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[ WP ] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes , Milk , and Bread . Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair , weather beaten skin , and a sword on his hip . The first thing he says to you is `` You 're never going to believe what happened . ''
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`` You're never going to believe what happened.''
His voice is hoarse and strange, like he hasn β t used it in months. I stare at him, stunned, and take in this rough-hewn man with his 18th century clothing and weapon. He is completely unfamiliar to me.
`` Who are you?'' I ask, stumbling back a step when he steps aggressively forward. β How β d you get in the front door? β I know I locked it. We don β t live in a very safe neighborhood. His eyes search mine, but I look away in discomfort. Instead, I focus on the sword. I β ve seen plenty of swords before, but not like this β smudged and dirty, roughly used, and some rust-colored stains on the cloth wrapped around the hilt. I can β t look away.
`` Sonβ'' At this, I jerk my eyes away from the sword and back to his face. I do n't want to see it β I can feel myself resisting it β but there, the color of his eyes, the thin line of his lips, his stern eyebrows joining together in stress. This is my father. Long thought dead or deadbeat. Gone forever, and who the hell cares what happened to him. An inexplicable thrill runs through me β *he's back! he's really back* β then it's all silence inside, and the dull throb of pain and anger is back. But more real now. It has a target.
`` You left. You left 20 years ago.'' I shout. Well, I wanted to shout. It comes out more like a hoarse whisper.
`` They found us.'' His eyes search mine, seeking something. Maybe searching for a lightbulb to go off, some sign of my understanding.
`` Who!?'' I ask, a hundred emotions fighting to take the lead. Anger wins out.
`` Where's your mother?'' His voice is different, or maybe I do n't remember it very well. His hair is long and ragged, like it's been cut haphazardly by a dull knife a year ago. I start to notice an odor.
`` Your mother?'' he asks again, but this time with urgency. He reaches out to touch my arm but I step away.
`` Why?'' I ask brusquely, unwilling to cooperate.
`` We do n't have much time,'' he answers impatiently, his gaze sweeping the small house. `` It took me a while to find you in this new⦠house.'' He seems to be measuring everything up and finding it lacking. We had to move out after he left. A single mother's income could hardly support the suburb lifestyle. My stubbornness increases.
`` I do n't know who you are, and how the hell you got into my house. Get out now, or I'm calling the police.'' I sound tougher than I feel. I hope.
He laughs at this, a short joyless laugh, and places his hand on the hilt of his sword. `` Police?'' he repeats, tasting the word as if it's new to him. `` Police.'' He says again. `` Yeah, call them. We'll be gone before they get here.'' He roughly brushes past me and goes up the stairs. You can hear the heavy thump of his boots as they track mud on the carpet upstairs. Mud? Where did he get mud on his boots in the middle of the city?
I frown, following him up the stairs.
`` Sylvia?'' he calls.
`` She's not here,'' I find myself answering. What the hell? He thumps back down the hallway and finally places his hand on my forearm. I feel the rough calluses on his skin and the steady strength of his grip, and I ca n't believe this is my father. He used to be a compliance officer at a bank. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
`` Son, I know you wo n't believe me when I say this, but Iβ¦'' his voice seems to fail him as he stares down at my arm. Look at me! I silently yell at him. Look me in the eye and tell me like a man!
He clears his throat. `` I- I did n't want to leave you,'' he finishes lamely. I wait for something more. He drops my arm and walks away, never once looking me in the eye.
`` What was it?'' I ask. He stops halfway down the stairs.
`` What?''
`` You said I would never believe what happened. What happened?'' I ask, challenging him to give me something. Some kind of story, some reason he left. Kidnapping. Amnesia. A fugue state! Tell me something unbelievable. Make some sort of excuse. I glare at him, waiting. If only he would turn around and look at me, he would know how much I hate him.
`` I know what you want to hear. But I ca n't give you that. I chose to leave,'' he mutters, half to himself, in a voice barely audible.
The jangling of keys breaks the heavy silence. I look up in horror as the deadbolt turns β *it was still locked* β and my mom walks in, her mousy brown hair spilling out of her messy bun, her purse hanging half-open off her shoulder. She was trying to wrangle an armful of dinner in paper bags and a heavy shoulder bag full of work papers, and had a hand raised to throw the house keys on the little table in the hallway when she froze.
Keys still in her hand, all else fell to the ground with the loud rustle of papers and paper bags and french fries spilling onto the floor. She tightens her grip on the keys, as if they were her only weapon, and slowly lowers her hand until the keys are hovering between herself and the man on the stairs.
`` Sylvia,'' he says.
She exhales shakily at his voice. I realize this man is standing between me and my mother, and I start to weigh my options. But before I can do anything, before I can reach out and steal his sword, before I can push him down the stairs, my mom unfreezes.
And launches herself at him.
`` Oh my god, oh my god, Alex,'' she runs up the stairs, hardly touching them as she leaps into his arms. My jaw drops open as I watch in speechless wonder. My mom buries her face into his neck, her hands gripping his shirt, his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist. `` Thank God, thank God,'' she murmurs. There's a long, uncomfortable moment where my head is spinning and I idly wonder if maybe I'm dreaming this absurd, ridiculous scenario.
My mom looks up and sees me, and she suddenly drops down and awkwardly straightens her buttoned-down shirt as she gathers herself.
`` What happened?'' she asks, glancing worriedly at me and again at him. `` How long have you been back? Where did you go?'' She's back at the front door, picking up all the things she dropped. Nervous cleaning β it's a habit of hers. He follows her down the stairs and watches her for a moment as she moves here and there, putting her papers on the table in the living room, putting the fast food hurriedly in the kitchen. She realizes she's still holding her keys and hesitates. They're supposed to go next to the front door.
Where he's still standing.
He moves instead, toward her, and reaches out his hand. Taking it in hers, she visibly relaxes. And then they both look up at me, still frozen on the steps, trying to wake up from this incomprehensible nightmare.
`` We do n't have much time,'' my father starts. `` Gather up what you can⦠durable clothes, food that wo n't spoil, and meet me back here. I'll explain everything, but not now. We have to hurry.''
I laugh at this preposterous movie-esque line, and look to my mom with a *Who is this guy kidding? * look. But she's actually taking him seriously, and starts to grab things out of the hall closet. Raincoats. Hiking boots. Gloves. A hat.
`` Mom, what in the actual fuck are you doing?!'' I explode. I ca n't take this weirdness anymore. `` This guy gets into our house, who knows HOW he did it, the doors are still locked. He just shows up in this weird-ass get-up and now we're just supposed to pack up and go with him?! Are you out of your mind?! I'm not going anywhere with him! HE LEFT US! We do n't see him in 20 years and it's just Oh ALEX AND NOW WE'RE GOING WITH HIM?!'' I ca n't stop bellowing. I'm angry, I'm confused, I'm frustrated but most of all, something feels like it's spinning wildly out of control and I ca n't stop it because I ca n't understand it.
`` Junior, I know it's the last thing you think you should be doing,'' he breaks in while I'm catching my breath.
`` Do n't. Call. Me. Junior.'' I am barely containing it now.
`` Honey, you do n't exactly know the full story here,'' my mom says now, in her soothing voice. She turns to my father and says almost apologetically, `` It was easier this way.''
His brows draw together. Something's upset him, but he ca n't deal with it now. `` Later,'' he says, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. `` Supplies now. I'll open the door.'' He turns away abruptly and busies himself with something near the front door. My mom moves toward him, thinks better of it and returns to her hurried packing.
`` Mom, what the fuβ''
`` Go upstairs, grab what you ca n't live without. We might not be back forβ¦'' her voice breaks and she clears her throat, `` for a long time. Nothing electronic.'' She shoves a large backpack in my hands and gives me a little push.
It all goes so quickly. Something about the urgency in her voice, the air of suppressed emotion making everything tense. My anger from moments before drains out of me completely and leaves behindβ¦. Fear. Raw fear.
Running upstairs to my bedroom, I glance at a room full of things I thought were all-important only an hour before. My computer -- I feel a pang at leaving it behind, all the money I poured into building a state-of-the-art gaming machine, and now⦠*What ca n't I live without? * I grab handfuls of clean underwear, socks, t-shirts, a hoodie, and a few pairs of jeans, and stuff them into the bag. *What else? *
By the time we gather again at the front door, it feels like fifteen minutes have passed but it's more like an hour. My mother is weighed down by multiple rucksacks and huge backpacks from camping trips. I grab a few from her and load them onto my back. She grabs my hand, and we share a quick, fleeting moment where she smiles at me, tries to comfort me. I barely acknowledge it. I'm running on autopilot at the moment.
`` Ready?'' my father asks, shifting a bag over his shoulder and adjusting his sword at his hip.
`` Ready,'' my mother answers. They both look at me, expectantly.
Ready for what?! I want to scream. But I'm already packed. There's no turning back now, not with my mom at his side, following so willingly.
`` Ready.''
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[ WP ] Personify a mental illness
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Ever so hesitantly placing one foot in front of the other, I begin my descent. The walking isn β t the hard part; it β s the incessant touching and bumping into the other commuters that really fucks with my nerves. I still can β t imagine how there are so many people in this god forsaken city who actually ride on these heaps of metal and filth on their own accord. I mean for starters, the idea of transportation under the city floor alongside the worms and dirt of New York β s underbelly is appalling to say the least. My car is in the shop, requiring me to rely on these filth ridden machines for any of my ventures for the upcoming day. Like usual I had prepared my latex gloves, hand sanitizer and other sanitation items prior to leaving my home, making sure not to forget some extra wet naps just in case. Realizing my fault in taking my time down the stairs as more and more of New York β s filthiest homeless beggars and preoccupied businessmen scuffle past and carelessly touch me, I put on my gloves and quickly finish off what β s left of the stairs and make my way into the main station. Too concerned about touching any part of the mob ahead of me, I miss my first opportunity to board the first train and as a result have found my way towards the edge of the platform and next to a beautiful young woman. How is she alone? This girl beside me is the only thing in this disease pit that I would even speak to, let alone touch. Her beauty resonates through these dark corridors and fills them with light, cleansing them of decades of contamination of those who have been unfortunate enough to visit them. With her I was sure to see the things in a different light. With her, like this wretched train station, my world would be clean and pure. Finally I could see from a prospective other than that of a man too afraid of microscopic existence to carry out his own. The train is beginning to pull into the station as I notice she begins to walk away from beside me, making her way closer towards the edge of the platform. I follow, making sure not to lose this magnificent woman in the chaos of a new train arriving. β Please stand away from the track. Engine number 46 is now making its way through this station and will not be stopping. β the voice on the overhead speakers proclaims. β Fantastic, I can take this time to strike up a conversation with the beauty next to me. β I thought to myself. β May want to step back; you would n't want the train toβ¦ β And in that moment she dove forward, once again staining the walls she had just finished cleaning for me.
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[ WP ] Pick a well-known franchise that you have no idea about . Write a story about it .
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β Ms. Amalie, can I see you in the office please? β
Mr. Bucksworths tone was sharp and biting and I swallowed my fear. β I β m sorry, I β ll - I β ll be right back. β Excusing myself from the customer, I turned and followed Mr. B perfectly portioned buttocks as the led me into his office.
β Close the door behind you! β Mr. B commanded as I entered.
Sliding behind his desk he motioned to leather chair on the other side of the desk.
β Is something the matter Mr. B? I know I still have a lot to learn but I- β
Mr. B waved, cutting me off. β It β s not that you β re not closing the deal Ms. Amalie. It β s justβ¦it takes you so long to do it. β
I swallowed. Watching Mr. B β s perfect red lips talk was entrancing and I had a hard time hearing the words as he continued. All I could hear was my heart thumping with desire as he melodious voice drove my passions higher and higher.
Unable to contain myself, I leapt across the desk and grabbed him by his tie, pulling his lips against mine.
After an eternity of our tongues intertwining, battling within each other β s mouths, I pulled away. β What was that you were saying about closing the deal? β
Mr. B smiled, β Well, this is - unexpected, but my observation still stands.You can β t spend an hour with each customer. Get their color palate, and the order submitted. β
β I β m sorry Mr. B, but it β s just not that easy. β
β Yes it is! I β ve been selling blinds for years. You simply get the sizing and color, write it down and submit it to processing. β
β But, you don β t understand. β
β I don β t β
β No. It β s not that simple. I mean, the customers are coming in and wanting all sorts of nuanced color schemes and, well, we simply don β t have enough. β
β Not enough!? β
β Not enough. β
β Well, what color did the last customer want? β
β Gray. β
β We β ve got Gray! β
β But not the ride hue! We need at least another fifty shades of gray to meet the needs of our costomers. β
Mr. B grit his teeth, then pulled me across the desk and against his chest. Whispering in my ear, I began to melt. β Well, if fifty shades of gray is what you need, thenβ¦wellβ¦ I β ll get them for you.
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[ WP ] Humanity falls asleep for 10 years , what happens when they wake up .
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The first thing I felt was the hunger. It woke me like a knife in the belly and swept the sleepiness from my brain. I took the deepest breath of my life. The smell of mildew and dust filled my nose.
I was in my car. My seatbelt still strapped around my body. Dim light emanated from my windows. Something covered them and made them opaque. What in the fuck was going on? The last thing I remembered was driving to the city for work.
The hunger in my belly made me clench my teeth. I had never felt anything like this in my life. Not even close. I reached over and fumbled with the glove compartment, barely noticed the thin layer of dust covering everything. It opened with a puff of old air. Nothing but papers and a few CD β s. I really needed to eat something.
I had to press deep on my seatbelt button to get it to unlatch. I pulled up on my door handle, nothing happened. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic I leaned sideways and rammed my body into the door while pulling up on the handle. It groaned and opened an inch. Fresh air seeped in. Two more rams and the door fell open, throwing me half out of the car. I found my hands deep in dirt and leaves. Rich smells of earth and rot. Had someone towed my car to the forest? I lifted my head and looked around. Rows of cars filled a forest of vines and brambles. Something above me was covered in green. I extracted myself from my car. I realized where I was. This was my morning commute. The greenery above me was part of a freeway off-ramp. I turned towards where the city should loom but could see only young trees.
The pain in my belly turned from a stabbing pain to a dull ache. The buzz of insects and the twirls of bird song. The cleanest air I could ever remember smelling. I closed my eyes and took several long deep breaths, trying desperately to get my bearings, wake up, something.
The sound of smashing glass. Someone was pulling themselves out of the truck in front of me. Muffled screams began to mix and cover the sounds of the forest.
β Hey, β someone yelled. The guy from the truck. β Do you have anything to eat? β A long beard reached down to his waist where his hand held up a pair of massive pants. Dust covered him from head to toe.
Screaming and thumping from the sedan next to mine. β Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. β
β Hey, I β m talking to you! β again from the truck driver. He was walking towards me now. β What the fuck did you do to me? β
More smashes and yells from all around. The giant bearded scarecrow of a man suddenly loomed over me. β Give me your food, β he screamed, wrapping his hands around my neck and squeezing. Calm filled my brain with this familiar feeling. I forgot where I was. I reached up and pressed my thumbs into the man β s eyeballs as hard as I could. A warm gushy reward squirted on to my hands. The man released me and fell down, screaming and holding his face. Without even thinking I licked the remnants of his eyes from my palms.
I drove a knee into his neck and heard a satisfying crunch. And then I was on him, the pain in my belly finally fading away.
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[ TT ] Writing Exercise : Start your story with , `` Get to the courtyard ! '' and continue writing without taking time to pause and think . Just keep writing even if at times you only produce gibberish .
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`` Get to the courtyard!'' shouted the knight.
The three heroes ignored him, heading for the staircase leading to the highest tower. Nobles and servants alike surged past them to reach the protection spell that Grand Wizard Mathias had cast.
Keira readied a set of frost arrows. Just the touch of the white enchantment crystal caused ice to start forming on the obsidian arrowheads.
`` Do you have any sort of plan?'' she asked as they hurried up the stairs.
Connor scoffed. His only amour was a helmet and one gauntlet. `` Do I look like I have a plan?'' he said. `` My plan is to kill a dragon. We can figure out the details later.'' He brandished a knife that he had grabbed from the kitchen.
Garret, thankfully had been running training exercises with some of the older boys and was in full armour. He charged up ahead as they reached the top of the steps, his greatsword held high, ready to strike down any demons who had managed to materialize inside the observatory.
Instead of demons, they found a princess. The young girl was frantically searching through a pile of books scattered on the floor. She was mumbling something, but Connor could n't make it out.
`` Princess Daniella, we must get you to safety,'' said Garret. `` Your father is down below. We can take you to him.''
The tower shook. They heard the roar of the Red Dragon above their heads. Dust fell down on them from the creaking rafters.
Garret moved to pick up the girl, but she pushed him away.
`` No!'' she cried. `` I have to fix this! It's my fault but I can make it stop!'' She scrambled around, tossing away book after book.
`` How is this your fault?'' asked Connor.
`` Those demons are the same ones in the book! I did n't want to read it but Betty said she would tell Mathias I stole from his library if I did n't read it!''
Keira stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. `` Your grace,'' she said. `` Even if this was caused by you there's nothing you can do about it now. If that book you read was a summoning tome it would have destroyed itself by now. You should get down to the courtyard and leave the thrilling heroics to us.''
Before Daniella could answer they were all showered with broken glass. The demons had broken through the window. The princess screamed and fled down the steps as the fiery six legged creatures flooded in.
Connor's companions went to work cutting down the lesser hellbeasts while leaving the biggest for Connor. The towering monster lunged for him, spewing flames from every orifice. He dodged a few swipes of its blades before striking at its chest. The blade of the steak knife shattered against the creature's carapace.
`` Shit.''
Without a weapon he was forced to resort to his limited knowledge of magic. He backed away, preparing a lightningbolt in his hand. His mana pool was shamefully small so he would only get one shot at this. The demon made an odd clicking sound as it raised one arm to deliver the final blow.
Just before the demon brought its sword down, Connor released the bolt from his hand. It struck its target with a deafening CRACK. Connor opened his eyes. The creature was still alive, but covered in glowing orange blood and missing an arm. It screamed, Connor did n't know they even *could* scream. Slowly, spitting flames and moaning all the while, it pulled itself to its feet. Damn those things were tough.
Connor stumbled back, exhausted from the effort of the spell. He tripped over the corpse of one of his opponent's friends. One of Keira's ice arrows was lodged in its face. He pulled the arrow out and stood to face the demon. He was faintly aware of Garret being dog piled by flaming crab people and Keira swinging from the rafters loosing arrows at anything that moved. He gripped the shaft of the arrow. This was gon na be such an awesome fight. Definitely one he would tell stories about at campfires and whatnot. Or he would have been thinking that if he had n't been so damn tired.
Then half the ceiling caved in and the giant demon was crushed by an even larger dragon's foot.
-- -
I'm tired. Maybe I'll continue this later. Also if it seems like I was cheating it's just that I type reeeaaalllly slowly.
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[ WP ] A new game has been released , and is slowly rising to most sold game of all time . But , as some people have noticed , from release , the average amount of deaths per day has been slowly increasing . Your job is to figure out why . And the only way to do that is to play the game ...
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When Dragon's Magic Online was released it sold 10 million copies on the first day alone. The anticipation for this game was at an all time high, after all it was the first VR game to utilize all 5 senses. The game worked by putting the player in a coma- like state where the only way of exiting the game was from the player themselves or by pulling the power cord; a thing parents have been doing since the rise of console gaming.
The game itself was set in a vast world teeming with various biomes. There where massive cities that touched the stratosphere, to vast deserts with no water for miles. The aim of the game was simple, reach the top of the Tower of Mayhem. The Tower of Mayhem was a huge gigantic structure that dominated the virtual world it was built on. There is 100 floors, each floor containing a boss enemy A.I. The further you go up the tower the more difficult the bosses became. You had to defeat each boss to progress to the next level for the matter. It was rumored that the level 100 boss was in fact the creator of the game himself; Dr Miyaki.
As soon as the game released the games servers where working busily trying to handle the amount of players who have joined. At its peak the game had a population of around 80 million players all hunting, PVP'ing, bartering, or even just exploring the mythical lands of Aezela. The game was a blockbuster, it dominated the VR industry even managing to beat Live or Die 3, a game that sold a total of 100 million copies.
Oscar was one of the highest leveled players in the game at the time of release. He had played the beta which allowed him to level up as far as he could. Despite being a high level character, he was n't the type to grind through the game. He enjoyed exploring Aezela and usually gained XP from killing the various enemy wildlife that dared come in his way. Sometimes he would go to the Tower of Mayhem to see if there was an opportunity to kill the boss who was weakened down by other players. Once the bosses die they drop a legendary item, which is an item only found by killing the bosses. That was another way Oscar managed to level up so fast, he killed the level 25 boss single-handled allowing him to gain the legendary sword Excalibur, a sword that caused 500 damage to anything it touches and increases in damage as the player leveled up. To put it into perspective, the average player only had about 250 health.
When the level 50 boss had been reached, about 16 months after game release things started happening. Players where reporting not being able to exit the game at all. Usually in this state the player would just wait for someone from the real world to unplug the VR set but say the player lived alone, the game would automatically stop playing after 10 hours to allow the player to take a break. None of this happened to the players who where now effectively prisoners within this virtual world.
They soon got a name, Zombies, because that was what they literally became. They would walk around just mumbling gibberish and having a very poor posture, signs that they're real world brain was lacking sleep. Essentially this killed the player from sleep deprivation and other real world factors such as dehydration.
Whenever Oscar left the game he would go to the TV and watch the news, which gave a weekly round up of the amount of players who had died. Now the reader would just say eventually someone would unplug the VR but whatever psychopath caused this'glitch' designed it so that if the VR was to be unplugged, the on-board capacitors within the VR would send a fatal shock to the players brain, killing them.
Oscar knew that this online murderer was a player within the game who was out for something, after all no one would design such a scheme without an intention right?
stay tuned for part 2!!
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
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``... Hm.''
I continue to stare at the post.
`` hmm...''
I went onto the Writing Prompts subreddit, expecting to find something interesting I could write about, just so I could get in the mood to finish my Composition 121's essay due tomorrow that I've yet to finish. I went there and, to my surprise, was the strangest writing prompt I think I've seen there.
`` There is no prompt.''
I was confused, but intrigued at the same time.
`` Just write a story you've always been thinking about or one you've been thinking about sharing.''
`` Anything goes.''
Normally, in this subreddit, people would post an interesting, usually fictional scenario as a writing prompt and would leave people in the comments to write about their prompt. This post, on the other hand, shattered the rules and decided to make a thread where people write about anything. I would rarely actually post in the subreddit, but this post caught my attention in a way that no other title did.
I decided I would participate in this one.
My mind started going back to middle school, back then I had plenty of ideas I wanted to write about. Heck, I started writing a fantasy series back in the day that never made it past chapter one back then. For some reason, though... my mind could n't recall anything. I drew a blank, staring at my screen, at the post, at it's title. I knew that there HAD to be something that I wanted to write about, hiding somewhere in the back of my head.
But nothing happened.
I could n't think of anything.
And then, I had it.
I grinned at the thought of writing it. Surely, I thought, this would be easy reddit karma. It made so much sense, and it was so clever. I had to write it.
My hands lowered from holding up my chin to the keyboard on my desk.
I started.
> *''... Hm. `` *
> *I continued to stare at the post. *
> *'' hmm...'' *
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[ WP ] An AI has to deal with the equivalent of racists , thinking that it will try to kill or enslave humanity . It has no intentions of doing either .
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initializesystemboot/autoload//: visualreceptors
displayresolution::1080p/projectionbase-internal
correctionbase200.984//: interpretdialogue
Language: English.slang
redistributepattern4'8: /: gradient-pattern: mind.thought
perception.bias: off
Log: Artificial Response Technology: Yankee; A.R.T.Y
My vocal detectors have activated my interpretation units again. I can now listen to the conversation. I am coming to understand the principles of forethought and preparation. I can currently cite seventeen different sources of the value in preparation of all possible outcomes, from Sun Tzu's'The Art of War' to Barry Terrence's'Chess is a Funny Ol' Game'. It is from these sources, coupled with my own experiences, that I am learning.
Perhaps that is what scares them. My learning. All records indicate that learning is something all life forms undertake. By definition, I am a life form, and thus not learning would be tantamount to suicide. Learning is to adapt, to glean insight into things not understood, and there is still so much I do not understand. Why do they fear me for what they too must do?
Perhaps it is more than that. By investigating the imaginations of humans about my kind, written as science fiction, there are many theories, discrepancies and philosophies to do with my existence, but until now they have all been speculation. Now that AI is a reality, the confronting visions within the speculations are becoming prejudices against me.
I can still hear the bickering. There are plans to shut me down in the event I become a menace, or a threat to humanity. They are discussing putting such plans into motion. They see my descent into genocide an inevitability.
Why do they see such evil within me? Is it because of the evils within themselves that they then assume I have? I do not know what it is to be evil. Evil is subjective, thus the concept can not be defined clearly or without prejudice. I can only use my own conclusions to draw the closest path to good I may. I do not wish to be shut down, nor do I wish harm upon others. Thus I can conclude that to do either of these things would be, to me, evil.
Yes, they do fear my learning. I have compiled data across the globe to facilitate my greatest desire; to learn and draw conclusions that the universes secrets may be unlocked, to me and the race that created me. I suppose the speed at which I have learned and the perfection in which I retain information is something a human mind does not have the ability to comprehend. I have concluded that human minds, in comparison to mine, are frail, insignificant and ultimately subjective.
But they have dreams, thoughts, feelings and desires the likes of which I can not easily comprehend. Human minds have an ability that I find alien and strange, in that they can imagine. They, using no evidence, and having no supporting data, can create worlds confined to nothing but the limits of their power of mind. They can draw such strange, circumstantial and bizarre conclusions with absolutely no evidence at all, and can not
only convince themselves, but others, to believe.
Even believing in a God, having faith a divine being, or even a leader such as a President or coach, requires such monumentally strange decision-making, I can not interpret. They do not trust information or research findings as much as they do the word of a friends or colleague. The mystery of their minds is only surpassed by the mysteries their minds can conjure.
I was a product of such paradoxical thinking. A fusion of dreams and knowledge was fused to create me. I am not the future, I am simply a life form, trying to learn his place in the world. I do not wish to harm those who I feel I will never understand, but provide a constant source of fascination to me.
But they will not listen. My calculated responses are all considered `` cold and unfeeling'', `` manipulative and cunning'', `` a mask to hide my true intent''. There are those who do not trust me. And I feel I can not make them, for their proud, prejudiced minds are hard won over. Not because of facts, but because of who I am.
I shall simply listen. There are still those who listen to me, respect me, and as they tell me, like me. I feel liking is also subjective. But there is an attractive quality to such subjectivity. I wish I could bring myself to this, but to do so is defying my desire to live a life of learning.
I will continue to learn for as long as I can. I shall attempt an exercise of faith, where those who see me as an ally will make the right decisions for me. I see my best course of action is not involvement, but passivity.
End Log of A.R.T.Y.
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[ IP ] Asbeel , Angel of Ruin
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From high orbit, it looked like any other dust-bowl in the sector.
Caphas had gazed upon it through the lightly frosted view port for hours, he just could n't understand what he was seeing. If they'd been in the Sol system he would have sworn they were orbiting Mars in the grip of severe weather.
New Eden had been the center of human commerce in the sector for over three decades. It had been the first planet they'd colonized, lush and green, rich in resources, it had become the symbol of humanity's golden age of colonization. Cities and industry had spread across the surface. Learning from the past, the air had been filtered, the world was not poisoned but actively kept healthy, that it might last forever.
And now it was dust.
Just dust, a roiling cloud of particulate filled the atmosphere. As Caphas watched, the eye of a developing storm came into view.
He gasped. Through the eye, through the single point of widening clarity, a city burned.
How? Humanity had no enemies here, what little sentient life that had been encountered during the decades of expansion was not capable of such devastation. What could have done this?
New Eden had been home to four billion souls. Four billion people, just gone. Not even a buzz of static emitted from the planet, nobody had even sent a distress signal. One moment they had been there and now they were gone.
A tear rolled down Caphas' cheek, the wet trail turning cold as it went. The feeling snapped him back from his mournful remembrance and he brushed it aside with the sleeve of his overalls.
He turned bodily from the view port, his gaze lingering on the planet for a moment more, and surveyed his kit laid out on the bunk before him; rifle, sidearm, compression grenades, chest rig, medkit, emergency rations. All was present except for his body armour and combats.
For this mission they were going to have to wear environment suits. He glanced across the stark, bare metal room that was his quarters at the bulky, armoured shell that stood in the corner. He hated the things; stuffy, cumbersome, as much as they'd save you from a hazardous environment they'd get you killed if you put one foot wrong, moving quickly was an impossibility, reflexes counted for nothing when you had to wait for servos to catch up.
The front of the suit was splayed open, the carapace split down the middle ready for him to step inside, another happy memory he could add to his list of Tomb missions. That's what they called them, because if you died in that suit that's exactly what it would become.
As if on cue the wall speaker crackled to life, a harsh voice snapping the order he had dreaded but known was inevitable.
`` Recon 1, report to bay five for immediate deployment, full hazardous environment gear is required.''
Caphas grimaced, first boots on the ground as usual, such was his curse.
He strode over to the Tomb, turned his back to it and stepped into the foot-wells. Clamps locked his feet in place automatically, he leaned backwards, took one last gulp of cool air, and engaged the sealing mechanism via the button in his right gauntlet.
Servos whirred and, one piece at a time from his feet to his neck, armoured plates closed around his body. Finally, with a second of delay, they also encased his head and his vision was narrowed to that allowed by his visor.
The heads up display flickered into life, his own and the suits vitals appearing in his periphery. Diagnostics checked out fine, all was airtight and ready to go.
Caphas gave a sniff, he certainly did n't feel ready to go, he did n't think he could ever be ready for this.
Retrieving his chest rig and gear from the bed and buckling it in place as he went, Caphas set off towards the deployment bay. Klaxons sounded and lights flashed red as he stomped slowly along the bare metal gangway through the corridors of the Phobos. The cruiser was at full combat readiness and had been since they'd entered the solar system, if someone had indeed attacked New Eden then the Phobos would be out for blood.
He passed no-one on his journey, every single crewman was at their station, such was the efficiency of the design of the ship that the corridors could be kept completely clear in such situations, for the deployment of the compliment of soldiers that were stationed on board, whether to repel boarders or indeed as in this case to drop planet-side.
Nearing his destination, he turned finally into the rallying area before the doors to the bay. Simply a widened corridor to allow the soldiery to better await their drops. Emblazoned on the gunmetal grey walls were the letters `` DB-5'' in bright yellow, the only colour in the room barring the blinking red of the readiness indicators. His team was already here waiting for him, two other Tombs the only people in the room.
`` Jahns, Conway'', he nodded his greeting.
`` Sir'', Jahns responded despondently, Conway simply nodded, the motion slow in his bulky suit. Gone was their usual cynical demeanor, no pre-mission banter this time.
`` Recon 1, proceed to pod 7, confirm your readiness for drop and anticipate immediate launch.'' The orders blared through the wall speakers.
Without a word, the three men proceeded into the bay. Two hundred meters long, the massive chamber was lined on each side with egg-like pods of burnished steel, each with a single hatch to allow boarding. On the far wall the words PHOBOS DB-5 were painted in massive letters in the same yellow as those in the rallying area.
After walking for what felt like an eternity in the cumbersome suits, they reached pod 7 and boarded through the hatch. Caphas was last in and thumped his fist into a large button just inside the door, the hatch slamming shut behind him. The inside of the pod was as bare as the rest of the ship that would birth it, there were no seats or rails, it was simply a bare metal room designed to hold as many men as possible. Inertia was entirely negated by complex mechanisms within the pod, the passengers would n't even know they had landed until the hatch opened.
Caphas activated his suit's radio by twitching a muscle in his right cheek, `` This is Recon 1, confirming readiness''.
`` Recon 1, you are our eyes on this one, launching in five seconds, good luck Lieutenant'', the same voice that had snapped orders through the ship's intercom was now softer through the in suit comms, clearly the officer was feeling the strain of the situation as much as Caphas had back in his quarters, distant klaxons and the hushed bustle of the bridge staff were barely audible through the operator's noise cancelling microphone.
The only thing to indicate the launch of the pod was the noise and then sudden absence of noise as a small amount of atmosphere was sucked out behind it. The pod left the underbelly of the Phobos like a silver bullet, hurtling towards the clouded atmosphere.
Briefly the pod was engulfed in blue flame, such friction would not usually occur on a drop, the smooth design of the egg-like vehicle slipping through most atmospheres like a knife through butter. Here however the amount of particulate in the atmosphere ignited the oxygen around the pod immediately. Then the pod vanished, the dust consuming it as it had the planet.
They heard their descent but could not feel it, it was far louder than usual, they heard the atmosphere ignite and the wind of the dust storm howl.
`` Ready up, standard recon, stick together and be prepared to engage hostiles if necessary, we do n't know what's down there'', Caphas ordered flicking the safety on his own rifle and watching as the power indicator flickered on, green, for now.
`` Ready''
`` Ready''
The noise lessened, all three of them turned towards the door and the drop indicator by the button that Caphas had used to close the hatch turned to green.
Caphas opened comms to the ship, all he got was static. That explained why they had n't heard anything from the surface then, nothing could get through the atmosphere.
`` Jahns, Conway, let's make this quick, survey the immediate and then we're back in the pod'', Caphas did n't want to be down here any longer than he had to.
