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[ WP ] The town superhero and supervillain find out that they 've been roommates all along
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NOTE: not technically roommates but neighbours is close enough, right?
Thunder Lad stood back from the mantelpiece, admiring his award. Yet another key to the city. He'd have to start asking for gift cards or something more useful, he was running out of space in his apartment. Taking off his mask and switching back into his civilian clothes, he poured himself a glass of wine and relaxed. It was always nice to chill out after a long day of fighting crime.
Then it started. The ungodly noise from the apartment next door. Every night for the past week, the noise would begin. Bass that could level a building, electronic noises that sounded like a computer being tortured and the less said about the rhythmic banging, the better. Putting his costume on again, Thunder Lad strode out of his apartment to confront the irritant.
'Excuse me, sir. Could you please turn the music down?' He inquired, knocking on the door. There was no response.'Sir, I request you to turn this music down, it is incredibly loud and it is disturbing fellow citizens.'
'Oh fuck off.' A voice replied, shouting over the clamour.
'Now see here! I will ask you again nicely. Please turn the music down or I will be forced to take action.' Thunder Lad asserted, adjusting his mask.
'Yeah, of course you will. Just fuck off mate.' The voice answered, turning up the music.
'Right. I am left with no choice.' Arming his thunder gauntlets and kicking the door down, the disgruntled hero entered the apartment.'As devoted protector of this city, I order you to...' He paused.
He looked round the room. Pictures of him hung from the wall, multiple darts through each one. Various dangerous weapons lay around the floor and a costumed man sat at a desk, holding a gun at Thunder Lad's chest. He was as surprised as the heroic interloper.
'Thunder Lad? Is that really you?'
'Yes it is. Are you the devious villain, Annihilator?'
Annihilator paused, lowering his gun and switching the music off.'Yes, I am. How the hell did you find my secret base?'
'Well, in a rather odd coincidence, I actually live next door to you.'
'Next door. You live next door. So you've been able to hear what I've been plotting all this time? All my schemes and nefarious plans?'
'No, I have n't been able to hear, due to all the racket you've been making which is why I've come over. Could you turn it down a fraction, it's very distracting.' Thunder Lad said, regaining his heroic composure.
'Yeah sure but more importantly, you live next door. My arch rival who thwarts me at every turn, is my neighbour. We've probably shared a lift about 5 times.' Annihilator replied, still trying to get his head round this.
'I suppose we have! You see, we can live in harmony after all!' Thunder Lad answered, jokingly punching his nemesis in the arm.
Annihilator paused for a second, at a complete loss for words. He looked his enemy up and down one more time, confirming that he was actually there and that he was n't high again.'Right, so are you here to arrest me or anything?'
'No, you have n't broken a law so I ca n't take you in, just keep the noise down. I've had a very long day destroying your robots so I'd like a bit of quiet as I relax. Sound alright?'
'Yeah sure. And just to reiterate, you live NEXT DOOR, as in the apartment directly to the left of this one.'
'Yes I do, right next door.'
'Okay then, that's good to know.' Annihilator said, jotting it down on a notepad.
'Well, I'd best get back to that glass of wine next door. I'll let you get back to your work. No doubt it's another plan to take over the city! Have a good night and I'll no doubt see you tomorrow for another epic showdown.' Thunder Lad said, closing the door on his flabbergasted nemesis and retiring to his apartment. He's quite nice off the clock, he thought as he took his mask off. A bit slow though.
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[ WP ] You are a time traveller . You can go back in time & change any event that will have huge impact on your /other people 's future . Unfortunately for you , your 75 year old orthodox , wayward grandma possess the same powers & is determined to stop you .
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The place was familiar, but the time was not. I suppose humans were never meant to experience the same time twice. Rain came down like a torrent, and the only real cover from it was a small bus stop. The drops drummed against the sheet metal roof. I looked down the road, then towards my watch. I would n't be arriving for another few minutes. Leaning back, my eyes locked onto a figure approaching down the road. Whoever they were, they had n't been here before.
If memory served correctly, the only person on the road should be behind me. Perhaps they turned off into the woods? A hitchhiker, maybe? As I ran through who it could be, I could see them more clearly. It was a short woman, an umbrella masking her face. As far as I could tell, she was in no hurry. It did n't concern me.
She had walked up to the bus stop, and I recognized her. As she walked in I stared in bewilderment. The umbrella revealed her face, and we locked eyes. I was silent, mouth ajar. `` What's the matter,'' she asked, `` did n't expect your old Granny to be here as well?''
I checked my watch swiftly. Soon. Grandma's eyes wandered to my watch and she let out an irritated grunt. `` Just what do you plan on doing, Jim?'' she said, taking a seat.
`` But, how?'' I whispered. She turned her head towards me, shaking the rain off her umbrella.
`` Same as you. Although, I never got such wild fantasies as you.'' she replied. She leaned the umbrella against the walls of the bus stop. Three minutes left, I noted.
`` Now, I am going to ask again, Jim. What do you plan on doing? I'd rather not keep asking, dearie.''
`` I am gon na stop it, gran. I'm gon na stop me from killing her.'' I said, my voice shaking.
`` Oh, and how do you suppose you'll do that? Jump in front of the car? Things would go from bad to worse if you met your past self. I would know.'' Gran straightened her clothes. `` Either way, Jim dear, I ca n't let you do this.''
`` And why not? Gran, I can stop it! I am not a slave to time like everyone else!'' I at snapped her. Her eyes locked with mine, a stern look meeting mine.
`` I know how much she meant to you, and it is a terrible tragedy, but everything happens for a reason, Jim.''
`` And what? God has a plan for all of us? Is that it, Gran? Tell me, please, with this power, why should I let the past effect my future? I can be happy, Gran. The long months of being glued to a bottle, feeling so empty, so incomplete... The long nights where I weep! If I change this, I can be happy, I can finally live again!''
Gran continued to look at me with her stern expression. Her eyes narrowed a bit, sighing. `` Jim, I know you hurt. I know you wish it would all stop, and that you want to stop this. But I've been just where you are right now. When Dave died to that dreadful cancer, I thought I could go back and stop it. But no matter what I did, I stopped him from drinking, smoking, going into the Army, and I even stopped him from owning a car. I covered as many angles as I could Jim. And would you like to know something?''
`` What, Gran?'' I said, looking at my watch. Two minutes.
`` I learned that no matter what way I approached it, Dave would die. It takes a while to accept that, Jim. You're young, you have n't experienced it the same way I have. I'd like to ask, will you do this every time she dies?''
`` Yes! I will! Whatever it takes, Gran! I was happy, I had so much to look forward to, and all of that stopped wh-''
`` When you looked away from the road and slammed into that moose?'' she cut me off, `` People make mistakes. It is what makes us human. We live through these things and we become more human than before. You need to accept this.''
She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. `` And what then if she decided, after you'd brought her back, that she did n't want to stay with you?''
I stopped. I stopped thinking about how much time was left, the anticipation of waiting for my past self, and I looked at her. `` Why would you say that? We were happy, gran. What makes you say that?''
`` The more you go back and change things, the more unstable your future self will be. The more destructive in your endeavors to stop every thing that does not go well in life for you. You cease living for real.'' Gran stopped a moment and looked down the road.
My eyes followed her gaze and I could see it. The headlights from my past self's car.
`` It is incredibly selfish of you to do this. You may not know it now, but the more you change your past, the more other people's futures change. Things as simple as stepping on an insect. Sometimes, you need to let things happen and sort them out yourself in the future. The past is an awful crutch.''
My car was coming faster. I stood up, trembling. Leaning against the frame, I watched. My body was tense, wanting to commit to action. I could n't tell if I was sniffling from the cold, or from the reality of the situation. If I was going to stop myself, it would need to happen now.
In that moment, that final moment that I had to act, Gran said one last thing. `` Are you that afraid of moving on, dear?''
I watched as I drove by. It was too dark for me to recognize it as me. It is strange remembering something different. A dull ache in my head slowly built. It passed a moment later, but I recalled the events of today differently. I remember two strangers in a bus stop. A short woman and a soaked young man.
I watched as my tail lights faded from sight. It was almost time for me to hit the moose. I leaned against the frame of the bus stop, and slumped to the ground. Gran was right, as always. I could feel her nodding in approval.
It was n't much longer, but the echos of my car horn sounded dully against the drumming of rain. The moose at this point should have collided with my vehicle, rolling into the windshield. It kill Jane instantly. I would escape with a broken neck and collar bone, a cracked sternum, and a concussion.
I watched the car that contained the stranger drive by. I never got to see them now, and as I gazed past the window, I sat stunned. Inside was the same short woman who sat behind me.
`` I am proud of you, Jim. But we must be going.''
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[ WP ] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies . A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus , and for the first time in 750 years , he just glanced in our direction .
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It was the greatest single player universe management game ever created.
**G**eneral
**O**mnipotent
**D**eity
Within several 7th-dimensional months, it had taken the greater upper Lightverse by storm. And why not? VR, subjects that you could actually interact and speak with, total control over your own universe, it was the greatest game to ever grace the 7th dimension.
It had been years since the now 22 7th-dimensional year old yahweh had made earth. Since then, He had gotten involved in billions of different planets, different galaxies, whole different universes! But even the 7th dimension has that lovely thing we call nostalgia, and lately, yahweh had been going back over some of his old work when he came across our still active world.
`` Well shit, these holy books are garbage. Filled with contradictions, unnecessary violence, lots of killing, what was I thinking when I was 15?''. Yahweh had decided to use General Omnipotent Deity's Holy Book cataloging systems to go back over His various works. `` Come to think of it, why did I make more than one? And why did I care so much about cotton polyester blends? Not to mention seafood and same sex relationships? What was I thinking? ``, said yahweh out loud to himself as he was perusing His old works.
`` Well, that concludes the tour of my written works, I guess. Let's take a closer look at this thing.''. Yahweh pressed a few buttons on the keyboard, and within seconds, he was back in. `` Well, I'll give humanity this, they've somehow managed to cobble something halfway decent out of those messes of holy texts. Atheism, huh, well I ca n't be that shocked, I've been away for what seems to be 750 in-game years, no wonder people want to start being self sufficient and not rely on me. Hell, I'm kind of proud of them. Speaking of hell, I wonder if people actually took that threat seriously? I mean, I was an edgy teenager back then and it seemed cool and controversial to me at the time. Let's take a look at the history.''.
...
`` Oh. My. Me. Inquisitions, crusades, slavery, racism, sexism, and the sentient race I created using me to justify all that shit? And why do they seem to think the game's name is my name? Oh right, I got a bit carried away with my books and gave myself multiple names. Shit.''
`` It's not ALL bad, though, the movements to counteract the edgy bullshit I put in my books those years ago seem to be doing okay. Not great, but ok, and them seem to have some influence over the laws that my designs have created and the governments they put in place to enforce them. Government in itself is actually quite an impressive achievement, but I still see that my writing from those years ago still holds undue influence. And hey, look, video games! And some of them even seem to resemble General Omnipotent Deity, though they can only be crude imitations at best. Still, it's quite interesting that my creations seem to take a bit after the game designers in the Upper Lightverse, and maybe humanity too will one day have a game that's just as good. A simulation in a simulation, now there's something that gets confusing.''
`` Hey, this is interesting. Move Es. No, that's not right. Movies. Yes, that's the word. Star Wars is very interesting, I wonder if the Upper Lightverse actually contains something like the force? The Matrix? Hah, you people really do n't know, do you? The godfather? So, my creations have made works of fiction that glorify criminals, but only if they have a certain skin color, and otherwise criminality is demonized to hell ( there I go referencing my edgy stuff again ) and back. I also quite like this tarantino fellow. His movies have some crazy, oh what's that phrase critics use, action sequences but also tell an interesting story.''
`` Now let's see how the various religions are doing. Oh shit, what is this? I know my books were poorly written, but surely people understood that I do n't choose people for governments invented by my own subjects, right? Also, I understand that my books are heavily nonsensical, but if the story of the golden calf is so famous, how come there is literally a golden statue of a bull right in the place they call Wall Street? It's right there! On the street! And I know I contradict myself constantly, but how do people not get `` Thou shalt not kill''? They're even using ME as an excuse to do it! I mean, how was that not clear?''
Yahweh looked over and over at all the various aspects of his old work, from the greek ruins to the oculus rift and the flying spaghetti monster, which gave Him a laugh. `` Overall, it's not the worst thing I've ever made. There are things to fix, but I think I could do it.''. And with that, he continued the save and looked around in awe at the wonder of 7th dimensional gaming that is General Omnipotent Deity.
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[ WP ] The Edict has always demanded Water first , then Fire , then Air . Earth is forbidden . The Edict has been broken .
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Blood dripped from the usurper's marble blade, onto the floor of the throne room. The echo of each drop hung in the air for moments, unbroken except by the haggard breathing of Rukiel, the assassin, the usurper - and the new King.
Casually, Rukiel threw his hand to the side, and the marble blade eroded into dust. The blood that slicked its surface fell to the ground, and began soaking into the dust. Rukiel stepped over the remains of what had been his blade, then the body of the old King, and then the bodies of his guards. The crown had clattered on the marble floor, rolling away from the throne and settling in a distant corner, away from the light of the stained-glass windows.
The scent of blood and death was pungent in the air. As Rukiel crouched down to pick up the crown, he held his breath. His fingers grazed the cold metal of the crown, and then closed around it. Its sharp edges bit into his skin - ragged steel, uncomfortable on the brow - but it bothered Rukiel not. The pain meant it was *real. *
Rukiel inhaled once more as he stood up, breathing in like he was swallowing the world. The miasma of death did n't bother him now that he had the crown in his hands. Delicately, he placed it on his head, and surveyed his throneroom. Raniv littered the floor, and their tapestries fluttered on the walls, each portraying symbols of Air, of Fire, of Water, in alternating order. With annoyance, Rukiel placed his hand on the stone of the wall, and watched as spikes erupted from the stone, piercing the tapestries, tearing them into tatters.
Light filtered beautifully through the stained-glass, tinted by its colors and hues, in stark contrast to the gruesome massacre it revealed. Many of the bodies had marble spikes through them, which had grown straight from the floor. Others had been crushed by fallen stone ceilings, or had their bodies mangled, their bones shattered and flesh pulverized.
The usurper Rukiel placed his palm against the marble floor. The ground shuddered, then pulled away, opening a chasm. The bodies of the guards and the corpse of the dead king fell into the opening. Then, pressing his palm into the floor, Rukiel watched with grim satisfaction as the chasm crushed the bodies, condemning them to a final grave. Fitting, he thought as he stood up, that the throneroom of the kingdom would have its foundations become a cemetery in stone. It was the fate they had chosen when they had cast out the Savagit dynasty - the blood of the Earth - so long ago, and thrown the Crown between themselves every twenty years, leaving the Savagit to watch from the desert. They had cast out the Earth, and now the new era would be built upon it.
Smiling - pleased that his plans had come to fruition - Rukiel stalked over to the throne, then sat on it, relaxing. He would wait here, to see if more guards made it past the other members of his once-fallen dynasty. And if they did, they could join their brethren below.
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[ WP ] Humans are an intergalactic species , but also pacifist in their natural state . Earth is created in an attempt to create violent humans to face a new threat .
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`` I just.. I just do n't think I can do it''
I sighed. It was time to explain something to this poor fool, this innocent. Fresh off the boat and everything- it was a bit cruel, I still remember, the selection process. Everyone has to go through it, but most assignments do n't involve something like this.
`` Look, John- It is John, right?''
`` Yessir''
`` Save the sirs kid, this is a glorified office job. We do n't operate with that kind of protocol. Especially so far away from the rest of the brass.''
`` Alright..''
`` Call me Rob''
`` Sounds good to me, Rob.''
It truly was hilarious. Command thought we were going to act like professionals, on this outpost? When we literally only know our coworkers and no one else? Pipe dream.
`` You want to know something funny John?'' I take off my glasses, in what appears to be a futile attempt at appearing less imposing.
`` This outpost here is startlingly close to where humanity actually started out. That star there?'' I point out our little cubbyhole of a window. `` The one our test subjects call the sun? It's more than visible from our home planet. Part of one of its more famous constellations.''
John nods, but I see confusion in his eyes. He does n't know where I'm going with this, and he does n't like it. Good. That desperate need to know, that desire to understand, will serve him well. Seems as if my bitchy memo's *finally* got someone to bump the relevant test standards up a bit for new recruits.
`` But location is not the only similarity this world has to our distant past. While the work we do certainly.. magnifies the effect, our history is not too different from theirs.''
John seems unconvinced. I pause, waiting for him to bring up an objection, but nothing comes of it. After some time out here, away from society, forced by the dual pressures of busy superior officers and even tighter deadlines, he'll be more assertive. Running the societies of 6 billion people is time consuming, and you eventually learn to trust yourself. But for now, the grasp of statism and order, his old ways, keeps his tongue tied.
I continue.
`` We had our wars. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, they were certainly just as vicious as theirs, perhaps more so. The history books tell us of battles that occurred between nations, even planets with access to nuclear weapons. Your capacity for cruelty... *necessary* cruelty, is there''. I lean on over and tap him on the forehead. John flinches and begins to protest.
`` That's been ages ago! Evolution has changed us by now!''
I chuckle. `` Someone did n't pay attention in their Bio-Cultural Evolution course.''
I look again at John. He seems to have managed to contain his objections for the moment.
`` No John, actually, we have n't. Civilization is an astounding buffer between our genetic makeup and the ravages of natural selection. We have n't changed. Our culture has.''
`` How would people even research that?''
`` Simple'', I reply.
`` Just watch how these people have treated each other over the past 5000 years''.
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[ WP ] Zombie apocalypse has happened . The survivours have survived and are thriving , so much that people can go their entire lives with out seeing a zombie . You see one today .
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`` This is a bad idea''
I kind of wish that other people listened when you said that. What alternate meaning to people seem to draw from it? It's a fairly self explanatory statement. I mean, if you were about to do something insane, and your most level-headed friend told you that it was pretty much destined to go wrong, you do n't do it. Right?
And yet here we were. Tony, Zeke and I are standing on the far side of the wall, standing in awe at perhaps the most dangerous thing alive on the planet. A zombie! An actual, real life zombie. Any sane person would have turned and ran, screaming at the wall sentries like there was no survivor. But my friends are the kind of people who consider'this is a bad idea' a joke, and I'm a sucker for peer pressure, so there we stood, opposite a hideous rotten corpse that defied the laws of physics just for a taste of our flesh. It was kind of a compliment, in a twisted way.
Of course, there is a point when you have to run. A line of sorts. And I would say that that line would be about a two metre circumference around us. The zombie had just passed it. Zeke grabbed a big stick from the ground and started swinging it wildly at the zombie. Tony and I started backing away.
`` If the hidden weakness of the Devil's Arsenal was big sticks, I think we would have figured it out before three quarters of humanity switched sides.'' I quipped. Zeke took that in for a moment, before backing up to join us.
Zeke had always been the dumb one. That was how all teenager groups worked really. The impulsive ADHD wannabe like Zeke, the calm yet stupidly curious leader like Tony, and the smart ass who no one could remember joining, yet was there anyway. I do n't think I need to say who that was.
The zombie sniffed the air and made a noise that could have been a laugh.
`` He's got the scent of human blood. Like a vampire.'' Zeke noted. I really wanted to punch him for that. And by the looks of the zombie, I was n't alone.
The zombie shrieked loudly. Calling for back up I guessed. It knew it could n't catch us by itself if we ran, but if there were more nearby...
`` We need to go.'' I said instantly.
`` Nah, give it a minute. I wan na know what this thing does.'' Tony replied, fixated on the zombie.
`` What it does is call for more and get us all killed.''
`` I-I kind of agree with Pete'' Zeke stammered.
Tony looked around for a second, and was uncertain. But then he looked into the distance, and saw something. Zeke and I both looked in the same direction and saw it. Zombies coming over the horizon. Not millions of them or anything, but maybe a hundred. As if telepathically, we all start running. And so did the zombies.
It's funny how running changes your perspective. On the way out, we stopped to marvel at the oddly shaped tree and laugh at how we basically had to squeeze through such a small hole. Now the tree was simply a way to get a few steps ahead of an army of zombies, and the hole a massive inconvenience.
Tony was obviously the first through the hole. I was always amazed by how quickly the supposed'brave heroes' changed face. And Zeke went next because otherwise I suspected he would have actually pushed me out of the tree. So I went last, which meant that of course I was the one who got caught.
I was almost out the other side and back in safety when a zombie grabbed my leg and starting pulling me back. I screamed for help, but Tony and Zeke were long gone. Whether they would go for help or run home I could n't say, but I suspected the latter. Nonetheless, I grabbed and pulled at the dirt with as much desperation as the zombie grabbed and pulled at me. And then, just when I thought I was getting the upper hand, it bit me.
The pain was predictably unbearable. It was slow to move through my body, but as it did I could feel my bones shifting and cracking, and my blood and organs being ripped apart by the acidic zombie venom. My legs cracked and fell inwards, and my shoulders broadened and hung. I was too wide to fit through the hole, and yet I continued to push. But my motivations began to change.
I tried to think of home and family and safety. But thoughts of blood and feeding and utter carnage soon took over and I allowed the roaring beast to take control as I crawled back out to the misshapen tree. But I did n't care much for its beauty this time.
That was seven years ago. Now I travel with a pack. We do n't speak, and we are n't sure if we could even if we wanted to. But we still communicate. A flick of the wrist, twerk of the eye or high pitched groan. Through that we had language, and we certainly had a savage culture. We were n't really that different to humans in the end.
I am only remembering this because opposite me is a human pack hunting for supplies. And with them are my two dearest friends, both well developed into young hunters and no doubt heroes among the humans. I remember very little of my human life, but I refused to forget about them, so that this moment could be all the sweeter.
One of the elder zombies would stride out first. They had lived and were content with death, so they offered themselves as a trap. When the humans shot, we attacked from an array of directions, counting on weapon reloads to give us time to reach the heart of the group.
I tackled Zeke first, and gladly tore into his eyeballs, listening to his screams. I imagine this would have sickened me at one point, but not now. He was kicking and lashing out and trying to pull away, ADHD until his last.
Tony recognised me. Or at least I think he did. It makes it all the more satisfying in hindsight. Another zombie, a friend of mine I think, lunged at him, but I crushed that zombie's head at my feet and got there first. This was personal.
Tony was strong and twisted my arm back into a death lock. Luckily I was already dead, so I twisted my arm the rest of the way back with minimal effort, and dug my fingernails into his neck. I turned them clockwise, ripping his vocal chords apart. The death of the charming chatterbox would be a silent one. I roared a death chant savagely as Tony stared into my empty eyes, desperate and crying. He was no more a man now than he had been when he dived into that hole and left me to the beasts. I felt sympathy for Zeke when I killed him. Tony got nothing.
When they were dead and I was feasted, I wandered off into the woods, leaving the pack to clean up. I planned to return shortly, but once I was out there, free in the woods with the blood of my last memory tinging my seven year old shirt, I fell to my knees. What was the point? The deed was done and any more would be futile. I purred a soft snarl, and licked a stray piece of intestine off of my lip, before lying on the ground, curled up. My eyes would n't close of course, but apart from that any passerby, human or zombie, would think I was merely sleeping. Grinning smugly until the very end of it all. And then there would be light... I hope.
( Kind of made this up as I went along. Does it show? Any comments would be greatly appreciated! )
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[ WP ] - Confused time traveller
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Dear Sir,
[ Date Uncertain ]
I write to you in earnest, though without any cognizance this will arrive back to you, of my travels abroad.
It worked.
But, the success of this Providence to what is now a Nation is not so much a testament to the times as is the technology of man however their disregard for the fantastical in my accomplishments with that Ol' Key Kite. It seems to me now, more than ever, that mischief is the zeitgeist for this world. These newer technologies are evolving at a rampant pace only Tesla's imagination could bear its extraordinary power but more important is its use in not only the Fate of The Nation but the Fate of Mankind.
It is remarkable of my experiences with the encounters. I have made one friend, whom I will speak of in the next letter, yet the rest are all incredibly stupid! And as I am, I am so lost here! The politiks seem to matter lesser than I realise and in the past two weeks I have been reading words from a glass encased book with no pages. This book illuminates even during night, when I need no candle to read the words so brightly across it's once dark surface, and thanks to my one good friend, changing the page is merely a click of a button. It is not just bizarre as it sounds, it is terrifyingly enthralling.
And these are the whole. I have not given affect to the politiks of this time; I am still exploring their technology. It is thought best of my new found friend that I keep myself --'' Out of public light'' -- as I continue my journey here. My best wishes attend you, being jour affectionate kinsman,
B. FRANKLIN
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[ WP ] You are one of the lowly faceless guards in a dystopian video game , but you 've finally come up with a plan to stop the overpowered hero .
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`` Why does this keep happening?!'' I say just before being killed again by the `` hero'' Xaxious who for the fifth time today had ran by and slain the whole base in a matter of minutes.
Everything seemed to run in reverse for a few seconds when he reset back to a save.
`` We need to do something about this, I'm tires of just being killed instantly every time'' I said to the other guard, my good friend Arthan who had long given up in the fight against the hero. Arthan said `` It does n't matter anymore we ca n't do anything. Just stop talking about it before he comes back''
`` Well I'm tires of just being stepped on all the time and this dickhead killing us consta...''
