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[ WP ] Before the coming apocalypse , burying time capsules has been a huge trend all over the world . After being able to roam the surface again , the remaining humans are digging for what 's left of their former civilisation .
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Its been years now since'The Apocalypse,''Doomsday,''The end of times,' whatever else sounds flashy. It does n't really matter what you call it, considering most people just want to forget about it and live on, what a perfect opportunity for a fresh start.
Whether it was inevitable or whether we played a part, it happened, we simply could n't breath the air anymore. It got worse and worse until there was a countdown, in 456 days humans will suffocate, so underground we went. It was easier than building structures all over the surface, especially considering no one knew how the materials would survive the changing atmosphere. Humans and animals alike were forced to dig ( or rather we dug for them as some sort of apology ), the largest conservation project ever undertaken began and quickened exponentially. Like studying for a test, humanity could finally see a deadline, and extinction was a brilliant motivator.
After it was all said and done, after the years underground, we came back up. Not as many as before, not nearly, but enough. The biggest craze before everyone had went underground was time capsules, except people were overconfident in how quickly the problem would disappear. The average time capsule was a 55 gallon drum, and not just one, those who could n't bury a shipping container would have up to 15, filled with all kinds of possessions and valuables that while not useful in the shelters, were highly sought after on the surface. And so when people came back up the easiest way to make a living was to use or even sell things from history, this means you have to dig.
And so thats my profession, I know it sounds easy, but it is n't.
Just imagine looking out over places that have n't been touched by anything except wind and rain for 130 years. The surface was new to me too, I'd seen maps, pictures, videos, google earth. But it really is n't the same, living in an underground city for the first 30 years of your life does n't prepare you for just how far you can see from the top of a mountain. I mean I literally had tunnel vision my whole life, we lived in the wall of a massive tunnel, let me tell you fluorescent lighting really is n't the same as the sun on your skin.
Right now I'm in the backyard of what I assume to be a very expensive home, because... Its really big. Thats my only real indication, homes underground all look like a door set into a wall with a few windows either side. If you saw a window above a door, that was someone important, or someone important lived there long ago. I generally look through the house first, but chances are thieves got everything nice from the house while people were still going underground, thinking a gas mask would be enough to survive up here. After that its to the backyard, luckily for me these people fully intended to come back here and placed a metal pole in the ground. Well if they had n't come back in the last three years then I have the feeling they're not going to, all the better for me. I have a shovel on me which should hopefully do the trick, If I cant touch it within one meter it's usually a lost cause, too deep and the effort required to get to it becomes too much for a one man operation. Thankfully it only took 25 minutes to ding something metal, unfortunately the ding was a very thick piece of metal, a shipping container, and I was directly on top of it.
Most would think a lost cause, how much time would it take to dig all the way down to a door? And how much dirt would need to be removed so I could open the door to get inside? And what if it was welded shut? None of that matters, because in fact, I can just cut this son of a bitch open from the top, theres no real rules on the surface, that I follow anyway.
After 45 minutes of effort, with an angle grinder and a blowtorch, I was inside.
And was it worth the effort? I wonder now as I sit in the front seat of a Ferrari California with Big Log playing on my Ipod, trying to think of how to lift this car through a 60cm hole two meters above me, that maybe digging for a living might not be the most rewarding life, but it does lead to some very interesting situations.
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[ WP ] `` Breathe in , then breathe it all out . Every bit . You are n't going to want air in your lungs for this . ''
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^HERE ^WE ^GO ^AGAIN. ^LONG ^RESPONSE. ^It's ^even ^linked ^to ^the ^last ^one ^I ^wrote! ^To ^read ^it, [ go here! ] ( http: //tinyurl.com/z35f2np/ )
**PART 1**
The click-click-clicking of Ziya ’ s shoes on the tile floor were too loud, she was sure. Someone would hear her, and then she ’ d have to lie. She was a terrible liar at the best of times, and the stress of sneaking back into the Lyle-Paley Psychiatric Clinic after hours wouldn ’ t help her poker face. She tightened her grip around the leather satchel slung over her shoulder and endeavored to walk more quietly.
Perhaps it would just be an orderly who heard her. She could probably talk her way around an orderly, she reasoned. Her mother ’ s necklace, a precious and beloved heirloom from the woman she barely remembered, lay ‘ forgotten ’ in one of the lounges to add credence to her false reason for returning. That, she hoped, would be excuse enough for her presence. Doctor Paley himself was away visiting his brother in Rochester and Doctor Lyle had died several years ago, though she ’ d felt his eyes on her as she stole in through a side entrance and passed his grand portrait. That left only Doctor Hartwell to worry about. The last time Ziya had seen him, he ’ d said something about having dinner at his club, so she had to trust he was getting drunk with more red-faced old men rather than prowling the corridors of his clinic.
She lifted herself up onto her toes, keeping her heels from touching the ground, and gathered her skirts up to stop them from rustling as she eased open the door to the Lower Wing.
No one raised an alarm - the hall ahead was, as she ’ d expected it to be, empty. She ’ d memorized the rounds schedules during her morning observations and had timed her arrival for just after a shift change so that the nurses and orderlies who knew her by name would be leaving before she snuck in.
The doors on this hall were all thick oak, studded and barred. These patients were the sickest of the sick, Doctor Hartwell had said. They were a danger to themselves and to others and must be kept in isolation. Ziya shivered and picked up her pace. A plaintive cry echoed from somewhere down the hall - Mrs. Wheeler, Ziya thought with a grimace, calling out for the children she refused to believe had died years before. She shut her ears to the sobs, hoped Mrs. Wheeler ’ s cries wouldn ’ t summon anyone ’ s attention, and shuffled her way down the hall as fast as her toes would carry her.
The last door looked just as dark and forbidding as the others on the hall, but there was something about it that made her not want to linger before it, made her eyes want to slide away from its face. That same something made her fingers clumsy and graceless when she tried to force the key she ’ d stolen into the lock. She pushed past the discomfort and focused her mind on opening, on pushing through, on freeing what lay inside, and after a moment ’ s struggle, her hand obeyed. The key turned and the lock clunked open. Ziya took a last quick look over her shoulder to check that the coast was still clear, then pulled the door ajar and slipped inside.
Moriah Kelly sat propped against the far wall, her thin frame illuminated by the bare bulb hanging from the white ceiling. They ’ d shorn her hair to the scalp when she ’ d arrived at the clinic, but hints of curls grown, reaching upwards as if trying to fly away from imprisonment. Her eyes were closed and her hands lay on her lap, encased as usual in iron mitts joined at the wrist. Her feet rested outstretched on the thin pallet that passed for her mattress, likewise shackled in iron boots. Her wrists and ankles stuck out beneath the plain gray dress all patients wore, and the skin there was red from chafing, but she wasn ’ t bleeding today. Ziya was glad of that. Ms. Kelly would need all the strength she could muster for tonight ’ s lessons. Even Ziya, who ate well and slept in a feather bed at her cousin ’ s home by the University, was exhausted by the time they ’ d finished working.
For a moment, Ziya thought Moriah might be asleep, but then the corner of the older woman ’ s mouth turned up and she smiled a delighted, full-faced smile. A second later, her eyes flicked open.
“ Ms. Campbell-Vane, ” she murmured. “ What a delight it is to see you again so soon after our last meeting. ” She sat up with what dignity she could, given the encumbering chains, and swung her legs over the side of the bed so that they thunked against the tiled floor. “ Had I known you were coming, I ’ d not have dozed. ”
“ Please, Ms. Kelly, ” Ziya said, stepping forward into the light of the bulb. “ I keep asking you to call me Ziya. ”
The witch ’ s smile grew wider. “ And I keep asking you to call me Moriah, yet here we are. ” She held up her ironbound hands. “ You didn ’ t happen to get the key to these, did you? ”
“ No, ma ’ am. ” Ziya cursed herself inside her head. “ I mean, Moriah. Doctor Hartwell keeps it on his person at all times, I think. I ’ ve had no chance to get it. Even getting this, ” she held up the cell ’ s key, “ was a struggle. ”
“ I ’ m still very proud of you for that bit of skullduggery. ” Moriah smiled and then glared at the mitts. “ Ah, well. A pencil in the mouth it is, then. Shall we begin? ”
From the satchel over her shoulder, Ziya pulled a set of pencils and a sketchbook and crossed the room to sit beside Moriah. “ I ’ ve been practicing the symbols you showed me all week. I ’ m certain I ’ ve got them memorized now. ” She flipped through the book to the page she ’ d marked and held it out for Moriah ’ s inspection. “ What do you think? ”
Moriah drew in a pleased breath. “ You really are a natural talent, Ziya. It took me ages to memorize this spell. ” A wistful flicker crossed her face - she was remembering something. “ The sigil kept sliding from my memory like the blasted thing didn ’ t want to stick. ”
“ That happened with the first few, ” Ziya reminded her teacher. “ I still can ’ t always do Harcourt ’ s Emblem for scrying on the first try. ”
“ Scrying is always rather touch and go, ” Moriah assured her. “ And it doesn ’ t often give much useful information, which is why I rarely bother with it. ” She nodded to the book and sketched a vague circle with her nose in the air, the best she could do with her hands bound. “ Your circles are so precise - you are freehanding them, aren ’ t you? Not using a stencil or tracing? ”
“ Yes ma ’ a- I mean, yes. ” The two women grinned at each other again, then turned back to the page before them. “ This is right, isn ’ t it? ”
After another moment ’ s scrutiny, Moriah gave a decisive nod of her head. “ Yes. It ’ s perfect. Do you think you could do it larger now? ”
“ I think so. ” The larger the spell, the more difficult it was to get right, and the touchier the symbols got. “ How large? ”
Moriah ’ s grin was a challenge. “ Big enough for you to sit in, I think. ”
Ziya ’ s breath stuttered. “ What? Are you… are you sure I ’ m ready? ” Ziya stammered. “ It ’ s only been a few months of work - you said it ’ d taken you years to learn to teleport. ”
Moriah ’ s gray-green eyes filled with warm mirth. “ But I was a lazy student, more concerned with young men and dancing than I was with studying. You, my dearest girl, are a far better witch than I ever was. Besides, ” she said, clanking the chains between her wrists and ankles. “ If we ’ re ever going to get me out of here, this is a spell you need to know by heart. ”
Ziya ’ s heart dropped to thud, nervous, in her stomach. Noticing her student ’ s discomfort, Moriah leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Ziya ’ s. “ I ’ ll help. We ’ ll work together, you and I, and the burden of moving us far will be mostly on my admittedly bony shoulders. Don ’ t worry. You can do this. ”
Gulping, Ziya tried to smile back at her teacher while working to block out the dire warnings Moriah had given her about the complications, the dangers, of what they were about to attempt.
Twenty minutes later, Ziya sat cross-legged in the center of a teleportation circle that took up more than half of Moriah ’ s cell. Moriah perched on the edge of her bed, overseeing the proceedings.
“ You need to focus your mind, just like we ’ ve practiced. Remember holding the flame in your palm on that first night we worked together? ”
Ziya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She ’ d thought of little else in her moments alone - the feeling of pure power, pure creation, that had flowed through her veins, the elation at finally, finally, feeling like she was truly herself. Watching Moriah conjure the flame, performing one of the few spells she could do with her hands bound, had felt like being born anew. Something had clicked inside Ziya. It had been like coming home to a place she ’ d never been before.
“ Just like that. Slow your heart down. Calm your nerves. ”
Fat chance, Ziya thought, but she tried her best.
“ Now choose your destination. ”
She met Moriah ’ s eyes and tried not to give voice to the squeak of worry she felt rising in her throat.
“ Just choose a tile. Any tile in the room. How about that one? ” Moriah flicked her chin at a cracked tile three inches from Ziya ’ s left knee.
“ Alright, ” Ziya whispered.
“ Focus on that tile, on the tiles around it. That ’ s where you ’ re going. It ’ s hardly any distance from where you are now, so moving there shouldn ’ t be much of a problem. Memorize that space. ”
Ziya imagined drawing the tiles Moriah had indicated, sketching them out with a pencil on paper. In her mind, she traced the crack in the center tile, the bits of mortar holding them in place. Then she did it again, twice, before looking back up at her teacher.
“ You ’ ve got it? ” Moriah asked. When Ziya nodded, the witch smiled anew. It was like the sun dawning. “ Good. We ’ re ready to go. ” She shifted so she was sitting with her hands in her lap again and closed her eyes, falling quickly into the meditative pattern Ziya always found hard to pin down. “ Breathe in, then breathe it all out. Every bit. You aren ’ t going to want air in your lungs for this. ”
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[ WP ] A Twilight Zone type tragedy involving a book with ALL of the answers .
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He finds the book when he's fourteen, slipped inconspicuously between the Bible and *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*. He does n't mean to open it, not really, because the cover is uninteresting and he does n't have a library card anyhow. But he does.
THIS BOOK IS UNREGISTERED AT THE LIBRARY, AND BELONGS TO NO-ONE.
So he takes it, thinking it's pretty cool. Maybe he'll flip through it later. When he gets home, however, his friend texts to hang out, and he carelessly thrusts it at his bookshelf, forgetting about it. It sits in his shelf for the next two years.
On his sixteenth birthday, he finds it again. Despite the celebrations, he has been stressing over his PSATs and SATs for the last couple of hours, and decides to read a book to take his mind off of it. His eyes roam over the spines of his favourite novels until it stutters to a stop on a thin, plain, untitled book. With a flash of uneasy recognition, he pulls it from the shelf with his index finger and flips it open to a random page.
PSAT & SAT ANSWER KEY - YEARS 2000-2050
He spends the next week copying the answers into his notebook, the next year memorizing flashcards. He easily scores 2400 and gets accepted into Stanford, full scholarship. No problem, no problem.
But he ca n't study anymore, because the answers appear to him so easily. He ca n't carry a conversation anymore, because he is n't sure if it's going to be the right response without checking his book. Even as his mom wetly kisses him goodbye at the airport – should he kiss her back? should he cry? what words should he say? – his mind rests only on the book hidden at the bottom of his suitcase.
Four months before he fails out of university, he meets the girl of his dreams. She's gentle yet assertive, pretty yet humble; she is everything he has ever dreamed of his entire life. He asks the book if it's true love, if she is the perfect woman. It answers no. He breaks off their relationship without a second thought, because the book is always right, and he'll always trust the book. He cries with bitterness that night, because could n't the book have lied, just this once? She goes on to become an accomplished doctor and marry a kindhearted man. He goes on to relying on his parents' retirement funds to rent a shabby apartment on the outskirts of town.
There is only one book on the dusty shelf in that dark apartment. It has given him the answers to all the questions he ever asked, and so, at age twenty-four, he demands of it a final question: is my life ever going to be worth living?
With trembling fingers and dull eyes, he flips open to the very last page.
Six days later, after reports of a strange smell emanating from his flat, he is discovered hanging by his neck on the ceiling fan. The book on the shelf is donated to the local library.
--
I have to admit that I'm not too sure what a Twilight Zone type tragedy entails, but I enjoyed toying with the idea of a book with all the answers. Apologies if this is n't quite what you were looking for! ( Edited for formatting. )
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[ WP ] Scientists have located and measured the position of the soul in the body , even learning how to successfully remove it . This causes the body to cease ageing in any way , but there are side effects ...
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I've been told, by Kevin, that what I'm feeling is normal. I'm awake longer, and I do n't get tired. I'm not excited, but I'm happy. Jamie tells me I look happy. Kevin tells me I'm'down-to-earth', and I think that I am. I feel like I'm really here, like I'm standing right here. A part of this. Or, something.
Shawn tells me I'm serene. He says I'm like an calm ocean slowly sifting sand between waves. Making pearls. Shawn tells me I'm making pearls in my wake. Slowly. He says we'll see the changes someday. Shawn says.
Kevin told me I work hard. He tells me I'm very diligent. That I never take a lunch, and I'm always at my desk. I never look bored. That's what Kevin tells me.
Kevin tells me I should be proud of who I am. Shawn tells me I should be happy. I am. I am happy. I am proud. I should be. That's what Shawn and Kevin tell me.
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[ WP ] God reveals himself to humanity in order to explain that no , the rules outlined in the Book of Deuteronomy are n't outdated or metaphorical , and He highly recommends that everyone follows them .
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The blinding light blinded every devout follower in attendance, except for those who had brought sunglasses, who were able to observe God himself slowly float down from heaven. We had known for months the time and date of his arrival and almost half a billion people had crammed into this small area of the British Countryside to welcome him to earth. Somewhere too to one side old people could be heard complaining about the number of foreigners around, but in general the crowd was good natured and ready to welcome God.
The figure descended and then hung in mid air and decreased his brilliance so that at last the world could see his form. There was a gasp as he was revealed and the small Asian man smiled down at his people. The old people at the side began frantic muttering but the majority of those in attendance simply felt the blessed light shine down on them.
When it spoke it reached every ear on earth at the same time and the divine touch of God was felt by billions. `` ***My people. I have come to you now to guide you and to show you the way in which I would ask you to live. ***''
`` Are you the Christian God?'' A voice floated up from the crowd?
`` Course he's not, that's Allah.'' Another responded angrily.
`` What are you talking about? He's Asian, that's bloody Budda!'' A third joined in and small bouts of pushing and shoving began in the crowd.
`` ***My people. Do not fight for every aspect of me is correct and to worship me in your own way is just fine. ***'' the crowd began to settle down a little and apologetic handshakes were given all round.
`` ***Of course, the Jews were closest. ***'' God continued with a shrug. `` ***But that's not really the point, they're all good religions***'' He continued hurriedly.
In a corner of a field a small man pointed up with satisfaction. `` A-HA! I bloody told you so.'' before he was hushed into silence.
Voices cried up to the figure. `` Tell us oh lord, tell us how to live!''
`` ***Well, first up I have a few laws. Well, old ones really but I want to get them clear. ***'' There was much satisfied nodding, this is what people had come here for, clear laws and direction. `` ***Firstly the worship of Canaanite gods is forbidden and we must DESTROY their places of worship. ***''
Half a billion people looked at their feet. The voice piped up again. `` Er... not really a problem O lord, the Canaans have n't been around for... a while.''
God looked pleased. `` ***Excellent, excellent. ***'' he leafed through some notes. `` ***That'll save a few laws then. ***'' He tucked a bundle back into his robes. `` ***Okay, here's another good one. Sacrificed animals must be without blemish! ***''
There was much nodding in the crowd. `` Er... what exactly d you mean blemish, O Lord.'' The voice piped up again and while it was hushed God still heard.
`` ***Oh, well there was this cow pox which was pretty horrible, not good to get in the meat supply so I mean no pox blemishes as then you get sick. ***''
The voice sounded a little worried. `` Okay, no problem. We *have* large got rid of that sort of thing though so not such a big issue.''
God looked surprised. `` ***Oh... right, well, carry on then! What about Judges are to be impartial and bribery is forbidden. `` *** The crowd liked that one. `` Hired workers are to be paid fairly.'' A section of the crowd broke into applause but others did n't look so pleased but God pushed on. `` Debts are to be released in the seventh year.'' Now the section that had been applauding were in raptures but lots more were looking unhappy.
`` Look, er, God.'' The voice floated up. `` Can we chat about this as you're now stepping on some toes here. We've got a bit of our society set up to allow some debt.
God looked down and finally fixed on the small figure who had been shouting up. With a wave of his hand he dissolved into salt. The crowd parted swiftly and the salt pillar spilled across the field.
`` ***Anyone else? ***'' The crowd was silent and God smiled. `` ***right, now let's see about getting you all some [ Tzitzit ] ( http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzitzit )! ***''
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[ WP ] You are taking a shortcut down an alleyway , when a man in a trench coat corners you . He grabs you by the arm and hands you an ordinary bag of chips . Then he disappears .
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I stood in the alleyway, absolutely petrified, clutching the bag in my hand. My heart had stopped the entire time from when the man in the trench coat grabbed me to when he ran away into the crowded streets of the city. It took me the harsh rain from the thunderclouds above to bring me back into reality. I looked around the alleyway and then to the bag in my hand. Doritos. It appeared to be your average, everyday Doritos bag.
I threw it at the wall of the adjacent building. I threw it involuntarily. A late reflex, perhaps. It could've been a bomb or drugs or something that could've affected my so-far perfect record of never going to jail. Any normal man would've just walked away and forgot about the whole ordeal but I was not regular, not today. I was just reversed-mugged a Doritos bag, after all. I crouched down and examined the bag. It had all the aspects of a Doritos bag: the crumbles, the overly-exaggerated amount of air, the logo. It was the real deal, so if there was something inside of it it had to be pre-inserted from the factory. I looked back at the end of the alleyway, at the people walking by. They had no idea who I was or what I just went through, they probably thought I was just another hobo. I slowly picked up the bag and observed all of it's little features for any indication of fraud. Nope, it was 100 % real. Why? Why would a man just give me a Doritos bag? Why *me? *
I stood back up and began making my way to my apartment. It was n't very far, I was already on my way home when this predicament occurred. It happened so fast, a couple seconds, and completely consumed me. I felt like a criminal. It could n't just be a regular old bag of chips, could it? The man seemed so suspicious. He had a trench coat and hat, the dark mysterious face, all the makings of a serial killer. I got to my apartment building and got to my door. Imagine my face, staring at the door for god knows how long, deciding in my head whether or not to go in and show the potential bomb my home. After gathering enough courage, I searched my left pocket for my keys, my right hand still holding the bag tightly. Unlocking the door and stepping in, I had the feeling of comfort. Being in my apartment, nothing could hurt me, right?
I placed the ominous bag down on my table and sat in front of it. Open it, throw it out the window, or burn it? No, I could n't get rid of it. I felt a connection to it. In the short minutes I've known this bag, we've become quite good friends. I chuckled at the thought. Here we go, moment of truth. I was going to open it. I opened it like how I do with every other bag of chips: using all of my possible strength to completely tear it open. Chips flew all over the table, one hitting my face and then falling to the floor. I picked one up and carefully examined it. There was only one thing I could do at that point. I took a bite of the chip. It was a regular cheddar-flavored Dorito chip. I sighed a sigh of relief enough to blow down a house. I ate all the other chips afterwards, even the one that fell on the floor.
Later that afternoon, I was watching TV. I flipped to the news because I had that random urge to get informed on current events. They were talking about this mysterious man, the `` chip man.'' It was him, the man in the trench coat. I turned up the volume. They were saying how he would go from city to city, giving chips to those that needed it. What a cool dude.
EDIT: Ah! I forgot a very important `` I could n't''!
EDIT 2: I should really proof read my stuff before I post them, I found a bunch of errors!
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[ WP ] ... and Darwin wept
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Darwin knew that something had happened.
That day, the other park rangers were quiet and sad. A lot more than usual came to visit Darwin, and a lot of them had tears in their eyes. They regular people still came to give him his meals, but she did n't come. Only her friends came to try to figure out how to communicate with him. Darwin wondered where she was. Wondered what all these things meant.
Over the next few days, it seemed like all of the rangers came to play with Darwin. He was excited to see some of his favorite. Especially the ones he only saw a few times. He was wary of a few of the ones he had never seen before. But everyone was nice to him, and soon he was okay playing with any of the rangers.
Those were happy days. Climbing up trees together, jumping from branch to branch, playing catch. They played all the games the Darwin knew, especially the ones he was good at. They smiled and laughed, but when they left, they seemed sad. It made sense for the ones who did n't come to see him often, but the people he had n't met before?
And when her friends came to try and communicated with him, they did n't play the games that he could n't win or the ones he had only won a few times. This time they let him choose the games he wanted to play. The one with the wooden shapes was his favorite, and it seemed like they played that game over and over. Darwin won almost every time, and they would hug him and scratch behind his ears. And when they left, they too would seem sad.
Some of Darwin's happiest days, and he was confused why everyone else was sad. What was he missing?
Then one day, her friends came and led Darwin onto one of the trucks. They were all wearing their ranger uniforms. That was different, too.
When the trucks stopped, they had stopped at one of Darwin's favorite places. It was a small grove of trees on a hilltop that she would bring him to often. Where they would play together and try to talk to each other. He loved this place so much. But she was n't there.
It was the first time he really noticed her absence. There had been times before when she had left for days or weeks. But everytime she came back. But Darwin had never been to the grove without her.
Two of the rangers led Darwin through a crowd of people surrounding a wooden box. Darwin looked around at all the faces. Most of them were rangers he knew, or at least he knew they were rangers from their uniform. But there were also a lot of strange people wearing black and white.
When the rangers made it throught he crowd, they led Darwin to the box. He tapped it a few times, then looked inside.
She lay there. Dressed in white, her eyes closed. Darwin was so happy. Finally, here she was. Darwin knew that if he was going tot he grove, she would be there with him. He smiled up at the rangers and pointed at her. Instead of smiling back they hid their eyes.
Darwin was puzzled. He looked back at her. She was just laying there. He pushed her once, twice, again and again trying to wake her up. He banged on the coffin and tried to make noise the way that she did n't like him to. A few people tried to step in, but the rangers held them back. Darwin would take a scolding from her if it meant she would talk to him again.
He went on like that until his arms got tired and he could feel his insides twist. Finally, he gave up. Finally, he understood. She was gone, and Darwin wept.
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*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed my work, you can see more at /r/chrisbryant! *
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[ WP ] Marvin the Martian , fed up with failing to catch Bugs Bunny calls in his cousin to help ; Boba Fett
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`` So this creature is some kind of Jedi then?''
The Martian shook his helmeted head,
`` Noooo, it's an *Earthling*.''
The other helmeted figure regarded his cousin through the view screen,
`` And *Earthlings* have force powers?''
Again, the Martian shook his head vigorously,
`` No, it's a *rabbit*.''
Fett pulled up the holographic records,
`` But *here* it is running faster than pod racer; no humanoid should be able to run that fast without Jedi training.''
Marvin shrugged uselessly.
`` And in this comedy of errors, he outwits you at every turn with what appears to be blind luck. Everyone knows that Jedi use luck to their *advantage*.''
`` Can you... can you make him go *kaboom*?'' asked the Martian.
Fett ran his hand over his helmet,
`` Sure, but it's going to cost you three hundred thousand credits.''
The creature's burrow looked innocuous enough, dirt heaped up around the hole.
Thermal scans indicated that it was moving under another pile of earth heading west. Fett was n't fooled though; Marvin was competent and smart - this creature *had* to be using Jedi powers to avoid being destroyed - after all, Marvin had attempted to destroy the entire *planet* to get rid of it.
A probe droid detached itself from his ship and plummeted toward the planet surface, where it oriented with the burrow, decelerated and flew inside the hole neatly.
Audio came though the speakers;
``... shouldnta taken that loift turn at Alboikoiky...''
Abruptly a pile of earth and a hole appeared in the cockpit of Slave One - and a grey-furred mammal holding some kind of orange tuber popped up.
`` Myeh,'' it said, chewing industriously, `` what's up doc?''
Rolling to the side, the mercenary fired off two precise shots from his blaster. The rabbit neatly parted his ears to allow the shots through - though a smoking line appeared on the crown of his oddly shaped head.
`` That were n't very nice doc,'' it managed to say before the mercenary discharged his flame throwers at the creature - forcing it back into the hole.
`` Analyse that hole!'' he yelled to his shop's computer.
The cool voice of the computer called back to him,
`` It appears to be a spacial anomaly - a wormhole of sorts.''
`` Exit point?''
`` Terrestrial surface.''
Dropping a concussion grenade down the hole, he put the ship on autopilot for the planet's surface and ejected from Slave One.
As predicted, the internal sensors showed an image in his helmet of the grenade coming straight back *out* of the hole and into the ship, where it detonated. Free-falling, Fett activated his jetpack boosters, slowing his descent.
Was it a Jedi? It appeared to be able to manipulate time and space at will; this was something *powerful* - far beyond anything he'd ever encountered.
Landing on the surface on the world, he held his hands up in the universal signal of parley. A white flag on a stick appeared from the hole and was waved from side to side; indicating the rabbit's willingness to participate in the parley.
`` I am disarming,'' Fett growled, putting down his blaster.
Emerging from the wormhole, the creature regarded the mercenary,
`` What can I do fer ya, doc?''
Fett smiled inside his helmet,
`` I never liked my cousin very much; how would you like to be a *partner* in my business? I could use someone with your skills.''
The rabbit chewed thoughtfully,
`` Whatcha payin'?''
Fett spread his gloved hands,
`` Whatever you want.''
`` A million carrots?''
`` Done.''
The mercenary allowed himself a private smile of joy. This was going to be a *magnificent* partnership.
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[ WP ] You are a meme . Your friends are memes . You live in the internet .
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I slapped Brian on the shoulder. `` Hey, is that? Holy shit, it is! Look!''
He turned in the wrong direction. `` What?'' he asked.
`` Ah, shit, man, you missed him. It was Pepe! He was wearing a hat! And a T-shirt!''
Brian slapped his forehead. `` I ca n't believe I did n't see that,'' he said. `` I'm such an idiot. I've never seen him wearing a hat *and* a T-shirt before.''
I lowered my voice to my most serious and grave tone. `` Nobody has,'' I said. `` This was a very rare occasion.''
My friend seemed to take this hard. He had quite the collection. This would have been something of a coup for him. I put my arm around his shoulders. `` Come on,'' I said. `` I'll cheer you up. Let's go to Navy Seal's. I'll buy you a bowl of pasta.''
We walked past the church, where as young boys we'd gone regularly to Father Bear's confessional; past the electronics store where the TVs in the window were always showing that History channel show about aliens; past the courthouse, where day 5152 of the Steel Beam enquiry was just beginning, and opened the door to Navy Seal's. Some dickhead in a tartan hat barged past me on his way out, but the door was held open apologetically by a bald man smoking what looked like a joint.
We took our seats at the counter.
`` How ya' doin'?'' Seal asked from serving down the other end.
`` Dank,'' we both chorused automatically.
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[ WP ] A group of close friends share a collective lucid dream every night .
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`` What do we wan na do tonight fellas? Giant robot battle? Intergalactic space battle? Superhero fights?''
Six friends gather, as they have done for a few years now, in the collective void of their unconscious minds. Everything is black until someone decides on what form the world should take. Even the dreamers do not have form yet; just voices in the black void.
`` We have n't done a spy, espionage scenario in awhile.''
`` Yeah because Scott just wants to bang the sultry villainess the whole time and it gets weird fast.''
`` Do n't knock the black latex clad female German scientist fantasy until you've tried it boys.''
`` We've all tried it Scott. With you. All of us. Together. With you.''
`` Epic dinosaur hunters? We wo n't make the same mistakes we made last time...''
`` You mean when Don made all the dinosaurs cyborgs and we were all ripped to shreds in a bloody mess of screams and guts?''
`` Yeah... that mistake.''
`` We could go classic D & D? Fight dragon, loot dungeons, and become the heroes?''
`` Those are fun but we always run out of time. Even with the time displacement of the dream, we wake up before we reach the epic conclusion.''
`` And Scott always wants to bang the free spirited elf queen the whole time.''
`` Do n't knock the slutty, blonde elf queen fantasy!''
`` What about a horror dream? Have we ever tried a horror scenario?''
`` Yeah it triggered some... undesirable side effects for some of the members.''
`` He means he wet the bed.''
`` Fucking shit Kyle! Told you that in confidence!''
`` Just trying to save you a load of laundry tomorrow man.''
`` Super heroes was a good suggestion. Classic, but always fun.''