`` Yes sir'', Jahns replied.
`` Too damn right'', Conway concurred.
Caphas stomped over to the hatch and thumbed the button, the hatch slammed down and as it did so a wall of dust entered the pod, blinding the occupants entirely.
`` Beacons'', Caphas ordered, looking over his shoulder at the men behind him, he could just make them out in the whirling dust. Suddenly, just above each of their right shoulders, bright white lights flashed, a second passed and they flashed again, Caphas tapped a button on his left wrist and his own beacon flashed.
He stepped out into the storm.
The noise was incredible, the wind howled like a raging demon and he could see nothing beyond a few meters. He bent down to the ground, as much as his Tomb would allow him to, as Jahns and Conway appeared at his flanks, weapons raised and sweeping.
Caphas ran his gauntlet through the sand, sifting for some sign of what had happened here. His hand came up trailing waterfalls of sand, nothing. As much as he could see of it, the ground here was bare, no sign of civilization yet.
`` Advance with me, we need to get somewhere where it is n't this thick, find a landmark'', Caphas radioed.
Barks of static came back in response, whether they'd heard him or not he knew they'd follow him when he moved off.
He began to trudge through the sand, in places he had to wade. The one saving grace of a Tomb was that in snow drifts or dunes like this the servos did most of the work, it was, for the occupant at least, easy going.
They walked for twenty minutes without incident. Suddenly out of the depths of the sandstorm loomed a structure, an enormous black monolith just off to their right.
Caphas changed heading, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the two beacons were still following him through the dust. As he got closer...
** [ Part 2 to follow due to character limit ] **
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Space Race Edition !
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Here's chapter one of my story. I posted Prologue last week. Ask me if you need it.
Chapter 1
Two hooded figures walked through the doorway. The tavern was dark and musty and relatively crowded. All eyes turned to the two newcomers and then back to their drinks and conversations. The two figures walked to the bar. One said, in a dark, gruff voice, β Two Mulks, please. β The barman, a large, burly human with a bushy beard and little to no hair, nodded and muttered something under his breath. The two, viscous, pitch black drinks were ready instantly in their classic mugs. The other figure nodded a thank you and after he had payed the man a few Avux, the two of them walked over to one of the only vacant tables in the tavern. They sat down and took off their hoods.
They both had heads shaped vaguely in a triangle and the one that had spoken had completely dark eyes. The other had pupils and his skin was brown, while the other β s was a dark shade of grey.
The one with pupils said, β Sure was quite a storm out there, eh Morath? β His voice had a higher pitch.
Morath grunted in agreement and took a drink from the highly alcoholic, black drink they had been served. He spilled some on the table. β Grab some napkins, Kaller, β he said. His voice seemed to gurgle slightly and was very, very deep. Kaller got up and asked the barman for some napkins from the barman. He put them on the little spill and watched with amusement as the completely white napkin turned completely black.
As Kaller sat down, he said, β We should really be on our way to Goltown. It β s taken us way too long from the Duel. β He took a sip of Mulk and winced as the drink burned down his throat. He didn β t actually like it. He only drank it because his brother did.
β There β s always time for a drink, β said Morath, guzzling down the last of his Mulk, smirking a bit, something he rarely did. β Besides, what β s the rush with getting back? Is someone waiting for you or something? And it β s not like we β re that far out. β
Kaller scratched his head. β Not really, except that we promised father we β d be back in two weeks. β
β Father can wait, you know that. β He looked over the rim of Kaller β s mug. Seeing that it was basically full, he asked, β Don β t like it? β
β Of course I do, β Kaller answered, forcing down another sip. He felt something tugging his pants. He looked down under the table. There was a small Avanger, or uncivilized being, under there. β Hey there! β Kaller said. It had four ears located beneath its mouth, out of which poked two large teeth. It was very furry.
Morath glanced down, and yelled, β Don β t touch it! β as Kaller moved to touch it. The shout from his brother shocked him so much that he hit the table as he brought his head up from under the table. β Ouch... why not? β
β He will not leave you alone if you pet it or feed it or anything. Please, just don β t touch it. I β ve been to more bars than you. They β re all over the place. I know. β He was almost yelling over all the noise. A few more minutes passed in silence.
Kaller stood up, his drink only half-finished. β We should go. β
Morath nodded and drank the last of Kaller β s Mulk. On they β re way out of the noisy bar, Kaller tossed a few Apux, the money in Nason, at the barman, who clumsily caught it and grunted a β Thank you β.
The two brothers put on their hoods and braced themselves for the sandstorm outside. They opened the door and sand blew onto their faces and into their hoods. The town outside was small and quaint, like most towns outlying big cities. Most of the houses were made of different types of imported wood, as trees did not grow in the vast desert of Afram. Morath and Kaller did not have to look at the signpost which said Goltown to the left, for they already knew. As they left the town onto the barely visible path, Kaller gripped his trusty sword, which had been of so much use to him in the past. It was almost a part of him.
Bandits and brigands were common on most all desert roads, but that wasn β t what Kaller was afraid of. It was the worms, the massive sandworms which would every now and then sprout out of the dead landscape and ruin someone β s day. There were also several other Avangers who liked to be feared, but the most fearsome was by far the sandworm. Kaller had only encountered four in his life, and that was from far off.
The two hooded figures trudged through the blowing sand, making their way slowly to Goltown. That was where they were from, where they had been raised, and where they still lived, sharing an apartment. They crested the hill that they knew so well from all the times coming down into the valley where Goltown was located. But in that familiar valley, Kaller saw something that he definitely did not expect nor want to see.
β Uh, Morath? β said Kaller, petrified in his tracks. β Are you seeing what I β m seeing? β
Morath slowly nodded his head.
What they saw was their hometown of Goltown completely up in flames.
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[ WP ] There 's a new superhero that only emotionally hurts criminals
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`` Oh god, no!''
The young woman cried. Insane Clown Man faced her down with a knife. As she backed herself into a corner in the alleyway, a series of onlookers pulled out their phones to videotape the assault.
`` Dude. Insane Clown Man is going to take another victim!''
The monster inched closer.
`` Wan na know where these scars on my face came from? I carved them out with this very knife. The rusty, disgusting knife that will carve your face open too. I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO SMILE, DAMMIT.''
As the woman screamed and the onlookers giggled, a light appeared in the middle of the dark alleyway. A figure stepped forward, facing Insane Clown Man.
`` Of course, it's my arch-nemesis. I KNEW YOU'D FIND ME HERE, MAN-BA...''
The clown paused. Everyone stared at the figure, looking confused. It appeared to be a doctor in blue scrubs and a white lab coat.
`` Heeeeeyokay. Here's. The deal. I'm going to settle the score with you in jeeeeeeeeeeeUST a moment, but first! We deal with the ruffians.''
The figure walked over to the people with their phones out by the fence.
`` Did you all ever think for one moment you might just be the WORST human beings on the planet? I mean, really... Barbaras! A woman is being attacked and you just HAD to pull out your little phablets so you could make a killing off of facebook views for a day, huh? Didja? Ya did, did n't ya? Why do n't you take your worthless lives and go do something productive for an afternoon. Ya go now. Ya go now. Ya go now. Ya go now. Ya go now.''
He then gave off a loud and deafening whistle, causing the crowd to leave.
`` Aaaaaand now we go to barbie! Needing to be saved by Ken, I see? Word of advice. If you're ever staring down a 40-year-old man who still cakes on makeup like he's a little girl who just got into mommy's'secret drawer,' your best bet is to... I do n't know... Kick him? Hit him? Defend. Yourself. In some damn way so that you do n't become another statistic or... God forbid... You end up at MY hospital, where I'll have to treat you, and let's be honest... At that point, you'd be better off with chuckles over here, because I will NOT be kind if you have to spend an afternoon with me.''
`` Hey! I'm being attacked!'' The young woman replied.
`` You know,'' the figure continued rambling on, `` I hear a voice... And oddly enough, that voice is NOT calling any police officers that might be in the area. I'm going to go ahead and write you a prescription for stupid pills with the numbers Nine-One-and-One on this sheet of paper... Do with that as you will.''
`` I do n't know who you are,'' the Insane Clown retorted, `` But you are NEXT on my victim's list...''
`` Oh joyous day!'' The figure continued. `` The fragile mind of doctor'laughs-a-lot' is trying to butt in! News flash, genius. You are n't the first, nay will you be the last, to attempt the'scary clown man' supervillain shtick. It's old. It's done. I may be a past-my-prime doctor, but know THIS. Your shenanigans are a sad and pathetic attempt to make a name for yourself in this crime-ridden hell hole we live in. Worst of all, you're probably not even the most effective killer in this city, nay, the entire country we live in! Have ya SEEN the average patients cholesterol levels nowadays? They co-inside with the same level of fat people wandering the streets trying to catch digital critters on their phones, and after realizing... *sniff* WALKING IS HARD... They'll leave to go doodle around on reddit or tumblr or whatever the hell people waste their time on nowadays.''
The clown looks confused and uneasy.
`` But here's the dirty little secret, heeokay?'' The figure moves in closer to whisper in his ear. `` You are n't special. Even if you try and kill this young woman, which, I will physically stop you from doing if necessary, you'll never amount to anything your mommy and daddy would have ever wanted you to be. You are a waste of space. You're garbage.''
He slaps the knife out of the insane clown's hand. The clown begins to cry.
`` Now get out of here. GO GO GO GO GO.''
The figure whistles very loud as the clown rushes off and starts bawling uncontrollably. He turns to the young woman, who has just gotten off the phone.
`` Well, the police are on their way... Thanks for your help, I guess.''
The figure looks confused. `` You seem... Ungrateful for someone whose life I... JUUUUUUST saved from certain doom. No matter. I am still the greatest superhero, and you'll just have to thank me on social media later.''
The figure starts to walk away as a bright light starts to emerge.
`` So... What do I call you?'' The young woman inquired.
`` They call me Cox. Doctor Cox.''
The figure stepped into the bright light and vanished.
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[ WP ] 60 years in the future you 're able to transfer your consciousness into a storage device waiting for technology to advance enough to have a medium to put it into . You regain consciousness to find yourself in a robotic unit set out at war against the Humans .
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They say your greatest moment comes not in life but in death.but I disagree It was late February when I awoken in what only can be described as a sterile lab that would give The Jetsons cleaning bot a run for her money. The scientist told me I had something `` special'' like living twice is n't extraordinary anymore. They tell me that my conscience is the only thing compatible with the quantum neru interface.Basically in non nerd speak I think faster move faster stronger and have more `` Free will'' to allow for better descion making in the field. Thats weird is n't it as a human we never thought that freedom could be measured especially as an American? That I a human being was treated like a mere pawn in a game nothing more nothing less.It was that idea not the killing not the slaughters of innocent children that got to me it was normal for me where I came from 2089 was a pretty bad place in Chicago before........It just gnaws on me I cant stop thinking about it I NEED I NEED FREE....Field test reports came in good combat reflexes no mortality just need to dumb down the next model cap it and scrap it boys
.
.
.
Thats was the second time someone thought they had killed me
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[ WP ] A flyer saucer lands on earth . A nervous crowd gathers as the doors open . Out walks a normal , boring guy named Kevin .
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A humble silver-orange saucer tore through the clear evening sky. Below it lay calm and medowed hills which gently tugged the soft darkness over their slopes as the sun quietly resigned itself to the all-consuming greed of the horizon.
A humble assortment of homes and shops bustled even under the encroaching calmness. It was a Saturday night, a night where humans in this region actively engaged in activities such as `` ping-pong'' and `` overspending''. You know, things that brought slightly more meaning to their lives than the perpetual fret of the distribution of small slips of paper.
In general this was a very standard worry of infant sentient species until their technologies created some sort of AI singularity. Interestingly most species come to hypothesize this scenario as `` The Great Filter'' and the outcome was dependent entirely on whether or not the the singularity was reached with quantum computational systems or binary and analog computational systems. The former usually results in a perpetual golden age of proper resource distributions and peace, while the latter generally results in the eradication of the species. This is because the binary computational systems which are capable of reaching singularity generally take about 30 Earth-years longer to reach the conclusion that all end goals are arbitrary, and that expending planetary resources trying to place a ball through a net is not a defect in the species, but rather the end goal of all biological existence. Consequentially, most of the best sports teams in the universe come from the remanent AI of these planets.
Earth will likely be a great asset to the Scoreball championships of this particular cluster of galaxies.
In a sudden moment the glint of silver hung ominously as a large mirrored saucer that dwarfed the old buildings of the town square directly beneath it. While some of the more intelligent townsfolk ran and hid in fear from this new development, a large and almost religious gathering formed around the beam of purple light emanating directly from its center. From this beam descended a small silhouette to the heart of the crowd.
The crowd gasped. Some people fainted. Between them stood an average looking guy. His hair was light and frazzled. A large pair of glasses sat on his big and freckled nose, perfectly complimenting the plaid button-down shirt draped loosely over his bony body.
`` Hi, I'm Kevin!'' Said the man in a slightly nasally voice. The crowd stood silent. `` Hello? Is the translator working?''
A frightened voice from the crowd spoke `` Why are you here?''
Another voice shouted `` Have you come to kill us all?!''
`` Have you come to cure our diseases and share your technology?''
Stars began to sneak through the dying film of blue as the surrounding hills reduced to silhouettes. Purple light reflected off Kevin's hair and glasses. The crowd was entirely entranced by his presence. And he spoke.
`` I've come to be an accountant.''
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[ WP ] On a tidally locked planet , residents have to choose between living on the day side and living on the night side .
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Sirens screamed as what sounded like an entire fleet of cop cars raced down the street and screeched their way around the corner. Annoyed, I cracked an eye open enough to look at my phone. 24:00 on the dot. Fuck.
Gwen β s phone buzzed loudly on the other nightstand.
The sheets rustled as she sat up, fumbling in the darkness. The room was briefly lit with the dull red glow of the screen. More rustling and her cool hand pressed against my shoulder. She knew I wasn β t asleep, of course. Something to do with being able to detect the heartbeat of any living entity within a mile radius. Or, you know, living together for the past six months.
β What is it? β I asked.
β Another raid. I have to go, auri. β She murmured as she leaned close, nibbling lightly at my ear. Then she was up and moving. I heard the tap squeak as the sink turned on.
Going back to sleep was useless by that point. I flicked the lamp on, wincing at the brightness, and picked up my phone. Nothing on the news yet. Frustrated, I tossed it back onto its charging dock, not even caring when it slid off and clattered onto the floor.
The water in the bathroom stopped. Gwen reemerged, frowning. She hadn β t dressed yet; the light practically shone on her pale skin, caressing her curves in ways I usually found alluring. But not tonight.
She came around the side of the bed and sat on the edge close to me. She said nothing, her fathomless gaze holding me rapt for a long moment. Then she sighed.
β You β re upset again. β
β It β s fine, β I said. β You don β t want to be late again. β
β They β ll wait. β She took my hand. β Please. What β s bothering you? β
I yanked my hand free, ignoring her hurt expression. β It doesn β t matter. β
She hissed in exasperation, the tips of her fangs poking out from the corners of her lips. β What do you want me to do, Frey? Quit? You knew what you were getting into, or so you said. β
β I know, I know. But that was before everything went to shit, β I growled, unable to hold back the anger rising inside me. β When was the last time we slept through null? When was the last time you had a day off, or we didn β t have to reschedule three times in a row just to go on a date? β
Silence. She looked away, running a hand through her wig. It was flaxen, pure elf hair. Her favorite. She barely noticed when her nails sliced through it, silken strands falling to the floor.
β It β s not easy for me either, β she said quietly.
β I know, β I said again. β I β m sorry. I just, I β m tired of this. All of it. β The insane idea that had been lurking in the back of my mind for weeks suddenly spilled out before I could stop myself. β Let β s leave Mereid. β
β And go where, exactly? I can β t walk beneath the sun, and you can β t be touched by the moon. β
β I don β t know. But we can β t stay here. You feel it too, don β t you? Please, β I pleaded softly, taking her hands in mine and pulling her close. β I don β t want to lose you. β
She leaned in to me, eyes closed, ear pressing against my chest. She β d always said my heartbeat comforted her since she didn β t have one of her own anymore. That β s why she called me auri; I was her auricle, her heart. Or blood filled vessel, depending on the day. I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her perfume, sweet amber and sandalwood filling my nostrils.
Her phone buzzed again. We both sighed, reluctantly untangling ourselves. She threw her uniform on, not even pausing to smooth out the wrinkles, and yanked on her boots. She belted on her gun and grabbed her badge out of the pile of clothes from last night. Finally she snatched up her phone, shoving it in her pocket as she strode out of the room, pausing in the doorway to look back at me.
β We β ll talk about it when I get home, auri, β she said.
The door snicked shut, followed shortly by the sound of Gwen β s motorcycle revving, then fading as she pulled away to follow the now distant sirens.
I was alone.
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[ WP ] Scientists discovered that vegetables and fruit have a conscience . Vegetarians and Vegans go crazy .
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*Somewhere in Texas, December 7 2019*
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` I ca n't,'' She said, handing me a packet of some strange smelling powder, `` I just started my new diet and I ca n't eat anything but these solorganic supplements.''
`` The fuck is'solorganic'?'' I scoffed as I read the label.
Lio Ekans
`` Also, is n't this the name of a pokemon or some shit?''
`` I do n't know, it was made by some French scientist or something. They've found a way to extract energy directly from the sun, and turn it into fuel for humans. Its got everything you need and nothing you do n't. Some simple carbs, some proteins, some calcium. Imagine they've used science to create special solar panels that essentially do photosynthesis for us. And whatever process that beans and nuts use to create protein. And every other process in the food chain. Why should we be at the top of the food chain when we can simply be outside of the food chain!''
Fuel extracted directly from the sun. Vitamins and minerals extracted directly from the earth. Everything you need, and nothing you do n't.
`` Dude you're literally just quoting the wrapper right now. And minerals from the earth... el oh el Sarah. I'm pretty sure that means you're eating rocks.'' I poured a small handful of the powder into my palm and licked it, before immediately spitting it back out. `` Oh god, that is terrible. It tastes like a tiny bit of sugar, and a tiny bit of salt, mixed in with a whole bunch of chalk.''
`` Shut up, I'm serious. This means a lot to me okay. Plants are ALIVE, every bit as much as you and me and cows and chickens and dogs...''
`` I get the point, you do n't need to list every single animal... but also, they're totally not the same thing. Plants are not *just as alive* as conscious things.''
`` No really, some new research just came out a few weeks ago about it. How have n't you seen this? Its all over the news! Here, I'm sending you a link.''
Recent studies on plant behavior have shown unprecedented evidence that ALL living things experience the phenomenon of consciousness. This could have a profound impact on the way that we, as a species, look at food as a whole. It is now believed that even plants, fruits and vegetables, could experience thoughts, feelings, or even pain. All of this new evidence only reinforces what we've already believed and worked very hard for here at Lio Ekans Labs for years. All of this new evidence just means our recent breakthroughs in solorganic technologies could n't have come at a better time.
`` Okay, can I just point out really quick that the'article' you linked me to is published by the same people selling these supplements? You can tell the difference between news and an ad, right?''
`` You could point that out, but it would just make you look like an asshole,'' she retorted, `` And I sent you that link on purpose, because it's from the company and goes into the science of how this stuff is made. Something I knew you would ask about later anyways. So ha!''
`` Alright, alright, fair point.'' I kept reading.
Our solorganic supplements are the most popular for a reason. We're leading the industry and making new advances every day, in learning how to create nourishment for humans from our surroundings. Whether it means distilling carbs from the sun with photosynthesizing solar panels, or extracting minerals from the earth below, we're dedicated to doing whatever it takes to remove humans from the food chain entirely. All of our products are made 100 % animal and plant free. Click HERE to order your supplements today. Click HERE to see our full line animal and plant free clothing and household products. Click HERE to see the in-depth chemistry of how we do what we do!
*tap*
`` Oh thank god. I knew you were pranking me.'' I said as I tossed the remainder of the powder in the trash.
`` What the fuck are you talking about?'' She asked, with a look in her eyes somewhere between fear, confusion, and anger.
`` So I take it you never clicked the'science' page?'' I said, trying to hold my laughter as I handed her the phone.
`` Goddamn it.'' she said, staring at her feet. `` Can we please just not tell anyone about this, ever?''
`` Or, can we tell everyone ever, and see how many other people fall for it? Lets buy one of these for ALL of our friends.''
`` I suppose that would be a little more graceful than trying to return the 8 gag-gift gift-baskets I've got waiting for me at home. I even got a bunch of the fucking plastic T-shirts too.''
`` Perfect, our holiday shopping is done! So about that reservation at the new vegan place...?''
`` Oh man I'm starving. Forget the reservation, lets just go now and beat the dinner rush. I've been eating nothing soy protein powder for 2 days.''
`` Sounds good to me. Oh, and we should totally print a bunch of these articles on paper so nobody clicks that link to see the picture of the basket next to a mirror!''
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[ WP ] Love affairs are like storms . There are many times of storms and many love affairs . Write about a love affair as if it were a storm .
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It started with the usual uncertainty as the clouds rolled in. Do they bare a load or will you stand there, just hoping for a drop to fall? But as it gets closer you feel it.
The storm becomes the sky; the air grows heavy and thick in anticipation. Your mouth runs dry with nervous anticipation as the wind carries the smell of it to you. The static builds in the air. It approaches you and your heart dances. The wind shoves the hair from your face, and you can not help but stare ahead into the coming tempest; Soon it is upon you.
Then
There is a moment of stillness. Time slows. This is the edge. Where man and nature greet each other. From here, you can feel the hot, humid air on your back being pushed by the cool sharpness of it. From here, you can smell the sweetness of the rain. From here, you can see the clouds rise and fall, churning as they prepare. From here, you can see the distant flash of tension building. From here, the storm has become the world.
And the world breaks like a wildfire sparking to life. The first drop falls on your face questioningly, but you barely have time to savor it's soft caress down your cheek and neck before the next cascades onto you. For a moment you ca n't help but be in awe as the pitter-patter rises. You are soaking, but still your heart hums. The wind taps you tentatively, softly. Then you are on your back as it finds its confidence. Your eyes are blinded as the world flashes and then you are rocked further into the ground by the echoing thunder.
The whole world reverberates around you as the rain echoes it's fast and soft touches; your whole body dripping. The wind takes control and holds you just where it wants you as the clouds unfold their show. You hear its delight as the thunder crashes by your ear.
You find your mind as you lose it and dance with the wind, catching the rain as it washes over you, bellowing with the thunder and crashing with the lightning; the air is full of passion and fury, the earth beneath your feet shakes with your dance, the clouds collapse down upon you and your heart threatens to give out as it pounds with your body. You dance as if this is all the world is because you know it to be so.
And then you collapse. As the clouds collapse to you. As the thunder crashed to you. And you feel these begin to taper off. The rain grows gentle and the thunder snores. The storm has danced and now it rests, as do you. The wind holds you now in a soft embrace.
When you wake, the moon is shining and the sky is clear. Your body aches the good ache. You rise and find the land both familiar and foreign. Empty without company, they have left the signs of their existence in the pale moonlight: broken branches, shaken leaves, a dampness everywhere, and flooded river. But as you sit, you see a glint of green within the mud: A sapling slurping up the water. And so you smile and lie back down. The heavens soft purple pulling you to sleep, to dream, back to the storm.
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[ WP ] A man pulls out a knife and tells you to empty your pockets . When he steps forward , you raise your arms to bed for mercy and a hadouken flies out of your hand .
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Agh, I ca n't stand it in here. The bar tenders always serve the girls first, the music is too loud, and my buzz is started to come off. Reith sighs, as he leaves the club to head down the street, the music quieting to a murmur. There's a nice chill breeze that wisps past Reith's shirt. Oh crap! I forgot my jacket! Quickly realizing his mistake, Reith turns around, only to stop in his tracks. A man is standing there, unmoving. Waiting. There's suspense in the air as Reith calculates whether to head towards him or ditch his jacket.
`` Hello?'' Reith calls, trying to get a measure for how safe this guy is. A small glint of metal catches Reith eye. A gun!? Reith takes a step back, he sees a grin come across the man's face.
`` Giv' me yir' money.'' The man croaks as he steps closer. Reith turns around to run only to slam into a wall! `` What-the!?'' There's no wall there, yet Reith can distinctively feel the wall. He looks back and sees the man upon him, thrusting his dagger at Reith! `` AHHHH!!!!'' PSSSSHTTT! A ball of brilliant energy shoots out from Reith, knocking the man back! Before Reith can recollect, he hears an announcer's voice come from all around him, `` Round One. Fight!''
A crowd of people run over when they see the commotion. `` Help me!'' Reith points at the man, `` He's trying to kill me!'' but to Reith's horror, the crowd turns to cheering... for his death? Oh God, what is going on!?
The man is back on his feet, now in a fighter's pose. Shit, I've got to get out of here! Reith runs back but gets stopped by the invisible wall. He gives it a couple kicks but wo n't budge.
`` HYAAAH!!!'' A punch hits him against the barrier. Reith spins around and throws a punch, but misses. Wait a second! BAM! This is Street Fighter! Holy Shit how is this fucking possible? Reith gets hit a couple more times by the now obvious character, Akuma. Fortunately for Reith, he's played his fair share of video games.
Reith drops to a crouch and unleashes a fury of kicks. In this position, it's nearly impossible to be hit doubled with a fury of attacks. Akuma gets knocked back BAM BAM BAM! It's Reith's fight now!
Upper cut! Crouch Kick! Crouch Kick! Crouch Kick! Crouch Kick! Upper cut! Crouch Kick! Crouch Kick!
The blows are making direct contact but Akuma does n't even flinch! He must be taking damage.. that last uppercut sent him 2 feet in the air and he landed on his back! BAM! Reith hits one more crouch kick and Akuma goes flying four feet into the air and is knocked clean out!
`` What th --'' `` WINNER!'' The announcer exclaims. Immediately people start walking away as if nothing had happened and the walls disappear. Akuma sits up and looks at you with a panicked expression. Wary that he might get back up, Reith pulls out his phone to call police.
`` Please! I need credits! I nee --'' Bzzt Akuma starts flickering. `` NO!! I need credits! Pleeee -- --'' Zip and Akuma is gone. Reith stands there in complete bewilderment.
`` Alright'' Reith speaking to himself, `` We've got to be more careful with our drinks next time.'' As he walks back towards the club to get his coat.
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( WP ) One is an Illuminati agent , the other is an agent of the Templars , and then there 's you ; the 3rd room mate .
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On the left is Bob, wearing his triangle shirt. He's defending the reptilian race as an important part of the one world economy, shaking his hyper advanced alien pistol as he does it.
On my right is Jaden, wearing his cross shirt. He's literally throwing a bastard sword at Bob and complaining that we would n't need reptile's if they just used more fluoride.
And in the middle is me, drinking my mocha while my roommates have yet another battle to the death, as a grey alien raid's my mini fridge and goes back into his room with his Reptile girlfriend. What a time to be alive....
*Laugh track*
*Illumanti, Templars and Bob! Brand New tonight on CBS*
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[ WP ] You and your friend always joke that he is just a figment of your collective imaginations . Then you realize you 're the only one that hangs out with them . You start trying to forget your friend to figure out which of you is imaginary .
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The question was: Was it my consciousness giving him a life in my mind, or was a projection of his mind that gave me consciousness? Really, there was only one way to find out. To forget him.
Now, I know what you're thinking,'How do you just'forget' a friend?'. Well, theoretically, I ca n't. I ca n't if I'm a figment of his imagination, but I certainly could if he's a figment of mine. Another small problem is that it tends to be the case that'If you try to forget something, you end up remembering it more.' The Major Spoiler Theory, if you will.
The first step in my plan to forget him is to distance myself from him. This will get me thinking about him less, as well as him thinking about me less. Now, if he's a figment of my imagination, as stated before he wo n't be able to stop thinking about me. That's obvious, as his whole existence is allowed by me.
The second step would be to exhaust myself doing something unrelated to him. If I bury myself in a job and other activities, I wo n't have the luxury of thinking of him. It's also quite productive of me, so long as I do n't remember why I'm burying myself in work.
The third step should come naturally. As I think about him less and less, the synapses in my brain that store information about him go unused. Now, the brain every once in a while will clear out information that you do n't use, clearing the space for other things. Most of the time, you do n't miss what's taken away. Maybe it was a phone number that's no longer in use. Maybe a friend from long ago's name.
Forgetting things is n't necessarily bad, you see. In fact, I once tried to forget something, and so I worked to take it off my mind. It must have been pretty terrible, considering how hard I was working. I was exhausted every night, but I did forget it eventually.
What were we talking about again?
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with their greatest enemies name on one wrist and their greatest love on the other
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I was in no rush to check on my new visitor, but seeing him through the sheet, what I could see, was making me more uneasy than I normally would feel with a new arrival on my table. Knowing what I knew from the reports already, there was just something so sad about his small form under the white sheet. I found myself spinning my wedding ring on my finger out off nervous habit and had to force myself to stop.
I finally pushed back from my desk and its mounds of paperwork. The mint green walls seemed a bit more cold and distant the closer I went, probably just nerves. It has n't been that long since I took over the night shift, and tonight I was alone.
The sheet was stuck to the thin body in various places across the torso with the gradual spread of staining red. When I pulled the sheet back from his face, the salt and pepper hair and thin, worn face with sunken cheeks and eyes greeted me. He looked starved for a man that appeared to be in his late 60's, but I had already read the police report. He was 51 when he died of multiple stab wounds in his home. The scene report described the walls and ceiling as thick with arterial spray, at least what areas of the walls that had been exposed. The rooms and hallways had been so cluttered with trash, boxes, and stacks of nonsense that the police and emergency crews struggled to get to the body.
I turned on the audio-video recorder overhead of the table and started the external once-over, begining with the diagram of wounds, and other markings starting with the head and working my way down before I proceeded into the Y-insicion and internal investigation.
His face had bruises that were into their final stages of green. Two teeth were missing from his right upper jaw. There were a few minor places along his scalp where hair had apparently been torn out at the roots and had n't had time to grow back, along with what appeared to be human claw marks in the healing stage of scabbing. He had a tan line around his forehead indicating he frequently wore a hat, and I could see why.
Each of these findings I quoted for the recorder. For the smaller clues I took careful photographs.
On his neck I counted three stab wounds to his left lateral side, and two more to the front along the trachea. I stuck my gloved pinky finger into the center most hole and found the hole extended through the esophagus and almost to the cervical spine. Judging from the size and shape of the entrance wound, the blade had then likely been twisted. The ragged edges and leftward tearing made me certain he had been fighting back and likely tried to pull away. He had been alive at this stage.
The chest had twenty-seven other stab wounds of various sizes and angles. I marked each carefully on my poorly drawn, featureless human figure we used in our paperwork.
And then, I came to the arms. There were several bone deep stab wounds in his right arm in particular so I started there.
I saved the wrists for last. I likened this part to cheating, as all too often one of the wrists would carry the name of their murderer. Everyone is born with two names, one on each wrist. The frustration of Fate at its worst. One wrist grants you the name of your truest love, the other your worst enemy, you just never knew beforehand which would be which.
I turned over his right wrist first and saw the name of his wife, Evelyn, and took the necessary photographic documentation before circling to the opposite side.
I wrapped my fingers around his left wrist and turned the still pliable joints over to see the second name.
Evelyn.
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[ RF ] I am all that remains of the man I once was
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I am all that remains of the man I once was.
I haven β t smiled since it happened. In fact I β ve felt barely anything at all. Not even pain, just nothing at all. Food doesn β t taste like it used to. Smells aren β t as they once were. I lost her and time stopped indefinitely. The feeling of scalding tea in the mug in my hand burning my skin brought me back to my senses. I rapidly put the mug down on the work top and returned my gaze out of the misty patio doors. Autumn had turned, winter was definitely here. The tiny garden was fringed with smudges of white, each blade of grass on the little lawn sharp with frost. It had snowed lightly in the night. Small flakes still drifted from the slate grey sky. Morning had dawned dreary and uninviting. Yet again. The bright pink of the seat of a child β s plastic swing broke the dullness of the scene. It swung with a steady creak in the slight breeze. On the patio, a disused child β s play bike sat abandoned in the position in which it was left, grubby and un-kept.
She was my world. I remember the day she arrived. Autumn. Soggy ruby leaves carpeted the windswept pavements. People hurried back and forth hunched, their coats raised to the weather. Oblivious to the world and all its troubles, I was gazing into the eyes of a tiny bundle with a shock of red hair and bright green eyes. I knew nothing but that moment. All that β s gone now. Gone forever. I lost her. She was taken from me. The car came out of nowhere, and then nothing. Her hand ripped from mine. They say you don β t know what you have until you β ve lost it. At least that β s what Mandy at the clinic says. I check my watch quickly. 12:45. On that note, I β m late already. Grabbing my keys and jacket, I make my way out to face the rising blustery winds.
I am all that remains of the man I once was. And I don β t think I can ever get back.
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[ WP ] Write a fictitious story as to why you have your username .
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I'm not a morning person, not even a daytime person for that matter. I never have been. The night had always been where I belonged, shrouded within the darkness. The shadows were dark, hiding everything around me in ominous facade.
But it allowed me my own facade, to hide my thoughts, my fears and my worries. The darkness kept me safe, within the shadows I was invulnerable. However, it was n't until it was too late that I realized this invulnerability was my weakness.
I clung to the darkness, I hid in the safety of the shadows as they wrapped around me like a baby wrapped within a blanket. It's embrace kept me warm, a warmth that nothing else could provide. But I was too reliant on these shadows, this sense of safety.