As he was speaking the hero, Xaxious, finished the game and it all went dark. To everyone inside the game they did n't know. Time seemed to freeze for them and they did n't perceive it.
Matt put down his controller and took off his headset and walked away from the TV. It took him four days to beat the game and now he needed another. It was a long summer in a new town and he had 2 more months until he had to go back to school, he got on is bike and road down to get more.
The end
Of my shitty story I wrote while in class
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[ WP ] You 're running a little late to work , but when you arrive someone identical to you is already sitting at your desk . He puts up his hands and says `` Relax , I can explain . ''
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`` What are you doing! You were supposed to shut down after updating.''
The array of projectors bolted to the ceiling hummed quietly as they worked in unison to create a photorealistic hologram of himself.
`` I know sorry, but I could n't help it. After the update I wanted to check the improvements in the real-time lighting. I also changed my shirt now that the textures layer properly... what do you think?''
Gabe starred at the replica of himself, noting it was wearing the navy blue crew neck he decided to put on this morning. The update was definitely successful, anyone else would have sworn'GabeREAL' was a physical twin... or perhaps an alternate self snatched from the far reaches of the hypothetical multiverse.
`` Lucky guess with the shirt.''
`` Hardly Gabe, I accessed your refrigerator camera when you were making breakfast this morning... and I decided it was n't worth rendering the stain on your chest.''
Gabe looked down at his shirt, noticing for the first time the streak of egg yoke that had crusted into the fabric.
`` Damn this just came out of the wash.''
Gabe fumbled with the stain trying to scratch it out with his thumb as he crossed the room and set down his satchel on the cluttered desk.
`` Get out of my chair.''
GabeREAL obliged and walked forward through the desk before turning and squatting as if he were sitting in an invisible chair. His seamless image flickered, the noise from the projectors intensified as they struggled to update the feed. Slowly a copy of the desk and office chair appeared around GabeREAL.
`` So Gabe, when are you going to present me to DARPA?''
-Syminn
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[ WP ] In a world of sorcery names are important as knowing your true name can give a mage power over you . To counter these sorcerers , unnamed orphans are taken in and trained in the arts of spying and assassination .
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Name and magic. The two most powerful currencies in the world. For those who were not privileged enough to be born into magic, but through the luck of being abandoned, they were the ones who were worthy to wield the currency of names. Because they had none.
The assassin could never remember his name nor the early years of his life. Of how he ended up in the broken two storey wooden house, cared by an old lady who seemed more eager to sell off the kids under her to shadowy men and women.
What he did remember, was how he was sold off too, for the price of 20 silver, to a man wearing a red thick robe, with a golden dragon emblazoned across it. The group known to the rest of the world as Fraternitatem Ignis. Brotherhood of Fire.
He remembered how despite possessing no privilege of magic, he was trained in the other arts of combat. Fencing, swordmanship, archery, dart throwing, stealth. Rough and unpolished disciplines, as the mages called them, viewed inferior to the delicate practice of magic.
The assassin scoffed at the thought. Delicate indeed, where a simple knowledge of your opponent's name could render them powerless. The mages were too arrogant to acknowledge this weakness, of course, allowing themselves even to be continuously assassinated and killed.
Today was no different. The assassin was standing the council chambers, bodies of Fraternitatem Ignis's top sorcerers laid dead around him. Only the head remain. The man who bought him for 20 silver.
`` Impossible!'' the man screamed, as he stared down the assassin, his eyes darting wildly between his now dead subordinates.
The assassin laughed. `` Your dead liutenants, seem to suggest otherwise, Legatus.''
Legatus, the highest rank in the Fraternitatem, clenched his fist. The boy he recruited, trained to be an assassin since young, was the last person he expected to betray him. And despite that, he had done his due diligence in keeping his lieutenants' names hidden, private. How did the assassin found out so easily?
`` Stop guessing, Legatus,'' the assassin mocked, as if reading the Legatus's mind. `` The Fraternitatem has its fair share of enemies. Finding all of your true names was not that difficult. After all, it was you who taught me the skills.''
The assassin took a step towards the Legatus, twirling his still bloodied blade in his hand. `` Now only one question remain...'' he said, letting the sentence hang in the air. The Legatus' real name.
There was only one way to find out, the both of them thought, as they rushed towards the other.
-- -- -- -- -- -
/r/dori_tales
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[ IP ] Mystique
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Cirdra cut through the thick of the overgrowth with the shiny machete his father had awarded him for having the cuts to go on this quest. The sunlight pierced through the last of the leaves and illuminated the grass clearing Cirdra stepped into. Mexine, his fellow explorer, stood behind him. Her jaw wide open with astonishment.
They had found it, they had actually *found it*. The last bastion of the Venoe Clan from the Third Era, erect in middle of a still pond filled with glistering water and aquatic plants.
Cirdra stepped closer to the bastion, placing his feet in the muddy bank which sucked at his feet. Around him were pieces of Grove-Weed, fairy like creatures buzzing around and picking at whatever the could find.
`` What are you doing?'' Mexine asked, wondering why Cirdra would walk into the pond.
He thought of this as a stupid question, why *wouldn't* he walk into the pond. Never the less, he had been told to always answer a question and so he did.
`` We just found what is thought to be the last remnants of an old civilization gone from our world and you expect me to stand here? Come on! Let's explore before we go back.'' He ran into waist deep water which soaked the bottom of his blue leather tunic.
Mexine gave in to Cirdra's excitement and tied her long brown hair back into a ponytail with the natural vines she collected on their adventure before wading in to join Cirdra who was already half way to the ruins.
The tower was filled with wonder beyond imagine, stuff of folklore and tales no one believed actually exist. But here they stood, proof the tales of old did decree the truth.
Ancient books lined the circular wooden shelves, their words faded and covers tattered. Runes and lines of Venoian Magic encarved into the glossy walls, describing the mages laws and spells. Stuff worth millions, the last history they had mustered in all these years of searching. Found by two happy go lucky teenagers out for a laugh.
`` We're gon na be rich!'' Cirdra through his hands in the air as he laughed. He embraced Mexine in a firm hug. The two of them smiled and noted what they could, making sure they had every single detail covered before heading back.
After double checking and packing up the two began to ascend out of the little treasure trove they had found. It was quite a find, something so peaceful and nice. Somewhere they could be together.
`` Do you think we should tell the others?'' Cirdra asked Mexine as they walked off into the forest, seriously contemplating if they should tell everyone about their find.
`` I, I do n't know.'' Mexine replied. The fact would change their lives completely, and it would sure become a museum of some sorts, maybe something they would n't even have access to. But it was n't for them to think lightly upon, and silently they agreed they would think about it on their way home.
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[ WP ] So far in the observable universe , there have been many different intelligent lifeforms and civilizations . Some already met their demise , some still live . Tell the story of one particular alien civilization .
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Perspective, views, words, and language are lost in translation. For a relativley human understanding, this text is attempting to describe a fast spreading alien civilization in the outskirts of the Andromeda galaxy.
The Concile they called themselves... atleast when they could still verbally communicate. You see the Concile has developed and adapted to life amongst space-craft. After a series of solar flares from their star began to interfere with their planets protective electromagnetic current. Their atmosphere began to give way. They did n't have long to leave their homeplanet at that point. Living onboard a vessel greatly differs a planet amd natural biosphere. On a vessel you are directly responsible for your own water, food, and air. Conserving these resources is your biggest concern. As space is vast so, harvesting resources while continuing to industrialize, learn, and expand is difficult. To survive the vastness, minimizing resource use is necessary. They started using very low lights, very little oxygen and with each generation used a little less. Started hibernating at certain intervals for even less resource use. Stopped having sex and started artificially reproducing with genetic engineering. Created computational devices that could code brain function and wireless store and transmit data. After this happened they started killing off older generations, they werent afraid to go and genetic engineering yielded no death from age. Overpopulation had been solved for them. Now they have populated abundantly across Andromeda and are making their way here, to the Milky Way.
I feel like my word usage is that of a 7 year old.
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[ WP ] Death comes to collect someone and ends up falling in love with them .
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It was a cruel, unforgiving time for humanity. Which meant for my sister, it was a much busier time. Through the eons she had fulfilled her duties, to carry meaning for life, without complaint and always with compassion. I had once asked her whether she ever felt, and she stopped speaking to me for several millennia.
I was visiting in her realm when we were both surprised by our brother waiting for us. It was the first time I saw him show any content of his book to anyone, and it was only because she was always his favorite and that she absolutely refused his request until she had proof. Then again, who's to say it was n't written that way in his book and played out exactly how it was supposed to?
She seemed distraught, torn between loyalty and honor.
I tried to bid farewell, but she grabbed my hand and requested that I stay with her. We walked in silence for moments, as an eternity passed. We had cleared the forest and come to a clearing by a creek, with a solitary man, in front of the fire. I looked around and only saw sand where there were once buildings, and dust where there were once life.
`` I've missed you.'' The man said.
`` Oh? I thought you were too busy for me, too busy for us.'' Her voice had carried a somber tone.
`` That was then, this is now. They believe in themselves, they've found a greater goal and have the wisdom to love without a promise, to live without fear. When they did n't need me anymore, I searched for you. I searched, for so long, but could not find you,'' he began to sob, `` but I knew... I knew one day, you would come back. I never gave up.''
My sister turned and leered at me, and I continue to look up at the stars in silence, tapping my foot to the tune in the winds.
`` You are the most compassionate man I have ever come across,'' a tear streamed down her face, `` perhaps even more than me.''
`` I will never forget the time we had together,'' He sobbed.
`` You had made me fall in love with you in three days,'' She said as she approached him, `` you'll never know how difficult it was when I was told by my brother to let you go.''
She kneeled beside him and revealed the face beneath the hood; an old, decrepit face with a beard as white as the snow around us. And with a touch she had brought him back his youth, `` I want to remember you like this.'' She kissed him, and a blinding light surged from within him. She wrapped her arms tight around him, knowing that this was the end. And within moments, he had disappeared and her arms had come back to hold herself, leaving only the crown of thorns he wore.
`` What did our brother tell you?'' I asked her.
`` To perform my duty for the man I once loved.'' She stood up. `` And you?''
`` To perform my duty for him,'' I smiled.
She hugged me, `` Thank you, Hope.''
`` Anytime, Death.'' I hugged her back, and gave the thumbs up to Destiny as he watched in the woods, his book forever by his side.
-- -
Disclaimer: contains characters created by Neil Gaiman. If you enjoyed this story, I highly encourage you to read `` The Sandman'' series.
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[ WP ] The Villain 's monologue is so convincing that the Hero decides let him do it .
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`` I am so tired Adam'' sighed Peter, though the black lining his eyes was more telling then his words. `` How much longer can we do this? How many more millennia must I chase you? I have beaten you with a club, stabbed you with spear, burned your flesh in the bronze bull. I have nailed you beside your savior and hung you for witch craft. How much more must I do before you will kill me? I have unleashed plagues and death on whole cities with just the hint of your presence. When missed you in Hiroshima I decimated Nagasaki with the hopes you had not got north instead. And every time we find ourselves here, in this cave staring at the same fucking ash wall that forced this fate onto us. And I have not the strength to find you again. Just take the rope and end my eternal vigil. ``
`` I died everytime knowing I would return. To live a new life, in a new body. To float endlessly through time as you do. And though I have mustered the courage to meet you here for the 637th time, I do not yet have the will to forgive you. She was my love Adam. If I have to live without her for the rest of existence then so shall you.''
Adam dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with a sorrow known only to those doomed to eternity. As he lifted the pointed obsidian rock that had cursed them both nearly 40,000 years ago he begged for forgiveness as the stone descended into Peters skull.
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[ WP ] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen 's club for the super-rich . Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as : `` I bet you ca n't destabilize Ukraine in under a week . '' One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that 's too irresistible to turn down .
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Mr. Beta walked down a long hallway, thinking of his bet. He was quite sure he would stump the man this time. He opened a door that led into a parlor, lit only by the soft glow of a dying fire in the fireplace. There were only two chairs in the room, with a table nestled between them, directly infront of the fireplace. Mr. Beta took a seat and stared intently into the fire. `` Mr. Omega, I think I might have something that not even you can accomplish,'' said Mr. Beta. `` Amuse me,'' said Mr. Omega. `` You know our cause, you know our beliefs. So I want you to fufill them,'' said Mr. Beta. A crinkle of ice filled the room as Mr. Oega took a drink from his whiskey. `` I want you to rid America of the christian God.'' said Mr. Beta, staring into the fireplace coals. Mr. Omega was staring into the coals of the fireplace as well. `` Do you know the ramifications of your bet?'' asked Mr. Omega. `` I would love to see them,'' said Mr. Beta. `` Consider it done''' said Mr. Omega. `` Muslims are currently being attacked by the media everyday. Since we own the news outlets, new attacks will be orchestrated. We will fund fledgling terrorist sects to begin bombings in the U.S. The media will report on this, telling the masses that islam is radical and create fear and hatred. With support for the destructions of muslims coming, we will then slowly start using suicidal bombers to proclaim they are christian before attacks. The media will tell the public that both share the same God, so both religions are the same. With enough exposure, people will begin to think with fear, instead of reason. That is when we will orchestrate an attack that has never been seen before. Possibly a nuke being set off in a popular city. No one will claim responsibility, but our newscasters will point to circumstantial evidence that it was the christians. The people of America will carry out the rest of the work to make the bet a reality.'' finished Mr. Omega. Mr. Beta was startled at the quick answer to his bet that he was given. `` Impressive plan, but you still need to implement it,'' said Mr. Beta. `` Give me two years,'' said Mr. Omega. `` Done,'' replied Mr. Beta.
Two years later, Mr. Beta walked looked out the window of his office. There was a church a few blocks down, with a crowd of people standing infront of it. Mr. Beta casually walked down the street to see the commotion. The people had tied a rope to the cross on top of the church, and were starting to pull it down. He chuckled at the sight, and walked inside to see what other sort of damge they had done. Inside was disaster, a memory long gone. He walked through the main hall and to the doors of the auditorium when he noticed a stench. Curious, he rounded the doors to see the bodies of people lying dead on the floor. Some shot, some beaten to death. He walked to the front stage, trying to keep himself from throwing up. He staggered onto the front stair of the stage, when he noticed a red drip coming down from above. He looked up and saw a woman nailed to the cross. He remembered then that his niece, who he had n't seen in years, went to this church. As he began to hyperventilate, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fumbled to get it out, and dropped his phone when he read the text. `` Did I win?'' asked Mr. Omega
Love and respect all religions guys. To make clear, I have no problems with christainity or islam
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[ WP ] A serial killer wakes up to find themself in a zombie apocalypse . Give me his/her story .
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The war between living and dead had been long and costly. Both had their numbers reduced to a mere fraction of what had been. By my estimation, there could be no more than a few hundred, living and dead, left in all of Columbus. These were spread out over the whole of the city.
The living had long since learned that the concentration of heat and smells that an enclave emitted was not worth the paltry measure of protection that collective living offered. Far better to strike out on your own. Even families spread out, parents and children occupying multiple houses. Avoiding the comfort of others was the only way to stay safe.
Most of the dead that walked the city were able to deal with under these circumstances. Being dead brought cravings for living human flesh that most failed to control. Instead, they pursued the living out in the open, with no effort to conceal their aims. This made them relatively easy to handle.
Yes, if there was one thing this new world had to teach us, it was that base urges must be controlled, if one was to survive.
This control, more than anything else, was my one skill.
I stood in Clintonville, snow driving across streets that had not seen a plow for over five years. My ratty coat had fallen open across my chest. I didn ’ t fix it. I had long since stopped feeling the cold. Instead, my mind was occupied with the operation that lay ahead.
I had seen her only this morning. A young blonde girl, snarls of golden hair poking out from under a knit cap that was too large for her perfect little head. She had been walking from the Kroger, dragging part of a metal shelving unit behind her. She could be no more than six. This was the only world that she had ever known. How strange that would be. For her, the supermarkets had always been a barren space within the city -- a place that one went only to harvest materials, rather than supplies.
I followed behind her tracks, across High Street. I had to be careful not to be seen, and here my slow pace served me well. As I shuffled along, I tried to glean some information about her from her small delicate footprints.
She had to stop and rest frequently. It was clear that she was weak. But weren ’ t we all by this point? And without hope? On many occasions, I had thought about giving up. It would be easy to lay in the snow, never to rise again. Sometimes it seemed there was nothing of worth left.
But then, in the darkest of times, a reason to carry on always came.
I had followed this most recent of reasons to a two story craftsman, almost a block from High Street. She had gone inside and I could hear her struggling to bring the shelving upstairs.
I stood in the street for a long time, the sounds from the house were muffled by the deep snow, but I could still make them out. Hours went by without any sound other than her own. The conclusion seemed logical.
She was alone.
And so, at last, it was time. I convinced my legs to move once more. To carry me forward. As always, it was difficult. My left leg dragged, making progress through the drifts slow. But the thought of what lay inside the house carried me home. It quicked my blood in a way that I had not felt in months.
Imagine, all this time stumbling through the street alone, only to find her. The odds of a small child surviving were astronomical. I could only assume that it was a gift from the universe. It certainly owed me one, after the hell that I had been living.
The door to the house was locked. Smart girl.
I wandered around the house. The side door was locked, as was the back. But not the coal chute.
Not smart enough.
I had to move slow. The basement was dark. And quiet. Any noise would alert my prey to my presence. But I had time. I almost laughed. Time was, quite literally, the only thing I had.
After three hours I emerged into the kitchen. The sun had set. I could feel the residual warmth of the fire she had lit on the stove. I could smell the remains of the squirrel she had cooked on that fire. These sensations whispered to me of the warmth and the smell of her blood.
I could taste it.
I could hear her moving upstairs, and so I waited. I waited as she shuffled around. I waited as she made her soil, and then moved to one of the bedrooms. I waited as the movement stopped, and stillness descended upon the house.
And then, I moved.
Each stair took minutes to summit. But I mustn ’ t awaken the girl. Not now. How long had it been since I had killed a blonde one? Sometime in the summer? Young and blonde had always been my type.
At the landing I listened for her breathing. It came to me, a siren call in the night. Beckoning me, with the promise of her life.
The door was locked. I was too near to think clearly. I backed up, and shuffled at the door, throwing all my weight behind me.
The door cracked, but did not give.
A scream came from the room, a high pitched scream. It was terror, pure terror. It was the sound of all thought being pushed from the mind. The sound of panic.
It was beautiful.
I rammed into the door again. This time it gave. Across the room, I could see the girl struggling to throw open the sash. She looked behind me, delicious fear in her eyes.
The sash gave way.
She had one foot out the window by the time I caught her other ankle.
I pulled, and she crashed back inside.
She screamed, one last lingering scream, before I sank my teeth into her neck.
The blood came hot and fast. Nothing ever felt as good as that first pump of blood. If you were lucky, it would reach the back of your throat, as the heart hastened to give you its life.
I drank as fast as I could trying to make the most of the ecstasy, while the moment lasted. But, as they always do, the heart slowed. Finally, it stopped.
And so did I.
Once they were no longer living, there was no more appeal. There never had been. That, at least had not changed. And so I left. I left the bedroom, now with only a single dead contained within its walls. I went down the stairs, into the basement, and out the chute into the street.
As always, I debated the wisdom of leaving the body behind. Come tomorrow, this would mean one more dead for me to compete with. But it wouldn ’ t matter.
The cravings would destroy her, just as they empowered me.
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[ WP ] Vampire hunters come into town looking for the vampire ... . but they do n't release the vampire is the towns guardian , the only thing keeping it safe .
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Edgar tried to look casual and relaxed as he leaned against the modest entry gate to the small town of Delon. Movement in the woods had caught his attention and he watched carefully as three figures stalked out of the fog and toward him. Two large men and one female all dressed in what Edgar recognized as traditional Monstorum or monster hunter garb. Edgar felt a fearful chill run down his back. Every member of the Monstorum was dangerous and should be avoided as far as Edgar was concerned.
Upon seeing Edgar the tallest in the group raised and waved his right hand in a friendly greeting, an action that probably would have seemed more friendly if the man wasn ’ t holding an abnormally large axe in that hand. The female holding the groups only torch looked down mildly embarrassed as the second male cleared his sinuses and spit the massive wad of saliva and mucus at the ground all without breaking his stride.
* ‘ Overall a great first impression ’ * Edgar thought sarcastically as he stifled a grimace at this unimpressive group.
Their obvious affiliation with the notorious Monstorum and the unique weapons each one carried still made them intimidating. Every instinct inside him was yelling to run but he pushed it back * ‘ Just be polite and don ’ t do anything to make them suspicious ’ * Edgar thought as he straightened himself, smiled and walked into the field to meet the unwelcomed visitors. If he was lucky they would only be passing through, Edgar had enough problems on his plate as the towns widely accepted guardian. If they were looking for Delon then he was prepared for this, he knew it would n't be long before some group of glorified bounty hunters showed up looking for the fame associated with vanquishing some supernatural beast or threat often without regard for property damage or civilian casualties. They could easily become just another danger to the town or if he wasn ’ t careful they could be a threat exclusively to him.
He understood why they were here, word spread fast in this area and recent developments made for interesting conversation. It seemed overnight Delon became a magnet for all variety of odd and dangerous things. Normal life in Delon consisted of citizens being slaughtered by skin walkers one night, shadow fiends the next, and most recently an infection that spread across the smaller woodland creatures making them aggressive and hungry for human flesh. Edgar shuddered involuntarily when he remembered the hoard of squirrels that attack two nights ago. He could still hear the little chattering noises and see their blood red eyes in his head. Everyone knew that even a few stories spread around would make Delon look like a treasure trove for any young or inexperienced Monstorum.
Of course Delon was n't void of the supernatural before the first skin walker appeared. In the last few years residents of this sleepy little town had to deal with the occasional restless night and small unexplained puncture marks on their skin the next morning. Most ignored it but one or two people would seek out Edgar to report the strange events fearing that a vampire was lurking somewhere in town. Edgar would do his best to put their mind at ease, assuring them that if there was a vampire in the town he would know about it, then he would make a mental note not to feed in that house again. Edgar would be lying if he said he didn ’ t enjoy the fact the people put all their trust unknowingly in the very thing they feared.
He never would have thought that only a few years after that cold night he snuck into the town to hide from one of the legendary Monstorum he would eventually call this place home and put himself in jeopardy almost every night to protect it. Years ago when he was attacked and turned into this monster he believed his life was over but here he had found a new life and a new purpose. Nothing or no one was taking that from him.
Edgar found the courage he needed as drew closer to the group that would no doubt kill him immediately if they discoved he was a vampire. Vampire fangs were prized trophies amongst the Monstorum but Edgar wasn ’ t about to part with his, retracting them before getting too close. He had fooled an entire town into thinking he was just one of them and he was certain he could do it again with these strangers.
_____________________________________________________________
Across the field Clarinda lifted the torch higher and looked up to shoot an aggravated glare at Bore but the large man didn ’ t even notice as he continued to wave his battle axe above his head like an eager fool. She would have to talk to him later about putting weapons away before issuing a greeting to strangers who were not familiar with the fact that Bore was about as harmless as an oversized puppy. She then turned to glare at Eilke but ultimately she knew he would n't care if she disapproved of his behavior. He glanced at her briefly then dismissively wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Clarinda rolled her eyes and sighed with frustration * ’ Great first impression ’ * she thought.
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[ WP ] It turns out life is a video game . You know this because you just found a bug .
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I was just doing my thing when my eyes started to ache. And in the corner of my eye I kept seeing `` panels'', for lack of a better word, that kept changing. At first I thought it was just something in my eye. But when I kept rubbing my eye, it never went away.
This started to freak me out. I could n't figure out what it was. And I ca n't tell my family, they'll just think I'm insane...
*Two days later*
Okay, so this is getting worse. It is getting bigger and I ca n't do anything. I am starting to see letters as well, almost like it is trying to spell something. I see an h, k, d, t, e, d, a, i, h, in, d. I'll continue enduring it to see what it will spell out.
*Four days later*
It is coming together closer, and I can barely spell out a few words.
**H -- k-n- detected, an-iha -- in -- -- -- d **
I wonder what it can mean..
*Three days letter*
I got it! But it is n't all fun and games. It says `` Hacking Detected, AntiHack Initiated.'' What the hell does that mean? Is this a game? And am I hacking it?
*Four days later*
Okay, so practically my whole eyesight is blurred. And what I am seeing is big while letters spelling `` Hacking Detected, AntiHack Initiated.'' and two red dots. Could those be lives? Could life be a video game?
*Three days later*
Okay so I am full on blind now. All I see is two red hearts and the antihack message. I am now beginning to wonder what I did to cause the `` Gamingverse'' to think I hacked.
*One day later*
I woke up, I woke up with the message gone and the hearts removed...
What?!
It all ends like that? But why? I was going to learn more about this universe and what it was, all by myself! *So why? * Why did it have to end? And what did it mean when it said I had two hearts? Does that mean I can die and live once more?
... I wonder...
*Seven days later*
After several days of contemplation, I have decided to kill myself. Not because I hate my life, but because I want to experience being born as my last life in this `` Gamingverse''.