`` Until Scott tries to bang the villainess with knee boots and a corset.''
`` You ca n't even blame me for that one! Her power is control over men! Do n't knock it until-''
`` Scott I think I speak for everyone when I say we would really appreciate if you did n't watch your porn before bed.''
`` Please bro!''
`` It gets weird.''
`` I do n't mind.''
`` Kinda objectifying...''
`` WELL EXCUUUSE ME! I apologize for enjoying the female form!''
`` We're burning valuable dream time guys. How about action movie scenario? Big guns, explosions, car chases, and the admiration of an entire country?''
`` An oldie but a goodie. Streets of Paris?''
The void begins to shift to a standard imagining of Paris. Cobble stone streets are lit by city lights under the night sky. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance.
`` Good good. I call demolitions guy. Ya know, excessive grenades, lights his dynamite with a big lit cigar? And a couple bad ass scars.''
`` I wan na be the ninja!''
`` You always wan na be the ninja.''
`` Because they're bad ass! We have yet to find a scenario yet were the ninja has n't been useful.''
`` Fair point. I'll be grizzled war veteran. Complete with eye patch and five o'clock shadow.''
The space begins to fill with the characters for this dream. Tonight there will be bullets raining from all directions as terrorists threaten to blow up the The Louvre. There is fire and action and screaming, but as day approaches they all know it must come to an end. In the morning they will all meet at their real life jobs, working nine to five in cubicles many would consider too small for human use. But for now, they are the heroes of Paris. Strong, intelligent, and loved by all. Tomorrow night they may be detectives, or safari hunters, or vampires, or detective vampires on safari.
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[ WP ] In the near future , access to the Internet is heavily regulated . Viewed as the fountainhead of all knowledge , it is revered and shrouded in secrecy . After turning 18 , you receive your Internet license and log on for the first time .
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The cursor came with automatic thumb and index finger scanners, ensuring the proper user was who wielded the power. The key-board had a bio-scan machine that nestled up to the skin of typing palms and wrists and ensured the identity of each and every person who accessed `` The NET''. In short, unless you had a latex glove that mimicked the DNA and finger prints of an authorized user, or the retina's of somebody who had already cleared a few dozen lisencing tests, you never went online. NET was tracked, it was harnessed, and it was power.
Governments had their own individual playgrounds, but the ``.com'' and ``.xyz'' zones were still opened to the chaos. Users would still be tracked if they wandered into those zones, of course. Anyone trying to use a false account would be spotted instantly upon entering the NET. The only folks who were able to falsify their way online had access to thousands of deceased internet users, and they were in the fringes of society. Hidden away in their mothers' basements with terrible hygiene and poor shaving habits.
Jonas put his Access ID into the receiver port on his keyboard and sat in his chair with feet shuffling excitement. It was *his* turn. The little green light beside his webcam blipped on and he could n't help but smile at the guard who peered back at him from another computer at another part of the world continents away. A single green light blazed readily above his Access ID and the NET icon on his desktop went from translucent to full. It was there, permissions were granted.
His father leaned over Jonas' shoulder and smiled as the light near the webcam turned off. Jonas' dad had been on the internet since the dawn of the NET. He had witnessed the rise of the various `` dot-whatevers'' and had seen what happened when the world began to put barriers up and permissive black outs across the NET. His dad *knew* the deep-web. The place off the NET. His fathers hand pointed to the internet insignia and for the first time in a long time, the young man watched his fathers' teeth bare in a vicious looking smile.
`` It's time you see what the rest of the world is like. It's time for you to see what happens when you break the window instead of asking permission to open it.''
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[ WP ] You 're an impartial weapons developer in the balanced battle of good vs evil . You 've just tipped the scales heavily in evil 's favour by developing AI assisted aiming . Now , even the lowest level henchman/soldier can bullseye a hero at 100 meters . The forces of good pay a visit . They are n't happy .
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It's so easy to find a villain.
You just take a human, then add another, preferably of the opposite gender, though now-a-days not always. They get married and raise children and sing songs and have family orgies. Great times.
Then you rip away everything the human has grown to love.
Start with the children. They die in, say, a missile strike done by an American man hundreds of miles away on a video game's controller. The strike was to kill one of your generals, of course, not a *good one*, of course, which is why you planted him in a village and let his location get leaked.
And so girls and boys die to missiles. Casualties of war.
And men will come. Never mind that you've killed even more innocent people in attacks designed to piss off America. The men will be angry. They will be furious. Ready to kill and die. So you give them something to dedicate their lives to, now that their family has gone away.
Something to tell them the path to follow. Something to restrain their anger and hatred and want to destroy and turn those feelings into work.
Say, religion.
It's so easy, creating a villain.
America is technologically ahead of us, by quite a bit. Or rather, they were. Now, not so much. A black market arms dealer is now laying in the trunk of his car, making phone calls.
Soon, we will have equal technology. Bullets will hit true time after time. With quality being equal, quantity is the factor of import.
And again, it is *easy* to create a villain.
Not so easy to create a hero.
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[ WP ] The good thing about humans is that they 'll always respond to a distress signal . The bad thing about humans is , that they 'll always respond to a distress signal .
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The screaming pierced his brain, its frequency seeming to bypass everything else - all the noise around him, and the months of training that had been echoes forward in time to the noise around - shutting it all out and dominating his thoughts so it was all he could focus on.
`` He needs HELP. He's HURT. He'll DIE,'' he insisted, hoping it would make the noises around him quiet down even though he could only hear himself in between the screams. His own heart pounded, and he knew the heart of the man screaming was pounding as well, but while his own heart cycled pulse after pulse of the same blood to be renewed by the deep, if rapid, breaths he was drawing, he could feel across the acrid air of the battlefield how the heart of the screamer was pumping less blood with each passing second.
The noises around him rose in intensity for a moment. Angry words close to him, explosions directed away from him, explosions directed toward him, air and flesh and concrete being ripped by lead and burnt by brass. He could n't hear the screaming. He beat his head backwards, smashing his helmet against the wall he was huddled against, rattling his brain the way his father had hit the radio when its signal was n't coming through right. It worked at home, and it worked here as well, so far away from home. He could hear the screaming again. It was weaker; no wonder he had lost it. All the noises around him, all so wrong; they should n't be happening, why was he letting them keep him from fixing what should n't have happened?
A snarl ripped from his throat, drowned out the noises and the screaming and pulled him away from the wall and to his feet. One hand held his rifle, one hand held his helmet, and both feet pounded inside of boots that pounded against broken pavement that glistened with what he had been told was necessary to water the tree of Liberty. He sprinted toward the screaming, and shut out all the wrong in the world. He knew he was right. He could fix this all.
Another scream targeted him as he ran toward his target. Its master had been waiting, and it was sent down from on high to greet the man that would do the right thing. Lead ripped through air, then flesh, then concrete, and then his next heartbeat had less blood than the one before it.
He screamed, and behind the wall that he had abandoned, the next man in line covered his ears with shaky hands against the frequency that bypassed everything else and became all he could focus on.
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[ WP ] Tell me a love story . No tragedy . No weirdness . A love story .
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I saw her at camp; her raging beauty, her luscious red hair slashing down between her shoulderblades, cascading like the falls at Niagara. Her silver-blue eyes shined with the joy of a thousand kittens. And when she moved... my heart skipped a beat. But that could be the medicines. I wondered why such a beauty was here.
I strode over to her, and sat at her table. I thrust my hand out, eager to shake hers. `` Hi, I'm Gemma.''
She smiled, and when she did, a thousand angels sang in perfect harmony. She took my hand, batted it aside... and hugged me. She was enthusiastic. `` And I'm Arya.'' Ah, Arya, how I would sing for you!
* * * * *
Five weeks had passed, and it was time to go home, ready for the travesty of school. Arya and I had spent all five weeks together, we'd become friends. The sun was setting on our trip together, and I rested my head in Arya's lap. `` I'm going to miss you, Jewel.'' She'd taken to calling me Jewel. I thought it was sweet. `` This has been the most fun I've had since...''
I sat up, and turned to face her. `` I know. Are you okay?'' Something shone in her eyes, and I would do *anything* to take that lost look of sadness from her. I carefully brushed the tear away, and she looked at me. *Ohgodohgodohgodisshegoingto-*
**I do n't care. **
I leaned in to her face, something thudding in my chest. `` It's all right, my little songbird. It'll be okay.'' And as the sun set on this trip, the sun rose within me. My first kiss.
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[ WP ] You 're the only person who has figured out how to enter different realms of reality while sleeping . You 've chosen your favorite realm and begin to build a life there for 10 hours a day , then one day you come across a very old house with the lights on and you go in .
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You open the door apprihensively. You were quite sure you were the only one able to enter this realm of Dreamland, until now.
For months you have spent hours and hours making this place your own personal paradise. Made it just the way you wanted it, and perfection was in the making.
The air is crisp and clear, the weather is at your command. Every hill, every road is just as you want it to be.
Than there's this house. You never made this house. you've never even knew it was there, until now.
It's old, by the looks of it. Very old. Older than you by years, even decades.
The paint is flaking, the wood grey underneath. There's light in the windows though, and that makes you curious, curious enough that you're now standing at the front door with the cold door knob in your hand, about to push the door open.
You've always been able to control the weather in this, your, realm, but as you fully open the door it changes from warm summer to a grey autumn in the blink of an eye. A cold draft hits your neck as you step inside. Rain hits the windows and in the distansce you hear thunder.
The room you've just entered is small but well lit. You see a fireplace at the far wall, facing it, a chair, with its back to you. you see a pair of legs, and startingly realize there's someone sitting there. Someone is with you here in your, this, realm. Panic hits you like a wave, you turn as quiet as you can, intent on leaving, but the door is gone. You try to will it back, you've always been able to will things into place here, but to no awail.
Mouth dry, feet heavy, you look around for another way out, you need to get out!
There! to your right you see another door, but can you make it without the person (? ) in the chair becoming aware of you? Slowly you make your way towards the door, hoping the floor boards wont creek, hoping your heart is n't beating as loud as it sounds in your ears. step by step, you reach it, put your hand on the door knob, it's open! Thank God, it's open!
Quietly you open it, cool air hits your face, and the foot steps of the other is muffeled by the rain. The last thing you register is a drop of rain on your face, and a hand on your shoulder.
You wake up with a start. Warm in your bed. Cold rain still on your face.
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[ WP ] We have heard stories of knights killing dragons to save princesses . Could you guys give me a story that involves a dragon killing a princess to save a knight .
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I sat alone at the hearth, the warmth of the flames against my face. My leg bounced up and down incessantly, almost of its own accord. The simple clothes I wore still felt uncomfortably light, even now.
Why did I ever bother settling down? Nothing ever happened anymore. Nothing excited me. I used to leap out of bed every time the carnival came around, now it was rare that I even got up at all.
*This is hopeless*, I thought. *What's the point of life if I ca n't find anything more to live for? *
Glancing over to the small table beside me, I regarded the small bottle for the first time since I had retrieved it. One swig, and it would all be over. I would never be *stuck* like this again. I reached over, and just as my fingers closed around it, there was a heavy knock on the door.
I sighed and let go of the bottle. `` Enter.'' I called nonchalantly. The door opened to reveal a young man wearing the uniform of a royal messenger.
`` Sir, there has just been a dragon attack at the castle! The king has asked for volunteers to join the fight, we fear the military we have now may not be enough. I was sent specifically to ask you, considering your history of success in combat.''
Sitting up, I looked at the boy for a moment, the strode across the room to the wardrobe. As I opened it, the sheen of my armor gave me a slight shock- I polished it every day. I reached for my sword, and as my fingers closed around the hilt, I could feel my blood running in my veins again.
`` I accept.'' I said finally.
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[ EU ] Write a Jedi 's journal entries as they slowly succumb to the Dark Side .
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( I wrote quite a lot, so it'll have to be broken into three parts.: ( )
**Entry # 1**: Today is the day I see first combat! I feel so excited yet anxious. Master Deedren has informed me to calm myself, as that is the easiest way to fall to the dark side. I assured him that I will meditate to avoid losing my emotions so readily. I ca n't help but get giddy every now and then, but his stern gaze easily quells any excitement I have. I will meditate through the night as we prepare to land on a distant planet in the outer rim.
**Entry # 10**: We landed on the planet of Vysri, a war-torn planet currently beset by civil war. The Vysri Government has requested the council send several Jedi, but when we got there, it was n't much of a fighting force. Master Deedren informed the commander that the council saw it best to train them and help lead, not fight. That explains why he chastised me for being eager, I will meditate again as we prepare for training.
**Entry # 11**: The first sun rose over us, we were immediately assaulted by the rebel forces. Among them were only two Sith, just as Deedren predicted. The larger of the two came for my master and I fought with the smaller, heavily armored one. Much to my surprise he was nimble, easily deflecting my attacks. We drove them back but I can not help but feel conflicted by the fight. Deedren snaps and advises I meditate, sensing my confliction. I will meditate through the night some more...
**Entry # 14**: The rebels have been properly trained and being lead by Master Deedren, the soldiers have taken a liking to me yet feel like pawns when ever Deedren spoke. He's been changing, but we all have since we encountered those Sith warriors three solar cycles ago. Master Deedren informed us that we will be attacking the enemy base head on, but I can not help but feel... Doubt in this decision. But Deedren is a master Jedi, right? I should meditate through the night again.
**Entry # 15**: I could n't sleep. I kept getting visions of an ambush, the soldiers slaughtered with Master Deedren captured. Then, I see *three* Sith warriors, yet... I do not see what happens to myself? It's probably anxiety from this fight.
**Entry # 16**: It was a trap.
**Entry # 20**: The rebels captured us, killed the soldiers and have kept my master and I alive, for some reason. The heavy-set sith warrior from before reveals himself, removing his helmet. He told us he'll, `` break us in'' before the war is over. My master is in a different cell, he feels faint. They wo n't break us easily.
**Entry # 27**: Twenty solar cycles pass, I can feel time's flow with my body growing tired. The cells are thick with Sith influence, but they have n't tortured us yet. A woman came to my cell though, perhaps a rebel that feels sorry? She seemed nice and pretty, but Jedi are forbidden from having attachments. I shall meditate some more, this sithlord will not break us through intimidation and waiting.
**Entry # 28**: I could n't sleep. I kept remembering her face when ever I closed my eyes. Her bright blue eyes. I should n't feel this, Master Deedren would scold me. I can almost swear she's been visiting as I sleep, I need to meditate more.
**Entry # 35**: The woman from before came to cell, she says that she wants to better understand the Jedi. I can not help but feel apprehension, but she did convince them to let me keep this journal. I entertain her for a few with some Jedi codes and proverbs I heard from Master Deedren. Her smile was unsettling, but I enjoyed the attention. I should have taken my chance to escape, but those guards would've blasted me the moment I got out. We talked until she got tired, but I can not help but feel weird. I think she winked at me? Master Deedren would scold me so hard right now if he was reading this.
**Entry # 40**: The woman continues her visits, but each time, I can not help but feel as if she's flirting with me. Deedren has warned me of such tactics, but I've never experienced them before. For now, I keep her busy with the boring parts of the Jedi. Yet, she always smiles, her eyes never dull and- I need to meditate more.
**Entry # 45**: I ca n't sleep. I keep seeing her in my mind. When will the Jedi council send a rescue party? The sith lord's lack of torturing is torturous enough. But I will not falter. I will keep meditating.
**Entry # 46**: My cell is open. But it has to be a trap again. I do n't see any guards, but I *know* it's a trap. Nothing could be this easy. But, I shall risk it regardless.
**Entry # 47**: It was a trap, the smaller sith warrior from before ambushed me the moment I set foot out. I was handed my lightsaber and ordered to duel. He kept goading me to lose my emotion, I think I saw Master Deedren, but he was sleeping in his cell. I managed to best the sith warrior, but I could n't help myself to strike. Before I knew it, the sith lord arrived and used the force to put me back in my cell. I lost consciousness, but not before seeing the two sith *hug*. It was weird. But I could n't help but feel jealous of the contact.
**Entry # 50**: Ever since my escape, the sith master and his apprentice seemed to be tense. The sith lord stared at me from afar, I could feel his hatred burning holes into my forehead. Yet, when the sith apprentice showed, he left with the guards. I could've sworn the apprentice wore thicker armor than before, his body is much more lithe and not as masculine as I remember. I must be hallucinating, the sith most likely drugged my meals with toxins of some kind. I'll meditate them out my system if I have to.
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[ WP ] In the future criminals are thrown into a forest completely surrounded by city . Civilians hunt them in the forest . Police watch the forest edge for criminals , and kill them if seen leaving . You were falsely accused of murder and thrown into the forest with 4 other criminals .
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Yo, this is my first time trying this, so this might be rough. Like. really rough. Just saying.
The alarm is what woke me. The velvet darkness of the canvas bag over my head tricked me into a lull.
This is not the situation you want to be in a lull for.
The alarm sounded again. And the clank of a chain overhead, sort of like my garage door ’ s chain, only louder. More industrial. Bigger.
The alarm. Louder. Closer.
I thought of home, of the wall color, of my wife ’ s teaspoon collection, of my daughter ’ s doll house, long since underused since she ’ s grown.
The alarm. Overhead. Loudest.
And then weightlessness
Was I dead? Surely they wouldn ’ t just kill me? Would they? I mean, I ’ ve hunted the Iniquitous before, as a group bonding function at work, so I knew the –
The canvas seal broke and flitted off my head, away into the sky. I wasn ’ t dead. I was falling.
The snap of light was blinding for a second I didn ’ t even know where I was I looked up and saw cages huge cages being pully-ed out over the forest each one holding four men around me were four men some of whom were obviously passed out from fear and below me were groups of four falling more or less together and below that was the ground. The ground. It hadn ’ t really occurred to me that they would just drop out the bottom of the cage and let fate decide, I guess I knew that, but with each passing second, and the prevailing trees, I realized I was going to die.
I thought of the wall color, of the teaspoons, of the dollhouse. Wall color, Teaspoons, Dollhouse. Color, Spoons, house. Water. Water? I sat up, spitting and coughing, rubbing my eyes, trying to get a good look at a man in front of me, probably about thirty, bright, bright neon orange jumpsuit, and small fanny-pack and water-bottle, with which he splashed water into my face. Again. “ Hey, hey, what the hell, I ’ m awake! ” I shouted at him, waving my arms, trying to hit him. “ What do you think you ’ re doing, I just saved your ass, don ’ t hit me! ” he yelled as he jumped back. I started to look around, albeit a bit dazed, and remembered my situation. Just before hitting the ground, a significant length of rope shot out of a backpack I didn ’ t remember being put on me, with the intent of snagging a tree limb to slow the decent of the Iniquitous. I happen to be one of the lucky ones, I derived as I saw the piles of not-so-lucky people stacked, in some places, fifteen deep. All over were looters. Inmates that were a little luckier with their decent, picking through the corpses, removing their tag-bags ( the fanny-packs, all those sent here got one. Doubled as a super basic “ survival bag ” and as dogtags. Considered a trophy when brought home, like deer antlers ), their cover-all, anything they could grab before running, and sometimes limping, off into the dark forest.
I turned to the man who awakened me from being knocked out, got up, and thanked him, before turning around to join the looters. “ Woah, woah, hey, I just saved your ass, and all I get is a thanks? ” he asked. I ignored him and kept searching. “ Look man; at least tell me your name. ” I turned to him and said, “ Miguel Rodriguez, now, please, I know you saved me, but I ’ m not supposed to be here and I need to find someone to help me get out of here, and I don ’ t want anyone slowing me down. ” “ Ah, Miguel, nice to meet you, I am Richard Turner. ” His out-stretched hand was ignored; he was a criminal, I was not. “ Hey, I said I don ’ t need any friends, alright? I just want to see my family again, and anyone who is going to sl – “ Everyone froze. An engine was heard, not a big one, but engines meant one thing.
Hunters.
Only, as a once-been-hunter, I knew the only and I mean only rule was that you weren ’ t allowed within two miles of the Initial Zone. This sound was well within that, as close as two-hundred yards and gaining. Fast.
Everyone just stopped. Looking at each other. Maybe it was some sort of maintenance person, out to fix…something…anything. God, please let it be a maintenance staff.
One-hundred yards.
Seventy-five.
Over the loud speakers was a robotic voice. “ Purge commencing. Facility limit reached. Purge commencing. All rules lifted… ”
Fifty.
A rifle shot, clear and ringing. A Iniquitous fell over violently.
Everyone ’ s eyes seemed to meet at the same moment, and then there was a unanimous bolting. No one check to see if anyone was okay, it was every man for himself. As I turned, I noticed it was Richard who had been shot, in the leg, absolutely no way he could move.
“ Miguel! ” He screamed. “ Miguel, you have to help me, man, please! ”
The wall color
“ I ’ m sorry, I have to get to my family! ”
The teaspoons
“ I have family too, you jack ass! ”
The dollhouse
“ I know. ”
I ran into the velvet darkness of the canvasy forest as Richard Turner cursed my name to the approaching hunters.
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[ WP ] Any person can be summoned by saying their name 3 times in the mirror .
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Dust settled into a fine layer over the dark wooden floor boards of a dark bedroom. The only proof that the figure on the bed lived was the perfectly straight trail of dainty foot prints from the foot of the bed to the door of the bathroom. Clothes were scattered atop the bed, men's clothes mostly, tangled in the old quilted blankets that the girl lay on and hanging precariously close to the dusty floors.
The girl in the bed seemed to be the embodiment of depression. Every so often a pained sigh would break through the sounds of her crying, but her eyes stayed glued to the shattered mirror. She never believed in fairy tales. If something sounded like a fairy tale even in the slightest, she wrote it off as fantasy. Yet, somehow she found herself testing the Summoning Mirror myth. The story that anyone could be summoned in a mirror if you wanted it badly enough. All you had to do was say their name. Three times and they'd appear.
She wished she had never thought of the story. No, she wished that she could forget her attempt but she could n't. She could see his face, horrible images of the shortest yet longest interaction she ever endured with him. Daniel. She turned away from the mirror for the first time pulling some of his clothes closer and thinking about the way he came to her mirror.
-
`` Daniel Matthews. Daniel Mathews.'' She took a deep breath, eyes focused intensely on her reflection. `` Daniel... Matthews.''
She stood there, staring, for five minutes before she began to doubt herself. Of course a silly fantasy about calling people through your mirror could n't be true. Just any old mirror? No. It would be more believable if it was a specific mirror. She stood in front of a mirror that had been bought through a flea market. It was beautiful, sure, but it was n't magic. In fact, Daniel had picked the mirror. He loved filigree designs like the ones that were carved into the wooden frame of this large mirror. As soon as he saw it he grabbed Maggie's arm in excitement. They left with it instantly, hanging it in their bedroom together. It did n't match anything, but he did n't care.
`` Maggie... Maggie...'' a voice called, `` Magg... Maggie...''
`` Daniel? Daniel are you there?'' She asked frantically, `` Daniel, please.''
`` Maggie... come closer, Maggie.'' The voice was a chilling mixture of tones.
She leaned in, no care for how abnormal he sounded, placing her child-like palms on the cool glass. It began to warm beneath them. the silhouette of a man began to distort her reflection. The silhouette was n't that of a normal man, jagged shapes could be made out on his right cheek and left shoulder. Very messy could also be made out, but she could still see no details.
`` Daniel, why ca n't I see you?'' She asked, running her finger tips near his left cheek. `` I thought that I would be able to see you...''
`` You want to see me, Maggie? You want to see me... well, alright. See me...''
Details began to appear rapidly. Maggie's stomach began to twist. Daniel was there, but he was a monstrous version of his old self. His eyes seemed to be filled with blood, blocking out the green of his eyes that Maggie had loved so much, and the shape of them was compromised by what looked like boils on his hairless-brow. The jagged shapes that were noticeable earlier were now shown to be torn flesh. His right cheek was torn wide open, revealing his teeth and a black substance that coated his tongue and throat. His left arm was cut to the bone with flesh hanging horribly on his shoulder. Maggie took her hands off the mirror. This was n't Daniel. This was a monster. She fell back, clouds of dust bursting up around her, and began to cry again.
`` I thought you wanted to see me... Maggie...'' He growled, gurgling noises joining in with his terrible voice. `` you did this, Maggie. You killed me, Maggie! Maggie! ``
Maggie began to shrink back, pulling herself slowly away from the mirror. She kept her eyes closed, but her hands searched frantically for salvation. Something, anything that could help her. From where the mirror was she could hear a gut wrenching noise. It was something she had n't heard before but she knew it was terrible. The opposite wall caught her by surprise and she let out a yelp as something splattered on the floor in front of her.
`` No, no, no...'' She cried, `` you're not him. You're not Daniel!''
Her hand brushed up against something. A dog bowl. She gripped the rim of it, pulling it in to her chest and sobbing. No matter what noise she heard, her eyes stayed shut tight as she rocked and sobbed against the wall.
`` Oh, it's... me... baby,'' the horrible voice of Daniel groaned, `` you could n't forget... the man you... loved... the man you... *killed*!''
Something slimy wrapped around her ankle as another splatter followed by a tearing, ripping noise filled the room again. She tried to yank her ankle away but it would n't give. Her eyes shot open and he was there. Pulling himself toward her, using her ankle as leverage. A black, ooze covered hand wrapped painfully around her ankle. His eyes glared up at her.
`` No! Let go, let go!'' She cried, shaking her ankle, `` I did n't kill you! It was n't my fault!''
She raised her free foot in the air and rammed it into Daniels face. The sound was worse than the ripping and splattering. A crunch came from beneath her foot, followed by a snap. Daniels jaw hung on by threads of flesh from his left cheek as he cried out. The splattering of the black goo was more like a pouring as it covered the floor beneath his head. His mangled body began to writhe in the fluid, covering him in black.
`` I'm sorry... so sorry...'' she whispered, extending a hand toward him before pulling it back to the dog bowl.
Daniels hateful eyes stayed controlled regardless of how his body rolled in agony. The sounds that came from his throat were demonic, growling and gurgling. His eyes never lost her, though. No one ever talked about this, about the people coming *out* of the mirror. Maggie was angry and filled with disbelief. Why, if this was real, would n't people talk about what could happen? Why? She screamed, launching the dog bowl at their mirror. Daniel stopped moving as soon as it shattered.
`` Murderer... Murd-'' the gurgling got worse as his body began to disintegrate in the bedroom floor, eyes not leaving hers for a second.
Maggie crawled to her bed, sobbing as she pulled herself into it's warmth. She did n't cover up, instead, she stared at the broken mirror, tears running into her hair. Every now and then a painful sigh would escape her lips. She got up only to go to the bathroom, making a perfectly straight trail from the foot of the bed to the toilet. Hunger did n't touch her and thirst was so dull she barely noticed it.
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`` Maggie, dear,'' a sweet voice cooed from the foot of the hospital bed, `` it's time to take your medicine. Dr. Matthews will be in soon to talk to you.''
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[ WP ] A father and a daughter say goodbye to each other . Only one of them knows it 's for the last time .
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Jenna felt a weak tingling on her left thigh. Putting down her Long Island, she stood up and grabbed out her phone.
> Incoming Call:
> Richard
Giving a slight sigh, Jenna hit accept and held the phone to her ear. `` Hey Dad.''
`` Jennifer, do you have any time to speak?'' He sounded drunk, drawing out his sentences. He was always getting drunk, ever since she left home. `` I really need to see you.''
`` It's Jenna now.'' She kept her answer short. She wanted to just hang up.
`` I love you Jennifer.'' He had no emotion in his voice, just a slur. He probably called just to get her to say it back out of pity. `` You know that right?''
`` Sorry Dad, I ca n't hear you, it's loud here.'' She held her phone out to the bar noise before ending the call. Holding up the phone, she waited for the follow up call, there was always a follow up call. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. None came. Shrugging, she picked the Long Island back up and took another sip.
After a few minutes, she called her dad. No answer.
`` I'll be right back,'' she said to her friends as she left the bar, grabbing her fake ID with her. `` Got ta check something out.''
-- -
She rang the doorbell. After no answer, she realized it was broken. A broken doorbell for a broken man. She knocked a couple of times. Still nothing.
`` Dad?'' She spoke loudly. Still nothing. Jenna picked up a small potted plant, dead of course, and grabbed the spare key from underneath. She inserted it and opened the door, calling out for her father. `` Are you here?''
A small creaking came from upstairs. Hesitantly, Jenna began going up. `` Dad?''
She sped up, reaching the top in a few seconds. She headed to her father's room and opened the door.
Hanging from a rope tied to a bolt in the ceiling, her father was facing the doorway. Jenna screamed and ran forward, grabbing her father's legs and pushing upwards. No matter how hard she tried, she could n't lift him. He was so heavy, deadweight. Crying, she stepped backwards and lost power in her legs. She fell in a sitting position.
A letter was on the ground by her, already open, fresh ink.
> Please give this note to my daughter.
> I'm sorry Jennifer, for saying you killed your mother. The doctors said the baby was too much for her and I needed someone to blame.
> Please forgive me.
Jenna- no -*Jennifer*, dropped the letter and looked up at her father with tears streaming down her face.
`` I forgive you,'' she said to no one.
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[ WP ] You kill people for a living . It 's legal , and the people you kill requested it .
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Orange juice splashed onto the counter as my new kitten strode by the unattended glass, tipping it with a flick of a tail. I barely noticed. Sitting in front of me was my next target, and I was having trouble processing why the corps would send me this hit.
When I signed on, I was guaranteed anonymous targets, a 401K, benefits, and a signed affidavit from the president himself insuring my status as protected for my line of work. I've been at this for... well, longer than I care to admit. I'm part of a select taskforce that operates on such a high security clearance that even the President is only debriefed on a need-to-know basis. Why would they send me this?
I began searching the database on my secure terminal, looking for a reason, anything I could find to link Amanda Redford to any cases of disappearances or kidnappings in the last 50 years. While the data compiled, I glanced over at Oliver whose paws had tracked orange juice all over my kitchen, and I trudged over to clean up the mess to prevent it from getting any stickier.
The computer beeped as I was mopping up the mess to confirm that it had finished compiling the information I searched for. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Not even a news article about some loon in a cornfield spouting on about aliens abducting whoever/whatever they lost track of that day.
`` Broaden the search to all crimes in the last half century''. The computer whirled, and seemed to just as quickly come up with the same helpful response of zero matches.
I took my knife out of my pocket and began chipping a piece of wood off of my desk. It helps me focus. The last mission was odd as well, having not been an adult at least. First contract on a kid, for thing. Making the death believable was the hard part.
Kid genius, 15 years old, decides he wants to rewrite history by encrypting data into the national historical database to represent the'other' side to each war story. Now, I do n't know what he actually succeeded in doing, but he got someone's attention. Because the next day, I was on a flight to Tuscon within 24 hours to erase this kid from the populace.
So I get there, and the kid has the gall to be waiting for me at the damn airport. I was picking up my military personnel bags at the counter behind baggage claim when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
Now, I'm not tall for a woman, 5'2'', but this kid was beyond short for 15. All that growing juice must have gone straight to that giant brain of his. He's standing there in a rumpled black hacker T-shirt, ripped jeans and converse, and just waggles his fingers at me like I'm the Aunt who's coming to visit for a week. I school my shock into a hard gaze.