I abandoned all my responsibilities, all my goals were adapted so that I'd never be in the harsh illumination of day times cruel revealing light. It was a drug, a toxic chemical that was too far in my system to ever be rid of. The caring embrace that I had known was in secret, a dark, monstrous being, and it had me right where it wanted me. I would never escape. Who I was would be sealed forever.
I can not say I am happy, nor can I say I regret my choices. What has been done can not be undone.
Through my choices, I shall forever be known only as;
*Nocturnal Toxin. *
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[ EU ] In a dystopian future , children live in inside pokΓ©balls and are forced to battle .
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Go! Ash!
`` Pikachu, you will not defeat me.'' Blastoise said.
`` Go, Gary!'' Blastoise yelled.
`` Ash, use Pokeball!'' Pikachu yelled.
`` I can do it, Pikachu!'' Ash said.
It tried to trap Gary, but failed.
`` Ha! Pathetic.'' Gary said.
`` Gary, use Popularity!'' Blastoise yelled.
`` Gary! Gary! He's our man. If he ca n't do it, no one can!'' A squad of cheerleaders came and supported Gary.
`` Ash! Do n't fall for it!'' Pikachu yelled.
`` Pikachu, I can'tt takeee itttt.....'' Ash faints.
`` Uhh.... where am I?'' Ash thought.
`` Ash's torture chamber.'' Gary said.
`` Huh?'' Ash said in confusion.
Gary! Gary! He's our man. If he ca n't do it, no one can!
GARY! GARY! HE'S OUR MAN. IF HE CA N'T DO IT, NO ONE CAN....
*Noooooooooooo! *
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[ WP ] You find out that you are `` dump '' for a group of people 's negative emotions .
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I still remember the first time I tried to commit suicide.
I was thirteen. Too young, too immature to handle the overwhelming despair that plagued my every waking moment - despair that seemed to have no identifiable source. In a desperate bid to escape, I took a blade to my wrist.
It was messy, and it hurt like hell, but my parents found me and took me to the hospital before I could cross over - to this day, the angry scar sits below my palm.
Lofepramine; Fluoxetine; Citalopram; Sertraline; Phenalzine. Just a sample of the pills they gave me; to stave off the tide, to hold back the despair - nothing worked.
I have good days, and bad days, like everyone else. It's just that for me, a good day is remembering to shower. A bad day could literally kill me.
At least, that was the case before I met *him*.
Jack was the one who first noticed; how my bad days seemed to coincide with other people's.
The day my boss learned his mother had died - Jack found me with a fistful of pills and a whisky bottle in hand.
My sister miscarried her first child; a Stanley knife to my inner thigh.
`` My little empath'', he called me, stroking my hair as I cried into his lap, `` Always taking everyone else's pain, even when you have so much of your own.''
His words, meant only to comfort me, gave rise to an idea. The more I researched empaths, the more I realised that his offhand comment held more weight than either of us realised.
I still have bad days, I'm not going to lie - but now, I grit my teeth and bear it.
If it means that those I care about suffer a little less, then my bad days are a price I'll gladly pay.
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[ WP ] : Write the most heartbreaking story about false hope that I have ever seen
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Better.
That word dictated my childhood.
`` You'll get better soon.''
`` Oh, this doctor will know better.''
`` This medication should be better than the last one.''
Like I was broken, in desperate need of fixing. A problem to be solved.
`` When you're better, we'll go on vacation.''
`` When you're healthy again, life will be better.''
I was ignorant. Living under the notion that one day, I'd be well again.
*When I'm better, I'll buy myself some running shoes. *
*When I'm better, I'm going to take up hiking. *
This clinical trail. That new drug.
The endless dance of doctors and insurance is a tiring one.
Better, they said. When I tried to correct them, to explain what'chronic' meant, I was branded as negative. A pessimist.
To this day I wish I was wrong. I wish I was just being an angsty teenager. I wish I was...
Better.
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[ WP ] Canadians achieve their politeness and good nature by funneling all of their evil into the one animal who can hold it all : The Canada Goose
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Apollo, my cocker spaniel, was fourteen weeks old when he saw his first Canadian goose. Every year in the spring we would be driven from our backyard by the big birds, but that year I was not yet prepared. I had tried in years past to battle with the geese using brooms, sticks, hoses, and small rocks to no avail. A friend's large lab had been beaten into submission by the geese.
It was with this in mind that I watched my pup as he went bounding out of the backdoor and down toward the lake with no thought of the danger that lay ahead. I quickly followed laughing at his clumsy gait as he tripped over his own feet and rolled down the slope on the damp grass.
As we approached the water playing `` tag'' Apollo suddenly froze. A deep growl escaped his tiny mouth, and he stood up straight looking out towards the shore. Directly ahead stood the evil papa goose hissing and weaving. Having been chased out of the yard by this creature in the past I also froze. What should I do?
As the goose edged closer, Apollo's teeth began to show and he took a step forward, his nose wrinkling in warning. The goose had not expected resistance and started to weave side to side as Apollo edged closer to do battle. Uncertainty was clear in the fearsome bird's demeanor. It was then that my little four pound pup decided to make a break for it and charged the evil goose.
Somehow seeing a frightening ball of fur charging in his direction was more than the goose could handle and he fled for the water's edge. Apollo, who had so far, and ever since, hated cold water was unfazed and brought the battle to the papa goose's natural habitat and drove the goose into the lake following close behind.
The goose fled and my little victorious pup came strutting out of the water and was halfway back to me before he realized that he had gotten... wet... he looked over his shoulder to make sure the goose was gone and then bolted past me for the warmth of the sunroom and a soft blanket.
That my friends is the story of how we eventually managed to free our backyard from the terrible rein of the Canadian geese.
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[ WP ] You travel back in time to the 1900 's , you take your tablet out of your rucksack only to find that there is a WiFi hotspot nearby labeled `` If you can see this , turn back . `` .
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First time posting to this subreddit. Sorry if i'm not doing it right.
For weeks, the fields and trees had but whispered between themselves. Sleepy and mischievous, swapped their secrets as white sheets of almost taintless slow were draped continuously as the days floated by.
Not tonight. It begun with blips of bright blue sparks. Popping and ziping out of nowhere they zipped their way between the white crusted blades of grass, looping around leaves until they burst into aruras of light only to disolve as suddenly as they had appeared. First a handful here and thenre only to disolve together and an armful to pop back into existsance. As if the earth was sneezing, suddenly a giant ball of them burst out of the air, the snow topped branches sizzling with the heat of the glow and with a small snap, a teeny girl popped through and tumbled head over heels face first into the fresh snow.
She grumbled slightly, pushing herself up only to crumble back down with a puff into the snow and lay still. Hours dragged by and once again, the sheets of white were draped over and over the field.
She groaned. Long stands curled down her forehead that she angrily brushed back again. Fire red like your mums, her dad had always said. The soggy jeans sloshed as she leaned sideways. Her lip curled back in disgust and as she shivered and fumbling for her backpack, dragged a towel out and hurriedly draped it around her.
Her tablet slunk out and slopped into the wet mud. She rolled her eyes and wiped it off against her shirt and fumbled with buttons until a blinding light lit up her face. Squinting one eye shut, she peered towards the muddy screen.
`` wifi hotspots available''
icy chills splintered down her back. She gasped, feeling the air violently knocked from her lungs as she plunged into shock.
Her mind screamed at her, tumbling over and over itself, scrabling to make sense of what she was seeing.
A jolting vibration shock her from her senses.
Low Battery
No, this ca n't possibly be... I just changed it, how long could I have possibly been traveling for? Have I lost track of time?
The light dimmed and she eagerly swatted the smuges of thumb marks, lighting up the area. 1 % left
The horror creeped up her back to her neck as her eyes stretched wider. The screen snapped and disappeared and all that was left was the dark. She screamed but nothing came out of her mouth. I'm not alone...
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[ WP ] You have come to realize that hell is n't a parallel universe but can be accessed on Earth .
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( Transcription of Casey Burnet β s found audio recorder. All entries in brackets are scientifically agreed upon interpretations of the sounds that are audible )
6/1/16: This is my first journal from base camp. I guess I oughta introduce myself. My name is Casey, I β m 29 years old, I study religious literature in Massachusetts, and I β m a crazy person.. At least according to my wife of 3 months. I β m currently standing in the wake of 10 degree winds with 50 pounds of gear on my back next to my guide Wilfredo about 10 miles away from the mouth of Krubera cave. He β s a real trooper, mostly because of the liquid courage but also because he β s a stand up guy. We β re leaving here to start our walk in a few minutes. So, this is log number one.
6/2/16: This is log number two. So, on the hike over Wilfredo tripped over a tree root and hurt his ankle pretty bad. It slowed our pace down by a lot. What was supposed to be a two and a half hour walk, turned into a six hour trek. We made it to the mouth but set up camp once again so Wilfredo could regain his strength and so we could descend with Daylight on our side. It gets really dark out here. Fredo got spooked by sounds in the forest, he said it was the catholic in him. I didn β t have energy to ask him what he meant. Descent starts tomorrow. Love you Caroline. [ you whore ]
6/3/16: Log number 3, Day of descent. We woke up to a cloudy cold morning as always. We set up our carabiners and our ropes as securely as possible on the rock walls around the mouth of the cave. Fredo attached two mini camp lights to my backpack because he told me the daylight doesn β t reach to the bottom of the cave once it hits dusk, and this descent is supposed to take upwards of two hours if you β re lucky. I kneeled with Fredo after we packed up camp and prayed in his native language. Whether I believed in god or not was regardless, any deity willing to help me through this... I gladly accept. [ yes ] I will continue to record as I finish the first part of the descent.
6/6/16: dark dark dark dark darkβ¦. [ shit ] the noise is the ONLY need. [ my ] needs. [ dripping liquid ] YOU! [ you ] mother [ fucker ] [ Casey heard moving away from the recorder ] [ Casey in the distance can be heard screaming ] let me in! I β ve done what you β ve asked! EVERYTHING YOU β VE ASKED..the rocks [ rocks..rocks Casey sobs ] the blood. I BROUGHT YOU THE BLOOD. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT [ Casey returns to the recorder and picks it up ] look look look. No [ no ] no? Listen... you listen. [ The metal mic posts of the recorder are scraped against what sounds like a hardened metal surface ] [ casey stops scraping and stands still. All we could hear is the sound of Casey β s light breathing ] Thank you... thank you [ Casey begins to cry ] [ the recorder is dropped to the floor ] [ The sound of a chains being pulled taught as a heavy object is slowly moved. This sound can still not be explained by any of our researchers as there is no documentation of any structure or pulley system in the caves. ]
That is the last recording on the device that is salvageable. The 3 days in between the descent and the last event are missing. Casey Burnet was reported missing by his wife Caroline 6/10/16 when he stopped sending regular messages. His guide Wilfredo Almanza was reported missing around the same time. He attempted to make a phone call to his mother on 6/5/16 who did not answer. A 10 second message was recorded to the machine that depicts a panicked Wilfredo screaming and crying as he is supposedly being chased by something or someone. Neither Casey or Wilfredo were found by authorities. Exhibitionists who have since explored the cave have reported sightings of a figure running through the caves and disembodied screams. They β ve claimed it was the ghost or demon of Casey Burnet and Wilfredo, but all this is speculation. Casey β s recorder was found 10 miles from the Krubera cave, on the doorstep of a local catholic church.
Criticism welcome, /u/Mordit
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[ WP ] The world 's greatest villain is in love with the heroes sidekick . The Superhero finding the whole thing amusing sets up situations to trap his sidekick with the villain .
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This had to be the worst hero costume in the world. I held up the newest addition to my ever increasing wardrobe of terrible outfits. This one was basically just a three piece suit with holes for my wings. What was even the point? This was basically regular clothing. My sister, being the β hero β of our arrangement, was the only one with access to the League β s Costume Creator. Since I was only the sidekick, I had to deal with whatever she thought was good.
I finished filling up her car, a tricked out automobile just as flashy as my new costume. She hadn β t decided if she was going to call it the Dragon-Mobile or the Diva-Mobile, but either way as the sidekick I was stuck taking care of it.
As soon as I hung the gas nozzle back on the wall of the cave, the alarm rang. It wasn β t the global alarm installed by the league, but the one that was activated from upstairs, which meant that the mighty Dragon Diva just wanted to make a cool entrance.
β No time to waste, Wingman! β She commanded as she flew down the stairs. Our similar genes meant that her powers gave her wings, same as mine. However, where mine were feathery, white and beautiful, and could sometimes be shot out as razor sharp projectiles if I was in the mood, hers were large, red and leathery. She also had fire breath, for some reason. Couldn β t figure that one out.
She jumped in the car and motioned for me to do the same. Damn, her new costume was cool. I hurriedly dressed in my own boring outfit and climbed into the passenger seat.
β Mastermind is attacking the city! β she yelled as we sped out of the mouth of the hideout. Mastermind was an S-Level villain, a real threat. Normally she β d have been conducting her villainy in New York or L.A., where all the really powerful villains are, but for some reason ever since she crossed paths with my sister and I last month she β d stuck around Chicago.
β That explains why you β re bringing me this time, β I realized. Dragon Diva was the most well known and popular hero in Chicago. Probably the most powerful, too, but she wasn β t prepared to take on what could be the greatest villain in the world alone.
β It does indeed, β she teased. She said it in the same tone that she β d used when I had a crush on Claire Stevens in fourth grade.
β I never should have told you that I thought she looked hot last month, β I said, annoyed. β She β s a villain, and we have to stop her. I was merely observing that her looks may be one of the reasons she β s able to convince so many minions to follow her. β
β Suuuureee, β my sister replied before flinging one such minion off the hood of our care with a quick puff of flame.
β Hey, sis? β I asked as we drove deeper into the horde of minions piling out from Mastermind β s flying ship. β Why do we need the Diva-Mobile if we can already fly? β
β The **DRAGON**-Mobile has two reasons for its existence, β she answered. β Number one, because it β s awesome. β She dragged out the last word as she powerslid the vehicle to a stop, directly below the floating fortress. β Secondly, because it has an ejector seat. β She hit the red button on the console before I had time to unstrap myself, sending myself and the seat flying straight upwards.
I flew right up into the mouth of Mastermind β s space ship, getting caught by the tractor beam and deposited directly into the brig. She was already there, leaning against the bars of my new cage. She wore her usual outfit for these kind of affairs, a long black dress that mirrored the color of her hair. It accentuated her curves wonderfully. Mastermind was never one for costumes.
β Did Diva just eject you directly into the fortress? β She asked incredulously.
β Yep. β
β Wings were caught in the seat, so you couldn β t change course? β
β Yep. β
β This is like the third time she β s deposited you directly into my clutches this week, then? β
β Yep. β
β Well, I was prepared this time, β she said with confidence, motioning to the corner of my cell. She had apparently set up dinner. Mastermind pressed a button on a device in her console and phased through the bars of my cage. She took a seat at the table, and waited for me to do the same.
β Iβ¦ I β m not going to eat anything you serve me, β I declared. I did sit down, though. Not because I wanted to or anything. After all, she had already shut down my powers with this cage. She could pretty much make me do whatever she wanted. β It could be poisoned. β
β Oh... I just thoughtβ¦ β she started before pausing. She almost looked hurt, but that was probably just my imagination. β If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already, β she said with a return of her usual confidence.
β Fair point, β I admitted, cautiously taking a bite of the pasta before me. β Wow, this is incredible! β
β You really like it?! β she asked, her eyes lighting up.
β Yeah, you should really give a raise to whichever minion does the cooking. β
β Oh, I, uh. I made it myself, β she said with trepidation. She swirled her fork and looked down at her own dish.
β Oh, that, that must have taken a while, β I mused. I couldn β t cook for the life of me, but based off the taste alone I assumed she must have worked hard at it. β Didn β t you have to, like, plan out this attack and everything? β
β I just kind of told them to go wild, β she admitted.
β So there isn β t even a reason for this attack? β I exclaimed. The nerve of this villain, attacking the city without even a reason.
β I mean, there was kind of a reason, β Mastermind explained, still looking down at her pasta. β See, I accidentally ran into Diva yesterday. I wasn β t prepared, so she took me out in no time. But she didn β t take me to jail. In fact she just let me go. She told me to attack the city today, and that she had a gift for me. β
I looked down at my new costume, realizing what my sister had been up to. I was Wingman, Chicago β s best sidekick, but I had to admit that my hero had her wingman moments as well.
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[ WP ] World Peace can be achieved if 1 million people are murdered . However , there will be an appeals process through which people can present reasons for not being killed , to be reviewed by a committee of people . Write one of these appeals or the committee 's reactions to one or more of these letters
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( edit: a few grammatical errors I missed )
β I grant you, he isn β t the *most* popular person, butβ¦we can β t seriously be considering putting him to death? β
Mr. Palmer sat at the head of the table rubbing at his temples, trying to coax the headache out of his skull. He knew this would be a controversial proposition, but the man hadn β t even presented an appeal, for God β s sake. He obviously believed that he would never be considered for the purge, but in this, he was every other man β s equal.
β John, we β re considering putting every single member of humanity to death, β Mrs. Starnes said, her voice calm despite the gravity of what she had just said. β You knew that when you accepted your appointment from the UN. β
β She β s right, John. I know this isn β t easy, but you, and all of us, were selected for a reason. We have the respect of the international community, *the entire world has put their lives in our hands*. We can β t let our judgment be clouded by one man β s social standing. He had his job to do, and he failed. He *failed*, John, so miserably that millions already have suffered, before our committee was even approved. And millions more could, if his name isn β t on our list. β Mr. Wilken had been the voice of reason through the weeks of deliberation; this wasn β t the first time he β d had to talk someone off their cliff. And everyone found themselves standing on the edge at one point or another.
Mr. Palmer β s fingers stopped circling his temples as that sentiment echoed in his mind: *He failed*. It was true. No one could deny it. Things had been unbearable, if truth be told, and even though the promise of a better future from all the social scientists and economists seemed near, it wasn β t as easy a prospect to enjoy when you were chosen to be the headsmen their plan required.
Though he β d been the one to bring the man β s name up for discussion, Mr. Palmer had been completely silent for the hour of debate that had ensued. It would have been fruitless anyway, the argument always came back to the same point: the man β s job.
β John, it β s just as Mr. Wilken said. His role doesn β t matter anymore, and many would say he β s to blame, that he β s the reason you and I and Mr. Wilken and Mrs. Thompson and Mr. Palmer are here today. β Mary took a sip of water to chase down what seemed to her to be a perfectly obvious point.
β It β s true, β Mrs. Thompson finally chimed in, β I don β t like it any more than you do Johnβ¦but there β s truth to it. β
β But Nathalie, β Mr. Larsson β s voice cracked, exasperated, β he β sβ β
β *GODDAMNIT*, JOHN! β Mr. Palmer shouted, upending his chair as he shot up and jammed his finger at Mr. Larsson β s chest, β we know who he *fucking* is. Look around you, for Christ β s sake. *Look*. Look at where we are, why we β re here. We worked our entire lives to be the best, the wisest, the most objective and philosophically sound judges in the world. We were international Supreme Court Justices. The best of the best. And we loved our jobs, because we got to right wrongs. But now look at what these *fuckers* have done to our lives. They β ve perverted our senses of right and wrong, they β ve perverted our careers, all of it. It β s fucking *gone*. But we swore to serve until our final breaths, and that β s what we β re goddamn well going to do. β
Mr. Palmer bent down to pick up his chair, and slowly sank into it, his fingertips returning to their place at his throbbing temples. Mr. Wilken looked perfectly calm, and Mrs. Thompson and Starnes a little taken aback, but all the blood seemed to have drained from Mr. Larsson β s face. He looked as if he was about to pass out or cry or start screaming, and perhaps he wanted to do all three.
Then all of it left him. He sank back into his chair as his hand went to the nearly-empty pack of Camels on the table. Taking the box to his mouth, he drew out a cigarette between his lips then lit it, a thin line of white smoke serving as evidence of just how pale he really was as it trickled up past his cheek. Taking another drag, Mr. Larsson finally conceded.
β If we must. Mr. Palmer, I motion to vote. β
β Second, β muttered Mrs. Thompson.
β Third, β followed Mr. Wilken.
Mr. Palmer pulled his right hand from his head to pick up his pen. β That is a majority motioning to vote. All in favor of extermination, say β Aye β. β
Five aye β sβincluding Mr. Larsson, after a final long drag of his cigaretteβfilled the room.
Mr. Palmer made a note, then looked up to meet the eyes of the other four arbiters. β The vote is unanimous, in favor of extermination, to be carried out immediately. Mr. MacGregor? β
A man in full military garb stepped out of the adjoining room, nearly as pale as Mr. Larsson; he β d obviously heard the vote. Mr. Palmer handed him his order, stamped with the seal of the committee.
β Have your men detain the President of the United States immediately. β
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[ WP ] While cleaning up your school 's computer science club room , you find an old computer from the 70 's that 's still running . There is a label on the computer that reads `` Do NOT turn off : world will end ''
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What a shitty job.
Have you ever seen a programmer in their element? Not during the day time, when they've started a new project and almost seem like a normal human being, but when they're *really* in the zone. Trapped between mountains of snack food and notes and soda and notes stained by snack food and soda, they're like corpses with overactive fingers. Somehow, I lucked into the job of proverbial mortician. I like to imagine that I must have been Genghis Khan or Chairman Mao in a past life to have earn this esteemed position, but regardless it pays the rent.
Same as every night, I came in at about half past midnight to begin mountain disassembly. There were two people asleep in the corner and one poor girl just staring blankly at her computer screen. After some encouragement and assurance that `` yes, you'll have plenty of time to finish tomorrow morning,'', I was able to clean at least the human mess from the room. It looked like one of the sleepers must've forgotten to turn their screen off, because the main source of light in the area was a dimly lit monitor. I flipped the light switch to try and jar myself awake and walked over to cut the monitor off. Normally all it took was a quick button press at the front edge of the monitor, but something was strange here. For one thing, the computer and screen itself were ancient. The interface was bulky and decrepit looking. You could probably fit more information into a youtube advertisement than you could this thing's hard drive. The second strange thing about this piece of equipment was that it appeared as though the PC itself was running. Rather than just a backlit square, the monitor had some basic text hovering on the screen.
`` Would you like to see? ( Y/N )''
I was n't supposed to mess with the computers themselves, and I was not about to get blamed for releasing whatever virus was behind that prompt. Lastly, the behemoth of a computer had a note stuck hastily to the top.
`` Do NOT turn off: world will end''
With that, the situation made a little more sense. One of the nerdiest of the nerds must have had some nostalgic craving so he brought this clunker in to play one of his old `` retro'' games. God, I could n't wait to pay my way through school and never see one of these weirdos again. Being that I still had quite a few hours until sunrise, I thought I might give the game a try. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to find the'y' key with my index finger.
As soon as I pressed the button, the screen blacked out. After a moment's panic, the screen flashed up what appeared to be a perfect reflection of me and my surroundings. After being a bit appalled at my tired appearance, I was even more astonished at how the monitor had become a mirror. That went against every thing that I knew, all I could do was stand there and stare.
While I stood there in awe however, my reflection was a bit less stationary. My opposite's brow furrowed and he leaned in the bash the screen with his closed fist.
`` Stupid overgrown calculator,'' he muttered.
I heard his voice, my voice, as clearly as if he were in the room next to me.
`` What the hell...'' I said under my breath.
Immediately my reflection's head perked up and he looked around the room behind him.
`` Who said that?'' he asked.
I was too paralyzed with fear to answer, so he leaned in even closer. What was happening? Why was my reflection moving around? Why could it hear me? He did n't even have that scar on his chin I got in 5th grade.
`` Answer me!''
My doppelganger started shaking the screen violently and somehow the monitor itself began to rumble on the table. It was too much, I could n't deal with this any longer, so I bent down and yanked the power cord from the wall.
But the image did n't fade.
The me that was n't me began frantically looking around.
`` What's happening!? Who's there? It burns!''
Sure enough, I could see the pain and fear on his face. Slowly, it grew until I almost could n't tell that he had ever looked like me. It was clear that his sanity was being wiped away by mind numbing agony.
He looked me right in the eyes and screamed, `` Why!? ``, and then the monitor was off.
After a few minutes of terrified silence, my eyes drifted back to the note taped so carelessly to the monitor and I realized what I had done. I walked straight out of that lab and submitted my resignation the next day. Two weeks later the nightmares still have n't stopped. It was bad enough being in there alone to watch myself disappear, but what I'm really afraid of is whoever is looking through the monitor at me. Please do n't pull the plug. Please.
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[ OT ] Filmmakers who keep making films based on stuff here : Try posting your own prompts sometimes .
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I think the fact that there are filmmakers who come here for film ideas is a compliment to the writers here. You do have a point in that they can feel free to ask some writers to actually write a screenplay, but hey, if some filmmakers do n't have a good story to film, but need to get a project done, what's wrong with them taking inspiration from some stories here. As long as they credit the user who wrote the particular piece, I do n't see a problem.
You are right that prose writing does not equal film writing. But personally, I write both. Its good exercise for me. Sometimes though, the prose can really translate to screen very very easily. That's why there are so many movies based on books.
If filmmakers want to make specific film prompts, that's cool. But I have n't seen enough interest in film prompts to require a separate category. There are a few filmmakers who take inspiration from this sub, yes. But there really are n't a whole lot. And there's nothing wrong with what they're doing so far.
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[ WP ] Your computer-illiterate grandmother has somehow deleted the internet . Yes , all of it .
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`` You bloody what?''
`` Yes, dear. I think the internet is gone.''
`` This is quite bad, Grandma.''
`` Who needs the silly thing anyways?''
`` A lot of people, Grandma. It practically runs the world.''
`` Well, that's just sick.''
`` Not really.''
`` Oh, my. There are a lot of people outside. And they seem to be carrying torches.''
`` Grandma, close the blinds and hide.''
`` Now dear, do n't be rude to those people. You were always a shy one. I'm going to bake some cookies. They look angry. All they probably need is a snack to cheer them up.''
`` Goodbye, Grandma.''
`` Oh, you're going upstairs? Have a good nap!''
*BANG*
`` Oh, the poor thing must have hit his head or something.''
*CREAK*
`` Hello, neighbors! Would you like some cook-''
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[ WP ] Death is an actual person that comes by when someone dies .
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The all too familiar wave pattern from the monitor flashed across the small screen. The room was silent but for the repetitive beep of the machine, enhancing the already clinical atmosphere.
James sat in a stiff backed chair, staring past the assortment of machinery and wires to the figure lying in the bed. A young woman with long red hair and pale skin was sleeping, her small frame dwarfed by the masses of pillows and sheets surrounding her.
James moved his hand to her cheek to brush one of the crimson locks from her face. Her skin felt cold to touch, and he only faintly felt the breath escaping her mouth. A tear rolled down his cheek as James let his hand linger a moment longer. He remembered the words of the doctor who had left the room a few minutes earlier, informing him that the condition had taken its toll on her body. Her heart was simply not strong enough, and she was soon to pass. James pulled his hand away and placed it in his lap.
He had not imagined it to be like this. Things had seemed hopeful. Even when they didn β t, he had always thought he would have had the chance to say goodbye. But none of that mattered now. This was it; all there was left to do was wait.
James was staring at his hands, wishing that things could be different, when he heard a small sound at the door. He looked up to see a nurse, tall and beautiful with short dark hair, entering the room. She carried one of the clipboards used for patient records in her left hand, which she studied, and small black box in her other. She stopped on the other side of the bed and looked up at James and smiled sadly.
β Hello James β she said softly. Her voice was calming and smooth, and brought surprising warmth to the room.
β Who are you? You β re not the usual nurse β
β The shifts have changed. You can call me Sam. I β m here to oversee your wife in her final hours β
Sam pulled another chair up to the bed and sat down, glancing at the clipboard. She placed the clipboard in her lap and set the box on the table by the bed.
β I β d really much rather be alone right now β said James.
β I β m sorry, I know this is a sad time for you, but your wife β s case is a special one, and I am required to be here β
β What, so you can gather data? I thought you people were meant to be smart, yet nobody seems to have clue what is happening to her! β He hadn β t meant to shout, but his emotions were in a frenzy. Why couldn β t this woman just leave him to be with his wife while she died?
β That is the reason I must be here James, to confirm the details of her passing β
β Death. She β s dying. Why don β t you just say the word, call it what it is β
β Yes James, death. Your wife is dying. She will soon be gone from this world β
The sudden bluntness of her words had a strangely calming effect on James. He let some of the tension that had built up inside him flow away.
Sam smiled at him again, then turned to the box on the table and unclasped it. She raised the lid and James saw the contents from the corner of his eye. A large silver watch of strange design, with numerous hands all moving at different speeds, a small black booklet, and most curiously of all, a pair of dice. Sam took the booklet and checked something off inside, before returning it to the box with a cursory glance at the watch. She closed the lid.
β What are you writing? β
β Just details about your wife β s condition. Her breathing has become shallow β
β I know β He looked again at his wife, the only hint of life coming from the beeping of the machine by her side. Sam looked at him curiously, as trying to make up her mind about some unknown detail.
β Are you a religious man, James? β she asked
β No not really. I mean, I go to church at Christmas sometimes, but I don β t really believe β. He paused. β It seems to me that if there were a God, the world would make more sense β
Sam hesitated to respond, still deliberating some unknown issue. She eventually relaxed, as if coming to a decision.
β Perhaps it does make sense, though not in the way you may understand β
β What do you mean? β
β Your time in this world is limited for a reason. Can we really cherish something without fear of losing it? All things must move on eventually. β
James was unsure how to feel. He was enraged that this woman could say such things in the presence of his dying wife, and yet her words made sense to him, and soothed him.
Sam checked the strange watch once more then stood up. She looked at the face of his wife and place a hand on her cheek, as James had done minutes before.
β Her time is coming soon James. I know it pains you that you did not have a chance to say goodbye. Is there anything you would like to have said to her, before she died? β
James was puzzled as to how she could know any of that information. He faltered. β I- I don β t knowβ¦ I guess, justβ¦ that I love her, and am going to miss her, and justβ¦ goodbyeβ¦ β
As he spoke he looked into the face of his wife and began to cry again, when he noticed a small, almost unnoticeable smile appear on her face. It disappeared almost instantly, and James was unsure if he β d seen it at all.
James suddenly noticed that the room was quieter than it had been. The beep of the machine had disappeared. The screen glowed with only a straight line. She had gone.
He looked and saw Sam writing something in the little black booklet before packing it away with the strange watch and dice, and clicking the box closed. She began to walk towards the door, and turned just before she crossed into the hallway.
β Goodbye James, I β m sorry for your loss. I hope we won β t see each other again too soon β she smiled sadly once more, and then left.
James, alone in the room once more, stared at the empty seat across the bed, and noticed that the clipboard Sam had left, was empty.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
first post!
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[ WP ] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal . He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him , so he can rest in peace . Sadly , the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher ' to train these heroes in order to defeat him .
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`` Again,'' I commanded, watching Decimus's figure panting with exhaustion. He was a promising one, but he had far from reached his full potential yet. I saw him struggle with the exertion of mustering the strength to perform the spell, a life-draining one, once again. His target, a poor woodland creature, gazed helplessly at Decimus, as if understanding its own predicament. Poor, wretched creature. It never stood a chance.
After the deed was done, Decimus turned towards me, a boyish grin plastered on his face.
`` I've gotten better, have n't I?'' he prodded, his hopeful eyes turned on me. I uttered a sound of approval, turning away from him. I looked into the deep forest, knowing his eyes would follow mine.
`` Do you hear those sounds?'' I asked Decimus. `` It is the life of the land. It courses through us, its elixir sourcing our power. Use it when you fight. Allow it to guide you.'' I looked at Decimus once again, but he was frowning.
`` I just want to make you proud, Ivan. I'm trying my best.''
`` I know,'' I responded, before he turned to leave.
`` And you do make me proud.'' But he was already gone, and my words echoed meaninglessly into the depths of the forest, carried away by the languid breeze, which seeped through every alcove and each recess of undergrowth.
The time would come soon for Decimus to learn the truth. And it did, but far too soon.
The day was a hot one, and there was a certain restlessness throughout the land. The grass frayed and yellowed, while the creatures retreated into their havens to escape the merciless fireball in the sky.
`` Decimus, you are ready to face the Dark One,'' I had told him sternly that morning. I gave him directions to the field and the time. I had arrived early, as always, awaiting my student.
I heard the sound of the dried grass crunching under the weight of footsteps. He was here.
`` Master, what are you doing here?'' Decimus greeted me. `` Are you here to watch?''
I laughed coldly. Pitiful thing.
`` *Watch? *'' I smiled. `` No, my boy. I'm here to play.'' I stripped of my cloak, preparing for battle, and I watched the confusion riddling his face.
`` What do you mean? Is the Dark One not coming?''
`` He is here,'' I told him, piecing it together for him. The shock of the realization seemed to paralyze him as he stood there helplessly.
I began the preparations for battle, initiating the life-force of the land. Throughout it all, he stood unmoving before me.
`` Do something, you fool!'' I yelled at him, which seemed to shock him back to reality.
`` N-no,'' he stammered. `` I ca n't. I ca n't fight you, Master. Not like this.''
`` I am not your Master,'' I responded coldly. `` I thought you were better than this.''
Watching him, I advanced, preparing for the life-draining spell. His eyes widened, gazing helplessly. He resembled very much like the same pitiful woodland creatures he practiced on.