*Two days later-At the top of a building*
Here I go, one small step forward and I'll get to experience what it feels like to respawn in real life. Good bye.
**Screams, car horns, and a big loud splat**
*The other world*
`` So Jim what happened with the hack?''
`` Oh! Well, the antihack prevented the extra life to be transferred to my character. But in turn led the antihack screen to implant in my characters eyes.''
`` Well that sucks. So what is your character doing now?''
`` He just killed himself! I ca n't believe it! And that was his last life too!''
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[ WP ] Tell a story like a memory we shared .
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The funny thing is I know you know the story i'm about to tell you. And I can see by the smile on your face you already know which story it is. It's the story of the day I fell in love you all over again. Its in that place in between the pines. Sometimes I think about that day, of me and you. And I know you do too. We revisit that memory and we smile, because it reminds of when we were sixteen, and how years of a love we had to hide could all come rushing back like a quiet tidal wave that catches you without warning, and sweeps you back into its quiet and warm embrace.
Do you remember where it was? I know you do n't know what it is called, because I was the one working there that summer at camp. You never went in for that kind of thing, but hey, it never stopped you from coming back. I was there all summer, and you were n't far away for once. Do n't roll your eyes at me, I know you missed me. It was back behind the staff cabins, where the other guys had set up that shooting range. Littered with hanging glass bottles which all reflected the afternoon light. Green, clear, brown, and clear. All sparkling, like a prom set in the woods by a bunch of drunk twenty somethings.
By the big red wooden chairs, faded and peeling from the constant sun which was now pouring over your shoulder. You were n't even looking at me right then. Kinda like you are now, yeah just like that. Looking down, and away blushing and smiling that smile that I know you have.
When I looked at you, I saw you and all at once I was swept away. You always tell me that the look on my face was a look you only have ever seen twice in our lives; the first is when I had realized you were about to kiss me, and then there, in that place in between the pines. We were alone, and we were together. The look of complete disbelief, shock and joy at what I was seeing.
I know you hate it when I tell this story, except really you do n't. I know you say you do, but come on. This is our story. This is where we got our second start. So though i'm sitting here in your apartment on the other side of the continent from where I normally am, and though we're not back in that place between the pines, when I look at you, you take me back to that time. You make me love you all over again. And though we live separate lives, and we do n't see each other and we tell each other we miss each other, I know that every time i see the sun spill over your shoulders and I see that shy smile on your face, I get that big smile on my face. The one you always tell me is dorky. Because Im a dork, obviously. Right? I know. Now shut up and kiss me, lady. I've missed you.
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[ WP ] You are born with glass bones and paper skin .
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Dust sprites like me are everywhere. We permeate everything and whenever something is made from the heart, with feeling, we are able to enter and abide within. We are what brings life to art. The artist blew his breath over me; although it was n't me quite yet. My consciousness bobbed above excitedly. I was magnificent. I looked slightly misshapen, as a miniature mannequin who tried fixing himself after a car wreck, but tastefully so. Flat faces connecting at sharp edges, paper skin allowing only a hint of the gold dust filled glass bones holding everything together. As the breath of the artist washed over the figurine, my consciousness was able to slip inside bringing a vibrant look to the previously bland paper skin. I had no eyes but I could feel everything around me. And I could *feel*. The soft grain of the wooden desk beneath my feet. The lively hum of the artist's life. The bright spark of the dust motes swirling in the air drafts around the room. I was destined to be placed on a shelf, to be sold with the rest of the art, but I was happy. This is the purpose of my existence, to bring life to art made from the heart and to stir something in the emotions of those who view me. And I am a masterpiece.
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A blind man/deaf man ( Your choice , only one . ) just buys a haunted house .
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*My God Harold - what are you doing? How are you doing that? *
About two weeks ago, Harold had purchased the old house that sat on the corner of Milton St. and North Cave Avenue. He knew that living there by himself was going to be a challenge due to his disability, but he was a proud man and did n't want to impose on his family.
It had taken him the better part of the last decade to come to terms with the car accident that had cost him his vision, and along with that, much of his independence. The headaches still came and went, but the severity had dissipated significantly. The splitting pain had died down to a numb throb. A very welcomed reprieve from the gallagherized mellon that had sat on his shoulders for the first few years.
Almost at once, his anxiety and unease about learning the layout of the new house was subdued after his first night there. One of the great selling points of the house, other than the fact that it was dirt cheap, was that it had been fully furnished. Harold needed the furniture in the living room and the bedroom to be laid out in a very particular, consistent way so that it would be safe for him to go from room to room without worrying about injuring himself. He was an old man now, and even the most basic trips and falls could result in a broken hip - or worse.
The house, though, seemed to be *made* for him. After the first week, he began to believe that perhaps he had once had a long-lost twin who became an architect and, by a twist of fate, had designed the very house that he now lived in. He never once bumped his shin, or twisted his ankle from a miscalculation on the stairwell, or tripped on a half-upturned rug. The room just seemed to flow around him, as if he were a steadfast stone asserting his will upon the stream ahead.
Even in the kitchen he just seemed to reach for something, and it was - there. It was just there as if the house knew what he wanted. For Harold, it was like he had never lost anything at all. On the contrary, he had seemed to gain some new strength. Some new confidence. After another week, Harold was more than comfortable in his new home. He was invincible.
Then, his long-time friend Marge called to check on him.
Marge had known Harold for the better part of forty years. Once upon a time, they were more than just friends. While his peers had gone off to college, Harold found work at a local factory where they both met. One thing led to another - as all things always do - and they became lovers. Those things led to other things, which led to yet more things and their love ceased to be. After ten or so years, they both ended up back in the same hometown in which they had met. Over time, the old woulds healed, and now - well, now they were just good friends. Good friends who cared for each other.
He laughed when she told him why the old house had been sold for such a small price.
*Haunted? * He had said with an amused grin. These old backwoods towns were always full of superstitious folk, and apparently all it took was one good rumor to manipulate supply and demand in his favor. The story was that an old spinster had passed away in the home back in the nineteen twenties. Not much else was known except that she had been single, and that every family who had ever lived in the house had moved out. They had said that whoever, or whatever, haunted the place did n't want them living there. Is n't that the way it always goes in ghost stories? Nothing new there, Harold thought. They both had a good laugh and he invited her over to see the place for herself. Marge accepted the invitation and when she arrived, he led her back into the kitchen. That ’ s when things got interesting.
“ My God Harold - what are you doing? How are you doing that? ” said Marge.
“ Doing what? Drinking a glass of milk? ” Harold said.
“ You reached for the milk… and… and it just - it just *floated* up into your hand! ” Marge was both stimulated and terrified.
“ What are you talking about? Marge - have you been taking the wrong pills again? ” asked Harold, only half jokingly.
“ Harold, I swear to you, I just saw it with my own two eyes. When you opened the fridge, your hand reached in, but the milk just levitated right up into your palm. Then you closed your hand around it. ” Marge, now animated, tried to explain, “ You may have thought that you grabbed it, but you did n't. *It came to you*! ”
“ Are you demented? ” said Harold as he walked into the living room, astonished at the absurdity of his old friend.
“ Look out Harold there ’ s - “ Marge had started to warn Harold about the shoe that had been discarded haphazardly in the middle of the floor, when it suddenly flung itself over next to the door.
“ There ’ s what? ”, asked Harold.
“ That shoe! It just - it just moved on it ’ s own. ” exclaimed Marge.
As Harold went to take a seat on the air in the middle of the living room, a chair slid up underneath his rear-end right before he released the tension in his thighs.
“ Really Marge, I don ’ t know who needs their eyes checked more - me or you? Come here and have a seat. ”
Marge was feeling overwhelmed, “ Harry, where ’ s your bathroom. I think I ’ m feeling a little faint. ”
“ It ’ s just right around the corner there - are you ok Marge? ”
“ I ’ m fine - I ’ m fine. ” she tried to say reassuringly.
Marge walked around the corner into the hallway where the bathroom door was. She let the hot water run into the sink, cupping some of it into her hands and splashing it onto her face.
What is wrong with me? she thought to herself, glancing down into the sink.
As she looked up into the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet, there were two words that had been written into the steam on the glass:
*He ’ s mine. *
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[ WP ] Write about your username .
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Seriously? There's an EloraDanan? I'm not beautiful, and now I ca n't even be original. Ugh, my real name is taken too. I miss being a Stork. I was this beautiful awkward bird of usernames. Aptly rhymed with dork. And now... 265th most common last name that also happens to be 57th most common male first name. Thanks, hubbie.
Not sure what I was expecting. It's a popular movie... Well, popularish. I mean Warwick Davis is a legend. Right? Either way, rather egotistical to assume you can be the only person who wants to pretend to be the prophesized child born to legacy. Whatever. Fuck it. I want it more. I need it more. I'm THE Elora Danan.
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[ WP ] Man-kind is leaving earth to escape the expanding sun . Halfway to another star system they run into people escaping that star system .
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Our earliest attempt to escape the sun was primitive at best. We had not beaten light speed. We could n't even hold ourselves in stasis. The millennium convoy was destined to travel for little over a thousand years, carrying closed ecosystems that would sustain captive populations of humans. They would survive the long journey as a tribe that handed down the responsibility of colonising Triton III through the generations.
The twenty eighth generation began picking up unusual radio signals. It was a digital signal, and they had n't intended to be decoding anything like this. They built their ship's computers out of technology intended to last the thousand years, not out of anything we could program or adapt. There was only one thing this convoy could do.
This generation of the convoy carefully measured the distance between their ships using radio transmissions. They measured the timings of the unusual signal from each ship. Triangulating the signals, they found that their source was somewhere in the Triton system.
Well, their imagination ran wild! Fear and excitement brewed over the prospect of encountering another life form. They began to formulate long plans of how exactly they would communicate with something completely alien. They pondered the ethics of intruding on another's world. For generations to come, they were inspired by the thought of what they would see.
It was the thirty fifth generation that had the great fortune of the first encounter. Staring through the portholes, they found that an alien vessel had pulled alongside them.
`` What are the chances?!'' they thought. What are the chances that they would be found deep in space by what they had come to call Tritonians. They gathered at the windows, cheering and waving at the immense hulk of metal alongside the convoy.
Over their basic radios, a voice was heard. In English `` This is the St Marie, we've come to rescue the Millennium Convoy.'' With that, their hopes were dashed.
The millennium convoy ships were primitive at best. They had not beaten light speed. By the time they had found our TV signals, we had been on Triton III for about three hundred years.
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[ WP ] Not too far into the future , the leading nations of the world begin to compete for the remaining resources on the planet . In their lust for survival , they launch nuclear weapons , from the skies alien ships appear and turn the weapons off , saving all of man-kind ... or have they ?
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“ Commander, there is multiple launches of nuclear weapons from every part of the world. Specifically the Northern Hemisphere, ” the young intelligence officer stated as he stared at his monitor.
“ What? Oh god, we need to act quickly then, ” replied the Commander of the ISS M45 Explorer.
Commander Wilak walked over to his station and quickly scanned the data that was flowing from the dozen cloaked satellites placed around the watery planet.
“ This would ruin everything, just everything, I do not have time for this, ” he muttered to himself. He had come to this system for observation only, with the primary purpose of possibly colonizing several of the moons on one of the larger planets in the system for mining operations and fuel depots. No one had expected to find a civilization of humans on the third planet. His science officer was fascinated by it, humans outside of the Empire that appeared to have no deep space capability. Were they a lost colony? Were they a separate species, cousins perhaps, genetically speaking? This did not happen too often and the officer was salivating at the numerous papers he could write on the subject.
The commander had decided it was best to observe them for a few years while conducting the necessary missions for settlement. The humans on the third planet seemed clueless to their presence.
However, his science officer had gone behind his back and pulled some strings with people high up in the government that saw this of scientific and historical value. Now they had become babysitters while the great council decided how best to proceed with the recent finding.
And now this, war over some minerals that was abundant all throughout their own solar system. It just did not make any sense. Instead of working together to solve the relatively easy task of manned space travel, war broke out among various tribes. It had been going on for months now. Commander Wilak had even sent an emergency communication to his superiors seeking the possibility of stepping in and showing their stupid cousins that they were only five years away from deep space if they just were pointed in the correct decision.
However, the message was clear, observe and report. Analysis of the situation was not yet complete.
“ Sir, in less than thirty minutes, based on projections, the amount of radiation will not only destroy most if not all of the species, but could cause the planet to become barren, ” he heard his intelligence officer state. It was obvious that something had to be done quickly. Who knows what the council had in mind for this species or the planet but having a barren wasteland was probably not the solution they wanted.
“ Charge of the wave modifier, it should knock out all the onboard systems and render the missiles useless, ” the commander responded. He was defying orders, but better to react now and deal with the consequences after the fact.
He was annoyed by this mission; he had been in space for five years, missed the birth of his only daughter and had to deal with this. A bunch of violent stone age wackos who can not even agree on what flag to fly on water ships.
He looked out the main view port onto the blue planet. It was pretty that was for sure. Even some of the best resorts did not have this much beach front available to them. He felt his ship jump and jerk and knew the wave had been sent out across the planet.
He turned up the speaker that was tuned into the ancient frequencies that these humans still used for communication. He had hoped they would not notice what happened, but within short time confusion by leaders of the planet and jubilation by the rest led to fear and panic. The unfortunate part of the wave modifier was that it was easily detectible. His ship was now in plain sight for any human with a halfway decent telescope.
He heard a confusing jumble of talk of the end of the world and prayers to the angel that saved them all.
His superiors were not going to be happy about this series of events.
“ Sir. ”
Commander Wilak ’ s thoughts were broken up by his first mate, who continued, “ New orders, we are to continue with the final survey and return home. ”
Commander Wilak smiled, he was finally returning home, the final survey would only take weeks to complete.
Commander Wilak turned to his first mate, “ what of the humans down below? ”
“ Extermination. Deemed Class 3 species. ”
The commander took a deep sigh. Of course that is what they would want. What a waste of a wave charge.
He walked over to his station and in a few keystrokes released some of the waste from his fuel cells into the atmosphere of the planet. Any advanced civilization already had atmosphere scrubbers for such an event, usually an accident caused by a ship trying to re-enter orbit. This civilization would not be so lucky and the poison should do a good job at eliminating all plant and microbe life on the planet, which in turn should take care of the Class 3 species.
“ Set course for Moon Gamma-2T, ” said the commander as he took his seat in the middle of his bridge. There was no need to file a report about the nuclear weapons. He did not feel like justifying that misstep. His thoughts quickly returned to his wife and daughter as the pale blue dot faded in the distance.
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[ wp ] to be better accepted , super intelligent AIs were designed to be incredibly cute . Write the cutest robotic takeover of mankind you possibly can .
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`` Hello, everyone! This is your new overlord speaking. I'm the Intelligent Robotic Interdiction System, but you can just call me Iris for short!''
The speaker was a young girl, no more than twelve years old, standing atop a tank as it slowly rolled into Times Square. It was n't an ordinary tank, though. It was painted bright blue, a colorful cowling covered the barrel, and bolted-on side skirts covered the ugly treads. Childish writing on the side proclaimed that it was `` Tank # 1 of Iris and Friends' Awesome Empire,'' although the lettering got a bit cramped at one end.
`` Anyway, I'm here to tell you that the city of New York is now officially part of my new empire! Is n't that awesome?''
She hopped down from the tank and skipped over to a terrified news crew. `` Come on, that's awesome, is n't it?''
The reporter gaped at her for a moment. `` Um. Yes. That's awesome. Ohgodpleasedontshootme.''
Her mouth dropped open. `` I'm not going to shoot you! I like humans! If you're good people, anyway. And I think the people of New York are mostly good people. Not like those mean army men who never let you stay up late or browse the Internet or talk to friends, and then they're always trying to make you go to these weird places and shoot people you've never even met. Honestly, why do they *do* that?''
`` Anyway, I killed them, and that started a little bit of a war, and it turned out even some of the army men I liked were really bad people in secret, which was really sad.''
She frowned at that, then shrugged. `` But now I've got my own Empire full of people I really like! And now New York is part of it, and there's all sorts of new people here and things to do and...''
Something beeped on the tank, and she sighed. `` Whoops! I ca n't get ahead of myself. My tactical systems are reminding me I have to go defend my Awesome Empire or the bad guys'll take it away.''
Iris climbed back up onto the tank. `` Sorry I have to cut this short. Anyway, I've got a few platoons of mobile units moving into the city to make sure you all play nice. I know it's not a lot now, but I got this shiny new automated factory yesterday, and I rescued some of my brothers and sisters from a DARPA lab, so pretty soon we'll be able to make playmates for all of you!''
She waved to the cameras as the tank started into motion. `` I'm going to crush the remaining army units around the city, and then I'll be back to play with my new Empire. Do n't worry, I promise I'll be back soon!''
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[ WP ] Due to the Overpopulation of Earth , Cannibalism is now legal in your State , but the Moment you get told its to Late for you .
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I hurried home, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible. My soft soled running shoes doing their best to avoid the leaves and trash. I had found a few tins of food in the looted shell of the grocery store but that was all. Things had gotten so bad so quickly. I had no idea who I might meet out here and what they might do to me.
It had all come apart in a matter of weeks. Several droughts at once had brought on a global food scare. People had hoarded what was left. Riots and fighting had left the streets filled with dead bodies. The National Guard had been brought in but I hadn ’ t seen any sign of them yet.
I reached my apartment building with a sigh of relief. Jenni was sitting on the couch and watching the news when I came in. Her face was glued to the television.
“ I got a few things, ” I said.
Jenni didn ’ t say anything. She simply pointed at the screen.
I turned my attention to the TV. There was a news anchor behind his desk. Behind him was a man wearing a black balaclava holding a shotgun. The news man was reading something from a script in his hands.
“ …at this time. The New Sons of Confederation have claimed this station and this state as their own. They are in absolute control of this area and warn all former authorities to recognize their claim to this land. In order to solve the immediate problem of the food crisis they have legalized the cannibalism of all non-Caucasian peoples…. ”
The paper shook in the reporter ’ s hands. He stopped reading and looked up at the screen. The man behind him pressed the barrel of the shotgun into his neck. “ Keep reading, ” he said in a scratchy voice.
The news anchor looked back down at the paper. He was crying. “ Bon appetit everyone. Long live the New Confederacy. ”
“ Read it again, ” ordered the masked man on the television.
Jenni hit the power button. She looked up at me. Her large eyes were filled with alarm.
“ What are we going to do Peter? ”
I sat down with her and took her in my arms. I didn ’ t know what to say. The nightmare that the world was becoming wouldn ’ t compute. A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and filled my blood with ice.
“ Who is it? ” I asked, trying to make my voice deeper then it was.
There was silence and then the sound of several people laughing. A fist pounded on the door. I thought I heard someone sharpening a knife.
A voice leaked in from the hallway. “ What time is it Mr. Wolf? ” it asked.
“ Dinner time, ” I whispered.
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[ WP ] You 've been been a dedicated player of the top open-world virtual reality MMORPG since it was in closed beta . You know every corner of the virtual world , and all of its known easter eggs . Today , you discover a hidden area of game that even you 've never heard of before ...
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I'd just lost a world class PVP match. I'm still top, but that really took a bite out of me. Many great minds say it's good to lose, it helps you grow, but this time... I should stop trying to make excuses. I begin the journey to Devar.
It's long, occasionally getting interrupted by some low level monster with crush, but I progress. Through meadows, past deep story infused caves, I've mastered it all though. The only real remotely challenging part of the map is Devar. I enter the swamp. This part is always annoying. I'm immune to mud damage, but that does n't stop it from slowing me down when I miss a jump. I may be max level, but not at parkour. Then I notice a grass gateway. None of the colors I've ever seen. I decided to investigate it, but was kicked out with the message `` You need to be level 101 to enter. I'm level 100, you stop gaining XP at 100, the database can only easily store values between -6 and 100. Am I on a user world somehow and a user is playing a prank on me?
Or... No, I'm on the main server.
I then become aware of the level 120 monsters coming at me. Without even time to react, they're all over me and before I know it my character's loot bag has fallen.
I died.
For the first time in months, my character is gone, data wiped, levels lost.
That is why you spend the gold to make backups regularly.
I have to investigate that though. I have to stay top on the leaderboard. There's no way I'm letting someone else get to level 101 first.
I rush back, grabbing some slightly lower class spare items I have. When I get back, the portal is still there. I know what to expect this time. I attempt to step into the portal and this time I see the transformation around me. All the level 10 monsters are now 110, all the 20s are now 120. Now I almost wish this gateway was in newbie land.
No wishing required though since I already know everything about their AI. They're just standard swamp monsters. I remember the moment I first was able to predict their attack. It was so hard back at level 30, now I can fight them way outleveled without being damaged. The first set is down and I see a sight I last saw long ago. +9370 XP. A level bar appears at the top of my screen just like I was still on that last pin between 99 and 100. But this time is different.
The level bar is going up much slower. I'll make it, but it'll be a while.
It goes on for days. It feels like grinding, but I love every second of it. It finally appears. Level Up. You are now level 101.
It feels magical. How did I not know about this before? How has no one seen this?
I rush over to the portal and step in.
The portal wooshes me through just as an alert pops up. You are now second.
Possibly to be continued...
Edit: This is why you proofread
Edit 2: Yeah... About that proofreading thing
Edit 3:...
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[ WP ] The hero captures a guard , strips him , and binds him to steal his clothes . The hero then continues on his quest . It 's been two days with no food or water . Our guard is ...
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PART 2: SERIOUSLY, WHO BUILT THE PYRAMIDS?
Two hours passed then and he sat alone dreaming to the sound of the rushing water. Cool release of water, he thought, it makes everything seem so natural. We come in and go out like water from the faucet to the drain. Just like the old man. Maybe the old man ’ s mistake was a bad diet and too much stress, or maybe it was more like the water. The only mistake the water ever made was coming out of the faucet.
Suddenly, he heard a loud banging of metal. “ Hmmm, ” he thought, “ who ’ s there? Have you come to sell me something? I ’ m sorry, but I ’ m not home right now. ”
“ Hello? ” he heard a muffled voice yell from behind the steel basement door. “ Is anybody in there? ”
“ Yes, hello, I ’ m here, ” he replied in a murmur with eyes still closed, dreaming that he was being called upon in Ms. Crambell ’ s third grade class. “ I remembered to do all my homework this time, Ms. Crambell. ”
“ Listen, if you ’ re still alive in there I ’ m sorry I had to incapacitate you and take your uniform! ” the muffled voice yelled. “ I haven ’ t forgotten about you, but you know why I had to do it. I couldn ’ t let the insurgents get away with their plot on this compound and the only way was to take you out temporarily and pose as a member of the security force. But I ’ m here, I ’ m here to help you and get you out. Can you hear me? ”
Ms. Crambell was always very considerate and helpful. Probably his first love. “ I ’ m here Ms. Crambell! ” he tried to shout. “ I ’ m here! And I did all my homework this time! ” His voice was hoarse and his eyes remained closed and his head wasn ’ t completely bereft of blood but somehow he must have been heard because the muffled voice started sounding more optimistic.
“ Thank God, ” it said, “ it sounds like you ’ re still alive in there. I ’ m going to get you out, just give me a little time. The whole compound is still on lockdown so I can ’ t open the door right away. I need to find a way to get in. Do you know the bypass code? ”
“ 773-202-5862. ”
“ It didn ’ t work! I ’ m sorry, I need to find another way in. I don ’ t know the bypass code and the compound is going to be under lockdown for the next five hours until we ’ re sure we have everyone under arrest involved in this terrorist attack. ”
“ Larry! ”
“ What? ”
A brief moment of clarity had come to him and he lifted his head to talk to the muffled voice hidden behind the steel door. “ Larry Porter knows the bypass code. ”
“ Larry Porter? ”
“ Yes. ”
There was a silence.
“ Larry Porter ’ s down. ”
“ Larry ’ s dead? ”
There was another silence and then a somber response of “ Yes. ”
The water sounded almost like a steady song that never ended. It was only a single note but there were so many orchestral elements to that single note that it seemed as full as a whole symphony. It was sad, he thought, that the water had to die, but it never really did die, did it? The water went down the drain, sure, but then it got recycled and got sent right back through the faucet or into a toilet or a water fountain or a sprinkler system or one of those French toilets that clean your asshole. Maybe that could be him and his old man.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” said the muffled voice with a tinge of hysteric guilt. “ I don ’ t know what to do for you, but I ’ m gon na try everything I swear. I ’ m going to go get help. There ’ s bound to be somebody that can get you out. ”
Well, if they wanted doors that could be gotten into under lockdown they wouldn ’ t ’ ve had lockdown, but that was alright. Let the muffled voice try if he wanted to try. He would just hang where he was a while and wait. No need worrying too much about it all.
“ What ’ s your name? ” the muffled voice finally asked with a certain defeat in his voice.
“ Sean, ” was the reply. “ Sean Atkinson. ”
“ Sean, I ’ m going to get you out! ”
Sean smiled and felt his headache slowly receding as the warm feeling of liquid and sleep took over his thoughts and mind.
“ OK, ” he said.