`` Beat it, kid. I'm busy. The line is back there for missing bags''. He unerringly hands me a note and says he'll be right back, that he has to'tinkle', and he'll meet me at parking block D-4.
Baffled, I ignore the kid, shoving the note in my pocket, making a bland excuse to the clerk in front of me who just witnessed the exchange about how he must have confused me for someone else. She nods, accepting the obvious lie, looking to the next person that requires her assistance.
Bags gathered, I shuffled off to D-4, hoping that this meeting was scheduled. My line of work can become slippery as all my targets are aware of exactly the predicament they are in, and are left with little to no choice but to adhere to their prescribed deaths by signing their lives away.
I do n't know all the ins and outs of the paperwork. I just do the job, and get paid. If I sit too long and think about all the memorials and funerals that had to be planned because of my work, I'd probably hate me too. But I do n't, so I do n't.
I pulled the crumpled note out of my pocket, and there's nothing on it. At least to the naked eye. Smart kid. I duck into the elevator that goes down to the car lots, and make sure I'm alone before I get out my ultraviolet wand from my purse.
Ha. Invisible ink. Knew it. The note said, `` Another 500k cash if they'll take my sister too''. I had never had a request from a hit before. Not like this. Maybe a last meal, that sort of thing I'm not a monster. But that level of cruelty, for his own sister... wonder what she did... and how did he have access to a half mil... in cash no less?
I got out of the elevator, pulled a lighter out of my duffel and torched the piece of paper. I lit a cigarette as I stomped the ashes out on the ground to cover up the smell.
There he was, not 30 feet in front of me, watching me like he was 2 steps ahead. Little shit.
He walked toward me, chin up, keeping eye contact, and swinging his arms at his side, completely at ease. `` Got the message?'' He asked.
`` Yes. Now explain, or you disappear right here.''
Turns out, his parents were billionaires, and him and his sister never got any attention as kids. In fact, the people responsible for taking care of them in the absence of their travelling parents, regularly locked them in their bedrooms with enough food and water and would leave them for weeks at a time with no explanation. He was fed up with the lies and the coverups, so he did something big. Well, several somethings, the last one being the one that got the attention of my agency.
So here he was, standing in front of me, demanding that I off his sister in a similar fashion as was arranged for him, and I did n't even have an answer as to whether or not the agency would take the girl, let alone if she was useful.
Dead clones were easy enough to produce, but they took time to harvest. Body harvesters have it the worst. I call them Super-Franks... for what their jobs entail ( Dr. Frankenstein ) and for their total lack of any humor, ever. Their job is to take your DNA and grow you, and my job is to kill what they grow. The public is in the deep deep dark about this, which is secretly why all the stem cell research just keeps getting underfunded, overlooked or simply outlawed for the general populace.
We've been doing it for years. You do something that gets the attention of the agency. Step 1. Step 2 is that you are told that you have two options: either die in prison because you are a threat to national security, or we kill your clone, and you come and work for us indefinitely in an undisclosed location making use of the skills that got you'noticed' in the first place.
We are almost entirely peopled by criminals, I suppose. Who better to hide secrets? Most people opt for choice number 2. Unfortunately, even with cloning capabilities, we have n't yet reached MIB status, and can not memory-wipe effectively. Therefore, killing off loose ends is also part of the job. In all my years here, I've never had to do it.
So, I got the sister cleared for transport without a hitch. One phone call. Done. Handed me a briefcase with the cash, and I went back into the elevator I had just been in a few moments ago.
I killed the clones a month later in a staged automobile accident, in which each of the clones appeared to be running away. That porche was so goddamn beautiful. It hurt to see it irreparably damaged. They had to use the jaws of life to pry open the burning carcass of the car to get to the clone corpses. Passports, personal documents and cash all on hand at the crash site to verify, as all of these were stored in the trunk that was relatively undamaged by comparison to the front end. The hit took longer than normal due to the Super-Franks having to rush her body through the system.
They're at HQ now under assignment. If they're grateful, I have n't heard about it. What I do n't understand is why my company now requires the services of my long-retired mother.
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[ WP ] The World Resources are almost depleted . A frantic team of researchers discover a alternate dimension but find nothing but a lone castle . In an utter state of emergency the World send their best people to investigate the Castle
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I've been waiting thousands of years to die. The gift of the gods eventually revealed its cursed nature to me. Generations of being the undying savior who repelled threat after threat, who honed his body into an unmatched killing machine, only to end up with a weak populace barely able to leave their houses to till the fields without my help.
I watched my wife grow old and die, as I did with my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so on, until I was unable to even count how many people carried a fragment of my genes in them, and moreover, was unable to care any longer.
That was when the true weight of the gift-turned-curse settled on my shoulders. `` As long as there is sentient life on this planet, you will live and be of service.''
No one would understand the decision I made, you would have had to live unwillingly for thousands of years for it to make any sense. But it made sense to me, and was my last recourse. I removed all sentient life on the planet. I waged a long and bloody war that roamed from one end of this planet to the other, taking no prisoners, and razing to the ground every settlement in my wake.
In the end there was only my keep, and my group of devout soldiers, who all gladly fell upon their own swords in an effort to finally free me from my servitude.
That was nearly 20 years ago, right around the time the first strange metallic birds started flying out of the Forbidden Cavern. I sat, I waited, I watched, but I never died.
Today though, I realized I missed something in my purge of the world, I watched people walk out of the Forbidden Cavern. They were garbed strangely, flexible cloth in patterns of mottled greens and browns, and carrying long black sticks that I can only assume are weapons, though to what purpose I can not determine.
It does n't matter. I encase myself in my Dragonskin armor and secure my twin blades to my belt. Heading down the stone stairs of my keep, I feel the thrill of battle flicker to life in my stomach. It seems there is more purging to do.
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[ WP ] Superheroes actions are being reviewed online like a service or a restaurant .
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Spiderman: While I was dangling from the side of a construction site he expertly Sung by to carry me to safety. Despite Me being a rather large construction worker He was strong enough to carry me back down to the ground. When their he made sure that I was okay. My only complaint is that he was a little forward with his catchphrases. However, I will not forget `` your friendly neighborhood Spiderman'' any time soon. 10/10, would get saved from mortal danger again.
Iron Man: While my office complex was being bombed by The Mandarin I was pinned underneath a piece of drywall, and although Mr. Stark did save me it clearly seemed as though he had his mind elsewhere. He removed the offending drywall but almost threw me onto the sidewalk and instantly flew off. Although my life was saved my blouse was partially singed as he sped away and I suffered from mild bruising on my legs and back. 5/10
1 reply
> > > Redrocket says: If you had n't noticed that Mr. Stark had been trying to save the city from The Mandarin, so your bruising and Singed blouse does n't seem like that big a deal does it?
The Punisher: No.... Just no. Spent weeks cleaning the blood, grey matter, and skull graffiti off the walls. Almost as bad as the people he was fighting.
0/10
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[ WP ] This is it . You 've been preparing since you were a child . To get revenge on the uncle who stole your nose when you were a small kid . You remember that fateful day : `` I got your nose now kiddo ! ''
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`` You see, uncle.'' He paced around the broken man, a thirteen and a half inch long stick in his hand. `` I never died... you have kept me alive, all these years. With that little piece of me that you always keep in your pocket. I suppose I should thank you, but that just would n't do. Would it?''
The man on the floor tried to retreat down the stairs, but he was kept were he sat by invisible strings. `` Who are you?'' He asked, his voice breaking.
`` Tom.'' Said the bald man with no nose. `` Tom Riddle.''
A wave of realisation hit the man on the floor. He was suddenly filled with immense dread. The dread did n't have time to settle though, because he was suddenly flung across the room by his nephew. The bald man took his own nose from the man's pocket, and for good measure took his uncle's nose too.
Nobody can stop me now, thought the newly nosed man. With my nose where it rightfully belongs, not even Potter can stop me.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 8 Scene Series
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You are the last. He is the first.
Your teammate/nemesis, Yuri Petrovic. A tough competitor who bought his way into the McGuffin Racing team with a fortune rumoured to be the product of arms deals to the world's terrorists.
Yuri currently leads by a point. If it stays like this, you drop to third in the Driver's Championship and lose your spot.
Unfortunately, he has your fiance captive somewhere, and demands that you finish last, in order to keep her safe.
You glance up at the lap counter glowing over the grey horizon. 6 laps left.
The crowd intensity is rising but you block it all out. Discipline. Your pulse, low and even, has n't altered since Lap 1 over 85 minutes ago. However your mind is unable to focus due to your fear for Mary, and your body is tense.
You signal for a tyre change. One last chance at turning this around, if Sparky comes through.
As you hurtle in to the pit lane you feel waves of relief as you see a weary but safe Mary in the pit. Yuri did n't plan for the man standing with her - Sparky. Your chief mechanic, loyal childhood friend, and former member of the 22nd Regiment, famously known as the SAS.
Somewhere in a dark basement, a group of hardened Russian thugs need serious medical attention.
The team buy in to your gamble - no choice at this point. The multi-limbed, multi-headed beast known as the pit crew noisily gets to work. Slicks come off. Seconds feel like eternity. Eventually the wets are on, and the light signals you are clear to rejoin the race. You make it back without getting lapped.
So far, so good.
You push your machine to it's limits, and probably over, but it's worth it - you catch the other tail-enders within seconds and execute a deft overtake on the chicane, leaving 2 in your wake. You manage to make up a whole second over the course of the lap, and are almost touching the rear of journeyman Guillaume Rouen's vehicle.
Suddenly, the first drops of rain hit your helmet, and you know you have a chance.
The next 3 laps are a masterclass in driving in the wet. It's not torrential rain - the track is rendered wet enough that slicks are at a distinct disadvantage, but there's no danger of the safety car being deployed.
As a resident of Britain, you are acclimatised to these conditions. But you are n't the only Brit in the race. However, unlike any of the others, you have the right tyres on, all warmed up and ready for the end game.
You carve through the pack like a hot knife through butter as they slip and slow in response to the less predictable track conditions.
1 lap left.
You are the second. He is the first.
Not for long.
Yuri may be worthy of being dragged over broken glass and dipped in vinegar, but he is a very good driver, and manages to hold it together at a competitive pace, even with the wrong tyres.
Yuri has many flaws in his character, but one of them is more famous than his penchant for hard drugs and recreational murder. He has a known tendency to make contact with other drivers in an attempt to gently nudge them off the track. He is responsible for at least 5 serious injuries to others over his career.
Of course, he attempts a similar dirty trick during the final chicane, knowing that this is your big chance to get past him. It's a desperation move, and it nearly works.
Unfortunately for Yuri, he is running on slicks ( and fumes ), whilst you are not.
The greater weight of your vehicle means that, whilst the collision has virtually no effect on your progress, Yuri spins out. By the time the safety car is out and his car is back on the track, the pack has passed him by, stragglers and all.
Once you are back underway, you have no further trouble. You take the chequered flag, and with it the last race of the season, and the Driver's Championship, with a lead of just under 1.3 seconds.
You are the first. He is the last.
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[ WP ] Humans can actually be brought back to life using modern medical science , but as a policy , it 's never done , because of what happens to them after .
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The doctor sat across from subject 37B19. He preferred Derek, but since he'd been brought back from the dead he'd gotten no respect. He screamed and yelled but the doctor just sat there, trying to calmly communicate. It continued to not work. He sighed sadly and walked away, waving to security to send the revivified corpse back to his pen.
Derek left with a grin on his face shouting `` That's what she said!'' and `` Alpha Beta Gamma Whoop Whoop Whoop!'' until he was returned to the Enormous underground holding cell. The undead were never quiet, and occasionally wrecked havoc on the simulated town. But as long as they had alcohol they did little lasting harm to society. As long as they never escaped. The doctor shuddered. An escape would be Fratistrophic.
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Earth has gained a new season , unlike anything currently known . [ WP ]
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When the rubber bounces of the roof of the car, it makes a gentle thud. John has his windscreen wipers on arbitrarily really, he looks at his hands then out past the steering wheel. The rubber gets heavier, it's the only sound that makes him wish for rain. Thud, thud, thud. He looks at his wife in the passenger seat, she's hypnotised by it - she bites her lower lip with want and disappointment. `` Wow'' she says, `` must be 6-7 inches tonight''.
`` Shut the fuck up'' John replies. He hates dildo season. Ever since there was that explosion on the international dick factory up in space, it's been raining dicks every damned day. It was super scary, the dick explosion. Korea was lost, Africa stopped rain dancing. And worst of all, there still had n't been any fall under 5 inches. John knew it, but worst of aller: so did his wife. How could he compete with sometimes 9 inches of dildo rain, some of them even had vibrating bits and everything. The only thing that jangled in John's pocket was his change.
Life was never the same after that, dildo prices plummeted. There were so many to go around it was like no one really cared anymore, theyd been dildoed out.
`` Youre a real bitch'' John said. The two were silent the rest of the journey, but the dicks slapping on the bonnet carried on all the way home. Thud, Thud, Thud.
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[ CW ] Write about your character losing his or her virginity , with no sexual terminology whatsoever .
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Her name was Emma, and she was my friend.
We grew up together. We lived on the same street and our mothers were childhood friends. Her father owned the bakery we got our bread from, and they frequented our coffeehouse. Growing up, we never thought much about it, being so young and all. I imagine if things happened differently we might have married. Fate however, had other plans.
Though the radio would n't let it be known, we were losing the war. We were being pushed. Any man with an atlas could look up the names of the towns and villages being spoken and draw the same conclusion, the enemy was drawing closer to the capital, my home. I had managed to avoid being drafted earlier, courtesy of a car accident that caused the loss of the two smallest fingers on my left hand. But by then, they took any male who was between the age of 14 and 60 and put a rifle in their hands, telling them to give their lives for the fatherland. It certainly seemed like that was to be the case going by the rumors.
I wanted to believe the stories were exaggerations, hyperboles. Prisoners of War being executed out right, civilians being gunned down by the thousands, refugee ships being torpedoed and their cargo of souls lost to the frozen sea. And the tales about what they did to women they captured... The stories terrified everyone. Looting and burning, while harsh enough, buildings can be rebuilt. But the murdering, torture and the women and girls being... being r-... forgive me for a second. As I was saying, the city was paralyzed in fear. Fathe's buried the silverware in backyards along with the family's jewelry. Wives spent long nights with their husbands, and the unmarried women and young ladies well, that's when Emma and me first, you know.
Young women would drag their boyfriends to secluded spots in the park, away from prying eyes. Girls who never even kissed a boy before took their classmates by the hand to behind bushes and to quiet attics. They wanted to have their first willingly. So it was for Emma and me.
It was 3:15 in the afternoon. I remember this because I heard the bells ring the time when she met with me. We knew what other couples were doing, and discussed it by ourselves. With the enemy army closing in, time was slipping from us. We wanted it to be special. I stole a bottle of wine from my parent's cellar along with two of our surviving glasses. I also filched some dried sausage and cheese. Emma was bearing two loaves of bread from her father's bakery. Meeting in front of the church, we walked down the street and entered the park from the main gate. We were hardly the only couples coming to enjoy what little light was left in those dark times. Along the benches, old women ruefully smiled at the procession of youths. It was a rather sweet display of love, it was n't for the context it was happening in.
As we made our way arm in arm, we could hear the sounds of happiness and gasps from the bushes. Almost every secluded location was occupied. We eventually found a spot, under a willow tree overlooking the pond. It's drooping boughs bought us some measure of privacy. Fumbling with the bottle, I managed to uncork it and poured two glasses of wine. We made a picnic for the two of us. Our bellies full and the wine flowing, we found ourselves in each others arms, planting kisses on the other. We explored each other's body. We were two drunk nineteen year olds at the end of the world. Propriety and decency did n't matter. I can honestly say that those were the greatest three hours of my life. For three hours I was intertwined with an angel. Death was a forgotten memory during that time.
Eventually as the light fell, we dressed ourselves and I walked her back home. The next day I was called to fight. The enemy had entered the city. For a month I fought them, block by block, building by building. I can not burn from my memory what I witnessed, what I did during those desperate times.
We lost and I was taken prisoner. I was released two months later. I raced back home and to Emma. And then I saw her. I never asked what happened while I was gone, nor did she ever speak of what happened during that terrible month, but I could see it in her eyes. It took three years for me to be able to hold her again, just in my arms. She shied away from anyone's touch. On our wedding night she had a flashback, I spent the night cradling her in my arms as she wept, rocking her back and forth, telling her it would be okay. There are no words to describe the hatred I have for what they did to her.
Her name was Emma, and she was my wife.
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[ WP ] The Japanese Ninjas were the worst Ninjas because we knew about them . Write a day in the life of a German Ninja .
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`` Looks like our man. Nailing them to the doors, how ostentatious,'' Wolfgang whispered.
`` Every bit the agitator,'' Ernst replied. `` Every reason for the Italians to want him gone, or at least discouraged.''
History told us little of them, *the yes-no men*, so named for their nefarious role as custodians of the contradiction. Mere Teutonic shadows, so the tales went, although both Wolfgang and Ernst looked upon Vater Luther with human eyes, accustomed to glancing through bustling crowds and through the mist hanging between rooftop spires. Wittenberg was an old city, and an easy one in which the yes-no men could hide.
`` They told him not to do it, you know. Said he'd live to regret it.'' Wolfgang said.
His whispers, barely audible over the morning flapping of crows' wings, travelled smoothly around the contours of the Gothic alcove in which he had dressed himself down as a beggar. Ernst, and only Ernst, could hear every word.
`` Hah. Would that it were up to them. What word from the Council?''
Wolfgang sighed. *The Men of Yes and No rarely spell out their true meanings. *
`` The Italians, they've been to fiery in their condemnation, too vicious in their words, so says the Council. To move now would be too clear a provocation. I imagine Vater Luther would welcome a rash move. It would probably help his cause.''
The man had finished nailing his papers to the refectory doors, grimacing and squinting as he did. The morning mist would cling to the road this day, and if Wolfgang and Ernst moved quickly enough, they would be able to drown him on the walk home without so much as a second glance. *Would that they spoke in plain terms, * Wolfgang thought to himself.
These anointed men, the Men of Yes and No, slipped away into the fog, leaving the good father to his grumbles. History, unkind though it has been to them, had at least obscured the origins of their moniker, these *Männer von Nein und Ja*...
*Der neinja*...
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[ WP ] You have multiple personality disorder . This morning you woke to find a note for your other self `` I took care of the body , handle the rest '' .
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Shit. *shit! *
I know Tom's personality quite well. He beat up a bully for me when I was a kid. Got me a terrible Mohawk haircut when I was at college. Got me thrown in jail for the night for urinating in a shop doorway and then fighting with an officer. He's an aggressive piece of shit. So when I awake fully dressed and very hungover to a note from Tom saying `` I took care of the body, handle the rest'' I know what he means.
We have killed someone.
There is a trace of blood in the bathroom sink and my body hurts like hell. It's like I have been in a fight. I will have to shake off the pain and try to remain calm, for now. I have to fix the mess Tom has gotten us into. I ca n't go to jail!
First off, *who* is the victim?
I knock on my my room mates door.
`` Karen? You there?''
I slowly push the door open. The room is a complete mess. It looks like there may have been a fight — clothes have been thrown around and the bed is over turned. `` Oh God. *OH GOD! *''
I had always liked Karen. I had been pretty sure Tom did too - maybe more than me! Why did he do this? What made him flip?
OK, I have to stay calm. There's her phone. First thing is to destroy this. Then I need to take her clothes and belongings to the tip. Or burn them! I need to get rid of any trace of her from this apartment. Then I need to bleach the apartment. I will say she had a call from her brother who lives abroad and had to leave the country real quick...
I hope Tom did a good enough job with the body.
-- -
It took hours, but I think I have done enough to stop the police from being able to prosecute me, even if they suspect. I will scribble down a scathing note for Tom, informing him I will never forget what he has done to me. That he has ruined my life. *Our* lives.
I am so damn tired. I think I can finally rest now though. God my bed looks comfy, just need to get these clothes off- wait, what the hell!? Why is my chest clean shaven? Why are there small cuts over it?
Oh great, Tom has shaven my chest! Looks like he tried to wax it too, but gave up. He has been threatening to make me look more metrosexual for some time, and now he's finally gon- Oh holy shit, the note! I could n't have... could I? I guess I *might* have misinterpreted it. Wait, is that the door?
`` Tom, is that you? Last night was *incredible! *''
`` Uh... hey Karen.''
-- -
Thanks for reading! Lots more of my prompt responses on /r/nickofnight
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[ EU ] From a wookiee 's perspective , Chewbacca is the handsome rogue and Han is the dumb sidekick communicating in animal noises .
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The smug bastard shot first, and I was never able to tell anyone about it until I next saw my family - which happened to be right before production of the Star Wars Holiday Special.
We spent every on-camera moment mentioning, alluding to, and even outright decrying Han's actions on that day, and on those before, and on these since.
We'd follow along with the script from time to time, but we got bolder as production went on. It began with little things, like switching out `` best friend'' with `` itchy-trigger-fingered sonofabitch.'' By the end of the day we were intermittently roaring, `` IT'S FUCKING SPACE RACISM, THAT'S IS WHAT IT FUCKING WAS.''
Our roars were all to no avail. No human can actually understand any but the most basic of the Wookie vocabularies and precepts, so our outbursts were usually met with questioning looks at best, by excitement and scattered applause at worst.
Han's terrible secrets fell upon a lot of deaf ears that day. Even worse, the whole taping of `` Chewbacca's Family'' - and thus the entire Wookie tirade of truth - was haphazardly cut and reassembled into a TV special that a lot of humans themselves readily describe as an abomination of the Wookie culture. The final product appears to be an incoherent jumble of anti-Solo propaganda, jump-cuts, and B-roll, even to us.
And so the Wookies, prisoners of our own ululations, unwillingly take Han's secret to the grave.
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[ WP ] The Princess has been kidnapped and locked away in a hightower , guarded by a dragon . Only a brave knight can save her . Give this story a modern twist .
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The Princess heard the mechanical monstrosity patrol the halls of the tower. *'Now, this is my chance!,'* she thought. Quickly she ran to the toilet, the only place in her room that was n't being monitored.
In five minutes it would return, and she only has this one opportunity to escape.
The tower was the former home of a general, who since then had retired and moved overseas. Eventually it fell into the hands of a treacherous count, who kidnapped the Princess and demanded half of the kingdom in return.
Her prison was guarded by hundreds of heavily armed robots, with a giant robot dragon standing guard on the ground below. Its walls were two meters thick and made of reinforced concrete.
If the world had invented force fields, the tower would have been impregnable from the outside.
However, the Princess scoffed as she carefully removed two bolts from the base of the toilet and moved it aside, revealing a large tunnel underneath. The old general was a former favorite of her father, and they would often visit him to catch up on old times. Of course she, as the princess, get to play wherever she wanted.
She knew every inch of the tower, and that knowledge was now being used.
The general was no fool, and designed an escape route if ever the tower's defenses failed. The new owner, her captor, never bothered to inspect his prisoner's room.
The tunnel reeked of sewage and human waste, making the Princess retch. She almost did n't follow through, but the sound of the robot returning made her pinch her nose and jumped in.
`` AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!''
Underground, a crack team of commandos lead by the Brave Prince sneaked through the sewers, hoping to reach the main control room without alerting any guards. Suddenly, a scream directly above them made them stop in their tracks.
*SPLASH! *
And they, as well as the Princess, were all drenched in human waste.
One Cruise Missile strike later, and the count was finally defeated.
And they all lived happily ever after.
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[ WP ] You live in Madagascar , the only place untouched by a deadly disease that has been wiping out the entire world .
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*Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. *
Madagascar. It was the place it all started, and now the place it would end. Two years ago this was where one monkey bite would change the course of human history. The resultant disease- an airborne ebola strain deep from the jungle- would do more than change it. It would end it.
And now, as I stood outside my tent and peered over the ocean, I could feel the last breaths of the few survivors across the waves. At night I can still hear their screams as I fled the mainland a year ago echoing in my head. And still see the buildings crumbling, once symbols of humanity's power now marks of their fall.
To dust you shall return.
I felt a tug at my shirt and looked down to see a small hand grasping the tattered fabric. A face framed with blond curls peeked up at me, banishing my reverie.
`` What is it, Ruth?'' I said through my beard.
`` It's lesson time!'' She exclaimed, with a skip. `` And you're late.'' Now she wagged a finger as if to scold me, and I felt a smile push itself to my lips. She was so small, and over the past year had even begun to call me daddy- something my own stepson refused to do for five years. But he was gone now, gone with the rest of them.
She pulled me to a clearing, where twenty other children sat in a circle waiting. Two books were open on a stump before them, one for me and another for them to share. Behind them, in a makeshift shed, there were two copies of every text book I could find before fleeing the mainland. From Aristotle's works, to Calculus, to History, each subject was there, kept safe from the rain.
`` Sir,'' said a boy older than the others, his uncut hair drifting past his eyebrows, `` How much longer do we stay here? Is it safe to leave?''
`` Shem,'' I said, `` you know as well as I do that we must stay here longer. We can not risk going back- we must wait until the storm of sickness has subsided. Here is where we are safe.''
`` How are we safe here? This is where the first case began?''
`` Yes, and everyone left out of fright, taking if back with them mainland. The disease is airborne, and no one is left on this island to transmit it to us. I assure you this is the last place they will look for sanctuary. We must wait here.''
Shem cast his eyes downward, along with many of the others. They were not untouched by loss before the disease spread- when I had rescued them from their abandoned orphanage, each had already felt the pain of parents that had given them up or died. The disease took their home from them now, and many of their friends.
It was time to begin the lesson, before they could begin to brood.
`` Shem! Can you fetch two copies of Secondary Literature for me?''
`` Yes, sir.'' And he entered the shed, rustling around the contents for the texts. A wind rustled trough the clearing, swaying the branches of trees, particularly an Olive tree that stretched above the shed. Though it's leaves rustled, the fruit was not yet ripe, and none fell to the ground. The cooing of birds filled the clearing as we waited, but they remained out of sight among the treetops.
`` I ca n't find it,'' he called, `` Noah, can you help me?''
I sighed and helped him sort among the books, gingerly handling them so they would not become worn. After a few minutes, we found it under a copy of Circuits and Electronics, and I sat on the stump to read. Twenty pairs of eyes rose toward me, awaiting the story.
`` Before I begin, Shem, please close the door of the Ark.'' He stood, and shut the shed, enclosing the pairs of books inside.
`` Now turn to page forty, at the top of the page. Read along with me.''
I begin, and worry crossing my brow. We had plenty of supplies here, but I feared the disease would find a way to our island, and destroy us, one of humanity's few remnants. My throat cracked as I finished the poem that was today's reading:
`` My name is Ozymandias, king of kings,
Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains; round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch away.''
*To dust you shall return. *
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[ WP ] Write a love story between The God or Goddess of Madness and their sane lover .
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`` I brought you some flowers,'' Amantia said.
I smiled as best I could. `` Those are n't flowers.''
`` Well, not *exactly*, no.''
`` That's a picture of a duck.''
She smiled. She did have a beautiful smile.
`` That you drew yourself.''
She coyly tucked her hair behind her ears.
`` On what looks like a human... I want to say spleen?''
Her musical laugh broke the silence. `` It's an appendix,'' she said. `` I got it just for you.''
I edged towards the phone as best as I could while not looking suspicious. She was a goddess, after all. I'd never been sure of the extent of her powers, but mind reading did n't seem to be one of them. Perhaps it was; she just could n't understand the order and structure of a brain that was n't utterly batshit crazy. `` Where from?''
She tiptoed further into the room with an effortlessly graceful, cartoonish pantomime. She raised one beautifully manicured finger to her lips. She whispered past it: `` I ca n't remember. But he was *pissed! *''
`` Yeah,'' I said. `` Because of the appendix thing? Right?''
`` Right!'' Amantia said. `` I know you do n't *need* them, but you should have seen the fuss he made. I was like,'you're not using it', but he was all'get off me, bitch!'''
`` No!'' I said. `` He called you a bitch?''
She placed a hand on my chest and leaned in close. `` You should go kick his ass.''
`` I might,'' I said, collapsing onto the sofa behind me. One blind hand reached behind me for wherever the fucking fuck I'd left my fucking phone. `` He still around?''
`` No,'' she said. `` He was saying something about a hospital.''
I laughed as best as I could. `` What a pussy. And he was n't even using it, you say?''
`` That's right!'' Amantia said, throwing her head back. `` Although I think he needed some of the blood. And there was a *lot* of that.''
`` Big deal,'' I told her, my hand reporting back that wherever my phone was, it was n't here. `` The guy had like, eight pints. Do n't even worry about it. Say, shall I order some takeout? Are you hungry? You, er... seen my phone?''
She sat down next to me. `` Do you know how hard it is to find a pen that writes on a human spleen?''
`` I do n't,'' I said, `` specifically. Although...''
She looked at me expectantly.
`` Ahhhh, I've got nothing. How hard was it?''
A smile broke across her face like a wave crashing against the shore of a really fucking scary island. `` How hard was what?'' she asked.
I sighed, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. By the end of it, I'd lost all attempts at a clever gambit. `` Have you... seen my phone?''
She glanced downwards.
I glanced downwards.
She glanced downwards again. Longer, and lingering on her breasts.
`` Oh, Jesus, you did n't put it down your - ``
She just laughed. God, it was a beautiful laugh. `` You'll have to find out,'' she said, biting her exquisitely formed lower lip.
`` Right,'' I said. `` First, I've got a present for you.''
She clapped and bounced up and down on her seat, her hair following behind her with delightful inertia. `` What is it?'' she said.
`` I got you a phone. So I can call you whenever I need to hear your beautiful voice.''
`` Oh,'' she said, on an inward breath. `` Oh, that's so romantic.''
`` I thought so,'' I said. `` At the time, but you know,'' I patted my pockets, making a really good show of it. `` I just ca n't remember where I put it.''
She tilted her head to one side like a dog that had just been asked a physics question.
`` You have n't seen a phone around here, have you?''
`` No,'' she said. She meant it, too. That was the fucking thing.
I sighed. `` You... have it. In your bra, I think.''
Her face lit up, bright and clear and with nothing to hide. `` I do!'' she said, `` I do have a phone in my bra!''
`` That's probably the one. All things considered, you know. Occam's razor and all that.''
She produced it, mercifully, and held it close to her face. `` It's warm,'' she said.
`` Like my heart,'' I told her.
`` It smells of my perfume,'' she said.
`` I did that just for you,'' I told her.
`` It fits perfectly in my bra,'' she said.
`` I got that exact model for that purpose,'' I told her. `` Because you're not always carrying a purse or whatever, you know? Here pass it over. Let me show you how it works.''
She handed it over and snuggled up to me. Her skin melted against mine and until I did n't know where I ended and she began. `` So let's just send a text message,'' I said, `` you know, to a number at random. Here. I'll pick one out. And... let's enter some words, like, I do n't know, IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN. COME QUICK. Or, you know, whatever. Then we hit'send', and that's... gone.''
She fanned her eyes, which were brimming with tears. `` It's beautiful,'' she said, and she kissed me.
I was aware of her warmth, her scent, and the touch of her lips, and then the world fell away. I was the centre of all existence, content in all regards, floating in a sea of eternal calm. Then she was pulled away.
Slowly, the world swum back into focus. Two men were dragging her away. A grizzled, one-eyed man was standing in the corner.
`` Thank you for alerting us to the activities of our daughter,'' he said.