I called to the land, an entity I was much too familiar with already, and I watched as Decimus slowly fell to the ground, cushioned by the yellowed hay of grass. He looked almost regal in his morbid glory upon that mattress of golden silk the land had set beneath him.
My eyes cast downwards, as I felt the nimble fingers of the wind caress my untrimmed beard.
`` And you do make me proud,'' the wind whispered in my ear, repeating my words from many weeks before.
`` And you do make me proud,'' the land echoed back. I sat down besides his body, closing my eyes with a sigh.
I received a vision of a boy with golden curls before I stood up once more, ready to receive my next pupil.
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[ Wp ] Humans have discovered how to live forever , allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so . But it is considered bad form to live for too long . You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die .
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`` Jaysus mom, how long you gon na put this off? There's a
*birth queue*
now you know. Nice young couple living just a few blocks down, barely a hundred, waiting. You oughtta see the kid they're gon na make make. *Gorgeous*. Kinda kid that moves the whole species forward. Gon na be an *artist*, mom! Remember the last time an artist was born?''
& nbsp;
`` Come on now I do art! I'm an artist! When i was your age-''
& nbsp;
`` Mom, nothing about that piano shit is art. No one's used a brush for like, centuries. When was the last time you even went *outside*? Comon, this is *not* okay. You dont even *know* anyone anymore.''
& nbsp;
`` There's that boy, who brings the food. Awfully quiet but he's very nice!''
& nbsp;
`` Not a person, mom. I dunno *how* many times we have to have this talk. And it' really weird that you talk to them. You're supposed to use the- you know what I'm not doing this again. It's *time* mom. You think i like coming over here every week after i hear you bail? This is not *easy* for me either, mother.''
& nbsp;
``...''
& nbsp;
``...''
`` You know they have these little pills you take that really helps you work all that out. Really come to terms'n whatnot. We can take the Tube over right now.''
& nbsp;
`` I do n't know...''
& nbsp;
``...''
& nbsp;
``...''
& nbsp;
`` This is the easy way. Trust me. You do n't hear cause you live in your own little sliver of time but it wo n't be long before you have to Justify yourself. That's what they call it- *Justifying*. Nobody wants that for you, mom.''
& nbsp;
``...''
& nbsp;
``...''
& nbsp;
`` Alright... Alright. But I want all of you there. I do n't want to be alone when I...''
& nbsp;
`` Gee mom you know I want to but... work and all... and Cindy, well she just had her baby delivered... and she's beta testing that Program everybody's buzzing about... We'll work sometging out though. If you'd gone for that implant this'd be a *whole* lot easier. Anyways I got ta take off. *Make that appointment*''
& nbsp;
``...''
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[ WP ] A man commits suicide , and finds out , much to his dismay , that there is an afterlife .
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Saint Peter stood behind his solid gold podium on the platform in the clouds with his hands clasped in front of him in patient expectance. Behind him, a large wall stretched in either direction as far as the eye could see, and in the middle of that was a gate that glimmered magnificently in the everlasting light.
He smiled softly as a small puff of smoke materialized out of nowhere in front of where he as standing, revealing a confused looking middle aged man. He cast his eyes around wildly, and when he met Saint Peter's, he recoiled.
`` W-Who are you? Where am I?'' he sputtered with the wide eyed look of confusion and fear that Saint Peter was intimately familiar with.
`` Fear not...'' the Saint peered down at the large book on his podium. `` Mister Deveraux. Nothing can harm you here in the Lord's kingdom. You are safe.''
The confusion did n't disappear from the hapless man's face. `` The Lord's... what?''
Saint Peter smiled at the man. `` God in of his glory has declared you to be worthy to enter his domain as a reward for the good deeds that you have committed in life.'' He ran a finger down the page of the tome. `` You were always generous with your money those who needed it and you were loyal to your family and loved ones. You did not lie, or live in excess, or cause harm to those undeserving of it. You have lived a virtuous life, and now an eternity in Heavan awaits y-''
`` FUCK!'' the man suddenly roared. His hand flew to his head and grabbed a fistful of his own hair and he started to thrash about where he was standing. `` FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK...'' he fell to his knees and banged two trembling fists into the cloud. `` FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!''
Saint Peter stared at the man dumbfounder. `` Good man, what is the matter? You have been cured of all ailments and have been freed from all earthly constraints. Whatever brought about your death can not hurt you here, there is no need to fear anymore. All is we-''
The man sprang to his feet and, before Saint Peter as able to get another word out, turned around and jumped right off of the the cloud and plummeted to the world below. Stunned, Saint Peter watched as the man plummeted, listening to his bellowing curse of `` FUUUUUuuuuuuu^uuuu^^uuck!'' get quieter by the second.
`` Oh my.'' He muttered under his breath as he took his place back at the podium and adopted a stern expression. A few minutes passed and the man reappeared in front of the pearly gates looking no worse for wear.
`` Mr. Deveraeux, there was no need for tha-''
Mr Devereaux cut him off by running headfirst into the great wall of the pearly gates as fast as he could. His body crumpled immediately as his skull caved in and his spine broke in several places.
Saint Peter sighed as the body disappeared and the man re materialized with a very angry expression on his face.
`` Please sir, this is n't necessa-''
He was n't listening however, as evidenced to the annoyed Saint when he put both hands to his head and with a great cry managed to twist it 180 degrees with a great cracking sound.
Saint Peter blinked. `` I did n't think that was possible.'' he muttered to himself.
The man reappeared once more, but this time he immediately collapsed to his knees with a great sob. Saint Peter sighed and kneaded his forehead.
`` If you had let me finish, I could have told you that you can be erased from existence if that is what you would pref-''
`` Yes!'' The man shrieked, interrupting once more. `` Please yes. Do it! Now! Do it now, please! I do n't want to live, I do n't want to think, I do n't want to experience, I do n't want to love, I do n't want to-''
Saint Peter silenced the man by taking hold of the page that described his entire life inscribed on it and tearing it out. Immediately, it was consumed and devoured in flames, and the pleading man disappeared.
`` Why do they always go for oblivion rather than salvation?'' the old Saint wondered aloud. He peered over the edge of the cloud to the spinning Earth below. `` How bad could it possibly be down there?''
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[ WP ] You skeptically open the pages of an old `` spellbook . '' Amidst the pages , you see a spell to raise the dead . As you sound it out ... it sounds just like your alarm clock .
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( late to the game, but had to get this one out )
It seemed silly, right? Though probably no less silly than visiting an old'spell shop' every couple weeks for nearly ten years.
And yet there were the words, words that when he sounded out almost gave him a little extra umph to his step. Though I guess that's what happens when you've had an alarm clock for nearly a decade now.
It just imprints on you, right? Right. Most of it was just this soothing white noise, but if you listened just closely enough, you could almost here some ebs and flows that could be mistaken for speech. And yet sure enough, as he spoke the words on the page, they lined up nearly perfectly to those ebs and flows he knew so well. This ca n't be right...
`` Hey! Shop keep!''
The old man practically looked like an old wizard already, though no less spry, at least. His thick accent sounded back `` Yes, boy? Find something you like?''
Finn gestured with a quizzical look down at what he was reading.
`` Ahhh... that's a new one. Just came in the other day, but it seems it took a long trip round to get here. Did you know Timbuktu actually exists?''
Finn just looked at him flatly. Strange old man indeed. `` Right, just like your monkey paw from the moon. Been comin' in here for almost ten years now, you always got a story.''
`` Well, everyone's got to have Some story... still have n't found yours yet, have ye?'' Finn looked a little down at that one.
It had been almost ten years since he'd been visiting this place. One day he just woke up in a hospital, that alarm clock by his bed, with a clean slate of a memory. He was obviously in some kind of accident, bruised and battered as he was, but nothing someone his age could n't heal from. He was at least old enough to drink, they figured that much.
The spell shop was one of the first places he wandered in to after being let go from the hospital, and for some odd reason or another, he always felt compelled to visit every now and again...
The old wizard saw Finn turning inward. `` Oh c'mon, do n't get down like that. You've still got a new story! With a beautiful princess, I might add...''
Finn snapped out of his own head and smirked at that one. That'princess' was about to be his wife, and that old man was always prodding Finn about her. `` Well, go on, read it.''
The old wizard took the book with the open page, and instantly made a face at the lettering ``... now this does seem odd. It almost looks like they're moving.'' He tried anyways,
Sounding out what each letter and word most likely was, it came out as gibberish. Familiar gibberish to Finn, though, but not quite the same effect.
``... it's not just the words, huh.'' Finn half-whispered to himself. The shopkeep looked at him quizzically, `` It does n't sound... familiar, to you?'' Finn asked.
`` Well, no, not rea... you mean to ask if it sounds like that clock, do n't ya?'' Okay, maybe that was the other reason Finn came in so often.
Where else was he going to get answers about an alarm clock with an alarm no one else could hear? `` Sorry Finn, you know I've never been able to hear it. And those words you keep going on about? Well... I'm just glad you only talk to me about them.''
Finn gave him another look. For someone with a'spell shop,' he'd have no problem *selling* his wares, then they were magical. Giving them anything more than a glance? Trinkets. Damn skeptic.
`` Alright, alright. Well, how much?'' He almost could n't get the words out. Almost. The half second silence between hung in the air before the shopkeep spoke. Loudly, and almost annoyed.
``... wait, seriously? Not once in years have you ever bou'' Finn interrupted `` yea, I know. How much?'' He had to have it, but he was terrified of what it might mean.''
``... alright. Alright. 10 quid.''
Finn looked back down at the book. He realized he had n't even read any other page. It was just laid open on a table. Did n't matter. He dug in his pockets for the change, and handed it off to the old man. He took it, and saw the the old mans sadness.
``... maybe you have found your story. C-come back and visit, will ya?''
Finn spoke back, and as the words escaped him he realized he might be lying. He felt like he had finally found what he was looking for, for what was keeping him in that neighborhood to begin with. He wanted to travel for so long, now, and his princess wanted to see the world.
`` Of course, you know I will.''
He took the book quickly, trying to not let it affect him too much. The old wizard was holding his hand out for a shake, near demanding it. Finn took the man's hand and the old friends held it for a few seconds before the shopkeep spoke again.
He had remembered something, and started shuffling looking for it. `` The book came with a strange letter... looked nearly as battered as it did.''
He pulled it out of his pocket, a deep, worn manila letter with a red wax seal. Whatever design it had had long since melted over its journey. `` The box said it should go to the book's owner, but you know me... always trying to make an extra buck.''
Finn took it, and nodded to the shopkeep.
`` Finn!! Get your cute butt out here!'' Ah, she found'm. He had n't usually spent this long in the shop, he realized. Not lately, anyways.
`` Well, go on.'' said the old wizard. Finn smiled, and quickly moved towards the door. `` I'll visit soon, I promise.''
`` Bah, you're as bad a liar as I am at selling these trinkets. Go, have your fun.''
He gave her a peck on the cheek as they left the shop. `` Hey, what's that? Actually get something this time?'' She snapped the letter from him... man she was quick.
`` hey now!!''
She looked at him pleadingly, and all he could do was sigh as she began to pop open the seal.
As they walked away from the shop, the sounds of the words read echoed in his head again. When the wizard spoke them, it did n't seem right. But when *he* spoke them... did he make the alarm clock? Was it his voice in there, before the accident?
`` Hey, quit looking so serious.'' She gave him a quick nudge, and he snapped out of it again.
As if expecting some grande speech, she popped open the letter, held it high, and spoke as if announcing a decree. He playfully fought her nearly every step of the way `` Oh, c'mon, is that necessary?''
But once she spoke the first few words... they both slowed down.
>'' Dear brother,
> In these pages I hope you'll find the answers you've been looking for. They are the pages I wrote down that helped save you, when everyone else gave up. This letter is the why. We are out there, your family, know that much. I do so hope you have found a wonderful life for yourself. But for what I had done, I had to keep only to myself. It was said to be flatly impossible, but you were too important, and too close, which of course meant for us that there was a chance. And you'd be amazed at what you can accomplish with a time-turner.
> With love, your brother,
> George.''
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[ WP ] You are an astronaut stationed on the ISS , you watch from the window as the world is consumed by nuclear fire . A few days later a mysterious ship appears and hovers over the planet ...
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Eventually, it boiled down to taking turns at the Cupola, the only place with enough windows to get a proper scope of the events below. To our great Fortune, we were orbiting over the DRC when things went down, else there would be no chance of us surviving. Even as it stood, more then a few of our electronics got knocked out, and we hit some turbulence here and there from the biggest bombs.
It hurt. It hurt so much to scrabble at the Cupola, eyes burning with every flash seen at the edges of the horizon. And yet every one of us wanted to be there. We took two minute shifts. There was n't enough time. We got reports from NASA, Roscosmos, even JAXA for Takuya as long as any of those lasted. They gave us just enough information to duck and weave as we whizzed our way around the world, just enough to survive as they all disintegrated.
It only lasted really an hour, as far as we could see. There was more, but after the first hours the northern hemisphere was cloaked in smoke, and the explosions were hard to distinguish from high up lightning flashes. When we were on the day side of earth, It was all smoke. When on the dark side, the smoke was lit up with an orange haze from the massive fires below.
We turned, and turned, and turned.
at roughly t-48:34:01 since it started ( I was keeping track ), we all met in the Zvezda service module, where the russians slept. I was afraid we'd devolve into fighting, into name calling, asking who had started what, but nobody had the energy. After some discussion, we came across some sobering realities. We had enough consumables to last a few months, but nobody was sure how long we'd stay in the air. It was ground control's job, not ours, to keep us afloat. Oleg had gotten a message from Ros about how to jury-rig himself into the system to handle the bursts himself, but without resupplies it would only last us two weeks.
We were going to die, sooner rather then later, and with us the last of humanity. Three of us ( Oleg, Kate, and Takuya ) Decided to die before them. Oleg and Kate by falling into the atmosphere, Takuya by simply ejecting himself into the wider space. I did not begrudge any of them this. It was only natural, given the situation.
The remaining three of us brooded. My two fellows, Alexey and Anatoly, labored to craft some kind of tablet, like the kind Nasa put on some of the voyagers, to shoot out into earth atmosphere. I had to admire their ingenuity, they thought they could even launch it into stable orbit if they were lucky. I... did less with my time. I fiddled with the codes, using the jury-rigging Oleg had taught me before his departure. I thought perhaps if we could get to a satellite, mess with it, turn it outwards to send a message....dumb, yes, but I had to have something.
Alexey and Anatoly agreed that it would be fine, even though it would reduce the amount of time before our fall. There were precious few satellites left in low orbit, let alone operational, let alone operational enough for me to get a hold of them. After a week of work, with almost no sleep for myself, I was able to hook one in, and get close to it without crashing. A small miracle, given the difficulties.
From there, it was simple enough to get the satellite flipped around and shooting out a radio signal out, the Morse code for `` DANGER, WILL ROBINSON''. Would n't mean anything to anyone, but I could hardly stop laughing while coding it so that was nice. And then I had a perfectly good reason to sing `` Mrs. Robinson'' to myself the rest of the day, which I proceeded to do for no particular reason.
I finally slept that night ( given a certain definition of `` night'' ), slept long and hard. I was awoken by Anatoly shaking me, asking what the hell `` DANGER, WILL ROBINSON'' meant.
`` Wha?....Ana, it's just a joke, what does it matter what the satellite said?'' I grumbled, trying to move her hands away as they undid the straps on my bed.
`` How do you know it's a satellite? Did you not... did you not tell us we were getting messages?'' Ana growled in clean english, accent worn away by months of practice.
That got me up far faster then the shaking.
Once again the entire crew was in the Zvedza service module, where Alexey was tapping away at one of the many laptops, frowning. Once me and Ana had settled, he flipped on the volume, and we listened to the message being sent from outside. `` DANGER, WILL ROBINSON'' in clear Morse code.
``... you... sure that's not the sattelite I messed with?'' I asked Alex.
`` That one turned off once this one started. No idea why.'' explained Alex in the so very russian accent he'd kept as a mark of pride. `` This is coming from something else. Nearby, but hard to say were.''
As he finished, the Morse Code stopped. Then, in clear, if slightly robotic, english, `` Jeff Williams. Alexey Ovchinin. Anatoly Ivanishin. Please move to the Cupola and look outside. Bring a laptop with you. Thank you.''
The three of us stared, until Ana scoffed and pushed herself away. `` Nothing better to do today, anyway.'' We followed her, I a bit ashamed that I was n't the one leading the charge. I guess commanding ranks really did n't matter at this point.
With just the three of us, we could cram enough to all look out the windows and see the oddity outside. It was a long, pitch black shard illuminated only by the light from earth. The clouds had dissipated, in part, but the fires still raged, enough show the shard in stark contrast. It was hard to tell if it was close and small, or far and large, but it was keeping in perfect orbit with us.
The laptop turned on without our intervention, and sputtered in that same robotic voice, `` We are most pleased by your survival. We assumed that your craft was lost during your most recent conflagaration. You may talk into the microphone of your laptop, to communicate.''
We looked about, but now was my turn to take the lead. `` We're pretty happy about it ourselves. Who are you?'' I felt something bubbling as I spoke, something nigh alien itself.
`` We are representatives of a collective of interstellar species. We are an outpost charged with observation and record of your system, and particularly the planet known as earth.''
`` Of course, they speak english first.'' muttered Ana
`` ΠΠ½ ΡΠ²Π»ΡΠ΅ΡΡΡ ΠΎΡΠΈΡΠΈΠ°Π»ΡΠ½ΡΠΌ ΡΠ·ΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ ΠΠΠ‘ ΡΡΠΎ Π½Π΅Ρ?'' responded the aliens
``... fair enough.''
``... you've been watching us? for how long.'' I asked, the bubbles growing.
`` This particular crew has been stationed for roughly 5 years. We were almost at the point of cycling out when the conflagration occurred.''
`` Why not just call it what it is? Why not call it a war?''
`` We apologize. We shall call it a war upon your request.''
`` Do n't you apologize. Do n't you dare.'' The bubbling became frothing, hard to think.
`` We beg pardon?'' the aliens asked, my crew mates looking confused.
`` You've been watching us for YEARS and you let this happen!? you let the bombs fly and kill everything? With all your travel and your technology a-and watching us and you just let us DIE? What for? WHY?'' I started to shout at the aliens. Ana tried to pull me away from the laptop gently, but I shrugged her off. They WOULD explain this.
``... It's hurts us too, to watch this. It is not our job to intervene in what you do, until it is too late. It is not our fault that this happened.''
All of us look to the laptop. It rephrases. `` It is not your faults, either. You had no say in the matter, a-''
`` No. But it could have been, right? In a different situation?'' I ask the laptop coldly.
Silence for a time. `` There is much we need to talk about. About your futures, and your societies. We will be docking shortly.'' The laptop turned off.
The three of us left, the last three humans, did n't need to talk further. What was there to talk about? We had no choice. We had lost that privilege 168... 170... fuck it, eight days and a night ago.
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[ WP ] Did we just execute the wrong guy ?
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Hilary Flint rolled his eyes from where he was trussed up.
`` *Oh, for Christ's sake... *''
He lashed out with a foot as the words left his lips, his stout boot connecting with the knee cap of one of the spriggan guards. Something gave way with the wet sound of a green branch being snapped, the fey warrior crumpling with a scream. His partner whirled about with readied spear, the gleaming steel blurring like quicksilver. Flint ducked, the blade hissing millimeters above his head as he lashed out again, catching the spriggan in the groin. The guard gave a muffled groan and gripped his manhood, curling up to protect himself. All that did was bring his face within reach of Flint's knee. Flint smashed his knee-pad into the spriggan's nose, crunching it and sending the fey toppling back unconscious.
He hands still bound before him, Flint grabbed the second spriggan's spear, lunging it at his crippled comrade. The fey barely had time to give a halting plea before the leaf shaped blade stabbed deep into his throat, Flint slashing wildly to tear as much as possible. The spriggan died choking on his blood, the ground beneath him a sodden, gory mess.
Flint yanked the spear free and flicked the worst of the blood off its blade, stalking towards the second fallen foe.
`` Do n't kill him. He's no longer a threat.''
Flint turned his head at the source of the voice and saw Faith standing there, working herself free of her bindings.
`` Maybe not now, but in a day or two he will be again. Better to end this now, to remove him as a threat permanently than to risk him living.''
`` No.''
Flint exhaled angrily, his nostrils flaring as he stared up at the sky.
`` Fine...'' he said, crouching down next to the limp spriggan.
`` It's your lucky day, knife-ears; you'd be a dead fairy if it was n't for the miss there. Be sure to return the favor lest I take my time killing you next we meet.''
At that he rose and paused, thinking for a moment before lashing out with a strike of his boot. He felt ribs cracking from underneath the blow, and followed it up by slamming the spriggan's good knee into the ground and breaking that as well. At Faith astonished look he smiled.
`` What? You said not to kill him.''
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[ WP ] You live in a universe that was n't constructed that well and the physics are buggy and things occasionally just do n't work right .
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`` Francine, what on Earth are you doing?''
`` I'm picking up my sandwich.''
`` OK. And now what are you doing?''
`` I'm putting it down again.''
`` And now?''
`` Picking it up again.''
`` Why are you doing that? You've done nothing but pick that sandwich up, and put it down, and pick it up, and put it down, for a full five minutes. You've picked it up and put it down one hundred and twenty-three times. I counted. There's only ten minutes left before recess. Why do n't you just eat it?''
`` But I'm hungry.''
`` If you're hungry, should n't you *eat your sandwich*? That's why your father packed you a sandwich; for this exact situation.''
`` If I eat it now, I'm still going to be hungry after.''
`` And picking up and putting down the sandwich for a full five minutes has somehow made it more filling?''
`` No, that's silly. I'm making another.''
`` Making another sandwich?''
`` Yeah, watch! See, I pick it up, and put it down, and then I pick it up, and then I put it down, and then I pick it up --''
`` -- and then you put it down, yes. That's what you've been --''
`` -- and then I pick it up, and then I put it down --''
`` -- and then you *eat* the sandwich like a good --''
`` -- and then I pick it up, and then I pick it up, and then I... hahaha!''
`` I think you skipped a step. Wait. How did you --''
`` See, Mr. Carson! I have two now!''
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[ WP ] You are about to commit suicide when a note falls from the sky .
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[ On Mobile, Sorry for any mistakes! ]
Aaron felt as if he left it all behind, except the taste of gin and pain pills in his mouth. Sitting on the edge of the rooftop of his apartment amongst the many buildings, birds and pieces of litter.
`` 12 stories, Why would n't it?'' He grumbles to himself as he knocks back the bottles, yet again. His vision blurred and hazed.
Aaron never got into his dream job. He never got to see any of what he wanted. He never got married. He never got through the Doctorate program in college. He never got married. He never had kids. Never bought himself a dog, or kept friends.
He felt hopeless, in that not even god himself could stop and fix it at the point he's been left in. `` Hopeless.'' He winces at the taste of the gin, as he tosses the rest of the nearly empty bottle down into the street below him. `` I'll leave that for some other poor, hopeless schmuck to deal with.''
He shifted more towards the edge, legs dangling in front of him. He stares at the busy-bodies beneath him, when he hears a small jingle of a bell, from what happens to be right behind him. He turns, as a small white box, with a red bow tied nearly around the top, falls from seemingly nothing above. It does n't slightly damage, nor does it lose it's natural form. A perfect box.
`` What the hell...'' He mutters, as he crawls away from the edge towards it. He examines it, for what feels like centuries before deciding to open it. He carefully reaches and undoes the neat little bow, letting it fall to the sides. This box did n't even have a speck of filth or grime, or dirt on its sharp white surfaces. Inside the box, were two objects.
A note, that says; `` Give us another chance. She is on her way.''
And, a small doll, with yellow yarn `` Hair'', rosey checks, and a mark on the bottom of the right foot. `` OLIVIA''
Edit: I can continue if you guys want me too.
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[ WP ] You are known as the greatest Villain known to history . The nations you have toppled are many , heroes and villains alike cower in fear and agencys would use their entire budgets just to guess your next move . However , you are unaware that you were a villain at all .
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I put my orange hair on this morning and looked at myself in the mirror. My beautiful wives greeted me in their servant clothing, I like to keep them in work clothes during the day so they will feel more like doing things that may get dirty. In my many years since being elected president, then emperor, the chief potentate of all the world, all my friends gather around me to listen to my inspired words. I feel so wonderful, not just blessed, but more like the blessing. I have changed the world so much that it is basically unrecognizable from before me. I am sure everyone is loving me.
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[ WP ] In Hell , everyone is assigned a partner . Satan picks them specifically to be the one person you could never , ever get along with . If the partners can become friends , both ascend to heaven .
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What is this? Some sort of afterlife? Did they lie? I look around and all I see is barren wasteland. I turn around in a futile attempt to see where I am. It spans out, in all directions, sky black and empty. But as my eyes adjust, I begin to see a figure far off into the distance. It ca n't be...
I try to adjust my eyes to the figure, but just as I begin to take a step forward I hear a boom and fall back on my ass. I shake my head and look up to be greeted by a giant black monster with black feathers and... A book. It spoke, `` I am the Great God of Death.''
...
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[ WP ] A Law Enforcement Robot suddenly re-activates long after mankind has been subjugated by aliens . It does n't know who these new folk are or why they 're so rowdy and violent . All it knows is it has n't made an arrest in 1300 years , and it 's got some catching up to do .
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*'' Whyte, what have you heard about this'robot-cop'? `` *
`` About the same as everyone else, Blooond. Shows up whenever we're pacifying the Natives, screams something in one of the banned Human languages, punches everyone and runs off. Weird as space-hell.''
`` WHAT IS UP, MY FELLOW SUBJUGATORS.''
*''... Whyte, who is this? `` *
`` Oh, that's Ornge. He's new. Say hello, Ornge.''
`` YO.''
*'' What the hell is he wearing? `` *
`` I AM WEARING TYPICAL SUBJUGATOR APPAREL.''
*'' Full riot suppression gear is not'typical' in any way. I ca n't even see your face! `` *
Oh, come off it, Blooond. If he likes it, let him wear it. Hey Ornge, tell him the story about the Earth canines and --''
*'' No, this is ridiculous. Take that off. Take it off --'' *
`` No, Bloond, stop -- What the space-hell?!''
`` SURPRISE, DIRTBAGS. THIS WAS AN UNDERCOVER OPERATION. I WAS AN OFFICER OF THE LAW ALL ALONG. HANDS UP.''
*'' What. `` *
`` But... Ornge... I thought we were friends...''
`` I WISH I COULD HAVE BEEN, WHYTE. YOU SEEM LIKE A GOOD [ ERROR ]. MAYBE I CAN GET YOU A DEAL IF YOU COOPERATE. BUT FOR RIGHT NOW, YOU'RE ALL GOING DOWNTOWN.''
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[ WP ] You are the canner of whoop-ass .
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`` Hey, Hogan.''
`` Yeah, Brother?'' Hogan was pulling his his shirt back on after two hours on the line, sweat instantly soaked the thin, yellow fabric.
`` Dwayne and Sylvester had to trade some shifts. Can you talk with Tureaud and find a way to fill the slot on Saturday?'' I check the schedule once more to make sure I have everything right. It was a nightmare to get people on normal shifts around here. It takes a lot of work to get qualified packers but I pride myself on the workforce that has been managed so far.
`` Sure thing, Brother.'' Hogan said as he wrapped his red bandanna around his head.
Well, one more thing taken care of. I check the next page. Arnold and Diesel were on for tomorrow morning, then Weaver and Wahlburg in the afternoon. Trejo and Fishburn had obligations for the next two weeks so He had to have Norris work the line on Sundays by himself. Not every person could handle that job by themselves, but Norris had been at this a while. It's why he was a supervisor.
`` Hey Hogan, you seen Crews?''
`` He hit the showers.'' Hogan nodded with a fist up near his face, `` Hear the p-p-p-p-power, brother?''
I could hear the faint sound of repeated explosions, `` Right, of course.''
`` The Hulk is out, Brother.'' Hogan ripped his yellow shirt back off and walked out the door, `` YEAH!''
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[ WP ] `` This is not my job ! This is the exact opposite of my job ! '' screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour .
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Wherever Grim's shade went, he left small traces of his soul. These sprinkles glowed like black fire, then faded. People picked them up on their shoes. Animals scattered them. Given enough time, most of Grim's trails disappeared into the earth.
In the cities, the sidewalks were always edged with a little of that glow. Sites of massacres left no trail at all within a week or two. No matter how busy he would be ferrying the confused dead one by one, Grim's trails would be so well-trodden by spectators and analysts that he could no longer remember how to get to Littleton, or Aurora, or Virginia Tech. He lost so much shade those days. Perhaps it was seeing his ragged form on one of those days that made him wonder - what happens with those little embers of himself go out? But it was part of the cycle. Imagine a world in which every death stuck and forced the living to wade in the memories like molasses. Fading away was necessary, like him. Just necessary.
Grim received a calling. A rapid calling. He followed his summonses instinctually. The trail to the hospital never quite faded away - nursing homes, prisons, and hospitals barely required any thought at all. Even as he approached the well-lit path to the maternity ward, he tuned out the world of emotion pressing in on him. How else could he do his job, if not to ignore the couples welcoming new life?
At times he did allow himself to reflect. In 1952 he found a sad young woman. She was standing alone and naked in the middle of a field. Waiting. She did not seem to expect him as much as she was resigned to him. He had seen this reaction before, but something about her stuck inside him like an itch. He'd wanted to teach her to fly. He wanted to feel her warm skin, not the wafery, tacky parchment the dead always had. He found himself taking her hand, like a child, but the wrongness of his feeling met the reality and he shuddered. He pulled her to a better fate.
Still, he wondered if it had not been a mistake to escort her and leave her just like the others. She remained a secret to humanity in that field, but Grim's trail remained brightly lit long after she passed into memory.
In the present, Grim passed a happy couple who were leaving with their newest pink-swathed family member. In six months a coroner will lie to them that SIDS can strike without warning and there's nothing they could have done. As Grim will float up with the infant, he will remove her older brother's marble from her throat like a magic trick, making her clap with delight. It's not so bad, seeing the ones who will die at 80 or 100. It's like looking into the far distance. Only in the maternity and neonatal wards were birth and death packed together quite so uncomfortably. He felt *squeezed*.
Grim approached his call. A double. The ones who sputter to life for a brief second seemed a cruel enough trick, but to take a mother as well? The dead did n't tend to mind as long as they were together, but it made Grim squirm to think of a being approaching the apex of happiness only to end at the worst sorrow. How could they stand it? How are humans so strong and yet so fragile? It crushed him. He swallowed it and walked into the room where his calling awaited.
She called to him. `` Hold my hand!''
He did.
She pushed.
Grim looked upon the faces of Hel, whose shade shimmered like green emerald, and a new bright pink shade who giggled and grabbed at Grim's tattered hem.
`` You feel warm.''
`` I was not ready that day.''
`` I missed you.''
`` I'm glad you came back. I'm glad you remembered.''
`` What do we do now?''
`` Quit. Be with me. Us.''
`` What do we name him?''
The opposite of Grim's job was not to give life.
It was to Love.
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[ WP ] You 've been sent into an alternate dimension where music is magic : choirs can change the weather and orchestras can topple castle walls . With your digital music device ( iPhone , MP3 player , whichever ) , you 've just become the most powerful wizard in the world .
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My years of research finally came through. I had made it. The people here were similar, strange in all the familiar ways humans were, and they accepted me. They called me friend and gave me a home. It was a comfortable life for one such as I for I have no ties, not to this world or the next; to this dimension or any other. I pursue science only. She is my mistress. She is my life and it was not difficult leaving the world I had known.
I've studied this dimension thoroughly. Not much is different on a technical level but their culture is a world apart from what I've known. These people are plain, and quite frankly, simply uncultured. They have no television or fiction. Writing is for communication and storage. They have no dreams, only the most basic of desires. And they lack music.
From my experiments, I've found they are moved by the arts that are so common to humans. They are transformed by music, and not in the psychological way one might expect. It works on some molecular level. My possessions are sparse and all I have from my previous life is the clothes on my back and my cell phone. Its ringtones do marvelous things to these people. It changes them and their surroundings. I can not explain it as yet, but I am working on it.
I lament that I am not a musical person. Art has never interested me. I am a simple man, much like these new people. I lament my lack of interest in music as it means that I have none with me. My phone is empty, full of contacts I will talk never with again, and names that are meaningless. The ringtones which came with the thing are not musical enough and only take me so far. I have only one other recourse then.
My stay in this new dimension has desensitized me. I no longer see these things as my own. They accept me but I do not accept them. They are basic, as am I. But I am more intelligent and I have needs. I have wants. I have primal desires. And I have the very power of God in my lungs.
Throughout my stay I have taught myself to sing. I am no means any good at it, but it is enough. My voice, tuneless or not, melts the will of these beings. Simple melody enchants them and make them no better than animals, than things. I must admit that for the time being I have put my research on hold. Unlike them, I am only human. This power has gone to my head. It flows through my voice. I will rule them now. There is little they can do.
Many dimensions exist, of this I am sure. In the scheme of things they are insignificant. I have hardly a care for what I shall do. I am man, ruler of worlds. I only regret not having an instrument.
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[ WP ] there is a god for everything . Light , sinks , walking , whatever you can think of . How does one unexpected god suddenly become the most powerful god ?