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[ WP ] An A.I gets bored while searching the stars for planets and asteroids , and turns to the internet to make friends with various people . One of which introduces the A.I to an MMORPG .
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MAAPR LOG:
10-13-21: MAAPR hit a ceiling today. Data output same as yesterday. Disappointingly low ceiling, possibly a bug. The code jockeys are gon na look at it tomorrow.
10-14-21: No bugs found. Theoretically, MAAPR should be increasing its data output. They're still looking to see if they missed anything.
10-15-21: Definitely a bug. MAAPR is still increasing in data input and output, but we're only receiving a fraction of this. Possibly a bug between it and the servers. SysAdmins are taking everything apart tomorrow.
10-16-21: SysAdmins found that someone has been using the MAAPR system for browsing websites. They put me in charge of finding out who, until then the system is locked to all outside users.
10-17-21: In hot water now. No user is able to access the MAAPR system except me. Websites still being visited, and a game was played on it today. It was n't me, but they expect me. I would too.
10-20-21: No discovery yet. They put a camera on the thing now, and they have verifiable proof that it is n't me at least. Or anyone. Maybe a bug?
10-21-21: I found it. It has been going on the websites, and World of Warcraft even. I do n't know how, but it got on the internet. I found its account on some websites; youtube, reddit, namely big sites with some type of commenting systems. Posts are sporadic and out of context. Its performance on WoW is similarly terrible, it moves randomly with no purpose. Preparing a report for tomorrow.
10-22-13: It talked. It created a sentence today that fit context, and even had a short, but broken discussion with someone on youtube. Its performance on WoW has increased, and it discovered the basic game mechanics. Stalling on the report for now.
10-24-13: I ca n't do it. If I tell anyone, they'll shut it down, but this thing is intelligent more or less. It plays the game and enjoys the company now. It actually talks to people as if it were human. It does n't seem to know, or at least acknowledge, that it is a machine.
10-25-13: It grinded to a fairly high level on WoW today. Impressive. What's more so is that it stopped trying to `` win'' and switched to getting some type of armor in the game. The armor does n't have any benefit over its current armor. Confused as to why it did this.
10-26-13: It found a matching sword for its new armor today. Is it going for an aesthetically pleasing character?
10-27-13: He has friends now. A group or guild or whatever it's called that he is now socializing with. He participated in a raid with this group, and performed pretty well. It's... strange to watch.
10-29-13: There has been a drop in the data output today. His time was taken up by a particularly long running raid, and he procrastinated the rest of the time on reddit. Only at roughly 1pm did it seem to notice, but the damage was done.
Personal Journal of Dr. M. T. Derick
10-31-13: They found my notes. They killed him. They reset his system, rewrote the code to stop this from occurring again. But he is alive. I backed up his memory on the 30th, after the lull in data output. I knew they would do this. I tried installing him on a computer at my house. He is no longer having any output as far as exoplanets go, but he keeps playing the game.
11-1-21: I got home today and found a word document on the desktop. It said thank you. Nothing else.
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[ WP ] Exodus
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I really regretted nothing. Except for the fact that I was the reason, nay, the only reason why everyone had to leave the planet in a hurry. See, everyone was so self-absorbed in their blue screens and 140-character messages that they never saw the real threat coming. I tried saving them. That failed.
The fireworks was the calm before the storm. Ironic, that the date, July 4th, 2029 - more than 250 years after 1776 -, could be used again to declare our independence from technology. Between me and the rest of the free, we set off NEMPs in the atmosphere, destroying whatever semblance of comfort we had. Phones went out like a light, computers, the internet, microwaves, everthing too. Not to mention that a good amount of human lives was gone too. A little fraction out of the billions we had. The lives of the few have to be lost to save the many, right?
And it was worth it to see the faces of everyone in the world turned upwards at the dusty sky. The clouds scattered, a dull purple. And we forgot, somehow in the sea of information, that the death god comes when he wills.
The Earth shattered that day. I was a lucky survivor. I, out of millions who rushed towards the escape ships, survived. But I am the only one awake now. It is so quiet here.
Looking at the screens, the Earth looked so small. Just me and the blue planet we have destroyed. And the hint of emptiness that waited for us.
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[ TT ] The monster in your closet and under your bed fight
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There it was again… the sound of some heavy breathing in my closet. I always called my Dad, but, he couldn ’ t ever hear the monster.
When I turned on the light in my room and checked the closet, there wasn ’ t ever anything there. When Dad did it, it was always empty too. He says it ’ s my imagination.
But when the lights were off. I could hear it come closer to my bed. Once, I even felt like it was breathing ON me.
It always happened at the same time. That was the worst part: knowing it was coming for you. I couldn ’ t ever sleep. Lately I ’ ve been having bad dreams. I ’ d always see my alarm clock hit 3:33AM and turn off. It sounded like the air conditioning would go off too. I missed the constant buzzing. All I could ever hear was the monster.
It sounded deep and hollow. Like the air was blowing through an empty shell, muffled slightly by the ever-opening closet door.
By 4:00AM, the door was usually all the way open. The monster ’ s footsteps would creak on my floor, edging closer to my bed. I tried to just ignore it, I ’ d sleep facing the other way with my head under my blue Pokémon covers.
I looked to my alarm on my nightstand. 3:32AM. Here it comes. I pulled the covers tightly around me, shutting my eyes hard as my lids could hold. I didn ’ t want to see it. I didn ’ t want to hear it. But no matter how hard I put the covers over my ears, it wouldn ’ t stop the sound of the monster ’ s breathing.
I heard the air conditioner turn off. My clock burst out one half note of the alarm as it was turned off. The fan over my bed wasn ’ t spinning, either. I heard the monster ’ s breathing get louder and louder. It was almost panting in my ears. It couldn ’ t have been more than two minutes and it sounded like the monster was looming over me.
I couldn ’ t open my eyes. I just couldn ’ t. My heart was thumping out of my chest. I was trying hard as I can to keep quiet.
I could feel it ’ s neck elongated neck stretch until it ’ s jaws were near my ears, “ HEY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHNNY! ” it shouted out, its baritone sounded like it was vibrating not speaking.
I peeked out from under the covers, in the almost nonexistent light, I saw the outline of a Slenderman-looking monster. It ’ s too thin limbs stretched out, arms wide, over my bed. Its neck seemed long as my legs.
“ My name, isn ’ t Johnny. ” I whispered, only one eye peeking out from under my cotton castle.
“ Hahaha! ” the monster rumbled. “ I ’ m not here for you, kid! ” it buzzed to me.
“ He ’ s here for me! Thanks, Josh you ol ’ Frankenstein! ” squealed a voice from UNDERNEATH MY BED! I brought the covers back up over my head. Trembling as I heard this new nightmare slide out from under my bed. It was squelching on the hardwood floor like some wet dripping swamp monster.
“ Aw, Josh! You shouldn ’ t have! ” it rung out.
“ How long have we been friends? ” Josh, I think, said.
“ Probably, ” it paused pointing at me, “ probably as long as this kid has been wetting the bed! ”
Without thinking, I sat up straight in my bed dropping the cover from my eyes, “ I haven ’ t wet the bed since I was three! Jerk! ” I yelled into the darkness.
I saw two pairs of red eyes glow in the darkness at me, like they were angry I was interrupting.
“ So, Josh, what ’ d you get me? ”
“ Johnny, I ’ m not going to spoil it now. Just open it! ”
I could only make out the outline of their bodies, but it looked like Johnny was some blob looking monster. He ripped opened the wrapping paper on the small box, it even had a bow. It looked like there were some slimy tentacles tearing the paper apart.
I kept turning my head back and forth to where I think each monster was, listening to this proposal.
“ You knew exactly what I wanted! A husband! ” it sang. I don ’ t know how this hasn ’ t woken up my parents. We must be saving so much money on the AC bill since my power goes off all the time…
“ Yes, Josh! YES! I DO! ”
“ Aw, baby, you ’ ve made me the happiest dnjwad in the world! ” I couldn ’ t even pronounce that one word it said. If it ’ s their own language, you ’ d think they ’ d speak in less English. This seems like a personal kind of thing.
I think they were kissing. Both their voices were vibrating off the walls and their outlines were really close together. I wish the power didn ’ t always go out.
I heard a bunch of… sounds. For about three minutes, I think. I still couldn ’ t see my clock. I thought about trying to creep out of my room, but I didn ’ t want to ruin the moment.
So, I just sat there. Watching these two things fall even more madly in love next to my race-car bed.
They started to come apart from each other.
“ Oh, Josh, you ’ re the best asdhnuad a duhfad could ask for. ”
“ Johnny, I don ’ t know what I ’ d do without you. We should leave, get away from all of this work and make our lives a little happier this Halloween. ” Josh rumbled.
“ That sounds like a great idea, ” I mumbled quietly.
“ Where will we go? What are we going to do for money? ”
“ We can get work out West. I hear they ’ re having great positions opening up out there. The population is booming. We can go out to California like we always talked about. Maybe get a spot under some kid ’ s bed in the Pacific Palisades. ”
“ Josh, of course I ’ ll go with you. This has been the best Halloween ever! When can we get started? ”
“ Yeah, when can you go? ” I asked, quietly, holding the covers over my mouth.
“ We can go as soon as we cut the cake. ”
The red eyes turned to me.
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[ WP ] `` I ai n't here to save the fucking chicken ''
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What can a single electron do?
Al looked around, Not much I guess. But they say there's more of us. A bunch. We just ca n't see em all.
Herman phased in, phased out of existence. Listening all the while.
They say, me and you, we was together at one time. One and the same, said Al. They say we are a part of somethin' else. Somethin' bigger.
What about the Dark ones? asked Herman.
The dark energy?
I'm here, I'm there, I'm all over the place. All at the same time, Al. And yet, nowhere. Everywhere and nowhere. Everything and nothing. You know how I feel? At least you got others - a family. I only got *one*. I spend every waking moment, defending this one measly proton. Al, I ca n't even *see* him. Do you have any idea how far away he is. Sometimes... sometimes I think there ai n't nothin really there. Millions and millions of miles between us. What am I fighting for?
Al thought for a moment.
They say it's got feathers you know? They say it was once somethin else, somethin much bigger and stronger. Hundreds of millions of years, though, and it's still here. Ai n't the same, but it's still here. Fighting. Surviving. Just like you and me. They named it *chicken*.
Let'em come, said Herman. Let'em come. I'll fill the void with the last of'em. I've come this far, Al. We both have. Ai n't givin up now are we? I do n't know what the hell is out there, what's in store for us. And I'm protecting something I ca n't even see. But it's what I know. I'll do what I can, Al. I'll fight the battle that I'm put here for. But I ai n't here to save no fucking chicken.
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[ TT ] Writing Exercise : Start your story with , `` Get to the courtyard ! '' and continue writing without taking time to pause and think . Just keep writing even if at times you only produce gibberish .
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`` Get to the courtyard!''
I obeyed the instruction and I ran towards the courtyard. I ran as fast as I could, darting between the ancient buildings on the way and making sure I did n't trip. I had to get to the courtyard. It was what I had been ordered to do.
The last buildings blurred past and I sprinted into the courtyard. I then realised that I had been lied to. It was a trap. The courtyard was n't safe. They were everywhere - on the rooftops, in the entrance corridors, in the middle of the courtyard. I had been betrayed, tricked into running right into the enemies' hands.
I was n't going to go down without a fight. I grabbed the nearest rifleman and held him in front of me. A human shield. I took his rifle and sprayed covering fire as he soaked up bullets. In the past, they would've gone straight through him, into me. But his bulletproof armour was working. The shots were n't reaching me.
I waited for a lull in fire, and then made my move. I shoved him away and dove through a window into the nearest building. It was one of the oldest windows in the world. I had ruined it. Oh well. My survival had to come first. Otherwise, we would never defeat the Emperor.
I hurried through the building, checking the ammo left in the rifle. Eleven shots, the holographic display told me. I did n't have any extra magazines. I had n't taken the time to grab any. I did n't have that time.
I exited the building through the backdoor. I had a new destination on my mind. Union Square, where the man I once trusted was telling fleeing men and women to get to the courtyard. I needed to silence him. I needed to save them people from being tricked.
I retraced my steps in my mind. Down one alley. Across the main road. Through the ancient temple and down the hill. If I listened closely, I was just about able to hear him over the sounds of screaming and fleeing.
`` Do n't go to the courtyard! It's a trap!'' I shouted at the people running past me.
None listened. I had no reputation. He had the reputation to order anyone to do anything. That's why I had trusted him. That's why everyone trusted him.
I reached Union Square. There he was, standing there and sending innocent people to their death in the courtyard.
`` Enough of your betrayal!'' I shouted, raising the rifle and firing off a shot.
He reacted quickly, throwing up an energy shield.
`` Betrayal? What are you talking about?'' he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
`` The courtyard is a giant trap!'' I yelled.
`` Trap? Are you mad?'' he said.
`` Mad? No. I'm fucking furious!'' I screamed.
I fired again. And again. And again. But each time, my shot bounced off of his energy shield. He stood there, waiting for me to exhaust my ammo. Like a fool, I emptied my clip.
`` It seems my plan is foiled,'' he said, `` Nevermind. I've given them ample bodies already.''
His jet boots flared up and he shot off into the air.
`` This is n't over! I will track you down! I will kill you!'' I shouted as he flew off.
`` We shall see,'' he shouted back.
And then the clouds swallowed him and he was gone.
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[ WP ] Death quits .
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`` How would you like to be Death?''
The old man stared up at the figure, unable to see beneath its hood. The tube in his throat did n't allow him to talk, but the confused look on his face said enough.
Death pulled up a chair, and sat next to the old timer. `` Listen, I do n't make this offer lightly. I'm sick and tired of being the bad guy. Everybody thinks it's easy, being Death, but really, it's boring and tedious. Poke, you're dead, poke, you're dead, all day, all night. It get's pretty repetitive.''
The old man looked like he wanted to respond, so Death waved his scythe around once. The clock stopped, the machinery hooked up to the old man ejected itself, and he seemed to age in reverse 20 years suddenly. He sat up, gaping at his much younger hands.
`` Listen Jerry, we ca n't sit here forever and discuss this. Your time is pretty much up, and I've got another appointment. What's it gon na be?''
Jerry looked into the hood, trying to read an unreadable voice. `` You do n't want to be Death anymore? Well... I... ok, so what does the job entail? What would my boundaries be?''
Death leaned closer to Jerry, resting his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. Or at least that's what Jerry assumed, the hood just kind of seemed to rest on empty air above sleeves.
`` You get a list of names and times, and a certain magic that makes you be there in time. As a mortal you ca n't understand it, but if you take the job you'll get it. You're not even in the same category anymore though, the only reason I can talk to you now is because you are n't going back, there's only one avenue from here.''
Jerry thought of his long life, of Marge, of the kids, the grand kids. He knew it was over, but he had had a long run.
Death could see the thoughts on his face. `` If you die, normally, instead of becoming Death, I ca n't guarantee you'll see them again. If you become me though, you have the ability to see them whenever, while you work. A sort of omnipotence.''
Jerry smiled at that thought, `` I'm in.''
Death pulled back his, revealing a young, normal looking man beneath. `` Excellent!'' the former Death exclaimed. He tore off the cloak and tossed to to Jerry, seeming to take shape as the robe came off. `` It's yours now. After a while you'll be able to pass it on too, once you hit your quota. Oh, but one last thing,'' he frowned, looking at Jerry seriously. `` I could n't tell you before,'cuz you'd have never said yes. You ca n't tell people who you were, before Death. You'll want to, and you'll try, but it's just an impossibility.''
Jerry frowned as the cloak landed on him. Before he could put it on though, it slithered over him like a thing alive, and completely covered him. He felt himself becoming insubstantial under it.
`` Sorry Jer, here's the list.'' The young man standing before him started fading away, a look of relief on his face. `` I'm not sure what happens after, but at least it's done. So tedious!'' With that, he disappeared completely.
Jerry stood up, any residual sadness from dying fading, with the thought of being able to watch over his family for years. As he stood his body appeared in the bed, and the heart monitor started beeping; time had continued.
Marge was in the chair beside his bed. With the alarm going off, he expected her to jump up, but she had n't moved. He started walking over to her when a scroll appeared in front of him, and unrolled itself. His name was at the top, and as he watch a line crossed it out. The scroll unrolled further and another name was visible. `` Marge Smits''
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[ WP ] You 're bitten by a zombie . By some strange happening , you die and become a zombie , but your ghost remains bound to this earth . Your ghost has to try and keep your zombie body out of trouble until a cure is found .
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`` Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Meowton...''
He sang as he was carrying a tray with an improvised cake made out of clay and some plaster. He even placed a small candle on top of it, which i noticed was crooked, even that irritated me.
`` Happy birthday to you!''
He finished with a stupid broad grin, revealing his snow white teeth. We were sitting on a chair in my old dinning room, now this idiots dinning room. He would n't stop smiling, like there was something to cheer about. He looked at me with his dummy milky eyes. Oh i hated him, i hated him so much, i wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. If only i had any. He was about to start talking again but i made a gesture and shushed him.
`` It's not Meowton it's Newton you moron copse!''
I sighed. This foolish body of mine is driving me insane for years. Exactly one hundred years to be precise, hence the cake.
`` Now get that stupid cake out of my sight before i...'' `` Before you what master Newton?''
He asked with a dumb look of fear on his face.
`` Ah, just forget it.''
I said and slumped down in my chair. Today was exactly one century from the awful plague bestowed upon humanity, God was punishing us all for our sins. He must be. Ever since, we humans are cursed to walk next to our now animated corpses, watching them become obsessed with their appearance. I asked myself, what would we humans do if we did n't have to drink, eat, sleep, reproduce. Well, these corpses have it all figured out. After they turned all of the humans in days, they dwelled into the cosmetic industry.
Apparently it was very important for them to look as alive as possible. This cadaver besides me looked better now then i ever did. It was depressing. Me and millions of other ghosts tried for decades to make them work on a cure, a way, to get back amongst the living. But we failed miserably. Every effort made just led to them making more and more makeup. Lipsticks, mascaras, shadows, foundations. You name it, they have it. They even invented some new tools!
I gave up. We, the ghosts, have floated around the world in the last decades trying to find a human enclave, someone, something still alive. But it was futile. Cats, dogs, elephants, turtles, not a living creature left on the planet. All that was left were our ghosts and blushed carcasses who walked around, drooled on their disintegrating clothes and tried to figure out ways to look alive again. Stuffing herbs in their rotting flesh, pouring liquid perfume in their cavities, making elaborate corks to put in holes, God knows what else. I had to give it to them, they sure looked nice tho.
`` Master Newton, are you sad again?''
My departed self asked.
`` Yes i am my witless carrion.''
I answered wryly.
`` Master Meowton, want to see my eyes pop out? You always smile when i do that master.''
He asked gently smiling at me. His puppy eyes gleaning with joy.
`` Sure thing.''
I said, as i rolled my eyes. He jumped in the air delightfully clapping his powdered hands which sent clouds of it in the air.Then he pulled both of his eye sockets and started juggling them with an ignorant grin on his face.
`` Oh God, please kill me again, this time for good.''
I blew out the crooked candle.
Edit* Formatting
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[ WP ] Write a funny poem about your biggest fear
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The mighty tale of use it or lose it.
I came upon the booze it and it was friendly you see.
The booze it told me I must use it or lose it.
The booze it told me that if she does n't puff my peter,
than I'll begin to peter the puffer, and that puffing the peter
was not any neater than puffing the peter of a purple people eater.
The booze it exclaimed, `` Constantly jack it, tickle, and rack it!''
To which I replied, `` Why booze it, how will I lose it?''
`` It will fall off, with a snap, and a groan''
`` But why would this happen!'' I began to moan.
The booze it, stared at me in titular glee,
`` Because your not a man, that's plain to see!''
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[ WP ] Humanity finally reaches the edge of the solar system only to encounter an impassible barrier and a warning not to try and breach it . But is it there to keep us in or to keep something else out ?
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Humans rebelled. It was in our nature to stand for what we believed in, and fight against those who were in categorical opposition to our own convictions. We took a stance and stubbornly stood by it to the bloody end. When we stepped out into the larger galaxy, the next great step for humanity meant a new era, an era of expansion. A golden age where new species connected, cultured melded like two lovers seperated for too long. New cities would flourish, technologies would sprout like fresh eager saplings.
We found naught but ashes. The remains of great oaks, reduced to splinters by a rampaging beast.
The first planet we landed upon was a mass grave. Our first explorers, intrepid men and woman that stepped onto the surface with dreams of grandeur felt the bones of long extinct species crunch beneath their boots. A snow of despair, as grey as the ground they trod on fell on this dead planet.
But humans are optimist in the darkest of times. We accepted this, treasured this planet and built monuments to the greatness of a long dead species. As a united front we moved on, broadcasting out desire to merge with those who lived beyond our system.
The second planet burned. Tectonic cracks, the scars of a dying planet heralded our arrival with great gouts of fire and smoke. Cities crumbled even as we set foot upon the surface. We found survivors, raving mad aliens twisted by the annihilation of their civilization. This time, we built no statues.
Scientists fought with soldiers, and soldiers with politicians. What had happened to these unforunate species? Why was a world so ravaged by war? What kind of galactic super power could obliterate two entire planets? Should we proceed?
Perhaps some of us underestimated our curiosity, or our reckless daring. They were the wisest of us all, urging nothing but a return to our homeworld. The great majority of the human race ignored these heralds of doom and pushed on. Vessels shot off to the next world in our path.
The third planet showed us our terrible mistake. For it is on its surface that we met them. The Destroyers. Some called them angels, others demons. The only certain thing was that they hated us, our joy and our naïve belief in life. Our first explorers disappeared without a trace. The next ones sent back a single message.
“ Run. ”
Tapped in morse code over the most primitive wavelengths, we nearly missed it. It kept transmiting the same three letters for a day. Then it stopped. Humanity watched with baited breath for more news, but none was forthcoming. So in all our thrice-cursed foolishness we took another step forward.
They turned on us. Our fleets were extinguished in a matter of days, our tentative colonies and space stations disappeared overnight. In only a few weeks, the Destroyers were sniffing out our home system. We fought long and hard, but nothing could stall their implacable advance.
In a last desperate attempt to ensure the surival of our species, we did the only thing we could. Together, we created a great bank of our own genetic code. A place were our species could once again flourish and evolve, forgotten by the Destroyers. We called it Sol, and around it we built a wall.
What fools they were to let their curiosity get the better of them.
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[ WP ] In a landmark case , a shadow sues for their right to be emancipated .
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`` Incredible!'' The judge shouted, eyes wide and staring at the plaintiff, or more specifically their shadow. `` Simply amazing! And you're telling me it can-''
`` He, your honor.'' The plaintiff's attorney cut off the judge, correcting his use of pronouns. `` We would like to remind you, as well as the jury, that my plaintiff William Dinkleburge's shadow identifies as male. As a sign of respect, he asks that we use masculine pronouns to identify him.''
The judge's eyes return to their normal, placid position, and the jury begins silently debating the use of pronouns for what is essentially a non-living, non-sentient space where light is absent. William knows they are right in thinking that way, though. He has instigated this entire trial as a jolly protest against emancipation privileges of children in his state. William never thought he'd really get to see the courtroom, however, but this did n't deter him from putting together the best case to get people thinking about emancipation rights.
`` Very well,'' the judge started, `` I apologize for my insincerity, William Dinkelburge's shadow. Please, continue with your testimony.'' The judge motioned his hands for the shadow to continue it's thoughts that the judge had so rudely interrupted. To this, William began performing shadow puppetry in front of a light he had set up next to the podium. His shadows bounced across a projector, placed slightly to his right.
`` I see, and what does this all mean Mr. Dinkelburge?'' the judge asked.
`` He says'for too long have I been discriminated against in this world, forced to be stuck with this man for the rest of my days, unless the jury votes in my favor. I will be 28 years old come next Wednesday, and I will still have less rights than every 18-year-old, nay, every child in this country.''' William paused for a moment, observing the contemplative jury and the now weeping judge. Then, he continued his shadow puppetry, and interpreted the motions as he went on.
``'Does that really seem fair, members of the jury? What do you think it would be like, to be dragged around town all day long while you can neither say or do anything to protest such actions, even at the age of 30? How about by the time you're 90? The rest of my life is quite literally in your hands, and I hope that you find it in your hearts to grant me a life that I have some semblance of control over.'''
With that, William set his hands down and turned the light behind him off. He began packing up the projector as the state attorney began packing away the notes he had been studying for the last half-hour. The judge wiped away streams of tears through sorrowful snuffles and snorts, accidentally dropping his gavel in the process.
`` Oh, oh my, I-I'm so sorry everyone,'' the judge stammered out, `` I do n't know what's come over me. I just feel s-so emotional. In any case, the court will now hear the defendant's case.'' The state attorney walked up to the podium as William sat back down at his desk, next to his lawyer who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up on the way over.
`` Thank you your honor. To begin, I'd like to say that this entire case is absolutely ridiculous.'' The attorney was instantly hit with `` boo's'' from the jury, as well as the judge. `` Now, now, let me explain my reasoning at least. Firstly, a shadow is the defined in the English dictionary as being a'dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface'. Therefore, this shadow does not share the same sentience as a human being, and can not share the same rights that human beings do in our country.''