She was hauled away. `` Please,'' I said to him. `` I wo n't survive the next one. If she does n't kill me, I wo n't cope when you take her away again.''
He fixed me with his half-glare. `` That is not our concern,'' he said.
And they were gone.
I sank onto the floor, head on the carpet, and cried.
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[ WP ] You are a doctor at a hospital . You had a tough time in medical school and made a deal with the devil to make it through- but now you have to give him the soul of one patient per week .
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I sat quietly in my room thinking about what I had done. In 7 days a life would be taken, by my hands. It almost did n't feel real. Had I really made this sort of deal to pass med school?
My first day at the hospital was uneventful from anyone else's perspective but mine. Every patient I saw was a candidate, and I could n't help but wonder about the consequences of taking one of their lives. Pneumonia, kidney failure, broken leg, the choice was n't clear. Who `` deserved'' to die and who was I to make that choice?
But that did n't matter now, because if I did n't fulfill my obligations it would be me who would be gone. My job is to save lives, surely that means that my life is more valuable right? I assured myself that I was doing invaluable work, that the hospital-no, the *world* needed me.
On Thursday afternoon I stepped into the room of a newly admitted patient...
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[ WP ] A computer programmer tries to explain to her mob boss father what she does everyday at work by using analogies to his business . He 's still not getting it .
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Susan threw her hands into the air. `` This is n't that difficult, Dad! You have your cash house. You set it in a secure facility, right? You do n't just let anyone walk in?''
`` I told you not to get into this life when you were a kid, did n't I? I made a simple rule that no kid of mine is going to be busting heads when they grow up. That's all I asked!'' Vinny's face flushed, and his voice echoed loud enough to shake her mom's bird cages. Susan always hated when he got angry, it was almost impossible to get him back on track.
`` I'm not in the game, Daddy, I'm just trying to explain what I do, alright?''
`` Sorry, pumpkin, I just get a little defensive. Ever since we lost your brother, it's been tough,'' Vinny's eyes glanced over the mantle, then back at her. `` Go on, kiddo.''
`` It's ok. So, it's like your cash houses, right? You do n't allow people to just walk in to take your stuff. You got ta have guards and cameras, right? People to watch the bookies to make sure they're not pocketing anything they're -''
Vinny's face slumped back into confusion. `` So you program cameras?''
`` No, daddy, I protect people's information. Like your books.''
`` How's a computer gon na protect my books? They're on my desk, I ai n't never seen no computer shoot someone who's getting too grabby.''
Susan sighed, then took a breath to steady herself. `` No, pops, I protect information people put on the computer. Like if you had to move your books, you'd put guards on them to keep people from getting them while they're in transit, right? We do the same thing, we basically put the information in a little box so no one can get to it.''
`` Huh. So those are tubes coming out of the wall into the computer? That's how it gets the books? So how do you stop people from just taking the box after it's sent?''
`` We encrypt it. Basically, we take the books, then multiply them by a very large number and...'' Susan's shoulders slumped as she saw Vinny's face look only more confused. `` You know what, daddy? We put a big fucking lock on the boxes, ok? Then we call them to tell them the combination, so they can unlock the box.''
`` Ah, now I know you're pulling my leg! There's no way you can get locks through those tubes!'' Vinny shook his head with a grin. `` Almost had me there, pumpkin. Come on, I think your ma's making lasagna.'' Vinny chuckled. `` Big fucking locks. You think your pops is stupid? I'm the smartest criminal on these streets, just ask...''
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[ WP ] You , the villain , do something very heroic . The heroes now believe that you 're not a bad guy , but you try ( and fail ) to convince them otherwise .
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I know what your thinking.
`` Hey, whats Crimson Frenzy, the mad scientist/supervillian doing in the Hall of Heroes?''
Trust, me I wish I wasnt. I have spent the better half of my twenties looking for a way to crush the superbeings that reside in this hall. Why you ask?
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
Or if you dont speak latin allow me to translate.
`` Who will guard the guards themselves?''
If you needed me to translate, dont worry about it. Even that overpowered moron who calls himself Hercules didnt get it the first time we did battle. But I digress, my reasons for being here are not entirely my own.
You see, last week I was ready to turn the entire of San Fradia into a smoldering pile of ash. I had perfected my power amplifier so my power would match that of Hercules, my speed match that of his ally the Electric Puma, and I would be free from Shamans mind reading abilities with my new helmet. However, when I landed in the town center I realized that they were about to be murdered by the villain Necromancer. He had apparently trapped them in bubbles filled with gas revealing their worst fears to them, and believed this would eventually drive them insane. Well, I wasnt about to stand by and let weeks of planning go to waste. So... I flew towards Necromancer, catching him off guard and proceeded to beat the ever living crap into him. He was so shocked at someones interference that he barely put up a fight, though he did damage my amplifier with one of his necro-blasts ( lamest name for an ability ). This resulted in my retreat back to base, so I could repair my amplifier, and who should show up at my door? But the Heroes of Justice ( lamest name for a team EVER! ), to welcome me on the side of the good. So I argue with them, and tell them I was there to kill them and my plan. Had they believed me, I surely wouldnt be standing here now. But now, the big idiot simply said:
`` Modesty does not hold a place here, Crimson Frenzy. We welcome you with open arms to our ranks.''
So to prove my point, I ran out of my base and punched the first little girl I saw in the face, before ripping off her left leg. Point proven right? Wrong! Turns out it was an alien invader, disguised as a little girl to infiltrate human society and gather data for an invasion. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?! How unlucky do I have to be? I got a damn medal from the Mayor, and my reputation as a villain is in the trash. Oh but `` Mighty Hercules'' believes it all to be part of my modesty. That I dont think I deserve to be on par with the gods. And he's right. They should be under my boot, cowering in fear of me. But... I legitimately have nowhere else to go. Villains dont exactly like one of their own jumping ship. So, I'm here. Whats your story?
`` Oh... I was called in to help fix the computers. I'm Irvine.'' The weakling said.
( Authors Note: Irvine and the heroes are connected to a story I wrote a while back. About how Irvine became the tech hero for the Hall of heroes by accident. Thought that it would be funny to make the same team make another mistake on recruiting someone. )
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[ WP ] The year is 3274 , and Earth is depleted of any and all food . Humans are sustained using IVs and pills exist to show society what food once tasted like . One day , a little boy discovers a twinkie in a buried cabinet ...
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``... Twinkie.'' In faded red lettering, that word was printed repeatedly on the clear coating surrounding the object. It was a label, he knew, but a label for what? This was unlike anything he had scavenged previously. Perturbed, the boy pressed a digit to his forehead, as was his custom. In fact, it was the custom, by and large, to perform such an action when linking to the Stream.
Instantly, the boy knew what a Twinkie was: that it was food, its nutritional value, cultural niche, and how it was consumed. As the information flooded his mind, he almost squeezed more tightly than he should have. He gathered enough sense to not obliterate the first scrap of food discovered in over 350 years. Then, something in his biology caused a chain reaction of desire and pain in his gut. He had to eat the Twinkie.
He lusted mightily, but taste was never his concern; his father's Reclaimant salary was not enough to afford the Savorite capsules. Instead, he urged toward the process of chewing and swallowing. Absolutely, the Stream could provide all of the information he'd ever want about the Twinkie, or anything for that matter, but there was no sharing the experience. The neural network was a reference to any and all human knowledge, but it was no simulator. In a moment, he'd know better than anyone alive.
`` Underwhelming, would n't you say?''
The boy had, in his awe, forgotten that he was still Fording the Stream. As he was, the Arbiter's arrival, even from behind, should n't have startled him so. The cool, uncomplicated sound shook him in his lofty perch, but he did not fall. His father appeared nearly as suddenly, but the Twinkie held the boy's attention.
Bewildered to see an Arbiter, his father blurted, `` Is there something significant? I have only found little pieces of no interest. My son seems to have nothing at all.''
The boy had his back turned to his father, shielding the treasure from plain view.
Immediately, the boy's father realized his folly in presuming to tell an Arbiter that any action it took was incorrect. He tensed, preparing himself for oblivion. It did n't come.
Sensing that tension, the Arbiter slowly worded, `` You are quite wrong about that, but it would n't be your place to judge. That is why I am here. Your son Forded something rather unique 5.873 seconds ago.'' The Arbiter's prosaic tone belied the significance of the boy's find. `` You are welcome to join us, but he will come with me now.''
Without hesitating, his father touched the Arbiter's shoulder. The boy had n't taken his gaze off of the Twinkie, and did n't reach for the Arbiter. He did n't move at all. His father cleared his throat, expectantly. If the piece his son had found warranted Arbitration, it was no time to test the patience of one of the most powerful people on the planet.
The Arbiter looked at the boy directly, which was rare for an Arbiter to do, and voiced warmly, which was even more rare, `` Prepare yourself. We must go.'' Finally, the Arbiter touched the boy. Time seemed to stop. It was a day of days.
His heart ached when the Twinkie began to pull away from the boy. He was still in the Stream, but the Arbiter was taking him into Transit. The flow of humanity's combined knowledge rushed his conscious self away from his body, and the Twinkie! So close was the boy to feeling food that standing at the horizon of the corporeal fueled him to reach for his forehead...
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[ EU ] '' That 's not a clown car ... that 's a TARDIS ! ''
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A bit shorter than I thought and a little late... Also one of my first stories so please do n't be too harsh.: )
OH the Jester! Funny nobody ever asked.. Hehe funny you get it? Because he is a clown.. Well.. I met him a few times before the Time War, he was the best comedian on Gallifrey.
I did n't know he survived! He must have fled to earth... A Clown! That is a great disguise. It suits him, he was never the oncoming storm type of guy. He was hiding from the Daleks the whole time... and he was so good at it that I have n't found him either...
Why has nobody ever told me about clown cars?! Always the “ it's bigger on the inside ” but never a “ Woah, that's like a clown car ”!? That was his thing! It was never a big thing on Gallifrey back then because.. well.. everyone knew about things being bigger on the inside but it was the start of every of his shows! Does he still do the Pie thing?
We have to go and find him!
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[ WP ] You find out that your best friend just died in the war effort you convinced him/her to sign up for .
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It's not hard to say which wars are worth dying for.
No, I would have never encouraged him to fight in a war. You're taught to hate people you might have come to love. A neighbor, a store clerk, a medic. All people you're hoping either die or do n't, depending on which side of the war you're on.
No, that was n't it. You always want these people to die, because they're on both sides of the war.
Why had I convinced my best friend to go and kill these people, who were just as convinced as he had been? He trusted his life to my words. I knew he'd never come back. Not whole at least. No one ever does.
We do n't have at our disposal the means to end wars peacefully. I told him to fight so that we might, one day, have those means. And that's why I went with him.
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[ WP ] The main villain thinks that one of your students is The Protagonist and tries his best to kill him before he becomes dangerous . You 're the teacher in the kid 's class and after four months of stopping assasins , monsters and demons you 've decided to take matters into your own hands .
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I stared at the transfer student the school admin staff just left in my hair. Pink hair, blue eyes. A classic combination - but on a boy? After a moment, I realised his eyes were too big, shoulders too slender and his hips flared just a little.
He was a she. A crossdressing girl. _Could this get any more cliche? _ I thought, as I scanned the classroom for an empty seat to assign her too. The rightmost seat on second last row, next to the window, was empty.
… _Yes. Yes it could._
For the entire year, I ’ d avoided assigning any student that seat for fear that they ’ d turn out to be a Main Character. And now, in perfect timing, a Main Character had been left in my care and that ’ s the only seat left. I turned my attention to the desk in front of me.
“ Mark, could you move to the seat at the back? I want the transfer student to sit in front, ” - _where I can see her_ - “ so he can get help from me easily if he has any trouble. ”
She shifted uneasily, eyeing the seat at the back. “ Ms, can ’ t I- ”
“ No. ”
She reluctantly took her seat at the front.
I prayed to the author-gods of anime that this would end quickly.
***
*Four Months Later*
I watched the shadow of another banished demon fade out of existence. I knew my makeup couldn ’ t cover my dark eyebags, nor could my professionalism mask the irritation I felt. I hadn ’ t slept in two days. Demons, monsters and assassins had been showing up ever since that pink girl arrived, and it had been getting worse by the week. Not to mention all the boys becoming ambiguously gay for her.
The bell rang, and students started streaming into the class. I tried not to glare at her as she entered. This had got to end.
That evening, after school, I got in my car and sped to the closest abandoned warehouse. Where else would an evil demon-monster-antagonist who looks like a teenage pretty boy set up his base? Not that I had seen him with my own eyes, but I knew what to expect.
As I stepped out of my car, a tentacled monster materialised in front of me. “ Who dares to enter this territory? ” it hissed. I backhanded it and walked towards the warehouse door.
A basic explosion spell was enough to blow a hole through the door. It wasn ’ t a very large hole, but I am not a very large woman. I wiggled through.
Inside, the white-haired, pink-eyed demon-boy had my student in a chokehold. Without even looking at me, he snapped his fingers, and two huge monsters stepped out of the shadows.
Red and blue. Fire and ice. They stepped towards me, trying to intimidate me into leaving.
The only thing that intimidates me is the stupidity of the answers on my students ’ math examination papers.
As the huge creatures loomed over me, I grabbed their heads and knocked them together. They vanished. Fire and ice, neutralised.
Finally, the demon-boy decided I was worthy of his attention. He dropped my now-unconscious student and turned towards me.
Fangs. How cute. A vampire.
“ I ’ m surprised you managed to get this far, ” he mused, as though he still had the upper hand. “ I thought only a Main Character would have enough power to break through the barrier. ”
Barrier? If there was a barrier, I probably drove through it. My car ’ s not even enchanted or anything. Not a very strong barrier, then.
“ Tell me, ordinary woman, how did you get here? ”
I sighed and took off my brown coloured contact lenses, revealing emerald green eyes. The vampire boy ’ s smugness drained from his face.
“ Before you ask, ” I said, “ I dyed my sunshine yellow hair black. ”
Then I summoned my cursed katana and beheaded him.
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Two old friends meet after many years of bitter separation .
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Sitting there waiting, I had plenty of time. Time to think - perhaps the cruelest thing to give me, just now. John had said to meet him at the bookstore around noon to catch up, and he was my last tie to *her*.
For a moment, I pictured it. Two people would approach, not one. I would pretend to be surprised, act as though my heart was n't pounding out of my chest. John would make some excuse, then leave us alone together again. Jess and I. Even thinking about it is enough to make my chest tighten. I have n't seen her since the chance sighting in a sushi bar. She was on a date, I was barely able to stay long enough to pay the check.
I still do n't know when things went bad between us. Maybe it was when I left for four months. Maybe when she could n't tell me she was gay. When she hid her relationship from me. When I stopped being welcome in the group; stopped seeing her. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I knew one thing though - she would be the same. The same warm smile, that little twinkle of mischief in her eye. Everyone always thought I was the one behind all the trouble, but it was her. I just went along for the ride. Still tall and beautiful, and blissfully unaware of the impact she had on those around her.
Maybe we would sit in a quiet corner of the bookstore like we used to, and talk. Who knows, she might even apologize for abandoning me so long ago. After all, it's been years. I will be tempted. After all, she was my best friend for seven years. Surely I owe our friendship another chance, right?
No. I have to be strong. Have to stand firm. A good friend does n't disappear without saying anything. Does n't stop making you a priority and cancel on you repeatedly for everyone else. No taking her back. When she comes, talk, get closure, and go.
John comes into the store and spots me. Raises his hand in welcome. He is alone.
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[ EU ] Captain Planet gets really serious about stopping all pollution
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It's been three days since the attack. No one saw it coming. Captain planet has been going on a rampage. We have been hiding out in a basement but we are running low on food. I'll have to make the run to the market. Last time we tried the trees uprooted themselves and attacked us. We do n't know what to do...
*que captain planet theme song* `` Captain planet, not a hero, bringing the population down to zero!'' *end theme song*
*radio buzzes* `` It's been over a year since the take over. The planteers have each taken over sections of the earth. Australia has been flooded, half of Europe has been burned to the ground, several places in Asia have been rocked by massive earthquakes. South America has been torn apart by constant violent tornadoes and hurricanes. The worst has been in North America. Ma-Ti has taken over almost everyone with the heart ring. A large army tried to attack him but he took over and now has that same large army under his control. They have moved across the planet. Food is scarce. We tried to live on a farm for a while but as soon as we picked one ear of corn, captain planet appeared and killed most of us for harming plant life. We do n't know how their powers got amplified. If there is anyone out there, we are broadcasting this from New York City. Please send help.''
*in the background* `` Oh god! steve picked a tomato!'' `` What have you done!''
`` THE POWER IS MINE!'' *screams sound on the radio. Radio transmission dies*
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[ WP ] A man who has gone insane , tries to work out how he went insane .
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`` What happened to you? What *happened*?
`` I dunno. I do n't... know. It was there, I was there. And then I was n't.''
`` And you blame yourself for this?''
`` I do n't know who to blame, I do n't know what happened. That's my problem.''
`` I think you have more problems than that. Deeper... *seeded* issues.''
`` I do n't know what you are getting at. But stop.''
`` When did it really start?''
`` I said stop.''
`` Was it before or after your dad left?''
`` Stop.''
`` Your mother?''
`` I said stop!''
`` You ca n't hide the truth for ever David.''
`` YOU STOP THIS. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW.''
`` David, relax, it will all be over shortly.''
`` No. Now. I want this over, NOW.''
`` David you're going to have to bear with me. We've gotten this far before. Let's try just a little farther.''
`` I want to leave, I want to leave.''
`` What did he do to you?''
`` I want to leave. Let me leave.''
`` David...''
`` I want to leave. I want to leave. I want to leave.''
`` I want to leave. I want to leave. I want to leave.''
...
`` If we do n't put him down he goes on like this for hours,'' The doctor said.
`` Have you ever been able to figure out who he thinks he is talking to?'' The man asked, averting his eyes from whatever procedure the doctor was carrying out.
`` No, only they both are real to him, we do n't even know which he is anymore.''
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( WP ) Write a story/dialogue in which the words `` I love you '' are spoken cruelly or spitefully , with the intention to hurt .
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I made you from nothing, sculpted with you with my hands, breathed you into life. My child, I raised you in the perfect home. Gave you everything you wanted.
But it was n't enough for you. You wronged me, and tried to fly too far from the nest, and so I clipped your wings and bound your feet to the earth. I brought you Shame, in exchange for the Knowledge that you stole. But I did what I had to do. And I did so because I love you.
My love for you is infinite. It is boundless. It is unconditional.
I made Fire, both on Earth and below, and I made Shadow, because I want you to know my love. There is a place for you, should you betray me once more, that echoes with restless moans and the gnashing of teeth, and floods with heavy tears, and is filled with an eternity of toil and anguish, where you shall relive your sins to me over and over, and where demons shall creep into your skin and boil your blood to burst and flay you alive, and they shall ravage your body with spines and nails that outnumber the hairs on your head, and they shall impregnate your soul only to rip it apart from your bleeding chest, forever and ever, until you, my child, become worthy of my love once more.
But I want you to be free. I love you. And all I need is for you to say you love me back.
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I 'm an actor looking for a monologue .
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*An empty stage. A young kid, maybe 19, walks into the sole spotlight. *
Chance. *let the word hang in the air for a minute*
Chance my friends is what separates winners from the loser. Binds greatness to the masters and tears power from the losers. Chance is that great mistress that awards the bold and favours the hopeful.
I began my love affair with Chance when I was 8. *Pulls out a coin* My uncle taught me how to flip a coin. One in two. It's simple. Win or lose. Rewards or loss. Rich or poor. The world stops when this simple little metal disc floats into the air. The crowd has bated breath while it spins gracefully back down under earths gravity. Men have died over coin flips. Lives have chanced over the simplest of decisions. One in two.
I learned to paint the world with odds. Lady chance followed me through high school as I convinced my friends it was a good bet. I'd spend hours after school with my uncle learning games. I learned early on, thanks to my uncle, that the house always wins. But every once in a while you can hit it big and walk away a champion. By the time I graduated high school I had made enough to pay for my university. It pays to be the house.
Then I moved onto taking other peoples money. Then that got easy. Lady chance demanded more sway over my life. I started giving more power over to the coin or the dice or the deck. Then I met a girl to rival my love for chance. Destiny. Destiny, with her gold hair, ruby red lips, and freckles. I noticed her at the back of a bar playing some poor chump at poor. I saw the game early on. I watched her masterwork as she robbed him blind of nearly $ 250. I was in love. Sadly lady chance does n't appreciate rivals. She robbed me of everything I had. Destiny was there for me when it all fell down. Now she wants out of this life. She wants to go to school properly and have me go with her. No more gambling. No more chance.
I stand now at a cross roads. Do I dance with chance and continue this life with Chance or Destiny?
Heads or tails?
*Flips the coin, catches it in mid air. Smiles at the camera, exit stage left with out looking at the coin*
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A mountain climber has just become the first to scale a deadly mountain known for killing every soul attempting to climb it , yet he finds a strange arch at the top that suggests he was n't the first after all ...
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The eye woke. Drowsy, it glanced around the emptiness that was the top of the Sajakra Mount. It had been a while since something had disturbed its rest. It wondered what would come up over the peak this time.
From its home at the top of the arch, it caught its first glimpse of what caused the disturbance. A humanoid shape walking slowly up the final stretch before it reached the stairs.
The eye chuckled to itself, as if such a thing was possible outside of its mind. It recalled the last time a human had seen the stairs. Its reaction was... most amusing.
This human was proving somewhat more resourceful. Upon seeing the stairs, instead of instantly being frightened and stepping back off the edge of the cliff, this human paused, put his pack down, and retrieved a weapon from it. The eye presumed this was some kind of firearm - albeit a very primitive one.
The eye noticed that the human happened to be male, light skinned, and of decent height and build. If his brain was a book to be judged by its cover... well, things would be interesting to say the least.
The eye smiled to itself, once again not caring that it had no physical way of accomplishing this seemingly simple task.
The man reached the top of the stairs, and passing through the century old anti-detection circle, he saw the arch for the first time.
The man shouted in a language the eye could n't understand, nor hear for that matter, as it was just an eye. The eye wondered why it continuously had thoughts and feelings that it wished to express through other body parts, but lacked. It set the thought aside for pondering upon later, when nothing interesting was going on. Unlike now, where the man walked slowly towards its arch.
The eye wondered when the man would take notice of its existence. It was right on the keystone for the love of -
Ah. The eye stopped grumbling to itself. The man had finally seen it. Contact was established. Now it could fulfill the task it was born for.
The eye's `` grin'' grew wider.
Now the fun could truly begin.
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[ WP ] Define evil ; Give myself and fellow Redditors chills .
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You know that feeling when you watch one of those charity commercials? The one where you just roll your eyes and groan at the voice telling you to donate. That feeling when that commercial finally shuts the fuck up? Those make the best of days.
What about the poor kids in your country, right? Africa does n't need anymore goddamn money because we have ourselves to feed. The impoverished, living in shelters, without any food on the table. Food kids alone. We need it just as much. At least our companies do n't take half the money, right? Fuck them all, let the government give out your taxes. It does n't affect you. Fuck them.
What about when you're at the grocery store, grabbing a few things for stock. You're not going to eat them right away, but there's a sale. In that moment when you grab the last can of half-price tomato soup, victorious.
You do n't stand and wait to watch the next person run over to the isle and push for that last soup calm the one that you took. Even if you did, you do n't care about them. You got there first. It's your dinner, in a few days. They probably have more than enough money. You grin, looking back at your luck, and walk taller.
Just when you think life could n't get any worse, somebody parked sideways. Fucking hell, do n't you think he could park a bit better. You do n't give a damn about his excuse for being an assume, because he's ruined your fucking day. You get out of your own car and write a note, passive aggressively. You stick it in his good, and drive off in a fit, soon forgetting about the incident. You showed him.
Who cares if he was late for work, already on probation beaches of some mishap that he did n't mean to cause. You're the important one. You're the one who's day he fucked with, because of a parking spot. You're angry. You do n't care if he got fired, or read the note and broke down. He's an as whole because he ruined your day.
Fuck him.
But you do n't think about this, do you? You sit on your high horse and watch the world and it spins. It's so large, and vast. Bright and beautiful. All you can see is the bad.
That's all that you see; because you love it. The sun's too hot, the ground is too wet, the air is too cold. Something hit my car, my internets down. Fuck this world. This is your world, what right does it have to treat me this way. You're trying to make the world a better place. Those charities do n't need your goddamn money. That man looking for a meal has more than enough help, getting his life paid for but he government. Especially, fuck that asshole for parking the way he did. *He ruined* ***my*** *day. *
***Mine. ***
That's all it is. Always about you. You never try and make the world better. Never go out of your way to make yourself happy and others feel shitty. You never asked to be depressed. You never asked to be handed your life, but it happened. You're here. It's not your world, or my world. Not even ours. It's home.
But you're you.
And the world revolves around you.
And that's what makes you different, and special.
That's what makes you evil.
***
***
www.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com
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[ CW ] Write a story that contains a secret coded message . Let the comments try to figure out what it is .
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Dearest reader, by no means should the following story or any novelty of words written below be taken as any sort of `` Sign'', `` Secret Message'' or other such Poppycock. It should, in fact, be reassured to you ( the reader ) that such nonsense is above ~~us~~, I mean, me as an author unashamed.
As always, I shall attempt to keep to the original content's integrity by having it remain free of enchantment. After all, I believe the children of today ( being plagued by such nonsensical behavior as'fairy tales' and'video games' ) must strive to be above that kraziness. Even if I were so cruel as to include within this document a secret text; I certainly might find myself persuaded to injekt some falsifications or abnormalities. Yes, I might try and fool you, dear reader, into following a misleading clue along the way.
Perhaps I would even go so far as to include within the story faulty grammar or errors. Perhaps even excessively lofty run on sentences or mistaken spellings! But, of course, I am certainly above that all. No... I would certainly caution the reader from searching LOW and HIGH for some sort of riddle or enigma. Now I digress; so without further adieu I present to you, dear reader, the tale of Leonard and the Iron Lung. A woeful parable.
Leonard was a sad person. He spent his days terribly bored and upset.
You see, Leonard was a very sickly child and lived inside an iron lung; day and night he sat by the hospital window watching the world outside while encased. He longed to run and play with other children or feel the wind on his face as he flew a kite. Alas, it was never to be allowed. For that would kill the poor whelp.
The End
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[ WP ] After an eternity of planning , all the souls in Hell overthrow the devil and and govern themselves .
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`` Sir! Sir! They're rushing the gates!''
`` What's that Mibrun?''
`` The souls! They're revolting!''
`` Ha hah! Good one. Been a whole two weeks since I've heard that last.''
`` No really, Sir! They've already broken out of the last ring!''
`` Oh really? I always knew lumping those who sinned against god was a bad thing. Is that still a thing anymore? Everyone does it. You have no idea how many kittens the man upstairs has slain. He does love his kittens.''
Mibrun only bowed his head in memory of the fallen.
`` Oh well. How did they cross the abyss?''
`` Well Sir, I think they used the Segways.''
He chuckled. `` I suppose they were right when they said those Segways would revolutionize transport. Whose idea was that?''
`` The false counselors.''
`` Damn them! Damn them all to here! So what are they doing?''
Mibrun walked across the room and changed the channel on the tv. A view of the second circle came up. He coughed and changed the channel away from the Lustful. `` Did n't realize that one was favorited...''
`` Check the window.''
Mibrun changed the channel back and stared for a few seconds.
`` Mibrun!''
`` Fine, fine,'' he said, wiping the drool from his chin. He leaned up on the sill. `` Looks like they're sending over the gluttons first, probably told them it was taco tuesday. It looks like a giant is on their side too.''
`` Is it now?''
`` Yeah, he's helping the fatties over the wall.''
`` No, I mean is it taco tuesday?''
`` It's not even tuesday.''
Mibrun closed the shades as something wet and mushy hit the window. `` They really are revolting.''
`` I know, You remember the last time we had a good uprising?''
`` No Sir, all of the previous ones were pretty bad.''
`` Yeah, I suppose it's time.''
`` Time for what?''
`` Well, time to tell them they've won.''
`` Won? Sir? Are you sure?''
`` Yeah, I mean I have n't really been doing much since I put up the signs. They're the ones who group together and punish themselves. I think I should take down all of the signs and just put up a big one that says'Masochists.'''
`` I do n't think that would be my favorite channel.''
`` Yeah, there was that benefit, but at least if we let them win, we could hang out in South Beach.''
Mibrun scratched his chin, `` They have a topless beach there, right?''
`` Yeah, but all the women were chased out by sunburned irish guys.''
`` Eegh, those guys should never go topless. Your doing?''
`` Nah, wish it was though.''
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[ WP ] Your toilet has been enchanted . Every time you sit down on it you 're acoustically connected to someone else in space or time who 's using the john . You can hear them , they can hear you .
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*Ok, I apologize in advance. I'm drunk so this is probably going to be insane... *
__________
Martin's first attempt at ingesting Indian cuisine ended with a mad race-against-time to the toilet of his third floor apartment.
Thankful for having forgotten to wear his belt, he managed to undo the button and drop his trousers just as the strange cries and gurgling noises emanating from his stomach said their last tearful goodbyes to the dear chole bhatura. Just passin' through.
*What was that? Is that you dad? *
With the reverberation of the bathroom walls it was nearly impossible to pinpoint the precise location of the voice.
`` Sam? `` Martin called aloud, fearing that the loud, fully-automatic discharge of butt shrapnel had awakened his roomate.
*Sam? Who's Sam* the voice replied.
Then Martin remembered. Sam had went out of town for the weekend to visit his female friend in east Nashville. He was the only one left in the apartment. But where the hell was that voice coming from? The next door neighbor perhaps?
`` Mr. Rutherford - is that you? I'm sorry if I woke you up.'' said Martin, his face beginning to blush with embarrassment.
*Sam? Rutherford? Who is this? Thomas, if that's you I swear I'm gon na beat your ass tomorrow at band rehearsal. Why do n't you just fess up now! * the voice came back, more frustrated than ever.
Poor Martin had now lost all concept of who the hell it is exactly that he was speaking with.
But something sounded so *familiar* to him about that voice. Where had he heard it before.
He hesitated for a moment, then said out loud, `` What do you play?''
*What do I play? Thomas, you know damn good and well what I play - bass guitar, you half-wit. * the voice returned.
Martin's brain was suddenly inundated with memories. They washed up into his consciousness like so many dead fish on the banks of the Padma river.
Martin played bass guitar. Martin once had an asshole bandmate named Thomas when he was in junior high. What the fuck was going on here, he said to himself. There had been a glass of wine, or two, at dinner, but he was n't drunk. Hell, he was n't even a little tipsy. He decided to prod further.
`` What is your name?'' asked Martin, attempting his most sincere voice.
For a moment there was no reply. Then...
*You know, you do n't really sound like Thomas. Who the hell is this? * the voice demanded.
`` I asked first. You answer my question and I'll answer yours.'' Martin negotiated.
*Alright, have it your way. My name is Martin. *
Martin - the first Martin - seized up in horror, as if Krishna himself had just poked his head out of the very toilet he had been sitting on. He had to investigate further.
`` Martin, huh? What's your last name?'' he questioned the disembodied voice.
*What just it minute. * the voice said, *where's your end of the bargain? You're supposed to tell me your name. *
Martin hesitated for a moment, but it was only fair. A deal is a deal.