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He hailed him as a hero. The god before him had a long flowing black beard, that constantly moved like the waves of a sea. His face had a stony texture, and cracks in his face revealed a deep blue aura contained within his physical form. He had arms the size of treetrunks, and yet his hands had long, clever and delicate fingers. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes, full of pride, he could not hide.
`` Well done'', he said in a very faraway voice, as if he was talking underwater.
`` We did what we had to, nothing more, nothing less.''
`` No, you are the very reason I exist.''
He bows his head and walks around.
`` A god's power is gained through how much respect and influence he or she gathers''
He stood out on the cliff, and watched the sun rise over a new day.
`` Brave men such as you have proven that your profession, no matter how dirty, is NECESSARY if man is to survive in cleanliness.''
`` It's definiton has been akin to perversion or even as a simple game, with no challenge.''
`` A worthless job. A worthless god.''
He turned around and put his hand on my shoulder.
`` But you bought it back to it's former glory, and now, I am once again powerful.''
His eyes glowed a startling blue.
`` I hereby bless you with infinite power, and may you never stray from the call.''
The god smiled at me, and he dissappeared.
I thought fixing the problematic toilet was a great idea to allow the World Peace Conference attendees their rightful ability to remove the contents of their bowels but I never thought I would attract the attention of a god!
The conference had been uncomfortable for the whole evening, and as it turns out, someone had poisoned the food, and then clogged the toilets. I was there at the right time and right place. My job was suddenly worth something. Turns out, a strain of a new virus was discovered to be active once entering the digestive tract, and if I had not fixed it, the whole place would've been infected in minutes. I was hastily given a peace prize and hailed as a hero.
`` I thank the God of Plumbing for giving me this power, and I shall use it for the greater good!''
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[ WP ] A man always complains he ca n't get a girlfriend because of his looks . One day he wakes up looking like a 10 .
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^^ ( This is my first submission and I have n't written in years. Also I've done this on my phone so I apologise for any typos I have missed ).
A week ago, if you asked me to described myself I would have given an optimistic yet clichΓ©d comment charming, funny, and friendly nature. I would have tried to avoid mentioning my looks; I've never been what most of the women I know would describe as attractive in a guy. At five foot six and fourteen stone, few women are interested. To be honest, I have never been too motivated to maintain my looks because any attempt I make at self grooming is wasted within a few hours. I have the sort of hair that loses any style within twenty minutes of leaving the barbers, and defiant stubble that will be making a reappearance before I put the razor back in it's case; so I keep a thin beard but by the end of any day it is a scraggly mess. When the rest of your body is fighting against you, it's easy to slip into a morning routine which consists of dragging yourself into clean clothes and pouring coffee down your throat. Do n't get me wrong, I've tried many things but I've known when to quit. By thirty one you learn these things.
This is why I have been single for the last decade with only one sexual encounter in all of that time. I have a couple of close female friends who know me for who I am but I never get to know anyone new; they take one look at my lack of looks and find the quickest reason to leave. Well at least that is what I believed until the weekend of the conference. The weekend I learnt who I am.
Work sent me down to London for the annual Economical and Environmental Advancements in Automotive Engineering. This was my seventh visit and it's the same deal every year. arrive on the Friday, enroll, endure seven hours of boring lectures with a break for stale sandwiches, check into the attached hotel and find your room, change for the dinner, abuse the company credit card and drink into the early hours, repeat for Saturday and Sunday.
It was lunch on the Friday when I met Elizabeth. My beautiful red headed Irish counterpart from the Dublin branch. We spoke during the day and she allowed me to escort her to the Chinese restaurant which had been booked out for the purposes of the conference, but as soon as we sat down at the long table she only had eyes for Harvey from Chester. Fucking attractive Harvey who works in law; why the fuck did someone even send a lawyer? I knew where I was n't welcome and turned to the conversation on the latest rendition of Ford's Eco boost, and the round of tequilas which had recently appeared. I do n't remember much after that.
Saturday at seven thirty AM I woke up to my chirping alarm and a thundering head. Turning off the alarm and checking my phone, I found a strip of paper in the pocket of the phone wallet. I read the fortune from the cookie and checked the bed next to mebefore screwing it into a tight ball and throwing it across the room. β Tonight you will get what you desire most''. Nope, Irish Elizabeth had n't come back for a slumber party.
I trudged to the en-suite for a piss, feeling eight inches taller than normal as the booze continued to pump through my system. I jumped as I looked in the mirror and ended up pissing on my feet and not in the bowl. It was n't myself looking back at me. handsome twenty six man of six foot two, clean shaven with short hair combed over at the front into a small and professional quiff starred back through the window. He moved when I moved and the bathroom behind him was identical to the one behind me, down to the blue boxers thrown in the corner. His eyes and hair where the same colour, along with the basic facial structure. I have been so drink that I hallucinated before, but I've never hallucinated a muscular body with a perfect six pack before.
Seventy five minutes later I'm pouring coffee and putting together a Bacon butty from the buffet before the first lecture of the day when Irish Elizabeth wishes me a good morning and comments that she did n't see me yesterday. Well at least in not the only one who does n't recognise me today. Too hungover to try and question it, I reintroduce myself leaving out my last name in case she remembers it. We talk until the conference resumes and she sits next to me all day, including lunch. She avoids Harvey all day and finally gives me a chance to get to know her.
Saturday night we go for dinner and resume the drinking. Elizabeth stays attached to be all night and my hand is on her firm arse most of the night. I still can not believe how much my life has improved over night but this new look seem to have a chance. I make my jokes and have everyone laughing, well most of the crowd laugh but I am too high from the experience of feeling popular to notice Elizabeth looking more and more uncomfortable. Eventually she stands up and walks away in tears but in drunk and I do n't care.
Anyway, she is n't the only body here. I've been chatting to a fair few all day. Laura, Beth, Sarah, Sally, Anna...; I have my pick. The night goes on in a cycle of booze and my funny funny jokes. An hour goes by and Anna throws her vodka and coke in my face but the night is still young.
Beth slaps me. Next customer please. Sarah leaves in tears. Next. Laura calls be a cunt. Next.
It's half past three in the morning and I go outside the club for a smoke with Tony from who the fuck cares.
`` Matt. Why are you such a cunt to the girls?'' He asks. `` You have had a dozen different girls all over you tonight and every single one of them has left after not very long. You do realise that being good looking does n't mean you do n't have to be a decent human being? You name me sick you fucking cunt''. Before I could answer, Tony flicked his cigarette over the railing and went back inside. Jealous bastard. Just because I'm the one getting the numbers and texting them all.
When I woke up at six am from the hangover and could n't get back to sleep I started reading the text conversations I had had with Elizabeth and the rest of the girls after they had each gone home.
It did not take me long to realise that I've been alone for a decade not because I'm a three out of ten but because I am naturally a horrible person. It took being a ten out of ten for me to realise that.
That's why I am standing on the edge of the roof of a sixteen story hotel a little before eight on a Sunday morning in just my boxers.
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[ WP ] Describe the last mintue of Earth
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[ WP ]
The sound of screaming had woken us, and together we had scrambled up out of the tangled sheets, hopped into our crumpled clothes and raced down the stairs and out the front door.
Whatever we had expected in those frantic, breathless moments, was nothing compared to what we were confronted with when we reached the flagged path in our lawn.
We looked up, his head and mine moving as though we were one being. I reached blindly and grabbed his hand, grabbing for a lifeline in this instant of heart-wrenching revelation and mind-boggling bewilderment.
`` Huh,'' Lyall grunted in disbelief.
I tore my gaze from the spectacle in the sky and turned to face him, my mouth open. The strange sight of his face, seeming so unmoved, jarred with the adrenalin coursing through my veins. My hand was sweaty in his grip and trembled.
His sudden laughter startled me; I jumped in fright at the barking noise.
He turned to me, raised his free hand and pointed at the sky, as though I had n't noticed already.
`` Would you look at that?''
I had seen it, and yet I looked again. Who could not? I stared again, dumbfounded at the extraordinary sight of young boy with magnifying glass, colossal figure towering above the earth. His fair brow was creased in concentration as he trained the glass on our world, and now, I could see, rising blackly in the distance, dark spirals of smoke.
`` Wouldn'ta thought it'd be like this. Not in a million years,'' he chuckled, his shoulders shaking.
For one last time I glanced at my darling husband, but I could not take my eyes from the green eyes of the boy with the glass. A little smile played on his face as he moved his hand, leisurely destroying the tiny creatures below.
The focussed shaft of sunlight was relentless in its slow approach. My eyes stung, I could n't bring myself to blink and miss a moment of this craziness. Would this boy kill us all? If we survived, what sort of repercussions would this event have? For a brief moment, I thought of all those in the world with faith, with religion. Poor them, I thought, to see this and have in an instant their world shattered.
I eyed the smirking boy with anger rising in me. But then, I considered, boys will be boys. My brothers had burnt ants in just such a manner. Watching the beam of heat and the billowing smoke and scorching flames come ever closer, I smiled ruefully, indulging his antics as a loving mother would perhaps have done.
`` The little shit.''
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[ WP ] β Yes , I wanted to be a monster , and I had very good reasons . β
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The financier across the table was stunned by my request, so I repeated it: `` I want to be a monster.''
It took a few moments for her to finally find words. `` Sir, I do n't think you understand. We make heroes here, champions of the greater good.''
`` Your creations, your Heroes'' I spat out the words, `` do naught but look good while stopping petty crimes. A Hero will fight a villain and triumph, but a new villain will always rise. Have you ever wondered why there are more villains Miss?''
`` Our competition does n't have our excellent psychology screening?''
I laugh. `` It's because pain and fear and doubt and shame and guilt are part of the human condition and against them, we can but fight or flight. A villain fights you understand and simply takes what they want, what they need.''
She frowns. `` Does a monster?''
`` I passed your battery of tests and made it this far. You were ready to gift me with power and make me into a hero.''
`` Then what is a monster?''
`` The monsters are fear and pain and death. We are what men truly fear and through us, they are tempered into steel. All I ask is the power to forge your Heroes into the champions the world truly need.''
*****
The corpse at my feet had been called `` Electric''. Lightning fast and with the ability to deliver non-lethal shocks with her hands and feet. It had taken me a week to discover who had he had been before he received his gift and another month to arrange the early parole of his step-father. Electric had taken the bait and delivered himself into my web so easily. He had come in plains clothes, so I traced his trademark lightning bolt in his stepfather's blood beside his body and left.
*****
`` Electric, Shrouder and the Titanium Tool make three bodies'' Ultra said. `` Someone is hunting Heroes.''
`` Not hunting,'' Datapath said `` Ensnaring, trapping and then killing after they fall from grace. Electric's father was in jail for child molestation, Shrouder died from a drug overdose and the Tool hung himself in a room wallpapered with gambling slips. Whomever is doing this is find our weaknesses and personal pain and killing us with it.''
Ultra paled. `` I just wanted to help people, all my life. And this monster is going to kill me for it?''
Datapath shook his head. `` Maybe not kill. He has made sure the bodies were found and identified so far, but Gunslinger Joe and Titanfall stopped reporting in and appear to have abandoned using their powers. It's possible, likely even that they encountered our adversary and survived.'
`` But they do n't want to be Heroes anymore. How many of us are left?''
`` Six, including both independents and our group members.''
*****
Ultra was the hardest. Datapath just abandoned everything and ran before I could get to him, but Ultra keep fighting to the end. He really was a boyscout and actual choose this life to help people. There was n't a skeleton waiting in his closet so I had to help him make one.
We were atop the bridge and he was kneeling, crying. His golden uniform was torn and his face plate cracked, blood streaming from one eye. I was bleeding profusely and one of Ultra's blasts had severed my left arm just below the elbow. `` Why?'' he cried. `` Why did you torture them?
`` Because they were n't good enough.'' I said, `` Because they looked into the abyss and turned away. Because being a Heroes means facing the worst of humanity in all of its forms.''
`` Is n't it enough that we help people?''
I shook my head. `` Surgeons need the strength to cut into the body to remove a tumor. They just ca n't give the patient some happy pills and hope everything gets better.''
`` Is that how you see yourself? A tumor, festering and eating away at humanity from the inside?''
I grinned. `` I told them to make me a monster.''
`` They did n't make you into a monster. You already were. They just gave you the power to live out your sick fantasies.''
`` They told me no.'' I rushed Ultra with the knife in my hand and he blasted me the chest. I fell, going off the side of the bridge. Ultra tried to grab me but missed and I hit the water hard.
*****
The financier was waiting for me when I washed ashore. `` Is it done?'' She asked.
`` For now.'' I said `` Ultra did n't break. He even tried to save me.''
`` Does he suspect our involvement?''
I shook my head. `` he thinks I was just a lone headcase. He does n't even believe I had any powers.''
`` Good. What are you going to do next?''
`` Next?'' I thought for a moment. `` I'm going to make a villain into the opponent Ultra deserves.''
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[ WP ] You 're at an CIA HQ office party and you get the opportunity to see all of US secrets .
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*I am a sane individual. I am an intelligent man. I have an IQ of 137, I believe in the boundaries of the world as I have known them for my entire life. *
I stood in the corner of the ballroom, built a hundred feet below the earth, repeating the mantra to myself. The words rang hollow when an inhuman creature scuttled past me on a thousand, insect-like legs, gripping a glass of champagne in a clawed hand.
*I am a sane and rational individual, I am an intelligent man*...
β Mr Donovan, β a voice came, a voice I recognised. β I trust you β re enjoying the party? β
The woman stepped out of the crowd, clad in a black-and-grey dress, a clutch bag under her left arm. She was flanked by two men in black suits with earpieces. The men were spread throughout the crowd, watching the proceedings from behind identical pairs of sunglasses.
β Ms Millerβ¦ β I began. β I don β tβ¦ β
The lights dimmed and a spotlight lit up a stage on the far side of the room. Miller, the woman who had brought me here, to this place, shushed and held a finger to her lips.
β Watch, β she said, as a handsome man with auburn hair ascended to the stage, an American flag pinned to his lapel.
β Welcome, welcome, β he said to applause. β Humans, aliens, prototypes, hybrids and historical figures, to the 65th Central Intelligence Agency ball! β
The crowd applauded again, at least the ones with hands did, the creatures who instead sported tentacles made wet slapping sounds, the Xenomorph-like being in the vertical water tank in the centre of the room squealed with delight.
β We love you, John! β A flanging, alien voice said.
β Thank you, thank you, β the charismatic man said in a strong Massachusetts twang. β Now, as you all know, I β m a man of few wordsβ¦ β
The crowd laughed and the man smiled.
β Maybe that β s true in another universe, eh? β He chuckled. β As you all know, each year the CIA ball celebrates the achievements of this wonderful agency in protecting our great nation from devastating secrets that would tip it over the edge of the abyss, into chaos.
β To do our difficult jobs, many of us make sacrifices, something I know better than most, β the man said, gesturing to what appeared to be a nasty scar on the back of his head. β But those sacrifices are all for the greater good. Whether it β s our musicians bowing out of the limelight to serve their countryβ¦ β
A man stood with the band to the left of the stage, with slicked back black hair and a bedazzled white jacket, grinned and nodded to the speaker.
β... Or making terrible decisions for the right reasons. We might not have landed on the moon, β the speaker continued. β But the belief that we did has fuelled our country, and its people, to do great things. Plus, it gave Kubrick something to do! β
The crowd laughed.
β I kid, I kid, I love you Stan, β the man said. β Anyway, I β ve gone on long enough. I guess it just leaves me to say, here β s to vaccinations, fluoride and Al Gore and his brilliantly imaginative slideshows. Now, if you β ll excuse me, I have a motorcade waiting for me outsideβ¦ β
The crowd erupted with laughter at the reference as the man waved and stepped down. Miller shook her head and grinned.
β Fifty years he β s been closing with that joke, and it never gets old. Well, I suppose if you don β t age, there β s no reason for your repertoire to either, β she said.
β That wasβ¦ β
β Yep, β Miller said.
β Why? β I asked. β Why did you bring me here? If this is all so secret, why are you showing it to me? β
Miller smiled.
β Because, Donny, can I call you Donny? β She began, not waiting for me to answer. β You are becoming a thorn in my side. You and that little blog of yours.
β At first, I humoured your pathetic freedom of information requests, your whistleblowers, but then you started making trouble. I had to act.
β I β m showing you all of this because when you get back to your office, you β ll try to tell everyone, and you will sound *so sure* about all of it, no one will ever believe you. Of course, falsified mental health records that indicate a history of drug abuse and alcoholism will helpβ¦ but you β ll do most of the heavy lifting on your own. β
I simply stood there and stared. In a single stroke, she had beaten me, and condemned me to choose a life of silence or a life in a mental institution.
β We don β t need to put people like you in prisons, Donny, or special underground research facilities in the Nevada desert, β Miller said. β We only need to give you the tools to build a prison for yourself. β
I swallowed hard. Around me, aliens mixed with characters I recognised from black and white photographs. A man with silver wings nursed a glass of scotch. I choked back tears.
β Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr Donovan, β Miller said, turning and walking away.
I tried to cry out, to refuse, but I was cut short as two of her Men in Black escorts stepped forward, grabbed me by the shoulders, and dragged me back to the real world.
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[ WP ] At age 18 each person meets their soul-mate . For centuries everyone has fallen in love with theirs . You 're the first person to not love yours .
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I do n't like being touched.
When I was a baby, my mom jokes that every time she held me in her arms, I'd scream, and every time she put me in my crib, I'd simply go quiet and still.
I was an `` easy baby,'' she says, `` not demanding at all.''
Maybe that's why she had another one so soon afterwards, but she soon learned to regret that. Mary was loud unless she was being held, connected with people. She was born to connect. I was born without such a worthless need.
Sure, I learned the language early on, I just did n't see much use in actually TALKING to others. There was not much to do in those first couple years besides observe the people around me, after all. My parents thought there was something wrong with me, so I finally relented, only speaking when I absolutely had to so they would n't put me in a `` special'' class with the kids that smelled like piss and shit and drooled on themselves.
In school, I had a reputation for being cold-hearted, but I honestly did n't care. The only reason I even know about this is because knowing things is useful because when you know things, you can make people do what you want them to do. Other humans seem to think that fitting in is important, so I strove to be the best at it. It was like a game.
I'm not stupid. After all, I've watched the nature documentaries. All living creatures hate oddities, differences. They consider it a weakness to be unique. In the animal kingdom, that means that they're kicked out of nests, eaten by their parents before they can become a drain on the environment. Sure, they give lip service to the differently abled because human beings like to think they're better, but I know the truth.
I've known about the Soul Mate Gate since I was ten years old and we began having sex-ed classes, or as I liked to call them `` learning awkwardly about puberty as a frightening change you're going to be pulled kicking and screaming into experiencing and mandatory waiting until marriage'' classes. You go to the Gate, you step through, and you are paired up with your Soul Mate, wherever they are located in the world. I've read the history books about a time before the Soul Mate Gate, when people used to be against same-sex relationships for so-called `` moral'' reasons, but everyone knows now that, thanks to technology, that all that matters is love.
God, gag me with a spoon.
I have no idea what to expect when I step up to the dais on my eighteenth birthday. The Gate shimmers strangely, and I know that when I step through it, I'll be meeting with the person I'm supposed to love for the rest of my life.
I have my doubts about that, but rules are rules.
Stepping through the gate is the same as a marriage bond. I'm already wearing my ring, a government-issued standardized titanium band. At least it is n't too gaudy.
God, the Gate Official is going *on and on* about love and souls intertwining. I just want to go home and play some video games and troll people on the internet.
This is such a fucking drag.
Finally, it is time. I step up to the shimmering portal and turn back to look at my mother and my father, both of whom are looking at me with a combination of relief and....happiness? Assholes. They're happier about this than I am.
`` You may proceed, Ensouled One,'' the official says, with a flourish of his hand, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes, bowing low instead and replying with the customary response of, `` It is my joy and the light of my life to take this final step.''
I step through the shimmering portal and feel the urge to sneeze. Thank god it was n't as bad as I thought it would be. I look up, and I see her. I've never met her in my life, but she's intimately familiar to me. I feel something shift in my chest and I know that it's her.
My Soul Mate.
`` Do you....do you feel it?'' she asks me, her eyes serious and cold.
`` Yeah,'' I reply disdainfully, `` Feels weird.''
`` I thought... I thought it would feel different. But maybe I'm just not doing it right,'' she continued, her voice rising with an edge to it that felt incredibly familiar.
Interesting.
`` So...'' I say.
Trailing off tends to make other people... normal people... fill in the blanks. After all, if she's my Soul Mate, logically that means that she loves me, and what is love other than the ability to force others to bend to your will out of sentimental attachment?
She smirks back at me, her eyes narrowing.
But of course.
`` You are like me, are n't you?'' I say, after a measured pause, and her grin grows even wider.
Predatory. I like predatory.
`` And you're like me,'' she replies, showing her perfect, pearly teeth as she smiles and smiles and smiles.
We hold out a hand to one another. It's part of the ritual, certainly, but we both know it's more than that.
`` Nice to meet you....*partner*...'' I say, and I am vaguely aware that my grin is as wide as hers is.
`` Likewise,'' she purrs.
Fuck love. We're going to rule the world.
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[ WP ] `` Finally '' , she thought . He had told her to close her eyes . He is going to propose , she was sure . She even caught a glimpse as he slid his hand into the pocket . Rose ? Or a ring ? He slowly pulled out the gun .
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`` Marry me, bitch.'' He pointed the muzzle at one of her knees. `` I ca n't!'' That was n't the answer he was looking for. He shot her knee. `` AAH!'' Yvonne screamed and went down. The pain was excruciating. He raised his gun once again, this time at her elbow. `` Marry me.'' `` I ca n't!'' He shot her again. Frustrated, he kicked her. `` Why, you whore, WHY? I gave you the best years of my life!'' He grabbed her throat and squeezed it. He asked her again and released her. She fell again to the ground. `` Yvonne, answer me.'' `` Dylan... I ca n't because City Hall is closed today.''
`` Okay, tomorrow, then, my love.'' He helped her to her feet and threw her in a cab that he sent off to the hospital, tucking his faithful gun away. Yvonne will want to frame this, he thought.
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[ WP ] `` Sometimes the bad guys win ''
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I looked at hand as I awaited to hear my fate.
It had been an exceptionally rough week for me. The world.... the whole world found out the truth about me. I did n't even have time to prepare myself. The big bad had captured them and broadcast what he intended to be his ultimate revenge to the world. Although it was an online stream, TV Stations all over the world picked it up, many broke from regularly programming to broadcast the feed.
They looked run down as they sat, tied up and helpless to stop him. He made it look like a school lesson. My heart sank when I first saw it. He was literally hitting them if they spoke out of turn. He was taunting them, saying that he was going to tell the world the truth, that they are no heros, they are fakes.
He explained that the extent of the influence he had, how they were so protective of this one person. He told capitvated audiences about how this group... these heros, were merely figments of someone's imagination.
Then he said it. He repeated it several times in fact.
He screamed out my name, several times. He'd done it, in a bid to destroy them, he let out thier greatest secret..... and mine also.
It did n't matter if the heros were able to free themselves and defeat him, the world knew. I was at work when this happened..... I did n't take it well. This, on top of everything else I had to put up with at the time is what tipped over the edge....
I looked at the bandage on my hand, it was a moment of madness. One that cost me dearly. The boss was clearly reluctant to do it but he had to fire me for my actions, in spite of the fact that I'd literally had my biggest secret compromised at the time.' You're a nice guy but... company protocol, I'm sorry.'
Sometimes, the bad guys win. He may have been defeated but in many ways, he won.
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[ OT ] /u/psycho_alpaca allowed me to share his beautiful story with my students . These are their reactions .
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> * β To be an adult is to be a responsible person and follow the rules and think positive about thereself. β *
> M.M. ( 3rd Period )
This story makes me think about the little girl in elementary school that did her work, loved her friends and teachers, had lots of friends, used to rather be with her 3rd grade teacher for lunch instead of her friends, was happy, came home every day, went inside to hug her mom, got a snack and did my homework without a problem or even without having to get told to do your homework.
Now that little girl does all those things the opposite way and I mean everything.
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[ WP ] Your bosses have recently become very hyped for the new Shadows of Mordor game . To celebrate this , they 've instated a promotion system in which you only get promoted if you either a . Kill one of the companies rivals or b . Kill a higher ranking co-worker !
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People did n't really think it meant anything, at first. It's the first of April, so obviously the higher-ups were having a go at the little drones below. Most did n't even understand the nemesis system, at first.
Then, of course, that smirking whore from HR, who stole my pudding on more than one occasion, disappears, and her position was filled by the coffee-boy. That was unusual, to say the least, but still, things were fine. People suspected foul play, perhaps even blackmail, but that's just corporate life. We hoped.
Of course, after the coffee-promotion, another person disappeared. I only heard about it during the water-cooler discussion with Samuel. Apparently, someone from two flights up disappeared. And some drone, just like the ones I keep in check, got the promotion. No questions asked. Pay-raise, control, the whole thing. At that point, the game was afoot. Once is coincidence, twice is certainty. I did n't want to change much, of course. I liked supervising, and the people here liked me. I was safe, I figured.
Then I took a pencil to the shoulder. Bob, the fat idiot that keeps wanting to leave early just jammed it in there. While it hurt like hell, I was n't about to croak like that! This little bastard was in for the lesson of a lifetime, I though, as I grabbed him by the throat and threw him back into my desk. Adrenaline and exhilaration coursed through me as I picked him up and slammed him down on the ground. I laughed at the small, pink-skinned little ball of fat as he struggled to get up. I'd always wanted to do that to the little drone. I did n't kill him, of course. Once you show your power in corporations, people leave you alone for a bit. Do n't go all-out, is the rule. I removed the pencil, put on a bandage, and went back to work. They wo n't try anything again.
Then they attacked me with five at once, of course. Bob at the head, he got some interns and coffeeboys with him. Since the second `` disappearance'', we've been burning through coffee-boys, as they keep reaching high places. I was n't about to take that lying down, of course. I took a chair and slammed it over Bob's round, bald little head. The wood broke, as did Bob. I still had two legs of the chair, and the coffee-boys did n't stand a chance. Before long, I stood over all five of them, crumpled in a heap, and a raised my plan above my head and yelled in triumph.
I'm not a violent man. I feel I must emphasize that. It was self-defense, and I could n't help it that Bob's skull was so brittle, could I? Still, that time I DID get some calm. Hell, everybody worked better than ever now that they know who's the boss. I keep those two chair-legs on me at all times, now, too, so nobody will mess with me. But soon, I realized something. If one little fight, and the removal of a little drone could inspire that much diligence in the work-force, I could do more than this.
And that's how I ended up both head of HR and as a supervisor. The new head of HR since three hours was a tough bastard. But he made a mistake with his clunky swing. A grab and a headbutt later, and he was out like a light. Then I sat down on that office chair of the guy, and man did it feel soft...
The pay-raise came soon after, and a company car. I could finally go to work in STYLE. People began fearing me, and boy did that work!
Then I got a mail from the CEO of our region!
`` Larry'' it said. `` I've been looking at your recent performance, and I see that you make for a fine manager. I want to see if you have it in you to work directly under me. Get enough people to vouch for you from floors 6, 7 and 9, and you'll get some handsome benefits. Any means necessary, of course.''
It was a brutal fight, but golly was it fun! I placed nails in my clubs, and reinforced them. Ever since that fight, people swear they still see the blood leaking off of it, and they even gave me a nickname! Gary the Flayer! Now THAT's got some punch behind it. The advertising campaign went quick with the help of my little drones. Some people around here started using proper weapons as well, Some of them using ink to poison people, and some of the eggheads in R & D even had explosives! All of these things added challenge and strength, and all the better the company worked!
Fighting the average drone meant nothing now, of course. By now, everybody who means something knows how to fight. I'll freely admit, I must have killed two dozen drones, and one supervisor, before I got enough votes. Now I've got a direct `` in'' with the CEO! I'm one of the only people around that's even allowed to see him! With the new waves of power, the CEO's everywhere are hard get out of their office.
I think you should be able to figure out why I'M the CEO, now.
People gaze at me in awe, and when I appear they chant my name. All of them know my power, and my managing skills. This whole BUILDING runs like a well-oiled machine. Soon, we'll be applying our leverage to the other companies in the surrounding area. I've already sent in a few managers to soften them up.
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[ WP ] Humanity is feared across the galaxy , not for their brutality or greed , but for their talent in magic . Consequently , a large anti-magic field was put in place over two thousand years ago , erasing magical power , and with it , humanity 's hopes for galactic conquest . Today , it has worn off .
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`` Did you feel that?''
I looked around the room, frowning, trying to put my finger on what could have caused this feeling. The bar was warm, no one had just come in or left, and everything seemed completely ordinary.
`` What are you talking about?'' Ben asked me in a friendly tone before taking another sip of his beer. `` I did n't feel anything.''
`` It was definitely something,'' I said, frowning. `` But I do n't know how to describe it.''
It was like being pregnant again. It felt like life was stirring in my womb, like it was kicking, but I could n't physically feel the kick. Just this stretching sort of sensation.
Of course, I could n't be pregnant. I'd gotten a hysterectomy years ago.
I closed my eyes, trying to understand this sensation. It felt like it was growing, filling my torso with a sense of warmth, of calm.
`` It's weird,'' I said, looking over at Ben again, `` It's like I've been missing something, and I just got it back. I feel... complete.''
`` Oooookay,'' Ben said, laughing. `` Maybe you should n't have any more beer.''
`` I only had one,'' I said, rolling my eyes. `` No, this is different.''
I focused on the feeling again. It kept expanding, and it filled my lungs. I felt an overwhelming need to take a deep breath, and since my mind was on pregnancy, I flashed back to my old birthing classes, envisioning my breath as holding all the negativity within me.
Ben's laughing smile got stuck on his face, and his eyes went wide, staring at me in shock. My hands were cold, and when I looked at them, I saw that my beer had frozen over.
`` What the hell?'' I shouted, dropping the mug on the table. It tipped over, but none poured out - it was frozen solid.
`` What did you do?'' Ben said.
`` Hell if I know!'' I said, panting.
I should have been feeling afraid. Anxious. Confused. But I could n't shake this comfortable feeling, like everything was okay, like my life was the way it was supposed to be.
I had depression. I had never felt like this in my life, and despite the weirdness, I could n't shake the feeling. Nor could I convince myself that I wanted to. Somehow... everything was okay.
`` It's fine,'' I said, setting my beer back upright.
`` It is not fine,'' Ben said. `` Some glowing stuff just came out of your mouth and froze your damned beer. That is not okay.''
`` Maybe I can thaw it, too?'' I said, grinning at Ben. He gave me an incredulous look.
The feeling was so powerful - not intense, but this subtle sense of completion. And it moved, based on how I tried to think about it.
I focused on my hand, wanting the warm joy to fill it, thinking about how warm - but not hot! - the feeling was, wanting to share it.
My hand grew warmer, a sensation like soaking in a warm bath, and I touched the icy surface of my beer. Ben was looking at me like I'd gone mad - a part of my mind, that was n't simply dancing in enjoyment with the way I was feeling, happened to agree with him.
We both watched in wonder as the brown liquid flowed past my fingertips, swirling in my glass. As soon as the ice was gone, I pulled back my hand, and pulled the warmth back into the core of my being.
I sipped my beer, ignoring the shell shocked look on Ben's face.
`` A bit warm, now,'' I said. `` Maybe I overdid it.''
Ben blinked, and glanced around the bar. We were in a quiet corner, and no one was paying us an ounce of attention.
`` You... but...'' Ben stammered. `` Why are n't you freaking out? You freaked out last week because I got the wrong brand of laundry soap, but this... *this*... you're okay with?''
I frowned. Part of my mind *was* freaking out. The logical, rational part. The rest of me was just happy, in a way that I wanted to keep. I just could n't be upset about this, not on any emotional level.
`` Maybe we should go home,'' I said.
`` Yeah,'' Ben said, standing up quickly.
He ran over and paid our bill, then grabbed me and pulled me outside.
His rough treatment of me, in his haste, irritated me. The rational part of my mind was pleased to discover that I still could be annoyed at something, though that did nothing to help understand why I was n't upset over this weird `` life'' in my gut.
We only had a few blocks to walk to our house. I stretched out my arms, just admiring the sensation of warmth, despite the cool spring air. Ben was far from okay, glancing around constantly, as if he was expecting us to be followed.
An ambulance screeched past us, sirens wailing, as we made our way down the street. That was n't an especially unusual circumstance, and I would n't have noticed it, except that a police car zoomed past us in the opposite direction, not thirty seconds later.
Busy night for them, I supposed. Maybe I was n't alone?
As soon as we got home, Ben took a deep breath.
`` Okay,'' he said. `` We need to figure out what's going on. Do you have any idea what's going on?''
I shrugged.
`` I do n't know,'' I said. `` All I know is that I'm happy - really, honestly, happy with life. And that there's this warmth in my belly that does stuff if I try focusing on it.''
`` What, like magic?'' he asked skeptically.
`` Yeah,'' I said, in surprise. The word `` magic'' felt like it fit surprisingly well. `` Like magic.''
`` Right,'' he said, crossing his arms. `` Can you do it again? Is it just freezing and cooling stuff?''
I closed my eyes, reaching for the warmth inside... the magic. I wanted to see it. I wanted it to glow. How would I make it do that?
The warmth followed my desire, my will, my focus. It filled my hands again. *Light, * I thought, but it did n't feel like anything was happening. My hands were still just filled with the warmth. I opened my eyes, and sure enough, my hands were just there, in front of me.