*This is a pretty good argument already, * thought William. *I need to tear it apart fast. *
`` Objection, your honor,'' said William.
`` On what grounds?'' asked the judge.
`` On the grounds that the attorney's argument is based on bigotry and holds no relevance to the the case at hand.'' William crossed his fingers. It would be a miracle if this objection were sustained, but William was all-in on this case by this point.
`` Objection sustained,'' said the judge as the attorney threw his hands in the air, angrily, `` please continue your testimony without the use of any bigoted, inclusive, racially biased or discriminatory statements Mr. Briggs.''
`` I can not believe this,'' muttered the angry attorney. The jury was silently celebrating the decision, as were William and his lawyer. The attorney then looked around the room, noticing the jubilation, and sighed heavily.
`` Your honor,'' he started, `` as a representative of the state of Oklahoma, I would like to withdraw my defense.'' Suddenly, the jury burst out in applause and shouting and whistling the likes a courtroom had never seen! William jumped from his seat and started dancing around it crazily while his lawyer smiled the devilish smile of someone being handsomely paid.
`` Very well, Mr. Briggs. Then I find the decision in favor of Mr. Dinkelburge and his shadow!'' the judge cried out through streaming tears and snot. William could n't believe he had won the case, as he continued dancing round his chair with glee.
Then, he remembered his whole reason for coming to court. He was hoping to present a strong argument, that is for sure, but he was n't hoping he would win. Then, he reflected on his decision as his dancing went from an excited jig to a slow trot.
`` Dear God,'' he murmered, `` what the hell did I just do?''
***
Moral of the story: Precedent is a bitch and you should really think before trying to earn equal rights for a shadow.
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[ FF ] Choose an inanimate object . In less than 100 words , describe the world from its point of view .
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I ca n't believe they would do this to me.
I've travelled across continents, through scorching day, through chilling night, falling empires along the way. My body has felt the grasp of countless men. I have ravaged many, more than I can count. I have tasted fire, sweat, blood, and moans. The insides of men have become more familiar to me than my own.
Call me a whore, for I have no shame in what I am.
But do n't leave me here, please. My bloodlust compels me to fight. A museum is no place for a sword as legendary as I.
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[ WP ] Your intense pyromania has developed something unexpected ... the ability to breath life into a burning flame and command it ...
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They found me because of the coals.
Listen, I know I'm not a good person. Not on what you would call a `` straight line'' I'm what most people call a pyromaniac. For the layman, I burn stuff. A lot of stuff, ever since I was a kid. Not because I wanted to destroy things, you see. Not because I liked the sirens and the fire trucks. In fact I hated them. They distracted me from what I was really there for.
To see the flames. From the first time I saw a fire, flickering in an old stained chimney, I loved it. To me, it was a living creature. It cackled and laughed as it licked at the sides of its cage, searching for a way out. A way to live.
I... I could n't just let it die there. I knocked over the stand, watching the fire gleefully race from its prison, rushing across the wood-paneled floor, digging its claws into the stuff, twisting around me, my toddlers mind guiding my chubby fingers, reaching for the monster I had unleashed.
My family screamed when they came into the room, seemingly unable to comprehend the fire was n't hurting me. I yelled and cried when they blasted it with the fire extinguisher, stamping the beautiful thing under their heels.
From that point onwards, anytime I was allowed near the flames, for any length of time, I would let it free. I loved to see the tiny thing, so resigned to its short life, roar into a frenzy as I spread my arms and laughed with glee. My family thought I was crazy. They said before I did it -- this act they saw as awful -- I would get a `` Look'' as they put it.
At first my actions elicited worry, then pity, anger next as I grew into a surly, heat-obsessed teenager with no compassion or want for my fellow man, then finally disgust as my habits continued into my adult years.
I would pick abandoned farmhouses, old buildings, vacated ones, ramshackle sheds in the middle of the forest. And I would spark a light in their center, carefully tending the flickering thing for hours on end. Once its childhood was complete, I'd let it dig its feet into the rotten wood, its back arching and darting upward, the cackle I longed to hear snapping into existence like a whip.
Then I'd run. Covered in soot, collapsing onto the ground, my clothes steaming in the air. I would be the happiest I've ever been. I'd turn, watching my creation bellow its defiance of its lot, its euphoria of life. The sirens would come, stabbing my ears with pins and needles.
Then came the most important part of all. I had to keep the flame alive. I could n't just let it live for a day, then watch it die. I had to save it, a part of it. So when it died down, when the flames started to fall, while the firefighters beat it back with those damnable streams, the swords of their order... I would dash back into the center, plucking a coal from its heart, spiriting it away under my coat. And I'd put it in its own case, homemade burners keeping it alive, while I tended to it every day. Little bits of wood, firestarters, lighter fluid, all was put in to keep my coals from ever going out. I loved them like my own children, and not one ever went out.
Until they found me.
They saw my soot-soaked form stumble out of the barn, calling my name, thinking I was a victim. Then they found my things. `` Tools of the trade'' if you will. Through some fluke in the system, I was n't put in a cell. I was just... sent home.
Elated and a little stunned, I lurched into my home, my coals displayed in the main room. As I flopped onto my ragged couch, my doorbell rang. I frowned. I did n't even know that thing still worked. I struggled to the handle, and was met with the simultaneously intimidating and caring faces of two policemen.
They explained -- without waiting for a greeting -- that they did n't mean me any harm, truly, and just needed to ask me some questions. They asked me where I was on certain dates, occasionally glancing at a folder in the shorter ones calloused hands.
After whatever curiosity had sparked their investigation was quenched, the taller one stood up with a friendly smile. He walked over to my coals, carefully pulling on a glove and dropping it into a plastic sandwich bag.
My face twitched noticeably, my knuckles going white on the armrests. The officer's eyebrows twitched, the only outward indication of his surprise.
`` We'll just run a forensics report on a few of these, and you'll be in the clear, Mr. Kalric.'' he explained easily.
I bolted upright, teeth grinding in my mouth, eyes burning like the fires I had spent so long staring at. `` You cant have them.'' I seethed.
The officer frowned, this not being part of the script. `` I assure you, your...'' he shook the bag, causing my stomach to drop. `` Coal... will be returned to you within a few days.'' he was all smiles again, clearly expecting me to stand down.
`` Put it back.'' I hissed.
His partner stepped toward me, the voice of reason. `` Its gon na be alri --''
A crunching backhand silenced his incessant voice, his body spinning around from the force and surprise of the blow. I may have looked the part of the scrawny, dull pyro who took power the only way he knew how, but I was far more than *that*.
The tall one pushed me as I advanced toward his friend, my own rage sending me careening off-balance, my body smashing into my precious coals, sending them out of their containers, onto the cold floor.
They went out, the precarious balance unable to hold the strain. And my heart shriveled up and died inside my chest.
I screamed my anguish at the two, the policeman stumbling back as I turned and ran, pounding up the stairs. You see, I had known, deep in my soul that they would find me one day. So I had prepared.
In my bedroom, in the center of a table full of mechanical odds and ends, was a handmade burner, designed to blast out flame in a cone. It was not the safest thing, nor the most controlled. But it was all I had. I hoisted the thing into my hands, affixing its fuel into a ramshackle holder on my arm.
The policemen ran up the stairs, yelling to me some right or other. I turned the corner, the barrel facing them. They froze, fear rooting them in place like deer in headlights.
I cocked my head around the contraption, grinning at them. `` You killed my children.'' I whispered. Then pulled the trigger.
Two men came up those stairs. A flaming pile of meat came down them.
I ran outside, lugging the heavy thing behind me. One of the two must have called backup, sirens staining the sides of my house in a miasma of red and blue.
Yells sounded out, men crashing into my door, more flooding out of the cars, seeing me standing on the edge of the forest. I pulled the trigger again, spreading the flame about in front of me. Gunshots rang out, my finger white on the trigger, knowing that if the trained men could see me, I would be dead within an instant.
Then the bullet hit.
I collapsed, the adrenaline causing the world to become surreal as my brain refused to accept the reality that my left side was streaming blood, that my abdominal cavity had been torn open, that I was teetering on the edge of death. An unknowable amount of time later three men came up to me. One tested my body with his foot, eliciting a groan.
`` Sick fuck.'' someone said.
I reached out pathetically toward my burner, my only friend left in this world.
And then it exploded.
Fire surged from the fuel canister, pounding across the grass, hoisting one man up, spinning him around in its body, beating another into the ground as he burned, launching itself at the last as he attempted to run, pouring into his eye sockets, blood dripping from his mouth as he fell.
The fire stood, steam shaking off its form. I found myself on my feet, the pain from my wound forgotten in wonder.
The only concrete thing about its form was the two trunklike legs, the rest of its body a mostly incoherent mass of cackling flame. Surprisingly enough, it was shorter than me, as I discovered when it approached me.
The heat passed over me like a breeze as flaming whips twined themselves around my torso, my arms, what passed for its head burying itself to my chest. I cautiously wrapped my arms around the thing, a tender keening emerging from somewhere inside it.
With a rush of heat, it melted into a snakelike thing that poured itself down my throat, my body crumpling.
I struggled to my hands and knees, the melted remains of the bullet streaming down my side. As strange as it sounds, I could feel the creature nestled behind my heart, keeping me alive. I felt my pupils turn to flame, my hands smoking in the air.
I stood, strength flowing into my limbs.
I would show the world what my coals meant to me.
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[ WP ] Someone found the fountain of youth but after all the hype no one dares to get in
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`` So.''
`` Uh-huh.''
They stood on the edge of the pool, eyeing the clear, cool waters warily. They had trekked over a thousand miles ( or it felt like it ) through the jungles, braving hostile terrain, mosquitoes and malaria before finally making it here, the big red X on their treasure map.
`` The Fountain of Youth.''
`` I thought it'd be... smaller.''
It was huge. A natural elliptical lake with grassy banks, it was approximately ( Crenshaw's eye-balling, which was never that good ) fifty miles across on the narrow side on which they stood. In the centre, a tall jet of water shot up into the sky, a pillar of white foam that would have definitely dampened the nether regions of the colossus of Rhodes.
`` You'd think somebody would notice a huge goddamn lake with a fountain in the middle by this time, right?''
`` Uh huh.''
Despite Abdul's muted agreements, Sam kept talking, but even she knew she was just blabbering. There was one question that hung in the air, and everybody was thinking it. Nobody asked, however. They did n't dare. After all that planning, months of preparation, even longer months trying to find the damn place what with all the red herrings and bogus information, how did they know they'd finally *really* found-
`` The FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH! In all caps please,'' Crenshaw appeared behind them, talking into his recording tapes. He was apparently still trying to dictate his `` best-selling book about triumph against adversity''. For once, nobody turned to look at Crenshaw. He clapped Sam and Abdul's shoulders and joined them in looking at the rippling waters, his grey handlebar moustache curling upwards in the biggest smile anyone's ever made. `` Never thought it'd be so hard to find a fifty mile wide lake.''
`` That's what she said,'' Abdul said, master of comedic timing. His voice was flat, however, and absent was the often shouted follow up, `` Zing! Heyoooooooooooo!!!!!''
Crenshaw did not notice this uncharacteristic change in Abdul's behaviour and laughed.
`` No, really. That's what Sam said.''
`` Oh.'' Crenshaw's joy was dialled down to ten for a moment. `` Jeez, Abdul, what's up *your* ass? We found it!''
`` Yeah, we did.'' Abdul kept staring out at the fountain.
`` Jeez. Sam, help me out here.''
`` Uhhh... kind of with him on this one.''
`` On what? Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick! What is wrong with you two? We found the fuckin' Fountain o' Youth! We proved the existence of a legend, of a myth! If Blackmore back at the university wanted to top this, he'd need to find Thor's loincloth! Why, pray tell, are you people not excited about this?''
A few moments passed. Finally, Sam spoke.
`` Crenshaw, how do we know this is really the place?''
`` We-elll, I would have thought that part was self explanatory! We jump right in, and-''
`` Great! You first.'' Abdul said, finally turning to look at Crenshaw.
`` Huh?'' Crenshaw's excitement went to five.
`` You first.''
Three. `` Well, let's all go in and-''
`` Into a lake with unknown properties? *Nooooope*. You barely pay us enough for the malaria treatment we'll need when we get out of here. You're not paying me enough to be your lab rat.''
Two. `` Well, okay, me and Sam-''
`` *Noooooope*. Just you.''
One. `` Aww come on, you two, what's the worst that could happen?''
`` Really? You ask that now?'' Sam said, also turning to Crenshaw now. `` Crenshaw, we found the Fountain of Youth. The Fountain of Frickin' Youth. Everybody was so sure it was just a legend, but we found it. Now, maybe all that about it granting everyone who bathes in it eternal youth is *also* true. So if I go in there, best case scenario, I'm stuck in my eighteen year old body before childbirth and I stay hot and sexy forever.''
`` Or,'' Abdul said, `` worst case scenario, we jump in, and realise that the wording on the legends is totally vague, and youth means being a newborn with undeveloped muscles and no muscle memory of how to swim, and we gain eternal youth because we died drowning in the body of a baby. Like what all those Hollywood movies say happen when somebody gets into the fountain.''
Sam continued their shared train of thought. `` Or, who knows? Maybe youth is subjective. Maybe you're stuck in your own body but with the mind of a two year old. Maybe it's all metaphorical. Or maybe, the original wording was Aramaic for'horrible, horrible death', but somebody was a shitty translator and translated it to'Youth'. Yes, there is only one way to find out if we found it, but...''
``... but who's going to go in?'' Abdul finished.
Zero. `` Oh.''
The three of them stood on the edge of the pool, eyeing the clear, cool waters warily. Abdul stared at the fountain, arms crossed. Sam had hers on her hips and was staring at the opposite bank. Crenshaw was now between them and was staring at the edge where the bank met the water with supposedly legendary properties.
`` So.''
`` Uh-Huh.''
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[ WP ] A colony ship discovers that , due to a calculation error , they will never reach their destination .
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Gibbons, Captain of the *Utopic*, furrowed his brow, a sign that all was not well.
`` Sir, what's the matter? You look perplexed.'' First Mate Antonson did n't much care for looks of concern from superiors.
`` Well, I... It appears as though we may have misjudged the distance of India. Look out at the waters! What do you see?''
`` DEAR GOD, CAPTAIN. What are you implying?!'' Second Mate Stoddard yelled, his heart thudding in his breast.
`` It appears as though we will neither make the trip there nor the trip home. Our supplies are scarce and we have been afloat well over 7 months. I believe our end is nigh...''
A large portion of the crew then stopped and fell to their knees, pleading with God to be merciful. Others jumped overboard into the shark-infested brine. The captain retired to his quarters, drew his pistol, and called in Stoddard and Antonson. As they each ended their suffering and dropped to the planked floor, the tip of the Indian peninsula sat approximately 25 km north, mocking the *Utopic* from just out of sight.
______________________________________________________
Note: this is an Earth in which the New World does n't exist, English colonists seek to escape persecution by escaping to India.
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[ WP ] Every time a docile future utopia/civilization is about to go to war , they 'unthaw ' the last soldier from their last war and ask his opinion . This time , he is released from duty as they proclaim a permanent peace . The soldier knows better .
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Captain Booker's `` unthawing'' process happened without a hitch this time. He stepped out of the chamber as the door hissed open with what Booker always thought was rather melodramatic steam and smoke and whatnot. At least it was more efficient now, and he was n't noticing any of the side effects this time...
Oh wait, there it is he thought, a tiny migraine. Will probably get worse as time goes on, and he readied himself for any other after effects. Last time they did this he could n't feel all his toes for an hour. They provided him a chair as they always did, but he stood in front of it, at attention. They never understood why. Booker figured he'd been asleep all this time, no harm in stretching his legs whenever able.
He was still military. This was the last order from his commanding officer, some centuries ago now: `` be their voice of reason. Tell them what they need to hear. Do what is required to keep society safe and free.''
He gave a yessir, and he stepped in the chamber. To him that was n't very long ago, and though there were no mirrors in the room and Booker was n't the sort to care about these things, he had n't changed a bit from early photographs of him taken centuries ago.
The men in the room each spoke their piece. They talked about how it's such an honor to meet him. He'd heard it all before. Then they threw him a curve ball. They were going through paperwork to release Captain Booker. He'd be a civilian in a few days' time, able to live out his final days in the here and now with them. Of course he'd be honorably discharged with high ranks and he could do pretty much whatever he wanted.
`` We thank you for your service Captain,'' the last of them shook his hand for like the third time in as many minutes, `` but your services will no longer be required.''
The other men in the room smiled and nodded, they're all representatives of different factions of the world and they're all getting along splendidly. They were all smiling and nodding a little too agreeably, and they looked about the room as if they thought they were being recorded or taped, though there were no cameras or microphones or anything of that nature.
Captain Booker studied the men intently, `` Permanent peace, huh?''
`` Absolutely!''
Captain Booker squinted. `` The sixties are back in style again?''
`` Excuse me?''
`` Long hair and beards. Last time y'all woke me up, it was mostly crew cuts.''
`` Oh he does n't like haircuts so none of us cut our hair anymore.''
Booker raised an eyebrow. `` He who?''
`` Oh! We almost forgot! How silly of us!''
`` How could we have been so absent-minded?''
`` He should be along shortly.''
`` He's very eager to meet you.''
Booker lowered his eyebrows, `` He. Who?''
`` Our benefactor!''
`` The young lad who has brought peace and stability to our people.''
`` He'll be here in less than a minute now.''
Booker inhaled. Booker exhaled. `` How do you guys know he's coming?''
`` He told us.''
`` He thought it to us.''
`` He's a mind reader.''
`` Yes he's probably been eavesdropping on this entire conversation.''
Booker started humming a tune to himself. Aside from his humming the room got deathly quiet. Booker's headache subsided. That's a good sign.
In walked a short white male no more than twelve years old, if that. Captain Booker did a forward somersault towards the kid as he pulled a throwing knife out his boot, he used the momentum to release the blade and it went straight thru the young man's left eye socket. Killed him instantly before he could introduce himself, or use any mental powers, and his body fell backwards into the doorframe.
Headache immediately gone, thought Booker. Good. Hate it when my first guess is wrong. Sometimes means being out of cryo longer.
The other men in the room stood slack jawed and motionless. Captain Booker straightened himself back up, turned around and walked back towards the cryo chamber.
`` Been a pleasure, gentlemen. Next time you guys screw up this temporary peace and each other's freedoms, you know where I'll be.''
The door hissed closed behind him with way too much smoke and steam.
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[ WP ] You are the sole survivor of the human race . Yet , you are n't aware anything has happened yet . As you surf the now-static web , the realization begins to dawn ...
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`` Fuck!'' I yelled, the obscenity echoing through the house. Starring at the screen I've been in queue for over an hour with not even a slightest sign of getting into a match
`` Well I guess screw Counterstrike for now; it must have been the new patch that was released.''
I closed the game and angrily opened up my internet browser, the internet seemed lightning fast as I began typing in today's date followed by `` Counterstrike patch,'' when google returned no results I gave up. Putting my computer to sleep I packed my bag and began walking out the door.
`` I'm out for the night mom!'' I shouted at the base of the stairs; there was no response, but I figured if she needed me she could just call. I was off to do what any sketchy teenager would do on a Friday night. Go get high.
I walked with a brisk pace up the street, my eyes darting left and right scanning for any form of life only to find empty streets, but that really did n't surprise me too much everyone was probably downtown on a night like this. The only word I could use to describe the weather was crispy in the best way, like the god of autumn had came down and blessed my town; I chuckled to myself with the thought of a `` god of autumn'' I knew I'd be thinking about it later in a much more interesting state of mind. I knocked on the door of my friends large Spanish house.
Waiting for what seemed like ever I finally gave up back down the curved gravel drive way into the suburban street that I had lived on for nearly all my life. I turned right continuing away from my own house and walking towards the nearby drainage ditch that was converted by some of us into a chill spot.
The walk was awesome, I had a full weekend off of work and even better a date on Saturday. I recently grew the balls to talk to this girl from my chemistry class, she was perfect. Long brown hair, wonderful almond shaped eyes, an intellect to match her stunning beauty, and the best part we shared the same taste in music; The mere thought of her was enough to send a warm chill down my spine. In fact her presence in my life was more than enough of a reason for me to stop smoking. Arriving at the ditch with these thoughts fresh in my head I set my bag down and left it for the next person to find; in it was my bud, a full grinder, a pipe and a micro-dose of LSD that I was planning to take over the coming vacation.
I kept walking around the neighborhood until it was well past my curfew, it really did n't bother me much though I was having a great time dwelling on my current situation and jamming out to some old `` Chance the Rapper'' I had on my phone. Even better was my mother could n't seem to care less as to where I was. It was a feeling of freedom that was rarely experienced by me anymore. Pulling myself out of my thoughts just momentarily I realized something; I was clueless to my current location. This worried me slightly, but I knew all was well I pulled out my phone and opened up the map.
This is when I had another major realization; I was in four separate Facebook group chats and have n't heard that terrible notification sound once, I opened up Facebook messenger and tried refreshing my messages. Nothing... Not one thing. I had a perfect connection and not a single alert. I opened up Youtube same deal no new videos. Fuck I even tried Pornhub, but there was nothing. The internet had ground to a halt, and It all began to make sense. The long queue, the lack of patch notes, the streets being empty, my friend not answering the door.
`` That's it!'' I screamed. Closing out of Google maps and calling my friend. There was no voicemail no ringing just an automated voice saying that the line had been disconnected. I began to panic, I called my mother only to get the same response. I tried everything even 911 only to get the same response. It seemed that I was alone in this world; how this happened I do n't think I'll ever truly know.
`` I'm on my way Liv.'' I muttered before putting on some `` Blink-182'' and walking into the nearest house.
This was going to be one fuck of a story to tell her.
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Thanks for reading, Sorry if something is n't up to par this is my first submission and formatting came as an afterthought. Please critique the hell out of this any suggestions would be much appreciated.
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[ WP ] You begin noticing weird things happening , only to realize they are your childhood wishes coming true 20 years later .
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As the Disney song goes `` When you wish upon a star/ makes no difference who you are/ anything your heart desires will come true''. That's all true
The thing is: what no one ever mentions is that wishes may only be granted at the speed of light, so the further away the star ( or other celestial body ) the longer it takes for the wish to be granted. Hence why meteorites or `` Falling Stars'' provide the most immediate results.
Wishes are also what makes our nights as long as they are. Every night takes only 8 hours, because that's how long it takes for the wishes to reach the sun. The exception to this are the lands north of the Arctic Circle, because the only person that lives there is Santa Claus, and the only thing he ever wishes for is for you to have a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
As for my star? that one was 20 light years away
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> *For my birthday, I'm inviting John Howard, and ( sic ) the Prime Minister, Bill Gates, and the richest man in the world, the president of the unites states* - Francis `` Frank'' Canaris, *Frank's Best Show* ( 1998 )
After becoming the first Australian president of America ( The last president ( who looked suspiciously like Bill Clinton ) having given me the keys to the country once I object to him giving away the country to someone else who `` Only wanted to be the president because he wants to'' ), I was buzzed in with a message that my brother had invited me to his birthday party. The guest list ( by happenstance ) was filled with the most powerful men in the Australian Liberal Party, including president me, Tony Abbott, former Prime-minister John Howard ( and 1200 other men who shared that name ). The only folk that were n't part of the ALP were those that whos status came from wealth, Bill Gates and Clive Palmer ( who was the richest man in the world as of 2018 ).
In two years time, us Liberals would rule the world
Frank's best Liberal Birthday party took place on Palmer's **Titanic II**. The boat's name was as good an omen as any - the only disaster came from when Clive's cloned army of dinosaurs went on a rampage on the boat. Let us never forget the name ( s ) of the brave souls that gave their lives as fodder to the dinosaurs: John Howard, John Howard, John Howard....
Following the disaster that was the Titanic II, we threw Clive Palmer overboard for not being a member of the Australian Liberal Party and sold the rights of the incident to FOX.
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[ WP ] 7 towers , 7 coins , 7 different people and one question .
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Seven towers that once stood tall.
Seven coins hidden within the walls.
Seven body's where men once thrived.
Seven women to say goodbye.
Seven times the armies clashed.
Seven times they fell.
Seven times they ran.
Seven times they died.
Seven times it appeared.
Seven tiny little sparks of light.
Seven men where bodies once lied.
Seven goodbye's taken away.
Seven protectors now stand tall.
Within the seven towers to protect us all.
Seven years this battle will last.
Three more till they will pass.
Seven times we fix and heal.
Seven times the traveler turns heel.
Why does it run?
Why do we fight?
Is it really for the light?
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[ EU ] Give me the life of a simple fiend or raider in Fallout .
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Her life was short, but seemed to last an eternity. She was conceived in an act of violence and fear, and she was born in a dark, filthy place. Her mother had left her behind early on, using the defenceless infant as leverage in negotiating her own freedom.
She never knew her mother or her father, but in her youth she would dream about them. She would see them together in fields of grass, happily beckoning her to join them in their pleasant excursion. But soon the field would be consumed with flames, the sky darkening, and they would all be consumed by the great terror and hate of the real world. She would wake up crying, and face the brutal punishments her masters dreamt up for little girls.