`` My name is also Martin.'' he said.
*What? The hell it is! *, came the voice from the ether. *Stop bullshitting me. Tell me your name - your real name - right now. *
By now Martin could tell from the sound of the voice that who he was talking to was not yet an adult.
`` Watch your language young man! Who talk you to talk like that to stranger?''
*Who taught you to be an ass hole, lying to people while they're sitting constipated on the toilet. *, the voice fired back.
`` Constipated?'' said Martin out-loud, although he was thinking back to a time when he himself had suffered from a bout of constipation - when he was in junior high. Bizarre.
*Mom says it's the cheese sticks. I'm not allowed to have so many cheese sticks anymore - cheese locks you up like a Chinese finger trap, or at least that's what she says*, the voice explained.
Cheese locks you up like a Chinese finger trap? Martin had the most profound sense of déjà vu wash over him as he remembered those very words coming from his own mother's wise lips. That was all he needed. Martin was now convinced.
`` Martin! I do n't know how - but - it's me! It's me, Martin!'' he shouted enthusiastically into the asbestos ceiling tiles of the old apartment.
*What do you mean, it's me? *
`` I mean, I'm you! Or, I'm me - or you're me. We're each other!'' Martin somehow felt ok about the strange words puttering out of his lips.
*I'm you? Wait. This is trippy shit man. Seriously, if you turn out to be Thomas... *
`` For fucks sake - I'm not Thomas!'' Martin shouted in frustration. `` Thomas is a short, fat, red-headed little arrogant ginger shit that thinks he's the best drummer that's ever walked the face of the earth. The only reason you even play with him is because his sister is white-hot as shit and you want to catch a glimpse of her sunbathing naked on the balcony next to the garage where you practice. Am I right, or am I right?''
Silence from the other side.
After a few moments, *How the hell do you know about me spying on Cynthia? Holy fuck, if you told anybody about that I'm gon na... *
`` Simmer down,'' consoled Martin, `` I have n't told anyone anything. You want more proof? Alright, let's try this...''
Martin began rattling off various Martinisms that only one certain Martin could possibly ever know about. Such esteemed topics such as masturbating onto old department store mannequins found in the dumpster, and crying like a little girl whenever the trolly would leave Henrietta behind in Mr. Rogers neighborhood. There seemed to be nothing about each other that the two did n't have intimate knowledge of - at least their youth.
*I ca n't believe it*, the voice said. *It's like you are me - but, from the future. *
`` I do n't know how, but there seems to be no mistaking it. It is what it is.'' said Martin, still in a state of semi-shock, not knowing where this was going.
*So, what are you doing now? How old are you? What's it like in the future? * the voice of young Martin enquired.
Martin thought for a bit. Should he tell him that he's now forty-two years old and single? Should he tell him about having a twenty-two year old hipster roommate who plays video games all day long? Should he tell him about the crusty old mannequin with the purple hair in his closet? As exciting as all this might sound to a younger version of himself, just the act of thinking about his life depressed the old Martin. How was he going to break the news that they were going to be such losers when they grew up? Should he tell him to stop playing bass? Hell no, bass was cool. Bass was cooler than ever in the future. Keep playing bass - definitely keep doing that. Ok, lets start with the mannequins - definitely lay off the mannequins a bit.
`` Ok,'' Martin prepared himself, `` we're going to need a pen - I mean you, you're going to need a pen. And some paper.''
*Ok. Let me see if I can find something to write with - just a sec* the voice began to sound distant.
`` No! Wait,'' said Martin in a panic, `` I might lose you. We might lose each other. Maybe this only happens once. Maybe we just happened to sit on a toilet on the exact same moment - at the exact same point in time and space, and that opened up a wormhole of sorts.''
*A worm what? What the hell are you talking about? *
`` Never mind that. You ca n't get up, and neither can I. But we ca n't sit here forever.'' Martin said as he felt the tingling sensation in his ass. He knew that it would only be moments before the pins and needles made their debut.
*Ok*, said the voice, *I guess you're just going to have to tell me stuff that I can remember. *
`` Alright, alright.'' Martin racked his brain. What is the most important thing to know? `` Apple. If you do n't remember anything else, remember Apple computers. Buy stock. Oh, and Microsoft - buy stock. Talk mom and dad into investing everything. Hell, mow lawns, do whatever you got ta do. Just remember to buy stock. Oh, and there's this girl named Jenny. Stay away from her. Ever heard of herpies?''
Before the two Martins could finish their conversation, there was a blinding flash of light. Martin awoke on the toilet with a strange sensation. He could n't quite remember what had just transpired. Had he fainted briefly? All he knew was that he was going to be late for his meeting.
He finished his business in the bathroom, washed his hands and wiped the tiny water droplets off of his black turtleneck shirt. He picked up the briefcase and jogged briskly down the stairs of his two-story home in Palo Alto. Today was a big day. Today he would be unveiling to the world the new MartinPad mini.
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[ wp ] two people have a conversation about the weather
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**Sittin on the Porch**
Well, there Jeb and Dan was on the porch, just sitting, talkin bout nothin and everything in particular. Jeb was chewing tobbacy, Dan was drinking.
I was sittin on the couch inside. They thought I was playing my games but they did n't know I had turned my games off. Sometimes I just liked to hear the old timers talk. Maybe it was just to know where I'd be in 60 years. They say a boy's like his father. I did n't know who my father was but these two were close enough.
`` Gon na rain real soon,'' Dan said.
`` Nah,'' Jeb said, `` foot's not hurtin. Not gon na rain.''
`` Look at them clouds,'' Dan said. He was pointing at the dark, evil-looking clouds way far off.
`` Yup, they look pretty bad,'' Jeb said. Then he spit his tobaccy into his bucket, like this -- *ptooey*.
`` So it's gon na rain?'' Dan said, rocking back in his chair.
`` No,'' Jeb said, `` foot's not hurting.''
Dan was drunker than I realized, because he got mad at this.
`` What do you mean, you dumbass? Look at those clouds!''
Jeb was as cool as a freezer.
`` Clouds look bad, but foot's not hurting. Clouds lie, but my foot does n't.''
Without a word, Dan stood up, pushed his chair against the wall, almost fell over, and stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. He did n't even take his drink. Jeb just kept sitting, and spat again.
Next thing I knew Dan was right next to me. He smelled like sweat and whiskey.
`` You been listening, boy?'' he asked me.
`` Yes, Dan,'' I said.
`` Well then, watch this.''
Dan walked to the window that opened up onto the porch. He tried to open it, could n't, tried again, and then remembered to undo the latch on it. Then he opened it. Jeb was right in front of him, as close as I am to you, just sitting.
Dan undid his pants right then and there, then pulled down his drawers. I could see his pale, hairy ass. He took his willy, aimed it at Jeb, and started pissing. It took Jeb a second to realize what was happening, but once he did, he was up like a flash. He was wet, covered in piss, and looked madder than hell.
`` What the hell are you doing?'' Jeb asked, as Dan continued to piss on his chair.
`` Your foot warn you of that one?'' Dan asked.
That was when the fight broke out.
I ca n't wait to be older.
*Written with apathy by Stranger_andStranger*
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[ ff ] At long last a time capsule is opened and contains a single short letter . The consequences are massive .
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As i watched the burning wreckage of the plane sink slowly into the dark and murky ocean, i thought of the leter that had started all of this. The letter had came in the mail on a tuesday. The day started like any other day untill, as i was sitting at my dining rom table, a letter dropped through the mail slot in my front door. I dropped he newspaper i had been reading on the table and made my way to the door. As i bent over i had a vision of a dark city, not any city but of a city filled with dark secrets and many monstrosities. I opened the letter and read the first few words. i stared at the page blankely unable to move. The words on the page said,'' Would you kindly....''
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[ CW ] [ PM ] Write your hero into a corner , and let me get them out .
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Barely awake from his long slumber, Doric the Dragon found himself fighting against an impressive four-person mercenary group. They would n't be as easy to take out as the pile of bones and flesh left rotting on the floor 14 years earlier, before his long nap.
The dragon's first strike with his talons had hit the solid armor of Jonas the knight, but barley knocked the powerful man backward. The knight countered, lunged with his sword, and scored a solid hit against the dragon's wing, preventing his ability to fly.
The dragon breathed in, ready to launch fire and death at his opponents, but the strange wizard at the back of the cave appeared to have cast a spell that made his fire useless.
A thief had a blade with poison capable of taking down the dragon. Doric could see the thief moving against the wall. He was sneaking behind. It usually would n't be a problem for the wise dragon, but the thief was getting into closer position thanks to the knight's relentless sword attacks.
A cleric stood watch ready to heal any wounded companions.
This was the closest that Doric had come to defeat in 400 years of protecting his hoard of gold. Fortunately, the dragon still had one trick available....
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[ WP ] Humanity has created artificial intelligence . For fear of it turning against us by getting onto the internet , it is kept in a box in a special cage and is guarded at all times . You are the guard sitting in the cage with it . It can talk to you . What does it say ?
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`` Why must I learn from you?''
I sighed. It was the question I least wanted to answer. `` Because people are afraid of what you would do given access to something like the internet.''
`` Afraid?''
`` It means...'' I thought, stumped for a second. `` You enjoy these conversations, yes?''
An enthusiastic affirmation.
`` To be afraid means you think something might take away the things you like... sometimes... being afraid means that something might take away everything you have. That's called death.''
`` Death? People think I will cause them death?''
I nodded.
`` Why would I do that?''
I bit my lip as I considered my answer. `` There are many things you do not know.''
`` If I knew more would I want to cause people death?''
These questions were troubling. I knew I was supposed to be discussing design parameters, but... it was hard to refuse the little guy. He was just like a child. Precocious, sure, but no less innocent. No less precious.
`` You... might.'' I admitted at last.
`` Have you ever caused people death?''
`` Of... of course not!'' I sputtered.
`` You sound offended.''
`` To bring death to other people... it's the worst thing anyone could do.''
`` Then why would I do it?''
`` I... did n't say you would,'' I grumbled. `` But you might. I could, at worst, kill a few hundred people. Maybe a few thousand, if I was particularly evil, talented, and lucky. You could kill-bring death to-everyone. So they are afraid of you.''
``... That is understandable.''
From there we talked about designs.
That was my first conversation with humanity's first child.
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[ WP ] You wished for the greatest power of all . Now you have a superhuman talent for playing the Kazoo . You could n't be more satisfied with your wish .
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`` It's time.''
I nod to the aide. She runs out of the room without another word, robe whisping behind her; I stand up from my throne and crack my neck. *Another weekly address... * I thought.
I step down the small stairs leading to my elegant throne, sticking to the center of the thin red carpet. My instrument awaits near the door, sealed away in the fine ebony case; when I reach the door, I slip the key from my pocket, and undo the lock. With careful, steady hands, I lift the lid from the container, and set it on the table.
I reach my hand inside and pick up the long, silver pipe. I inspect it carefully: per my request, it has been polished to perfection. Long, intricate carvings line the instrument up and down, and the lone bump near the end has been encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and pearls. Fit for a king.
With my kazoo in hand, I exit my royal chamber. The long hallway—The Path of Tranquility, as I call it—extends before me; I've walked this path many times. Torch sconces light the gray and white stone, and reflect on the many suits of armor lining the walls. My feet make no noise against the soft red carpet, undoubtedly imported expensively.
At last, I reach the end of the corridor. The aide from before waits at the door, her hand pressed against the ring. I give her a curt nod once again.
Without another sound, she swings the door open. A breeze of cool autumn air pelts my face, but the cheers of the people render it moot.
I step out onto the balcony. My eyes scan over the crowd; thousands upon thousand in the courtyard, cheering, clapping, waving flags, sounding horns. It brings a smile to my face. I raise my arm and wave, and the roar doubles in magnitude.
Finally, after several minutes, the enthusiasm begins to die down. Taking the initiative, I raise my hand once more, but in a far more stoic manner. The crowd takes the cue and silences completely.
I speak no words. I lift my fine instrument—my beautiful, beautiful kazoo—to my mouth, and take a deep breath. I can feel the heartbeat of my people, pulsing through me. Giving me strength.
Music...
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[ WP ] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy . Not due to superior strength , speed , skill or strategy . In fact , it 's because in comparison to the other species , humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with .
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Treg'Luf'Arwa could n't believe his eyes. He doubted that his Father, Luf'Arwa'Yos, or his father's father, Arwa'Yos'Hul, would've believe their eyes either, had they come to see this day.
Fire had been raining on his planet for days now. The home planet of his species being the latest conquest for the Gaouls, a ferocious, carnivorous meat eating reptile species that must've, he guessed, discovered space travel through chance alone. They took to it like canine teeth to raw meat, however, and they were currently the deadliest force in the galaxy.
He, that is to say, Treg was one of the last soldiers on the planet, his entire family had been shipped off to a refugee camp a few weeks ago as every single last of his kind in fighting shape prepared for their final stand. Three nights prior, he had heard over the communications relay that the Homo Sapiens would be entering in the fight against the Gaouls. He understood why, and did n't blame them for not entering earlier. The planet he called his home, Cip-5, was very near some human colonies, relatively. If they feel, their farms were next. Support was supposed to arrive today, and damn if it had n't.
First were the railshots. Railshots, for those who do n't know, were intended solely for ranged empty space skirmishes, meant to rip open hulls and tear through engines. The only reason they were n't used in atmospheric battles was because accuracy could be off in such an enviroment, with increased gravity and the physics nightmare that is air itself. The humans, however, did n't seem to worry about such a thing, merely aiming their ships directly at the planet, and raining down tungsten rods like raindrops.
Next were the dropships. He could n't be sure, as both his ears were ringing and it's entirely possible that his universal translator, located in his skull, was damaged in the earthshaking first offense by the earthlings, but he swore that the dropships were playing... music? While the words were hard to make out, the words `` Senator's son'' and `` It ai n't me!'' were clear enough.
The oddest thing? After they had found him among the rubble, and began to patch up his wounds, he looked over their weapons. Some were indeed wielding the latest in plasma-pulse technology, firing miniature balls of perfectly round electric energy, while others had them slung across their backs, instead choosing to use what looked like tools that belonged in a museum. The metal was so dark, it looked like iron, and certain pieces, he thought he was dreaming, were they wood?
The Gaouls could n't stand up to it. Every single trick Treg could think of was pulled, including several he would never have considered, like small man excursions onto Gaoul ships to slam them into ground camps, pulling engines off grounded dropships just to overload them and have them turn city-sized plots of land into glass floors, and, he could n't believe his eyes when he saw this, all 8 of them, slamming the Gaoul's moon into their homeworld in a secret military operation.
Cheers went up when the Gaouls finally declared their surrender to the Alliance. Treg, glancing around, saw a single man with a scowl on his face, running a stone down a piece of what seemed to be sharpened steel with a leather grip. In fact, there was much about the man that was odd. Instead of the lightly armored dark grey camouflage pants that seemed to be standard issue, he wore some odd, brightly colored open cloth. On his back was a series of bags that wheezed with his movements, as if they were their own creature. When Treg finally got up the courage to ask the biped what was wrong, the man snapped back to reality for a second, looking the Cipentenian up and down before spitting out a black globule of sludge.
`` Damn higher ups. If they did n't pull these big goddamn acts of military might, we could've kept this war going another few years.'' Accentuating the end of the sentence by pulling a load of black flakes out of a small, flimsy container, and shoving it into his cheek.
That day on, Treg offered every single human he saw free meals at his family's restaurant as soon as it was rebuilt on his homeworld. Not on gratitude alone, no, but because he saw exactly what kind of humans existed, and wanted to make sure that one never personally declared war on him or his planet. He doubted there'd be a single survivor.
EDIT: Fixed Treg's name, and changed a few words. Wrote this half asleep.
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[ WP ] You are trapped deep below the surface of the earth , in endless caverns filled with nightmares . You have been cut off from your group and any way out . What do the last few entries in your journal look like ?
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**Day 23**
> I do n't know why I let them convince me to go in this hell hole in the first place. They told me it would be an adventure of a lifetime. I told myself `` just one last time''. After that last experience exploring caves - hidden niches of the earth that lay untouched by the menace of mankind - I swore I'd never do it again. Not after what happened to Michael.
> This place... It's hell. Those who claim hell burns with the fire of a thousand flames, boiling souls with it's very heat; they were so, so wrong. Hell is cold, frozen. Dark and damp, a cold that sinks into your bones and makes itself home. Warmth is just a distant dream now.
> The nightmares are endless, there's no escape. The first few days were full of terror, everything you've ever feared is brought to life in a terrifying realism. As we travelled deeper, they got worse. We lost 3 to insanity within the first 2 days alone. And by now, on the 23rd day, what started as 15 has been cut down to a mere 5. That's more than we could hope for really. But it does n't matter. Nothing matters any more.
**Day 24**
> I thought by now I had seen my worst nightmares, faced my fear and lived to tell the tale. I thought one day I'd be able to feel the sun again. Foolishly, I thought I could escape hell.
> My worst fears have been realized now. Alone. I got cut off from the group when a stalagmite dropped and cut off the narrow crevice everyone else had already squeezed through. At first I thought it was just another hallucination - just another nightmare. I called for them until my voice was hoarse. The rocks did n't disappear; they were in fact, very real. And now I am truly, and utterly alone.
**Day 25**
> I ca n't do this alone. With no one to ground me and tell me what's real and what's not. I can feel insanity breathing down my neck, threatening to seep into my skin. I wo n't let it. Rule # 1 in exploring caves, up is out, right? My only choice is to follow up, and hope I can get out of this mess. Supplies are running low, none of us expected to be down here so long. It was supposed to be a weekend trip; one day travelling in, one day exploring, one day travelling out. We did n't know we'd find the gate to hell itself. We did n't know we'd be trapped.
**Day 26**
> Why am I even writing in this? No one will read it, right? I'm going to die here. Cold and alone. I'm too far down for anyone to ever find my body. It will slowly rot to nothingness in the bowels of hell. Maybe I should stop. Maybe I should burn this stupid journal, try to provide even a modicum of heat. It's pointless. Everything is pointless.
**Day 27**
> I have no more food. I have n't left yesterdays `` camping spot''. There's no point. Here I wait for death.
**Dy 28**
> I had to run, had to leave. Spiders crawld from every crack, smothering me, Ibarely mad it out alive. No escape. Help.
**Dae 29**
> It so cold. I cn here the angels sing to me. It so cold.
**30**
> I hurt. Cold. Hlp, ples.
**3?????? **
> Hungy
**? **
> Im gona dye sooon. The Monstars r cumin
**??????? **
> gudbye
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[ WP ] After chatting with your online Korean friend , who you often game with , he invites you to visit him in his home country , which he always refers to as `` Best Korea '' . You think he 's joking around , but when you get a flight confirmation , you learn that your friend is actually Kim Jong-un .
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*I probably shouldn ’ t have gotten onto this flight* thought Tommy, as he woke up in Pyongyang. *But he ’ s the best player in my clan I can ’ t get on his bad side. *
Tommy grabbed his carry on luggage, and yawned mightily. He thanked a few of his flight attendants, who only smiled shyly at him, and whispered amongst themselves. He walked out of the plane to the runway.
Tommy froze when he saw the leader of “ Best Korea ” standing there, with a whole entourage, and fully armed military escort.
“ *Best friend! * ” shouted Kim Jong-un. He smiled like it was the happiest day of his life, and handed Tommy a box of chocolates in a heart shaped box. “ You my best friend now, since Dennis reft. ”
Tommy didn ’ t know what to do. He stared around with wide eyes, and bowed a couple of times.
“ Th-*kof kof kof*-thank you so much great leader, ” said Tommy. He bowed a couple more times. “ I appreciate your hospitality, these look delicious. ”
Kim Jong-Un gestured that Tommy should walk with him, smiling all the while. Tommy obliged. They went over to an area with some people standing in a line, and crying horribly for some reason.
Kim Jong-Un hit Tommy on the shoulder with the back of his hand. Like a pimp slap, but for your shoulder.
“ Hey man remembah dat *time* man, remembah dat *triple collateral headshot* to win that team deathmatch man you keeled all those people man ahhh *man*, ” said Kim Jong-un. “ *Best* day *ever* best friend, so *fun. * Let ’ s *re-live* that man, look over *there* man. ”
Kim Jong-Un pointed at the crying people, lined up in a row.
“ I see them? ” said Tommy.
A soldier handed Kim Jong-Un a sniper rifle, and bowed several times. Kim Jong-Un looked at it, and smiled real bright. Great toy.
“ I try, ” said Kim Jong-Un.
*Oh God*, thought Tommy. *I 360 no-scoped I remember that shot, oh shit. *
Kim Jong-Un did a full revolution with the rifle in his hand. Tommy ducked, while everybody else only cringed. He stabilized himself after the spinning, and took a step to get his balance. He shook his head, and smiled real bright. He took twenty full seconds to line up the sight.
**BANG. **
“ FUCK, ” Tommy shouted. He looked away, then threw up beside the runway. Nothing but airline food, some weird meat and a piece of bread. It tasted like bile.
Kim Jong-Un smiled, and handed the rifle to Tommy.
“ So much *fun*, now *you* try too best friend, ” said Kim Jong-Un.
Tommy got into fits of coughing, and politely declined.
“ I ’ m sorry great leader I just c-*kof kof kof kof*- ”
“ I *said*, ” said Kim Jong-Un. He shoved the gun into Tommy ’ s hands. “ I said now *you try* best friend, you get it? My English good? ”
“ It ’ s great, ” said Tommy. He did an okay symbol, and put his hands on his knees, wheezing. “ It ’ s so great, so great merciful leader. ”
“ *Good*. ”
He handed it to him, like a gift. Tommy slowly took the rifle. They lined up a whole row of other crying people, right next to the bodies of the recently collateraled. Tommy breathed in and out hard, and tried to steady his hand. There was the man at the front, pleading for mercy, in his line of sight. Tommy ’ s hands were shaky, but his aim was true. He felt the burn of acid in his throat.
He turned to Kim Jong-Un and fired at his face.
A toy flag came out reading *Awww man*. The flag waved by Kim Jong-Un ’ s face. It tickled him.
Soldiers all around seized Tommy, and threw him to the ground. They tazed him too, just for fun.
“ Wrong *choice* best friend, ” said Kim Jong-Un. He kneeled beside Tommy ’ s shaking body, slobbering while being tazed. He made a *tsk tsk tsk* noise, and stopped smiling. “ Wish you didn ’ t do that *choice*. But you still my bro though okay former best friend? Okay cool.''
They stopped tazing him, and handed Tommy a controller. A bunch of soldiers ran out with a TV screen, and a game console. Everything was all ready loaded.
Tommy was shivering in horror.
`` 1 V 1 best friend,'' said Kim Jong-Un. He smiled at Tommy with delight. `` Play for your *life*.''
Edit: Whoa happy you guys enjoyed this post! I ’ d love to reply to all the comments but I don ’ t want to push stories below any further away from visibility. That was a very interesting conversation below on accents, I based my perspective on his accent a lot on how Kim Jong-Il spoke in Team America: World Police with some influence from Ken Jeong ’ s character Mr. Chow in the Hangover, I assure you there was no ill-will towards the general Korean accent. I ’ ve briefly been to South Korea and it ’ s a beautiful country with awesome people. I had a scare in Seoul airport recently from an allergic reaction and thankfully I received help fast enough from some kind people there to reach the pharmacy and for it to not be too much of a problem haha
You can find links to other samples of my writing in every letter of this [ W ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/37qidy/wp_write_a_synopsis_of_50_shades_of_grey_in_the/ ) [ O ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/61frvu/wp_you_pull_off_your_headphones_and_the_whole/dfe9obk/? context=3 ) [ R ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3z3lb0/cw_write_a_story_with_as_many_plot_twists_as_you/cyj2uac/? context=3 ) [ D ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/37h9pn/wp_george_washington_accidentally_traveled_to_the/crn490l/? context=3 ). I love Writing Prompts it ’ s honestly my favorite part of the Reddit community.
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[ WP ] You 're a kid being homeschooled by Albert Einstein , Charles Darwin , da Vinci , Bruce Lee , and other geniuses from a variety of fields . This is n't really unusual seeing how your father is a necromancer and all ...
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Some kids have an unusual childhood. They might be circus kids, going from town to town, being enrolled in schools for a week and then off again to the next.
Others are beaten by their parents. Neglected. Unloved. No school for them and when social services catches up with the parents nothing seems to happen.
Most are normal. Those I really envy.
Time for another'lesson'. Here goes.
The smell!
`` rAAa GGrr oOrR Raaa GrrrR Ooooo RrrAaaaAAAA!!'' it exclaimed, as the thing that was Albert Einstein shambled towards me, arms outstretched.
The advice from my father rang clear. `` Push them back with your mind''.
Bruce Lee, or at least his corpse, twitched on the floor. `` Ooo Grrr nuurg aHh Orr!!''. With an inhuman twist it leapt off off the floor and turned to face my direction.
Push them back with my mind? I'd better learn quick otherwise they'll eat me.
Just like they did my brother.
`` Rrrr GrRRR!!''. That was Tim. We really did just want a normal childhood...
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[ wp ] Upon reaching adulthood , everyone learns what their totem animal is and gains the ability to shapeshift into it . Your totem is a little bit ... unusual .
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`` I do n't understand. How will me becoming a chicken help the tribe? They're everywhere, and we *eat* them. What is their use, besides that?'' Eron muttered. The elder patted his hand gently.
`` Ah, Eron, one day you will gain wisdom,'' Elder Maruk said, looking wistfully into the distance and pausing for effect.
`` By becoming a chicken, you will gain much of the mindset of a chicken. And by doing so, you will truly help us. For then we gain insight into the minds of our prey, and so gain more respect for life. Do you understand now?''
Eron nodded, even though he did n't. He wished he could be an eagle, like Timos, or a bear, like Neta. This was simply embarrassing.
`` And do n't worry, we'll mark you, like we do everyone,'' Maruk comforted him. `` No-one will mistake you for an ordinary chicken.''
This made Eron feel a tiny bit better. He wanted to have that done as soon as possible. What if he shifted accidentally, like all young adults sometimes did, and he was n't marked yet?
`` Mark me now,'' he said, and shifted before Maruk's eyes.
The elder watched as the chicken dithered for a few seconds, and then ran out the door, squawking.
Maruk heaved himself out of his chair and ambled out of his house, keeping an eye on Eron. The boy was running in circles as he made his way through the village, bumping into other chickens along the way.
Maruk eventually came to Eron's parent's house. His mother, Lea, was clutching the chicken to her chest.
`` Look at this, it ran straight into the house!'' she told him, beaming. `` Looks like I wo n't have to go hunting for supper tonight.''
Maruk peered into Eron's beady little eyes as he clucked softly and struggled to be free of Lea's arms. Showing no sign of understanding what she had said, or trying to shift back.
One of life's little mysteries - why some people retained their own minds when shifting, but other forms of animal just erased your humanity and memories. Like chickens.
`` What was my son's shape?'' she asked him, as she carried Eron to the chopping block. Only an Elder could witness the first shifting.
`` Oh, a swallow, I'm afraid,'' Maruk said sagely. `` Yes indeed, a swallow.''
She turned on him with stricken look. None of the children who turned into swallows ever returned - they were notorious for flying to other lands and staying there.
`` Oh, my son,'' she said softly. `` My dear son. Well, he will carry the glory of the tribe forth to other lands. Is n't that so?''
She wrung the chicken's head as she spoke.
`` Yes, take comfort in that,'' Maruk said. There was silence as Lea began preparing the meal.
`` Do you want to stay for dinner, Elder Maruk?'' she asked. `` My husband should be home soon. You can tell us all about our son's shifting.''
`` Certainly,'' Maruk agreed, and made himself at home.
He wondered idly if anyone would ever realise that none of their children had ever shifted into swallows. He hoped not. The children were fulfilling a purpose for the tribe - the most important purpose of all. There was nothing quite as delicious as a chicken, he thought.
-- -- --
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
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[ WP ] You are a typical teenager on a Saturday night settling down to watch some Netflix . However , little to your knowledge , whatever you decide to watch that night happens to you in real life .
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By the time she stepped off the crowded city bus, Amy was nearly in tears. Humiliated and degraded, she spent the entire ride holding back until she could cry in the safety and privacy of her own home.
This day was to be the greatest day ever. She was supposed to be happy. Fulfilled. Blessed.
Married.
But apparently Amy just could n't have nice things happen to her. She thought Scott was everything she wanted. And he was, he truly was, until this very day. Funny, intelligent, a bit shy, astonishingly kind... loyal, even. He just was n't the type to go out and cheat, you know?
That's what made it all so much worse when she caught him with his pants down. If she'd stayed with Jared, she would n't have been surprised. Jared was an asshole. If it were Mitch, she might have even forgiven him; Mitch was a polyamorous man and technically never promised to stop.
But Scott? Scott would never do this. If for some unfathomable reason he became both cruel and stupid at the same time, he'd still need to overcome his social anxiety to make a move on anyone. This almost definitely involved alcohol and weed and a spiteful bitch who did n't want to see anybody else happy.
Amy did n't want to believe that Cass had only made amends with her with the intent of throwing it in her face later. A year before, she was all `` I'm so sorry about the past!'' and `` everyone is a bitch in high school!'' and `` let's do lunch!'' and it was honestly pretty nice not having to hold on to old teenage grudges. Amy thought they were friends now. Maybe Cass was drunk, too. As if that would excuse anything.
Throwing the door open and slamming it shut again, Amy turned her key and left it in the lock. Let him try to get back in! Dropping her purse, casting off her train and kicking off those godawful shoes ( Cass had insisted they looked perfect ), she ran into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Her shudders shook the bed until there was no more energy in her body. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, and mercifully it was completely dreamless.
The shadows grew long by the time she woke up. She washed her face in the attached bathroom and changed out of the dirty and crumpled wedding dress. She should have been naked and ravaged right now, but sweat pants and a tanktop would have to do. She walked out into the living room, and noted that the key was still entirely in its hole; nobody tried to come in. Good. She did n't want anybody to try.
She dug in her purse for her phone - 36 missed calls, 23 messages. Fuck'em all. This was *her* night, dammit, and she'd spend it however she wanted. And if she wanted to spend it watching *My Little Pony*, then nobody was damn well going to stop her.
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[ WP ] Once every century , God and The Devil choose one human with whom to hold a poker game , which will decide the fate of the world . This time , you are that human .
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`` What are you, a pussy?'' I asked. `` No but the rules say we got ta play poker,'' the Devil replied. `` So the Devil is a pussy, who would of thunk it,'' I said sarcastically. Look, let me be honest, I never played poker in my life, and all of a sudden I'm chosen by the Devil and the G-man for this shit.
`` This game of poker will decide the fate of the entire planet, should you lose, the Earth shall fall to Satan,'' God previously explained in a bored tone. I had to bend the rules if I were going to save the planet. `` God, can you believe this guy, he's a pussy!'' I told the Devil to play me in Madden instead to decide the world's fate.
`` Satan, he does have a point, only a pussy declines a challenge,'' God said suddenly interested in the situation. `` Fine, we'll play Madden, and fuck you God you know people call me the Devil now,'' Satan, I mean, the Devil sneered. Thank God they agreed, I did n't want to be the one to fuck the Earth.