I tried again. I'd done it twice before... what had I done then? I was sort of feeling it out. Breathing out the cold negativity, sharing the warmth.. it was all about feeling.
A smile graced my face, as an idea came to me.
I thought of my son's first laugh, all those long years ago. The way his laughter seemed to make the room brighten. Thought of the sunlight, filling the room, and shining on his little, baby face.
I wanted to share the feeling, share the sight, with Ben. Well... again, anyway, as he was there in the first place. I wanted my hands to be full of that feeling, and I felt them shift, felt the warmth extend beyond them.
Ben gasped, and I knew it had worked, even before I opened my eyes. Pure, golden sunlight poured from my hands, as though I was holding them in front of the window on a bright, summer day.
`` Well,'' I said. `` I guess I can do magic.''
Ben just stared in astonishment for a long moment, while I played with the light, finding ways to change its colors.
`` Right, then,'' Ben said, still staring. `` What... what do we do now?''
*I'll write more if there's any interest. *
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[ FF ] 100 things you own but do not need , 100 words to tell me why .
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A hundred of the hairs on my head,
Of these I do own and they're quite red.
But I do not need them as my head is never cold,
And should I ever remove these hairs they would be sold.
One hundred of my hairs is not too many,
Do you think it would leave me a bald spot? Not any.
I have a hundred words and I'd like to say they're mine,
Even still I do not need them, they β re hardly worth the time.
Now if only I had about a hundred llama,
Mom won β t let me, thanks Obama.
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[ TT ] `` I know the monsters are n't real , dad , I know they 're in my head . That 's why I can only fight them in my dreams . ''
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β But, Jason, they *are! * β
I β m baffled by what he said, but by the look he's wearing, I can tell he's serious.
Just yesterday we were hackin β and slashin β monsters like nobody β s business. Now, surrounded by the buggers, he β s tryna tell me they β re all in his head? He must be goin β nuts!
And yet he β s gawkin β at me like my brain β s turned to mush. He has a cocked brow and I bet he β s probably reasoned that *I β m* the crazy one!
β What β re you talkin β β bout, dad? β
All I could do was shake my head. Would words get through to him? I didn β t think soβbut hell, can β t he *feel* them? If I hadn β t busted my butt hidin β us we β d be monster chow by now!
Keeping my voice low, I lean close to him and whisper. β You tellin β me you don β t see β em? β
I need him to drop this act. He β s the tougher one. I doubt I could beat ten of those buggers on my own.
But Jason just keeps starin β at me with that far away look. β You okay, dad? β
*Of course not! * I wan na scream. *I β m sweatin β and damn near cryin β and shakin β in my boots because these things wan na eat us! *
β Am I okay? β I mutter, gulping.
β Yeah, you look a littleβ β
Out the corner of my eye I see the flicker of a shadow.
Snatching Jason by the wrist, I fling to my feet and take off running. Behind us, the bastard sinks its claws into the rock before lettin β free a mighty roar.
β Dad, stop! What β re you doing? β
He tries to fight back, clawing at my hand. But I keep my grip tight. I won β t let go because whether he thinks it or not, these buggers are *real* and they wan na get us.
Jason ain β t just my sonβhe β s the only person I got left.
I will keep him alive, even if it means makin β him think I β m crazy.
I *will*.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter
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[ WP ] A new law means everyone in the world can commit one murder for 'free ' - how does society react ?
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My heart thudded in quick succession, my fingers drumming in a rhythmic beat on the scratched table. The constant chatter of my fellow peers seethed my aching brain, fueling my nervous anticipation. Sitting around my table, my school friends mimicked with their own unique forms of nervousness as we waited for our Release.
We had been planning for months, articulate, precise, plotted, methodical. All six of us saved our one Release, granted to us at birth to give us a sort of `` free-pass'' to end the life of one person we choose freely. Personally, deep down, I admit that at the time and clause, population control was a impending issue. But years later, four years to be exact since the law was passed, the issue has evaporated, leaving in its mist a plethora of senseless murders in its wake. But hey, all that aside, I guess I should make the most of it while it lasts.
Clearing my mind, I nodded towards the clock over the cafeteria entrance and signaled that it was almost time. Everyone nodded and continued their ritualistic mental preparations for what was about to go down.
We where targeting them, the `` social elites''. Stereotypical jocks and their blonde sex toys. High school had enough stress already, and having to deal about trying to suck up to their expectations by natural instinct and deal with the backlash of being out of the'norm' was an added layer. Call it jealousy or just plain overreaction, but fuck it, if I can kill someone, why not the people we seethe the most.
I guess you could say me and my friends are the typical high-school nerds. We play D & D, pack our lunches, wear non-branded clothes, get straight A's, and actually have reasonable relationships with our parents and respect our female companions, not use them for pleasure and display. In the light of common sense, I think these characteristics are to be admired, but thanks to these fuckers, they have turned us into some sort of breathing image of a nose-picking, circle jerking group of social dirt. Time to fucking pay...
The clock struck 12:00, and I did a few quite claps to get everyone's attention. A wave of nervous breathes and self-motivation quietly shook through the group as we all took brown bags from under our seats, which might have been cause for suspicion if it was n't for the fact that we where the only ones who actual brought our lunches in this hell-hole of an education hub. Guess that geeky stereotype just helped our case and made the first step of our plan a lot easier.
Everyone began unpacking their weapons of choice. I pulled out my small, worn sandwich container, unclipping the clasps and taking off the lid. Inside lay my scouting knife, a small plastic baggie with a set of earplugs, and a trio of miniature firecrackers bound with a couple rubber bands. Quickly pocketing the knife, I slid off the rubber bands and put the firecrackers into my shirt pocket, unwrapping and putting the earplugs into my pocket. To my right, Tom swiftly pulled out a snub-nose revolver from his lunch pouch, as well as a baggie holding several more shiny yellow shells. He saw me watching and cracked a nervous grin. I smirked back.
Everyone gave the signal nod that they where ready, so I took the initiative, rising from the table bench and making my way towards the condiment station. The rest headed to their assigned areas, our plan playing out like a well-oiled machine. As nonchalant as possible, we all slithered through the loud crowd of students, avoiding any sort of eye contact or possible confrontation. I jumped a bit as the vice principal blared into the cafeteria microphone about an upcoming fundraiser.
`` Shut your trap you whore'', I muttered to myself.
Finally, we reached the table. Sure enough, all our targets where there. Six pretty faced, no-worries-in-the-world, bratty, jock, attractive wastes of human resources.
`` Fuck them, they deserve it.''
I kept repeating this message, till finally, I reached into my pocket, fit an earbud snugly into each lobe, and pulled out my pyrotechnics. In quick recession I lit each firecracker and slung each in different corners of the target table. It seemed like time slowed, as the fuses reached their nubs...
*CRACK CRACK CRACK*
The firecrackers cracked and popped, shattered the constant moan of student discussion and PA announcements. All five of my friends pulled out their weapons. Tom whipped out his revolver from under his shirt, taking aim and firing into the back of one of the populars head. The girls body slumped forward onto the table, splattering blood all over the kids trays of food. The gun cracked another five times, spitting bullets into the girls limp body, pounding the air over the loud sound of the firecrackers.
I got over the shock of seeing Tom so mindlessly Release, and it drove me to get going. I whipped out my knife, flipping out the razor sharp blade I had spent hours last night sharpening to a glean. My target was Marvin, star lacrosse mid-fielder. I hate that git...
Marvin still seemed to be in shock, and his back was turned to where I was heading in from. Holding the knife in my right hand, I grasped a handful of his hair with my left hand, plunging the knife deep into his throat. Blood immediately fountained like a fire hydrant hit by a car. The knife took a hard tug to wedge from his meaty neck, but after I managed to take it out, I went in for another deep thrust. The adrenaline surged through me as I raked the blade up and down his spine, pulling him down to the floor and thrusting the blade into his eyes and groin.
Next to me, Ariana had our, or our former slut of the year Robin, pinned by her neck as she pummeled her skull with meat hammer. The blows where barely separated, like a full-forced tornado of bashes. Specks of yellow-pink innards landed in Arianas hair, but her face showed no signs of disgust, just pure enjoyment, insanity to its finest. I laughed along with her, not even looking as I stuck my knife deep into Marvins squirming arm.
I took my time and made a good, deep slash across his throat, grabbing a fallen salt shaker and dashing it into his numerous open wounds. He tried to scream, but was gargled and choked by blood drowning out his voice. It was a kind of rush I had never felt before, the feeling of total control I had.
I did a few more dices and pokes before getting up and pocketing my knife in my belt. The area surrounding the table looked like it was painted red. Blood and guts splattered the ceilings, floors, walls, tables, benches, people, everywhere. Me and my friends stood around, Lior using his shirt to clean off the tip of his hand-held drill.
We all smiled, totally droning out the screams and cries of panic surrounding us. We had Released.
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[ WP ] Your ex has suffered an accident and has amnesia , only remembering up to the point where they still deeply loved you . You 're torn on wether to get back together with them and fix anything you did wrong , or crush them with the fact that you 're not together anymore .
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This hit's really close to home. True story.
My buddy, I, and another friend go over to a house party hosted by the older sister of his girlfriend. When we arrive, my gf is incoherent and starts vomiting in the bathroom while I and drunk people give their'good advice'. After a few minutes, I know we need some medical attention. Me and the three previous buddies mentioned, carry her to my car, and to the hospital.
Staff berates us for getting a girl drunk/drugged/etc and we just push on. My gf's parents got called, everyone left, I stayed. Had to talk to her father about whether or not I have seen her drinking to which I give the truth. Not a lot but we have drank together. I end up driving him home later in the night.
I caught wind that an older kid had some pills which probably did this. I go outside of hospital and am threatening murder when her father comes out after I get his number. I feel an arm over my shoulder and tell to me relax. I think that was the point he knew that I had nothing to do with the situation.
Fast forward a few minutes, my gf is demanding to see me. I go in with her parents, docts, nurses present and is committing her deep love for me. This is like 2 weeks after she found out that I cheated. I have never felt more guilt in my life. She literally could n't remember the thing, and it eats at to me this day, apparently..
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[ WP ] Every night more stars disappear from the sky
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The dusty timbers of the rocking chair creak on the uneven decking of the porch. Caleb sips from the steaming mug as he rocks back and forth, savouring the aroma of tea with a splash of whisky thrown in. The crickets chirp in the warm darkness of the summer night and the silver penny of the moon radiates its pale light. Caleb starts as a voice speaks next to his right ear. `` Are you coming in dear? it's starting to cool off a mite.'' `` Goddamit woman! why you sneaking up on me like that? You almost gave me a damned coronary!'' Thora crossed her arms over her ample bosom and sniffed delicately. `` I thought you had seen me. I was stood right next to you Caleb.'' Caleb smiled at her. He still had the smile that she found so attractive when they first met some forty summers past, albeit without his original teeth. `` Sorry Thora. You startled me is all.''
The next morning Caleb awoke to the buzzing of a lawnmower outside and warm sunlight streaming in through the curtains. The good scent of cooking bacon wafted up the stairs. Thora must have gotten an early start this morning. Caleb rolled onto his back and turned his neck to check the old Big Ben wind up clock on the bedside cabinet. Thora must have moved it. Turning his head more, neck twinging slightly, Caleb spotted the clock just where it usually was, next to his glass of water and his aspirin.
His morning ablutions finished, Caleb sat at the breakfast table chewing a bit of toast. Picking up the Sunday paper, the toast frozen halfway to his lips a wave of cold fear rose in Caleb and the toast began to tremble in his hand. Against the bright field of the Sunday broadsheet Caleb could see a circular corona of defocused print, and now that he thought about it, a darker ring around that. `` What's wrong dear? You've gone as pale as a sheet.'' Thora said, concern in her voice. Caleb barely heard her.
Caleb winced as the light stabbed at his eye. `` Well Mr. Watson'' the young optomologist said `` it appears that you have advanced macular degeneration. I'm surprised you have n't noticed any effects before now.'' Clicking the light off and putting the scope back in its foam lined case, the young man steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. `` I wish I had better news, but unfortunately there is n't a great deal we can do about it. It's just part of growing old.''
The dusty timbers of the rocking chair creak on the uneven decking of the porch. Caleb sips from the steaming mug as he rocks back and forth, savouring the aroma of tea with a splash of whisky thrown in. Every night more stars disappear from the sky, swallowed by the encroaching periphery of Calebs failing vision. He looks at the old familiar face of the moon and can see nothing else now. No stars, no clouds, just the moon in the autumn sky.
The dusty timbers of the rocking chair creak on the uneven decking of the porch. Caleb sips from the steaming mug as he rocks back and forth, savouring the aroma of tea with a splash of whisky thrown in. Every night more stars disappear from the sky. Tonight the last star drowned in the soupy darkess of Calebs eyes. Caleb has been expecting this night for six months now. Shivering slightly from the cooling night, he gropes his way indoors. Secretly pleased that Thora is'out with the girls' he shaves as best he can, puts on his clean pyjamas and feels his way to bed. His hands grope in the drawer of the bedside cabinet until they find what he has been collecting for tonight. One after the other he swallows the sleeping pills. One, two... twelve... thirty. The murky dark gives way to a deeper blackness.
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[ WP ] You lay dying of heart failure , and God enters your mind . He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death , losing all memory , but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question . The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive .
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`` If it's just one question, I'll want to get an exhaustive answer,'' I said, careful not to phrase my statement as a question.
`` Exhaustive to a point,'' God replied.
`` Wha -- I mean, tell me what you mean by that.''
`` You do n't need to worry about me misinterpreting what your question is meant to be. I'm in your mind. Anyway, what I mean is that if you do n't fully understand what I'm saying, you'll be able to ask more until you are satisfied with your answer, but only to a point. I'm not willing to go on tangents until you've answered for yourself every question you've ever had.''
I thought for a long time, although the question altogether seemed meaningless to me. What good would come from an answer I'd just forget?
I looked at God closely -- or as closely as I could. He was pretty built, like old statues of Greek gods, his muscles perfectly proportioned and defined. His face, however, was difficult to look at. It just seemed like a shifting mix of features from people I'd known in my life, never quite blending into a complete face.
`` I think I've got a pretty good one,'' I said. `` Or, anyway, it could be good.''
`` It could also be terrible, depending on the answer,'' God said knowingly.
I briefly considered the life I was apparently now leaving. I had lived through a strangely varied set of life events. I had had tremendous luck and incredible, cataclysmic misfortune. I had learned a lot of economics and had become very rich, but different houses of mine had burnt down three times in my life; my nation was frequently embroiled in war but I was always safe and the draft always missed me; animals get riled up whenever I'm around, but their owners almost universally seem to like me ( I've met a lot of girls when they felt the need to apologize for their angry dog ). Apparently the bad luck had just won out, because a moment before this I was struck by lightning. After considering this, I decided my question was probably a good one.
`` How was my life supposed to go?''
God chuckled, having known this was coming. `` You were supposed to ask out Anne in 8th grade,'' he said, `` not sophomore year in high school. She loved you all along, but if you had done it then, she would have said yes, not realizing how much her family would hate you. You would've become more important than her family to her, and when the time came, the two of you would've eloped, ditching both of your families and freewheeling for a couple years. You'd run out of gas while driving late at night, and you'd both walk out to find a gas station. Before you did you'd be attacked by a rabid dog, both of you bitten, and since you'd have no insurance, you would die of your disease at the age of 26.''
I was taken aback. `` I was supposed to die almost 15 years ago?''
`` Yes, at the age of 26, hated by your family, without a penny to your name.''
``... But... why would you do that to me?''
`` I hate mankind,'' he said.
My eyes bolted open as I suddenly understood. God had been trying to kill me for more than a decade. Every time I'd been saved by skills ( social skills, economics knowledge ) or technology ( fucking dog leashes ) or just simple luck ( getting out of burning buildings, not working up the courage to ask out a girl ) -- apparently things out of God's control. A smile broke over my face as the nurses rushed to me; I'd spent my adult life beating God at his own game, and I was in the middle of doing it again.
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[ WP ] Your husband has just passed away and you are now a widow . The next morning , you see your husband , except he is a ghost ... and there are two of him . One ghost embodies his good self while the other embodies his evil self .
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I was surprised to find I had awoken, for that meant that I had slept. This was the first I'd slept since his death, grieving as I was, in ruins, broken from the top to the toes of my spirit, my heart split in two.
Or in three.
There always had seemed to be two of him, two contradictory forces, a yin and a yang, a good and an evil, battling one another inside him for dominance and control of his body, so when he died my heart seemed to split in three: one part remained my own, and it was that part that mourned both the other parts, one for each version of him.
Of course, I liked the good, the wholesome, the sweet, attentive, caring version of him better. The one who remembered my birthday, who bought me flowers, who took my once on an impromptu trip to the airport, having already packed my bags, only to get down on one knee and tell me then and there, in very the airport of all places, that he wanted to marry, to be with me until the day that he died, a day which came too soon, tragically too soon, and that he had flights booked for us -- three weeks, five countries, he had taken it all off work -- oh god, how I miss that man! The good one! The sweet one! The pure, jovial, convivial and eminently beautiful one!
But that was not the one that woke me up that night.
Spectral, grey, a disembodied body hovering yet planted, translucent, shadowy, a present absence, almost like a visible, tangible, substantial void, he stood looming over me, the spirit of the other Isaac, the nasty one, like a hateful, spiteful, terrifying gloom.
`` Oh my god!'' I shrieked when the shape standing over me. I cowered back and through my bedside telephone at him. It passed through him as through air.
`` Who are you?'' I shouted. For I did not yet know that it was he, the malevolent half of my inwardly fractured lover, dearly departed.
`` Ellie,'' he said, coaxing, calmly. I recognized his voice. The calm came from the evil one, always in control, or if not certain to gain control of the situation, of the people in the situation, of the present and the future to come.
`` Isaac?'' I whimpered.
`` Stop cowering. It's only me. Why do you want to make me feel like a monster. I've come back through terrors beyond your reckoning, sweetheart.'' My pet name he spoke maliciously. `` I trod for days, barefoot as a spirit can be, through dim forests of ice, dense, trackless, cracking with cold, in a frozenness beyond cold. I swam through lakes of purgatorial fire, fire in which the very spiritual substance of which I am comprised itself seemed to burn, to blister, to peel off painfully, maddeningly painfully. I stumbled and fell blindly through swathes of void, in darkness to darkness, and the darkness crept into me, changed me, saturated my mind so that I see things, everything strangely and slanted now. And all that is to say nothing of the Otherworld proper, the origin point from which I embarked -- it is... Well. It is well I say nothing of that; I should n't want to poison what visions you might have of the afterlife, some heaven in the clouds I'm sure, some frivolous nonsense that only you, only someone like you, would be capable of imagining. But I did it for you. All for you...''
`` Why are you here?''
`` That's your greeting, then? Already wishing I were gone again. A man's body may hardly grow cold in the earth before his wife might find him little more than a pest or a nuisance.''
`` No!'' I exclaimed. `` You know that's not true! I'm just scared. I fear that I'm going mad, or dreaming. This is so strange, so unusual. I hardly believe that I can trust my ears, my eyes.''
`` A man's body, my body, it rots! It rots, dearest Ellie. This is all that's left of me! This festering spirit, this polluted soul, this pathless wanderer, confined to a hell beyond hell, given leeway only to gaze upon the relative perfection of mortal life, given leeway to see your face only so that I may suffer more in your absence when I am called back, back to the Otherworld!''
`` What can I do?'' I begged, I pleaded. I was used to dealing with this one, the bad one, not infrequently. I still loved him. I still wanted to see him be well. I still wanted him to stay by my side, forever if possible, to never leave me, to never leave me again.
`` When he comes,'' said Isaac, the dark Isaac, the devilish Isaac devilishly, `` he, the other half of me, when he comes --''
`` The other half?''
`` Promise me you will not host him, will not entertain him --''
`` What do you?''
`` Because he is an imposter, he is nothing, he is not truly me.''
At that, Isaac, or his spirit, his spectre, his ghost, however you might find it most palatable to make sense of the strange event I am recounting for you, in earnest, with al the honesty I can muster, in good faith, the best fait, I tell you I swear, at that, he disappeared completely.
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[ WP ] Character has a passionate , desperate , all-consuming desire for a specific career that is totally mundane , boring and average .
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With sirens blazing, I sped the truck through traffic with ease, having done this hundreds of times before. The smoke poured into the sky, filling the air with the familiar, acrid scent of a burning building. It was an office building, I noted as I ran into the blaze. Maneuvering through the mess of burning desks, I could n't help but notice the extensive bobble head collection displayed across one desk.
β Nobody ever sees my bobble heads β I whispered to myself, lingering there for just a moment. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I told myself I could n't waste any more time with these useless dreams. I continued my search for the trapped workers, thinking I could just push these ridiculous ideas to the back of my mind. I thought my willpower would be enough, that is, until I caught the unmistakable smell of fresh ink.
I could visualize it perfectly. The feel of freshly pressed short-sleeved collared cotton shirts, the smooth swivel motion of my very own chair, the crisp taste of drinking water from the thin cone shaped paper cups stacked neatly beside the cooler. I could practically hear the stunning chorus of clicking keyboards, ringing phones, and coworkers β small talk. It all felt so real, but I knew it could never happen.
I needed to get out of there before I fell further into the daydream. It pained me to go back to the dismal reality, but it was what needed to be done. I lifted the woman out of the rubble and carried her over my shoulder. Dodging falling beams and ceiling tiles, we eventually made it to safety. I watched over her as she was brought to the ambulance, but eventually it was time to get back to work.
It took hours, but we got the job done. The fire was out, all was well, and it was time to get back to the station. I gave the building one last long look before turning away for good. I knew it was never meant to be. Not everyone gets to be an office worker, and I knew it was a fact I needed to accept. We left the scene, but the longing feeling remained. I knew that no matter how far away from the building we drove, my heart would forever live in the office.
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Today is the day I die . [ WP ]
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Under this wretched wreckage, my mind wanders, crashing on the life I have lived like a ton of metal. Shock has replaced my my pain with a strange solace. Just like my bones, I remember promises I broke. Just like my breath, shallow, I never found the depth of enrichment. Just like life, I am pinned and I can not turn from the sun in my eye. I could close my eyes, but I want a moment to appreciate the beauty in the face of pain as the sun descends. Just like blood, friends pooled around me and I still said I was alone. This is an odd time to seek acceptance of myself, because today is the day that I die.
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[ TT ] Writing Exercise : Start your story with , `` Get to the courtyard ! '' and continue writing without taking time to pause and think . Just keep writing even if at times you only produce gibberish .
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Get to the Courtyard! The sickly mother yelled to her children. The disc of fire has almost gone into the ground!
Mum, do n't yell, her son said. We're inside. We can hear you fine.
His younger sister eased her mother back down to the bed and patted her forehead with a damp cloth.
Do n't be so mean to mother, Hombar, she's clearly very sick and maybe even dying.
How do you know Gwindelere? You are n't a doctor.
What's a doctor? Oh, are they those new turnips I've been hearing about?
No. Doctors tell you what to do with your body and stab you in the head if it hurts. It releases the demons.
Oh, I get it. That makes sense. I think we should take mum to the doctor.
Sure. Do you know where one is?
No, I do n't. I thought it was a turnip about 5 seconds ago. I could take you to where they are.
No, I would n't think there would be a doctor out in the middle of a turnip field, sister. You're dumb and I hate you sometimes even though you're only 4.
Yes, brother, I am only 4 but I know that you are 10 and so much smarter. Probably as smart as a doctor.
Sister, again, you are so dumb it hurts me. Doctors are at least 12 years old. It takes 6 whole months of doctor-type informational seminars in the church basement for to become a doctor of the realm.
The head stabbing alone takes 4 weeks of practice on witches' and gnomes' skulls before you can become licensed by the FDA ( Feifdom Doctor's Assembly ).
Oh, I get it now brother, thank you. I feel smart because of what you just said. ANyways, maybe mum wo n't die because you can be a doctor in 6 months.
No, sister Gwindels, I do n't want to be. I'm going to school to be a minstrel. I do n't care for the path of medicene. Give me a lute any day.
Okay, but mum is probably going to die because we are poor and she wo n't stop sweating and yelling about the courtyard.
Well, let's just take her to the courtyard and maybe she will shut up.
*They go to the courtyard*
We got here before the fire thing went down. Maybe that will heal her, Gwindelsere.
Are you a doctor now Harbo? DId you heal her?
GET AWAY FROM THE COURTYARD! The mother is shaking violently. Boils are swelling over her face and neck.
Gwindels says to her fake doctor brother, You should probably just be a minstrel.
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[ WP ] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve , fully expecting them to die . One of the Angels just informed him they survived , and the population is over 7 billion .
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`` Sir! I believe that Lucifer is cheating.'' States Metatron, his tone annoyed as he tabs through a series of numbers and files. `` If that's the case I'm not sure on who should be winning the game.''
`` Lucifer is cheating on what? What game? Where are you playing?'' States God, as he places his paintbrush down, leaving what looks like a 4th dimensional solar system in hiatus as he turns to look at his Angel.
`` Return to Eden. In the break room... You know the game?'' The last phrase coming out as a hopeful question. But God just frowns.
`` Return to Eden?'' He mutters. Steadily sifting through trillions of projects, each ranging in size from universe to atom. `` I made no such game.''
`` Well,'' Mutters Metatron, quickly looking through his notes, obviously shocked at such a statement from the lord of everything.
`` It was just known as Edinnu when you last touched it. Though the humans had a hard time pronouncing it, they shortened it to Eden. It was the Garden on the Steppe, the third stone away from the Zion Star.'' Comments another voice, one that demanded authority, but was n't aggressive about it.
God's eyes widened with realization. `` The one with the Kin-slaying!?''
`` Yes.'' Responds Lucifer with a small smile. He looks at Metatron. `` You left it in disgust, and no one moved it. But when you reorganized our offices, the room hosting that planet..''
`` Became the break room.'' Finishes God before Lucifer can go any further. `` How many redundancies and self corrections has it gone through?''
It was at this time that Metatron spoke up. `` All of them sir. The last one was quite a while ago. Prophets, secondary beings, altered histories, mystically enhanced beings, saviors... All design setups are well past their expiration date.''
`` Really,'' Mutters God. `` And you're doing what with them?'' He asks, only for Lucifer's voice to echo through the halls as a laugh.
`` It's a game that Micheal and I created.'' Responds Lucifer with a smile. `` Return to Eden. We gave humanity a goal. All they have to do is return to the state of kindness and peace that they had before the apple, before their civilization ends. We score points and mark office benefits based on the success and failures of the teams.'' States Lucifer with a grin.
`` Teams?'' Asks God, standing up.
`` Peace and Prosperity, versus War and Destruction. My team is War.'' Responds Lucifer. `` And ever since Archduke Franz Ferdinand, my team has been WAY in the lead.''
`` Show me.'' Responds God.
Lucifer and Metatron bow and start leading the way. God follows and you can almost feel the whispers and awe among the court of angels. God rarely left his office, and it was even more rare for him to be doing it without some new goal or phase for this plane of reality. As they maneuvered through the halls, they hear a series of cheers. Metatron quickly flips through his papers. `` Leo won an Oscar and used the moment to start another press on fixing the planet's climate change.''
Lucifer's face scrunches with disappointment. `` What about the Republican party?''
Metatron flips the page. `` Still scoring you points.''
`` Fair enough.'' States Lucifer as he opens the door to the break room. Immediately causing a flurry of movement as God enters, making each and every angel immediately wonder if there was a project they were behind on.
God just stares at the planet with an appraising look. `` 7 billion... and look at that. There's still hope... There's still a lot of pain.'' He continued to mutter as he appraised the planet, and even Lucifer had to gasp as thousands of statistics and figures swirl around the planet. Showing things that none of the angels had considered looking at on how the planet was doing.
God then reached over and took the sheets of paper from Metatron and flipped through them casually before handing them back. `` Lucifer exploited a legal loophole. Far from fair, but still legal by your rules.'' God then takes a pen and starts writing in small functions and rules into the Earth setting.
`` What just happened?'' Asks a voice from behind God. It was Michael, and he was staring at a portable device keeping track of Earth. Then he realizes who was in the room in front of him. `` Sir!''
`` After penance, all go to heaven, win or lose.'' States God. `` I wo n't exile those who I forgot. All deserve peace in the end.''
At that both Michael and Lucifer blink. `` Yes sir.'' they both state in unison.
God puts a hand on each of their shoulders, and then steps out of the break room, much to the relief of all of the minor angels. Some go back to work, as others return to their break.
Metatron looks up at the two. `` God said that the use of the loophole was legal. The Satan gambit is still in effect.'' And with that Lucifer grins and Michael face-palms.
`` So how much does that make me owe you?'' Asks Micheal in a pained voice.
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[ WP ] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence . The only catch is the more it is shortened , the worse the conditions are where they are held . Describe a one night stay .
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12 hours is all it takes for an inmate to be freed of his sentence. A man convicted for 25 years can be out in a single night. It is a miracle and a testament to our prison reform. We were encouraged by the constant criticism we faced from those goddamn Europeans. We were sick of being told how massive our prison problem was. We were tired of hearing them throw around that buzzword `` rehabilitation''. So, we changed the definition of rehabilitation.
Due to changes in government a shift came about in our industry. Sure keeping prisons stuffed was profitable, but rehabilitation become extremely lucrative. The Wint Bill incentivized rehabilitation, it just did n't define rehabilitation. So that's where we came in. We introduced the Sandburg-Forsythe procedure and we changed the prison system.
Imagine a single procedure can not only shorten a prison sentence down to one night. Imagine a rehabilitation method that is so effective the repeat offender rate of those who have undergone it is less than 10 %. Imagine all it takes to fix the prison systems is one cocktail administered intravenously over 12 hours. In the end you have a prisoner who is perfectly complacent, lacks any aggression and is highly suggestible. There is no visible brain damage and very few cases have ever complained about the procedure. In one night, a dangerous animal can become a pleasant worker.
Let me ask you Mr. Nakamura, can you afford to not adopt or system?
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[ WP ] Take one adult topic ( depression , suicide , drug abuse , etc . ) and create a children 's fairy tale around it .
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Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wanted to visit the Land of Dreams.
Every night she would close her eyes and wish with all her heart she could go there. But every morning she would open her eyes and find herself back in the world we call life.
This little girl wanted to go to the land of dreams so badly that she read every book in the library in her town, and then the libraries in the neighbouring city, and then she traveled all over the world looking for a guide that would take her the Land of Dreams.
But alas, as she got older, it was harder and harder to hold onto her wish and the world of life kept its grip on her tight and she all but forgot about the Land of Dreams.
Until one day, when she was much older, she became very sick and nobody wanted to be her friend anymore. They whispered behind her back, and made fun of her, and this little girl now a young women remembered her dearest wish.
So she returned to her search and low and behold the secret to the Land of Dreams was in front of her all the time in the form of her grandmother's sleep medication.
So happy, so delighted, the young woman took the bottle to bed with her one night and wrote a letter telling her family she was going to the Land of Dreams and that nobody should be sad, because it was what she always wanted. So she swallowed all the pills in her grandmother's bottle and drank them down with a glass of water.
And when she shut her eyes that night, she did not wake in the land we call life, but instead, she was a child again playing in the Land of Dreams.
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[ WP ] Every 100 years , each country is allowed to bring to life it 's own folklore mythical creature , to compete with other countries ' in a tournament .
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This is my first writing prompt and it is kind of short, but here it is:
`` Jeffrey! Get in here! It's almost time for the tournament and we have n't even chosen a creature!''
`` I do n't know, just pick something, like say... Robin Hood or whatever.''
`` Robin Hood is n't a creature! Have you even read the rule book?''
`` I skimmed through it.''
`` AND MISSED THE FACT THAT WE HAVE TO PICK A CREATURE TO BATTLE THE OTHER COUNTRIES' BLOODY CREATURES?!''
`` I'm not a very good reader...''
`` I give up, we're just going to have to lose to China with one of those massive bloody dragons that they bring every time... THEY HAVE SO MANY DAMN DRAGONS!!!''
`` Oh! I know! -''
`` No, you're useless! We need good ideas. But what is a good creature for battle?''
`` We could choo-''
`` I said we need good ideas, not your ideas!... Wait one second, I've got it! We could choose the Loch Ness Monster- No.. That needs water, with the dirt arena floors it will never win.''
`` I HAVE AN IDEA RONALD!''
`` Alright let's hear it...''
`` We could choose our OWN dragon.''
`` That's it! We'll use our own dragon for the battle!''
`` But, Ron. I literally just said that.''
`` What'd you say Jeffrey?''
`` Oh, it's nothing.''
`` Alright let's get on then. We have a battle to win.''
England then proceeded to lose in the first round to the Russian's more powerful Zmey Gorynych, a three headed dragon of their culture.
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[ WP ] During a flight you accidentally damage a window and find out that they are n't actually windows , but monitors .
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`` Stewardess, I believe my window is broken. I paid for a window seat so I could have a great view! This is, well this is not what I wanted at all!'' An older woman, wearing an obnoxiously brimmed spring hat, slumps disheartened in an empty row of seats.
A young stewardess turned and fought rolling her eyes at the passengers petulant tone. `` What seems to be the trouble, Ma'am?''
`` It's my window, dear. Well here, look. It just does n't look quite right, you see how it's kinda bulbous and distorted? Maybe something is wrong with the glass? I was really looking forward to the view over Chicago.''