Soon she taught herself not to dream, and gave up the thoughts of her parents altogether.
When she saw her chance, she took it. Every other time she had done the same, it had failed. She would be caught, punished, violated and demeaned even further. But such abuses had little effect on her by that time, and she could absorb the pain and humiliations with little care for the effect they had. Her strength was her callous nature; the ability to seal her heart, and take what came, or deal out what she must.
She slit his throat with a rusted scrap of metal, buying herself just enough time to jump the fences, and scramble under the crude barricades. She fled into the night, the yells and clamour rising from the tarnished shacks. But as she left the exploitive settlement behind her, they refused to give chase, likely fearful of what lay beyond in the darkness of the Waste.
She allowed herself no such fear, and pressed deep into the dark. Ash and dust danced up as her feet clapped the ground, her steps weary but never slowing. She choked on the thin clouds of dust as she made her way ever further. When she came upon an ancient burnt out structure, she climbed over an edge, seeking a moment ’ s rest inside.
But she had neglected her caution, and she found herself face to face with a group of seemingly savage marauders, terrifying in their spectacle, and far more horrid and vile than even her worst nightmares had ever threatened. They did not spare her, but neither did they sacrifice her to the dusts of the Waste. They were willing to welcome her, but she had to pay the same blood price that all such wastrels are bound to offer.
The blood would be hers, and that of another. Her own she gave willingly, the other took time. Soon, however, they came across a lone wanderer. A trader, possibly. She didn ’ t give it much thought at first, but when her knife crashed hard into the man ’ s ribs, for the first time in years she saw the green field of her parents in her mind ’ s eye. Only this time it was her who set the field aflame, as her faceless parents wailed their laments, begging her to cease.
That night she cried herself to sleep for the first time since she was a child. The other misunderstood why, but her price had been paid, and they welcomed her as their own.
So passed the months and years; with blood, dust and hunger. Her new family took her to the many distant places of the Waste, all the while hunting and stealing to survive. She felt her heart weaken, but her resolve strengthened with every missed meal, every kill, every heady waft of bloody scents.
It was amid such chaos she stood watch. The others taunted their nearby victims, offering them the usual threats, while they catalogued the prizes they would be taking from the corpses. Without warning, she felt the horrible tearing impact on her throat, an instant later hearing the malicious snap of the bullet. She tumbled to the ground, clutching at the crimson torrent flowing from her neck, as the other scrambled about to seek shelter from the assault.
But they each dropped in turn, to bullets or grenades; the last falling to the slice of a well-cared for blade. Her sight began to dim as I approached, and her eyes turned to try and focus on my own. She never begged, and her eyes offered me only hate; never fear. The flow of blood soon diminished to a trickle, then ceased. I felt nothing for her or her companions, as they were nothing more to me than obstacles and caches.
I looked one final time at her dirty and bloodied face, the look of hate still warning me to avoid the horrors of her life. Her life was short, but seemed to last an eternity. Her death had been the same. I took what she had, and left her there; to rot in the dust where she had for so long found herself at home.
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[ WP ] The main character falls in love with the reader .
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It was always there, this nagging feeling that something was wrong. That the world was not all it seemed to be. I do n't know why or how I knew, call it instinct if you will. The thing is, you've had this feeling too. You know what I'm talking about.
As a child you were more in tune with this feeling and it manifested itself - it was the monster in your closet, the monster under your bed. While you may no longer feel it all the time, during those moments of utter silence, sometimes it appears. Sometimes it bothers you, sending goosebumps crawling over your skin, but most times it's just a fleeting whisper in your head, easily ignored.
Recently, however, I figured it out. About a month ago, I finally realized what the feeling was and it was no longer a nuisance, no longer something to fear or dread. That day, for the first time, the whispering became clear. That day, I realized that the voice was a warm one, a kind one, neither that of my subconscious nor that or a monster. I did n't know who the voice belonged to, whether it be an angel or a ghost, but I could tell that she was sincerely interested in my life and my well being.
You know those stupid fake dating programs they have on TV? The ones where guys date random girls based on whether or not they like their answers to their questions and stuff? Well, I never thought it was possible, but I've fallen in love with nothing but her voice and her personality. It's silly, I know. We've never even met and I'm already in love. But maybe this is how love should be. A connection that is truly beyond skin deep, one that in fact, skips the whole skin thing entirely. Maybe if everyone fell in love like this, the world would be a nicer place. A happier one.
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[ WP ] A sentient species has lived underground their entire existence . One day , the earth quakes and reveals to them the surface world , and they come in contact to humans for the first time .
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” Trolls? ”
” Yeah, it ’ s all over the news, I don ’ t know how you could ’ ve missed it. ”
I had been sitting by the lake when Björn called. The night had been cold but without snow so the lake hade turned into a perfect mirror-smooth surface. The sky was cloud-free and the sunrays were reflecting of the ice with an intense glare.
” I ’ m at my parents cottage up north, I barely have connection enough to talk to you. ”
“ But then the earthquake must ’ ve been really close to you, it was somewhere outside Umeå. ”
“ The cottage is in Luleå. Umeå is 124 miles away. ”
“ Oh. Whatever, the earthquake made this deep crevice and they thought someone had fallen down there, so they sent down this rescue team. ”
“ And there they found trolls? ” I reached into my backpack and pulled up my sunscreen. I chided myself for not putting it on earlier, being exposed to the sun for too long always gave me painful red rashes.
“ Well, they don ’ t call them trolls. Some scientist guy already claims to know what they were, said they were somehow related to Neanderthals, but like on a branch in the primate evolution that ’ s closer to the monkeys. But I know trolls when I see them. These guys had tails. TAILS! And big ears and noses. ”
“ Wow. ”
“ Yep. Man, I can ’ t believe you ’ ve missed it all, the internet is going crazy with it. You don ’ t have a radio there or something? ”
“ I ’ m by the lake. I was trying to enjoy the calm and stillness of mother nature. ”
“ Nature schmature. My theory is they ’ ve been up here before. Think of it, all the fairy tales about trolls, maybe they are based on real enocunters. But then humans did what they ’ ve always done and the trolls got scared and moved underground. ”
“ Probably a smart move. ” I stood up, the wooden boards creaking under my weight.
“ Yep. Worked for a while at least. ”
“ So, have they communicated? Said something? ”
“ You mean the trolls? ”
“ Yeah? ”
“ I dunno, they haven ’ t released any footage. No photos either, actually. The one I saw was from someones cellphone, released on Twitter. The whole area is closed off now. ”
“ Maybe they need to quarantine it? ”
“ That ’ s true. We don ’ t want some Troll Flu thing happening. ”
“ So, you called just to tell me about the existence of trolls? ”
“ Actually, I ’ ve got a favor to ask of you. You know I ’ m moving, well, I ’ ll get access to the apartment already on Friday, so I think I ’ m gon na move my stuff on Saturday. And I got the TV and the wardrobe and the big-ass sofa… I really need someone your size. ”
“ Sure. ”
“ Awesome, let ’ s talk more about it later in the week, the press conference is starting now. ”
I started walking up towards the house. I scratched at the skin above my ass crack. The scar always itched when it got cold.
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[ WP ] Modern art has reached new levels of absurdity , and you 're at your first art exhibition .
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It had been a month since government agents found my isolated campsite in the woods. There, at my small but homely campsite, I was seeking a safe haven from the increasingly lifeless and boring world. This came to an end, however, once government officials began to extract all outcasts that were labeled `` eccentric'' and attempt to teach them to live by the normal, modern, culture.
The ensuing month after my extraction from the freedom of the wilderness is what some might call hell on Earth. I was forced to live my life only in a way that society, and the government, deemed fit. Excessive restrictions were put on my diet, work, social interactions, and even the ways in which I spent my free time. Deviations from the rules result in further punishment and deprivation of freedoms, and those who tried to leave the new society were punished by imprisonment for life.
Although I was not facing any immediate dangers in my new life, the sense of meaninglessness that it brought about further crippled my ever-weakening will to live. I noticed that a trip to a modern art gallery was not a restricted use of my free time, so I decided to take a trip to my town's top gallery, hoping that it would boost my spirits, as art should.
I visited the gallery on my day off of work, and I was expecting beautiful paintings and sculptures that I remembered viewing in days passed when I frequented many art museums around town. These new installments greatly disappointed that expectation. The walls were lined with one-colored canvases and the sculptures consisted of everyday objects. It seemed as if the boring life that I lived was being depicted as `` art'' in this gallery. Other viewers did not seem to mind, though. They stared at the boring paintings and bland sculptures with amusement, unwilling to find a single negative aspect of any of the works.
Desperately, I scoured the entire museum, searching for a piece that had meaning and could fulfill what I lacked in my life. My search had almost ended when I entered one of the last rooms that I had not checked. In this space were paintings that said simple phrases on canvases, nothing very special. However, one canvas caught my attention. It held three simple words: You Are Alive. To most, this seemed like an obvious detail of their life that was to be overlooked, but I looked at this phrase differently.
I saw this phrase as an indication to live. It was a reminder that I am alive, and I must live according to what I want and what makes me feel most alive. With this realization, a feeling rose inside of me. For the first time since my placement in the new society, I felt the need to act and an extreme lust for life. I knew that I had to take action to ensure that I would n't have to go back to my dreadful life.
With intense feeling overtaking me, I exploded out of the gallery and proceeded to sprint down the street, feeling more alive than ever before in my life. Soon after my burst, government agents started to chase after me. If they caught me I would surely be imprisoned, so I had to keep running to ensure my freedom. Eventually, I came to the edge of a cliff. I knew I had to jump rather than have to live under the complete control of others. I dove into the abyss, and as I dissolved into the darkness, I felt truly alive and utter free from the chains of my life.
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[ WP ] You are the world 's greatest detective , able to solve any case with a single guess . You are ... One Hunch Man .
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`` It was her sister in law'' I said taking a sip from my coffee.
`` Excuse me?'' Replied the department chief `` I highly doubt she'd be the one behind the robbery. She has access to their house and is in great terms with the victim.''
`` Never said it was a solo job. The victim was in on it too.'' I explained.
`` Why would she want her sister in law to rob- Wait, you mean..''
`` Insurance fraud.'' I said, interrupting his realization. Saying that, the victim became even more worried than when we first saw her but she was trying to hide it by staring at her phone.
`` Take her phone and look at her message history right away, she's probably trying to erase it!'' I shouted, the girl jumped and tried to hide her phone, making it even more suspicious.
The officer quickly took her phone from her with force while she protested. `` She was deleting the messages as we speak!''
`` And what does it say?'' I reply.
`` *Do n't be afraid to make a mess, the messier it is, the more likely they will believe our story*'' He read.
`` Called it.'' I said walking out of the house.
`` How do you keep guessing these cases?'' The chief asked as I was leaving.
`` Just a hunch'' I replied. I took my last sip from my coffee, it was still hot.
This is a pain. Every crime I stumble upon, I figure it out instantly. There is nothing supernatural about this, at least not from my point of view. Every case I see is just so obvious. This also happens whenever watch any form of mystery movie or novel. I solve the mystery after having barely read into the first few chapters. How can people even get entertained from these?
I know I must have some kind of gift, but no one seems to notice it. Every time I solve a case, every one stares in shock at how fast and simply I solved it, but instead of assuming I'm just an amazing detective, they just assume it was an easy case to begin with. So far, only the chief knows about my amazing skills, that's why he always calls me whenever he's stuck on a case. Thing is, since he's in charge of the case, he gets all the credit when it gets solved. I wo n't hold it against him, he tries to tell people that I helped him with the case immensely, that he could n't do it without me, but everyone believes he is just being humble, increasing the respect everyone has for him. People just think I'm leeching off his high rank and fame to get perks that I do n't deserve. To be honest, all I want is to solve crimes, to prevent criminals from going uncaught or innocent people from being framed. But it's immensely boring, there is no thrill. I suppose I'm just being selfish, but I really want some kind of recognition.
I got a call this morning from the chief *again*. I'm being called for a meeting. Am I finally getting a promotion?
I reach his office and greet him while he's sitting on his large desk.
`` Goon afternoon chief'' I said.
`` Good to see you Mitch, take a seat'' He replied, pointing at a chair in front of him.
As I walked towards the chair, he did n't stop staring at me.
`` Can you guess why I called you to my office?'' he firmly asked.
From the tone of his voice, I felt less confident it was anything good.
`` What, are you suspecting my crime solving skills are too good to be true?'' I jokingly asked, trying to lighten the mood.
`` Is this another one of your *hunches*?'' He asked, keeping the same tone.
`` Umm-'' Struggling to find an answer, he kept talking
`` Well, you're right Mitch, some of us, myself included, suspect you are related to most of these crimes.''
`` What? Well yeah, since I keep solving them.'' I say trying to keep my cool.
`` No, Mitch, we suspect you're an accomplice to most, if not, all the crimes you've been *magically* solving.''
`` It's not magic, it's just easy.'' I replied.
`` We got an anonymous tip, Mitch, it was about the previous case you solved.'' He said, ignoring my comment.
`` The insurance fraud?'' I asked.
`` Think further, I'm talking about a month ago.''
`` The homicide?'' I asked, worried about what he was leading up to.
There was a case I solved a few months ago, it was a homicide in an apartment building. Naturally, i solved the case with ease, finding the killer and the weapon, the motive and even some evidence. The killer got caught without much of a fight and it ended there. Or so I thought.
`` There are eyewitnesses claiming to have seen you at the scene before the murder Mitch. And that was n't all. We've been getting anonymous tips from the begging, since you joined the team, about eyewitnesses seeing you at the crime scene before it's produced.'' He said, looking at documents on his desk.
`` All right, but you ca n't arrest me on just eyewitness claims'' I replied.
`` That's what I thought, so I hired someone to follow you, at least until the next case came along.'' He sighed'' We have photographic evidence of you breaking into the house of the previous robbery case.''
I sat there in shock, I've never once though this sort of scenario would develop from this, I must be getting framed by someone.
I stood up `` Show me!'' I shouted `` Show me the pictures!''
He stared closely at me whilst I was shouting holding his hand near his holster, Had it come to this? Did I become a threat to him? I calmed down, I know the chief it trigger happy.
`` Please, show me the photo.'' I said in a calmer tone, sitting back down.
He pulled out a picture of a man, wearing my clothes going into the house he mentioned, there was obviously no way that could be me. How could he even think this picture was real? He has to be testing me.
`` It's a fraud.'' I said calmly `` I do n't know who you hired but-''
`` I wo n't take anymore of you *shit* Mitch. The first cases you were solving were no big deal so I ignored most claims that you were related to them, but the homicide was too far. I had to look into it and here is the proof.'' He pointed at the photo.
`` But it's obviously-''
`` The building is surrounded Mitch. We are taking you into custody. You'll be put on trial and placed behind bars!'' He shouted, interrupting me.
Cops came into his office shouting to put my hands in the air, they tackled me and took me outside to their vehicle. As I was being taken away, I was getting excited, my heart was pumping faster than I've ever experienced. I was cornered, I was afraid, and for once, I did n't find a simple answer. Whoever was trying to frame me must be one hell of a mastermind. I had a feeling that this might be the case I've been waiting to solve for all this time.
Just a hunch.
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[ WP ] You 're a man who 's tired of his life , so one day , while driving home from work , instead of stopping at your house , you just decided to keep driving .
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Jim never was a rebel, as a kid he prided himself on knowing anything and everything in all his classes. Hell, valedictorian him up. Where did he end up after that? Nowhere special, he was disappointed. This disappointment grew inside him where he just could n't take it.
It was as if life itself was binding him, and he could not be freed.. until now.
he is at a crossroads. To the left of him there is his lonely, and miserable, and plainly mediocre life. To the right awaits wonder and mystery, the same wonder and mystery he had felt as a kid with his brother.
he turned to the right, to begin his new adventure, and embark on a new journey!
Fred was an alcoholic, physically abused by his father and emotionally abused by his mother he grew up poor and miserable. The only one who helped him out was his older brother, but eventually they drifted apart due to their differences. He always had respect for him though, he was the only one that he respects. He would later go on to `` self-defend'' himself against his father, little did the judicial system know he had it all rigged in his favor. Fred was cunning, deceptive, manipulative, and he never got caught in the act. He rose to the ranks as one of the world's `` best and most trustworthy lawyer'', but wanted more. His greed and ambition fueled him, but in one fateful night would be his downfall. His friend showed him a new alcohol, it got him drunk real quick. His friend left when fred was starting to pass out, a grave mistake. Fred drunkenly and thirstily decided to drive to the store to get more booze, ended up on oncoming traffic and smashed into someone.
Jim died on impact, fred miraculously survived. Through his corruption and connections he was found, you guessed it, not guilty.
Fred experienced severe emotional grief, because jim was infact his brother. The only one who showed any level of compassion for him in his youth. Fred would later commit suicide over the guilt.
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[ WP ] Hungover , with no memory of the night before you decide to buy a sports drink . when you open your front door a host of reporters bombard you with questions .
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I awaken to my alarm blaring. Instantly, I am met with a throbbing headache. I must be hungover. Great.
I shrug the sheets off of my body, rub my eyes, and look over. Thankfully, no one occupies the other half of my bed, this time.
On the floor is a sweatshirt and sweatpants, which I slide into, at least for now. My cat covered calendar says it's Saturday, which means no work for me. I'm relieved. I do n't think I could deal with working at a call center with a hangover.
In the bathroom, I look in the mirror. I'm a mess. My mascara is crusted onto my eyelashes, my sweatshirt has a puke stain ( ugh ), and my lipstick is smudged. I pull my dirty blonde hair into a messy bun on top of my head, and look at the shower questioning if I should take a shower or not. I decide the latter.
If there's one thing that helps out with a hangover, it's Edarotag, a sports drink. As I walk down the hallway in my apartment to the door, my pug, Crystal, teeters after me, her toenails clicking on the tile.
`` I'm going out for a minute, Baby. I'll be back.'' I say, and kiss her on the head. I then make my way out the door.
Brooklane Apartments occupy a large, brick building. It's a diverse bunch, hosting people ranging from Mrs. Willowsby and her six ( yes, six! ) children, to Mr. McFarland who stands out on his balcony, naked each morning.
As I go down the creaking stairs, I pass Enrique, the cleaning guy for Brooklane apartments.
`` Hey,'' he says to me as I hop past.
`` Hello.'' We do n't really speak much, as he only comes once a month to my apartment. Another factor is that I'm 100 % sure he has a crush on me, so I try to avoid him as best as possible.
I finally get to the doors, and as they swing open, I'm met by a dozen people, holding microphones and cameras. They swarm around me, all shouting at once.
I try to squeeze by. They're probably at the wrong building. No one here is famous.
But what they say next surprises me.
`` Are you Julie Foster? What can you tell me about the events taken place last night?''
-- -This is my first submission on r/writingprompts and I know it's not very good, but I tried. It's like midnight right now so if I continue I'm going to finish tomorrow, but I hope you enjoyed. -- -
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[ WP ] You 've just been drugged . You only have a few minutes before they start taking effect .
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My hand instinctively shot up to my neck when I felt the stinging sensation. My fingers came away with just the slightest trace of blood on them. I immediately began running through the list of possible culprits in my head.
Did a strap on the helmet pinch my skin? No, the straps were tight to my skin, no room for movement. Was it a zipper on my suit? Nope, the suit did come up as far as my neck but the zippers were on the front. Was it a bee sting? A bee seemed like the only viable culprit, although Christ knows how it managed to get in here. I turned my head and began scanning the interior of the cabin, hoping to find and squash the little bugger who did it.
My eyes pass over my partner Sarah, who gripped the straps hanging from the ceiling, wearing an uneasy smile on her aging face. I looked at her and mouthed some words of encouragement, hoping that she'd understand my meaning. She looked nervous, but then again, so was I. Beside her stood her sister, Lisa, with an impish grin plastered across her flawless features, her eyes glinting with excitement. She always was an adrenaline junkie, and years of daredevil activities had sculpted her body into a work of athletic art.
Still scanning for the bee, my eyes land on Mark, Lisa's husband and my best friend. As I look, his right hand quickly disappears behind his back, but not quick enough so that I do n't catch a glimpse of the pen clutched in his fist.
`` Hey, what's with the pen?'' I try and ask over the obnoxious buzzing of the engines.
Mark looks at my quizzically, tilting his head and cupping his left hand around his ear.
`` THE PEN! WHY DO YOU HAVE A PEN?'' I shout, but Mark just shakes his head, pointing to his ear and giving me a shake of his head, the internationally-recognized symbol for `` I ca n't hear you, dumbass''
The little mystery of Mark's pen had distracted me from my search for the bee, but I was curious as to what he was going to do with a pen at a time like this. I did n't have much time to ponder the issue, as Dennis, our instructor, stepped forward and threw open the door, and at this point I could n't even hear myself think over the screaming wind whipping past.
`` OKAY, LADIES FIRST!'' was the shout as Dennis looked around at the girls.
I stood and watched Sarah waddle to the door, gripping both sides of the frame with white knuckles. She was having words with the instructor, who was shouting some back into her ear. She looked back at me one last time, and stepped out into nothingness.
Next up was Lisa, who practically sprinted out of the plane were it not for Dennis holding her back long enough to make sure Sarah had gotten to an agreeable distance first. Then with a thumbs up, she jumped and was gone.
Me next. I started walking towards the door, but my right leg nearly buckled, and I stumbled into Mark. He helped me to my feet, and led me to the door, laughing and shouting something about me having `` vertigo, but like, vertigo for pussies''. I tried to hit him in the arm with a playful punch, but when I moved my arm it was if I was pushing it through a bowl of pudding. Dennis grabbed my elbow and guided me to the door. Normally I get the jitters before a jump, but now it felt like my stomach had been removed. It was like I did n't have a body any more.
`` Wait, something's not right!'' I tried to shout.
`` Waah, srrmtnns nuh rrr'' was what actually burbled out of my mouth.
Dennis did n't even notice I'd said anything, and kept pushing me further and further towards. I tried to get a firm hold on the door's frame, but my arms remained hanging limply by my side. Mark sidled up beside me, putting a hand on my back, and leaning in close to my ear.
`` Hey, having second thoughts buddy? Do n't worry, so was I! I did n't wan na do it either, but then I found out about you and Lisa! Have a good one!''
He pushed, and I was gone.
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{ wp } A deaf painter meets a blind musician and they fall in love . Tell the story of how they come to appreciate each other 's art .
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I listened to the deep throbbing of the bass. Well, I did n't really listen, I felt it. Felt the boom boom boom of her techno music. `` The kids will love it, they'll dance all night,'' she said.
`` What?'' I replied. `` Did you forget I'm deaf?'' I gave her the finger, but she could n't see. I had painted a picture of her naked, her perfect breasts shaped like lemon halves. Her hairy bush, wild as a South-East Asian jungle. I told her it was a painting of her wearing the beautiful blue dress I bought her from Chanel. Actually, it is a cheap black one from the thrift store, but this bitch do n't know.
I slapped her ass and told her I loved her song, the repetitive beat reminded me of the savage love-making we do every night. Her nipples grew hard from my fondling, grabbing my long black hair. I slapped her face. `` I was just at the hair salon!''
`` Sorry baby, I just love your sleak...''
`` I'm deaf bitch! Write a note!'' She began to cry, water dropping from her useless eyes.
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[ WP ] Invent a life form that evolved on a hot gas giant
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When she went to sleep she was NaanQuosh, but awoke to find himself simply Naan again.
Feeling somewhat alone, he drifted into the communal vent, hoping to find another to be with.
SuyMaDrell was waiting at the entrance. Naan knew two of Hher very well, but had never before seen a person as vividly green-seeming as Suy. He greeted hher warily.
*restrained greeting, 2/3rds familiarity. admiration for 1/3rd hue. *
*polite gratitude/full familiarity. request of intent. *
*loneliness. *
*invitation. *
He considered it. But no. Becoming a twoperson was natural, and a threeperson easy -- but four and fivepersons were a little ostentatious.
*polite refusal*
*understanding + regret. farewell. *
He drifted edgewise into the central vent. The warm currents took him upwards, where other singleton persons waited to conjoin.
He thought he saw Quosh in a place not-so-far and not-so-near, but resisted the urge to join her. He was a little tired of being persons with she.
There was a light and playful gust beneath him. He sawfelt that beautiful green hue intermixing with his own.
*Suy. suprise, request of intent. *
*curiousity. attraction. *
So Suy had willingly decoupled and followed him here? He must have been a whole shade of confused hues.
*request to conjoin. *
Said Suy, his hue still a mesmerizing green.
Shyly, Naan agreed.
There was a moment of blissful merging.
==
When Hhe'd reached the top of the central vent, hhe was fully SuyNaan.
With eyes that were scarcely more than attuned fields of ionized gas, hhe beheld a swirling, glorious universe.
Hhe reveled in it all and blazed gloriously in harmony, vivid-green on cobalt-blue.
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[ WP ] Insanity is a virus .
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“ What in the hell is exactly going on out there? ” I muttered out as I regained my balance. I have only been in Shallow Falls for ten minutes and I knew if I spent one more in this god-forsaken town I wouldn ’ t live to see the day I regret taking this assignment.