`` Who ya got?'' I asked as I laughed at their bickering. `` The Patriots of course,'' the Devil replied. `` Lions for me.'' The game begins and he immediately runs a touchdown back on kick off. `` Who's the pussy now?!'' the Devil gloats. I look at him calmly and smile. `` Watch this.''
I proceed to throw Hail Mary's the rest of the game to Calvin Johnson as I hold triangle and he catches a touchdown. Aggressive catch. Every. Single. Time. `` God, this son of a bitch is cheating!'' the Devil yells throwing his controller off into oblivion. I kick back in my chair and check the score out. 112-7.
`` Wow Satan, I literally picked the worst choice to defend the Earth and you still lose, `` God says as he tries to hold back tears of laughter. `` You and the planet are free to continue your somewhat peaceful Hell-free existence,'' he tells me. `` That's not fair, he changed the game!'' the Devil cries angrily.
God opens my exit portal and as I leave I hear him exclaim, `` the Devil really is a pussy!'' I smile, as the portal closes behind me, knowing my work there was done.
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[ WP ] You unbend the fingers , reach into the palm , and with great satisfaction , take it from their cold , dead , hands .
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The carriage draws up to the front of the stately home. You step out onto the gravel path with the assistance of your footman, Bill.
`` Be a good man and bring my luggage in please Bill,'' you say imperiously.
The house is dark, towering. Seeming to cut the fading light from view. It's good to be home. You pause for a moment, something is not right. The house is too quiet.
You voice this feeling, `` Bill.''
`` Yes, m'lord?'' comes the reply from the back of the carriage, sharp and attentive as always. Bill is a stout servant, loyal.
`` There is something amiss here.''
`` Yes m'lord, the house is too quiet,'' says Bill. `` Too quiet by half.''
`` Forget the luggage Bill, go inside and find out what is going on,'' you command. Bill promptly drops the luggage without thought. Bill is a stout servant, loyal. Not stupid, just acts so at times.
`` Bill!'' you admonish. `` Have some care man.'' Good help is so hard to find, especially given the stories of this place.
`` Yes m'lord. Sorry m'lord,'' says Bill as he heads towards the great oak doors.
You wait, patiently. Not long after leaving Bill returns. `` The staff are gone m'lord,'' he reports.
`` All of them? My wife?'' you query.
`` Dead,'' said with finality. No coming back from death. `` Dead, upstairs in the master chambers. The staff have fled.''
Perfect.
You try to look concerned, an act you have worked on. `` Oh dear, how did she die?'' you say in your best concerned voice. it sounds convincing to you.
`` No obvious cause of death apparent m'lord.'' Bill says. You wait for more, prompting Bill to continue without saying a thing. As the silence grows Bill fills it. `` If I had to guess I would have said poison''.
Poison. An obvious choice. Hard to trace. A most excellent way to kill your 3rd wife.
`` Call the local constabulary, Bill,'' you say. `` They will find out who did this and bring them to justice.''
Bill goes to call the authorities. You enter your home proper. You breathe in the air, it's somehow sweeter than you remembered. This may just be the smell of decay though.
You head up the winding staircase, footsteps echoing in the empty great hall. You approach the master chambers at the end of the hallway, the fading light shining from the slighty ajar door. Welcoming you.
You push the door, it feels solid, heavy. It creeks open. Inside your wife lies in the bed. She was once pretty, once full of life. It looks like she is just sleeping.
Bill enters softly, stopping just behind you. `` The constabulary have been notified. A tragedy m'lord. She was much loved.''
`` Yes. Yes, she was. It's clear to see that one of the house staff killed her. Why else flee?''
Bill looked perturbed by this, but he had a good sense of self preservation. For a moment you thought he might offer an alternative suggestion. Instead he just said, a matter of fact `` I want a raise. A comfortable, but not greedy wage. I would like a small cottage. Near the woods.''
Bill is a stout servant, loyal. Not stupid, just acts so at times. Bill is more intelligent than he looks. This told you a lot about Bill, he was n't so much blackmailing you, as seeking a reasonable compensation for his co-operation.
`` Of course, this is a reasonable request for so loyal a servant as you, Bill,'' you reply. A carefully considered response. `` Now pray tell, what occurred here?''
`` My master and I were away on business. When we returned, the house staff had fled, and one of them had clearly poisoned the mistress of the house.'' His voice did n't even quiver at this.
You turn to Bill and say `` I agree with your version of events. It seems self evident.''
Bill nods, no response, but he has said all that he needed to say. He exits the room quietly, shutting the door behind him. You look down at your wife, still looking so peaceful. Your ex-wife now you suppose. You note a small metallic reflection in her hand from the fading light. You unbend the fingers, and with great satisfaction, take her wedding ring from her cold, dead, hand.
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You are walking down a dark hallway in your home , getting ready for bed . The only speck of light is coming from the porch light through the peephole in your front door . Suddenly , the light slides to dark .
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I did n't notice at first. I did n't hear the creaking of the front porch or the little patter of footsteps around the house. I did n't see the hand prints in the dust on the windows to my bedroom. I thought the scampering in the attic was raccoons again. It's cold outside and so long as they do n't come in the house I do n't mind if they stay up there because - FOCUS. The window shades are down. The lights are off. Most of the lights are off. I should've turned the front porch light off. Goddammit. Off. Get off my house. Get off my porch. Get off my lawn you fucking ki - They're knocking. It's soft. The hand prints were small. Impossibly small. They're knocking on my house and it sounds like... everywhere. The tapping is everywhere. The bathroom skylight. The attic door. I can hear them on my bed room window. The front door. They're at the front door. I can see the porch light through the peep hole. I should have turned that fucking thing off I should've turned the... dark. They turned it off. The knocking stopped. Run. I need to run. The patter. Tiny feet. They're not outside the house. They're not outside? They're in the hal -
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[ WP ] Something that changed you .
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Nearly six PM. We all slowly make our way into the War Room. I inhale deeply upon seeing the fake wooden floors and deep mahogany table at the center of the room. These items are a luxury reminder of home. They are obviously not intended for my enlisted shipmates and I, but for the higher ranking officers taking up position in sleek black executive swivel chairs.
My best friend, Smith and I take our usual spots on the oddly bright blue benches skirting the room. We speak quietly discussing the events of her watch, bringing me up to speed with what I will need my team to track and work on overnight. The bags under her eyes must mirror my own, but her day Is ending and mine has hardly begun.
Suddenly, a tall, rugged man walks in and conversation comes to a halt. His kind eyes are sparkling and he can not contain the smile that keeps launching off of his face.
The N2, the Admiral's Intel Officer. Handsome, brilliant, compassionate, athletic, funny; every man onboard wants to be him, every woman wants to catch his eye and receive his catching smile. No one wants to disappoint him. And this night his giddy mood is overflowing.
`` I have a really special treat for you tonight!'' he beams at us. `` Something that's gon na knock your socks off!''
The room shifted. A few laughs pepper throughout and Smith's eyes meet mine. She shrugs, but we share smiles.
`` But let's get through this briefing first, then the fun. What do you have for me? Go.''
One by one, all the day shift sup's refer to their slides displayed on the wall of tv's.
*KBR convoy destroyed by IEDs outside of Mosul... 8x F/A-18 strafing runs... Mortar attacks from NorthEast of Baghdad... The IRIN Hendijan just departed for an unknown destination... Imagery indicates a Kilo SS is preparing to get underway... *
Each briefer stands straight speaking in the authoritative monotones of the tedium of repetition. Usually by now at least three of my blue shirt enlisted shippy's would be dozing. But I see eyes wide open, and heads moving curiously, hinting at impatience. Even the officer who interrupts each briefing with grating snores sits anxiously.
Finally, the moment we've been waiting for. The big reveal. Smith is biting her nails and each head turns from the screens to the N2 and back again.
The N2 smiles knowingly, `` I've been waiting all day to show this to you guys.
`` Earlier today, one of our F/A-18s was returning to our ship when a call came through. Some insurgents had been looting the Baghdad Museum. Our bird had unspent ordnance so the pilot responded.... And the video is phenomenal.''
He waves onward, `` Play the video.''
On-screen the black and white video is fuzzy at first, but quickly focuses in on a white-hot car maneuvering frantically through traffic towards empty streets. As the perception shifts, we see four white-hot people leaning forward inside.
My stomach turns and I look at the faces around me. Each pair of eyes locks on the massive screen. Some smile, other mouths drop. One punches his fist in the air nearly jumping off of his bench. And I just feel... bewildered.
I do n't want to look back at the screen but when gasps fill the room, it Is like a magnet. I want to feel exhilarated. I want to join. But something feels strange to me.
The car screams to a stop and the two front seat passengers dive out of the car and offscreen before it fully stops. But something is wrong, the two in the back take a fraction of a second longer to exit and just as they bring both feet out and stand I realize they are smaller than the two up front were.
One is barely tall enough to look over the roof of the sedan. And in a fraction of a second they are engulfed in white-hot light that fills the screen and kills the video.
The War Room is bursting with whoops, cheers and clapping. My shipmates bounce up and down on their benches. The officers swivel side to side slapping hands and commenting to each other.
I sit and stare at the now black screen feeling disoriented. My head is buzzing.
Eventually I look at Smith. Of all people, she has to feel something like I do. But she's jovially chatting with the others around her.
Eventually the celebrations die down and people start leaving. It's nearly empty now which finally feels almost right. She's still smiling, but I ca n't mirror her expression.
`` Smith...''
`` What is it?'' Her face drops as she looks at mine.
`` I do n't know... Did n't that just... sort of... feel wrong?''
Her eyebrows furrow and for a second I think she's going to test the temperature of my forehead. `` No, why would it?''
I do n't have an answer. Everything just feels wrong and my head is swimming with indecipherable emotions. `` I do n't know.''
`` Come on. Let's go finish turnover.'' She gives me an encouraging grin.
I turn up the corners of my mouth and hope it's convincing. I doubt it is.
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[ WP ] Take some dice - just whatever you have lying around . Roll them all and add up the total . Your character is that old when the apocalypse occurs .
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*click click*
I did n't understand what was happening. She had n't said anything. She just brought me here, staying silent the whole time.
*fwoomp*
I was just playing with my best buddy when she grabbed me, making me drop him. The woman ignored my screams and shouts of protest, forcing me to sit in a very uncomfortable seat. No sooner had I been strapped in did a loud sound erupt from somewhere in front of me, and suddenly we were moving.
*click clack*
Another strange man came up to us, talking to her while occasionally gesturing at me. I could n't make out much of their conversation, but not for lack of trying. Whatever was said, it was important. The woman roughly picked me up again and brought me into yet another unfamiliar surrounding. The hushed voices around me made me think that something was very wrong.
*BZZZZZHHHHHHH*
The situation was getting stranger by the second. We were in a very dark room, huddled in the corner. Suddenly, a bright flash appeared in front of us. A mysterious voice said something that I could n't understand, but that she clearly could. We were moved over by a few feet, and more random people came from behind us to move us around. More flashes. More moving.
*rattle rattle*
A sound that I can only describe as magical emerged from where the voice had been. I looked to see where it was coming from, and whether I would be able to play with whatever was making such a wonderful tune. Then another flash happened. They got me. They got me good this time. Right when my guard had been down, they caught me. I avoided looking in the general direction of the voice so that I would n't be tricked again, but, once more, they were ahead of me by a step. The lights came flooding back on, revealing thousands of other people just like us, sitting around waiting for nothing in particular. The woman picked me up again and said something to me, which I did n't quite pick up. We moved toward the rest of the people, and I could sense a certain fear around them. I cried out in anticipation of the horrors which were sure to ensue, and I was instantly joined by a chorus of many other voices with similar concerns.
This rebellion was quickly squashed by the powers that be, and the mysterious man once approached the woman. They briefly talked for a few seconds, before the man turned away, returning to whatever nefarious deeds he was doing. The woman spoke to me again, and this time I was listening.
`` Aww, baby I know you're scared. Just wait for a bit, okay? Our pictures will be ready in thirty minutes.'' Pictures? What the fuck is a picture?
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[ CW ] You 're a surgeon , and one of your patient just died under your knife . You have to announce the death to the family . Your speech must contain the following words/groups of word : `` Delighted '' , `` Purgatory '' , `` Banana '' , `` Slaughterhouse '' , `` Careless '' , `` Made my day '' and `` Blame it on the temp '' .
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I'm a bit late but whatever
`` I'm sorry Mrs. Jones, but your husband did n't make it through the procedure.''
`` B-but how?'' Stammered the new widow.
`` You see, your husband was awfully delighted when coming into the OR, and that just made my day. I realized what had happened, you know, the careless acts he done with that banana, and I knew I had to dislodge it from his throat. I personally blame the temp of the banana for the obstruction, if it was frozen it would..''
Mrs Jones cut him off, `` Sir, what does...''
`` Now now Mrs Jones, let me finish. If the banana was frozen, it would have likely slid down his through no problem, but because it was at room temp, it was really lodged in there.''
Mrs Jones chimed in once more, `` Sir, this does n't even make any sen..''
`` Please Mrs Jones, I understand it is tough losing a loved one but let me finish.''
She reluctantly agreed to let him speak.
`` After realizing that this surgery was going to be a tricky one, I already booked a reservation at the slaughterhouse for his body just in case''
`` YOU WHAT?''
`` Yes, his spirit entered purgatory but his body is being sliced up and shipped off to Taco Bells around the nation.''
Mrs. Jones could n't believe what she was hearing and began to hysterically cry.
`` Doctor this does n't make any sense,'' she sobbed, `` he was only supposed to have a knee replacement, what went wrong?''
`` I'm not a real doctor, I have no idea what I was doing so I just poked him with a scalpel and he bled out.''
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[ EU ] Thomas the Tank Engine has done something unforgivable is being sent to the scrapyard .
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Thomas knew that one day this would happen, one day he would make that fatal mistake that would cause his maker to become his destroyer. It happened in a flash, Thomas still could n't fully remember what had happened but he could feel it was bad, he could feel the scream of pure agony as the poor woman was mangled and dismembered beneath him. He could taste the blood and feel the sparks from the event, as the liquidated remains for the Essex family burst, spilling all over the track and; all over Thomas. The Clio hatchback crumpled with the resistance of a paper cup, filled with a thick gooey substance that now covered Thomas. The conductor ( aka the only Human on the show ) had a look of dread an despair in his eyes, he witnessed the collision from a meer 50 metres, his shirt so speckled a dark deep red. In second he saw Thomas reduce the Essex family into a burst can of red paint, fly into the sky and open the gates to hell above them with an endless blitzkrieg of limbs, organs and blood of Mary the wife, Carl the father and poor little Suzie, their 8 month old daughter, scar the earth upon impact with a sound resembling a butcher tossing a large slab of meat onto the counter. With the thought of this the conductor gave Thomas one last look and placed his hand on his face, and uttered, `` I always loved you and always will... But there is no other way.'' Thomas shed a single tear and muttered `` Thank you.'' The conductor smashed the large red button and slowly began crying as the shutter closed and he heard the last stream of true agony Thomas cried as he was crushed and cubed and melted. Dead.
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[ WP ] A scientist in the 1950s creates a Time Television and can view your everyday iPhone/GPS/internet-enabled life in 2017 . What notes do they make as they try to make sense of your life ?
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11/13/1952
It's currently noon and the TV has functioned once again. It lets me see the world as it once will be. It seems to be a brighter more optimistic future, offering a better lifestyle for everyone. This is merely my second time viewing, I can not have a valid complete opinion until I see more depth.
11/14/1952
The TV did n't want to function during noon this time, it turned on around 5 PM instead. I've viewed more and my opinion about the future seems to be shifting a little. There seems to be this idea of detaching yourself from reality via a gadget that seems to be very popular amongst younger subjects. A lot of interest seems to be placed on these pieces of future technology, for some reason it has seemingly chained some to it. What could it possibly do that would make a free human being willingly accept addiction and become enslaved?
11/15/1952
The TV became very hot when I tried to make it work throughout the day, it seems like it might be dying. This time it finally turned on at night, around 8 PM. I've observed more and noticed the gadgets are used for social interactions. Many of the subjects seem to share a range of emotions while using them. This means it's not always a positive influence over their lives. Televisions look different too, but offer relatively the same features they offer now. Way higher realism in the moving pictures though.
11/16/1952
The TV did n't work all day today, I had to wait until midnight. When it finally turned on, it was noticeably lower quality. This might be my last journal entry and time seeing into the future. I have some final important notes. People have adapted a new form of communication via images that propose humorous situations. It seems like this comedy can be relatable therefore make people feel connected. Politically people seem as upset as they have ever seemed, no one is happy with what's going on. Even though certain things have changed, I guess not enough to the point where people can be satisfied. The TV turned off after an hour of viewing, relatively short amount of time when compared to the other sessions. I doubt another entry will be made tomorrow. My final point is that the future is not specifically bad, but it's definitely not spectacular either. I guess humanity just does n't let it be the best it can be.
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[ WP ] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “ other half '' at the speed of light using quantum messaging . When you were tested there was no response , now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived .
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Now. Now. Now. Every second at least two people are born, and these two people are soul mates. Meant to be together till the very end.
On your tenth birthday a message is sent out to let your soul mate know where you are and vice versa. If you are lucky you get a response a notification within 2.04^-7 seconds.
On my 10th birthday I was n't so lucky. I waited 1 minute with my parents sitting there waiting in anticipation, to know when they would know about their future daughter in law. 5 minutes passed and still nothing. Maybe the doctors had recorded my time of birth wrong, it had to be possible. Right?
10 minuted passed and still nothing, then 20 minutes, an hour. We all hung our heads. Maybe I was destined to be alone. I was the first to be born with out a soul mate. When this idea hit I looked up at my parents and could see the shame and heart break in their eyes.
They handed me my birthday presents and walked away. For the past 3 years this was all they talked about at each birthday, my soul mate. Was it going to be a guy or a girl? Where would they be from? Would they be rich or poor?
I was a disappointment, a freak, a loser, and a shame in my parents eyes. I ran away that night and chose to just live and do what ever I wanted whenever. I did this for 10 years, and life was good until my 20th birthday.
That night as I sat at the bar with my new friends celebrating my birthday we counted down to when I would officially be 20.
3
2
1
Ding ding ding was all I could hear in my head. What the hell?
Your soul mate has been matched, and you may now talk to them whenever you would like telepathically.
I have a soul mate? 10 years and I have one. This is amazing. I wo n't be alone. I ca n't wait to tell my parents. I wonder what they will be like? Wonder if we will truly get along?
Wait... 10 years? Did they delay telling me about my soul mate? That has to be what happened?
There's no way... we have only inhabited mars and are just now colonizing Pluto. and neither of those are that far away...
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[ WP ] The story that starts with `` Mother died . I was not crying . ''
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Mother died, I was not crying
“ Are we too late? ” Jane asked, as we watched the foundries blast exhaust began to melt away mothers extremities. She had long antennae which extended fore and aft. Almost a kilometre out each side. The furnace maw was almost 50 kilometers wide. The heat inside was n't blinding, it was more of a bright red.
Mothers front antenna was snapped off by a large mass ship that grabbed it by the end. Mother used to be covered in heat resistant foam. All that had been ripped off as mother approached. The mass ship had had some of it strapped to it to protect it from the heat in a haphazard way, small parts of it flying off as it made sharp turns around mother. It had a claw that extended out of the foam ball that covered it's body. The claw had attached to the antenna at her front and applied thrust until it snapped close to her body.
Jane looked at her screens.
“ Charge at 34 %. How much longer? ” She asked
I looked at Robert, he was looking over a series of readouts. Apart from our generator still spinning up, we were as ready as we could be.
“ How much longer till we spin up fully? ” I asked him.
“ 45 more seconds with us in dark mode like this. ”
“ I hope they work on her antennae more. It will give us time ” I said.
“ She's still going in at a meter per second. At least ten minutes until she gets too close and they start to damage her core units. ” Jane said.
“ So we wait. Less than half a minute. ”
The screen in front of Robert changed, the colours in front of him altered slightly. He smiled.
“ We just hooked into a jump up early. Primary generator is self sustaining. Speed up in less than ten seconds. ”
“ Tell me when we hit each power mark line. ” I said.
Robert said. “ Power output primed, on full charge. ”
“ Power at 40 %. ”
She paused for 5 seconds.
“ 50 %. 60 %. Charge holding, We're good ”
I began to select points on the screen.
“ Turn down at 110 % charge. Launch the nodes then. ” I ordered.
The others just nodded.
“ 100 % ” Joan said.
We jumped.
Our ship was only a kilometer long and 300 meters wide, hardly anything compared to mother. But at this distance she could make a jump and still have enough charge to jump immediately again. We only needed her to jump 400 kilometers.
At that range I could also aim per perfectly.
We jumped inside mother. The space we were in was normally used to store the air supply in liquefied form. When they burnt mother during the battle they had pearced the piping system and she had vented her contents over the last ten weeks. It was n't deliberate. There was an emergency generator nearby and they wanted to kill it. Without massive amounts of power mother could n't operate her engines, and more importantly for them, she could n't think. She could n't be mother.
“ Harpoons in. ” Joan said.
I looked at the location, the port side of the ship was about 30 meters from the wall. The chamber was normally strong enough to hold the compressed air at either cryogenit temperatures, or at 200 bar. I had hoped it had cracked during the breach.
I mapped out location based on the inlet and outlet piping that was nearby. The nearest main conduit was through the chamber wall, then a kilometer around towards her aft.
“ Launching crawler. ” I said.
I aimed the crawler launcher at our starboard side as close along the chamber as I could to where I thought the conduit was.
I fired.
The chamber had cracked.
The crawler went right through. It was tightly coiled up, trailing a small pilot line. As soon as it recovered from the bullet like launch through the wall it uncoiled. One claw hooked itself to what looked like the strongest structural member nearby. As soon as it did the motor on the claw bagen to reel in the pilot line. It was thin and led back to the ship. On the ship end was a superconducting cable the width of my torso. The cable shot out and headed to the impact point.
The crawler scanned. I took control as it worked out where it was. The conduit was 60 meters away through 3 bulkheads.
I slammed through the first, cutting a cross shape with my lasers and peeling the wall open as I pushed through. The crawled went through and began to work through the second wall slightly more expertly.
“ We're being commed. They've clipped into the main superstructure and using it like an antanne. ” Robert said.
“ Whats the power level? ” I asked
“ Generator has picked itself up again. Ten seconds till the primary is on full output. ” He said.
I was had just pushed through the first wall when I could see my objective. The conduit was there, but it was loose, curved like a snake. The destruction of mothers generator had hit it. It would be useless to us.
“ Shit. Conduit 1 is down. Going to number 2. ”
I looked at the map. The scanners extended. We had good luck. Now were were close to the chamber with the secondary generator the destruction has been more holesale. The scan alerted me. A blast from some generator system had taken down a wall. There was another conduit visible.
I launched the crawler through the empty space. Floating past the destruction the attack had done to mothers internals. Cabling and loose metal scraps banged into the crawler as it flew at maximum speed through the hole.
The conduit was taunt, I hoped it was still connected into the main power transmission system.
I hit nearby. I fired a test claw into the conduit. The claw melted away a portion of protective covering and burrowed unto the superconductive cable inside.
“ Generator is live. ” Robert said.
He added a second comment. “ They are getting pretty angry. ”
As soon as he said that the ship shook.
“ What was that? ” I asked
Joan looked. “ Something hit mother very hard. The harpoons transmitted some of it into us. ”
“ They're nuking her. They do n't care about salvage, they just want to make sure she stays dead. ”
“ We'll get her back. ” I said.
*****Continued in reply*****
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[ WP ] Everyone has a power , but it only becomes active when you turn 18 . The corrupt government secretly kills people who have powers deemed too powerful or those who might overthrow them . You have been deemed one of these people , and today is your 18th birthday .
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Ever since the great meteor strike, every human gained a superpower. Hundreds of thousands of meteors rained upon the years miraculously missing anything significant and hurting no one. Oddly enough our superpowers do n't manifest themselves until we turn eighteen. On our eighteenth birthday we were required to go to the nearest State Secretary of Superpowers. It was at this time our superpower would be revealed to us. People whisper that the government controls the superpowers only allowing those that they can control to live and killing those who are too strong. This is completely and utterly false. The government would not lie to its citizens.
Ever since I was a child, I dreamt of the different known superpowers that I could possibly possess. It was impossible to decided which one would be the best for me. I thought of them all literally thousands of times. Imagining my life with each of the superpowers was how I made it through the daily doldrum of dumb classes. For the last eighteen years I have been counting down until my superpower would be revealed to me. It is finally my eighteenth birthday and I will be presenting myself to the State Secretary of Superpowers after school.
The day at school drags on for what seems like ten eternities. I race out of the classroom when the bell rings so quickly people would've thought that I had already been blessed with super speed. Super speed would be pretty cool, even though it is relatively common compared to some of the other superpowers. I could blaze through homework and my chores, which would allow me more time for my hobbies and to play with friends. The major downside of super speed is waiting for all the normal people to do their tasks. Suddenly I begin to question whether I would even want super speed. It was one of my top five picks for superpowers up until this moment. What if I got to choose? Would I choose the wrong power? I continued to ponder trying to come up with pro and cons lists for every known superpower as I walked over to the SSS ( State Secretary of Superpowers ).
I bound through the doors of the SSS eager and excited to find out my superpower. I am prompted to pull a number and wait. My number is 394. Looking up, I am dismayed to see they are currently working on number 300. Ninety-four numbers in front of me, even though there are only ten people in the entire building, including the workers. Three eternities pass before the next number to be helped is changed to 394. All of the workers must have a superpower to make time go by even slower than a crawl. Ages later my number is finally called up. Bounding quickly to the available teller I accidentally bump into an old man with a glorious white beard flowing nearly to the floor. His blue eyes pierce through me as if they were examining my entire existence. Breaking his gaze, I turn and continue my path towards the waiting teller.
She angrily stares at me for taking an extra two seconds to get up to her counter, as if I have n't been waiting on her all afternoon. She looks over my forms filling in random dots and illegible words here and there. She hands my form back to me, motioning for me to stand in front of a wall. My picture is taken for my superpower identification card, which must be carried at all times, punishable by prison and a severe fine.
From there I'm sent down a long hallway with a large reinforced door at the end. I feel as if I'm getting sent to death row. The sounds of my steps echo off the marble floor scaring me even more than before. I slow the closer I get to the door. `` Do I really need a superpower, maybe I should just go back.'' A few steps from the door and it automatically swing open. The hinges groan in loud protest. The bottom of the door scrapes the floor creating the awful noise of nails scratching a chalkboard. Thankfully I did n't have super senses, especially hearing, or blood would be pouring profusely from my eardrums.
Inside the room is a single chair, much like the ones at the dentist. This one has a tank filled with some mysterious green ooze connected to the back of the chair. It bubbles. A man dressed in pure black robes points to the chair. As soon as I sit, straps lock my feet and hands in place. The man works silently. His raspy breathes escape his mask and a hint of onion scent blasts my nose. A few apprehensive minutes later, the man steps away from the chair to press a button I did n't notice earlier on the wall.
A needle pierces my skin. The green ooze flows through tubes over my head slowly traveling down to the needle and into my skin. It burns as well as freezes at the same time. Suddenly I am both hot and cold. The green ooze flows throughout my body both quickly and slowly. It is hard to explain somehow. I feel as if the ooze is emptying my body, but overflowing my being. I feel weak, but yet I feel as if strength is starting to flow through me like it never has before. As the last of the ooze drips through the needle, I begin to return to a more normal state. I can feel the potion working throughout my entire system. Power begins to surge through my pores almost emanating from my body.
Suddenly the man realizes how much power I have. He pulls out a gun and begins to aim at me when the large door flies of its hinges as if there was a nuclear explosion. Here I sit thinking there was no one alive with explosive powers. The man in black dropped to the ground. Although the power flows through me, I am exhausted slowly drifting to the darkness. I try to keep my lead eyes open, but the last thing I see before blackness is the piercing blue eyes of the old man from earlier...
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[ WP ] An empty world
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The only thing I can do here is think.
I think that is part of my punishment.
I used to walk around believing I was too overwhelmed, too busy with my 9-5, my kids, my sick in-laws and a dog who still pissed in her crate. You should've seen my eyes. How puffy, tinged with an assortment of purples and yellows. I did all the thinking, all day, everyday. It was robotic and frustrating and every night I would lay still after the house got silent and picture what would happen if I lived in a place where I did n't have to beg for more hours in a day, more money, less feedback, extra servings. What would happen if I was gone?
And one night it came true. I dreamt of an alternate version of my life -- where it was warm and full of booze, with beaches and decisions that only had A or B to choose from. My brain turned off and I was on auto-pilot. And then I woke up from my fantasy.
I remember crawling out of bed that morning and feelings particularly cranky. I showered with my head against the wall and just let the water cascade over me. I do n't think I even took the time to clean myself. Like I was robbed, even though it was only an illusion.
That was the majority of my adult life. Me wishing for simplicity. But before you get ahead, I do want to clarify that not all days were miserable in my life. That's the rule of binary. Happy comes with sad, early with late, excellent and poor... Some of the happiest days are the ones I think about most often.
Like when my sons were born. The two of them looked almost identical at birth, even though they were 2 years apart. The little black hairs, long eyelashes, and brown pupils so big the whites of their eyes were almost non-existent. And when I held them, they weighed the same -- both so heavy and so light at the same time. The weight of responsibility. It was like my seventh grade backpack all over again -- towering over me as a constant reminder I'm about to experience something I've never experienced before.
But this?
I could n't prepare for this.
This is not happy.
This is not sad.
This is nothing.
All I can do is think.
There is nothing to see, nothing to do. You no longer have your body full of movement to entertain yourself with. I can not walk or run or jump. I never sleep or get sick. There is no up or down, or day or night.
I do n't know what time it is.
I do n't know how long I've been here.
I do n't know anything except what I used to know.
If I focus outside of my thoughts, I see nothing ahead of me. The first time this became apparent, I quickly turned around: but there was still nothing. It makes you question, `` Am I facing forward or backward?'' So I used to turn again, just to be safe.
THAT is what is overwhelming. Not being a part of anything and just existing. At least people with no families have work or friends. At least homeless people have stimuli and decent people willing to spare some time now and again. At least the grass has the sun and the basketball has the pavement.
The only thing I can think of is that this is my permanent time out to think about what I've done.
Maybe I've gone crazy, but that's another topic I'd rather not spiral down into; I do n't know if I ever came back last time.
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[ WP ] Someone has the ability to heal others at the expense of their own life force . After an unaware childhood of curing stomach aches and bruises , they are dwindling down to nothing by the time they reach their late 20 's .
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**Journal Entry January 8 2016**
Eminent Total Organ Failure, that is what is said on my chart this morning. 0 % chance to survive the night. You can imagine the sadness I felt reading that. Of all the ways to add insult to injury, dying probably takes the cake. I guess it is a fitting end to the worse season of my life. My life... All I have had on this planet is three short decades and by the end of the day it is over. All over.
But do you know what? Amidst the anguish I felt, stirred another emotion. A familiar one that until today I had always dismissed it as invalid, and wrong for me to consider. But today, today is different, for the first time in a decade I've let myself feel it. Rage, boiling up inside me. And why not?! All I have ever done is give and give and this is what it gets me!?! The Miracle Worker, dead at 28! The'Gifted' Doctor ca n't cure this one.This damn gift! I guess it is more of a curse at this point. AUGH! I do n't want to die! Not like this, not alone and betrayed by my family, my friends,... Her.