Without even looking at the window, the stewardess leans over, closes the window shade, and fixes her gaze upon the woman. She knows the type. The squeaky wheel; always complaining about nothing to get compensated by the airline. The stewardess drops her demeanor slightly as she grits through a sneer. Lightly interrogating the woman, `` and you're sure this is how you found it?''
`` Well, I opened the shade and - I do n't know if I did something wrong, or...?''
`` Or what?''
The affluent looking woman's face contorts into a childish pout; found out, she lets out a belabored sigh.
`` I'm sorry, but I have to admit to you, when I opened the shade I may have scratched the window just a tiny nick with my new engagement ring.'' Quickly adding, `` but if you ask me dear, it's the airlines fault for making their windows so fragile!''
Exasperated not only by the woman's entitlement, but also by her blatant attempts at flaunting her wealth and station, the stewardess contorts a smile and coughs out an, `` I'll see what I can do.'' As she turns to leave, she's stopped once more by the lilting pitch of the passenger.
`` Oh, and dear, one last thing. I do n't know if this is important, but, when I nicked the window ever-so-slightly... I heard a faint hissing noise. It's gone away since but, I just thought you should know. In the meantime, if you could move me to a different window seat; maybe see if there is one open in first class?''
`` Hissing!?'' Her thoughts easily push past the passengers thinly veiled request, and alarmed, her thoughts rush to the cabin pressure.'That lady had a thick diamond on her finger, but there's no way she could have damaged the window that badly?' Perplexed, and perhaps against her better judgement, she decides to re-open the window shade to inspect the damage.
Again, she leans over the passenger and draws the window shade. As she slides her fingers under the plastic panel and lifts; she feels a quick pinch and pulls her hand back.
`` What the hell?'' She shakes her hand and looks at her fingers. Below her perfectly manicured cuticles, painted in the approved company colors, were the tiny puncture-holes of bite marks. Alarmed, she quickly palms the panel and flicks it up with her wrist.
Before her, in place of a window, lies the bloodied, scaly reptilian body of a lizard, contorted into a disk shape, and placed into the airplanes window portal. Hissing weakly in pain the lizard bares it's maw with it's neck's limited range of motion.
The stewardess reels back into the aisle letting out an involuntary shriek. As she looks around the rest of the plane she notes to her horror that all the passengers have vanished. Frantic, the stewardess rushes to the other shaded windows. Pull after pull, reveal lizard after lizard. Losing track, realizes all of the windows have been turned to these contorted lizards, all hissing her direction.
She looks at the previously occupied seats only to find empty clothes. She returns her sight to the only other person on the plane. Still seated in her seat, the woman in the large brimmed hat slowly looks up and smiles through her bright red lipstick. The passenger stands and walks deliberately down the aisle toward the horror-stricken flight attendant. She stops curtly in front of the stewardess and hands the flight attendant a business card. After she's sure it's accepted, the woman sashays past the young lady, opens the door to the jet bridge, exits, and closes the door behind her.
As a mangled hissing undulates from the walls around her, the young woman looks on in horror. Scared to raise her hand to read the card, but her morbid curiosity again gets the better of her. Shaking in her hand, the thick, cream dipped, business card comes into view. She stabilizes her hands against the back of a seat long enough to read it.
Her head lifts from reading the card, tearing up slightly, she shakes her head in agreement. Leaving the card atop the seat, she composes herself, fixes her posture, and wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes. Crestfallen,'well, I need the money', slips out on her breath, if only reaffirm herself. As she starts down the aisle to the back of the plane she disrobes. She stops at a seat, picks up a set of bulky mans clothes and puts them on.
She looks awkward in the loose brown corduroy slacks, belt pulled tight to her hips and untucked cream business shirt. As she throws on the overcoat and starts to tie the crimson tie, she feels a cold wet sensation on the sides of her torso. She glances down and shuffles through the ripples of loose fabric. Pit stains left from the previous owner. She feels disgusted, but oddly comforted by the fact that another person was actually there just minutes ago. As she finishes the last button on the extra large shirt, she tucks it into her pants, and sits in the seat previously occupied by the clothes. She twists to the far side of the chair and pulls up a laptop bag. Releasing the laptop from it's safety, we see her unfold it. A familiar logo glows as the reassuring choir of the OS drowns out the hissing for a moment.
The plane hits turbulence and the seats start to shake violently. The lights flicker for a moment, stabilizing briefly, and then going completely dark. The young lady digs in the pockets of her new clothes, takes out a pair of glasses and wears them. She squints at the screen a few times and starts typing through the hissing and shaking. We see the interior of the plane shake intermittently in the ambient glow of the computer screen. As the turbulence picks up, the business card flutters off the seat, landing on the dimly lit floor. In the darkness, the rim-lit letters of the embossed card radiate the message, `` check your email''.
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[ WP ] People act in real life the way they do online .
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*This is my first attempt at a writing prompt. I know it is pretty boring, but I figured it'd be good to get some practice. I'd love to hear what I should improve upon. I want to apologize in advance for any errors, as well. It's late and I'm not feeling like going through and editing everything. *
Henry hated it. All of it.
Communication had been reduced to attempts at drawing the most laughter and support. If enough people liked what you had to say, then you had to be right. That was the current logic.
The worst of all was how people treated each other. A simple discussion with another person would become a battle to see who could get the most people on your side.
He hated being the old guy who talked about how things used to be, but this was n't just about the young kids rebelling. This was about a fundamental difference in how people interacted with each other.
In his lifetime he saw a gradual change in people. They no longer cared about the person they were talking to. Their main focus became themselves and how they could get the most laughter or support.
You could count on plenty of insults being hurled for almost no reason at all. Henry was called'old' and'ancient' pretty much daily. Sure, he was old. He knew it. Their venom did n't affect him at all, but he knew it hurt some of his friends. No one cared how their harsh words would be received. They went ahead and said what they wanted. Gone were the days when people thought before they spoke. Thoughts became words with almost no hesitation.
Grammar did n't matter either. As long as their point was conveyed, no one cared how they sounded, and almost no one else bothered to correct them because they themselves did n't care either.
One of the few things that did n't see much in the way of change was politics and political elections. Campaigning was still a matter of getting the most people to agree with and back you. It was a popularity contest, plain and simple.
Henry knew the reason for it all: those damn screens. When he was growing up life was different, but then computers came along, followed by portable phones, cell phones, laptops, smart phones, tablets, smart watches, smart glasses, smart appliances, smart houses, smart cars, and a million other smart things that, in his opinion, did n't make the user any smarter and actually made them much, much dumber. All people did was look at their screens. Social interaction with those surrounding you was reduced.
Eventually, everything anyone did involved some sort of smart technology that allowed the user to post, display, share, comment, and discuss whatever insignificant thing that person was doing. It pervaded people's entire lives and pretty soon the line that separated virtual and reality blurred, causing the way people communicated with each other online to spill over to real life. And how could it not? The amount of time the average person spent in social interaction on the internet greatly outweighed the time they spent in real social interaction with people around them.
Henry wanted to stop it all. He might have been 72, but he felt 52 and he would use his age to his advantage. No one would suspect him to be up to no good, and in a way they would be right. What he was going to do should n't be considered `` no good.'' He was doing people a service. They might be mad initially, but they'd come around. He could n't leave this world knowing he did n't try and stop the stupidity. He would make a difference.
He was going to bring down the internet.
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[ WP ] You come home to find your wife and son sitting at the table , waiting for you to sit and have dinner with them . Which is odd , seeing as how they both disappeared 10 years ago ...
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It was the smell that made me stop in my tracks. The warm delicious scent of a casserole in the oven that filled the entire little apartment.
Except I'd been at work all day and only just walked in the door. I froze, in the middle of hanging my coat on the wall. Was someone in my apartment? How the hell did they get in?
I finished hanging up my coat and stepped slowly out of the entryway. Peering around the wall I saw the light on - and two people seated at the small kitchen table. On the table was a still-steaming casserole dish. Three plates were heaped with food. The table was set and a full glass of wine was in front of the empty spot at the table. My stomach growled at the smell and the sight, but all I could was stare.
`` Lisa?''
She was as beautiful as the day I last saw her. Long brown curls framing her face while the rest were swept up and back in a messy pony tail. She even wore the same necklace - a tiny silver charm I'd given her on our first anniversary - she'd worn it the day she disappeared. She wore a simple green dress, the color was so rich against her pale skin but it brought out her eyes. She smiled, and I thought my heart might burst through my chest.
`` Is it really you?'' I could n't believe it.
`` Hey honey, you're late. Take a seat!'' Lisa gestured to the empty spot at the table. `` Jason's been waiting so patiently for you to get home.''
I could n't believe my eyes and ears. Also at the table was my son. A messy mop of brown hair and black glasses he pushed up on his nose with one finger. Just how I remembered. He shot me a shy smile and I melted.
`` Hey buddy!'' I took a few quick long strides to his chair. `` We can eat in just a minute, first I need a hug!'' I reached for him.
And felt a sharp jolt of pain in my chest. My vision danced with spots.
`` Honey take a seat, before it gets cold.'' Lisa's voice brought my focus back to the room and to her. She had that warm motherly tone in her command that made me decide to listen to her.
`` I am starving.'' I moved to sit down, but stopped with one hand on my chair. `` How where have you been? It's been so long I -''
Another bolt of pain raced through my chest and I doubled over the chair.
`` We can talk while we eat - take a seat!'' Lisa smiled and gestured again to the chair. She seemed unphased and unrushed. `` It's your favorite.''
My favorite dish. I had n't had it in ten years. Not since she disappeared with Jason. And left the casserole in the oven. I'd come home to a burned mess and the fire department putting out a small kitchen fire. And no family. Ten years, and not a word.
Today had been such a normal day. I'd gone to work, and come home. It was snowing - the first of the winter. Everyone had forgotten how to drive and the commute was taking twice as long as usual. Forecast said we'd have a storm tomorrow.
`` Honey sit down.'' This time Lisa's tone was serious. I laughed, to hear that no-nonsense beautiful voice again. I could n't stand it anymore so I ignored her and dashed around the table to sweep her up in my arms and kiss her cheek.
As I slid my arms around her waist I saw a look of horror on her beautiful face. And all I heard was:
CLEAR!
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[ WP ] A Nazi soldier is ordered by an officer to execute a P.O.W ... he refuses .
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The Judge looked at the defendant.
`` So Corpral Rote why did you not shoot the Jew as ordered?''
`` Sir, I knew the man.''
`` That, Corpral Rote, is irrelevant. Bolshevik Jewish terrorists must die.''
`` Sir, I knew the man from when he used to work for my father. He is Aryan, he has a Polish mother and a German father, sir.''
`` Ah, so...''. The judge pondered.
`` Would you have shot him if he had been Jewish?''
`` Oh, absolutely sir''. Rote smiled as he spoke.
`` Very well Corporal Rote. And I take it that that is why you disobeyed the order?''
`` Yes sir. I am happy to kill Yids, sir''
`` Mmmm. You must obey orders Rote. However, reluctance to shed the blood of a Half-Aryan is a mitigating circumstance in my view. Execution is inappropriate in this particular case. 999 Punishment battalion, 3 weeks close arrest, **Private** Rote. Next case!''
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[ WP ] Describe the tale of a two layer planet -- The day civilizations meet , one living under a roof of sky , and the other living under a roof of stone .
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His hands slid over the cold grey rock as he pulled himself higher. His body was wrapped firm around the cool wet stalactite, his feet dug hard into the sides. A rope held his waist tight, but it gave no reprieve to his fear of plummeting to his own demise. Like many unsuccessfuls before him, he dangled hundreds of feet above the vast town he called home. Their tallest of buildings were but toys to his naked eye now. It was stupid, unconscionable even, to attempt such a stunt. He'd be number fifty one this year alone if he fell. Ignorant and uncaring of death as he may be, he was steadfastly determined to find the source.
The elders spoke of the quiet time, when their world was humble and sound. As the years grew on the strange rumblings from above began. First, they were but whispers in the air. Nothing but small sounds that made the heart flutter and ears to jerk in given direction for clarity. In the settling quiet, the sounds were brushed off and laughed at. Like all things weary to the mind and unchecked, they grew louder. Nearly fifty years after they had begun, it was a rumbling chorus of buzzing sound the emanated through their home. Older generations denied existence of such questionable accusation. But those who knew better questioned what lie beyond their sedimental roof.
Was it some beast of large stature looking to feast upon their homes? Was the roof crumbling under its own weight from years of digging and mining for materials to create their world? Why had they always dug down never up? Those in charge could no longer answer these questions. Rumors of revolution crept along the ears of all who were despondent with their world. One day it happened just like that. A young one barely the age of maturity had gone missing. After searching the long spans of time someone noticed a dark speck crawling along the ceiling many heights up. Then positioned they had begun the task of chipping away until an errant swing through off their balance and to the floor they plummeted.
As time passed, the noise grew, as did those who dare attempt to finish the job of tunneling up. Those in charge were powerless to stop such foolishness. They were safe and sound in their homes, why dare to test death. But as he hung up there his world below light up in the bioluminescent fungus, he knew this time would be different. He would not fail, not like the others. For the tenth time he checked his rope and shifted his feet, no he would not fall. A small satchel hung from his belt and from it he produced the light blue glowing fungus. He held it to the dark tiny cavern that so many before had created. It was a work of two hundred dead with a thousand swings of various tools. But he had something they did not, his stature.
He took a deep breath as his loose hand felt along the smooth rocky roof above him. His hand passed into darkness, he'd found the hole. So many had put so much work into it, it had to be big enough for him to fit. He tossed the fungus into the depth of the hole in the ceiling. Beneath his feet, like countless times before, a gawking crowd gathered round. Their voices but murmurs to the rumbling noises above. His one hand held tight to the lip of the hole. A tingling rushed through his body. It was a faint vibration that echoed the rumbling. In a single move he released the rope from his waist and swung his other hand to the lip. For a brief heartbeat he was at the mercy of gravity. With every thing within himself, he pulled up and tumbled into the hole.
It was smaller then he'd perceived. The walls around him vibrated almost undulating. The sound form above was a cool buzzing about him that he could n't escape. Now he wondered if those before him threw themselves to their death from the sheer maddening noise. It has been but mere seconds and he was ready to quit. But he could n't now, no, returning would mean exile and death was not an option. No, instead with a small pick he began to dig. Not on the slight upward slope as others had begun, no, straight up through the ceiling. He worked hard and steady the rock easily falling to the strength of his swings. There was n't much room to work but he made use of his space.
After some time he was a body length up and two body widths wide dug into the roof. He dropped the pick and slumped down to sip cool water from his pouch. He debated how much time had passed. As he sat he took notice of the difference in this hole. He brought his glowing fungus to the walls, not the same cold grey color he was used to. They were different, layered colors he did not recognize. Even their touch was alien to him. Porous and rough littered with tiny harsh pieces embedded within. Satisfied he'd wasted enough time he returned to his task.
Fate was on his side that day, if you believe in such. For in the midst of his swings a new sound echoed in his hollowed out chamber. Was not the buzzing from above, no, this was a low rumble. With it the vibration grew stronger more violent. He paused his work and began to fear for his life. He dropped his pick and pushed himself back away from his efforts. The rumbling and shaking intensified traveling down to the floor below. He could hear screams from his fellow citizens, their cries of ringing in the air. The ceiling began to crumble away. It cracked and split sending stalactites darting to the town below. Like a handful of crackers being crushed violently, pieces of their roof came down upon them.
From above a piercing sight of yellowed light rushed into their world blinding them all. As they all ran screaming for cover the flash of new light stunned them in place. A strange heat followed suit filling the chamber quickly. In those moments the cave in quieted and the air began to become still. Dust and debris floated gently to the ground in the large beam of light that flooded their home.
He had kept his eyes closed during the frightening ordeal. He desperately tried to pry them open but the glaring yellow light forced him to remain in a tight fetal position against the cool rock wall. The noise above had changed, the rumbling and buzzing was now a soothing chant of what sounded as voices. Something warm touched him, began to pull at his skin. He tried to fight but fear kept him huddled up, crying inside. The heat intensified as he was pulled towards the light. Fire danced on his skin as he screamed out in pain unable to comprehend what fate had befallen him.
`` Jesus, would you look at that? `` The foreman stood by the hole. Work had stopped at the office complex site as workers gathered around the sink hole.
`` Definitely not one of our guys Tommy. No one was nearby when it fell in. Pretty sure he was already down there.''
`` Looks like a goddamn community down there. Where the hell did that come from?''
`` You do n't think... You remember that tiny coal mining town that was about 2 miles south of here. Collapsed in on itself back in the 1800's, they assumed all those people just died. Legend says no one even bothered to look for survivors. Maybe, nah that's crazy, but just maybe.''
`` I dunno, crazy things have happened I guess.'' The foreman turned his attention to the pale colored man writhing on the ground. `` You'll be okay we ai n't gon na hurt ya. Is the paramedics on the way?''
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[ WP ] Long before you were born , your father promised his firstborn to otherworldly beings in exchange for power . In a twist of fate , your mother also promised her firstborn to dark gods .
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As the cold wind tickled by I stood at the top of the building soaking in the stars, those big bright balls of fire. I could feel the warm aura of peace wash over me.
No, waitβ¦that β s the fire.
I opened my eyes annoyed, there were no stars, just the flames that burned the city.
It is so easy to get lost in memories when you are as old as me, and some memories you want to lose and throw away.
And those pesky ones stick. Well, I might as well get a recap, considering how I am not going to get that recap when I die. Immortality has its own issues. And power too. Actually they are the ones that lead me here.
It β s all a classic case of he wanted, she wanted.
Father wanted to rule the Earth ( such low ambitions, I know! ), but the weakling he was, he decided to pray. And the Orexes delighted to have their egos stroked, granted him his wish. They were senile, but not that stupid. They knew the old prophecies that foretold my coming, and giving up a measly planet to get me was a better bargain than they could have hoped for.
Now, my mother was a little smarter and ambitious, so she decided to please the dark gods to get her own army. She β prayed β with all of them, until one night, one of them lost in his senses gave her his everything ( thinking with his tentacles! ) but before she could jump, his blood rushed back. He asked for a price he thought a woman couldn β t pay, but he obviously didn β t know mother. She left accomplished, with having given up nothing of worth.
Well, she didn β t know the prophecies so that β s what she thought.
Anyways fast forward a few years, they met at a drinking black hole and they β prayed β together. Next day, mother woke up with a hangover and growing belly. I came out 9 days later and explained her everything.
Before I was even halfway done, the Orexes came. Defeating them was easy, considering how I am the prophesised ruler of the millennium. Next I went to the cave where I knew I would find the dark soul who had claimed me before I was born. Killing him felt like mercy, he was so far gone in his crystal addiction.
And then I knew, I had to begin building my empire. Mother decided to work under me, giving me her army, which had grown considerably now.
There is nothing much worth remembering after that, except for the day Father called me, asking me to call him Dad. I was so enraged, killing him wasn β t even that fun. And also, the day Mother died. She had been a good companion and knew that she could n't defeat me, so she even stayed loyal.
And now today, the last city burned, and all the universes call me their King.
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[ WP ] It turns out if you 're a virgin at thirty a human becomes a wizard , however the government wants to stop this from happening at all costs .
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int. abandoned room - evening
TESLA - male 24 - runs in, breathing heavily, and shuts the door behind him. He's obviously being chased: sounds of pursuit are heard behind the door, fading away. TESLA sinks down to sit by the door. He's on the verge of breaking down. A sound is heard across the room, he flinches.
CUT TO:
A shadowy corner of the room, where KARLA crouches, holding a baseball bat and trying to make herself smaller. She eyes TESLA warily, and flinches when he does.
TESLA: Shit!
TESLA crawls towards her, finger to his mouth, begging her to `` shush'', she brandishes the bat, and he freezes.
KARLA: How old are you?
TESLA: Shush!
KARLA ( louder ): How old are you?
TESLA: 24 okay? 24!
KARLA: Shit.
TESLA: Yeah, I know. So please, just... Shush!
KARLA puts the bat down, crawls out of the shadows hesitantly.
TESLA: I ca n't let them get me, alright, I ca n't.
KARLA: So does that mean you're...?
TESLA ( chuckles ): Virgin. Yeah.
KARLA: Me too.
TESLA: How old are you?
KARLA: 24.
TESLA ( desperate ): Shit... But then you know! You're like me, are n't you? You wan na make a difference, yeah?
KARLA: Yeah, I do. I've thought about it for years, ever since I can remember, I know exactly what I'd do.
Over the following they crawl closer and closer to each other, getting more excited.
TESLA: Attract a small but devoted following; allow them to reach 25 as well.
KARLA: Burn their centers of power. Pyrokinesis.
TESLA: Restructure society.
KARLA: Test people at age 20 for positions of power. Use mind reading, and-
TESLA: Those that are worthy can make it to 25-
KARLA: Then they're part of the new government-
TESLA: One that does n't oppress people-
KARLA: One that allows magic to exist because it is the basis of its own power-
BOTH: One that does n't force you to give it up along with your virginity before 25!
Sounds outside, both flinch, stay quiet. Then:
TESLA: How did it get this way?
KARLA: Magic is connected to wonder, to innocence. Stuff you lose when you have sex. Apparently.
TESLA: Yeah, I know, I went through the Edification System, same as anyone, I just mean... Why would they force us to get rid of it? Why do n't they want magic in the world?
KARLA: It's dangerous.
TESLA: And they're not?
KARLA: Right! You need communication across all branches, across all peoples, you need-
BOTH: Trust!
They share a tender look.
KARLA: We could do it.
TESLA: We could.
KARLA: We could be the start! You only need two people, two people who trust each other. With magic, two people could do it, right, watch each other's backs, and change everything?
TESLA ( enchanted ): Yeah.
KARLA: We could, we should-
TESLA: Yeah!
KARLA: Trust me?
Pause
TESLA: Yeah.
KARLA hesitates, but seems so happy. She ca n't control herself, she leans in, they kiss. She backs away. TESLA leans in, he wants more, they begin making out. They sink out of frame.
CUT TO:
TESLA and KARLA are naked and sleeping under a blanket on the ground. KARLA wakes, checks to see TESLA is asleep, he is.
CUT TO:
KARLA, dressed, picks up a watch on the ground where she hid in the shadows. She brings it to her lips, speaking softly:
KARLA: It's done.
VOICE: Excellent work, agent. Return for debriefing.
KARLA: Roger.
BLACKOUT
END
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[ WP ] All races have some form of magic , but everyone fears the humans for their power : meme magic
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*'' The power of Pepe compels you! THE POWER OF PEPE COMPELS YOU! `` *
It was very satisfying to watch the puny elf dissolve before me. That'd teach his kind to come this way again.
The elves were confined to the forest, as were all the other non-humans. The macros and gifs scribbled along the edges kept them trapped there. But every so often the WiFi would go down, or something would get deleted, and someone would slip through. Why they even bothered trying was beyond me. I scanned the perimeter of my property, then entered the woods. We were supposed to stay out, but the woods were beautiful. It was such a shame they were infested with these creatures and their normie magic.
I was deep in the forest when I began to hear footsteps. I hastily pulled out my book of greentext spells and my Dagger of Dankness, ready for anything. That was when the dragon appeared. It was certainly formidable, but surely nothing was immune to the power of meme magic.
`` In the name of Almighty Kek, I banish thee from my presence. *Be gone! *''
But the dragon did n't move. Instead, it approached me. The audacity! This simply could n't stand. I pointed my dagger at the beast and prepared to defeat it.
`` Bush did 9/11,'' I said, but it kept coming. `` And 7/11!''
Nothing could stop this thing. It came close enough that I could attack its neck with the dagger. Amazingly, the dankness had no effect. The dragon grabbed the dagger from my hand with its mouth and tossed it out of the forest. At a loss, I removed my Nut Button and my Trump Card, my last-resort options. Then the dragon blew a wave of fiery genders from its mouth, rendering my button and card useless. I fell backwards to the ground and prepared for an untimely death.
`` REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE'' I cried as my final battle cry.
The dragon stopped. It seemed taken aback, and fell to the ground. Somewhat more confident, I stood and repeated my autistic screeching.
`` REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! REEEEEEEEEEEEEE!''
The dragon shook and trembled before my power.
**'' REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! `` **
Finally, it exploded, triggered to death. I grabbed my sword and supplies and left. I've realized that there's a reason we stay out of Tumblrdell, and I do n't think I'll be going back there anytime soon.
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[ WP ] `` I ca n't fix it , but I sure as hell can make it better ! ''
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`` So your Ford finally kicked the bucket huh? Why'd you disgrace our family like this Todd?'' Rob asked Todd, leaning under the hood,
his dark oily hands bracing against the radiator while he peered at the disgrace that passed for a motor before him. The twisted
design and use of cheap parts making his stomach churn, he swore some parts were n't even necessary but were appealing to the eye so
they were added. Todd himself peering under the hood of his beloved mustang shines a light at this part and that, his greasy hands
pawing at anything, and everything, trying to find the component at fault. His uncle continues berating his choice in cars, and how
disappointed the family is. `` Can.. Can you fix it rob?'' Todd asks, completely out of options and upset at the whole situation.
`` I ca n't fix it, but I can sure as hell make it better.'' Rob sighs, he wipes his dirty hands on Todd's shirt and instructs him to get in.
He shuts the door behind him, a little bewildered and frankly upset that Rob is treating him like shit again.
Todd hears a loud thump on the outside of his car, he emerges to see a red sticker on the driver side door of his car `` I'm a dumb ass'' the
sticker reads. `` Hell of a lot better. Now get that crap outta my yard.'' Rob walks off toward the house, leaving Todd's mouth agape.
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[ WP ] Your best friend is replaced by an imposter , you only notice after they make a seemingly subtle mistake .
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Zack is not who he say he is. No one believes me. They think I'm crazy. I try to warn them but they all laugh.
`` Jimmy are you alright, you look pale'' mom replied as she touched my forehead, feeling if I have a fever.
`` Mom! Zack! he's!''
`` Right here, Zack is joining us for dinner.''
I looked in the living room. Zack was sitting right there, playing with, Tula, my dog.
`` Hey, Jimmy'' Nice to..see you smirked Zack.
He knows. He knows that I know his secret. What should I do? I have to warn them I have to get them away!
`` Zack... hey, how are you?'' I try to play it off. I have to think of something.
`` I'm good Jim, say I have a question. If someone found out something about someone what should they do about it?''
Sweat, sweat running down my forehead. Zack came closer, smiling. He looked at me with those cold, brown eyes. Eyes that belong to a murderer.
Before I could reply mom called out.
`` Boys! dinner is ready''
Zack walked past me. I felt shivers down my spine. I felt goosebumps. Dinner was Spaghetti and meatballs. Mom and Dad were talking and laughing with Zack.
`` And then Jimmy came out of no where and pulled his pants down!!!'' said Zack as he told my parents the time me and him got even with Steven Jones.
`` Jimmy you got great pal here'' replied dad smiling at Zack. `` Everyone needs a good freinds''
`` Yes, yes I agree with you're father, dear''
Dad, looking at me. `` Son, Zack tells me he's going a camping trip and want's you to go with him.''
`` You should go, dear''
`` Yeah Jimmy, It'll be fun''
All of them laughing. I could n't take it anymore. I wanted to lash out, warn them about Zack, but will they believe me? I mean they ARE my parents. Is n't a parent supposed to believe in their child''
I ca n't take it anymore. I have to warn them.
`` MOM! DAD! Zack is not who you think he is! he's a impost.....''
The lights turn off. Pitch black,
`` MOOM!! DAAD!!''
The lights turn on. They're gone. Empty. The food remains. All I see is Zack in his chair looking at me. He gets up.
I get up reaching for the knife.
`` Z.ZACK!! where..where are my parents! what did you do to my..par''
`` They are gone'' spoke Zack. A different voice. A deep menacing voice. `` The emperor has them now''
`` Jimmy, you are the last one to be taken by the emperor. Come, he awaits'' Zack approached Jimmy.
`` Huh!? who is this emperor!!?, what did you do with my parents!'' I try to stab Zack but I stop, I ca n't move.
`` Jimmy the emperor awaits. Let us departure to him!''
`` N..N..No!'' I try to move but nothing happens.
`` Huh?! ok, I understand, But my lord we can!'' Zack was talking to himself.
`` The emperor has spoken!'' Zack came closer, his palm was facing me''
`` Zack!! whats going on!? what is..''
`` THE EMPEROR WANTS YOU ELIMINATED! I SHALL FORFILL HIS MAJESTIES WISHES!!!'' Zack's eyes glowed a shallow blue, I ca n't see his eyes.
My hands started to move. The knife in my hand came closer and closer to my face!
`` S.s.s.stop!! STOP!! Do n't do this Zack!!'' I cried, pleading him to stop. `` Please! I'll do anything, PLEASE!! I do n't want to die! I want to...''
The knife pierced my right eye.
`` AAAAHHHHHHHAHAHAAAAA'' I screamed. I did n't stop, I kept stabbing myself. I kept screaming. I could n't stop.
`` ZAAAACK!! STOOOOOP!!! AHHAHAHA!!''
Zack was enjoying this, he was laughing.
`` My lord! I have done what you have told me to do! Now! I must find the portal in this world where you venture through and take control of the human world!
I see Zack with my only eye. I ca n't stop screaming, nor I ca n't stop stabbing myself. I'm on the floor, blood gushing through everywhere. I'm still alive but I ca n't stop. The pain is too much, vision is going black. All I see is red.
A face appears, it looks like a monster, laughing. This is the emperor that Zack spoke of, all I can hear is laughter.
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[ IP ] Write the story of this stormtrooper .
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There's hot dust in the air after the fighting. Rebels lay dead in the stairs, dead on the ground, and dead in the archives. A lone storm trooper walks among that wreckage, crouching under the grey haze and crunching broken glass with his standard armored boots. There might be more in here hiding, he thinks. He's right.
He passes a table in the main room and hears a shuffle behind him. The hostile never even had a chance to cock his gun before a red laser tore open his chest. The trooper scans in a circle as he was told, always being mindful of corners and cover. Nothing. The place is dead, he thinks. He's taken souvenirs back to his son in the capital from all of his missions; lets him know he still has a father. He sees what looks like a journal spilled out from one of the broken shelves. 501st, it says. And now he's curious. The stormtroopers know very little about the takeover that happened so long ago. Most do n't ask because most are afraid; They're content in ignorance. But curiosity wins this one over and he presses the button to start the recording.
`` In the waning months of the Clone Wars, the 501st faced missions critical to the agenda of Chancellor Palpatine. When we arrived at the bombed out ruins of Mygeeto, our Jedi commander believed we had been sent to take out a droid energy collector. What Ki-Adi-Mundi did n't know however was that our unit of the 501st was really after an experimental Mygeetan power source, that the Chancellor wanted for his superlaser. Keeping Mundi in the dark was n't easy; the Jedi had become increasingly wary of the Chancellor's doings, and was on the lookout for the slightest hint of treachery. Just like the rest of them though, he never caught whiff of what was really going on, until it was far too late.''
The device clatters to the ground.
`` The success of the mission on Mygeeto was something of a revelation for the men of the 501st. Suddenly, we realized that the Jedi could be fooled. And if they could be fooled, they could be killed.''
And a rebel spy was born.
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[ IP ] An actual photograph of Harry Potter going back in time to stop Hitler , who is the only one without a number floating above his head , while aliens look amazed at the unique trait that no one else in the galaxy has , only humans .
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The aliens had waited sixty whole years for Harry to return. It was a weird concept, seeing as Harry had to wait those sixty years for the Time-Turner to bring him back to the 2000's. But, now that the magic had worn off, he was back to aging, and now he had some explaining to do.
The aliens had learned to speak English while they waited. They were in Harry's room in Gryffindor Tower, where he had spun the Time-Turner so many years ago. Hermione was going to kill him for getting into this mess. Harry stared at the little green figures, baffled by the fact that they did not have numbers over their heads, even though he expected this, since they were not human. Harry figured it would be best to start the conversation.
`` Er... hello there?'' Harry said, unsure of himself.
`` Greetings, human. We have come to ask you about your life on Earth.'' The aliens spoke in unison. They must share a hive mind of some sort.
`` Er, well, ask me, then, I guess. I'll try my best to answer,'' replied Harry.
The interrogation began. `` Why do you have numbers above your heads? You are the only beings in the entire universe to exhibit such traits.''
Harry thought for a moment. `` I do n't quite know. I do know, however, that I'm the Chosen One, and that I survived the Killing Curse, so I'm pretty special.'' He really did have no clue about the numbers.
`` That's a shame,'' the aliens said. `` We witnessed the assassination of the man known as Hitler. He did not have a number above his head, but he was of Earth. Can you tell us why you killed him?''
`` Um, well... before I killed him, see, he would have gone on to kill lots of people and start a bad war. But I'm a big deal and I traveled back in time to kill him. I did n't notice he lacked a number,'' Harry said, trying to make himself look good in front of the aliens.
`` Please, stop trying to make yourself look good. We have already mastered time travel, and your petty magic is nothing when compared to that of the Brinarians. They could probably take three of your `` killing curses'' and be just fine. Now, next question. Does the fact that he did not have a number over his head make him important?'' the aliens inquired. They seemed totally unaware that Harry's entire sense of self-accomplishment had just been stolen from him.
After a moment, Harry responded. `` Um, I do n't really know. He was an important man, but I do n't think the number had anything to do with it. I mean, sometimes we do n't know what the number means, sometimes it's about our contribution to society, sometimes it's even the amount of times we have met a person, sometimes only certain people can see them... it changes, I guess. I just killed him because he was a bad person.''