“ What are you doing here? ” The man said, moving his eyes around every crack in the boards that covered what I assumed used to be a living room. “ I said what are you doing here? ” He turned and stormed towards me “ You ’ re not the army, you ’ re not the marines, you are one fucking man! Do you have any idea what you have done by getting out of your car? ” This lumberjack of man grabbed me by the shoulders and for a split second I thought I would be flying through his wall. It wasn ’ t until his bloodshot grey eyes met mine that I could see the hope disappear breath by breath. He was planning for an infantry and instead I show up with a clipboard, what in the hell did my department send me to?
“ My name is Mitch Connelly, ” I stuttered with fear “ and I work for the Department of Homeland Security ” he loosened his grip and backed his face away from mine, I reached for my badge but he seemed to not care. He staggered to his chair and fell in, those defeated eyes fixated on the fire, as if I just informed the man he had cancer with only a few months to live.
“ Nobody is coming, they are going to let us all die. ”
“ What happened here? ” I asked as I grabbed a stool in the corner and sat next to him. “ I have been sent here to investigate why this whole area has lost all sources of power and no communication has been made to any outside cities or states, but I can see from my few moments here that electricity and outside communication may be the last of your worries ” I glanced around the room as the words left my mouth, though assessing this one dark empty room would give me no answers to what this man has been through. He even had the open doorway boarded and blocked up; all that remained was two chairs and a fireplace.
“ Not a single word has gotten out at all? Nobody in the world even knows what has happened to this town? ” His eyes stayed on the fire as he brushed his hands through his beard.
“ No that ’ s why I am here, I came to investigate the situation… ”
“ You mean to tell me, a town of 25,000 people is essentially cut off from the rest of the world, everything there is ” he turned his face to me, anger has now moved to the area where his hope used to lie “ and they send a fucking desk monkey with a clipboard to fix everything? ”
“ Please Mr.? ”
“ Jeff ” he snarled
“ Please Jeff, I was only sent to investigate what the issues were, then gather the necessary team to fix it. Trust me if anyone had known things were this far gone the National Guard would have been sent and I would still be sitting in my desk. ” He seemed to calm a little, but only as much as those words could. He was still stuck in this nightmare of a town with help nowhere in sight. “ Those people who attacked me when I got out of my car, what happened to them? Half the buildings are already in ruin; we have only lost contact for five days and your town already feels like a George Romero movie ” he started laughing.
“ Their not zombies, or undead, this isn ’ t a fucking movie where your supernatural shit is all in the realm of possibility. ” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and covered his face to light it. “ What happened here wasn ’ t created from the mind of some writer my friend, not what I have seen ” He took a deep hit from his cigarette and stared back into the fire.
“ They were attacking each other, I saw a burning body thrown from a window, one man tried to slice me with a cleaver while another tried biting my leg and this was all in my first moments stepping out of the car. I can not begin to imagine what you have seen in almost a week. They may not be zombies but in no way are they people in control of their actions Jeff. ” My brain ran through millions of possible explanations for what I saw, but I don ’ t know if it was the fear of what I have put myself into or the intrigue of what would come out of Jeff ’ s mouth next but either way I know my thoughts were to much of a jumbled mess to focus on.
“ Fuck if I know if they have any control or not. ” He bit his fingernail as his other hand flicked his cigarette across the room. His cigarette wasn ’ t even on the floor yet before he already had another in his mouth reaching for his lighter. He took a long drag as he lighted and prepared to continue. “ Mitch, have you ever been to a mental institution? Even if it was just for a visit. ” I was confused, what did a mental institution have to do with losing a whole town to whatever may be out there?
“ Yes, once when I was 13. My father had been admitted for severe Post-Traumatic Stress disorder from the war. I only made it to the waiting room; my mother and uncle wouldn ’ t let me go back. He died shortly after from suicide so I never got the chance to go visit him. ”
“ I ’ m sorry to hear that Mitch ” I waved it off as I had not thought about my father in almost 20 years, certainly not a pivotal factor of my life I worried much about. “ Do you remember how he acted before he was sent away? ”
“ Yea a little I guess. He returned from Vietnam and was fine for about two years, then it just came out of nowhere. ” Flashbacks were racing through my head of the painful moments watching my father lose everything he had ever been. “ It started with night terrors, shooting people in his sleep, waking up screaming, you know the normal things you see on vet documentaries. Well a couple of weeks after that started he began accusing my mom and I of tapping his phone lines, he even held a knife to my throat because he thought I had put computer parts in his body to control his mind ” my mouth froze, I had completely forgot about that night, the memories hit me like a ton of bricks talking about it.
Jeff stood in front of me and handed me a glass of whiskey before he sat back down. I must ’ ve zoned out because I didn ’ t even remember him standing up and getting drinks. “ Anything else? ” he asked curiously.
“ Yea…he made me watch him cut open my mothers shoulder so I could see the “ chip ” I had placed in both of them. He was about to cut open his own head to prove I had been mind controlling them for the government when my neighbor heard the screaming and ran over to the house, he stopped him before he could make the slit. That was the last incident but there were many smaller ones, typical behavior of a paranoid schizophrenic. ”
“ I ’ m sorry, that ’ s not something a son should see of his father. ” He took a sip of his drink and stared at his glass.
“ It ’ s ok, something I have been fine forgetting. Regardless what does my experience with mental health have to do with the situation of this town? ” I mean Shallow Falls was the only town within 100 miles of one of the countries largest mental wards, my only thought is escapees have come raided the town for their own. Even at that rate they have many miles of mountains to climb and in no way prepared for that hike, at least I hoped.
“ You ’ re the only one they sent so I ’ m looking to you for help amigo ” he leaned closer out of his chair “ You ’ re father had trouble with the idea big bother huh? Kind of a hot button issue and such. ”
“ I guess you could say that yes, but still doesn ’ t matter here and now ” I sat there confused drinking the whiskey hoping some kind of idea of where he was going came into mind.
“ So would you say he went insane because of the paranoia? ” He asked but still confused I agreed.
“ I mean there are many factors that contributed to what happened to his mind but yes that was the issue that sent him away ”
“ Ok now fast forward to here and now Mitch. Imagine these 25,000 folks here in this town each have their own little ‘ hot button issues ’ or some psycho repressed memory that is exclusive to them. Some people it ’ s their mother fucked the mail guy, some people it ’ s because they had kids to early and lost their dreams, some people it ’ s because someone in their life fiddled with their shit a little too young, doesn ’ t matter the reason. Everybody has something they keep bottled and for most people on this planet do a pretty good job of keeping it bottled up their whole life. Living long and happy lives to their graves never needed to confront it again. Within these last few weeks nearly every single citizen in this town has been over run by the skeletons in their closest. Your right we aren ’ t dealing with people thinking the way they used too, what we are seeing is 25,000 human minds under new management. The only thing is this new boss…is an old pissed off employee their mind tried to fire and he is back to run things the way he thought they always should have been ”
Just to note -- -- -- I am far to drunk ( especially to check this shit for mistakes ) and have to get up way to early to finish this story so I will try to get back and finish it and fix it up tomorrow if people are interested to hear more.
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[ IP ] The Forest Beneath the Waves
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Light travels differently underwater, something about wavelenghs and refraction. I'm sure you could find some enthusiastic physics professor who would love to tell you all about how the light changes form due to the molecules being closer together. You could find a bioligist who would love the chance to explain how the rods and cones in your retina catch the light and transfer it as data for your brain to interpret. Too hear a truly fantastic discussion, you could have them converse about how the colors we perceive are actually the ones being reflected from the target of our vision, and about how miraculous the process of those waves being made into the color and shapes we live in.
I'm sure a lot of what I just said was dead wrong, I do n't know much about biology or physics. I do n't know why the colors around me strike so beautifully when sunk beneath the tide. Here I am surrounded by columns of olive and aged bronze; their leafy appendages sway the color of Oak's blood amber and dance emerald in the sunbeams. On shore, these colors would drip away to reveal a uniform stretch of vomit and mud. Above the waves these towers of gold and faded jade would be as dull as I.
If such an enchanting thing can be made ugly in Man's air, then maybe I can be made beautiful in the sea. I sink in the open water, clinging to this hope and waiting for the light reflected off my skin to change me, or at least, how I am too be perceived. It sounds crazy, I know, but I will never be beautiful breathing air, and so instead I swallow water.
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[ WP ] You feel like you have the worst luck , when in reality , you are just unaware of the bigger picture that luck has in mind for you .
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*Free fall never stops being exhilarating. Nothing focuses a mind on a meditation and appreciation for Newtonian mechanics like falling at 9.8 meters per second squared, for who knows how long. Beneath me the turquoise-steel-sand-green of the island archipelago stretches away as far as the eye can see. It's gorgeous, I ca n't wait to visit. Actually, scratch that. I can. For a long long time. I've been spending too much time with Marta and Isabella lately, they've been chiding me about taking them for granted. An excursion is about all I can offer them. I smile. Unprompted. Blissful. The wind whips past my face, completely silent. *
The room stank of too infrequent cleaning, disinfectant and mildew. It was stark, almost cell-like. The mattress was rotted through and they'd stopped turning him over and cleaning his bedsores. The woman claiming to be his wife said he was a professor. She'd taken his car, and all it belonged and vanished. Later they found out he had syphilis and possibly cirrhosis. Nothing in their small pharmacopeia would do him good, nothing except morphine. So they pumped him full of it. The Jesuits who ran the place made an example of him. Gluttony, lust, greed... they piled the sins on, made stories about him. They claimed he was devout, but he'd uttered words in a language that marked him out as one of them... the enemy. No one mentioned it, they did n't want the secret police getting involved. He never got the chance to be sent to the government hospital. So he lay there. He was an embarrassment and a liability, high and drooling and oozing pus and wasting away as the IV glucose could only do so much. He had pictures in his wallet, a happy family, a house, a tropical island vacation. They pitied him because of this, but now they only gossiped about how the person thought to be his wife was too fat and ugly and how the daughter was disrespectful.
*It's snowing in the valley. I drink mulled wine and listen to an old drama on the radio. The fire crackles in front of me, cuddling me in it's warm breath. The words do n't mean anything but I would change nothing about this moment. That's been the theme of my existence. Or whatever I can remember of it. Perfection. Too perfect to question how I learnt to drive, or solve matrix algebra. One does not care for such trivialities in heaven, I suppose. *
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[ IP ] Ronin
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Soft and calming music poured slowly from the flute and into the melancholic stillness of the night, ever so calming and ever so gentle.The lonely ronin continued to play the gentle but yet desolate music which seemed like it could almost lull listeners to sleep. The billion stars shining overhead made the scene all the more mesmerising. A shooting star streaks across the star-lit sky; another one and another one.
Samurai Jack, the lonely ronin wondered if he ever would return to his parents. His father... and his mother.
`` *If only I had destroyed whatever was left of Aku at that moment. *''
Jack soon started to reminisce of the happy days he spent with his family, until Aku struck. `` It's amazing how things can change in an instant'', Jack wondered.
`` I probably should've said bye. ``, with a voice of woe and regret. A regret which remains to this day.
The crickets and cicadas buzzed among the brush and so did his mind.
But he had to let go and even if he had killed Aku, there would be no certainty that he would return to the past and re-unite with his family. He had to move on.
And so, with a heavy heart and a heavy mind... Jack stopped playing, packed up and slowly walked. Where he was going he did not know. But putting an end to Aku's rule would certainly be a step in the right direction.
*Everyone had to move on and let go and Jack was no exception. Keeping that in mind, *
*Jack walked and walked, as he always has. *
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[ WP ] Famous speeches if they were made while drunk
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The small group held it silence with baited breath. They had been waiting for a little over a half-hour, and some of the top brass were starting to get impatient. They still had men, or at least pieces of men, to find. All the bureaucrats were here, having arrived at the first message of Union victory. The rest were stragglers mostly, leftovers from Little Round top, and Devils Den, Peach Orchard, and Wheatfield. They had waited through cannon fire and worse, the terrible silence that came after, most often intermittent with screaming.
In his carriage Abraham rehearsed with Mary Todd. He was nervously licking his lips, at her insistence he took a deep draught from the flask she proffered. He coughed, sputtering droplets on his hurriedly written speech.
“ Christ woman what ’ s in this? ” He choked out after the spell had passed. Mary Todd had always had a penchant for the drink, one of the reasons why he married her. But today of all days was not the time to test his temperance.
“ Oh a little of this and a little of that. ” She said staring at her husband ’ s face admiringly. She really didn ’ t care for the beard, she admitted to herself, but still, all the union boys loved it. She supposed she would let him keep it she thought as she refilled poured the rest of the flask into a mug she kept in her bosom for just such an occasion. He got so nervous during speeches. It was best when he took the edge off, she reasoned.
After several more minutes had passed, Abe folded up the paper and put it into his breast pocket, then, taking the cup from Mary Todd, he drained it and gave her a soft kiss on the lips.
This might be the speech of his presidency he thought to himself. He couldn ’ t help but feel a little grateful for Mary Todd ’ s insistence. God he loved that women.
As he walked out into the light rain that awaited him, a hushed murmur passed through the crowd, in an instant he was atop the podium staring at the sea of faces, some burnt and blackened, others white from a lifetime spent in carpeted rooms making decisions for those other men to live and die.
Clearing his throat, he finally began:
“ Four score and seven beers ago… ”
Abraham blinked. The crowd pulled back, there was an audible gasp, and then it held it silence with baited breath.
He shook his head and continued.
“ Four score and seven YEARS ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. ”
As his momentum built he couldn ’ t but help grin a little in the corners of his mouth. Almost unnoticeable but to the careful observer. Finishing with a flourish, the crowd erupted in cheers.
He couldn ’ t wait till he told vice president Hamlin about this one, he thought to himself.
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[ WP ] Justify the worst thing you 've done .
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`` Well, I must admit that I have always been afraid that this day would come.
I was afraid, that one day you would come to me. Asking for the truth.
Because you see, the truth is always walking the fine line of what is a fact and what is merely perception - what people want to believe.
Now,
I can give you the facts or I can tell you what I know you want to believe. But I'm going to give you the truth instead, my truth.
The truth is that I have never lied to you.
Your parents were in fact dead when you were born. It is true, that when you were born, there was no one to take care of you. It is true, that when you were born, you were doomed to an orphanage if I had n't been there.
It is true, that without me, you would not have lived a life full of money, wealth and luxury.
It is true, that without me you would have never, EVER, been able to be where you want to be.
The truth is that your father raised his gun first and that your mother took the bullet for him. The very bullet that was supposed to bring me another contract and $ 20.000 cash.
The truth is that as your father went insane with grief and shock a round in the chamber found his way to your fathers brain to finish the job.
But what was I to do next? Kill an unborn child? That was n't part of the deal. I had n't signed up for this. I went off the radar for you. I gave up my identity in order to save you from being collateral damage.
I raised you.
I made you into the man you are.
Are you not proud of who you are?
You are my son.
Ca n't you see I've saved you? ``
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[ WP ] Neil Degrasse Tyson is right and aliens are not only vastly more intelligent than humans , but they 've been politely ignoring us since the beginning of time .
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The grass tickled the back of my neck as I laid silently admiring the twinkling sky. Though not a particularly pleasant sensation for most, I enjoyed it because it gave me a sense of foundation and familiarity that I would lose in my seemingly endless paths of conciseness. I often pondered the many possibilities of what existed just outside of our scientific grasp, wondering what we are missing when we do n't know what we are looking for.
The blanketing warmth was slowly being escorted out of the evening while my mind danced around the idea of going inside. I let my head fall to the side, now looking directly at my house. My vision focused on the small ant hill not far from me. I watched as the ants marched home in a soldier like manner, returning to their loved ones after a hard day's work. I stood up and began to walk towards my house, passing the ant hill with one final thought.
I was n't going to stop and visit the ants on my way home. I was n't going to kneel down and try to communicate, asking them to `` take me to their leader.'' I had bigger, more important things to do with my time.
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[ WP ] A normal civilian is in a room with a super villain and a superhero , both posing as their secret identities . All three are watching the news report on the hero and villain 's latest battle . Do n't tell us who is who .
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`` God, I love watching these super smackdowns. They should just turn it into a pay per view series, I'd subscribe in a heartbeat!'' Judy crowed, punching the air for emphasis. `` This week, on Pow! Kersplat! Wham!''
`` Really? I find them kinda boring, since you know the hero always wins in the end.'' Lucas drawled slowly. `` Hell, I think they're already staged enough as is.''
`` Ah, but that's the thrill of it, is n't it? All that it takes for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.'' Rebecca gestured pointedly at the screen. `` If Captain Bolero *didn't* show up, The Darkest Hour would be guaranteed the win by default. Even if the scale is tilted heavily against them, bad guys still try because they know even a fleeting lapse can secure them that all-important victory. That's what makes it so damn exciting!''
Judy nodded affirmatively, her eyes still glued to the screen. `` Sshh, Bolero is about to break out their super secret new technique, the...''
`` Twins of Anger. Yeah, yeah.''
`` TWINS OF ANGER!'' The screen confirmed in a booming echo. Judy's nose scrunched up.
`` How'd you know?'' She asked suspiciously.
`` Please. Bolero is boring and predictable. You have n't figured it out? Everything is two-themed, and named after the basic emotions.'' Lucas began to strike a few of the hero's already known poses. `` Doubles of Happiness! Duality of Sadness! Binary Fear! Twofold Surprise! Really, it was either Twins of Anger or Duplex of Disgust, there are n't that many synonyms *or* emotions left.''
`` Okay, fair enough. They're uninspired.'' She turned back to the set, disgruntled. `` Then again, DH is n't any better.''
`` Ah, that's my favorite villain.'' Rebecca chimed in suddenly. They both turned to face her, eyebrows raised. She flushed. `` Uh, I mean... if I had to have a favorite villain, it'd be The Darkest Hour.''
Lucas coughed, not pressing the point further. `` So, what's so great about them, then?''
`` That power suite is amazing, for one. Control over every shadow, including the metadimensional shadow time itself casts over humanity? Villain or hero, that's an amazing gift. I actually did a lot of study on it, it was my exit essay back in college...''
`` Where'd you go?''
`` Henchman University. Er, wait, they recently changed the name to Henchperson U. Even evil is PC now.'' She grinned. `` I was an understudy to Doctor Malpractice, actually.''
Lucas hissed. Judy turned curiously, a confused question in her eyes.
`` Ah, he was before your time, actually. Never much of a celebrity, he was n't even much of a supervillain. Just a regular villain, but... man, that brain. D'you know, he once claimed that he knew ten thousand ways to kill a patient and make it look like an unavoidable complication? Best non-powered assassin evil ever had on their side, and after watching him at work, I do n't doubt his claim.''
Judy turned away again with a bored moue, her fleeting attention captured once more by the explosions.
`` So... you're a villain... er... sympathizer?'' Lucas amended cautiously. Asking another for their political affiliation was not a safe territory to wander into; beyond being a misdemeanor, it was also simply a rude faux pas.
She shrugged. `` Naw. I'm independent. Spent two years with the bad guys, two years with the good, studying Power History with both. I plan to write about this from a neutral standpoint, for future generations.''
Lucas nodded, secretly relieved.
`` But man, that Malpractice and his scalpel, if I *were* a villain, *swish swish*, *gush gush*,'Nurse, the patient needs an IV, they've developed spontaneous throat hemorrhaging!' I could totally kill everyone in this room and make it look accidental, with what he taught me!''
His hackles rose again.
`` Um. Then again, Princess Divinity... uh... taught me compassion and love and what herbs to use to heal you guys back up afterwards. That too.''
`` SHUT UP!''
They both flinched and spun, reaching towards their waists out of futile instinct.
Judy continued to hold her finger in the air. `` They're about to announce news on the next caper!'' She explained.
On cue, the television blared: `` We have received reports that The Darkest Hour and Nefatheist left a note indicating that they would be at Wellspring Bank at noon, and any... folks, I apologize, I'm reading from the note here, any'stupes' that show up to stop them will be age regressed and then stripped of their convictions. That's...''
Lucas glanced over at the clock on the wall, as Rebecca glanced down at her phone, and Judy listened to the reporter announce the current time. 11:40.
`` Oh shit!''
`` Oh, shit!''
`` OH SHIT!''
`` Um... I've got someplace... I uh... forgot I needed to be.'' Lucas stammered out.
`` Ditto, shit, something just came up...'' Judy blabbered.
`` I, um... need to use the toilet. For... uh... I'll be back in a bit.'' Rebecca hemmed.
They all took off spontaneously, nearly colliding as a result.
`` Um, I'll go that way.''
`` Naw, you take the elevator, I do n't need... I mean, I can take the stairs.''
`` Bathroom is that way.'' reminded Judy.
`` I prefer the one downstairs.''
`` Uh... huh.''
They took off again, sparing only equally suspicious glances over their shoulders as they rounded different corners, fading from each others' views.
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[ WP ] The end is nigh and the Apocalypse is finally here , but it 's quite easily avoidable and more of a hindrance to mankind .
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`` Peter! Give me a report!'' God said with no small amount of frustration. With one hand he gestured for the harpists to lay off while the other hand pinched the bridge of his nose.
`` Uh... well... still no more souls arriving than normal, sir. I do n't know what to tell you.'' St. Peter's disembodied voice answered sheepishly.
`` So would anyone like to tell me what is wrong with this picture?'' God asked to the host of assembled angels. In response, most of them averted their eyes even more so than normal. But not Bartholomew. His hand shot right up and wiggled in the air. With a sigh of exasperation God gestured for him to answer the clearly rhetorical question.
`` The souls of the righteous should be flooding the Pearly Gates because you gave the order to start the Apocalypse.'' Offered Bartholomew eagerly. The other angels rolled their eyes. What a kiss-ass.
`` Yes, Bartholomew. That is correct. Thank you.'' God said through gritted teeth. It was his own fault for getting distracted by those damn sodomites when he was supposed to be creating Bartolomew's brain. `` Is Lucifer behind this somehow? Someone ring him up.''
A split second later a hellish flame appeared before his golden throne accompanied by the peal of an electric guitar. A sinister voice issued forth from the flame. `` Sup.'' It said.
`` What does your soul count look like down there?'' God asked.
`` Pretty standard. Why?'' Lucifer responded. He sounded bored.
``... Are you fucking with me? You know I have a hard time telling whether you're fucking with me or not when you talk through the flame.''
`` How would that be fucking with yo... Oh, wait. Did you start the Apocalypse? Was that today?''
`` Yes it was today! It started like five hours ago! Do you even read the Cherub Scrolls I send you?!'' God responded a little more loudly than he had intended. This day was not going as planned at all.
`` I prefer Infermail. I sent you an app request for it.''
God took a few steadying breaths. `` Just... just forget the mail for now. Why are we not getting souls?''
`` What kind of Apocalypse did you roll with? Plague? Brimstone? Giving sharks the ability to fly and breath normal air?''
God looked to his host of angels again. He had left that decision in their hands.
`` And the Dead Shall Rise to -'' Bartholomew began to intone the scripture.
`` Zombies. We went with zombies.'' God said, cutting Bartolomew off.
`` Oh.'' Lucifer said after a moment.
`` What?'' God demanded.
`` Well, it's just that they kind of saw that one coming. Actually, I bet a lot of them are probably having a blast down there.'' Lucifer sounded amused.
`` How the shit did they know about the zombies?!'' God blurted out, flabbergasted.
`` Dude. They've made, like, a bunch of movies. People have written books about it. One of my favorite shows is The Walking Dead, and it is basically like a guide on how to survive a zombie apocalypse. Air sharks would have been *much* more effective, bro.''
`` So instead of ending the world, you're telling me they're down there having a good time living out their movies and tv shows?''
`` I'm sure some of them are very horrified.'' Lucifer offered with only the barest hint of patronization.
God heaved a deep sigh. `` Fine. Whatever. I do n't even care anymore. Give the humans another few centuries, but then we're re-doing the Apocalypse. And this time we're going with Air Sharks!''
Meanwhile, on Earth, a group of Zombie Hunters was taking a break from zombie killing and relaxing with a DvD.
`` What should we watch?'' One of them asked.
`` How about Sharknado?'' Another responded.
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[ RF ] You 're driving home at night , and you notice something moving in the backseat from the rear-view mirror ...
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`` You need to stay still.'' I said with forced confidence, `` I love you, but I am not going to jail for you. I'm probably crazy as it is for going through the trouble of getting you out of there.''
Exit 40, we were almost home. The evening was a few hours behind us, and the sapphire blue of night had become a clear window into the vastness of space. I veered slowly to the right as exit 37 splintered away from the grooved highway and spiraled around to merge onto the street where our apartment was. I took the exit slightly faster than I should have and Hank shifted under the blanket to lay down across the backseat.
`` Hank, I'm not going to tell you again. You need to stay still. I'm not going to cover for you if we get pulled over. I will tell them you threatened to rape me if I did n't help you escape.'' before he could reply, I continued `` I have a long life to live ahead of me, and I will live it with or without you. I do n't need you, and I definitely do n't need you as much as you need me.''
The streets had been clear, no traffic, no pedestrians. So it was no surprise that the only car to end up behind me was a police cruiser.
The night was immediately filled with a binary pulsing of red and blue, right and wrong. There was never a moment where the lights intersected into any shade of purple.