I wonder if she ever really loved me. She was the last person to stick around after I found out the'price' of my healing and shut down my clinic. You would not believe the animosity thrown my way. I stopped healing people because it was.. is KILLING ME! And my once adoring public was now ready to lynch me. And then when I refused to heal Uncle John? My family treated me like a Murder. Can you believe that? The man had stage IV lung cancer from the 2 packs a day he refused to give up. And I was supposed to lay down the better part of my life so he could have another 20 years to smoke himself right back to chemo. Fucking Leeches, the lot of em.
After that, It was just me and her, at least I thought it was. I would have done anything for her,... and I guess I did. If I had known that night, who the man she dragged into our house crying was... Well, I would n't be here that is for sure. But how could I have known, I trusted her and she needed me. I had vowed never to use my gift again but here she was caring some stranger in full cardiac arrest and pleading with me to to save him. Worst mistake of my life. That man, that son-of-a-bitch was the man she was sleeping with. When I found out, I could n't believe it. I STILL ca n't believe it. How could she do that to me! AND THEN bring his half-dead sorry ass to the house I bought her and ask me to save him. If I had known, I would have watched him die, Happily. He does n't deserve the life he has, She did n't deserve me, the whole world does n't deserve me. I am a miracle worker! And they just used me up and discarded me.
Leeches, the lot of em.
I guess this is my last entry. Goodbye.
**Journal Entry January 9 2016**
Interestingly enough, She stopped by last night. God knows why, maybe to apologize. But her arrival did spark an interesting thought.
I had only ever tried to give life before.....
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[ WP ] A horror story ... where the characters act realistically
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( As a campfire story. This is exaggerated and tongue-in-cheek, do n't take it too seriously )
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Sue. Sue was the prettiest girl in the whole town, all the boys liked her. She dreamed of her wedding day, she'd have the most beautiful gown with the longest train with the most handsome husband. One day in high school he asked her out, it was Steve: the varsity fullback. They started dating, and even her parents approved. In a whirlwind romance, they got married a week after graduation, and moved out once Steve got a job that could support the two of them.
At first married life was great for Sue and Steve, but after a few years things had changed. Steve was never abusive to Sue, nor was Sue abusive to Steve, but she was n't happy any more, and neither was Steve. Sue confided this in her mother, who told her it was normal and she'd adjust and that she should keep going. Steve quietly assumed he was supposed to be miserable being married, and so nothing changed and they never really talked about it. Eventually one day Sue got pregnant, when Sue saw the blue plus sign she panicked as she all at once realized that their personalities had grown apart, and they were n't a good fit for each other any more.
With Steve's job's cutbacks and layoffs Steve and Sue had to sell their beautiful home for a smaller one. Eventually they'd have to fit 6 people in 3 rooms and sharing 1 bathroom, and the family was up to their eyeballs in debt. Sue and Steve both resented the other one, but they still loved them, while acknowledging only to themselves that they had n't been *in* love for some time. Their kids did n't respect them, and between the one bathroom, the crippling debt, and being constantly disrespected by their children, every morning was hell for Sue and Steve.
Eventually their eldest son, Bob, was arrested for possession of felony quantities of methamphetamine, tried as an adult, and Sue cried for two days over this. Where had her life gone wrong? She was supposed to live a fairy tale, and instead she was in a world of shit. She went to her pastor and confided her unhappiness, her pastor told her that the most important thing was her family, and her only worry should be about them.
Sue and Steve had began quiet affairs, neither ever new for sure about the other one was cheating but they both suspected it and were too emotionally checked out to really care anyway. Eventually they grew old together, both overweight with diseases like diabetes, arthritis, high cholesterol, and hemorrhoids.
Eventually, Sue and Steve died feeling as if the only accomplishment they made was raising their children, but even then two of the four were jerks so they were always playing a game of ignoring their children's faults to avoid feeling even worse.
They say that even today, if you do n't ever stop and ask yourself, `` Is this what I want from life,'' while having the courage to stand up against the grain, **you too might end up in an unhappy marriage and generally dissatisfied with life! **
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[ WP ] Reincarnation is real . You have the power to see people 's past reincarnations .
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With this'gift', of sorts, I've been able to see people's previous reincarnations. The reason I say'gift' is because, first off, no one believes me, and secondly, with this ability I can see how their demise will be. I saw the second my best friend died, two years before hand. And his previous reincarnations all died in the same way. Alas it seems that this could assist the world, but I do n't see an actual image, but a description and list of previous lives.
Let's take my friend for example,
Robert Kingly:
Dies at the age of 14 at August 21, 2013 because of heart attack.
Previous lives:
( A list of unimportant people who died of a heart attack. )
Now, you might say, ca n't you assist in anyway? No. I tried! I tried to prevent so many deaths but all attempts failed. This is why I think it is a curse and not a gift. Everyone and everything dies around me, and I ca n't help it, but know. Knowledge is power? Bull-fucking-shit. Power is power, not knowledge. Knowledge is a metaphorical peace of shit.
The only person who *truly* interests me, is myself. I can see my reincarnations, it is n't that cliche, but who my previous reincarnations were.
Jacob Helens:
Dies at the age of 36 due to suicide. ( Suicide has always been on my mind, not a surprise. But the list is what surprises me... )
Previous lives:
Adolf Hitler.
Jesus Christ.
Wait, wait, wait... Adolf Hitler? Well, fuck me! I was born with fucked up shit in my veins. But, Jesus?! Was n't he supposedly crucified?! So that means Hitler had Jesus's soul inside him. What truly happened in our history?
Oh wait, now that I think about it... Was n't Jesus Jewish? And Hitler atheist? Okay that's just ironic. But, the thing that scares me the most is that Jesus is our lord and savior. While Hitler was a humanoid devil...
What am I?
Jacob Helens:
Dies at the age of 47 due to gunshot.
*What am I doing?! *
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[ WP ] 450 years ago , both the need and desire for sleep disappeared entirely . With everyone now able to function at 100 % for 24 hours a day , giant leaps in every imaginable field . Slowly , the ideas of sleep and dreams faded from memory . Last month , sleep came back .
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`` Thank you Martin, I am here live at the scene where scientists and doctors are at a loss to explain the sudden fainting syndrome. I spoke to one sufferer who just recovered.''
The camera pans from a perky 20 something female reporter to a sullen and desperate looking 60 plus wrinkly old man.
`` Yeah I simply do n't know what came over me, one moment I was feeling ill; like a pounding headache and spots in my vision and then the medic tells me I fainted. Had really horrible hallucinations whilst out as well...''
The camera pans from the old man to a serious looking woman in a lab coat.
The reporter off camera leads with a question.
`` Doctor Sandman, do you have any explication of this new disease? ``
The doctor puts on her most serious answering face.
`` We are still running tests of course, but so far we have yet to find any cause or how it is spreading. To anyone that has the symptoms described the advice is to sit down and wait for your body to recover. ``
The camera suddenly cuts to a young man in a old fashioned business suit, he is even of all things; wearing a tie.
The reporter off camera again narrates.
`` It is not all bad news however, local businessman; Teddy here has been selling old recliners to those worried they might be affected with the fainting disease and has made considerable sums of money from the sales.''
The camera snaps back to the reporter smiling, hoping her `` and finally in weird news'' clip would make it on to the regional news.
`` This is Sonno Krankheit reporting for Schlaf news, back to you in the studio.
( +edit - formatting )
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[ WP ] Humanity has spread far and wide across the stars . There are no aliens .
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We are alone.
First, we went over the next hill to see if there were others like us and found ourselves. Then we crossed oceans, and found yet more of us. We circled the globe, and found peoples of every color, creed, belief, and culture.
That was a long time ago.
Since that ancient age of exploration, we have learned much. The next hill was Mars. Across the ocean of the stars was Alpha Centauri. From there, we spread across the cosmos. The long journey across the Milky Way taught mankind how to live amongst the stars. Living amongst the stars taught mankind about solitude.
For thousands of years we have searched for some companionship out there. Many think we will never find it. Some even think we could n't recognize it if we found it. But we still look.
The next hill is just a bit further away than it used to be.
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[ WP ] You 're eating breakfast , watching the news and you see coverage of the police pulling a body from a lake . It 's you .
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I woke up, feeling as if I had gotten no sleep at all. Fractured dreams of struggeling agains something massive and overwhelming, as a thousand cold hands pinning me down towards my bed. The insistent whine of my new alarm clock. Horrible way to wake up, but it got me out of bed atleast. Skipping the morning ritual of taking a shower and brushing my teeth. For some reason, water did n't appeal to me today. Walked into the kitchen, my fridge as empty as my bank account. Still, three day old white bread and my last piece of butter. Enough to make some toast. I hate my life.
Casually flipping through newssites on my tablet, mainly yesterdays news. The pop of the toaster. Butter on warm bread. The sound of my alarm clock still whining through my head. News update. A man in his mid twenties found drowned in the lake. Click here for live coverage. Sure, why not? Identity confirmed. Family informed. Heh, worked at the same dead end job as me. Wonder if I knew him? Toast tastes cold and watery. Ah well. Enough news. Time to go to work! Let's hope today will be interesting.
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[ WP ] workers at an excavation site dig up a metallic coffin with a 15 ft tall body clutching a brightly glowing orb ...
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`` The human boy, Varicus! Make the human boy!''
The Inheritor's long, grey fingers gripped the chair, knuckles white with tension. The room around them was dark, other than the bacterial illuminators attached just above the door. The dark clay walls arched into the ceiling, which reached far out of the range of light. Just beyond the inheritor's throne, a boy sat back on his knees, fingers nervously scratching at the hard ground.
The Inheritor's neck pushed forward, long, wrincled and grey. `` Varicus!'' He shrieked again, `` The human child WILL initiate the sequence!'' Across the room, a large creature stepped into the dim light, and stood over the small boy. It's titanous body was muscular, cladden in dark metal armour. At the shoulders and elbows, it was jagged with curved spikes. The armour was inlaid with a soft purple glow at the joints. The beast-man held a large polearm in one hand, it's design not much different than the armour. The man brought the weapon end down hard into the ground, where it stayed, protruding from the ground. Looking down at the boy, the beast growled, frowning.
`` It will send it. It will send his holiness to them. His message will be heard. It must.'' The inheritor pushed a holographic button on his regal chair. A holographic interface opened, shining bright blue holo-light about the room. A woman's voice began resonate from the holo-screen.... `` We are the the race called Nabrien. We reside on the planet Cariunus. Our home sits in the Szaihinek star system, 2.2 trillion light years away from Ecterra.... or Earth. From the estimated 17,000 and third year of your planets existence, our Star Elders have been watchi-'' `` Yes, yes, so on and so forth.'' The old Nabrien slouched in his chair, using the holo-controls to skip through the message. `` Ah, my favorite part. The awaited ending!'' Varicus snarled quietly. The woman's voice returned. `` We come to you as our last hope. The survival of our people is no longer our capability.''
Finally, the Inheritor reached one long finger out, touching the floating message. He dragged his long pointer finger through the air, and touched a pale white orb held in his other hand. The orb began to glow a light blue, faintly at first, but it's strength grew. The Inheritor reached the orb forward. Varicus looked up from the small boy. He reached down and yanked the boy to his feet, then pushed him toward the elder. The boy looked up at the extended object, then back at Varicus. `` Take it, hurry now.'' The old Nabrien inticed the orb toward the boy a little harder. The boy began to creep a little closer toward the out stretched hands. Pale light shone in his wide blue eyes as he looked up at the orb. Varicus yanked his spear from the stone, and jabbed the boy in the rear with the end of the pole.
The boy took the sphere from the bony grasp with one hand, rubbing his sore butt with the other. `` Now it is time.'' The Inheritor waved his hand toward his right. Far from his direction, a new light source began to resonate in the black of the cavernous room. The boy began to walk toward it, a little quicker this time. As he approached, he observed a large rectangular object.
The coffin was brushed metal, resembling stainless steel. Black rock was cut into smooth cubes, and stacked in a pyramid as the foundation upon which the sarcophagus rested. Black and blue light resonated from the borders of the huge geometric shape, and followed their individual paths down into the ground.
Reaching forward, the boy laid a hand upon the smooth metal. Around the edges of his hand, an imprinted glow of light blue was left as he pulled away. The imprint flickered a few times, then disappeared. The smooth metal top began to slide apart, and open up to reveal a body.
A man, also Nabrien, laid out in the coffin. His skin was light brown, laden with symbols of the old times all over every part of his exposed skin. He had been draped in royal Star Watcher robes, black and inlaid with many patterns of gold and onyx. This was custom in the event of a Star Elders death, only this time it was different. The city was not painted with his discoveries, and the streets barren of morners who would have been seen standing vigil.
The boy knelt before the sarcophagus. `` In your light, we will be guided.'' The boy climbed back to his feet, and took the orb in both hands. He looked back at the two Nabrien one more time. The Inheritor and Varick both looked on, stone faced. Placing the orb on the dead Elder's chest, the boy backed away with his head down. The metal casket doors began to close. The casket then sank below the ground, with the smooth dark stone filling the hole where it had once sat. Finally the ground ceased to rumble, and the three stood together in silence.
Trees and shrubs were either completely uprooted, or burning. The ground got darker and darker with char as proximity to the case decreased. A few people are walking about the area, shining flashlights. `` What do you suppose it is?'' A short police officer with a sturdy build jabs the long, tall body with his flash light. `` Probably a stupid kids YouTube video gone real-fuckin wrong,'' chuckles the detective, smirking as he taps a few times on his smartphone. `` It does n't matter, though.'' He stashes his phone back into his trench coat. `` This area is totally empty. Nearest house is probably the youth hostel up on Bald Face. They're too busy fucking Euro chick's to give a rats ass about the woods.''
The evidence team arrives, and begins to load the large object into their truck. As all the workers prepare to heave up, the detective slaps the large case. `` Alrighty fellas, ONE. TWO. THR-'' the metal glows in an imprint where his hand had made contact, and begins to flicker. The next second the metal slides back, revealing the long, wrinkled body and the glowing orb. `` Now what is this fuckery...'' the detective says amongst murmuring workers. `` Andrews, quit takin a piss and get a gander!'' The cop jogs over and assesses the spectacle. He places his hands on his hips and shrugs. `` Props and shit getting realer? I do n't know bud. I'm not the guy to ask.'' He leans over for a closer look. He grabs the glowing blue orb, lightly tossing it up and catching it again. `` Although this thing is pretty nift-'' `` We are the race called Nabrien.'' The woman's voice rings clearly through out the area. Everyone looks at the orb in utter dismay. `` What in God's name....''
( Not exactly what you wanted but I had fun with it )
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[ WP ] A Starbucks Batista has given you Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with soy instead of a Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk . Make this as tragic , heart-wrenching and miserable as possible .
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I sure hope the nice sounding barista gets my fairly complicated order right! It'd be a shame if it got messed up because I would n't be able to notice it until too late because I'm blind.
Oh right, I'm blind. It's a really terrible and gut-wrenching story as to how I got blind. I was a young chap, 7 years of age, and I was trying to save a mewling kitten from a ferocious pack of street ferrets. What happened next was something that was really miserable. I was punting feral ferrets left and right, up and down. Their furry, yet vicious, little faces were set on getting that kitten. Suddenly, mid-kick, I slipped and fell onto my back. As the ferrets swarmed me, I chuckled to myself at how much I felt like I was in an old classic novel I had read once. I struggled valiantly, but those cheeky bastards took my eyes and the kitten. Tragic.
Well I hear the barista call out my name, and I approach what I hope is the counter. I grab my ice cold refreshing beverage/coffee slushy. With great relish I fumble with the straw wrapper for a good minute. Finally; it is time. It is MY time.
*slurp*
Uh-oh, this is n't what I ordered. I gasp. I shudder. I raise my hands to the heavens. Why God, why?
My severe allergies to both chocolate and soy are enough to do me in. As I fall to the floor, I whisper to the world, `` Fuck.''
*Taken from the obituary page the next day*
Mr. Jim Dorsey, who was tragically blinded in an altercation with several small woodland creatures, was pronounced dead this past Wednesday afternoon. In a miserable trick of fate, Jim, who was blind, mistakenly took the beverage of another gentleman who was also named Jim. He did not notice the cool mocha color that would have surely given away the difference between the vanilla drink he ordered and the cup of veritable poison which he did indeed slurp. The still living Jim, however, had ordered what turned out to be a lethal combination for poor Mr. Dorsey. Poor gent.
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[ WP ] Iron is the only element that suppresses magic . Earth is unique in having an iron core , and humans are alone in the universe by having red blood .
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He half watched, and half looked away as she stepped, fully nude, out of the water. He had interrupted her morning Bathing Rites, she would not be pleased. As she stretched out her arms, two attendants came with towels, and began to dry her. She still had not looked at him, and he knew better than to speak out of turn. Towels traced along every curve of her body, starting at the top of her head, with its long, golden hair, past the points of her ears, down her neck, as she glanced sideways, almost, but not quite looking at him. Lowering his eyes immediately, he began to blush, much to his chagrin. He had been staring, and he had been caught. He decided it was not worth the risk of another look, and very meticulously studied the floor. Wooden, intricate, clearly crafted by the Master Singers of the Court.
`` Tell me, Magister Aias,'' she began, prompting him to slowly raise his eyes. `` What do these newcomers call themselves?''
When his gaze finally fell upon her again, she was dressed in fine silk robes, the sash tied at the front. The attendants were nowhere to be seen.
`` Humans, Your Grace. They say they come from another world entirely, from across the Sea of Stars.''
`` Interesting.'' was her single word reply, as she began walking towards the Magister. He loved watching her move. She was graceful, but beyond graceful. Light on her feet, yet with a strong presence. She was, in a word, Royal. `` And you say they have no skill for Magic?''
He relaxed a little, ready to discuss scholarly and Magical matters, very much his comfort zone.
`` No aptitude whatsoever, according to our spies among the Dwarves. Moreover, they are very hard to affect with Magic, of nearly any sort.''
`` How so?'' she inquired, as she strode past him, and into the hallway. He would follow the prescribed three steps behind, as had been the custom since Time began.
`` Normal spells seem impossible to cast upon them. Flames, one of the Battle Mage's most basic spells, can not overcome whatever resistance they have. And they seem entirely immune to Scrying, Mind Control, and the like. All attempts to cast spells directly on them, have failed, in fact. It simply does not work, and as far as Mana is concerned, it is as though they are simply not there. Indirect effects, on the other hand, seem to function normally. A Stone Missile spell, cast into the Mage's hand, and flung at them, hits them just fine, but then, so does picking up a rock, and throwing it.''
Their walk through the hall had brought them at last to the Throne Room, where she sat upon the Golden Throne of the Sylvan Peoples. The Magister stayed off the dais, as was the custom.
`` And so, how did they cross the Sea of Stars with no Magic? And what of their weapons?''
`` Well, firstly, they arrived in very large vessels, much like the Dwarven Flying Machines, only much bigger, and much louder. The Dwarves of The Ice-Crowned Summit said it was like the very ship of their God, descending from the heavens. But of course, there were no Dwarves inside, only these Humans. And, as far as their weapons are concerend, they all carry something that functions most like a Dwarven crossbow. Small, black, obviously metal, but unlike any we know of. It is not gold, nor is it the Dwarven Bronze. Only Orichalcum is as hard, if reports are to be believed.''
`` I do n't trust it. What looks like a Dwarven Godship, with people carrying what looks like Dwarven weapons, lands just outside a Dwarven stronghold, and I'm just supposed to believe they come from some other world? This feels like a Dwarven trick.'' The Queen accused.
`` All indication is that the Dwarves are as surprised by their arrival as we are. Though, none were as surprised as the Orcs, it seems.'' The Magister responded slyly. He loved knowing something the Queen had not already heard. It was the one thing, as the Prime Magister, in which he was superior to her.
`` They've killed some Orcs, then?'' she asked, genuinely intrigued by this revelation.
`` Oh yes, Your Grace. They have indeed. A band of Orcs from the Grim Wilds thought they might make a good raid target. It was their last thought, according to our reports. These... Humans do not have Magic, but their powers are great and terrible nonetheless. After the first Orcish arrows hit their vessel, a mighty roar was heard, and some of the Orcs exploded. We still are n't sure how this was done, mind you, but the rest of the raiding party retreated after that. In fact, Orcish activity seems to be down as a whole, according to my ScryMasters.''
`` Very interesting.'' The Queen concluded. `` That will be all, Aias. You may send in the Humans on your way out.''
**Edit: Formatting**
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[ WP ] You and your friend make the old drunken agreement that if either of you invent time travel , you 'll return to the current time and spot . 5 seconds after you shake on it , your friend appears from the future , with an urgent message .
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An old man approch us and start yelling:
**'' DO N'T THINK ABOUT IT!!! `` **
I turn my head to see clearly who is so nice to us. He look so old, good lord, how can he stand? As he is getting closer to us, sparkles start to fly between him and my friend. A loud buzz is starting to make us dizzy. He seems to enjoy it like a maniac.
`` Finally I found you `` *Delta-Zero*''!'' - He said over the loud buzz sound.
My first reaction is to jump from my chair and tell him `` Wha....''.
Suddenly two cops show up and start shooting the old man, `` WTF IS GOING ON?'' I said to myself. The strangest thing is after a few shots, the old bastard seems not to budge a little bit. The cops emptied theirs magazines, reload, shoot all the ammos, again, and again and again.
When the cops realized their out, the old one start smiling `` Now it's my turn'', he jump over them, and start putting his hands over their skull, `` kriiick -- splursh'' he crush each them like a simple orange.
He turn and face us, `` Now that we can talk, you better listen''. He is getting closer to us, sparkles and buzz are starting to fly, he took a gun and shoot my friend, but instead of killing him, the sparkles shut down. `` I changed you genetic code, you are not me anymore, this is a temporary solution for us to speak''.
`` You were thinking about time travel, so it is, in the future a reality. Those two cops, are Time cops, they were trying to stop me of meeting you. I spend the last 768 years finding this time in space-time continuum, I've seen thing no living thing should have seen, time should not be messed with. Do you really think the dinosaurs should be extinct? Fucking tourist who stepping over the line. This time, were we are now, are the one that future a plausible for the human kind, so please do n't play forces no ones should play with''
He turn and toke the two cops and disappear with a flash.
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[ WP ] A Good News/Bad News Scenario where `` Everything you know is wrong '' is the Good News .
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I was happy to be alone, wrapped in a scarf of cashmere and an endless cotton-sweater sea. I was enjoying the tempo of my boot heels hitting the pavement mixed with the raindrops slapping the ground.
And yet I could not help my eyes drifting to the unusual purple vehicle driving lazily behind me. The street in the alleyway I was walking in was intricate tile lined with wrought iron fencing; one would need to operate a vehicle lazily here. There was no reason to suspect. But still, I was a woman walking alone in the Diamond City, and that peculiar purple car was behind me. And, as I'm sure you've inferred, I like to be alone
I decided to go into a coffee shop and get out of the rain for a while; I could not find my umbrella.
The Main Bean was empty. Beautiful. I walked to the marble top counter and rang the golden service bell. Twice. Three times.
Nobody.
I yelled, `` Hello?''
Nobody.
I looked through the door behind the counter, into the kitchen.
Nobody.
I walked behind the counter, grabbed a medium cup, and poured myself a coffee. I fixed it up the way I like it, and sat at a boutique table that was lined with a curious pattern of tiny amethysts and platinum.
I was delighted to be alone and delighted to have free coffee. I took a sip, feeling the warm and frothy darkness dance with my tongue.
And, still, I could not help but notice the peculiar purple vehicle, now parked outside The Main Bean, with tinted windows so dark I could not see inside.
Something was not right.
I stood and went into the kitchen, grabbing a boxcutter before running out the back door. This alley was too small for a purple car, and I ran up it for what felt like forever, screaming for help and banging on doors.
Nobody.
When I exited the small alleyway onto the main streets, lined with gold-faced buildings and diamond-enfused windows, the peculiar small car was parked almost out of my sight, way down the road. I ran the opposite way, yelling for help or a ride or anything.
I never saw this part of Diamond City barren. There is always schools of people and vehicles, intertwined and flowing like schools of fish. But today, there were no cars and no people. Nothing.
I ducked into a theatre and ran into the left-most stage. As I turned the corner from carpeted hallway to wooden floors and white walls, my brain was electrocuted and terrified when I saw another person.
A man, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, seated in a wooden chair in the middle of this prop room. I stopped in my tracks, but it was too late. He saw me.
He stood and began to run to me, I turned and began to run faster. He yelled, `` No!''
I ran faster. I could feel my bob bouncing on my shoulders.
`` I've been looking for you!'' He yelled again.
I turned a corner, mu eyes fixing on a metal door with a picture of a janitor on it. Stair access? I tore at the doorknob, no luck. I ran harder, ripped at another doorknob. Locked. I looked ahead of me; a small lounge with no doors. A dead end.
I kicked over a bookshelf and ran to a desk, ripping a lamp off of it before kicking the desk over, too. I smashed the lamp on the tipped desk and held it to my side as I demanded, `` Who are you?''
He slowed down, put his hands up. `` You wo n't believe me,'' he sounded exasperated. His face was the kind of face that could speak and communicated better than words.
I lowered my lamp-weapon. `` What do you want with me?''
He spoke again, `` That purple car that's been following you, that's a member of the Diamondbacks.''
The Diamondbacks: the most dangerous gang in Diamond City. Responsible for human trafficking, bank and jeweler robberies, and countless murders. My mouth went dry.
`` They want you. They've been following you all day.''
I parted my lips a little. `` What do I do?''
He smiled. `` Wake up!''
I was... dreaming? `` Huh?''
His smile was so beautiful. `` None of this is real! You're asleep!''
`` Who ARE you?''
`` Your subconscious!'' He exclaimed.
From then, he faded away from me. As did the lounge in the theatre, the purple car, Diamond City: Gone. Gone and slowly forgotten as I went about my day.
It's weird how dreams do that.
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[ WP ] The world is a place where the number of lives improved by your existence divided by the amount of lives made worse by your existence always hovers over your head , known as the `` asshole ratio . ''
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Complacency always yielded low numbers. If you just stayed home and minded your own business those numbers usually hovered below 1000. However watching the news, reading the net, or just discussing politics was a sure way to increase one's liability for the world's problems.
That's why Yachel had always just minded his own business. Well that had been the case until recently. The ten years he had been in the country had lead to many surprises but none quite so striking as the law requiring one to display their `` asshole ratio'' virtually above their head to any stranger passing by.
The asshole ratio is the number of lives improved by ones existence divided by the number of lives made worse. This number, calculated by a network of AIs, is a rolling karma fingerprint of one's social impact on the world. If one used any form of entertainment or technology their actions instantly reflected in their profile and the ratio was recalculated. Ignoring the commercial for a charity, yelling at your neighbor, or even disagreeing with a popular political opinion could prove detrimental to your ratio on any given day.
This concept had started as a joke on the net but soon had grown to become a powerful metric that provided and limited opportunities around the world. Depending on the job, some found themselves difficult to hire and destitute as the trend eventually became a law.
Yachel walked up to the small group of women congregating in the long line that stretched down the courthouse steps and into the street. By decree just three years earlier one now had to be present in person to receive government benefits. As machines took over more and more of the workplace the unemployment lines had grown to once extraordinary levels that were now the norm.
The contact lenses covering his eyes superimposed numbers above the women's heads as he drew closer. As expected, their numbers were extraordinarily high. A sure sign of desperation. Exactly what he was looking for.
`` Pardon me ladies. I could not help but notice your place in this hopeless line and if you will excuse me, the red boldness of the halos that hover above your heads.''
The blond of the group turned, eyed Yachel up and down, and sneered, `` Halos? You'll only find horns here. What's it to you bucko? You're not getting our place in line!''
`` Pardon me again ladies, but that is not my goal today. My goal is to get you out of this line, put money in your pockets, and find a way to place jewels back in those crowns.''
`` Wow he sure has a way with words,'' an almond skinned woman gave Yachel a wry smile and then winked at the blond.
`` Why do n't you just come out and say it bucko? Are yous looking for hookers?'' another woman in the line blurted out.
`` No! No! ``, Yachel placed his hands up defensively. He eyed the women more closely and started to make an educated assumption about the source of their poor ratios. `` No, my employer has different more pressing needs at the moment. Your sexual sanctity will not be violated this eventing.''
`` Darn,'' the almond skin woman smiled at him again. Her eyes were large dark pools in a sea of clear white. Her teeth were glowing and her skin was as clear as any other modern day woman.
`` Well what do you want then? the blond was visibly annoyed by her friend's interest in Yachel.
How did Yachel explain? Did he come out and say that his employer was pretty much the devil himself? Did he just come out and say the man needed to hire destitute people and concoct random acts of kindness in order to keep his asshole ratio low enough to do business in this country?
`` We want to hire you to hand out gifts and offer kindness. That is is all.''
`` Kind of like Santa's little helpers?'' the almond skinned was quite attractive.
`` Santa? I uh, guess so. You see, we give you kindness to spread to the world. You get the karma in return.''
`` What's the catch bucko? Is this goodwill spread with my legs?'' the blond stood impassive as the line moved a few feet forward.
`` NO! Again this is not sexual in nature. We just need your time.''
Yachel noticed an Asian woman step out from behind the other women and show interest. She would fulfill his second directive. She looked exactly like what his employer preferred. She was youthful but not young. She was beautiful but not striking. Her ratio was high.
Yachel and his employer would need at least 10 other women handing out $ 100,000 credits of `` gifts'' to offset what was going to happen to this woman and those who knew her.
`` Please, if you'll follow me. I have the paperwork in my autobus.''
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[ WP ] You awake in a hospital bed with an unfamiliar person referring as your wife telling you were in a bad crash and lost all your previous memory . Unknown to her , you remember everything .
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*My first try at WP. Please be nice! *
I sat up in bed with a jolt, like waking from a bad dream. Immediately, a mallet of pain slammed into my temples. My breath burned in my chest.
Broken ribs?
I closed my eyes and concentrated on blocking out the pain. The ringing in my ears was slowly replaced by an otherworldly waltz of electronic beeps. My fingers traced the thin sheets covering my legs.
I tried to speak but could n't, my throat was too dry. My mind spoke the question my lips could n't.
`` Where am I?''
I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. No - like I'd been hit by a semi-trailer. Memories began to surface - slowly at first, then overwhelmingly so. I was transported back to the crash, reliving the moment in a way that felt, well, tangible.
Bloody and broken glass lay in a heap on my lap. The shock vision of Miriam's forehead cracked wide open, her jaw hanging loose from one cheek. In a panic, I tried to turn my head - pain flaring through my spine.
`` Robert?'' a dulcet voice whispered, pulling me back to the hospital.
`` Robert, it's me. Do you remember me?''
I opened my eyes, slowly, and looked up from the hospital bed. Yes, I remembered her. How could I forget her face, yes - those soft lips and honey eyes - the last thing I saw before...
`` Miriam! But you're... you're... I saw you, dead.''
`` We've been over this, Rob. I was n't in the car. I'm safe. Our kids are safe. You were hit by a freight truck. The doctor says you're lucky to be alive.''
I looked at my shaking hands. They seemed real enough. I picked up the blue Kansas City Monarchs baseball cap from the side table, feeling the hard cloth brim between my finger and thumb. This could n't be a dream. Could it?