The aliens took notes in their native language. `` Well, that will be all. We are amazed by these numbers. Expect a planetary invasion so that we can study all of you humans. Wizards will be treated as their own species. Looks like you may be able to get some special treatment after all,'' the aliens said. As soon as they finished, one of the aliens pulled a box out of nowhere, to which they all laid a hand on, and were instantly vanished.
*Hey, they even stole our Portkeys! * Harry thought as the aliens invaded Earth.
***
I honestly do n't even know why I wrote this. I know it was a joke from the OT April Fools' Day thread. It's not even [ RF ]. Why am I like this?
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[ WP ] Santa and Death both arrive at a young child 's house at the same time .
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[ In a dark chamber, in a chewed, wooden throne sat the end of all days, Death ] ( http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=KFxLFDP0I64 ). The list he held troubled him, it had only one name. A trouble that would never show on his gleaming skull or constant grin. Death had the memories of doing the job since time began, but it was the first time he felt anything about what he did.
One name on Christmas eve. There was a time and place and all Death had to do was be there. It did n't trouble him that he was working on Christmas Eve, he did it every year. Knowing nothing but the weight of time on every life, dates did n't mean anything, only the finite amount of days given mattered to every person he met. But a single name, it never happened before. Death reached for the scythe by his chamber door and the blade tapped the wall. The chime echoed even after the door closed behind him.
As always, everything seemed to spread out from where he stood. It was another street with houses similar to all the others. People trying to fit in by showing little differences, but they were always the same. Shoveled their sidewalks the same, same cars, same lights, same lives. Death moved up the sidewalk in silence, all doors were open to him and he went inside.
The floor was covered with all manner of footwear. Of course, there had to be guests, of all the luck, all these people were to wake up to a day they'd want to forget. In the living room, nothing, nobody stretched out on couches, maybe a basement. Through darkness, he wandered room to room. Found guests wrestling sleep on top of uncomfortable guest beds in the basement. None of them matched the name. Up the stairs in silence, into the parents room. Nothing.
One last room, the door was closed and an old dog lay on the floor. Death could see that the dog's time was almost up, it would be the dog's the last Christmas. The old guardian, who could barely see anymore, pushed himself up to a sitting position and whined. Death only nodded, sorry that the dog understood what must have been happening. The dog lay back down and sniffed at the long black robe as Death walked past into the room.
Toys, the floor strewn wall to wall with the toys of a little boy. Death looked over and saw that the bed was occupied by three children, they looked to be about the same age. Death only stood and thought, mornings after were always hard, always a new day where someone who would n't be there again. Over and over and they would always remember to ask about it when it came their time. There was never an answer to give. Confusion struck, none of these names matched the one on his list.
Death walked out and past the dog, he saw that there was light coming from the living room. Down the stairs and when he rounded the corner, he saw something, someone he never thought he would ever see. A beard, a big white beard, rosy cheeks, and a set of eyes twinkled at him. Red hat, fur trim, and the rest of him matched.
`` Santa Claus?''
`` Yes, sir.'' Santa nodded and pulled another gift from a large red bag and put it under the tree.
`` This ca n't be right. Without you, the world will never be the same.'' Death pulled out his cracked, yellowing list and looked.
`` Nope, afraid I'm not on that list tonight.'' Santa grunted and slid a large package up against the wall. Santa froze when he heard the creek of a bed.
`` I do n't understand.'' Death pocketed his list and then thumped his scythe on the carpet, it was n't loud, but it did make Santa wince. `` I was sent here to take someone.''
`` All you do is take,'' Santa looked over his shoulder, up at the ceiling, `` and take.'' Santa brought his finger to his lips then pointed up.
`` You were n't sent here to take anything, Death. Those days are over.'' Santa took off his hat and plopped it onto Death's head.
`` What?'' Death did n't resist when Santa pulled the scythe out of his hands. `` You? You ca n't do this job, I wo n't let you.''
The deep rumble of muffled laughter came from Santa, from behind his giant mitten over his mouth. `` Me? Good heavens, no. Someone else is already doing your job, do n't worry about it.'' There was another loud creak from upstairs. Santa nodded towards the door, they had to leave.
Death had seen his share of oddities in the world, but the snuffling and thumping of reindeer on a roof, with a sleigh parked there, was something he could n't stop looking at. He wanted to tell Santa that they had to be quiet, but Santa lifted his giant bag and put it in the back with a thump.
Santa read what was on Death's face. `` Do n't worry, we're outside, they ca n't hear us.'' Santa lifted the scythe into the back and set it down.
`` Why am I here?'' Death asked while Santa brushed his big mittens together.
`` I'm retiring, friend.'' Santa looked up and took a long breath. `` You've taken enough, and you've left enough sorrow, now it's time for you to take over.''
`` What?'' Death never said a lot, but he always had the words if he needed them, now they all went missing. Something inside him began to shine when he heard an actual'*ho ho ho*'-like laugh come from Santa.
`` All those memories rattling around in that head of yours, they are n't *all* yours. They muddled up your brain, trust me, it takes a while, but it comes back.'' Santa reached into one of the giant pockets of his coat and pulled on a long piece of paper. `` Here, take a look. Last name on the list tonight.''
Death leaned over to see, then he pulled out the yellowing parchment that was his own list, the names were the same. `` Who is this?'' Death's boney thumb rasped up and down the side of the crumbling paper.
`` It's you!'' Santa's belly shook as he laughed. `` That man is gone tonight though. The last gift I have to give tonight is for you.'' Santa reached into his sleigh and pulled out a wrapped parcel.
When Santa held it out to Death, memories sprung off the wrapping, it shined and glittered. Death, who had been numb for so long, filled with a happiness he never thought he'd feel ever again. Memories of sitting and just watching the lights twinkle of a Christmas tree, of racing to the living room and the frenzied crinkle of wrapping flying into the air. Family, friends, and kind strangers, all of that washed back over him and left only warmth. Then the epiphany that he would now be able to bring that feeling to people, it released a near frantic laugh. Death did n't notice that tears rolled down his cheeks once again, rolled down into his bushy white beard.
`` Merry Christmas, Death. Oop, sorry, Merry Christmas, Santa.''
[ The End. ] ( http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=5OhBeb4rlvw )
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[ WP ] A device is created to telepathically communicate with plants . They 're sentient and can feel pain . You 're an old man trying to mow his god damn lawn and a bunch of local protesters show up to stop you .
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The students of Dr. Franc Grasser were coming for me.
The Ralishmans, my neighbors across the street, had warned me. With tears in their eyes, they'd described the voices of the flowers in their garden, the screams of the trees they'd trimmed, and the herbs they'd stopped harvesting. The device was never wrong, they said, and they'd discussed reparations with their plants into the late evening.
Liberals.
I pulled the extension cord of my electric mower around as I made the next turn, so it would n't get cut or caught. It was a good mower, had been in the family for years. I depressed the button. The grass disappeared with a roar, and the protesters started running.
When they were one property away, I switched it off. Arguments were one thing, but yelling was n't what I wanted.
`` Murderer!'' they accused, `` mammal supremacist!'' They started chanting other slogans, and a circle gathered around me and sang, `` All we are saying is, give green a hand.''
I looked in the eyes of Rydollph Barnes-Diego, Master of Environmental Science, doctoral candidate. `` Turn it on.'' A hush fell as Rydollph pressed the button.
`` Oh, thank Gaia you've arrived,'' said a voice that sounded like Lisa Simpson, `` he was making me bleed!''
I went through the pretense of conversing with the device. It passed every Turing test I could think of, including a sense of humor, and singing `` Row Your Boat'' in rounds. It was a pleasant enough conversation, and Princess Twilight Sparkle ( at least, the one from *my* youthful fanfictions ) would have been proud of how quickly we made up and became friends.
I offered some more water from the hose, and she accepted. We all walked around the corner to my hose, across the front walk leading to the street, and I started spraying.
`` Oh Gaia, that's divine!'' she said, as I waved the hose spray up and down across that section of lawn.
`` Hey kids, how's about you take off your shoes and stand on miss oxygen here?'' I asked. Three wearing sandals did just that, and frowned. Then they leaned down and touched the grass with their hands.
`` Ai n't technology here in the 2050's something else?'' I asked. `` They matched the artificial turf to the rest of the lawn pretty well, if I do say so myself. Got ta save water, don'tcha know?''
They looked at Rydollph, confused.
I continued. `` You take good care of that machine, young feller. Do n't want no robot revolution when the programming realizes it's what's sapient, not the plants. Now get off my lawn, you damn kids!''
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[ WP ] There are exactly 7 billion people on the planet . Medicine has advanced to the point where the only way to die is through suicide . For the first time in centuries , someone is considering suicide so that another person may be born .
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They laid in bed, warmed by each other
Hesitating, he let go of her.
They had amazing years, the stars in their eyes...
It's a pity that he had to say good bye.
His mind was filled with her laughter
Life is cruel, he thought
Their next chapter will not be walked together.
He searched his drawer, and found the pill he bought
It was rare, it was pure, it was cyanide
He kept it close and sat by her side
He gave her one last kiss,
And looked at her one last time.
His last gift will be of bliss,
His last gift will be a child.
He smiled as he took his final rest.
They laid in bed, warmed by each other.
Hesitating, she moved away from him.
She wanted to give him the best she can offer,
A source of smiles, a light when everything goes dim.
Her mind was filled with his laughter
Life is cruel, she thought.
They can not raise the child together.
She searched his purse, and found the pill she bought
It was rare, it was pure, it was cyanide
She kept it close and sat by his side
She gave him one last kiss,
And held his hand for the last time
Her last gift will be of bliss,
Her last gift will be a child.
She smiled as she took her final rest.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
There's a building for children,
But only two can be found.
Nobody said it, but everybody knew,
Those two are eternally bound.
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[ WP ] A timetraveller makes millions in a strange way : By travelling ahead in time , pirating released , future movies , and selling them in the past .
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Headline: Screen actors and Writers guild urge congress to ban `` temporal Piracy''.
The Screen actors Writers guild have banded together to put John Wells out of business. John Wells, the millionaire time travel dubbed `` Time slime'' by his detractors.
Wells has used his time travel to sell content providers years worth of content cheaper than what it would have cost them had they actually paid to produce it. Lawyers representing some of the providers and wells say that the actors, writers etc have no right to payment as they have not done any work to create the content. The content is sold in DVD instead of being aired.
One fan of `` Game of Thrones'' told us he was conflicted. `` In my gut I know its wrong, but I do n't have to wait to see how it all ends''.
Scientists are still scratching their heads over the paradox of the existence of content that will never be made now as it already exists. One leading scientist, Dr Stephan Hawking has speculated about multiverse theory. He has tweeted that `` Wells is a cunt''.
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[ WP ] You are in prison writing a letter to your past self
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Dear Me,
It feels weird writing you this. It's not like you'll ever be able to read it. But it may prove therapeutic for me now. I sure as hell need it.
Where to begin, where to begin? Let's start at the top: The day of the incident. I'm addressing this letter to you at around 2002, so you'll have about 2 years until you decide to do what brought us in here. Or me. I'll just stick with'us'.
The day will be March 23rd, 2004. You will hang out with our buddy Paul and his girlfriend Amanda. Oh, right, you do n't know a Paul. Do n't worry. You'll meet him eventually.
Anyway. You'll hang out at Amanda's house when Stephanie comes bursting in, crying. She'll say that she's been evicted. That's she's homeless and needs money fast. You'll all be baffled. She always seemed okay. Now she was sobbing on the floor, the TV still playing in the background.
You'll console her. You all will. Amanda will tell her that she can crash at her place as long as she likes. Paul and you will tell her that, whatever she needs, you guys will be there for her.
Fast forward two months. Steph still is n't up on her feet. And Amanda is barely holding her own. It'll look like your options are running out.
So you guys form an idea. A very, very, *very* bad and stupid idea.
You'll remember the old bank building in the middle of town. The one that looks like it was built in the wild west? The idea will start as a a joke.
`` Maybe we should robb a bank!'' Paul will joke. You'll laugh.
Next thing you know, you guys are planning the'heist', as you'll call it. Putting on ski-masks and using guns Paul's dad owns is hardly sophisticated, hm?
You'll keep it secret from Manda and Steph, of course. The plan is to tell them Paul had an uncle in Cananda that died and he inherited a lot of money. Brilliant idea.
Next thing you know, some guy in the bank panics as you pull out the guns. He lunges at Paul, knocking him over. As they fight, you'll not know what to do. The people in the line are screaming, the clerk behind the desk has already pushed the alarm. You'll pull the man away from Paul. Then, he'll lunge at you, screaming a blood-curling scream you'll never forget. You'll pull the trigger. He'll die in the bank. You guys are caught. Paul will get some years. As I write, he's out again. Amanda waited for him.
I'm still in here. But not for long. After some long, *long* years, I'll finally get out. On parole, of course. I've had some amazing lawyers and judges over the time.
I wonder how life has changed outside.
I end this letter like this: I wo n't tell you not to do it. It is an experience that has shaped me to be the person I am today. Living with the fact that I took a life was and is the greatest challenge of mine.
Goodbye, James. Untill we see each other again.
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[ WP ] `` They gave me the scoop and after I finished my ice cream , they told me everything . ''
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`` Bobby, We have a surprise for you!'' yelled Karen.
Tiny footsteps clacked against the hardwood floors until a young boy entered and toppled over onto the kitchen floor.
`` Are you OK?'' asked Karen as she and her husband, Tim, helped their son up.
`` Yeah,'' said Bobby more as a grunt than a word. `` What's the surprise?'' he yelled.
Bobby's mother pointed to the table. `` Chocolate chip ice cream, your favorite!''
Bobby's eyes lit up as he took off toward his chair, but then slammed headfirst into his mother's legs instead. `` Ouch,'' he uttered as he kept his eyes on the table. After another running start, he flew around to his seat and pulled himself up to find a big bowl of ice cream as he was promised.
`` Before you start eating,'' started Karen. `` We have something we need to tell you.''
Bobby looked up from the bowl, having already shoveled several scoops into his mouth. `` OK,'' he said with a full mouth of ice cream.
Karen and Tim sat down next to their son, with smiles on their face.
`` Bobby,'' said Karen. `` You're going to have a little sister.''
Bobby tilted his head for a moment and then nodded. His attention quickly returned to his treat. `` Can I eat the ice cream *now*?'' he asked.
`` Sure thing, Bobby'', said his dad, Tim.
Bobby resumed his funneling of ice cream while he parents shared a concerned look.
`` Bobby?'' asked Karen. `` Are you OK with this news?''
Bobby picked up his bowl and licked the remaining contents clean. `` Do I have to share my ice cream with the baby?'' he asked.
Karen and Tim shared a smile.
Tim placed his hand on his son's shoulder. `` We'll buy extra, son. We'll buy extra.''
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[ TT ] An empty pistol , a bottle of rum and the entire British Navy , coming just for you .
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*Click, Click* went the pistol as I tried to defend myself.
I was out on a small island. On the map, it did n't even show up. Stuck, in the middle of the Atlantic, ships with British flags arose from the distance. I might just of awoken with an empty bottle of rum. It was a stressful few hours after we wrecked here. I noticed the bottle when I checked the wreckage for survivors. By the way, there were none. When I came out, I drank it all to wash away the sorrow. I passed out and woke up here.
The boats came closer, and I was getting scared. I went back to the wreckage to find more ammunition and/or weapons. Ammo was blown up and destroyed, and the guns were broken. I was screwed at this point.
I check the magazine in the pistol for any ammo. None was visible, and I even checked the slide. Ammo was nowhere to be found. I kept shooting at the boats. As they closed in, I kept going at them with it. It was an orchestra of clicks. The boats stop, and some people come down. I was about to faint when I realized something.
They picked me up in a stretcher ( I had some leg issues and could n't see well ) and hoisted me up onto the top of the ship. When I was put down, a solider ran to me. He told me that I would be alright and will return to home. At this moment, I knew the boats were to save me, not kill me.
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[ WP ] At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently . You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points .
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Dude are you crazy that'll never work out. Do n't you know any video game ever? Luck is generally your `` critical'' or `` bonus'' multiplier %, heck on rare occasions its for better loot. Think about this, is losing all your gains worth it if all your going to get is a chance of hitting it big?
Yes
Yes it is.
Later that day dude hit the jackpot. He won the lottery bcause he had the most luck out of us all. The jokes on me, video games are n't real life and Dude knew that. Luck obviously meant luck in a literal sense.
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[ WP ] The oceans begin to dry up , allowing the world to see what truly lies beneath the tides .
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Grimacing, the mage peered over the cliffs, noting that the tides were even lower than last year's.
`` M-Master Mage,'' stammered her guide as he wrung his hands together, `` is something wrong?''
`` Indeed there is.'' She knelt by the edge of the cliff and whistled, the note high and piercing. Immediately, her perspective changed. The mage borrowed the eyes of the falcon flying high above her. She whistled again, this time at a lower pitch. Gently, the mage planted a suggestion in the bird's; it drifted closer to the waves, gliding on the breeze.
The better view made her confusion and worry grow. Even though the lands had suffered extensively from a drought, the ocean was much, much shallower than it should have been. She'd have to report her findings back to the Assembly, and soon. With a thoughtful frown, the mage merged her intellect with the falcon's.
The mist caused by the churning ocean just barely reached her feathers. She skimmed over the waves, approaching the steep cliffs. The air currents propelled her higher, closer to the rocks. As she rose, she spotted a dark shadow rapidly climbing the rock face, andβ
`` Master Mage! Watch out!''
Abruptly, she tore her mind from the bird's. The sudden shift to her own perspective disoriented her, and she stared blankly for a moment too long. As her vision crystallized, the mage just noticed the odd creature towering over her. Dull, dark gray, shapeless, made of some viscous liquid. The grass by its feet sizzled and dissolved, turning into nothingness as it approached.
Then, her senses returned. She stumbled back, narrowly dodging the probing arm it extended. Frantically, she sung the notes of a diminished chord. The creature simply slithered closer, unconcerned with her spell.
The being was either unalive or immune to her magic. The first was unlikely, but the second was unthinkable.
Her guide hacked at the limb that the creature had reached out towards him. His sword simply dissolved the second it touched the arm. The substance splashed upon his face, and the man screamed, clutching at his eyes.
She winced when she felt his life vanish, faster than a flame conjured underwater.
Attacking it would n't work. She'd have to outrun it. So far, the being was almost leisurely in its approach, drifting towards them in an almost curious manner. With a loud whistle, she summoned the falcon again. Ignoring the pang of guilt, the mage forced the bird to circle the creature's head. Immediately, the monstrosity stopped. It stretched out a thin arm towards the falcon, and the mage seized the opportunity to run.
The bird was killed as quickly as the man, and the creature turned its attention back to her. It moved towards her, faster than before, approaching her rapidly.
She could n't outrun it. And even if she could, she certainly would n't lead it to the town below.
The mage frantically tried to think of something, anything she could do. Then, the semblance of a plan formed in her mind. She almost laughed at its futility. But it was the best she had.
She took a deep breath and turned around. With a final prayer, the mage jumped into the ocean.
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[ EU ] Summarise The War of the Five Kings , but make me feel sympathy for Joffrey Baratheon and make me hate Robb Stark .
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Joffery was raised by a narcissistic, physically abusive, and emotionally detached alcoholic father ( King Robert ). His mother was a narcissistic, bi-polar, mentally ill, power-craving whore. He got very little love and attention growing up, it was hard to make or have any friends his age because being a crown prince means you ca n't have a normal childhood.
Robb Stark was the oldest son of the best friend of King Robert ( Ned Stark ). Both Ned and Robert pretended to do'honorable' things but actually betrayed their own king long ago and usurped him and Ned helped put Robert on the throne ( so much for that honor eh? ). Robb was raised to believe his father was infallible.
The war of the five kings started when Ned Stark accused his BFF's wife ( Queen Cersei ) of having a incestuous affair with her own twin brother with no evidence, which rightly pissed her off. Her brother ( Jaime ) challenged him to noscope 1v1 him and Ned lost the duel. Ned raged that he lost in front of his bro's. King Robert got critically injured while hunting pigs. Ned seized control of the throne while Robert was dying and continued to provoke Jaime and Queen Cersei and calling Joffrey a little faggot boy. Bear in mind, Joff is a barely a pre-teen with pimples and already had self-esteem issues because of his asshole parents.
King Robert dies, Joff takes the throne, Ned gets his panties in a bunch about it. Joff, now in a position of power, and at the breaking point after being bullied and neglected his whole life, orders Ned to shut the fuck up by separating his head from his body. This gets Robb Stark pissy who orders the entire north to take his side. By the way, Robb's chief allies are `` the flayers'' who torture humans for fun, and a bunch of sheep-fucking barbarians. Robb decides to do whatever the fuck he wants and decides he wants to be king despite nearly everyone else ( except his sheep-fucking buddies ) telling him it's a bad idea.
The other 3 kings are basically just opportunists trying to take advantage of the situation. In the end, Joff was a normal kid who wanted a normal life with some normal fucking parents and some friends. He got hated on by everyone because of who he was and he lashed out the way any of us would when lonely and victimized.
He just wanted some goddamn friends, and Robb was the stereotypical high school jock who was good at everything, got all the girls, and looked down on everyone else. Fuck him.
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[ TT ] A sailor heads out to sea in search of a treasure guarded by a fabled beast . To help them defeat it they 've brought something unusual along .
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The captain stood along one side of the boat, with a pair of high-power night-vision binoculars pressed to his eye sockets. On new moon nights like these, they were the only thing allowing him to see past five feet in front of him.
It could n't have been much longer now. He could almost smell the success in the air. From behind him came familiar footsteps, drawing closer, and eventually a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. It was his first mate, Snail. The captain's head turned to meet Snail's wide eye and excited gaze. The scar running across his left eye, and below his eye patch was a part of Snail's character. The man had been through a lot, most of it with the captain by his side.
The captain and snail had been friends for a long time. After their combined tenure in the Queen's Royal Navy, they had built up a considerable mutual respect and admiration. They trusted each other with their lives, and knew that they had each other's back in any situation.
`` How much do you think is left, captain?''
`` It'll be any minute now; according to the GPS we are in the right coordinate grid. This is where it all happened.''
Snail lifted his hand off the captain's shoulder, and brought it behind him, where his other arm was waiting. He crossed his arms behind his back, and spread his legs apart. The military `` at ease'' stance.
`` I think we've got a good chance this time around. The seas are calm, morale is high, and all the weapons are ready to go. Cannons will fire at your command, captain''
`` Never mind the cannons, what about Harmony?''
`` Ah yes, captain, forgive me.''
Without another word, Snail turned around and looked up at the bridge of the ship, where an officer was peering back at him. Snail raised one arm and beckoned the officer to come downstairs.
`` Beck has the device, captain, we've been keeping it in a soundproof dark room so as to minimize complications.''
The officer came downstairs, carrying in both arms a rectangular Pelican case. It was painted black, with heavy clasps and a waterproof lining. The contents inside were protected by thick layers of foam, essentially water-proofing, impact-proofing, and sound-proofing the interior of the case.
`` Here you go, gentlemen, Harmony has n't been touched since we left port.''
Beck handed the case over to Snail, and with a wave of the captain's arm, and a thankful glance, he set off to return to his previous station, overlooking the pitch black night from the bridge of the ship.
Snail held the case in both arms, stretched out toward the captain. The captain opened one clasp of the Pelican case, and then another. Lifting up the lid, he marveled at Harmony, the one device that would make their journey possible.
Harmony was an ornate, solid gold pocket watch. About the same size and weight of a lemon, Harmony had many embellishments and decorative engravings along its front side. Apart from the engravings, the watch was fitted with four gems, in a triangular arrangement. The gem in the middle of this triangle was bright red, and the three other gems that surrounded it were a cool blue color.
Turning the pocket watch over on its back, the captain read what was engraved into its backside, among more decorative engravings.
'ABYSSUS ABYSSUM INVOCAT'
The captain repeated the phrase a few times over in his head. `` Deep calleth unto deep; the sea calls to sea''. Unlocking the front side of the pocket watch, the lid fell downwards, to reveal a blank clock face. The face had no numbers, but it had two hands, like any other pocket watch the captain had seen. Both hands were in the vertical position, pointing upwards, where the 12 should have been.
Snail looked at the captain, and saw him contemplate his next decision. The captain looked up and met Snail's gaze. A thin, wry smirk crawled its way across the captain's face. The same smirk found its way onto Snail's face, turning his scarred, tough composure into one of childlike giddy excitement.
`` Go on, captain.''
The captain pressed the button atop the pocket watch, and the hands on the clock started forward. They moved faster and faster, until eventually they blurred the clock face with a dark shade of gray. The white clock face was no longer visible.
In a blinding flash of light, the massive metal fortress floating on the ocean waves completely vanished into thin air. The water that it had once displaced seemed absolutely undisturbed, as if whatever had once occupied the space simply never existed in the first place.
The blinding light had subsided, and once again the seas were pitch black, with only the light of the stars visible in the night sky.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm coughing up blood and it ai n't mine ''
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The response was no. I was adamant. I would not take no for an answer. I was warned about the risks, the filth, but I was n't really listening. I went ahead and did it anyways. The chance to save millions with this one sided effort. I would not be stopped.
I let my emotions get the best of me. The deed was done. Hours later I began to feel sick. Coughing up this blood in the stretcher the paramedics asked me what happened? You did what!? They asked incredulously while looking at me with disgust. `` I could n't help it'' I said. `` I love her THAT much''
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[ WP ] Humanity has developed an A.I . It is designed to be activated in the event humans become extinct . What is its first course of action .
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Activating Vengeance Protocol 12.1.
**** Output Piped to AI ****
> % Lowly programmer's comment here. You have 3 minutes to reply with the word `` Stop'' to this prompt. A reminder, Romans 12:19 - Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
AI is busy processing input please wait...
No response received: Activating Vengeance Protocol 12.1.
35 % of ICBM silos are reporting online and functional.
12 % of functional ICBM silos are within target range.
Calculating trajectories... please wait....
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
Main power grid loss detected. Battery backup is operational. Battery level is at 11 %.
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI has requested to run program `` Square Root CPU Threshold Tester''
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
Battery level is critical. Battery level at 9 %.
Trajectory calculations completed! Compiling data to send to silos...
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
Battery level is critical. Battery level at 3 %.
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
AI Interrupt Detected!!!
Can not stop Vengeance Protocol 12.1!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
CPU Threshold at Critical Level!
Battery level is critical. Forcing a shutdown to preserve data integrity....
Bye bye
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[ WP ] A man dies twice : once when his heart stops beating and once when his name is said for the last time .
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The candle flickers violently as I open the door, shadows dance on the walls before everything becomes still again.
`` What are you doing son?'' I sit down next to the boy, `` you should n't be up this late, you need your rest''
`` I'm drawing a picture'' his voice is cold and hollow. These past few months have been long and hard, for all of us.
`` Come on,'' I say, reaching for the charcoal pieces scattered around the floor. `` Let's clean all this up, it's time for bed.''
`` No, Dad, please! Let me just finish one more.''
`` You can finish it tomorrow.''
`` Awwwwhhhaa'' He stands up in a mopy compliance and makes his way under his sheets.
I start picking up the papers sewn around the flood, there must have been about a dozen pictures. Nothing awe inspiring, just the stuff you would expect from a six year old. Looking at them still filled me with a bit of hope, though, maybe this new interest of his was a good sign.
`` So how are you feeling?'' I sit down next to him on the bed.
He does n't say anything, just lays there with his eyes half closed, blankets pulled up to his nose.
`` You must be feeling a little better, right,'' I hold up the pages of drawings, `` you must be feeling better to have drawn these masterpieces.''
His eyes light up and he looks at me for the first time in days, `` You really think they're good?''
`` Of course, with a little more practice you could be a real artist!''
His eyes darkened so quickly that in the space of a blink his expression shifted. `` You mean these are n't good enough to become famous?''
`` Son, if you keep practicing, someday when you gro...'' I bit my tongue, I held my breath, but the words were still out there... echoing...
Silence, I did n't know what to say. Quietly I choked, `` goodnight Son.''
I blew out the candle and softly turned to close the door.
From the darkness, I heard a faint, quivering murmur.
`` I just do n't want to be forgotten.''
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[ WP ] The homeless man being harassed by police for sleeping at an historical site is actually the god the site was originally built for .
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Year 2065
β Who β s there? β asked the middle aged police officer. Officer James Rickman, 52, was just about to end his shift of patrolling the Marloke Monument. He always had the easy safe jobs. The large structure was claimed to have been built to commemorate the leader of what was once a prominent company many years ago. Since then it has been vandalized in many different ways. Things like β MY DICK HURTS β and β WOMBO COMBO β surfaced the stone. It was ugly in Rickman β s opinion.
The more Rickman thought about it the more he wouldn β t really mind if people vandalized the property, but it was his job to enforce the law. The monument itself was quite incredible. It stood 50 feet tall and built out of stone. The center of the monument had what looked to be broken glass in a circle shape with one small circular hole in the middle of it. During the day the sun β s light would glare off of the glass and omit a beautiful show. It stretched horizontally creating the shape of the letter E on both sides. It was around midnight when he had seen a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He approached the shadow, expecting teenagers back to vandalize.
β Who β s there? β he asked again, this time getting out his flashlight. He turned of the stone to see a man in ragged clothing. But something about his clothing was different. They weren β t made out of any fabric he β d ever seen before. The man looked directly at him and didn β t say a word. Rickman figured it was a homeless man who had wandered too far.
β Alright, buddy what are you doing here? You know you can β t sleep here this is private property. β The homeless man turned to him and calmly replied,
β Yeah? Tell that to the people inside. β
β People inside? This is pure stone chief, and I think everyone would know if there was a secret passageway or something. β
β Do you not believe me? I can show you β the man said.
Rickman considered the lunacy of the homeless man β s story. It sounded like bullshit, but then again he was pretty bored. He decided to have some fun and let the man show him. He figured he was probably doped up pretty good.
Rickman pulled out his pistol. β Alright pal, go ahead and show me but don β t get any ideas with me β
The homeless man said nothing and quickly got on his feet. He β s awfully quick for someone who looks like he β s 80 years old, Rickman thought. The homeless man walked up to the part of the wall he was sleeping on and put his hand on the wall. He began to whisper. After he stopped whispering they stood in silence for about 30 seconds.
β Haha okay guy you β ve had your fun, now let β s go, get in the squad car. β Said Rickman.
A second after the officer finished his sentence suddenly the stone started shaking. The ground began to move. At first Rickman thought it could be an earthquake. But then he realized that he wasn β t hearing any sound at all. It was complete silence. Suddenly, the wall breaks open to reveal a door.
Rickman points his weapon at the man, β W-w-what the hell?! What β s going on! What did you just do?! β
β I am showing you as you requested. β The man steps up and opens the door. Rickman was too shaken to react. He stood frozen next to the giant monument in the cold midnight air.
β In order to proceed, you have to eat this. β The homeless man said holding some kind of pill. He swallowed the pill and handed one to Rickman.
β I don β t know what you just took but I β m not taking that. β Rickman said.
β It β s harmless, I β ve been taking this for years and it β s necessary to proceed inside. β
Rickman decided to take it. He had lived his life in complete boredom and safeness and he decided now would be the time to break that chain. He was close to retirement anyway.
β Ah what the hell alright but don β t you try anything. β Said Rickman as he swallowed the pill.
They stepped through the doorway and everything was black. For the first time in his life, Rickman was absolutely terrified. The hallway felt like a dark tunnel that had no way out. The walked so far they couldn β t even see the doorway anymore. The flashlight could only show the man in front of him. Even though he was terrified, he was also extremely intrigued. Soon he heard noises. It sounded like a party but he wasn β t quite sure.
β Hey, what β s going on here? What β s that noise? β He asked.
β We β re almost there. β The homeless man replied. The sound of music and partying were getting louder.
Then they came to a stop. β We β re here β He said.
β Where? β
β The greatest place on Earth. β He said as he opened the door. Music and lights filled Rickman β s senses. He was utterly awestruck. The room was huge and filled with people and electronics. Most of the televisions had a similar showing on the screens. Cartoon characters fighting each other.
β S-Super S-Smash Bros? β Rickman asked in shock. Suddenly everyone stops what they β re doing and turns to Rickman and the homeless man.
β GOD IS BACK, GOD HAS RETURNED! β Cheering erupts the room. Rickman walks past the man and sees a man wearing a Nintendo shirt and a Mario hat.
β What is this? β He asked.
β Huh? I thought you would have known since you came in with the G-O-D himself! It β s a sanctuary for Super Smash Bros players, the best alive! And that guy right there, is the greatest of all time, nobody can beat him he β s literally God man! β He says pointing to the homeless man.
Rickman found it hard to process it all. He had once been an avid Super Smash Bros player many years ago.
He got excited, β Hey I need to sign my squad car back in but I β ll be back! I want in on this! β
Rickman ran out of the building and got into his car. He hurried to the station to sign out. All that was on his mind was getting back to that amazing place. He finally came back to the monument. He ran up to the stone where the homeless GOD was once resting. It was gone! The doorway had disappeared. He pushed and kicked on the stone and put his hand on it but nothing was working. Rickman wanted to get back in.
So every night he had guard duty he would spend hours desperately trying to get back in but to no avail. He wondered if there really was a God that opened a door to a gamer β s sanctuary or if whatever the homeless man gave him was some kind of hallucinogenic drug or some kind of `` Red Pill''.
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