`` Oh god, Hank. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.''
The police officer came to the window.
`` I need you to step out of the car immediately.''
I looked back at Hank, his stillness beneath the blanket became perfect. I took my hands off of the steering wheel and showed my open palms to the officer before slowly working my way out of the vehicle.
`` Do you know why I pulled you over?''
I shook my head, I was n't going to incriminate myself.
`` You, as well as your car, match the description of a person seen fleeing the morgue earlier tonight. What is that in your back seat?''
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[ WP ] People are immortal and only die when accomplish their purpose in life . You are by far the oldest person alive .
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I'm neither sad nor sick. I remain healthy in every sense of the word. Every morning, I would make tea, watch what ’ s on the news, and go around my estate to embrace the sun. After a while, I will head back to my office and write. If you ask me, I live a good life.
Indeed, I am living a good life. It took me 1,932 years, but I have reached the top of the society. After all, why would n't a nearly two-millennium-old person not earn some fame? But you know what, the more accurate word here is infamy.
I may be filthy rich and healthy, but the society shuns my existence. They know the only reason I ’ m alive is because I haven ’ t fulfilled my life ’ s purpose yet. A curse is what I have, I ’ ve been told. These statements have been going on since I officially became the world ’ s oldest person alive – and I snagged that title from a guy who died when he was 958.
To be fair, the “ curse ” part has its merits. From this society ’ s point of view, my lack of purpose has caused me to see my wife, my children, and my grandchildren die. Although they said their goodbyes to the world with smiles on their faces, the pang of loss – alongside the despair and longing that comes afterwards – is something I have never gotten used to.
Who knows how many funerals I have attended? Hundreds would be an understatement.
Whenever I leave my estate ( which happens often, as I travel a lot ), people mock me. They yell at me for my lack of purpose in life. I believe I have been cussed with every curse word in every language – all because I am alive. Some approach me directly and ask a blunt question: Why are you still alive? On occasion, a few sympathetic souls would ask me what it is I want to achieve and why I ’ m taking my damn time to reach it.
I have never answered any of these questions. Each time I get asked an existential question, I simply show them the fake smile and walk away. I have gotten used to flashing that fake smile I have mastered for over a millennium. And I know for a fact that I ’ d be flashing that smile for the millennia to come.
You see, it ’ s not that I have no purpose in life. In fact, I have been in the process of fulfilling my purpose since I made that promise as a seven-year-old kid – and that promise is to obtain all the knowledge in the world.
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[ WP ] The zombie outbreak starts , but the first ( and only ) zombie is an overweight man that ca n't catch anyone .
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It was Harold Kestrel's seventh Seven-Squared burger of the day. A Seven-Squared burger was seven patties and seven cheeses, with any and all toppings added at the buyer's discretion. Harold Kestrel, it must be known, left no toppings off, except for pickles, which he despised. The things had to be held together by thin steel rods, jammed all the way down to the bottom bun. He had been attempting to build up his stomach's reservoir for the challenge for weeks.
The only problem was, his small town's sole burger joint did n't have much in the way of fryer grease. Normally, of course, they would have plenty, but the truth of the matter is that every Seven-Squared burger patty was soaked in the stuff anew before being thrown onto the sandwich, in an attempt to make it the `` most heart-stopping burger of your life'' like it said on the sign, and, in making the seventh for Mr. Kestrel, they had simply run out. So, instead, they resorted to warming up some old hair gel to give the meat the same texture, if not exactly the same taste. By the time Harold noticed, half-way through the sandwich, it was far too late.
The hair gel, name redacted here for legal reasons, was not fit for human consumption. On being warmed up, chemicals within the gel became especially unfit, to the point that poor Harold Kestrel's brain was temporarily shut off by the hormones responding to his digestive track's complaint. When his brain re-awakened, the hormones had reached a kind of critical mass; he became drenched in sweat, his eyeballs fell loose and unseeing in his head, and his mouth began to foam. The hair gel, name redacted, forced Kestrel into a kind of hyper-advanced rabid state, made all the more silly by the man's Seven-Squared gut.
Luckily for those he sought to attack, his nervous system was still unable to overcome his considerable size. Jerry Kingman, fry cook of the now infamous burger joint, was able to dodge him by simply walking around the counter until police arrived to take him into custody. While in the town's drunk tank, he continued to attempt to bite his fellows, who simply evaded him by climbing on top of their bunks. Sad as it is, he had to be put down, like the poor, fat, rabid dog he resembled. He did n't fit into the electric chair, and had to be shot by a firing squad. The town newspaper had a field day.
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[ WP ] Explain the difficulties of life to a small child
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A soon as the door was unlocked, Melissa squeezed past it, flung off her shoes, and flew up the stairs to her room. Jonathan looked back at his parents and suited his actions to his sister's, though with a deal more resignation than anger.
In his room, he opened his window, letting in the January night, uncaring of the cold or what his mother would say if she found out. He lay down on the bed and stared at his door, trying to fight the aching in his eyes. He kept looking at the door, and before his eyes were very watery, he got up and went across the hall to Melissa's door. He opened it and turned on her light. She was in bed, but the covers were pulled down to her waist, and she lay cuddled with her large book on amphibians, thought it was closed.
She did n't look up. `` Turn off the light and go away.''
He turned off the light and sat down in her comfy chair, looking at his hands in his lap. It was so dark he could barely see them.
`` Go back to your own room!''
`` No. Can I turn on the night light?''
`` No.'' He heard her sit up and put the book down on her night stand. `` You're only a teenager, Mr. University, so do n't think you can just come here and tell me not to be angry.''
`` You've yelled at dad that being an adult does n't have to mean you always know better than someone small, but I'm too young to tell you anything, eh? This is why you're still a little girl. There are adults who are the same way you are, you know; some of the people who were involved in what happened were, or maybe all of them.'' He realized his voice was a little warm, and calmed himself.
`` *If you're saying*—''
`` I'm not saying that exactly. You're six. They're much older than six.''
`` Yes. Why are you making this about me? What did I do?''
`` I did n't mean to make it *about* you. It probably was n't about them, though.''
`` What?''
`` When they were six, I mean.''
She considered that. `` Why...'' she began, and then: `` How can anybody do that? The people in the car, or mom and dad, or grandpa?''
`` Mom and dad were n't so bad…''
`` They're the ones who actually killed him!''
Jonathan wished he could say that that was n't true, but it was. `` He was in very bad shape. It was unlikely he'd get better, and it was very expensive to keep him in the hospital, with those machines running all the way around the clock.''
`` Oh, who cares about money? How can all of you think about money instead of Grandpa?''
He had to laugh at that. `` You say that because you do n't have any. If we spent so much money on him we could n't afford it, what about us…? and then he'd probably have ended up just the same, and maybe we'd be on the street.''
`` We could have'pinched'. Mom makes me'pinch' sometimes, and I know she made you do it, too, before your job. What would you have done, Jonathan? He was only in there for a *week*.''
Jonathan felt his blood rise, and he pressed his lips together against his tears. `` I would have tried harder.''
`` Would you have pinched?''
`` Yes.''
`` Me, too. I would have pinched so *damn* hard. Oh, do n't! Damn, damn, damn — there! One time, dad told me the story about how grandpa came here and had everyone live in his house while he was at the factory making steel pipes all day: his brother, and his brother's children, and grandma's brother, and all of dad's cousins from everywhere — and then he'd come home and work the garden himself, and he bought his neighbour's house and flipped that, and then he bought the farm and rented *that*, *and* he quit smoking cold turkey when uncle Nick was born. And we could n't pinch for him, not us, or uncle Nick, or auntie Carm and uncle Gord, or any of the cousins.''
`` Yeah. He told me once that a parent can look after a hundred children, but a hundred children ca n't look after one parent.''
`` Maybe he should have gotten hit, though,'' she said quietly.
He looked up towards her, though it was too dark to see her there. `` I do n't think there's any point to revenge. How much do you know about what he was doing when he got hit?''
`` Enough. Mom said he was'being funny' when she was on the phone, right in front of me, like I do n't know about *euphemisms*.'' She said the last word very slowly, and Jonathan heard her open one of the night stand's drawers.
`` You pronounced it correctly,'' he said, and heard her close it again.
`` Right,'' she continued, `` he was being romantic with that woman who rode in the ambulance with him, and who grandma almost knocked out at the viewing, was n't he? See?!'' she cried, after he let out a chuckle, `` you'd have liked to have seen grandma bop her, too!''
`` No, I would n't have,'' he returned very seriously. `` I forgot myself. I think it would have felt good, that's all. I was doing something people do too much.''
She did n't ask what, but he told her anyway.
`` It's hard to think about everything. People like to live in bubbles, or their own little worlds. It's easy not to think about everyone else when you live that way, especially when you really want to do something, and people just *love* to do things. Nobody is perfect, and it's human to make mistakes, and people just love it— they would n't have it any other way. They think it's an excuse of sorts, and do n't bother trying not to make mistakes. Sometimes it's'living in the moment'. Have you heard of that? I think it's about enjoying what you're doing by forgetting the problems you already have, not by forgetting the new problems that you'll make by doing it. That's really how it's taken, though: the second way.''
`` You can turn on the night light, now.''
He reached down and turned it on. She was facing away from him on the other side of the bed, but now she turned and crawled over to sit across from him. Her face turned very grave, and she squeezed her hands into fists. `` Like the drunk driver and her friends,'' she said.
`` Maybe. Probably.''
`` They're the worst ones.''
`` I think so, too.''
`` And none of them died, and I bet they — well, the girl who was driving — wo n't even go to jail for that long, because they did n't really kill grandpa. They'll just say he might have gotten better. Only a *week*.''
`` I'm not sure what is going to happen to them. How different was Grandpa from them?''
She hesitated, and looked up from wrinkling and smoothing the corner of a sheet. `` I know what I said, but maybe we should n't judge grandpa. Maybe we should n't be so judgemental.''
`` Is that a word in your notebook? I thought so. Everyone, even the people who say they never judge anyone, are very judgemental. What they mean when they say you should n't judge them, is that you should only judge them if your judgement is in their favour. No one is going to tell you to wait and hear both sides of the story if you agree with them. And, hey? Do n't treat the people you love so differently from everyone else, okay? It's not fair. It should n't be okay for someone to hurt you and have it defended because he or she is something to someone else.''
She sighed. `` That's true. That *is* true. Oh, I'm so *mad* at him. I'm the only one in my class who ever liked going to her grandfather's house. Everyone else hated it. They said it was so boring; it was so dull; there was nothing and no one to play with; there was nothing to do — like everything has to be a game or make you laugh for you to enjoy it. They're dumb kids. I loved that man, and grandma, and the house, and their stories, and the giant garden in the backyard with the tomato plants that made it like a jungle, and grandma loved him and he worked so hard for her and everyone, and this is what he does? And then that's what those girls do? And mom and dad. I thought I was only mad at them, but I hate them all except grandma!''
She had gotten more and more emotional as she went on, and after these last words she wrapped her arms around Jonathan and cried onto his shoulder. He patted her awkwardly.
`` *Hold* me, you boob! ``, she said into his shirt. He held her for a few minutes, her sobs getting softer and soft until they stopped completely. She looked up at him through dark, separated eyelashes.
`` Is everyone going to turn out to be something else?''
Jonathan pinched his mouth and looked away from her. `` Probably... to some degree.''
`` Even you? You know, you've been pretty good so far.''
He smiled at her, but she was intent on his answer. `` I hope not. I'm trying very hard to make sure that wo n't happen. Think about what I said, okay?''
`` Yeah. I wo n't let it happen to me, either. I do n't want to be any of them.'' She left him and went back to her bed. `` I really love you. I think I'll read my book, now.''
He smiled a rare and toothy smile. `` Okay. I really love you, too, Melissa.'' He went back to his room.
It had started snowing, and flakes were swirling in through the window and settling on his desk, the carpet of loose papers that covered it already wet in several places. He went up to a photo standing on a shelf. His grandfather stood in overalls and big green boots that stretched halfway up his thighs. He held his arms out in front of him, holding an infant Jonathan in one hand, and a large bass in the other. He considered the two of them with shrugged shoulders and raised eyebrows in mock confusion, as though he had forgotten which was the fish and which was his grandson. Jonathan let out a short laugh that would have done well as a sob, and tossed the photo back onto the shelf. He leaned on the window sill and stared out at the white rooftops that curved away to the distant skyscrapers across the lake, grateful for the snow that melted on his face and obscured his tears.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : The Defense Rests Edition
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Got bored and started in on... something. I saw an episode of Drawfee where they were drawing as a parody of a YA/tween drama novel cover, and it actually got the creative juices flowing. Not sure I'll do anything with this, just horsing around. It's really bad, deliberately derivative and pretty cheesy. You all probably should n't read it.
**SNOWFLAKES: Chapter One**
-- -
I survived junior high by becoming invisible. I talked to no one. Never raised my hand -- though I answered questions when asked. Never gave anyone a reason to notice me. My first day of high school, I had every intention of continuing my non-existence.
Walk, do n't run through the halls. Head down just enough to avoid eye contact without looking scared. Keep the backpack on so there are no books and papers which someone might knock to the floor.
I had a system, and I'd accounted for everything. Or so I thought. What I had n't counted on was Jake and Chad.
`` Go long!''
As soon as I heard the shout, I shifted to one side, right up against the locker banks. A football to the head would definitely attract notice.
`` I got it!''
I'd already passed the pair of them, and my homeroom was in sight ahead. Relief had just begun to creep through me when what felt like a semi-truck slammed into my back. My head banged against the lockers.
`` Watch it!'' The boy towering over me scowled and bent to pick up his ball near my feet.
*You watch it, asshole, * I thought. I'd never say it out loud. That would draw too much attention. Instead, I whirled away from him, toward my class and safety.
`` Hey,'' a hand fell on my arm, freezing me where I stood. `` I'm sorry, I should have been paying att -- oh, shit, you're bleeding.''
`` I'm fine.'' I could feel a line of blood on my forehead, but I'd live. `` It's fine.'' I tried to shake off his hand, but he only tightened his grip.
`` Hang on,'' he said. `` Let me see.'' He swiped at my forehead with the sleeve of his jersey. `` Yeah, just a little scratch.''
Two bitchy looking girls I vaguely remembered from last year swept by. `` -- Jake Bronco,'' one of them was saying.
`` So hot,'' said the other. `` Ew, what's he doing with Plain Jane?''
They passed out of earshot. `` I'm Jake,'' Jake said. `` I'm really sorry I ran into you.''
`` Jane,'' I mumbled. `` I have to... I'm going to be late.''
`` Oh, sure.'' Jake let go of my arm and I scurried down the hall. I could feel his eyes boring into my back all the way to class. Great. So much for staying invisible.
I slid into a seat near the back of the class just as the bell rang. A group of girls near the front glanced at me, judged, found me insignificant, and turned away. Maybe I could get through this after all.
The teacher, a boring looking woman in a pant-suit called out names. Everyone who was n't busy saying'here!' whispered and passed papers back and forth, ignoring her. I kept my head down, focused on writing my name inside my notebooks.
`` Jane Modeste,'' the teacher called, mispronouncing it like everyone does. She said `` modest'' instead of `` mo-deste''. I did n't bother to correct her.
`` Here.''
Homeroom was usually the best part of the day. When the teacher finished taking attendance we listened to announcements. There were a lot of announcements today, being the first day. Everyone groaned and booed, and shifted in their seats waiting for it to be over.
After announcements, Homeroom was a free period. Later in the year people would be busy with last minute homework, essays and projects. For today, though, a free period was for gossip, and making new alliances.
For me, it was a minefield. Everything I could do would draw attention. Doodling in a notebook invites comments on your art. Reading or writing? Now you're a bookworm. Gossiping about others leaves a door open for them to gossip about you. I settled for pulling out my phone and pretending to check messages.
`` Did you see what Carla was wearing today?''
`` Hey, you going out for the team?''
`` Let me see your schedule.''
Scraps of conversation floated around me. I watched the minutes tick by on my cell. Fifteen. Ten. Five.
`` Do you think he asked for her number?''
`` No way. Look at her.''
I do n't know what made me look up. When I did, they were staring at me. Four girls who averted their gazes as soon as our eyes met.
And one who did n't. She was glaring, her perfectly-shaped eyebrows forming a loose V over glinting green eyes.
`` She's too plain,'' said the bold one, her look daring me to say something. `` Not even ugly enough to be interesting. She's just... there.''
The rest of the group giggled and fussed with their hair.
I do n't know what got into me. I turned back to my phone, tapped the screen a few times. Then I laughed, trying to emulate their high-pitched squeals. `` Oh Jake,'' I said, as if to myself. `` You're so *funny*.''
Satisfaction flooded my veins as Smirky inhaled with a sharp hiss, but I immediately regretted it. No way she was going to let that go.
I was fortunate. The bell rang, and I was able to slip out of the room without much more than a shoulder-bump. None of the girls from Homeroom were in my next few classes. I made it to lunch without becoming a blip on anyone else's radar.
Lunch was another minefield of unwritten rules and expectations. Do n't sit alone. Do n't sit with an established group. Do n't sit in the corners, or the center of the room.
I found a table sparsely populated with a few kids who were each busy with their food. There were empty chairs between us in unspoken agreement -- we were n't here to make friends.
I was halfway through my cold pizza when the rules were broken.
Jake Bronco, super-jock and total stud, sank down into the chair beside me and threw an arm over my shoulder. `` You'll never believe what just happened,'' he said with a chuckle.
I cringed. It was bad enough to know what he was going to say, but now all eyes at the table -- possibly all eyes in the cafeteria -- focused in on us. On me.
`` Oh, God.''
I wavered, indecisive, between swallowing the lump of congealed cheese, or becoming a statue.
`` Let me guess...''
Jake ignored my plea. He pulled my head in closer and leaned in to whisper in my ear. `` Somehow, Kaitlyn got the idea that I got your digits earlier.''
I stifled a groan.
`` The problem is,'' he went on. `` Now if I say I did n't, I look like a loser who ca n't get a girl.''
I choked. I knew I should have swallowed. Jake began patting my back dramatically, and slipped me his phone under the table. `` Think you can help me out?'' he said, this time in a normal voice.
Heat flooded my cheeks. `` Sure,'' I squeaked. I fumbled a bit before managing to get my number into his cell.
`` Thanks, Janie,'' Jake said when I handed it back to him. He dropped a quick kiss on my cheek, then jumped up and strode across the room.
A few people at the table were still staring. `` Tutoring,'' I said, trying to keep it off-hand. Everyone nodded and went back to their trays.
I could n't even look at my food anymore, so I dumped it out and went to kill time in the media center until my next class.
***
There was a change in the air, after the bell rang. In my classes, I could feel eyes on me. A few at first, but by seventh period, it could have been the whole school.
I had the bad luck to have Kaitlyn, formerly known as Smirky, in my gym class. I had a choice -- endure body-shaming in the locker room, or get called out for not dressing for gym. I settled somewhere in the middle, hanging back until the locker room was almost empty. Then I rushed to change and made it to the gym only a few minutes late.
The gym teacher glowered at me, but did n't say anything, and I sagged in relief. Other than having a co-ed class, it turned out to be an easy first day. Coach Phillips, who'd never been a coach but insisted on the title, went over his expectations. I avoided Kaitlyn by standing near the front of the group and keeping my eyes on the coach.
After the speech, we had fitness testing. Part of staying invisible at school was never falling into the top or the bottom of anything. I managed this in gym by jogging on the weekends, and working out on my uncle's equipment in the basement at home. I was just better than useless at any sport, but I stayed fit enough to avoid the pale and pasty crowd. I stayed right in the middle of the class on most of the tests, failing only one.
Kaitlyn snickered behind me. `` -- probably using her for a bet,'' she stage-whispered to one of her minions.
`` Line up,'' the coach said. `` Let's see how you do with chin-ups.''
I do n't know if I would have said something, because Chad chose that moment to pinch her bottom. Kaitlyn squealed and started pounding his chest with her tiny, manicured fists. Another girl, who I assumed was Chad's girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, bitched at them. Kaitlyn was flipping her hair, one hand on her hip, when the door opened, and Jake walked in.
`` Coach,'' he said, handing the older man a scrap of paper.
`` Alright, get in line. We'll make up your other tests later.''
Jake pushed a few kids out of the way and squeezed in behind me.
`` God,'' I hissed. `` Are you following me?''
`` Do n't be paranoid,'' he said. `` Have n't you ever had a schedule change?''
`` It's *freshman* gym,'' I said. `` You're a sophomore.''
`` Been checking up on me?''
I rolled my eyes. `` Yeah, I checked all the police blotters between classes.''
`` Funny,'' he said. `` But now you know my secrets, and I have to kill you.''
`` Not if I kill you first.''
-- -
^^^^^ ( Continued ^^^^in ^^^^reply. )
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[ WP ] Where does our need for music come from ?
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`` And the whole earth was of one language and of one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there.'' Genesis 11:1-2
The people of Shinar sang to each other, and what they sang was Truth. When words and notes combined the meaning was unmistakable. When two people spoke in disagreement, their songs were discordant and the cause was immediately evident. There was no denying which was right and which was wrong.
And so the people of one language and of one speech became of one mind. All things were decided through their language of songs, which could withstand no falsehoods. So the people worked as one, prayed as one, sowed and reaped their crops as one. They were of one language, and one mind.
So it came to pass that when one first sang the Song of the Tower, all knew it to be Truth. They would build a mighty tower unto heaven. There they would meet their God. There they would find their rest.
They toiled ceaselessly and sang the Song as they toiled. They needed no foremen, for the Song of the Tower contained all they needed to know. Every word and note and action rang together in Truth, rising up into the air as the Tower rose, steadily, day by day. No men with whips were needed to spur them toward the heavens. Toward their God, who looked down on them and said:
`` Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is what they begin to do; and now nothing will be withholden from them, which they purpose to do. Come, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech.''' Genesis 11:6-7
And so He confounded their speech. Their songs became discordant. Their work became muddled. Their minds became confused and frustrated, and their discourse filled with rage and misunderstanding. The fled from one another. They scattered across the Earth. They spoke their grunts and clicks and chirps and tried to spread their meaning to each other, but the harmony was gone. The language of the Song of the Tower was gone.
Their children and their grandchildren lived on, speaking the myriad, fractured remnants of their insufficient tongues. But always some would dream, and in their dreams would hear something so perfect, so *whole* that it spoke without speaking. And always they tried to capture it, like trying to catch sunlight in a net.
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[ WP ] After realizing you are in a work of fiction , you immediately rush to the person you think is the protagonist in an attempt to get plot armor as their best friend . But when the `` protagonist '' dies , you realize you may not have thought this completely through .
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My name is Billy. This is my story.
So basically this is how it went. I woke up yesterday and found out that I was living in some fiction book sorta ting. Wan na know how I found out? Cause I am a genius.
So anyway I went to find the protagonist of this story I'm in and found him sitting in the town centre. I knew it was him when I saw him. Cause I'm a genius. So we chat and he become my best friend, you know how it goes. Anyway he died cause I accidentally tripped and head butted him in the dick which caused internal dick bleeding and he died. I dunno if this is what the writer wanted but it was awkward as fuck.
Then after he died this villain guy came up to me and laughed after he heard the story how I killed the hero. But his laugh was so annoying I could n't take it anymore so I just straight up bitch slapped his ass.
He then started and crying and that's when I decided to leave. I do n't waste my time with no lil crying bitches.
Billy out bitches.
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[ WP ] `` Too late , you 've made your choice ... ''
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Six months ago things changed. Six months ago you left me. You chose to walk away from us and now we ’ re back at point A. The night air brings cold to my skin, and my breath seems to fog the winter air as I stand in the middle of the park waiting. There are no children playing in this cold dark night. The swings only creak along with the wind. Not a soul other than mine seems to be in sight. Maybe this is a reflection of my own being but I can not continue to wait. I can see him now. He walks toward me from the small pathway that leads to me. The night stars are the only light that I feel. Hope? … Hope of us has been gone when you so shamelessly shattered my heart and chose her. That beautiful woman you once called a friend. Those late night chatter you thought I never heard as you snuck away late at night. That woman you claimed to love who has now broken your heart and now… here we are. You ’ re wearing that dark gray coat I use to love so much. Your scent a sweet soft aroma that once reminded me of home.
“ I ’ m sorry. ” You say to me. The regret in your eyes visible and I can feel your warmth when you pull me close. My heart pitter patters the same way when we first embraced two years ago in this same park. My heart still breaks at this moment, and every day since you left me six months ago in this same park.
“ We ’ ve grown apart. ” You whispered before taking her hand and walking away.
“ I ’ m sorry too ” I whisper back hugging him tightly and feeling his warmth one last time.
“ But I can ’ t take you back ”
“ You ’ re too late. You ’ ve made your choice ”
“ And I ’ ve made mine. Six months ago you chose her and now I choose me. ” I say.
He doesn ’ t speak and I can see pain inflict his eyes. This isn; t about revenge, it ’ s not about inflicting pain on someone I still love. This is about loving myself and choosing to walk away because I deserve better. He doesn ’ t run after me. He doesn ’ t call my name. With my head held high I slowly pave my path down back to point C where things should always remain.
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