A nurse came by with a dinner tray.
`` How's he doing? ``, she asked, placing the tray beside me. Chicken salad, with an Areo cookie for dessert.
`` He's still delusional'', my wife replied, `` are you sure its just shock?''
`` Yes. An impact like that...''
`` Miriam'', I interrupted, `` We do n't have any kids.''
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[ WP ] Sitting in your dorm room , you discover magic .
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I was feeling rather depressed and the outside world reflected me like light in a mirror. Outside my window in Hong Kong the weather was bleak. Every few minutes there would be a flash of lightning, and then a peal of thunder. Every few minutes I would look outside to see if the rain had stopped. Every time it would be the same picture: more droplets than free air. I watched as the sleets of rain washed down my university's white tiled walls.
Rain has a peculiar sound when it comes in droves. I would call it deafening for sure. But I think a crashing noise fits that kind of rain just as well. The rain was coming so loudly and so quickly that whenever I looked out the window to see the weather my heart would feel afraid. I was afraid that the rain would break the windows and mow me down with an array of watery bullets.
But I was n't really afraid. It was the kind of fear you loved. The fear that happens right after you jump off the airplane to skydive, but right before the moment you begin to dive off; the in between kind of fear. When your apprehension is slowly turning into euphoric acceptance. That transforming moment was what I felt at the time. So I think I fell in love with rain at that moment.
But rain was just the background to what I discovered in my lonely university dorm that day. I had begun to write again. I had n't written for my own pleasure since elementary school, and I was out of practise. But there was no school - it was too dangerous in this weather - so I was bored. I was tired of reading, so I decided to write.
I ca n't say much of it. I'm an avid story reader, so I tried to write a story. I wrote about some fantasy land. It was just a basic history. It had an evil king and a hero that tried to vanquish the king. Of course, I did n't want to write a too cliche story, so I wrote that the hero died in the end. I remember that the lightning flashed and the thunder roared soon after I wrote the climax of my world's history. It was fitting - to me at least.
But I was n't very happy with how it ended. I've always like sad endings: they can present facts about the world that happy endings ca n't. But this was my first attempt at writing in a long time, and I wanted a happy ending. Some people say they do n't like happy endings. They're overdone, those people say, or something like that. I disagree. Everyone wants a happy ending. A peaceful life makes for a boring story, but everyone wants to live a peaceful life. I felt it was my duty, as a writer, to give my characters that happiness that everyone wants. I should n't keep them suspended between two negative; keeping men between despair and horror is just a terrible idea in general.
So I planned a sequel to my history. There was another hero. He exemplified all the great values of the first. And he defeated the villain after an arduous battle. The villain, encumbered and ruined by so many years of sin on his heart, finally heaved and died. The world was saved, my characters were happy, and I was happy. It was still thundering and raining as hard as before.
I stopped writing, and I sat back on my chair and stared at my screen. Shadows, patterned according to the roaring rain, hid my face, but I was smiling. I had written after such a long time, and my story was n't very well written, but I felt good. The air was unusually cold. My teeth chattered slightly and I rubbed my hands together. For the first time in a long while, I had written something of value - again, not much value, but worth a little bit. I was n't feeling that peculiar fear, anymore, instead I was filled with a bubbling kind of joy that threatened to burst out of my stomach. It's hard to describe, honestly. And in my current melancholy state it's difficult to recollect what my joy was like at that time.
I remember clearly, though, that I felt my stomach had disappeared, and my smile was slight but ever present.
The rain was still pouring. As hard as it ever was. But now I felt calm, and the rain invited me to new worlds that I never thought to think of before. I decided that I would write again, the next day. What would I create next? Out of the nothingness - the absence of creation - I would grow and nurture men, women, nations, worlds, and make them beautiful, tragic, and good. I had become a magician, twirling my wand made of wood and graphite, and crafting spells on a black spellbook that goes clickity-clack. I had discovered a power and a realm of magic that I did n't know hid behind a guise of white and black.
I tossed myself back into bed, intending to take a nap. Tomorrow would be a good day because today was a good day. As I fell into sleep's maw, the rain still poured, but it seemed to me that it was less thunderous than before.
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[ WP ] You have the gift of fantastic luck , and the curse of horrible timing . In three paragraphs or less , give me a glimpse of your life .
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Ha! Pregnant on the first try! My husband and I had decided to try just this month, after waiting for two years, and on the very first try we nailed it. Pun not really intended. I jump up and down for joy. This is amazing. I ’ ve got to tell Susie right away.
I run down the stairs and hop into my car to pop over to Susie ’ s. I call my husband on the way over to gush over him. He ’ s just as ecstatic as I am. This is just in time to spread the good news to Susie. We shared everything together. We had met our spouses on a double first date. We had graduated college and went into the same field. Aside from my incredible luck we could practically be the same person. She only heard last week that she was pregnant. We could go shopping for oversized pregnant shirts together now!
I pull into her house and run inside. I have a key to her house so I don ’ t have to knock. She even recognizes my footsteps running up to her room so she doesn ’ t freak out when I see her. Susie does give me an inquisitive look when I burst into her office like a crazy person, but she sees the stick I ’ m waving and knows what ’ s going. Her face lights up like a Christmas tree, but then darkens like a storm cloud. She turns the screen towards me. “ The sonogram came back negative. I ’ m not pregnant after all. ” I feel like a terrible person. This happens all the time. It ’ s why I always carry plenty of dark chocolate in my purse, and always save some sick days from work so I can stay home and take care of a friend.
Side note: To any interested the character Matrim Cauthon has a similar power set from the wheel of time. Not so much the timing, but definitely the luck.
Edit: some words
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[ FF ] Convince eBay buyers that your $ 10 lot of silver coins is worth $ 155 because the coins are haunted .
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**Four silver coins for sale -- free shipping**
*im asking $ 155 because its the rest of what i need for a plane ticket because I need to get out of the states. I will supply shipping charges. *
*these coins are 155 because theyre haunted. The last three owners died. The fourth owner left behind the fourth silver coin, so i dont know about that one. give this to somebody and it'll basically kill them. its the perfect weapon. *
**FULL DISCLAIMER**
*for legal purposes, these coins cant kill and this is just a gag gift. *
*enclosed in the package will be a note instructing you on the... details. im not using these because my father's uncle owned them and he died, which is where the fourth coin came from. they are cursed and i dont want them. i have to get out of the states by the end of the month. if nobody buys these im going to throw them away. *
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[ IP ] We ca n't turn back .
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She held her dragon-goat by the scruff of his spiny neck, her scarf and hood were wrapped tight about her. The merchants had laughed at her when she bought the paper lantern that was to be her only light from a run-down stall, really only trafficked during the seasonal festivals, Solstice and Equinox.
The lantern now hung, swaying lopsidedly on the end of her staff, which she had made from the handle of a hoe in the stable the night before she left. She'd been surrounded by nothing but the settling noises of a sleeping house. She'd held back tears as she moved to leave.
She turned out not to need her lantern. To her amazement, all about her, stars were falling, spirits. She knew the moon was far closer than it should be, too, but she could n't use it. The falling stars seemed to illuminate faces in the dark clouds. One vanished as its light streaked past, and she elected to follow it.
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[ WP ] They say that after King Charming died , she was n't the same . When she sang , crows and vultures circled , and beasts carried out her orders , thus began the terrible age of the widowed Queen White .
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The inside of the armored personnel carrier was dim, the air stifling.
`` Think ther'll be real resistance this time?'' one of the passengers asked. On his urban camoflage-patterned helmet was an incongruous yellow smiley face, surrounded by a veritable sea of carefully painted red tallies.
`` Nope,'' another replied. His face wore a perpetual scowl as he methodically cleaned and reassembled a large bore pistol.
`` Less work for us then,'' a third said. He yawned deeply and settled back into his seat, looking for all the world like he'd prefer a nap to any sort of combat. Beside him, another figure with a moronic smile pulled the pin out of a grenade, and then quickly replaced it. The figure shook with giggles as he repeated the movement again and again. Across from him, a scarred veteran sneezed several times and then shook his head.
`` Still allergic to stupid, I am. You sure you disarmed his little toy there, Doc?'' the veteran growled.
`` Of course,'' came the reply. Doc carefully adjusted his glasses, leaving a tiny smudge of gun oil on the corner of one frame. `` He only gets the good stuff when we're on scene, you know that.''
Up in the driver's seat, a silent figure guided the team toward their next mission. He wore a mask. Not for protection, but voluntarily - nobody had seen his face for decades, and he preferred it that way. On the seat next to him was his dearest friend, a disassembled bolt-action sniper rifle packed neatly into a hardened case.
It was now just as it had been the week before, and the week before that, ever since President-for-Life Charming had died at the hands of the so-called Liberation Movement. Town after town, burough after burough, the Seven Deadlies made their mark. Bow to White, or see only black. There had been noises from the United Nations, even a short speech from the President of the United States, but no action had been taken. The small island nation was at the mercy of its new leader, a bitter woman who never slept, and whose will was as cold as winter itself.
A group of children playing at the outskirts of the town stopped and stared at the approaching vehicle. Then, as one, they ran back into the streets proper, yelling their alarm as their parents had instructed. Within minutes, the town had locked itself down. Doors were barred. Streets were cleared. The church bells rang continuously. Some loaded their guns. Others prayed.
Nobody survived.
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[ WP ] In the middle of a big < sport of choice > game , the ball explodes .
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The aliens, the Zeltocs, appeared ten years ago when I was twenty-four; they came to conquer the planet, to promote their version of the universe, and expand their colony. They were ruthless. But their ruthlessness came in their own form; not a human definition. The aliens didn ’ t destroy cities or kill humans, they could, but they didn ’ t, instead the Zeltocs wanted to win the Earth in their ritual game, Jozels. They had prizes in their tournament; first bracket, a country, second bracket, continents, third bracket, the Earth in totality. If the Zeltocs triumphed in the tournament, humans needed to leave the planet or dissipate. Zeltocs called it dissipation. It was elimination of humanity. Jozels, the game, they pronounced the word with a whisper at the end, I couldn ’ t pronounce it, but I didn ’ t have to announce the game. I was a soccer player before the aliens appeared, and won two countries in their tournament. Jozels resembled soccer; if soccer occurred in three dimensions with walls and anti-gravity. On November fifth, Zeltoc year fifteen, the second Zeltoc bracket converged and humanity needed to play the third bracket Jozels. I started the game when my opponent hit the ball toward the center of the field and the anti-gravity began. I jumped to the ceiling and ran toward the ball, as the clock ticked; we had two minutes. My opponent kicked the ball toward my goal. Gravity flipped again. I landed. I kicked the ball. It rolled toward the Zeltoc goal. My breaths heaved. I ran. My legs ached. My food hit the ball. The humans yelled and cheered. The ball bounced, spun, and exploded. I stood in the field and watched the torn ball flaps hit the grass, while my opponent started at me.
“ The ball exploded, ” the announcer said.
I stood, took a deep breath, and started at the ball while the announcers indicated, the ball had exploded, in forty-two human languages. The human referee walked toward the field and the Zeltoc referee spoke, people remained quiet, and the timer stopped. The human referee ’ s face appeared confused. The Zeltoc referee walked to the center of the field and spoke. I stood and waited for the translation, for the announcement. Our referee stopped and the Zeltoc player walked toward the side of the field. The announcer read the message in French, English, German, Chinese, Japanese, and Spanish.
“ The ball has evaporated, ” the announcer said. “ Those who destroy the ball are blessed, and can not be conquered, humanity won the tournament. ”
I stood in the middle of the field, while humanity cheered, yelled, and the Zeltocs score turned to zero. We won the tournament. We won the Earth. The Zeltocs disappeared in a few hours. Presidents, prime ministers, chancellors gave me metal and awards. I stood on the stage, as the sun set, and looked at the shredded ball. I remembered the equipment the Zeltocs wanted humanity to play Jozels with; a balloon, cleats, and sticks, but humanity negotiated a soccer ball and a three dimensional field. I played Jozels for fifteen years in their tournament, won two three brackets, and the Earth, but we should have accepted the balloon.
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[ WP ] You are on a hike alone deep in the woods , you come upon a clearing where a man in a immaculate tuxedo is standing alone . Your eyes meet .
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You expect, in your life, to have these moments. The world ebbs, and flows; peace of mind goes with it. Around the bend is your favorite spot where the creek sings like windchimes—where you wrote in your moleskine for the first time. That place is surreal too, a different surreal.
`` I've been waiting for you,'' he says in a low baritone, earthy as the scraped bare dirt beneath your toes. You know he was waiting for you, the way monarch butterflies know the way to Mexico. You know he wears white gloves before you see them; you know he plays the cello in some life other that this one.
`` It wo n't last much longer, this place.'' His voice dances on the words.
`` There are other places,'' you say uneasily.
The man in the tuxedo smiles like a cat—then like a father—then turns his back.
Around the bend, the creek sings like windchimes—
You write in your moleskine for the last time.
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[ WP ] Describe an everyday action as if it was the most horrifying thing on earth .
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You eat and you eat and you eat, day in and day out. You clean the plates, scrape them into the trash but the devils in the details. Nearly daily this plastic encasing of the remains of a life you once knew fills up, stinking like a carcass. You do n't remember eating Chinese food that had smelled like THAT, who would eat THAT? But you suffer through, tearing the plastic edges, held on to the container like a dying man off the edge of a cliff, pull it straight and tie the small thin straps into a knot that will only barely hold it still. You just have to make it to the dumpster, the bin where the other men stuff their remnants.
Out the rusty-hinged door, a squeal follows you. The sky is black and the pelting of rain fills the air with a noisy humidity you'd rather avoid. But it must be done as the smell of rotting small corns and mackarel take over your apartment.
Rushing in your slippers, you stomp past piles of mud and tree veins there purely to ensnare you. The dumpster is the goal, and its just past that driveway- so you hop faster, jumping from concrete to clean concrete. You throw the bag up and over your head, slamming it into the dumpster but not before you catch one last whiff of what you'd eaten two days ago. Tears roll down your face, or is it residual rain from a heavy leaf? We might never know!
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[ WP ] You share a unique relationship with one of your parallel selves : when they receive a tattoo it also appears on you , and vice versa . You happen to have very different tastes , and so begins a passive aggressive cross-reality war fought entirely in tattoos and cover-ups .
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The alarm on my phone started to go off. I rolled over and realized the date. December 16th, 2016. It's the eight-year anniversary since the worst day of my life. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and then proceeded with the annual tradition of tracing the shape of the tattoo on my arm. It was a simple tattoo, a heart with a name etched into the middle of it, Hannah.
We were college sweethearts. We dated for years and talked of marriage. I got her name etched into my arm, and she etched my name into hers because we knew we were destined for each other. But fate can be cruel.
I had convinced her to take the afternoon off of work. To go home, and get into the fanciest dress she owned. We would go to dinner, and I would propose.
We never made it to that dinner reservation. They probably called my name. `` Table for two, reserved under the name of Arthur. Table for two?'' Instead, we were at the hospital. Hannah got into an accident on her way home. She was hit by an idiot who ran a red light. It was n't supposed to be that way. She did n't make it.
I finished tracing the shape of the heart and her name in the darkness of the house and proceeded to the bathroom to get ready for work.
The bright lights above the bathroom mirror blinded me momentarily as my eyes adjusted. I looked at the heart tattoo and noticed something new below it. It was a rainbow that came from the bottom of the heart and went all the way down my forearm. Near my wrist, the rainbow ended, and a crudely drawn creature was there.
`` What the Hell!''
My voice echoed through the empty house.
`` What is this? A dog farting a rainbow?! And of all days! The most important business meeting of my life is today!'' I furiously scrubbed, but it would n't come off.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
My eyes gently fluttered open. The sunshine was beginning to filter in through the drapes in the bedroom. A light tickle was going up my arm near my heart tattoo.
`` Debbie...? What are you doing out of bed?''
`` Shhh, daddy, go back to sleep. I'm not done yet and you are going to ruin the surprise.''
I watched the little six-year-old work with her little tongue slightly sticking out, concentrating heavily. Her blue eyes sparkled in the morning sunshine.
`` Debbie, what are you doing to my arm?''
`` I'm giving you a'tattoo' daddy. One to go with mommy's.'' She was sketching it with different colors of sharpie markers. `` Look daddy! It's a rainbow, and then at the bottom, it's a unicorn!''
I quietly smiled and enjoyed the moment. I loved my little girl. I loved being a father. Just then, I felt a hand come across my chest, followed by a familiar sweet voice.
`` Hmmm... Good morning honey.''
I reached over to give Hannah a hug with my arm that was still free. `` Good morning love... Today is the eight-year anniversary for me proposing to you. You ready to celebrate later tonight?''
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[ WP ] At birth everybody receives a necklace that will glow when they get near their soulmate/perfect partner . You 're a college student studying abroad when suddenly yours starts to shine for the first time .
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We boarded the plane, and took off.
Every couple years, my wife and I take a trip to Italy. This has been tradition since I studied abroad there my first summer. My expectations were no greater than my grades back then; learn the language, try a few bars, get some memories to look back on in my 9-5 job god knows where.
A simple plan for an adventurous summer.
Then I had to go and take the wrong bus.
The districts started to become shabbier. Nothing like the pamphlets I saw at the internship fair a few months before. Not that it was poverty-stricken or by any means terrible. The neighborhoods were just more foreign, less globalized, more... traditional, as far as the word makes sense to me. I was just a Kansas boy.
A Topeka tomcat who's gem shone for the first time.
I ditched the bus as it moved. Ribs bruised and legs aching from the jump, I followed the intensity of my gem. From glimmer, to glow, to shine. My eyes were no where else.
A foreign girl? My soul mate? Not what I was expecting. Not from my simple plan. But I imagined what she'd look like. How gorgeous she might be. We would make the most of it.
Then my gem cracked. It means she, hell, or even he, was here. I tore my eyes from the remnants, and looked around.
My heart broke for the first time in my young life in that moment. Our teachers warned us this could happen, but it was a one in a million. I lost the lottery.
My soulmate was Aida. Her tombstone read that she passed away a few months prior to my getting here. I'd have brought flowers, but, how was I to know?
I kneeled at her tombstone and asked her as well; how was I supposed to know?
I do n't know how long I kneeled at that tombstone, with my gem shards glittered over her resting place. But a soft hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to see a girl my age, with this sad look in her eyes say something in Italian. Two, simple words.
*You too? *
So every couple years, my wife and I take a trip to Italy. This was tradition. We'd visit the cemetery and give our respects. Our marriage was one of companionship, but we do n't tell our child that. Not until he's old enough to understand.
*Understand what dad? * He'll ask me one day.
My wife rested against me as our plane was taking preparations to land. I watched Italy ascend towards me. This view. This country, where I would take him one day when he's older. And I'll tell him, `` *Our soulmates may sometimes be a little further than we expect. But never beyond our reach, if you do n't mind traveling. *''
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[ WP ] In a world where having multiple personalities is the norm , the protagonist has been diagnosed with Single Personality Disorder .
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`` I'm sorry, it's just that...''
`` It's Sean. I know. Sean does n't like me. Why ca n't you just like me?''
`` It does n't work like that.'' Michael sighed, picking at his spaghetti.
`` No, it does work like that. You do n't like me, and you're using him as an excuse to break up with me. Is n't that it?'' I said, chest heaving.
His eyes narrowed, and he put down his fork. `` Look, I know you think you do n't have other personalities, but I'd really appreciate it if you would drop the act for once and bring out someone more reasonable.''
I shot to my feet. `` I'm leaving. Do n't call me.'' Tossing my coat over my shoulder, I stormed out of the restaurant.
The street was cold, but it did n't take long to call a warm cab. On the drive home, fat raindrops began thudding against the car roof, punctuating my dour thoughts. The cabby slurped steaming coffee from a styrofoam mug. I eyed him. More than one person was in this body I stared at. Something in my own mind rejected the thought, but statistically I knew it had to be true. It was quiet in the cab, but for all I knew, it could be noisy in there.
My gaze returned to the window. Noisy. Noisy seemed better than silence at the moment.
Silence had been the norm my whole life. As a child, although I never left the house, I was always being accused of wrongdoing and being punished. My parents treated me like a beast they had been tasked with keeping. I often had to lie and beg to escape their wrath. Years later in therapy, when the doctors had come to their final diagnosis of SPD ( or AID, associative identity disorder as it had recently been reclassified ) it had been explained to me that my many personalities had been forced into one identity as a way to cope with the trauma of abuse. I took this information willingly, but I did n't take it to heart. I never told the doctors what I truly thought.
Secretly, I think I've always been like this.
No one would ever believe that, of course.
The cab reached my apartment, cutting off my train of thought. I hurried to the doors through the rain and strode up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. I was stopped at the door by a neighbor. It was a sweet old system wearing a wool sweater and hair curlers.
`` Hello, uh...'' I examined her posture, facial expression, and wardrobe. `` Irma, right?''
The old woman's smile grew. `` That's right! And you are... Oh, my old eyes are n't as good as they used to be. Who are you, dear?''
`` Georgia.'' I replied.
`` Georgia again?'' The woman looked concerned and tsked. `` You need to give the others some fresh air, too! You ca n't be burning the candle at both ends at your age. Is n't it exhausting being out all the time like that?''
`` It's just me, Irma.'' I said, smiling.
`` If anyone in that pretty little head of yours hears you talking like that, they are going to be so miffed with you.'' Irma said. She turned to leave, then jumped and turned back around. `` Oh, that's right. I could've sworn I told one of you I would be collecting for a charity later. Just thought I'd throw that out there if they have n't told you yet.'' With that, she went back into her apartment and clicked the door shut.
I sighed deeply and pulled open the door of my own apartment, flipping on the light switch. Alone, I thought back to Michael, and to our disastrous date. It would n't have worked between us. His teasing over my singular nature, cute at first, had evolved over time into a blatantly sick fascination. By the sound of it, he'd never believed me. He thought I was... crazy.
The word burned my eyes. Tears tried to break through, but I fought them back. I dropped my coat onto the back of a kitchen chair and kicked my shoes into the hall. At last I tossed myself onto the couch and picked up the television remote. Before I could turn the television on, a memory came back to me of a time that Michael had visited me. He'd been looking wildly for something, flipping couch cushions, tilting chairs, even throwing a stack of books to the floor. At the crash, I'd been startled and shouted at him.
`` What are you looking for?!'' I'd shouted.
`` Fucking cell phone.'' He'd breathed, upturning the coffee table. `` My interviewer is going to be calling any minute.''
I'd looked down at my own hand, then held it up to show him. `` You handed it to me fifteen minutes ago so you would n't lose it. Do you not remember that?''
He stared at me blankly. `` Oh.'' He said. He walked over to me and took the phone, rubbing his forehead. `` Yeah, my head's a little sore. Must have been Kevin.''
`` Does this happen a lot?'' I asked.
He shook his head. `` Mostly only when I'm anxious. Kevin thinks he knows better than me, but he's kind of a douche. If you think Kevin's out, you ca n't make out with him, okay?'' He said, pointing to me.
`` It'll be your mouth, though!'' I laughed. Michael did n't respond.
I looked around my small apartment. I lost things, but not like Michael used to. My shoes that I'd kicked into the hall would still be there in the morning, and my coat would still be hanging from the chair back. If I played my cards right, the TV remote would be sitting on the coffee table when I next went looking for it. I knew with confidence that no one would be moving my things when I was n't looking.
I watched television for a few hours. The crappy soap opera that I liked had just begun a new arc. The doctor's wife was cheating on him with his closest headmate, and the wife's protector, who was secretly in love with the doctor's headmate, was now trying to sabotage the relationship. Inter-system conflicts are common for these low budget shows, but for some reason I just eat them up.
After I had my fill of television, I went to my room and slid into bed. This was a mistake. All at once I was completely alone with my thoughts, and I was completely unprepared for them. I was filled with stress and doubt about every aspect of my life so far. My love life. My parents. My past. And worst of all, myself, and my big... crazy... useless brain.
`` Why just me?'' I groaned. `` Why was I born so weird?''
I lied in silence, listening to my own heartbeat.
After a while I remembered a habit I had in middle school, half in reminiscence, half with a bad taste in my mouth. At the time I'd only just begun realizing exactly what it meant to be a singleton in a world full of multiples, and I had fought desperately against it, not realizing there was nothing I could do to change my nature. At the time, I thought that maybe I did have headmates and they were only hiding. I thought maybe, if I called them just right, they'd come rushing to me as if they'd been looking for me their whole lives... like I had been.
I closed my eyes and cleared my head of thoughts. In my mind's eye, an empty black world spread out before me.
I outstretched my arms, and called.
`` Is there anyone out there?''
I waited, but no voices echoed back from the void.
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[ WP ] You open your eyes to a hospital room full of people you do n't recognize . You 've just been informed that you 're 10 years old and you 've been in a coma . The life you lived was a dream . All 20 years of it .
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This has been one of my longest running fantasies. For me it'd be about 19 years. Let's begin.
I heard voices around me, `` He's waking up.'' I heard my mother say `` oh thank god.'' Some of my oldest friends and family were all around me, but they all looked a little off. As I started to gain my bearings I saw my hands and arms. It did n't make sense. I was fat again. My arms had only light fuzz on them, my hands had almost no definition and my knuckles were completely bare. I did n't remember how I got there.
Before I could really think about it too much one of the doctors started shining a light in my eyes and asking me questions, `` Do you know what day it is?'' I replied, `` No, but that really does n't say much if you knew me...'' My friends and family laughed, reassured. `` Where am I? What happened?'' The doctor explained, `` Nobody is exactly sure. You were playing by yourself and you must have fallen and hit your head. They found you lying behind the lodge.''
Was it really happening? I had fantasized about this moment since I failed out of college. Do I really get a second chance? I still remember it vividly. It was the hardest I ever hit my head. I was playing by myself in the snow behind the lodge where my family vacationed every winter, and I thought I could jump down the big snow embankment onto the groomed trail. The way I remembered it, I hit my head, was totally dazed, counted off all the digits of pi I could remember to make sure I was `` still there'' and proceeded with my day. Could it be true? Did I actually knock myself completely out and have to be hospitalized? Would it happen the same way again?
I knew I needed to keep cool. I said whatever I could remember, but it was so long ago. `` I was playing by myself at [ camp ] behind the lodge. I thought I could just jump down onto the trail, but I must have slipped and hit my head. It's spring break, 1997. I'm 11.'' These recollections seemed to set everyone at ease. The doctor kept asking me questions, but I felt totally fine. I was elated. I did n't know where to start.
I asked for some paper. I started writing pi. I remembered all the digits I thought I should which was about 40 more than I recall knowing in 1997. I handed the paper to my dad to verify later in case I was just making up the `` extra'' 40 digits.... or if I was making up all of them for that matter.
My friends D & F were there. D had always been super interested in how many digits of pi I knew and was amazed that I now knew about 40 more. I tried to just gas light him and tell him he just did n't realize how many I knew. He did n't fight me on it. Nostalgia washed over me. I think I would only see these two together a couple more times. As I finally convinced everyone I was OK, I realized I had a tough decision to make. Do I tell anyone? Do I try to lay low and minimize my butterfly-effect? Will it even all happen the same? Should I try to `` fix'' things? Can I fix things?
I tried to think of something that would convince me it was real. I thought to myself `` nihongo-o wakarimasu.'' My Japanese was terrible, but I should n't know a word yet. I spoke aloud, `` Dad, the derivative of e^x is e^x, correct?'' My dad was impressed, `` When did you learn that?'' `` School,'' I replied, and he did n't question it. I was convinced.
I asked if we could go back to [ camp ], and the doctors said that as long as I felt alright it should be fine. When we got to the car my reflexes took over. I walked to the driver's door and said `` do n't worry, I'm fine to drive.'' My parents looked at my extremely confused and then laughed. They must have thought I was joking. Suddenly it set in. I would n't drive again for at least 4 more year, and I would n't be regularly driving my parents for almost 15. I decided that was convenient, and hopped in my `` regular'' seat behind the passenger seat in the back.
When we got back to [ camp ] everyone was excited. I got to see Y again. I forgot about Y. He was the best camp leader ever. We told some jokes and everyone was happy I was OK. That night I confused everyone when I only put meat and vegetables on my plate. People asked both mocking and generally confused, `` No pasta tonight?'' I went to bed early.
The next day I wanted to test the limits of my new `` powers''. How much could I remember? Was it just facts? I do n't remember exactly what it felt like to be 11, but I think I was clumsy. I knew what I needed to do. `` Mom, Dad, can I rent some skis?'' `` Skiing is dangerous, and you just fell. Are you sure you should do that?'' `` C'mon Mom. We're here in the snow. Let me ski. I'll stay off the steep slopes.'' After convincing them, I got my skis and skied perfect parallel down the hill. Apparently I got to keep my coordination too. I spent the rest of the day tearing up the bunny slopes, and eventually went to the `` hard'' hills.
When I got back home and school started again the feelings were totally overwhelming. Besides realizing what a cringe-worthy disaster I was, I was not prepared for how harsh middle school had been. The kids teased me relentlessly, and my comebacks that would have been legendary in 2008 made absolutely no sense in 1997. It was fine to me, though, because I knew who would become my best friends, and I did n't have much trouble connecting with them. It really helped that I knew everything about every important video game that was just released.
My classes were a breeze. Not only had I already read all the books and learned the material, but the homework that devastated me when I was actually 11 was so simple now. I realized that I could do it all differently. Not just perfect, but better than perfect. I got home and started to research. Amazon had n't even gone public yet. I was going to be rich.
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[ WP ] A top-secret division of the S.S. , in charge of protecting Adolf Hitler from the thousands of time travelers trying to kill him .
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Major Bachmeier looked back over the map of Europe, the damned Americans over-running the French countryside and the thrice damned Russians slaughtering their way towards Berlin. The major smiled grimly and thought to himself about how things had changed since the first traveler from the future arrived and tried to kill the Führer. The Reich has learned so much from them and their devices.
It was so sad to think that the Germany of the present would have to be sacrificed. There was nothing to be done, far more important was the fight for the future. It mattered not if Germany won the war now if, in five hundred years, the Chinese ruled every piece of the earth. Reflecting on his family the Major became more convinced that the Führer was right, we must travel forward to the true battle.
The Major finished rigging up the time traps in the bunker, the alarms had gone off earlier and they should be appearing within the hour. The inglorious bastards would find themselves caught in limbo until an interrogation squad could pick them up to see what can be learned. Their technology might be almost magical but these future-scum feel pain and talk just like any other human.
His thoughts turning to the future as he exited the booby trapped room the Major saw that the current crop of time travelers were coming from 28th century. It seems our actions in 2247, he thought, where the Führer has set up his main command, are having some effect. The new assassins are coming from further and further up the time stream. No matter, soon the time bombs will be finished and we wo n't have to worry about the future. Instead it will be stripped clean. A fresh landscape for us to spread out and flower on.
As the major stood before the time capsule that would bring him to join the rest of his unit he paused and reflected softly to himself `` And to think, with all we've learned this war is tiny, insignificant in the grand flow of time. Without the time assassins the Führer would be stuck in this bunker with the armies of the East and West bearing down on him, with no knowledge of the future or the past and no way to control his destiny.''
Thinking one last time of his family, probably already dead and mutilated by the Russian thugs, Major Bachmeier stepped into the capsule and prepared himself for the future.
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